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[CHAR] A Thousand Legends ~ Sundered Veil
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Zolzaya Togtuun
Time is like an arrow. Its better if you have more and it hurts like a bitch when it hits you.
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age: 23 ... Race: Folk ... Sex: Female ... Height: 5'6 ... Weight: 130 lb ... Level: 1 (All players start at level 1.) Health Points Constitution 24 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y .. ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Recurve bow - Cavalry Sabre and whicker shield. Cavalry Spear - Leathers (If inapplicable leave blank or mark as NA.) ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Points: 12 (These points are meant to be distributed among the six attributes below. This is to be removed from the CS after points have been distributed. Remember to account for racial bonuses. Do not forget to show your work next to each ability regarding points added and subtracted!) Might: 10 +1 + 2 13 Dexterity: 10 +1 + 4 15 Perception: 10 +1 + 2 13 Wisdom: 10 +1 11 Charisma: 10 +2 12 Constitution: 10 + 2 12 | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE A wirey muscular woman from the Huafen plain. Dark of hair and weathered from long seasons in the saddle on the unforgiving plains. She was considered a beauty once, but while young for a Folk, the hardship of tribal life has begun to steal the blush of youth from her cheeks. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Zolzaya was born into a generations long interncine struggle for control of her tribe. Her grandfather was a great chief who united most of the tribes by marriage and war. Unfortunately all those marriages left an awful lot of heirs when the old man finally died. His concern for keeping all of his various wives happy meant that no clear successor was evident when the Old Bandit finally rode off to the great wind in the sky. The tribal gathering to elect a new leader deadlocked endlessly and eventually broke down into a series of running battles which snowballed into nearly four years of tribal warfare. Zolzaya's tribe lost most of their male leaders in the blood bath of the collapsing tribal compact. Zolzaya's mother rallied the survivors and put her and her sisters in command of the tribes warriors. Over the next several seasons Zolzaya rose to promince as a commander, reknowned for leading lightning raids and audatious all or nothing gambits. Under her leadership her tribe has become the central power on the southern plains. With their heartland secure the time is right for a representitive of the tribe to come south and make formal alligence to the Emperor, a move which will vastly strengthen the tribe, both diplomatically and material in Imperial weapons and trade goods. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Zolzaya is firey and brash, almost reckless. She is overconfident, ambitious and ruthless. She has a concept of honor peculiar to horsethieves and steppe raiders. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Zolzaya wants to make her submission to the Emperor and get back north as quickly as she can before the other tribes, or worse her sisters, get out of control. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC ... |
SouffleGirl123 Getting older is realising my blurbs were cringe
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Getting older is realising my blurbs were cringe
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"My people say a good woman is worth her weight in jade but I always prefered steel."
 She does not have a tail, you are hallucinating :P ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 27 Race Honfokun Sex Female Height 168cm 5'6" Weight 56kg (123.5lbs) Level 1 Health Points 28 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y - A bedroll - 5 days of basic dried rations - A couple of changes of clothes - A leather waterskin - Weapons and armour (as below) ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - A simple katana - A one-bladed Kusarigama - Fujiko wear leather armour to facilitate swift and easy movement but it is reinforced with thin strips of iron over her shoulders, clavicles, neck and hip. ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Might: 14 = 10 + 4 Dexterity: 14 = 10 + 2 + 1 (level up) + 1 (racial bonus) Perception: 13 = 10 + 1 + 2 (racial bonus) Wisdom: 14 = 10 + 2 + 2 (racial bonus) Charisma: 10 = 10 Constitution: 15 = 10 + 3 + 1 (level up) + 1 (racial bonus) | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Standing at an average height for her race, Fujiko has a slender figure. Her skin is a red-tinged brown, the red hue becomes more prominent in natural light but in darker settings her skin can deceptively appear as a light brown. She has 2 large horns that emerge from the front of her forehead that curl back slightly with the shape of her head. The tips of her horns are painted black and she has a thin gold chain on each horn connected on both ends of the horn causing it to make a dangling arch underneath each of them and another chain dangling from the very end of each of her horns. Fujiko's face has rather sharp features. She has high and well defined cheek bones. Her eyes are small and almond shaped. She has hooded eyelids and her iris' are a almost translucent-appearing Amber. She has thin pink lips and a small nose. She has pointed ears which sport simple gold piercings all down their edges. She has thick, slightly wavy raven black hair that reaches just below her elbow. She usually wears it in a ponytail or a braid and rarely leaves it down. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Fujiko was raised in a rather traditional Honfokun home by the waters that border the city of Karitu. She is the third of Tarisu and Hineko's 4 children- having an older brother and sister and a younger brother. Although the family weren't quite wealthy enough to be nobility but they were very much well off. Tarisu being a captain of a legion of general he strived for his family to be a golden standard of a Honfokun family, he saw woman becoming ransutor as shameful and against the natural order of their people. While Tarisu taught his sons how to fight, fish and make strategies, Hineko taught Fujiko and her sister how to cook, sew and prepare themselves for their future husband. While Fujiko's sister was delighted to prepare for her life of servitude to her future family, Fujiko was definitely not. She had begged and pleaded her father to teach her the way of the sword many times but both of her parents chided her for such requests. Growing up Fujiko made trouble for her parents. While all her siblings seemed to be content with their future roles, Fujiko wanted to be a warrior. In her younger years her parents tried to quell her sense of adventure with more 'ladylike' tasks, they even found her antics somewhat amusing thinking she was just a cheeky young girl. As she got old enough to properly think about her actions it came apparent to her parents that she was set on playing 'outside her role' as her father would say. This left Fujiko's relationship with her parents being tense. From the age of 10 she used to sneak down to the family's training grounds at night, going over the techniques she saw her father teaching her brothers- and a bit of swinging a blade aimlessly. From her late teens Fujiko's mother pushed her to find a man for herself after she scared off a few young warriors her father had attempted to pair ehr with to which Fujiko gave a lot of resistance. Instead, she found a mentor, Wakumi, an older ransutor who started training her in battle and wit in secret. After a few months Wakumi started bringing her nephew, Tetruma, along to train with her. Tetruma struck Fujiko in a way no man, or person, had before. He was strong, steadfast, kind and brave and as much as she tried to resist it she found herself falling for him. In this time her parents discovered her secret training leading to an explosive argument. This led to Fujiko's parents keeping her under lock and key. If she left the house, her younger brother or mother followed her. Salvation came in the form of Tetruma. He had remained in contact with her, at first privately through windows but soon he asked her father to court her. Coming to the conclusion of she were to live her life in servitude to a man, Tetruma would make it bearable- maybe even make it enjoyable. The pair were married when Fujiko was 22. Fujiko struggled to adjust to the traditional wife role but Tetruma made it easier. Unlike the men Fujiko knew growing up, Tetruma valued Fujiko's fierceness and wit. They'd often be engaging in witty banter or faux sword fighting. Tetruma would often come home from battles excited to show his wife new techniques and moves he'd seen. Their marriage was short-lived, however, when after nearly 3 years of marriage Teturma was enlisted to join a skirmish against a Kulner gang. 3 weeks later all that returned was a jar of ashes and a letter he'd written her just in case he didn't survive. 3 days later Fujiko declared her intent to become ransutor. Initially her family kindly encouraged her to turn away from it- thinking it was an ill-advised choice made in grief but that didn't stop her. 5 months later Fujiko had proven herself. At this her family swiftly disowned and disinherited her. She then spent a year working as a guard in the outer towns. In this time she met Yazju, a travelling Zauri who taken a short contract in the town she guarded. In their many shared patrols Yazju had told Fujiko about the places he had been, igniting a will inside her to see what lies beyond Karitu. So when Yazju was to leave to his next adventure she asked to accompany him. Fujiko sold her house and most of her positions and left with him, unsure if she ever really wanted to go back. Since then she has been accompanying him on his travels- taking small guard and mercenary contracts on longer term stops. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY It would be easy to say that Fujiko has been hardened by her past, and although that would be somewhat true, even from her childhood she had a contemptuous attitude. She is brash, sarcastic and slow to trust. She has a rather short temper and little patience for people's incompetence. She's used to being alone and in small groups and rather enjoys the limited company. Fujiko is very witty and clever. She doesn't have much of a filter between her thoughts and her speech. As many Hofon warriors she is diligent and heard working. She's extremely loyal to those she holds dear and those fighting for her cause. She feels some form of connection to other ransutor Honfokun and will treat them with utmost respect but everyone else needs to earn it from her. She is courageous and strong and won't back down from a fight. She does have a small form of a gentle and caring nature but it only really seems to come out for those closest to her and only in moments rather than consistently ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Fujiko seems to be on a constant mission to prove her worth as a warrior. A part of her wants to storm back home one day and boast a large run of achievements to her parents. She truly believes that life gives no handouts but everything should be worked for. Although she doesn't fit the stereotype she does follow the Honfokun belief in the return of Kizunatsu. Her faith in Kizunatsu isn't the most prominent thing in her life but she does try to do things that would please him. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC - The bottom half of the left side of her hilt is cut out and replaced with thick glass creating a 'window', inside holds some of her husbands ashes. -Fujiko is left handed |
Atalanta lsfables.com
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T h e D e m o n o f B i a n w e i
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 29 Race Folk Sex Female Height 5’ 11’ Weight 175 Level 3 Health Points 24 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y When the story starts, Bashira is in the middle of a duel. The only inventory she has is her equipment and a few gold coins. If she has time to run home before adventuring, she might grab a bit more money, a flask, and a bag of small necessities (bed roll, rope, etc.). ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Miao Dao / “Sprout Saber” / Two-handed Saber - Leather Whip - Dagger - Dueling Armor: as much for spectacle as it is protection, Bashira’s dueling armor is lamellar in red and black, featuring a demonic half-mask. ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Might: 15 Dexterity: 17 Perception: 13 Wisdom: 11 Charisma: 12 Constitution: 12 ___________________________________ M I S C -Has a large tattoo of a dragon battling a tiger (Yin vs. Yang) -Shinxi is the name of a tiger dragon (according to one questionable source) -Bashira means "bright" or "joy" LOL | ____________________________________________________________________________ A P P E A R A N C E Tall, muscular, and bad-tempered, Bashira can come off as intimidating. She's got a mass of dark hair, black eyes, high cheekbones, and fine features. ____________________________________________________________________________ P E R S O N A L I T Y Brash, bold, irreverent, cynical, indignant, loyal, determined. ____________________________________________________________________________ B A C K S T O R Y Shinxi Bashira woke and reached for the bottle. Her hands were shaking, the vestiges of a formless terror-dream still clinging to the corners of her mind like the last strands of spider silk falling from a careless wanderer. She couldn’t quite remember what it had been about, but there had been fire, she thought. Screams. Her mouth still tasted of iron, and her head throbbed beautifully. Bashira pulled a long draught from the bottle but missed the table when she tried to set it down, and it shattered over pale wooden floor, spilling rice wine in rivers. It caught the light of the coming morning, sparkling like a sword edge. A few small sounds of protest came from the pallet behind her, but Bashira ignored the soft figure lying there. It was an exhibition day. There were forms to observe. The room wobbled as Bashira hauled herself up, trying to balance over the mess seeping across the planks. Her belly heaved, though unearnestly. She’d hold onto its contents for a little while longer at least. Bashira closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to slow the spinning, but when she opened them again, it still coiled around her, as unreal as smoke dreams. Gray light spilled over a sparse space: sleeping mat, paper curtain, zither. A small writing desk leaned against the wall nearest the street-facing windows, and in the center of the opposite wall, a full set of red and black dueling armor was on display below a long, slightly curved sword—the only thing in the room worth anything to Bashira. She stumbled forward, slipped, sliced her right heel on a shard of wine-slick pottery. The floor came up in a white-blur-rush, and pain erupted again from her forehead. The girl in the bed giggled, and Bashira groaned. She was naked, and the wine pooling beneath her calves was cold and sticky. This time, when her stomach heaved, it nearly won out. The Demon of Bianwei! Daughter of a War Hero! Duelist Extraordinaire! Bashira pushed herself up from the floor and staggered to a waiting basin behind the paper screen, the eyes of its painted tiger dragon watching her with evident disgust. She ignored it and went about her ablutions, scrubbing her body with cold water and clove-scented bean powder, mopping up the blood from her foot. Half a pitcher of water later, all the various lines of Bashira’s vision were running straight, so she lifted the two-handed saber from its place of prominence on the wall and slipped down to the bottom floor to prepare, wrapping a stained silk robe about her shoulders as she went. It began without the weapon— stretches to pull and strengthen the muscles of her arms and back, lunges to test her legs. She fell at first. Swayed. But sweating cleared her head. She didn’t think about how long it’d been since she had a fight to prepare for, how the townhouse was eating through what had once felt like an endless supply of coin. She resolutely didn’t notice the dust, feather-soft and horrible, that had been building up since she’d dismissed her servants, how the main floor of her home escaped the distinction of messy only by the virtue of being gloriously empty. Whatever. It was easier to practice that way. Bashira reached for her sword, and a knock sounded at the door. Fuck. There were only a few people she hadn’t managed to run off yet. The landlord, maybe. Her agent. The twin prophets of bad fucking news. She could just… not answer it. Leave whoever it was in the dew and last night’s festival leavings, but damn her if she wasn’t a little bit curious. It was an odd time to go knocking down someone's front door. Just please, gods, let the woman in her bed not have an angry husband. It was too early in the morning for murder. When she swung open the door, a middle-aged man stood framed in the portal. He wore his hair slicked back—an unfortunate choice with his receding hairline, and he carried all his gold in the bags under his eyes. Incongruously, he wore a navy dress uniform with general’s knots that Bashira couldn’t quite wrap her head around, considering that the last time she’d seen him, he’d been face-down in a pool of his own vomit, forgotten beer soaking into a straw mattress three years past needing a re-stuffing. She could still smell the lovely mix of sugar, yeast, and bile. “Hello, Dad!” she said cheerfully and slammed the door closed. He came in anyway. Rats, well, she supposed she’d gotten that lovely tenacity somewhere. Maybe mom hadn’t been the only stubborn one. “Do you always answer your door in a robe?” Bashira looked down at herself. She was clean but sweaty, the robe a little loose from the exercise. She’d rather be more clothed in front of a guest, but tightening it now would feel like giving in, so she left it alone. “Wow, first visit in twelve years, and that’s how you open?” “You left, not the way around. Just like your good-for-noth—“ “Better that than let you drag us down with you. Looks like you landed on your feet, anyway. Drowned yourself in alcohol, gambled away our home, and you still get to be a general! Guess that’s what a few months of battle sixteen years ago gets a man these days.” “That war took everything!” “Not us. You lost us yourself.” She didn’t say that she’d lost her mother too, though he seemed to have forgotten about that. Bashira had managed to stick it out with him a couple of years longer than her mother had, not that she’d gotten anything for the trouble other than a few black eyes. The General—she wasn’t going to start calling him father now— stood just in front of the door, his face red and his forehead slick with sweat. Bashira could see a bit of herself in the black of his eyes and the breadth of his shoulders, but she had an inch on him now, like those first few years after the war had left him cowed. “I haven’t come to discuss the past. It’s time you paid your debts, gave back to your empire rather than wasting your life to disgusting hedonism.” Bashira just blinked at him because —and this is the absolutely fucking insane bit— he actually believed it. That man, the one who’d crumbled after the war and left his wife and daughter to deal with his rage, his debts, his perfect disregard for anything but himself, believed that she was such a disgrace to her empire that he could charge into her home and demand that she step away from the only godsdamned thing she cared about to pay it back. “And if I don’t?” “Then you won’t duel again." Well. They say you can’t argue with crazy people. Bashira stepped past him to open the door. “Yeah, sure, Dad. Won’t duel again. If you want to visit, send a note so I can plan to be out of town.” He tried a bit longer. Cajoled. Threatened a bit. But eventually, he did leave, and Bashira lifted her sword, settling into the slow, meditative stances she used as a warm-up, the weight of her blade heavy and familiar in her hands. It was an exhibition day, after all. There were forms to observe. |
POOHEAD189 Warrior
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Yazju Fleetscale
“A frog in a well knows nothing of the sea.”
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 52 Race Zauri Sex Male Height 6'7 Weight 307 lbs. Level 1 Health Points 32 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y Rice Glue Kindling Large carving knife Eight pounds of dried meat String Vial of ink 4 vessels of paint Coin sack Flint & Tinder Sword Sharpener ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Large Dao - Wakizashi - Gozuko armor (If inapplicable leave blank or mark as NA.) ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Might: 10 +2 +4 | 16 Dexterity: 10 +2 |12 Perception: 10 +2 |12 Wisdom: 10 +2 |12 Charisma: 10 |10 Constitution: 10 +4+2 |16 | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Green like moss, Yazju has the look of a quintessential Zauri. Tall, fearsome, and deceptively lazy looking. On his nose and head are stubs of old horns he's filed away to better fit in with the mainlanders and be more amicable to the locals. Yazju has the appearance many animals have, with the idiosyncrasy as seeming as if he perpetually smiles. Admittedly, much of the time he is trying to smile, but the look only shows his teeth and makes it seem like he's enjoying some dark joke or has seen something particularly tasty to eat. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Yazju was born to a strange clutch, his eggs hatching during a great sea storm. He heard one of his sisters was blown away, taken by the wind and then the birds. What would her jaracal have been? Yazju still wonders that to this day. A question without an answer was always oddly refreshing, even tinged with sad truths. His people usually had answers, as Runiq watched over them and everyone was always studious of their jaracel. Yazju had one of those once. He grew up as most Zauri did, learning the ways of their culture and faith, and helping his fellows in the community. It was when it was time to learn his path that he was curiously undecided. For twenty days he pondered the question, and at the insistence of his father, he took the life of the shaman. As odd as Yazju was, he admired his people's ideas of Runiq and the after-life. Religion and philosophy played dual roles, and he wished to delve and learn more of them. But his hands were always bored. Always fidgeting. Twelve years in the faith, and he felt restless. His learning had stagnated. Yes, he felt fulfilled, but fulfilled does not always mean filled, yes? Many Zauri came to him for guidance and with great questions, and he would answer what he may and grant them ofuda to ward off the spirits. But he felt an unease. One day he felt like cracking jokes, and other days he felt like learning how to fight with the warriors. Not all Zauri were content with their lot in life, but Yazju had a more strenuous case than most free thinkers of his people. He began to shirk his spiritual duties, thinking he could learn more about the divine plan of Runiq and the realm they lived in, by living it himself. He began to work his body with the warriors and achieve true patience with the fishermen. But what he enjoyed most was that of crafting with his taloned hands. His brother Hakfu had become a salesman of trinkets, and though he had counseled Yazju to remain as a Shaman, he did help his lost brother on learning a few arts of the trade. Yazju spent many nights carving rather than memorizing the stories of old.Oh he still knew many by heart, but a single-mindedness was prized for such things, for without stories, how did one remember the past for later generations? Then came the day the head Shaman was fed up with Yazju. No, he did not scream or kick Yazju out. Zauri are not very unkind to their own often. But he gave Yazju a choice to leave or be dishonored by staying, and Yazju decided he would leave. Perhaps one day he would come back, engorged in experience and would petition to be allowed back in the order. But as it was, Yazju thought this would be a fine experience. What manner of storms or adventures could be had on the mainland, with the other peoples? It would take decades to find out, he thought, and so far the theory had proven true. Nearly ten years on the mainland, fighting and carving and inculcating and eating. It was fun, and friends made it more worthwhile. Fujiko, for example. Yazju had met her on a job of claw-duty. Yazju thought she was good people, and she cheered up Yazju when he failed at selling nick knacks. Somehow Yazju cheered her up, but whenever he did, he did not know how he had. Yazju just supposes he has a way with women, as the mainlanders say. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Yazju is an oddity to the Zauri, but in the view of the average mainlander, he's pretty typical. Bestial but seemingly apathetic in countenance, Yazju has a vast love of life and learning, and does his best to be cordial to those he meets. He understands everyone is trying to find their way in this life, and that comes with its own hiccups. However, he can be snarky, even when he doesn't mean to be. That is to say, he doesn't have the filter many do, and that, coupled with his sense of humor doesn't translate well to many of his would-be customers. Yazju has a vast amount of patience and a heart of gold, but when he is angry, the cause of his ire will see the wrath of Runiq from him. His long life and sturdy body have made him into a capable warrior and threat to any who rubs him the wrong way. Lcukily, Yazju enjoys food and talk more than war and ruin. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Yazju sees life as his oyster, but not the world. The world is strange and vast, and for everyone to find their own Jaracel. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC ... |
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 18 Race Folk Sex Female Height 4’8” • 139cm Weight 84 lbs • 38kg Level 1 Health Points 22 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y Bag of Glass Marbles Pouch of Pulverized Chalk Pouch of Pulverized Charcoal Rice Glue Scraps of Pilfered Food Climbing Gear Lockpick Waterskin (Full) ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T A single kunai, tied to strong cord. A pair of tanto, one is intentionally dull. Embossed leather tunic beneath her cloak. Waxwood Armguards. ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Points: 12 Might: 10 + 1 + 1 = 12 Dexterity: 10 + 1 + 4 = 15 Perception: 10 + 1 + 4 = 15 Wisdom: 10 + 1 + 1 = 12 Charisma: 10 + 1 = 11 Constitution: 10 + 1 = 11 | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Tomoe is small-framed and frail looking, earning her the title of {Rodent} among the troupe of petty thieves and spies that she originates from. If she was found walking in front of a grown couple, you might mistake her for their child with her youthful expressions and rather large eyes in comparison to the size of her miniature everything else. Her voice peeps out like a shrew, soft, frantic, formulated to dissuade any negative attention that would find its way to her. Tomoe's wardrobe is more of a mixed bag as she has a multitude of outfits to blend in to situations as they arise, but when she given the option, this trickster dons a strange getup of loose cloth, feathers, and furs. This thief is strange and her appearance only magnifies that outlandish exterior. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY "𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮, 𝘛𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘦?" He asked. "𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙗𝙪𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 — 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙠𝙮 𝙖𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧." Tomoe was born somewhere and was inevitably left to the elements in Shanjing during her infancy. It was there that she was picked up by a group of thieves that called the port town their home. Her earliest years were relatively wholesome and as a babe the company of criminals spoiled Tomoe rotten. But as time went on she would eventually reach an age where she could fend for herself, and thus she was taught the trade. The docks were bountiful for folk of their lifestyle! Unguarded crates often went missing, and unmanned ships were stripped so bare that the local courtesans would even turn red. But with crime comes backlash, and the wealthier merchants and lawmen who had everything to lose — would come down like a hammer. Guards, militia, anyone who could raise a blade, all were paid a hefty pouch of coin to hunt these thieves down. Empty buildings were burned, hounds were sent down alleyways, and any who sought to hide these criminals were to be tried with the same charges as those guilty. These thieves were known amongst the community of Shanjing, loved by some, hated by others, but coin and interrogation goes a long way if you are reputable to any degree. All of these men and women were found, manacled, soon to be executed or imprisoned regardless of involvement. Some of the youths of this troupe were lucky enough to be traded away, for labor, work of other kinds, a few were even adopted by sympathetic folk. Tomoe was not fated for such things, and though she was picked from the many to be sold to a couple of farmers — the small girl easily slipped away before anything could be set in stone. But now she was alone. She was nobody from nowhere with nothing but the clothes on her back and the dust in her pockets. So she ran.. Far from the town that was all she knew, and away from everything that was once attached to her. In the day hours she would hide squeeze between the cargo of horse carriages and at night she would trust her legs, whipping her legs through tall grass and mud until she would eventually find Bianwei. It was a fair bit more developed than where she'd come from, but Tomoe would soon find that there were more people and even more places to hide. If Shanjing was a forest, Bianwei was a jungle, and the young thief put the knowledge she sponged up to use very quickly. For survival of course! ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Tomoe loves her lifestyle. Some call it kleptomania, she calls it abundance & variety. Who's to say whether she needs that jade inkstone or not, you? She takes it anyway! Her choices are her own, and her stubbornness is without rival, and you can challenge that if you want. Tomoe is also manipulative to a degree. Often she will say things with a twist in order to spur a question, bat her lashes and pout to invoke sympathy, or chide and goad to agitate someone she doesn't like. Her education is incredibly limited, but she knows how to worm her way into someone's mind and play with their emotions. Lastly, she is incredibly driven. Ambition is number one for her, but what those ambitions are?.. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC ☆ No family or clan name! ☆ Works as a spy and information broker! ☆ Picks your pocket. ☆ The dull blade is meant for warnings. ☆ Hates the rain. ☆ Smokes a pipe from time to time. |
Kassarock The Conquering King
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I S H I Y A R Y U T A R O
To uphold the legacy of the Ishiya clan is both a duty and an honour
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 19 Race Honfokun Sex Male Height 5'8" Weight 142lb Level 1 Health Points 22 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y - Traditional Honfukun Lute - the Shamisen. - Several changes of fine clothes. - Porcelain tea set. - Flask of plum wine. - Large pouch of gold. - Parchment and Calligraphy tools. - Lacquered and Gilt Sword Case, sealed. ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Two handed Honfukun katana, highly decorated. - Matching wakizashi. - Close fitting Lamellar of lacquered iron plates. ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Might: 10 (+0) Dexterity: 14 (+1 racial, +3) Perception: 14 (+2 racial, +2) Wisdom: 15 (+2 racial, +3) Charisma: 14 (+4) Constitution: 11 (+1 racial) | ____________________________________________________________________________ A P P E A R A N C E Ishiya Ryutaro is a young Honfokun of relatively small and slight stature. Like the majority of his kind, his complexion is markedly different from the Folk of the Yongcun Empire, in this case a dark shade of dusky blue. His hair is similarity dark, black with the very faintest hint of an iridescent sheen, like that of a crow's feather. From beneath his short wavy locks a pair of slim curved horns emerge, which while well proportioned, would not be considered particularly impressive headgear by most Honfokun. His face is more pretty than handsome. There is a delicateness to his features, which though none could doubt to be aesthetically pleasing, could also be seen as slightly too effeminate on a man. The softness of youth is still very much in evidence in Ryutaro's face. His skin is smooth and supple, his cheek and chin still hairless. The eyes that gaze out from this youthful visage are of a bright and brilliant crimson, a colour that Ryutaro clearly favours in his choices of clothing. Several of the silken robes he has with him of this hue, as well as the lacquer that coats his armour. ____________________________________________________________________________ P E R S O N A L I T Y In social situations Ryutaro's youth belies his conduct, he is smooth and confident, having an excellent eye for the finer points of etiquette and appropriate behaviour. He is an engaging conversationalist, with knowledge on a great manner subjects and topics, but without a hint of arrogance or self-aggrandisation. In general he is pleasant, likable, friendly and humble. He has an excellent level of control over his emotions, rarely appearing visibly angry or upset in any situation. This self control can at times make Ryutaro feel as if he is somewhat evasive, or opaque. He is so good at disguising his own emotional state and behaving appropriately at times he struggles to reveal in his inner feelings. There is also an element of cautiousness, or perhaps even timidity to his person. He is never one to talk over another, and is quick to yield the centre of attention whenever it happens to fall upon him. Ryutaro is someone more focused on pleasing others above himself. An unusual trait in an heir apparent to a great and powerful noble house. ____________________________________________________________________________ H I S T O R Y The Ishiya clan can trace their lineage back as far as any of the great Honfokun families of Karitu. There were Ishiya who walked the ancient isles of Mosati, who fled the wrath of the yaoguai, and were amongst those two thousand weary souls who landed upon the shores of the Empire half a millennia ago. In the years since then, they have built a legacy that places them as one of the foremost clans of Karitu. Three Ishiya clan leaders have reigned in Cimanu as Seshkyo, elected rulers of the Honfokun people. And though they do not currently bear this particular dignity, Ryutaro's grandfather, Ishiya Tamotsu, is still considered a Tochihai, one of the feudal lords who command wealth, respect and power in Karitu. The Ishiya are noted amongst all Honfokun clans for their martial legacy. They were one of the families who brought the teachings of Senshodo with them when they travelled across the sea, and to this day the influence of these teachings runs strong in them. There is even a style of swordsmanship named after the family, the Ishiya style, which focuses on aggressive attacks and powerful static blocks. Ishiya Tamotsu was a noted warrior in his youth and is a highly respected fencing master and teacher. In addition many Ishiya have served as soldiers and commanders of Imperial armies, including Ryutaro's own father, before his untimely death. Sometimes Ryutaro wonders what his life would have been like had his father survived. Would the pressures placed upon him by his grandfather been lessened? Or would his father just been another elder who's expectations Ryutaro felt he was continually falling short of. Ryutaro was raised by grandfather. His father died when he was a small child, and his grandfather separated him from his mother when he decided having too many women around little Ryu was having a bad influence. He had always been small, weaker than his many cousins, and painfully shy as a child. But he was his grandfather's only male heir, and so Ishiya Tamotsu tried to make him into an heir worthy of the Ishiya name. In part he succeeded. Ryutaro is cultured and intelligent, he overcame his childhood shyness even if he still is a little timid and reserved. He trained diligently at swordsmanship and is a competent fighter, but no more than competent. Where his skills shine are in his poetry, music, and dancing, all desirable skills in the scion of a noble family. But there are still those who see him as unworthy within his own clan, and his grandfather has never formally acknowledged Ryutaro as his heir and successor. ____________________________________________________________________________ M O T I V A T I O N & O U T L O O K Ryutaro want to live up to the expectations that others have placed upon him. He wants to be the diligent grandson, dutiful heir, and great warrior his grandfather has trained him to be. At the same time he feels stifled by it all. The weight of the Ishiya legacy his heavy, and he worries that it will crush him beneath it. Deep down part of him wants to live his own life, free of what others think of him, and able to choose his own path. |
Cai-Su of the Jade Plains Tribe
Freedom lies in accepting the present.
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 15 (Mokeu) / 27 (Human) Race Mokeu Sex Male Height 191cm [6'3''] Weight 105kg [232lbs] Level 3 Health Points 30 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y - Waterskin - Coin purse Note: Cai doesn’t feel the need to keep a lot on his person as it might hinder his work. He and his mentor share a dwelling in Bianwei where the small number of possessions he does own are stored. ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Bo staff (2 meters, wood, painted red with golden handles on either end) - Green obsidian dagger (bone handle) - Armor: Cai has little need for armor; his enemies are rarely quick enough to reach past his staff. Aside from simple poplin cloth pants, he wears only red leather vambraces. ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Might: 15 Dexterity: 15 Perception: 14 Wisdom: 12 Charisma: 10 Constitution: 16 | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Although far from abnormally large by Mokeu standards, Cai has grown accustomed to his large stature in comparison to the Folk and Hofokun that call Yongcun home. He towers over them with well-defined and hardened muscles rippling through bronze colored fur. While the velvet soft fur covering his body remains mostly short, a thick mane with crimson streaks halos his crown. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY The Jade Plains Tribe was a small one, situated in central Banhet between a vast marshland and the edge of a thick, lush forest. Cai’s father, Su-Chin, served as their overly optimistic Chief. The band of roughly 100 were also advised by a sage, Zhao-Fu, well versed in the teachings of his own Master, following the Banhet traditions of honoring both the land and their ancestors through sacred rituals, ceremonies, and the worship of hallowed shrines and natural formations. Su-Chin held the honorable dream of reuniting the waring Mokeu lands and restoring them to their previous power. While his father was away pursuing his attempts to establish peaceful relations with surrounding tribes, Cai was taught and mentored by Zhao-Fu, who aside from schooling him in numerous studies, trained the growing boy in the way of the staff, and often took him on pilgrimage to numerous honored sites. As the oldest son, he was expected to take up the mantle after his father, so was expected to be well versed in strategy and leadership as well as a strong and capable fighter. Su-Chin’s goal, while lofty in its promise to benefit all, was unwelcome by other Banhet tribes. After his fruitless attempts to secure alliances with both neighboring and distant tribes alike, he came to the realization that he would first need to succeed in establishing allied relations with a tribe from Ko’Ang to convince the others to reconsider his offer. This did not end well. The Ko’Ang tribe he encountered was radicalized and fully devout to Duazhi. After feigning interest in Su-Chin’s blasphemy, they retaliated in righteous anger, performing the will of their God in eliminating the Jade Plains Tribe and wreaking havoc to any other Banhet tribes they encountered along their path as retribution for their faithlessness. On the day of the attack, Cai was returning from a long journey with Zhao-Fu. As they neared his tribe’s lands, they were met with the sounds of battle. Screams and the hard clacking of wooden staffs along with moans and wails of pain and grief greeted their return. Zhao-Fu was unable to prevent Cai from rushing to the edge of the forest to witness the massacre. What Cai saw that day, hidden from the top of the swaying branches high in the canopy, still haunts his dreams. His people, his tribe, friends and family alike were butchered ruthlessly by Ko’Ang. Decimated entirely, the bodies that lay slaughtered included even the youngest among the Jade Plains. The pair remained in hiding until their victors departed, at which point they walked among the carnage and mutilated bodies of their loved ones to pay their respects and perform the final rites for their passage from their current physical forms. No other tribes in Banhet allowed them to join their ranks. Wary and mistrustful of them and the ideas their tribe was known for none wanted to suffer any similar retaliations from Ko’Ang for harboring two survivors of what became known as an infamous attack. With no other options, Cai and Zhao-Fu fled as exiles to Yongcun. They remained briefly in Namhu before moving on to Sucheng and Xiao Yichan before settling in Bianwei, where the opportunities for work were plenty and the two outcasts found the necessary distance from their homeland. Five years have passed since that fateful day. Cai and Zhao-Fu share a small dwelling in the outskirts of the city. His mentor, already advanced in years, is now incapable of providing the manual labor and odd mercenary duties that both are often sought after for, and Cai alone works to earn their living. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Cai is affable, though largely reticent. He deflects with sarcasm and humor, though he doesn’t have many close relationships outside of his mentor, whom he respects. While he gives Zhao-Fu a hard time about his beliefs, Cai abides by them and their values, trying to live his life honorably. He is hard-working and calm, confident in himself and his abilities. Though not considered particularly brave, as he won’t charge forward on behalf of others, he fears very little and depending on the situation, may defend those smaller and weaker if there is need. Cai often refuses to take a stance on many debated subjects, preferring instead to consider both sides of the argument. He lives for the present moment and takes pleasure in small things. The warmth of the sun on his fur or the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves, for example. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Disillusioned by the ideals of his father, Cai holds no lofty goals or dreams of his own. He finds such planning to be ill advised and instead seeks only to perform the duties he must to live as comfortably as possible. Having no motivation to create any large- or small-scale changes to his own life and even less to society as a whole, Cai accepts the present as it is, finding attempts at revolution futile. He tends to avoid other Mokeu, though not as a rule. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC Cai was deeply traumatized by his past and feels resentment toward his father for the decisions he made which lead to the demise of their tribe. As such, much to the chagrin of his mentor, he prefers to be called only Cai, to distance himself from both his father and his haunted past. |
Bó-Dé
Keep considering me primitive and I shall bring a faint glimpse of my race's catastrophy upon you. Death.
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 15 Race Mokeu Sex Male Height 6'7" / 201 cm Weight 269 lbs / 122 kg Level 3 Health Points 30 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y - Coin purse - A small set of wood- and leatherworking tools for making repairs - Some markings of his former tribe such as teeth of wild animals and ear piercings - Water skin and some basic food dried and salted to make it last longer -- he just knows he's going to be on the move sooner or later again. ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Quarterstaff - Bare hands always work - His armor is a multi-layered affair. The lowest layer is the fur naturally growing on his skin that serves as padding and prevents discomfort. On top of that is leather that is studded in some parts and carries the third layer, a somewhat primitive looking arrangement of pieces of cured wood. It grows in Mokeu territory and provides toughness at an acceptable weight. ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Might: 18 (+5, +3 bonus) Dexterity: 15 (+2, +3 bonus) Perception: 13 (+3) Wisdom: 11 (+1) Charisma: 10 Constitution: 15 (+5) | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE One could argue that there is no real distinction between 'hair' and 'beard' in Bó's case, for the wild looking mess has surrounded his entire face with fairly equal depth. It forms sort of an ensemble with even more hair that grows on the major part of the rest of his body even though it's much less long there, but of the same brown-reddish color. His skin, as far as it's even visible, is tan except for his face where the much more bright color can be confused with war paint of some sort. It's also littered with a variety of scars in several different places ranging from miniscule to quite severe. Some can be seen easily, others only upon close inspection. Bó exhibits a large height as it is typical for his kind and is laden with an obvious, very significant amount of dense muscle. A beast that can bring much more to the table than just a slightly vicious looking set of teeth, yet not as lumbering as one might initially expect. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY One of the subtle advantages of being a member of the most short-lived species on the mortal realm is that, whenever somebody asks you about your personal background, you don't have to spend as much time on the answer as others. The subtle disadvantage however is that you have all the more brothers and sisters you need to cover -- unless they all, including yourself of course, are the sons and daughters of the tribe's leader and thus subject to an even more rigorous and somewhat lethal selection process in their upbringing as others. The clock's been ticking to find a successor after all for the tribe, and Bó-dé's father, Dé-ān, wanted to make sure his rickety, wooden throne would stay in the family. Bó-dé has seen a lot of violence from the start maybe even by Mokeu standards because the rules for the game were very straightforward. There was some wiggle room that would have allowed to let weaker competitors both alive and in the tribe, but most of them realized that doing so offered room for ulterior motives of revenge to thrive and could also be seen as a weakness. Bó-Dé's by no means innocent either and has made sure in several cases that those he pushed below him would never get back up one way or the other, too, but in the end he fell victim to this very mechanism himself and lost one of the final fights against his own brother, Wén-Dé. He was not killed, but had to face grave consequences anyway. The problem ? Bó-dé is covinced that his brother cheated. He grew up together with Wén, he followed his path as they both fought their way up through the ranks, so he just knows his brother should not have been that strong and fierce in that fight unless some forbidden assistance was involved. There were some concoctions known based on various berries and other plants that do have some noticeable effect, but these were forbidden by the rules of the game. It just should not have happened, but the others didn't know what he knew and so they did not only dismiss his claims, but also interpret them as a dishonourable act that only amplified the malice his banishment from the tribe after the lost fight was garnished with. That proved to be a firm barrier against Bó as he wanted to vent his rage in a not so polite manner towards his own family member. No matter whether you still believe in the gods or consider them a pile of rubbish that should never dare to return, the other half of the Mokeu population will likely be in opposition. Bó-dé is a Banhet and with the incompatible Ko'Ang to the East, the impossible Kulnar to the North and the large bunch of tribes around his current location not willing to accept his disgraced self either, the logical move to avoid being a complete loner was to move West. Bó has heard about the Huafen Plains and that society there, should one dare to call it that in the first place, might share some basic similarities with the place he himself comes from. Wild and tribal. He has hopes of finding some new compatriots there while also enjoying the sheer distance between the Plains and Banhet with an entire Empire to act as additional padding. The day might come when he has honed his skills enough to exact his revenge and retake his place or to just have forgotten about everything, but sadly the Empire is one vast lump of land. It's safe to say that as of now, Bó has just become kinda stuck in the middle of the Folk's heartland and too entangled in daily mercenary business just to make a living. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Dealing with Bó is relatively close to dancing on an active vulcano, but it's not one of those vulcanos that keep building up internal pressure deep inside until they surprise their environment with an infernal explosion, but one of those that keep their lava flowing steadily and comparably calmly. Or, in other words, his unfamiliarity with interpersonal standards commonly found in most parts of the world and his response to provocation with open aggression are a reliable constant on one hand, but it's also not as terribly bad as to cause extreme trouble on the other hand. Chances are good you'll never have to be around him for all too long in the first place however, simply because he's been taught by life to be a loner. Allies have pretty much always been assets condemned to cease their existence once having outlived the fulfillment of their purpose. Real friends have been a scarce thing and the Empire has not exactly proven to be a good place to find those, so he's a fairly blank sheet of parchment in that regard. This also means however that the existence of a secret passage down into his heart has not been ruled out yet. The chances are just... quite low probably. Bó's general straightforwardness might be mistaken with primitivity, especially if one also considers the fact that he's a Mokeu, but neither the misery of his race nor his personal background have really clouded his mind enough to lose the perseverance and intelligence he was born with. Especially the former can even go as far as to become a bad thing because he might overdo it. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK As far as he sees it, Bó's life can go in either one of the following three directions: He might end up stuck in the unfamiliar realm of the Folk forever, unable to move either back to Banhet or forward towards the Plains. That would equal pretty much the ultimate downfall for him. Or, if he actually makes it to the Plains in the West and finds his peace there, it could be either a peace for the rest of his life or a peace that merely serves as preparation for going back to Banhet and taking what is his. Bó clearly prefers one of the latter two options, but which one it will be depends on circumstances he himself is unable to predict with any reasonable accuracy. The only thing he knows for sure is that his status quo is unacceptable. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC ... |
Reached level 2 at the end of the first arc: +1 constitution, +1 perception
Gunther Captain, Infantry (Retired)
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3 days ago
 P R O F I L E Age 36 Race Honfokum Sex Male Height 6’ / 185cm Weight 195 Lbs. / 88kg Level 1 Health Points 26 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y - cloth satchel containing… - food - money (small amount) - water, in a bladder - prayer beads - pipa (Lute) - flint & steel - small white wax candles - other personal items ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Uchigatana (74cm / 29 1/8”) - a curved, single-edged blade with a rectangular guard and long grip to accommodate two hands. - Wakizashi (45cm / 17 2/3”) – a shorter version of the Uchigatana sword mentioned above. - Kenichi’s Do plate (cuirass) is solid steel, curved to fit his torso and padded beneath. The Do is steel grey, marred with many scratches from blades scraping across its surface. - His Watagami (shoulder strap / board) are knitted with pockets containing small bars of steel to provide flexibility with the arms. These are colored purple with red tassles. - the Kabuto (helmet) is buried beneath a magnificent plumage of white hair intended to create intimidation within his opponent. - He wears a metallic grey face mask, designed to invoke fear in his enemy. The metallic horns should not be confused with his natural horns covered by the mask. - The Kote (sleeve armor) contains several slender strips of steel stitched together and tied into the red Tekko (hand guards). - Kenichi wears black Hakama (pants) with gold trim. The Hakama are billowy, tied at the ankle into his black tabi (socks), which are padded on the soles. - He wears a purple sash over a purple Haidate (thigh guard) which is made of cloth stitched plates of steel similar to the Watagami. ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Might: 12 [+2] Dexterity: 15 [+1 (race) +4] Perception: 14 [+2 (race) +2] Wisdom: 12 [+2 (race)] Charisma: 11 [+1] Constitution: 13 [+2 (race) +1] | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Kenichi is on the high side of average for the Honfu with a slender yet athletic build. There are plenty of horn folk taller than Kenichi, but more are shorter. A lean muscular physique gives him a wiry appearance, lending to his flexibility. Kenichi has pale white skin drawing out his deep blue eyes. His unkempt white hair appears windswept, but it in such disarray on a day with no wind. Kenichi dresses in simple black or grey Hitatare (robe) and Hakama when not wearing his armor. The Uchigatana and wakizashi may be seen tucked into his purple sash, which he wears as well when not in armor. Kenichi proudly displays his broad dark horns which appear to be swept back across the top of his forehead. The tips curl up at the ends. Kenichi prefers to adorn his horns with golden chains mixed with purple, red, blue, green and amber colored beads. He lets the beads dangle off his horns on the sides of his head. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Kenichi was raised at court, his father, Tomichi holding the position of Hero to the Prefect of Karitu. His upbringing was surrounded by the nobility of the court in Cimanu and envoys from the Emperor in Bianwei. Tomichi taught his sons and daughters to value honor above all else. The boy admired his father with devotion. Kenichi’s mother, Haruka bore five children after his birth, Keiko (34), Hiroka (33), Yoshio (deceased) & Takuma (29). As a child, Kenichi was held responsible for looking after his younger siblings frequently. His mother expected him to keep his sisters and brothers safe from would be malevolents. As a boy, Kenichi, Yoshio, Takuma and other sons of Senshodo played at being Senshodo. They used wooden bokutō (swords), practicing the art of the sword (Kobudō), pretending to fight some great evil horde. In every encounter the sons of Senshodo overcame their opponent. When the boys were considered old enough, they were allowed to train with the Senshodo to one day fill the shoes of their Senshodo parent. Also as a boy, Kenichi was interested in learning to play the Pipa (Lute) and studied often. His martial skills always took priority over his music lessons. Somehow Kenichi always managed to continue to practice playing the Pipa and maintains an instrument to this day. At age 15, the family was overcome by a deadly virus. The seven members of the House of Tomichi sustained feverish chills, body aches, and difficulty breathing. A medicine man visited the house frequently to abate the symptoms. Kenichi suffered for only six days. His two sisters were bed ridden for a week and a half. His mother and younger brother suffered for only four days. But his father and younger brother, Yoshio succumbed to the virus never to breath the fresh air of Karitu again. After a year of mourning the loss of family members, including a hero of Karitu, Kenichi began training as a Senshodo with the other men of the realm. Do to who his father was, Kenichi was accepted immediately and given the respect he deserved. He fit in well with the others and quickly made a name for himself as an agile and proficient warrior. At 22 years of age, Kenichi met Hana, an 18 year old Honfokum with light blue skin and white hair like Kenichi. Her amber colored eyes drew Kenichi to her and then they realized a chemistry neither had experienced before. Within two years, the two married and began a family of their own in Cimanu. By age 30, Kenichi and Hana had three children, Hiroko (11), Yoshio (9) and Taemon (8). Kenichi continues his training as a Senshodo for the prefect of Karitu and is accepted as a proficient warrior of the realm. He left his family at home, traveling to Bianwei for the Wan Yue festivities only to learn of the assassination of the young emperor, Xiao Shang. He is now filled with anger, sadness and frustration over the empire’s loss. He is taking an oath to find his killer. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY When Kenichi was a young man/boy, he was confident about his future. The boy was filled with admiration for his father, Tomichi. He looked upon him as a God. The man was very respectful of his children teaching Kenichi and his brothers the ways of Aniyat and the ten divines as well as the Honfokum Senshodo, path of the warrior. When Tomichi passed away along with his brother Yoshio, Kenichi took on a hardened façade to protect his vulnerability. By the age of 16, he had become tough emotionally, reticent as well as regaining his earlier confidence. If it were not for his quiet demeanor and serious focus, he would be considered arrogant. The encounter with his young bride, Hana reopened his hear to the possibility of love. He could not subdue the feelings which changed his personality again. He retained the reticence and tough exterior from his teen years, but now acquired a certain social empathy for others. Her love helped to round out the warrior hardened by loss. Her presence in his life completes him; makes him whole. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Kenichi is bound by Honor and Senshodo to pursue Emperor Shang’s killer. He is devoted to his family and would think twice about putting himself into a position that would jeopardize them. He has left a sizeable fortune to allow Hana and the children to continue if he were to lay down his life in the pursuit of these goals. He values honor and would do nothing to desecrate this quality. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC  Kenichi under the mask Year of birth: 368 |
Salsa Verde Nomad
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1 day ago
Bizi-Gan, The Betrayer
The monkey's paw was always both of my hands.
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 37 Race Mokeu Sex Male Height 195.58 cm Weight 85 kg Level 1 Health Points 28 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y -Gourd -Coiling Dragon Staff -Large jade pot secured on back ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Coiling Dragon Staff - Jade Pot - Jade and leather belt, with a leather and jade wrist guard on his left forearm. ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Might: 16 (+3) Dexterity: 16 (+3) Perception: 10 Wisdom: 12 (+2) Charisma: 10 Constitution: 14 (+4) | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Aged. The most apt way to describe the elder Mokeu. It’s not that the Mokeu didn’t age gracefully, it was just that Bizi-Gan did not. Life on the road and seated with a thousand emotions had casually stripped away the grace and longevity from his skin. Instead of regaling himself in armors and cloths of the finest that the kingdom had to offer, he instead wore tattered tunics and ripped scraps of leather bound by non-uniform-colored straps. The hodge-podge outfit really pulled together his ancient look. The hair on his face has gone decades without being shaven or seen sufficient upkeep. Instead, it runs wildly, unable to pinpoint where it starts and when it ends. It lines the outer rim of his jaw before seamlessly connecting to the sideburns of his head and joining the mess of hair, somewhat stabilized, held by a single jade cuff. There’s three things distinct and unique to Bizi-Gan compared to the rest of his clan. The menacing cumulonimbus clouds that swirled around his eyes to shape his eyebrows. A singular canine that hooked upwards on his left side, meaning his right had been taken. And the adornments of jade that littered his body and weapons. Perhaps it was a memento from a clan once known. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Bizi-Gan wasn’t always the bitter old man that had little in the way of pleasantries and time. Growing up in the Jade Plains saw freedom and a life left of wanting for naught. Cool air grazing over high fields of grass and the smell of spring always induced a natural curiosity and comfort in Bizi. The Jade Plains Tribe was a small one, but that made his time with them all the more intimate. Most of the tribe worried about politics, but Bizi never really had an eye nor an ear out for those state of affairs. And why should an adolescent need to do so anyways? Instead, he found his calling in being a warrior. It wasn’t anything revolutionary as you were either a farmer a warrior or a politician. The feeling only solidified when his paw touched the smooth but hardened texture of a practice staff. From there on, Bizi would do everything to become an accomplished warrior, distinguished between the rest. However, there was one in the tribe that always kept him on his toes and made a pass for excellence as well. Zhao-Fu, a Mokeu with an inviting, gentle face, but with the down stroke of a falling tree. The two started off as enemies but that rivalry that simmered quickly turned to companionship as no one else was obsessed with mastery quite like them. The jealousy became admiration and then the rest was history. The two were nearly inseparable, comparting meals together, bathing together, and training together obviously. Yet as they aged, the fire within Zhao-Fu began to grow pale. It seemed liked he was torn between martial arts and doing what was best for the village. Bizi-Gan was unable to see what the world politics had to offer that martial arts couldn’t. Being the strongest under heaven meant that their power could bring anyone to their knees. Something even the most eloquent Mokeu could not accomplish with just words. The more Zhao-Fu matured with age, the opposite held true for Bizi. Like an unripe fruit, Bizi was sour, sour at the thought that their traditions of honoring their ancestors and nature was stupid. The clan leaders approach to the clans future with peace and acceptance of others was simply going to get them killed. Bizi-Gan wouldn’t lay down and die, he would live on and become the strongest of the two kingdoms. One final fight between the two old friends had served as the schism that pushed, or rather forced, the two to travel on their own paths. There was a slightly reluctance for Bizi to leave as he wanted his friend to fight for him to stay more, but he knew being exiled was the best for both students. So he left and disappeared into the clouds and the mountains. In the beginning of his youth he traveled, fighting his way through villages and kingdoms to gain money and fame. He found his way being a hired hand and knew opulence for a while. You can only sharpen a weapon to a point and soon the fire in him was beginning to burn out as well. Power meant nothing if he could not do anything with it, specifically to help his tribe. Instead he decided to rescind his power and return to the Jade Plains tribe in hopes of amnesty with his former friend and tribesman. Except what he found was destruction and death in wake of his return. His knees trembled and for the first time in a while he felt weak and gaunt. The smell of rotting flesh and blood curdled in his nose and sucked the life from his bones. Bizi-Gan rampaged through the village looking for his friend, but to no avail. He had either survived or had been taken. Either way, Bizi-Gan would have his revenge. That’s when he saw his reflection in a pool of water, he was mortified by his own image. Hatred is all he saw, and he knew that his intentions of finding peace were fleeting ambitions. Disgusted by his narrowness, he summited the tallest mountain in their valley and locked himself away from humanity to begin his journey to salvation. When it was time, he would come down and reintroduce himself to the world. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Weathered. Bizi-Gan has seen a lot and done even more within the allotted amount of years provided to his species. Life has casually eroded at him like stone facing the brunt of constant onslaught of rapid waves. This has allowed him to become rounded, smooth at the edges, and overall more refined. It wasn’t always like this. In his younger days he was more of the wave than the stone, he was a constant force of nature with only one track to follow. Sure there were ebbs and flows and even natural borders that diverted his path, but like water he was able to change shape to get through and meet up again and continue on. Having spent a lot of time in isolation gave way to learning how to slow down and take the world in for what it was. What he discarded as a teen he regained in his old age. He was now attuned with the spirituality that held a grip on the politics of the Mokeu people. His rage had been reigned in and instead he acted with nature in mind. While he has done a complete paradigm shift, the isolation took a toll on his social skills. He is still very plain and dry, curt in his offerings, and seemingly always judging with a grimace on his face. However, he’s never of ill intent and is looking for the most direct point and advice he can give. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Bizi-Gan has a few motivations and outlooks now that he’s entered the realm of living once more. Although almost impossible, he looks to revive the Jade Plains Tribe, how he will, no one knows? He’s also looking to take on a pupil. What he wasn’t able to teach himself or correct he can find in a student as if looking in a mirror. He’s looking to continue his cheery outlook by learning more about cultures and knowledge afforded to him on his journey. Lastly he hopes to find his lost friend and make amends for the damage he imparted upon his exile. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC The jade capsule attached to his back is an excellent source of stamina training and weight training. Taking it off makes him light on his feet, much faster than he already is. Secondly, he stores powders on him that he pours into the capsule and then ignites. The smoke that emits from the capsule can have several varying properties. The most common, a smoke screen, that aids in his martial arts and staff combat. |
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