Age of Strife Character Profiles

[Dr. Nibbles]

* BASIC CHARACTER SHEET *​

Name-

Race- (Faction/Kingdom [Tribe/City])

Age-

Physical Description-

Alignment- (Good/Evil/Neutral)

Profession-

Battle Role/Class- (What do you do when the party draws swords)

Character Bio-

Character Picture- (Optional)

 

[Dr. Nibbles]

Name- Alfred Barbosa

Race- Human (Faladorian [Pheobus])

Age- Late 30's

Physical Description- Alfred is roughly five and a half feet tall. His hair is long, dark and well kept and he wears his facial hair in a close cut beard, speckled with flecks of grey hair. His eyes are dark green and his complexion is a smooth ivory. His face is ridden with defining age marks. He always wears a black robe over his commoner's clothing and carries a long, black oak staff topped with an enchanted ruby.

Alignment- (Good)

Profession- Rouge Wizard

Battle Role/Class- Mage/Spellcaster

Character Bio- Alfred's history is a mystery to most. Though he is very outgoing and extremely kind, he keeps his history to himself. What he has revealed is that he was once an esteemed member of the Wizard's College in his home town of Pheobus. He left after a disagreement of magical ethics with the faculty over the use of Dark Magic disciplines. He since roamed the lands of Falador, spreading his wisdom and skill to all those young adventures he encounters. He is often finding himself in trouble due to flashy and unnecessay displays of his magic powers. Some deem his use of the Death Discipline as unethical and traitorous, despite their plentiful use by the Norrd and Pheobites of ages past.

Character Picture-

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Name- Lord-Razor Durthili Steelspawn

Race- Revenant (Razadon)

Age- 1000+

Physical Description- Steelspawn's body is composed of the armor of his rank and title or Lord-Razor. It is entirely silver, jagged and chaotic. He wields a mighty, ancient, steel mace and a tower shield that bears the Crest of the Razor. His eyes are bright blue and arc with energy. His body is surrounded by a aurora of electrical charge, a symbol of his magical powers in the Discipline of Wrath.

Alignment- Evil

Profession- Lord-Razor of Razadon

Battle Role/Class- Dark Paladin (electrical powers)

Character Bio- To the people of Razadon, Lord-Razor is the highest honor and most prestigious title in their society. A Razor was a member of the knightly order that would later become revenants. Lord-Razor is not only king of Razadon, but leader of the order and general. Durthili Steelspawn was the son of Orgurin Steelspawn, former Lord-Razor. His father fell ill early in life, stopping him from following Derileth on his expedition into the Eternity Gate. Duthili took this honor among himself and joined as ambassador for Razadon. Returning a dark and changed man, Durthili found his father had passed in his abscence. Feeling betrayed and angry, he willingly joined Derileth and his axis of evil. Knewly crowned Lord-Razor, Durthili lead countless raids as Derlieth's right hand against the cities of Rhiannon, Aeris, Cynbel, Pheobus and eventually the epic battle of Erebus; where he was slain by newly crowned King Bornatho of the Taur. Having too sealed the Blood Pact, the Razor awoke again after the Dark King's demise, his prolonged death causing him to go mad beyond reason. He returned to his ruin throne in Razadon, slaying any who dare stop him or refuse to join him in reuniting the Wastes. Today he leads constant raids against both the forces of Good and Evil with the only desire to Conquer.

Character Picture-

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Name- Cyephus Noiry Monte the Iron Prince

Race- Human (Faladorian [Cynbel])

Age- 16

Physical Description- Cyephus is of average height, roughly around 5'9" and has a toned build. Being younger he is fit and muscular but his body is not as definted as his older brothers. His hair is short, moppy and dark blonde. His eyes are a dark hazel and his skin if a fair Caucasian. He is a warriors through and through, seldom seen without his suit of signature, iron plate armor, the source of his name. He wields a mighty steel broadsword, the pommel gold plated and encrusted with diamonds. As well he carries a large iron shield barring the symbol of Cynbel.

Alignment- (Good)

Profession- 5th Prince of Cynbel

Battle Role/Class- Soldier/Fighter

Character Bio- Prince Cyephus is the youngest of his 5 brothers and 5 sisters, thus making him the last in line for the throne, if such an event were possible at all. Cyephus does not stress over this fact, he relishes more in the martial combat that the Cynbel military offers and the limitless journeys and adventures the world itself has to offer. His heart swells with excitement whenever he is rarely blessed with the ability to leave the city walls. His father is extremely protective of him, as he is the youngest, furthermore he is the most reckless and is often bound for trouble and mischief, something the palace serfs find most annoying. He is all about having fun and doing things to better himself and his knowledge of the world. He currently strives to visit the Museum of the Hallowed in Cyneherd to see the mighty relics of heroes past and learn of the many feats they performed hoping to one day match theirs with feats of his own and be forever remembered within its venerable halls.

Character Picture- http://dr-nibbles.deviantart.com/art/White-Knight-341391413

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Name- Neywyne "Wyn" Honingond

Race- High Elf (Great Glaedwine)

Age- 675 years (Looks 20)

Physical Description- Wyn has long brown hair and haunting green eyes. She is strikingly beautiful, with supple, pale skin and ageless features. She is young for a member of the Fey, even for the High Elves. Her armor is a tight leather body-suit wrapped tightly in elegant mithril, forged for the paladins of the Vermilion Crusade. She does not carry weapons, as she does not believe in close combat violence, but she does carry an ancient wand believed to be crafted from the horn of an Alicorn during the infancy of the fey. It contains unmatched power but she seldom uses it other than minor cantrips and healing.

Alignment- (Neutral)

Profession- Priestess

Battle Role/Class- Healer

Character Bio- Born a mere 325 years after the death of the Dark King, Wyn was born into a world that was still buckling with strife, destruction and war. The Honingond family was a large, powerful and pious collection of High Elves that had roots in history all the way back to the Age of Dragons. She was taught the ways of the Just Gods from the moment she could read and was forced to study their word as law. When her ability of Veil Sight was discovered she was recruited into the Mages' Council and taught the ways of the Justice Discipline. After leaving the Council she discovered her calling as a Paladin in the Crusaders, the Warrior Wizards of Glaedwine. She trained for almost a century to fight as a soldier and hone her magical abilities with deadly precision. At a mere 300 years old,
hardly even an Adolescent in fey years, her division was called to war. A powerful lich known as Cho'goth the Crimson had risen untold amounts of undead frost elves in the abandoned ruins of Viorca. With gusto, the young elf took up her blade, sheild and spear and marched with her brothers and sisters to war. What they were met with was far more than they had expected. Not only had Cho'goth raised and army of undead elves but had summoned a plethora of denizens of the God of Flesh himself, including the insidious spirits known as Wracks. The battle was swift but the slaughter was not; Wyn was one of the few of her detachment to survive and tell the tale of the twisted horrors they saw in those ruins, some she refuses to mention to this day. Despite this, Wyn saw the decade long crusade to a close, often coated in the blood and viscera of her companions as she did. After the crusade had ended in the death of Cho'goth and banishment of the Daemons, Wyn was broken, her piety and innocence stolen by the grim fires of unnatural war. She refused to return to the Crusaders and gave up fighting as a whole. For centuries since, Wyn works as a healer, re-learning her magical powers in the form of the Virtue Discipline. However, she no longer worships the Just Gods as she once did, boardering on denouncing them entirely. This live choice had her cast from her home by her family forcing her to travel and find herself a new homestead. Recent events have changed her disposition on the subject of battle, the rise of the Avatar and rumors of the Skeleton King's return drives her to investigate, and hopefully spare those who have not seen the Shadow Lord's horror.

Character Picture-

 

[Razgriz]

Name: Darian Smith

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Place of Birth: Onyx Point (a fair bit aways from Norr)

Alignment: Both

Profession: "Hunter" (name for position as mercenary within Talon Company)

Combat Role: Long-range/recon

Physical Description:
Build: Lean, medium frame
Eye color: Deep blue
Hair color and length: Ear length, midnight black, slicked back
Height: 1.63 m (~5'4")
Weight: 59.4 kg (~131 lb)

Brief History:

Life for Darian was never easy; having been raised by his single mother after his father died during a factional war, they had to cope with the fact that Darian also was born with a rare but generally harmless heart condition, for which the medicine was very expensive and not easy to come by. Thankfully, it seemed he didn't need to take the medicine all that often, so the financial burden on his family was alleviated somewhat. However, it meant he could not do too strenuous of work; his father had left him a crossbow, to use as part of learning to hunt for food in these uncertain times, which Darian would shoot. After all, Onyx Point was one of the most dangerous areas for humans to live; hunting made the most sense out of the options to obtain food. And with the small game he was able to nab, it seemed that he'd be able to bring home enough food for the two of them.

However, the constant warring of the human factions often caused shortages of supplies and work due to destruction of fields and factories. One such factory was a munitions plant which supplied quality weapons to any group willing to pay the price; sadly, Darian was an employee - having taken the job to pay a protection racket they were strong-armed into - there and was forced to flee after a rebel party stormed the facility and burned it to the ground. He made it out alive, but now had nowhere to make money to help feed himself and his mother. And from there it just got worse; he returned home to find that his mother was missing, the house strewn and torn apart with the signs of an intense struggle. With nowhere left to go, Darian packed what supplies he could and left on a quest to locate his mother.

It was during his journey to try and find her that Darian quickly became a silent killer; soon, he started to make a name for himself and was quickly located and brought in for an 'interview' with Talon Company, a merciless band of hitmen that carried out high-priority assassinations of important targets. With the Crossbolt Gun - which Darian would later modify - and a variety of arrows to use, he quickly went to work, trading the kills he got for pay and information regarding possible whereabouts of his beloved mother.

Gear/Weapons:

Armor: Talon Company Armor

Primary Weapon: Modified Crossbolt Gun - Strapped across his back

Secondary Weapon: HAMR heavy pistol - Strapped to a hip holster

Melee Weapon: Steel Dagger - His most unusual piece; its pommel has an inset of pure sapphire, given to him by his own mother. Rarely used due to his long-range preference of attack, it serves as a good-luck charm for him.

Miscellaneous Equipment: 3 syringe slots for needles with heart medicine, an adequate sized quiver to hold his bolts, a pouch for smoke bombs, a handkerchief to use to provide moderate air filtration, pockets to hold small quantities of cured meat and fruit, small coin bag.

Bolts for Crossbolt Gun: - Note: He only has Standard and Balanced Bolts at all times. Other Bolt variants exist at separate points in time

- Standard Iron Bolt - A very basic concept: Solid steel body with simple stabilizers and pointed head (Abundant)

- Balanced Carbon-Steel Bolt - Same shape as Standard Bolt, but with added stabilizers and lightweight body for added range (Common, but expensive)

- Fire Rune Shrapnel Bolt (Rare) - Difficult to craft and harder to come by, this hollowed Bolt functions via impact which fractures a Fire Rune and upon release of arcane Fire energy, creates a large explosion with pieces of the heated metal bolt as penetrating projectiles in all directions

- Lightning Rune Trap Bolt (Semi-rare) - A more defensive type of Bolt, uses a Proximity-enhanced Lightning Rune to discharge a powerful electric current, capable of stunning multiple opponents

- Earth Rune Petrifying Bolt (Scarce) - Almost impossible to find and extremely difficult to craft, Darian is lucky to find even one of these. Upon penetration, a needle emerges from the head of the bolt, injecting a liquid solution containing pulverized Earth Rune dust and upon it detecting the inherent arcana present in all creatures, causes instant solidification of the body.

 

[Nekrosilisk88]

Name- Storm

Race- Minotaur

Age- 25

Physical Description- See image

Alignment- Evil

Profession- Bard

Battle Role/Class- Jack of all trades.

Character Bio- A loner by his nature, Storm has spent most of his adult life roaming from town to town, seeking answers to questions, and attempting to further his own nebulous ambitions. At the end of the day he cares little about what other may think, as long as his own needs are met.

He is calm in comparison to his brethren, preferring a more articulated approach to combat combing blade and spells as opposed to just blind rage. He still has the berserker's fury, but unleashes it only when it is beneficial to the situation.

Character Picture

 

[KimiDoll]

Name - Katya Icestrike

Race - Dark Elf

Age - One Thousand, nine hundred and ninety seven

Physical Description - Katya stands a tall 5'10 (5'15 with her boots on) with a slender, but well rounded physic.
Katya has dangerous ice blue eyes, long, snow white hair, dark violet skin and a captivating smile.
Her feminine assets are, well, bountiful. Including long, luscious legs, perfectly sensual hips and an ample chest.
Aside from the outfit show in her picture, Katya also wears a long black cloak with a hood, to keep her identity hidden.

Alignment - Good

Profession - Assassin

Battle Role/Class - Short range weapon / hand to hand

Gear/Weapons - Her main weapon is her deadly kusarigama, or "chain-sickle" in English and an assortment of blades that she keeps hidden.
Her armor is made out of a flexible leather as she is skilled at scaling tall buildings and trees with ease.

Character Bio - Before the dark Ascent, Katya's family was regarded as one of the most noble family of warriors in all of Aesic. Their skills and knowledge allowed them to develop advanced techniques that are still taught among the dark elves to this very day. It was only natural that they were one of the first families to march against Derileth when the dark Ascent began. However, after returning to Aesic to find it in ruins Katya's family were labelled as traitors in the heat of the kingdom's frustration at the loss of their home.

In a grand and horrifying manner Katya's family was slaughtered for their supposed betrayal, they took anyone under the name of Icestrike and made an example of them. Only by the pained efforts of Katya's father was she able to survive this tragedy. Abandoning their home in the forests of Kithenica, Katya and her father ran, seeking refuge in the land of Byr. Her father cursed their misfortune on the other elves, his anger towards them eating away at his soul.

The years passed and Katya's father found honest work as a hired guard while Katya labored away as an apprentice blacksmith and leather worker. To keep their family's tradition alive Katya and her father trained together whenever they had the time, polishing up the old techniques and even developing a few new ones. Katya had already been a skilled fighter when they lived among the dark elves, but with their training she became more adept and was soon able to take up work as a skilled assassin.

Their lives kept separate from the other elves, her father continued to scorn their kin, speaking to her of the day they would make their triumphant return to vanquish the evil from their home and restore their good name. Katya honored her father and wished for the same thing, slowly developing the same hatred for their kind, for the ones who slaughtered her family.

Character Picture - [x]

 

[Korax]

Name- Razak(The Grey)Ralug

Race- Satyr (Taurus [Wanderer])

Age- 42

Physical Description- Razak stands at 6'3, or 6'8 if you count the horn, he is rather well built both for his people and his age. His horn archs back over his head and points down at his back, Razak only has the right horn as the left was broken off in his youth. Sporting a lean body that looks accustomed to more than a little physical labor, he might not be a bruiser but Razak's strength should not be underestimated. Razak was born with dull white fur which forces him to stand out quite a bit, however when age set in the white began to dull until it looks mostly grey, causing Razak to look far older than he actually is. The satyr wears a heavy vest covered in pockets which he keeps a vast store of herbs and potions, he also wears a traveler's pack on his shoulders with more supplies. Razak is also never seen without his trusty walking stick which looks nothing more than a gnarled old branch or root, however the wood is stained black as if it was burned. Razak claims that the walking stick was struck by lightning and is a powerful focus for nature based magic, the staff already proves to be hardened to the point that a normal blade can't cut it.

Alignment- Neutral

Profession- Herbalist

Battle Role/Class- Healer/Shaman

Character Bio- Born into a large family of herbalists and shop-keepers the satyr was ignored most of the time and left to do as he pleased. Growing up Razak was like any young satyr buck, looking to make a quick buck and prove himself by seducing unwary women. One of the few notable events from this time is that Razak broke off one of his horns in trying to win a silly bet with another young buck. However this changed when he apprenticed under his uncle who claimed to be a potion maker of some minor fame. Razak had never put much thought into how he wanted to make a living until he watched his uncle skillfully whip up a healing tonic and then charge a customer three times it's worth. Learning all he could Razak managed to take over the business from his uncle and managed to strike out on his own. Razak carried on the tradition of swindling those who came to the shop until he had the misfortune of doing so to a shaman who traveled from another tribe. The shaman stabbed Razak's left hand with a knife as punishment and then healed it, showing the young satyr a power that he himself desired. Razak continued to badger the shaman until he was taught the arts, even going so far as to pass on his uncle's business so he could focus. It took a great many years but Razak trained his body and mind until he could wield the powers of nature as his master could. With this training came understanding and age, Razxak was no longer the hot-headed young swindler he once was and did not wish to return to that life. Instead he struck out on his own and became a traveling hermit, using his skills as a herbalist to support what he had learned from the shaman until he began to mix the two in new ways. In his years traveling Razak grew to learn much of the world around him, as his skills continued to improve he became wiser. Now middle aged the satyr once more has little idea what he wishes to do with his remaining years, though he has devoted much of his life to helping and healing the shaman finds himself without a true direction and simply finds groups of other wanderers such as himself.

Character Picture- (Optional)

 

[Alura--x--Uneii]

Name- Aline Fintail.

Race- Merfolk.

Age- 23

Physical Description- See image.

Alignment- Neutral

Profession- Traveling Merchant.

Battle Role/Class- None.

Character Bio- Aline is a traveling mermaid, her shop roams around the world, it is unknown where she will end up next, not much is known about her other than her knack for finding rare items.

Character Picture-

 

[FuriousloverXD]

[WIP tell me if I do something wrong. I'm assuming that our class backgrounds are free, but tell me if I'm wrong.]

Name-Raina Laryasel

Race- High Elf

Age-250

Physical Description- Raina is not one someone to expect to be a battle mage. She is only 5'4 and hardly over 90 pounds. Her features are lovely and she seems reserved if you just take one look at her. Then once she enters combat people find she is a Mage of Wrath. Lighting will crackle around her as she begins to reign down punishment.

Alignment- Good

Profession-Librarian

Battle Role/Class- Artillery

Character Bio-

Race Bonuses/penalties: Master of Arcane, Crusader, Frail Form, Keen Senses, Elven Charm, Fey Quickness

Edges: Arcane Background, Attractive, Very Attractive, Power points, Wizard

Hindrance: Anemic, Arrogance, Loyal

Armor:

Head
Torso
Arms
Legs

Total WT carried
Equipment
Powers/Discipline (Cost/Range/Damage\Effect/Duration)
Weapons and stats (range/rof/damage/ap/wt/not

Character Picture-

See more

 

[Nihilistic_Impact]

Name- Jupitrix

Race- Medusa

Physical Description- Sleight feminine build, voluminous clothing that hangs loose and catches the wind. Esoteric tattoos upon neck, limb, breast and spine. Dark eyes that stare through.

Alignment- Neutral

Profession- Errant Executioner

Battle Role/Class- Swordlass, Thaumaturgist

Character Bio- A history unknown, stretching far into the secret corners of the world. Veiled hints by insane poets and mystics, Jupitrix is not always known by her actions or her travels; sometimes it is the lack of something which signifies the stirring of events. She wanders, plying her trade with scarce concern for whom it hinders.

Character Picture-

 

[Sanoci]

Name- Mokrak Grimgarm

Race- Half Orc

Age- 25

Physical Description- Mokrak is a tall, bald and very muscular half-orc with small beady eyes,no visible eyebrows, and unkempt braided beard. Rarely equipped with much clothing, many easily notice his body heavily enveloped in scars and ceremonial brand like tattoos of his dead ancestors.

Alignment- Ask the obstacle before him [ Neutral/Evil]

Profession- Killing problems

Battle Role/Class- Rolling with the hits and thrashing foes with his fists.

Character Bio- Only the present matters to the barbarous half-orc

Character Picture- (Optional) Find a good pic for a red color orc and it will be added

 

[Your Eternal Reward]

Name- Zelindor Morganion, the "Demon Doctor"

Race- Faladorian Human, Erebus

Age- 24

Physical Description-
Already somewhat mentally unsound as a child, the maddening influence of his fits of clairvoyance has turned this intuitive, curious medical savant into what could only be described as a sociopath. That being said, Zel is not evil. Instead, he seems to fly over the concept of good and evil entirely, more amoral than immoral, finding himself motivated by 'more important things' than ethics. While reclusive and prone to erratic behavior, Zel is far from bad company, with a morbid, fearless sense of humor and a sharp, sarcastic wit.

Alignment- Neutral

Profession- Healer

Battle Role/Class- Vitamancer (Blood Mage)

Character Bio-

It's rather peculiar how quickly hardship matures us - how suddenly and haphazardly our skin thickens to leather from the chafing friction of a hostile world. I think I was maybe four, five years old at the time. All I could hear were angry, agonizing roars that throbbed through my ears like a second heartbeat, echoing through the keep over and over again. The most vivid memory was the look on her face. Those glassy, empty eyes staring at me as I laid there, silently, under my father's workbench. That river of red almost seemed serene as it dribbled past her bloodied, matted hair. I imagine she must have doted on me considering she gave her life to hide me from whatever threat it was I was being protected from. I can't seem to recall her name, but I do remember that itching desire to pry her open, if only to know where all the red came from.

After I was found from the wreckage, I was taken to my uncle's rural villa some twenty, thirty leagues away from the city, and he raised me from that point on. Well, I suppose 'raised' doesn't really describe it. 'Trained' seems more the right word. It was a rare thing that I saw his face at all, and even when we sat at opposite ends of the table for dinner any amount of small talk felt like he was doing me a favor. I didn't mind. I don't actually remember how long it took to forget my parents, but I doubt it was very long. Perhaps they had been the same. Or perhaps the psychological shock had locked those memories away.

That's when I saw it. Felt it. Heard it, the crackling flames like a gorgeous, mesmerizing dance of foreign tongues and foreign moves, yet felt strangely, oddly familiar. All I know is that I suddenly wanted to open things. The once scratching desire had begun to swell into something I found no reason to ignore. Oh, the fun I had! Rats and frogs and even a kitten that belonged to one of the maidservants, each dissected as I slithered through blood-soaked sinews and ligaments with tinkering fingertips. Surprisingly enough, there was little to actually memorize - the whole art was one of deduction and perception, one logical conclusion following the next. Everything just made so much sense. It was beautiful, really.

And then it happened again. For a second time in my lifetime, the whispers revealed themselves. Murderous thoughts slithered through the labyrinths of my mind night after night, and soon enough, it came to pass. Another attack, bandits I think, and this time I had no nameless maidservant to keep me safe. They found it ironic to torture me with the same scalpel I used, to prick me with pain again and again until I gave in and put on a pathetic little show for them. Until I begged and screamed and writhed.

Amateurs.

The only thing they ended up doing was unlock an even more fascinating aspect of my mind - one that I have yet to completely understand. From what little I know, it operates, like many things, on the concept of cycles. Pain and healing, suffering and power. One cannot exist without the other, one is the outcome of the other, interwoven inseparably. I could see everything - every muscle, every nerve, every bone under their skin, visualizing layer over layer, reducing them to their bare essentials. And as they yelled and bickered and threatened, my mind wandered into daydreams of those layers twisting and wrenching and rippling and rupturing, tearing apart and back and again and again. At some point during that daydream I began to hum, one of my captors struck me to silence me, and my 'dreams' lashed out at him: Tearing him apart... and putting him back together, and apart, again and again. Like any child with a new toy, I enjoyed it with a wide-eyed fascination. He screamed for me to stop, to end it - but I could hear the screams of the women he raped; they had said the same. Perhaps I was just looking for an excuse to have fun, but I wasn't going to play nice with someone who didn't. After all, that just wouldn't be fair.

With no real home to go to, I returned to my birthplace. To Erebus. I had been gone far too long for anything to feel familiar, but with the rising tides of crime and violence, there was much need for the skills I could provide. Within the first month I found myself employed by a religious infirmary of the White Chapel. I healed enough to make ends meet, or anyone I found especially amusing, and the rest of the time I liked to just... watch the people dying. It was serene in its own way, the slow ebb and flow of life whittling away. And don't tell anyone else, but sometimes I'd snatch a corpse or two to dissect. Purely academic, I assure you. I was quiet about it, but one can never be sure around nosy, religious folk. If anyone found out, they didn't say anything. The clerics had a sort of tentative respect for me - none of them could pale to my eye for detail, my surgical ability to diagnose and cure. They wasted so much of their own magics on unnecessary treatments for imaginary ailments while the real problems evaded them until much later. It was obvious I unnerved them. I found pleasure in what to them was a dreary service to their church. I tinkered and toyed and explored with fascinated glee as they labelled me the 'Demon Doctor'. And yet, it was the demon who had become the guardian angel of so many.

Character Picture-