Welcome to Gaia! ::

Don't critique me too much, I'm really only a beginner...

Name: Larkallia Black

Species: Human, but has grown wings because of an occurence when she was ten years old.

Appearance: Small, with freckles and curly, gold-tawny, unmanageable hair. She has stormy blue/gray/green eyes with hazel flecks that change colour, and wears a bandanna in her hair.

Personality: Shy around those she doesn't know, but humourous and happy around her friends and family.

History: She and her twin brother, Cory, were born in Canada and moved to an Apache reservation when she was two, where her little brother, Fenno, was born. She ran wild with the Apaches, and would often spend nights outside with Cory, whom she was very close to. When she was ten, a stoned Apache charged into her house, swinging an axe. Her mother ran to get a knife from the kitchen, but the Apache swung his axe over her head and decapitated her. Blind with grief and rage, Larkallia ran at the man, without thinking of consequences, and he smashed the cupboard where her father, a scientist, kept his chemicals. The mixture of toxins cascaded down upon her, and everything went black.
She woke up fourteen days later, dizzy and weak, with her father bending over her, wan and pale from lack of sleep. Her brothers and father had survived with minor injuries, and her mother had died, but had no funeral, for monetary reasons. They buried her in the backyard, and planted a beautiful spruce over kher grave. Larkallia's father couldn't bear to stay there, and moved them all to Boulder, Colorado, a hippie treehugger town.
By the time Larkallia was thirteen, she had become a hippie. She was in love with the Beatles, wore legions of hippie jewelry, walked barefoot, and spoke out for peace.
On the late spring's night of Larkallia's fourteenth birthday, she woke up, her back torturing her. She writhed in her bed, twisting the sheets around herself like venemous vipers. When, after what seemed like an eternity of pain, the hurting ended, she felt her back, she could feel two small nubs of bone directly between her shoulder blades. She told herself she was dreaming, and went back to sleep.
The nubs of bone grew. She told none about them, taking pains to cover them up as best she could. They became spines of bone on both sides of her backbone, and began growing a fluffy tawny coating. Soon, she wore a backpack everywhere, and cut holes in it for the growing nubs. The fluff became down, the down became feathers, the bone became membrane-coated and much larger, and she realized she was growing wings. Suddenly, she remembered the night she had tried so hard to forget, the night her mother died. She remembered the chemicals poured on her; she remembered her father, a few days before her mother's death, telling her excitedly that he was working on a new experiment, an experiment to make more than simply imaginations fly...
Soon, she took to leaving her house at night, flying. It was painful to keep the wings inside her backpack, and she stayed out of sight as much as possible. She loved the wind in her face, the Rocky Mountains looming large ahead of her, the trees whispering and shivering quietly...but she knew she could not keep her huge tawny, feathered wings secret for much longer...

1 of my older Roleplaying Characters feel free to Pm me your thoughts.

Name:Alpha Xero Richter, name used when hidden Dain Tirosi
Age:17
Weight:163
Height: 5'9''
Eyecolor:dark blue
Hair Color:Silver
Race biggrin row Elf
Class:Hunter

Appearence: Dain wears mainly a black ninja outfit for comfort and quick movement, but in major battles he will call upon his equipment used by his father before he passed away, after doing so he wears bright chain gauntlets and boots with dark platemale covering his legs arms and cheast, his face is always hidden by a black mask that stops before the eyes which are useally covered by his long silver hair, his main weapon is BlueFang a ice elemental short sword, his sub weapons are a shortbow and a dagger.

Personality:Quiet, always eager to battle, brave, somewhat of a goofoff at times, dark and poetic

History:Born in the caverns in pure darkness the night he was born, was the fateful night his mother died, later after his father was called to war to fight with his comrades which took his life, as Dain grew up he studied some propertys of magic, but also focused on his hand to hand combat, when he turned 10 he became the youngest hunter in his village but was also hated by most of the villagers for being a drow elf, not 1 of their kind, at age 15 he was thrown out of town rejected and forced to live among nature sometimes he would be found at local taverns and pubs hiding in the darkness watching time pass by taking on quests and tasks as a mercanary, he oftan wonders what it would be like if he were human instead, but he lives life in darkness that being both his mind and his everyday living.

abilities/weaknesses:Quick Teleportation, Devine Healing, Track(for hunting) , Arrow Storm, Tetra Slash, Chamber of Torcher (only at near death), WEAKNESSES: Eye blindness when the sun is up, Fire Element fear.

this is my first try at rping so, here it is, my character:

Name: Irvin Heartlight

Age: 21

Occupation: Vampire Hunter

Appearance: Irvin has long black hair and grey eyes. He wears a black gunner hat and a tuxedo. He has an ancient chinese blade which supposedly has a thin layer of heaven shrouding it. Irvin generally appears at the dead of night, like all the best vampire hunters. He has never been seen in daylight.

Birthdate: Unknown, said to have been born in Transylvania, but speaks English.

Family: All deceased, supposedly taken by vampires. There are rumors his brother is still alive.

Statistics: Irvin has a high attack power in melee combat. Though his defense is slightly poor, he makes up for it in being extremely swift, meaning he can dodge attacks often.

Thats my profile, its the first thing i could think of so it might suck. Thanks for reading anyway, please quote!

My Main RP Character
Name: Aaliyah
Age: Died at the young age of 21, reborn and is over the age of 900.
Eyes: Green
Species: Vampire
Gender: Female
Personality: Caring, only feeds on evildoers and is truly devoted to her true love Louis (who she was seperated from) and Selena (a young woman Aaliyah made into a vampire out of loneliness). When she was mortal, she had a child named Leticia at the age of 16, making Leticia five when Aaliyah died.
Bio: After defending Louis from him defending Leticia (Aaliyah's daughter) to be mercilessly slaughtered by a band of rogue vampires, Aaliyah was forced to be killed...but because her unique looks (not being white like the majority of the other vampires) she was instead damned to be selled to the werewolves to be their slaves by the elder vampires. Aaliyah escapes and falls in love (not romantically...more in love with her wits and beauty) with a 24 year old mexican woman named Selena. Out of loneliness Aaliyah turns Selena into a vampire. Years later Aaliyah finds out her daughter Leticia (at the age of 26) was turned into a vampire by Louis, who fell in love with Leticia's looks because she looked like her mother Aaliyah.
Appearance: ((Look at siggy and on profile for all characters))
NOTE: MY VAMPIRES ARE BASED ON THE VAMPIRES WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR ANNE RICE WHICH MEANS THEY CAN ONLY DIE BY FIRE OR SUNLIGHT. THEY CANNOT DIE BY STAKE TO THE HEART, HOLY WATER, GARLIC, OR SILVER BULLETS. ALSO THEY CAN'T TURN INTO ANIMALS...SADLY. sad

Name: Keyli
Age: *looks 19-20*
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 116
Race: Black fox demon
Apperance: A not to pale, not to coloured skin tone, with jet black hair that seems to stand out as it stops just past the middle of her back. Though her body may seem to have a delicate, slender tone, under her clothes homes a muscular body type, that could carry things as much as 3x her own weight. Her black tail is niether to long or short as it hangs gracefully from her lower torso, and her black ears relax in a perked position to make it seem that she is always listening. Her clothes are niether warrior like nor beggar like, she simply wears a white top with black sleeves and white pants. She feels no need for shoes, so she doesn't wear them, her feet are strong enough to withstand the crushing of rock beneath her feet, so why bother? And last but not least, her maroon eyes, those eyes can just glance in a room and tell you what is in there with flawless detail.

Personality: Being a black fox, she is a very careful person when it comes to strangers, but once she feels comfortable she is a very fun person to be around. When it comes to situations when a friend of hers is in trouble, she will spring into action. You have to remember that being a fox means her to be a cunning person, to be honest, in a relaxed, safe enviroment, she's actually quite a clumsy person. It is said that she may have a spilt personality, due to the many acts of violence she had done once one of her friends are in danger.

Background: Keyli was one of 17 children in her family, though she was one of the oldest, she was not respected in the household. This is because of two reasons, the first one is because was born from the 4th wife, and the second one is that she was born a black fox. Black fox is a rare breed, considered a dead race, a reason why this was a dead race was because it was once too powerful, and had to be destroyed. Knowing that their race was soon to end, they told a story of one black fox child, that would one day be born into the other breeds family and revive the race. Since she was born, she was shunned and turned away from the family, other children wouldn't dare play with her, she was so alone. The greatest fear this girl may have...is that she will never be excepted and find a mate to have children...

Here. For anyone who wants to take the time to read it lol. It's a character I just made for a brand new guild. If you read it, let me know what you think.

Gaia Name: GigaWraith
Character's name: Lengren Fargoth
Status: Student
Age: 13
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: Lengren is a rather frail looking adolescent. One might call his physique emaciated, with very little visible muscle. His usual stance is sort of haughty, if not disdainful (he is of that age, after all). His skin is the quite pallid, as passed down from his mother. He also inherited his mother's bewitching grey eyes, but his hair is the thick ebony of his father's. As far as style, it appears rather butchered. The back chopped unevenly short. His bangs, though submitted to the same mutilation as the back, are much longer, reaching slightly past his nose. He is constantly pushing it out of his eyes. On the trip to Guren, Dromm decided he needed a hair-cut. He drew a crude looking knife and went to town on Lengren's hair. "Your mop should always be short enough to give anyone trying sneak up behind you and grab hold of it a little bit of a struggle. The front does not matter much. No one is going to try to grab you by the hair when you can see them clearly in front of you. Besides that, it looks cool." He smiled. There was something in this man that reminded him of his father, and it was comforting. He opted to keep the awkward style.

As far as his face, Lengren's features are a bit on the sharp side. In a few years, some might consider him attractive, but at this point, he still retains his juvenile looks. Some might even go far as to say he is slightly feminine, but his boyish attitude and composure often spur a bit of reconsideration. Amazingly enough, he has no broken teeth or extremely noticeable scars on his face, save a few scratches under his left eye when he first arrived at The House of Bricks. The only noticeable defects he has sustained thus far are a small dent in his clavicle from a childhood fight and a dark-red scar on his finger from a certain mishap involving a duck . . .

Lengren's ordinary garbs are rather strange, if not comical. Traveling with the sellswords have brought him several oddities. They usually just gave him whatever they thought would fit him, but didn't trouble themselves much about precision. Most are very worn and discolored from travel, grey or black in color, with some browns and dark greens found every now and then. On the day he arrived at The House of Bricks, he was clad in in tight, threadbare grey pants that hardly reached halfway down his calf (they were "commandeered" from a wayward dwarf), an old, tattered grey shirt, lighter in color with sleeves too long and neckline much too large (Dromm's hand-me-down), and a pair of disheveled brown boots with rusted steel plates riveted to the toes, tops folded down so as not to swallow his legs whole. The insides were stuffed with old scraps of cloth in order to make his feet fit more snugly. A small corroded dagger was strapped to his right thigh, obscured by his over-sized shirt. Last but not least was his father's leather "collar" with its suspended steel rings and tiny, riveted plates. He hasn't taken it off since the day it was given to him.

[Sorry, guys. I'll work on pictures when I can.]
Height: 155cm (5'11")
Strengths: Because of his lithe figure, Lengren does possess a certain talent for evasion, speed, and the like, picked up on the streets of his hometown. It is still in its intermediate phase, but one day it may be a skill to be reckoned with.

Also, though still developing, he is quite apt at the subtle arts of deception (as explained in bio). This manipulative craft is oft a double-edged sword. While tempering his ability to accomplish things, it sometimes causes others to distrust him if they begin to see through the haze of his plots.
Weaknesses: Though agile and quick, Lengren has a certain clumsiness about him, and has little to no skill with weaponry.

On a less physical note, as will be stated in the personality section, he bears many character flaws. He is pompous, stubborn, foolhardy, sometimes even cold-shouldered. Hopefully one day he will grow out of it one day, but right now he is in that phase. Also, he isn't very good at picking and choosing his allies and enemies, and oftentimes goes on a whim. This can lead acceptable outcomes, but it is a small chance, much smaller than the rate of the aftermath turning out rotten. Another thing. He is a horrible judge of character. If he takes a liking to a person, he will stick with them until something breaks the bond, occasionally to his sorrow.

One last thing, no matter how much he believes it to be so, he is NOT good with the girls.
Weapon: Lengren's only weapon at the time of his arrival was a small rusted dagger, gifted to him from Dromm, who only gave him one lesson on how to wield it: "Stick them with the pointy end."

By attending The House of Bricks, Lengren hopes to learn how to employ everything from a short-sword to a two-handed great sword, in order to be more like his father. We will have to see how well he learns . . .
Personality: At this point in his life, Lengren is not a very pleasant person. As is typical with most kids his age, he is quite arrogant, prone to hasty judgements and recklessness. He doesn't take kindly to those who surpass him at things he fancies himself proficient at, whether he has any real skill in that particular thing or not. A few things he does enjoy are outdoing someone else and showing his dominance, accomplishing things that he or others previously could not, and girls. He often tests his speechcraft on his objects of affection, which has good beginnings, but as far as the opposite sex, it is still . . . under development. Any sort of authoritarian figure is free game, as far as he is concerned. He often lashes out at this stereotype without any sort of discretion or reasoning behind his actions, a bad habit adopted during childhood (see biography). Also, as long it is at no one's (of those he likes) expense, he will not hesitate to pull something sneaky and under-handed if he sees it beneficial enough for him in some way. Occasionally he will be caught in his own web, in a sense. Being an awful judge of character, he will fall right into the trap of another if he takes a shine to them. You'd think he would learn . . .

Despite all his character flaws and shortcomings, Lengren does have a few things going for him. Though often brash and full of poorly-made decisions, he will essentially do what he thinks is right, when the situation calls for it. For all his faults, he is more or less good-intentioned. This will show through in times such as in a "good samaritan" scenario. That aside, he is also very quick to laugh. Many would say he possesses an overactive sense of humor. He will laugh at damn near any joke, save when it is at his expense, at which time his childishness once again rears its little gremlin head.

In neither the beneficial nor the detrimental category is one of his main traits. Lengren is extremely whimsical, and repeatedly does things simply because he feels like it. Whether this will turn out for good or ill in the end, no one can say.
Bio: Lengren Harod Fargoth I was born on the northern outskirts of an immense city (Magdia), in the poorer, more run-down district. The day was wet. It had rained for weeks. Lengren came into this world screaming his head off. The child seemed in no discomfort, and was not crying. Perhaps it was to cause a fair annoyance for all the residents in that general area. Or perhaps because he knew what he was: a mistake. A b*****d-child.

Semna Lannier was an attractive young woman of 22, with alabaster skin and a thick fall of unruly burgundy hair. Her eyes were the pale grey of the pre-dawn sky, which seemed to capture all the light that was offered them. Around this time, a handsome young man with thick ebon hair and a smile that could kill happened to stop by the tavern where she worked her days. His name was Harod Fargoth. It was love at first sight, so she mused, and Harod had bedded her that very same night. Much to her dismay, she awoke the next morning to find him gone. She now realized that she was merely the next in line for his fleshly conquests. There was only one problem. She was with child.

Nearly four years had passed since young Lengren's birth. Harod finally got word that she was with child and had given birth to a son. He raced home as fast as his sinewy legs would take him, which was no where near fast enough for him. Harod was ecstatic. He was so proud of his work, he stayed with them for years to come, raising Lengren as any normal father should . . . more or less, but it did not last forever.

Hours before the arrival of Lengren's ninth birthday, he heard strange noises from without his room. Being quite curious, he got out of his bed and went to investigate. He found his father standing outside, packed for the road, but looking rather skittish. He asked what was wrong.

"Daddy has to leave for a little while, kiddo. You be strong and take good care of your mom, okay?" Harod then removed a thick band of charcoal-colored leather from his muscular arm. Engraved metal plates were riveted to it, and steel rings hung from various places around its circumference. "Here, take this." The band was rather large for Lengren's arm, so he fastened it around his son's delicate neck (and even then it hung quite loose). "Never forget me, okay kiddo?" With that, he kissed his son on the forehead, turned away and disappeared into the night.

From that night on, his mother was never the same. The light had gone from her brilliant grey eyes, fading them to a cloudy slate. They always seemed to hold a distant, weary look. Months and months later he worked up the courage to ask her why his daddy had left them. "Because the Money People from Big City wanted him to go away."

He wasn't entirely sure what she meant at the time, but he later became very familiar with the terms "politician" and "wanted". That very sentence instilled in him a prejudice towards authority types that would gnaw at him for years to come.

For the next few years, Lengren and his mother's life was rough. It finally begin to sink into his naive little brain that they did, in fact, live in urban squalor. He began to grow bitter, getting in fights or some other form of mischief regularly. Any soul that would challenge him in any way would be promptly attacked. He was like his daddy, after all . . . wasn't he? His father, the great fighter and adventurer on his conquest for gold and glory, would never turn down a fight, no matter how strong or how skilled his opponent . . . right? Lengren certainly didn't. Neither size nor status mattered to the massive chip on his shoulder. And yet he was so frail, and was beaten senseless every time these squabbles occured, without fail, and sent crawling home to his mother, broken and bloody. Amazingly enough, this only seemed to reinforce his reckless, headstrong nature.

One thing he did learn from his social disposition, though, was the subtle art of manipulation. By no means did he master it, but he was off to a fairly good start. It was enough to survive on the streets, harsh as they were. One thing he did not excel at in the slightest was swordplay. His father was a swordsman, so naturally he wished to emulate him, but he efforts were futile for the most part. And yet one fateful day, a shining opportunity presented itself.

While trotting about in the wealthier area of Magdia city, he overheard two young nobles chatting amongst themselves. Lengren crept closer, hiding around the corner of a rather dilapidated old building (a brothel, but he didn't know that of course). He listened intently to the duo's dialogue. It seemed that the most promising student of the local school would receive a full scholarship to The House of Bricks: School of Weaponry at the end of the semester. He hadn't heard of it before, but by the way they spoke of it, it sounded promising.

This was his solution, his fix-all, his path to salvation and freedom. If he could somehow make it into this "Brick House", he could learn to wield a sword like his father, he could find him, bring him home, along with fame and fortune, and make sure neither he nor his mother had to eat old, black bread or dress in rags EVER again. With his dream fresh in mind, he bided his time . . .

When the semester finally ended, the scholarship was awarded to a certain boy, a snotty looking adolescent with bouncy golden curls and a nose that was constantly upturned. Lengren kept his eye on that boy for several days, never taking it off him even for a moment. The boy had very stupidly kept the document on him at all times to parade in front of his friends, and at times, complete strangers. When the opportune moment came, he ambushed the little snot from behind in a dimly lit alley, smashing him over the head with an old brick. Every last ounce of strength was put into that blow, so the boy might very well have croaked, but Lengren did not stick around to find out.

With the precious document in hand, Lengren raced home as fast as his scrawny little legs would take him and set to work posthaste. With a little trick he had picked up over the years, practicing on an assortment of other scrolls, he carefully altered the name on the document until in read "Lengren Fargoth". Having everything necessary for his epic fraud, he stashed his treasured parchment into his shirt and set off for town again. After a short chase scene involving a few of the town guard loosed on him by that same boy, he managed to reach his goal of "appropriating" a piece of rich parchment, black ink, and small amount of sealing wax. He planned on leaving his mother a pretty letter, explaining why he had to leave her for a while . . .

"Dear Mom

I'm sorry to do this to you, but I have to leave you alone for a while. I'm going to go away and become a great warrior, just like dad. I won't disappoint you anymore, Mom. I'm going to find Dad, and I'm going to bring him back home with me, and we are going to bring back lots and lots of money so you don't have to wear those dirty clothes ever again and we can eat good food, like spiced meat, just like the nobles do. You'll see, Mom. I'll make you proud. I promise.


Lengren"

He placed the letter in her porcelain hands as she slept, drinking in one last picture of his mother before he left on his journey. He then raced out the door, wondering how exactly he was going to get to The House of Bricks. Maybe I should have planned this beforehand . . .

After asking around for awhile on the town outskirts, he learned that the School was located in Guren. Now all he had to do was find a caravan traveling to that destination. He didn't find that, but certainly the next best thing. For after a bit of wandering, he came across a rag-tag group of sellswords traveling south that very night. A bit of rough dialogue ensued, but eventually a man in their group by the name of Dromm decided he liked the boy's determination and took him under his wing. The man had short, sort of choppy chesnut hair and a kind look in his cool blue eyes. "Stick with me, kid. You'll be fine."

On the eve of his thirteenth birthday, Lengren set out towards The House of Bricks, only the first leg in a journey that would take some unforeseen turns . . .
Extra: Lengren has always borne a dull head-ache that plagues him from time to time. Additionally, he has terrible phobia of ducks, due to an incident in his childhood, which he refuses to reiterate.