Avatar of Ryteb Pymeroce
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    1. Ryteb Pymeroce 12 yrs ago

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7 yrs ago
Current Back from the dead. Braaaaiiiiinnnsss
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9 yrs ago
I'm quitting Roleplayerguild due to personal issues. Apologies for inconvenience.

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Name: Ryteb Pyarros

Age: 137

Gender: Male

Appearance: A sexy beast, though you probably want a more descriptive explanation of my brilliant self. I stand at a whopping 5'2" in height, like any truly great man should. My build is lithe, as my profession required me to be athletic, and frankly muscles just get in the way. Many women have proclaimed jealousy at the beauty of my facial features, and have even turned the heads of a few men, though my features are marred slightly by a scar to my left cheek. My hair is the colour of a roaring flame, and comes down to my shoulders in a regal mane, my wonderful vulpine ears on full display. Speaking of which, I have three fox tails, each as sleek as my hair. My eyes are a wonderful orange in colour, and can melt even the coldest of ladies with a mere glance. As all people should, I take care to maintain my complexion, making sure to stay a light tan. It helps me look exotic. My attire is relatively plain, in contrast to my superior looks, though there is a good reason for that. I wear a custom-made silk suit, dyed in a deep green, like the colour of a leaf in the shade, with a black shirt underneath, unbuttoned of course. My shoes are bespoke as well, though they are made from snakeskin.

Race: Kitsune

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Fighting class type: Trickster

Evolution:
1- Pyromancy = Fire has always been my ally, and I once possessed the ability to manipulate the flames. Always good for a distraction, or if you want to smother a pesky light.
2- Bag o' Tricks = Once upon a time, I came across a bag of holding, which I stored all my various tools and tricks inside. I can't quite remember where I left it though.
3- King of Thieves = I was considered the master of thievery, infamous throughout the land. No lock could stand before me, no guard could catch even my shadow.

Personality: My loves were myself, women, and money, in that order. I am not ashamed to admit it. I live my life in service to those three things, and put all else to the side.

Biography: Which story should I tell you? That I was a poor orphan, seduced into the path of thievery out of desperation? Perchance that I was the son of a noble, who left in search of adventure and debauchery? Ooh, how about the one where I was raised by a band of gypsies and learned my trade from them? Honestly, the story of my past matters little to you. I was a thief, some might say a master of the art, but a thief none the less. I made a living stealing all sorts of items. Sometimes a bit of coin, sometimes a valuable antique. I even plundered ancient tombs to find items of value. You might expect that I went out in a daring escapade, fighting battalions of armed guards, but alas no. One of my... ahem... female companions slit my throat, probably in an attempt to cash in on my fairly sizeable bounty. And I was only a youthful 137 too...

Reasons sent to the void: I stole from everyone. Though the reason I was probably sent here was because I stole from churches, charities, and orphanages. I needed money for... company.

Weaknesses: Pretty women. Oh, you wanted a serious answer? Well, people call me arrogant. I think they're just jealous that they aren't a sexy kitsune like me.
If you can fit a boat on it, and it floats, then it's a ship. Tis only a means to a destination after all. Some form of weaponry on board would be preferable though, as it's hard to pillage an enemy vessel without crippling it first.
I'd say it'd probably be down to dice rolls. Roll a D20 and have 1-5 be shit, 6-15 be good but not perfect for the situation, and 16-20 be something really helpful.
Hunter would probably either have met the crew in a tavern or in a shipwreck after a storm. He's not really picky about joining a crew as long as they have a working ship and need his services. If they don't try to turn him in after a week, he tends to open up a bit more.
Name: Blake "Demon Brawler" Hunter
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Appearance: The first impression people have of Hunter is his outfit. He wears a Marine Captain's coat dyed red with blood. Under the coat, his outfit is smart but rough. He wears a red dress shirt, with the top buttons undone, with a black waist coat made from some form of leather. Across his torso and waist are holsters for his guns and knives. His trousers are a deep brown, and look to be made of a hearty material. On his feet he wears a pair of black naval boots that come up to his knee. His hair is prematurely grey, and comes down to his shoulder in wild waves, and he has a scruffy doorknocker beard. His frame is above-average in height, with a musculature built from a lifetime of fighting. The origins of Hunter's family is probable the equivalent of Italian, as his features and tanned skin reflect this, though his piercing grey eyes suggest a much more northern heritage.
Personality: The name of "Demon Brawler" doesn't seem to belong to Hunter in his day to day life. A stoic person by nature, he spends most of his time pouring over maps and charts, trying to make sure the crew is on the right track, as his dream is to see the world. He is a man of his word, and is far more literate than the averge pirate. But when a fight erupts, his namesake becomes apparent. He is a brutal fighter, often ending up drenched in his enemies blood, continuing to mutilate a fallen foe even after they have long since perished.
Bio: Not much is known about Hunter before he massacred a Marine Outpost in the middle of South Blue. A base of a hundred people wiped out in a single night, for reasons that Hunter has never disclosed. He was twelve years old at the time. From that point on, the boy moved from one crew to another, constantly being betrayed due to his tantalisingly large bounty on his head. After an escape gone wrong, he ended up at a fishing village where he made a life in anonymity for a time. He was just tired of all the backstabbing both literally and figuratively. Over the years he built up a connection with the villagers, and even thought of giving up on the sea... but alas fate had other plans. A Marine ship docked for supplies, and Hunter was unfortunate enough to have been in the market for the same reason. The two encountered one another, and the village was caught in the crossfire of their fight. Realizing the village would be in danger as long as he was there, Hunter left, taking the bloodstained coat of the captain to add to his intimation. Eventually, he found a group who he could actually put his trust in, and set off with them for adventure.
Hunter is an above average marksman and a superior brawler, able to take on multiple foes simultaneously without breaking a sweat. He possesses a knack for reading both the winds, and people's intentions, which has saved him on more than one occasion.
Inventory: On his person Hunter always has four flintlock pistols, as well as two knives for close range combat. He also has a satchel filled with various navigation tools, but he often leaves it on the ship.
Role in Crew: Navigator
Ryteb rain through the Llychgrove, as the woods surrounding the town were known, trying to put as much distance between him and the village as possible. Being so caught up in running, he didn't notice the shadows stalking him until they pounced. The creatures looked like Heartless, but had a weird symbol on their chests. They were Wolf like in appearance, but the power they radiated was akin to a Darkside. Ryteb tried to fight them off, but the wolves overpowered him in a matter of seconds. Just as Ryteb was about to give up and accept death, a man jumped in and punched the wolves away from Ryteb. He looked to be in his early thirties, wearing a sleeveless version of the magi robes, with a hood added on. It had the markings representing a scholarship but was again in green. His hair was black, though the roots showed that it had been dyed from a paler colour like brown. Most strangely of all, his fists appeared to glow with some form of imbued energy, that dealt massive damage to the creatures. As the wolves fled, he whistled and another of the not-Heartless creatures appeared. This one looked akin to an owl, but had an almost friendly expression. The owl flapped his wings and a feeling of tranquillity passed over him.

"Well... you just had a close encounter with the Wolf pack." The man laughed pulling the young mage up and giving him a good slap on the back, "The nightmares of Terra Atum are something else, huh?"

Ryteb looked over where the wolves had run off, but there was no trace. "Those things... are nightmares?" He asked, thinking back to Cheese explains her magic. Somehow it didn't seem quite as innocent.

"Technically, no." The man explained, trying to reassure the youth, "They are called Dream Eaters. The wild ones eat good dreams and cause nightmares, but the ones that have been purified can consume nightmares. They are the main inhabitants of the Dream World... and you're going to have to learn to fight them if you want to get home."

"Ah, so that's where young Ryteb got off to." The elderly man said, having come from the direction the wolves originated. He seemed to have recovered slightly in the interlude, though the occasional bloody cough did occur. "Have you told him about the training yet, Ronin?"

The younger man grimaced slightly, and replied; "No I haven't, old man, I was about to when you walked over and interrupted."

"Wait, what training?" Ryteb exclaimed, "I have to get back quickly, my friends need me!" As he said this, both men cracked up in a burst of laughter.

"Time is not an issue here." The old man explained, "Terra Atum's magic caused a temporal disturbance when it became a Dream World. Time moves slowly here. By my estimates, only five days will have passed in the real world."

Ryteb weighed his options. On the one hand, he wasn't sure he could trust what these men were saying... but on the other, furrier, hand the woods were probably full of these powerful enemies, and they did suggest a way of saving himself from becoming a Heartless...

"Alright, I'm in." Ryteb said, starting what he would look at as the most hellish training he had ever encountered...
Ryteb was falling. He had felt like this before when the dark copies of himself defeated him in the room of awakening, but now it was like a dam inside him had burst, releasing all the pain, grief, and anger he had locked away in the depths of his heart. It was not a straight fall, as he kept bashing into invisible barriers that sent pain shooting through his entire body with every crash. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally landed... though it was not a happy site for the young mage.

There are many views on what hell looks like. For some it is a fiery inferno, for some a dark pit. Many veterens regard the battlefields of whatever war they had served in as hell. For Ryteb, hell was an idyllic looking Irish village called Llychbaen. It had been ten years since he was last there, but it couldn't be here. Not just because his world was gone, but because he himself had razed the village to the ground.

A robed figure walked over to the boy. It was the green of an apprentice, but had the symbols of an Archmage embroidered onto it. He looked to be as old as Odin, with hair the colour of ash, though some streaks of red gave it a look of a dying flame.

"It's funny how the universe- hffph- works." The old man wheeled, coughing up a bit of blood, "The tale ends where it all began..."

His words confused Ryteb, putting him in a state of fear. The threat of imminent death gave him a chill, like icicles running down his spine.

Coughing up a bit more blood, the old man gave a chuckle. "Relax, youngster, your time is not up just yet, though your life is in peril. The darkness you have been cultivating inside you had burst out, and you are in danger of becoming a Heartless. That's why your Ninetailed Flame brought you here."

"Ninetailed what now?" Ryteb asked, more confused than ever, "And where is here?"

The old man sighed, and gazed over at the idyllic village before him. "Of course, you haven't attained your true blade yet... this is the centre of my greatest failure, though I suppose it's proper name is the Dream World. Worlds consumed by darkness come here, as they sleep. Your keyblade brought you here so that you may expel your darkness, and turn it into a Dream Eater. This is your trial, for you to unlock your blade's real power."

Ryteb turned to the man and looked at him. "If that's the case, why are you here?" He asked.

"Pride, mostly..." the old man coughed, the blood staining the bottom of his face, "I thought that I could finally fix it... but when I saw you I knew the truth. You'll understand in time..." As he was saying this, he slumped down against the rock. A raspy breath showed he was still alive, but barely. Ryteb looked to the village again and ran into the woods behind him. He wasn't going to put himself through that again, test or no.
Speaking of slumps, I've been experiencing something similar to SMS. I'm going to be posting less frequently for a while until I get everything sorted out.
All you need is the eyes. The rest is just wrappings...
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