Fetzen

Mortal Empires

Here's my application. Sorry it took so long.

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Name: Othuoy

Gender: undefined

Age: 34

Race: Gargoyle

Appearance: Standing at a not so impressive 5'9", Othuoy is far from being particular in terms of height and can easily hide himself in a dense crowd. However the same cannot be said about his skin: It is of a pale, gray-ish complexion with irregular variations in hue that does not lack some eery semblance with stone. Also it is leathery and a tad more rigid than a human's. Overall body proportions are normal, but his hands and feet exhibit claws which can both be very sharp or blunt, depending on if he has decided to cut them or not. His eyes don't have any visible iris, but instead comprise a pair of large, monochromatic dark orbs. Hair is there, even long but almost white. He has no beaks, but massive, wound horns that, starting from his forehead, grow backwards in a wide arc. Othuoy is extremely muscular all over the place and outweighs much taller individuals with his unnaturally dense, packed body. The pair of massive, almost bat-like wings also goes into this equation.

In an human environment he tries to make much of himself as invisible and unconspicuous as he can. It starts with tucking his wings close to his body and wrapping a coat around it, including a large hood to make his horns disappear in the shadows beneath it. Sometimes he even applies paint to his face since looking very pale is better than looking very... stoned.

Nationality: Outsider

Magic: Othuoy is not capable of casting magic.

Backstory: Gargoyles still pose a significant mystery to contemporary scholars. What is known is that their bodies truly originate from the statues carved by dedicated chiselers in order to be attached to sacred buildings, but the process of one of them coming alive has never been observed as of yet. Undoubtedly magic is involved, but since no maniac has been identified who could be capable and willing to pull off such a feat it is assumed that their birth is a very rare event caused by a quirk of nature -- or some kind of spell that has been cast onto the world before the writing of history.

In any case this pretty much deprives every of the species' members of anything that could be considered an ordinary childhood or familiar bonds. Othuoy has neither of them. He has been thrown into the world by sheer chance and exactly the way he still is physically, trying to survive in an environment that not seldomly regards him as a beast or as an attractive object to study. Since it took him long to try and learn the human language without any help, he was unable to remember the name of the village he started off. He has never returned in time to see it again before its downfall in one of the many acts of war.

He has survived all of it so far and even with little bloodshed. Due to the rarity of his kind, contacts with other gargoyles have been very sparse and he currently has noone around him that he could truly call a close friend except for one person. Her name is Orla Lafayette, a noble woman who takes great pride in her magic. It's kind of a symbiosis: She has an unique opportunity to study one of the great magical oddities the world has to offer while he has a place he can take refuge at, have a meal and even receive care for any wounds sustained. That doesn't stop him from trying to make contact with other individuals though, but so far those attempts have not been very successful.

On his many travels he is usually seen alone. He travels a lot, eager to see other places of the mysterious world noone had ever explained to him as much as a mother or father would do.

Skills:

• Athletics
• Acrobatics
• Animal Handling
• Medicine
• Survival
• Persuasion

Personality:
Othuoy is a very self-sufficient individual, strong-willed but with a fair share of pessimism being his steady companion. That doesn't mean he'd be hesitant in any way, he's just not the type who breaks in jubilance just because there is a plan. Instead he's prone to focus in on the risks. In general it is relatively easy to reach him, but he still has some deficits when it comes to some social customs he could hardly ever pick up any experience with. One of those weak spots are large crowds -- he hates them, they make his stress level blast through the top and urge him to leave. Overall one can say that he lacks experience, but certainly not intelligence. He's quite adaptive in terms of logic and mathematics, even though he'd write down many things a bit different than others would for he practically has been an almost complete self-educator for the vast majority of his life.

Equipment:

• Thick woolen coat, impregnated with an alchemistic concoction to make it resistant to dirt and water and with a large hood attached to it.
• Riding horse: While he can fly short distances, it still is a very useful asset.
• Food and water. A lot of it.

The Five Senses

I'll try to get my first post up within the next few days. I hope that's okay for everyone ?

The Five Senses

Yep, I've found a sweet spot of time and posted my character. I hope you all can like it :)

The Five Senses

Týfurkh Gandjar

Name: Týfurkh Gandjar
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Asexual
Age: 27
Home Nation: Hearing
Appearance:

Týfurkh certainly has not the most bulging of muscles, but what he has, including his bones, is very dense, sturdy and strong. He's clearly V-shaped and at no less than seven feet five inches a very imposing presence. This has been caused by the medical condition of giantism.

Bio:
Týfurkh was born in the village of Mavaughal, a small settlement at the western shore of Lake Echo, north-east of Symphare. Aside from the fact that it quickly became obvious that his body grew much larger than usual his early youth can be considered quite uneventful. He has his younger brother, Madawc, had to do the field work their aging parents could only do to a lesser and lesser degree. They were far away from any real trouble: No unexpected plagues, no invasion, only the occasional brawl in the local tavern which Týfurkh excelled at again and again.

It was at the age of 16 when he broke one of his thighs in an accident. Somewhat immobilized and left in insecurity if he'd ever make a complete recovery, he had to spent his time in the village with Madawc caring for him. During this time, Týfurkh met a rather mysterious man that called himself Haljot. He claimed to be some kind of medic and magician without going into details. He looked at the rugged mess that had once been Týfurkh's leg, but he didn't offer any bandages, salves or herbs that at least could relieve him of the pain, but a small crystal attached to a thick leather strap. He told him to tie it carefully around his leg, let it do its work and be patient. Týfurkh did as requested, hoping for some miracle to take place. The thing started to vibrate gently, no, it purred just like a cat. He didn't notice it at first, but the constant exposure to this kind of movement indeed massively boosted the healing process.

Haljot never came back to retrieve the crystal after it had done its work, but he had told Týfurkh to come to the town of Symphare if he'd 'be interested'. Inspite of not knowing what all of this was about he was, so soon he stood at what turn out to be the small entrance to the Order of Canor. At first it appeared to be a very peace-loving society of what one could call monks, but Týfurkh was told that his stature would make him very well suited for a warrior. The order proved to know how to do marketing so to speak. They gave him several demonstrations of what could be achieved after years of training and openly asked if he'd be willing to join. They'd be in need of people like him and that the encounter with Haljot in the local tavern had not been entirely random after all.

Týfurkh agreed. He first had to deal with all of the familiy business though. Luckily for him his brother Madawc was a lot more attached to his native soil than he was. Maybe both of them, along with the Order who apparently was to eager to make him one of its members, also could already sense the growing anxiety of war in Saencila and how the political system was destabilizing. Maybe Mavaughal would stop to be a peaceful, unharmed and innocent village one day, and in case of that a warrior could be of help.

Training proved to be hard and quite frustrating at first, but the constant telling that this was nothing out of the ordinary kept Týfurkh at bay. He has been a member of the order for eight years by now and with experience and some rank came freedom. He has been tasked to be an agent, someone who heads out, gathers information about the state of the different parts of the world and reports back to those listening posts who are still active despite all the turmoil. He can go whereever he wants as long as he sticks to a few rules of how to behave, doesn't tell everybody about the order and keeps them roughly informed about his status.

Personality: He's a calm dude, at least in most situations. To make him truly angry could be considered a considerable achievement, to make him lose his head in the metaphorical sense due to external stress as well. He can accept the opinions of others if he's convinced of their superiority, however he's also rather direct and outspoken when it comes to criticism. He won't hold back with his own thoughts almost no matter what. Týfurkh is not used to large numbers of people, instead he prefers to stay with few or on his own if there's the possibility. If he feels overwhelmed, he prefers taking a more shy stance than usual.
Quirks:
Skills/Magic:

The Art of Canor

A Heading based magic system
Unregulared
Requires Da'quar crystals dissolved in alcohol as a consumable fuel source.

The art of Canor is the art of generating and utilizing sound directly as an offensive or defensive means in combat. Other applications exist as well, but they are rare and rarely used for the lack of opportunity. They, so far, are more theoretical than practical.

Many spells of Canor exist, but the typical follower of this art does only know a relatively small fraction of them. For Týfurkh, the following applies:

Resonance chamber
This spell is extremely dependend on the environmental circumstances. Open spaces are the worst, close quarters with rigid walls like hallways the most advantageous. The concept is to build up and concentrate the energy of sound at a specific point that is not one's own, but the one where the enemy is or will be without knowing. The user of this spell starts shouting, singing or whatever kind of noise he deems suitable. Frequency and direction matters in dependence of the situation -- the experienced user knows what to do when and where the waves will build up in constructive interference. One doesn't truly hear this small spot in the middle of the room coming, in fact other spots nearby will remain completely silent. A direct collision can result in a broad variety of injuries ranging from temporarily impaired hearing up to a broken skull and ruptured veins. It depends on the time of buildup that has been available.

Oscillator
Sound can not only travel by air, it can also travel inside solid bodies of any kind. One can temporarily 'imbue' a solid item with this hidden kinetic energy that doesn't result in obvious movement, causing it to vibrate violently. Upon contact with other bodies the item will immediately start transferring this energy to a more or less large degree. The vibrations start to diminish due to dampening effects rapidly after the charge has been set, so quick usage is required in order to be efficient. Therefore Týfurkh uses this to make the bolts of his crossbow more effective and not truly to lay down traps.

Directional wave
Every thought that you'd hear voices noone else can hear ? This nightmare can become true if you have an artist of Canor made your enemy. They can point a stream of soundwaves at an arbitrary point in their direct sight, though the effectiveness will naturally decrease with distance. The wave is sufficiently focused not to be heard by anyone else except if that one crosses the direct line of sight. One can transmit messages to allies, but also distract enemies and maybe even lure there to a more advantageous spot -- for oneself, of course. On short distances one can also shout so loudly that it will cause injury, but not the same degree as the resonance chamber.

Weaknesses: At his size he's not exactly dextrous, not even very fast despite his immensively long legs. His weight more often than not also is the root cause for issues of various kinds, some hilarious, others very serious.

Equipment/Items:

• Massive crossbow and a quiver of bolts of very high quality. However it is not enchanted.
• Full-body armor made out primarily of leather but with some large metal parts included as well.
• Food and water for one or two days without resupply.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

YAY YOU ALL DID IT IN TIME! Simply await my update, please.

@POOHEAD189

To be frankly speaking, I smell a slight bit of sarcasm.

New RP Interest Check (Some Old ideas, Some New)

@Pfroggy1 Are you still interested in the RP discussion we've once started ?

𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑

@Dusty I unsubscribed long ago but saw this by sheer chance. I'd be interested in a reboot, but it seems the GM is gone.

Titan Rising

I'm tempted to join this :)

Long ago, in a kingdom far far away. (Fantasy appcalypse, more details to come.)

Sorry for procrastinating for three days only to get out this very mediocre post :/ I'm trying to get out of a bit of a writer's block.

Long ago, in a kingdom far far away. (Fantasy appcalypse, more details to come.)

It was a discomforting feeling that in spite of all the devastation, all the utter disappointment, all that overwhelming feeling of being thrown into a world without hope, without any means of going on around him, one could still experience something as mundane and distracting as boredom. How could one be bored in that kind of situation Funark found himself in right now ? Stranded in an abandoned village with nothing more than children around him. Children of species his own kind would have despised with ferocity, that was, if his own species still would be in existence... Why were they all childs and what had happened after all ?

Still there were other mundane feelings, feelings one couldn't try to ignore as easily as boredom and that would come at a severe cost if left alone for too long. Hunger. Thirst. He needed food and water and a lot of it as one could easily see. Try to work for it and get some payment ? No kind of economic system was in existence right now, but one could only wonder how long it would take for one to reestablish itself. Could children be as ambitious and rationally thinking as adults ? Hopefully so... At least he didn't have to be afraid of competition. They obviously were rather few, casting a massive doubt onto any belief that there'd be more than an only halfway trained blacksmith around here. On the other hand all of the adult's items were still there: Houses, carts, horses,... maybe he'd pick up one of those later in case they needed to go faster.

Funark didn't spent any significant amount of time on picking any particular building. Instead he walked right into the very next arrangment of four walls he could find, lured into it by the loud and aggressive clucking of a chicken. He had no idea that somebody was already in there, and once he had squeezed his enormous self through the way too small doorframe stopped dead in his tracks. The floor beneath him appeared to be on the brink of breaking, another reason to move only very carefully. "Erm... sorry... who are you ?"

Fire! Funark's instincts told him to remain as polite as possible. Yes, fire was an important thing to have, but not if it touched one's skin or started burning all around oneself...