Portal - Character Thread

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This is the section for characters accepted into the group play of Portal. As character submissions are finalized and approved I'll be posting them here. Any editing or additional details that you might want to add on after the fact can simply be arranged by PM'ing me an updated character thread. If you've been approved but haven't seen your character yet just give me a day or so, due to the way BM merges multi-posts I'll most likely be posting approved concepts on separate days.

Player Name - meomeo

Character name - Brigid Thomais

Occupation: Folk Herbalist

Physical Traits

Age: 21
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Eye color: Dark Blue
Hair color: Sandy Brown
Hair length: Armpit / Mid-back
Height: 5' 3.5''
Weight: 105 pounds

Psychological Traits

Sexual Orientation: Straight
Likes: the wilderness; that magical time just before dawn; smell of fresh herbs; sound of pestle grinding into mortar; singing (by herself).
Dislikes: crowds; city folk; dirtiness.
Personality: Mistrustful and reserved. A lone wolf.

Skills:
Encyclopedic knowledge of flora and fungi. Very adept herbalist. Basic survival skills in the wilds.

Story:

To scare children from wandering outside after dark, the folks of Eastborne used to bring them to the Old Crone.

Look! There she is, hunched at her street corner. See that grotesque hooked nose, those claw-like fingers. A swindler, fraud, an evil witch. Beware! She peddles herbs and trinkets of questionable effect, but it's all a front. If you misbehave, she will kidnap you and bring you to her cabin deep in the woods. She will then transform into a bat and suck blood from your neck, before boiling what's left of you in her rusted pot.

The horror tale grew in credibility when, one day, the Crone showed up at the street corner with a blond girl by her side. The child was skin on bones and often bore lash marks on her limbs. With an angry croaked voice, the grey-haired Crone would bark orders at her. Lay out the herbs! Careful! Fetch me some water from the well! The girl never talked back. In fact, she did little other than carry out her duties with a quiet efficiency. A townsfolk swore he heard the Crone once call her Brigid.

Years went by. The Old Crone and the girl have long ceased hawking the street corner. Children who dreamt nightmares about the Crone have grown and wised up. As she passed into folklore, a different urban legend have sprung up in Eastborne. Very few, if any, of the townspeople managed to connect the two together...

Is your child still with that bad cough? Your husband's knees ache in rainy season so bad he can't work in the fields? Have you consulted the herbalist? Go to this cul-de-sac, or under that footbridge. Hang around at dusk hours. She doesn't come everyday, but keep your eye out for a slender hooded figure with a brown satchel. Bring your coinpurse, inquire politely, and she will have just the vapors or rubs or potions or smelling salts you need. I swear she has a cure for everything in that satchel of hers. Miss Shaw used to have awful... monthly cramps. And surely you heard of that cavalry captain who couldn't... perform in bed, even in the whorehouse? You could ask them two about the herbalist. But keep it hush-hush. I heard the taxman and the racketeers are both hot on her trail...​

-How I Look-​

 

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Player Name: OrlandoWilde

Character Name: Kestrel
Occupation: Sailor/Courier
Theme song: My Name Is Human – Highly Suspect

PHYSICAL TRAITS

Age: 24
Sex: Female
Race: Human (Fiend-blooded)
Eye colour: Dark green-blue
Hair colour: Dark brown, almost black.
Hair length: Just above shoulders, wavy and somewhat messy from a mixture of sea-salt and carelessness.
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 160lb
Tattoos: She has extensive ink-rubbing scarification: Her shoulders and arms are covered in intricate leaf/floral patterns. Intertwined on her left arm is an octopus and, on the right, a sea snake.
Scars: She has one large scar tracking across her cheek and nose, with a little nick taken out of her left eyebrow. She also has a small scar on the right side of her mouth, across the lips.
Piercings: Many gold piercings. Central lip ring; right nostril ring; many rings and studs along ears, some joined with chains.
Other noticeable traits: Kestrel has pointed ears, much like Elvish ears, but a bit shorter. She also has prominent fangs that are only visible while smiling and talking. Small, curved black horns grow from her forehead and she often wears a paste of grease and ash around her eyes and lips. This serves multiple purposes, as a sunscreen, to prevent lip chapping out at sea and to reduce glare.

PSYCHOLOGICAL TRAITS

Sexual Orientation: Gay
Hobbies: In her spare time, she writes, usually poetry; she always has a leather journal on her, so she can write whenever inspiration strikes. Her affinity for birds leads her to bird watching in her spare time, content to watch the calm wheeling of sea birds in peaceful blue skies. She has a keen interest in history and loves to read historical accounts, as well as more florid fiction pieces.
Likes: Birds, particularly sea birds and birds of prey; rum and whiskey; playing cards with the sailors at the dockside taverns; tattoos and piercings, both on herself and other people; tavern brawls.
Kestrel prefers the dark, as bright lights can hurt her eyes. She loves nature in all its forms, enjoying the freedom and the beauty found there, and it is often the subject of her poetry. Overall, she very much enjoys indulgence and hedonism, though she detests extravagance and excess.
Dislikes: People who aren’t willing to get their hands dirty, especially nobles and those born into lives of wealth and standing; puritans; ale; people who beat around the bush; cats; being cooped up inside for long periods of time. She deeply mistrusts authority figures and magic users.

Personality:

Reckless, standoffish, abrasive even. These are all words that can be used to describe Kestrel. She has a habit of shooting her mouth off, sarcastic quips rolling off her tongue like honey, and she carries herself with an air of self-assured confidence, often drifting towards cocky. In fact, she can very easily switch from icy and guarded, to aggressively seductive in mere seconds. She’s also prone to outbursts of anger, taking it out on the person closest to her at the time, whether that be with her fists or her lips. Her appearance, as well as her sardonic humour, leads people to inherently mistrust her, whether there is basis for the mistrust is another thing entirely.

While her initial impression can leave much to be desired, around her shipmates she’s quite personable. Enjoying witty banter and sharing a drink over a game of cards. Though she still remains as sharp (and blunt) as always, never one to mince words, even with those she cares about.


Skills: Basic blacksmithing and leatherworking, taught to her by her father. Sailing; navigation; basic medicine; dueling with curved blades such as cutlasses and sabres, all picked up from her time on Harper’s Folly.

Supernatural abilities: None really. She has an affinity for birds, and vice versa, as well as a very good sense of direction. She can see somewhat better than humans in dim light and prefers dim light rather than bright light due to the glare.

Story:

“I dread to say it, but you need to leave, right now. Soon it won’t be safe for you here. You know I won’t survive the journey so please don’t try to argue. I’m just an old blacksmith, the Empire won’t want anything to do with me; but you… Please my little bird, fly far away from here.”

~*~

The blacksmith’s daughter left quietly one night. Out the gates of her hometown, the guards barely nodding as she urged her horse on with a carefully restrained haste. The silhouette of Skelman’s Landing slowly faded in the distance, and with it, the tales that plagued her isolated childhood.

“Beware The Horned Child. Who rent her mother’s loins betwixt as she entered the world and bled her dry. Whose father now keeps her locked in the basement for fear of his own life.”

Skelman’s Landing was not a small town in size, but it was certainly a small town in behaviour. Not a single person believed those stories, and yet still they spread. Then again, her case was a special one. Not many people around these parts could say that they’ve met a Fiend-Blood.

And yes, she should be happy that she’s leaving that wretched place behind. Never again to see the people that only graced her with sideways glances and pulled their children close as she passed. But she was also leaving behind her ship. Her life. She didn’t even say goodbye to the dock-hands who gave her a job when no one else would. Or the sailors who she spent almost four years of her life with. She pictured Limey’s face, smiling at her as she stepped aboard the deck of Harper’s Folly for the first time. The calm seas spread out in front of her like an azure promise.

It was a far cry from her current surroundings. She looked around, seeing only the imposing black skeletons of trees encircling her, and she felt her stomach begin to churn at the thought of being landlocked for even a short amount of time.

What she wouldn’t give to be back on her ship. Or even better, to return to her father’s forge. Back when she would spend all day learning how to cast bronze and quench blades. Before she left the secluded safety of her home to make her own way in life. There was less fear then. Less complexity.

But there’s no rest for the wicked, and none for the Empire either, it seems. She sets her horse on a path towards Eastbourne, praying she’s made the right decision.


How I look:

Sorry, no pictures atm

Kestrel’s physique is tall and lanky, with somewhat broad shoulders and narrower hips, as well as a small chest. Dark brown hair sits just above her shoulders, thrown into messy waves. Her eyes are a deep blue-green, framed by dark eyebrows and often black grease. Kestrel’s facial structure is angular, and almost harsh in its shapes, accented by her pointed ears and sharp fangs. Two black horns jut from her forehead and curve backwards, marking her blood as tainted. Various golden piercings create a stark contrast against her somewhat ashen tanned skin.

She wears a thick black sleeveless vest with a high collar and buckles across the breast. Her arms are covered with raised black scars that form floral patterns, an octopus sits within the patterns on her left arm and a sea snake coils around the right one. A hood is attached to the vest, which she often wears up to conceal her fiendish features and block out the glare of the sun. A black and bronze shemagh hangs around her neck to further shield her face from bright light. Many thick leather belts encircle her waist, providing protection and a place to hold various daggers, pouches, navigator tools and the scabbard for her saw-back falchion. She also wears a variety of coloured sashes and ropes decorated with beads, which she changes as her mood dictates. Leather hand-wraps protect her hands while sliding down sail ropes. Her pants are loose black cotton and her boots, knee high worn black leather.​

 

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Player Name: Alvis Alendran

CHARACTER NAME: Hrothgar Ekretsson of the Baodell Clan

Occupation: Wandering fugitive, occasional mercenary
Theme Song:

Physical Traits

Age: 28
Sex: Male
Race: Half-Orc
Eye color: Blue
Hair color: Black
Hair length: Shaved, occasional stubble
Height: 7 foot six inches
Weight: 418 lbs
Scars: Combat scars across much of his torso
Other noticeable traits: Metal rings around his arms, looking like blades that have been bent around his limbs

Psychological Traits

Sexual Orientation: Straight
Likes: Honesty, loyalty, respect
Dislikes: Pre-judgements, people who won't listen, elves
Fears: Losing control
Personality: Can be friendly, offers respect and trust to those around him. Does not forget slights against him, slow to forgive, but always willing to try. When a fight starts, lives to his heritage, takes few to no prisoners and fights with his all.

Skills: Orcish trained in combat, traveled to expand his repertoire, has several styles under his belt. Excellent hunter, respectable tracker, and general survival skills

Supernatural abilities: Possesses the anger of his race, is also touched by a fury of his ancestors, sometimes emerging in an explosion of force and violence.

Story:
Growing up amongst a clan of orcs that were doing all they could to try and civilize themselves and rise above their natures, Hrothgar was marked for great things early, his rapidly expanding size and strength indicators of that. Strength alone wasn't the prized thing though, control was, and when Hrothgar lost his control costing the lives of several clansmen, he left in a self imposed exile, seeking a better way.

What he largely found was people that would mistrust and hate him on sight, fearing his size and heritage. Discouraged, but not dissuaded, he pressed on, doing what good he could, where he could, often to no thanks or reward. Looking to earn some extra money, Hrothgar entered a tournament of arms, his strength besting all of those he faced, including the local Lords picked champion. When the lord denied him his rightful prize, Hrothgar denounced him as a coward. The Lord set his guards on the half-orc, and carnage erupted. Since then a price has been on his head, and many seek to claim it, though most of those wind up dead.

On the run, he finds what work he can, where he can, and has been long avoiding contact with the growing Empire. But with the city of Eastbourne potentially coming under threat, there has been a call for fighters to bolster the defense, and coin to pay them. Hrothgar has come to make good on this, and to make a stand for himself and for others.

How I Look:

(I don't do pictures.)

A large example, even for one of his people, Hrothgar towers over most everyone he meets. His skin tone marks him as an orc from the clans that dwell in hostile mountains far to the south, the light reddish tone a clear sign. His face is dotted with small nicks from uncounted fights, but no major scars adorn him. While he does possess the tusks of his fathers people, they are smaller, much more subtle than most, making him less threatening in many ways. Still, standing with his height, and being over six feet across in the shoulders, he is impossible to miss in a crowd.

After a long string of damaged and destroyed shirts, Hrothgar has abandoned them completely, bare chested in battle and leisure, though he does often adorn himself with the bright blue whorls of war paint from his clan. Heavy trousers that have seen plenty of use might have been black once, but they are faded now. He wears boots that came from his clan, large hobnailed boots with an iron plate over the toe and top of his foot. A monstrous belt has three pouches on the back, usually holding a large iron sphere in each, an orcish shotput, Hrothgar's preferred weapon of choice for distance. True to his blood, he carries a large, double headed axe with him, the blade worn from use, but still killing sharp.​

 

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Player Name: ZRS

Character Name: Johnathan Ire

Nickname(s): Johnathan
Alias(es): N/A
Occupation: Blacksmith's Son.
Theme Song: N/A

Physical Traits

Age: 20
Sex: Male
Race: Half-Elf
Eye color: Black
Hair color: Brown
Hair length: Down to the neck.
Height: 5ft 8in
Weight: 75 Kg (160 lbs)
Tattoos: N/A
Piercings: N/A
Scars: N/A
Other noticeable traits: Looks human except for the pointy ears that stick out of his hair.

Psychological Traits

Sexual Orientation: Straight
Hobbies: Sports
Likes: Hanging out, playing, working at his dad's shop
Dislikes: being pranked,
Fears: needles

Personality: Johnathan is very active. He is generally friendly and outspoken. He can be quite resourceful. He will go to great lengths to protect his friends. His emotions often cloud his judgement. Can remain cool under pressure but he has his limits.

Skills: Has considerable knowledge about smithing. Good at athletic activities such as swimming, running, climbing and jumping. Good with almost any weapon and can use mundane things as weapons.

Supernatural abilities: Johnathan can pick up and use anything he can get his hands on as a weapon. If given a weapon he's never seen before and told to fight someone who has trained in the use of that weapon, Johnathan CAN'T win but he can last for quite a while against the guy.

Story:
Johnathan grew up in Eastborne and had a mostly happy but unremarkable early life. He enjoyed helping his father make and test weapons. He also liked to hang out with his gang of friends and get up to mischief. All this gave him a better understanding of weapons and taught him how to jump, run, swim and climb. When the refugees came to town and the tension started to rise, his family fled but Johnathan stayed behind with his friends, who wouldn't leave.

How I Look:
(No picture, just a description)
Johnathan is of average height he has an athletic build and he looks to be in good health. He has lean muscles. His nose is straight. His eyes are black and his hair is brown and a little messy. His hair is long enough to cover the base of his hair but not the pointy top section of his elven ears. His skin tone is a very light brown. He wears a half-sleeved white shirt. He wears a short brown leather vest that only covers his chest over the white shirt. Both the vest and the shirt are unbuttoned. revealing red clothes beneath. He wears brown pants and black shoes. A black belt is wrapped around his waist.​

 

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Player Name: Octopus Prince

CHARACTER NAME: Flora Tavitoria

Occupation: Florist and Tea Specialist
Theme Song: Her Ghost by Woman's Hour

Physical Traits

Age: 30
Sex: Female
Race: Wood Elf
Eye color: Green
Hair color: Black
Hair length: Undercut with a bowled top, long braid on the left side of her head
Height: 5'6
Weight: 160lbs
Scars: none
Other noticeable traits: She dresses quite modestly to hide most of her tattoos, but she has many of them, predominantly illustrations of flowers and insects along with runic symbols celebrating her spiritual connection to forests and plants. She has two ringed, matching in size tattoos on her outer thighs, a full sleeve on her left arm, and an intricately woven series of images down her back from her shoulder blades to her hip bones.

Psychological Traits

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual
Likes: Honesty, strength, to nurture others
Dislikes: Secrets, those who neglect themselves or are reckless, needless violence
Fears: The God Merasheel, anyone finding out about her magical talents, being sold into slavery

Personality: Flora is a patient and gentle seeming person, in her time living in Eastborne she's comfortably earned a reputation for being kind hearted and accommodating to those in need. She seems quite regular, and that is just the way she likes it, but when asked what she thinks or how she feels, most people could not say with any distinction where her loyalties and passions lie. She's quick witted and observant, but doesn't tend to give away any of her observations or inclinations to just anyone.

Skills: Healing magics and the ability to command and possess plants, even for combat purposes (though these talents are kept private and have not been used since she moved to Eastborne), an extensive knowledge of plants and their uses, talented cook, has a variety of survival skills and knowledge, skilled with finesse weaponry, particularly whips.

Supernatural abilities: Flora can attune herself to any plant she makes contact with, encouraging it to grow and produce within its capacity to serve her needs. This can be anything from producing a whip made of thorned vine or making an herb grow in surplus for her personal needs. She has enough magical strength to make a tree grow to its full maturity from a seed, though that particular feat would be quite taxing. She rarely uses this power however, preferring to nurture plants organically, and when she produces this magic, other plants will react to her presence, turning towards her like the sun or blossoming when she draws near. Because of these tells, she avoids using her magic as much as possible.

Story: Flora seemed to have come to Eastborne at just the right and just the wrong time at once. Before the Inquisitions began, people were free to move from place to place and find their sense of belonging just about anywhere, and she had found the lovely city of Eastborne to be perfect for her desired lifestyle of opening a quaint shop and settling down. She was born in a nomadic tribe of wood elves that typically survived their town hopping by selling and creating powerful ichors and enchanting weapons, but marrying another wood elf and continuing the nomadic, overly changeable and unpredictable life style didn't appeal to her. Before the whispers and destruction and violence wrought by the followers of Merasheel started, she had thought she'd found home. Even though she felt quite comfortable in Eastborne, she had been quite careful to share herself too openly with any of the folks who frequented her shop out of habit as well as out of fear, after all, she was one of the most talented magicians in her generation from her tribe and her magical influence on plants was very potent and when used, quite obvious. She thought it'd be best to blend in, to not involve herself with anyone until she could implicitly trust them, and now that the Inquisition has fallen upon Eastborne, she's having her regrets that she didn't let anyone nearer, didn't let anyone know her better than 'that kind wood elf who runs the tea shop'. because now the city is in flames, the troops are capturing and questioning and torturing civilians, and she is utterly, terrifyingly alone.


How I Look: