Hmm, I am fine with whatever everyone else wants to go with, whether its another mission or just straight into some AI discussion.
Eisenhorn
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The Rising Son: A Legend of Douzheng (A Asian fantasy martial arts adventure)
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11 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
I'll have to do some refresher reading, but I can whip up a character for this, sure as sure.
The wandering knight Alexander Atreides was not nearly as well found as many of the others within the list given to the messenger. The man was on the outskirts of the civilized lands, parlaying with some of the darker things of the wild woods. They had been getting restless, causing problems with the members of Silvercliff that called these borderlands their home. These Ancient Woods were indeed an unwelcome place to many, even the beastfolk within often times wisely moving about, moving under the blessing of Vine and as her whimsy demanded. Few others had ever found hospice in that place, his family included, but that was neither here nor there. Right now one such beastman was taking offense to the current farmers and their, albeit hostile, approaches to attempting to clear out the woods that had grown out into their property. This was a classic problem he saw often, the wilds growing into civilized borders, and their current denizens taking offense to what they saw as a natural course of things taking their deserved place. And, long story short, this beastman would settle for no diplomacy, so it was settled the old way.
Steel and skill. Single combat, if you will. Atreides, standing for the farmer and his kin. The beastman, for his and the forest. The two had crossed paths before, granted they had not been on opposing sides. But fate was whimsical indeed, and as he blocked a downward stroke from the creature's axe, he twisted and spun, throwing the beast off balance and planting a plated foot into its midriff, sending it skidding back several paces. His old grandblade came to rest on his shoulder, shadow billowing from its intricacies as his cowl seemed to hide his visage in inky black as well. The two would reclash several times over before blood was leaking from the chest of the beastman, a shallow blow that ended the contest. Rising from his half crouched position, Atreides settled the blade back into a resting position on his shoulder, pulling the armored cowl back. "First blood is mine, Huntsman. Today, the wild withdraws to the property lines as agreed upon."
The beastman huffed, wrapping a loose cloth around its chest to bind its wound. A few inches more leeway and he would have a corpse, not a bested foe, but the knight was not interested in needless slaughter. But an agreement was an agreement, and the woods withdrew from the farmer's land as agreed upon for the time being. Sliding the blade onto his back, where it came to rest in a sheath, he turned to face the farmers as they approached, thankful but anxious around the shadowy knight. He denied any payment beyond enough food to get him back to his homestead in the woods when a courier caught his attention. The lad rode up, hauling himself off his horse. Atreides recognized the symbol of the Order on his uniform, and walked over as the lad unrolled a scroll. "Knight Atreides, Grandmaster Edward demands your presence posthaste!"
Atreides looked down and took the document from his hands, reading over the contents and nodded slowly, returning the document to the boy. "So it is, Courier. Be on your way, then, I shall away to Silvercliff and see what our esteemed Grandmaster needs of me this time." Atreides had no horse, for he walked wherever he may be needed, but in times of need he knew the hidden paths around the land, part of how he had survived growing up was knowing the hidden ways around. So he covered as much ground as a man on horseback might, but it was indeed later in the day when he arrived at the capitol of the Kingdom of Silvercliff. A fine place, far too bustling and civilized for his tastes but a fine place none the less. And within was his destination, well and easy to pick out from a ways away. The Arcane Bastion, grandiose name, but fitting. Striding into its corridors, he ignored the singing and made his way towards where Edward would be no doubt waiting and bowed his head briefly to the Grandmaster. "You called and I answer, Grandmaster. What need have you of a Knight Wanderer?"
Steel and skill. Single combat, if you will. Atreides, standing for the farmer and his kin. The beastman, for his and the forest. The two had crossed paths before, granted they had not been on opposing sides. But fate was whimsical indeed, and as he blocked a downward stroke from the creature's axe, he twisted and spun, throwing the beast off balance and planting a plated foot into its midriff, sending it skidding back several paces. His old grandblade came to rest on his shoulder, shadow billowing from its intricacies as his cowl seemed to hide his visage in inky black as well. The two would reclash several times over before blood was leaking from the chest of the beastman, a shallow blow that ended the contest. Rising from his half crouched position, Atreides settled the blade back into a resting position on his shoulder, pulling the armored cowl back. "First blood is mine, Huntsman. Today, the wild withdraws to the property lines as agreed upon."
The beastman huffed, wrapping a loose cloth around its chest to bind its wound. A few inches more leeway and he would have a corpse, not a bested foe, but the knight was not interested in needless slaughter. But an agreement was an agreement, and the woods withdrew from the farmer's land as agreed upon for the time being. Sliding the blade onto his back, where it came to rest in a sheath, he turned to face the farmers as they approached, thankful but anxious around the shadowy knight. He denied any payment beyond enough food to get him back to his homestead in the woods when a courier caught his attention. The lad rode up, hauling himself off his horse. Atreides recognized the symbol of the Order on his uniform, and walked over as the lad unrolled a scroll. "Knight Atreides, Grandmaster Edward demands your presence posthaste!"
Atreides looked down and took the document from his hands, reading over the contents and nodded slowly, returning the document to the boy. "So it is, Courier. Be on your way, then, I shall away to Silvercliff and see what our esteemed Grandmaster needs of me this time." Atreides had no horse, for he walked wherever he may be needed, but in times of need he knew the hidden paths around the land, part of how he had survived growing up was knowing the hidden ways around. So he covered as much ground as a man on horseback might, but it was indeed later in the day when he arrived at the capitol of the Kingdom of Silvercliff. A fine place, far too bustling and civilized for his tastes but a fine place none the less. And within was his destination, well and easy to pick out from a ways away. The Arcane Bastion, grandiose name, but fitting. Striding into its corridors, he ignored the singing and made his way towards where Edward would be no doubt waiting and bowed his head briefly to the Grandmaster. "You called and I answer, Grandmaster. What need have you of a Knight Wanderer?"
Well, I might not be at home atm, but I'll get onto a post and have one up tonight at the latest.
The rattling of the turret finally fusing into a mess of permanent disuse prompted the Demolition Experts retreat as much as the yelling from the rest of the team. Penn bolted, the weapon glowing and steaming from the abuse that it had just been put under. Empty launcher on his back, mostly spent pistols on his hips, and not one explosive left from what he brought aboard gave him an edge in the speed category he normally didn't have. Usually he had a lot more gear, and weight from that gear, slowing him down. Even so, the reinforced armor did not help in this case, more rounds starting to get closer, the last burst of suppressing fire from Cal gave him the cover he needed to get aboard the ship alongside the rest of the team, scooping up his comrade's fallen helmet in one arm, turning and opening fire with his suppressed pistol in the other, breathing hard but not broadcasting that needless white noise. He replied to North as if the man had just idly asked for the weather.
"Agent Penn, aboard. Loose helmet, secured. Explosives, spent. Primary weapon, spent. Secondary, below 25% ammunition left. Superficial and outer layer damage to armor. Still capable of maintaining seal against space vacuum." Brief, concise status report on his situation was all that was needed right now. He would keep firing his sidearm until they lifted off, or he ran completely dry on that too, whichever came first. From the look of things, Carolina needed to get back to see proper first aid. Not surprising, looking at the injury. Mental note for himself to repair the armor and not take any shortcuts, so that did not happen to him needlessly.
"Agent Penn, aboard. Loose helmet, secured. Explosives, spent. Primary weapon, spent. Secondary, below 25% ammunition left. Superficial and outer layer damage to armor. Still capable of maintaining seal against space vacuum." Brief, concise status report on his situation was all that was needed right now. He would keep firing his sidearm until they lifted off, or he ran completely dry on that too, whichever came first. From the look of things, Carolina needed to get back to see proper first aid. Not surprising, looking at the injury. Mental note for himself to repair the armor and not take any shortcuts, so that did not happen to him needlessly.
"Understood, manning the gun."
Penn was either unconcerned, or too focused, to seem worried about the wound that one of his squadmates had suffered. Whatever the case may be, the man wasted no time rolling from the damaged Mongoose he had been sheltered behind to grab onto the machine gun that had just been abandoned due to combat injuries. Several of the oncoming forces seemed to try to stop Agent Pennsylvania by focusing fire on the gun mount, but to their dismay, the reinforced armor that the demo expert wore was made of sterner stuff then that of his fellow agents. Some of the rounds made it through the extra layers, but not the whole way. Which was good, considering where the medical attention was focused right now, additional injuries were hardly needed. The weapon started spitting a wave of lead downrange towards the guards, and he swept the torrent of fire across the ranks and heads of the enemies approaching the Pelican. Suppression was preferable to sheer carnage right now, they needed to buy enough time for the Pelican to get clear. The suppression fire seemed to work, as he was taking less accurate, effective fire as the enemies scrambled for cover. Wouldn't last long though, not once this thing ran out of ammo or overheated, whichever hit first.
"Might want to get moving before we run out of ammo. Or this thing melts down from the heat generation. Or both. Both is bad."
Penn was either unconcerned, or too focused, to seem worried about the wound that one of his squadmates had suffered. Whatever the case may be, the man wasted no time rolling from the damaged Mongoose he had been sheltered behind to grab onto the machine gun that had just been abandoned due to combat injuries. Several of the oncoming forces seemed to try to stop Agent Pennsylvania by focusing fire on the gun mount, but to their dismay, the reinforced armor that the demo expert wore was made of sterner stuff then that of his fellow agents. Some of the rounds made it through the extra layers, but not the whole way. Which was good, considering where the medical attention was focused right now, additional injuries were hardly needed. The weapon started spitting a wave of lead downrange towards the guards, and he swept the torrent of fire across the ranks and heads of the enemies approaching the Pelican. Suppression was preferable to sheer carnage right now, they needed to buy enough time for the Pelican to get clear. The suppression fire seemed to work, as he was taking less accurate, effective fire as the enemies scrambled for cover. Wouldn't last long though, not once this thing ran out of ammo or overheated, whichever hit first.
"Might want to get moving before we run out of ammo. Or this thing melts down from the heat generation. Or both. Both is bad."
@Eisenhorn
You get like, +100000 for the Artorias pic
I have been quite the fan of Dark Souls since it dropped way back when, still play both DS1 and 2 (And some Demon Souls when I get the chance to rig up the PS3), so it seemed like too good a chance to pass up.
There, that took a bit longer then anticipated, but the CS is up now.
Name: Alexander Atreides
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 42
Title/Nickname: The Wanderer
Kingdom of birth: Born to the dark forests inbetween kingdoms.
Worship: Sworn to the god Steel.
Appearance:
Magical affinity:
Primary: Steel
Secondary: Shadow
Skills:
Atreides is a cautious, methodical fighter who approahces each battle with care and focus. Never to underestimate and never one to waste time mincing words with his foes, the Wanderer has two very distinct styles of combat, but both have points that can be drawn from both. He is a strong and, facing single foes, deceptively fast fighter, able to bring overwhelming force upon single foes, and sweeping devastation against massed foes, and it takes several moments to move from one stance to the other, which can be a weakpoint if spotted. The man uses his shadow magic to create fear in foes, each blow they might land billowing black, twisted shadows rather than blood, only adding to the illusion of a juggernaut of inhuman nature.
When facing massed numbers of foes, Atreides takes his grand blade and wields it in wide, sweeping blows that carry great weight and power, carving swathes of damage with each blow. While this stance can keep large numbers at bay, this is a foolhardy approach towards fast, single targets as they can easily dance around the swinging blows. To further dissuade foes from trying to move in between sweeps, black shadows billow from the blade and armor of the Wanderer, creating a nightmare image towards common thugs and warriors. This stance cannot rightly hold off an army for too long, as it expends energy, both arcane and physical, at a sometimes alarming rate. The stance is as many parts scaring away the massed numbers of foes as it is killing as many, and one would therefore, perhaps rightly, assume he is more comfortable in a single fight then facing massed armies alone.
When facing a single, skilled foe, such grand theatrics and wide, sweeping blows are ill suited. When coming against such a foe, Atreides must arrest his momentum from such wild swings and shift into his other stance, a more deliberate and calculating stance, each blow far more controlled, and rarely equal in savage strength to the former stance, but far more reliable and safe for himself in the long run. This control and precision costs him when swarmed, and the moments it takes to get momentum up can be dangerous to the man within if taken advantage of. Enemies who are equals in skill that can last long fights also are dangerous, even in this stance, as it seems for each strong and controlled blow Atreides makes in this form, it is not unusual to see such duels last far too long, as the caution he holds in this stance might sacrifice chances at ending the conflict sooner.
Equipment:
Ancestoral Plate Armor: A family heirloom, or so Atreides claims, the armor has a far darker origin, having been worn at the time of his whole blood families death by something that the current owner refuses to identify, letting rumors abound.
Old Grandblade: Bearing no name, this weapon is older than its current owner by many generations, and has long become attuned with the shadows that are often en-scrolled around its blade, to the degree that only Shadow and Steel spheres of magic can be channeled through it, other magic failing to even manifest from its blade.
Favorite spells:
Shadow Form: Far more intricate then the name would give away, the form simply hides the injuries to flesh and blood, that punch through his armor, by issuing out blinding, disoreintating shadow, while each stroke of his blade painted inky shadows like paint on canvas. The man is indeed but flesh and bone beneath his armor, and the shadows may be but momentary distractions to the wise, but what foe needs to know that?
Steel Form: By taking the lost equipment of the dead, or rarely volunteered, he can reform the damage done to his own armor and blade, creating the illusion of this shadowy knight walking through a field of dead men, armor rotting away and restoring the form of the Atreides. Smoke and mirrors, maybe, but a battle lost in the mind is already lost before swords are crossed.
Character backround history: The black forests between kingdoms hold a many great secret, some hostile to the kingdoms of the realm, some not so much. The Wanderer Alexnader Atreides is one such enigma. Born to lordless natives within the forests, they survived by cunning and guile alone, walking the paths unwelcome to most. Such wanderers could stumble upon things better left undiscovered, and as a young Atreides would find out, the armor and blade that are his trademarks were such a thing. In a hidden, abandoned place in such lands, a decrepit keep was found by the Atreides brood, both father, mother, and various children of age were scouting for new paths to use between the kingdoms. Such hidden paths out of sight of the kingdoms were always valuable, as they could escape most common troops and thugs such ways, if the needs demanded it. Opening the place, against the warnings in place, the wanderers found an apparently decrepit suit of armor and ruined blade, both of which arose as if possessed.
The blade and armor claimed all he held dear at the time, his small family of wanderers all, in a fierce series of clashes that left the young boy injured but undaunted. He stood in the dark place, torch in one hand, blade in the other. His wounds were grave, but he refused to let his own hubris and mistakes free the shadows within. The torch did him no good, nor did the blade, leaving him with his own affinities of shadow and steel. Reforming his blade from the ruined equipment of his family, and hiding his own place with the shadows against those of the armor, the clash lasted far longer than it should have. The ultimate outcome was the man's survival, but the details are kept vague. Some might think Steel interceded on his behalf, against all odds as the only hope he had of survival. Others, that the armor accepted the grief stricken young man as its new keeper, a curse hidden as a blessing, or a reward costing too much. Whatever the truth may be, the Wanderer would not speak of it, instead cautioning those who would walk hidden paths to tread carefully, as some things were not meant to be found again.
Whatever the truth, as dangerous or harmless as it may be, Atreides eventually walked out of the dark places between kingdoms, crossing paths with the Order of Arcane Knights. He followed them back to their temple, where he swore service unending to the Order. Whether this was an attempt to atone for his failures, or to free himself prematurely in glorious battle, has yet to be seen. But whatever the task given, he would see it out to completion, regardless of the cost to himself or others. This has made him a mixed blessing when arriving somewhere. A blessing, as a situation would be resolved by the Order. A curse, as the resolution might not be as clean or kind as some might hope. But he follows his orders to the letter, and if that means violence or peace, it means little either way to Atreides. Or seems to mean little, his tales usually don't add up completely, leaving others to wonder how much truth is within that armor. Or, to some, how much man remains within that old armor.
By my knighthood I swear: On Steel and Shadow do I swear fealty until death and beyond its cold grasp.
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 42
Title/Nickname: The Wanderer
Kingdom of birth: Born to the dark forests inbetween kingdoms.
Worship: Sworn to the god Steel.
Appearance:
Magical affinity:
Primary: Steel
Secondary: Shadow
Skills:
Atreides is a cautious, methodical fighter who approahces each battle with care and focus. Never to underestimate and never one to waste time mincing words with his foes, the Wanderer has two very distinct styles of combat, but both have points that can be drawn from both. He is a strong and, facing single foes, deceptively fast fighter, able to bring overwhelming force upon single foes, and sweeping devastation against massed foes, and it takes several moments to move from one stance to the other, which can be a weakpoint if spotted. The man uses his shadow magic to create fear in foes, each blow they might land billowing black, twisted shadows rather than blood, only adding to the illusion of a juggernaut of inhuman nature.
When facing massed numbers of foes, Atreides takes his grand blade and wields it in wide, sweeping blows that carry great weight and power, carving swathes of damage with each blow. While this stance can keep large numbers at bay, this is a foolhardy approach towards fast, single targets as they can easily dance around the swinging blows. To further dissuade foes from trying to move in between sweeps, black shadows billow from the blade and armor of the Wanderer, creating a nightmare image towards common thugs and warriors. This stance cannot rightly hold off an army for too long, as it expends energy, both arcane and physical, at a sometimes alarming rate. The stance is as many parts scaring away the massed numbers of foes as it is killing as many, and one would therefore, perhaps rightly, assume he is more comfortable in a single fight then facing massed armies alone.
When facing a single, skilled foe, such grand theatrics and wide, sweeping blows are ill suited. When coming against such a foe, Atreides must arrest his momentum from such wild swings and shift into his other stance, a more deliberate and calculating stance, each blow far more controlled, and rarely equal in savage strength to the former stance, but far more reliable and safe for himself in the long run. This control and precision costs him when swarmed, and the moments it takes to get momentum up can be dangerous to the man within if taken advantage of. Enemies who are equals in skill that can last long fights also are dangerous, even in this stance, as it seems for each strong and controlled blow Atreides makes in this form, it is not unusual to see such duels last far too long, as the caution he holds in this stance might sacrifice chances at ending the conflict sooner.
Equipment:
Ancestoral Plate Armor: A family heirloom, or so Atreides claims, the armor has a far darker origin, having been worn at the time of his whole blood families death by something that the current owner refuses to identify, letting rumors abound.
Old Grandblade: Bearing no name, this weapon is older than its current owner by many generations, and has long become attuned with the shadows that are often en-scrolled around its blade, to the degree that only Shadow and Steel spheres of magic can be channeled through it, other magic failing to even manifest from its blade.
Favorite spells:
Shadow Form: Far more intricate then the name would give away, the form simply hides the injuries to flesh and blood, that punch through his armor, by issuing out blinding, disoreintating shadow, while each stroke of his blade painted inky shadows like paint on canvas. The man is indeed but flesh and bone beneath his armor, and the shadows may be but momentary distractions to the wise, but what foe needs to know that?
Steel Form: By taking the lost equipment of the dead, or rarely volunteered, he can reform the damage done to his own armor and blade, creating the illusion of this shadowy knight walking through a field of dead men, armor rotting away and restoring the form of the Atreides. Smoke and mirrors, maybe, but a battle lost in the mind is already lost before swords are crossed.
Character backround history: The black forests between kingdoms hold a many great secret, some hostile to the kingdoms of the realm, some not so much. The Wanderer Alexnader Atreides is one such enigma. Born to lordless natives within the forests, they survived by cunning and guile alone, walking the paths unwelcome to most. Such wanderers could stumble upon things better left undiscovered, and as a young Atreides would find out, the armor and blade that are his trademarks were such a thing. In a hidden, abandoned place in such lands, a decrepit keep was found by the Atreides brood, both father, mother, and various children of age were scouting for new paths to use between the kingdoms. Such hidden paths out of sight of the kingdoms were always valuable, as they could escape most common troops and thugs such ways, if the needs demanded it. Opening the place, against the warnings in place, the wanderers found an apparently decrepit suit of armor and ruined blade, both of which arose as if possessed.
The blade and armor claimed all he held dear at the time, his small family of wanderers all, in a fierce series of clashes that left the young boy injured but undaunted. He stood in the dark place, torch in one hand, blade in the other. His wounds were grave, but he refused to let his own hubris and mistakes free the shadows within. The torch did him no good, nor did the blade, leaving him with his own affinities of shadow and steel. Reforming his blade from the ruined equipment of his family, and hiding his own place with the shadows against those of the armor, the clash lasted far longer than it should have. The ultimate outcome was the man's survival, but the details are kept vague. Some might think Steel interceded on his behalf, against all odds as the only hope he had of survival. Others, that the armor accepted the grief stricken young man as its new keeper, a curse hidden as a blessing, or a reward costing too much. Whatever the truth may be, the Wanderer would not speak of it, instead cautioning those who would walk hidden paths to tread carefully, as some things were not meant to be found again.
Whatever the truth, as dangerous or harmless as it may be, Atreides eventually walked out of the dark places between kingdoms, crossing paths with the Order of Arcane Knights. He followed them back to their temple, where he swore service unending to the Order. Whether this was an attempt to atone for his failures, or to free himself prematurely in glorious battle, has yet to be seen. But whatever the task given, he would see it out to completion, regardless of the cost to himself or others. This has made him a mixed blessing when arriving somewhere. A blessing, as a situation would be resolved by the Order. A curse, as the resolution might not be as clean or kind as some might hope. But he follows his orders to the letter, and if that means violence or peace, it means little either way to Atreides. Or seems to mean little, his tales usually don't add up completely, leaving others to wonder how much truth is within that armor. Or, to some, how much man remains within that old armor.
By my knighthood I swear: On Steel and Shadow do I swear fealty until death and beyond its cold grasp.
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