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  #26    
Old November 29th, 2017 (8:53 AM).
Ice Ice is offline
 
Join Date: Aug 2014
Posts: 3,412
Roxart Gargoth
Dwarf


SU

Age: 295

Hometown: Skuthsagh

Occupation: Guide and Talespinner

Appearance: Roxart is as stout as the average dwarf; not more stout and definitely not less so. His small stature is almost entirely dominated by his long lush white beard with a mustache that curls. If ever a creature should model for a pillow, it would be Roxart and his beard that would be the most obvious choice. He has red cheeks, and bright blue eyes that are deep set in his skull and almost seem to sparkle. His eyebrows are still dark and bushy, and paint a dark overhang above his eyes. Head hair is something Roxart only has three or four of, and he tries to shave them whenever they grow out. His head is bald besides the few liver spots and birthmarks that adorn it. A pointy wide-brimmed hat sits atop that bald head, making Roxart as tall as any human man when wearing it. It is a dark red and brown, and matches his robe with hood.


Personality: Roxart is dishonesty incarnate and loves to live a hedonic lifestyle. A smile seems permanently affixed to his face as well as the gleeful sparkle in his eyes that create a facade of playfulness. The only thing that Roxart cares for is the dwarf Roxart, and the way Roxart cares for something is to make sure it lives luxury and comfort.

Roxart is clever and thorough. Some might say too clever, but Roxart himself beliefs one is never ever too clever. Nose deep in books, not for the beauty of knowledge, but to build the supports his mummer’s tales would rest on, that’s typical for Roxart. Nobody knows more about the town of Willow’s Wake and its surrounding area than Roxart, and nobody abuses that knowledge more either.

People are always but a tool to Roxart, something he can spin and twist to make his wishes come true. His nature is to take it too far though, and attempt to play around. If he could convince someone to give him coin to get through the night, maybe he could convince someone of more. And that he did. Roxart is obsessed with grandeur and myth. While some days, more moons ago than hairs in Roxart’s beard, he would tell the tale of him being a lonesome traveler, out of luck and in need of help, now his lies he evolved. He was Roxart, the first dwarf, forged from stone. He was Roxart, king from aeons bygone, crowned with jewels. He was Roxart! Hero of the people, granted immortality by the Gods. He, he was Roxart, the one and only, the dwarf that sat at the first table while the Gods had their first meal, and he remembered it all. He was the seer, the mystic, the messiah of dwarfkind and every creature related to it. Or, well, that was what he hoped you’d believe.

There is little Roxart wouldn’t do to help himself. Life was precious, yes of course, but there was always something more precious: Roxart. No heart beat more deservedly than his, and no coin purse was more worthy of gold than his. The aftermath of Roxart’s actions were generally something that he did not care for. If everyone walked away none the wiser of Roxart’s lies, great, but if someone happened to fall down a wall inhabited by a flock of sherklings, well so be it.

The world doesn’t revolve around Roxart, but he’d have you believe otherwise.

Weapon of choice: A fighter, Roxart is not. But when it comes to it, Roxart prefers to use his bo, something he can punch and undercut with, and also easily use as a walking stick. Not that he needs a walking stick, but it adds to his mystic aesthetic.

Patron: Ezion, God of Trickery, Illusion, and Fortune

Chosen Boon:
The mark of Ezion has granted Roxart a couple of small gifts he keeps close to his heart.
  • The liar’s Pillar: Roxart knows. Through a gift Ezion has stolen from the god of knowledge, Roxart can evoke any situation. He can tell you the events of a battle, add himself there, and know what transpired. A house is no stranger to Roxart, as he can describe where everything is kept. And sure, he lives there, who else would know where the undergarments were stored?
  • The liar’s Lantern: Roxart can summon light, a gift Ezion tricked Satris in giving him. The lights are simple, but they resemble more stronger magic. Roxart can make his eyes glow, the drinks sparkle and the torches flare up. He can send a light into your hard, and he’ll promise you it’s a gift of good luck. But the light’s are farces, nothing more than light and nothing less. They cannot hurt, cannot heal, they’re only there to be seen.
  • The liar’s Escape: Roxart can go up in smoke and leave, his form either remaining intact for a moment and then dissipating into smoke, or he can do it immediately. This only allows for Roxart to sneak away a short distance, but it’s a great way to leave a building, or convince someone he might be a less than corporeal creature. Roxart’s true body is invisible as long as the smoke form remains. It can be puppeted by Roxart for as long as he is invisible still and he has a vague but imperfect sense of his surroundings. The smoke collapses as soon as it is touched or attacked, rolling onto the floor and slowly dissipating.

History: The town of Skuthsagh was at war, only 250 short years ago. They fought in an alliance with two other towns, against the city of Argmanthfort. It wasn’t a huge war. A year, and five battles, that was all it took before Skuthsagh fell. Roxart was one of the many dwarfs that fought as a soldier. A simple soldier, nothing more. But the dwarf who fought with words wasn’t as capable with a sword, and he deserted the army, running to neighboring towns. He had left his family behind, his eleven brothers and six sisters. Both of his parents too. Something within him missed them, and he knew that he didn’t fight for their survival, but he managed to make someone get out the other end, namely himself. And that thought kept him going. After years of working small jobs for smaller pittances, in the human town of Willow’s Wake, Roxart’s story began to morph. He spun tales about the battles in Skuthsagh, and hunted down all other stories. In his retellings to the humans working with him, drinking with him, or just listening to him on the streets, he was no longer just a soldier. First he had his own group, who’s marches he lead. Then, he was a general, sitting besides the proclaimed Saltmine king in the fights. The only reason they lost was the silver-skinned dragon who tore them apart. Although it was him, Roxart, who managed to land the killing blow!
As greed grew within him like a cancer, Roxart learned more, and the tales become more exuberant. Coin flew towards him just for the tales, that Roxart told as if he was there. From the Argmanthfort war to wars Roxart had not even heard of before coming across them in books. He studied the area of the town where he now lived. He became more than just a liar. He transformed himself into a myth. The old man Roxart, older than time and more knowledgeable than any archmage. He’d guide travelers for prodigious amounts of gold, and speck his own living. No wonder the God of lies and deceit took a liking to him.

Sample: Roxart sat atop a rock, under the shade of his wide-brimmed hat and holding tightly onto his staff. Three young travelers were huddled around a fire that painted shadows on Roxart’s face. A mountain range was reaching towards the sky behind them. Roxart was their guide, guiding them to the entrance of an old forgotten mine that supposedly held crystals shaped by the Gods. The mine held nothing, but that knowledge Roxart tried to keep close to his heart. He licked the saps from the meat from between his teeth, and bowed forwards, stroking his white beard.

“This clearing in the woods,” Roxart said, “it’s ancient. Once, a great apple tree grew here, bigger than any tree you three have ever seen. It leaves loved the clouds, and it’s apples, it’s apples tasted not unlike gold. I used to sleep here, when we still lived in this area. My back against the tree, underneath the cool shadows, braiding my beard. And no, no it hadn’t turned white yet. That came years and years later, but that’s not the point.”

“A tree that big?” the golden-eyed traveler asked. Roxart nodded.

“Dig your fingers into the dirt here, and you’ll quickly find the roots. They’re dead and in decay, but a tree that big, that doesn’t die in a day, that takes aeons.”

The young travelers dug their fingers into the dirt. It was soft, and easily pulled aside, even without tools. Roxart made sure of that. He spat the ground here. Preparations for the lie. A lie went beyond just words. A liar that only talked wasn’t a true master of deception. No, a lie was a web interwoven with truth, connecting little lies to weave a big one. Roxart was not ancient, not a mystic. Sure, he was old and gray and clever, but he wasn’t an immortal. But gray hair and a good knowing of the area was all that was needed to portray that lie.

“Oh, wow, look at that,” the red-haired girl said, her leather gloves covered in dirt. She was touching the strong wood of the roots. Once a tree had stood here. A big tree, that was for sure, bigger than the rest. But not that big. And Roxart, he had never slept against it. Roxart preferred to sleep in beds, because wood and dirt wasn’t as soft as the delicate hug of down. That was the trick. Twist reality a little, and no one would doubt it. Just like the mines. The mines were there, they were old, abandoned, worked by dwarfs so old that Roxart could never learn their names. And they were mysterious and hidden. Nobody but Roxart knew of those mines, and what sat within. Treasure might be, but that was uncertain. What was really hidden deep within the cavern were shade-crawlers, toothy nightmares with an indiscriminate diet. That way, Roxart would remain the only one to know of the mines.

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  #27    
Old November 29th, 2017 (11:56 PM).
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GreyBidoof GreyBidoof is offline
You used a Master Ball on the GreyBidoof!
 
Join Date: May 2014
Location: Goldenrod City, Johto
Age: 21
Gender: Male
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Garet View Post
More questions, by the way.

You've mentioned two of the gods' symbols or crests so far; do you have all eight symbols figured out?
Is this the first time that the gods are choosing just eight people after their pact, or has that cycled through a few times already? (Would this matter to the characters either way?)
I do, yes.
Spoiler:
The really short version.
Satris- Sun
Ismos- Skull
Nyth- Book/Spellbook
Ezion- Mask
Aelia- Tree
Aldir- Coin
Sondarr- Swords
Ylena- Cloud


Quote:
Originally Posted by Junier View Post
Another question.

What expectations/inferences do you have or can you make about how posting's gonna go? Like, will it be more "individual," or will the overarching plot pretty define what our characters will be doing at any given time?
At the beginning of a chapter, I plan to be making a post that defines the current locale of the players, along with certain quests or objectives for them. These may range from trivial to essential, and depend on the situation. Either way, it will be up to the players to determine how their characters go about completing these tasks.

Basically, there will be common starting and ending points, but how you get from A to B is up to you.

In addition, I'll go ahead and answer the question a lot of you may have: In terms of acceptance, I'll be waiting a few more days at the least before closing sign ups. I want to make sure we have a good selection of sign ups spread across the various options before I go ensuring spots.

Along these lines, I have also been considering adding a character of my own to the list. I haven't decided if this will be the case yet, but don't feel too secure even if you're the only one who has made a character for a certain patron. :)

The mass acceptances are coming though. Soon. Feel free to hype, make changes to your sheets, and sacrifice more virgins as you wait.
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  #28    
Old November 30th, 2017 (7:10 AM).
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Junier Junier is offline
Fake Friends Forever (´・ω・`)
     
    Join Date: Jun 2015
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    Well, damn, at least give someone a heads up if you claim one of the tantalizingly-vacant character spots. People put time into their apps, lol.

    I'd fite someone for a spot for the hell of it if I didn't like Sondarr so much. (I've been reworking my character though because I thought a post-mercenary monk was boring, hence why I ain't got nothin' to show.)

    Thanks for answering my question, too. I think it sounds pretty cool.
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      #29    
    Old November 30th, 2017 (3:28 PM).
    GreyBidoof's Avatar
    GreyBidoof GreyBidoof is offline
    You used a Master Ball on the GreyBidoof!
     
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    As I put previously, I'll be accepting the majority of selected characters, if not all, at the same time. The competitive aspect is intended, and no spots are guaranteed, even if you are the only applicant. That said, there's still ample time to finish, make changes, or otherwise alter signups in any way you please.
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      #30    
    Old November 30th, 2017 (9:41 PM).
    PastelPhoenix's Avatar
    PastelPhoenix PastelPhoenix is offline
    A Princely Birb
       
      Join Date: Mar 2016
      Age: 23
      Gender: Male
      Nature: Brave
      Posts: 387
      Hey, I'm just going to put this in a new post just in case. I'm going to officially drop out of this. I just don't feel I would have fun with my character beyond making him, and I don't want to drag people down by having me take forever to even make a post.
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        #31    
      Old December 1st, 2017 (5:39 AM). Edited February 11th, 2018 by Songbird.
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      Songbird Songbird is offline
      Is Unicorn a good girl?
         
        Join Date: Jul 2013
        Gender: Female
        Posts: 513
        Completely, undeniably unrelated to one birb ducking out, another birb is hopping in for the favor of Aldir.

        Spoiler:

        Korona


        Once called a mage with a propensity for nature magic, a young elf lass was long a resident of Elonde. She spent the better half of a century at the city's Arcanium, dedicating as much time as she could to the institute, and much of her time found her in the Grand Library, absorbing texts and information like a sponge. In what little free time she gave herself, Korona whittled and carved wood she personally grew.

        However, even her hobby was still often work for her; many things she made were designs of all sorts. Spells she used and tested; machinations from useful to simple novelties that she wanted to make a reality—something she tried whenever she gave herself a longer break. Of course, when the elf presented any of her creations to the Arcanium's professors, she was met with cynicism, disrespect, ridicule, derision, contempt, long word. She was too young for success, not even a buck fifty. The level of seniority that demanded recognition was half a life and change out of her grasp.

        After enough failed attempts, the elf gave up, and stopped trying to garner the attention of her superiors. Or of anyone, for that matter. The Arcanium of Nyth was a powerful place with knowledge to spare, but the elf decided after nearly a hundred years that it wasn't the place for her. Perhaps if she could have been a simple student again. Regardless of her qualms or regrets, Korona packed up her belongings, and left the Diamond City for the southern depths of the Starleaf Forest where few dared tread. With her magic, she built herself a house on the forest floor, concealed its and her own presence to keep out unwanted visitors, then began carving and carving and carving at her leisure. She started simple, but the designs ranged from spells she used to images of the gods, or wild beasts she had slain for their meat; and over time, she made increasingly intricate statues both big and small.

        Before long wood alone wasn't enough for what she wanted to make. She started digging up stone and metals with her magic, shaping and carving whatever she so pleased using her whittling knife as her focus. And when she wasn't sleeping or indulging herself, the elf took the time to grow food and hunt down wild beasts for meat. Old pieces were broken down and reconstructed into newer and more complex ones. She crafted elaborate-looking mechanisms from crystal time pieces, music boxes and figurines to prosthetics and weapons she couldn't even use. These were things she hiked to Virona for once every few years, selling her things as an artisan in the bazaars and making her work identifiable with a magical signature in place of a written one.

        The device that took her the longest was something she modeled in her time at the Arcanium: a two-wheeled vehicle that she could use to get around the city of Elonde alone more easily. Though, she went through many iterations for compatibility with the varieties of terrain she moved through later.

        She became the Chosen of Aldir during the vehicle's beta stages. Korona was gifted with a power that effectively removed her need for a magical catalyst, and an extrasensory touch that gave her intimate knowledge of anything she got her hands on. Thanks to Aldir's blessing, she was able to drastically accelerate its development, and before long made it her first and only choice in transportation.

        With time, Korona improved on it, making the machination she called the Driver just a little different every time she left her home in the Starleaf Deepwoods for a test run. Lighter metals, integrating living crystal, builds individually suited for urban, road or wilderness travel—at one point she made it capable of transport over water. Ultimately she turned the Driver into something completely transfigurable with a touch of magic and imagination, with a variety of purposes outstripping any wagon or mount in Valion.

        Unfortunately as of late, dreams from the gods have been pestering her more than ever. She was able to ignore them for the longest time, but they've become disruptive even during her waking hours, making it difficult to think, much less continue her work.


        Bonus Nyth submission.

        Spoiler:
        Here comes a story from long ago, lasting longer in the mind of Nyth than any mortal's life.

        One of the gods had grown bored with selecting only out of the humans, elves and dwarves of Valion every century. So he didn't.

        “I don't feel like dealing with them this period,” he told the other gods, despite him having an opening in their centennial pact. “They'll get along fine without one new Chosen.”

        And he wasn't lying, as this god searched beyond the land and sea they knew best for something that wasn't of Valion, getting behind his compatriots' trusting gaze. He was curious. He found himself following a ship that braved torrential storms and tidal waves that not even the most insane and practiced mages would face. Soon, the god was looking upon a country of sapient creatures with incredible magic power and a tongue unspeakable.

        The god tried to bless the ship's deck hands with his mark, to no avail. In shock he waited for them to take their true form to try again—the form of a seasoned apex predator; the monstrous, violent beasts Valionites called dragons—with the same result.

        After some digging it turned out they, too, had a societal consensus: one to not interfere with the lower races. They caused region-wide fear and panic with their mere presence, and Valionites banded together to kill them. Many of their historical murderers possessed the power of the gods, as well, and this one couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret. Even so, they weren't isolationists, and began adopting a captivating mortal guise that allowed them to travel and live outside of their home country. However, he still couldn't entirely know why he was unable to mark them, intelligent as they were, and wondered if it was why the other gods ignored them so easily.

        Then he discovered a child among the dragons. He didn't know her exact age, but she was far smaller than her peers, so it was an easy enough estimate that she was practically newborn. And to his joy, his persistence was rewarded with success. He was able to leave some semblance of his power on the child. What he gave her, he couldn't tell, and with their lifespans he wasn't going to get any gratification for his efforts any time soon.

        Regardless, the other gods were none the wiser about this one's little excursion, leaving his opening unclosed. Whenever there was a gap for any reason, he checked back in on the growing dragon. In addition to his mark remaining delightfully present on her, he learned that she was the daughter and second-born of their emperor; her rapid development in adolescence put her on pace to overtake her own father, and in the blink of a god's eye she was empress. And he wasn't sure whether his mark did anything for that, or if it was her own ability as a dragon.

        But his commitment settled, he wasn't about to change his decision, becoming much more interested when she finally took on her own human form. She left her experienced father in charge once more, and boarded a ship to Valion with her brother as her escort.
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          #32    
        Old December 1st, 2017 (6:09 AM). Edited December 1st, 2017 by Junier.
        Junier's Avatar
        Junier Junier is offline
        Fake Friends Forever (´・ω・`)
           
          Join Date: Jun 2015
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          Nah, Grey, I get where you're coming from with the competitive aspect. I was only concerned in the instance that you introduced your own character to overshadow someone else's. And obviously it's your decision how much control you'd prefer over your cast.

          "Competitive" sign-ups have coerced me out of RPs like Riders in the past, though, since they put me under a pressure to create, and I personally don't work productively at all under pressure. It transforms the act of creative writing into something "measured," in my mind, so I end up with a character that I don't like since I'm fleshing out a base concept.

          Not that you need to cater to me or anything; this is just my preemptive justification for why I probably won't have an app up by the vague deadline, even with my show of previous interest. Apologies in advance!
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            #33    
          Old December 4th, 2017 (5:00 PM). Edited December 6th, 2017 by Chemist Wooper.
          Chemist Wooper's Avatar
          Chemist Wooper Chemist Wooper is offline
          AIN'T HOT, M8
             
            Join Date: Sep 2016
            Location: Ruins Of Alph, Jotho
            Gender: Male
            Nature: Relaxed
            Posts: 104


            Alex Elizadale






            --=-- 20 =--= MALE =--= HUMAN --=--

            Hometown: Valcrest,Virona; a town of nobles and he is in one of the said noble families. It's a very rich, and lavish area, with the Emporer's family being the center of attention.
            Occupation: Alex is the King's royal advisor.
            Appearance: Alex wears a pendant along with lavish clothing but usually a fine velvet jacket, and normal white clothing, pants and shoes, he doesn't dress up extremely lavish, but he is willing to soil his garments if needed.
            Personality: Because Alex is the Emporer's advisor, he has to be able to keep a more general view of situations, and this had defined much of his personalty. When Alex communicates with people, he usually talks to the in a nice tone and mostly regards people of any race,class, or family as sir or madame, he doesn't like thinking of people being less than him, in stark contrast to his family and others in nobel standing. He would very much rather spend his time with others than close people of his family or other noble families because of this very fact. He usually decides judgement based off of what he thinks is best, and has saved the King multiple times due to this. However, his idea of being nice has hurt him multiple times, and so when people act aganist him, he is usually very heartbroken by it in a very negative sense. He takes thing extremely serious, for example if someone said they were going to destroy the king, he would take it seriously and start to station armies into the area to protect him, only to learn that it was only a joke, and the end up being a joke for some rime.
            Weapon of choice: He uses a normal iron dagger, which is usually hidden from view. He is also able to use rune magic, he carries such runes, and the magic he is able to use is fire and water.
            Patron: Nyth, God of Knowledge, The Arcane, And Truth
            Chosen Boon:
            • Telepathic Empathy: He is able to focus on the emotions on groups of people or individuals on issues and figure out the best outcome.
            • Truth OR False: He asks a target a question, and then he can detect whether it is true or false.
            • Future Sight: He is able to see into the future, around a time limit of the current momment and to around a day and a half into the future.
            History: Up to this point, Alex's life has been extremely hectic, being smart from a young age, and quickly being recongized as a valueable asset to the King was quickly promoted to the King's advisor, and since has been very busy regarding many issues for the kingdom and his own personal life.

            The King awaited the arrival of Alex, due to his needing of assistance from his advisor. He was getting ready to decide whether he should decree a new law throughout the land which would have taxed the rich people of Valcrest and help the poor a little bit.
            "ALEXXXXXX!' He called for his advisor and Alex was seen in the doorway, tired due to having to run all the way towards the courtyard from the library.
            "Yes m'lord? What do you need from my services?" He asked, out of breath,exhausted. He mumbled to himself about how he had to interrupt his book session by this.
            "I need you to see whether a decree taxing the rich would have good or horrible results. This is important! It could heavily benefit or destory our people." He had started to speak passionately about this and Alex knew he wasn't going to stop. In the mean time, Alex had tapped into the feelings of the poor and rich, and started to formulate an anwser for this. The rich would probably dislike it, and the poor wouldn't trust that the taxes would help them. Then he had seen a glimspe of the future, around the middle of the next day if the decree was issued, seeing mass amounts of chaos and problems.

            "Your highness, if I may?" Alex finally spoke, and the king nodded towards him allowing him to speak. "I advise that you do not pass this tax as of yet. I do not know exactly what may happen if you do this in the future, but I am very sure that if you pass this tax now, you will surely lose the help of many rich noble families and the poor in your community."

            The king had started to slowly nod his head and thanked Alex for service. Alex then rushed back to library and quickly opened a book describing an important moment in the history of this kingdom,
            fascinated at all the knowledge he started to gain. He was happy and started to slowly control his thrist of knowledge. He opened another book about rune magic and started to read. He heard the King's booming loud voice again. He knew he would eventually stop this learning session to go assist him.
            It's my duty to advise him, he most likely wouldn't be able to function without my advising. I might as well do my duty well. But at the same time, I rather become a scholar. But I can't just stop, can I? He thought.





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            Woopers. That's my family. And I'm going to go celebrate with them.

            Spoiler:

            For me,
            Mareanie - Venom Drench, Toxic, Scald, Poison Sting
            Munchlax - Belch, Rest, Lick, Amnesia
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              #34    
            Old December 7th, 2017 (8:53 PM).
            GreyBidoof's Avatar
            GreyBidoof GreyBidoof is offline
            You used a Master Ball on the GreyBidoof!
             
            Join Date: May 2014
            Location: Goldenrod City, Johto
            Age: 21
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            Nature: Serious
            Posts: 773
            Alright, so this has been long coming, but here are as many acceptances as I can do at the moment.

            Arena "Rina" Nightshade and Korona are accepted. As for Aelia and Ezion, I've messaged respective players and am still in the midst of making my final decisions there. If your name was not mentioned, it means that your SU is either unfinished, or had some issues with the sheet itself that kept me from selecting it.

            That said, there are still 3-4 patrons that are still unaccounted for. I have not made my own character yet for the sole purpose of not wanting to overwrite someone's potential ideas, but that will soon change, so be sure to post if you're working on something.

            Excited to see us kick this off guys, and thanks for being patient.
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              #35    
            Old December 18th, 2017 (12:45 AM).
            GreyBidoof's Avatar
            GreyBidoof GreyBidoof is offline
            You used a Master Ball on the GreyBidoof!
             
            Join Date: May 2014
            Location: Goldenrod City, Johto
            Age: 21
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            Nature: Serious
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            So I'm not dead.

            I apologize for the wait, but here are a few more acceptances, at least as many as I can do for what is currently submitted.

            After some deliberation, I've made the hard choice of choosing Arun Cailee and Fay'lene Rosewood for the contested spots of Ezion and Aelia. I've talked to a few others of you, and if any of you are still interested in remaking a character for a different patron, I'd highly encourage you to do so!

            For those of you who have contacted me about working on in-progress apps, I'll be attempting to check up on you within a day or two to see if you're still interested and writing it up. Otherwise, I plan to have the IC and first locational post up soon, fingers crossed.

            I want to apologize again for not getting back to some of you guys who've been faithfully messaging me on discord, I'll do my best to be a bit more prompt from here on out.
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              #36    
            Old December 18th, 2017 (4:09 PM). Edited January 24th, 2018 by Quest.
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            Quest Quest is offline
            Veteran Roleplayer
             
            Join Date: May 2009
            Gender: Male
            Nature: Careful
            Posts: 983
            Proud of you~

            I'll be working on mine today and tomorrow, but I can guarantee it'll be on tomorrow. I had been plagued with finals followed by a bout of laziness. Thanks for being patient with me, buddy. o/

            Edit: Here is my SU. Still need to finish the sample, but I figure showing that the actual character is developed is pretty important.

            Helem Marlowe
            Chosen of Ylena, Goddess of Dreams, Peace, and Divination


            24 // Human // Wastow // Deckhand
            Spear/Bo Staff


            Appearance:


            Helem stands out in a crowd. Though not overly tall nor outrageously attractive, his pale skin and red, copper hair manage to grab the attention of at least a few passerbys in the streets of Wastow. His facial dimensions are fairly balanced, housing his brown eyes above a short, slightly turned-up nose. Standing at six foot one, Helem hosts an athletic body, built from years of training to hone his body under the “White Covenant” and his recent bout of time spent working as a deckhand.

            His attire is fairly ordinary, typically consisting of used, leather boots and dark-colored clothing, useful for looking presentable despite often getting dirty. He is usually found wearing some pair of reddish, brown fingerless gloves. He typically finds them helpful for keeping his palms and wrists warm, but giving him enough flexibility to efficiently lift and carry things, though that doesn’t stop them from looking cool.

            Personality:


            At heart, Helem is idealistic, always dreaming for something greater than himself. In many ways, his biggest goal is to remain on a meaningful path, wanting to be someone who does good for himself and others. Though his idealism sprouts from his innate nature and beliefs, it is typically credited to the “White Covenant” for an input into his behavior.

            Helem relies heavily on his own intuition, whether it be to guide him forward in his goal or to know when a temporary sidetrack is necessary. Typically, these sidetracks have to do with his want to help others find their “truths”, or their meaning in life. Helem evaluates most things based on his own value system. Does this match with what’s good for me and others? Is it possible someone may not benefit? Will that benefit outweigh those affected negatively?

            Helem always tries to be conscious of others. He often acts as a good listener, putting his efforts into being a considerate friend. Though reserved, he does his best at being a positive reinforcement in others’ lives. He puts great interest in understanding others’ feelings and their aspects, showing his interest in their truths and goals.

            Despite not being one for conflict, Helem knows that there the occasional need for it. He believe there is rarely a right or wrong, knowing such a view depends on the person. Instead, he focuses on what lines up with his own beliefs and values, not really caring whether or not is viewpoint is wrong or right. While he understands the needs of the many typically outweighs those of the few, he will always prioritize those who match his views.

            Helem holds himself to high standards, making sure that he is showing a positive influence towards others. If there is ever a situation where he lets others down or fails to reach his goal, he’ll occasionally need help getting over it.

            He often keeps a journal that he updates almost essentially, noting down his experiences and views as well as those of people he believes to be interesting and inspiring.

            Chosen Boon:


            Dreamvision and Dreamwalking: Helem carries the ability to see the dreams of those around them. This ability primarily works while his targets are asleep. Simply by touching their temple, he is transported to the inner confines of the dream. He acts as a bystander rather than seeing from their point of view, but still has the ability to affect the dreamscape either positively or negatively. This ability depends entirely on his own creativity. If he can’t think of the specifics, he can’t affect the dreamworld as he planned.

            Soothing: Helem is able to soothe those around him. This skill requires the user to first understand the target’s current emotion as well as to be currently touching them before proceeding. This allows him to bring down the excitement, the angers, and the sadness of those he is soothing, bringing them to a peaceful and calm state. With much more effort, Helem is able to put his target to sleep. This ability ultimately depends on the ferocity of their feelings as well as his own ability to take on the mental stress of his target. If his target is already calm, it is much easier to put them to sleep. If they’re ready for a fight, then Helem will have some problems as he absorbs their anger.

            Divine Vision: At first, this ability started off as mere instance deja reve, an odd feeling of having dreamed of the event already. It became apparent soon after that he did in fact dream of them, but that it took time for him to remember the event upon waking up. These visions tend to remain unclear, only becoming understandable after his dreams accumulate or events in real life show clear similarities. These visions appear often in dreams, but are very hard to call upon otherwise.

            History:


            Born to a shipyardhand and a seamstress in Wastow, Helem was the second son in a humble family. Despite these humble beginnings, Helem set high goals for himself, his urge for something more meaningful apparent. Despite not being a member for quite some time, Helem’s father had once been a monk of the White Covenant, a monastic order in pursuit of enlightenment; this pursuit leading to the purpose of preserving balance and knowledge throughout the lands. Having once been a member of the order, Helem’s father often brought these teachings into their home, choosing to encourage Helem and his older sister to follow many of the same routines.

            Of course, these teachings are slightly different from those taught by those within the Covenant, partially due to some difference in views. Helem’s father continued these teachings for some time, focusing on their moral pursuits over academics. He also introduced Helem to the use of a bo, although at a basic defensive level.

            Helem’s father had, of course, several friends who were still members of the Covenant. These men who stayed with the Covenant were travellers and missionaries, those who spread the covenant knowledge while constantly searching for more. Upon one visit, the men invited Helem, now 16, on their travels back to their home monastery and all the places in between, not to mention multiple detours. Helem knew he would’ve been a fool if he said no.

            Helem stayed with the White Covenant for several years, though he never fully became a member. The White Covenant was all for teaching the young man, choosing to help a person looking for knowledge, enlightenment, or balance. His curiosity was stoked and Helem made it his goal to learn more. They refined his kill with a bo, extending the use to a pointed spear. Though they focused primarily on defensive techniques and keeping enemies out of reach, Helem didn’t hesitate to use the monastery’s vast libraries to research further.

            Helem continued to travel as well, traveling close to the borders of the Far Lands, to the shores of Alarasil, and all the way to even Soxiholm of Dhurgoth. While on these travels, Helem made it an effort to help those he felt were in need, whether it be stopping a sudden mugging or even transporting food to the hungry.

            It was during these travels that Helem decided upon his goals. He wanted peace, though he understood it wasn’t a goal he could achieve alone. He wanted to take part in making this a reality.

            By the age of twenty-two, Helem decided to leave the White Covenant’s monastery. Though he wanted to continue to travel, learn, and help others, he chose to go home to Wastow. He had travelled much of the land of Valion and his next goal, the seas. As such, he started working as a shiphand, learning to handle the workings of a ship and the art of sailing.

            Sample:


            Helem breathed a sigh of relief as he dropped the last crate on the deck of the ship. It had been several hours since they started preparing the ship to set sail, ensuring it had the necessities for a long voyage. Looking around he could see many members of the crew going about their business. Many helped with the preparation, from reeling up rope to taking inventory of the new equipment brought aboard. Others visited with family and friends as they made promises of safe travel and stories to take home.

            Listening in to these sort of conversations often sparked Helem’s interest. He had known several of these men for a long time, going as far back as to when his father was a deckhand himself. Others were new, most often looking to make money. The rest were like Helem himself, people looking for an adventure and the chance to make a name for themselves. Of course, going from port to port on the west coast of Valion didn’t always offer that chance. Thieves have always been a bother in ports and there has even been a pirate ship or two that they needed to outrun. While they definitely weren’t your casual days, they didn’t give the same sense of adventure that exploration or tests of skill could offer.

            Most people would definitely have an idea of what these groups wanted, typically by their emotions or appearance. Helem, on the other hand, had a bit more help. It had been almost an entire year since his … abilities had begun to develop. It had started with dreams. Dreams of things that came true days after waking up, simple yet unnerving. Eventually, he stumbled upon the fact that he could look into other people’s dreams, albeit skewed and unclear.

            He spent a lot of time over the year researching what he could, hoping to learn more about what was unfolding. The rest of the time he used to hone his new powers. Through touch, he had begun to see people’s dreams, their wants and fears telegraphed clearly as they slept. Recently, he had begun to see these sort of aspirations about people.

            They were often much harder to translate, the exact details hidden but a general idea present. It had taken time for Helem to become accustomed to this, but that general aspiration had become much clearer, taking on the form of incorporeal and near invisible items. Each person carried something, so long as he focused. One of the men reeling up rope possessed a see-through coin purse at his waist, coins resting within. Another man stood next to a crate, the side of it pasted with a mushy, distant map.

            Helem pushed the crate he had brought onto the deck towards the rest of the supplies, paying careful attention to ensure it ended up in the right place. He wasn’t going on this voyage, there was too many things he needed to check out. The ship’s first mate had insisted that he still help with the loading process. Helem had obviously obliged. It was the last time he was going to see the crew for awhile, it only felt right to make sure that they went off well.

            “Helem,” called a voice from the stern of the ship. Helem answered the call quickly, coming face to face with the first mate of the ship, his father. “There isn’t anything I can do to make you stay, is there, son?”

            Helem shook his head. “I’ve already told you what I feel I need to do. There is a lot I still need to learn, both about myself and whatever else I need. Travelling from port to port and back again isn’t going to help me with that. At least, right now it won’t.”

            “Ah, of course. Before you were born, I made the decision to leave the Covenant and come here to work in the shipyards,” his father said to him. “I had to make the same decision, and I chose here as where I would learn what I need.” He offered his son a small hug before handing him an intricate, sturdy spear and a small coin purse. “Make sure these do you well. I know it ain’t your first time travelling, but it’s definitely the first time you’re doing so alone.”

            Helem accepted them graciously, thanking his father. “I’ll be sure to be careful out there. I don’t expect I’ll find what I’m looking for tomorrow, but I’ll be sure to come back when I can. Make sure Mare and mom aren’t the only one’s around when I do.”

            His father nodded, a smile on his face as he hugged him once more. “I’ll be safe out there as well.”

            Helem placed the gifts safely on his person, before saying his last goodbyes to his father. He made his rounds on the ship, saying goodbye to those he knew well and others he didn’t. At the edge of the boat, he paused before taking a deep breath. With a smile, he took the step off of the vessel. Once he said his goodbyes to the rest of his family, he would be leaving Wastow and his journey would begin.
            __________________
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              #37    
            Old December 28th, 2017 (5:10 PM). Edited December 31st, 2017 by Legend.
            Legend's Avatar
            Legend Legend is offline
            Kingslayer
             
            Join Date: Apr 2008
            Location: New Jersey
            Age: 27
            Gender: Male
            Nature: Lonely
            Posts: 1,308
            Note 1: SU is WIP. Need to finish History and Sample.

            Note 2: First post in years.

            EDIT: SU done

            EDIT 2: Here's a theme song to read this SU with...in particular the history section: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPfLdTQayZs

            Isaac Shearer

            ”I drink and I fix things. It’s what I do.”

            200+//The Timeless Chosen//Male

            Name: Isaac Shearer
            Race: Human
            Age: 200+ (Isaac has lost track of his age many years ago)

            Hometown: Edmos, Virona. Located on the smaller island, Edmos was primarily a fishing and sailing village that gradually grew over the years as trade expanded in the region. Isaac made most of his successes there, before taking up the trade of wanderer.

            Occupation: Isaac has a fairly diverse skill set, but his primary trade is that of a “fixer.” He loathes the term of mercenary as he views the term as beneath him, but he essentially does whatever he needs to do within his skill set, moral code and personal preference.

            Appearance: Isaac is a tall, fairly well built well built individual standing at about 6"1 (185cm) and weighing in at a modest 186 pounds (84 kg). Originally of a slighter build, Isaac has put some weight and muscle over the years of traveling, yet still has somewhat lanky limbs, being more balanced in his muscle distribution. Despite being outside and active, Isaac has not tanned in the slightest keeping his complexion peachy, but without blemishes outside of the occasional cut. He does, however, have an abundance of scars across his limbs, chest and back.

            The years of have taken some toll on his appearance, as his medium length reddish brown hair looks as if a mop fell atop his head. Too lazy to comb or style it, Isaac allows the wind to do what it will. Luckily, Isaac's hair generally lays in a presentable fashion. Peering through a few loose strands of hair are a pair green eyes devoid of emotion or concern. His nose is fairly thin and not pronounced, proportional to his thin cheeks and longer face. He looks and feels youthful, though the aura he gives off is of a man that is well beyond his years.

            Dressing well to remind himself of his more noble origins, Isaac wears a dark blue collared shirt, with a darker cloak over it for better enduring the elements. As if he expects to get down and dirty, Isaac rolls up his sleeves regularly. He wears blacks pants that match his cloak, held up by a black leather belt with a silver buckle. The casual look matches a hunched stature, hiding his height and a grim expression to ward off those beneath his attention.

            Personality: Isaac was something of a paragon, but has become something of a renegade since he began traveling. Shedding his principles of peace and cooperation, Isaac lost much of the optimism and naive idealism he once had replacing the void with harsh realism and bitter spite. Isaac always assumes the worst will happen, and sees the worst in people acting under the assumption that everyone is as self interested as himself. He deals with people harshly and bluntly, near avoiding the truth by being overly honest. He's critical, judging, and unforgiving. Second chances are a novelty, as Isaac believes history is always repeating and experience is the best teacher. That being said, Isaac learns from his mistakes and is willing to change himself for the better, always striving to become a better person. This however sometimes bites him in the rear as Isaac dwells on his past mistakes, delving into bouts of depression. The fact his hindsight is always 20/20 can make Isaac beat himself up a bit too hard for his own good.

            His lessons have not made him completely depressed and hopeless and instead have crafted Isaac into a mature, generally responsible and most importantly a crafty and intelligent individual. He approaches things with a carefully modeled plan in order achieve guaranteed success, now hating (though it may be more apt to say fearing) failure more than anything. As such Isaac can be conservative, relying on past experience above all else. He feels understands his role in the world as well, not going out of expected social norms unless necessary.

            He is a responsible adult, who understands the importance of his work and does what is expected of him, only breaking the law when necessary or if the mood fits him. Isaac is very much in control of his emotions, rarely getting angry or bothered by most things which is only further fueled by the fact that he is generally aloof and detached. He has been accused as being "unsympathetic" and "uncaring" by others, but Isaac likes to think that it actually aids him in his work as he can allow logic and dedication lead him to the solution. This detached aspect has ruined whatever social skills Isaac once had. He is more socially awkward than most due to his blunt honesty and generally lack of concern of others. He never shies away from expressing himself. To had more fuel to the fire, Isaac generally looks down to people, believing everyone is foolish.

            As if Isaac was not detestable enough already, Isaac has his fair share of bad habits. Isaac drinks habitually, forgetting what it means to be drunk or sober, living in a liminal state between the two. He will often mumble curses, chide others, and deflect blame, especially if his arrogance makes him me feel absolved rather than responsible. In order words, he occasional enjoys innocent chaos, permitting it can be controlled as well.

            Despite all this, Isaac has a good heart. He is willing to help people and strives to do the right thing if only because it is his duty more often than not. He is slow to trust people, but can be a faithful friend if he can bear someone's presence long enough. Capable of social activity, Isaac enjoys intelligent conversation and giving advice, even though it is of pragmatic kind. And most importantly deep down, Isaac has not completely given up on his old aspirations, still hoping for a peaceful world free of strife…though it may be take him a 1000 years to realize that.

            Weapon of choice: Isaac favors two particular weapons, despite his relative distaste of fighting: His competency in magic and his trusty mace.

            Once a man of faith, Isaac continues his commitment and does not use a bladed weapon, using his old mace, inscribed with runes that allow the weapon to be enhanced by his light magic, as his primary tactic in close combat. He keeps the mace notched on his belt, within reach as to react as fast as needed in the heat of battle. Isaac’s weapon skills are that of a veteran, favoring nimble, targeted and defensive strikes (further enhanced by a surge of magic), preferring to outmaneuver and outsmart an opponent, rather than use brute force.

            His primary weapon, however, is Isaac’s Light Magic. While not a wizard or dedicated spell caster, Isaac is rather talented in the magical arts, being able to use his magic in rather creative and intuitive ways. Many of his skills rely on trickery, using light magic to create distractions or illusions to coincide with his defensive approach to combat. However, Isaac does a small selection of offensive attacks, typically in that of focused blasts and surges of speed or power. These spells are more taxing, and Isaac tends to use them only when absolutely necessary.

            Patron: Satris, Goddess of Life, Light and Healing.
            Chosen Boon:
            Self-Regeneration: With healing magic constantly flowing through his body, Isaac’s body is constantly healing itself, making him capable of recovering from nearly every wound, disease and/or discomfort at an unnaturally fast pace. It has also tremendously slowed his aging, allowing him to look and feel still in his physical prime despite being over 200 years of age. It is important to note that Isaac still feels pain and his recovery speed is directly proportional to that of the wound. Small cuts and bruises heal nearly immediately, while a lost or broken limb will take moments or even hours.

            Healing Transfer: With the healing magic flowing in his body, Isaac is capable of transferring the healing magic to that of an another, making him capable of healing others regardless of their wound. This comes at the cost that Isaac will take their pain, damages and discomforts and “process” it. In essence, Isaac is trading healing for pain. Isaac can heal nearly everything quickly, but can not bring back the dead. He tried. He failed.

            Light Magic/Manipulation: Isaac’s final known boon is manipulation light and light magic. Isaac’s capabilities are that of a veteran and he is quite skilled despite not having incredible power in his skills. He does suspect that he could become quite a bit stronger in this ability but as yet to find the need to, given the threats he has fought and the other capabilities he has.

            History:

            Isaac was born and raised in the relatively small village of Edmos. Primarily a fishing, sailing and trading village, Isaac's family assumed something of a leadership role, as House Shearer was large and used their influence to help stimulate the village's economy. Edmos soon flourished under the Shearer's guidance and became a town, famous for its hospitality and solid goods. More and more ships sailed into the small docks and beaches of Edmos and prosperity soon reigned for the kindly community of fishermen, traders and innkeepers. Isaac's family became the closest thing to nobility for the populace, with the men of the house becoming more often mayors (starting with Isaac's grandfather) than laborers. As Isaac was raised, he became a part of the cycle of fishing, trading and learning, but as Edmos bloomed under his grandfather's govern-ship, more and more opportunities presented themselves.

            While Isaac was relatively skilled as a fisherman and even a trader, his true calling was faith and philosophy, and when Isaac became of age, he formally joined the Church of Satris and dedicated his time to tending to the forgotten and needy in Edmos. Isaac's commitment was admirable and he was good at his work. His skill with herbs was notable. His dedication to learning unquestioned and many said that he was something of a beacon of light and hope to those less fortunate. To many, Isaac restored faith in House Shearer, as those that did not immediately benefit from their leadership critiqued them as "greedy" or "corrupt." But not Isaac. Never Isaac.

            Isaac's continued work earned him a promotion in the Church and he was named the leading priest in Edmos. It did not change his commitment to his work, and his work found him tending to a woman named Mia, who was incredibly ill. Isaac tended to her daily, and as she recovered the two fell in love, and upon her return to good health, Isaac and her wed. Mia gave birth to twins about one year later and the quaint role as husband and father brought newfound purpose to monotony of Isaac's life. However, as soon as Isaac grew comfortable in his growing role, destiny returned to the young man. One morning, Isaac awoke to see a mark on his chest: that of a Sun. The Mark of Satris. Isaac heard of this only in legends. He was Chosen.

            Isaac researched what this meant, but did not fully understand it. Confused, Isaac returned to his work of charity and assistance of the needy. It was then that Isaac believed he found his purpose. Tending to an elderly woman, Isaac found himself healing her upon a simple touch. Her injuries and disease were cured, almost in an instant. Isaac, gritting his teeth to hide the sudden pain, found himself suffering from her ailments. However, his discomfort was little more than fleeting, if painful, moment. Isaac found that he had a capacity to heal. Days later, when defending the town from a small bandit attack, he discovered that his weak capacity for magic was magnified several times over. He was indeed Chosen. And he was powerful. Unsure where to point this power, Isaac remained in Edmos and continued to defend and help the villagers.

            About another year later, Isaac's wife and children became very ill. Isaac managed to stay healthy, assuming that his gifts as a Chosen protected him from the disease. He tried to heal them daily, but they never stayed healthy for more than a day or two. Isaac studied his abilities and their ailments and nothing came from it. After struggling for nearly a month, Isaac's children died. His wife about a week later with tears in her eyes. Isaac tried to bring each back with his healing magic. He failed. Despite his great powers, he could not reverse death. About one month later, the entire village including Isaac's parents and siblings suffered from the same plague. Edmos became little more than a memory.

            Isaac hid in the Church of Satris waiting for a sign or some clue as to what swarmed Edmos. In time, he became clear that it was not a disease, but rather a curse from the "Chained One" undoubtedly aimed at him due to being a Chosen. Hunting down the accursed minions, Isaac burned with revenge and followed in their tracks, learning quickly that his need for food, water and sleep were practically non existent (though he loved naps and snacks). Isaac found the minions of "The Chained One" in an abandoned fort on the north end of the island, and in a beautiful mix of stealth and raw combat, Isaac destroyed the minions, suffering minor wounds that healed within hours of his slaughter of evil. With no clue of where "The Chained One" itself lurked, Isaac assumed that his awakening as a Chosen was to finish this work.

            Therefore, Isaac wandered. And wandered. And wandered. He lost track of time. He lost track of his mission. He decided then that he would continue, hoping one day that purpose may find him. And that he may answer.

            Sample: (See inspiration for character and scene (content warning: strong language and violence: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJWcR5icdkA)

            The sun went down hours ago, but it was impossible to tell in the bustling tavern. Tucked away on a hill overlooking the road, the Lost Stone Inn would never be anyone's first choice to stay in a city or town. Yet it was the only choice for miles, and Isaac Shearer found himself hiding in the corner, sipping away on watered down ale, hoping to relearn what it meant to be drunk. Trying for years, the closest he got was a tingle in his left hand and that was after drinking a fine dwarven wine that supposedly was aged about two hundred years in the north. Or something like that. He forgot the story. It was a long time ago. Many things felt they took place long ago.

            He had been sitting in the Lost Stone Inn for the better part of the evening, and heaved himself up to walk over to the bartender. "Another round, if you don't mind. I seem to be sobering up," Isaac requested, leaning on the bar as he fetched his coin purse from his belt. Without as much as a word, the bartender fetched the drink, placed it gingerly on the bar and took Isaac's coin. A silent transaction. Isaac liked that. "Oh, and do you have any rooms for the night? I hear the roads are dangerous at night around these parts," Isaac asked.

            "A couple," the bartender replied, cleaning a glass.

            "I'll take one," Isaac didn't bother asking for the price, dropping on the bar what was the standard rate in most nicer inns. Bartender didn't mind, and nodded, tossing Isaac the room key. Another silent transaction. Isaac liked this place. Isaac returned to his seat and sipped away at his drink. This mug was less watered down than the last but the effects were still nonexistent. It was shame really, since Isaac was genuinely seeking a desire to stick around for more than a night.

            Then the door barged open. A burly man and what easily could have been ugly brothers or cousins flooded the bar. Most of the residents gasped and took on a hushed silence, aside from the trailing voice of confusion. "Don't mind us, as long as you cough up your coin and valuables, we will be on merry way. Wouldn't want to ruin your night, ain't that right boys?" The burly leader said with a chuckle. His bandit crew circulated through the room and many people parted with their few belongings in a solemn ritual. This culture seemed more than commonplace and Isaac sighed to himself as he saw it. The burly man approached Isaac personally: "You don't look familiar. Must be new here. Quite simple, friend. You give me gold. I go away. A nice simple...what's the word for it?"

            "Transaction?" Isaac answered with a raised eyebrow.

            "Aye, that's a good word for it," the burly man laughed again.

            "Shame though. I seemed to have parted with all of my coin. Now if you'll excuse me," Isaac said as he lifted himself up. He stood almost the same height as the leader, though the leader had much more bulk than he. "I'm going to head over to my room. Have a...what was your word for it...merry day?" Isaac walked past the bandit leader, trying his best to walk through the man.

            "Oh I don't think so," the burly man swung at Isaac with a right hook, but Isaac dodged it nimbly, quickly transitioning into a tying of his boot.

            "I'm sorry, did you need something?" Isaac asked as he stood back up, adjusting his cloak in a smooth motion.

            "You think you're pretty smart don't you? Playing me and my boys off like a bunch of court jesters? You know the last person to try that I carved into tiny pieces and feed to my dogs?" The burly bandit drew his longsword. It was bit rusty, but that sometimes made the cuts hurt more. "Let's make another example then. It's about time these people learned the nature of fear after all. Am I right, boys?"

            "Muk..." Isaac muttered.

            As far as the townspeople were concerned, the fight never happened. There was a big flash of light and by the time their eyes adjusted, the bandits were on the floor, squealing in pain with broken bones and battered bodies. Isaac stood up straight, cracking his neck and stretching out his limbs. Some blood made it onto his clothes, but he seemed comfortable enough.

            "Another drink before bed, if you don't mind?" Isaac asked with a smile.

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              #38    
            Old December 31st, 2017 (7:37 AM). Edited February 5th, 2018 by HTS123.0.
            HTS123.0's Avatar
            HTS123.0 HTS123.0 is offline
            This land is made of love and peace!
               
              Join Date: Feb 2016
              Location: Tennessee, USA
              Gender: Male
              Nature: Quirky
              Posts: 48
              OY I see there needs to be more Dwarf representation. I'll work on this in the next few hours.

              I think I've completed my sign-up sheet. I tried to make my character idea as viable as I could, though I know there could be potential issues with him having whatever remnant of authority, being old af, using constant spells to not be too old, etc.. What say you, GM-Sir?

              Name:
              Hold on just a moment. Is that my name? Oh, stone's fits, I shan't forget long. That young man's hour is almost up.
              Spoiler:
              Garland Vogrand


              Race:
              Aye, I'm a Dwarf, and a proud one at that! My father's father's father's father was a might warrior in the service of King Thorgon the IV!
              Spoiler:
              Dwarf


              Age:
              Don't you mind me. Just an old librarian, here. Please, continue!
              Spoiler:
              333


              Hometown:
              These soldiers may be idiots, but their my idiots. They need me to tell them left from right.
              Spoiler:
              Hakitoft, The Dwarven Kingdom


              Occupation:
              The protection of knowledge is of the upmost importance, and as a Librarian it is my duty to preserve it for generations to come.
              Spoiler:
              Garland has come to serve as the head librarian of Hakitoft, having held the position since his retirement from the military. His duties include knowing the history of the Dwarven people, upkeep of the army's main information hub, and, as a result of two hundreds years of service, he knows where every book in the library is located down to a three book error point.


              Appearance:
              Don't you let these old bones fool you! There's a fire yet burning in this old man's heart!
              Spoiler:
              Spoiler:


              Garland, as noted above, is incredibly old. His body has been growing rather difficult to deal with in his age, but still he persists. His muscles and joints are all fading with his age, making his movement difficult. Strength is an attribute he no longer possesses, and dexterity and constitution can be tossed out along with that, as well. Conforming with the trademark of Dwarven biology, he's quite a bit shorter than most, including other Dwarves. His hunched back makes this difference even greater. Garland's wispy white hair has been missing for quite a while, and his once magnificent beard has waned, but he still wears them proudly. A Dwarf's honor lies with his beard, after all. As far as clothing goes, Garland often dons the traditional darker gray robes of a Dwarven librarian, though he possesses many light gray robes, and even a few medium gray robes. It seems fairly apparent that this man's favorite color is grey. His champion's mark lies on the back of his head, only partially covered by the balding white hair.


              Personality:
              Oh, being old isn't so bad, now that you mention it. People are very kind to me, and I am offered to be carried very many places.
              Spoiler:
              Garland is the product of three hundred years of life. Various words that can be used to describe him include: Patient, wise, slow (though more so physically than mentally), solemn, and loyal. Patience comes naturally to the librarian. He's been alive longer than most humans, and those humans' children, so a few extra days or hours means nothing to him. He's rather tolerant of irrational behavior. He's dealt with an entire army's shenanigans in his place of quiet, and he's earned a healthy amount of fear in the Dwarven ranks; when angered, his fury is unmatched. No knuckles are safe from his staff's hard smacks. In particularly bad cases, he's been known to smack heads, though the generals and captains have asked that he refrain from doing so. Desertion and refusal to do a just task are his greatest pet peeves. He expects assigned tasks to be carried out, and should they be shirked he will personally see to discipline the offending party with his trusty stave.

              Garland is a kind old man. He's never been a fan of unnecessarily rude individuals, and manners are among his favorite lessons to teach. Respect is something he gives freely and expects much of, as his position as elder puts him in a higher position of authority. He loves kids and acts as a grandfather to the many children who frequent his library, often giving them candy and telling them stories from when he was a young man, both of which he keeps plenty of in his metaphorical and physical pockets. Garland treats all with the same amount of care and respect to all ages,

              The most impressive thing about this old man is that he retains all of his mental faculties, though for the most part because of his bond to Nyth. His mind remains as sharp as it was two hundred years before, memory, processing speed, all of it. The only thing that holds him back from adventuring is his decrepit body. He recognizes this, and his choice as Nyth's champion. Garland very much appreciates the gifts that he has received from the god. His knowledge of the wars fought before leads him to take the rising threat very seriously, and he intends to serve his benefactor to the furthest extent of his power, even if it were to lead to his death. Of course he has come to terms with his mortality, having seen many of his childhood friends and family pass before him, so he knows he has very little time to lose anyways. His primary drive lies in the belief that he is one of the few individuals who could make a difference in this war, and it should be considered an honor to be given such power and influence.


              Weapon of choice:
              Oh, this old stick here? It doesn't do much besides keep an old man walking, though I do adore cracking knuckles when someone misbehaves!
              Spoiler:
              Garland, while traditionally not a fighter, has grown used to using a magical stave as a walking stick. It helps him get around quite handily, but its primary use is to act as a focal point for the powerful spells that he blasts out. It has seen less use as of his retirement, but its potent power still lies at the ready.


              Patron:
              He has given me my mind, and in turn I will give it right back to him.
              Spoiler:
              Nyth, God of Knowledge, the Arcane, and Truth


              Chosen Boon:
              Aye, I've developed a little bit of potential. I should hope that you shall find use in me.
              An Old Man's Memory:
              Spoiler:
              While cursed with an old man's mind, Garland's patron has seem fit to bless him with a young man's memory. He can now remember anything that he has seen or heard, down to a T. It has helped him with his historical research. His readings have been more thorough, made more sense, the like. The issue with this power is that Garland has yet to fully organize his thoughts. His head, at the moment, is filled with a plethora of randomly placed thoughts.


              An Old Man's Intuition:
              Spoiler:
              Coupled with a couple hundred years of experience, Nyth's second gift to her elderly champion is the ability to determine the level of validity of a statement. It's quite hard to get one over on Garland, as he can tell whether or not an individual is lying based upon a sound. A gentle bell's ring marks a truth, while a distant thunderclap connotes a lie. The issue is that these sounds seem to come naturally, and he cannot tell if they are truly the sounds he is looking for.


              An Old Librarian's Wrath:
              Spoiler:
              Put simply, this is the release of elemental energy through Garland's stave. Garland chooses the element, himself, making it a bit more flexible. Weather and location factor in to the element chosen; a storm will lessen the energy needed for a powerful thunder spell, snow lessens for an ice spell, and so on and so forth.. Perhaps Garland's most powerful ability, activated by channelling energy, the amount dictating the effectiveness of the spell. The ability is incredibly useful in last-ditch situations, but again, the stronger the usage, the more energy it takes. Should Garland expend too much energy, he'll be left weak for a small amount of time. It is possible for Garland to use enough energy to consume his own life, though he has not yet been pushed to that extent.


              History:
              Ohoho...Where do I begin? Do wish to here of the time I went to war with the army? I fought just a little bit, but it was a spectacle to see!
              Spoiler:
              There's a lot that Garland has done and seen over his centuries of life. It is difficult for him to recall the earliest of days, but that is why I'm here to do it for him. Born the son of a military officer, Garland has always had a somewhat privileged life. His mother was a minor noblewoman in Hakitoft, along with that, so he was able to be educated by the finest scholars in town. Garland had always been particularly keen on learning, and he showed an aptitude for magic from an early age. He stood apart from the other children as a result. They were more focused on practicing swordsmanship, military drills, or mining; Young Garland chose the academic route, and he did not particularly mind the ridicule he received, as he thought the duty of a scholar and mage to be just as important as a general's. He spent many days with his face buried in a spell book or historical tome. His favorite teacher, by the name of Roland Staffgard, had once told him, "Learning is vastly important. The difference between success and failure is the knowledge required to be useful in as many fields as possible." While this was good advice for a budding pupil, it was very objective, as stoic and utilitarian as the teacher. Staffgard shaped Garland to act free of personal bias and learn so that he could advance his cause, be it for the good of the kingdom or the good of life itself.

              Garland would soon become one of the star pupils of the local mages, and began to travel with the larger portions of armies, at age fifty to act as a scribe or provide any historical information that would prove useful to his superiors. He even took it upon himself to provide rough maps of the areas, often very detailed and specific. He did this four around fifty more years, and during this time he gained much, much more experience than he imagined he would need. He was thrust into a position as a battle mage much faster than he would've liked. After becoming a genuine soldier, our hero in question took to the frontlines, doing battle with various monsters and roving bandits that encroached on Dwarven territory. While Garland would have preferred the route of a scholar, he resigned to do his duty as a mage. His skill with magic put them where he was.

              Soon, he would be promoted to stand as the Brigade Commander's lieutenant. This gave him command over the other scribes present and provided even more resources for him to gain the knowledge he so desperately craved, so that he could serve his people even better. He gained command of the mages as well. Shouldering the responsibilities of both head scribe and lieutenant. Garland saw hardship when rolling through small towns, pointless squabbles end in death when politics became involved, and great miracles that would make many others turn their heads. Still, he felt that he needed to see more, desired to see more. The soon-to-be librarian knew that there was more to life than the military life. There had to be something more than constant travel and indifference of war.

              Garland was called back to Hakitoft at the age of 150. He was deemed to be more useful at the military base, as he could provide all generals with much needed advisory. With this responsibility, he also gained the right to train the young mages that he would be sending into combat. He did this for another fifty years. At this point, he could be considered a fairly older man. He had served the kingdom of Tumunzun faithfully his entire life. Really, the life of a battle mage and scholar was all he knew. He had known few people that were not solders. It was for this reason he retired at the age of 250, choosing to take his place in the city's library. Here, he spent most of his time learning of more mundane histories and stories, and went out to travel to other Dwarven towns to further learn about the people he had been helping protect for so long. Family members died, friends died, but still, he lived on, refusing to give in to grief. Garland lived a happy, peaceful life, aside from natural deaths, for so long. The joy he felt when greeting new faces was a much welcomed change to the years of violence he had witnessed; he was tired of violence. He wished for it to come to an end. Sadly, as he aged, his mind began to fade, as well as his magical ability. He weakened further and further. He remembered less frequently, retained information less. Really, it was a shame that such a strong mind was beginning to fade. Still, there was a spark that was deep inside him; the spark that Roland Staffgard had planted to serve his people all of those years ago.

              This was likely the spark that drove Nyth to choose him as her champion. Garland was the perfect fit. He was a scholar, fiercely loyal, who desired nothing more than to serve, and an incredibly powerful mage in his time. When he was chosen, he could feel a slow, gentle resurgence of power that he had not felt in years; his magic was returning to him. He began to relearn simple spells that would aid him in more mundane ways, such as a warmth spell to keep his old bones from freezing, and an agility spell to relieve the pain that he felt in his joints. Garland's memory slowly returned to him, and soon he remembered things distant in time. His place as librarian was becoming increasingly easier as a result. Still, the more his mind returned the more suspicious he grew of magical doings. It was hard to believe that his strength had returned to him by chance. He spent many years, studying to find the cause of the phenomenon. Garland was on the brink of discovery when the dream arrived. Garland knew what he had to do. Resigning from his position of head librarian, he made his way to Rimwick.


              Sample:
              Ah, I see. You'd like to see how I handle myself. You can't trust an old man?...Oh well. I suppose that's fair enough.
              Spoiler:
              The morning sun spilled into the old librarian's living quarters, the sparse furnishings and the smaller lump in the incredibly comfortable bed glowing warmly as the morning bell tolled. Soon the military town would be bustling, bright and early as usual.

              "I'm not dead yet," came the groggy voice from the lump. "No need to mourn." A dry, raspy laugh followed as Garland sat up in his bed. He groaned as he leaned over, reaching for the lovely wooden staff on his right. I swear, I'll find a spell to fix the creaky old bones permanently. Upon taking it, he murmured a quick incantation and a warmth spread through his body, a sudden lack of pain in his arms and legs evident. "Ah..." He smacked his lips gently as he threw his blanket off and swung his legs over the bed. "Much better." The old man chuckled and leapt down, quickly finding his favorite pair of slippers. He sighed, tired though he slept well, as he looked at the foot of his bed. A packed bag sat there, containing his journal, a favorite book, and other such necessities. Today is the day.

              After he finished preparing for the day, Garland left his room, now clad in a sturdy, warm set of grey robes his favorite color and a pair of sturdier brown travel boots, a tall, pointy grey hat upon his head, his pack on his back, and his stave in his right hand. Truth be told, the stave was the only thing keeping him from falling. The constant flow of minor spells were necessary for him to travel easily. While Garland checked things off in his head, a quiet, sad voice came from his left. "Mr. Garland." He turned to find a wide pair of Dwarf child eyes staring. "Are you sure you have to leave?" One of the many shadows that followed the old man throughout the day.

              A chuckle, followed by a sad sigh. "Don't worry, young master Rognak." The librarian reached into his pouch, producing one of the many hard sweets he was known for. He shuffled a few steps towards the boy, pressing the candy into his small hands. "I shan't be long. This is some very, very important business." True, his tone was cheerful, but Garland had a strange feeling that he would not be returning from such a mission. Call it an old man's instincts. If his research had indicated anything, the task he felt he had been assigned would certainly be far more dangerous than someone of his stature and capabilities would be capable of. Still, Nyth had chosen him for a reason. Who was he to argue with a god? Quickly taking his leave, Garland pushed his way past the boy and several other children like him, calling them by name and handing out candies along the way, assuring them that he would return safely. It felt odd to him to lie to the kids, though he knew it for the better. Once out of the crowd of children, he made his way towards his study at the front of the library. His quarters in the back would be missed, though he felt comfortable with the candidate he had chosen to succeed him. His eyes scanned the rows of books, the shelves towering over the room. He knew each and everyone one of them, having had around a hundred years or so to read them.

              Garland's study was rather small, containing little but a spartan desk, a small bookshelf containing his personal selections and political treatises, and a comfy armchair on either side. Taking a seat on the far side of the desk, Garland waited for his appointment. There was an hour beforehand, but that was child's play. Casting a spell to keep his joints from stiffening, Garland waited. He plucked one of his books from the shelf and became lost in it. It was a lovely tale; a record of the previous Chosen that had come before. Of course, he had been alive. He'd been alive for the previous two cycles, but that was not important. All of the signs seemed to add up. The unmistakable sign on the back of his head, the sudden return of his faculties, and the dream. That accursed dream.

              "Is something troubling, old friend?" A voice shook him. His eyes darted to the doorway, a younger relatively Dwarf with a bushy brown beard. "You look like you've seen a ghost." The expression of concern was clear on his face.

              Garland shook his head quickly, his wispy white locks moving about his head. "Oh, no worries, no worries, Mogluk." He laughed, his voice still dry, and stood up, hobbling to meet his friend halfway. "Just reliving some...memories." It was difficult to hide the stress. The two clasped arms and embraced before Garland broke away. "The documents necessary are in my desk. You know the drawer." He gave him a solemn nod. "I trust you know where I'm going?"

              Mogluk simply stared, a frown appearing across his scarred face. "I don't like this. It sounds like a trap."

              "Ah, but if it's a trap, then it must be a divine one." The old librarian reached into his robes, producing a set of keys. "You'll need these more than I." He pushed them into his replacement's hand and began shuffling towards the door. "I've been alive for too long." He laughed heartily. This is what I was born to do. "It's time for me to truly live."

              And perhaps it was. It was his three hundred thirty-third birthday, after all.

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                #39    
              Old January 19th, 2018 (8:10 AM).
              GreyBidoof's Avatar
              GreyBidoof GreyBidoof is offline
              You used a Master Ball on the GreyBidoof!
               
              Join Date: May 2014
              Location: Goldenrod City, Johto
              Age: 21
              Gender: Male
              Nature: Serious
              Posts: 773
              So... yeah. Hi, I'm still not dead yet.

              In-Progress SU: (Will update ASAP)
              Spoiler:
              Quote:
              Originally Posted by GreyBidoof
              WANTED
              for crimes against the Empire

              Roman Zeithr
              also known as the "Grey Blade"


              31 // Human // Windfell // Mercenary


              Appearance:


              Zeithr is a male human in his early thirties. He sports short, blackened hair and similar facial hair. He stands over six feet tall, and is quite muscular. Often can be seen in ashen-colored armor. If spotted, do not engage. Instead, please notify the nearest Imperial Guard or Guardpost in your local area, and remain safely out of reach.

              Known Abilities:


              -
              -
              -

              Last Seen:


              Spoiler:
              Text




              On another note, I've updated the OP with more acceptances, namely Quest (don't forget the sample tho) and Legend.

              (HTS, while I enjoyed reading your SU, there were a few parts that I felt were either lacking or didn't quite match up with what I wanted for a Nyth's Chosen. No problems with the age or the colorful personality, but I'm definitely looking for a more powerful magic-based character for the mage god. As a side point, while fun, I didn't quite understand how his last ability really ties in with his other abilities, making it a very odd skillset Garland has.

              I say this here in the thread because at this point, it's been quite a while on my end, and I have no idea if you're still interested in making changes. Should you be so inclined, feel free to make changes as you see fit or even hit me up via discord or PMs and we'll talk.)

              That aside, I'm reserving the next post for the first real content update if the RP, and the one that's gonna start us off. Feel free to discuss in the chat or here in the thread whatever questions may arise.

              Looking forward to reading those first posts guys, thank you for being patient.
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              RPT | Titans | Theme Song | Pair

              "Doofin' it up."

              art by the churiffic Infinite
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                #40    
              Old January 19th, 2018 (8:11 AM). Edited January 23rd, 2018 by GreyBidoof.
              GreyBidoof's Avatar
              GreyBidoof GreyBidoof is offline
              You used a Master Ball on the GreyBidoof!
               
              Join Date: May 2014
              Location: Goldenrod City, Johto
              Age: 21
              Gender: Male
              Nature: Serious
              Posts: 773


              Rimwick


              The village of Rimwick lies far to the west, on the edge of the Drakeblood Mountains. It's a small farming community, and has no real claim to fame, those who call the place home lead peaceful, simple lives.

              Travelers are rarely seen in a settlement such as this, and are met with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Those seeking information might find themselves headed to either the Broken Bough (which doubles as the residential tavern and inn), or the mayor's house.

              Regardless of how the information is received, word around town is that Valda, the area's resident forest druid, spoke of frightening omens that would spark a dark prophecy, and headed out to reach the peak of the nearest of the Drakeblood mountains, Mount Cinder. No one has seen or heard from her in days.

              Additionally, rumor has it that there have been monster sightings in the forest not a mile to the east, the Misty Glade. Speculation on whether it could be a result of Valda's absence, or even if such things are aren't just figments of one's imagination is under some debate.

              Notable NPCs:
              - Hector Whitecreek, middle-aged human Mayor. Presides over the village of Rimwick as the sole lawgiver. Calm, collected, and in highly regarded among the towsfolk, the he'll respectfully answer questions from strangers, but is often too busy dealing with local matters to chat for too long.
              - Valda, human druid that watches over the lands near Rimwick. Known for her divination abilities, and respected as a local shaman and healer. Has been missing for nearly 10 days. (3 day journey one-way)
              - Finetta Jastor, human proprietor of the Broken Bough. A hearty, no-nonsense woman in her prime who will gladly open her doors and pour a drink for outsiders. Doesn't tolerate any mischief or violence.

              Objectives:
              - Enter Rimwick
              - Find out information relating to your dreams / possible leads
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              art by the churiffic Infinite
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                #41    
              Old January 20th, 2018 (12:18 PM). Edited January 20th, 2018 by Pikamander7.
              Pikamander7's Avatar
              Pikamander7 Pikamander7 is offline
              Ace Trainer
                 
                Join Date: Aug 2015
                Location: Oregon
                Gender: Male
                Nature: Relaxed
                Posts: 49
                What's the currency system in Valion? Are there different ones for each race, or is there just one for all races? (I have ? in my sample section as placeholders)
                Here's my SU:
                Name: Ryden Ericsson
                Race: Human Male
                Age: 22
                Hometown: Sandleaf Village (small town in a forest by the ocean)
                Occupation: Blacksmithing
                Appearance: Ryden has medium length brown hair that is usually in a braid (family tradition) and dark amber eyes. He has multiple burn marks on his arms. He is usually seen wearing a tight, beige shirt with dark brown pants and a light brown leather apron. He keeps his sword sheathed on his right side and has his knives strapped to his left thigh.
                Personality: Ryden is pretty talkative and loves telling jokes. He also loves to read and is a quick study, always ready to learn new things. He tends to make friends easily and is never afraid to confront someone.
                Weapon of choice: Custom short sword and knives (made by him/his dad)
                Patron: Nyth, God of Knowledge, the Arcane, and Truth
                Chosen Boons:
                Quick Reading: Ryden can read much faster than anyone and learn skills and things faster as well.
                Echoes of the Truth: Occasionally, Ryden hears a voice in his head telling him the truth, no matter what people are saying. It sometimes tells him what people are thinking.
                History: Ryden has grown up being taught by the small school in Sandleaf, which was ran by the adults in the village. Once he was around 14, his father started tutoring him in the ways of blacksmithing. As Ryden was growing up, he spent his free time studying and reading about myths, legends and anything else he could get his hands on.
                Spoiler: Sample:
                CLANG!! The hammer banged against the hot metal, flattening it into a flat-ish blade. Ryden set the hammer down and used the tongs on his apron to dip the metal in the barrel of water next to him. He pulled it out, the metal now steaming. He put it back on the anvil and hammered the tip of it to curve it. He put it back into the water to finish cooling it before setting it next to the other three prongs. Ryden looked at his dad, who had just finished the holder for the prongs, and smiled. He loved working with his dad. His dad turned and smiled back, his big beard moving slightly. Ryden picked up the prongs and handed them to his dad, who aligned them on the piece he was working on. Eric, his dad, then used tongs to pick up a small cup, which he filled with molten metal. He carefully moved the cup over the prongs. Ryden walked over to help steady the prongs as his dad poured hot metal over the edges of the pieces, welding them together. Ryden got the pail of water from under the shelf and doused the molten metal so it would harden. Ryden set the pail back down, then waited for it to fully cool.
                Once it had, Eric picked up the head, then put it on a threaded pole, twisting the metal head onto it, the finished tool being a pitchfork. Eric handed the fork to Ryden, who took it to the other side of their shop and handed it to the man there. “That’ll be 5 ?, please,” Ryden said with a smile. The man smiled back and pulled out 5 ?, handed them to Ryden, then walked away with a friendly wave. Eric walked over and put his arm over his son’s shoulder. “Ya know,” Ryden said, looking up at his father. “You’ve got to teach me how to thread things like that.” Eric laughed and hugged his son. “Maybe later.” he said with a smile. Ryden hugged him back.
                __________________
                Frodo: I can't do this, Sam.
                Sam: I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy. How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. Because they were holding on to something.
                Frodo: What are we holding on to, Sam?
                Sam: That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.
                -The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
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