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Fantasy (CS) JOURNEY THROUGH SUNBALLE

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Wayne

Local writer
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THE CHARACTER SHEET

Hello everyone! This will be the character sheet page, I have been working on a simple model that you guys can follow if you wish to do so, note that not everything has to be super detailed! I'm setting up my character as more of an example so that you can try to do something similar, also note that you aren't required to do any crazy coding since I myself have no idea how to do that, everything that has been added to the character sheet can be easily accessed at the RPN BBCODE GUIDE!

You should read the LORE page to get important information about the roleplay before actually sending a character!

My character isn't finished but I wanted to get this out so you guys can use it as a base model, magic isn't finished yet but there will be only three elements available for the time being, crystal sorceries, hexes and pyromancy and each will be explained in a new Magic post.


CALADAN RUSTIN


  • 45d316cb270c8ae7619f10cfc50d4231.jpg Name: Caladan Rustin
    Nickname: Rust
    Age: 25

    Eyes: Light Blue
    Hair: Black
    Height: 195cm || 6'4 ft
    Weight: 102Kg || 224 Lbs
    Nationality: Redfell
    Race: Human

    Notable features: Rust wears a very unique set of armor that seems to have been created by himself, the moon mask is made of some kind of metal, carefully painted at the best of his abilities, the blue hood that covers his face and goes down into a cape is full of small stars that were patched onto it, the whole set seems to be made by someone with no knowledge about tailoring or blacksmithing, with the chain armor being the only thing he actually bought from a proper blacksmith.

    Occupation: Mercenary

    Magic: Non-user
    Weapon: Rust wields a greatsword that seems to big to be properly held.

    Voice: [To be added]
    Theme: [To be added]

    FC Artist: Azuremeraki

 
THEODORE AUCLAIR.
Personality: Passionate, witty, and dedicated—with a zest for life that can't be tempered or ignored—Theo is a free spirit with noble intentions. He carries himself in a way that allows him to oscillate between charming and standoffish at a moment's notice. Which makes it tough to get to know him beyond his professional exterior. Yet under the veneer of gruff, brooding, (sometimes) irritability is a man who treats the sick because he cares deeply about Ivryll's inhabitants and their well-being. It just so happens that his patients sometimes get on his nerves.

Theodore never seems satisfied with what he already knows. Knowledge, to him, is more powerful than magic. As such, he is highly attracted to mysteries, puzzles, and secrets. His curiosity about both magic and medicine combined with his will to learn at no matter the cost...will only end in tragedy.


Name: Theodore Auclair

Nickname(s): Theo, Teddy, Ted

Gender: Male

Age: 65 Appears to be around 30

Race: Elf/Human

Nationality: Westmount (previously Arasson)

Notable features: A thin but prominent scar cuts across the right side of his face--reaching from the bottom of his lips to the corner of his right eye. Theo has a white streak in his hair that grows each time he casts a spell.

Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Black + White
Height: 5'10" || 177.8cm
Weight: 155Lbs || 70.3Kg

FC Artist: planarbindings

Theme: Black Sabbath - Solitude


Occupation: Merchant (sometimes Doctor)

Skills: Persuasion/Haggling, field medicine, hand-to-hand combat, strategy, and crystal sorceries

Magic: User

Weapon: Red crystal spear

Backstory:
Theodore Auclair was the result of a passionate and short-lived romance between a human whose occupation frequently brought her to Arasson and an elf whose life was dedicated in service to Queen Elana Alvenhouse. Theodore's earliest years alive were shrouded in secrecy and paranoia. Until one fateful night when his lineage was discovered. He doesn't remember much after that night.
In his dreams sometimes he sees flashes of a child crying, of flames, screams, the feeling of choking on smoke...and his mother guiding him to safety. Before she, too, was consumed by the flames. Her screams always woke him.

Being an orphan and a refugee during a time when war plagued the region, it was extremely lucky that Theodore made it to Westmount in one piece. It was even luckier that he was adopted by a merchant family who had ties to his mother. The Auclair's had enough resources to give him a comfortable life and provide him with both a magical and medical education. They raised Theo alongside their birth son, Thomas, and taught them both the family trade.

By the time he was 18, the civil war between Westmount and Arasson had escalated to full military excursions. Thomas, thirsting for the heroics of battle, was the first to volunteer. It was out of loyalty and brotherly concern that Theodore spontaneously joined him. They served side-by-side in Westmount's makeshift guerilla army for five years. But it all ended abruptly.
One moment they were holding their own and then they weren't. The enemy had broken through their defenses. Half their squad was dead or critically wounded. Including Thomas and Theo who did his best to keep them both alive. But, his best wasn't enough.

The barrier spell Theo cast to protect his brother and his friends cost him a decade off his life.
Tommy and his friends still died.
By morning, Theodore was the sole survivor.

He spent the several years as a bitter, self-loathing, basket-case who gradually became grumpier with time. Although Theo's dedication to healing the sick and injured has never waned, his obsession with the mysteries of magic is a relatively recent development. As such, Theo saw the expedition to Sunballe as not only the perfect opportunity to make coin and gather rare herbs for his clinic, but as a chance to get away and discover something new.

code by low fidelity.
 
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In my head I do Everything Right...

"Pookie" -Puukira Krimdaga - 'The Gunner'

Gunder3.jpg


'Boomer', Callsign: GunFire, Pooks

She/Her ○ 43yrs (looks Mid 20's) ○ 5'2" ○ 130lbs ○ Green Hair ○ Green Eyes ○ Light Brown Skin ○ Sturdy, Muscular build
Elf/Dwarf ○ Spec Ops / Big Game Hunter ○ Weaponry: Big, loud, black power armaments

This is Pookie...


~Looks:


Gunder.jpg


Puukira is a short but very sturdy and muscular woman. She is constantly braiding her green hair in different styles and looks. When she is feeling homesick she will embed flowers or feathers in her hair. Of note are the tribal tattoos on her cheeks and body. The other things to note are the magic plate on the side of her head and the living wood crystal holder upon her forehead. Other than that most know her for her facial expressions. When on a mission, her face is stern, serious and her green eyes are cold and seemingly devoid of emotion. When not on a mission, she is constantly smiling, laughing and flirting, green eyes lit up and sparkling like gems.

Even her garb is completely opposite. When on a mission, she is heavily armoured and armed to the teeth. When not on a mission, she is wearing bright skirts with revealing tops and constantly dancing around. Her third option is when she goes hunting. Here she goes back to her roots to respect the land and her prey. Despite hunting with big stinky gunpowder booming weaponry, she still dresses in her traditional hunting garb and gear proper as a child of a shaman should.


~Acts:


+ | Loud, Fun-loving, Loveable
+ | Team player, Elite Craftsmanship, Driven

+ | Very Perceptive, Studious, Driven, Highly Skilled
+ | Daring, Athletic, Dances Alot

{When on a mission, she is basically a machine only following directives and completing objectives}



- | Flirty, Fools Around too much, Impatient
- | Hates Laziness, Craftsmanship snob, Workaholic
- | Know-it-All in Gunnery, Obsessive, "Don't Touch My STUFF!!"
- | Daring, Cannot sit still, Jump scare prankster.

{When on a mission, her compassion leaves her and she is ready to kill or be killed in a heartbeat}



~Bio:


○ | Puukira was an unwanted foundling; her birth a casualty of war. She was half Elf and Half Dwarf. And neither wanted her.
○ | In a case of setting a baby in a basket upon the river to the whims of Fate, it was Fate that deemed her worthy to live and she was found caught in the reeds by a hermit.

○ | It turned out the hermit was a shaman and renowned hunter in the forests bordering Frelent. Whisper was the half human half elf hermit.
○ | Whisper raised Puukira as her own teaching the girl the Way of the Spiritual Hunter. And the girl, despite her height challenges, remained driven and became quite the hunter. Yes, she still practice shamanism, but hunting heated her life's blood.
○ | But through shamanism, did Puukira learn her Way of Fire; the girl was Pyromantic. Although Whisper tried and tried again to let the young lady flourish with her natural magics, Pookie resisted for she felt fear when the fire flowed from her and did not stop. Whisper tried and tried again to teach her to control the flow. But it wasn't enough.
○ | In fact, it was more than not enough. It was fatal. Pookie burned down their house. With Whisper inside. The fire blazed on around her catching the forest alight. But the girl just sat there palm on her forehead, debating whether or not to rip the crystal out of her forehead.
○ | Barely alive, she had suffered from bad smoke inhalation when the Dwarves found her. And for her troubles, she was tossed into a forging facility to work off the damage she had caused the woods and the death of her... of her Mom.
○ | But being a sturdy and strong girl, she excelled in the facility. And she was taught how to craft weapons; firearms. And from there she was taught about black powder and how to make things go boom. Pookie took to the guns and one day the Master Gunner saw her shooting to test out a gun and was very, very impressed by her skills.
○ | She nicknamed Pookie "Boomer" and took the green haired girl under her wing and taught the girl how to be a good lil' soldier. And of course she excelled. Until the day of the accident. There was an explosion and it caved Pookie's skull in.
○ | The Master Gunner felt she had no choice and brought Pookie to a fringe society to see if they could save her. And they did. The plate on the side of her head was unnatural as if was magnificent; it kept her alive.
○ | And so to repay them, Pookie became "GunFire", an off-the-books type of soldier that worked with a team of bad people that did bad things off the record no questions asked. That was her life of duality up until she fell in love.
○ | Her name was Marquee. And a loverly skilled and sexy genius was she. Pookie requested to be on the airship of the engineer and the Master Gunner pulled some strings to get Puukira aboard. Perhaps it was the biggest error of her life. Marquee was off working on another airship when Pookie and the others launched and soared far and away,


Weapons:

○ | Twin Flintlock Pistols
○ | Blunderbuss

○ | 2 single fire rifled muskets
○ | 6 steel embedded ceramic grenades
○ | 6 smoke bombs
○ | Big, big assed hunting knife.


Magic:

○ | Powered by a Blue crystal in her forehead, she may cast Pyromantic magics. She knows the devastating cost of using such magic in drastic measures so she makes sure to only make use of her magic for mundane things such as lighting her forge, fuses, pipe or welding her weaponry. She will also make fires for general purposes such as heat or light. If she were to try to use her pyromancy for wartime or combat reasons, she would be greatly outmatched or just a very, very real danger to cause friendly casualties since she does not practice combat fire making at all. It is the fear of injuring or immolating her allies or friends that keeps her from such offensive uses.

Pookie has never told anyone the real reason she never learns how to wield her magic as greatly as she can craft guns. The poor thing has never forgiven herself for burning down her childhood house with her adoptive and loving mother inside it. And she feels she never ever will.

○ | Powered by a rare Red (and well hidden) crystal is the plate on the side of her head. After a devastating explosion caved in her skull, she was spared when she was brought before a cabal of arcane Outsider practioners, The Fusionists, These were the shady individuals that mixed tech and magic. Despite radically fringe and untested, it was the best of both Dwarven ingenuity and Elven magic. The magical reconstruction was experimental by all measures but it worked. And so if the plate on the side of her head were to ever lose power or be removed she would be instantly killed. And so Pookie being forever grateful, she became their black-operations agent in the field to blow thing up and take out targets with extreme force.

A major benefit to having the plate is that despite it draining her life force, all her senses have become supernaturally heightened. She even has a 'sixth sense' now and reacts to danger in less than a heartbeat.


 

Name: Zefram Bebelo (de Laclos)
Nickname: Zef, Bebel, Bell etc.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Black
Height: 5ʼ8”
Weight: ~150 lb
Nationality:
Race:
Human
Occupation: Mercenary (reluctantly), assassin (reluctantly), bodyguard etc., but mostly a professional slacker
Nationality: Frelent
Magic: N/A
Weapon: A long saber, sort of like a shamshir; a shortsword for pokey business; he can also use bows and crossbows, but not very well!
Armor: Only armor of note he has, aside from the standard (gambeson, leather padding, sabatons etc.) is a plate cuirass

Appearance: He is a relatively lean guy, fair skin (tanning from exposure however) and dark hair that he typically wears long, tying it into a tail whenever he has got work to do. His features are somewhat aquiline, beaky: a slightly droopy nose, with an arched bridge; prominent cheekbones, and a little hollowing under the eyes and cheeks (which he attributes to stress); and sharp, narrow jawline, with a complementary (and scruffy) goatee. His thin lips are usually pursed tight, or drawn into a smirk, but he has a toothy smile. His body has a little definition (from hours of “work”) but for the most part he is average. Aside from that, he likes to dress well whenever he has the opportunity and fiscal means.

Personality: To the naked glance, he is the very personification of calm, cool, collected: the three Cs that are really important to his special line of “work,” and while he is liable to play the straight-man every once in a while, he is also prone to a little hot-headedness and passion. His detachment is almost always only a product of his cynicism (necessary, he would argue, for his line of “work”) and prudence. He is open to the idea of wise-cracking, joking around or just being a goof, if the situation permits; and simultaneously, if the circumstances call for it, he is just as well open to brooding, moping, whining etc. In a nutshell: a mercurial personality, but tempered by some experience, awareness and a little tact.

His bread-and-butter trade often involving killing—“work” as he calls it—, Zeframʼs morals are very ambiguous, to say the least. On the one hand, he has certain principles and boundaries: never kill children, no participation in mass murder, donʼt kill a person in the privacy of their own home (for politenessʼ sake!) etc., so on and so forth. But aside from the “simples” he has little absolute moral principles: most of them he decides and chooses on a prima facie basis, as suits his pragmatic nature (and capacity for rationalization!). Again, owing to his relatively young age and ex-spoiled brat status, he hasnʼt had much time to really contend with how he feels about the world and himself, so he remains a deeply conflicted individual in many respects.

Further Characteristics:
  • Not a very hard-working person; thinks the very notion of working hard, or treating labor as a virtue, is a sham meant for peasants
  • But also a studious person, owing to his academic background
  • Not prone to acts of heroism, which alternatively can be construed as a mild case of cowardice
  • But he is willing to put his life on the line for something he is deeply committed to, which just so happens to not be his “work”
  • Can be a very slothful kind of person, especially when he is frustrated
  • While he can be prudent and tactful around people, around those he knows best he can be prone to casual insults and the like
  • Despite his slothful tendencies, he still has an appreciation for “adventures,” particularly ones that involve a little less threat of Personal Bodily Harm™
Backstory: Zefram was born the third son in a recently titled family—baronet, specifically—though, owing to his fatherʼs mercantile background, they were decadently rich. Being the third son had its complications though: the first son is the heir, and therefore either the most prized son or the most burdened son; the second is a potential replacement for the first, in the event of an accident; the third is typically seen as a “waste product” of the whole filial cycle. That, however, freed him of certain behavorial limitations often attached to his elder siblings; and being the youngest had the perk of also being the most spoiled by his mother.

As a result, his obligations were minimal at best: he was entered into the Frelent Academy, sure, but aside from that he was free to pursue whatever. Being more hot-headed in his youth, he was given free license to engage in violence and (his favorite) sword fighting, which together translated into a propensity for dueling, and dueling often. He was known for it too, having studied under an accomplished master, Trelayne, in the style of sabers and rapiers. Compounding with a preference for drink, poetry and martial attitudes, he made for a very typical student.

Or he would have been, had his family lived elsewhere. In, say, the more human-based regions of the world. From a young age, he often had to deal with (unavoidable) discrimination, being at times the only human in otherwise dwarven circles and peer-groups. This did not affect him too badly, emotionally speaking, but he would grow to develop a very—say—“humans-first” approach to interracial relations. His strong belief in humanity would also translate to a certain contempt, though not too strong, for other races.

When he was approaching the age of ~20, he had the misfortune of finding himself at odds with the first son of a duchal family—and one that had a great presence in the nobilityʼs estate in the council—and, him being impatient and eager to fight back, led to a duel. A duel with a very unfortunate outcome. By an accident, and by the fact that they fought with sharp steel (rather than blunt swords or steel wrapped in canvas or the like), Zefram managed to kill Oderlos—that first son—and, at the same time, he secured his (pretty terrible) future. He was disowned by his family and forced to flee, at the risk of being killed in revenge by Oderlosʼ family, which led him eventually to put his skills in fencing and sword fighting to “work,” touring the restless regions within, and between, Grelmand and Redfell and any other place where there was a need for swords. And there was plenty of that specific need to go around.

Since then, he has had a lot of scraps with authorities, princes and other figures of power (crime lords, war lords, all kinds of lords). Seeing that the threat of Personal Bodily Harm™ was becoming more and more present, he decided to sign up on the new air ships, with the hopes that time spent away from the “old continent” might alleviate some of the heat.

Wayne Wayne

 

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