The Va’sha are human in build and general appearance. With Skin as pale as the snow, flawless and smooth. Their hair comes in the colors of nature, and almost always affected by their vocation. The average height is slightly above that of an ordinary human. They do not posses any other bodily hair, other than the hair on their head, and their rather bushy eyebrows. Their irises glow vibrantly, usually in hues of blues and greens. Rarely in other colors yet some have been noted.
The Va’sha are magic in nature their entire society forms around its study and most would even say that they worship it. Outsiders are rarely permitted into the walled city of Va’shar. Depending on the type or types of magic learned the hair of the Va’sha changes. They care little of the politics of the outside world and keep only a small standing military, although all of the Va’sha have military training few ever choose to pursue a life of marching, and sword play. Even fewer study the Black magic, things considered by the Va’sha to be taboo. Those who are caught are executed, a very few escape and are banished to never return.
Those born without magic often take on a craft, in recent years a majority of those born posses almost no magical ability, they labor under spellcrafters creating ordinary objects such as chairs and assisting in crafting magical objects. After the battle with the mad king, and the death of King Baelnorn Va’Shar’s military force was obliterated, and only a few managed to straggle back to the homeland.
Appearance: Hair as black as coal with strands of glittering silver spattered throughout his mane, it resembled the night sky dark and beautiful with white lines highlighting his age. He had always kept his hair shorter on the sides and faded up into the longer portion atop his head. The longer hair was slicked back so it laid neatly against his skull. Irises like the raging sea they were dark blue flaked with sea foam green. He had lovely facial features from his prominent cheekbones to his squared jaw. Three long jagged scars ran from his jawline, stopping short of his eye and another scar ran across the bridge of his nose, removing with it a small chunk of cartilage. Each of the scars were as wide as man’s finger, and smooth to the touch. His lips were thin, and his mouth was wide, when pulled into his normal lopsided smile it showed healthy white teeth.
His body was well toned and fit from years of traveling on the road. He wore an old wool cloak, the bottom caked in dry mud and dirt. It had once been grey like a storm cloud, but now it had mostly faded. It had patches sewn into the gown to repair the damages done by travel on the roads. The garment was complete with a few stray strands of thread poking from its seams. Underneath the cloak he wore an off white tunic with a black double vest it had two small pockets on the front. In addition to the tunic and vest he wore a pair of dark brown trousers, and a thick leather belt. Several pouches were secured to his belt to include his coin purse. His boots were dark brown with squared toes. They were well worn in and the soft leather had many creases. On his back he carried an old black rucksack, it had a large flap with two smaller side pouches, one of buckles securing the smaller pouches seemed to have worn out, and no longer clasped properly.
Personality: Unlike a majority of his race Walden prefers to travel, often finding company with those on the road he reveals little about himself but takes interest in those around him. He fights for his continued survival often going the extra length to make sure of it. He doesn’t shy away from silencing those who know to much or slow him down in dire situations. At first meeting Walden seems friendly, kind and caring. After one gets to know Walden they notice the strange idiosyncrasies about him; his secrecy, his cold crase demeanor, and other oddities. On rare occasion he feels compelled to do acts of good or kindness, something that always unsettles himself afterwards.
History: Walden was born to prominent parents in the Va’sha, they held seats on the council of magi for several terms. His life was a whirlwind at a young age, he attended the Magi Academy of Va’Shar, the most prestigious school in the city. His off time was filled with tutors and extra lessons, he was recognized as one of the more promising students from the academy. At the end of his twelve years of schooling he graduated top of his class and with full honors. After his schooling he began his independent study of Ancient magic, which quickly took a dark turn. He spent most of his nights and days pouring over old texts. In his pursuit of knowledge and better understanding he lost touch with society. His parents sent letters though he left them unanswered, they piled on a stand next to his desk. On a unseasonably warm fall day, a new book had arrived on his desk. One his servants couldn’t answer for.
It was bound in black leather, with a silver clasp for locking the book shut. The pages within were well worn, having been flipped through many times, its ink reddish-brown similar to dried blood. The author had written the book in the book in a dead language. Each letter of every paragraph was masterfully crafted, the drawings that were included were done with painstaking detail, and care. After several weeks of searching he found an older text that translated the dead language, he labored for months to finish the translation, but had gotten no where. Every time he shut the book the contents changed, he was growing furious with his work, so much so he had attempted to get rid of the book only for it to return to his desk. He spent every waking moment on the book, and after several years he became competent enough to speak the language and read it.
He had began to perform the magic within the book, and things took a turn for the worse. Certain spells required fresh blood, more than he could offer. He bound his servants to the house with the magic of the book. They continued their duties, often doing their best to avoid him. Although once in awhile one of them would go missing, and they would say a silent prayer for them. He carried on like this for several months. The families petitioned the council for support, and were granted help from the city guard. Walden was caught off guard when they battered his manor gate down, to slow the guard down and to give him time to escape he turned the few surviving servants into thralls, they held would hold the guards for only a minute. He escaped out the back and managed to flee the city.
He managed only to take a few supplies with him, leaving behind years of work. He tried to continue his work but found it hard when coin was short and people traveled in caravans, instead he began his work as a Mage for hire, and was quickly picked up by a Mercenary Company. Eventually the company was hired on under King Baelnorn’s army. The battle went well until the unit he was attached too pushed to far forward and nearly cut itself off from the bulk of the army. In the heat of the battle walden was wounded, his face gashed open and bleeding. His blood blinded his right eye, he was one of the few left standing in the unit, he had to hold the line. Otherwise he’d be cut down in retreat. He held his tome aloft in his hand, the other out stretched, the Mad king's warriors charged the thin line with only the Necromancer standing between them and the wounded soldiers being carried to the back. “Klaatu Bradaaa Netpto.” The dead that lay on the field around him began to convulse and quake, Their eyes a ghostly white. They stood slowly, just in time to engage the enemies. The dead and the enemy warriors locked into battle. His undead servants were not as quick as their live counterparts, but it did scare them a good deal. His hand was held upwards with fingers curled in, wet with his own blood. The ground shook below the enemy warriors, they'd just dispatched the last of the undead and were about to advance when a hands of stones erupted from the ground grabbing the men they scream as Walden crushed them in his projected hands their blood soaking the stone. It caused the second wave to falter and Walden took advantage and escaped in the chaos, but not before raising a rear guard.
Equipment: Ritual Knife, Cloak, Rucksack with supplies, Boots, and Tome of Black Magic.
Other: A well versed necromancer, and a skilled black mage.
The Va’sha are human in build and general appearance. With Skin as pale as the snow, flawless and smooth. Their hair comes in the colors of nature, and almost always affected by their vocation. The average height is slightly above that of an ordinary human. They do not posses any other bodily hair, other than the hair on their head, and their rather bushy eyebrows. Their irises glow vibrantly, usually in hues of blues and greens. Rarely in other colors yet some have been noted.
The Va’sha are magic in nature their entire society forms around its study and most would even say that they worship it. Outsiders are rarely permitted into the walled city of Va’shar. Depending on the type or types of magic learned the hair of the Va’sha changes. They care little of the politics of the outside world and keep only a small standing military, although all of the Va’sha have military training few ever choose to pursue a life of marching, and sword play. Even fewer study the Black magic, things considered by the Va’sha to be taboo. Those who are caught are executed, a very few escape and are banished to never return.
Those born without magic often take on a craft, in recent years a majority of those born posses almost no magical ability, they labor under spellcrafters creating ordinary objects such as chairs and assisting in crafting magical objects. After the battle with the mad king, and the death of King Baelnorn Va’Shar’s military force was obliterated, and only a few managed to straggle back to the homeland.
Appearance: Hair as black as coal with strands of glittering silver spattered throughout his mane, it resembled the night sky dark and beautiful with white lines highlighting his age. He had always kept his hair shorter on the sides and faded up into the longer portion atop his head. The longer hair was slicked back so it laid neatly against his skull. Irises like the raging sea they were dark blue flaked with sea foam green. He had lovely facial features from his prominent cheekbones to his squared jaw. Three long jagged scars ran from his jawline, stopping short of his eye and another scar ran across the bridge of his nose, removing with it a small chunk of cartilage. Each of the scars were as wide as man’s finger, and smooth to the touch. His lips were thin, and his mouth was wide, when pulled into his normal lopsided smile it showed healthy white teeth.
His body was well toned and fit from years of traveling on the road. He wore an old wool cloak, the bottom caked in dry mud and dirt. It had once been grey like a storm cloud, but now it had mostly faded. It had patches sewn into the gown to repair the damages done by travel on the roads. The garment was complete with a few stray strands of thread poking from its seams. Underneath the cloak he wore an off white tunic with a black double vest it had two small pockets on the front. In addition to the tunic and vest he wore a pair of dark brown trousers, and a thick leather belt. Several pouches were secured to his belt to include his coin purse. His boots were dark brown with squared toes. They were well worn in and the soft leather had many creases. On his back he carried an old black rucksack, it had a large flap with two smaller side pouches, one of buckles securing the smaller pouches seemed to have worn out, and no longer clasped properly.
Personality: Unlike a majority of his race Walden prefers to travel, often finding company with those on the road he reveals little about himself but takes interest in those around him. He fights for his continued survival often going the extra length to make sure of it. He doesn’t shy away from silencing those who know to much or slow him down in dire situations. At first meeting Walden seems friendly, kind and caring. After one gets to know Walden they notice the strange idiosyncrasies about him; his secrecy, his cold crase demeanor, and other oddities. On rare occasion he feels compelled to do acts of good or kindness, something that always unsettles himself afterwards.
History: Walden was born to prominent parents in the Va’sha, they held seats on the council of magi for several terms. His life was a whirlwind at a young age, he attended the Magi Academy of Va’Shar, the most prestigious school in the city. His off time was filled with tutors and extra lessons, he was recognized as one of the more promising students from the academy. At the end of his twelve years of schooling he graduated top of his class and with full honors. After his schooling he began his independent study of Ancient magic, which quickly took a dark turn. He spent most of his nights and days pouring over old texts. In his pursuit of knowledge and better understanding he lost touch with society. His parents sent letters though he left them unanswered, they piled on a stand next to his desk. On a unseasonably warm fall day, a new book had arrived on his desk. One his servants couldn’t answer for.
It was bound in black leather, with a silver clasp for locking the book shut. The pages within were well worn, having been flipped through many times, its ink reddish-brown similar to dried blood. The author had written the book in the book in a dead language. Each letter of every paragraph was masterfully crafted, the drawings that were included were done with painstaking detail, and care. After several weeks of searching he found an older text that translated the dead language, he labored for months to finish the translation, but had gotten no where. Every time he shut the book the contents changed, he was growing furious with his work, so much so he had attempted to get rid of the book only for it to return to his desk. He spent every waking moment on the book, and after several years he became competent enough to speak the language and read it.
He had began to perform the magic within the book, and things took a turn for the worse. Certain spells required fresh blood, more than he could offer. He bound his servants to the house with the magic of the book. They continued their duties, often doing their best to avoid him. Although once in awhile one of them would go missing, and they would say a silent prayer for them. He carried on like this for several months. The families petitioned the council for support, and were granted help from the city guard. Walden was caught off guard when they battered his manor gate down, to slow the guard down and to give him time to escape he turned the few surviving servants into thralls, they held would hold the guards for only a minute. He escaped out the back and managed to flee the city.
He managed only to take a few supplies with him, leaving behind years of work. He tried to continue his work but found it hard when coin was short and people traveled in caravans, instead he began his work as a Mage for hire, and was quickly picked up by a Mercenary Company. Eventually the company was hired on under King Baelnorn’s army. The battle went well until the unit he was attached too pushed to far forward and nearly cut itself off from the bulk of the army. In the heat of the battle walden was wounded, his face gashed open and bleeding. His blood blinded his right eye, he was one of the few left standing in the unit, he had to hold the line. Otherwise he’d be cut down in retreat. He held his tome aloft in his hand, the other out stretched, the Mad king's warriors charged the thin line with only the Necromancer standing between them and the wounded soldiers being carried to the back. “Klaatu Bradaaa Netpto.” The dead that lay on the field around him began to convulse and quake, Their eyes a ghostly white. They stood slowly, just in time to engage the enemies. The dead and the enemy warriors locked into battle. His undead servants were not as quick as their live counterparts, but it did scare them a good deal. His hand was held upwards with fingers curled in, wet with his own blood. The ground shook below the enemy warriors, they'd just dispatched the last of the undead and were about to advance when a hands of stones erupted from the ground grabbing the men they scream as Walden crushed them in his projected hands their blood soaking the stone. It caused the second wave to falter and Walden took advantage and escaped in the chaos, but not before raising a rear guard.
Equipment: Ritual Knife, Cloak, Rucksack with supplies, Boots, and Tome of Black Magic.
Other: A well versed necromancer, and a skilled black mage.
Alarms fill every ounce of space throughout the ship as it lists lifelessly through space, immobilized. Oxygen vents into the abyss as the overwhelmed life support struggles to keep up with the demand. All the lights aboard flickered on, while the remaining emergency power dumped into the life support. Inside the Stasis room, a lone man worked feverishly on the console controlling the stasis chambers. Smoke was starting to come seeping in blinked away the away the pain in his eyes. He’d been on watch, making sure the crew survived. He managed to load the program into the system, It was crude but should work. In theory it would wipe the crew's memories if they ever woke. He had even gone out of his way and jettisoned all personal effects He could save so many lives this way, and without killing anyone. He left the room, and hurried into the billowing smoke. He made his way to the control room and began to manually activate the fire suppression systems. It wouldn’t work, they were too damaged. He had one option, vent all oxygen on board killing himself in process.
He was an idealist, and couldn’t think of a better way to go. He shut off the damaged portion of the ship, it would lock out the weapons systems, one of the cargo holds including the EVA suits, and med bay. Before he vented the oxygen, he wiped all of the previous data of the crew’s past, current and next missions. Their history, and any trace which could set them down the path they had been headed. The ship would be out of oxygen for 30 minutes after venting. He strapped himself to the chair and vented the air. It escaped past him like a hurricane all the oxygen whirling past him, snuffing out the fires and taking the smoke with it. He faded into the long sleep called death.
Sometime later the ship began to light up, its reactors kicking to life again, to recharge the auxiliary power. When the ship's computer regained full function it picked back up on the stasis countdown. In two days time the crew would awaken, until then it set about making the ship liveable restocking the galley’s food dispensers, supplying oxygen through out the non-closed off areas, and turning on whatever lights still worked. The bed’s in each of the crew’s quarters raised from the floor, a thick layer of dust covering everything. There had been an unknown amount of time which had passed since they had all gone into the chambers. The next two days were uneventful the computer monitored life signs and did what little it could to ready the crew for their awakening.
This is a scifi RP focused on a crew with no memory, we’ll work together to try and keep the ship afloat but also regain our identities.
The name of the ship is The Don Quixote
Currently the Weapons room ( for controlling the weapons and maintaining them ), Med bay, One of the Two cargo holds to include all of the EVA suits are cut off and in the hold.
The ship is with out engine power, and is lacking in food as the expendables have long since perished. Life support is weak but still functioning, weapons in the armory are in disarray, the sloppy job erasing things cause a lot of the programs to become non-functional. Right now. The navigation has a few courses that are plot able.
General information on the crew before hand, We were mercenaries, and infamous ones at that. Usually taking the dirty jobs or the ones involving harming civilians. Each crew member will have a special job aboard the ship. With the original crew count at 30. Only 6 will awaken for now. The crew is currently low on funds. As of right now, only enough money to feed the crew and refuel, no real repairs.
There are Main factions: The Unified Planets Alliance (UPA), A fascist like organization which controls the majority of the known solar system through an iron grip. Their military is strong and well organized, their government is ruled through a military hierarchy. Citizens are expected to serve in the military for a minimum of two years, and regularly undergo training. They often round dissidents and those like them. No one has ever returned from one of the round ups, there are my theories.
Galactic Trade Consortium (GTC), A large Organization that doubles the population of the UPA and the ____ With the entire Consortium run as a business they’re known for being incredibly efficient, when dealing with enemies they’re quick and calculated. Citizens of the GTC often live cushy lives and hold high positions while those on a visa often live in squalor and poverty. A majority of the population is made up of those with a Visa, they do this by serving in the military or through a rigorous application which can take years, if not a lifetime.
The New Imperium (Imperium) a rising group which seeks to unify the entire solar system, they disagree with how the GTV, and the UPA run their planets and offer those under the rule of the other two a new hope. The Imperium government runs off of a democratic system, which allows a fair vote to elect their new leader. In secret the Imperium is a bunch of outcasted politicians, thieves, murderers and those of ill repute. They built themselves new lives and new stories. The people under them are allowed to start their own businesses, run their lives how they want, except their taxed heavily. A lot of it goes into the pockets of the new politicians. They also double the tax on non-citizens living on their planets. They often conscript their military and force them in waves to fight the enemies. They’re not as well armed but have a numbers advantage on their military compared to the other two. Their ships are thrown together from scrap or stolen from the other factions.
The UPA has large bounties on a the crew and the Don Quixote, offering a small fortune for their capture alive, and a third dead.
The GTC, currently will work with the Don Quixote, though the relationship is tense on the verge of also being outlawed in their system. They use third parties to work with the crew so guilt can be blamed elsewhere.
The Imperium, will work openly with Don Quixote. Both have acted aggressively towards the other but it's often forgotten when a difficult job opens up. Especially with population control or toppling independent governments, assassinations or other things of shady nature.
There are all varieties of aliens, and alien like species though they’re often used as slave labor or third class citizens, their homeworlds colonized by humans or destroyed. They often form Anti-human gangs or organizations. Their slums are a dangerous place for humans, and often left un patrolled on their worlds. Very few have ever gained citizenship in any of the factions.
Name: ( Won’t be able to remember ) Age: Appearance: Personality: Time Served With Crew: Job: ( Engineer, Medic, Explosives Specialist, Computer Specialist, Armorer.) History: ( including how they came to work on the Don Quixote) Gear:
Rules
1. Have Fun! 2. Ask Questions if you have them 3. Follow me rules and those who are co-GM 4. No meta gaming 5. No God mode ( there could be death )
I'm not sure how to make this look pretty, like headers and other things like that so bear with me for now. I also changed the name from the Interest forum
Alarms fill every ounce of space throughout the ship as it lists lifelessly through space, immobilized. Oxygen vents into the abyss as the overwhelmed life support struggles to keep up with the demand. All the lights aboard flickered on, while the remaining emergency power dumped into the life support. Inside the Stasis room, a lone man worked feverishly on the console controlling the stasis chambers. Smoke was starting to come seeping in blinked away the away the pain in his eyes. He’d been on watch, making sure the crew survived. He managed to load the program into the system, It was crude but should work. In theory it would wipe the crew's memories if they ever woke. He had even gone out of his way and jettisoned all personal effects He could save so many lives this way, and without killing anyone. He left the room, and hurried into the billowing smoke. He made his way to the control room and began to manually activate the fire suppression systems. It wouldn’t work, they were too damaged. He had one option, vent all oxygen on board killing himself in process.
He was an idealist, and couldn’t think of a better way to go. He shut off the damaged portion of the ship, it would lock out the weapons systems, one of the cargo holds including the EVA suits, and med bay. Before he vented the oxygen, he wiped all of the previous data of the crew’s past, current and next missions. Their history, and any trace which could set them down the path they had been headed. The ship would be out of oxygen for 30 minutes after venting. He strapped himself to the chair and vented the air. It escaped past him like a hurricane all the oxygen whirling past him, snuffing out the fires and taking the smoke with it. He faded into the long sleep called death.
Sometime later the ship began to light up, its reactors kicking to life again, to recharge the auxiliary power. When the ship's computer regained full function it picked back up on the stasis countdown. In two days time the crew would awaken, until then it set about making the ship liveable restocking the galley’s food dispensers, supplying oxygen through out the non-closed off areas, and turning on whatever lights still worked. The bed’s in each of the crew’s quarters raised from the floor, a thick layer of dust covering everything. There had been an unknown amount of time which had passed since they had all gone into the chambers. The next two days were uneventful the computer monitored life signs and did what little it could to ready the crew for their awakening.
This is a scifi RP focused on a crew with no memory, we’ll work together to try and keep the ship afloat but also regain our identities.
The name of the ship is The Don Quixote
Currently the Weapons room ( for controlling the weapons and maintaining them ), Med bay, One of the Two cargo holds to include all of the EVA suits are cut off and in the hold.
The ship is with out engine power, and is lacking in food as the expendables have long since perished. Life support is weak but still functioning, weapons in the armory are in disarray, the sloppy job erasing things cause a lot of the programs to become non-functional. Right now. The navigation has a few courses that are plot able.
General information on the crew before hand, We were mercenaries, and infamous ones at that. Usually taking the dirty jobs or the ones involving harming civilians. Each crew member will have a special job aboard the ship. With the original crew count at 30. Only 6 will awaken for now. The crew is currently low on funds. As of right now, only enough money to feed the crew and refuel, no real repairs.
There are Main factions: The Unified Planets Alliance (UPA), A fascist like organization which controls the majority of the known solar system through an iron grip. Their military is strong and well organized, their government is ruled through a military hierarchy. Citizens are expected to serve in the military for a minimum of two years, and regularly undergo training. They often round dissidents and those like them. No one has ever returned from one of the round ups, there are my theories.
Galactic Trade Consortium (GTC), A large Organization that doubles the population of the UPA and the ____ With the entire Consortium run as a business they’re known for being incredibly efficient, when dealing with enemies they’re quick and calculated. Citizens of the GTC often live cushy lives and hold high positions while those on a visa often live in squalor and poverty. A majority of the population is made up of those with a Visa, they do this by serving in the military or through a rigorous application which can take years, if not a lifetime.
The New Imperium (Imperium) a rising group which seeks to unify the entire solar system, they disagree with how the GTV, and the UPA run their planets and offer those under the rule of the other two a new hope. The Imperium government runs off of a democratic system, which allows a fair vote to elect their new leader. In secret the Imperium is a bunch of outcasted politicians, thieves, murderers and those of ill repute. They built themselves new lives and new stories. The people under them are allowed to start their own businesses, run their lives how they want, except their taxed heavily. A lot of it goes into the pockets of the new politicians. They also double the tax on non-citizens living on their planets. They often conscript their military and force them in waves to fight the enemies. They’re not as well armed but have a numbers advantage on their military compared to the other two. Their ships are thrown together from scrap or stolen from the other factions.
The UPA has large bounties on a the crew and the Don Quixote, offering a small fortune for their capture alive, and a third dead.
The GTC, currently will work with the Don Quixote, though the relationship is tense on the verge of also being outlawed in their system. They use third parties to work with the crew so guilt can be blamed elsewhere.
The Imperium, will work openly with Don Quixote. Both have acted aggressively towards the other but it's often forgotten when a difficult job opens up. Especially with population control or toppling independent governments, assassinations or other things of shady nature.
There are all varieties of aliens, and alien like species though they’re often used as slave labor or third class citizens, their homeworlds colonized by humans or destroyed. They often form Anti-human gangs or organizations. Their slums are a dangerous place for humans, and often left un patrolled on their worlds. Very few have ever gained citizenship in any of the factions.
Name: ( Won’t be able to remember ) Age: Appearance: Personality: Time Served With Crew: History: Job: ( Engineer, Medic, Explosives Specialist, Computer Specialist, Armorer.) History: ( including how they came to work on the Don Quixote) Gear:
Rules
1. Have Fun! 2. Ask Questions if you have them 3. Follow me rules and those who are co-GM 4. No meta gaming 5. No God mode ( there could be death )
I'm not sure how to make this look pretty, like headers and other things like that so bear with me for now.