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  #76    
Old December 30th, 2012, 06:50 PM
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MichaelaTheUchiha
Forever Shawol and Aileean
 
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I'm not a GM, so my opinion doesn't matter. I'm just commenting on something that I've noticed. You don't have to change unless the GMs tell you to change. xD
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  #77    
Old December 30th, 2012, 07:06 PM
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Raikiri
Vanguard
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Join Date: Apr 2008
Location: New York
Age: 23
Gender: Male
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Well I really wanted a Dwarf somewhere in there.

The abundance of half elves is not really a problem, but it is an interesting fact about the SUs. I was expecting a lot of elves to be fair though, despite the isolationist attitude of them. You do not have to change your race if you don't want to.

Make the characters you want.
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  #78    
Old December 30th, 2012, 07:11 PM
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Claire*
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Join Date: Jul 2012
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Must...finish my Dwarf...gah!!!
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  #79    
Old December 30th, 2012, 07:21 PM
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Xlugon Pyro
Dragon Tamer
 
Join Date: May 2007
Location: Wisconsin
Gender: Male
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Quote:
Originally Posted by MichaelaTheUchiha View Post
Are the majority of non-GM characters part Elf? o-o; Because I feel like this is a reoccurring theme amongst us.
You'd think humans or elves would be most popular, but not seeing dwarves doesn't surprise me.

Anyway, my sign-up is complete now and ready for review! I was contemplating giving her a lynx as a companion but I thought against it as she probably wouldn't be too responsible with pets and isn't supposed to be good with animals. Still, a lynx would be a great addition to the Blue Wildcat's arsenal.
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  #80    
Old December 30th, 2012, 09:09 PM
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Raikiri
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Xlugon Pyro is accepted. Welcome to Aerion!

With that, if I recall correctly, we have two spots open for the mercenaries and two spots left for the Knights of Ekilore. Looks like spaces are filling up fast! This is getting me all excited!
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  #81    
Old December 30th, 2012, 10:52 PM
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Xlugon Pyro
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It's an estrogen party in the mercenary's camp! That Varian guy is sure to be happy with a personal brothel following him around everywhere. XD
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  #82    
Old December 31st, 2012, 03:43 AM
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Adventure
the girl who w a i t e d
 
Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Sweden
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I had no idea that other people were going for half-elf as well; I always intended to make a half-elf and I thought I'd be somewhat unique with that but I guess that failed, then :p Thanks for accepting me. I might change some things in the history later on because I did want it to be more of a mystery that I could puzzle together after some time in the story, really... But we'll see.

@ Dan, get Maddy to show you how to do backgrounds and stuff ^^ Or just "quote" a nice looking post and poke around with stuff until you learn what's what.
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  #83    
Old December 31st, 2012, 06:30 AM
Vintage Arachnid
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The Meek Mage

Name: Tamor Bellfiend

Age: 27 | Gender: "Male" | Race: Half-Dwarf/Half-Elf | Country of Origin: Raelus |
Side: Knights of Ekilore | Weapon Preference: Divine Magic → Healing Magic |
Other: A Hawk named Niolas follows her around |

Appearance:
Spoiler:
In an attempt to fool anyone who takes a look at her Tamor has dressed herself in clothes that can't reveal her gender identity. For those who might be a bit too curious Tamor wears a zinc white (color of the lighter background) Mage Hood to obscure their view of her hair, facial features, and eyes. It is made of the finest silk that her mother could buy her and lucky for Tamor her mother doesn't know how dirty it gets. The hood is always up and the material it's made of just barely reaches over her shoulders. Not usually seen, but her eyes are golden yellow in color and are always avoiding contact. If anyone were to get within grabbing distance and pull down her hood it would reveal most of her thick, dark hair was pulled back (but covers her pointy ears) and put into several braids that drape over both shoulders. She wears an indigo tattered robe that travels down to her feet, which often causes her to stumble in front of others. An insignia of her mother's guild from Raelus has been sewn in across her back a decision Tamor regrets getting but nonetheless it made her mother proud.

There's a plain, boring white t-shirt she wears beneath her robes. If she could forge armor as sturdy like her father could she would indeed wear it, her skills in that department are lacking to say the least. Under the shirt is a small amount of material that is wrapped around her chest to conceal them from being noticeable in her robe. She wears a pair of black combat boots with purple laces that keep them glued to her feet.

Underneath all of the mounds of material lay a scrawny frame almost malnourished. As a result of Tamor's motto, "Eat when the job is done!" unfortunately for her she rarely gets the job in less than twenty-four hours. Without putting on a facade Tamor's real lineage becomes questionable to others that view her. She has ears traditionally known to the elven race but her head itself is shaped like that of the dwarven race, small and round. Thus it is easier for her to pull off being a fully dwarf than it a fully female elf. Even with her dwarf heritage Tamor is tall enough to still tower over her father. The Divine Magic has helped her to stay looking youthful so that she doesn't look like a mage who is almost 30 years old.



Personality:
Spoiler:
Her hesitation and cautious nature keeps her from forming bonds with other people that may want to interact with her. In fact, she avoids speaking in order to assure that her identify isn't ruined. She tends to keep her head down in order to avoid conversation that might occur if she happens to make eye contact with a person. Tamor doesn't want to be a disappointment to anyone else and fears they might have higher expectations than she can fulfill. If she can stay in the background and avoid unnecessary or perhaps even necessary conversation long enough everyone can forget about her existence like her parents have. Tamor is very secretive and sensitive when it comes to her genealogy. When it comes down to it she’s willing to do anything to keep those around here form finding out. It comes as an embarrassment; it is was always something she was taught to hide. Her only claim is to those that follow Tella not to the Dwarves or Elves. The evasiveness even goes as her dressing as a male to avoid potential questions. Tamor learned early that people tended to question males a lot less than they did females, which aided in her decision to pretend to be a male.

Like her Dwarf brethren she gravitates towards shiny things but for her it's more shiny personalities. She likes people who have a flare for the dramatics or tell one too many jokes (she tends to laugh at every single one of them). It's almost as if the shiny personalities take her mind off her own problems even if it's only for a second she thoroughly enjoys every time she meets someone like that. When faced with verbal conflict she is one to avoid it if at all possible but if she's faced with something she can't escape it becomes something she can't cope with and she'll leash out. In an actual fight she doesn't have the bravery to approach a foe or attack them unless it comes down to the wire. The type of magic she uses is rarely used for powerful attacks against an enemy and yet again reminds her of her uselessness to a group.

Constantly she nags to herself that she isn't good enough, she has to be better than everyone. This leads to Tamor going off by alone to practice the divine arts in a secluded area where no one can watch her miserable attempts. More often than not her attempts lead to failure, which leads to a spike in her self-loathing. Tamor is the type of person who doesn't stop trying to get something right until her body fails her. She has gone full days without eating just so she can correctly do a spell so it won't backfire in combat. An unsettled anger boils within Tamor that she keeps bottled up until it becomes too much. She’s usually angry with herself, for screwing up her life and for not being able to be greatly skilled in magic. The anger often comes to a blow when people insult her religious involvement with the Council of Nine. To force her belief on another is not something neither Tamor nor the Goddess she follows believes in. It is just something she turns to when she needs to be distracted her from life. In order to keep calm she chants the prayers of Tella or sings (more like mumbles) the hymns she’s learned.


History:
Spoiler:
In 1763FC Anyine from Raelus came to meet Tanlon from Ellessar an unusual bond came to form between the two. An Elf who's family was quite well known in the town of Eldur due to her father's military involvement and a Dwarf who was a weapon maker for the military. They met by chance in the town on the outskirts Eldur called Yarne, Tanlon was visiting an old friend and Anyine lived there for the moment. A bump soon changed both of their lives as they knew it. Tanlon helped Anyine with the supplies she dropped when they ran into either each, which lead to Tanlon being invited back to her house to drop them off. Anyine had a fiery temper and was good with sword, Tanlon saw that he had actually forged the sword she had in her sheath. She challenged him to a duel and said he could use any weapon he wanted but she would still best him with his own sword, as a Dwarf who loves fighting Tanlon couldn't agree fast enough. The fight went on for several rounds, Anyine gracefully dodged any strikes from his spiked mace while Tanlon's armor deflected any blows Anyine thought she landed. Thoroughly impressed that an Elf hadn't resorted to trickery (magic) Tanlon took an interest in assisting Anyine to improve current skills especially if she was going to wield his sword. They began to meet in secret in the mountains each weary of each other's motive but focused on training.

Despite Tanlon being a Dwarf and Anyine an Elf she fell smitten and was charmed by this Dwarf. Her father was a stern man of strict traditions and values who would never allow him to become a suitor for her because of his hatred for all Dwarves. Yet Tanlon bested the many elven suitors her father choose for her. They kept seeing each other for the next year far from her father's prying eyes and listening ears until Anyion couldn't bare the stares they received from the Elves and the Dwarves alike. By that point Anyine's belly was swollen but she dared not to let it be known her unborn children was Half-Dwalf, not while her father remained alive.

A blessing came unto the world in the year 1765FC named Tamor who received her mother's last name Bellfiend. To conceal the birth of her daughter Anyine immediately fell into a loveless marriage with a commander in the military before she gave birth. A web of lies spun so delicately that her husband and father both believed the child was full elven. The only other person beside Anyine that knew was her best friend, Eislynn, who helped deliver Tamor. After two years of restlessness and guilt that never seemed to end Anyine snuck away with Tamor to visit Tanlon, who had permanently moved to Yarne. She introduced Tanlon to their toddler daughter before she vanished into the dark night almost like magic, which left Tamor with her father. In a similar fashion to Anyine he had also started another family and with that conceived another daughter. An angered Tanlon grew frustrated at the fact that he hadn't gotten a boy so instead he made Tamor into his son by treating her as such, being rough and aggressive in nature when he dealt with her. He felt as if this would shape his daughter into a son until he actually had one of his own.

Two years had passed by the time Anyine returned to claim her daughter so that she could join the mage's guild in Raelus to excel in Arcane Magic like her mother. The husband she had died during a combat exercise that involved one too many explosives. Anyine and Tanlon came to blows over the custody of their daughter each having a valid reason they needed her in their lives whether that was to be the heir to a weaponry store or being a highly skilled leader of a mage guild. Until Tamor was the age of 15 she was made to travel from Eldur to Yarne every weekend. Her mother's guild supplied most of the mages in charge of attacking ships with fireballs so Anyine soon forgot all about Tamor trips.

Each of her parents pushed her in a direction of their choice and both of them got equally upset with her. Tamor wasn't good enough at weaponry nor could she master Arcane Magic. They both let her know that she was to claim that she was either fully dwarf or fully elf depending on which parent she was with otherwise it would reflect poorly on them. Her parents soon passed over her as their younger children grew of age and showed more potential than Tamor ever did. Quickly she learned to blend into the background at each her of perspective homes. The less she ate, talked, and moved the less attention she gathered and the more her parents dismissed her presence. Eislynn, her mother's best friend, was a follower of The Council of Nine an usual path to follow when one considered how Raelus regarded religion. As a member of Tamor's mother guild she was eager to pass on her knowledge, belief, and power onto the current generation. As Anyine failed to pass on her Arcane Magic Eislynn thought she would give Tamor another chance to learn magic. It took very little to convince Tamor of the realness of The Council of Nine, she had always particularly believed there were deities but her mother frowned at the idea.

Eislynn followed the path of Tella then soon did Tamor, the new religious awakening bought peace to her life. She learned Divine Magic in the form of healing magic from Eislynn until she passed in the year 1785FC. With the only person in her life that actually gave her proper attention gone Tamor devoted herself to her religion and magic. As a person that never wants to give up she worked and worked until she passed out. A wanderer mage found Tamor's unconscious body and carried her back to his home. When she came to Tamor met the mage named Niolas who's personality attracted her toward him. He was a magical daredevil; he tried spells that had never been tested in his hometown in Ethora. Niolas also found out about Tamor's lineage as he followed her from house to house without her knowledge. The nickname he chose for her was his little Dwelf even though she hated it he kept referring to Tamor as it. The center of her universe was Niolas until his teasing went too far or so she thinks. She bludgeoned his head in with rock, again that's what she thinks happened, that day is fuzzy in Tamor's mind and the details aren't clear. Blood streaked on her clothing, as her magic failed to work is an imagery that often pops up in her dreams. When she awoken the next morning she couldn't even find where his body had gone or her entire bloody wardrobe. The only other thing, which was abnormal, was the hawk that she saw following her around for the next few days. It won't come without closer unless it wants to, Tamor instantly named it Niolas.

In an effort to prove herself to her father and develop magic skills that suppassed her mother she answered the call of the Monks of Ekilore. The summoning happened by a letter that she found on her chest when she awoke up form a nap in the grass behind her mother's house. Somehow the Monks were impressed with the perseverance she showed while practicing magic and thought it would help (along with her type of magic) during the long trek. Tamor hopes by answering the call it'll also help recall her memory of that horrendous day.


RP Sample: Clicky

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Last edited by Vintage Arachnid; December 31st, 2012 at 04:13 PM.
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  #84    
Old December 31st, 2012, 07:19 AM
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MichaelaTheUchiha
Forever Shawol and Aileean
 
Join Date: Jan 2010
Location: Sinnoh
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Nature: Adamant
FINALLY, WE HAVE A DWARF (even if he's also a half-elf)!

Seriously, backgrounds, I don't understand. .-. I've finally learnt how to make my SU like sorta-kinda fancy and then people throw backgrounds.
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  #85    
Old December 31st, 2012, 07:46 AM
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Skymin
the gratitude pokémon
 
Join Date: Sep 2006
Location: australia
Age: 21
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Red's Hawt Chibi Pelippers View Post
@ Dan, get Maddy to show you how to do backgrounds and stuff ^^ Or just "quote" a nice looking post and poke around with stuff until you learn what's what.
Yes I xan do it did you want me to sho you? Or just edis it like last teim
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  #86    
Old December 31st, 2012, 08:08 AM
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Claire*
Here's to the crazy ones.
 
Join Date: Jul 2012
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Age: 23
Gender: Female
Nature: Sassy
*Gulp* I always get nervous when posting new SUs... I hope everything is okay, please let me know if it's not. I'm so stressed over getting the details right so as not to clash with anything in the world's background. Ack...
Name: Bofvar Blyr

Age: 38

Gender: Male

Race: Dwarf

Country of Origin: Mindirion

Appearance: As with many of his kind, Bofvar retains his people’s thick, stocky and stout build. His small stature and impressive musculature lend him what looks to be a great center of gravity. In all his best attempts at great posture, he still stands no more than five feet tall. He recognizes this as a curse of his people, and has slowly come to accept the fact over the years. So much so, that he often jokes that good things come in small packages. Even though not much height rests on his body, his legs are thick and powerful, just like the rest of his densely packed being. Although most of his weight is muscle, he would be remiss in not stating that some of the bulge in his midriff came from a bit..ok...a lot of a beer belly.

Possessing a rugged and stern face, one could see that it had been crafted over many years of hardship and battle. It could not be said, however, that Bofvar was handsome, not that many would say so in regards to Dwarves anyway. His bright, deep green eyes seem to pop against the suntanned tone of his skin, an obvious giveaway to many hours of hard labor. The faint traces of a now long healed wound can be seen running across his left eye. This vertical slash is slightly different in color than the rest of his face, being just a shade paler. A stubby nose sits just above a grandiose mustache and beard. This facial hair, crimson red in hue as to match the medium length hair on his head, comes braided all the way down to his waist line. Long enough, that if he so chooses, it could be tucked into his belt. He takes great pride in his beard, keeping its naturally thatchy appearance well groomed and free of any disgusting particulate.

His battle attire, a source of great pride for the mercenary, is well maintained and a reflection of his own persona. A thick, sturdy helmet, sits squarely on his head. Its sides come securely over his ears and a thin strip comes down to rest over his nose. Two bone horns run from the top, curving slightly to opposite sides the higher your eyes travel. These bright white bones contrast neatly with the rich, dark metallic coloring of the helmet and gold inscription of the Dwarven words: “Hard as stone.”

In regards to body armor, a light interlocking chain mail is seen just peeping out from under the thick plated armor of fine, handcrafted, dwarven heavy armor. A small, rectangular buckler is seen attached to his right shoulder, providing further protection for his offhand. Although his heavy armor serves its purpose and protects the vital organs of his chest, his muscular and rugged arms are left free from its services. Where the silvery, ornate armor ends, only two fur straps serve as clothing for his wrists. In the center of his armor, there stands an engraving of a great mountain, many think this depicts his home, but he never seems to give a clear answer when pressed about it. Just above his hips, a wide band leather belt, with numerous pockets, holds whatever he may need to carry. It also doubles conveniently as a beard holder when things get...hairy...

If one could sum up his armor, his furry bear clad shoes and leather pantaloons included. Most would describe it as practical. Where he lets himself be distinguished from most dwarves and really most others, is his weapon. In his left hand, can typically be found a long, gleaming golden trident. This three pronged weapon has served him well over the years, its thick shaft giving it freedom from easy breakage and sufficient weight so as to serve as a decent enough projectile. Each prong is serrated and quite vicious in appearance. Where as many dwarves would be seen with heavier weapons, Bofvar did not underestimate the importance of versatility and speed. When not in combat, this weapon can be seen strapped across his back, a proud symbol for all to see.


Personality: A rogue, rebel, meticulous, honorable, blunt, greedy. Just a few adjectives many use when they speak of Bofvar in passing. Like most living beings, however, one is never who they are in fleeting first impressions. Granted, bubbling on the surface are all these things, a surly rogue who values honor and a good bust line, but beneath the layers, something more lurks. Something that causes this warrior’s heart to beat with a lifetime’s worth of determination and steely resolve. A childhood of his father’s constant disapproval has planted in him a desire to prove his worth, to others, or maybe really to himself. Deeper feelings are usually masked by a flamboyant and sometimes overbearing facade. One that keeps people at arms length and never lets them see the “real” Bofvar.

Flashes of the real “man” within can be seen once and a while. When he is not drinking away his life or regaling others with his obviously exaggerated stories, one could probably see the tinge of insecurity that creeps into his complexion. That one little glimmer in his eyes that happens when he really starts to care for somebody and is scared of losing them. He is profoundly protective, like a ferocious little papa bear if anyone were to come after people he considers “family”. This protection might not be seen in noticeable ways, because his fake personality prevents it.

Bofvar values verbal banter, in fact, he seeks it. He often jokes that there is nothing sexier than an angry woman. Petty debates about religion, politics, even the weather. It matters little to him. If there is an opportunity for him to get into a verbal sparring match, he’ll take it. The same goes for real sparring. Viewed as an opportunity to prove himself, he’ll never back down from a challenge, ones issued or otherwise.

Severely stubborn and set in his ways, he’ll die preaching that he was right. (Even if he secretly admits to himself he wasn’t.) He’s also a bit spontaneous, but not so much as not to weigh the costs of his actions or prevent his meticulous attention to detail. The devil is in the details after all.

Despite his attraction to petty bickering, he flees from any form of deep conversation or drama. When conversations get heavy, he grows more and more uncomfortable. If somebody were to pour their soul out to him, he would most likely attempt to make light of the issue and brush it aside with a joke or two. It is this fact, that sometimes leads others to believe he is unintelligent or insensitive. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Although not a genius, he is sharp as a sword and it only gets smarter as his BAC gets higher. And underneath it all, he does care, he just doesn’t know how to express it. Unsurprisingly, he shies from father figures, even if he unknowingly were to become one himself.

Overall, he appears cheerful. A stupid smile plastered on his face that tells the world: “All is okay, and that’s the way it’s going to stay.” When the going gets rough, Bofvar always tries to stay positive. ‘Scared’, isn’t in his dictionary, not that he would read one. Physical pain and even death have no hold over him. His lack of faith keeps him grounded, free of the worry that eternal torment might bring, or whatever else the religious types might preach about. Everybody dies, no use being scared about it.


History: The son of a blacksmith, as many Dwarven children can claim, Bofvar grew up in a semi-traditional Dwarven manner. From a young age, Bofvar was accustomed to the heat of a forge. His father always encouraged him away from such things that were deemed trivial or of no use to a “real” Dwarf. Powerful muscles and a fascination for riches were instilled in his heart from a young age. Tradition, if he had to remember one thing from youth onward, it was the beating drum of tradition in a Dwarf’s life. One did not go against tradition. In his family, were one to go against tradition, they were better off dead to them.

Everyday, scrupulous attention was given to the crafting and design of numerous pieces of armor and weapons. It wasn’t uncommon for many hours to be spent hard at work, only for his father to come by and deem it a travesty and cast it away. Days like those, only turned into night and even day once again before he was allowed to leave the smith. Bofvar was not permitted to leave until something was done right and that took time. Lots of time. This attention to detail did carry over into adulthood. As many who are raised in such a domineering and overbearing manner, Bofvar came to resent the many tasks assigned to him by his family.

Bofvar did not long for an existence at a forge. To be shackled to the fiery embers and clanging of steel. He wanted adventure and glorious tales of battle. But his family did not come from warriors, the caste system of Mindirion was quite stringent this way. He probably would become and always would be a smith. Toiling away making weapons and listening to the harrowing tales of the many warriors at distant taverns. He was enraptured with the tales, every conquest of these warriors, both of battles and foreign women, gave him further love of such a life.

There had been stories of Dwarves who were called “Surface Dwarves”, unlike those who dwell in his home of the mountains. They spread throughout the lands, taking with them the culture and spirit of Mindirion. How he longed for such a life, but there was a catch. Surface Dwarves were banned, shunned from ever returning to their motherland. Could he ever bring such dishonor to himself and family, even if he considered himself an honorable Dwarf at heart? Apparently, he could.

After many months planning, a night came where he could depart from his home. Cloudwalker mountains, his home for twenty four years, still quite young for a Dwarf, was finally left behind. A tumultuous journey brought him down from the mountaintop. Including a tumble from a cliff that now forever marked his face, that was previously free from blemish. To this day, when asked, Bofvar will claim the scar across his eye to be from a great battle, him and an orc wrestling between life and death. Never would he let people know it was from a careless misstep that ended with a face-plant to a rock.

For years he wandered the expanses of Aerion, his journey for discovery, glory and riches carrying him from one corner to the next. It wasn’t until he had been resting at a nearby port, that Bofvar found the path he had been looking for. Deep in the night, pirates assaulted where he had been slumbering, the port ripe for their pillaging. The crew, mainly composed of Highmen, made quick work of many locals, taking for themselves countless prizes. They were not prepared for Bofvar’s surprising strength, honed from years spent with hammer and anvil. He dispatched three of the pirates with nothing but a fire poker, when they came to his inn. Bofvar refused to lose. He still remembers the sharp whistle that ceased the attacks on him, the one that issued forth from the captain as she strode into the room and eyed him curiously. She had been watching him without his notice, impressed by his strength and determination. Captain Amma Egileif, of the pirate ship “Aifor”.

It was unusual for a Highman to take interest in another from outside their culture. They had a stigma of being elitists and refusing to lower themselves to the stature of others. In reality, not a great deal separated Highmen and Dwarves in Bofvar’s eyes. Both desired glory and respected tradition. And as a pirate crew, well, they always desired riches. He must have made an impression on the captain, because he was quickly offered a spot in her crew. A rare exception that she didn’t make for many others. He accepted hesitantly, but it turned out to be one of the best and worst decisions he ever made.

Turns out, the pirates had their own moral code and really acted more like mercenaries when the time called for it. The sea was an odd place to see a Dwarf, there was no hiding that. But, his sea legs quickly came to him. It was here, that he developed an affinity for the trident. Not unlike the fire poker with which he dispatched those pirates, the weapon’s speed and multifaceted capabilities quickly made it his favorite. It was an oddity for even the ones on the ship, who favored more traditional weapons.

Many years passed again, the years passing more enjoyably this time. Fighting, conquering, pillaging, looting, riches, glory and tales worthy of a brew every now and then. Never rape, his ingrained morals prevented such a thing. Sure there were “conquests”, but never in such a way as to what -he- considered dishonor. Maybe this trait is what gave him such high esteem in the Captain’s eyes. That and his excellent attention to detail and battle prowess. She surprisingly promoted him to first officer, even above equally qualified others. He was taken aback, never thinking he would be more than another mate on the ship. Some came to accept his position, but others secretly loathed him for it. They deemed him unworthy, that a Highmen should have received the promotion. One night, after an abundance of drink and debauchery, Bofvar was stabbed in his sleep and cast overboard by his former “mates”, pajamas and all.

He lay adrift at sea, his consciousness coming and going like the tide. It was fortunate for him that he was cast not far from land. Bofvar had already known over the years that Dwarves did not make skilled swimmers, this further cemented that belief. Washing up on the shoreline of Cape Falcon, he was found by a group of a well educated lot. The people of this peace loving and artistic nation, brought him back from the brink. Upon waking, after several weeks of being removed from the world, Bofvar refused to linger there long. This was not a place for him. His desire for adventure, and riches was unending. With nothing to his name once again, he fled from the savior nation only to arrive in Eveamoor.

Here, he laid low. Rehab and plotting was his game. It was also that here, he finally reentered a forge for the first time in over a decade. The memory of his father playing through his mind as he begrudgingly picked up a hammer again. There simply wasn’t decent enough armor for his kind around. His current attire and weapon, the pieces he so proudly bears, were forged in a smith that had long been deserted on the outskirts of Curilan. The materials were not easy to come by, but he persuaded the few traders that came along to see things his way. Reequipped and lust for glory still in his heart, Bofvar reemerged on the mercenary scene, but with a new group, a wandering band if you will. This was his new home, a home for glory and riches.

Weapon Preference: Trident

RP Sample: From RHCP's very excellent RP, MAO.
Spoiler:
Ripples formed on the surface of the water as the Magikarp went to work playfully nibbling the air above it. Umbra leaned over the edge of the minuscule lake, her mouth agape as she stared in wonderment at the little fish. It was odd for Solomon, the whole world seemed new again when watching Umbra react to it. Every little thing garnered a reaction, no matter how small it may seem to him. She wasn’t unlike a baby in that way, often dashing off without his notice, only to come back with some new “discovery” of hers. He humored her of course, often pretending to have interest in whatever it was that second. It didn’t much bother him, sometimes the little treasures she brought back had some use. The occasional berry or what have you.

Umbra reached out with one of her tiny, two clawed hands towards the Magikarp. The fish didn’t seem to pay her the slightest bit of attention as she extended herself precariously over the water. Solomon knew exactly how this was going to end; a wet Sneasel. He didn’t intervene, you learn by the consequences of your actions. One quick swipe of her palm and Solomon’s prediction came true. With an unceremonious splash, she fell head first into the water. The Magikarp that once held her rapt attention, scooted safely away as she doggy paddled just to stay afloat. Umbra let out a devious and cheery laugh as she climbed her way back up the embankment. She was soaked, the water cascading off her body and further drenching the marshy ground below.

“Happy now?” Solomon asked her with a self-knowing smirk on his face. Umbra only looked up and beamed him a radiant little smile before nodding. “I’m afraid we would need a fishing pole to have any hopes of catching such a Pokemon. You aren’t exactly the greatest swimmer.” Umbra took to resenting that comment and seemed to give off an indignant little pout. “Anyway, we really need to keep going. It shouldn’t be much farther now. You’ll dry while we walk.”

The dense trees and luscious grass provided nice cover for the wild Pokemon of this route. So far, they had only encountered a Caterpie and a few Weedles. All things considered, he was pretty fortunate not to have Umbra be poisoned yet. In the portable games, their dreaded poison sting never failed to inflict his Pokemon with its insidious toxin. Hopefully they would find this Mr. Pokemon and his cottage soon enough. The route was massive in comparison to its former incarnation. What used to take seconds to traverse, now took a much greater portion of time.

“Snea, Sneasel!” Umbra shouted, her lithe figure jumping up and down excitedly, faint remnants of water still flying off her body. She pointed at something in the distance, it was hard to see exactly what she was trying to tell him. It seemed like a tree, no different than any of the others in the area. He was just about to tell her to calm down and move on before he spotted what she was so excited about. A little Hoothoot lay nestled on a branch within the safe confines of the tree’s reach. Its eyes were closed, only the black rings around them were visible as it snored the day away. Another perfect chance to get some more experience, just like the Pidgey on route 29.

“Ok, Umbra. Let’s keep this short and sweet, we have a quest to finish after all.” Solomon and Umbra approached the tree, stopping but a few meters away. “Let’s take it by surprise,” he leaned down and whispered into Umbra’s ear. “Faint attack, now.” Umbra seemed to disappear into darkness, almost as if she began to melt into the scenery that surrounded them. She appeared right near the Hoothoot, and hit it squarely between the eyes. The bird fell from its perch, hitting the ground below it with a sickening thud. Faint attack wasn’t an overly powerful attack, that was for sure. But its strength came through its accuracy. It never failed to make an impression. This battle would be over before you know it.

Hoothoot jumped to its feet, large red eyes glaring at its assailant and her human. “Okay Umbra, let’s finish this. Icy Wind.” The same gale from route 29 gathered itself, even Solomon felt the chill as his digital skin reacted with goosebumps. Umbra sent the wind rushing toward her opponent, only for the Hoothoot to go flying and dodge the attack with surprising agility. “Huh... Seems the little bird has some fight in him. Umbra, again.” Another wind built, only for the same result to happen. The Hoothoot simply dodged and circled Umbra, almost as if he was taunting her. It swooped in quickly, its beak glowing as it crashed into the Sneasel and began to peck like mad. Umbra tried in vain to wave off the pecking ball of feathers, her health falling little by little. “Come on, shake it off,” Solomon called out to her, trying to shake some sense into his Pokemon. “Quick attack.” Umbra launched at her attacker, connecting but not knocking it out. It only seemed to further infuriate the owl as it hovered above her and began to inhale deeply, its body seemed to swell with air. It opened its beak and Solomon doubled over as he covered his ears. An eardrum shattering cacophony was let loose, nailing Umbra and sending her to her knees.

Solomon recognized the attack, Uproar. Once started, this Hoothoot wouldn’t be able to stop itself for a little bit. He had to do something. At this stage in the game, Uproar could be incredibly powerful, even knocking out Umbra and causing him to white out. Not a horrible consequence in a normal game, but here, it was game over...forever. He reached into his bag and pulled out a pokeball. Before this fight started, he had no intention of catching this Hoothoot. Due to necessity, it looks like he would need to however. “Umbra, faint attack.” It took a second for Umbra to recover from the attack, but she responded dutifully as she was trained to do. Again the attack connected, but the Hoothoot remained living. The second wave of sound had to be coming soon. Umbra probably wouldn’t survive such a strong attack a second time, not at her current level at least. He threw the pokeball with all his might, the little ball growing as it sailed through the air and made contact with the owl. Hoothoot disappeared into a beam of light, only to make the pokeball shake ferociously in its attempt to escape. Solomon hoped he had weakened it enough, or they could be in serious trouble. Finally, the shaking stopped. The little menace was caught, securely locked away.

“You okay, Umbra?” She simply nodded her head and walked over to grab the now full pokeball. Handing it to her owner, she sat down with a sigh and rested while Solomon looked on with curiosity. “Good fight, little bird. I guess you’re part of the team for now,” he grumbled, his voice directed at the pokeball. “You’re either very scrappy or very lucky. Maybe both.” He stuck the pokeball next to Umbra’s inside his coat, clipping it securely in place. “I guess we’ll find out.”


Other: What’s up, Doc?

Side: Mercenaries

Last edited by Claire*; December 31st, 2012 at 08:54 AM.
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  #87    
Old December 31st, 2012, 08:23 AM
Lilizuki
The Wise Lesbian
 
Join Date: Nov 2012
Gender: Female
The abundance of half-elves is funny because, in D&D, they're notoriously bad. There's only one way to play them without being squashed by the other races, and that's through a ridiculously overpowered class.

Meanwhile, Elves are generally disliked for being overused and frail, and Dwarves are loved for being hardy and generally awesome.

@Raikiri/Supervegeta: What are the restrictions on the equipment our characters can carry? It's probably meant to be left vague, but that can easily lead to arguments about what is and isn't reasonable for the character to have at any given moment.

Last edited by Lilizuki; December 31st, 2012 at 08:41 AM.
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  #88    
Old December 31st, 2012, 09:43 AM
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Raikiri
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Age: 23
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@Retro Bug: Your SU looks pretty good except for a few minor changes. Firstly, Rolsten is more of a small continent/region than a country. So pick one of the countries there (Raelus seems to be the one she is actually from) and that change is done. Also, more of a suggestion than a necessary revision: you did not fully explain why the Monks would select her as a representative. We could probably glaze over that since everything else is great. I especially love how you explained why a Dwarf would do anything with an Elf and then have a child out of it. You are pending for now. Just change up the country of origin and we can formally accept you.

@Claire*: You are accepted! Excellent SU. I love Dwarves. Welcome to Aerion!

@Lilizuki: I always played human or Dwarf in D&D myself, so if I remember correctly playing Half-Elf was almost the same as playing human, but I could be wrong. It's been a while.

Anyway, on to your question. Generally speaking, I do not see why we need put limitations on equipment, as I expect everyone to be fairly reasonable. Obviously, everyone will be carrying their preferred weapon and general traveling gear that their character would bring. If that character is a mage, perhaps a few books. An experienced wanderer may bring a bedroll or camping gear. A dwarf may bring alcohol.

Personally, one of my characters Cass will be bringing lots to drink and a lot of weapons, because I can.

If Supervegeta has any preferences, he can and should bring them up, but off the top of my head, I have no limitations in mind. I will keep it vague for the time being and if I to bring in any rules or restrictions, I will.
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  #89    
Old December 31st, 2012, 09:55 AM
Lilizuki
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Join Date: Nov 2012
Gender: Female
Nah...half-elf is very different from Human. Humans get an extra skill point per level, and a bonus feat (Which are scarce for every class except Fighter), while half-elves get a static bonus to two skills, the Skill Focus feat, and some meager racial abilities. I learned optimization, though, so that stuff probably doesn't matter to casual players.

And gotcha. I tend to have my characters carry around chalk and marbles, if that's okay?
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  #90    
Old December 31st, 2012, 10:06 AM
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Claire*
Here's to the crazy ones.
 
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Yay! I'm accepted! Now I can finally be crass and drink my troubles away vicariously through my dwarf.

Bofvar is also going to like the current gender balance of the mercenaries. Lol
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  #91    
Old December 31st, 2012, 10:30 AM
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MichaelaTheUchiha
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Join Date: Jan 2010
Location: Sinnoh
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My characters tend to have knives tucked away because hey, Rule Nine. x3 I can limit those knives to 1-5 depending on what the masters' opinion is. One hidden on her ankle, one in plain sight on her hip, one hidden inside both of her sleeves, and one of her shoes usually has a hidden blade that comes out. >>; <<;

Okay, so my characters (and therefore me) are paranoid. Let me know which blades to take out. >>; (feels like the shoe blade is about to leave)
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  #92    
Old December 31st, 2012, 10:35 AM
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Miss Doronjo
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Hi, my SU is finished~!

http://www.pokecommunity.com/showpos...3&postcount=13

Hope it's okay.
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  #93    
Old December 31st, 2012, 01:25 PM
Lilizuki
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Quote:
Originally Posted by MichaelaTheUchiha View Post
Okay, so my characters (and therefore me) are paranoid. Let me know which blades to take out. >>; (feels like the shoe blade is about to leave)
Heheh. One of my characters had hidden blades everywhere.

Daggers on each elbow, punch daggers at each wrist, daggers on each foot, and shortswords at each knee. Being paranoid doesn't mean that somebody isn't about to jump out of the corner and eat your face!
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  #94    
Old December 31st, 2012, 01:28 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Lilizuki View Post
Being paranoid doesn't mean that somebody isn't about to jump out of the corner and eat your face!
I always eat faces. ALWAYS.
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  #95    
Old December 31st, 2012, 04:09 PM
Vintage Arachnid
im always watchin
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I did as you asked plus added to the history a little bit.
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  #96    
Old January 1st, 2013, 11:08 AM
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<Challenger>
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It appears as if all the spots are filled. Is this true?
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  #97    
Old January 1st, 2013, 11:55 AM
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Xlugon Pyro
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Quote:
Originally Posted by heretostay123 View Post
It appears as if all the spots are filled. Is this true?
There are two spots available for mercenaries and knights I believe.

Lololol don't listen to me. :3
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Last edited by Xlugon Pyro; January 1st, 2013 at 04:14 PM.
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  #98    
Old January 1st, 2013, 02:34 PM
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Raikiri
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Sorry for the sudden drop off the face of the Earth, but I had some "gatherings" to attend. Anyway, Happy New Years to everyone and I hope everyone had some fun and eased into the new year well.

Moving on to business!

@Retro Bug: I am going to go ahead and accept you as you made all the changes. Good SU and welcome abroad.

@Miss Doronjo: I like the SU and you are accepted as far as I am concerned, however I have to review it with Supervegeta to make it official. I do not foresee any issues with it, however.

@Everyone: While I need Supervegeta to update the OP in this thread, I do believe with the recent number of SUs that following Miss Doronjo the mercenaries will be full, but the Knights have one spot open as I believe their total is at 6 (including Supervegeta's and my SUs). I could be wrong since I fail at math and only got 4 hours of sleep *shot*.

So any prospective knights should go ahead and finish up their SUs so the manly Supervegeta and I can review the SUs. I do believe we will start shortly though. So get excited!
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  #99    
Old January 1st, 2013, 05:42 PM
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Yes, Retro Bug and Miss Doronjo are now officially accepted, which leaves one spot on the Knights remaining!
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  #100    
Old January 1st, 2013, 07:23 PM
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Xlugon Pyro
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COOL.

Very estrogen heavy RP, especially on the mercs side. Varian and the dwarf will be happy!
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