- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
-
Welcome to the Inner Sanctum!
We are an 18+ forum for writers and roleplayers of every genre. Whether you're a novice or a novelist, you've found your writing sanctuary here.
Review our rules, make an account and come see what the Sanctum has to offer!! For privacy reasons, some forums are not visible to guests.
If you have any issues verifying your account, please contact us
To prevent your account being flagged as possible spam, please disable any VPNs prior to registration.
-
Vote for the Inner Sanctum!!!
Character(s) [---- Character Vault ----]
- Thread starter Vee Forbidden
- Start date
- Watchers 1
Currently reading:
Character(s) [---- Character Vault ----]
- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
Justan Mormont
The Winter's Claw
The Winter's Claw
Themes
Guerilla Warfare - Desperate Rebellion - Military - Politics - Survival - Love at First Sight - Courtship - Defying Tradition
DetailsGuerilla Warfare - Desperate Rebellion - Military - Politics - Survival - Love at First Sight - Courtship - Defying Tradition
- Genres: Game of Thrones (canon or AU), Fantasy (low or high, canon or original), Medieval
- Gender: Male
- Species: Human
- Age: 21-28
- Relatives: Jeor Mormont (uncle), Jorah Mormont (cousin), Maege Mormont (aunt), Lyanna Mormont (cousin)
- Personality: Friendly, charming, honest, loyal, principled, fierce, passionate, brash, impulsive, idealistic, fair, humorous (often has a sardonic, dark sense of humor, reminiscent of his late father's), blunt, boorish
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Strengths: Master Archer (prodigy with a bow), Warrior, Tracker, Hunter
- Weaknesses: Diplomacy/Etiquette (Justan did not take well to parts of his education that did not involve his bow), Brash, Overzealous
- Hobbies: Hunting on Bear Island, in particular for small game since they make for harder targets to hit. Learning to play various musical instruments, though he switches between them too frequently to truly become adept at any of them.
- Favorite Food: A specific kind of boar dish that his former nursemaid used to prepare often when he was growing up.
- Favorite Color: Green
- Aspirations: To free the North from House Bolton and return a Stark to Winterfell. To protect Bear Island from the atrocities that have been committed in the north after the Red Wedding. To exact revenge on all the co-conspirators that brought chaos to the north.
- Fears: To be married off to a close-minded woman that would see him wasting away somewhere cushy and comfortable. To somehow lose his skill with the bow, as nearly everything he does is informed by his talents, be it hunting for fun or food, defending himself and his kin, or fighting enemies of House Mormont.
- Sexuality: Heterosexual - female or female-presenting
- Likes: Principled, boldness, individualistic, honesty, righteous, just, elegant, lady-like
Backstory
Justan is a member of House Mormont, one of the more prominent families sworn to House Stark in the North. A nephew of Jeor and Maege Mormont, his parents died at an early age, leaving him to be mostly raised by his uncle and aunt. Unlike many of his kin, Justan has always had far more wanderlust and a desire to see the world beyond Bear Island. His love for his home is as great as any Mormont, but at the same time, it often felt like a cage in his younger years. As a result, the moment he was old enough, Justan often traveled across the North to partake in various tournaments. The contests were often just an excuse to visit places that to the young man had appeared to be 'distant' and 'exotic'.
This only increased as he grew older and more skilled. Though not as gifted with a sword and lance as his cousin Jorah, he was an impeccable archer. From an early age, he had won numerous tournaments, amazing crowds with feats of accuracy and speed. By the time he was an adult, he had defeated many noteworthy archers from across the realm in various contests; both official and the results of drunken bluster. His performance in jousting or melees was far less noteworthy, though his ferocity still did not go unnoticed. Among his peers, he eventually garnered the nickname 'Winter's Claw' after stopping a sizable group of raiders from sacking a village near the water's edge on Bear Island. This group had been terrorizing settlements all along the coast and with just a small force of volunteers, he had managed to kill or capture nearly all of them.
His youth was not without friction though. His frequent 'adventures' out in the wild or simply away from home, brought undue concern to his aunt. Being the eldest male Mormont present after Jorah's banishment, his value as a political bargaining chip could also not be underestimated. But, nothing seemed able to keep him home for long stretches at a time, and his natural charm never failed to put him back in Maege and her daughters' good graces. During this time, he also formed a close bond with his youngest niece, Lyanna, whom he taught to hunt with bow and arrow.
The events following the Red Wedding, and the ensuing chaos in the north has made him even more reluctant to sit idly by. Years of friendship with several now-deceased or -missing members of House Stark had turned loyalty to that family far more personal than merely a matter of duty. As such, the betrayal the house had suffered, and the fact that Winterfell rested in the hands of anyone but a Stark, infuriated him. Ever since, he and a small group of skilled rangers, have been harassing the Boltons, hoping to destabilize the House enough to where other Stark loyalists can rise up and retake the north.
Appearance
Justan is a member of House Mormont, one of the more prominent families sworn to House Stark in the North. A nephew of Jeor and Maege Mormont, his parents died at an early age, leaving him to be mostly raised by his uncle and aunt. Unlike many of his kin, Justan has always had far more wanderlust and a desire to see the world beyond Bear Island. His love for his home is as great as any Mormont, but at the same time, it often felt like a cage in his younger years. As a result, the moment he was old enough, Justan often traveled across the North to partake in various tournaments. The contests were often just an excuse to visit places that to the young man had appeared to be 'distant' and 'exotic'.
This only increased as he grew older and more skilled. Though not as gifted with a sword and lance as his cousin Jorah, he was an impeccable archer. From an early age, he had won numerous tournaments, amazing crowds with feats of accuracy and speed. By the time he was an adult, he had defeated many noteworthy archers from across the realm in various contests; both official and the results of drunken bluster. His performance in jousting or melees was far less noteworthy, though his ferocity still did not go unnoticed. Among his peers, he eventually garnered the nickname 'Winter's Claw' after stopping a sizable group of raiders from sacking a village near the water's edge on Bear Island. This group had been terrorizing settlements all along the coast and with just a small force of volunteers, he had managed to kill or capture nearly all of them.
His youth was not without friction though. His frequent 'adventures' out in the wild or simply away from home, brought undue concern to his aunt. Being the eldest male Mormont present after Jorah's banishment, his value as a political bargaining chip could also not be underestimated. But, nothing seemed able to keep him home for long stretches at a time, and his natural charm never failed to put him back in Maege and her daughters' good graces. During this time, he also formed a close bond with his youngest niece, Lyanna, whom he taught to hunt with bow and arrow.
The events following the Red Wedding, and the ensuing chaos in the north has made him even more reluctant to sit idly by. Years of friendship with several now-deceased or -missing members of House Stark had turned loyalty to that family far more personal than merely a matter of duty. As such, the betrayal the house had suffered, and the fact that Winterfell rested in the hands of anyone but a Stark, infuriated him. Ever since, he and a small group of skilled rangers, have been harassing the Boltons, hoping to destabilize the House enough to where other Stark loyalists can rise up and retake the north.
Appearance
- Height: 1 meter 92
- Weight: 94kg
- Build: Very tall, with a strong back, shoulders and arms
- Complexion: Tanned caucasian
- Eye Color: Amber
- Hair Color: Black
- Other: Often reminds people of Jeor when he was younger, despite a lot of that resemblance to his uncle having faded over the years.
Last edited:
- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
Shocker
The Second Shocker
The Second Shocker
Themes
Spider-Man - Super-Villains - Vigilantism - Villainy - Heists - Redemption
DetailsSpider-Man - Super-Villains - Vigilantism - Villainy - Heists - Redemption
- Genres: Superhero (canon or original), Slice of Life
- Gender: Male
- Species: Human
- Age: 18-25
- Relatives: Herman Schultz (father), Mira Sanders (mother)
- Personality: Temperamental, bitter, uncertain, aimless, kind-hearted (progressively deeper-down), reckless, observant, smart, honorable, lonely, stubborn, contrarian, compassionate, intuitive, dense (at times; he's not always the sharpest crayon in the box, even if he's got his dad beat)
- Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
- Strengths: Vibro-Shock Gauntlets (Edric has only made some minor adjustments to them so far, primarily to allow even more fine-tuned control), Electrical Engineer, Robber/Safe Cracker, Gifted Kickboxer (has turned a hobby into a daily regime to enhance his physique and skills for his new 'job'; he's also a Southpaw)
- Weaknesses: Costume Dependence (without his costume, he cannot safely use his gauntlets), Lack of Confidence (he's new to the job, and it shows)
- Hobbies: Training at one of several boxing clubs he goes to regularly. Tinkering on a couple of different projects based on his father's work. Taking care of sick cats found on the street at a variety of shelters.
- Favorite Food: Barbecue chicken wings
- Favorite Color: Black
- Aspirations: Making his father proud by doing what he couldn't. Finding his father alive and well, as remote a chance as that is starting to become. Redeeming the Shocker name and maybe becoming a hero in his own right.
- Fears: Finding out that his father was killed. Accomplishing no more, or even less, than his father did. Spending the rest of his life in jail.
- Sexuality: Bisexual - any gender - has never been with male or male-presenting before
- Likes: Compassion, level-headedness, kindness, playfulness, spunk, active, assertive, direct
- Canon Pairings (not exhaustive): Most Spider-Man heroes/heroines, Black Cat, Rogue
Edric Sanders, né Schultz, didn't know his father Herman all that well growing up. His parents divorced when he was still very young, with the break-up being a rather messy one. Visitation was still allowed but Edric's mother didn't want Herman's criminal record to interfere with their son's life and safety. It was around that time too that he learned about Herman's double life as the villain 'Shocker'. Idolizing heroes growing up, finding out that your father is the exact opposite and spends more time in jail than free in the streets is a hard pill to swallow. It soured the relationship between father and son even more so that by the time Edric was in his early teens, he wanted nothing more to do with him. Life went on normally from there. Some months were tough. He helped out his mother where he could, but she insisted he focus on his studies, to make sure he didn't end up a drop-out like his 'dead-beat' dad. They never found themselves out on the street though, and his tuition was always paid in full.
Edric stayed out of trouble even after he graduated and moved on to college. To his mother's secret annoyance, he displayed the same aptitude for electrical engineering as his father did, but did not object when he moved on to major in that field. Around that same time, Edric had started reaching out to his father again, hoping to establish some kind of rapport. It became obvious rather quickly that while Herman had stayed out of his son's life as much as possible, he had been sending what money he could spare to his ex-wife whenever the months were tough or a bill for Edric's schooling arrived on their doorstep. It didn't make up for everything, but it made it much easier to look at the man and see his father again, instead of a crook.
Shortly after Edric's graduation, though, he was no longer able to get in touch with his father. Even stopping by his apartment in New York yielded no answers. None of his belongings had been packed either. For all intents and purposes, Herman had just vanished. It didn't sit well with the young man, and he began to look into the disappearance himself when he found out the police didn't care enough to do much more than some paperwork. Even Spider-Man seemed too preoccupied to care. His father had disappeared off the face of the Earth and there was no one who was willing to help. Despite being a fish out of water, Edric's investigation slowly led him to believe there was something nefarious going on. Either Herman had been captured or disposed of for what he knew, or he had gotten himself into some other kind of trouble that had forced him to go under. Whatever the case, it became more and more clear that Edric was going to have to dive headfirst into the underworld to find out what happened.
To be able to defend himself, and to have at least some kind of recognition to his name, Edric decided to take up the mantle of 'Shocker'. He turned Herman's apartment upside-down in search of his gear, eventually finding it stashed away somewhere he thought had been secure. Having been shown the basics of how the gauntlets worked by his father, he quickly got the hang of them and started making his own adjustments and refinements. All the while, bills still needed paying and finding a job had proven fruitless given that his investigation was taking up all of his time and effort. His mother suspected a few things when Edric started coming home after being gone for days, inexplicably having enough money on him to pay the rent, but she knew better than to ask questions.
So there he was. Despite the best efforts of everyone around him, Edric ended up no better than his old man. But he didn't care. He would find his father. Not a single 'hero' bothered to help him look, so they're no longer worthy of admiration. The Shocker was going to become the greatest burglar in history, and no one was going to stop him!
Appearance
- Height: 1 meter 87
- Weight: 82kg
- Build: Muscular and a little on the bulky side
- Complexion: Caucasian
- Eye Color: Brown
- Hair Color: Black
- Other: Has a few tattoos running down his neck and his left arm has a full sleeve tattoo.
Last edited:
- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
Braash
Nora War Party Exile
Themes
Tribal War - Bounty Hunting - Machine/Monster Hunting - Exploration - Travelling - Long-Lost Lovers - Childhood Friends
DetailsTribal War - Bounty Hunting - Machine/Monster Hunting - Exploration - Travelling - Long-Lost Lovers - Childhood Friends
- Genres: Horizon Zero Dawn, ARK, Slice of Life, Post-Apocalypse (e.g. zombies, invasion, nuclear war)
- Gender: Male
- Species: Human
- Age: 20-31
- Relatives: Rhom (father), Branna (mother/deceased), Bast (younger brother/deceased)
- Personality: Adventurous, helpful, humble, confident, dependable, loyal, persistent, fearless, valiant, cynical, impulsive, temperamental, vindictive
- Alignment: Neutral Good
- Strengths: Nora Brave (fierce and skilled warriors, trackers and hunters, though Braash's specialization lies in the first), Tactician (focus on small-scale engagements), Tracker, Musician (A lute for any opportunity), Prosthetic Arm
- Weaknesses: Prosthetic Arm (a simple mechanism allows it to bend at the elbow, but it is largely a rigid limb ending in a hook; not an adequate replacement), Exile (by extension: Outcast), Ignorant (he has learned much of the outside world, but he was still sheltered from it for 18 years.)
- Hobbies: Playing various sports and tests of skill or strength. Hunting wild animals and game, particularly for the faster or dangerous kind of prey. Learning to play the lute better, while also learning and writing new songs.
- Favorite Food: Various dried fruits, nuts and candied fruit.
- Favorite Color: Orange
- Aspirations: Finding some goal in life beyond just wandering roughly the same regions, fighting the same enemies, and missing out on the life he could have had in the Embrace. Seeing his father and brother one last time, even if just from afar. Just to commit their faces to memory, and more on without regrets.
- Fears: Fading away with no one left to remember him. No one in the Nora tribe knows what he did for those hostages except for those privy to him exiling himself. No songs. No toasts. No cheers. Nothing. Those hostages had just arrived again. The idea of forever being forgotten terrifies him.
- Sexuality: Heterosexual - female or female-presenting
- Likes: Compassion, assertiveness, aloofness, bravery, strength and skill
- Canon Pairings (not exhaustive): Aloy, Petra, Talanah, Vala
Born the son of a long line of Nora Braves in the War Party, it seemed as though the young Braash had his life chosen for him from an early age. It did not help that his grandmother - now a matriarch - had once been war-chief. The training began from the day he could hold and fire a short bow. Many Nora youths are trained to become Braves in the War Party or those that hunt and protect the countryside on a routine basis. While the basics remained the same, the former would focus more heavily on how to deal with foes - both flesh and metal - when direct confrontation became inevitable. Their hunting brethren excelled when subterfuge was still an option. Two sides of the same coin, both dangerous and taxing on a growing child's time to play and be a child.
As the years went on though, he found he had a gift for the work of a Brave. He was getting tall, strong, good with an axe, spear and war bow. He was learning about how to use terrain and weather against an enemy, machine or otherwise, as well as how to deal with the larger machines just beyond the walls of the Embrace in groups; part of a well-oiled, military machine. In finding his way in his given path, he learned to appreciate it. The importance of the work his future peers did to keep the Nora people safe. With the conflict with the Carja a constant, he only learned to hold this lesson close to his heart when he saw friends get taken from him. And so, he entered the Proving and won the competition for his year, though his main rival had fallen to her death when trying to take the old path to catch up to him during the Brave Trail. It was not the finest of celebrations that year, but he was proud of his accomplishment, nonetheless.
The Carja raids only got worse, though, and they struck closer to home than ever. A large raiding party had invaded the Embrace, taking countless Brave and villagers hostage in an effort to force concessions. Sona, the Nora war-chief, did not take kindly to these threats, and assembled a War Party to put a stop to the invaders. Among the Brave marshaled was Braash, who had proven himself in combat by that point, but remained green when compared to his peers. Still, he distinguished himself in the fight by taking down the enemy officer in charge, breaking the chain of command, which was generally the largest advantage the Carja had against the Nora warriors. Still, the Carja did not surrender, instead managing to eke out a retreat, taking many of their hostages with them. While Sona gave chase, the Carja managed to reach beyond Nora territory. Beyond the gaze of the All-Mother.
Everyone was ordered back to Mother's Heart, though Braash made a desperate plea to his war-chief to push on. No one needed to know about the transgression. His mother was still among the hostages. His plea fell on deaf ears, however, as the risk was too great and it remained an affront to their Goddess. However, despite direct orders to the contrary, Braash still set out, leaving the War-Party behind, and labeling himself an Exile without a second thought. The moment he set foot beyond the Embrace, he knew he could never come back. his old life was gone. His mother could return home, because her departure had been under duress. His, hadn't been. But it didn't matter. Enough people had suffered and it had to stop.
No one could be sent out to find him or the hostages. No back-up. No supplies. Nothing. And before long... no news. It was assumed he had died, leaving his father and younger brother heartbroken.
For months, Braash tracked Carja raiding parties. At first following behind some stragglers, before tracking the wrong group. There were many more of them out there, scattered across what he felt was the whole world. It was confusing and frightening, for any knowledge he had of the world beyond the Embrace came from written words and distant observations. Still, he learned and adapted. He started picking off stragglers for information, raiding camps, and stealing supplies. He was waging a one-man war against them, and they simply weren't able to shake him, despite their best efforts. After those grueling months, he was finally able to single out the camp he had been looking for. To try and lose him, the hostages had been separated from the main group with some elite Carja warriors and an old veteran to command them. They would make their way home via a detour. It was an uphill battle that left Braash exhausted and wounded, but he proved victorious and rescued the hostages. But, the most important was not among them: his mother.
He heard the devastating news that she had died not a few days prior, from lingering injuries and sickness. They had left her body to rot where it had dropped. An Outcast and an Exile, the hostages and he were not allowed to communicate. So, in complete silence, he began the long walk back, guiding them through the foreign land. On the way, he was able to pay his respects to his mother, before being forced to move on. And at the gates of the Embrace, he had to turn back. Some of the people he had saved insisted he plead for his right to come back, but he ignored them, simply wandering out into the world. There were still Carja out there, hurting innocent people. So for now, at least, he still had a goal...
It wasn't long after he started wandering that Braash heard the news of the coup in Meridian. It seemed there was hope for the wars to end, after all. He made his way to the nearest call-to-arms for anyone loyal to the true Sun-King of Carja. His appearance - a Nora far beyond the Embrace - informed the soldiers there that the rumors they had heard of someone like him killing raiders were true. Very quickly, he found himself in the new king's personal retinue, fighting across Carja lands, and beyond, to squash any and all supporters of the old king that remained. It took a year of intense battle, but eventually, peace did come. Braash was offered titles and rewards for his service, but he refused all but a favor to be called upon at a time of his choosing. And despite the best efforts of people who had come to consider him a friend by that point, he left Meridian behind and set out for... anywhere.
He wandered for a while, trying to recapture a wanderlust he had had when he was a child. To see new sights. But in foreign lands, new sights were particularly dangerous. One day, in the high mountains, he stumbled upon a mixed, and particularly deadly group of machines. His focus had slipped for just barely a moment, but it was enough for them to spot him, and engage with screams of frenzy. He fought for his life, able to destroy one machine and subsequently run where two of the larger ones could not reach. Tired and wounded, the last two caught up to him. The first went down, but the second, a Scrapper, saw an opening.
Before he could do anything, he was pushed down onto a cave floor, the intense, red light of the Scrapper's mechanical eyes staring down at him. Then its buzzsaw teeth began to spin. His screams of agony echoed through the caves as he frantically stabbed the machine in its neck with his knife over and over again, as more of his left arm vanished into its maw. He managed to kill it, but shock and blood loss had him delirious, shivering and dying within moments.
To this day, Braash cannot remember what had happened. Dying one moment, waking up on some bed in a hut the next. He learned he had been saved by a hermit who had seen the fight. She didn't know who he was, or where he'd hailed from. The 'Nora' did not even ring a bell. She'd simply seen a stranger, and saved his life. He shouldn't have been able to recover from his wounds, but the poultices the woman used had been unlike anything he'd ever seen. His left arm, though, could not be saved. She had severed its remnants from just below the shoulder, down, to make certain rot would not set upon the wound. It left him one limb short to shoot the bow his mother had left him, and which had served him so well. How was he going to survive now? A Brave without a bow... it was a terrible shame.
The hermit, however, seemed to be more than met the eye, for she knew just as much about Oseram craftsmanship than she did herbalism. She never spoke of her past, even as she set to work making Braash a prosthetic. It would not be the same as his old limb, of course, but soon, he had a hand in the form of a hook, and a collapsible crossbow as a weapon. It was no bow, but in time, he learned to live with it. Doing odd jobs to help the hermit, and protect her from threats, he learned that perhaps there was still a purpose out there for him. And, after a few months, he set out on the open road again.
Life had made him into a killer. There wasn't really much else he could do. He was competent enough on a lute, but... a bard's life would be the death of him. So he did what he thought was his best and only choice: mercenary work. While he did not take on jobs that would see him on a battlefield, he did apply his craft to helping rid the land of raiders, slavers, corrupted machines and more. There was always more scum to send to the Goddess for judgment, so he never had a dull moment.
As the years went on though, he found he had a gift for the work of a Brave. He was getting tall, strong, good with an axe, spear and war bow. He was learning about how to use terrain and weather against an enemy, machine or otherwise, as well as how to deal with the larger machines just beyond the walls of the Embrace in groups; part of a well-oiled, military machine. In finding his way in his given path, he learned to appreciate it. The importance of the work his future peers did to keep the Nora people safe. With the conflict with the Carja a constant, he only learned to hold this lesson close to his heart when he saw friends get taken from him. And so, he entered the Proving and won the competition for his year, though his main rival had fallen to her death when trying to take the old path to catch up to him during the Brave Trail. It was not the finest of celebrations that year, but he was proud of his accomplishment, nonetheless.
The Carja raids only got worse, though, and they struck closer to home than ever. A large raiding party had invaded the Embrace, taking countless Brave and villagers hostage in an effort to force concessions. Sona, the Nora war-chief, did not take kindly to these threats, and assembled a War Party to put a stop to the invaders. Among the Brave marshaled was Braash, who had proven himself in combat by that point, but remained green when compared to his peers. Still, he distinguished himself in the fight by taking down the enemy officer in charge, breaking the chain of command, which was generally the largest advantage the Carja had against the Nora warriors. Still, the Carja did not surrender, instead managing to eke out a retreat, taking many of their hostages with them. While Sona gave chase, the Carja managed to reach beyond Nora territory. Beyond the gaze of the All-Mother.
Everyone was ordered back to Mother's Heart, though Braash made a desperate plea to his war-chief to push on. No one needed to know about the transgression. His mother was still among the hostages. His plea fell on deaf ears, however, as the risk was too great and it remained an affront to their Goddess. However, despite direct orders to the contrary, Braash still set out, leaving the War-Party behind, and labeling himself an Exile without a second thought. The moment he set foot beyond the Embrace, he knew he could never come back. his old life was gone. His mother could return home, because her departure had been under duress. His, hadn't been. But it didn't matter. Enough people had suffered and it had to stop.
No one could be sent out to find him or the hostages. No back-up. No supplies. Nothing. And before long... no news. It was assumed he had died, leaving his father and younger brother heartbroken.
For months, Braash tracked Carja raiding parties. At first following behind some stragglers, before tracking the wrong group. There were many more of them out there, scattered across what he felt was the whole world. It was confusing and frightening, for any knowledge he had of the world beyond the Embrace came from written words and distant observations. Still, he learned and adapted. He started picking off stragglers for information, raiding camps, and stealing supplies. He was waging a one-man war against them, and they simply weren't able to shake him, despite their best efforts. After those grueling months, he was finally able to single out the camp he had been looking for. To try and lose him, the hostages had been separated from the main group with some elite Carja warriors and an old veteran to command them. They would make their way home via a detour. It was an uphill battle that left Braash exhausted and wounded, but he proved victorious and rescued the hostages. But, the most important was not among them: his mother.
He heard the devastating news that she had died not a few days prior, from lingering injuries and sickness. They had left her body to rot where it had dropped. An Outcast and an Exile, the hostages and he were not allowed to communicate. So, in complete silence, he began the long walk back, guiding them through the foreign land. On the way, he was able to pay his respects to his mother, before being forced to move on. And at the gates of the Embrace, he had to turn back. Some of the people he had saved insisted he plead for his right to come back, but he ignored them, simply wandering out into the world. There were still Carja out there, hurting innocent people. So for now, at least, he still had a goal...
It wasn't long after he started wandering that Braash heard the news of the coup in Meridian. It seemed there was hope for the wars to end, after all. He made his way to the nearest call-to-arms for anyone loyal to the true Sun-King of Carja. His appearance - a Nora far beyond the Embrace - informed the soldiers there that the rumors they had heard of someone like him killing raiders were true. Very quickly, he found himself in the new king's personal retinue, fighting across Carja lands, and beyond, to squash any and all supporters of the old king that remained. It took a year of intense battle, but eventually, peace did come. Braash was offered titles and rewards for his service, but he refused all but a favor to be called upon at a time of his choosing. And despite the best efforts of people who had come to consider him a friend by that point, he left Meridian behind and set out for... anywhere.
He wandered for a while, trying to recapture a wanderlust he had had when he was a child. To see new sights. But in foreign lands, new sights were particularly dangerous. One day, in the high mountains, he stumbled upon a mixed, and particularly deadly group of machines. His focus had slipped for just barely a moment, but it was enough for them to spot him, and engage with screams of frenzy. He fought for his life, able to destroy one machine and subsequently run where two of the larger ones could not reach. Tired and wounded, the last two caught up to him. The first went down, but the second, a Scrapper, saw an opening.
Before he could do anything, he was pushed down onto a cave floor, the intense, red light of the Scrapper's mechanical eyes staring down at him. Then its buzzsaw teeth began to spin. His screams of agony echoed through the caves as he frantically stabbed the machine in its neck with his knife over and over again, as more of his left arm vanished into its maw. He managed to kill it, but shock and blood loss had him delirious, shivering and dying within moments.
To this day, Braash cannot remember what had happened. Dying one moment, waking up on some bed in a hut the next. He learned he had been saved by a hermit who had seen the fight. She didn't know who he was, or where he'd hailed from. The 'Nora' did not even ring a bell. She'd simply seen a stranger, and saved his life. He shouldn't have been able to recover from his wounds, but the poultices the woman used had been unlike anything he'd ever seen. His left arm, though, could not be saved. She had severed its remnants from just below the shoulder, down, to make certain rot would not set upon the wound. It left him one limb short to shoot the bow his mother had left him, and which had served him so well. How was he going to survive now? A Brave without a bow... it was a terrible shame.
The hermit, however, seemed to be more than met the eye, for she knew just as much about Oseram craftsmanship than she did herbalism. She never spoke of her past, even as she set to work making Braash a prosthetic. It would not be the same as his old limb, of course, but soon, he had a hand in the form of a hook, and a collapsible crossbow as a weapon. It was no bow, but in time, he learned to live with it. Doing odd jobs to help the hermit, and protect her from threats, he learned that perhaps there was still a purpose out there for him. And, after a few months, he set out on the open road again.
Life had made him into a killer. There wasn't really much else he could do. He was competent enough on a lute, but... a bard's life would be the death of him. So he did what he thought was his best and only choice: mercenary work. While he did not take on jobs that would see him on a battlefield, he did apply his craft to helping rid the land of raiders, slavers, corrupted machines and more. There was always more scum to send to the Goddess for judgment, so he never had a dull moment.
Appearance
- Height: 1 meter 93
- Weight: 98kg
- Build: Tall, broad and toned. Quite bulky, which complements his aggressive, physical fighting style
- Complexion: Caucasian
- Eye Color: Blue
- Hair Color: Blond
- Other: Various scars from fights with warriors and machines alike, missing most of his left arm
Skills that Braash has in common with Aloy are nearly all identical, though a few have an altered cost or tweaked effect. He lacks all the skills related to overriding machines, as he does not have access to the required technology.
- Braash does not have access to weapons such as the Tearblaster, Icerail and others not mentioned.
-
- Battleaxe: Instead of a spear, Braash uses a battleaxe in close combat. While it has reduced range, it generally deals more regular and Tear damage than spears. Light attacks are slightly faster than a spear's while strong attacks are slightly slower.
- Prosthetic Arm: One weapon slot is permanently occupied by Braash' prosthetic arm. While equipped, it acts like a Ropecaster or, if unlocked, enables the use of the Combat Grapple skill.
- Crossbow: Braash can attach a variety of crossbows to his prosthetic arm, allowing him to fire various types of bolts. The types of crossbows are analogous to Aloy's bows. They generally deal more Tear damage, but are slower to reload. The crossbow's accuracy does not increase the further it is drawn as the weapon either has a bolt loaded, or needs to be reloaded.
- Throwing Axe: Braash is able to craft several types of throwing axes, which can be altered to deal additional elemental or Tear damage. Their range is comparable to the Rattler or Tripcaster, and some types explode on contact.
- Rattler: This weapon is identical to Aloy's Rattler.
- Tripcaster: This weapon is identical to Aloy's Tripcaster.
- Sling: This weapon is identical to Aloy's Sling.
Last edited:
- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
Myron Koskas
The Crow of Mycenia
The Crow of Mycenia
Themes
Politics - Assassination - Civil War - Adventuring - Wandering - Unconventional Romance - Split Loyalties - League of Legends
Politics - Assassination - Civil War - Adventuring - Wandering - Unconventional Romance - Split Loyalties - League of Legends
Banished from the kingdom of Mycenia, Myron is a prince-in-hiding. The laziest and most spoiled of four children, after the passing of his father, it was his three siblings that plunged the country into a bloody civil war. Each defied crown prince Loukas' birthright and the conflict lasted three years before he emerged victorious. Despite mediating and attempting to convince his siblings to make peace, Myron's attempts were consistently met with derision and suspicion. One final attempt to appeal to the new king's familial bonds nearly ended in Myron's execution.
After barely escaping captivity, the once-apathetic prince is forced to hide his true identity and makes a living as an adventurer, treasure hunter and sellsword. He cannot help but feel guilt over the state of his home. Had he applied himself to his responsibilities, would things have turned out differently? Will he ever attempt to save a wounded Mycenia, or forever abandon his royal roots? That is a question he still doesn't know the answer to...
After barely escaping captivity, the once-apathetic prince is forced to hide his true identity and makes a living as an adventurer, treasure hunter and sellsword. He cannot help but feel guilt over the state of his home. Had he applied himself to his responsibilities, would things have turned out differently? Will he ever attempt to save a wounded Mycenia, or forever abandon his royal roots? That is a question he still doesn't know the answer to...
Details
- Genres: Fantasy (low or high, canon or original), Realistic Fantasy, Medieval, Retro-Futuristic, Steampunk
- Gender: Male
- Species: Human
- Age: 22-35
- Relatives: King Vasileios III of House Katsaros (father/deceased), Queen Eleni of House Katsaros (mother/deceased), King Loukas VI of House Katsaros (older brother), Yanna Katsaros (older sister), Vasso Katsaros (younger brother)
- Personality: Aloof, selfish, kind hearted, lazy, passive, charismatic, lustful, greedy, honorable, confident, keen, intelligent, observant, extremely shrewd
- Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
- Strengths: Duelist (excellent with the falcata), Worldly, Streetwise, Economical Savant
- Weaknesses: Lustful, Greedy, Unfocused/Aimless, Wanted Man, Terrible Reputation
- Hobbies: People in various stages of undress. Treasure hunting or literally going into dungeons with a ragtag group of adventurers to raid and loot the place.
- Favorite Food: Mycenian lobster, though he hasn't had any since his last meal with his mother.
- Favorite Color: Gold
- Aspirations: Living a life free from the ghosts of his past. Returning home to confront his past and set things right.
- Fears: Not redeeming himself in the eyes of his late father, which he ironically attempts to avoid by still drinking and partying far too much... Being found by any of his three siblings and suffering the consequences for merely being related to them.
- Sexuality: Bisexual - preference for male-presenting - any sentient species with minor preference for drow
- Likes: Assertive, flirtatious, Daredevils
Born Myron Katsaros, prince of the kingdom of Mycenia, Myron's youth was fairly uneventful until he hit his teens. His older brother Loukas was crown prince and his older sister Yanna was slated to head an important religious position. That meant that the pressure to perform was greatly reduced. He wasn't being raised to follow his father onto the throne, nor did he have clear-cut future responsibilities to work towards. His younger brother Vasso had much the same experience, though he grew into a rather stern and humorless man focused almost entirely on warfare. Myron thus put a great deal of effort into, well, doing whatever he wanted. The riches of the royal family and the comfort of a long-lasting peace - with any wars usually taking place far from home - meant Myron had precious little to worry about. He did complete his studies as instructed, but only to stop his parents' incessant nagging. He very quickly garnered a reputation for being somewhat of a playboy, and was generally regarded as the black sheep of the family.
That was not to say he wasn't talented. His father, King Vasileios III, had been blessed with four gifted children, a rare feat in an age where inbreeding was still a distinct possibility among the nobility. The crown prince was shaping up to be an impressive diplomat and scholar. Yanna had a keen mind and was able to combine her natural beauty with the alluring un-attainability of a chaste woman. And Vasso already had significant battlefield experience before he even hit eighteen years of age. And right in the middle was Myron. Many viewed him a failure, but what strained his relationship with his father more than anything was the fact that the King knew Myron was capable of so much more, but squandered his gifts. He could have been a balancing factor. A jack-of-all-trades with a unique insight and worldly knowledge that his siblings all lacked. He could have used his freedom to travel the world. Experience as much as he could. Instead, he sat at home, partying the days away.
When the King passed, the throne was to go to Loukas, but relations between the siblings had always been extremely strained. All three were beyond ambitious and while they had hidden the extent of their envy for one another from their father, now that he was gone, it was time to act. Numerous attempts on Loukas' life had been made even before Vasileios passed, and more than a few rumors persisted that both Yanna and Vasso were behind some of them. Through all manner of political and military means, Loukas' rivals lay claim on the throne and after having been king for barely a week, civil war broke out. Vasso had the backing of a significant chunk of Mycenia's army. Yanna could exert tremendous pressure through her position among the country's unique religious order; something that influenced the common people more than any fancy speech. But Loukas was not alone, he still had the most legitimate claim and that brought the loyalty of the country's traditionalists with it.
For a year, things continued to escalate until all three had gathered troops to their name and open warfare was in full swing. And, caught in the middle was Myron. He had been the sole child of the late King to refuse to stake a claim. This was to no one's surprise as they would have laughed him out of the building anyway. But, while his siblings fought and squabbled, he had been tending to his ailing mother and a host of problems their father had saddled the family with. He had no interest in the throne of a man and an institution he had come to dislike heavily. Nor did he believe he had the abilities to make for a suitable king. On many, many occasions, he tried to play peacemaker between his warring siblings, trying to show them that their father had given each of them an important task, and cooperation was key. It was far too late. His word carried less than no weight and he had not garnered the respect of anyone but his closest friends and a few distant relatives.
Worse yet, his siblings grew more and more paranoid and suspicious of him. When, originally, they believed him to be an unbiased observer, they were now convinced he was positioning himself to become a fourth, unexpected threat. The situation spun further out of control from there. His mother passed away shortly thereafter, and with her went the last shred of protection he had in the capital. Before anything nefarious could happen, he packed his bags and fled to the countryside. He continued to try and mediate, but he couldn't even get an audience anymore and he was forced to watch his country tear itself apart. After three years of bloody civil war, Loukas finally proved the victor. Yanna had been forced to flee the country after a string of defeats from her younger brother, while Vasso himself had fallen ill and his removal from the front lines had presented an opening that Loukas exploited immediately. Vasso's far less talented subordinates were unable to keep up momentum and he too was forced to flee the country and take up residence within the borders of a foreign ally.
Myron didn't know what to expect when he sent a letter to his brother, requesting to return home. It was risky, but perhaps with the madness over and Loukas firmly planted on the throne, the paranoia would die down too. It did not. Myron was indeed welcomed back, but it had been a trick. Years of fighting his siblings behind the scenes and in open warfare had twisted the originally more virtuous Loukas into a cruel and distrusting man. The mere mention of Myron's name filled him with dread and the moment his younger brother set foot in the capital, he had him thrown in chains and in prison. This disillusioned Myron further, to think that his own brother would do this to him, but there was little he could do but accept his fate. Or was there?
Myron was no fool. He had never been a fool. The past three years had forced him to straighten himself out and learn a lot of harsh lessons in a very short amount of time. Life, people and the world were ruthless, and if he continued to stumble through time oblivious and ignorant, he would meet the same fate as most prisoners Loukas had claimed from his opponents: execution. Myron had friends. Odd friends for a prince to keep, but friends nonetheless. A couple rogues, mercenaries, treasure hunters, wanderers; people that made for exciting company if you were a rich boy looking for a good time. He'd become close friends with them over the years and they were his backup. On the eve of his public execution, they sprung him from jail and made off into the night, leaving Loukas dumbfounded and enraged.
So what is Myron doing now? Well, he is just trying to survive. He is torn between trying to do what was right by his country - either by uniting his siblings or restoring honor to the throne - or staying as far away from Mycenia as possible and just... live. To this day, he hasn't decided. Few people know his true identity. Most simply know him as the Crow of Mycenia. A man for hire who takes on whatever job he feels like. Adventuring is what he has found a liking for. But that doesn't mean his home isn't perpetually in the back of his mind. After his escape, he was officially banished on pain of death, and bounty hunters still search for him as his brothers Loukas and Vasso have proved relentless in making sure other rivals to the throne vanish forever. Yanna has so far not tipped her hand and it's unclear what she's planning or how she feels about her younger brother who has effectively vanished off the face of the Earth.
Maybe all it will take for the prince to return home is a single incident. One tipping point that could change the history of Mycenia forever.
That was not to say he wasn't talented. His father, King Vasileios III, had been blessed with four gifted children, a rare feat in an age where inbreeding was still a distinct possibility among the nobility. The crown prince was shaping up to be an impressive diplomat and scholar. Yanna had a keen mind and was able to combine her natural beauty with the alluring un-attainability of a chaste woman. And Vasso already had significant battlefield experience before he even hit eighteen years of age. And right in the middle was Myron. Many viewed him a failure, but what strained his relationship with his father more than anything was the fact that the King knew Myron was capable of so much more, but squandered his gifts. He could have been a balancing factor. A jack-of-all-trades with a unique insight and worldly knowledge that his siblings all lacked. He could have used his freedom to travel the world. Experience as much as he could. Instead, he sat at home, partying the days away.
When the King passed, the throne was to go to Loukas, but relations between the siblings had always been extremely strained. All three were beyond ambitious and while they had hidden the extent of their envy for one another from their father, now that he was gone, it was time to act. Numerous attempts on Loukas' life had been made even before Vasileios passed, and more than a few rumors persisted that both Yanna and Vasso were behind some of them. Through all manner of political and military means, Loukas' rivals lay claim on the throne and after having been king for barely a week, civil war broke out. Vasso had the backing of a significant chunk of Mycenia's army. Yanna could exert tremendous pressure through her position among the country's unique religious order; something that influenced the common people more than any fancy speech. But Loukas was not alone, he still had the most legitimate claim and that brought the loyalty of the country's traditionalists with it.
For a year, things continued to escalate until all three had gathered troops to their name and open warfare was in full swing. And, caught in the middle was Myron. He had been the sole child of the late King to refuse to stake a claim. This was to no one's surprise as they would have laughed him out of the building anyway. But, while his siblings fought and squabbled, he had been tending to his ailing mother and a host of problems their father had saddled the family with. He had no interest in the throne of a man and an institution he had come to dislike heavily. Nor did he believe he had the abilities to make for a suitable king. On many, many occasions, he tried to play peacemaker between his warring siblings, trying to show them that their father had given each of them an important task, and cooperation was key. It was far too late. His word carried less than no weight and he had not garnered the respect of anyone but his closest friends and a few distant relatives.
Worse yet, his siblings grew more and more paranoid and suspicious of him. When, originally, they believed him to be an unbiased observer, they were now convinced he was positioning himself to become a fourth, unexpected threat. The situation spun further out of control from there. His mother passed away shortly thereafter, and with her went the last shred of protection he had in the capital. Before anything nefarious could happen, he packed his bags and fled to the countryside. He continued to try and mediate, but he couldn't even get an audience anymore and he was forced to watch his country tear itself apart. After three years of bloody civil war, Loukas finally proved the victor. Yanna had been forced to flee the country after a string of defeats from her younger brother, while Vasso himself had fallen ill and his removal from the front lines had presented an opening that Loukas exploited immediately. Vasso's far less talented subordinates were unable to keep up momentum and he too was forced to flee the country and take up residence within the borders of a foreign ally.
Myron didn't know what to expect when he sent a letter to his brother, requesting to return home. It was risky, but perhaps with the madness over and Loukas firmly planted on the throne, the paranoia would die down too. It did not. Myron was indeed welcomed back, but it had been a trick. Years of fighting his siblings behind the scenes and in open warfare had twisted the originally more virtuous Loukas into a cruel and distrusting man. The mere mention of Myron's name filled him with dread and the moment his younger brother set foot in the capital, he had him thrown in chains and in prison. This disillusioned Myron further, to think that his own brother would do this to him, but there was little he could do but accept his fate. Or was there?
Myron was no fool. He had never been a fool. The past three years had forced him to straighten himself out and learn a lot of harsh lessons in a very short amount of time. Life, people and the world were ruthless, and if he continued to stumble through time oblivious and ignorant, he would meet the same fate as most prisoners Loukas had claimed from his opponents: execution. Myron had friends. Odd friends for a prince to keep, but friends nonetheless. A couple rogues, mercenaries, treasure hunters, wanderers; people that made for exciting company if you were a rich boy looking for a good time. He'd become close friends with them over the years and they were his backup. On the eve of his public execution, they sprung him from jail and made off into the night, leaving Loukas dumbfounded and enraged.
So what is Myron doing now? Well, he is just trying to survive. He is torn between trying to do what was right by his country - either by uniting his siblings or restoring honor to the throne - or staying as far away from Mycenia as possible and just... live. To this day, he hasn't decided. Few people know his true identity. Most simply know him as the Crow of Mycenia. A man for hire who takes on whatever job he feels like. Adventuring is what he has found a liking for. But that doesn't mean his home isn't perpetually in the back of his mind. After his escape, he was officially banished on pain of death, and bounty hunters still search for him as his brothers Loukas and Vasso have proved relentless in making sure other rivals to the throne vanish forever. Yanna has so far not tipped her hand and it's unclear what she's planning or how she feels about her younger brother who has effectively vanished off the face of the Earth.
Maybe all it will take for the prince to return home is a single incident. One tipping point that could change the history of Mycenia forever.
Appearance
- Height: 1 meter 85
- Weight: 81kg
- Build: Tall and slender; swimmer's build for superior agility
- Complexion: Tanned caucasian
- Eye Color: Brown
- Hair Color: Brown
- Other: N/A
Last edited:
- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
Canons
Death
Darksiders
[MxF] [MxO]
Darksiders
[MxF] [MxO]
Vergil
Devil May Cry
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Devil May Cry
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Zhou Tai
Dynasty Warriors
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Dynasty Warriors
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Yu Jin
Dynasty Warriors
[MxF] [MxO]
Dynasty Warriors
[MxF] [MxO]
Xu Sheng
Dynasty Warriors
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Dynasty Warriors
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Wen Yang
Dynasty Warriors
[MxF] [MxO]
Dynasty Warriors
[MxF] [MxO]
Jia Xu
Dynasty Warriors
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Dynasty Warriors
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Guan Ping
Dynasty Warriors
[MxM] [MxO]
Dynasty Warriors
[MxM] [MxO]
Cheng Pu
Dynasty Warriors
[MxF]
Dynasty Warriors
[MxF]
Hattori Hanzo
Samurai Warriors
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Samurai Warriors
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Kanbei Kuroda
Samurai Warriors
[MxF] [MxO]
Samurai Warriors
[MxF] [MxO]
Shadow
Final Fantasy VI
[MxF] [MxO]
Final Fantasy VI
[MxF] [MxO]
Vincent Valentine
Final Fantasy VII
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Final Fantasy VII
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Kimahri Ronso
Final Fantasy X
[MxF] [MxO]
Final Fantasy X
[MxF] [MxO]
Hector of Ostia
Fire Emblem
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Fire Emblem
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Thresh
League of Legends
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
League of Legends
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Darius
League of Legends
[MxF] [MxO]
League of Legends
[MxF] [MxO]
Ermac
Mortal Kombat
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Mortal Kombat
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Reinhardt
Overwatch
[MxF] [MxO]
Overwatch
[MxF] [MxO]
Reaper
Overwatch
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Overwatch
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Last edited:
- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
Canons
HUNK
Resident Evil
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Resident Evil
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Clark Still
SNK
[MxF] [MxO]
SNK
[MxF] [MxO]
Zasalamel
Soulcalibur
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Soulcalibur
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Armor King [II]
Tekken
[MxF] [MxO]
Tekken
[MxF] [MxO]
Sergei Dragunov
Tekken
[MxF] [MxO]
Tekken
[MxF] [MxO]
Radi Jaeger
Valkyria Chronicles
[MxF] [MxO]
Valkyria Chronicles
[MxF] [MxO]
Doctor Doom
Marvel / MCU
[MxF] [MxO]
Marvel / MCU
[MxF] [MxO]
Vegeta
Dragon Ball [Z / GT / AU]
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Dragon Ball [Z / GT / AU]
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Raditz
Dragon Ball [Z / GT / AU]
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Dragon Ball [Z / GT / AU]
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Cell
Dragon Ball [Z / GT / AU]
[MxF] [MxO]
Dragon Ball [Z / GT / AU]
[MxF] [MxO]
Janemba
Dragon Ball [Z / GT / AU]
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Dragon Ball [Z / GT / AU]
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Iida Tenya
My Hero Academia
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
My Hero Academia
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Kurogiri
My Hero Academia
[MxF] [MxO]
My Hero Academia
[MxF] [MxO]
Twice
My Hero Academia
[MxF] [MxO]
My Hero Academia
[MxF] [MxO]
Mokuba Kaiba [18+]
Yu-Gi-Oh!
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Yu-Gi-Oh!
[MxF] [MxM] [MxO]
Seto Kaiba
Yu-Gi-Oh!
[MxF] [MxO]
Yu-Gi-Oh!
[MxF] [MxO]
Last edited:
- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
OCs
Last edited:
- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
Fenri Javik
The Relentless Hunter
Themes
Bounty Hunting - Mercenary Work - Interstellar Adventure - Interstellar Warfare - Enemies-turned-Lovers - Redemption - Liberation
Bounty Hunting - Mercenary Work - Interstellar Adventure - Interstellar Warfare - Enemies-turned-Lovers - Redemption - Liberation
Details
- Genres: Star Wars (original trilogy, prequels and EU), Sci-Fi (canon and original)
- Gender: Male
- Species: Human
- Age: 23-30 (always after point of entering Bantracc's 'service')
- Relatives: None
- Personality: Active, capable, clever, courageous, driven, efficient, imaginative, perceptive, flirtatious, determined, sarcastic, duplicitous, dishonorable, cynical, self-serving, selfish, aimless, pragmatic
- Alignment: Lawful Neutral
- Strengths: Soldier (trained in the use of all manner of weapons, from ranged to melee and explosives), Bounty Hunter, Mercenary, Wetwork
- Weaknesses: Uneducated, Impulsive, Cybernetic Implants/Prosthesis
- Hobbies: Gambling, either by playing games himself, or betting on races, arena fights, etc. Tweaking his gear by messing around with settings and minute hardware changes, just to see if he can make it even just a little more effective. Sex, plain and simple.
- Favorite Food: He grew up barely knowing what food was, so he now eats pretty much anything and loves it.
- Favorite Color: Blue
- Aspirations: Breaking free from his debt to Bantrac the Hutt, either by somehow amassing the money or fame needed, or by killing the slug himself. Finding some cause worth fighting for beyond mere survival or having enough money to survive another day.
- Fears: Falling into complete obscurity while working for Bantrac, given that his stock has already dropped in recent years from its previous high. Digging himself further into debt until he is no longer of use to Bantrac and is removed from the equation entirely.
- Sexuality: Bisexual - preference for female-presenting - any sentient species
- Likes: Playfulness, kindness, gentleness, supportiveness, sexually adventurous
Fenri never knew who his real parents were, like so many others who were born to the cesspool that was Nar Shaddaa. The only law known to the 'Smuggler's Moon' was that of the Hutt Cartel, and they made sure the law was fickle, flexible and heavily in favor of whomever's turf you happened to have wandered into. As such, he was left to his own devices. Found and raised by a young couple, they eventually had to leave him behind because they simply couldn't afford to keep him. He had been discarded like some kind of sick pet and had to fend for himself. At least he was old enough to survive, unlike some others who had the misfortune of being born without a family.
He knew slavery was a risk, but with fortune on his side, he managed to avoid being captured and fed himself by stealing what he could get away with. It wasn't until he stole from the wrong men that he was caught. But, he had a chance to survive. Join their gang. Prove his worth. And maybe, they would forgive him. For the next few years, he was their glorified servant. They started teaching him how to fight, sure. How to shoot a blaster or where to stab someone to kill them, make them suffer, or just give them the right amount of scare to become malleable. Horrible life skills, but necessary.
He despised them all though, but at least he was fed and there was strength in numbers. As the years went by, he got tougher and bigger, as well as smarter. The gang had picked a fight with some men of one of the Hutt's, a valuable asset that was killed in the brawl. Fenri saw the retaliation coming. Most of the gang were killed off in a shootout, and Fenri proceeded to quietly slit the throats of the few that were left, before vanishing into the streets of Nar Shaddaa.
But now, he knew how to fight, how to defend himself. Job opportunities opened up, and with them, the promise of money. He spent the rest of his young adulthood on that Moon making a bit of a name for himself. He did "fine" work for the Hutts as well as smaller organizations, and whomever laid claim to the Moon - be it the Republic or something else entirely. He got results, and people liked seeing that. More and more, he felt his skills were in line with what a bounty hunter's should be. So, he changed trades. He split his time between being a mercenary and a bounty hunter.
Whenever one trade had a dry spell, he easily switched back over. It didn't matter to him what he was doing as long as it made money and didn't require him to kill innocent people. He even got to go off-world for the first time in his life, a process that would repeat itself constantly. But, no matter how far he traveled from Nar Shaddaa, he would always end up back there, somehow. A job he couldn't pass up. A communique from an old friend in need. Or just a specter from the past that he wanted to deal with. He could never leave the moon behind, not really.
He was good at his work. But, no matter how good you were, eventually, everyone makes a mistake. And when it happened to Fenri, it cost him dearly. Tasked with tracking down and killing a Jedi, he underestimated the challenge that hunt would pose, despite dedicating a significant chunk of time to preparations. Fortunately, he wasn't the only hunter on the job, so there was backup involved. But that lightsaber... His arm was severed and the end of the fight resulted in an explosion that broke him.
But, he didn't die.
The Jedi had been killed in the end, but so had every other hunter there. Fenri was found by the men of the Hutt who had put the bounty out in the first place. He was dying, but the giant slug was as rich as they came. Without the notion of consent even crossing his mind, he ordered Fenri be put back together. When next he woke up, he had a new arm and more than a few of his internal organs had been switched out for synthetic analogues. And now, Fenri found himself in a whole lot of debt with Bantrac the Hutt. And Bantrac had work for him.
Fenri knew what the deal was. It didn't matter how hard he worked and how many jobs he completed, he was never paying back that bill, the interest alone would make sure of it. So, he had but one choice: do a Hutt's dirty work. But, at least he could still take on other jobs in between. A welcome break from being little more than a servant again.
He knew slavery was a risk, but with fortune on his side, he managed to avoid being captured and fed himself by stealing what he could get away with. It wasn't until he stole from the wrong men that he was caught. But, he had a chance to survive. Join their gang. Prove his worth. And maybe, they would forgive him. For the next few years, he was their glorified servant. They started teaching him how to fight, sure. How to shoot a blaster or where to stab someone to kill them, make them suffer, or just give them the right amount of scare to become malleable. Horrible life skills, but necessary.
He despised them all though, but at least he was fed and there was strength in numbers. As the years went by, he got tougher and bigger, as well as smarter. The gang had picked a fight with some men of one of the Hutt's, a valuable asset that was killed in the brawl. Fenri saw the retaliation coming. Most of the gang were killed off in a shootout, and Fenri proceeded to quietly slit the throats of the few that were left, before vanishing into the streets of Nar Shaddaa.
But now, he knew how to fight, how to defend himself. Job opportunities opened up, and with them, the promise of money. He spent the rest of his young adulthood on that Moon making a bit of a name for himself. He did "fine" work for the Hutts as well as smaller organizations, and whomever laid claim to the Moon - be it the Republic or something else entirely. He got results, and people liked seeing that. More and more, he felt his skills were in line with what a bounty hunter's should be. So, he changed trades. He split his time between being a mercenary and a bounty hunter.
Whenever one trade had a dry spell, he easily switched back over. It didn't matter to him what he was doing as long as it made money and didn't require him to kill innocent people. He even got to go off-world for the first time in his life, a process that would repeat itself constantly. But, no matter how far he traveled from Nar Shaddaa, he would always end up back there, somehow. A job he couldn't pass up. A communique from an old friend in need. Or just a specter from the past that he wanted to deal with. He could never leave the moon behind, not really.
He was good at his work. But, no matter how good you were, eventually, everyone makes a mistake. And when it happened to Fenri, it cost him dearly. Tasked with tracking down and killing a Jedi, he underestimated the challenge that hunt would pose, despite dedicating a significant chunk of time to preparations. Fortunately, he wasn't the only hunter on the job, so there was backup involved. But that lightsaber... His arm was severed and the end of the fight resulted in an explosion that broke him.
But, he didn't die.
The Jedi had been killed in the end, but so had every other hunter there. Fenri was found by the men of the Hutt who had put the bounty out in the first place. He was dying, but the giant slug was as rich as they came. Without the notion of consent even crossing his mind, he ordered Fenri be put back together. When next he woke up, he had a new arm and more than a few of his internal organs had been switched out for synthetic analogues. And now, Fenri found himself in a whole lot of debt with Bantrac the Hutt. And Bantrac had work for him.
Fenri knew what the deal was. It didn't matter how hard he worked and how many jobs he completed, he was never paying back that bill, the interest alone would make sure of it. So, he had but one choice: do a Hutt's dirty work. But, at least he could still take on other jobs in between. A welcome break from being little more than a servant again.
Appearance
- Height: 1 meter 86
- Weight: 93kg
- Build: Quite muscular and broad, generally has a lot more bulk than his peers, but retains a functional physique so as not to slow down
- Complexion: Caucasian
- Eye Color: Blue
- Hair Color: Blond
- Other: Various scars that are souvenirs of both old injuries and the surgical procedures he had undergone to save his life
Last edited:
- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
Azim Kadium
Grand Duke of Brayr Shijan
Grand Duke of Brayr Shijan
Themes
Conquest - Court Intrigue - Witchcraft - Demon Worshiping - Occultism - Mind Control - Arranged Marriage - Politics
Conquest - Court Intrigue - Witchcraft - Demon Worshiping - Occultism - Mind Control - Arranged Marriage - Politics
Heir to the most powerful and influential dukedom in the kingdom of Edragrad, Azim was poised for greatness from an early age. Ambition and a desire to rule spurred on his search for power beyond the natural and led him to forbidden and outlawed sorcery. From various other warlocks and witches, he learned everything he could about the dark arts and along with his successes on battlefields and governing, he became a powerful warlock. While hiding these talents, he spread his influence throughout the upper echelons of high society and government. Eventually, he removed his ailing father from the equation to become Grand Duke.
From there, it was a mere skip to reach the young and feeble king on the throne. Now, said ruler heeds his council on all matters of state, making him the de facto ruler of the kingdom; albeit from the shadows. This newfound authority has already been put to good use in rooting out dissent in Edragrad. Now, he has his eyes set on neighboring states. Invasions would soon follow; bolstered by unseen agents of forbidden and demonic magic.
The Golden Century was over. Azim's time had come.
From there, it was a mere skip to reach the young and feeble king on the throne. Now, said ruler heeds his council on all matters of state, making him the de facto ruler of the kingdom; albeit from the shadows. This newfound authority has already been put to good use in rooting out dissent in Edragrad. Now, he has his eyes set on neighboring states. Invasions would soon follow; bolstered by unseen agents of forbidden and demonic magic.
The Golden Century was over. Azim's time had come.
Details
- Genres: Fantasy (low or high, canon or original), Supernatural Horror (including modern day or retro-futuristic), Post-Apocalyptic
- Gender: Male
- Species: Human
- Age: 24-50 (young commander up to Grand Duke and de facto ruler)
- Relatives: Kadral Kadium (father/deceased), Hiri Kadium (mother), Marlessa Kadium (sister)
- Personality: Ambitious, proud, cruel, scheming, duplicitous, untrustworthy, traitorous, selfish, merciful, pragmatic, charismatic, magnetic, driven, curious, wise, experienced
- Alignment: Neutral Evil
- Strengths: Warlock (master of eldritch magic, combat magic, a wide variety of rituals, hypnosis and demonology), Conjurer (adept at summoning creatures, weapons or helping demons possess the living and the dead), General (expertise in logistics), Politician
- Weaknesses: Anti-Magic (while able to use weapons, his main threat by far is his magic), Taboo Magic (warlocks are not exactly beloved)
- Hobbies: Astrology, astronomy, fishing and communing with demons
- Favorite Food: Various kinds of fish, especially if he caught and prepared it himself. He's a sucker for ice cream.
- Favorite Color: Red
- Aspirations: Reaching ever-higher levels of understanding of the arcane, supernatural and demonic. Learning to truly summon, control and subject creatures from the pits of Inferno. Craft an Empire according to his own vision.
- Fears: Being outed for what he truly is before he has consolidated enough power to be above the laws against 'heathens'. Having to dispose of his sister should she learn of what he did to their father or if she opposes his bid to rule.
- Sexuality: Heterosexual - female or female-presenting - any sentient species with a preference for elves
- Likes: Intelligence, maturity, confidence, competence, ambition, assertive, aggressive, playful, uppity
Azim was born to nobility near the tail-end of a period known as 'The Golden Century'. It was a period of unprecedented growth and lasting peace in his homeland of Edragrad. Long wars had given way to a renewed focus on trade, the production of luxury and export goods and revitalizing the country's population. Both the nobility and merchant princes of the country and its neighbors saw their wealth explode over a very short amount of time. That money could in turn be used to further their individual ambitions, allowing their influence and power to reach far and wide, both nationally and internationally. As a result, Azim wanted for nothing growing up. Expensive food, clothes and toys were plentiful, and the best tutors money could buy made sure that he and his sister received the education they would need to follow in their parents' footsteps. As the eldest, Azim was being groomed as his family's primary heir, while his sister was pushed towards handling the family's financial affairs.
As the heir to a dukedom, Azim was quickly put in charge of soldiers of his own. His excellent performance as military commander earned him the trust of his peers and superiors. Additional responsibilities began to flow towards him. By his late twenties, he was often acting as his father's second-in-command, making important battlefield decisions. However, while he was an able strategist and tactician, his aptitude lay more in macro-management and logistics. But, for all the glory and praise that Azim was able to gather, not all was what it seemed.
Ever since he was a small child, Azim had been attracted to the dark arts. Something about occult magic spoke to him. Stories read to him to scare him away from the craft of witches, warlocks and conjurers did the exact opposite. By the time he reached his early teens, he had started delving further into what literature he could find of it. Better yet, he showed talent, as he was able to learn and successfully execute a variety of basic rituals through self-study and experimentation alone. It helped that he had his family's wealth to use to gather knowledge, reagents and private, secure locations at which to perform the rituals. For all his aptitude, though, there was a limit to how much he could learn messing around on his own. By the time he hit his twenties, he had started scouting for mentors. It was beyond risky to consort with warlocks and their ilk. Their magical craft was outlawed and their kind were actively hunted. Anyone caught interacting with them would suffer a gruesome fate ordinarily reserved only for the worst of heathens.
But, Azim didn't care. He knew sorcery would give him an edge over his peers and if he was to make his ambitions come true, he would need all the advantages he could get. It took time and significant effort to find mentors willing to teach him, but whether it was money, power or resources, everyone had a price, and he could pay almost anything. Azim grew to become an extremely powerful warlock, learning spells, techniques and rituals from a variety of disciplines and mixing and matching them to suit his own needs. By the time he started devising his own spells, as well as researching the craft on his own, he had no need for tutors anymore. Every one of the witches and warlocks that had helped him over the years vanished overnight, never to be heard from again. There could be no traces left of what Azim had been doing for decades by that point.
It would come as no surprise then that his father grew ill and passed away not that long after, removing the last obstacle in Azim's way to claiming the title of Grand Duke of the single largest, wealthiest and most influential province of his homeland. Overnight, he became the country's most powerful individual, second only to the royal family itself. Fortunately for him, his country's royalty had fallen on hard times, with the peaceful years having bred generations of weak rulers. Step-by-step, Azim began to consolidate power in Edragrad, turning the king into a mere puppet and removing his rivals from the picture whenever possible.
Soon, he would turn his eyes to Edragrad's neighbors. It was time to bring the Golden Century to a close and expand his homeland's borders. There was knowledge and power out there, and he desired it.
As the heir to a dukedom, Azim was quickly put in charge of soldiers of his own. His excellent performance as military commander earned him the trust of his peers and superiors. Additional responsibilities began to flow towards him. By his late twenties, he was often acting as his father's second-in-command, making important battlefield decisions. However, while he was an able strategist and tactician, his aptitude lay more in macro-management and logistics. But, for all the glory and praise that Azim was able to gather, not all was what it seemed.
Ever since he was a small child, Azim had been attracted to the dark arts. Something about occult magic spoke to him. Stories read to him to scare him away from the craft of witches, warlocks and conjurers did the exact opposite. By the time he reached his early teens, he had started delving further into what literature he could find of it. Better yet, he showed talent, as he was able to learn and successfully execute a variety of basic rituals through self-study and experimentation alone. It helped that he had his family's wealth to use to gather knowledge, reagents and private, secure locations at which to perform the rituals. For all his aptitude, though, there was a limit to how much he could learn messing around on his own. By the time he hit his twenties, he had started scouting for mentors. It was beyond risky to consort with warlocks and their ilk. Their magical craft was outlawed and their kind were actively hunted. Anyone caught interacting with them would suffer a gruesome fate ordinarily reserved only for the worst of heathens.
But, Azim didn't care. He knew sorcery would give him an edge over his peers and if he was to make his ambitions come true, he would need all the advantages he could get. It took time and significant effort to find mentors willing to teach him, but whether it was money, power or resources, everyone had a price, and he could pay almost anything. Azim grew to become an extremely powerful warlock, learning spells, techniques and rituals from a variety of disciplines and mixing and matching them to suit his own needs. By the time he started devising his own spells, as well as researching the craft on his own, he had no need for tutors anymore. Every one of the witches and warlocks that had helped him over the years vanished overnight, never to be heard from again. There could be no traces left of what Azim had been doing for decades by that point.
It would come as no surprise then that his father grew ill and passed away not that long after, removing the last obstacle in Azim's way to claiming the title of Grand Duke of the single largest, wealthiest and most influential province of his homeland. Overnight, he became the country's most powerful individual, second only to the royal family itself. Fortunately for him, his country's royalty had fallen on hard times, with the peaceful years having bred generations of weak rulers. Step-by-step, Azim began to consolidate power in Edragrad, turning the king into a mere puppet and removing his rivals from the picture whenever possible.
Soon, he would turn his eyes to Edragrad's neighbors. It was time to bring the Golden Century to a close and expand his homeland's borders. There was knowledge and power out there, and he desired it.
Appearance
- Height: 1 meter 95
- Weight: 98kg
- Build: Very tall, broad and imposing
- Complexion: Pale caucasian
- Eye Color: Blue
- Hair Color: White
- Other: Usually sporting a neatly trimmed beard. Body is covered in a variety of ritualistic tattoos and even some scarring; though a persistent, simple cantrip hides a lot of it from the average onlooker.
Last edited:
- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
Meredith Sands
Living Ingenuity
Living Ingenuity
Themes
Alchemy - Travel - Personal Trauma - Romance - Courtship - Expeditions - Major Crises - Extinction Threats - Humor and Whimsy
Alchemy - Travel - Personal Trauma - Romance - Courtship - Expeditions - Major Crises - Extinction Threats - Humor and Whimsy
Note on variations
Meredith can be used in pretty much any setting to a certain degree. While her backstory is written for Fantasy, with minimal changes, she can also function in steampunk, modern day, sci-fi and canon settings. The main gist will always remain the same, as will her personality, but the specifics of what she does will shift from alchemy to trinkets to archaeology to gadgets, depending on the setting. I have no preferences on what to use her in, so don't hesitate to ask.
Meredith can be used in pretty much any setting to a certain degree. While her backstory is written for Fantasy, with minimal changes, she can also function in steampunk, modern day, sci-fi and canon settings. The main gist will always remain the same, as will her personality, but the specifics of what she does will shift from alchemy to trinkets to archaeology to gadgets, depending on the setting. I have no preferences on what to use her in, so don't hesitate to ask.
Details
- Genres: Fantasy (low or high, canon or original), Modern Day, Slice of Life, Post-Apocalyptic, Horror, Supernatural, Cyberpunk, Sci-Fi
- Gender: Female
- Species: Human
- Age: 18-35
- Relatives: Calvagh Sands (father/deceased), Maura Sands (mother/deceased)
- Personality: Quirky, responsible, self-sufficient, proactive, steadfast, determined, stubborn, just, kind hearted, practical, pragmatic, cautious, dry, positive, upbeat, hopeful, talkative, altruistic, closed, distrusting, private
- Alignment: Neutral Good
- Strengths: Alchemist (in fantasy settings), Tinkerer/Collector (in other settings), Scientist/Naturalist, Intelligent, Business-Savvy
- Weaknesses: Self-Taught, Too Kind Hearted/Gullible (to a point)
- Hobbies: Reading various books on topics related to her profession, sculpting and painting land- and cityscapes, gardening, tinkering with mechanical devices.
- Favorite Food: Crab (she ate it once in her life at an event and has never been able to afford it since)
- Favorite Color: Green
- Aspirations: Having a completely secure life, both financially and safety. Having a few real, close friends that stick by her through thick and thin. Going on a trip to a distant place to work and return with priceless artifaces/ingredients.
- Fears: Having the axe drop once again, rendering her homeless and/or alone. Being accused of witchcraft or other black magic and put on trial for those accusations.
- Sexuality: Bisexual - any gender - any sentient species
- Likes: Playfulness, humorous, resolve, dedication, principled, flirtatious, loyalty, honesty
Meredith had about as mundane a childhood as you could imagine. Born to a carpenter and a waitress, both her parents worked hard to be able to provide for her, and pay for the minuscule home they had in the poorer district of the city. Being of the lowest class, an education and a lot of time to play was simply not feasible for the young woman, so she very quickly began helping out around the house and in her father's shop. He taught her everything he knew about running a business, because he thought she had the talent to succeed him should it be necessary, and he wanted her to not have to learn certain lessons the hard way. The world was cruel enough as it was. And indeed it was. In short succession, she lost her mother to a plague that had hit the city hard, before losing her father to a much more subtle and wasting illness.
Despite overcoming the grief of having to bury his wife, Meredith's father's mind began to slip and more and more responsibility fell on the shoulders of the girl that was barely twelve years of age. He could still make furniture, though he had begun to hurt himself around the workshop more and more. She dealt with customers, pitches, supplies and other logistical matters she should not have to do alone. As time passed, eventually, her father simply couldn't function anymore. At one point, he could barely remember her and after spending a lot of money on a doctor, she was told there was nothing anyone could do. His mind was gone. Still, there was a part of her father that seemed to understand what was happening to him, resulting in him taking his own life when Meredith was twenty and working the shop full-time. She could no longer look at carpentry the way she once had and reorganized the shop into something entirely different.
Now, Meredith runs a curiosity shoppe, selling trinkets, poultices, potions and other concoctions that prove especially useful for manual laborers, hunters and adventurers. She learned the trade early in life when she picked up books on the subject in what little spare time she had. That passion overshadowed what her father had intended for her and with the business surviving as she went in this direction, she didn't have any regrets. She's always on the lookout for returning customers and people selling rare ingredients that could turn her an even bigger profit.
Despite overcoming the grief of having to bury his wife, Meredith's father's mind began to slip and more and more responsibility fell on the shoulders of the girl that was barely twelve years of age. He could still make furniture, though he had begun to hurt himself around the workshop more and more. She dealt with customers, pitches, supplies and other logistical matters she should not have to do alone. As time passed, eventually, her father simply couldn't function anymore. At one point, he could barely remember her and after spending a lot of money on a doctor, she was told there was nothing anyone could do. His mind was gone. Still, there was a part of her father that seemed to understand what was happening to him, resulting in him taking his own life when Meredith was twenty and working the shop full-time. She could no longer look at carpentry the way she once had and reorganized the shop into something entirely different.
Now, Meredith runs a curiosity shoppe, selling trinkets, poultices, potions and other concoctions that prove especially useful for manual laborers, hunters and adventurers. She learned the trade early in life when she picked up books on the subject in what little spare time she had. That passion overshadowed what her father had intended for her and with the business surviving as she went in this direction, she didn't have any regrets. She's always on the lookout for returning customers and people selling rare ingredients that could turn her an even bigger profit.
Appearance
- Height: 1 meter 67
- Weight: 58kg
- Build: Slender
- Complexion: Caucasian
- Eye Color: Green
- Hair Color: Red
- Other: N/A
Meredith is comely, has a lovely demeanor and a wink that often preempts any mischief on her part. Fiery locks, usually kept long and curly, are complemented by emerald eyes and the slightest hint of freckles around the bridge of her nose. She possesses Fine facial features. Her expressions generally reveal mirth, pensiveness and even a little sensuality from time to time. A dreamer, she can stare off into nothing at times, and thus has a rather intense gaze that can either enchant or unnerve.
Last edited:
- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
Renzo Velazquez
Weapon Specialist
Weapon Specialist
Themes
Corporate Warfare - Dystopian Future - Shadowrun - Conspiracy - Oppressive Regimes - Mercenaries - Dystopia
Corporate Warfare - Dystopian Future - Shadowrun - Conspiracy - Oppressive Regimes - Mercenaries - Dystopia
Details
- Genres: Cyberpunk (canon or original), Supernatural Horror (including modern day or futuristic)
- Gender: Male
- Species: Human
- Age: 18-29
- Relatives: Candela Velazquez (sister)
- Personality: Crude, rude, ruthless, pragmatic, nonchalant, practical, observant, sly and shrewd (surprisingly so), deceptive, loyal, brave, destructive (self-sabotage), morally gray, vengeful
- Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
- Strengths: Weapons Specialist (skill ranges from adequate to master in nearly all forms of melee and ranged weapons), Demolitions, Traps and Stealth, Survival, Street-Smart
- Weaknesses: Uneducated, Criminal Record, Skirt Chaser
- Hobbies: Going to the gun range or the gym, or partaking in fights at clubs or underground arenas. Betting on races, both pro and street. Watching movies, particularly old ones from the late 20th and early 21st century; Westerns also hold a special place.
- Favorite Food: Sushi and certain Chinese stews, especially beef.
- Favorite Color: Purple
- Aspirations: Striking it rich and being able to move out of the suburbs and into a life of comfort. Finding someone he's comfortable around; starting a family might be stretching it a bit but deep down it's that kind of stability he yearns for. Doing one, last, big job to go out in a blaze of glory.
- Fears: Meeting his sister after years of silence so she can see what has become of him. Losing the few friends he has left, especially if it's because of him messing up again. Ending up in jail for life as he vastly prefers to get killed on a mission than getting captured.
- Sexuality: Bi-curious - preference for female - any sentient species
- Likes: Assertiveness, flirtatious, passionate, forthcoming, playfulness, non-committal, reliability
Renzo had never known much more than life on the streets. Raised by his sister, Renzo tried to help where he could as she held two jobs to provide for them, but it seemed inevitable that he would fall in with the wrong crowd. As expected, this caused friction between the two, especially after a third arrest that even landed him with a few months' worth of jail time. Upon his return, he was fully involved in multiple gangs, very cautiously wading between loyalties for his own benefit. To his credit, he was crafty enough to play sides against one another and reap various rewards, but it was a dangerous game that he played. By that point, his sister had a boyfriend and continued to hope for a quiet life. After yet another massive argument, she decided she could no longer keep the status quo and kicked him out of her house. Renzo was too stubborn at the time to realize he had ruined his own life and that she even left the door open for him should he ever be a changed man. Instead, he ran.
From that day on, he lived in hotels and on street corners, eking out a meager life for himself. He continued his illicit activities, slowly getting better and better with a gun and keeping himself alive. Injuries turned into opportunities for self-improvement. Tattoos became badges of honor. And before he knew it, he was running with various crews as fire support. At first he knew how to handle a handgun and a knife. Then a stun baton and a shotgun. Then an assault rifle and grenades. Then a sniper rifle and all the way to that one time he got to fire a rocket launcher. He turned himself into a specialist. If something needed shooting, he was your guy. Strangely enough, it was this expertise that got him out of the ghetto and living in a dingy apartment. It was better than nothing, and getting jobs from just about every player on the national and international market meant he could sustain himself and then some. He could say life was good, but for a guy like him, life was only ever passable.
After a while, you long for something else. He hasn't spoken to his sister in years. Most of his friends are dead or in jail. And he's made more enemies than allies. Normal life just isn't an option anymore. But maybe making a name for himself is? A legacy is better than nothing.
From that day on, he lived in hotels and on street corners, eking out a meager life for himself. He continued his illicit activities, slowly getting better and better with a gun and keeping himself alive. Injuries turned into opportunities for self-improvement. Tattoos became badges of honor. And before he knew it, he was running with various crews as fire support. At first he knew how to handle a handgun and a knife. Then a stun baton and a shotgun. Then an assault rifle and grenades. Then a sniper rifle and all the way to that one time he got to fire a rocket launcher. He turned himself into a specialist. If something needed shooting, he was your guy. Strangely enough, it was this expertise that got him out of the ghetto and living in a dingy apartment. It was better than nothing, and getting jobs from just about every player on the national and international market meant he could sustain himself and then some. He could say life was good, but for a guy like him, life was only ever passable.
After a while, you long for something else. He hasn't spoken to his sister in years. Most of his friends are dead or in jail. And he's made more enemies than allies. Normal life just isn't an option anymore. But maybe making a name for himself is? A legacy is better than nothing.
Appearance
- Height: 1 meter 86
- Weight: 85kg
- Build: Very toned, swimmer's build
- Complexion: Tanned caucasian
- Eye Color: Gray
- Hair Color: Black
- Other: Various augmentations are visible
Last edited:
- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
Moto Katsuro
The Oni of Kyuden Shiro
The Oni of Kyuden Shiro
Themes
Investigation - Conspiracy - Politics - Whodunnit - Arranged Marriage - Culture Clash - Caste Differences - Legend of the Five Rings - Soulcalibur
Investigation - Conspiracy - Politics - Whodunnit - Arranged Marriage - Culture Clash - Caste Differences - Legend of the Five Rings - Soulcalibur
The black sheep of the Moto clan, Katsuro is a member of the Magistracy - the secret police used by his father to keep the peace in the clan's territory. Despised by his family for his outspoken opposition to much of what his father stands for. Despised by the people of his country for being part of a clan that had betrayed the empire generations prior. Katsuro is perpetually stuck between a rock and a hard place. Intelligent, observant, honorable and seemingly incorruptible, he tries his best to use the authority afforded to him as magistrate to bring actual criminals to justice and clean up the streets. This has slowly earned him some respect among the citizens of Shimasaki. However, he remains keenly aware of the true and sinister purpose behind the magistrates...
Details
- Genres: Fantasy (low or high, canon or original), Eastern Fantasy, Slice of Life
- Gender: Male
- Species: Human
- Age: 18-33 (in-training up to high magistrate)
- Relatives: Moto Yachiro (great-grandfather/deceased), Moto Michiro (father), Moto Kuruko (mother), Moto Yajinden (older brother/deceased), Moto Michiko (older sister), Moto Taizen (younger brother), Moto Hiroto (younger brother)
- Personality: Wary, suspicious, distrustful, reserved (generally has problems expressing himself), stern, moody, workaholic, callous, cold, standoffish, defensive, grumpy, genuine, just, loyal, brave, altruistic, selfless, stubborn, pig-headed, diplomatic, pragmatic, honorable, merciful, compassionate, dedicated, stressed, proud
- Alignment: Lawful Good
- Strengths: Magistrate (eye for detail, observant, intelligent, quick-witted, good at reading people, analytical, etc), Swordfighter, Master Archer, Tactician
- Weaknesses: Loner, Paranoid, Moto Family Reputation (social situations, especially in high society, will not go well with him nearby)
- Hobbies: Reading and learning more about domestic and foreign economic systems and trade. Hunting and recreational fishing. Studying old cases of magistrates both local and beyond Moto borders.
- Favorite Food: Crab prepared according to a Moto recipe and teas made with specific, exotic, herbal blends.
- Favorite Color: Black
- Aspirations: Restoring his family name to its former glory. Forming some kind of rapport with his father, despite everything. Making a difference in the state of the land through his diligent duties as a magistrate.
- Fears: Bringing further shame to the Moto name. Unwittingly falling victim to the machinations of his father. Falling to corruption like some Moto before him have.
- Sexuality: Bi-curious - preference for female-presenting - any sentient species
- Likes: Insightfulness, intelligence, bravery, honesty, principled
Katsuro was born the son of the daimyo of the Moto clan. Despite having considerable wealth and power in his home region, his childhood was not a happy one. Generations ago, the Moto clan disgraced itself through the actions of an ancestor. During a war with a neighboring country, the daimyo, Katsuro's great grandfather, had seen fit to throw his lot in with the invaders. Betraying the empire, his peers and his people, Moto Yachiro had condemned his family to dishonor and disrepute. The war was a bloody and long one, made all the more dire for his own people because of the Moto clan's collaboration. However, in the end, the emperor and Shogun managed to push back the aggressors, reclaiming lost territory, and once again re-establishing the status quo. Naturally, the Moto clan was punished severely for its transgressions.
Its status as a major clan, and the fact that it still retained a powerful standing army, were the only things that saved it from being eradicated and its holdings spread across the minor clans in the region. Instead, many of the elders of the family were sentenced to death, denied the opportunity to take their own lives for they had forfeited their honor when they had consorted with Gaijin. Yachiro was among those publicly executed and to this day, the clan carries the stigma of being two-faced liars and dishonorable folk. All the honorable deeds in the family's past had been erased by a single man's actions.
It was with this venomous reputation that Katsuro grew up. The Moto were hated, within and without their own region, and while they were tolerated and permitted at court, their word continued to carry little weight. Their saving grace continued to be the size of its population and the strength of its armies. Without these elements, the clan would have long since been attacked by an alliance of rivals and crushed. It was highly unlikely that the emperor would even condemn the act. Internally, the region fared little better. Many of the minor clans had initially opposed Yachiro's decision, but had been forced to follow along. While their disgrace was far less severe, they still carried significant blemishes upon their names, ones that had not yet been washed away by time and loyal servitude. It was a constant struggle for the Moto to retain order and dominance in their region, with loyalties in question everywhere. Uprisings and rebellions were a fact of life there, and they were always one mistake away from all-out war with themselves.
Katsuro's father, Moto Michiro had managed to keep a semblance of order after his own father's incompetence nearly doomed the clan on numerous occasions. Frightfully competent in matters of politics, he was feared throughout the empire for his intellect and deadly wit. However, he had little opportunity to practice his machinations, for no one was foolish enough to deal with a Moto, at least not so long as they did not receive forgiveness from the emperor for what they had done in the past. As such, the man grew frustrated and paranoid, and turned that anger on his own. The lands of the Moto sometimes resemble an oppressive police state more than anything else. While the other clans demand obedience in sometimes bloody fashion, it is never as evident on the surface as in the streets of the Moto lands.
Katsuro was raised in an environment that attempted to teach him to despise his ancestors and his peers. Everyone was out to slit his throat and no one could be trusted. All the Moto could do was bide their time until they could redeem themselves. It was toxic and terribly restrictive. From that tender age, Katsuro felt as though he was supposed to loathe his peers. Friends were pawns and loved ones allies only for as long as it served one's needs. There was an air of distrust in his home that permeated everything, and everyone. As he grew older, this indoctrination grew more severe still. They were told to consider their own emperor an enemy; an obstacle on the road to putting their father on the throne. Katsuro's siblings eagerly ate it up, whether they believed it to be true or not. Katsuro desired his father's approval as much as his brothers and sisters, but unlike them, he dared to question. Perhaps more so than the others, Katsuro was very much like his father. Intelligent, observant and, above all else, stubborn and individualistic.
He dared to ask "why", and never stopped until he received his answer or was sent off to bed without food in his belly. He began to double-check the "facts" they were given, quickly learning that the stigma on his name was deserved, but had also long since outlived its relevance. He began to speak openly about his own thoughts on the matter. Hopeful his father would listen to the young boy, he tried to convince him that it could perhaps be far more effective to show that the clan had changed, that they were not the traitors they were believed to be. In his youth, he failed to realize ambition had long since clouded any kind of logical judgment in his father's mind, and all that followed these comments were tirades and punishments. His siblings urged Katsuro to at least play along, but as his relationship with his father soured further, his intensely stubborn streak forbade him to give in.
The older the young man became, the more he clashed with his family. He became the black sheep that wanted to restore the family to its former glory, but not in the way his father ordained it. More than anything, Katsuro had wanted approval from his dominant parent, and all he received was anger and that anger sometimes resulted in violence and beatings.
In the end, Katsuro isolated himself from his own family, while his name isolated him from the rest of the empire. All he could do was obey his father's demands, and grow up an unloved child.
By this time in his life, Katsuro had grown into a very stern and observant young man. He had grown callous and blunt, never having been given the light of day by his parents and effectively neglected. He was not given the same rights, privileges and even education as his siblings. As long as he continued to think for himself, he would be denied his birthright. As an attempt to rid the Moto court of the embarrassment that was Katsuro, they had him sent away to join the magistrates, a group of young, trained bushi, both samurai and common, that held watch in the streets of the Moto lands, sniffing out treason and dissent where they could. It was a brush-off, and a clear sign to the rest of the clan that Katsuro was shunned by his own family. Rumors quickly began circulating in the Moto lands and beyond that he was a useless son. Dim, talentless, brutish and uncultured, his reputation was shattered more than that of his family name by that point.
All the young man could do was apply himself to his training. Where he found himself now, at least, they accepted him for who he was, and demanded nothing else but diligence from him. Finally, he was rid of all the courtly duties, the politics and the backroom conniving. For all the "honor" his society claimed to have, the Moto, and beyond, seemed to revel in machinations.
His training was arduous, but not without merit. For once, he felt fulfilled. While he was taught how to use the katana and wakizashi that were part of his noble heritage, the bow and arrow resonated far more with him. He quickly became a very able archer, both on foot and on horseback. Moreover, he showed a knack for reading terrain that few others had. While the magistrates were not strictly intended to be used on the battlefield during times of war, their officers knew better than to neglect talent where it could be found and Katsuro was not the first to be educated in the art of war behind closed doors.
As the years went by, Katsuro grew into his own and was ready to begin serving the Moto. He couldn't help but feel as though, after all his work, he was back to where he had been years before. His return home was met with no cheer. His siblings had missed his collected presence, but knew his mind had not changed over the years. He was as stubborn and resolved as ever, and he had still not learned the social graces demanded of his position. Even worse than in the past, he refused to keep silent when he had something to say, causing him and his father to clash even more than before. It reached a point where Michiro delighted in using the man's untrue reputation for idiotic and lecherous behavior as a means to take stabs at him in public. They were always subtle, sometimes even going over Katsuro's head, but the other noblemen always understood them, and some would share in their lord's amusement; while others felt pity. Katsuro had a use for neither, and resented both.
While remaining by his family's side, begrudgingly, he began his tour of duty. While his life at home was a complete disaster, his abilities on the field shone brightly. His colleagues praised him, and his superiors rewarded him for his expertise. He kept the streets clear and showed the same stubborn brand of doing things his way that he did at home. But, unlike there, the magistrates applauded individual thought. Where others used lethal force, he often managed to convince dissidents to stand down peacefully. His reputation on the street was different than at the courts. The common people quickly saw him as their friend and ally, someone who was genuinely trying to better their lives by opposing a tyrannical parent. For that, they respected him.
His accomplishments only truly became noteworthy when he was given a higher rank within the organization, and began leading punitive expeditions against rebellious forces at the helm of a group of magistrates. His knowledge of tactics and terrain were invaluable and his victories numerous. He showed mercy where apt, but ruthlessly executed when he believed an example needed to be made. It was a brand of leadership that gave him as many enemies as it did allies, but it always gained him respect. For, if nothing else, he was consistent and fair. His mask began to instill fear into dissidents and he soon gained the nickname "The Oni of Kyuden Shiro", which was the stronghold of the magistrates.
His father was blind to the son that easily outstripped his siblings in promise and talent. He was the prime choice as heir and had he been treated well, could have been able to be wed to a lady outside the clan; a first in many decades. However, his reputation was shattered and his stern, almost persistently angry mood, made Katsuro anything but pleasant to interact with and being just as stubborn as his father, he categorically refused to partake in arranged marriages that were so common among his caste.
His siblings had all been wed within the clan, and it was Katsuro's defiance and poor standing that allowed him to avoid the same fate. But, would it last?
Its status as a major clan, and the fact that it still retained a powerful standing army, were the only things that saved it from being eradicated and its holdings spread across the minor clans in the region. Instead, many of the elders of the family were sentenced to death, denied the opportunity to take their own lives for they had forfeited their honor when they had consorted with Gaijin. Yachiro was among those publicly executed and to this day, the clan carries the stigma of being two-faced liars and dishonorable folk. All the honorable deeds in the family's past had been erased by a single man's actions.
It was with this venomous reputation that Katsuro grew up. The Moto were hated, within and without their own region, and while they were tolerated and permitted at court, their word continued to carry little weight. Their saving grace continued to be the size of its population and the strength of its armies. Without these elements, the clan would have long since been attacked by an alliance of rivals and crushed. It was highly unlikely that the emperor would even condemn the act. Internally, the region fared little better. Many of the minor clans had initially opposed Yachiro's decision, but had been forced to follow along. While their disgrace was far less severe, they still carried significant blemishes upon their names, ones that had not yet been washed away by time and loyal servitude. It was a constant struggle for the Moto to retain order and dominance in their region, with loyalties in question everywhere. Uprisings and rebellions were a fact of life there, and they were always one mistake away from all-out war with themselves.
Katsuro's father, Moto Michiro had managed to keep a semblance of order after his own father's incompetence nearly doomed the clan on numerous occasions. Frightfully competent in matters of politics, he was feared throughout the empire for his intellect and deadly wit. However, he had little opportunity to practice his machinations, for no one was foolish enough to deal with a Moto, at least not so long as they did not receive forgiveness from the emperor for what they had done in the past. As such, the man grew frustrated and paranoid, and turned that anger on his own. The lands of the Moto sometimes resemble an oppressive police state more than anything else. While the other clans demand obedience in sometimes bloody fashion, it is never as evident on the surface as in the streets of the Moto lands.
Katsuro was raised in an environment that attempted to teach him to despise his ancestors and his peers. Everyone was out to slit his throat and no one could be trusted. All the Moto could do was bide their time until they could redeem themselves. It was toxic and terribly restrictive. From that tender age, Katsuro felt as though he was supposed to loathe his peers. Friends were pawns and loved ones allies only for as long as it served one's needs. There was an air of distrust in his home that permeated everything, and everyone. As he grew older, this indoctrination grew more severe still. They were told to consider their own emperor an enemy; an obstacle on the road to putting their father on the throne. Katsuro's siblings eagerly ate it up, whether they believed it to be true or not. Katsuro desired his father's approval as much as his brothers and sisters, but unlike them, he dared to question. Perhaps more so than the others, Katsuro was very much like his father. Intelligent, observant and, above all else, stubborn and individualistic.
He dared to ask "why", and never stopped until he received his answer or was sent off to bed without food in his belly. He began to double-check the "facts" they were given, quickly learning that the stigma on his name was deserved, but had also long since outlived its relevance. He began to speak openly about his own thoughts on the matter. Hopeful his father would listen to the young boy, he tried to convince him that it could perhaps be far more effective to show that the clan had changed, that they were not the traitors they were believed to be. In his youth, he failed to realize ambition had long since clouded any kind of logical judgment in his father's mind, and all that followed these comments were tirades and punishments. His siblings urged Katsuro to at least play along, but as his relationship with his father soured further, his intensely stubborn streak forbade him to give in.
The older the young man became, the more he clashed with his family. He became the black sheep that wanted to restore the family to its former glory, but not in the way his father ordained it. More than anything, Katsuro had wanted approval from his dominant parent, and all he received was anger and that anger sometimes resulted in violence and beatings.
In the end, Katsuro isolated himself from his own family, while his name isolated him from the rest of the empire. All he could do was obey his father's demands, and grow up an unloved child.
By this time in his life, Katsuro had grown into a very stern and observant young man. He had grown callous and blunt, never having been given the light of day by his parents and effectively neglected. He was not given the same rights, privileges and even education as his siblings. As long as he continued to think for himself, he would be denied his birthright. As an attempt to rid the Moto court of the embarrassment that was Katsuro, they had him sent away to join the magistrates, a group of young, trained bushi, both samurai and common, that held watch in the streets of the Moto lands, sniffing out treason and dissent where they could. It was a brush-off, and a clear sign to the rest of the clan that Katsuro was shunned by his own family. Rumors quickly began circulating in the Moto lands and beyond that he was a useless son. Dim, talentless, brutish and uncultured, his reputation was shattered more than that of his family name by that point.
All the young man could do was apply himself to his training. Where he found himself now, at least, they accepted him for who he was, and demanded nothing else but diligence from him. Finally, he was rid of all the courtly duties, the politics and the backroom conniving. For all the "honor" his society claimed to have, the Moto, and beyond, seemed to revel in machinations.
His training was arduous, but not without merit. For once, he felt fulfilled. While he was taught how to use the katana and wakizashi that were part of his noble heritage, the bow and arrow resonated far more with him. He quickly became a very able archer, both on foot and on horseback. Moreover, he showed a knack for reading terrain that few others had. While the magistrates were not strictly intended to be used on the battlefield during times of war, their officers knew better than to neglect talent where it could be found and Katsuro was not the first to be educated in the art of war behind closed doors.
As the years went by, Katsuro grew into his own and was ready to begin serving the Moto. He couldn't help but feel as though, after all his work, he was back to where he had been years before. His return home was met with no cheer. His siblings had missed his collected presence, but knew his mind had not changed over the years. He was as stubborn and resolved as ever, and he had still not learned the social graces demanded of his position. Even worse than in the past, he refused to keep silent when he had something to say, causing him and his father to clash even more than before. It reached a point where Michiro delighted in using the man's untrue reputation for idiotic and lecherous behavior as a means to take stabs at him in public. They were always subtle, sometimes even going over Katsuro's head, but the other noblemen always understood them, and some would share in their lord's amusement; while others felt pity. Katsuro had a use for neither, and resented both.
While remaining by his family's side, begrudgingly, he began his tour of duty. While his life at home was a complete disaster, his abilities on the field shone brightly. His colleagues praised him, and his superiors rewarded him for his expertise. He kept the streets clear and showed the same stubborn brand of doing things his way that he did at home. But, unlike there, the magistrates applauded individual thought. Where others used lethal force, he often managed to convince dissidents to stand down peacefully. His reputation on the street was different than at the courts. The common people quickly saw him as their friend and ally, someone who was genuinely trying to better their lives by opposing a tyrannical parent. For that, they respected him.
His accomplishments only truly became noteworthy when he was given a higher rank within the organization, and began leading punitive expeditions against rebellious forces at the helm of a group of magistrates. His knowledge of tactics and terrain were invaluable and his victories numerous. He showed mercy where apt, but ruthlessly executed when he believed an example needed to be made. It was a brand of leadership that gave him as many enemies as it did allies, but it always gained him respect. For, if nothing else, he was consistent and fair. His mask began to instill fear into dissidents and he soon gained the nickname "The Oni of Kyuden Shiro", which was the stronghold of the magistrates.
His father was blind to the son that easily outstripped his siblings in promise and talent. He was the prime choice as heir and had he been treated well, could have been able to be wed to a lady outside the clan; a first in many decades. However, his reputation was shattered and his stern, almost persistently angry mood, made Katsuro anything but pleasant to interact with and being just as stubborn as his father, he categorically refused to partake in arranged marriages that were so common among his caste.
His siblings had all been wed within the clan, and it was Katsuro's defiance and poor standing that allowed him to avoid the same fate. But, would it last?
Appearance
- Height: 1 meter 73
- Weight: 72kg
- Build: Strong frame with a broad back and toned shoulders
- Complexion: East asian
- Eye Color: Brown
- Hair Color: Black
- Other: N/A
- Local time
- Tomorrow 1:20 AM
- Messages
- 26
- Age
- 35
Veda'Shiren nar Treya
The Lone Marine
The Lone Marine
Themes
Space Warfare - Espionage - Intrigue - Corporate Warfare - Interstellar Adventure - Grief and Loss
Space Warfare - Espionage - Intrigue - Corporate Warfare - Interstellar Adventure - Grief and Loss
Veda'Shiren nar Treya is a Quarian Migrant Fleet marine that served aboard the Treya, a vessel that was often detached from the flotilla to undertake missions that would take it further from home than most others. While out near Batarian space, the Treya came under attack, resulting in the death of Veda's daughter. The resulting spiral of anger and sorrow ruined his marriage and drove a wedge between himself and most of those around him.
Eventually, he was relegated to performing solo missions all across the galaxy, stopping assassination attempts, Pilgrim kidnappings and other threats to the flotilla that needed subtlety to be dealt with. He has become a rather sarcastic, abrasive and blunt individual with the years, retaining a cynical outlook on the galaxy, but still holding out hope that things will improve.
He can be obsessive about work as well as seeking revenge against the Batarian captain that attacked the Treya, but realises that sometimes, the good of the many outweigh his personal interests. This makes him a stalwart ally and, if you have the patience, a dear friend.
Eventually, he was relegated to performing solo missions all across the galaxy, stopping assassination attempts, Pilgrim kidnappings and other threats to the flotilla that needed subtlety to be dealt with. He has become a rather sarcastic, abrasive and blunt individual with the years, retaining a cynical outlook on the galaxy, but still holding out hope that things will improve.
He can be obsessive about work as well as seeking revenge against the Batarian captain that attacked the Treya, but realises that sometimes, the good of the many outweigh his personal interests. This makes him a stalwart ally and, if you have the patience, a dear friend.
Details
- Genres: Mass Effect (any timeframe), Sci-Fi (canon or original), Slice of Life
- Gender: Male
- Species: Quarian
- Age: 31
- Relatives: Nera'Vir nar Shida (ex-wife), Mira'Shiren nar Treya (daughter/deceased)
- Personality: Dependable, unpredictable, blunt, direct, private, distrusting, stubborn, professional, impulsive, social, rude, stand-offish, brave, assertive, loyal, steadfast, implacable, adaptive, critical, analytical, sober, vulnerable.
- Alignment: Lawful Neutral
- Strengths: Migrant Fleet Marine (firearms, hand-to-hand, omni-blade, explosives; favors twin submachine guns), Combat Vehicle/Vessel Pilot, Adaptive
- Weaknesses: Quarian Physiology (most notable disadvantage is poor immune system), Bad Team Player (has turned into one, didn't used to be), Biotics (he's not had a lot of experience with them)
- Hobbies: Flying, poker, travelling, parkour, training
- Favorite Food: Anything other than nutritional paste...
- Favorite Color: Purple
- Aspirations: Avenging the death of his daughter, the destruction of his birth vessel and the dissolution of his marriage. Finding a home for the Quarian people, so that they may once again be a whole culture.
- Fears: Dying on some forsaken rock, forgotten and dismissed by everyone. Losing everything he had left of his daughter (came true). Being trapped to die of starvation or exposure, especially in a cramped location.
- Sexuality: Bisexual - any gender - preference for female-presenting - any sentient species with a preference for other quarians and for turians
- Likes: Dedication, gentleness, caring, motherly, affectionate, romantic, helpful
- Canon Pairings (not exhaustive): Tali, Ashley, Nyreen, Shepard (f), Maya
Veda'Shiren had been training his entire life to be of service to the Migrant Fleet. Unlike many of his peers, he lacked the flair required to become an engineer, scientist or technical operative. Conversely, he seemed more physically capable than the norm. He also had a knack for thinking on his feet and coming up with unexpected solutions to a given problem. Unorthodox thinking was encouraged among the cerebral professions, but the Migrant Fleet Marines were expected to be dependable, cautious, frugal and by-the-book. After all, resources - including Quarian life itself - were always extremely limited. Some of his solutions didn't always yield what his superiors would call an acceptably conservative outcome. But still, he continued to pass their tests and exams, sometimes even with distinction. As much as he was considered a bit of a rogue, the Fleet could not pass up the chance of adding another able body to their primary defense force.
Very quickly, Veda became a mainstay among the marines, finding himself a home aboard one of the larger vessels, the Treya; on which he happened to have been born. While much of the Migrant Fleet naturally stuck together, some vessels were routinely sent out to more remote systems in an attempt to gather resources that the Fleet could not, or did not want to, trade for. The Treya's size, relatively good condition, armaments and complement of marines, meant it was among the ships ideal for these missions. Over the course of several years, Veda partook in a large variety of missions, both routine and extremely dangerous. Surviving them all -albeit sometimes by the skin of his teeth - meant he could learn from those experiences. It did not take long at all for him to be promoted to the Quarian equivalent of a lieutenant. He found the responsibility of much of the security aboard the Treya to be to his liking, and continued to flourish.
He continued to play an active role in the field though, almost always joining his marines off-ship for whatever operation required a security detail. Some days he would need to guard engineers, scientists or prospectors while they performed their duties, essentially protecting them from hazards both environmental and wildlife. Other times, he had to combat hostile forces such as stray Geth, Batarians, pirates from the Terminus Systems, mercenaries and even on one occasion, the at-the-time mysterious Collectors. Whether they were holding down the fort against incoming fire, or trying to help someone solve a mystery of ancient ruins, the Marines under his command did their jobs well enough to be the recipients of all manner of commendations and praise.
Aboard the Treya was also a young archaeologist, who very often required some backup when looking into various digsites they came across. Eccentric and far too active for her own good, at first, she did little but annoy the lieutenant. All the time spent fighting had sobered Veda somewhat, making him far more responsible and calmer than he had been in his youth. However, slowly but surely, he began to warm to her and started spending time with her when on the Treya or the Migrant Fleet. From the very first day about the Treya, they interacted. Conversations while she worked turned to late dinners. Then came formal dates, and eventually, a romantic relationship. Not too long after that, Veda was blessed with the birth of his daughter Mira.
Space was a valuable commodity among the Quarians. They lived on their ships, any of the ships they could get their hands on. Even a vessel routinely exposed to danger like the Treya was required to house families and civilians, there was simply no way around it. On a dangerous mission into the Terminus Systems, the Treya was forced to fight Batarians, who saw their chance to salvage one of the finer vessels in the Migrant Fleet for technology they could then retro-engineer. Despite the deplorable state of their civilization, the Quarians still had access to technology beyond what some of the other known races possessed. The distance between the Treya and the Migrant Fleet would similarly make it easy for the Batarians to deny any and all involvement once news of the ship's disappearance reached the Fleet.
The battle was gruelling, as the Batarians came in full force. When the smoke cleared, the Treya had barely gotten away in one piece, but not without casualties. The bridge had been badly damaged, resulting in the deaths of several senior officers, including the captain. Veda's marines had been decimated, leaving only a dozen left. It was likely he would even lose some of those, as they had been exposed to less-than-sterile conditions due to breaches in their suits. The situation wasn't any better among civilians, as the fighting had taken place across the ship. The Batarians and their mercenaries used boarding parties to brutal effect. Worst of all, Veda had been unable to protect his own family. An explosion had injured his wife and child, with his daughter dying in his arms soon after.
Veda had never felt so powerless before, or since. The Treya was able to make it back to the Migrant Fleet, and a full investigation was launched into the incident. However, rather than risk war with the Batarians - a war the Quarians simply could not afford - the matter was put before the Citadel council. It was the Fleet's hope that having a powerful mediator could bring about some sanctions for the Batarians. But everyone knew that was not going to pan out either. The matter was going to be closed and quietly forgotten. Angry, mournful and disillusioned, Veda's personal life suffered. His wife was unable to deal with the grief of losing their daughter, and in the span of a few months, the fighting between them got to the point where she could not live with him anymore. His work was all he had left, and he tirelessly petitioned for reprimands against the Batarians, with only some of his crewmates backing him up.
Since then, he had fallen on even harder times. The Treya was no longer sent out on distant missions, as the repairs to the ship were going to take a substantial amount of time, given that the resources required were not readily on hand. Continued insubordination and friction with his superiors had also led to him being demoted. Additionally, his teamwork had degraded, along with his willingness to play by the book. He was regarded as a loose cannon and a danger to everyone around him. However, the Migrant Fleet had been unable to ignore his abilities. He continued to get results, proving he still had value. As a result, the Fleet began using him in a more clandestine fashion.
From that point onward, Veda has been sent out on his own to deal with more distant threats to the Migrant Fleet and its crew. He had stopped assassinations from getting beyond the planning stages, escorted valuable personnel on dangerous journeys, retrieved kidnapped or trapped Pilgrims and more. Even the occasional deal for valuable, not always entirely legal, resources had been sealed by him.
His service was still valued, but Veda, as a person, was someone the Fleet would rather see going, than coming. As a result, his time spent aboard a Fleet's ship had been reduced to the barest of minima. Veda didn't seem to care, though, as he had taken to using his freedom for his own gains from time to time. Mercenary work provided him with some extra spending money, as well as a means of breaking up sometimes monotonous travel times. These tasks definitely received his favor if they ever involved dispensing some justice on Batarians or other pirates that he abhorred. He also never ceased trying to find out who had been the captain in charge of the vessel that had attacked the Treya, though those investigations continue to come up empty-handed.
He was anything but content with his life, but he was surviving. That seemed to be what Quarians always had to do.
Very quickly, Veda became a mainstay among the marines, finding himself a home aboard one of the larger vessels, the Treya; on which he happened to have been born. While much of the Migrant Fleet naturally stuck together, some vessels were routinely sent out to more remote systems in an attempt to gather resources that the Fleet could not, or did not want to, trade for. The Treya's size, relatively good condition, armaments and complement of marines, meant it was among the ships ideal for these missions. Over the course of several years, Veda partook in a large variety of missions, both routine and extremely dangerous. Surviving them all -albeit sometimes by the skin of his teeth - meant he could learn from those experiences. It did not take long at all for him to be promoted to the Quarian equivalent of a lieutenant. He found the responsibility of much of the security aboard the Treya to be to his liking, and continued to flourish.
He continued to play an active role in the field though, almost always joining his marines off-ship for whatever operation required a security detail. Some days he would need to guard engineers, scientists or prospectors while they performed their duties, essentially protecting them from hazards both environmental and wildlife. Other times, he had to combat hostile forces such as stray Geth, Batarians, pirates from the Terminus Systems, mercenaries and even on one occasion, the at-the-time mysterious Collectors. Whether they were holding down the fort against incoming fire, or trying to help someone solve a mystery of ancient ruins, the Marines under his command did their jobs well enough to be the recipients of all manner of commendations and praise.
Aboard the Treya was also a young archaeologist, who very often required some backup when looking into various digsites they came across. Eccentric and far too active for her own good, at first, she did little but annoy the lieutenant. All the time spent fighting had sobered Veda somewhat, making him far more responsible and calmer than he had been in his youth. However, slowly but surely, he began to warm to her and started spending time with her when on the Treya or the Migrant Fleet. From the very first day about the Treya, they interacted. Conversations while she worked turned to late dinners. Then came formal dates, and eventually, a romantic relationship. Not too long after that, Veda was blessed with the birth of his daughter Mira.
Space was a valuable commodity among the Quarians. They lived on their ships, any of the ships they could get their hands on. Even a vessel routinely exposed to danger like the Treya was required to house families and civilians, there was simply no way around it. On a dangerous mission into the Terminus Systems, the Treya was forced to fight Batarians, who saw their chance to salvage one of the finer vessels in the Migrant Fleet for technology they could then retro-engineer. Despite the deplorable state of their civilization, the Quarians still had access to technology beyond what some of the other known races possessed. The distance between the Treya and the Migrant Fleet would similarly make it easy for the Batarians to deny any and all involvement once news of the ship's disappearance reached the Fleet.
The battle was gruelling, as the Batarians came in full force. When the smoke cleared, the Treya had barely gotten away in one piece, but not without casualties. The bridge had been badly damaged, resulting in the deaths of several senior officers, including the captain. Veda's marines had been decimated, leaving only a dozen left. It was likely he would even lose some of those, as they had been exposed to less-than-sterile conditions due to breaches in their suits. The situation wasn't any better among civilians, as the fighting had taken place across the ship. The Batarians and their mercenaries used boarding parties to brutal effect. Worst of all, Veda had been unable to protect his own family. An explosion had injured his wife and child, with his daughter dying in his arms soon after.
Veda had never felt so powerless before, or since. The Treya was able to make it back to the Migrant Fleet, and a full investigation was launched into the incident. However, rather than risk war with the Batarians - a war the Quarians simply could not afford - the matter was put before the Citadel council. It was the Fleet's hope that having a powerful mediator could bring about some sanctions for the Batarians. But everyone knew that was not going to pan out either. The matter was going to be closed and quietly forgotten. Angry, mournful and disillusioned, Veda's personal life suffered. His wife was unable to deal with the grief of losing their daughter, and in the span of a few months, the fighting between them got to the point where she could not live with him anymore. His work was all he had left, and he tirelessly petitioned for reprimands against the Batarians, with only some of his crewmates backing him up.
Since then, he had fallen on even harder times. The Treya was no longer sent out on distant missions, as the repairs to the ship were going to take a substantial amount of time, given that the resources required were not readily on hand. Continued insubordination and friction with his superiors had also led to him being demoted. Additionally, his teamwork had degraded, along with his willingness to play by the book. He was regarded as a loose cannon and a danger to everyone around him. However, the Migrant Fleet had been unable to ignore his abilities. He continued to get results, proving he still had value. As a result, the Fleet began using him in a more clandestine fashion.
From that point onward, Veda has been sent out on his own to deal with more distant threats to the Migrant Fleet and its crew. He had stopped assassinations from getting beyond the planning stages, escorted valuable personnel on dangerous journeys, retrieved kidnapped or trapped Pilgrims and more. Even the occasional deal for valuable, not always entirely legal, resources had been sealed by him.
His service was still valued, but Veda, as a person, was someone the Fleet would rather see going, than coming. As a result, his time spent aboard a Fleet's ship had been reduced to the barest of minima. Veda didn't seem to care, though, as he had taken to using his freedom for his own gains from time to time. Mercenary work provided him with some extra spending money, as well as a means of breaking up sometimes monotonous travel times. These tasks definitely received his favor if they ever involved dispensing some justice on Batarians or other pirates that he abhorred. He also never ceased trying to find out who had been the captain in charge of the vessel that had attacked the Treya, though those investigations continue to come up empty-handed.
He was anything but content with his life, but he was surviving. That seemed to be what Quarians always had to do.
Canon Involvement
Any involvement Veda may, or may not, have had with the canon events of the Mass Effect series is optional, and subject to discussion with the role play partner; especially if playing opposite any rendition of Shepard.
Mass Effect
Veda was heavily involved in the fight against the Geth. The Quarians were definitely aware of the excursions the Geth began making out of the Veil, and while the Migrant Fleet did not directly get involved, among several operatives sent to counteract their efforts, was Veda. Veda successfully completed several missions, destroying a Geth outpost, killing an agent of Saren and feeding information to the Citadel, and thus commander Shepard.
He had made himself enough of a nuisance to become the target of several hits by mercenaries and even a unit of Geth, all hired and sent by Saren to dispose of the Quarian. All attempts failed, though the last one injured Veda to the point where he sat out the remainder of the fight to stop Sovereign's ambitions.
After Saren's defeat, the Geth began to withdraw, though skirmishes and raids became for more common from that point onward. Veda continued to be heavily involved in gathering intelligence on the Geth, to the point where he became a regular source of information for the Citadel council, with permission from his own government, of course.
Mass Effect 2
Veda'Shiren was scouted by the Illusive Man for his impressive performance against the Geth over the course of the fight against Saren. A Quarian marine was deemed useful for Shepard's crew because his missions would take him to distant and fringe worlds. Veda was noted for having significant experience in such places, as well as near and in the Terminus Systems.
Veda's knowledge on fighting the Geth, Batarians, pirates and other fringe organizations would complement Shepard's own significantly. On top of that, those same experience also resulted in expansive knowledge of distant colonies, cultures and environments.
The primary concerns were securing Migrant Fleet permission for Veda to attach himself temporarily to Shepard's crew, as well as his mental state. While details eluded Cerberus, they were able to uncover a whole slew of reprimands littering Veda's service record. This hinted at problems with authority, trauma as it was a sudden change in attitude, and potentially other psychological issues. Shepard was advised to find some means of bringing balance to Veda.
Mass Effect
Veda was heavily involved in the fight against the Geth. The Quarians were definitely aware of the excursions the Geth began making out of the Veil, and while the Migrant Fleet did not directly get involved, among several operatives sent to counteract their efforts, was Veda. Veda successfully completed several missions, destroying a Geth outpost, killing an agent of Saren and feeding information to the Citadel, and thus commander Shepard.
He had made himself enough of a nuisance to become the target of several hits by mercenaries and even a unit of Geth, all hired and sent by Saren to dispose of the Quarian. All attempts failed, though the last one injured Veda to the point where he sat out the remainder of the fight to stop Sovereign's ambitions.
After Saren's defeat, the Geth began to withdraw, though skirmishes and raids became for more common from that point onward. Veda continued to be heavily involved in gathering intelligence on the Geth, to the point where he became a regular source of information for the Citadel council, with permission from his own government, of course.
Mass Effect 2
Veda'Shiren was scouted by the Illusive Man for his impressive performance against the Geth over the course of the fight against Saren. A Quarian marine was deemed useful for Shepard's crew because his missions would take him to distant and fringe worlds. Veda was noted for having significant experience in such places, as well as near and in the Terminus Systems.
Veda's knowledge on fighting the Geth, Batarians, pirates and other fringe organizations would complement Shepard's own significantly. On top of that, those same experience also resulted in expansive knowledge of distant colonies, cultures and environments.
The primary concerns were securing Migrant Fleet permission for Veda to attach himself temporarily to Shepard's crew, as well as his mental state. While details eluded Cerberus, they were able to uncover a whole slew of reprimands littering Veda's service record. This hinted at problems with authority, trauma as it was a sudden change in attitude, and potentially other psychological issues. Shepard was advised to find some means of bringing balance to Veda.
- If Veda is recruited by Shepard: Veda would later be located on a world near the Terminus Systems, investigating a Batarian settlement for information on a planned terrorist attack on the Migrant Fleet. Shepard made contact with Veda, but got involved in the former's mission. Eventually, they were able to secure the required knowledge and stop the impending attack. In gratitude, the Migrant Fleet allowed Veda to join Shepard on their mission, despite their scepticism of who was behind Shepard's activities.
At the settlement, Veda had found information on the captain that may have been behind the attack on the Treya and the death of his daughter. He grew even more obsessive and spent a significant amount of time attempting to learn more, despite being stuck on the Normandy. A breakthrough led to an outpost where the captain and a detachment of his crew were staging an assault on a research facility on Noveria in an effort to steal technology and secrets. Veda had the presence of mind to realize he could not stop them alone, and pleaded for Shepard's aid. - If Shepard agrees to help but convinces Veda not to kill the Batarian captain: With the Batarian captain imprisoned and standing trial on the Migrant Fleet, Veda was better able to deal with his grief, realizing revenge might not have been the way to go about it. He became calmer and less abrasive, though became increasingly cynical, believing the sentence given to the captain and those like him would never be severe enough. He was able to focus on the mission to come.
- If Shepard agrees to help and Veda is allowed to kill the Batarian captain: Veda continued to display antisocial behavior and abrasive tendencies, and continued to mourn the loss of his family, perhaps growing even more angry and brash in the process. However, his lust for revenge was gone, and he was able to focus on the mission to come.
- If Shepard argues that there isn't time to go to Noveria: Veda missed his chance for retribution or revenge, creating lasting friction between him and Shepard. His self-destructive and obsessive spiral continued and he was unable to focus on the mission to come.
- Veda accompanied Shepard on the Suicide Mission: The presence of Multicore Shielding on the ship allowed him to survive a direct hit to the Normandy's aft section. He proved to be an excellent choice to command the second infiltration squad, providing cover for the specialist. He also proved to be the best choice to lead the second team posing as a distraction for the Collectors, his unorthodox tactics making them the louder and bigger target. Veda survived the Suicide Mission and watched Shepard decide the fate of the Collector Base.
- Veda is not recruited by Shepard: Veda completed his mission at the Batarian settlement with moderate success. He had found information on the captain that may have been behind the attack on the Treya and the death of his daughter. He grew even more obsessive and spent a significant amount of time attempting to learn more. He proceeded to perform a variety of missions for the Migrant Fleet, one involving his second encounter with the Collectors, which he only barely survived.
Appearance
- Height: 1 meter 78
- Weight: 79kg
- Build: Bulkier and broader than most Quarians, affording him greater endurance and strength than the average; still very lean when compared to males of other species
- Complexion: Light blue
- Eye Color: White
- Hair Color: Dark blue, drawn back into a ponytail
- Other: A few scars, some from old wounds, some from surgical procedures to graft implants into him
A notable amount of additional armor and sturdy weave has been added to his suit, the plating generally hidden underneath cloth and synthetic polymer. As a result, he appears to be somewhat bulkier than his non-combatant peers. His suit also has an expanded sensor suite, more advanced omni-tool integration and additional countermeasures in the event of a breach on the seal of his suit and exposure to harmful atmospheres. While a breach or any notable damage to his suit can still prove fatal for him like it can any other Quarian, he is still significantly better protected than most.
Many Quarians customize their suits to make them a representation of who they are, what their interests are or where they hail from. After all, their suit is the primary way in which they present themselves not simply to each other, but to outsiders as well. Veda has opted to go for custom embroideries on much of the decorative cloth sections of his suit. These decorations consist of aggressive, jagged geometric shapes and symbols representing several virtues he holds in high regard (or at least used to).
The inherent nature of these markings makes it easier for him to appear intimidating when necessary. Furthermore, several parts of the harder, raised sections of his suit display quotes and iconography referring to Quarian military history, both ancient and recent. Lastly, on his chest plate, over his heart, the name of his daughter has been engraved: Mira.
Few people know what Quarians look like underneath their suit, and even among his own people, Veda has only shown his true self to a few individuals. His wife and parents, naturally, but also a lover of two from his past. Beyond that though, no one living knows. Depending on what appearance for Quarian is opted for in a given role play, he will appear as follows:
- Canon: Veda is bulkier than most Quarians, displaying a broad chest, as well as strong biceps and thighs. However, this does not clash too much with the expected sleek and slender body shape of his race. His skin is a light hue of blue, with his eyes being characteristically all-white and narrow. His body displays the same lines as other Quarians, though he also has a number of scars and signs of mechanical implants and alterations. His hair is black and he tends to keep it long and messy. Finally, he has a fairly muscular and toned body, a necessity of his line of work.
- Non-Canon: Of the many fan depictions of Quarian appearances, I've selected my favorite and reference it in the image section (albeit a female face). Veda retains most of the canon characteristics, though instead of hair, he has larger horns than depicted, and equally sharp facial features.
Last edited: