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kain222

[/I]Sprinting, running... Got to keep... Got to... Thought a desperate man, his legs were screaming at him. Trying to tear him from his course that was putting it through turmoil - yet his brain screamed at him to keep running. Angry shouts were behind him, blond locks flowing behind the youth. The sound of arrows were whizzing past his ears as he narrowly dodged them by instinct. It was a bloodline of some sorts - his family was able to see glimpses of the very near future. And now, he thanked whatever god was up there for it.

He grunted as one of them grazed his arm, he needed to get away. He continued to sprint, sweat flowing from his brow. He chuckled bitterly at the irony of it all. This was supposed to be his kingdom, yet he was being hunted to death by his own people because of that tyrant, Jared. He dispized the man, his entire demeanour spelt doom, his hair was dark, allmost like a hood. It seemed to absorb light, instead of reflect it. Heavy rings were under his eyes, his nose was twisted nd sinister - and a broken grin matted his gaunt face at all times.

The young prince shook his head as he ran. The bloodline had allways been a well-kept secret, until now. Jared had exposed him - his powers. And now he was being hunted for his head. He spat bitterly on the ground as he ducked behind a tree. A great, old oak. He felt secure behind it's rich roots, but he knew it wouldn't serve as good cover for long - as arrows and crossbow bolts thudded into it.

He took time to look around at his surroundings. They had even began to burn down the forests around him. Somthing inside of him filled with sorrow at seeing the flickering flames burning the trees. Licking angrily at the sky. He had enjoyed playing in those forests, and to see them destroyed...

No.

He had to be strong.

He had to be strong for her.

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Treachery is a RP, set in the fantasy world of Valan. Tales of magic were spread far and wide, yet they were only tales. Any essence of magic was destroyed, apart from the bloodline limits that some carried. Strains in their blood, stains on their souls. Unique powers - allthough, very subtle - they can save lives. Do miracles, or create great evil.

Recently, in the mysterious, forbidding and underworld like town of Halstram, a shady - yet kind eyed figure, with blond and rather coarseley cut hair, has entered. Wishing to hire mercenarys to take down the Tyrant Jared, he bands a few loose adventurers from the corners of the land. Forced from his kingdom, this so-called prince decides to set up shop. Some on the outside would think that those in Halstram would think of him harshly for preclaiming this. However, Halstram isn't the dirty slum most think it is. The community is close, tight-knit. Despite royal blood coursing through his veins, he was a victim of mis-fortune, cheating, treachery, death.

It was time to get the young prince's revenge.

Treachery will be avenged.

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Right-ho! Let's get the basic setting down, the word of Valan is rather small. It is split through the middle, one side is rich and prosperous. The glimmering towers of Zenarr - The betrayed prince's home, burnt forests surrounding it. A new banner flies over it, however. The banner of Jared the Tyrant. Not his offical name, but the prince thought it fit. To the north is the large, wooden tree-city of three streams. Where peacefull nimpa's - a strange mix between a human, cat and bat - live. They have the body of most humans, however, cat-like ears sprout from the sides of their heads, and they have a small, cat-like tail. However, their wings are bat-like. Most like the quiet there, but within the timidest lies a hero waiting to burst out.

To the south of Zenarr, the suprisingly stunning cliff-edge cities of the Grell thrive. Economy with the Humans and Nimpas, the Grell are goblin-like people. They are talkative, some would say they're irritating. They are approximateley three foot in height on average, their voices are small and sharp, yet friendly and full of joy. Their skin is a rough grey, but this doesn't take from their friendly appearance. Their noses tend to be longer than other races, yet not too noticeabley so. They are quite avid at mining, hence their cliff-edge homes where the minerals are mostly located.

To the far, far east. On the poor side of Valan, slap-bang in the middle is the town of Halstram. From the outside, it is a dirty slum. From the inside, it is Dirty and Dangerous, but alive. Booming with life, refugees from across the world move their, no-one judges. No-one tends to ask. People survive there, they don't live.

Northwards in the cold, forboding mountains of Greyal, rest the Earthborn. They are humanoid-looking creatures, who tend to keep to themselves. They are made completeley out of grey, rather shiney stone. Some have red gemstones in the mix, their eyes constantly glow white, and their voices are deep and rough. There only seems to be male species, but to be honest - no-one knows much about them. How they live, or where they keep their women. That is, if they even need to breed. Many say they just rise from the ground.

South of Halstram, in the desert of G'renik the savage orcish tribes - closeley related to the goblins, reside. Most tend to be hostile - not enough to lash out at those around them - yet, they don't trust outsiders. They tend to live in tribal huts made from mud, sand and straw.

Most are savage warriors - yet there are wise shamans, druids if you will - amongst their kind.

The land seems to be afloat in mid-air, no-one dares venture over the edge. There have been horrible tales of people toppling off the edges of the massive land, and never being seen again. A bottomless chasm of darkness below.

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(( If this one goes well, I might use this setting for future RP's. ))

Character sheets:

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race(Orc, Nimpas, Grells, Earthborn, Human.):
Bloodline(VERY limited, no magic, nothing over the top and is entireley optional. For example, breif glimpses into the future, can enchant weapons with a strange, blue hue that increases their effectiveness in battle, but nothing over the top. For example, spewing fire from your mouth, firingz your lazor, turning into a demon, meting into a puddle and re-appearing, ect. Feel free to come up with ideas here, but I will judge weather they're non-OP enough to fit in. Magic isn't there anymore, (Even the Earthborn don't practition it.):
Personality:
History:
Reasons for joining the mercenary group to take down the Tyrant:
Appearance:
Weapons/Fighting style:


My profile:

Name: Valstram Kayran. Rightfull heir to the throne of Zenarr, the betrayed prince.

Age:19

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Bloodline: Is able to see very brief glimpses into the future, example: Able to see arrows coming towards him before it actually happens. Every now and then, he might have a glimpse of the distant futre, but it tends to remain very close to the present.
Personality: Thoughtfull, a natural leader, stubborn and sometimes arrogant. A sence of warmth, despite his troubled past, radiates from him.

History: Valstram grew up in Zenarr, under the watchfull, yet loving eyes of his widowing mother. Queen Elsta. Despite many attempts to marry her to another man again, she never did. That's when the Tyrant, Jared came along. He was a high-ranking general of Zenarr's army, and a powerfull warrior with many loyal, loyal men under his command. When he was declined the queen's hand, he was infuriated. He needed more power, he needed to be kind! He began to research into the family's history, and found a -very- intresting secret... The Seer's bloodline ran deep within their blood. He exposed this, calling them demons. Linking them to evil, their supernatural powers began to strike fear into their people, and as allways - fear turns into hate.

After a while, Jared began to rebel. Gaining supporters by the day, his mother was eventually killed as the throne was overthrown. The young prince needed to flee, needed to get away. Seeing his mother hang was more than he could handle. He needed revenge, he needed justice.

He needed his throne, and his honour.

He needed Jared dead. That's all he knew.

Appearance: Valstram is a tall, striking young man. He is toned, not overly muscular. His jaw is gaunt, his eyes are a glistening, azure blue. His hair is coarsley cut into a rough fashion. He tends to wear a loose, beige shirt that is flared at the sleeves. With a brown, cow-leather vest over the top of it. He allso wears some loose, leather (Reinforced) leggings. His attire has the look of a royal around it, engravings sewn deep into the cloth. His shoes are rather fancy, made from black leather, yet they seem quite agile.

He carries a silver, dazzling rapier at his side. Silver engravements on the handle and blade. The symbol of a lion at the hilt. His royal crest. Along his back a double-crossbow of exelent carving is shown. Two, silver bolts are loaded into it. The same engravings on that.

He would be considered very handsome, if not for the scar gashing across his right eye. And, due to recent events, heavy bags are seen under his eyes from the stress. Rough stubble around his chin. Still, his image is rather striking.


Weapons/Fighting style: A double-crossbow, A silver rapier at his side. He tends to rely on ambushing and quick movement, which is aided by his ability to forsee most attacks. However, this doesn't mean he can dodge all of them.

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dethharpist

Name: Rubyoak
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Race : Nimpa
Bloodline: Can mold smoke/fog like molding clay (it keeps it's density though)
Personality: frail, obstinate, strong of will and mind
History: Ruby is a normal Nimpa except for the fact that he keeps a very large library in his house and has read every single book TEN TIMES EACH. He is a scholar in search of any and all knowledge. He has resorted to stealing this knowledge by using his powers to create distractions. He currently resides on the edge of town reading his latest book, "Everything About Everything, unabridged edition"
Reasons for joining the mercenary group to take down the Tyrant: To learn any secrets he may hold.
Appearance: Blank has as short dark brown hair that that just makes it barely past his ears. He wears small thin reading glasses just on the tip of his nose at all times that amplify the intense stare of his hazel brown eyes. He has a light build with almost no outstanding features. except for the thicker skin running up and down his arm to the very tips of his fingers. He has a light brown tail with a little tuff of fur at the end making it look like a spear when held out straight.
Weapons/Fighting style: None, if there isn't a flight option in a battle he will make one. support

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*sky

Name:Serisar Isessath

Age: 20

Gender: Male

Race(Orc, Nimpas, Grells, Earthborn, Human.): Human

Bloodline: Rynasian (Rye fighting style)

Personality: Likes to keep to himself. Kind, but in a mysterious way (as in he doesnt like to show it). Doesn't always like to follow orders.

History: Ser currently lives in the hellish city of Halstram. This was not where he was from though, or whenever asked, states where he was from. He came over from a town called Rynasia. When he was just a small boy, they were attacked by a group of people claiming to be part of the Zenarr forces. It was said to be an attack of conquest, to expand their power. Some of the refugees' were able to escape and came upon Halmstram. There, his grandfather trained him in the lost way of the Rye fighting style.

Reasons for joining the mercenary group to take down the Tyrant: Hearing about the stories of Rynasia, about how beautiful the land was, and how peaceful those days were, he decided he wanted to recreate those moments. The problem being Jared. He knows that the King would not allow it, and the only way to recreate his home land, so that one day his children, and children's children can see the beauty of the land, is to take Jared down.

Appearance: He has light brown hair, with light, light hazel eyes. He tends to wear a white, cut short shirt. He wears long baggy black pants and black and white shoes. He wears only one earring on his left ear, symbolizing the Rynasia race. On his wrist, he has a bracelet, symbolizing the Rye Fighting Style.

Weapons/Fighting style: He trained in the Rye Fighting Style. This style was passed on through generations, until the attack on Rynasia which almost made it become extinct. The style has to do with wielding a large sword, and controlling it with ease. The process of training one self to wield it is long and hard. Once mastered though, it is a force to be reckoned with. Ser has not fully mastered it, but decided he learned enough to start his journey.


(If anything is wrong, feel free to correct me. I kind of used the basis of my other RP guy, if thats ok)

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kain222

(( Both are accepted, we just need one or two more players now. Then we'll start. ))

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Null

Name: Zerith Asulas
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Bloodline: Can give out a aura of fear around him.
Personality: Is sarcastic, rarely takes anything seriously, likes to have fun, and can be a jerk sometimes.
History: Was born into Halstram, when he was very young his parents were killed by muggers. After that he lived on his own wanting to seek revenge. He was then tooken by a old man. The old man knew how to fight with a sword and soon he taught Zerith. The old man used to be a rising musician but was attacked and couldn't play instruments the same ever again, he however apssed on his skills to Zerith. He also told Zerith that revenge was not the answer and he shouldn't spend his life looking for people he may never find. The old man died when Zerith was an adult. Zerith was devastated but he knew he had lived a good life. After that he lived on his own and became a mercenary for money.
Reasons for joining the mercenary group to take down the Tyrant: Zerith would say, "It would be one hell of a adventure, also I'm sure that the tyrant has some treasures."
Appearance: He has spiky blonde hair, he has slightly muscular body. He wears a white long sleeved shirt, with a yellow vest. He wears black pants with tan shoes. On his back is a stringed instrument.
Weapons/Fighting style: He has a sword hidden in the back of his instrument which he can pull out. His fighting style revolves around quick slashes, and ending fights quickly.

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*sky

Come on people, someone join up lol.

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Null

Edited my character a bit

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kain222

(( If no-one joins within the next two days, i'll just start the RP. ))

(( Right, bugger this then - we're starting. ))

Valstram sat in the currently empty shack, the candles situated on his desk radiated light which reflected off the decaying walls. He sat paitently there, the wooden desk creaking. He had placed many flyers around town, advertising his campaign. He hoped to god no soldiers of the human city to the east had trailed him here. He would proberly be able to leave soon, anyway. Despite the mission he had in mind being dangerous, the 'promises of riches fit for a king, literally.' placed on the posters - It would most likeley not be too hard for a group of rag-tag, skilled mercenarys to come together into a group.

So he sat there, heavy outlines under his once youthfull and optimistic eyes. His hands were calmly placed together - His paitence knew no limits, and why not? He had been trained to be that way. If one was to lead his people, he must keep his self discipline in check.

The Tyrant had no capability for this, his rage was boundless, his eyes seemed to be ablaze at most times. He was a man of war, bloodthrist. Making money from the good men sent into battle and slaughtered, men with promises of wives and children to return to.

So, he sat there.

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Null

Zerith was outside the shack at first he checked if this was the right place. He took out the flyer and read it again, after that he sighed and entered the shack. When he entered he looked seeing one man sitting down. Knowing he was the one who put up the flyers he took the instrument off his back set it next to a chair then sat down. He had his laid his feet on the table and said, "Hey the name is Zerith, and your the one who plans to take down the tyrant?"

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*sky

Serisar grabbed his sword, placed it on his back He then went over, grabbed his pack and departed for his journey. It was in the middle of the night, so he made sure he was quiet. He read of a man who was hiring mercenaries for a job on the king. He didnt want to associate himself with the term "mercenary" for he knew his people would not like it. He followed the directions on a flyer, knowing that it was safe to go there, for there were few soldiers in Halstram. He came to the shack, and decided to hold off a sec before entering, to make sure it was the right place. He heard a man announce himself as Zerith and mentioned taking down the tyrant. Not knowing if the man was an enemy or another mercenary, he decided to wait outside the door for the other man's answer.

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