T Risket

Old One Rising (A Lovecraftian adventure-horror RP) (Reboot)

@BurningCold Yeah what everyone else said man-plus weve all been there so no worries man, I'm sure everyone can relate. Atleast you and Kaichi were able to let everyone know as opposed to just dissappearing-thats always super nice. But yeah, hang in there man.

Dragon Age: The Black Warden (closed)

So I assume we aren't exactly following a strict post order but is there any sort of structure we are adhering to? Totally fine either way, just asking for my own curiosity.

Dragon Age: The Black Warden (closed)

Astyth had been at this encampment for more then a few days and yet each morning she somehow seemed to find herself completely and hopelessly lost. Hell, being a mere four and a half foot tall woman with an inclination towards kindness made navigating a battlefield seem like a cakewalk when compared to the shifting sea of dirty and desperate refugees she had been dealing with in growing numbers each day. She had actually been thankful when she received the note of parchment that had been calling for experienced warriors: any mission that actually got her out of this blasted camp was welcome in her opinion. Sure, she was here to fulfill a specific task for a certain little bird-a task she quickly decided could be just as easily accomplished while helping this “Lady d'Fleur.”

Doing her best to totally look like she knew the exact direction she was going Astyth wandered around for a bit more, her heavy surface world crafted dwarfen plate mail clanking as she walked navigated the crowds: of course along the way she let out several of her usual lines “Oh excuse me.” “Pardon me.” “Could you please stop stepping on me?”-you know, all the normal things one has to say around abunch of careless longlegs.

She'd been in the middle of thinking I swear this whole section of tents wasn't even here yesterday when she spotted a gray skinned horned giant of man cutting his way through the vast crowds of people like a shark through water-if she were a betting girl anyone that big and deadly looking had to be going to the same place she was.

For a brief moment she toyed with the idea of trying to climb the walking mountain in an attempt to see over all the damned bumbling long legs. She quickly decided against such a brash course of action though as the various possible outcomes played through her head. Probably not a good idea she thought to herself afterall, I never learned if the rumors about them biting were true or not...

For all her travels in truth Astyth knew little about the famed horned men who went by many names: most of which held very different meanings. She found her mind trailing off as it often did, her thoughts finally wondering just what name this behemoth might use. Wasting no time she followed in his footsteps with the full belief this would work out. Sure enough in a rather short amount of time he had unknowingly led her to a a decently sized pavilion styled tent. This had to be the meeting spot for the little band of misfits being assembled by a “Lady d'Fleur.”-a fact Astyth so brilliantly deduced by the odd menagerie of men and women she soon saw gathered.

Following directly in after her unnamed guide the mood of the group was...odd. Normally Astyth stood out as an odd duck and therefore usually worked alone but so far, well, she didn't think she needed to worry about being the “wierd one.”

With her iron mace fastened in a hand made leather rig to her left hip and the round steel buckler hanging on her back she had the free hands necessary to lift the full faced helmet off her head. As her armored hands removed the protective metal mask that resembled a skull wearing a crown the face that took its place was almost comically different: the hazel eyes and slightly crooked nose tracing around everyone in sight. She seemed to like everyone she saw save for Garlenn, whom she gave a brief look of disgust in the form of a scrunched up nose and slight less friendly smile. Quickly though her facial expressions went back to a genuine full toothed grin as she looked at the same woman Gereth was addressing “What the big guy said.” She chimed in a voice that could almost be described as squeeky. Without saying much she seemed to take a bit of thunder out of the horned giants entrance.

Dragon Age: The Black Warden (closed)

Woot! Hopefully that works!

@T Risket Waiting in earnest!

@Dragonbud I didn't know if you would post while I was typing so I didn't bother your character :3

@XAnthProper

In the exact same boat-just gonna post what I got up as it doesnt really crash with what I've read (was literally going to post at the same time as Dragon, then hit refresh and saw they posted lol) Rereading mine now and then ill have it up.

Dragon Age: The Black Warden (closed)

I've just about got my post finished up-just wanted to pop in to let yall know im still here lol

Dragon Age: The Black Warden (closed)

*whistles* damn, i got some reading and writing to do

Dragon Age: The Black Warden (closed)

should be able to post around the time I get off work (4 hours)

Old One Rising (A Lovecraftian adventure-horror RP) (Reboot)

August Dupin

Physical State: Highly Alert.
Mental State: Genuinley Surprised. Shocked to see Barry.

"Unfortunately, Mr. August, while you've been quite helpful, I can't say I can return the favor. I've never heard of this young lady you describe." Professor Dupree said to August. August thought the man looked as if the sentence had left a bad taste in his mouth but Dupree went on to say "I may be able to check the university's registry and see if I can find you her professors and room number. If that plan suits you better, you are free to wait here with me - I intend to give a statement to the police as to what I witnessed. If not, however, the main office ought to still be open." August was about to thank the man and graciously accept his help when Dr. Steiner chimed in.

"Well, while you give your statement to the police, I'll be in my office. Tell them to contact me there if they need me to make a statement as well, Dr. Dupree. Mr. August..." Dr. Steiner said in a a way that was so quick and precise August couldn't help but feel a chill. August had known a scatter brain or two but even they had snapped to a somewhat sober attention at the present of a gruesome corpse; even more so when they knew the deceased. But Dr. Steiner seemed wholly unaffected, as if his mind was already fixated upon a much more monumentally important task. As he walked away from the scene August couldn't help but notice the brief look the good doctor shot his way. Returning the polite nod August made note that Steiner was intent on leaving the scene before the police arrived-this in itself was in no way damning of anything, but nonetheless August filed it away within his mental catalogue for possible future use down the road. It was a habit that had served him well as a Private Investigator.

Many wouldn't think it by looking at the man but August was actually quite the detective and one thing he knew when looking for the truth, or in this case a person, was that it was a good habit to plant as many seeds as possible that might turn into future information along the way to the goal you were currently chasing. This morning he had simply gotten lucky though: it was one of those rare cosmic instances in which his maddening desire to leave his accursed Inn happened to lead him in the direction of a scream on the morning air, which in turn lead to a gruesome suicide scene followed by the introduction of both Professor Dupree and Dr. Steiner. It was a chain of events almost to coincidental in nature but August was not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hell, his plan had honestly been to maybe charm or bribe one of the more then likely numerous assistance staff members, like a janitor or file clerk. But here he was with a bonefied professor willing to actually go the extra mile to get him some decent information. If he thought about how lucky he had gotten he would have indeed gotten extremely uncomfortable.

Apparently helping me is one of the last things the former Mr. Atkins did, whether he knew it or not. August found himself randomly thinking as he literally looked down at the man whom had just offered to help, Professor Dupree. August was honestly flattered by the mans willingness to help and made a mental note to remember that Dupree actually seemed like a good person: or as close to one as you got in the Private Eye business.

“Please-Im in no rush, Professor Dupree was it?” He went on speaking, as if he had been asking the question more to himself than Dupree. His eyes still followed Dr. Steiner “I'd gladly wait here with you. Well, not gladly per say givein the circumstances but...” He trailed off for a brief moment. “...well, Im sure a man of your intellect understands my meaning.”

In one smooth solid motion August fished a cigarette out of his coat pocket and struck a match, a moment later a lit Marlboro sat precariously placed between his sausage like index and middle finger. The glowing stick of tobacco almost looked comically tiny in his bear like hand. After the first puff August picked up speaking without missing a beat. “In fact Professor I would be honored to have your assistance after the proper authorities-”

"Inspector Barry Lexington, Arkham Police Department, get back from the body! Who's in charge here?"

You have to be fucking kidding me. Augusts' mind practically shrieked as the all too familiar voice rang out in the air. Of all the fucking police in all the fucking towns the one that responded to this had to be Barry Fucking Lexington. Augusts mental tantrum (he cussed when upset, he had to admit) continued for a moment as he did his best to wipe the momentary look of genuine shock off his face.

August half raised his hands in the air in a mock surrender.

“Well I'll be damned, August? What the heck are you doing here?” Barry almost whispered in a question that was obviously somewhat rhetorical. Somewhat.

Not wanting to be called out in a lie infront of Professor Dupree August knew he had to take control of the situation rather quickly. Luckily he had a few things going for him. “Well I'll be damned. Professor Dupree this is, as you might have heard over the frightened shrieks upon his arrival, Barry Lexington.” August paused after his toneless joke, his eyes giving Barry the up and down. “I see your not in the uniform anymore, eh Barry? Guess that war record musta looked mighty good on your return resume.” August grinned in a half friendly smile: unlike Dupree, whom August had seemingly been completely sincere with despite the lies, August spoke to Barry like every word was chosein carefully and laced with a certain edge. Part of this was because Barry reminded August of the war...the other part was that Barry was, well, Barry.

As was often common the day to day struggle to simply survive on the war torn fronts overseas required each man to have the others back with an unwavering loyalty and dependence unheard of in civilian life. August would never say he loved Barry like a brother but, well, damnit they were something-all the men he'd served with in the 81st were something. August just still didn't know what that something was. He doubted he'd ever know.

Nonetheless a part of him was genuinely glad to see Barry-the other part couldn't help but see a man butchering unarmed POWs with a shovel. Like most men August had found a bit of hate to carry around on the battlefield-but Barry, Barry had arrived at the front full of a silent simmering hate. A hate that the war had been a perfect outlet for. Whereas August and many others had done their best to ignore the darker things war brought out in them Barry had revelled in the blood and chaos. The Germans came to speak of him as “Blutige Barry“ in fearful whispers. In fact, August decided, it was quite a sick universal joke of sorts that Barry was walking around as a symbol of law instead of confined in the sanatorium given the things he'd seen and done.

August had to remind himself that the man saved his ass on more then one occasion along with dozens of other men. August himself was well decorated but Barry, well, Barry had enough brass to forge a coat of armor. Despite all that though..well, August remembered Barry as being that rare sort of evil. The kind that was even scarier because it was so normal; he was the neighbor mowing his lawn, the one bagging your groceries, the cop comming to your rescue.

“I was actually just telling the Professor here about how I was in town looking for my kid sisters daughter. You remember my sis Mary, right?” As a matter of fact he wouldn't-there was no Mary. But August knew Barry and Barry would be to prideful to admit he didn't remember. “Just so happened to stumble onto the scene on my way in this morning. Lucky me, right?” His last words made him shoot a regretful look at Dupree-he hadn't meant to “talk cop” so to speak in front of the man. Most people didn't like hearing the death of those they knew made light of.

He assumed Barry held none of these qualms though-quite the opposite infact August would bet. If anything his old “friend” probably still found some twisted pleasure amidst the delightfully disturbing sights made only by man. No doubt between the macabre cases encountered in his line of work and the whole new ethnic group that was socially acceptable to discriminate against(Germans) August bet he was loving his job more than ever. Although silently mortified August wasn't surprised to see that Barry had apparently gone back to wearing a badge-the very same job August himself had been unable to stand after returning from overseas.

Old One Rising (A Lovecraftian adventure-horror RP) (Reboot)

Got my post ready to go up-just waitin on an answer from ONL whenever they get back. Gonna go pass out in the next hour myself and if I havent posted by then I porbably will tommorow mornin

Dragon Age: The Black Warden (closed)

Astyth Cadash

Name: Astyth Cadash

Age: 37 (She swears shes 29)

Sex: Female

Race: Dwarf

Class/Sub-class: Warrior/Champion

Appearance: More often then not Astyths' battle scarred features are kept slightly hidden beneath an ever present hood or helmet. On the rare occasions that she does let her hood down a a deep raven black pixie cut hairstyle stands out along with the impossible to hide S shaped tattoo on her right cheek. She seems to have an ever present scowl across her battle scarred and wind whipped face; more often then not this look comes off as something resembling a sneering smile. A few hand crafted beads dangle in the hair above her piercing green eyes, eyes that seem to rather fit her defiant pitbullish face. Her second most recognizable facial feature has to be her somewhat crooked nose (the damn thing clearly having been broken a few times.) At her full height she stands at a whopping 4'6”, although her stout muscular frame looks much more intimidating while encased in thick iron plate mail.

A slightly younger pic:

Abilities

Abilities:
Rally-The champion's presence inspires nearby allies, giving them bonuses to attack and defense.

Motivate-The champion inspires allies to attack with renewed vigor.

Line in the Sand-Astyth calls upon the legacy of the greatest champions in history, defying enemies as she holds her position. This stops enemies from moving past her and enables her to block choke points.

Adamant-Astyth has trained hard, and now knows how to make the most of whatever armor she wears.

Shield Wall-Astyth stands firm and blocks incoming attacks at the cost of stamina. Each block adds to her guard. She moves slightly slower while blocking.

Personality: To sum Astyth up in one word would be care free: regardless of the rough hand life dealt her or whatever negative situation she stumbles into she never seems to lose her genuine “cheeriness” that almost comically mirrors her somewhat gruff exterior. Quick at a joke and to buy you a drink she is the type of woman whom always seems in control of her situation-combat or otherwise. Despite her jovial attitude she does have a somewhat sore spot when it comes to anything Orzamar related.

History: Born the lowest of the low in a society where position is everything Astyth was quick to learn just how important standing up for herself was, a fact that lead her down a path of constant fights and run ins with the law. In this world the fact of the matter was her family could either starve or eat off the coin she earned doing things many claimed the paragons frowned upon.

Sod the paragons.

The stone had found it fit to give Astyth a hard body and soft soul, a fact that clashed with the day to day dealings of her various “jobs”. Nonetheless for eighteen long years Astyth begrudgingly locked her conscience away.

After years of hard work, shady dealings, and a fair amount of blood Astyth had made her way up to a position of some actual importance-at least it was an important position to the far to numerous casteless that occupied Dust Town. For almost a year things had begun to look up for Astyth, serving just underneath a wicked woman named Jarvia had brought her more wealth than she had ever seen up to that point in her life-she had so much money she was even able to afford a fancy looking ring for her younger sister, real diamond an everything.

All good things must come to an end as they say though, something Astyth truly took to heart after the death of Jarvia-an event that created a power vacum unseen in Dust Town for as long as Astyth could remember. One thing led to another and before Astyth knew it she was taking her first (and hesitant) steps onto the surface, the ensuing blood bath in Dust Town having earned her and a handful of other teary eyed dwarfs a one way ticket above ground.

Amazingly Astyth was shocked to find that she took to surface life far better than she would have ever imagined; her mace and shield quickly finding her work as she was drug off on various adventures throughout her years of traveling. And even more impressive was how almost all of those large bumbling humans didn't pay any heed to her permanently tattooed face-to them she was 'just another dwarf.'

Chronologically Astyth left both the Carta and Orzammar when she was 20 years old (9:30) and made her living as a freelance mercenary of sorts until meeting Lady Nightingale by chance around the year 9:34. Although rarely meeting directly she went on to work as a trusted agent of the infamous left hand of the then Divine Justinia-the more years Astyth worked for the clever red headed spy master the more her adoration for the woman grew. From 9:37-9:40 her missions commonly involved tracking down the dangerous use of blood magic so prevalantly ignored in the midst of the Mage and Templar fighting at the time along with the infiltration of seemingly half the damn better organized bandit groups that had sprung up to take advantage of the aforementioned Mage and Templar conflict. In the year 1941 she was officially unofficially brought in to the inquisition as a mere thread in the vast web of Lelianas spy network. These days she continues to serve the now Divine Victoria with an almost religious zeal in and of itself. She does not believe in the Maker nor the Stone; if she were to have faith in anything it would be in Divine Victoria herself.