Tybalt Capulet

Long May They Reign [Whispers x Tybalt]

@HushedWhispersIt's all good, no rush!

Siren's Plague (Slightly 18+)

Akono smiled at the offer of food, but said nothing, enjoying his beverage. At the "both human" comment, he remarked "Aye. Hardly something worth mentioning, were you to ask me, but aye." He returned to his drink, draining it with a fervor that was almost concerning. As he set the enormous pitcher down to take a breath, a monstrous screeching rent the air. The singularly cacophonous sound snapped the bondsman back into the reality that was the impending mission, and he left his drink at the bar in favor of retrieving the trunk-like club that rested against the back wall. He hefted the massive weapon up onto one shoulder, then nodded to the Necromancer and stepped outside, eyes searching for the source of the screeching sound.

He eventually did sight the source of the sound, as well as the apparent leader of the little party, as well as a young woman who he didn't recognize. He strode over to the two, acknowledging them, but saying nothing. He hefted his club down from his shoulder, resting the brass-bound head on the street. The handle leaned against his bulky chest, and he used one hand to keep it steadied. Finally, he spoke.

"Jericho. Who's the woman? She part of our crew, or just hanging around in hopes of catching your eye?" He didn't make any attempt to address the woman herself. If she was worth his attention, she'd make it clear. He broke the tense moment with a grin, and a jovial "Kidding, miss. It's a pleasure to meet you, of course. I'm Akono. Anyone know why the beast up there showed up? Any town guardsmen to deal with it?"

Dark Fantasy.

@forumsSo, if I were to go with the angle that he's an assassin who is occasionally hired for that purpose, but usually prefers to serve as a standard bondservant, would that work?

Edit: Heck, he could even just be a servant who was trained for standard serving purposes, as a bondsman. I went with the more violent angle based on assumptions from other rp's, but I'm all good with a more peaceful character, if that's more in keeping with the tone of the story.

And, of course, if it comes down to it, I'm happy to make a new Character sheet with a different character.

Coyote Hustle

MIRA STREETWALKER

The sound of water lapping against the hull of the Aurora Ferry almost entirely covered the sound of blood dripping from the portly man's throat to the wooden floor. A pair of recently-cleaned knives rested on the bed, blades treated with a chemical solution that left them with a smoky-looking surface, so as to prevent them shining under lights. Their owner, a tall, fiery-haired young woman, stood at the foot of the bed, frowning at the sight of the hefty merchant who had hired her services, as if remembering how she'd paid for her fare across the water.

At the sound of the whistle announcing the ferry's arrival, the harlot cursed to herself and began to dress, slipping a palm-sized steam-powered pistol into a small pocket within her brassiere, and carefully fastening the straps to allow for easy access to the emergency weapon. The low-cut tunic that went over it also left clear access, and advertised the wearer as the lady of the evening she was. A pair of soft leather pants allowed for freedom of movement, and showcased her long legs, and her tall boots became home to the two smoky knives.

Mira Streetwalker; Harlot, Assassin, and erstwhile adventurer opened the cabin door carefully, so as not to reveal the body to anyone who might be passing by through the hallway. She didn't carry much with her, which set her apart a bit from some of the other passengers, but her coin pouch was heavy after emptying that of the now-deceased merchant. Merging into the crowd, she stepped off of the boat onto the damp streets of Runeria. Though she hadn't been to the city in some time, it exhibited all of the normal traits of a port city, and a harlot like herself was sure to find work quickly enough, especially with the constant influx of sailors on shore leave. With that intention in mind, Mira walked briskly past the street vendors hawking their wares, and found the first Inn she could, hoping to establish herself as open for business, and also find something to drink, to cleanse her palate after the unpleasant night.

The sound of musicians and boisterous patrons drew Mira as surely as a rope on a misbehaving dog. She snuck inside, trying not to make herself too visible, as she was hoping to rest a bit before being hired again, for either of her professions. She would usually have chosen a table towards the back with this intention, but the most shadowed space seemed quite, quite occupied. Bearing this in mind, she took a seat at the bar itself, plunking a few coppery coins on the table with what she hoped was an honest-looking smile. Some taverns liked to have plenty of her kind on hand, to create an atmosphere of easy fun, but others discouraged the presence of whores, attempting to preserve an image of decorum. She waved for a drink, hoping that this place was one of the former, as the clothing of the waitresses suggested.

☽ Remedy, a Summer Camp for “Wayward Juveniles” ☾

Mason listened intently, mentally jotting down all of the information he was given. It didn't come as much of a surprise to him that there were so many supernatural people; if there was a camp for them, thy must be fairly prevalent. Even so, his impression that the world was far larger than he had ever imagined was growing more and more sure.

It was both a relief and a burden to hear that asking Leoh type was acceptable, and, indeed, expected. It would help him plenty, as he'd be a bit less in the dark about all of this, but it would also put the expectation on him to open up. Indeed, even now, it seemed that the others were waiting for him to answer with his type. He smiled nervously, then answered.

"A witch, huh? That doesn't seem right. Aren't witches s'posed to be old crones, not lovely mademoiselles?" He smiled slightly, to show he was mostly kidding. "And a pair of dolls? That's really something. I d'know what mythos you two come from, but you're right. We're all three pretty lost, huh? I hope we get along all right, you seem like nice enough kids- er, I mean, dolls. People, that is." He blushed a bit at his fumbling. He was growing increasingly nervous as he got closer to his confession of type.

"Well. I s'pose you all deserve to know, seeing as how you told me what you all are. I just found out a little bit ago, maybe a year and a half. I'm a Gargoyle. I'm not great at controlling it yet, but sometimes, I become this stone-skinned, winged creature. It's... not very pretty-looking. I mean, I get horns, and a spiked tail, and these eerie golden eyes. Oh, and some serious teeth. Kinda demon-looking. I don't dislike it, exactly, I mean, flying is awesome, but when I'm in that form, sunlight hurts. A lot. I don't like it much usually, but it's especially bad then." He trailed off, blushing furiously and carefully not making eye contact with anyone.

Dark Fantasy.

My Hider

Name: Seris Rannin.
Age: 25
Picture:
Height: 6'2
Weight: 180 lbs
Background: Seris was born to a society devoted to the production of warriors intended to be unwavering killing machines, devoted to their masters and infallible in combat. He almost entirely lives up to this reputation.

As a child, he was trained in combat with a variety of weapons, to ascertain his specialty. As such, he's capable with most anything, though his preference is a one-edged sword, augmented with a fighting knife.

The sect he was raised by had a practice of removing children from their parents at an early age so as to train them without such attachments. As such, he has no real family, and is simply bound to his sect as a whole, and to his master. At the age of 17, his first master was chosen for him, and he began his life of service.

Over the years, Seris has served many masters, and has killed many, both good and evil, deserving of death and innocent as lambs. His most recent master was particularly bad, and had many enemies, who he often sent his bondsman to kill. After one such mission, Seris returned to find the corpse of his master, and as the killer was not present, he had no one to bind himself to.

Why you joined: Seris is a slave-warrior, a bondsman tied to a master through the possession of a small metal placard. His last master was killed while Seris was on duty elsewhere, so he is now in search of a new, worthy master to serve under, and believes that there is no better place to find a man of honor than a quest.

Personality: He's dangerous, but doesn't particularly like fighting for the sake of it. He's devoted to any master he's under, and trained in hiding any disobedient tendencies. Because of his extensive training, he rarely shows any real emotion, though beneath his exterior of calm competency, he feels every normal human passion. His actual personality is one of quiet timidity, masked by competence. He's the sort of person who, if he were trained as an artist instead of a warrior, would never be present at his own art shows; he knows that he is skillful, but is ashamed of his talents, and hates to be in the spotlight. He is happiest when he can serve a master in a non-violent role, but has never made any such request.

Strange New Waters

I'm definitely interested, if you'll have me. I have a few character concepts I'd love to run by you if that's alright!

☽ Remedy, a Summer Camp for “Wayward Juveniles” ☾

Mason started to explain that he had arrived quite late, and that Tempest had told him that she was a returning camper, but then thought better of it, figuring that the tiny spitfire was likely to find some insult in anything he said, ill-intentioned or not. The girl was really starting to grate on him, and she interrupted whenever he was starting to see some connection between himself and Tempest. He scolded himself slightly, remembering the fact that there were plenty of eligible young ladies here, and that it would hardly do to tie his interests down to just one so early. Even that approach was flawed; these girls were people, not prizes. He finally shook himself back to reality as the tiny girl's brother arrived.

"Hey there, kid! You here with your little sister?" He smiled as welcomingly as he could, wishing desperately that he wasn't so far out of his depth. He just didn't know anything; the proper etiquette, any of the people, the races that were represented... nothing. He made a decision, then. He'd have to accept a loss in visible status, and ask for help.

"I'm sorry to interrupt again, Miss Tempest, but... is it rude to ask someone what sort of... creature they are? It's frankly impossible that miss... what was your name? is thirteen, unless she's a naiad or something. Are Naiads a thing? I'm a bit lost on what's real and what isn't." He shook his head ruefully. "And you, you two little ones, I'm really not trying to be rude, I just... I don't... It's all really new to me, that is. I thought I was the only strange one until just recently."

@candlelitcraft@Tenma Tendo

Amberclad Index - A post-apocalyptic journey

Extremely interested, and I'll have my cs to you later tonight. Are the monsters well known to the average person/ would a character reasonably have run into them?

☽ Remedy, a Summer Camp for “Wayward Juveniles” ☾

Since Mason is a stone creature, a grey aura makes a lot of sense.