Pathfinder

The War Within (MYTHICAL CREATURES & BATTLING)

I'm gonna go with a high class, my bond will be with "Joab" the Behemoth.

The War Within (MYTHICAL CREATURES & BATTLING)

Hey Mad, I'm gonna reserve earth. Original right?

Medieval Fantasy role-play

Durus

Age: 84

Nature: There isn't much to him besides his determination to find a way out of his curse and battle. While he loves to fight he does not actively seek it, being somewhat of a martial pacifist As being little more than a sentient suit of armor Durus doesn't have many of the vices that plague man.

Personality: Durus changes little outside of battle. He is still quiet, stern, and grim but it is subdued by a calming sense of serenity. Durus has lost much to the armor that now claims his soul but it will not take his determination, as such there is very little he cannot accomplish once he puts his heart into it. Being a quiet man, Durus has little need for lies and can be counted on as a man of his word. However many are put off by his blunt personality, its not really his fault though. The armor has consumed much of his social skills and as a result he is a cripple socially.

Job: Former Knight of the Black Iron, now he is a wandering warrior.

Small biography: Durus was once a proud knight to a powerful order, but he doesn't remember that anymore, the armor has consumed most of those memories. Now they come in flashes, dreams almost. Ever since he has begun to lose himself to the armor Durus has dedicated himself to finding a way to take off the armor and finally die, hopefully as himself instead of whatever he is becoming. It is a quest that has taken many, many decades.

Physical Strength: The armor has boosted Durus' already incredible strength to unimaginable heights, now being able to easily crush a mans head in his hands and wield the great sword that has become iconic to his character. Strength isn't the only thing that has been increased however, due to the armor he now has almost limitless stamina. However these come with a price. Whenever his strength and stamina reach super human levels the armor starts to feed off his soul, loosing parts of him in the process. If he were to keep this up he will eventually become nothing but a mindless husk, forever seeking battle.

Magical Strength: While not magically gifted himself, the cursed armor he wears gives Durus several abilities. The first is a set that takes away the need for air, sleep, food, and drink. While the armor has above average durability, it can still break. These breaks can be fixed by the absorption and conversion of other metals, the "wounds" will heal about as fast as a normal humans would if not a little faster. Next he is highly resistant to attacks of a purely magical origin, like magic missile, but ice magic will slow him down and fire will melt his armor if prolonged exposure is retained. Lastly he is for all intents and purposes, immortal. Should the armor be reduced to a slag it may take several decades to resemble himself, but it will happen. Most likely losing his humanity in the process. It would take a great mage to separate his soul from the armor and only that will set him free.

Speed: Faster than a man in of his size and armor type should be but still much slower than an unhindered man

Luck: Neutral luck, never particularly lucky or unlucky.

Motivation: Trying to lift the curse off the armor, finally allowing himself to die and be free.

RWBY AU: The Crystal Ball [Fantasy, post-apocalyptic, survival]

I'll think about it. I'm just not all that comfortable with playing them.

Medieval Fantasy role-play

Now before I finish my cs, what are your feelings on cursed armor?

Medieval Fantasy role-play

If you are still taking I'm interested.

RWBY AU: The Crystal Ball [Fantasy, post-apocalyptic, survival]

I would be interested, but my only problem is that I am terrible at roleplaying established characters.

The Troupe

It was a nice enough day, while everyone else was setting up for the show Monty was hitting the town. Well he was, now he was on his way back. It was a nice little tradition he had, go to the nearest town and advertise a bit. Some oohs and awes from people looking at his tattoos and little voodoo baubles. Also it was a nice chance to stock up on different herbs, teas, flowers, and some spices, it had been forever since he had cooked some home style Cajun food. While not every body liked it, most did and the ones who didn't still showed up for dinner. As DuPont said, "Food brings people together Monty...and that's one of the best kinds of magic there is.

Monty smiled at that, while no one at the Troupe were blood they were better at family than his own blood and it felt good to cook for them. As he set himself in a good mood a favorite song of his came up on the radio and he happily hummed the tune as he drove back to the fair grounds. In little to no time Monty pulled up near fairgrounds and parked his car next to his tent that James had set up. Nice fellow he was.

As Monty started to unload his car, he set up a kettle of tea... it felt like a a ginseng day. While he waited for the kettle to heat up Monty finished unloading his stuff and set it around his shop. Herbs here, tea leaves there, and some flowers right here. Taking a step back Monty looked at his little tent and gave a happy sigh as his kettle went off. However right before he was going to shave the ginseng root he heard crying.

Poking his head out of his tent Monty saw a little girl sitting on the grass crying to herself. Now that wouldn't do. Monty made his way to the little girl and crouched down to her level, asking her what was wrong. It turns out she had lost her mother and couldn't find her. Feeling bad the little tyke, Monty handed her a handkerchief to wipe her nose and brought her to her feet. Offering his hand to her, Monty said "Lets go find your mother, whats your name little one?" After the question Monty learned that her name was Lizbeth, or Liz for short. In turn Monty told her his name and they were off.

In about fifteen minutes they had found Liz's mother, in the same condition he had found Liz when they started this little search party. When the mother came into view Liz ran off with a high pitched "Mommy!" and collided with the woman who embraced her with tearful joy. As the woman pulled herself together she thanked Monty with as hard as he could, Monty just said it was his pleasure and said his goodbyes to both Liz and the woman, absentmindedly asking them to come see the show if they wanted to.

When Monty made it back to his little shop his good mood persisted, "Today is going to be a good day" he thought to himself as he reheated his kettle and looked over his cookbook on what to make for dinner tonight.

Kinetik

I'm here.

Welcome to Saint-Vienne

Throughout his years on this earth Devon has woken up in many different places and positions, he can without a shred of doubt say that this was one of the worst. As he opened his bleary eyes Devon noticed three things. One, he had a massive headache. Two, this place looked like shit. And three, he was strapped to a table. With the addition of metal scraping against something that added a fourth category to this shit show. With a groan Devon tested his restraints and found them pretty tight, they weren't going to give any time soon. With a sigh he stopped struggling for a moment.

Looking around he spotted the little table next to him filled with surgery tools. Most were too dulled or rusted to do much but the scalpel still looked good. With a flash of inspiration, Devon tugged at the restraint at his right wrist and found it slacking a bit. If he could just pull a little...there. Satisfied now that his hand was free, Devon groped for the scalpel and once he grasped it started to cut himself out. It was at this time that two things came apparent, a girl called out and the scraping from earlier was getting louder.

For reasons unknown to him the scrapping filled him with a primal sense of fear, like it was scratching his mind. Slightly panicked, Devon found it hard to motivate himself to open the door and instead took the scalpel and hid behind some surgical equipment and a fake skeleton... at least he hoped it was fake, it was a little sticky. While this wasn't the bravest thing he could do and very uncharacteristic of him, self preservation won out over pride. Whatever was making that scraping noise was close and its effect on his psyche was getting stronger. Getting the scalpel ready Devon prepared to pounce on whatever pushed through that door.