AtomicNut

~The order of the Bloodletters~ (A vampire and Medieval based Roleplay.)

And done, I edited the post i made by mistake earlier.

~The order of the Bloodletters~ (A vampire and Medieval based Roleplay.)

I could get invested in this rp.

So, is it possible to play someone who willingly turned himself into a bloodletter to perform a task that (in his opinion) needed to be done regardless of becoming a monster and killing people(Like, for example one of the last pre-middle ages empire soldiers trying to fulfill a certain command from his late emperor)?

~The order of the Bloodletters~ (A vampire and Medieval based Roleplay.)

Name: Tiberius
Age:300+ (Appears in his mid-thirties)
Race: Bloodletter
Looks: Tiberius retains the looks he used to have in life, including the scars of battles. He's a well-built on the heavy side kind of man, with graying sideburns on a short cropped black hair. He has a large scar on his right cheek, and cuts and nicks all over his body. He's clean shaven and he has an slightly prominent jaw. His face looks a bit pale, and he has the characteristic red eyes of an elder Bloodletter. Tiberus usually dresses in a gray and brown armor with a dusty and slightly ragged brown cowl to hide his more obvious features. He never parts without his masterwork longsword. He also carries a dagger in his hip.

Personality: Tiberius personality was that of a man of grit and honor, and not even the bloodletter transformation has changed that. He behaves politely even if his speech is coarse, just like a commander of some sort. Tiberius is also rather orderly and disciplined, and he will not hesitate to deliver punitive measures to keep things in check. He adheres to a code of honor, and never attacks unprovoked (unless he's feeding), and he spares downed opponents, provided they're worthy. He is also very zealous of the laws of Hospitality, and will even protect humans from other elder bloodletters if his code of honor tells him to do so. Tiberius has little but hatred for the world at large, however. He is cold and uncaring. He is rather picky when it comes to feeding, as he will refuse feeding on the wounded, children and the elderly, and he prefers to feast on healthy adults.

Backstory:

Tiberius wasn't even born on this era, but on the previous one. Before the dark ages, an age of order, honor and conquest. Which was already about to end. A brilliant commander, warrior and strategist, he shouldered the burden of trying to stop an empire from falling apart. Suffering many losses, defeats and hopelessness, he managed to outlive the last emperor. Torn by grief, he decided to bring the possesions of said emperor, which had been stolen, to its rightful place of rest, and then die alongside the rest of his beloved empire.

Managing to track all of them down but the elusive and prized sword of the emperor, Tiberius encountered a mysterious being who appeared to not be alive nor dead. A bloodletter. He acknowledge that perhaps, an entire lifetime wouldn't be enough to find the sword, and willingly renounced to his humanity in order to pursue his goal.

Ever since, Tiberius has wandered the earth, being an aloof ally of the rest of the Bloodletter Order in the search of the sword. His strict adherence of honor has put him sometimes at trouble with them, as well as becoming quite notorious for his enemies when he led an assault on an Inquisition fortress in the middle of the day to save the bloodletter who turned him in one of their kin. Even when weakened and in the middle of the enemy's den, he proved a greater foe than they had expected him to be as the Inquisition was largerly ignorant of his military career. Since then, the Inquisition has revised their views on him and placed him as a very dangerous target.

Knowing this, Tiberius has chosen to stay low for a while, but the gathering of Bloodletters in Grehindor might make the task difficult...

Kite, A High All-Around Fantasy RP (Interest Check)

Name: Ricardo Caballero "Rickie"
Age: 30
Sex: Yes please—- I mean male

Appearance: Okay, well I'm a little fat. Okay, maybe not a little. I'm fat. I'm trying to slim down, but sucess has been moderate. I'm also rather tall and broad- about 1.85 m if you ask. I have brown eyes, tan skin, an awesome bandido moustache which some people ridicule and scruffy short hair. I used to be as blind as mole and in need of glasses, but since I entered this world I don't need them. Curious, huh?

Personality: I'm a guy who likes his personal space, so I don't like crowds, and excessively pushy people. Heck, I am so introverted I even hesitate when i have to adress strangers. Besides that, I'm an okay-ish guy of sort, bit depressive and with low self esteem, but one who's kind and usually takes jokes well, and often talks joking. I like to know about everything sciency-ish, and I'm a big fan of fantasy, pen and paper roleplaying, history and tales of chivalry. I am also a man of honor, and I like to uphold my given word as much as I can. I suffer no cheaters, no liars and I despise malicious people. I am aware I have a darker side when angered and I can be pretty vindictive with people I think deserve some comeuppance, but you have to try hard to make me draw that line, I assure you.

Background: Okay, I'm a guy from hispanic descent, but that's a given granted my name is Ricardo. I had enough sense when I was a kid to endure, shut up and learn. So I didn't fall in the easy way outs of being a teenager delinquent and I was diligent in my studies. It paid off big as I became a scientist of sorts, and not half bad at it.
But well, things didn't go as I had planned in my mind. I was squeezed without mercy by unscrupulous losses and I could qualify my social life as anecdotical and non existant. I was the target of professional bullying and that almost made me break. Until I drew the line and stood up, exposing the scumbags of my bosses in the process. I was fired. But hey, at least I watched them drowning in lawsuits by other people and being mercilessly devoured by the system. Time to start anew, I guess. But that wasn't working for some reason and I ended up as a borderline-depressed hermit unable to find job or friends. Kinda sucks.

Powers: You mean, besides the talking voice? GET OUT OF MY HEAD ITS PRIVATE. Just kidding. Well, I could also count my ability to do SCIENCE! but that doesn't work in this world doesn't it? Bugger. Ah there's something else. Even since I set foot on this kind of Middle-Earth-meets-Elm-Street knockoff some weird knowledge is nesting inside my brain folds. I'd say they are magic recipes. So yes, I might be on my way to become a wizard. But pretty much the only thing I can do now is heal some stuff (like I did with my bad eyesight), levitate a bit and toss some kind of sparkly fizzly magic ball... and I have to do the whole hand waving, concentrating, chanting and sometimes using ritual stuff, i guess. I'll probably get better at it though. Knowledge is power and that.

Personal Motive:This one's a no brainer. I want a decent living, a cute wife, a couple of kids and live a mostly calm and quiet life. But hey, I can't turn a blind eye to an honest plea for help so I'll tag along in the adventure. Heck, I might also find cute fantasy girls aswell. And the perspective of a lifelong study of this world is also appealing, too...

Mementos: My old scientist ID card. It's now just a piece of plastic, but it makes me remember the best of me, on how I helped humanity as whole developing knowledge.

The Age of Blades [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]

Sounds good.

If anyone from now on wants another character, I can use some more people in the Weade family.

@Partisan

Well, I have some ideas for a secondary character. But I'll wait to see if new challengers appear.

The Age of Blades [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]

@Partisan

And done. "It's not what It looks like, Officer!"

Also:

Lots of bastards in the characters. Anyone willing to be Ash half-sibling? I'd be open to the idea.

The Age of Blades [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]

Ash scoffed. It was certainly amazing how one's fortune could twist and turn in a matter of hours. Upon his arrival to his homeland, Ash had found himself with no place to go, besides the crude gravestone that some stranger had carved to remember his mother long lost. The village was swelling with lords and soldiers, so he was hard pressed to find an affordable inn to sleep. And he wasn't very well-off in the financial issue either. Perhaps he should've considered his actions a little more, before tossing some coins at the assorted orphans who had not been put off by his appearance.

He hadn't been so lucky with other people. Most adults and honest folk knew better than to talk with a man whose armor was black. A sellsword at best, and a miscreant at worst. That was the opinion of people on those who painted their armor black. Black Knights were always the villain of the tales. Half of it was true. He was a sellsword after all, and he had done morally reprehensible actions in the past. But now, all that he wanted was a place to rest and forget. It was then when the edict of the bounty had caught its attention. A good thing he could read, because apparently there was a couple of highwaymen who had assaulted and killed travellers on occassion. The cultured warrior had decided to grab the reward for himself, as it could solve his short term problems.

So he had made questions, searched for witnesses who could describe where and how they had been attacked. And then he imposed the patterns of attack on a map, sniffing out several possible locations. He didn't have much expectations on finding them the first day of search, but somehow, he had done so. Thanking his good luck, he fell upon them. The man was completely caught unaware, only uttering a gurgle when the sword severed his throat and promptly woke him up from his complacent sleep. The woman was shook awake by the noise, and grabbed a quarterstaff in a desperate attempt to defend herself, but Ash didn't hesitate. He rammed her with his shield against the wall of the hovel, and then ran her through with his blade. Incidentally, the thrashing of the moribund female bandit stained his black plate with red blood. His deed done, the black knight then cut off their heads to claim the bounty upon them.

And in that exact moment, his luck had started to go sour. Just as he had fallen upon the bandits, night had fallen upon him. And he was still a fair distance away from the safety of the village. Adding further grief, a chilly wind was announcing the start of a blizzard. Luckily for him, he had spotted some wheel marks and threaded snow. Ash followed the trail at a fair distance, as probably whoever was in the caravan would not react kindly upon seeing a bloodstained black knight with two severed heads on his horse's rump. He had noticed, though, that some of the people were struggling to keep the pace, and he was about to help them when he noticed more riders approaching the caravan. By the looks of them, they seemed Whiteland troops. And if he could see them, he had been likely spotted.

Muttering a curse, and then rummaging for his flask of brandy and taking a generous sip out of it, he quickly began to think what kind of explanation he was about to give to them.

Kite, A High All-Around Fantasy RP (Interest Check)

SOON. I am in!

The Age of Blades [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]

Ash

Ash of the Whitelands
"No gloriae suae in bello"

Full name: Ash, or Ash of the Whitelands, denoting his humble origin.

Titles: The Sellsword Scholar, and the less flattering titles of Ser Whoreson and Knightslayer

Social rank: Whoreson peasant.

Job or societal position: Black Knight Sellsword. Part time teacher and folk entertainer.

Gender: Male

Appearance: He's an average sized, well built man, with dark scruffy hair and a clean-shaved face. He has gray eyes that give him a piercing, vivid stare. Cuts and chinks can be seen throughout his body, a couple of them on his face. He usually wears worn out and simple but serviceable clothes, and a black, equally worn but still useable armor (it's painted black to prevent rust) when in combat. He walks with carefully measured steps and he has a deep voice.

Personality: Despite his ignoble origin, Ash is a polite and well mannered man. He always answers a greeting, and answers with the utmost respect to whomever talks to him, be it noble or gentile. He's also rather patient and slow to anger, with an almost nigh unflappable stoicism. Yet at the same time, one could feel that sometimes he's not here, and just stares at the horizon rather than at people, reliving who knows what demons of the past. Lowborn, whores and orphans do manage to bring some more reaction in the man, and he's known to have a chipper, quick-wit and enthusiastic easygoing attitude with them. He is also more than willing to share his knowledge and experience to whomever lends him an ear, and he's partial to honest plights. Meeting him on the battlefield or as enemy is another matter. Bereft of any kind of remorse or honor, Ash strives to survive and win to see another morning, and he has very few qualms on using underhanded methods.

History: Ash was simply a byproduct of a camp follower and an unnamed man-at-arms in the Whitelands. He could have ended like many street rats and pickpockets, if it had not been for the hardest and most clever decision his mother had: To give him to a wandering troupe of entertainers after some convincing. Even from his early age, Ash revealed himself as a bright lad and a fast learner, and some of the troupe felt that they had to polish the formidable intellect the boy had, out of goodwill. They taught him manners, literature and writing, in the hopes he could become one of the narrators of the troupe. They weren't so successful at teaching him to sing and dance, as the poor lad was unfortunately tonedeaf, but he managed to pick other skills to compensate, like knowledge of healing and poisons from the troupe's wise woman, and some minor sleight-of-hand tricks to draw and interest peasants.

By the time he was a young man, he had already made a name for himself among the troupe, becoming one of the storytellers while others did the dancing and singing, as well as one of the faces for negotiation, given his politeness and wit. Unfortunately, he had also hit the foolish age where everyone wanted to be a knight and save and kingdom, and in a regrettable hotheaded decision, parted with the troupe to become a sellsword. Of course, his actual fighting ability was made much fun of by the time he tried to join, but the wizened leader of the sellsword group decided to keep him around, if only because he had prized skills like healing, poisons and writing. Knowing fully well his status as ''favored kid'' of the leader, he trained diligently and tried his best to not make mistakes. He also swallowed his qualms about doing less than regrettable brigand jobs, in an effort to become more like the mercenaries that he had surrounded himself with. However, it was all for naught, because even as he managed to garner himself a name among the mercenaries and become one of the de-facto liutenants of the band, he kept meeting scorn and cold shoulders. When a quarrel about payment shares broke between him and other lieutenants, Ash realized that no matter what he did, he would always be treated as an outsider by everyone. Skilled enough to beat knights in single combat, yet lowborn. Capable of philosophical debates yet as base as the son of a prostitute.

Heartbroken and bitter by the many horrors he chose to endure pursuing an empty ideal, he returned to his homeland, only to find the shadow of the war haunting the lands, and a rather cold and crude gravestone where his mother once stood. Still, he decided to stay, and perhaps make himself a place little by little, starting by subverting the suspiciousness of people around him by entertaining folks and doing odd errands.

Skills: Ash is an incredibly mentally gifted individual. He has a good grasp of a variety of subjects like tactics, economics, literature, manners and even odd things like castle building and sieges. He is also a good sellsword, able to use competently swords, shields, daggers, and bows, and skilled on horseback and with lances. He can also do some minor prestidigitation tricks like vanishing coins and minor escapism. He is a decent storyteller. He is rather skilled in the arts of healing as well as poisons, though people only know him for the poison part and his skill at arms.

Dreams and fears:He dreams of finding a good place to settle in, without even having to resort to the sword again. Sadly, in these times, his sword is all what he has to earn himself a living, as he's considered a foul person even by fellow peasants. He fears dying alone and forgotten, and losing himself to the madness of war and forgetting how to be kind.

Favored equipment: He's usually seen in comfortable, humble clothes with a dagger by his hip and a money purse when he's not in combat. When he's fully suited, he dons a black-painted armor, with a black shield and a longsword. Or alternatively a bow. He keeps the armor, arrows and weapons on his horse's saddlebags when he's not fighting. He also owns three books. One about healing and poisons, the other about war tactics, and the third one is his personal diary. He also keeps some oil and a whetstone to polish and keep his gear, as well as a flint.

Extra: He owns a warhorse named Spot he won in a bet. It's quite a temperamental stallion and has a rather worrying fondess for wine. All his worldly possessions can fit on his horse's saddlebags.

Brier Weade

Brier Weade
"We can only move forward"

Full name: Brier Catryn Weade / Brier Catryn Morrigh
Titles: Countess of Blackwood (Formerly), Kitty for her friends, and Witch of Blackwood to her detractors.
Social rank: Noblewoman
Job or societal position: Former Royal Court Musician, Countess, Healer and Alchemist.
Age: 20
Gender: Female

Appearance:

Personality: Brier was once a high spirited merry girl who always questioned everyone and everything. Sociable and curious to the extreme, she wasn't put off by appearances or standing whatshoever. She also shared the generous good nature of her elder brother Gregar Weade, as well as the lack of malice. Like her sibling, this bit her in the back quite a few times at first, but as she grew older, more focused and wiser, she learned how to read the intentions of people and developed a friendly, polite, but very defensive demeanor. Brier is a woman of intellect and culture and she enjoys learning new knowledge or discussing with akin minds. Bitterly accepting that not everyone is nice, and that there are wicked people out of there, she can be quite vindictive, throughout and manipulative if any member of her family is at stake.

History: Brier was born between the twins Janus and Gregar, and the thirdborn Joakim. Little Brier was a chatterbox and a relentless chaser of odd things, when she wasn't too busy sticking to Gregar like glue. She however, didn't neglect her education, and she followed her mother diligently just as Gregar did with their father. Education that was soon put to test, as she tended to her younger brother Joakim whenever others were not available. When Gregar's bethrodal was announced, Brier was for the first time, wary of an stranger coming to the house, but soon took a liking to Lady Elisandre as the elder sister she never had. By Elisandre's suggestion, Brier managed to convince his father the Duke to go to the King's court to receive more education.

Although initially reluctant, her family conceded to Brier's petition, as becoming part of the court and with Brier's easygoing nature, she would probably find a good groom later on. With her skill with the harp and sociable nature, Brier found herself befriended several people of all sorts. While comfortable with the people of her age and social status like princes, princesses, and sons and daughters of other nobles, Brier's sharp mind also sought out three people that usually were beneath notice: the King's spymaster, an old alchemist who had somehow gained prestige as royal advisor, and a portly and coarse yet skilled woman who was the Royal Physician.

Brier would seek their presence whenever she felt the whole court scenery and upbringing was too repetitive and dull, and she ended up learning several skills that a noblewoman was not suppossed to have in the first place. The ability to read people's lies in their faces, alchemy and healing arts. Brier didn't know how dangerous this combination was until much later, a year after Elisandre's death. While playing matchmaking to find her a suitable husband, Brier unadvertedly drove all of them off with her skill to read people. Only one succeeded to not be cowed, earl Kevin Morrigh of Blackwood.

Earl Kevin was perhaps thirty years her elder and he was looking for a second wife after the first one had died without giving him any descendants. He was a stout man of rotund features, a bristly beard, a large booming voice, and the most important feature of them all. He didn't even bother to hide his true intentions in the slightlest. He had heard rumours of Brier being a healer and an alchemist, and precisely for that he was proposing her. He also acknowledged he didn't have a big status as nobleman, but he had a rather important mining and timber site in the Ironhills. He did not want a wife who only stood idlely to be coddled. Brier was taken aback by the man's honesty and accepted to become his wife.

Life at the Ironhills was just as Kevin described. There wasn't a single idle moment. If it wasn't helping blacksmiths identify and refine ores, it was helping injured lumberjacks and workers. She often delighted the earl's men with her harp at the end of the day. Never she had felt so drained and yet at the same time she was happy. She even had her first son by him, which both named Brian. And then the war struck out, and everything went down in a quick succession. Earl Kevin, thinking more with the heart than with the head, defied his lord, the duke of Harrighfield, and tossed his support in favor of the King and his father-in-law, duke Weade of Whitelands, only to be cut down in the same battle as Rikard. While brave and commending, this did not bode well for Brier, who soon was in the wrong of a lynching mob who took her castle, spurred by the less than honorable family members of the Morrigh. Being accused as a witch who had twisted earl Kevin's mind, she was all but helpless when the mob killed her infant two-year-old son in a fit of rage and bloodlust, and threatened to burn her at the stake.

She was saved by the timely intervention of Ser Wilhem, a recently ordered knight who had been left behind to ensure the safety of the countess. The lad, although brave, did not survive the wounds sustained, no matter what Brier died, and in the end, she reluctantly buried the young, brave and unfortunate knight beneath a large oaktree, while she took his horse for herself, and headed north to seek refuge in the Forklands and Whitelands.

Skills: Brier has an active mind, and she can engage in social conversation with practically anyone. She also knows how to cook decently, and she's greatly skilled at sewing and playing the harp. She can also sing quite well. More importantly, Brier can detect who lies to her by merely looking at the body language of the person before her. She is also a master healer, able to perform advanced bonesetting and even surgeries (where her sewing skills once again help), with the associated knowledge of herbalism. Last but not least important, Brier is an alchemist, and as such she can easily identify ores and create black powder and alchemic fire should she need to. Brier can also ride a horse quite decently.

Dreams and fears: Brier dreams of getting back at the insult suffered in the Blackwood, and avenge her dead son by the mob, and then maybe start over a new life. She obviously fears losing more family members.

Favored equipment: Brier usually is seen with her harp, although that one was lost when she was nearly killed. She always carries a hidden dagger in her thigh. Whenever she has to hit the road, it is not uncommon for her to carry a large knapsack with her healing materials as well as a staff for support. She also carries the Weade family ring and the Morrigh family ring.

Extra:Brier is thought to have perished in the riot, if news of such reached the north.

The Age of Blades [ALWAYS ACCEPTING]

@Partisan
You are most kind. Ash and his horse Spot will toast to your name.

Just realized. There's another character who's nicknamed Whoreson, and my guy's nicknamed Ser Whoreson. Do I change it or leave it as a coincidence? Also, what's the instance of NPCS associated to characters? Because I'm thinking of this fella having a half-sister who's in a brothel.

I am also open to suggestion where to drop him. If someone is in need of an unscrupulous black knight, I can help. If not I might just drop him at the caravan.