Please don't. You're not getting accepted. The last time you tried to join one of Vita's RP's, you asked one question, didn't say anything for a year, then posted an incomplete bio that didn't fit, and when you were asked to talk to us first, you… said nothing for a month, for some reason edited the bio, and then never brought it up again.
And as it stands, what you've submitted here is an empty shell of a character that's just "generic martial arts archetype". A sheet of paper has more flavour.
Military goods; of course. There was unlikely to be anything else up here – her full expectation was that this would be an old base and their biggest danger further in would be, regardless of who established it, a lack of correct identification to disable any automated defences.
"These alternative entrances; they still lie on this side of the border, correct?" Cellica asked, inspecting the alternative entrances. If one of them was in danger of collapsing, it shouldn't be too much of a problem to reinforce it and hold it open; the difficult part ought to be transporting materials to the dig site itself. Not doing so was more likely to come back to haunt them in the future.
But this second entrance, the catwalk… it ought to be easy enough to correspond to the surface maps, and from there to the border. The last thing they needed was to be prepared for a dangerous environment and to be caught trespassing by the Eryndreal patrols.
"Additionally, is there a reason to take these side passages, in light of the additional dangers represented?" If the main entrance was hackable, it would seem the reasonable option to wait until it was opened normally and proceed from there. But if their provisions were more limited than the elf had come to believe or if there was difficulty securing a longer permit…
@Ogo So... the big, very big, thing is that Aessyr are all female. It's one of the things that defines them as Aessyr. Which makes this bio kind of awkward on that front.
Beyond that it's all kind of... unnecessarily dark and edgy? I know you asked if fairy stuff is useful for magic, and it is, but that doesn't mean wizards tend towards the suicidal insanity of slavery and torture.
I believe Anno has some extra thoughts, but as it stands, I'm not accepting this.
@Yankee@Taka Given that these are a pair, Anno and I are taking a bit longer to think about it.
@Dark Light There's… quite a bit here that still needs work, starting with the picture; using an official piece of art from something else is strange enough, but it doesn't even fit the notion of a half high-elf. The imp doesn't even have a picture, but you've never asked in detail about demons, so that's probably for the better.
But for the most part? The character concept is just full of ideas that haven't been fully pulled together. Who's his father and does that tie into anything else going on? What was his mother running from? Why did things burn down? Why, when everything was on fire and presumably people are being killed, does he have a "special sword"? I'd also add that a court mage is not a position that's going to be treated like a common servant and replaceable, because it's not something any old person can fill – it wouldn't stop mistreatment, but it wouldn't be "treated like peasant scum" because then you find yourself without a mage. Or on fire.
Abilities and equipment section is really barebones. Why is the sword special? What sort of curses? If he's an enchanter, why doesn't have have anything he's enchanted? It's really odd.
Never mind that he had an elder, more competent sister, for tradition dictated heirs be male
Nooooot true in this setting; inheritance is equal, so it would go to the eldest regardless.
The term for a casting implement is a catalyst, but that's just informational. What's really odd about the equipment is… uh, why a machete? Why is his backup a farming implement of all things? It's a bit… odd to have as a "just in case" thing, the deep forest isn't something you really wander into by accident, and it just jars with his whole noble vibe.
Main thing though is whether we could reduce the personality overlap just a bit somehow? Two guys with basically the same personality is a bit uncanny.
And because I was bored tonight, I present "so how did Quille's signing up go?"
For guild receptionist Ervan Seliac, it had been a slow day. There had been the usual early morning rush of junior adventurers picking up the local tasks but on a rainy day like this things tended to be quiet, and the quiet, bookish man was never the most popular of the receptionists to go up to. Fine by him – it gave more time to catch up on his studies: they could always use more healers and it paid much better than manning the desks.
With the polished tile approaching the counters and the well-lit main hall, it was easy to tell when someone was coming, even with his nose buried in a textbook. There was just a distracting drip, drip, drip…
When he looked up and adjusted his glasses, there was someone standing there, an awkward-looking figure with a slight frown marring what was visible of her features. An elf, obviously an elf with those long ears, figure swallowed under a rough, leathery mantle, the drip coming from the rain pooling off of her cloak.
“Ah… how can I help you?” How long had she been standing there waiting? Ervan leant forward slightly to try and gauge from the size of the puddle. That long? How had she crept up?
Her response was a quiet murmur. “I’m sorry; I didn’t catch that.”
“The guard have advised me to become an adventurer. The magistrate gave me this,” her voice was still soft and distinctly accented, but a pale hand carefully emerged and placed a sealed scroll on the desk.
Ervan took his time checking and breaking the seal before reading the contents – nothing unusual, dock a fraction of the bearer’s pay as fines, or report back to the authorities if they quit early – and tried to ignore the way her eyes seemed to constantly bore into the top of his head.
“This all seems to be in order. There’s some paperwork and an assessment to complete, if you don’t mind following me, miss…?”
“Quille.”
The short trip through to one of the guild offices, normally overboard for a simple onboarding but necessary with the additional legal complexities, was unnerving. More than once, the receptionist felt the need to stop and check that she was following, only to find the tall figure exactly one pace behind. It was just too silent.
Most of the paperwork was simple: name, agreeing to the pay garnishment, and so on. When it came to skills…
“We’d normally start any newcomers at copper rank, but if you have any prior experience or applicable skills, we can take that into account and arrange an assessment,” he explained, giving her a smile.
“I am a hunter,” there was a definitive tone that hadn’t been present in her previous answers.
“Ah, like deer? Or perhaps elk, maybe mammoths…?” Ervan clarified. She had been apprehended for poaching, and it was clearer in the office’s magical illumination that her heritage was of the northern folk. Definitely not a complete novice, but…
“When visiting the surface. I normally hunt anything beneath it, but I like karakmeli the best.”
“That would be…?”
“I think the translation is… rock eater?” Quille dug about beneath her cloak and carefully placed a cleaver on the table. The blade was odd, with a distinct metallic gleam to it despite being otherwise a creamy ivory; the blade and handle were carved from a single piece, leather roughly wrapped around it to provide more grip, “Teeth are better than steel for blades, very long lasting. But hard to work with.”
That was not a creature that he had realised could exist – one where a single tooth could be reworked into such a sizeable implement with a ready cutting edge. Definitely skilled enough for monster-hunting work, if that was Quille’s normal prey, but they would need a full assessment.
“I’ll see who we have available to test your skills.”
The assessment was easy to arrange; the Venne branch always had a few silver ranks hanging around and even a gold-ranked adventurer today, and they were happy to give up a little bit of time in exchange for some free drinks later. Despite the weather, they filed out to a nearby common, a few bored city folk lining up to watch what was going on.
When Quille shucked her cloak, one of the adventurers let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of knives.”
But nothing really in the way of armour, which went some way to explain the hunter’s silent movement… even if the knives ought to offset it somehow.
As a self-professed stealth specialist, the direct test of her combat ability was postponed, starting with an actual test of those stealth capabilities. One or two at a time acting as prey, while the others performed as examiners – and a mage they had wrangled doing her best to fake some cover or interesting features without ruining the common beyond their ability to restore.
The results were odd. Quille’s skills were clearly polished, refined, and tracking her was a veritable headache; if she started in someone’s blindspot it was very hard to catch a glimpse. But she’d get caught out by the oddest things. A novice might not notice the sudden crunch of leaves or the snap of a twig, or the slight hint of a shadow when the sun started to come out, but the more experienced adventurers in this rank could reliably pick it up in time.
When the roles were swapped, there were similar oddities, occasions where she might instantly pinpoint where someone was approaching from, but have to take longer to narrow it down when the terrain was open or muffled wood. Not a problem for your average expedition, but in a high ranked one…
There was a frustrated cast once again to Quille’s brow when they concluded after the combat assessment – her knife fighting skills, at least, were much above the expectation for a stealth specialist concentrating on instant takedowns, although much of that was a slipperiness and difficulty in pinning the woman down rather than out-and-out engagement.
“Does your guild have a large basement?”
Ervan scratched his head. It had several – there was lots to store, even if you only counted the beer and wine cellars. “It does, why?”
“One more test. There, in the dark.”
All the odd flaws finally came together once – after a promise of another round of drinks – the assessment was repeated, down there amongst the wine racks. It wasn’t completely perfect; they didn’t have an equally subterranean group to really contest her, only old Hjalmar. But with much more controlled light sources, or true darkness, and no plants…
Ervan’s wallet suffered at the extra round of drinks he’d had to pay out to make sure his girly scream was forgotten.
The strange, quiet elf was admitted to the guild as a steel rank that evening, as many of the usual crowd as possible making sure to buy her drinks and get to know her.
Against alcohol, she barely even rated a copper.
as for how recent this was… probably a few days ago from whenever we start the RP? She's gotten over the hangover now. xd
Oops. Was that her fault? It seemed like it might have been her fault, not just removing the crucial ability to actually think things through but also… well, making everything a whole lot faster and more dangerous. Really, if anyone didn't fall off under such situations, it would be an impressive feat of will. Still, it wasn't like she could take back time. Or fly.
… but Izayoi was family, so Miina really ought to do something after all.
Which was why she took a running leap off the ship. She knew how to land well, and had magic besides, even if she was no dragoon. Her cousin didn't… and was also too busy wrestling with Reisa('s dead body? She hadn't had chance to get a good look) to even think about doing it.
Step one: fall faster. That was pretty easy, a dive was a dive and she'd spent more than enough time watching birds. Something Izayoi wasn't doing. Okay, now… stop supporting that Berserk immediately and avoid getting stabbed, hope she could get close enough to reach, and prepare to use every last drop she still had in the tank to make the air slow them down. If Galahad came down too, that'd be great, his knees seemed to be indestructible.
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