Interested.
Baklava Member
- Last Seen: 8 mos ago
- Old Guild Username: FMAlchemist
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1456 (0.32 / day)
- VMs: 1
-
Username history
- Baklava 12 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
Most Recent Posts
Okay, cool beans. Thanks.
In
:: BAาLAVA'S ARลฆ SฤงใP :: 0/5 ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ ๏ฝ๏ฝ๏ฝ
๏ฝ :: temporarily closed~
→
11 yrs ago
Forum: The Gallery
Hey there, guild peeps!
I do commissions if anybody is interested.
Just check out the information below and either send me a note through dA (if you have an account you like to use) or PM me on here!
Also, please feel free to peruse my art gallery if you would like to see some examples of old work.
Link here!
I do commissions if anybody is interested.
Just check out the information below and either send me a note through dA (if you have an account you like to use) or PM me on here!
Also, please feel free to peruse my art gallery if you would like to see some examples of old work.
Link here!
Name: Abel Abramsen
Age: 24
Gender: male
Race: Albmot (dwarf and dark elf)
His origin springs from a love story that is wordlessly fawned over by some and blatantly spat at by most in Abel's small dwarven village, where he lives with his father, Anton. His mother, to him, is nothing but a mysterious storybook character. His father was always one to exaggerate when he told stories, so he doubts that very much of what his father has told him about her is true. Abelโs father is well known throughout the village as a humble, hard working, and good-humored dwarf.
His reputation was obviously tarnished when he returned one day from a long, arduous trading expedition with a pale, feeble looking child in his arms (feeble meaning he wasnโt nearly as stocky and strong looking as most dwarven babes). Anton had always been Abelโs saving grace, however. Abel had it in his mind that the only reason they tolerated him at all was because of how well liked his father wasโas well as how fun it was to crack jokes about how the only reason his mother fell for him was because she likely had a blindfold on.
Nature:
Abel is a very independent young albmot who, weathered by years of upturned noses that were a good foot or two below his own, has grown accustomed to a life of solitude. This forced isolation has never stood in the way of his desire for companionship, however. Abel is very outgoing and inherited much of his fatherโs good humor. He is perhaps a bit egotistical at times, but has never bruised easily- at least not on the inside. He possesses a sharp wit to match the sharp senses he inherited from his mother. Never quite impressed with the ridiculous stories surrounding โhow the dwarves came to beโ Abel is agnostic and can, at times, be quite cynical.
Looks:
Abel stands at a very โhuman-likeโ height of 5โ7โ, quite stuck between his tall mother and his father, who could just barely get away with calling himself 5โ1โ. Abel has pointed ears that seem a bit dulled in comparison to the few pure elves heโs seen. He has light brown hair that is often tied at the nape of his neck in a short pony-tail with almond shaped eyes that are a light grey-green color. Although it was a term he was accustomed to hearing back home, Abel is by no means scrawny. He stands on a good middle ground. He isnโt nearly as strong as some, but knows how to take a hit as well as return the favor. (That being said, mindless competitions of brute strength have never been very appealing to Abel. He prefers to think his way out of most situations.)
Class: Summoning
Abel has made pacts with four different spirits thus far:
--Pavel (wood) : A Chinchilla spirit. Abelโs first and weakest summon. He is completely useless in battle.
--Ruuti (wood) : A Maned Wolf spirit. He is very versatile and attacks quickly.
--Tiburtius (soil) : A Massive Mountain Lion. He is very strong and very stubborn. By far, Abelโs most abrasive summon.
--Selin (water) : A Massive Vanilla Python. She is the largest and most powerful of Abelโs summons. Abel has only recently acquired Selin.
Story:
Abel grew up in a small dwarven village whose name he would never dream of providing to a newcomer should he be forced to explain how dreadfully puny and crude it was. He spent his childhood days exploring the nearby forest with imaginary friends and eventually some of his summoned spirits.
He had virtually no friends growing up, although he often thinks of a dwarven girl named Abbygail whenever he thinks that to himself. His father was quite certain the girl, who was only a year or two younger than Abel, had a massive crush on him. She once left a batch of flat, rock-hard homemade cookies on his porch for his 6th birthday. He actually chipped one of his teeth while attempting to eat it. Later that day he took them to a nearby pond and skipped them on the water. Every year after that, the cookies reappeared, growing less hard and โskip-worthyโ by the year.
By the time he turned 18, he actually looked forward to receiving them. That was the year he found the cookies stomped and smashed outside the door. Later that day heโd spotted her crying behind some crates in the market place with mud all over her frizzy red hair. He left her alone.
When he wasnโt out exploring (something he often got the opportunity to do with his father being the local traveling trade merchant), he had his nose deep in a book. Knowledge was not an attribute that dwarves tended to emphasis and Abel gave up on trying to fit in at an early age. He was more-or-less an obedient son, if not a bit lazy when it came to helping out at times. He and his father tended to keep to themselves when they were around each other. They connected on very few levels. Abel never had much interest in learning how to arm wrestle or down 10 gallons of ale in under 30 minutes without barfing.
In spite of his filling the role as the village outcast, Abel refers to his childhood as being an overall pleasant one. He doubts he would have enjoyed spending time with the dwarves even if they had accepted him with open arms. He never imagined he would be staying in the dwarf village his whole life- not when there were so many other places to go.
Motive: Abelโs father has passed away. With no further reason to stay in his dreary little dwarven village, Abel feels he must move on to bigger and better things. He considers himself to be a very adept young summoner and figured the King would be overjoyed to have him among his ranks. As he turned around for one last glance at his poor excuse for a home, he spotted little Miss Abbygail standing at the village gate with a small white handkerchief pressed beneath her big, rosy round nose.
Age: 24
Gender: male
Race: Albmot (dwarf and dark elf)
His origin springs from a love story that is wordlessly fawned over by some and blatantly spat at by most in Abel's small dwarven village, where he lives with his father, Anton. His mother, to him, is nothing but a mysterious storybook character. His father was always one to exaggerate when he told stories, so he doubts that very much of what his father has told him about her is true. Abelโs father is well known throughout the village as a humble, hard working, and good-humored dwarf.
His reputation was obviously tarnished when he returned one day from a long, arduous trading expedition with a pale, feeble looking child in his arms (feeble meaning he wasnโt nearly as stocky and strong looking as most dwarven babes). Anton had always been Abelโs saving grace, however. Abel had it in his mind that the only reason they tolerated him at all was because of how well liked his father wasโas well as how fun it was to crack jokes about how the only reason his mother fell for him was because she likely had a blindfold on.
Nature:
Abel is a very independent young albmot who, weathered by years of upturned noses that were a good foot or two below his own, has grown accustomed to a life of solitude. This forced isolation has never stood in the way of his desire for companionship, however. Abel is very outgoing and inherited much of his fatherโs good humor. He is perhaps a bit egotistical at times, but has never bruised easily- at least not on the inside. He possesses a sharp wit to match the sharp senses he inherited from his mother. Never quite impressed with the ridiculous stories surrounding โhow the dwarves came to beโ Abel is agnostic and can, at times, be quite cynical.
Looks:
Abel stands at a very โhuman-likeโ height of 5โ7โ, quite stuck between his tall mother and his father, who could just barely get away with calling himself 5โ1โ. Abel has pointed ears that seem a bit dulled in comparison to the few pure elves heโs seen. He has light brown hair that is often tied at the nape of his neck in a short pony-tail with almond shaped eyes that are a light grey-green color. Although it was a term he was accustomed to hearing back home, Abel is by no means scrawny. He stands on a good middle ground. He isnโt nearly as strong as some, but knows how to take a hit as well as return the favor. (That being said, mindless competitions of brute strength have never been very appealing to Abel. He prefers to think his way out of most situations.)
Class: Summoning
Abel has made pacts with four different spirits thus far:
--Pavel (wood) : A Chinchilla spirit. Abelโs first and weakest summon. He is completely useless in battle.
--Ruuti (wood) : A Maned Wolf spirit. He is very versatile and attacks quickly.
--Tiburtius (soil) : A Massive Mountain Lion. He is very strong and very stubborn. By far, Abelโs most abrasive summon.
--Selin (water) : A Massive Vanilla Python. She is the largest and most powerful of Abelโs summons. Abel has only recently acquired Selin.
Story:
Abel grew up in a small dwarven village whose name he would never dream of providing to a newcomer should he be forced to explain how dreadfully puny and crude it was. He spent his childhood days exploring the nearby forest with imaginary friends and eventually some of his summoned spirits.
He had virtually no friends growing up, although he often thinks of a dwarven girl named Abbygail whenever he thinks that to himself. His father was quite certain the girl, who was only a year or two younger than Abel, had a massive crush on him. She once left a batch of flat, rock-hard homemade cookies on his porch for his 6th birthday. He actually chipped one of his teeth while attempting to eat it. Later that day he took them to a nearby pond and skipped them on the water. Every year after that, the cookies reappeared, growing less hard and โskip-worthyโ by the year.
By the time he turned 18, he actually looked forward to receiving them. That was the year he found the cookies stomped and smashed outside the door. Later that day heโd spotted her crying behind some crates in the market place with mud all over her frizzy red hair. He left her alone.
When he wasnโt out exploring (something he often got the opportunity to do with his father being the local traveling trade merchant), he had his nose deep in a book. Knowledge was not an attribute that dwarves tended to emphasis and Abel gave up on trying to fit in at an early age. He was more-or-less an obedient son, if not a bit lazy when it came to helping out at times. He and his father tended to keep to themselves when they were around each other. They connected on very few levels. Abel never had much interest in learning how to arm wrestle or down 10 gallons of ale in under 30 minutes without barfing.
In spite of his filling the role as the village outcast, Abel refers to his childhood as being an overall pleasant one. He doubts he would have enjoyed spending time with the dwarves even if they had accepted him with open arms. He never imagined he would be staying in the dwarf village his whole life- not when there were so many other places to go.
Motive: Abelโs father has passed away. With no further reason to stay in his dreary little dwarven village, Abel feels he must move on to bigger and better things. He considers himself to be a very adept young summoner and figured the King would be overjoyed to have him among his ranks. As he turned around for one last glance at his poor excuse for a home, he spotted little Miss Abbygail standing at the village gate with a small white handkerchief pressed beneath her big, rosy round nose.
Ok... as I typed that I did come up with more questions;; Does it take stamina from the summoner both summon and keep the spirit there, or just to summon it. (Particularly wondering bout this for summoners that have more than one spirit and would like to summon both at once).
Also, I'm assuming spirits cannot be killed? Only damaged so much that they retreat. Is that right?
Also, I'm assuming spirits cannot be killed? Only damaged so much that they retreat. Is that right?
Alright, that answers all my questions. I'll have my CS finished by the end of today. I'll let you know if I have any other questions.
"Can I borrow this, please?" she asked politely. Ada's hands and forearms were pressed up against the still-warm body of a fallen bandit. Blood trickled from his ears and his right arm was mangled, as if crushed beneath a boulder. The bandit leaned against the back of a tree. His mouth was slack and his eyes were only partially closed. Although most would see lifeless eyes of horror, Ada saw a beautiful shade of sapphire blue.
The soul offered no response to her request. Perhaps it was still angry with his friends for leaving him there to die as they tried to escape the powerful hammer man that the mean fire angel told them to attack. From afar, she had seen him stop to rest and plead with his fellow bandits to help him. But they, as well as Ada, could tell when they were looking at a dead man walking.
She slowly started to remove the bandages from her head as the sound of fire echoed in the near distance. She pressed her forehead against his and hummed an unfamiliar tune as she pressed herself closer to the corpse. A loud howl accompanied the ending of her little ritual and as she quickly pulled away, her head snapped in the direction of the sound, blue and brown eyes wide with alarm.
"Thank you, Wesley," she said, turning back to the man; "You should forgive your friends-- you know you would have done the same if you'd been in their shoes. Still..."
She kissed him lightly on the cheek and gently closed his eyes. Regardless of how inevitable his death was- it was nice to have some smidgen of proof that your life wasn't meaningless when you died. Even if he was already dead and his soul grudgingly sat there in silence, she hoped this would help him feel a little better.
She stood and patted the dirt from her dress. Ada had no desire to get involved with the dangerous fight nearby. She had a bad feeling about the terrifying figure that had engulfed the thoughts of Wesley and the other bandits.
She had hoped to make it to Gael by noon. Ada has heard tell of an organization whose sole purpose seemed to help people. After wondering about for the past several months, Ada felt that such a place was meant for her. She was far to young to understand how unlikely a sickly looking young girl such as herself could possibly join any reputable group, but that was a mountain of bad news she had yet o encounter.
Not wanting to risk alerting either of the two voices she heard in the distance, she started to clumsily climb up the tree that Wesleyโs corpse rested under. She would wait it out. In the distance, she could barely make out several caravans. A bit of the nearby shrubbery harmlessly caught fire in the marshy swampland. The moisture in the air would never allow too much damage to come about from flames. She found herself pondering on the life of plants as the fight continued.
The soul offered no response to her request. Perhaps it was still angry with his friends for leaving him there to die as they tried to escape the powerful hammer man that the mean fire angel told them to attack. From afar, she had seen him stop to rest and plead with his fellow bandits to help him. But they, as well as Ada, could tell when they were looking at a dead man walking.
She slowly started to remove the bandages from her head as the sound of fire echoed in the near distance. She pressed her forehead against his and hummed an unfamiliar tune as she pressed herself closer to the corpse. A loud howl accompanied the ending of her little ritual and as she quickly pulled away, her head snapped in the direction of the sound, blue and brown eyes wide with alarm.
"Thank you, Wesley," she said, turning back to the man; "You should forgive your friends-- you know you would have done the same if you'd been in their shoes. Still..."
She kissed him lightly on the cheek and gently closed his eyes. Regardless of how inevitable his death was- it was nice to have some smidgen of proof that your life wasn't meaningless when you died. Even if he was already dead and his soul grudgingly sat there in silence, she hoped this would help him feel a little better.
She stood and patted the dirt from her dress. Ada had no desire to get involved with the dangerous fight nearby. She had a bad feeling about the terrifying figure that had engulfed the thoughts of Wesley and the other bandits.
She had hoped to make it to Gael by noon. Ada has heard tell of an organization whose sole purpose seemed to help people. After wondering about for the past several months, Ada felt that such a place was meant for her. She was far to young to understand how unlikely a sickly looking young girl such as herself could possibly join any reputable group, but that was a mountain of bad news she had yet o encounter.
Not wanting to risk alerting either of the two voices she heard in the distance, she started to clumsily climb up the tree that Wesleyโs corpse rested under. She would wait it out. In the distance, she could barely make out several caravans. A bit of the nearby shrubbery harmlessly caught fire in the marshy swampland. The moisture in the air would never allow too much damage to come about from flames. She found herself pondering on the life of plants as the fight continued.
I appreciate the responses, but yes I think I'll await the GM's final word before I put the finishing touches on my character sheet.
Just to make sure I'm understanding- what exactly do you mean by "air" discipline? Like she uses air to move objects or air affects her ability to move objects?
That still doesn't really explain how one is supposed to honor the covenant and which actions dishonor it. I would assume it means being disrespectful or using the spirits for purposes that do not align with that spirit's moral compass, but I'd like to know for sure.
The phrasing for whether a creature can be called could be taken either way. I call my cat all the time, but it doesn't mean she comes. Why would a spirit bother showing up if it has no intention of helping the person who called them. Also, the way it reads it sounds like almost anyone can call a spirit- you're not actually a summoner unless you can control them. "Summoning" implies that the spirit HAS to show face. "Calling" implies that it doesn't have to if it doesn't want to. (At least that's how I read it...)
I'm honestly hoping that there are more than 8 spirits, since if summoners are just summoning such spirits for their powers, it seems like a lot of unnecessary work when you could just be a sorcerer instead and command the elements yourself. I'm also hoping there are tiers, since if every spirit is at the same level of power, there would be no skill level amidst summoners-- no way to tell a good summoner from a mediocre one (aside from number of spirits one can summon I suppose...)
The phrasing for whether a creature can be called could be taken either way. I call my cat all the time, but it doesn't mean she comes. Why would a spirit bother showing up if it has no intention of helping the person who called them. Also, the way it reads it sounds like almost anyone can call a spirit- you're not actually a summoner unless you can control them. "Summoning" implies that the spirit HAS to show face. "Calling" implies that it doesn't have to if it doesn't want to. (At least that's how I read it...)
I'm honestly hoping that there are more than 8 spirits, since if summoners are just summoning such spirits for their powers, it seems like a lot of unnecessary work when you could just be a sorcerer instead and command the elements yourself. I'm also hoping there are tiers, since if every spirit is at the same level of power, there would be no skill level amidst summoners-- no way to tell a good summoner from a mediocre one (aside from number of spirits one can summon I suppose...)
© 2007-2026