deadpixel101

Anyone still like homestuck?

Sure! Send me a pm if you'd like.

Anyone still like homestuck?

I've never role-played it before, but I would love to try playing a fan game of it with someone. Full with our own human kids and over-complicated shenanigans and time travel and such. If anyone is interested and wants to talk, i'd love to hear from you.

Just a side note: I think it'd be super super cool to play with the use of the actual pesterchum program that was made, which can be found here: http://sburb.weebly.com/pesterchum.html

The One’s Interest Check! [OPEN]

Hey! Just letting you know i'm sending you a PM cause i'm interested :)

Wrath of Darkness

@FallenTrinity Birb means like IRL former service in another RP we had we had like 4 former or active serviceman in it. It was REALLY weird.

Anyway, I'm thinking about making a sort monster template and well as codex for monsters so that not only can we keep track of what we've encountered, but also how to make your own cool monsters.

@Deos Morran

Looooove this idea.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

I couldn't resist thinking up someone else. So here is a hot headed gun-toting older refined lady.

Olivier K. Penndragon

“You don't need to be afraid of the dark. I'm here after all”

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N A M E

Olivier K. Penndragon.

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A G E

25

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O R I G I N

Olivier has spent much of her life in the capital. Although now she lacks a home.

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V I S A G E

Olivier stands at 5'6 with a lithe build. Her neck is long and her facial features are slender, with a pronounced jaw and cheek bones. Her ears come to a point and are a length which cause them to droop downwards. A fact not aided by the rings adorning. Her hair is long and pure milk white, with bangs. She has a scar starting at her left eye and tracing down to her cheek. A dull white eye reveals her worsened eyesight in this side of her face. Her opposite ocular is a light honey-gold. Her features are weathers slightly with age, and while she has gone through the years with grace, her time spent on this earth presents itself. She wears a long cloak of deep wine red, with a matching wide brimmed hat that comes to a point. Under this she wears a white blouse and a black necktie, and matching black trousers, with a red belt and silver buckle. Black gloves with red middle fingers glove her hands. To finish she wears black leather boots just bellow the knee. Her lips are almost always painted red.

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P E R S O N A L I T Y T R A I T S

Despite her flaming abilities Olivier is a calm and collected person. Always letting reason temper her emotions, and guide her thoughts, she is a thinker before she is an actor. While she has a pension for rather bold acts, these are done with confidence and thought, and while she is eager to support the more ill-thought actions of those younger, she does this only when believing they will learn, or that she can save them shall they fail. To Olivier age is not just a number, and she respects that everyone has their place and time. She will also say that her time will never end, and that she might actually be immortal. One who speaks quietly not out of a meek nature, but to make you listen, she is the eye of the storm, and she will rain as she pleases.

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L I F E E X P E R I E N C E S

Olivier has long been a scholar. Studying magic and most other schools of science, she has a thirst for understanding how things work. Due to this she has also become a bit of a tinker, taking to the rise of technology and it's melding of magic. She descends from a rich family, and married a man who also came from old money. Keeping her wealth by selling and managing property, she lived in comfort and with all the time in the world to study and play with her interests. Then her husband, William, passed. He was on an away visit to do business with a faction that was holding land and people hostage from him. A small hamlet successfully ransacked by abusive magi. He brought many guards, and was no slouch himself, but alas, they never intended to talk.

Olivier did not take keenly to this. Calmly and surly, she hired a different breed of solider. One less likely to be found near a guard station, and more likely to be on a wanted poster. Along with these men and women, she marched. Leaving her estate to her only daughter, she left with an understanding that this was something that could not be ignored if done. Yet she did it anyways. The hired thugs earned their pay. They paved the way through the small village and in the center Olivier met face to face with the man that killed her husband. She debated asking why he had done what he had, but she remembered that William went to talk, and they didn't speak with words around these parts. Violence seemed to be all they understood.

So she began speaking their language.

Olivier would have a fair fight. A lady against a tramp, she would gain a scar, all but loosing an eye. Yet she would gain a head, before quickly depositing it on a spike for all to see. The hamlet was returned to it's people, and Olivier was not seen as a hero, but a vengeful rule-breaker. One ill-fit to stand among high-society. She bought her way out of a trial, yet her exploits where known to the kingdom. She was a criminal, and she did not regret this.

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E L E M E N T A L A F F I N I T Y

Ignis

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A T T R I B U T E S

High Society: While she is shunned by most people of the richer breed, some connections last, and she knows the etiquette and way to behave. She can blend in with any crowd, from the higher echelons to the street running cut-purses. She has lived on both sides of the coin, and done so well.

Healing by Candlelight: Flame magic attuned to both a nurturing and harming natures, Olivier has the ability to create flames with a healing warmth. Staying within their short range will slowly recover wounds and damage.

A Shot In The Dark: When it comes to doing battle, Olivier prefers to keep her distance. Since she earned her scar and gone through the harsher aspects of a life on the lamb, she has accepted that her strengths don't lie in fisticuffs. Using her tinkering and knowledge of magitech, she has crafted a custom rifle. It is her main foci, aside from her wand, and it can be used with or without ammunition. Using her own explosive flame instead of black powder, she can launch shells without as much fuss in reloading, and do so as long as she has magic to spare. Long range controlled explosions, beams of condenses flame, area of effect fires and more, she is a fighter in a class of her own.

A Last Resort: As stated above, close combat is not Olivier's forte. That being said she is a perfectionist of sort, and her rampant want to create new ways to bend her magic brought this alongside her healing: A blade of condenses super-heated plasma sprouting from her wand. Lighter then any actual sword, and with an unparalleled edge, it is her last ditch effort if an enemy draws near. Naturally such an ambitious spell drains her quickly, and while she practices frequently to not leave gaps in her nature, she is not trained but self taught. It again relies on raw mana overpowering material items.

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Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

Questions!

If I make a second application will that mean that they both have the chance to be put in? Or is it a one application per player?

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

Hello! Hope you're all doing well, here's my character:

Deria V. Legato

I plan to draw a picture myself, so this is here as a placeholder.

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“How about some tea?”

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N A M E

Deria V. Legato

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A G E
19

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O R I G I N

Thlecia, east-side.

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V I S A G E

Deria is a young man with dark skin and twinkling eyes. His shoulders are broad yet his built leans more to slender. Comparable to a swimmers body he is lean yet muscular. His fingers are long, his knuckles are hard and his smile is soft. He has a heart shaped face with full lips, a wide nose, and round eyes that hold a hazel color, almost looking green in the sunlight. His hair is short and a soft sea-foam green color. His eye lashes are long and his ears are rather large. He stands at 5'5 and his skin is an array of dark and light, striping over his body in different places. A smattering of freckles is found across his face, under his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. He wears loose and comfortable clothing, simple in design and with earthy tones. A brown tunic, two green belts, black trousers and tall green boots. He also has a brown windbreaker for travels, and has a large backpack. It is decorated with many little pieces of glass made smooth from the sea, and not-so-rare precious stones.

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P E R S O N A L I T Y T R A I T S

Deria is a very relaxed person, always striving to find peace in and out of himself. He likes to take things as they come, as he tends to stress too much otherwise. He is open to meeting new people, but is rarely the one to draw attention to himself. He see's fair as fair and will stick to his moral code even if met with great difficulty for doing so. A pacifist in most all ways, he is usually the first to back down from a fight or argument. Not entirely a man of action, he is more a follower then a leader, and is fine taking orders from someone he trusts. Altogether he is friendly, quiet, and sure of himself.

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L I F E E X P E R I E N C E S

Deria doesn't like to talk about his past much. He spent the first few years he can remember living in Thlecia, though it felt like his family would never stay still. Always traveling, despite the seasons and the comfort of a home, they never stayed in one town long. He remembers living by a lake in a small shanty. He remembers a farm, living under the looming mountain, living in a city with large walls all around, and the beautiful fountain in the courtyard. But most of all he remembers the wagon, and the cold, and the hunting with his father, or sewing with his mother. He remembers liking houses much better then the road, but with his parents beside him he could never be unhappy.

Naturally when the guards took them away happy was the feeling farthest from Deria. He had always wondered why mom scurried in the shadows. Why so many strangers hiding their faces would meet with daddy. He was always curious of those letters with the strange symbol on the envelope. As he was small and fast, and his parents were ready for something like this, Deria could hide. The compartment under the wagon, hidden by a sliding piece of wood, was where he would stay for the few days they moved his parents far away. After he couldn't take it anymore, he slipped out. The wagon was still moving, taken away to be stripped and impounded. He was on the side of a road he had never seen, in a place he'd never been. Deria grew up alone after this, taken in by a thief for his quickness, small hands and distractedly good lost child act, he gained his own bounty separate from his parents. After two and two were put together and it was learned he was also the son of two rather important terrorists, it was obvious Deria would need to stay on the run.

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E L E M E N T A L A F F I N I T Y

Aqua

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A T T R I B U T E S

. Thief: High hand-speed, general agility and general misdirection.

. Hand To Hand Combat: Preferring the less lethal art of the fist to the knife, Deria has spent many hours practicing and participating in a fair amount of skirmishes. His sparring ring was simply the back-alleys of the towns he was stupid enough to get caught in, and he has earned his way out of capture thus far, by right of his fist. While he does not afraid of using magic, he is a pugilist and a thief first.

. Prodigium Magum: Deria uses his innate magic to help enhance his other skills. He boils water at rapid degrees to turn it into steam or divided and aerates it to create mist. These particles mixed with ether can create illusions, much alike to phantasmagoria. Projecting scenes and images onto these vapors allow him to use guile and speed to better position himself, or simple escape. If things get close and personal, he will use bouts of steam to propel his limbs faster and harder, to strike with maximum force. To protect himself he also creates a cloud of tightly air condenses water to create a sort of mist-like armor. Boiling water is also useful for making tea.

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Wrath of Darkness

Hello!

I've updated my CS, splitting the bio into paragraphs and adding some things to the equipment. If there are any more problems let me know.

Wrath of Darkness

Rig

Name: Reggie "Rig" Wolfe

Age: 25

Gender: Male

Role: Mechanic

Skills: A general Mr. Fix-it. He has a knack for hack-jobs and likes to take things apart to learn how they work. His primary skills are fixing machinery, and smithing. He loves the aesthetic of a dusty garage and oily hands. He has been outside the walls before and has taken to practicing self defense, though he's no soldier. Despite his past he is a homebody by nature, and has picked up a plethora of little related skills. These include carpentry, plumbing, cooking and most things that ask you to get your hands dirty. Except killing spiders. That is NOT his job, as he is happy to remind you.

Equipment: As a mechanic he carries a wide array of tools, with belt pouches and bags to store them. When it comes to weaponry he carries a custom colt revolver. It's grip changed to fit his hand better, a smoother trigger put in place, heavily engraved to Rig's liking, and re-balanced to make sure it feels just right. Always oiled the cylinder spins with ease. For even closer range skirmishes, Rig carries a handheld variant of the pile-bunker. As used by the Armored division. Modified only slightly to reduce on weight, though this takes away from overall power. It's strength is enough to still do it's job. Break armor and hide alike.

Appearance: Reggie is a well built but not necessarily tall man. He has big hands covered in callouses, and wide shoulders. He stands at 5'4 and has a box shaped face, with a strong jawline. His cheeks are sunken in, yet his nose is slender, subtracting from his general rough look. He has heavy eyelids and almond shaped, hazel eyes. He is missing a part of his left earlobe. He keeps buzzed short on the sides, but a wild poof runs free in the middle. It's a natural blond, almost to the point of seeming white. His skin is an olive tone, and the bridge of his nose is spattered with freckles. He has thin scars tracing down his shoulders, to just above where most short sleeve shirts end.

Background: "Rig" comes from a simple background. A farm-boy who grew up working with his parents to tend to the land. It's where he learned of his skills as a mechanic, among other things. He had his eyes set on the horizon, being outside the walls, but he never had the heart to leave his family. He was the eldest brother, of a small family of four. His little sister helped where she could but she wasn't much as a farmhand.

A simple lapse in Guardian watch, a new and at the time unheard of stealth monster, and the life he knew was changed. Quietly and quickly those long leathery things made their ways through the corn fields, and into the barn, then into the house. The smell of fresh meat and easy prey must have done it. They were cat like things, much alike to the friendly Duvari Rig remembered seeing in town. But these were no herbivores, and they were not friendly. Awoken first by the sound of muffled cattle outside, Rig left his room to wake his father. As he turned the halls Rig saw a shadow slip away. Fear crawled up his spine, and electricity tinged the air. This no longer felt like his home.

Pretending to not be afraid, he made his way down the hall, past his sisters room, and into his parents. Opening the door he was met with his father slumped against the wall, the body of some....thing on his lap. Dad was holding his hand over his shoulder. His shirt was stained red, and his brow was slick with sweat. He had a hammer in his other hand, limp and pale on the floor. Mom wasn't moving. The beam of light being let in grew wider, and a shadow other then Rig's was on the floor now too, low to the ground, ready to pounce. Rig turned in time to not lose his head, only a bit off the left.

His father screamed, a struggle ensued. It wasn't long before a massive light filled every inch of the house. Rig hadn't noticed the sounds of dirt under the wheels of heavy artillery. The Armored Division was here, and soon those things weren't. Rig doesn't remember much of that night, other then that he lost his parents, and soon after the farm. Two kids weren't going to tend to it, and so it was taken. Rig left to do the only thing he knew how, fixing. His sister took off to school, she had always wanted that. Rig was thankful to the armored division, far more then some people were. So he decided helping them keep things running was the best way to go. He didn't expect his choices and experiences would take him AWAY from the city. But they did, and when offered a chance to find a weapon to wipe those fucking things off the map, Rig couldn't say no.

Other: Bugs are a no-no. So are Duvari. While he doesn't despise them, Rig refuses to ride them if there is ANY reasonable alternative. If you don't like his handiwork, you can expect some sass.

Wish: Rig has always wanted to get a motorcycle working. He's been collecting parts found everywhere for a year or two now. He has nowhere near enough to buy one, not in a million years, but he sure as hell thinks he can build one. On a larger scale though Rig has big ideas in terms of weaponry. His admittedly somewhat outlandish or unconventional ideas could help turn the tide he thinks. If they can't find that grand weapon, then maybe he can make one. He isn't schooled like other people are, so he knows he can't REALLY change things on such a large scale, but Rig has dreams of weaponizing the armed divisions with his own brand of deadly art.

Trauma: Maybe if he didn't move and let it jump his daddy would still be alive. Maybe if he was braver and turned to fight that thing his daddy could have pulled through. Maybe if he had yelled really loud he could have startled it until the Armored Division showed up. There are few days that Rig doesn't think of the night on the farm. He wonders if he could have done anything different. It plagues him. Literally haunts his dreams. He has developed an unrealistic hero complex. He doesn't agree with cutting any losses if those losses are lives.

An action idea. Name needed.

Bump, I guess?

I honestly thought after the first little bit this wouldn't get any interest but I guess there's a chance, maybe?

Honestly the factions wouldn't be terribly important, I just enjoy them. They would be more the classes you can choose from. That being said, of course you don't have to be in one. Defending the borders is open to all, and sometimes enforced if soldiers are low.