DruSM157

The Order Saga: The Mind's Eye

“Interrupting is sort of my thing today.” The man stood there, holding the large hunk of metal in front of him. “Hey, lady!” He called to the blue haired woman nearby. “I’ll handle these guys messing with you.” He turned back to Shiara, looking at her quizzically.

“You a new recruit? The usual third member of Lathilos’ group isn’t so…female.” He said, looking her over. The normal third member. Someone he knew all too well.

He charged the teal haired man, his sword in front of him. “Just. Fucking. DIE!” He screamed. He stabbed forward, and his blade met flesh. When Marlowe opened his eyes, he nearly let the blade go as his eyes met the pained eyes of a woman. His opponent had grabbed a human shield, held it in front of him and—there was no time to react before The Orderling’s blade pierced his side, bringing Marlowe to his knees. As he looked upwards, he saw him.

He was smiling.

“He’s been reassigned.”

“Good. I hope it’s somewhere cold and empty.” Marlowe noticed he girl had not run. At least she’d moved behind Viera. “Viera. Take the girl somewhere safe.” He sighed. “I’ll have to hold this lady and her friends off.”

Viera shook her head and took the girl’s hand. “Don’t get carried away,” she quipped, pulling Azarnite with her.

“You aren’t my task. I will pursue her when my companions arrive.”

"It'll be tough to do when you're out cold lady. Just be happy I'm feeling nice and I'm not too keen on mindless killing." No more killing. Not when he didn't have to. The Order would chase after their target forever. But hey, they weren’t trying to kill her. That was new, right?

“How many bouts have you won to know you'll be able to?”

“Enough.” Marlowe swung the flat of his blade at the woman, aiming to simply bat her aside. He didn’t want to stick around long enough to deal with a three on one fight, but those kind of odds seemed more and more common these days. When you burn your bridges with your companions, such things happened.

She was fast! She ducked under his swing and came up with a heavy punch to the sternum. Marlowe coughed, feeling something break inside. She was stronger than your average brawler. He felt his blade drop to the ground as he fell forward onto his hands and knees.

Marlowe tried to push himself up, reaching for his sword to react and…the girl had dashed off with incredible speed. Marlowe noticed the technique: it was something he’d used since Viera began instructing him in the techniques of her culture. Being able to strengthen limbs using the power of the body’s spirit. This new girl was more skilled then he was in combat, and she could do similar abilities. He really, really needed to get his shit together. He heard sounds from the distance; the others were coming. The sound of the vulgarities meant that Delios wouldn’t turn and run, but wanted revenge.

So Marlowe ran. It was his only chance now.

The Order Saga: The Mind's Eye

CLANG

It was an awful sound, of metal against metal. Lathilos was strong. He was more physically imposing than Marlowe could ever hope to be. How many times had he fought Lathilos now? It seemed like the old man had been a constant enemy since his first days in Dun. He was bullheaded and a zealot. A card carrying true believer that the Order was doing the right thing. If they weren’t on opposite sides of this conflict, Marlowe could probably grow to have a begrudging respect for the old man. But he took the side of murderers and psychopaths, and Marlowe would not allow him or his people to harm anyone else.

CLANG

Marlowe’s footwork almost slipped as he was pushed back by Lathilos’ heavy swing. At least with a weapon like Hard Edge Marlowe had a better chance of standing up to him. Before he’d been knocked easily aside by the Warhammer. Now? Now he could defend himself.

CLANG CLANG CLANG

Each strike was heavier than the last. Marlowe knew he was on the defensive, but on the bright side all of his bones were still unbroken. For once. Being on the defensive wouldn’t work though. The Order sent out teams of threes, and while Delios was busy with Viera and Lathilos with him, he knew the girl would still have another pursuer. The Order was difficult to understand, but their tactics always seemed to remain the same. He had to figure out how to get out of this conflict and now. He didn’t have to beat Lathilos; but Delios was a problem. He was a ranged attacker and could track them easily. He watched as Viera pushed the man back; at close range the man was put out of his element. He could draw his saber, and fight with two weapons, overpowering Lathilos; but holding his sword in one hand would leave him unable to hold back the larger man’s strikes; it would put him off balance; and leave him with a caved in skull. He could use his scrap gun—the weapon he kept at his side. Marlowe slid back and reached for it; only to find it missing! Shit! He probably left it back at the tavern, not bringing it on patrol with him.

Now things were looking bad. He would beat the man in a fair fight. But that’s when the idea struck his head: Fair. When had The Order ever fought fair against them? He had spent so much time believing in honorable, gentlemanly combat but every time he tried to put up the heroic act, it led to him getting beaten down. Using the scrap gun, hitting enemies low; those were unfair moves but those were what won him his battles. Marlowe dashed back, away from Lathilos.

“Running away? I never pegged you for a coward. Stupid, but not cowardly.”

“What can I say?” Marlowe quipped back, keeping a few feet away from him and Lathilos. “There’s a first time for everything!” He dug his sword into the dirt, kicking up detritus, flying into the un-expecting face of the larger man. Marlowe used this moment to push forward, with the blunt of his blade; to knock Lathilos onto his back, plant a foot square on the man’s face, and jump towards Viera and Delios. He raised his blade upwards, aiming to hit the sniper square in the face; to stop him; but the older man was smart enough to pull back. Metal tore through flesh, but only slightly, grazing the man’s skull and cutting around his left eye.

“Viera! Let’s move!” He roared, running away from the two, and in the direction of the girl. They just had to find her, and get her away from them now. There was no need for a victorious battle today.

The Order Saga: The Mind's Eye

Marlowe and Viera rushed through the undergrowth. They’d been patrolling the area of Dhadan Forest for a few days now; a big change from their previous regime of travel. Hell, the past few days had been almost calm. He had struggled to push the events of the past month out of his mind, to lay who he was by the wayside. It was a new year. It was a new chance to begin again. A chance to have some sort of normal life without the looming threat of The Order. Of course he couldn’t have that.

Just one month ago he was battling. Not just for him, not just for Viera, but for everyone’s lives. Rin—his ally and dear friend who’d fought alongside him since he found himself lost in Dun—Rin had joined The Order. He’d killed innocent lives. He’d laid waste to the man he once was. And yet Marlowe still tried to save him, to bring his friend back.

Rin had killed one of their own.

Lexi Uael—no, Lexi Rauzil. The young woman they had helped so early in their adventure had made a life with Mathis Rauzil. They had a daughter, a home, a life together. And Rin took that away from them. Marlowe remembered the night they buried Lexi. Rauz had taken him aside.

“Kill him.”

“Rauz, he’s our friend—we have to try and—“

“He killed my wife!” His voice was quiet, hissing quiet. Something unlike Rauz. He grabbed Marlowe’s collar, bringing him close to his face. “He took everything from me.” A baby’s cry came from nearby, and Rauz let go of Marlowe, walking off. “He doesn’t deserve mercy.”

Rin burned towns. Marlowe fought back, begging his friend to stop. Begging him to come back. And in that fight, in that moment Marlowe ignored the wounded, the dying, all to fight Rin. Kath had saved many of them, Kath and Deya had done their duty as members of the Vann. And Kath and Deya left Marlowe. A punch. Cold words. “You are no different than them.”

The words echoed in his heart. Months of fighting, of blood. They’d met Mikael. They’d met Anaria. And they finally found Rin. At the heart of it all, Marlowe only found more death, and betrayal. And in that despair, Marlowe did give into that bloodlust, tearing through his enemies like a mindless beast. He remembered Viera’s face, her hands covered in blood—not his blood. Staring at him as he tore men apart to feed the hatred inside of him.

The euphoria gave him pleasure, it gave him happiness to tear apart his enemies. But the memory of that moment made him sick. There was nausea that related to the smell of blood now, nausea that came back as he fought. It terrified him, thinking of letting that darkness back inside, and giving himself to it. The thought of Viera ever looking at him like that again, or Kath’s own anger at being proved right, or even the idea of never being able to look at his hands without seeing the blood staining his hands. He never wanted that again.

“Come on, I think the screaming came from this clearing!” Viera had pushed ahead of Marlowe, pushing the brush aside. They weren’t running full blast; but keeping an open eye ahead of them. The Order loved springing traps. Especially against someone as foolish as Marlowe.

He’d saved Rin. He couldn’t kill his friend, and as he stood over his comrade, his feet deep in white snow stained red with blood—his blood and Rin’s blood. The blade raised above him, willing to end his friend’s life for good.

“Do it.” Rin’s eyes locked with Marlowe’s. “Kill me. I can’t live with this pain. Knowing what I’ve done.”

He couldn’t. He carried Rin back to town, back to his friends. He was tired of the bloodshed and the fighting. He just wanted to go home with his friends. And for a moment, it seemed things would finally be normal. Viera admitted her feelings for him. Rin was healing. Mikael wasn’t drinking as much. There was peace in the new year. And then, on the first day of the New Year, Rin gathered his gear and met with Marlowe outside of the inn in Dunric.

“I’m going to head out.”

“You’re kidding, right? You haven’t even healed up completely.”

“I need some time to think. I need time to figure out who I am.”

“We know who you are. You’re Rin. You’re our friend.”

“Marlowe. The things I did—the people I killed. I see them. Every time I close my eyes, I see what I’ve done.”

“It wasn’t yo—“

“It WAS me. It was a part of me. The part that wants power, that wants to be the strongest. The Order, they find a way to get into your mind, to whisper your secret desires to you.” He closed his eyes. “I need some time away from Dun. Away from this war.”

And Rin left.

They’d stopped running, and had stealthily approached the clearing. Marlowe wanted to groan as he saw the gruesome twosome of Delios and Lathilos. The sniper was usually hiding, so this was a good chance to take him down before he had a chance to run away and take potshots from the trees. But Lathilos was always a hell of an enemy with that damned Warhammer of his.

Marlowe looked to Viera. “You’re going to be mad at me. But someone has to interrupt them before they hurt the girl. I’m going to distract them; I need you to hit them from the side while they’re focused on me.”

Viera nodded to him, as Marlowe moved through the brush. For the gear he had been carrying, spending two years in Dun had made him well equipped to travel throughout the swamp and brush. Especially when it meant sneaking up on assholes like The Order. This was his chance to hit them hard before they had a chance to hit them. As Aza told the men to stay away, Marlowe’s voice broke the silence. “You know, the lady said to back off. I know a scumbag like Delios thinks of that as a chance to really get the creepiness going, but I’m really disappointed in you Lathilos. You’re always talking about how you’re the good guy. And you’re scaring this young lady!”

Marlowe grinned viciously at the two men, bringing his right hand to the pommel of the great sword on his back. “To be honest, I’m always happy for a chance to get even with the two of you.” Where was the third? Did they really send two to chase after a woman?

The Order Saga: The Mind's Eye

The First Age

The world was falling apart. Every limb burned in pain, and he pushed forward, up the stone steps of the tower. I have to stop this echoed throughout his mind. His body looked as it had been torn to shreds—his clothes, his bare flesh; all looked like bloody tatters. His sword hung limply at his side, as he continued upwards. Behind him were only the corpses of those in his way; the corpses of the dead. There was no one else with him; he’d left his companions behind. Not for their sake: for his. Higher, higher and higher as his head began to swell with pain and vertigo. Every wound, every sacrifice, every ounce of blood spilled had been leading up to this. At the top was the Chained God. At the top was the reason his humanity had been stolen from him. At the top was the enemy. One more enemy to defeat. One more challenge to face. One more…one more…

POV:MARLOWE
_{Dhadan Forest, County of Dunric}

“ONE MORE!” Marlowe bellowed, bringing the saber up to catch the blade coming down in a violent arc towards his face. He caught the longsword near the center of his own blade, pushing back against his opponent’s grip. The two had been locked in combat for some time now. Marlowe’s jacket was cast aside, and he was wearing his thin white shirt. Without his slacks, he could have appeared to be battling in his bedclothes. The woman across from him was more modestly dressed. His eyes locked with hers: as a strand of teal hair fell in front of her face; they’d been sparring for close to an hour now and she was starting to look a tad disheveled. “Come on, hit me with your best-“

It was over in an instant; the woman wrested Marlowe’s swordhand from his grip, kicked his legs out from under him and fell on top of him, her blade pressed to his throat. “You’re too open,” she remarked, taking the steel away from his neck. “You said you wanted me to teach you how to control the fight, but you’re still relying on your strength and not your thick head.” She lightly thumped his forehead, and gave an exasperated sigh. “Are you sure you’re even capable of thinking while fighting?”

“I thought that’s what the training was for,” Marlowe groaned, sitting up and rubbing his neck with a free hand. “I thought you liking me would mean you’d be less rough.”

“You can’t each someone to be smart. And it’s because I care about you that I’m so hard on you. I don’t want you to get hurt fighting.”

“Viera. It’s okay if I get hurt fighting.”

The woman sighed, before retying her hair into a ponytail. “You always say that. So what happens when you’re finally hit with something you can’t heal?”
The man grew quiet for a moment, closing his eyes. His heart had jumped when she said that last part. Not being able to heal; being able to die. That one thing that kept him away from the rest of the world; that kept him from being normal. Part of him would embrace mortality in an instant. But now he had Viera to protect, and his friends needed him, and Dun was still…

Marlowe took a deep breath, stood up and approached Viera, placing a hand on her shoulder as she turned to him. He gently brought his lips to her forehead, and spoke with a low voice, “Okay. I promise, I’ll be safer from now on. No more running in blindly.”

“I don’t expect you’ll keep that promise.” Her small fingers traced around the thin beard the man had slowly been growing from their months along the road. He seemed so different from the wide-eyed man she met a year ago in Derim. His battles back home had aged him.

“I will. I’ll try to, anyway. I’m not gonna just run out and leave you.” Those words came out carelessly, and he felt her grab at his side, her hand tightening around his tunic as he talked. She’d lost nearly all of her family due to her older brother. Hell, part of the reason she traveled with him was to find another missing sibling and bring them back home. He opened his mouth to apologize, to say something to make the words better before—

A scream broke their quiet moment together.

Marlowe looked towards the direction of the scream. “When there’s smoke….” He grumbled. He walked over to his gear, hefting up a thick burgundy jacket and sliding it over his lithe frame. A leather bandolier came next. And finally, a huge hunk of metal that was laying against the tree was placed in thick straps along the bandolier. He looked off, almost off balance carrying such a cumbersome weapon, compared to Viera’s single sword.

“There’s fire.” Viera sheathed her longsword, and started walking off towards the sound.

The Order Saga: The Mind's Eye

Marlowe

20 ♦ Marlowe Bladeson ♦ The Man Fate Denied

Image

_{“The heroes are all dead or gone. We’re the ones left to carry on their work.”}

_{[ ߜ ] V I T A L S}

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Marlowe Anders Bladeson (Vallis), Son of Fergus and Ayna.

_{[ ߜ ] B I R T H}

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July 7 Unknown Year (Plox, Fishing Village)

_{[ ߜ ] G E N D E R}

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Male

_{[ ߜ ] E T H N I C B A C K G R O U N D}

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Appears Landeian

_{[ ߜ ] A P P E A R A N C E}

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Marlowe has shaggy dark brown hair, and it is obviously unkempt and not well maintained; in fact, Marlowe's hair is so dark, most believe it to be black. A good description of the color would be a "chocolate brown". Marlowe's eyes are slightly sunken in and for the most part, he keeps deep, purplish rings under his eyes, a mark of a complete lack of sleep. His nose is small, tipped slightly downward, and his nostrils do not flare much. His lips are thin, and a thin mustache and goatee surround his lip and cover his chin. Instead of being a proper goatee, it create more of a van dyke look; since his mustache and goatee do not connect. His physical shape is slim; his arms are not extremely muscular. His chest and gut are relatively flat, though they lack tone. The main distinguishing feature of his torso are his bevy of scars covering his chest and back; signs of what seems to be a very radical surgery.

For this reason, Marlowe keeps bare torso hidden from anyone he meets, for this is a sense of shame and disgust at his own person. His legs are average length, and like his arms, slightly hairy. The hair on his chest grows in slight patches, since the surgery has caused scar tissue where hair still has not grown. As far as clothing choices, Marlowe tends to trend away from armor, staying with a simple tunic shirt, slacks, jacket and cloak covering his torso. His usual colors are either a soft burgundy jacket and white tunic, or a simple white shirt. His slacks trend from a dark brown to a light khaki. For footwear, he keeps a pair of dark brown leather boots. He also wears a leather belt, and usually keeps a leather bandolier where he keeps his greatsword scabbard.

_{[ ߜ ] P E R S O N A L I T Y}

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Marlowe comes across as friendly, open, honest, kind, overly idealistic, foolish and brash. The perfect storm to cause problems with a group that has no qualms with murdering innocent people. In fact, it's Marlowe's personality that gets him in the most trouble. His "charge and save everyone" approach, which never works, is how 90% of his fights begin, and they tend to end with him missing teeth, pints of blood and sometimes a few parts of his body. Marlowe’s brash behavior has led him into several extremely emotionally damaging situations, forcing him to re-examine how he battles. Recently, Marlowe has been training to be a more tactical fighter than before. Due to the extreme situations he has been faced with in the previous few months, Marlowe’s personality has taken a darker turn. When faced with the violence and cruelty of The Order, especially the treatment of innocents, Marlowe’s gentle nature changes into a berserker fury.

Marlowe’s own violence and cruelty has come to a shock of his companions, who find the bloodlust in Marlowe’s heart too close to The Order’s own violence. Marlowe also eats roughly 200% more than an average person, due to his body’s “intricacies”. Marlowe’s average caloric consumption ranges from 5000-10000 calories per day. On the road, it is nearly impossible for Marlowe to achieve this, and he tends to appear more exhausted the longer he remains on a journey.

_{[ ߜ ] A T T R I B U T E S}

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Healing Factor: Marlowe’s body has undergone inhuman modifications, causing him to rapidly heal from wounds and be incapable of dying. This does not affect Marlowe’s defense from attacks, as he is still worn down and has to take time to heal from serious wounds. The weaker he is, the slower his body regenerates. Burning his flesh also kills the skin, forcing it to regenerate slower. Marlowe’s apparent immortality has made him a brash and foolish fighter in the past, leading him into deeper trouble. Recently, Marlowe has aimed to be more careful in combat to avoid putting others in danger.

Blade Skills : Marlowe has moderate skill with one handed swords, as evident by the saber he keeps at his side. While battling against a singular foe, Marlowe can usually hold his own, it is against large groups that he suffers. Marlowe’s new weapon, a legendary great sword dubbed Hard Edge is his attempt at evening the odds when fighting large groups of enemies. Still the sheer size of the weapon renders it useless in close quarters areas, forcing Marlowe to rely on his older weapons.

Boxing : Marlowe is not well versed in Martial Arts, and instead is focused more as a boxer in hand to hand fighting. Marlowe is capable of slugging enemies with severe force, but his speed and his control of the fight suffer. Still, Marlowe’s sheer endurance and willpower allow him to outlast many enemies.

Gunner : Marlowe is not well versed in firearms like several of his companions. Still, Marlowe does carry a small blunderbuss, referred to as a “scrap gun”. A survival weapon, the scrap gun can be loaded with nearly any projectile in the front, and carries a black powder charge to fire. It’s a slow reload, but at close range, the weapon is incredibly devastating.

_{[ ߜ ] B A C K S T O R Y}

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Two years ago, Marlowe washed ashore in Dun. His memories have been disjointed and confusing, and while he does remember aspects of his old life, many events remain blocked from his mind. Marlowe is sure of one thing: Dun and Sengia at large have nothing in common with his home. Marlowe and his companions have many theories about how he came to Dun, ranging from him coming from a mirrored world to Marlowe simply having false memories. What he does remember is relatively simplistic: he was born in a fishing village named Plox, and he lost both his parents at a young age. He went to live with his grandfather, a gambler and a con artist.

Some time during his youth, Marlowe became the subject of a dire experiment, which transformed his body into what he feels is an abomination. Marlowe battled against his fate alongside a group of friends, but ultimately memories of those days become hazy as he attempts to remember the specifics. Since arriving in Dun in 4425, Marlowe has wandered the countryside (or swampside if you take Dun’s geography into consideration) looking for meaning in a world that he feels he has no place in. Marlowe found a purpose in fighting The Order; and his ability to withstand the kirhas has made him an intriguing and dangerous thorn in The Order’s side. Marlowe fought alongside the Vann members Deya and Kath, as well as Kath’s mentor Otis and a wanderer named Rin against the Order in 4425. Marlowe was able to convince Orderling Mathis Rauzil to leave the cult, convincing him that genocide was no way to uncover lost secrets of the world. Marlowe and company also met with Lexi Uael, another defector against The Order’s cruelty. Together the group launched an attack on The Order’s base in a swamp ruin, led by Lexi’s own father. During the battle, Otis was slain, and Marlowe and Kath landed the killing blow on the powerful orderling.

Marlowe, feeling that he lacked the strength to protect others, left his companions for a year and traveled to the ancient country of Derim, where he joined forces with Viera Versul, a member of the country’s ruling clan. She helped Marlowe uncover an ancient weapon that Marlowe dubbed Hard Edge, and bonded Marlowe’s soul with the sword, intertwining Marlowe’s fate with the ancient weapon. Wishing to see the world and to find a way to free the country from the tyrannical fist of her older brother, Viera set off with Marlowe back to the mainland. All was not well, as Marlowe discovered his companion and dear friend Rin had been indoctrinated to The Order in the time he was gone. Marlowe set off to save his friend, but his crusade to save Rin nearly led to Marlowe losing himself in his rage. Marlowe was able to save his friend, but the recent battles have forced him to rethink his outlook on the world. Marlowe fears what could happen if he fell into the same traps his companion Rin did, and now seeks to find new ways to fight, instead of relying on sheer strength and bloodlust to win him his battles.

The Order Saga: The Mind's Eye

Now it's time to write giant character sheets!

Damnation | Lost Souls of the Frontier

Davis Loren

“If people 'round here knew who I really was? I don't know if I'd have a bullet in the back of my head or a ransom sent back home.”

| The Fool |

| AGE |

20

| SPECIES - ETHNICITY |

Human, Argosi/Etherian Parentage

| PERSONALITY |

Davis was born and raised in this new era of technology and prosperity, though living the life of a merchant's son, he's naive and unaware of the nature in the outside world. Growing up in Tricot, he's never seen the dangers and the struggle of frontier living, nor has he been trained in any sort of fighting style.

| SKILLS - ABILITIES |

• Merchant
  
  • Charisma - Davis was raised to follow in his father's footsteps as a spice trader in Tricot. Because of his upbringing, he is skilled in both diplomacy and bartering. If words can kill, Davis is as deadly as they come. Sadly, words aren't as effective as bullets, which isn't as useful.

• Fast Talking - Davis is an exceptional liar, and uses his quick wits to defuse situations, or to throw blame onto another party. His silver tongue and surprising charm do come in handy in these situations.

• Dumb Luck - Not much of a skill per say, but more of a natural ability, Davis has had surprising luck surviving out in the wilds on his own so far. This doesn't make him bulletproof or safe, however, as it seems that he constantly gets in worse trouble the deeper he goes.

| FLAWS - DISADVANTAGES |

Davis IS skilled with speech, he has very little skills anywhere else in his repertoire. He has absolutely no training with firearms or normal weapons, making him a bigger danger to himself and his allies in a firefight or a brawl. He also has very little knowledge of how life works outside the big city.

Due to his family's history with the Argosian Empire, Davis has very little love for Argosian nationals and the Imperial Government. His quick temper due to his family's own background with the Empire can get him in deep trouble, especially when he lacks any strength or skill to back himself up.

| INVENTORY - EQUIPMENT |

• Dragon Series 1 Single Action Revolver-As basic of a revolver as a man can find. Common across the land and used by ranchers, outlaws and lawmen. Balanced, albeit slow firing.

• Steel Hunting Knife-Simple, metal, good for cutting, skinning and cooking. Just don't stab yourself.

• Shipping Manifest-A piece of paper with particular items, owned by the Loren family.

| BACKGROUND |

Born and raised with the aim of being the next in line to inherit the Loren shipping business, Davis was never exactly trained or taught in the ways of the frontier. He spent all of his life in Tricot, enjoying a good education, wealthy friends and a comfortable, albeit uneventful life. Still, he found his relationship with his father constantly being strained due to his more gregarious activities such as gambling in local bars, chasing after young dancing women and drinking a little too much. Brought to task and threatened to be thrown out of his family's home, Davis was given the opportunity to redeem himself in his father's eyes: assist with a new shipment being brought into the docks, and prove he could be a responsible man.

It was going well to begin with. Whatever his father was having shipped in from the west was important; and important enough for a group of bandits to rush in, killing several dock workers and taking off with the cargo. Ashamed of failing his father, Davis purchased a gun, a train ticket to Blackwood and began his search for the cargo and the men who stole his livelihood. He has no information save that the man who led the group had a large scar over his left eye, a black hat, and wore a white bandanna. Sadly, with the amount of rough characters into the east, it's difficult to go on looks alone. This is a place where the name is what matters, and sadly Davis has no name worth mentioning--unless he wants to end up at the wrong side of a gun.

| GOALS - ASPIRATIONS |

Davis will do anything to redeem himself and his family, even if it puts himself directly in the line of fire. While his lack of ability, his smooth talking ways and his idiocy may make him out to look like a coward, his refusal to let this incident go puts him somewhere between the realm of bravado and stupidity. While he constantly finds himself out of his element, fighting to both learn the ways of the world and save whatever innocence he has himself, he isn't afraid to get his hands dirty and get intro trouble--even if that means getting his companions into deep trouble as well. Beyond his own personal aspirations, Davis does have a good heart as well. He hates seeing suffering and injustice, as it's something he's barely experienced in the safety of the capital city. He's also a skirt chaser, but what young rake isn't in these times?

What is your best roleplaying memory?

I’ve had a lot of good memories, so singling out just one of them would feel cheap. I started RPing online through message board communities fifteen years ago and I’m really unable to revisit much of it due to that forum not really existing anymore— the wayback machine can only offer me so much.

But I suppose my most cherished memory is the inception, journey, and conclusion of “The Order Saga” – a several chapter RP that started around 2004 that in some form lasted up to 2008 or so. A lot of my fellow writers in that are gone or retired, @DruSM157 is probably the only one who is still around and probably has a lot of good memories with it. It was a pretty generic story with an anime sheen that eventually became more and more as we got older and more experienced as writers. For a RP that started with a generic evil cult and half-witted heroes during a period of my writing development where I could’ve probably aptly been described as “teenaged cynic and grimdark writer who was way more enthusiastic than he could handle”. It was a fun time; and the TOS on its own exists as a legacy in my world fairly well.

I would love to recapture something like that.

@Gowi

I love you too buddy <3

Damnation | Lost Souls of the Frontier

A little update for people who might be interested but were worried their archetype was "taken". There are new archetypes, and the cast at this point is flexible. So it's no longer "7 Souls".

Again, if anyone has questions, Gowi and I are always around, scouring for people interested in the rp.

Damnation | Lost Souls of the Frontier

Because I'm a rebel through and through, I'm going to do things in the wrong order and express my interest before posting an introduction! :D

@Tinn

Welcome, hola, bienvenue! If you've got any questions please feel free to ask and Gowi and I will get to it ASAP!