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Tarma_Falloner
Vice Captain

PostPosted: Mon Mar 26, 2007 5:28 pm


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PostPosted: Mon Mar 26, 2007 11:40 pm


Name: Tarma Falloner
Age: 25
Race: Human
Occupation: Captain of the King's Legion, aka Falloner's Falcons.
Appearance: The Captain stands at a solid 5'7", tall for a woman of the times. Her ebony hair is hacked boyishly short, but the black spikes suit her angular face. A short white scar cuts her left eyebrow in two, looking as though whatever weapon caused it barely missed her eye. Those eyes are a deep cobalt blue, and have the ability to make a recruit loosen his bowels at twenty paces. Her nose, once petite, looks as though it has been broken in the past and not healed quite straight. Despite this, the woman is not totaly unfortunate looking, with her high cheek bones, thick inky lashes, fair skin, and not completely unfeminine build inspite of the well toned muscle garnered from a soldiers life. Her voice has an odd metalic burr to it, a subtle ring of command that she attempts to tone down in everday conversation, but slips occasionaly. A silver hoop hung with a small bead of obsidian hangs from her right earlobe. Her style of dress usualy consists of men's clothing; breeches and boots, both in soft black leather, a loose white shirt with a fitted black coat that is embroidered in tiny silver lillies along the lapels.

Special Abilities:
Swordswoman: This is the art into which she was born, the art for which she swore her life to, and subsequently the art in which she excells.

Bladework: Tarma can also use her secondary weapon of choice: daggers. The throwing blades she uses were forged by her own hand, well-balanced blades fitted perfectly to her hands, with custom black laquered hilts. How many of these she truly carries is uncertain; it seems the woman is always pulling one from somewhere the eye cannot follow.

Archery: Our well-rounded soldier is also a fair shot with a bow and arrow, though it is not her weapon of choice.

Quarterstaff: Aye, and she knows one end of a staff from the other too. Quite the talented little weaponsmistress, our Tarma.

Rudimentary Field Skills: These are skills all soldiers posses in a certain degree; forestry, tracking, hunting, cooking, caring for minor wounds and broken limbs. She rides well enough to keep her saddle in battle; that logic applies to all tasks Tarma sets herself to. The woman is as good as a situation requires her to be...even when she's not.

Ettiquette: While the woman is far happier wrestling in the mud with recruits during training, marching for miles through driving rain on border patrols, or even kicking back a tankard of ale with her fellow soldiers in a tavern, Tarma does know how to behave at court. Her manner can move from lewd to debonair at the blink of an eye; however, while she may know how she's supposed to act, it shouldn't surprise you to see her ignore courtly manners if she feels justified. As such, the Captain of the Guard has a rather hefty reputation among courtiers as being tempermental at best, blatantly rude at worst. However, the favor of the King rests with her, so there is little anyone can do about it.

Code of Honor: Sworn on the Stone of Truth, the following Oath binds Tarma by the will of the Gods to serve the best interests of the land of Aleron. As a Chosen of the Gods, one of few scattered throughout Aleron, she sometimes recieves aid from them, if and when they deem it prudent. The Gods work in mysterious ways, and what they see as the proper course of action may not always be what our dear swordsworn had envisioned. The Oath is as follows: "I stand ready now, as I ever will, against the coming of the Dark. I swear my blood, heart, and blade to the land of Aleron. It's people are my people; it's survival is my survival; it's prosperity is my prosperity. I stand guard against all evils, be they from within or abroad. By my Honor, I stand ready. Blessed Be Aleron in the eyes of the Gods."

Tarma_Falloner
Vice Captain


R-Do
Captain

PostPosted: Tue Mar 27, 2007 1:34 am


Name: Captain Hiro Auradeux
Age: 27
Race: Human
Occupation: Pirate; Captain of the Sirens Whisper.
Appearance: At 5'8" he's a relatively tall man. His alignment is unsure. He is a ruggedly handsom man with a scar across his face and blazing green eyes, one of which is covered with a makeshift eyepatch. He has shoulder length brown hair, quite often tied back in a tail. He quite often forgets to shave, and usually has stuble shadowing his jaw. He has an athletic body, clothed in a long leather jacket, a white shirt, and black trousers. A beat-up brown leather tri-corner hat that sits on his head, brown leather gloves, a brown belt, and black boots finish off his attire. He carries an unassuming sword at his side, nothing particularly special there. Under the clothes, his body is in prime condition, if you ignore the scars marring it.
Special Abilities:
Swashbuckling: Hiro seems to know one end of a sword from the other...pointy end goes into the other man. He rarely finds cause to use this skill, as he's more apt at fast talking his way out of trouble, but rumor holds true that the Captain of the Sirens Whisper is quite the swordsman.

Nautical Abilities: Sailing, navigating by the stars, following a change in the wind or reading the tides; all skills required of a man of the high seas. Good thing Hiro has 'em down, eh?

Smooth Talker: When he's not charming the ladies with his golden tongue, he's using it to persuade his way out of a hangmans noose. There seems no end to the scrapes this man can talk his way out of.
PostPosted: Mon Apr 02, 2007 10:47 pm


Name: Ping
Age: 22
Race: Elf
Occupation: Tavern Wench
Appearance: Ping's sunshine colored hair is cut in fairly short layers that flirt around her delicately pointed ears the way she flirts around patrons. The beautiful blond elf can generally be seen wearing long skirts in dark green, paired with a snowy white shirt that leaves her shoulders bare; a maroon bodice cinches her petit waist and bolsters her already significant...erm...attributes. Tips are hard to come by, after all. Adorably cheerful, playfully teasing, this green-eyed miss is a pleasure to have serving you ale; but don't let her friendly attitude fool you. She knows her way around a dagger, and is fond of sticking one into the ribs of any man who wont take 'no' for an answer. So...don't cause trouble in her bar and you'll get along fine.
Special Abilities:
Seduction: Need I say more?

Dagger: That lovely bodice hold more than just creamy cleavage; it also holds a sharp-edged dagger that Ping wont hesitate to use with skill.

Cooking: You name it, she'll create it in the kitchen for you...just don't be surprised if what you get isn't even close to what you asked for.

Ping_Chan


Malincanac

PostPosted: Tue May 29, 2007 2:04 pm


Name: Damien Moonshadow
Age:37
Race:Avariel (winged elf)
Occupation: Profesional Assassin
Discription:Long white hair and green eyes are the main features with this elf but the most noticable thing is the large set of white wings he has marking him as an Avariel. He commonly wears dark leathers and a black coat along with his long katana. He walks upright as if nobility with his wings folded to his back at rest. He is a very honest person and has never onced denyed anything he has done. He also despises those that hide the truth.
Hight: 5'10"
Wingpan: 6'6"
Weight: 136
Special Abilities:
Blademaster: master of the sword he carries, a long thin katana, to him it is an extention of his limbs.
Flight: he has wings (part of being Avariel) flight speed about 65 miles per hour.
Moderate magic: can cast moderate magical spells.
1. Bolt of Fire: Fires a small quick traviling bolt of flame.
2. Frost Spike: Freezes the moisture in the air to create spikes(s) of ice that can be fires at targets.
3. Thunder Spear: launches a bolt of lightning from his hand.
4. Earthen Pillar: Causes several pillars of rock and stone to rise from the ground at rapid rate.
5. Razor Wind: Creates several razor sharp air blades that orbit him.
Anatomy Training: knows how the body works, can be used to inflict damage and heal it.
PostPosted: Tue May 29, 2007 2:21 pm


Name:Traven Darkeyes
Age: 23
Race: Half-elf
Occupation: Bard
Appearance: Traven stands shorter than most of the people around him being only 5'4". This of course made him very sensitive about his hight and will mercilessly attack anyone who calls him short. He has light brown hair that goes down to his shoulders and his bangs cover his eyebrows. He has pail skin, a side effect of spending too much time inside and black eyes, giving him the appearance of having a giant pupil. after messing up a spell. Years of living with his sorcerer uncle and a couple on his own gave him a slender fit physique with a couple of runes tattooed on his back, he wears lose brown leather pants and dark leather boots and black sleeveless cloth shirt and black fingered gloves, with a dark cloak over it.
Special Abilities:

Magic:
He lived with his sorcerer uncle most of his life and Traven learned a good amount of magic studying under him.

Music/Poetry
Not having much money after he left to go adventuring he had to learn a away to get free or cheep stuff and after watching a bard get free beer for wooing a barmaid, he decided to pick it up and free load.

Mastery of Instruments, daggers and knives
He learned the a instrument helped his free loading he took the time and learned to play a few instruments ((Mandolin, harp, anything with strings)) He also learned that smooth talking can get on into dangerous situation so he mastered daggers and knives quickly

Silver Tongue:
Being a bard he picked up the ability to talk his way into and out of many messy situations.

Darkwood Mandolin:
Traven's weapon of choice, the darkwood it's made from makes it stronger than steel allowing him to block swords and daggers but cannot be cut into or pierced by them. It also has the power of resonance making his music louder and gives him the unique ability to channels his spells though it and make than more powerful.

ShadowFeindX86


Akudaikon

PostPosted: Mon Jun 11, 2007 5:41 pm


Name: His real name is impossible to pronounce unless you speak troll. We just call him Smiley.
Age: Also unknown. He's a troll; they don't get older so much as uglier.
Race: Troll.
Occupation: Mercenary/berserker.
Appearance: Huge. Huge is a good word for it. 7'2", 345lbs. of solid green muscle, bulked up under ridges of scar tissue that cover his massive body. A loin cloth of leather and animal furs sits at his waist, the only clothing he wears other than a piece of a ratty burlap sack tied behind his head; holes are cut out where his beady black eyes look out, and tusks stick out of the gaping mouth hole; where his mouth should be, a smile is painted in a suspicious looking red-brown color. His head is shaved on both sides, leaving his shock of spicky orange hair sticking up down the middle of his head in a mohawk. On his back are mounted blades of every size and heft; all of them look well-used and damn intimidating. His voice is gutteral, low and gravely. Not that he talks much.
Special Abilities:
Strength: Big guy, big weight-shifting ability. Smiley could bench press a draft horse without breaking much of a sweat.

Hack-n-slash: Smiley's prefered fighting style. My advice? Don't get in his way. You wouldn't want to make him mad. No, really. You wouldn't want him to get mad...

Berserker: ...and this is why. When Smiley gets mad he goes into a frenzy where no amount of reason can keep him from separating your limbs from your body. You could cut off one of his and he'd keep going. The only person ever to bring him out of one of his fits is his travelling companion, Aria Skysong.
PostPosted: Mon Jun 11, 2007 6:15 pm


Name: Arianna Skysong
Age: Unknown; appears ageless.
Race: Elven.
Occupation: Ranger/merc.
Appearance: 5'5", willowy of build, Aria has all the standard characteristics of a woods elf: copper skin, pointed ears, delicate features and lithe muscle. Nut brown hair waves down to her waist, and often holds leaves or colored beads woven into the tiny braids that pull some of it back from her face. Her eyes are large, the green of grass in spring. She dresses in similar shades, designed to help her blend into the forest. Boots, breeches, a shirt, all fitted to her form, and a large cloak constitute her usual get-up. She carries as shortsword on one hip, a quiver at the other; her bow goes unstrung in her hand when not in use, and is almost as tall as she is, requiring no small feat of strength to draw it. A knapsack over one shoulder carried whatever supplies she deems necessary.
Special Abilities:
Long Bow: Oh look. An elf with a bow who is a good marksman. How original. Regardless, Aria shoots well, making her mark 8 or 9 times in 10. It's a fact that elves have better sight than humans; the shots she can make are there for far more impressive than a human can.

Shortsword: Aria is proficient enough that she can keep herself alive. And after all, swordplay is simple: pointy end goes into the other man.

Wilderness Survival: Includes[but is not limited to] foraging, hunting, tracking, falconing and scouting. Aria lives in tune with the elements of nature, and for someone who claims the forest speaks to them, she's not all that crazy. Maybe she isn't kidding...?

Sleight-of-Hand, aka Pick-Pocketing: A girls got to make a living, don't she? City laws don't concern our Ranger; survival does. Sometimes that means money, whether earned honestly or not. And if people just happen to have pockets full of the stuff and are too stupid to notice her lift it, well...that's their fault isn't it?

Soothing Voice: Aria has the odd and unmatched ability to soothe Smiley out of one of his bloody troll rampages. Why she has such a strange travelling companion is beyond me...

Aria Skysong


Clavian

PostPosted: Thu Jun 14, 2007 1:33 pm


Name: Clavian

Age: Forgotten. If questioned, will often reply with a small chuckle followed by the cryptic statement, ‘old enough…’

Race: Human

Occupation: Bit o’ this, bit o’ that. A jack of several trades, master of none. Whatever’s available wherever he is (at least, till he gets run out of town)

Appearance: Clavian walks with the aid of a smooth wooden staff, almost as tall as he. A weatherworn cloak is often draped ill-fittingly around his shoulders, the hood pulled forward slightly over his mismatched eyes, a relic of his presumable youth, when or wherever that was. His right eye, dull blue-grey; the left is… wrong. A white iris is almost always an unsettling sight the first time you see it.

The remainder of things about Clavian are best described as ‘average’: His height, mannerisms, build, accent. Helps to blend in with the crowd when trouble rears its head. After all, if the authorities are chasing an average man, they’d be as well arresting half the population!

Special Abilities:

Jack of Trades: As previously stated, Clavian has tried his hand at many trades in his time, not all successfully; however, he is normally able to settle in to a new line of work quite quickly, and shortly afterwards, he’s just always been there. Just like the one old guy working in the back of the store, the one the other staff always go to, normally called Joe or something, who knows exactly where everything is.

Quarter-staff: Just because he uses it to walk with, doesn’t mean Clavian’s incapable of fighting with his staff. The advantages of having a big stick at your side wherever you go are practically never ending, least of all because you can hit people with it at short notice; none of this fancy pulling-swords-from-sheathes nonsense, by that time you’ve been clubbed around the ear…

Short Sword: That doesn’t mean to say Clavian is against the use of swords, quite the contrary; he understands well enough that the other bloke will be carrying something sharp and pointy, so why shouldn’t he? A thin bladed short sword is hung from his belt, hidden under his cloak. Just in case.

Man O’ the Land: Sometimes cities or villages, nay, civilisation itself, can be hard to come by. Clavian is well versed in the majority of basic survival skills, having had the experience of spending time away from places that put up ‘Wanted –Ded or Alyve’ posters every once in a while with his face on them.
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