Avatar of ArenaSnow
  • Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
  • Posts: 6501 (1.58 / day)
  • VMs: 13
  • Username history
    1. ArenaSnow 11 yrs ago

Status

Recent Statuses

8 yrs ago
Current Seeya next week, Guild. Signing off.
1 like
8 yrs ago
Merry Christmas
2 likes
8 yrs ago
Elder Scrolls RP, now with the Creation Club!
2 likes
8 yrs ago
It's happening again. I have been visited by a soviet mad scientist, a king, a penguin prince of darkness, a house plant god thing, a mystical ancient member, a tired reaper (thank god) + a greeting.
6 likes
8 yrs ago
For the same reason Rome 2 was attacked by thousands of players who don't know what they're talking about. lleeeeeeemmmmings
2 likes

Bio

Whattr' you stairin' at.

Most Recent Posts

Name: Bane Thronshield
Age: 62
Gender: Male

Appearance: Scraggly, not well kept up. Light skinned with a large body mass, with muscles from years of work and fighting (although it’s not as obvious now, having sat in a barrel of wine for seven years).. About 5’8. Blue eyes and looks like he always has a scowl on his face (that’s just normal, though). He is very rarely without armor, although now that armor looks as bad as he does.
Skills:

-Strong fighter. He can use a variety of weapons well, although axes (and particularly his axe) are his preference. Very skilled, although he likes to also throw his body weight around when fighting (slamming into enemies, punching when the option is open, kicking, etc).

-Muscular. One good punch by this guy can floor a man in armor, although that effect is reduced when very drunk and slightly weakened over the years of simple bar-brawls.

-Coldly determined. His years in the Knights, especially in his youth, trained him to make sacrifices whenever they are necessary, and he will not shy from killing his foes.

Type of Magic:

-Aura of battle. He lives for war and makes a fearsome opponent, even more so when he is “activated” (ie, his power). He suffers less from minor wounds and can take more punishment than is usual, although anything fatal will immediately make this ability useless. The aura strikes fear into the hearts of lesser foes, although this is less effective against opponents with strong wills or equal in his battle ability.

Weapon: A one handed battle axe (although it can be used in both hands as well, although that’s a bit awkward given that the axe isn’t all that long). Roughly the size of a pickaxe, with a curved blade that has seen many enemies.

Personality:

He cares not very much for emotions of other people. This makes him seem like a very dark and unforgiving person, but if someone does make friends with him, he sticks by then for a long time, particularly in battle. He’s useless with advice on relationships. He says what he thinks and has gotten in trouble for it.

Flaws:

His fighting style is more aimed to take on small groups of people, not large groups or individuals, so although he can hold off, say, a team of brigands, he isn’t quite as effective against a single skilled opponent.

He isn’t very agile and his age hasn’t helped with that.

Never give him a bow, or he would be more likely to shoot himself in the head than do anything else.

Drinking is a very big problem for him. It’s what gets him into fights the most and amplifies his weaknesses. 7 years of drinking is not easy to break, and he won’t be too good in RP combat until folks get him fully sober.

Background

Bane started off in a family that was renowned for its bar brawls, in a small western town called Tarvanon. His father was a regular at the bar and the one to teach his son how to fight initially (he’s the one where the dirty fighting comes from). He started drinking at 8 years old. He didn’t have a mother (nothing is known as to what happened to her) and he lived with three brothers, all smaller than he was. All three brothers joined brigand groups and were, over time, taken out by Knights.

The guard recruited him at a young age. He went through all standard training quite well, and was accepted as a Squire. This was in a time of rebellions coming up more frequently, so he quickly advanced himself by swiftly eliminating rebellions, first with his team, and then smaller suspected ones in ambushes by himself. These “honorary duties” earned him the title of “Knight Commander” at the mere age of 36; a very rare occurrence.

His first doubts came when he had a special mission: take his team to exterminate a small village that had been a root of many rebellious people. He saw everything wrong with it; the vast majority of the villagers were innocent and included many women and children. He never was much for emotion, but this struck him as completely unnecessary.

Being a good soldier, he completed the mission with a team of knights and was praised for his honor. He made it clear, in no short words, to the Knight Supreme his disagreement with the decision.

A week later came his response - three knights, all from his old team, sent to kill him for treason. It was around the time that the Revival went to the King, and he had heard of the declarations that all of the Revival (some of whom were friends of his) were marked traitors. he regretfully disabled two of the knights and killed the third before running away.

Now fully disillusioned of the Order, he joined the Revival as an outcast and participated in its battles until the end, when he was overcome by the Knight Supreme. The sacrifice of the leader of the Revival gave him one opportunity for survival, and choking down his pride he took it.

Over seven years, he has frequented a bar as a regular. Once quite muscular, powerful, and proud, he lost all that to drink. His own friends wouldn’t even recognise what he has become.

Other:

In roleplay, his habit of drinking would have to be broken. Not nicely either; he actively pursues the bottle.
Roughly a dozen I believe was the guard.
Desalith heard footsteps approaching the door. Celeste… finally. He quickly noticed something was wrong.

When she first swung at Oryx, his reflexes kicked in. He raised his staff and prepared to send a bolt that would do little more than stun her, but at least incapacitate her. Unfortunately, her next swing struck him right at the chest. Although not fatal, it was enough to knock Desalith backwards into a chair, resulting in an almost comical backflip that sprained his ankle and hit his head on the chest of food, stunning him.
Artholath kept a stoic expression on his face, although his hopes sank a little at the doctor’s clearly less than optimal state of mind. Still, even he had to realize that to aim at a higher ambition, he would have to start a little lower… he had an idea.

“There is nothing wrong with aiming high as that… however, one step at a time. Besides, if you create beings I could call worthy brothers, I happen to know of a laboratory… one that I began my own life in…”

He was lying; he destroyed that lab with several brothers on their killing sprees. His plan was to bring the doctor to the volcano - very few knew of what it truly held, but everyone knew it was highly potent. Placing the location of the lab at the mountain would be lucrative.

Another thought came into his mind.

“...do you happen to have a certain ring? One with a small eagle imprinted on it, made of bronze?”

__________________________________________________

A few minutes had passed. The guards were cold and still; no life was seen in the area.

Then one of them raised his hand.

With one of the mysterious arrows having gone through his shoulder and another into the side of his chest, he crawled with a single hand down the road a few meters. His patrol mission wasn’t expected back for days. He wouldn’t survive by then, feeling bitter chills taking a deeper grasp on his body and, he could have sworn, his very soul.

It wasn’t a matter of if he would die, but when. He had to inform someone of this massacre or nobody would know.

He fell unconscious, barely breathing, some distance away from the inn where several others who may or may not be able to help him were located. He was a dismal sight indeed. Blood trailed from where he crawled and two large holes were in his body. The only thing that saved him was his will to continue and a stronger than usual anatomy.

As the sun set, it began to rain.
I'll get onto him when I have a solid time to get working on my RP's - I got two I need to work on.
What would ya think if I assumed control of a lone survivor guard who is dying, but with a faint possibility of being saved?

Just to add some interaction and a little drama :)
^ Fine by me...
Artholath was pleased, even happy, at having so easily met the one who he had spent roughly twenty looking for and the one who may bring a thousand years to its proper fate. He was tall and certainly looked like the proper man. At the same time, he felt a strange… pull. A familiarity that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He disregarded it.

“I’ll be frank; I am not entirely sure what Delios found as interesting at the time. However… it is you I find to be interesting. And I have a proposal.”

He paused for a second to let those words sink in.

“I am a particular… fan of your works, and I think you are the perfect one to finish the job started long ago. I am what humans would call a demon, one of the first demons, and I want you to assist in the recreation of the greatest genetic engineering project embarked upon by the Warlords of a millennia ago.”

“I can, and will, assist you in the creation of demons.”
It's in this roleplay that I seem to have trouble posting in the right section...
When the fights are done, where will we be off to?
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