Hellis Member
Cᴀɴɴɪʙᴀʟɪsᴛɪᴄ Yᴇᴛ Cʟᴀssʏ
STATUS: Hey y'all. I am about to start working on a webcomic and try to draw for a living now. 7 yrs ago
ciderStatus
Recent Statuses
7 yrs ago
Current
Hey y'all. I am about to start working on a webcomic and try to draw for a living now.
6
likes
9 yrs ago
Oh no. The World Ending library has started to smell of lemon again. Nobody likes dying to the smell of citrus
2
likes
Bio
"Always tenderize the meat first."
Most Recent Posts
The heatwave is killing me dead. I am working on Henrys post in pieces when I can muster the energy to do anything but hitting the beach and slowly die in the sunlight on my way home.
Francis is waiting for Nox to post the Caramilla stuff. :D I am so excited.
Working on the IC.
Limey Panda? He is in a rp with me :D
USERNAME: Hellis
NAME: Iano Kizali
AGE: 21 (To a tindra, this is past middle age, most don’t make it to 30)
ARCHTYPE: Corsair
PERSONALITY: He is a tindra in every sense of the word. Despite his unusual passion for combat, he is still every bit as exuberant, every bit as flashy and every bit as vibrant as his fellow kin. He loves to indulge in everything he comes across, including combat. He lacks lot of the common restraint of other races, racing headlong into new sensations and vices. Very loving, open minded and more then a bit promiscuous as well. As such the tavern brawls and brothel visits of his past is something of a legend.
In combat, he becomes a creature of death. His “battle lust” is something of a problem. His tribe calls it “The Red Love”, basically it means he enjoys the sight of blood far to much. When he succumbs to this state, he ends up with memory gaps. He can still deduce friends from foes while in it. He does lament on the people he have killed only because ha cannot remember killing them. As former pirate his moral compass is a bit skewed.
Equipment will include …
ABILITIES::
Fencing (Sabers): The one thing this boy knows and knows well, is that a saber takes practice. Becoming proficient enough to combat armored foes is no small task, and the corsair have extensive training with his weapon of choice.
H’kazhan Grugnah : H’kazhan or more commonly “Savage Dicipline”, is the art of wielding orchish weaponry. It has become its oww thing becouse no other race really can mimic their unique strenght and brutality. Instead, their weapons, crude and unwieldy, have become the subject of a style adapted for more civilized folks. It focuses on grabbing and getting in close with your one handed weapon of choice. There is also a form called H’kazhan Kakris that is meant for two handed orch weapons.
Race:: Tindra
Appearance::
To say the young man is handsome looking would be.. misleading. He finds himself grazed with a certain gender ambiguity. His features are far softer then the average male, to the point where if he hides body clothing, people have questioned his gender. The rather thick lips and eyelashes certainly do not help. The Tindra paint he wears only add to the conundrum as well: never the less, he feels its a blessing more then a curse, and endless source of amusement. He favors light clothing, often go as far as to walk around bare chested. His hair and eyes are the typical dark red color of his people just as his skin is the vibrant golden hue they have become known for.
History will include …
BACKGROUND:: Born amongst the Dunes of the Alhei Desert, to a tribe of Tindras living under the Human Sultanate of Iela, Iano was a child with a strange birth omen. He was born under a red moon. To the Tindras this meant he would not only continue the tradition of living uninhibited, but his soul would have increasingly powerfull flame. One that would burn the brightest when surrounded with death. To the humans, this meant he would be drawn to combat and bloodshed. How right they both turned out to be. Even at the age of 5, where Tindras usually begin to take interest in music and artistry, Iano picked up a sword. Of course, this came to no suprsie to his parents. Instead, they did what they could to make sure he did not hurt himself to bad.
At the age of 9, he was apt at swinging it, albeit to small and to young to properly grasp the concept of swordsmanship. That’s when he traveller came to the village. The man, Eingar Thornwill, was a travelling weapon merchant and a avid duellist. He soon heard of the boy and set Ianos parents down for a talk. He offered to care for the boy, and help him develop his skill. In turn, he would give the village something they desperatly needed, the tools and knowledge to dig a new well as their old one had just begun to dry out. His parents accepted and even Ianos was at peace with it. Becouse Tindras live short life, they grow independent far earlier then the avarage man.
Iano travelled with Eingar until his twelfth birthday. Deemed a adult by Tindra standards, the boy was given his own sword, a few days worth of food, some gold and the direction to the docks. Eingar had trained the boy with a specific goal in mind. He was sending him to a old friend, a human smuggler. Said smuggler needed young, agile and skilled people on his crew, as they would be able to act as couriers. Ianos smuggling career was cut short however, as Mandi Har corsairs raided the vessel on his very first trip. He was one of two prisoners deemed worthy to live. The reason being that he was easy on the eyes, and that he had no problem entertaining the women and men on board.
Iano grew to become a proper member of the crew as the years passed. And his state of mind, “the red love” began to surface. This of course, was a delight for his cruel comrades that relished the fact that the boy had natural killing instincts. He began to grow accustomed to the way that these Death Worshippers carried themselves. He found their belief of ”perfection trough death” to be most liberating, and began to incorporate their style of saber fencing into his own fighting style.
Once again however, he would find himself in new company. After their ship suffered mutiny, he sided with the captain. Their side lost, and rather then die in combat, he threw himself overboard. He managed to swim ashore, as they had only barely left the harbor. He ended up wandering for a few months before he once more ran into Eingar, now a silver leaf mercenary. The old mentor listened to Ianos story, and told Iano with a grin on his lips.
“You were made for the Silver Leaves kid.”
COUNTRY OF ORIGIN:: Iela, A small sultanate on Hyllara. The small nation is a vassal sate to one of the larger Sultanates, Omezha.
WEAPONS:
MANDIHAR LONG SABER: This exceptionally cruel looking saber is a souvenir taken from his visit in the harbors of a Mandi. Its designed for slashing mainly but like any good saber, may be used for stabbing. Its made from some very high quality steel and is a well crafted and deadly piece.
ORCH CLEAVER. This weapon was torn from the hands of a dead orch in a act of desperation, yet it has become a steady companion to the Tindra. It’s a weapon that’s the size of a short sword, but functions more like a axe then a sword. Like a cleaver actually used in the kitchen, it has only one sharp side. Its also weighted so that one swing can build enough momentum to cut into trough decently armored limbs. Or, if angled right, go straight into a rib or shoulder despite heavy armor blocking its path. In a pinch, the Tindra has been known to toss it with unerving precision and force.
Misc: Light leather braces and leather chest piece, flint and tinder, some rations, a flute, canteen and wineskin. His silk and cloth clothes.
Description …
NAME: Iano Kizali
AGE: 21 (To a tindra, this is past middle age, most don’t make it to 30)
ARCHTYPE: Corsair
PERSONALITY: He is a tindra in every sense of the word. Despite his unusual passion for combat, he is still every bit as exuberant, every bit as flashy and every bit as vibrant as his fellow kin. He loves to indulge in everything he comes across, including combat. He lacks lot of the common restraint of other races, racing headlong into new sensations and vices. Very loving, open minded and more then a bit promiscuous as well. As such the tavern brawls and brothel visits of his past is something of a legend.
In combat, he becomes a creature of death. His “battle lust” is something of a problem. His tribe calls it “The Red Love”, basically it means he enjoys the sight of blood far to much. When he succumbs to this state, he ends up with memory gaps. He can still deduce friends from foes while in it. He does lament on the people he have killed only because ha cannot remember killing them. As former pirate his moral compass is a bit skewed.
Equipment will include …
ABILITIES::
Fencing (Sabers): The one thing this boy knows and knows well, is that a saber takes practice. Becoming proficient enough to combat armored foes is no small task, and the corsair have extensive training with his weapon of choice.
H’kazhan Grugnah : H’kazhan or more commonly “Savage Dicipline”, is the art of wielding orchish weaponry. It has become its oww thing becouse no other race really can mimic their unique strenght and brutality. Instead, their weapons, crude and unwieldy, have become the subject of a style adapted for more civilized folks. It focuses on grabbing and getting in close with your one handed weapon of choice. There is also a form called H’kazhan Kakris that is meant for two handed orch weapons.
Race:: Tindra
Appearance::
To say the young man is handsome looking would be.. misleading. He finds himself grazed with a certain gender ambiguity. His features are far softer then the average male, to the point where if he hides body clothing, people have questioned his gender. The rather thick lips and eyelashes certainly do not help. The Tindra paint he wears only add to the conundrum as well: never the less, he feels its a blessing more then a curse, and endless source of amusement. He favors light clothing, often go as far as to walk around bare chested. His hair and eyes are the typical dark red color of his people just as his skin is the vibrant golden hue they have become known for.
History will include …
BACKGROUND:: Born amongst the Dunes of the Alhei Desert, to a tribe of Tindras living under the Human Sultanate of Iela, Iano was a child with a strange birth omen. He was born under a red moon. To the Tindras this meant he would not only continue the tradition of living uninhibited, but his soul would have increasingly powerfull flame. One that would burn the brightest when surrounded with death. To the humans, this meant he would be drawn to combat and bloodshed. How right they both turned out to be. Even at the age of 5, where Tindras usually begin to take interest in music and artistry, Iano picked up a sword. Of course, this came to no suprsie to his parents. Instead, they did what they could to make sure he did not hurt himself to bad.
At the age of 9, he was apt at swinging it, albeit to small and to young to properly grasp the concept of swordsmanship. That’s when he traveller came to the village. The man, Eingar Thornwill, was a travelling weapon merchant and a avid duellist. He soon heard of the boy and set Ianos parents down for a talk. He offered to care for the boy, and help him develop his skill. In turn, he would give the village something they desperatly needed, the tools and knowledge to dig a new well as their old one had just begun to dry out. His parents accepted and even Ianos was at peace with it. Becouse Tindras live short life, they grow independent far earlier then the avarage man.
Iano travelled with Eingar until his twelfth birthday. Deemed a adult by Tindra standards, the boy was given his own sword, a few days worth of food, some gold and the direction to the docks. Eingar had trained the boy with a specific goal in mind. He was sending him to a old friend, a human smuggler. Said smuggler needed young, agile and skilled people on his crew, as they would be able to act as couriers. Ianos smuggling career was cut short however, as Mandi Har corsairs raided the vessel on his very first trip. He was one of two prisoners deemed worthy to live. The reason being that he was easy on the eyes, and that he had no problem entertaining the women and men on board.
Iano grew to become a proper member of the crew as the years passed. And his state of mind, “the red love” began to surface. This of course, was a delight for his cruel comrades that relished the fact that the boy had natural killing instincts. He began to grow accustomed to the way that these Death Worshippers carried themselves. He found their belief of ”perfection trough death” to be most liberating, and began to incorporate their style of saber fencing into his own fighting style.
Once again however, he would find himself in new company. After their ship suffered mutiny, he sided with the captain. Their side lost, and rather then die in combat, he threw himself overboard. He managed to swim ashore, as they had only barely left the harbor. He ended up wandering for a few months before he once more ran into Eingar, now a silver leaf mercenary. The old mentor listened to Ianos story, and told Iano with a grin on his lips.
“You were made for the Silver Leaves kid.”
COUNTRY OF ORIGIN:: Iela, A small sultanate on Hyllara. The small nation is a vassal sate to one of the larger Sultanates, Omezha.
WEAPONS:
MANDIHAR LONG SABER: This exceptionally cruel looking saber is a souvenir taken from his visit in the harbors of a Mandi. Its designed for slashing mainly but like any good saber, may be used for stabbing. Its made from some very high quality steel and is a well crafted and deadly piece.
ORCH CLEAVER. This weapon was torn from the hands of a dead orch in a act of desperation, yet it has become a steady companion to the Tindra. It’s a weapon that’s the size of a short sword, but functions more like a axe then a sword. Like a cleaver actually used in the kitchen, it has only one sharp side. Its also weighted so that one swing can build enough momentum to cut into trough decently armored limbs. Or, if angled right, go straight into a rib or shoulder despite heavy armor blocking its path. In a pinch, the Tindra has been known to toss it with unerving precision and force.
Misc: Light leather braces and leather chest piece, flint and tinder, some rations, a flute, canteen and wineskin. His silk and cloth clothes.
Description …
:D I'm glad!
He is partly based on Charles Bronson. Partly based of varius terrifying killers. Partly based on a old charachter of mine.
I was also carefull to stay true to the Brujahs balance between savagery and fallen nature as highly intelligent beings.
He is partly based on Charles Bronson. Partly based of varius terrifying killers. Partly based on a old charachter of mine.
I was also carefull to stay true to the Brujahs balance between savagery and fallen nature as highly intelligent beings.
Faction Name:
Allegiance: Camarilla
Location: Boston Harbors
General Information:
Character Sheets:
Name: Francis Lambert
Generation: (Nothing below 8th generation) 10th generation
Clan: Brujah
Disciplines:
+Celerity,
+Potence,
+Presence
Personality:
"There is not a bone in your body that I don't know how to break. And there is not a bone in your body, that I won't enjoy breaking."
Violent is a word often associated with the Brujahs. Francis has found several nasty ways to redifine violence into a bloodcurdling art of bone breaking and foul intent. He is colder then most is brethren, far less prone to rage and every bit the predator most Kindred wish they could be. A mercyless, violent and emotionally stunted man turned into a monstrous hunter by his new nature. To the Camarilla he is the very definition of a good hound; Intelligent, driven, dangerous, intimidating, loyal.
Biography: Most kindred regard the Brujah as a fallen clan, as a disgrace to their very enviable origins. Scholars turned into thugs and anarchists. Those of the bloodline who have been around for a while recognice the eyes of Joseph as those of a intelligent man. Those who knows his story knows that the human Joseph had been a man of word and action both. A man that had used to be a name in the underground fighting scene of Boston. A beast in the cage, who was popular for his no bullshit, no mercy approach to fights. He didn't bullshit to hype himself, and Francis was soft spoken and intelligent outside of the cage. He would mingle, create bonds and contacts and when money was short on hand he would lend his talents to the local criminal elements. Cracking bones was something he was surprisingly good at after all.
The 6'4, short haired man with startling green eyes would make sure he stayed clear of growing a rep however, as he was serious about his career. He racked up victories, padded his wallet from time to time and continued to gain traction. But former partners and employers began to pressure him into rigging fights. But people like him, they also attract extraordinary beings, beings that thirst for others vitality. One such person was a Brujah who himself had fought for most his mortal life in the ring before reaching “enlightment” after his embrace.
He approached Francis with the opportunity to make a good quick buck, and for some reason, Francis continued to associate with this mysterious and as he soon found out; ruthless being. Noel was his name, and he was one of the Brujahs who swore by the Camarilla but yet kept a rebellious attitude. He continued to teach Francis to the Brujahs ideas of freedom and independence. Something that Francis had always valued highly. Noel, in turn recognized Francis potential for logical thinking and his lack of proper emotion, something Francis himself had never properly considered as a advantage. To Noel, Francis was a experiment, wondering if his emotional stunted and desensitized calm self would help temper a Brujahs Cursed blood if only a little. Noel himself was a idealist, believing their curse to be the only thing hindering them from reclaiming their lost glory. With the expressed allowance for Siring him, Noel made Francis into his childe on a chilly november night. This after having sat Francis down and explained to him his history, the history of the clan, and the way things now worked amongst the Kindred. Francis, tired of the bullshit jobs, the rigged fights and a lack of control, accepted.
The curse change everyone. And what it did with Francis, made Noel never sire a childe ever again. The human Francis had been a silent, powerfull giant with lacking emotional development. Kindred Francis was a cold, efficient, personally driven being after his embrace. The beast, the hunger and the Brujah rage only seemed to compartmentalize and distill the frustrations within Francis. And it made him incredibly dangerous. He was more disciplined then the average Brujah, more elaborate in ways of expressing his rage. His violence was always controlled, but abnormally vicious and thought out. If Noel were to explain it, it would be that Francis were the follower of his own, violent doctrine. A warrior who found meaning in destruction, but who refused to slip into the pitfall of savagery. In a way, Noels little experiment was a resounding success. In another way, it was a abomination. Either way, a lady of the Camerilla who Noel knew since old, offered Francis the position as a personal guard. Noel, a idealist and man intelligent to know where his childes abilities would serve best, endorsed his Childes rise in the vampire hiarcy.
And the rest, is history.
Appearance:
Allegiance: Camarilla
Location: Boston Harbors
General Information:
Character Sheets:
Name: Francis Lambert
Generation: (Nothing below 8th generation) 10th generation
Clan: Brujah
Disciplines:
+Celerity,
+Potence,
+Presence
Personality:
"There is not a bone in your body that I don't know how to break. And there is not a bone in your body, that I won't enjoy breaking."
Violent is a word often associated with the Brujahs. Francis has found several nasty ways to redifine violence into a bloodcurdling art of bone breaking and foul intent. He is colder then most is brethren, far less prone to rage and every bit the predator most Kindred wish they could be. A mercyless, violent and emotionally stunted man turned into a monstrous hunter by his new nature. To the Camarilla he is the very definition of a good hound; Intelligent, driven, dangerous, intimidating, loyal.
Biography: Most kindred regard the Brujah as a fallen clan, as a disgrace to their very enviable origins. Scholars turned into thugs and anarchists. Those of the bloodline who have been around for a while recognice the eyes of Joseph as those of a intelligent man. Those who knows his story knows that the human Joseph had been a man of word and action both. A man that had used to be a name in the underground fighting scene of Boston. A beast in the cage, who was popular for his no bullshit, no mercy approach to fights. He didn't bullshit to hype himself, and Francis was soft spoken and intelligent outside of the cage. He would mingle, create bonds and contacts and when money was short on hand he would lend his talents to the local criminal elements. Cracking bones was something he was surprisingly good at after all.
The 6'4, short haired man with startling green eyes would make sure he stayed clear of growing a rep however, as he was serious about his career. He racked up victories, padded his wallet from time to time and continued to gain traction. But former partners and employers began to pressure him into rigging fights. But people like him, they also attract extraordinary beings, beings that thirst for others vitality. One such person was a Brujah who himself had fought for most his mortal life in the ring before reaching “enlightment” after his embrace.
He approached Francis with the opportunity to make a good quick buck, and for some reason, Francis continued to associate with this mysterious and as he soon found out; ruthless being. Noel was his name, and he was one of the Brujahs who swore by the Camarilla but yet kept a rebellious attitude. He continued to teach Francis to the Brujahs ideas of freedom and independence. Something that Francis had always valued highly. Noel, in turn recognized Francis potential for logical thinking and his lack of proper emotion, something Francis himself had never properly considered as a advantage. To Noel, Francis was a experiment, wondering if his emotional stunted and desensitized calm self would help temper a Brujahs Cursed blood if only a little. Noel himself was a idealist, believing their curse to be the only thing hindering them from reclaiming their lost glory. With the expressed allowance for Siring him, Noel made Francis into his childe on a chilly november night. This after having sat Francis down and explained to him his history, the history of the clan, and the way things now worked amongst the Kindred. Francis, tired of the bullshit jobs, the rigged fights and a lack of control, accepted.
The curse change everyone. And what it did with Francis, made Noel never sire a childe ever again. The human Francis had been a silent, powerfull giant with lacking emotional development. Kindred Francis was a cold, efficient, personally driven being after his embrace. The beast, the hunger and the Brujah rage only seemed to compartmentalize and distill the frustrations within Francis. And it made him incredibly dangerous. He was more disciplined then the average Brujah, more elaborate in ways of expressing his rage. His violence was always controlled, but abnormally vicious and thought out. If Noel were to explain it, it would be that Francis were the follower of his own, violent doctrine. A warrior who found meaning in destruction, but who refused to slip into the pitfall of savagery. In a way, Noels little experiment was a resounding success. In another way, it was a abomination. Either way, a lady of the Camerilla who Noel knew since old, offered Francis the position as a personal guard. Noel, a idealist and man intelligent to know where his childes abilities would serve best, endorsed his Childes rise in the vampire hiarcy.
And the rest, is history.
Appearance:
My brujah is about done! Sorry for the wait!
Ooooooh. Send me it.
As of today. I am 26. Today is the worlds laziest birthday. As everyone but me is working. I am going to relax, listen to audiobooks and plan for the crazy weekend :D
© 2007-2026