Roran Hawkins

Naruto : The Rise of The New Generations

Konoha Team 7
Kensuke Nimatsu

As the bandits kept their distance, not daring to try Kensuke's skill with the sword after having been hit by his killing intent, Kensuke checked on how his team was doing. At a quick glance it seemed as if they were standing their ground, but he saw Hayate's leg envelopped in metal, Shisen grasping her leg, and Ezuri kneeling while bandaging his own leg, and felt a feeling of disappointment. These were bandits. Not shinobi. He didn't know exactly what had been going on, but as far as he could tell his team had failed the most basic laws of working in a team. Working together. Only now that they were wounded, on the verge of collapsing, they started performing as a team. A moment long he hesitated, and decided to help the genin. Originally he was only supposed to guide the team, and not do the mission for them, but in this case letting them fight the mission would probably permanently cripple one of them.

After a quick estimation he concluded he was fighting half of the bandits, and they were fighting the other half. Once he'd have dealt with this bunch, he'd go help the others. A sound in front of him put his awareness to the test and made him parry a spear as he swirled around to face those in front of him, noticing they gathered courage and charged him at the same time, intending to drive him against a tree and slaughter him like they did to Ezuri. Frowning he stored chakra in his blade, a large amount, and executed a stronger version of his Falcon Blade attack, and released it in a large horizontal sweep, sending a devastating air cut towards the approaching bandits, one that travelled as fast as he swung his blade. The bunch of non-shinobi warriors stood no chance as most were mutilated by the lightning fast attack, since the short range prevented them from doing much against it. The slinger stone sent towards him found its trajectory altered as Kensuke parried the stone, and coated a shuriken in wind chakra, sending it right through the man's chest, into the tree behind him.

The battlefield on his end was filled with screaming as the men bled out, most having been entirely or nearly entirely cut in half by their lower chests, but there were two who had escaped relatively unscathed, and Kensuke leapt at them, taking both down in two quick sword strikes, leaving the rest to bleed out.

Turning towards the group the genin were fighting, he leapt forwards using wind chakra to propell him even faster and used his momentum along with the flying sparrow technique to land right next to the group of genin, cutting the man with the sickle in half, before continuing the motion he had began with his sword to fluently parry a spear aimed at Ezuri. He made a circular movement with his sword, dragging the spear along with it before grabbing it right after the tip, and giving a strong yank on it, making his opponent fall over as he held on to the weapon.

The Shadows of Aeios

As he said, I only have two modes: Too nice, and too mean. I am just lamenting about the fact that it is getting dangerously close to that, and I wish to tell you to take the skills of Rangers as portrayed in the Ranger's Apprentice with a spoon of salt, before applying them here. I like the CS and type of character myself, but I am against large lists of competences without incompetences, which is basically how the ranger's are portrayed in the books. The only thing they can't do is fight in melee, but their other skills effectively reduce the chance of getting involved in one to zero.

The Shadows of Aeios

Little Alice said
Also, stay polite Rory.

What does polite mean?

The Shadows of Aeios

Actually this CS is a near copy of a previous CS, Templar. And the only reason for that is because there is a damn Ranger Corps. Who'se idea was that anyways? Basically someone else made a character that is basically Halt of the Ranger's Apprentice with a few adaptions, and now you make a character that even has Halt as the fucking appearance picture.

AAAHGRHRRRRHHH

Oh well fine.I'll accept him, but along with it I send a reminder to every RP'er playing a Ranger:

The Ranger's Apprentice series is a great read, but isn't exactly that realistic at some points. Especially concerning the skills of the different rangers. You can be very skilled at all the skills you filled in, but if I see you hitting targets the size of my butt from 150m away as they do in the books, I will personally come perform a dissection on your characters with a blunt spoon.

I hope you understand my point, and that I will not have to repeat myself. Alice ordered me to be strict about realism, and the more Rangers I see that have the cool-sounding but if you think about it quite ridiculously large skillset of the Ranger's Apprentice series' rangers I see popping up, the more I feel the need to slap people on their butts with a winded up towel.

Also, Templar, your character isn't exactly a veteran if he's only 24 years old.

EDIT: Leather as armour is quite ineffective. It'll do next to nothing versus any decent weapon. It also has no padding underneath. It's just an additional 'tougher' skin you put on, that might prevent a knife slash from doing too much damage or even drawing blood. Most other things will make a mess though.

EDIT 2: Alice, accepted. I find it slightly disturbing though that you pick a 13th century armour with a roughly somewhere between 7th-11th century Saxon spangenhelm. But do whatever you want ;D

The Shadows of Aeios

Also, before any misconceptions are made:

The Barbarians aren't "Barbarians" as we know them. They are Barbarians as the Empire knows them. AKA: Anyone not under the fair rule and advanced political system of the Empire that gave everyone freedom and whatnot. They're not from the Empire, and hence they are lesser beings, especially because they have those weird opressive forms of governments! Pff!

This means that the Barbarians are actually Feudal Kingdoms, much like European Kingdoms of the 13th-14th century, attacking us because they're being driven to us by a larger tribe of real 'Barbarians', or the Huns of our IC world that drove the Barbarians into Rome. Probably a people riding horses a lot. As a result, the barbarians we will face are actually pretty much identical to us except that their armies are equipped less well, and are not at all centralised (aka, we get equipment from our military, they have to buy it themselves). They are most likely peasant levies and men-at-arms etc.

The Shadows of Aeios

Robin Throckmorton
Inside the Boot Buckle

Laughing as his old friend did, he gave his cup back to Jymson with a meaningful gesture for more. His companions now started ordering their drinks aswell, and while Robin wiped off his mouth with his hand, after first undoing his gloves and placing them behind his belt. "Me? Thinner? What blasphemy are you talking about! I even got thicker last campaign! No Barbarian's gotten a slice of me! But look at you, you fat bastard! You barely fit between the wall and bar anymore!" He responded, pretending to be indignated by the remark. Shaking his head as he thought about the idea, him getting thinner, he responded on the innkeeper's offer.

"Well actually yeah, give me some good, nice Deliari sheep dung. You've got a reputation for it, in this shitty establishment yo've gotten yourself 'ere. Probably shouldn't have named it the Booth Buckle with all the crap you find on the streets these days." He told Jymson, his voice growing more enthousiastic as he spoke. He never ceased making puns of the name of this tavern, simply because of all the possibilities for amazing puns it offered, and the rather foul language of the tavernkeeper himself. It was a joke that always returned between the two of them, just like the one about him growing thinner each time he'd return.

It was strange howmany times that joke had been told by now. Having been in the 16th Legion for almost 26 years now, the innkeeper must have seen him literally grow up from a runaway village lad into a veteran soldier. Well, maybe he hadn't. Back as a boy he only visisted taverns when dragged along by other soldiers to prove he could drink, and drink he could! That aside, another man seemed to have tended the tavern back then, because the stout figure of Jymson didn't fit in those memories.Perhaps he had been less fat those days?

Turning around as two new persons entered the establishment, one, a young smith of sorts, judging on the apron he wore, filled with sootstains. The other person however was a fair lady in a fantastic and eye-catching red dress, and in that instant the smith was already forgotten. His eyebrows made a jump as his eyes traveled up and down the dress. Not bad, he mused to himself, before making room for the lady as she ordered a drink. Well, if he could ensure she got some more drinks than proper for a lady of her age, he might have some company tonight. He was perhaps 10 years older, judging by how she looked, but remembering how fast girls could age, he adjusted that image to 15 years at least. He might damn well be twice as old. Not that it actually mattered, but it did make him think about his age for a moment, untill that last thought melted away for her fair red hair. The barbarians up North often had red hair aswell. Not that you'd see it though, since only when you'd hit them so hard they'd lose their helmets is when you'd find the blond and red hairs they seemed to have in such unnatural amounts. He knew Jymson's bartender girl was off-limits, but anything else was fair game ofcourse. If you don't shoot you always miss!

"Well, if you could tell me what you want, I'll gladly pay you that drink, for your beautiful dress!"

The Shadows of Aeios

Robin Throckmorton
Deliar, right outside The Buckle.

Robin laughed as the recruits dragged their older companion out of the establishment. Recruits usually were a dirty bunch of rats, expecting that their arms and armour would make the ladies open their legs for them. The knuckle-headed fools always found out that that wasn't the case one way or another. "That'll teach that bastard Vincent for teaching recruits to be jerks! His ugly face now has somethin' else than his scar to worry about! He mused to his comrades, and walked inside the tavern after giving the recruits a heartfelt load of insults and mockeries. As they entered, clearly recognisable by the olive green hoses of the pikemen of the 16th Legion, the same men as those who had just rushed out of the tavern, the newly started conversations fell silent again.

Robin was still just a mere soldier, but he knew that he was inches away from his promotion to Tessarius. Their old one had been hit in the thigh by an arrow, and the wound had been infected. The man survived, but it remained to be seen if he would ever walk, nevermind march again. Even after 6 months of relaxation backhome, he still limped heavily. Next sortie he'd be a Tessarius for sure, so he had decided to improve on his usual behavior somewhat as to make sure he wouldn't miss out on the promotion. As a result, he dressed a tad nicer than usual, and the stern and serious look on his face he usually carried along with the uncharacteristical neat impression he left, made the people in the tavern terrified that their tavernkeeper's actions had gotten him on the bad side of the military.

"Gimme some wine, you bastard." He said once he reached the bar, shattering the deafening silence. It didn't help that he was grinning along with his companions, all veterans of previous campaigns. As the silence ensued he looked around and snickered, before turning to the innkeeper again. "Sometimes we wish the barbarians'd hit as hard as you, then we'd be rid of that bastard Vincent a long time ago!" He said with his heavy accent, accepting the cup of wine and emptying it in one big gulp, and releasing a statisfied sigh. "You sent those recruits running faster than I've ever seen a barbarian run away from us, perhaps we need more men like you fighting on the frontlines! We'd have won the war ages ago!"

The Shadows of Aeios

I pledge zero loyalty and especially no honour to the High Ruler of the Empire. May he sucketh mine balls as I shed my blood in his blasted name.

Robin Throckmorton

Name :
Robin Throckmorton
Nicknames :
Nope
Gender :
Male
Age and birthday :
36, born on the 19th of Februari 1266
Origin :
Robin is a poor farmer's sixth son, three of his older siblings not having survived childhood, and hails from a relatively large village near Roduma.

Length and build :
1.74m, fairly slim
Weight :
68kg
Sexuality :
Wine and women

---

Appearances :

Robin Throckmorton is a fairly average looking man. He has short brown hairs and a bushy and wild brown beard and moustache. He has very expressive eyebrows and almond eyes hidden deep in their sockets. He has an experienced and capable look in his eyes, but also a rather menacing one. He has a 'fresh' face with the skin colour most in the Empire have, but age and continued exposure to weather and warfare have drawn thin lines in his face, along with small scars.

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Occupation :
Pikeman in the 16th Legion.

Favorite phrase/saying :
Stick them with the pointy end, be they horses, men, ... or women.

Favorite Food :
He has lots of favourite foods. He does like honey-soaked boar-roast the most though.

Favorite Weather and Season :
Sunny with medium cloud coverage and a soft breeze. The best weather for doing boring outside tasks such as marching or standing guard.

Patron God/Goddess :
Rolor ofcourse. Nothing can beat a pike formation from charging the frontal end, and anyone trying to do so should be smitten down by Rolor. However, Robin isn't exactly that religious. If he prays to someone it's in a pinch during battle, and then it's often Rolor that receives his prayers.

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Personality :
Robin is a pragmatic and very practical man. He'll do anything to get what he wants, and luckily for his superiors he is a man that is easily statisfied. He isn't really smart nor brave nor anything that makes him outstanding, except that he is very stubborn in his pragmatic spirit. That aside he is a very jovial man around who you can feel very comfortable, while at the same time not at all. He is quite cynical about the situation of the military, and has agrim and fatalistic attitude and sense of humour. Summarized, he is a good man that was dyed in the wool.

History :
Robin was born to a relative averagely poor farmer, as the sixth of his sons. Three of his elder siblings, a lass and a lad, died during childhood, and his only younger sibling died quickly aswell, the harsh reality of peasant life. His father's patch of land had been snippered over the course of decades due to theor family distributing all wealth equally over their sons, leading to the point where the land was so small it was hardly able to sustain all of them. As a result, their father decided to only gran tland to his eldest son, much to the discontent of the younger siblings. However, Robin, being the youngest, always knew he'd always pull the shorest end in heritage affairs, and that the poor state of his family would not gain him anything but a short and uneventful life quickly ended by disease or famine. So, as his village was situated on the main road to Roduma, a place where the Imperial legions sometimes paused while marching, he ran off, joining the legion as it went.

The Imperial Legions are the first and foremost sign of the decay of an effective central government in the Empire. Originally it was meant as a device of social promotion, and all true citizens of Rehon nearly served in the legions to eventually get civil positions after their terms and help lead the Empire. However, as the borders expanded local auxilaries appeared in the armies, hoping to gain citizienship through service, along with all rights and duties of it. Slowly their growing numbers drove the native Rehonians out of the army, untill the legions consisted mostly of non citiziens. However, there still is a good portion of them left, most serving in the center of the Empire, away from most dangers. This, along with fund cuts deteriorated the state of the legions untill most stepped away from the typical uniforms that once conquered the known world. Different units and types of soldiers grew as the auxilaries joined, dependant on the local enemies they had to fight. This resulted

As a result, Robin, despite his young age of 11 years, was accepted into the 16th Legion, one that had been stationed in the Region of Awom, where units had developped the use of pike and arbalest, heavily drilled to withstand heavy cavalry charges aswell as most infantry threats. After training in the ways of the pike and sword, aswell as a limited training in operating the heavy arbalests of their collegues that they had to protect, their unit, consisting of 500 pikemen along with 500 arbelesters, had been called to the frontlines in Nurvlin, where they were to give fight to the cavalry of the barbarians. The pikemen and arbalesters proved to be a very efficient fighting force, but after a disastrous ambush where their pike formation was broken, they were withdrawn after heavy casualties. They have been flickering towards and away from the front repeatedly, a vicious cycle that has continued untill recently. Now, recently filled up with new recruits up to operational numbers, all having received the required basic training, they are awaiting redeployment to either the frontlines or the 16th Legion itself, where they will help maintain public order in Awom for yet another few uneventful and calm years.

Theme song :
Nope.

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Clothing and/or armor :
Robin wears the standard olive green one piece hoses of the pikemen corps, along with a simple white tunic. Over that he often wears a rather old blue overcoat, giving him a rather ordinary appearance, with some sloppy edges. He has sturdy leather marching boots he wears at all times, along with thick leather gauntlets he also received from the military.

When he joined the legion he got the typical armour all pikemen wore, a simple brigandine over a thick gambeson. The brigandine is in the typical green colour of the pikemen corps, and consists of dozens of small metal plates rivetted together in a sturdy vest. Along with that they received large kettle helmets, the most practicl kind of headwear in existence. Protects from all kinds of weapons, especially arrows, and the large brim will catch devastating downward blows before they come close to your face. Along with that they received sturdy leather marching boots and gauntlets, allowing them to handle the pike and stand ground efficiently. Their weapons consist of a 5.8m long pike, the most simple kind you can imagine, along with a rather short falchion. The heavy sword was perfect for the cramped situation one would find himself in should a formation break. The point was perfect for stabbing, the heavy blade perfect for deliver grievous wounds, an the small handguard it had was a very nifty tool for transforming faces into works of art, aswell as desperate parries.

Over the years Robin however 'upgraded' his armour with a suit of mail that reach to his elbows and just below his brigandine, aswell as plated mittens that further protect his hands from the rather dangerous job as pikeman. Along with that he bought some basic pleyns with small cuisses and greaves, protecting the area around his knee. He also bought a very mean misericorde, that can find its way through armour like sand and is long and sharp enough to tickle your armpit when stabbed in the other.

Tools and weapons :
=======
Name :
Pike
Description :
Stabbing people.
Appearance :

=======
Name :
Falchion
Description :
Chop, cut, stab, poke. His one has a slightly broader blade though for more Yoink.
Appearance :

=======
Name :
Misericorde
Description :
The mercy-giver of "Idon'twantthatpokingmyarmpit".
Appearance :

=======

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Skill/Abilities :
Robin is a veteran pikeman, and as such is very proficient with the pike, and knows exactly what to do in every situation a pikeman can find himself in. He is a decent swordsman, fighting so dirty your eyes are gouged out by it, and can handle himself in a wrestling fight. Yes, when pikes meet infantry, infantry tends to crawl under the pikes and yoink the pikemen's balls, unless the pikemen get the same idea and yoink back a lot harder.

---

Traits
He is stubborn, likes women, likes alcohol in all its forms, also likes food in most of its forms, he also likes doing nothing when he knows his fellows are marching or standing guard. You know, the profiteer kind of guy. He also likes butterflies.

Star Wars Clone Trooper RP

I'm nearing the last few episodes of the clone wars series myself now. The series were a bit awkward at first, but as they grew more adult and serious I loved all the references towards the grim end of the jedi, aswell as the grim reality being shown again and again. Demolitions expert, perfect!

Naruto : The Rise of The New Generations

Konoha Team 7
Kensuke Nimatsu

Arriving near Shisen he saw the bandits back off as reinforcements seemed to arrive, and after they saw how easily Hayate partially decapitated one of their own with what looked like an ordinary stick. The man with the sickle however mustered his courage and charged Hayate and Shisen as they teamed up, whirling his short weapon around like a whirling derwish. Kensuke's attention was drawn by the screams of the bandits on the other and of the camp, attacking the crippled Ezuri. Kensuke's eyebrows deformed into a deep frown while his mouth opened in a mild snarl. This Ezuri charged half of the enetire enemy camp on his own, and now was getting himself killed, forcing Kensuke to step in to save his life. "Stay alive, and remember the mission. No mercy."

He said to Hayate and Shisen, before using the Iai beheading move to unsheath his blade and take the head of the first bandit near the fallen genin, at the same time unleashing a wave of his killing intent on the gathered group of criminals, making them halt their attack as their hearts filled with fear. "You fool. Get to Hayate and Shisen right now." He ordered the genin with a mean voice that did not tolerate complaints. He was quite angry now. Angry because of Ezuri's bad move, angry because his team failed to execute the mission without casualties, angry because his team wasn't able to function correctly, and angry because of the mission itself. It was not his task to fight this mission for the genin, but Ezuri had left him little choice for now.

As the body of the first man dropped, he sent a deadly glare at the amassed bandits after the wave of killing intent, before moving his sword in front of him again in a slow move that was visible repeated hundreds, no, thousands of times before.