- Status
- Posting Speed
- Speed of Light
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- I never know when I will get online, but I usually get on most days of the week and weekend. I am pretty active on here so you will see me around a lot.
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Transgender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- High School/College, Scifi, Modern, Magical, Horror, Romance, Yaoi, Yuri, Slice Of Life, R Rated xD, Modern Fantasy
@Arcadia Lumina not trying to be a pest of anything, but has Charlie gotten back to you yet. My char is on page 4. Waiting to be accepeted, if she has a similar idea or whatever, I can just make my Bolton char.
A
Arcadia
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Original poster
Honestly, I don't know. I'm starting to have the thought of kicking her from the game for lack of participation in the OOC.
- Posting Speed
- Speed of Light
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- I never know when I will get online, but I usually get on most days of the week and weekend. I am pretty active on here so you will see me around a lot.
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Transgender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- High School/College, Scifi, Modern, Magical, Horror, Romance, Yaoi, Yuri, Slice Of Life, R Rated xD, Modern Fantasy
G
Greenrust
Guest
Original poster
A
Arcadia
Guest
Original poster
- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Douche
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Genres
- Fantasy is my #1; I will give almost anything a chance if it has strong fantasy elements. Post apocalyptic, superhero, alternate history, science fantasy, some supernatural, romance, and a few fandoms (especially Game of Thrones) are also likely to catch my eye.
Welllll, Ramsay wouldn't necessarily be part of the world. It's an alternate universe, so no canon characters need to exist.
Actually, since it has come up, @Arcadia Lumina what's the deal with canon NPCs? Are you just going to leave it up to the players of each House to decide the NPC other members of that house, or what?
J
Jerelin
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Original poster
- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Female
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Fantasy, Magical, Romance. The occasional slice-of-life if the plot is interesting.
A
Arcadia
Guest
Original poster
If you need to, make your NPCs, but make a note of them, and don't have too many.
G
Greenrust
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Original poster
A
Arcadia
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Original poster
G
Greenrust
Guest
Original poster
- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- Writing Levels
- Give-No-Fucks
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, Scifi, and Medival
Well at least I wasn't the only one thinking of making A Bolton or a Red Religion character.
J
Jerelin
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Original poster
This raises another question because I don't want to just go off of assumptions, haha.
But I am assuming that the history of Westeros is still in tact, except the past few generations have been altered? Aegon Targaryen still conquered the Seven Kingdoms and Valyria is still ruins? Basic history stuff is still part of the universe, but no canon characters from at least a few generations past are in the universe...?
EDIT: I know that this is probably a really, really stupid question to ask. But it's better to ask before I fuck something up. xD
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H
Hellis
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Original poster
D
Darog
Guest
Original poster
Name: Russel "Pikey" Pyke
Age: 25
Great House: Greyjoy
Personality:
To his crew he's a friendly, calm and lively individual, the kind of person you could have a drink or two with and a good laugh and time but underneath, lies a more sadistic nature. Out on raids, Russel is known to be very violent, sometimes bordering on sadistic. He has a fiery temper with a short fuse and depending on the unlucky sod that happens to set it off, he can be unpredictable and scary. His sadistic side mostly comes out when he's "interrogating" someone, most often it's Northerners, showing just how cruel and sadistic he can truly be. He does not shy away from it, he often tells strangers as a warning, just in case they happen to press his buttons. He's the only son to his father, Barrish Greyjoy. He was not treated with contempt, but rather raised just like any Greyjoy. Russel is very protective of his two younger sisters, Khelsie and Jacline.
Appearance: Pikey's Raider outfit. He's fairly average looking, with short scruffy black hair sitting atop his head. He stands roughly at 6 foot, with an average build and stature.
Occupation: Iron Island Noble, but considers himself a "Raider" due to his recent activities
Skills:
-Blind Fighting: 25
-Coercion: 35
-Interrogation: 35
-Scouting: 5
-Warhammer: 20
Other: Russel is the Captain of the " Big Iron Log" a ship given to him by his uncle, Einar Greyjoy. His crew consists of his own friends and acquaintances to his father. The ship itself is not as big as the other Ironborn ships, but it's easier to conceal, to move in and out without bringing too much attention to itself.
Special Weaponry: "Big Iron" is Pikey's favourite weapon, Warhammer with the traditional Kraken Motif associated with his house, The Greyjoys.
Pets: A dog he calls "Scrags."
Allergies: None
WRITING SAMPLE:
"The tides clashed along the docks of Pyke, a single ship was gathering supplies in the dusky sky above the Iron Islands. Ironborn Raiders carried crates of food, wine and other such goods for the journey to the North. watching along the docks, with a warhammer resting upon his left shoulder stood the bastard of Lord Barrish Greyjoy. Russel Pyke, otherwise known as "Pikey" to most. "The Big Iron Log" was its namesake, giving by Russel himself. He looked on, with pride, hearing the sounds of horses behind. Barrish Greyjoy and his trusted Guard arrived on the docks. "I didn't expect to see you here, Father." Russel stated, Barrish smiled slightly. "Well boy, I wanted to make sure you are commanding your men, it seems you are doing a fine job." Barrish replied, hopping off his horse. He embraced Russel in a hug, some pride in his face, as he looked upon his son. "People may consider you a bastard, but to me you are just as much a Greyjoy as anyone. When you return, that name will be yours, you'll be my heir, Pikey." Barrish explained, Russel was stunned, not expecting to hear these words uttered by his father. "I..I'm speechless, you really mean it father?" Russel asked, with a nod from his father as a response. "I will make you proud, father, you can bet on it! I'll show those fuckin Wolf fuckers, father!" Russel stated with pride, a tone of confidence in his voice. As the crew finished their duties, Russel headed aboard, watching from afar as his father hopped back on his horse and rode back to Pyke. Russel then looked around his ship, his men as active as ever. The ship steered from the Docks, heading out to the sea, to dock near the North."
Age: 25
Great House: Greyjoy
Personality:
To his crew he's a friendly, calm and lively individual, the kind of person you could have a drink or two with and a good laugh and time but underneath, lies a more sadistic nature. Out on raids, Russel is known to be very violent, sometimes bordering on sadistic. He has a fiery temper with a short fuse and depending on the unlucky sod that happens to set it off, he can be unpredictable and scary. His sadistic side mostly comes out when he's "interrogating" someone, most often it's Northerners, showing just how cruel and sadistic he can truly be. He does not shy away from it, he often tells strangers as a warning, just in case they happen to press his buttons. He's the only son to his father, Barrish Greyjoy. He was not treated with contempt, but rather raised just like any Greyjoy. Russel is very protective of his two younger sisters, Khelsie and Jacline.
Appearance: Pikey's Raider outfit. He's fairly average looking, with short scruffy black hair sitting atop his head. He stands roughly at 6 foot, with an average build and stature.
Occupation: Iron Island Noble, but considers himself a "Raider" due to his recent activities
Skills:
-Blind Fighting: 25
-Coercion: 35
-Interrogation: 35
-Scouting: 5
-Warhammer: 20
Other: Russel is the Captain of the " Big Iron Log" a ship given to him by his uncle, Einar Greyjoy. His crew consists of his own friends and acquaintances to his father. The ship itself is not as big as the other Ironborn ships, but it's easier to conceal, to move in and out without bringing too much attention to itself.
Special Weaponry: "Big Iron" is Pikey's favourite weapon, Warhammer with the traditional Kraken Motif associated with his house, The Greyjoys.
Pets: A dog he calls "Scrags."
Allergies: None
WRITING SAMPLE:
"The tides clashed along the docks of Pyke, a single ship was gathering supplies in the dusky sky above the Iron Islands. Ironborn Raiders carried crates of food, wine and other such goods for the journey to the North. watching along the docks, with a warhammer resting upon his left shoulder stood the bastard of Lord Barrish Greyjoy. Russel Pyke, otherwise known as "Pikey" to most. "The Big Iron Log" was its namesake, giving by Russel himself. He looked on, with pride, hearing the sounds of horses behind. Barrish Greyjoy and his trusted Guard arrived on the docks. "I didn't expect to see you here, Father." Russel stated, Barrish smiled slightly. "Well boy, I wanted to make sure you are commanding your men, it seems you are doing a fine job." Barrish replied, hopping off his horse. He embraced Russel in a hug, some pride in his face, as he looked upon his son. "People may consider you a bastard, but to me you are just as much a Greyjoy as anyone. When you return, that name will be yours, you'll be my heir, Pikey." Barrish explained, Russel was stunned, not expecting to hear these words uttered by his father. "I..I'm speechless, you really mean it father?" Russel asked, with a nod from his father as a response. "I will make you proud, father, you can bet on it! I'll show those fuckin Wolf fuckers, father!" Russel stated with pride, a tone of confidence in his voice. As the crew finished their duties, Russel headed aboard, watching from afar as his father hopped back on his horse and rode back to Pyke. Russel then looked around his ship, his men as active as ever. The ship steered from the Docks, heading out to the sea, to dock near the North."
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A
Arcadia
Guest
Original poster
History is allowed, and the only canonical recent character is Jon Arryn. But he dead. Like so dead.
Great app, Daro :D
H
Hellis
Guest
Original poster
So I noticed you lacked two skill kind of integral to the setting, that of Axes and Sailing :D. Might wanna add Leadership and Tactics aswell.
Name: Einar Greyjoy
Age: 47
Great House: Greyjoy
Personality:
Known as the Grey Scourge, Einar is a man of war and violence. Nobody takes the words "We do not sow" more seriusly then him. In fact, the sight of the Great ships with their kraken mofifs is often heralded by horns and the screaming, frothing cheers of "We do not sow!" and "The Reapers of the Sea!". Einar is everything the Ironborn aspire to be, ambitious, powerful in body and mind. A leader, a master of the fleet, a cunning tactician. He do not take any prisoners unless he feel they serve a higher purpose, he hold undying allegiance to the Isles and a hatred for outsiders that have seen him burn ports to ashes and dragged every woman, child or man into the ocean to drown. DUring his youth, his actions were so violent, so unstoppable a raider, the called him the Grey Scourge due to the grey coating of his ships and the way he and his men smear ashes on their face before battle.
Appearance:
Skills:
-Shield:30
-Sailing: 30
-Axe: 30
-Tactics 20
-Horse riding 10
-Reading 15
-writing 10
-Thrown Weapons 10
Other: Einar is the "Master of the Fleet", this means he is charge of the Armada of raiding ships that the Iron Isles make their "trade with."
Special Weaponry: A large axe bearing the Krakens symbol. A shield withe same symbol, with the words "We Reap" underneath it.
Pets: He has a large hawk native to his Island home. It usually sit perched in his home, unless he is out hunting.
Allergies: None
WRITING SAMPLE:
"When you see the sails, you better bail. For grey as the mist, and harsh as the coldest of wind, the Ironborn delivers only a axes kiss. Grab your axe and bellow a roar of defiance in face of the drowning. Run to the crest and see as death comes for thee.
Oh Kraken, Oh kraken, mighty creature of the deep, why send your heralds, here, to my keep. Why Kraken, oh kraken, is the Scourge on my shore. Why send a monster named Einar to my door. I can feel death creeping, like water trough my floorboards seeping.
The Grey Scourge is here, bringing only despair. Oh kraken, oh kraken, will you me spare. He allready broken, beaten and killed my mare. He has eaten my cows, he slaughtered my pigs. He sits by my fire, he killed all my kids. He do not sow, he do not feel. He only reap, and deaths at his heel."
The old man smiled as his men sung the song of his youth, mocking the victims and the Northerners. His grey hair was barely visible underneath helmet, his men and him all having smeared the grey ash of the burned dead on their skin. Einar took great care in maintaining the myths around his person, because even pushing 50, he was a force that the Islanders relied on. He was of the finest Greyjoy stock, as spry as someone ten years younger then him. As strong as a oxe, and with martial prowess to his name that made the younger stare at him with awe. But even with all this, a little fear went a long way. He eyed port they were heading for, saw the ships scrambling to cast off and possibly escape, or meet them a more favorable position. He laughed, lifted his axe and spoke over the winds.
"Who are we!" His voice bellowed, and his men shouted back at him.
"IRONBORN!" Their eyes wild, their weapons raised. Drums and horns blew, rattling shields and axes. Blades waved in tight controlled circles.
"WHAT DO WE DO?" He asked them, feeling the exhileration of bloodlust in his veins. His eyes were as wild as theirs.
"WE DO NOT SOW!" They answered again. They were a grotesque mirror, feeding of his anger and drive for combat and supplementing him with their own warriors pride.
"WHAT DO WE DOOOO!" He asked once more, both arms raised wind whipping across the deck, making his cloak billow and flair out almost as if on que.
"WE REAP!"
Two days later, the small port of Bears Rest would be found a smouldering ruin. Not a single survivor but for a single Garrison guard. Strung up and left to the elements. He bore a message. "They reap what we sow. They take what we own. The seas are theirs, and shores are to. They now come for you."
---
The Greyjoys do not fuck around.
Name: Einar Greyjoy
Age: 47
Great House: Greyjoy
Personality:
Known as the Grey Scourge, Einar is a man of war and violence. Nobody takes the words "We do not sow" more seriusly then him. In fact, the sight of the Great ships with their kraken mofifs is often heralded by horns and the screaming, frothing cheers of "We do not sow!" and "The Reapers of the Sea!". Einar is everything the Ironborn aspire to be, ambitious, powerful in body and mind. A leader, a master of the fleet, a cunning tactician. He do not take any prisoners unless he feel they serve a higher purpose, he hold undying allegiance to the Isles and a hatred for outsiders that have seen him burn ports to ashes and dragged every woman, child or man into the ocean to drown. DUring his youth, his actions were so violent, so unstoppable a raider, the called him the Grey Scourge due to the grey coating of his ships and the way he and his men smear ashes on their face before battle.
Appearance:
Skills:
-Shield:30
-Sailing: 30
-Axe: 30
-Tactics 20
-Horse riding 10
-Reading 15
-writing 10
-Thrown Weapons 10
Other: Einar is the "Master of the Fleet", this means he is charge of the Armada of raiding ships that the Iron Isles make their "trade with."
Special Weaponry: A large axe bearing the Krakens symbol. A shield withe same symbol, with the words "We Reap" underneath it.
Pets: He has a large hawk native to his Island home. It usually sit perched in his home, unless he is out hunting.
Allergies: None
WRITING SAMPLE:
"When you see the sails, you better bail. For grey as the mist, and harsh as the coldest of wind, the Ironborn delivers only a axes kiss. Grab your axe and bellow a roar of defiance in face of the drowning. Run to the crest and see as death comes for thee.
Oh Kraken, Oh kraken, mighty creature of the deep, why send your heralds, here, to my keep. Why Kraken, oh kraken, is the Scourge on my shore. Why send a monster named Einar to my door. I can feel death creeping, like water trough my floorboards seeping.
The Grey Scourge is here, bringing only despair. Oh kraken, oh kraken, will you me spare. He allready broken, beaten and killed my mare. He has eaten my cows, he slaughtered my pigs. He sits by my fire, he killed all my kids. He do not sow, he do not feel. He only reap, and deaths at his heel."
The old man smiled as his men sung the song of his youth, mocking the victims and the Northerners. His grey hair was barely visible underneath helmet, his men and him all having smeared the grey ash of the burned dead on their skin. Einar took great care in maintaining the myths around his person, because even pushing 50, he was a force that the Islanders relied on. He was of the finest Greyjoy stock, as spry as someone ten years younger then him. As strong as a oxe, and with martial prowess to his name that made the younger stare at him with awe. But even with all this, a little fear went a long way. He eyed port they were heading for, saw the ships scrambling to cast off and possibly escape, or meet them a more favorable position. He laughed, lifted his axe and spoke over the winds.
"Who are we!" His voice bellowed, and his men shouted back at him.
"IRONBORN!" Their eyes wild, their weapons raised. Drums and horns blew, rattling shields and axes. Blades waved in tight controlled circles.
"WHAT DO WE DO?" He asked them, feeling the exhileration of bloodlust in his veins. His eyes were as wild as theirs.
"WE DO NOT SOW!" They answered again. They were a grotesque mirror, feeding of his anger and drive for combat and supplementing him with their own warriors pride.
"WHAT DO WE DOOOO!" He asked once more, both arms raised wind whipping across the deck, making his cloak billow and flair out almost as if on que.
"WE REAP!"
Two days later, the small port of Bears Rest would be found a smouldering ruin. Not a single survivor but for a single Garrison guard. Strung up and left to the elements. He bore a message. "They reap what we sow. They take what we own. The seas are theirs, and shores are to. They now come for you."
---
The Greyjoys do not fuck around.
Last edited by a moderator:
H
Hell Hound Woof
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- Status