Moonberry

the tea fiend's intro

Hey there! Welcome to Roleplayers Guild!

If you enjoy anime and medieval fantasy stuff I've got a group that roleplays together in an original setting. We have a balanced system for character progression and growth.

Lots of flexibility to be play whatever you want.

Shoot me a message if you're interested!

Happy roleplaying!

Hello there.

Welcome to a Roleplayers guild!

If you enjoy anime and medieval fantasy stuff,

Ive got a group that's alwayss open to new folks.

Hope you find what you're looking for! And if you're interested in a group original setting heavily anime inspired, shoot me a message!

Happy Roleplaying

✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧

Hey there! Welcome to Roleplayers Guild. Hope you find what you're looking for!

If you enjoy anime and medieval fantasy stuff, I've got a group that's always open to join.

Shoot me a message sometime if you're interested!

Happy roleplaying

[The Beastkin Republic] Will They Know Respite?

The hall around them was filled with the sound of the living. While it was a cold and stark time in the fort, there was no denying that its people were alive and refusing to give up. Movement and ambient noise surrounded the gathered party of outsiders. Some locals gave them a wide berth. Some cast suspicious glares. Others ignored them entirely. Regardless, life went on, largely unbothered by the unfamiliar presence in their midst.

Hiruq took his seat at one of the long tables alongside Moo, motioning for Yukan to sit nearby as well. He accepted a bowl of stew and began to eat while watching the room around him. Before he managed a single spoonful, his attention was drawn elsewhere.

He blinked, watching as Moo shoveled her meal down and drained the bowl with impressive gusto. When she began to ask for more, he snorted softly, a grin pulling at his lips. He stretched his hand out, offering his own bowl.

“Here, Moo. You need it more than I do.”

He chuckled, glancing toward the others as they slowly became more familiar with one another.

His eyes slid over Yume, not for the first time in the past half hour. There was something there that hinted at mild reproach, but he did not interfere with her antics. Instead, he busied himself listening to the discussions nearby. His grin widened slightly when attention turned toward Itsy.

“Indeed. One should not judge by the size of their opponent alone. I look forward to witnessing your bravery, little one.”

Despite the faintly wolfish edge to his grin, his words were sincere.

He shifted his gaze again, this time toward the girl with the long blue hair and scythe.

“Yumi, was it?” he asked. “You’re speaking Japanese? It’s not something you hear very often here. Surprisingly.”

He chuckled, the tone light, as if making casual conversation rather than acknowledging a language from another world.

As the group spent time over the small amount of food provided, the hours crept by. The light beyond the narrow windows dimmed, and late afternoon settled over the fort. Before long, Commander Rextelian arrived, the crimson-haired kitsune beside him.

“It is time,” he said simply.
“We muster at the gates.”

He offered no further explanation. With that, he turned and departed, the kitsune moving with him.

The hall began to empty.

Outside, Nan Gau was already preparing for night. Lanterns were being lit along the inner walls, their warm glow fighting against the encroaching blue of dusk. Snow continued to fall in steady sheets, muting sound and softening the edges of the city. The gates stood open, guards forming loose lines as the assembled fighters gathered.

Rextelian stood at the head of them all, just inside the castle gates.

Beyond the walls, the road stretched northward.

It cut through frozen fields and climbed steadily into the mountain pass, winding between snow-laden trees and jagged stone. The wind carried the scent of ice and distant storms, sharp and biting. Footsteps crunched against packed snow as the group began to move, the warmth of the city fading with every step away from the walls.

Ahead, the Paizu Mountains rose dark and heavy beneath low clouds.

Somewhere beyond them lay Nan-Li.

And as the last light of day slipped behind the peaks, the march truly began.

I'm Kai <3

Welcome to Roleplayers guild.

Hope you find nice clean safe fun here on roleplayers guild.

Alohi

Welcome to Roleplayers Guild!

What kinds of roleplay are you into? Fantasy?

Hope you find what your looking for! Happy roleplaying!

☆⋆༻ ⋆ Isekai Hell Characters ⋆༺⋆☆

This thread is dedicated to hosting the Character Sheets of players joining **Isekai Hell** here on Roleplayer’s Guild.

All characters start with **105 points** to distribute among:
- Stats
- Skills
- Assets

All points must be spent during character creation.

After posting your sheet, a **Character Mod** will review it and let you know what needs adjustment. Once everything is in order, **Novama** will approve it and you’ll be ready to begin adventuring.

Character Sheet Skeleton

Character Name:
Titles:

Points at Start: 105
Points Spent:
Points Earned: 0

Strength: F
Precision: F
Intelligence: F
Vitality: F
Speed: F

Skills:
Abilities:
Equipment:
Assets:

Change Log:

Titles:
Titles are usually earned through roleplay based on your character’s achievements.
For new characters, you’ll typically start with your racial title:

• Prime – Mostly human
• Beast – Sentient animals or beastkin
• Fae – Magical/spiritual races (elves, faeries, elementals)
• Construct – Inorganic beings (golems, automatons, animated dolls)
• Monster – Creatures born from mana, generally hostile and feared

Stats:

Strength: general muscle power. Influences effectiveness of melee and thrown weapon abilities and attacks.

Precision: general fine movement control of one's body like balance and moving quietly. Influences effectiveness of ranged weapons like bows and quasi firearms.

Intelligence: a catch all for knowledge, memory and magical prowess. May also reflect mental fortitude in the face of persuasive forces.

Vitality: your body's life force as well as the ability to withstand hardship of varying kinds. Necessary for heavier armor.

Speed: general quickness and agility. Dodging and covering ground. Necessary for light armors and magical protections.

Your stats can determine which skills your character qualifies for. Some skills require a minimum grade to unlock.

Skills:
Skills define what your characters are and what they can do.

Click > Here < for a list of skills to pick from.
Choose skills that reflect your character’s training, talents, and combat style.

If you have questions about building your sheet,DM me or @novama or [@Double Checker]

[The Duchy: Aslan] .·:★・¨༺ 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔤𝔢 ༻¨・★:·.

The Pavilion surged with motion and sound.

Across its layered floors, lanes pulsed with mana-light as performances collided with force. Steel rang against stone. Music rose and twisted under pressure. Every arena held its own contained storm of pride, skill, and desperation.

From the outer walkways, spectators shifted to follow the action, some craning for better views, others abandoning one lane as another flared brighter. Among them stood Brandy, indistinct in the crowd, her presence marked only by her size and the faint chime of the bell at her neck whenever she shifted her weight.

From her vantage point, most lanes were active.

Except one.

Near the far side of the Pavilion floor, a single arena remained sealed and luminous, its barrier fully formed but its interior conspicuously empty. No performers stood within. No attendants lingered nearby. The stone floor inside was untouched, unmarred by spellwork or footfall, as though the match meant to take place there had been delayed or erased.

Elsewhere, Lane Three drew mounting attention.

Darkness pressed inward, thick and oppressive, laced with arcs of lightning that snapped and crackled through the rain-soaked air. The fist fighter within staggered visibly now, his advance completely halted. The necrotic field clung to him, draining strength with every breath, lightning striking close enough to force him back again and again until his footing failed.

Nearby, the court cantor struggled to maintain her performance.

Rain streamed over her hands and instrument alike. Her breath faltered. The once-proud melody fractured under the weight of the storm, fingers stiffening as the enchanted rainfall sapped her strength. Wind magic failed her in uneven bursts, no longer answering cleanly to her intent.

The water barrier surrounding Noelle churned steadily, impenetrable, keeping the fighter from reaching her at all. From within it, her music continued, unbroken and clear despite the chaos beyond its surface.

Then the song changed.

A new presence filled the lane, carrying outward through the barrier in softened echoes. The effect was immediate.

The fist fighter collapsed first, his body finally giving in as he fell unconscious against the stone. Moments later, the cantor’s flute slipped from her grasp. She swayed, tried to recover, and then fell as well, rain washing over her still form.

Silence followed.

The lane’s barrier dimmed, its hum lowering as the arena registered the conclusion of the bout. The storm eased. The shadows thinned. What remained was the aftermath of overwhelming force.

A clear chime rang through the Pavilion.

“Lane Three,” an attendant announced, voice amplified and formal, “concluded. Victory to Stormcrest, Edwin, and Nishi, Noelle.”

Applause rose unevenly. Some spectators clapped in admiration. Others watched in uneasy quiet as attendants moved in to secure the fallen contestants. On the judges’ dais, styluses scratched across crystal slates. Lady Avelyne did not look away from the lane as the results were recorded.

As the victors were ushered clear of the arena, the Pavilion’s attention began to disperse again, drawn toward the remaining lanes still in progress.

All but one. The little Mana pup that had been waiting outside the lane before was whining and staring down the long main hall way.

[The Beastkin Republic] Will They Know Respite?

The moment passed without ceremony. With the Hime-sama already withdrawn and Rextelian occupied elsewhere, the gathered warriors were left beneath the walls with nothing but wind, snow, and one another.

Hiruq listened as the group spoke in turn. He did not interrupt Youko’s explanation of her combat style, nor Varius’ concern for positioning and infection, nor Yukan’s careful breakdown of formation tactics. When KaMara finally spoke, grounded and practical, he turned fully toward her.

“You don't need to call us commanders. We're not here to take any lead position.” Hiruq said calmly. “Command here rests with Commander Rextelian, under the authority of the Yamamoto clan.”

He glanced briefly toward the inner keep before continuing.

“We came to discuss alliance and to offer aid against a common problem that plagues these lands.”

His gaze shifted briefly to Youko.

“Close combat is good. ” he said. “The undead do not break easily, but they can be overwhelmed.”

To Varius, his tone remained even.

“Your caution is warranted.But it this curse, or whatever it is, isn't spread through infection. Only those who die near the undead, will rise again.”

Yukan’s contribution was met with a short nod.

“Aye, I got to witness your fire usage just a few days ago. That will be of great help against the undead.”

Around them, the guards who had been hovering uncertainly now relaxed slightly. With no immediate orders forthcoming and dusk still hours away, one stepped forward and gestured toward the inner corridors.

“Mess hall is open,” the beastkin said. “Warm food while it lasts.”

Stone passageways wound between the inner walls and the keep, their surfaces worn smooth by decades of boots and claws alike. Paper lanterns hung at regular intervals, their light muted and steady, casting long amber shadows that stretched and bent with each turn. The smell of smoke followed them, not acrid, but old and familiar, the scent of a city that had been burning fuel carefully for far too long.

The mess hall sat low within the structure, partially recessed into the stone itself. Its ceiling beams were thick and darkened with age, reinforced to hold the weight of winter storms above. Long tables filled the space, scarred by use rather than neglect. Benches bore marks of claws, blades, and heavy armor set down too often in haste.

Through narrow slit windows, the sky continued its slow descent. The light outside shifted from pale gray to deeper blue, clouds gathering low against the mountains. Snow fell in fine, steady sheets, coating rooftops and roads alike.

[The Duchy: Aslan] .·:★・¨༺ 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔤𝔢 ༻¨・★:·.

The darkness did not merely occupy the lane.

It consumed it.

As Edwin’s domain fully asserted itself, the necrotic field thickened, its edges no longer diffuse but oppressive, heavy with intent. Lightning snapped through the shadow in jagged arcs, striking stone and air alike, but it was the darkness itself that did the real harm.

The fist fighter staggered.

The shadow crawled over him like oil, clinging to skin and armor alike, seeping into the spaces between breath and muscle. Where it touched, vitality leeched away, not violently, but relentlessly. His shoulders slumped as the necrotic aura bit deep, mana flaring in desperate surges along his arms as he fought to keep his stance.

A sharp grunt escaped him as one knee nearly buckled.

The lightning followed.

A crack of violet-white energy lashed across his flank, not enough to fell him outright, but more than enough to burn through concentration and force another staggered step backward. The stone beneath his boots blackened where he stood, scorched by residual discharge.

He was hurting.

And it showed.

His advance toward Noelle faltered entirely, not only from the damage, but from the barrier that now made her unreachable.

The spiraling column of water surrounding her churned steadily, dense and unbroken. Any attempt to push through it would have meant fighting the full force of magically reinforced water while already weakened, soaked, and standing within Edwin’s domain. The fighter circled instead, movements slower now, cautious, eyes flicking between the lance, the storm, and the singer he could no longer pressure directly.

The rain worsened.

What fell from above was not natural water. Each drop struck with draining weight, clinging to skin, clothing, and breath alike. The effect on the court cantor was immediate and severe.

Her flute slipped for a fraction of a second as rain streamed over her hands and instrument. She recovered quickly, but the melody wavered again, fingers stiffening as the water sapped her strength with every passing moment. Breath control became labored. The rain interfered with airflow, moisture catching where precision was required.

Her shoulders trembled.

The wind she had summoned weakened further, no longer responding cleanly to her intent. What currents remained faltered under the combined pressure of rain and shadow, breaking into erratic gusts rather than controlled flow.

Still, she played.

Pride kept her upright when her body protested.

But the cost was mounting.

The lane had become hostile to its own occupants. Darkness pressed inward. Rain dragged everything down. The water barrier around Noelle continued to rise and fall in rhythm with her song, untouched, unyielding, her melody cutting cleanly through the chaos.

Above, the judges’ attention sharpened.

Styluses scratched faster. Mana-readouts flared. One aide leaned in to whisper urgently to Lady Avelyne, who did not look away from Lane Three for even a second.