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l i t a n y :: a song of worlds. [PG-16, OOC / Sign-Up Thread]

Cirrus

dreaming a transient dream.
1,577
Posts
14
Years

Preamble


When one of my friends suggested to me that I should write a roleplay, I was astounded by the idea. "I'm really busy!" I said, and thought about declining; but then I considered the idea for a little while, and decided to go for it anyway. This is the result of my haphazard decision.

Without further ado, I present to you...

Litany

A high fantasy RP.

In an age before the memories of modern man, before any of the present countries were established, there existed a girl who made her home in the lofty Aenaean Mountains. She was born from the elements, and lived as the voice of nature. Every thousand years, a cataclysm follows in the wake of her death – destruction, then rejuvenation. Her appearances were manifold and varied, but her way of life was always the same; she lived and died in solitude. One day, a timid but idealistic young man came to train himself at the peak of the highest of the mountains, so that he could gain enough power to cease the wars across the continent below. The girl had never seen anyone from the outside world before, and so out of curiosity asked him to take her along on his journey. The man, astounded by the girl's very existence itself, readily agreed. The two travelled across the continent together, gathering companions and followers under the banner of the man's dreams of a peaceful world. A decade and a half later, after the dust from the long years of warfare had settled, the man had transformed from an incompetent adolescent into a warrior of legendary skill. His name was Helvenn, the founder of the empire of Helvenand, and he named the capital of his nation Arianne, named after his perpetual companion.




[Beginnings of a Tale]

The plane of Lunicia is but one of many in the infinite multiverse; upon first glance, it does not seem like anything other than yet another temperate, undeveloped world – magic vastly outpaces technology, monsters still roam the countryside, and myriad horrors are hidden within the depths of the earth. The priorities of civilization, however, are slowly shifting. Legend and legacy are being forgotten in favor of advancement and progress. The ancient empire of Helvenand, encompassing the northeastern half of the landmass of Khellius, has grown to become the greatest superpower on the continent. To its southwest is the mercantile nation of Perinth; its northwest, the republic of Nemaesus; to the south, the tropical monarchy of Salantira; and beyond that, to the east, is the theocracy of Teucrion.

Countless millennia have passed since the age of the heroes, and their exploits have since passed into legend. Most famed among the band that travelled forth with Helvenn is, of course, Helvenn himself, a man whose courage was admired even moreso at times than his prowess. At his side stands Arianne, a muse-like figure with great artistic ability and a graceful, calming presence. Four of their companions gained great renown also: the grand magister Kyre, possessing intellect beyond compare and a mastery of magicks that have since been lost to time; the silent protector, Marcell, defending the companions with unwavering loyalty; the soundless enforcer, Ciefe, meting out justice from the shadows; and the eloquent diplomat, Varras, whose rhetoric and seasoned discourse were unsurpassed.

The year is 1019. The six nations of Khellius have lived in harmony for nearly a thousand years, and both commerce and the study of magic have flourished. This long-standing peace, however, is broken very unexpectedly; the massacre of thousands of Helvan innocents during the festival of Caspenalia as well as arson and property damage, committed in the capital, no less, is too much to ignore. Following the discovery that the perpetrators were Perinthian and Salantiran terrorists, Emperor Terreus thus issued a decree for the nation to go to war. Needless to say, the military might of Helvenand crushed Perinthian resistance, despite the latter's fierce efforts.

This particular story begins near the conclusion of the Helvan-Perinthian war, just after the fall of Tyrovion, the capital of Perinth. It accompanies a band of adventurers, or perhaps mercenaries, under the employ of the Empire of Helvenand. Following the conquest of Perinth, it has become painfully clear that the extremist force behind the initial attack on the capital have not been eradicated in any effective way whatsoever, and the band has temporarily been relegated to bandit extermination in the ravaged countryside. As the story unfolds, however, the adventurers will find that perhaps the current political climate is not simply man's doing, after all…

The winds of change are upon the world. Only time will tell what the future holds.



[Whispers of the Earth]



The continent of Khellius is not very technologically advanced. While ingenious mechanical devices powered by wind and water exist, much of the innovations in Khellius is powered by magic, from glass firearms charged with elemental energy to advanced automatons, capable of comprehension of complex commands given by their creators. Miracles are dispensed by clerics and priests of St. Elendra, though there are a number of secret cults in the land as well.

Relevant world information in the spoiler below.

Helvenand

=-=-=-=-=-=
Spoiler:

Perinth

=-=-=-=-=-=
Spoiler:

Nemaesus

=-=-=-=-=-=
Spoiler:

Salantira

=-=-=-=-=-=
Spoiler:

Teucrion

=-=-=-=-=-=
Spoiler:


The Church

Spoiler:


Important Miscellany

Spoiler:




[Rules of Engagement]



There is always this inevitable section; better that it comes before the sign-up sheet than after, lest no one read it. The rules, then, are as follows:


- Please follow the rules of this forum. This should not need to be said, but I will say it anyway. Go read them if you haven't already.

- Please be intelligent. Use your common sense first and foremost. This will help avert many of life's difficulties, and it is no less true when applied to this roleplay.

- Please listen to me. As the creator of this roleplay and someone who has spent a great deal of time crafting this setting, I would like to make my life easier by saying the following: please don't argue with me when I ask you to do something nicely. I usually have a good reason.

- Please don't godmode or take control of others' characters without their permission. Life is never devoid of challenges. Roleplays shouldn't be, either. Plus, if every encounter was solved in an easy and painless manner, this roleplay would quickly become extremely boring. As for the second part ... try not to do it unless you're a telepath. Otherwise it would make no sense.

- Please be active. Amendment: I suck at posting once a week sometimes, so just stick to not ditching I guess. If you need to take a break, tell me when you are going to become inactive for a good reason so I won't be confused. I do not want this roleplay to die any time soon, and eventually I want to see the plot come to fruition, so do not sign up if you cannot commit.

- Please read my setting notes carefully. (When applicable.) A roleplay is a co-operative enterprise, and while I encourage you to be creative, don't trample on my creations when you're doing so. Regarding cities and such: The cities I mentioned are only the major ones, so there's plenty of room for you to include smaller-sized cities and towns in your backstory or in the main plot.

- Please do not be overly explicit. Since the roleplay is rated PG-16, there is a certain degree of freedom that one has. However, do not exceed the PG-16 rating with the severity of your writing, or everyone will get in trouble.

- Please have fun. Personally, I wrote this roleplay in order to have fun, but hopefully it's not too much to ask of you, the player.



[Makings of a Legend]



Nota bene: Acceptance does not hinge on reservation or priority of signing up, but rather on strength of writing.

Sign-Up Sheet:

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Personality: About 2 paragraphs as a minimum.

Appearance: About 2 - 3 paragraphs as a minimum.

Background: About 2 - 3 paragraphs as a minimum. A lot of the map is up to your interpretation, though if information is wanted on various locales it can be provided.)

Legend: See below on how to fill out - one of five available choices.

Statistics: Mouse over the name to see what a statistic governs; see below on how to fill this out.
Strength -
Dexterity -
Constitution -
Intelligence -
Wisdom -
Charisma -


Abilities: See below on how to fill this out.

Roleplay Sample: Please give me a general idea of the style in which you write and the quality of your writing.

Statistics

Spoiler:


Abilities

Spoiler:


Legends

Spoiler:




[Workings of Magic]



This is a quick sidebar on how magic works in Khellius. There are three types of magic available to the general public: arcana, miracles, and mindcraft.

Arcana


Alternate Names: arcane magic, invocations, arcane spells
Expressions for Practitioners: arcanists, sorcerers, wizards, conjurers, evokers, illusionists, abjurers, transmuters – artificers: alchemists, enchanters

Arcana is the art of bending the world to one's will; by carefully infusing the aetheric network that the world is laid out on, one can produce extraordinary effects in reality. There are five schools of arcana: abjuration, conjuration, evocation, illusion, and transmutation. Though even a novice practitioner is able to produce some form of advanced effect, the breadth of that effect varies with experience, power, and specialization – for example, a sphere of flame produced by a tertiary evoker will not nearly be as explosive as a sphere of flame produced by a primary evoker. Arcana is also a form of magic that is most likely to produce dramatic results, being able to do a variety of useful and miscellaneous things; remarkably, however, it is not able to heal wounds in any efficient manner whatsoever. Alchemy is a substudy of arcana, and involves imbuing the qualities of invocations into objects to be activated at a later date – alchemical objects of varying amounts of utility are often produced by skilled inventors.

Specifics

Spoiler:


Theurgy


Alternate Names: miracles, divine magic – see also: nature magic, druidism, dark magic, rituals
Expressions for Practitioners: petitioners, clerics, priests, bishops (etc.) – other flavors: druids, shamans, ritualists, cultists – artificers: runechanters, faith-smiths

Unlike arcana, theurgy draws its power from a divine source, most commonly St. Elendra. Commonly available theurgy tends to focus on healing and protection, and its destructive usage, though potent in its own right, is much less flashy in its dispatch. A very different sort of magic, originally practiced in the northern Umbric forest in Nemaesus and based on the whispers of Nature, exists, but its capabilities are not much different from standard theurgy. A third variety, rumoured to stem from the forces of evil – demons, malevolent spirits, forgotten deities of great evil, and other such entities – also exists, though its utilization is largely forbidden; extremely destructive in design, it feeds off the very life of its wielder, and though it might offer great power, it is never without a hefty price. Generally miracles are freeform, but a list of useful standard theurgy effects is below, as well as how they operate.

Specifics
Spoiler:


Mindcraft


Alternate Names: psionics, mental magic, powers
Expressions for Practitioners: psions, cerebremancers, metaminds, telepaths (telepathy), seers (clairsentience), shapers (metacreativity), nomads (psychoportation) – see also: constructors

The reshaping of one's environment with one's mind is perhaps the most dangerous and enigmatic form of magic; the strength necessary for mindcraft springs from the very basis of sentience itself. To a practitioner of mindcraft, nothing about reality is certain save for their own mind, and by exerting enough mental force, their thoughts become manifest on the plane of the Material. While arcana and theurgy both have clearly defined limitations, mindcraft does not – it feeds off the energy of the manifester. Thus, it is entirely possible for the manifester to overexert himself, since the manifester can theoretically utilize powerful effects an infinite amount of times (as long as he has the energy to spare). Mindcraft also has the possibility of backfiring, and though the chance of this occurrence is minimized through experience and practice, it never completely goes away. Mindcraft is sorted loosely into four categories: metacreativity, clairsentience, psychoportation, and telepathy.

Specifics
Spoiler:




[Words of Parting]


A few acknowledgements:

- A friend of mine who isn't registered with PokeCommunity, for giving me the idea for the myth.
- NBOS Software, for making the excellent Fractal Mapper that was used to make the map
- Various pixiv artists, whose work I acquired off of safebooru (...)
- Dungeons and Dragons 3.5e, from which the statistics system is directly taken and the magic system is heavily inspired
- Typechart.com, without which I would never have been able to get the fonts right
- And finally, me, for being the madman who dedicated literally four entire days' worth of free time to writing all the associated content for this roleplay.

Enjoy the game.


Accepted Players

I. Helvenn's successor, Lyrian Sileres Morianus.
II. Arianne's successor, Fiora Lucilia Cenelys.
III. Kyre's successor, Fayus Celianne Filament de Crea.
IV. Marcell's successor, Nobelus Rhys Dieterre.
V. Varras's successor,
VI. Ciefe's successor, Isaac Aristos.



 
Last edited:
5,114
Posts
17
Years
  • Age 30
  • AU
  • Seen Feb 18, 2023
I just want to say that this is such a fantastic looking roleplay. I won't be joining as I have enough on my plate but I'll definitely be following this when you start! You have my support and my thumbs up!!
 

Quest

Veteran Roleplayer
984
Posts
14
Years
  • Seen Jan 6, 2023
Just like all of your SUs that I have seen, this RP is positively splendid. Would you be kind enough to reserve Ciefe's successor?
 

Yuukihime

I'm allergic to people.
1,178
Posts
16
Years

xLeu3.png
Credit to Cirrus for the Banner.​


Name: Fiora Amarel

Age: 21

Gender: Female

Personality:
Fiora's personality is something to be marveled, she is constantly dancing on the fine line between sanity and insanity. Never fully there, although not quite lost enough to be considered insane. When one first meets Fiora they see an out doorsy type of girl and a girl who loves to laugh. She's out to make the world smile, so she's always seen with an optimistic attitude. Fiora will always find the silliest reason to laugh or find something to be happy about, this is not saying she's childish. No, Fiora is not childish, although quirky by nature she has the ability to be a serious character, so don't discredit her immediately and think of her as a ditz just because she's the type that is extremely optimistic, Fiora does in fact take her job as a mercenary for the Helven Empire quite seriously. Fiora originally started being an incurable optomist when she realized just how sad of a place the world was, so in an attempt to brighten everyone's day just a little bit she took on the persona of an optimistic girl, aiming to make people laugh and smile and forget their troubles, even if it's just for a little while.

Although her intentions to be optomistic started well enough, excessive, unmentored Mindcraft practicing has in fact distorted and twisted her personality and psyche. Fiora is a very disturbed person when it comes down to it, not because she wants to be but because this is what her magic does to her. Too many backfired Clairsentience castings have cause Fiora to grow increasingly unstable, not to the point where she'd ever harm anyone but to the point where she's one step away from completely losing herself to her own insanity. Although one would never guess looking at her normally that she is so twisted. Normally she's a sweet, innocent and naive girl but when death is involved this instability manifests through her own dark musings. Fiora does in fact hold a morbid fascination for anything grotesque or macabre in nature, which shows a complete lack of any type of empathy, although it isn't just death that brings out these dark and often disturbing musings, casting Clairsentience can manifest this side of her personality as well. Clairsentience has also caused her to disassociate herself from human morals as well, her sense of right and wrong is completely different from most humans, and because of the mental toll her Mindcraft specialization takes on her psyche she rarely performs these spells, preferring to use long ranged weaponry instead.

Fiora also doesn't like to brag about her intermediate specialization in Mindcraft, preferring to keep it a secret from her companions, not that's she's ashamed of it, but she fears people might be afraid of her if they found out about her specialization, and that's something she does not want at all. Fiora may be disturbed on many levels but she still enjoys companionship and if anyone ever knew just how disturbed she was, she fears that may leave her alone in the long run, although Fiora does realize that if she ever truly lost her mind then she would want to be alone, because she would fear hurting anyone she is close with.



Appearance:
Appearance: Fiora body frame is small, even for someone that's in their early 20's. She stands about 5"1 and weighs in at probably less than 110 pounds, don't let her dainty body frame fool you though, she's built for long-range weaponry, and in fact she often uses her small body figure to her advantage. Her body is built for stealth and dexterity, or at least that's how she was trained to use her body anyway.

Clothing wise, Fiora doesn't like to overdo it, practicality over aesthetics. She keeps her light brown hair pulled back into two long neatly done ponytails, with her bangs falling into her face nearly covering her two light brown-colored eyes which compliment her lightly tanned skin (a result from training outside so much) nicely. Her clothing is meant for easy travel, while still managing to be practical for battle. A red-colored dress hand-made by her mother when Fiora decided to take up long ranged weaponry. In an attempt to accessorize, Fiora has made it much more than a simple dress, she's adorned it with many small and probably impractical accessories, the largest being a belt that hangs loosely on the dress with a large golden accessory meant to be the buckle. The dress itself is adorned with many sown on ribbons, and although they may not be the best for combat, Fiora considers them fashionable, or a sad attempt to cover up holes in the fabric that have resulted from normal wear and tear. On her arms, two brown archer gloves to protect her small hands from any injury that might result when she uses her Longbow.

Under the dress is a pair of thin white paints, only worn because she hates wandering around the wilderness in anything else, and for shoes a pair of leatherskin boots, used for stealth, although they aren't the most durable when it comes to wandering in the wilderness for long periods of time, Fiora has had them patched in several places because of wear and tear damage.


Background:
Born to a small but well-off family in Histria, Fiora had an ordinary childhood, so much so that she looks back on it and thinks it was mundane. Her mother was a seamstress, and her father one of the many arcane researchers.

Fiora looks back on her childhood as being boring, but no one can dispute that her childhood was a happy one. What Fiora probably remembers the most about her childhood was the fresh, clean air of Histria and how there was always such an abundance of beautiful flora in the area. She was a happy child whose only care was keeping her room clean and keeping up with her training lessons.

So how did this happy girl go from having a stable home life and a loving home to bordering on the brink of madness?

That story starts at age 11, when their family picked up and moved from Histria to Naranum to begin her training as an arcanist; after the hundred-and-first incident of accidental arson, her father promptly declared that his tutoring was not enough - Fiora needed proper training in arcana so that she wouldn't inadvertently set the house on fire.

Her training in arcana was short-lived; she learned the basics for it, but soon found herself displeased with the idea of arcana in general, and asked her father if there were other forms of magic to be learned. She considered gaining experience in miracles, but the idea of becoming a devotee to any one divine didn't suit her; hesitantly her father told her of mindcraft and how powerful it was, but also of its nature as an extremely dangerous art, with many manifesters descending into insanity.

Initially the idea of mindcraft scared her – she didn't want to learn any type of magic that could cause her to lose her sanity but as she grew older it grew more evident that she wasn't cut out for arcane magic. It's not that she was bad at it; she just felt the effects were a little lackluster, and she wanted to grasp something more powerful.

In her fifteenth year, Fiora began dabbling in the art of mindcraft secretly, afraid of what her father might do if her found out she was studying this dangerous type of magic. Unfortunately for her, attempting to juggle her arcane studies while simultaneously studying mindcraft had a series of horrible consequences; eventually, she was expelled from the institute that she was attending, much to her father's dismay. She was scolded and told she needed to work harder; angry with her father she began to isolate herself and continued to practice mindcraft in secret. Her parents found out about her studies and ordered her to cease, a request which she stubbornly refused.

Without proper training, however, mindcraft is very harmful to its wielder; often, powers would partially or completely backfire on her, forever twisting her personality and damaging her psyche. Her mind was irreparably damaged with each and every foray into the secrets that mindcraft held, and soon Fiora could not ignore that the art she had dabbled in was harming her, even if she did not want to acknowledge it. In an effort to preserve her sanity, she ceased her studies for a time and began to take up archery; making excuses that she wished to travel the world, she left home two years later, unsatisfied with her lack of freedom and unwilling to give up mindcraft despite her damaged psyche.



Legend: Arianne, Exalted Muse

Statistics:
Strength - 12
Dexterity - 15
Constitution - 10
Intelligence -15
Wisdom - 8
Charisma - 16


Abilities:

--> Intermediate Mindcraft
-----> Clairsentience
-----> Metacreativity

->Intermediate Ranged Weapons Mastery
---> Longbow

Roleplay Sample:
Spoiler:

 
Last edited:

Cirrus

dreaming a transient dream.
1,577
Posts
14
Years
Nota bene: Acceptance does not hinge on reservation or priority of signing up, but rather on strength of writing.

Thank you for your interest - unfortunately I can't /reserve/ slots, per se. Feel free to put up a partial sign-up though!
 
27
Posts
11
Years
  • Seen May 19, 2012
{{Oh my gosh, this looks amazing. Great writing.

EDIT: Ooops, missed last post. Oh well, hoping to be Varras' successor, will edit with application ASAP.
:)

SECOND EDIT: Not nearly done, but I don't have time to finish tonight DX

THIRD EDIT: Done.}}



Name:
Pesca Ildemor
Age:
26
Gender:
Male
Personality:
Pesca's likeable. It's his defining characteristic, really, and perhaps his only redeeming one. He's a lazy, low-class, foul-mouthed, simple-minded cretin who's likely to cheat you out of your money and then convince you he earned it. He's outgoing to a fault, craving companionship, and feeling very uncomfortable when alone -- like he can't quite figure out what to do with himself when not playing the class clown and lady's man. He's not entirely obnoxious however, despite certain ah... money.. incidents... he has a peaceful air of someone you want to confide in, and makes a good listener. He's famous for "mediating debates" (breaking up fistfights) between his fellow sailors.

He can be surprisingly prissy (perhaps in companionship to his laziness). He likes cleanliness, and keeps his quarters organized, and even bathes more than once a year. He's eternally trying to convince people to do his share of the work for him, and is prone to endless whining when he ends up having to do it. More than once someone has taken over for him just to get him to shut up. He's loyal and generous to his friends and followers, and can always make someone feel like they're his best friend. He has a great memory for random details of people's lives ("Hey man, how's the wife? She's due any day now isn't she? I hope she didn't catch that flu that was going around Ticinum, did she?"). To stranger's he's warm and rougish, the classic superstitious sailor type, yet still in a class of his own. He manages to strike people with his words and personality, to stand out in their minds even after the briefest meeting. They radiate to him like moths to an effortless flame in a way that few, if any people can exert. Who knows, in a different century, in a different life, Pesca could have been something really special...


Appearance:
Despite continually performing only the minimum amount of work necessary to survive, a sailor's life is hard. Pesca's sun-beaten skin is stretched tight across a muscled back and shoulders, and a naturally wiry frame, save the small pouch of "baby fat" across his stomach. His skin is naturally a dark olive, though most everything is stained every shade of red, blue, green, yellow, brown, and black imaginable. Tattoos cover his torso, creeping down his arms and up his neck. Many of them are done in the traditional styles of ports he's visited, and many are chalked up to "true stories" of his adventures. His favorite piece is the one that overs his entire back, done in the traditional Gallatian style, of a giant fish fighting the devil. Eternally the exhibitionist, Pesca's usually shirtless and shoeless to show off his ink, though he's always wearing a small piece of ardelyte on a chain around his neck.

If one can recover from the shock of the tattoos, the rest of Pesca is relatively unintimidating. He's a bit short, with a soft jaw that only seems to grow a hint of stubble no matter how he tries to coax it into something more imposing. His tightly curled dark-chocolate hair is usually pulled back into a half-hearted ponytail, and shoved beneath some colorful bandanna or another. His eyes are a lighter, golden brown, large and childish above a goofy grin. For most of his life he's never carried a weapon, never needing one, and always being able to talk his way out of trouble, but in light of his new, mercenary way of life, he's taken to carrying a homely falchion and a dagger.



Background:
Pesca was born in the smallest, most boring seacost town in all of Gallatia that was all descended from a couple of families who happened to crash on the cliffs and decided to build a lighthouse. The majority of town was now about a few miles from that old stone tower, where the sea was more accessible and most people could fish for a living, but they still all hauled up there once a week for church, or town meetings, or rudimentary school (that Pesca attended through third grade and hated every minute of) for children; since the town had no such building of its own. At home, Pesca was an only child, and spoiled rotten because of it. Outside, he was the most popular kid in town, religiously followed by his peers and doted on by adults.

Nonetheless, the boy had a brutal case of wanderlust. He was constantly running off, not because of any particular malcontent, simply boredom. He'd run off and even sleep in the woods for days, or simply walk down along the beach until he couldn't walk any further. One day he found a set of dank caves set into one of the cliffs, and explored deep down inside it. He got lost, and was stuck in there for almost a full week before he managed to escape and was found collapsed in the sand, dehydrated, half-starved, and refusing to speak of the experience. Every once in a while one of Pesca's more observant fellow sailors will wonder why he gets so antsy in dark, confined spaces. It was months before the boy wandered beyond the edge of town again.

When Pesca was 13 years old a merchant ship that had been blown off course was forced to dock at his small port to restock food and water. It was the first taste of the outside world Pesca, or even most of the townspeople, had ever had. The ship was huge compared to the tiny fishing vessels of the townsfolk. Massive. Its masts were as tall as the lighthouse. The sailors spoke with exotic accents and told stories of ports not even beyond Gallatia, but beyond Helvan. As gifts of good will they left the people with jars of Salantiran spices and Teucrionian musk. These visions of a far-off world, made real by these tangible gifts, consumed Pesca.

He spoke of nothing but leaving. Again and again he thumbed through the few books the schoolteacher had for any miniscule detail about the lands of Khellius. Anyone who'd ever left town was grilled for hours on end for every aspect of their travels. Pesca rarely slept and hardly ate. He'd spend his time pacing on the edge of the docks, squinting at the horizon trying to see as far as he could. It went on like this for almost a year before his parents gave up trying to talk him out of it, and blessed him to go off on foot for the provincial capital of Placentia. Needless to say, it was a bit of a culture shock.

It took only a few weeks in the capital for the fast-adapting Pesca to adjust and make friends. Someone helped get him a job at the docks, and later, as a deckboy on one of the merchant vessels he'd so dreamed of. Within a few years, he'd become a dyed-in-the-wool sailor, shedding all his hick ways. He visited every major port imaginable, sometimes spending a day there, sometimes months. He started a collection of tattoos to monument his travels. He picked up the basics of swordfighting. He talked himself into some of the worst trouble imaginable, and then talked himself right back out again.

And then, one day, he grew bored.

Not bored, per se, but rather homesick. The war, the troubled times brewing in Khellius had left him with a sense of discomfort. He no longer felt amicable with all these foreign sailors and low-lifes. He was a Helvan. He wanted to return to Helvan. Pesca knew he didn't have the makings of a soldier, but maybe there was someway he could serve his home. For a very, very brief and unspeakable period he served as a mess cook in the army. Neither the soldiers nor Pesca benefited from that arrangement. Disheartened, he's ended up in
Ticinum, where he mostly plays cards for money and drink.


Legend:
Varras the Eloquent Diplomat

Statistics:

Strength - 14
Dexterity - 13
Constitution - 13
Intelligence - 10
Wisdom - 12
Charisma - 16


Abilities:

-Intermediate Influence
/ +2 Charisma
- Minor Talents / Hunt & Fishing / A rural upbringing has taught Pesca the bare basics of survival. He knows how to make a few small animal snares and crab traps. In a pinch, it's likely he could catch enough for himself, and perhaps one other to survive, but certainly not an entire group of six.
-Minor Edged Weapon Mastery
/ Falchion
-Minor Talents
/ Astronomy / Years of sailing have given Pesca a grassroots understanding of the night sky. He does not understand the magical significance of the stars, i.e. how they influence spells or fates, but can recognize most every constellation, use them for navigation, and can point out the few that are considered bad or good omens amidst sailors.

Roleplay Sample:
Fleas.

Her bed had fleas.


They had left red welts on her bare shoulders, ripe with clear poison that she tried to ignore, hunched over, walking down the dark street. The rain had stopped now, but it left the air hot and heavy, the city tangible with the stink of wet garbage. Her thin tank top and shorts clung to her pubescent frame, and her feet squished in damp sneakers with no socks, the product of being left on the fire escape overnight.

Her hands were shoved deep in her pockets, determined not to reach up and touch the new peach fuzz on her brown scalp. She tried not to think about her long copper-red locks, once halfway down her back, lying shaved on the floor of her flea-filled bedroom in her flea-filled apartment in that flea-filled building. It made her eyes sting with tears she refused to spill. Childish. Dolores Black doesn't cry.

The evening crowd was already gathering in the warm dusk, slow slouching in and out of shadows on the way to the battle of tonight's best wager. Dolly knew the place – the fights alternated several dozen known 'arenas', littered across the poorer quarters of New Tokyo. The trick was simply knowing where they would be, the location of the Friday night fight changing half-a-dozen times a week to throw the police off their tail. Not like they would do anything, anyways. Tonight, half of a building had been knocked down to widen a dingy alley enough to hold the almost four to five hundred people, packed along fences and up fire escapes, who were bound to show up on any given night.


Dolly knew, of course. She never missed a fight. A faint smile fought against the gloom in her throat as he ran a hand across her bare head despite herself, slouching along the brick towards the spotlights and lamps illuminating the post-rain gloom. Several small ridges of coagulated blood had formed where her mother's electric razor had nicked her. She knew she looked like a boy despite budding breasts.


But at least she didn't have fleas any more.
 
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shinysweety

In it to win it! :D
1,760
Posts
13
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Reserve me a Successor. ;) I'll just put the name and Gender in mu SU for now 'cause im about go 2 bed. :)

Btw, around what age should are character's be?

Name: Paige Willow
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Personality:

Appearance: About 2 - 3 paragraphs as a minimum.

Background: About 2 - 3 paragraphs as a minimum. A lot of the map is up to your interpretation, though if information is wanted on various locales it can be provided.)

Legend: See below on how to fill out - one of five available choices.

Statistics: Mouse over the name to see what a statistic governs; see below on how to fill this out.
Strength -
Dexterity -
Constitution -
Intelligence -
Wisdom -
Charisma -

Abilities: See below on how to fill this out.

Roleplay Sample: Please give me a general idea of the style in which you write and the quality of your writing.
 
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Cirrus

dreaming a transient dream.
1,577
Posts
14
Years
@rufflestiltskin: You did the statistics array correctly, excepting the fact that you can't go to 17 - so you have 3 extra points to invest after you drop Charisma to 16. The rest of it is perfect, though.

... And now I realize that I'm an idiot and didn't include the description for the statistics - I'll add them now, though you can pretty much infer what they do from their names.

Also it's actually "Varras", though the naming scheme does make one thing of Varrus, huh. Or more precisely Publius Quinctilius Varus, the commander who lost three entire Roman legions in the Teutoberg Forest massacre in 9 AD.

@shinysweety: No reservations, unfortunately, as previously mentioned ; I. Regarding the age issue - whatever makes sense for a mercenary. Weapon users will probably find that their age shouldn't be too young, since physical strength is required, but young magic-users are not out of the question if they are talented.
 
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Who's Kiyo?

puking rainbows
3,229
Posts
12
Years
Wow oh wow is this really thought out.

This is extremely interesting! I'd love to be apart of this RP once I figure everything out and fill out an SU.

But one thing I'm not getting though- what's the significance of having a "legend?" Perhaps I just didn't it get it when I was reading through your post? Or was it never written down?
 

Cirrus

dreaming a transient dream.
1,577
Posts
14
Years
@Kiyoshi the Polar Bear: That is a very good question, and you are correct in that it wasn't written down (though I do, of course, have a reason). Not to give too much away - characters are essentially taking on the roles of their respective legends in the six-man party.

If you are still confused (and you have every right to be) I'd be happy to discuss more over private messages, but I'd prefer not to make it too obvious in this thread. Another hint, though - everything is cyclical. This story is a re-occurrence of something.

Think on it!

Edit: I'll post this, and add it to the original post.
The legend you take means that you act as the incarnation of that initial role in this cycle of the story. You don't have to necessarily have similar abilities, though that is definitely a big possibility, and you get to determine the personality of your legend as it was initially as well, since it will be very similar to your character's personality.
 
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Loki

x
6,829
Posts
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  • Seen Mar 23, 2022
I am highly interested in this roleplay-- the set-up is very impressive. *V*

I may change Rhys' appearance, if it's not appropriate. I simply went off of the images in the main post and designed a character that would fit in a Pixiv Fantasia type setting, but if he's too OTT, please let me know. The colors of his outfit are also subject to change, as if I find time to draw him, I may decide some colors clash, or the metal would look better as bronze or... stuff like that. Hope that's not too much of a problem.

litanybanner.png


Name: Nobelus Rhys Dieterre

Age: Twenty-Seven

Gender: Male

Personality: A gentle giant, Rhys may appear intimidating at first, but after getting past his eternally stony expression, it is plain to see that he is actually a very kind person. While not one to allow himself to be taken advantage of, he has no qualms with helping those in need when he can spare the time and effort, enjoying putting smiles on troubled peoples' faces. Despite this, Rhys' penchant for animals and fondness of plant life often leaves him preferring the loyalty of non-human companions and quiet forests to the hustle and bustle of city life. Company is not unwelcome, and Rhys is not unfriendly to civil people by any means, but he has difficulties in placing his trust in other people, believing humans to be a naturally two-faced race. However once the difficult battle of winning his loyalty is won, it is practically kept for life. Rhys will stand for no affronts to his dearest companions, and spares no effort to make things easier on the people that he cares about. Only the greatest betrayal will cause Rhys to begin to doubt his loyalty— or perhaps acting against Rhys' strong sense of morals and justice. While Rhys himself is not particularly interested in the affairs of others nor their reasons for doing the things they do, he is very averse to illegal action and places great expectations upon himself, wanting nothing less than the best his efforts can bring and always being righteous in the face of hardship.

But at times, his hardened nature overtakes his softness, and one can see the seasoned soldier turned mercenary turn one eye and hush an entire bar of rambunctious bandits. Rhys has no patience for men without dignity who smear their pride with such intoxications as alcohol and women. He chooses to ignore their existence entirely in his silent solitude, or puts them in their place, unafraid of a bar fight as he, sober and skilled, often puts such trifling matches to an end with one fell swoop of a powerful punch. Chivalry is practically Rhys' middle name, and he conducts himself with an attitude no less than that of a nobleman or a knight of great status, and so when it comes to mannerless cretins of the city, he transforms into a cold and unfeeling man fit for his appearance. This is not to say that he becomes a confrontational man however, as it is truly only the drunken stupor of a failed man that can provoke Rhys' endless patience and calm, reasonable demeanor. His temper is not explosive, but rather menacingly silent. The silent treatment type, Rhys requires naught but an honest apology and a genuine attempt to set things right in order to forgive—but his stubbornness can be quite frustrating, and to those who refuse to apologize Rhys can avoid uttering a single word to for days—even months.

Appearance: Towering at 6'8" with the physique of a well-travelled fighter, from appearance alone one can tell that Rhys is not a man to be messed with. His skin is stretched across tight lean muscles like sun-kissed leather but is far from flawless-- it is marred by a multitude of scars ranging from the smallest of nicks to his biggest scar, a slash that crosses his chest and wraps onto his shoulder blade, and it's quite evident that Rhys has had his fair share of battle. Across his knuckles on either hand are tattoos of numbers, the significance of which is unknown to most of Rhys' acquaintances. These same numbers are tattooed down the left side of his face, starting from just above his temple down to the edge of his jawline. While his gold eyes glitter with clarity and keenness, they also hold the look of a man who is tired, perpetually exhausted of constantly being on the alert. His hair is platinum blonde, kept long enough to veil his eyes and barely brush against the back of his neck, but rarely does one see this halo of hair, carefully hidden along with the rest of his body under swaths of clothing and a mask.

Not one to linger for long in any place other than his hometown of Ticinum, Rhys opts for clothing and armor that is efficient for being on the move. When travelling, his entire person is normally swathed in a brown travelling cloak, hood up and signature black beaked mask down. But underneath this plain yet durable cloak he wears a considerably more ornate outfit: With a base of a tight black turtleneck long sleeved shirt, there is another hood that he prefers up rather than down—at least, when going without the additional cover of his cloak. The secondary hood is a royal blue in color, embellished with golden embroidery around the opening and down the side where it extends into a single sleeved on his right arm. This sleeve is half hidden by bronze gauntlets that extend to his mid-forearms. On either shoulder is a pair of bronze shoulder plates, connected to one another by a bronze chain that hangs across his torso. The plate on the right secures his single sleeve in place, along with a white cloak that drapes behind his right side. He wears a pair of black travelling pants, worn and stitched back together in various places and tucked into bronze-toed boots that are equally dark, gilded with golden thread on the heel and around the opening of the boot just below his knees.

Three brown leather belts circle Rhys' waist, the thinnest one angled across his hips as it holds the lightest of his burdens, a canteen filled with whatever liquid fits his fancy for a particular trip. A pocket knife is secured to this belt as well, often clanking against the sloshing metal canteen. The other two belts bear the heaviest of his burdens: a copper double axe with a chain on the end that lets the large weapon act as a flail of sorts. The axe itself is tall enough to reach Rhys' weight when standing upright against the ground handle included, while the blades reach about as high as his knees. The axe is hollowed about four inches past the blade in order to reduce its weight, but it is still heavy enough that simply carrying it around from place to place could be considered weight training in itself.

Background: Born and raised in the inhospitable city of Ticinum, Rhys found trouble for himself everywhere he went. His father was a factory worker, his mother a barmaid in a pub that stood on the banks of the Lesse River, and so he spent most of his days in or around the pub in the dirtiest, most lawless district of the already toxic city. For a time he and his younger sister were looked after by their older brother Leyvi, a very proficient fighter who was keen on joining the Helvan Army—but that ended in the same way most dreams were crushed in Ticinum. A drunken brawl gone bad left Rhys the oldest child, and there was no time to mourn. Rhys was now 12, old enough to work in the factories and old enough to get picked on by drunk adults, as he could no longer be classified as "cute". He had a lot of growing up to do in the span of a few months, and grew to be a very straight-laced teenager who took his responsibilities towards his family very seriously. Such responsibilities included becoming strong, fast. Rhys spent day after day fighting in the alleys with the boys his age, working twice as hard as any other to come out on top each and every time. He was quickly named the leader of their generation, and while most of the "leading" was done by the second strongest, Rhys and his family were free from threat for the most part. But Rhys hated Ticinum, the city filled with smog and bad memories—and jumped at the opportunity to join the Helvan Army at 16 as his brother had once wanted so desperately. He was conflicted on leaving, but was assured that as a respected soldier, the thugs of Ticinum would not be likely to lay their grubby hands on the poor Dieterre household.

Rhys met life in the capital of Arianne with awe, excitement, and difficulty. Common sense in Ticinum didn't apply in Arianne, where Rhys was unaccustomed to being around so many kind-hearted people. He found that he could trust people, not have to look behind his back as he walked, and drunkards were an anomaly in the daily life, rather than a staple. Culture shocked, Rhys was afraid of revealing his distasteful background, and in fear of being discovered, became nearly mute. And while he poured his every bit into his training, he was friendless and unhappy in the beautiful city. He spent all his time in the stables, comforted by the stallions that were wild in appearance but gentle to those who treated them well, much like him, and it was the only true place in the city where Rhys could relax and smile. His solitude was noted by a perceptive commander, who approached the young trainee and knowledgeable of Rhys' strange upbringing, offered to teach him the differences between life in the slums and life in the city. This commander was Rhys' greatest friend and confidant, and the first to win Rhys' reputed unbending loyalty. He became quite attached to the commander, perfecting himself in all areas of training in order to please the man whose pride in the young Rhys grew day by day.

Then, battle came to the Helvan Empire, and Rhys performed better than anyone could have expected on the battlefield, unafraid of the reality of crossing blades with the enemy as he had already been in countless brawls in his youth. But what should have been an unrivalled victorious day became Rhys' worst memory, as the young soldier splattered with the blood of his enemies and a proud smile of accomplishment on his face searched for the beloved commander who had taught him all his manners, all his skills, and rekindled Rhys' hope for the human race. But that proud smile slowly began to fade into a frenzied fear as Rhys searched the faces of all the living, and finding no likeness of the man amongst them, turned slowly with dread to the tent containing the bodies of the dead. Rhys' was inconsolable, living now in a peaceful city where the drive to survive did not chase away the grief of loss. The power of death hit Rhys twofold, as Rhys was plagued by the memories of a dead brother and commander, and he became silent once again. Rhys stayed on in the army, honing his skills as relentlessly as he had before the commander's death, if not with even more fervor than before. He was the hero of the battlefield and did not shy from it even in the face of the most gruesome of injuries—all up until the day he died at 24. Faking his death, Rhys threw away his identity as Nobelus and traded his first name for his middle. He donned a mask and a hood to hide his appearance, and while those who had been close to him in his childhood recognized his name, he fashioned a new reputation for himself in Ticinum as a silent and fearsome man not to be carelessly approached. With this new identity Rhys was free to go wherever he liked, and travel he did—but whenever he could, he returned to Ticinum to keep an anonymous eye on the welfare of his aging parents and blossoming sister, becoming a regular at the bar he once spent his childhood running about.

Legend: Marcell the Stalwart Guardian

Statistics:
Strength - 17
Dexterity - 14
Constitution - 17
Intelligence - 10
Wisdom - 12
Charisma - 8

Abilities:
Major Edged Weapon Specialty
Rhys wields a double edged axe.
Minor Brute Force
+1 Strength Stat.
Minor Endurance
+1 Constitutions Stat.
Endless Alcohol Tolerance

Roleplay Sample:​


Spoiler:

 
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Cirrus

dreaming a transient dream.
1,577
Posts
14
Years
@Loki: Hi. o_o This is certainly an unexpected appearance, and I am very pleasantly surprised, to say the least. Regular fantasy attire will be perfectly appropriate, thank you for asking. (I was going to write out more about culture, but then realized that it was bordering on "irrelevant stuff that the roleplayer would probably be happier making up by him/herself". I had typical hairstyles and everything in mind, too...)
 

Loki

x
6,829
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  • Seen Mar 23, 2022
Rhys is done, but, is it Helvenian or Helvenandian?
 
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parallelzero

chelia.blendy
14,631
Posts
20
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Okay, this is pretty much done. I just need help applying the minor effects of Sapience, since I was a little confused. XD Hopefully a character her age was okay.


crea.png

Name: Fayus Celianne Filament de Crea
Age: 15
Gender: Female

Personality:
A scholar at heart, Fayus Celianne Filament de Crea's personality is generally reasoned by the pursuit of knowledge and dedication to her church. Raised on the concept that knowledge is power, she hungers to learn what she does not know in order to better understand humans and how they think or react. Her curiosity is rival to none, and she's the type of person that would certainly press a button that told her not to, if only to find out what the big deal was all about. She does not take kindly to people who refer to her priorities as meaningless or troublesome, and will often lecture people who talk this way, whether they want to hear it or not. She can be irritatingly persistent when she wants to be, and this is one of those qualities that displays how childish she can be, despite her intelligence and religious upbringing. Crea blindly follows the will of her superiors in the church, and they are the only people she would never ask questions of, or demonstrate her immaturity towards.

Socially, Crea is well received by the scholarly and the clergy, though she gets along with most people quite well. Taking after her mentor, she enjoys helping others, and she does so without expecting anything in return (though if they were to offer her something like a book, or an interesting story, she wouldn't be opposed). Typically an optimist, she takes something good out of almost all bad experiences. As smart as she is, the long-named girl can also be naive, which generally leads to comical situations at her own expense. Legends, myths, and other improbable stories are pieces of literature she enjoys most, and refuses to dismiss them as fiction unless she can prove otherwise. Also highly involved in the church scene, she is generally welcomed by most followers of St. Elendra, particularly due to her aptitude for theurgy.

People sometimes forget that she is a fifteen year old girl, and it can be surprising how she reacts to things on occasion. For example, she has an irrational fear of the dark (despite the fact that anything lurking in the dark should be more afraid of her), and she has a soft spot for anything she considers cute (though that could range from a puppy to a pill-bug). She really doesn't like being teased, but it's so easy to do it. She's a passionate singer, as well, and she can often be heard singing a song or two while studying or walking, and tends to mix hymns into her theurgy. She has a particularly nice voice, in part due to the clarity and high pitch that isn't grating. She is by no means a master of the art of singing, but it could be worse.

Crea recognizes that she is in no way a fighter. In fact, she'd much rather look for peaceful ways to solve problems with other people. She would never take the life of another human being, not knowingly anyway, which leaves her in a weird place as a support unit. She does understand that there are cases where there is no choice but to kill others, but even then she lacks the strength. Her theurgy is for support, and she is by no means physically strong and constantly needs protection from enemies. However, she is agile due to her size, which makes hitting her a problem provided she isn't taken off guard.


Appearance:
Those that have had the privilege of meeting Crea usually describe her as something much different than they were initially expecting. When thinking of an extremely talented mage, one's mind might wander to thoughts of an elderly man or woman, not a fifteen year old girl. Bright green eyes shine out from underneath the bangs of her bright orange hair, both colours vastly outshining the pale complexion she possesses. Thanks to her lack of colour, it's quite easy to tell when she's blushing, or even sick, much to her dismay. Her orange hair is fairly long, as it tickles her as far as the middle of her back while it's completely down. Normally, though, she ties it up on the sides so that it spills out, away from her neck. Her body itself is not anything particularly fancy. At a height of five feet, four inches, she isn't very tall, and her body is thin, muscle-less, and not quite completely developed yet (some even joke with her by saying she's years behind the other girls in some respects). She looks very cute, anyways, so she plays that up the best she can.

Crea had her attire custom made, so it would be impossible to find the same outfit anywhere in Khellius. It appears to be butterfly themed, what with a cloak that appears to resemble butterfly wings, tied up with a butterfly brooch right below her neckline. The exterior of the hooded cloak is a royal purple colour, and the material is extremely soft and warm to the touch, the edges lined with a gold material that points inwards in a pattern. The inside of the cloak is a bright pink, and is designed to look like a pair of tailed butterfly wings while she wears it. She normally wears the hood up with her hair to the sides, and it comes up to a point with a pink gem dangling off the end - a memento from her mentor.

The upper portion of her outfit is layered, with a sleeveless, white shirt being the lowest layer aside from her undergarments. The shirt has an extended portion that resembles a fairly short skirt, only reaching to just above her thighs, though it is layered with ruffled material. It has a slit on the left side, as well, so that her skin is visible. Over the shirt extension is a purple garter belt that is hooked to a pair of white stockings with a purple trim, a white ribbon tied on the left side. The next layer is a teal vest that is open down the middle, the sides only drawn together slightly by golden yellow straps, and has a cream trim. The mage's dainty hands are hidden by a pair of cream coloured gloves with faded teal cuffs, the cuffs themselves having a dark, laced trim. Her boots are a similar colour as her gloves, but they're raised slightly by gold-coloured platforms which make it hard to run long distances.


Background:
At an extremely young age, Fayus Celianne was noted to posses an abnormal amount of magical potential - a potential her family chose to invest into Theurgy. This discovery came about when she was only two, after healing a near-fatal injury she received from a drunker father. She had been a burden to her parents from birth, and until she had worth with her miracles, she was nothing but dispensable fodder to the Celianne family - her own birth parents. A resident of Histria from birth, she was never permitted the allowance of leaving the city. Instead, the refining of her talents was always given first priority, and the only trips she was permitted to take were on pilgrimages to nearby churches, where she was blindfolded the entire time. These unorthodox rules that were placed on her as a child were, as her parents claimed, to prevent her faith from being tainted by the sins of the outside world - sins they knew all too well. She was not permitted to play with other children either, not within the borders of Histria, and certainly not on the outside. She was required to make trips to the Histria branch of the Church of St. Elendra daily, sometimes several times in a day, to help foster her abilities. It was here that she became familiar with the proceedings of the church, as well as the system that governed it. Naturally, she voiced complaints about this life to her parents, but they would always tell her that it was the will of St. Elendra, and that the Saint had created Fayus with the intent of eventually becoming a powerful member of the clergy. A part of her truly believed this with all of her heart, so she endured.

She continued to live this life, void of joy aside from her involvement with this church, for five years. Eventually, the opinion of the Order governing Histria took notice of these living conditions after a shift in members ushered in a new mindset regarding the growth of magic users. While before, the behaviour of the Celianne family would have been completely acceptable, it was now within their understanding that a child was required to grow in many ways if they were to become an accomplished mage, more-so if they wanted healthy minds in the church that would aid them when necessary. When Fayus' parents refused to comply with this new standards, she was temporarily relocated to the home of the Filament family as a sort of foster home.

The Filaments were a very religious family, and had a daughter around Fayus' age. Over time, Fayus and Ariette Filament grew to become best friends. This was an important stage in the young cleric's life, since she had never been permitted to be near the other children growing up in her previous home. It turned out that the quiet, obedient girl that had stepped into the doors of the Filament door that day was actually a very sociable and pleasant individual. Regardless, she continued visiting and helping at the church, as well as her studying. While her parents had not treated her properly, they had clearly left an impression on her regarding her studies, as well as imprinting a distrust of adults onto her personality. As she studied and grew, her ability to grasp the power of theurgy grew and grew. The power she had somehow tapped into as a child quickly began to surface and become controllable, and the Filament family recognized that Fayus needed a better teacher.

At age twelve, Fayus left the care of the Filament family to study under Celcius Crea, an accomplished mage and cleric of St. Elendra that roamed Helvenand, completing contracts indiscriminantly for the church, government, and regular people as well. Celcius recognized Fayus' potential during a monster extermination ordered by Zelius Filament, the leader of the family, and had brought her along after receiving permission from Enher Lyson. During their travels, Fayus' talents blossomed under the watch of Celcius Crea. It proved to be an invaluable experience for the girl, learning directly from a exorcistati sanctus, and shaped her desire to help others after watching Celcius do it without ever batting an eyelash. She, too, wanted to be a person with the strength to help others, regardless of their upbringing or personality. The church had already taught her tolerance, she just had to apply it properly.

One day, though, Celcius was asked on a task that would take place outside of the borders of Helvenand. It was apparently a dangerous task, one that she could not bring Fayus to accompany her on. As a result, the fourteen year old was left in the joint care of the Collegium Magiae and the St. Elendra Church branch that resided in Arianne - not as a student, but more as a special guest. This more involved time with both the church and the school allowed her plenty of opportunity to learn - with full access to the library at the Collegium Magiae, she never ran out of books to read. During this time with the church, she ascended to the rank of cleric as well, a most notable acheivement for one her age.

Spending the next year reflecting upon her past, she took the time to readjust her priorities. Traveling to nearby nearby churches, she experienced aspects of her religion that she would never have been exposed to in Histria, including prayer and hymns. The prodigy was able to complete odd jobs for the people of the city through the church, though with her age and dislike from a jealous magical community, it was hard to find those who trusted her enough. After the year was up, so much time had passed, yet she had not received even a letter from her mentor. After filing for an official name change to incorporate all aspects of her past, Fayus Celianne Filament de Crea, or just Crea, as she now referred to herself, set out on a journey at the age of fifteen in order to learn the whereabouts of her master. Thinking herself smart and responsible enough to do so, she then ran away from her caretakers and began to travel, following a lead that Celcius Crea had met up with a group of adventurers at one point. Naive, but she reasoned with herself that she would also treat this quest as a pilgrimage.

Legend: Kyre the Sublime Archmage

Statistics:
Strength - 8 (8 + 0)
Dexterity - 15 (8 + 8)
Constitution - 9 (8 + 1)
Intelligence - 16 (8 + 10)
Wisdom - 18 (8 + 10)
Charisma - 11 (8 + 3)

Abilities:
Theurgy - major specialization (3 points)
---> Sapience - minor specialization + 1 point
------> Sapience - intermediate specialization
----------> Talent (Singing)


Roleplay Sample: Taken from a TIGER & BUNNY RP on another site.
Spoiler:
 
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MattyJ

Serial Procrastinator
40
Posts
11
Years
Name: Artemis Circe
Age: 20
Gender: Female

Personality: A victim of circumstance, Artemis is often assumed to have a bitterly cold, anti-social personality. She is a loner, very much content in her own company. Determined almost beyond belief, she pushes herself to succeed in everything she desires - almost as if she is scared of what would happen if she was to fail.

An independent soul, Artemis can also be very stubborn. She is uneasy around strangers, and doesn't trust others very easily. She can be appealing; a persuasive and smooth talker (when she wants to be), but is often content being unseen in the shadows.

There may be a self-confidence issue beneath the stony exterior, but Artemis would never let anyone see her weaker side. She also rarely displays emotion. Haunted by her earliest memories of childhood in the darkest corners of Naranum, and by the mysterious disappearance of her father, Artemis fights against her inner demons in much the same way she would resolve a conflict in life - alone.

Appearance: Not overly tall, nor overly short, Artemis is a decidedly average young woman. About 5'11", her thin frame hides powerful muscles, though her toned body is not for show. She prefers to dress as a boy, tucking her shoulder-length brown hair up under a leather cap when she is not undertaking her training for the Viragos. Her round face, retrousse nose and lack of feminine development helped her pose as a boy when roaming Naranum.

Her ice-blue eyes are perhaps her only noticable feature. People who have seen them up close (and lived to tell the tale) have often claimed Artemis can see into their very soul. What she is searching for, no-one knows, but her piercing glare can unsettle even the most hardened warriors.

When off duty, she wears loose black cotton trousers with elastic around the mid-calf, the hems of which tuck into jet black boots built for silent movement. She wears a loose fitting, white cotton shirt with a slightly low neckline under a black cotton vest, giving her a slightly more bulky appearance; almost the look of a fifteen-year-old boy. Artemis also owns a thick, pitch-black travelling cloak (with hood) that comes in handy in cold weather or in times when it is vital to be 'invisible'.

Background:
Born in a small farmhouse on the south-eastern face of Mount Paranceus, overlooking the picturesque Vaeln Forest, Artemis Circe was the only daughter of less-than-wealthy parents. Her mother died shortly after giving birth, so her father, Ashton, raised her.

Always an eager learner, Artemis began walking at a young age, quickly learning to adjust to the difficult terrain of the mountainside, soon becoming able to keep her balance and manoeuvre efficiently in even the most trying of circumstances. She learned to reason and think independently, as she often had to venture out alone to collect food or supplies for her father. Ashton disappeared without a trace when Artemis was just eleven years old, leaving her to fend for herself.

Artemis knew the town of Naranum was just on the other side of the mountain, yet she waited through the winter for her father to return. Shortly after her twelfth birthday, Artemis decided her father was not coming back for her, so she set off for the city.

Though brilliant, the ardelyte and magical flame lighting Naranum around the clock combined with the frenzied architecture creates shady undertones. It was into these undertones that Artemis stumbled, a twelve year old on the streets of the city that never sleeps. The memories of this time sometimes force their way into her dreams, though Artemis does her best to keep them secure behind her facade. With minimal natural resources at hand, Artemis was forced to adapt to survive.

Her fleet-footedness, learned amongst the treetops and rock faces of Mount Paranceus, served her well amid the chaotic architecture. Parkour came naturally to her; pedestrians would often catch glimpses of her silhouette; black hair whipping wildly behind her, as she flashed across rooftops, moving with the grace and power of a panther. A glimpse is all they'd catch, however, for she was far too swift.

Her overall 'plainness' helped her blend in easily. In fact, if Artemis didn't want to be seen, she often wasn't. She could take a man's purse from his left pocket and place it in his right without him noticing and, despite her anti-social tendancies, if the situation called for it, Artemis could be very persuasive; often using all of her assets to her advantage.

As the years passed, Artemis began to hear whispers of a sniper force that only women were admitted to; the Viragos. With her knowledge of stealth and parkour from her years alone in the city of Naranum, coupled with the weight of her missing father and her desire to find him once more, she decided it was time to set out and find them.

That was four years ago. Although she has undertaken much training in the name of becoming a fully fledged Virago (hopefully the singular term), she still has a way to go.

Legend: Ciefe

Statistics:
Strength - 12
Dexterity - 15
Constitution - 12
Intelligence - 14
Wisdom - 14
Charisma - 12


Abilities:
Ranged Weapon Mastery [Intermediate]
Arcana [Intermediate]
Illusion (Primary)
Conjuration (Secondary)
Abjuration (Tertiary)

Roleplay Sample: As I said before, first time RPer, so this is something I've just made up now. A little bit of an 'Intro to Artemis' so to speak.

Spoiler:
 
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Cirrus

dreaming a transient dream.
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@Loki: It's actually, uh, just Helvan (as in the Helvan Empire). Also, you have one extra point you can allocate for specialization, so feel free to put it anywhere. With that said, however ... preliminary acceptance has been indicated.

@parallelzero: Apply sapience by increasing your Wisdom by 2 points (since intermediate is equivalent to 2 ranks). One small problem with your background though - while there are nearly secular petitioners (users of miracles) - most of them receive at least a little bit of training from the church, since the source of miracles is, after all, divine. Preliminary acceptance has also been indicated.

@MattyJ: Don't worry about newness; strength of writing, as I have said, dictates acceptance. As for the roleplay sample - a sample of writing in general is also fine.

NOTE HIGHLIGHTING MY STUPIDITY: (added to main post)
I left armor mastery out of the list of specializations, apparently (I'm a genius, I know :s). I suppose there's no reason to add it in, either, since it's more of a "whether one is proficient with armor to wear it comfortably" thing and I don't want to make physical specializations weaker. Everyone has the option of being initially proficient with armor. Armor will, however, interfere with the usage of arcana and miracles - mindcraft is not affected, since it does not involve freedom of movement. Moreover, if you have a low Strength score it is more difficult for you to wear armor, and if you have a low Constitution score you might get tired more quickly in heavy armor. (Apply liberal amounts of RP rule #1 - common sense.)

As for Endurance - intermediate specialization now grants minor blunt weapon mastery or minor edged weapon mastery.
 
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27
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11
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  • Seen May 19, 2012
Pesca's form is completed, I hope everything looks in order. I fixed his stats, and hopefully everything's good. I'm really sorry about the Varrus/Varras thing, I was trying to type that out waaay to late last night (I got excited :p).

I'm really loving some of these other characters you guys are posting. :)
 

Loki

x
6,829
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18
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  • Seen Mar 23, 2022
Oh, I felt like I had an extra one but I wasn't sure XD Thanks for letting me know. I'll fix the Helvan-Helvenand mix up thing and the extra point tonight.

Also, I meant like, if I'm referring to the people who live in Helvan... Is it the Helvanians, Helvans, or like, do I say the Helvan People...? XD Cause I say Helvenian Army quite a few times in Rhys' background, so I just wanted to double check.
 
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