[OOC] [Discontinued]

[Themerlinhawk]

@KoLOh I wasn't sure if you were just going to leave it at that.

[KoL]

@KoLOh I wasn't sure if you were just going to leave it at that.

@Themerlinhawk

I mean, that's a typical intro narration for a tabletop like RP, which is the flavor I'm going with here.

[PentagonWhite]

Hi! I wish I wasn't so late to the party: is there still room for one more?

[TheWendil]

Hi! I wish I wasn't so late to the party: is there still room for one more?

@PentagonWhite

There should be.

[KoL]

PS:

From there on, you guys can choose how the story will proceed, but there's a few obvious issues that you must do, like signing for the quest, if you want any reward, and forming the party. But that's the part were your guys' actions count.

Just to be clear, other things like talking to townspeople, the guards, other adventurers, or "examining the scenery" for the lack of a better term, etc are also possible.

[KoL]

Hi! I wish I wasn't so late to the party: is there still room for one more?

@PentagonWhite

Yeah, I'll do some counts later, but I figure we still have space for you. Welcome.

[PentagonWhite]

@KoL

I won't let you down, boss. Character sheet on the way.

[The1Rolling1Boy]

@KoL Okay, quick question what is a prose format? Also I'll try to fix it but I'm not sure how to do that exactly, just give me some time and I'll fix it to the best of my knowledge

[PentagonWhite]

Aeolia Ferrar

Aeolia

Name: Aeolia Ferrar
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Race: Elf
Height: 180cm/5’11
Weight: 70kg/154lbs

Appearance: Aeolia’s appearance is wasteful, a disappointment to seemingly everyone besides Aeolia herself. Long blonde hair, straightened and neatly braided for her debut, curls forlornly between her shoulder blades, cut cheaply and poorly maintained. A pristine complexion that earned her compliments in her youth is marred by the pallid hue it has gained after months deep within ancient chambers, surrounded by shuttered windows and old books, and she long since sold her makeup for an experiment which at the time seemed so very promising. Despite protestations, and half-serious offers to send rags and pouches of stamped gold, she wears the finery she is prescribed by her fussing mother: once-crisp white shirts long since in need of ironing drape her slender figure, trousers of fine wool cover her long legs, bearing the specks of old ink and the patterned ghosts of alchemical mishaps. She keeps the sole ball dress she had foisted upon her in good condition, locked out of sight of her narrow, hawkish eyes and their inquisitive, hurried gaze. She walks with a steady pace that is always slightly too fast to be acceptable. She speaks in crisp, richly-accented and clipped words, fluctuating between tacit and lugubrious depending most often on the current state of her dissertation. Her hands are clever and long-fingered, calloused and dexterous, and rarely content themselves with stillness when she is in conversation, either to gesture or fidget. She avoids eye contact not out of nerves but out of skittish distraction, her fascination pulled to the lines of an interesting nose, to the ripples of water, or to the proud cerulean sky and its soaring occupants.

Character Concept: Aeolia is an innovative, if not particularly powerful, Spirit User, and a shining star of the youngest generation of University students, a scholar to the very core in constant need of money to fund her research. She is the scion of the affluent, new-moneyed Ferrarus family, the second daughter of two and the fourth child of four. Her mother was born to failing aristocrats, her father to a jewel trader, and together they raised her with all the advantages wealth and modest status could bring. From an early age, she proved a prodigious student, and was blessed with a Spirit, and her oldest friend, Tacitus. She lacked the charisma and ambition that drew her father’s love to her older brother, or the demure beauty and grace that made her mother dote on her older sister, and so she found patronage in books. She excelled in school, impressed the private tutors she demanded, and exhausted the family library in impressive time. It was only natural for her to continue her education at the University, studying Natural Philosophy and Alchemy alongside her magics. She is the archetypical struggling graduate student, balancing her dwindling allowance from her family with teaching, research, writing and maneuvering within the bureaucracy of the school. She has poured her entire being into the pursuit of knowledge, but in doing so has shuttered herself from the other joys of life, and has resigned herself to the fate of the candle burning at both ends, to be brilliant and poorly-planned. She works fingers to bones to stay afloat in the life she’s chosen, but whispers in the back of her mind, doubts gnawing at her, are making her wonder if her choice couldn’t be improved somewhat.

Combat, Abilities and Skills: Aeolia is not much of a combatant. She’s naturally frail, lacking in much physical constitution, weak and easily startled. She’s never been in a real fight, much to the chagrin of her spirit, Tacitus, and despite his urging has taken few steps to learn how to better protect herself. She took a fencing class when she first came to the university, but had no special talent for it, and so quickly discarded it as a waste of time. With the help of her Spirit, she has a versatile and worthy set of abilities if she ever was to put her life in danger, with Tacitus being a Spirit with an immense and exclusive affinity for metals in general, and Iron in particular.
To Aeolia’s parents, she is defined by what she cannot do. She cannot dance, she cannot sing, she can weave to only the most meager standards. The last time she tried to cook without a recipe she ruined not only the dish but the pot it was cooked in, and she is by no means a great beauty, especially in regards to her womanly assets. She has never had interest in money as an abstract concept, never had the heart for stern negotiation or vicious back-alley deals, never had the charisma to trick or inspire or convince outside the debating hall. She has little patience for politics, and truth be told has very few true friends.
She prides herself on what she can do. She can speak three languages at a conversational level, and read two different kinds of long-dead runic scripts. She can write ten pages of research notes, or a particularly inspiring thesis proposal, in a night, given a hot pot of tea and no distractions. She could navigate an alchemy lab blindfolded and still distill whatever was asked for her. She can treat rheumatism, flux, and a hundred other ailments of the body. She is the authority at the university on the study of explosive reagents and chemical fuels, and has taken work as a teacher, an accountant, an assistant engineer, and, rather bizarrely, on the night before a formal ball she was a crude jeweler for an old acquaintance looking to impress.

Equipment and Inventory: Aeolia goes nowhere without an inkwell, pen, and several pages of cheap paper. Besides that, she travels light. She has good quality, if not always fashionable, clothes for all weather, and she often travels with Iron for Tacitus and a small pocketknife for when she forgets her dormitory key in the library.

Sample Post/Introduction:

Hider

“I swear, Lia, you’ll turn invisible if you stay locked up there forever!”

Sander, dutiful and longsuffering as ever, trailed a stride behind Aeolia despite his impressive size as she rushed from the library to the Masters’ quarters. She clutched reams of parchment and beakers as she rushed through the cloisters of the university, boot heels clicking on the stone. She weaved through the small groups of fellow students, skirting around clusters of gossipers and between those who didn't share her sense of urgency, weaving a sharp and nervous dance towards her destination.

"I'll not tell you again, Sander, I'm too busy, I need this grant or I'll have to-"

She spoke in her usual rushed alto, the wealthy accent losing itself in a sea of similar voices. Sander, with his deep bass, cut her off with a scoff. "Talk to your mother? You're going to ha-"

"Just drop it, boy: she's not stopped moaning about this for weeks. Let her see the end of it, for my sanity." The little ball of coruscating grey metal materialized behind Aeolia's shoulder, the customary form of her Spirit. Tacitus sounded as weary as Sander was exasperated, worn down from another night as Aeolia's sounding board and reluctant rehearsal partner. His deep bass scraping, the sound of a pick on stone or an axe being ground, was more dull than usual.

Aeolia, distracted by the new entrant into the conversation, badly misjudged the gap between two shoulders. The shock made her gasp, and as her hands clutched at the valuable notes and samples she held, she left herself no time to save herself from the hard ground. Sander's arms propped her up, less than gently, and she felt a blush form as she muttered out two different apologies and a gruff 'thanks' to her old friend.

"You know boy, I'm beginning to think you have a point." The spirit faded with its closing remark, and Aeolia heard a chuckle as she sped away, unable to concentrate.

Three hours of impassioned research proposition later, she slid onto a tall bar stool next to the distracted form of her burly friend at the University tavern. Shocked eyes met her elated stare, and her smile infected him. "I don't suppose your shiny new grant has room to pay for drinks?"

They both knew it didn't, but neither found themselves caring

Apologies for the length, I have to go for a few hours in just a bit and I didn't want to delay in posting it to pare it down. I'll work on shortening it when I get back.

[KoL]

@KoL Okay, quick question what is a prose format? Also I'll try to fix it but I'm not sure how to do that exactly, just give me some time and I'll fix it to the best of my knowledge

@The1Rolling1Boy

The same writing style that the others used on their CSs. What you did is more akin to a script post, both styles don't mesh well, that's why I want to avoid it.

[The1Rolling1Boy]

<Snipped quote by The1Rolling1Boy>

The same writing style that the others used on their CSs. What you did is more akin to a script post, both styles don't mesh well, that's why I want to avoid it.

@KoL

You using vocabulary that I don't know of but I sure will try to figure it out... This is going to take a while though

[KoL]

@PentagonWhite

I'll read your CS later. But, yeah, you need to cut the "excess fat" to match more or less the same standard as the others.

To put it simply, "Sometimes, less is more".

[KoL]

<Snipped quote by KoL>

You using vocabulary that I don't know of but I sure will try to figure it out... This is going to take a while though

@The1Rolling1Boy

Just read hope the others made their own posts and try to do it like that. Is what I mean. Of you still can't get it, I can try to provide you with an example, once I'm back on my laptop.

[The1Rolling1Boy]

<Snipped quote by The1Rolling1Boy>

Just read hope the others made their own posts and try to do it like that. Is what I mean. Of you still can't get it, I can try to provide you with an example, once I'm back on my laptop.

@KoL

Thank you so much... But I'll re-type the cs by myself before I ask for help. Just give me a good 3 to 4 hours and you should have it by then
I also have an idea of what style you want me to type in... It's like for of a story telling in 3rd person point of view

[Mega Birb]

@PentagonWhite
Aeolia and Sagant are two sides of the same coin and you can't tell me otherwise.

[The1Rolling1Boy]

Chara

Name: Chara
Age: 16
Gender: Born Female but is genderfluid so she would look male some days
Race: Human... What more do you want?
Height: 4'10
Weight: 89 pounds


Appearance: Chara is pale skinned, with dusty brown hair that she cuts herself to shoulder length with either a dagger or a pair of rusty scissors so it's never even and bright striking red eyes that are like fire, and when she stares you in the eyes you would feel like you soul itself is being set on fire and burned alive.

Character Concept: Chara is an independent, snotty, and rude person who keeps their emotions to themselves and just minds their business living their life one day to the next just trying to get by on what little that they may have. She is normally feared by people which cause her to be pretty lonely but it doesn't phase her that much though and she does have depression and sometimes suicidal thoughts and she has tried to kill herself because of the fact that people are scared of her and her never really knew her birth parents and her adopted parents didn't help with it so she ran away and she is nowhere living on her on top of rooves of houses and different buildings

Combat, Abilities and Skills: Chara is really skilled with a dagger and agility and can make a knife or something that is sharp or able to cause pain out of anything, she is also really good at lying, stealing, bribing, blackmailing, and dancing. She is really good at dancing and does it when no one is looking or around just out of boredom

Equipment and Inventory: Chara would often carry a pocket knife, two daggers, and sometimes a pistol but that's only when she is planning on stealing something

Other: She is not completely original but some of it is from the undertale fan base page but it doesn't say much about her characteristics, so I had to make up a good part of it, the picture is from a undertale au called dancetale that I have been addicted to lately,

Sample Post/Introduction: "Try to catch me you dirty little mutts!" *Chara snaps and finishes her sentence with a small chuckle then darts off with her black backpack overstuffed full of money, fruit, and bread to the point it's barely able to close, she holds a sharp dagger that has some dried blood on it in one hand and her pistol in the other hand ready for what they may throw at her, Chara smirks and jumped up onto of a parked car by a house that has the front windshield already broken and the hood popped open then uses the loose side bricks to climb onto of the house and bounced from roof to roof making her way back to an abandoned building that she stays at until someone finds her there and arrests her for trespassing on city-state land*

It's a rough fix... I'm still trying to figure out how to fix it

[Mega Birb]

@The1Rolling1Boy
I may have the solution. Give it a shot while writing in the 3rd Person.

[PentagonWhite]

@Mega Birb

I look forward to getting them interacting.

@KoL

Despite the evidence to the contrary, I do understand the value of brevity. I've pared it down to be shorter than @Mega Birb's (which surprisingly only meant shaving off about 200 words), I hope that's sufficient. Please, tell me if there is anything I can change to make her fit better or be a better character, I really am sorry for making you waste your time looking over it again.

Take 2

Character Sheet

Name: Aeolia Ferrar
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Race: Elf
Height: 180cm/5’11
Weight: 70kg/154lbs

Appearance: Aeolia’s appearance is wasteful. Long blonde hair, straightened and neatly braided for her debut, curls forlornly between her shoulder blades, cut cheaply and poorly kept. A pristine complexion that earned her compliments in her youth is marred by the pallid hue it has gained after months deep within ancient chambers, surrounded by shuttered windows and old books. Reluctantly, she wears the finery she is prescribed by her mother: once-crisp white shirts long since in need of ironing drape her slender figure, trousers of fine wool cover her long legs, bearing the specks of old ink and the patterned ghosts of alchemical mishaps. She views the world through narrow, hawkish eyes and their inquisitive, hurried gaze. She walks like she speaks: too fast. She uses crisp, richly-accented and clipped words, fluctuating between tacit and lugubrious depending most often on the current state of her dissertation. Her hands are clever and dexterous, and rarely content themselves with stillness when she is in conversation, and the bright cerulean eyes she boasts roam free of their own will.

Character Concept: Aeolia is an innovative, if not particularly powerful, Spirit User, and a shining star of the youngest generation of University students, a scholar to the very core in constant need of money to fund her research. She is the scion of the affluent, new-moneyed Ferrarus family, the fourth child of four. Her mother was born to failing aristocrats, her father to a wealthy jewel trader, and together they raised her with all the advantages wealth and modest status could bring. From an early age, she proved a prodigious student, and was blessed with a Spirit, and her oldest friend, Tacitus. She lacked the charisma and ambition that drew her father’s love to her older brother, or the demure beauty and grace that made her mother dote on her older sister, and so she found patronage in books. She excelled in school, impressed the private tutors she demanded, and exhausted the family library. It was only natural for her to continue her education at the University, studying everything she can find time for. She spends her days balancing the ever-dwindling allowance from her family with teaching, research, writing and insufficient sleep. She has poured her entire being into the pursuit of knowledge, and has resigned herself to the fate of the candle burning at both ends, to be brilliant and poorly-planned. She works fingers to bones to stay afloat in the life she’s chosen, but she has found herself wondering more and more if it is a good one.

Combat, Abilities and Skills: Aeolia is not much of a combatant. She’s naturally frail, lacking in much physical constitution, and as weak as can be expected. She’s never been in a real fight, much to the chagrin of her spirit, Tacitus, and despite his urging has taken few steps to learn how to better protect herself. With the help of her Spirit, she has a versatile and worthy set of magical abilities if she ever was to put her life in danger, with Tacitus being a Spirit with an immense and exclusive affinity for metals in general, and Iron in particular.

To Aeolia’s parents, she is defined by what she cannot do. She cannot dance, she cannot sing, she can weave to only the most meager standards. The last time she tried to cook without a recipe she ruined not only the dish but the pot it was cooked in. She has never had interest in money-making, never had the charisma to trick or inspire or convince outside the debating hall. She has little patience for politics, and truth be told has very few true friends.

She prides herself on what she can do. She can speak three languages at a conversational level, and read two different kinds of long-dead runic scripts. She can write ten pages of research notes, or a particularly inspiring thesis proposal, in a night. She could navigate an alchemy lab blindfolded and still distill whatever was asked for her. She can treat rheumatism, flux, and a hundred other ailments of the body or mind. She is the authority at the university on the study of explosive reagents and chemical fuels, and has taken work as a teacher, an accountant, an assistant engineer, and in one particularly interesting anecdote a diary-thief.

Equipment and Inventory: Aeolia goes nowhere without an inkwell, pen, and several pages of cheap paper. Besides that, she travels light, never bringing more than she thinks she needs.

Sample

Sample Post/Introduction: “I swear, Lia, you’ll turn invisible if you stay locked up there forever!”

Sander, dutiful and longsuffering as ever, trailed a stride behind Aeolia despite his impressive size as she rushed from the library to the Masters’ quarters. She clutched reams of parchment and beakers as she rushed through the cloisters of the university, boot heels clicking on the stone. She weaved through the small groups of fellow students, skirting around clusters of gossipers and between those who didn't share her sense of urgency, weaving a sharp and nervous dance towards her destination.

"I'll not tell you again, Sander, I'm too busy, I need this grant or I'll have to-"

She spoke in her usual rushed alto, the wealthy accent losing itself in a sea of similar voices. Sander, with his deep bass, cut her off with a scoff. "Talk to your mother? You're going to ha-"

"Just drop it, boy: she's not stopped moaning about this for weeks. Let her see the end of it, for my sanity." The little ball of coruscating grey metal materialized behind Aeolia's shoulder, the customary form of her Spirit. Tacitus sounded as weary as Sander was exasperated, worn down from another night as Aeolia's sounding board and reluctant rehearsal partner. His deep bass scraping, the sound of a pick on stone or an axe being ground, was more dull than usual.

Aeolia, distracted by the new entrant into the conversation, badly misjudged the gap between two shoulders. The shock made her gasp, and as her hands clutched at the valuable notes and samples she held, she left herself no time to save herself from the hard ground. Sander's arms propped her up, less than gently, and she felt a blush form as she muttered out two different apologies and a gruff 'thanks' to her old friend.

"You know Sander, I'm beginning to think you have a point." The spirit faded with its closing remark, and Aeolia heard a chuckle as she sped away, unable to concentrate.

Three hours of impassioned research proposition later, she slid onto a tall bar stool next to the distracted form of her burly friend at the University tavern. Shocked eyes met her elated stare, and her smile infected him. "I don't suppose your grant has room to pay for drinks?"

They both knew it didn't, but that didn't stop them.

[The1Rolling1Boy]

@The1Rolling1Boy
I may have the solution. Give it a shot while writing in the 3rd Person.

@Mega Birb

PLease tell me this solution

[TheWendil]

I'll post either late tomorrow or Tuesday.