Fantasy The Core of Corruption CS

[Shibe]

Here’s the basic character sheet format, and remember, your character can be any race, gender, sexuality or have any appearance you desire!

Name: (Including any nicknames)

Appearance: (Can be a piece of digital art or realistic, if unable to locate a faceclaim a detailed description will work just fine.)

Gender:

Age:

Powers:

Area of Origin: (Dragon’s Nest, Irish Forest, etc.)

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Weapon(s): (If any)

Backstory: (Only if you wish to reveal.)

Extras: (Anything else you’d like to include about your character, such as likes/dislikes, themes, pets, anything of that sort.)​

 

[WolfSol]

Please excuse the text. Still learning. Used a nobr so the paragraphs wouldn't separate so much because of all the divs used.
Mobile Friendly (except for header and footer graphics, they look ugly on mobile)
Villain was approved by Shibe over PM.

Vaust the Grave - Villain

[div class=tabBox][div class="Tabs tabone"]General

[div class="Tabs tabtwo"]Persona

[div class="Tabs tabthree"]Biography

[div class="Tabs tabfour"]Snippet

[div class="Tabs tabfive"]Vaust[/div][/div][/div][/div]

[div class="tabcontent1"] Vaust the Grave is but a shell of a man, something that once was but no longer isn't. Nothing but a remnant. His soul is dust, his humanity ran dry. Recognizing him a man is out of politeness, out of fear. He's is well-known as being the right-hand man of the priestess of Ishnok, well-known for his lack of soul and lack of mercy, and well-known for his uncanny way of not breathing. He didn't get the title of 'the Grave' for nothing. No, he climbed out of his own to get such a name. It's both a blessing and a curse. A blessing that he's alive, but a curse thanks to his loss of himself and to the mark (tattoo, see Vaust tab for reference) across his left cheek.

[div class="tabcontent2"] A man with little to fear due to the death that clings to him, Vaust is cold and calculating. Yet, in the beginning, it was desperation and vengeance that drove him up from the grave. Something that has passed him by, forgotten just like the eulogy on his tombstone. He's now power hungry, because anything is better than cemeteries. Ambitious, still accompanied by a sense of desperation, perhaps. Vaust prefers the song of a battleaxe or an arrow cutting wind rather than small talk. Actions speak louder than words after all. He's not one to cut jokes, definitely not one to empathize, and blessed with straightforwardness. The only thing that he seems to fear, besides the priestess of Ishnok's rage, are cemeteries and tight spaces.

[div class="tabcontent3"] Vaust cannot remember much of his past life, just bits and pieces that he has long ago begun to ignore. It's not important, not now while he's reveling in so much possibility, so much power. However, he was murdered, killed out of jealousy. He left a wife and child, two of which he hasn't seen in years, not that it matters as he cannot remember them. Only the power of the priestess of Ishnok was able to save him from Hell's depths. It's likely why he's so loyal to the priestess, his first solid memory only being of her as he digs himself out of the dirt. Then again, if he went against her, he'd turn to dust. Especially with the task she'd given him recently, to find this so-called "Vessel of Hope."

[div class="tabcontent4"] This isn't right. This... cold. It's thick, heavy, a burning pressure all around him. It's like he's swimming--or drowning--but there's no up or down. There's no light, no solidity... nothing. It comes to him slowly, recognition that he's encompassed by darkness. It takes a moment longer, numbing seconds as the cold begins to take refuge within his bones, until it clicks. He's dead. The word pierces his skull, sets a sporadic stutter to his heart. Hands lash out, and then the weight becomes heavier, colder. Vaust wants to cry out, scream, curse, but when he opens his mouth, he's met with dar-dirt? That spurs him forward, strikes a fear in the pit of his stomach. It's what his body needed, desperation, and his nails dig and pull into the dirt even when his fingers become nonexistent. Even when his lungs begin to wither, senses failing. Then, it's there. A brisk brush of pure oxygen and a stream of moonlight. His hands uproot from the dirt, cuticles ripped and bleeding. The world is still black, faded. The moon overhead is barely visible, clouded by a layer of what he now recognizes as death itself. Vaust screams as he struggles with all of his might, screaming to the heavens as his hands tangle into the earth and he pulls, pulls, pulls himself from the grave. [/div][div class="tabcontent5"]

[/div][/div][/div][/div]

[div class="tabcontent5"]

AGE: appears 32
GENDER: Male
AREA OF ORIGIN: N/A, was found in the outskirts of Irith Forest
POWER: Ishnok shares a fraction of her power with Vaust, but his control and ability over it is short. It can often harm or fatigue him.
WEAPON: Battleaxe dubbed Rosk and a set of arrows and a bow
SEX.: N/A
OCCUPATION: Bartender
FACE CLAIM: N/A
EYES: Left eye is glazed over, almost over all white, while the right eye is a grayish green
HAIR: Long dark brown hair, bottom of shoulder blade length
HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 5'12", 81kgs
DISLIKES: Hot weather, tight spaces, cemeteries, whiners, bright lights
LIKES: Horses, Cold weather, Priestess Ishnok (not romantically)
STRENGTHS: Close-combat, swimming, accuracy and speed in the use of a bow and arrow, hunting/tracking
WEAKNESSES: Claustrophobia, hot weather (can cause fatigue, tries to wear an enchanted cloak during hot weather but isn't always enough), lack of empathy

[/div]

I felt comfort in my suffering and . . .
Uncertainty and happiness in death

[/div][/div]

code by WolfSol, inspired by Ri.a

[class=tabBox] width:auto; height:auto; [/class] [class=Tabs] display:inline-block; color:white; background:#491916; padding:0.5em; transition:all 1s ease-in; [/class] [class=tabSelect] color:black!important; background:#fff!important; [/class] [script class=none] removeClass tabSelect Tabs addClass tabSelect tabone hide tabcontent2 hide tabcontent3 hide tabcontent4 hide tabcontent5 [/script] [script class=tabone on=click] removeClass tabSelect Tabs addClass tabSelect tabone fadeIn 1000 tabcontent1 hide tabcontent2 hide tabcontent3 hide tabcontent4 hide tabcontent5 [/script] [script class=tabtwo on=click] removeClass tabSelect Tabs addClass tabSelect tabtwo fadeIn 1000 tabcontent2 hide tabcontent1 hide tabcontent3 hide tabcontent4 hide tabcontent5 [/script] [script class=tabthree on=click] removeClass tabSelect Tabs addClass tabSelect tabthree fadeIn 1000 tabcontent3 hide tabcontent2 hide tabcontent1 hide tabcontent4 hide tabcontent5 [/script] [script class=tabfour on=click] removeClass tabSelect Tabs addClass tabSelect tabfour fadeIn 1000 tabcontent4 hide tabcontent2 hide tabcontent1 hide tabcontent3 hide tabcontent5 [/script] [script class=tabfive on=click] removeClass tabSelect Tabs addClass tabSelect tabfive fadeIn 1000 tabcontent5 hide tabcontent2 hide tabcontent1 hide tabcontent4 hide tabcontent3 [/script]

Spoiler: Text of CS

General:
Vaust the Grave is but a shell of a man, something that once was but no longer isn't. Nothing but a remnant. His soul is dust, his humanity ran dry. Recognizing him a man is out of politeness, out of fear. He's is well-known as being the right-hand man of the priestess of Ishnok, well-known for his lack of soul and lack of mercy, and well-known for his uncanny way of not breathing. He didn't get the title of 'the Grave' for nothing. No, he climbed out of his own to get such a name. It's both a blessing and a curse. A blessing that he's alive, but a curse thanks to his loss of himself and to the mark (tattoo, see Vaust tab for reference) across his left cheek.

Personality:
A man with little to fear due to the death that clings to him, Vaust is cold and calculating. Yet, in the beginning, it was desperation and vengeance that drove him up from the grave. Something that has passed him by, forgotten just like the eulogy on his tombstone. He's now power hungry, because anything is better than cemeteries. Ambitious, still accompanied by a sense of desperation, perhaps. Vaust prefers the song of a battleaxe or an arrow cutting wind rather than small talk. Actions speak louder than words after all. He's not one to cut jokes, definitely not one to empathize, and blessed with straightforwardness. The only thing that he seems to fear, besides the priestess of Ishnok's rage, are cemeteries and tight spaces.

Biography:
Vaust cannot remember much of his past life, just bits and pieces that he has long ago begun to ignore. It's not important, not now while he's reveling in so much possibility, so much power. However, he was murdered, killed out of jealousy. He left a wife and child, two of which he hasn't seen in years, not that it matters as he cannot remember them. Only the power of the priestess of Ishnok was able to save him from Hell's depths. It's likely why he's so loyal to the priestess, his first solid memory only being of her as he digs himself out of the dirt. Then again, if he went against her, he'd turn to dust. Especially with the task she'd given him recently, to find this so-called "Vessel of Hope."

Writing Snippet:
This isn't right. This... cold. It's thick, heavy, a burning pressure all around him. It's like he's swimming--or drowning--but there's no up or down. There's no light, no solidity... nothing. It comes to him slowly, recognition that he's encompassed by darkness. It takes a moment longer, numbing seconds as the cold begins to take refuge within his bones, until it clicks. He's dead. The word pierces his skull, sets a sporadic stutter to his heart. Hands lash out, and then the weight becomes heavier, colder. Vaust wants to cry out, scream, curse, but when he opens his mouth, he's met with dar-dirt? That spurs him forward, strikes a fear in the pit of his stomach. It's what his body needed, desperation, and his nails dig and pull into the dirt even when his fingers become nonexistent. Even when his lungs begin to wither, senses failing. Then, it's there. A brisk brush of pure oxygen and a stream of moonlight. His hands uproot from the dirt, cuticles ripped and bleeding. The world is still black, faded. The moon overhead is barely visible, clouded by a layer of what he now recognizes as death itself. Vaust screams as he struggles with all of his might, screaming to the heavens as his hands tangle into the earth and he pulls, pulls, pulls himself from the grave.

Basic Info on Vaust:

AGE: appears 32
GENDER: Male
AREA OF ORIGIN: N/A, was found in the outskirts of Irith Forest
POWER: Ishnok shares a fraction of her power with Vaust, but his control and ability over it is short. It can often harm or fatigue him.
WEAPON: Battleaxe dubbed Rosk and a set of arrows and a bow
SEX.: N/A
OCCUPATION: Bartender
FACE CLAIM: N/A
EYES: Left eye is glazed over, almost over all white, while the right eye is a grayish green
HAIR: Long dark brown hair, bottom of shoulder blade length
HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 5'12", 81kgs
DISLIKES: Hot weather, tight spaces, cemeteries, whiners, bright lights
LIKES: Horses, Cold weather, Priestess Ishnok (not romantically)
STRENGTHS: Close-combat, swimming, accuracy and speed in the use of a bow and arrow, hunting/tracking
WEAKNESSES: Claustrophobia, hot weather (can cause fatigue, tries to wear an enchanted cloak during hot weather but isn't always enough), lack of empathy

 

[AI10100]

Hm? Ah yes, a little bird told me of your actions. Are you prepared to take responsibility for your actions? Eliana

​

Basic

Name: Eliana Fausters

Nickname: Guardian of the Irith Forest; Priestess of Lo

Gender: Female

Age: 164 | looks to be 24

Race: Elf

Sexuality: Biromantic Asexual

Area of Origin: Irith Forest

Physiological/Psychological

Appearance: An enchanting beauty of the forest, Eliana has been known to turn heads whenever she does appear outside of her house. Long, dark brown hair that cascades down to the middle of her back - imitating the waves of the sea - and is often held by an ornament with a gem that matched the lime green color of her eyes. Expressive yet guarded, the window to her soul has been muddled through years of conflicts that she has lived through. Her skin is immaculately pale and free from any blemishes which she thanks the many inhabitants of the forest as they are responsible for turning her back to what she had looked like before.

Personality: Had you known Eliana before, you would be looking at a stranger - a husk of what she once was. Rarely angry though rarely happy as well, Eliana has long since shed the troublesome thing called 'emotion'. She may smile or frown but there's no genuine feeling in it, as if the feeling is so fleeting that it disappears so quickly. Pained through years of the feeling of betrayal, she has found it to be detrimental to her health and decided to lock it all up - never to be opened again and yet she often finds herself fighting against feeling again. She has become a woman driven by cold logic that can be swayed with the right argument. However, you could call her as 'caring' due to the side of her that seems thoughtful of those around her, often making decisions that would benefit the most amount of people. To her, this was simply her duty. It was her duty to protect others - and her homeland. This was the reason why she was still alive, no? This was the duty given to her by the Goddess Vern, no?

However, she does have one feeling that seems to escape the locked chest in her heart - the feeling of vengeance. If one has pressed the right buttons, she makes it her duty to track down the source of her frustrations and to bring swift vengeance.

Personality Traits:

+ Calm
+ Reasonable
+ Thoughtful

- Vengeful if pressed
- Secretive
- Distrustful

Likes:
+ Animals
+ Nature
+ Forests
+ Irith Forest and its inhabitants
+ Familiars
+ Reading

Dislikes:
- Thieves
- Carelessness
- Too much noise
- Extreme temperatures
- Enemies of the forest

Backstory

"In another world, we would still be together."
​

It is hard, if not impossible, to coax her past out of her. Eliana keeps it close to her heart and does not let it go, but for what? In fear of being judged for it? No, she knows that that was not the case. She's afraid that telling it would make her forget - would make her shed the tears she spent years fighting. Indeed, Eliana does not want let go of her memories, nor does she wish to move on from her past because it is a part of her. These are the only things that reminds her of the time of peace that was long past... even at the cost of the feeling of betrayal festering in her heart.

Young but not foolish, Eliana knows what she must do from a young age. She was not given a chance to be the child she was, molded to be the priestess that she is. She grew up with nature at her immediate surrounding and learned. She absorbed what the feeling of the forest was. Trained. Molded. She was the Priestess of Lo - she must know her duty. But she was a child and she escaped and she ran, but she always returned, because no matter what she was still a product of the Goddess Vern. Duty was drilled in her mind, but after her tenth escape, she was allowed to have some form of fun just to stop her from being so reckless.

She grew into her role. She was compassionate, kind and did her job well. She was beloved by the people. Years were spent serving but Eliana had always been an adventurous soul. She often broke away from her land for a few days, leaving some of her assistants to hold the fort, and went to the other domains when she could. She had met with the other priests and priestesses - sometimes scolded because of her irresponsibility of leaving the land - and befriended them as best as she can.

She had even befriended the Aryad, the Priestess of Ishnok, enjoying her presence more than anything in the world. Her intelligence and her wit had captured Eliana's interest at once and she always felt giddy to see her. Maybe there was something more in their relationship as time passed by. Something more potent and intimate. Their ever increasing meetings, secret rendezvouses in the hidden portions of their lands, knowing smiles exchanged - Eliana did not know what to make of it but it was not simply friendship, now was it? Maybe she was imagining it, but there was always that spark and the uncertainty that came with it. Yet every second with her was intoxicating. Dangerous. Unforgettable.

Perhaps if she had not blinded herself so much, she could have seen the change - she could have picked it up. She could have maybe stopped it. Because the next thing she knew, she had received a large number of refugees from the City of Kirx, humans seeking a place of shelter. Eliana had questioned them, had something happened to their priestess? No, what happened was their priestess. Hearing such vile things, Eliana was quick to investigate. Her heart and her will was completely destroyed by the person before her - an offer to join. An offer she turned down. She was not her.

"I͙͈̪̗̝͕̿͒̑ ̖l͚ͬ̌̎o̤̩̞v̙͍̝̲̥͚̗̏ͣe̠̖̼͓̖̰̙ͪͨͯ̍d̲̜̘̣̯̯̣ͨ̂̄͗ ̜͙͓͚̞͖ͩ̒̇̆ͭͯh̲͖͚̖̋͂̽ͮͥe̜͔̖̥̩̟̮͋̿̌̌ͩrͮͤ."​

Eliana fled and she locked everything up. Never again. She cannot hurt that much ever again. No. Never. Her feelings were what blinded her in the first place - so that meant she just had to not feel again, right? That way people would be protected. That way she could sense something was wrong before it happens. That way she could help those that needs it. And maybe she could bring her back. Eliana protected the refugees that wormed their way to her domain but did nothing else. When the Goddess had given their order, she complied even if it meant facing her again - maybe even watching her die. All she needs is to lock everything up.

C̲̦͓ͦ̐͊̌̄̃̆͘a̭͆̍ṉ͎̀ ̷̞̹̠̳̲ͣy͕͚ͦ͛ͯo̻̜̣̥̩͖̰̒͗u͙̎ ̻̩͓̟̠̱̿ͦ͛ͧ̑͒ͩr̼̝̟͈̗̼͒ͧͧ̀ͅe̸̬̩͕̺̟͎͍ͣ̈́́͒͐̀ͮâ̠͚̥̳̂̔l̹͓͚̗ͬ́̃̏̚͘l̰̝͉͙̥̺̐̌̌̐̀̕ͅy̪͈͇̤̺̙̼̑ͭͣͯ ͇̣̬̗͐͐͋͌͊͑ͧh̫̼̮̤̱͊a̙͉̣͔̞̓̇n̘̝͙͍̱̼̼ͥ͋͟dl͓̎̍e͎̻ ͔̞͍̺̙t̬͖̙̩̯̭h̳̝͉̞̻̄͂̒ͣ͢eͭ͒̊ ̾̀̔̿̚p̸ͨ͊͊͋̊a̺̬ͩ͋́̈̔̓̽͠ḯ̴̪͙͋̓̉ͬ͐̃n̈́ͧ͏̙͚?̘͚̤̪͙̫̍͛̓̽ͥ​

Combat

Powers: [Priestess of Lo and the powers that come with it]

Summoning - As the Priestess of Lo, she has the power to summon or conjure familiars to her side. Spirits that have long since passed and entered the other world only to be called down through contracts to serve their mistress. They often take on corporeal forms that make it indiscernible from the real deal. She can absorb the memories of the spirits that she has summoned - allowing them to be excellent spies.

Languages - Eliana is able to understand any language that she encounters - an automatic translation in her mind. This was a given power so that she may be able to travel and aid others without hindrance.

Strengths and Weaknesses:

+ She has good survival instincts and the reaction time to back it up.
+ Proficient in Long-Range Combat
+ Intelligence Gathering
+ Multi-Tasking master

- Close Combat
- Limited summons depending on size
- Mostly dependent on familiars
- Suppresses problems to only herself

Weapon: Bow and Arrows, Staff

​

Extra

Pets: Despite having a wide array of familiars, she does have one pet - a large dire wolf that is loyal to her after she had raised it from when it was simply just an abandoned cub. His name is Garuda.

 

[A Little Cloud]

"Always deliver more than expected."

Name: Cordelia Burn

Nickname: Lady of The Great Waste

Faceclaim: Claire Estabrook

Gender: Female

Age: 27

Powers: N/A

Area of Origin: City of Kirx, but she ran away when fleeing her parents.

Strengths and Weaknesses:

S
~Extremely loyal
~Hardworking
~Can aim correctly without looking

W
~Scared of the dark
~Distrustful
~Refuses to talk about her problems

Weapon(s): Twin daggers

Backstory: Will be revealed bit by bit in the roleplay

Extras:

 

[Slav]

Name:
Uzrus Raedon or called Uzrus the Mischievous by some.

Appearance:

Spoiler: Appearance

Gender:
Male

Age:
300

Powers:
Being a Yiani Fire Elemental, he has the power to control fire though he slowly gets drained of his energy, using it over long time periods can cause extreme fatigue.


Area of Origin:
Dragon's Nest

Personality:
Uzrus tries to act like a calm and collected person, in reality, he's constantly paranoid and worried about a lot of issues, even the smallest problem that may arise can cause him to panic. His meditating is an attempt to overcome the issue but it does little to help with the stress. Uzrus is quite intelligent, having studied and read many books to expand his knowledge. His intelligence causes him to get arrogant at times. He overestimates his abilities a lot and makes a fool of himself, showing what a mess he really is. On a better note, one great quality Uzrus has is his unwavering passion for completing a goal. He works hard and diligently for what he cares for and that truly is his best quality. That and his loyalty to people he considers friends. If you do become friends with him, watch out for his tricks because he has a tendency to mess with his friends but it's all in good faith.

Strengths and Weaknesses:
Strengths
Has good control over his power
Intelligence
Strong Build
Heat Resistance(Obviously)
Has a knack for Strategy
Weaknesses
Weak against water elementals
His anger
Arrogance
His power is useless in water environments
Doesn't work well with leaders

Weapon(s):
His staff and a dagger

Backstory:
Will be revealed bit by bit throughout the rp

Extras:
Likes
Fire
Reading
Meditating
Blacksmithing
Learning
Dislikes
Being surrounded by water
People trespassing in the Dragon's Nest
Being inactive
Being seen as weak

 

[Shibe]

Name
Ristalu of Lune, Great Healer, Ristalu

Appearance

Spoiler

Ristalu is a siren, but is considered to be semi-aquatic and even has a pair of legs. Sirens have symbiotic relationships with the sea creatures around them, often attaching to sirens to form ‘clothing like articles’. Ristalu’s skin is a light cyan, having white hair. His face is in a sharp diamond shape, with thin lips and eyes with jade iris’s, the sclera being a bright fuschia. He is considered to be quite tall, around 6’4. But this is the norm for his species. Ristalu has dark fuschia freckles on the bridge of his nose, shoulders, and back that glow in the dark. Colorful corals and vegetation grow along his skin, providing flashing outfits and protection from the outside. His kind is considered to be carnivores, and their mouths are lined with razor sharp teeth.

Gender
Male

Age
257

Powers
Heria, Ristalu is able to heal surface and internal wounds through the use of water. If liquid is present then he can easily mend flesh. Bones are much more difficult for him to repair though.

Personality
Ristalu is overwhelmingly empathetic, and can reflect the emotions of those around him. Which can cause great distress to him. He is known for being kind and gentle, having a love for helping others. Instead of looking down upon his position as a priest, he gratefully accepted it and continues his service with pride. Ristalu is usually cheerful and enjoys supporting others, mostly since he rarely received support when he was much younger. Occasionally he does get down due to feelings of loneliness.

Strengths and Weaknesses
+ Can heal flesh wounds in a matter of seconds
+Always sees the positive side, even to tragedies
+Supporting and willing to listen to others and their ideas.
+Can walk upon land and swim in water

-Over sensitive
-Easily manipulated
-Can’t stay out of water over 48 hours
-Can’t stand extremely hot climates

Weapon
A silver trident, intricately decorated with siren craftmanship stones harvested from the sea.

Backstory
To be revealed later on!​

 

[WolfSol]

Vessel of Hope

ＳＰＥＲＯ ＷＩＮＣＨＥＳ

'We know what we are, but not what we may be,

About

[ Age ] 29
[ Gender ] Female
[ Power ] N/A
[ Weapons ] Beginner Archer with her mother's bow
View attachment 560657
Spero stands at a lanky 5'7" with long, cascading hair of black, tanned skin, and dark, almond eyes.​

Biography

Spero hails from a family of merchants with dwindling finances, her mother having left her at an early age. Despite her mother having left her, Spero still holds adoration for her mother. She keeps her mother's bow close to her at all times, but due to her livelihood, she is not able to master archery. She looks after her brother of twelve years, Fallon, and learns the trade from her father, Rans. With the family legacy being that of a merchant, the Winches family is often on the move. They drift from one town to the next, never stopping and never pausing enough to call a place home. It can make relationships difficult, but Spero has grown accustomed to such a life, despite her father's wishes for her to find a husband and continue the family trade.

She has little knowledge of the events surrounding the usurper, the Priestess of Ishnok, but whenever the priestess is mentioned, Spero feels a slight pain in her temple. Something tells her that the words from her customers, from fellow merchants, from anyone, are important and she should know them. Yet, she only knows bits and pieces. Regardless, the name of the priestess is painful, and it hurts to even speak the vile witch's name. There's that, and then there's the dreams. Dreams that make sleep difficult at times. She knows their nightmares, but when she wakes up, she forgets most of it. Yet she has a feeling that the dreams are growing more vivid, more in-depth, and she's starting to remember more than she ever could before.

Persona

She's hardheaded and hard working, like her father. It runs in her blood, determination and dedication to get the job done. It's a necessity, because without hard work then there is no money, no food on the table. Family is important to her, it's as important as breathing, and it takes top priority no matter what. Family and the family trade often make it difficult to think of anything else, and she often slips into a one-track mind. It makes things less stressful that way because stress is her middle name.

​

code by WolfSol

 

[LindsMagee]

-WIP-
Lady of Irish Forest​