[CS]A Tale With No Heroes

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ShaFlow
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[CS]A Tale With No Heroes

Post by ShaFlow » Thu Jan 11, 2018 8:18 pm

This is simply a place to store the accepted CS's. All CS's must be first accepted in the Request thread before being stored here.

Character Sheet
Name:
Cassardis Primm
Age:
Twenty Eight
Gender:
Male
Race:
Human
Preset Relations:
Priscilla "Cilla" Sophia Gaus- Cassardis and Cilla have seen each other on a few other tasks before in the past.
First Impressions:
2) The taste of his own blood was something all too familiar. Being thrown into the wall then into a stack of crates at the back of an alley was the highlight of his day. It was a trio of well known trouble makers, repeatedly kicking the downed man as he braced trying to protect his face." Damned cheater! Good for nothing! Play the game fairly or don't play at all!" A few rounds of their beat down, the thugs decided to finally leave him be. Staggered Cassardis rose up to his feet, with a swollen cheek from being stuck in the face. He grinned with blood stained teeth," Maybe if you weren't so dumb, I wouldn't have easily deceived yo-" Thwack! Another sudden strike from an enraged man.

"Big talk for a coward such as yourself, tch! Not even worth my time. Cm'on!"

Leaving Cassardis to scramble for balance once more. As the group made off into the crowded Soren streets Cassardis couldn't help but chuckle. Pulling out three small coin pouches from the pockets of his trousers, the subtle chuckle turned to a boisterous laugh.

"Like I'd really cheat for a measly fifteen pieces. Jokes on you twits, I got a triple return rate."
Ambition:
Cassardis came looking for a cure for the illness his family back in Astaros they contracted. He wants to become a Knight to get access to the higher grade apothecaries and medicines.
Equipment:
*Leather-Pack(To carry all of his items in)
*An Iron double edged sword
*A small crossbow(30 bolts included)
*Flask of Ale.
*A simple cloth cloak for when the weather gets cold or it rains.
Skill Proficiency:
Sleight-Of-Hand: Quick hands, and precise fingers. This man can swiftly slide within the pockets of any person who's mind isn't keen to their possessions. But not only can her take, but place as well with impressive speed. Placing items into a persons belongings or onto them without their notice(so long as their mind isn't aware).
Character History:
Cassardis while born in Soren, at the age of three his family had moved to Astaros; to the scorching sandy desert region more specifically. His father had been an entrepreneur. Seeing an opportunity to set up a possible business, getting into the silk market. It was hard at first, as the top competition had long set up. Being a small boy Cassardis was naive to their situation. Because his father blindly put many of their funds into this one dream, there was barely any room to rebound. For the time they were stuck in Astaros just barely making it by. It wasn't long until Cassardis would be influenced by a group of thieves. Growing of age, he needed to somehow contribute to the household.

This group taught the the young boy the art of pick-pocketing. And while they never accepted him into their ranks, he felt as one. Being caught many times over the years, as a boy he was always set free. With each failed attempt Cassardis was closer to achieving perfection. At the age of twenty a master thief was a bit of an understatement. Able to snatch the coin purse off of any trader that was easy bait. Roughly five years ago his fathers business began to lift itself off its feet only for a short while.

When a plague began to make its mark about the city, Cassardis's household was not spared. At the time it was incurable, those unlucky to be stricken would suffer unthinkably. While the chance of survival was low, it was highly contagious. Cassardis was forced to leave the Astaros and find a place of refuge until the plague died. He had heard talk of Soren. How it was a Utopia, a place of dreams! Perhaps if so, they could have a cure? There was only one way of knowing for sure. And so with hope Cassardis became a stowaway on the next ship to Soren! With any luck, a cure would definitely be in Soren. It's been two years since then, and he has yet to find any sort of medicine. But with hope there has to be some type of apothecary with elite curatives...
Appearance:
Image
Extra Information:
*Cassardis has a bit of a gambling issue.
*He's a conniving fox, willing to go the distance to make get what he wants.
"Everyone's an Atheist until turbulence starts shaking the plane".

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ShaFlow
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Re: [CS]A Tale With No Heroes

Post by ShaFlow » Thu Jan 11, 2018 8:18 pm

Character Sheet
Umbrasight
Name:
Priscilla “Cilla” Sophia Gaus

Age:
Twenty-Five

Race:
Ash Elf

Gender:
Female

Preset Relations:
Cilla knows Cass from earlier missions they had done together.

Personality:
She is an unhappy woman. Discontent with her life, and how it had so far played out. She desires more to life than to be forced to take on a role simply to survive as the nobility fattens themselves off her blood and toil. This, in many ways has made her jaded. She has an underlying desire to change the world, and if it is that the world refuses to change, then she will force it to. If the systems are so corrupt, so broken, that the only way change can be found is at the edge of a knife, then so be it. She will play her bloody part to see change happen.

Personally, she is friendly enough. She may be driven, and her goals might be bloody, but she remains a decent enough person. Her opinions are stronger than most, and she isn't shy to let you know when it is that she disagrees with you. She often does have a point where she chooses to be silent, she knows better than to incriminate herself.

Ambition:
Cilla wishes to vest her own sense of justice upon the word. The corrupt must be punished, and if society will choose to not take on this task, then Cilla will make certain that justice is delivered on the edge of a knife and blood allowed to flow free.

Equipment:
Cilla carries a leather satchel within which she has a few strips of dried meat, several pieces of flatbread and hard trail bread and an apple. Also within the satchel is a small travel blanket, a sewing kit, a flint and steel fire starter, a knife and fork for food, and some cloth wrappings for wounds. Her coin purse and a thick dagger are attached to her left hip, and on her right hip is a black shortsword.

Both of her weapons are of the same black metal, and both have the same wispy etchings of a flower along the length of their respective blades. The hilt of both weapons are wrapped in the same simple white cloth which is well worn from use. A necklace is around her neck on a silver chain, the pendant of the necklace is a round piece of gold with a two headed raven with ruby eyes carved into it.

Skill Proficiency:
Cilla is quite good a mending clothing as well as other sewing feats. It is often hard to tell where a tear had happened after she had finished mending a hole. And her embroidery is second to none.

Character History:

The world is not a wonderful place. Guards and soldiers always did serve the nobility first and the scrape of gold second. The citizenry? Let the poor fend for themselves. Why risk your own skin for the gratitude of some peasant? If they can offer nothing, then is that not their worth? This is the sort of life Cilla drew her first breath in. One where nothing could be obtained without great struggle, and nothing could not be kept without a willingness to draw blood.

She was born to a family of poor hunters, in a village starving after ancestral hunting grounds had been stolen away by a fattened nobleman. He wished for a forest to call his own, a show of power to make his peers jealous. So, from an early age Cilla learned how to poach without being caught by the noblemen’s guards or his many lavish hunting parties. She had only been caught once, and had gotten lucky. She carried upon her person no bow or trap, only berries which she planned to use for a lure. She had been able to trick the guards into thinking her a simple peasant girl picking berries for a meal.

Picking berries from the woods was a crime the lord cared less about than poaching. A shove or two a bruise, and scratches were as far as her punishment ever got for the crime.

Even back then Cilla was a headstrong girl. Full of disdain towards the noble who was killing her village, so she devised a plan. Once night she stole from her parents a pair of blades, heirlooms from her family’s noble past she was always told and vanished into the woods.

The lord never returned from his last hunting expedition, and Cilla was never seen in her hometown again.

Appearance:
Cilla stands at five foot eight, with a fairly agile build. Her body is well toned from years of labor and training, the muscles of her arms and legs strong for a woman of her size and general stature. Her bust is fairly heavy, her shoulders small and pointed, her hips rounded, and a scar of silver flesh runs across her right hip. An old wound, a fight she would rather not remember. Her skin is a coal-gray, like the soot left behind by an angry fire. Like many elves, her facial features are typically sharp. Short pointed nose, strong jawbone and chin, her eyes a shining silver gray, and her hair a long platinum blond.

Image
Extra:
Cilla is left handed.
Last edited by ShaFlow on Thu Jan 11, 2018 8:19 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Everyone's an Atheist until turbulence starts shaking the plane".

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ShaFlow
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Re: [CS]A Tale With No Heroes

Post by ShaFlow » Thu Jan 11, 2018 8:19 pm

Reznik
Character Sheet
Name: Niro Faowind

Age: Twenty-Nine

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Preset Relations: None. Niro may be known by reputation alone.

First Impressions:
1)The thugs had roughened the poor girl up badly. It had been apparent from the start that they had been way more interested in her than the gold. It was also obvious that no was not on their vocabulary.

Before the first thugs pants had been undone, a rough tug on the back of his shirt sent him on his rear. At the sudden scream of shock, the other two twirled in surprise just as the first felt the sudden pain radiate in their guts before a thin stream of blood arced into the air. The wound was not fatal, but sure to hurt like hell.

The man fell clutching his left side, unable to move from the pain. The sword Niro held was in a low one handed ready, his flint gray eyes staring hard at the two uninjured. The shock of their friend bleeding on the stone walkway took the fight from them and they ran.

Taking a cloth, Niro simply tossed it over the dishevled woman, and on heel he turned and walked away, the only sound coming from the sword entering its sheath on his backside.

Ambition: Niro came to this land in search of peace. His skills as a swordsman are hard to beat, but upon arriving in the land, the same corruption that he tried to escape was even more present here.

Equipment:
Niro only carries one sword on his back, a satchel belt with multiple bags for various things, and a bag that he carries over his shoulder for food.

Skill Proficiency:
Expert Swordsman (Both Hands)

Character History:
The badlands between the desert and the capitol was once a land of peace where trading caravans were a constant sight. The Faowind family relocated there from the main city for a quieter life.

Niro was brought up like most children, working hard with some casual skill training. His father, once a knight from the capitol, trained his son daily with endurance training and basic hand to hand combat and sword fighting technique. "Son, the world can be a harsh place. I want you to be able to defend yourself, and the people around you."

The constant lead weighted training garments helped Niro become faster, stronger, and more agile. Soon he could outrun all his friends in the village, and out wrestle them. It was a fun childhood that continued on into his teenage years. Then a day came when that had changed. At the age of 18 he was married.

Blacksmithing was never Niros thing, but the daughter of the local blacksmith helped change his mind. His wife, Andrea, made superb weapons and farming tools. While Niro obviously did what he could to help, she did most of the work. Despite the odd arrangement, their love was strong for one another. On their first anniversary ahe presented her husband with a special sword, crafted and reforged over and over to remove the impurities. A sign that she had trusted him in the defense of their family.

The first of the bandits arrived a month later. Traders told tales of bandits harrasing caravans, but no deaths were reported. Then one day a caravan never arrived. Niro and a few others were gathered up due to their combat skill and sent out. A couple weeks later they found the caravan. Wagons shredded, corpses scattered the ground, good and supplies were either stolen or lay strewn over the trade route. The most mysterious part was the wounds. They were not sword wounds, but holes, not from arrows either.

Six months had passed and everything had been peaceful, no raids had been reported and life moved on. The town commissioned Niro and a few others as town guards for safety, a job with which Niro took seriously. The peace of that fateful evening soon was shattered by one of the guards screaming in agony, clutching their chest as their lifeblood poured out from a crossbow bolt Niro, his father and the few guards mobilized quickly, but were overwhelmed after a few minutes.

Buildings burned, screams of terror and agony raged through out the night. Niro had been shot twice, in the left arm and right thigh. Deapite these injuries he fought the invaders until he lost consciousness from blood loss.

He awoke the next day, traders had arrived and found him, bandaged him up. The sight he awoke to was something of nightmares. The town lay in ruins, only a few had survived, but were so emotionally scarred were unable to respond, as if they lived in another world now. Niro's home was also destroyed, his wife murdered along with the rest of his family. His father was found, beheaded in the town square.

As Niro helped bury the dead, he searched a few of the bandits that were killed, and on one of them found a letter. The letter was from the noble families there, saying payment would be made to the bandit group for all usable supplies they brought back. Angered, depressed, and alone, Niro gathered what things he could and set out.

The next nine years he shed blood. Any mercenaries or bandits he came across he killed. Soon enough the revenge died down, and he simply began wandering aimlessly, but not after carving a bloody reputation, along with amassing a bounty over his head, his deeds having reached the nobility. To them, he disturbed their profits and had to go.

So he did his best to disappear, and since that day, has only tried to find a peaceful place to live out his days.

Appearance:
Niro wears heavy leather type clothing, his light brown hair and flint gray eyes typically set him apart. The tattoo of his family crest shows prominently on his upper left arm.
Image

Extra Information: None
"Everyone's an Atheist until turbulence starts shaking the plane".

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ShaFlow
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Re: [CS]A Tale With No Heroes

Post by ShaFlow » Thu Jan 18, 2018 10:25 am

Name: Kayani Blacksand.
Age: 25 years old.
Gender: Female.
Race: Sand Elf.

First Impressions:
"Give us that pretty lil' thang on yer back, wrapsy."
A tall, looming man wiggled his fingers at a woman of average height, clad in beige and brown robes. Clearly, he was implying the somewhat large contraption strapped to her back with leather holders.
"Don't call Robert an /it/, he's art. And he's mine..."

She couldn't deny she felt fear. She wasn't much of a fighter, and had only practiced with Robert against non-living targets. And above all- she didn't /want/ to fight anyone.

The group bumbled off into laughter. There were about four. One large one that had confronted her, and three skinny... 'lackies', she assumed. Though the big man narrowed his eyes after a moment. It took a while for the coin to drop in his head.
"...Wai', tha's an accent that--."

But he couldn't complete his sentence, as the flutter of robes had began to run off! All she could hear behind her was screams, as she whimpered and repeated a chain of 'oh no's', stumbling in her run... She'd only been here for a day, she didn't want to die!

Ambition: To learn from hopefully present inventors and engineers, to hone her own skills and hopefully start up a little inventor's shop in the establishment.

Equipment:
- Quite unusual for an elf, she seems to carry a large self-made, what she calls 'crossbow' on her back. She wishes she invented it- but no, she got the design from her late father! It looks like it may fall apart- but in actually is very sturdy! She spent a lot of time finetuning it.
- A large brown satchel strapped over her shoulder, filled with cogs, plates, wood, rope, and more little tools to create new things. Also a stack of papers to create blueprints.
- A small quiver with portable arrows to load the crossbow with.

Skill Proficiency:
- Somewhat skilled inventor.

Character History: (very summarized)
Kayani was raised in the vast Southern Deserts of Astaro. In one of their small villages, she was born to her father, Manaro Blacksand, and her mother, Sanura Blacksand. Her mother was a venturous woman, often seeking to visit faraway villages to get to know the people- and her husband was pulled with in tow. The two made their money selling Manaro's inventions, which Sanura helped him with.

Unfortunately, Sanura soon was met with the vengeance of unsatisfied customers. Though, more likely, that was merely their 'excuse' to take out their blatant discrimination of a different, visiting race. With the moon high in the sky- she was murdered. When this reached Manaro, he was devestated; never allowing his now toddler daughter to go out of the deserts again, and he would only go to sell- if he needed to.

Kayani grew up, with her loving father. Due to the low choice of toys, and a rather genetic interest, Kayani took to her father's choice of career. Helping him with inventions and learning from him.

...Father... ... ..... ... inventions went .... .... .. .... unsavory-..... .... .... ... Jack... .... ..
#%#$&%^&@#$#@$@#%^$%& -- Redacted:


The young woman's father died due to certain circumstances. She tried to improve her skills within her village, before finally choosing to leave her home behind, and make something of herself in the flourishing Soren. To learn from its people, be inspired for new creations, and set up her own shop...

Appearance:
Image
Robed.

Image
Without robes.

Kayani is a woman just a bit below average height. Her weight seems to be average, chestsize average- oh so average. Her eyes however are a brilliant chocolate-brown, with a slightly lighter, matching dark skin. Her hair is pure black, reaches a bit over her upper back and most of the time tied up in a ponytail or a messy bun to improve efficiency as she works.

The woman has a high, broad forehead, almond shaped eyes and a set of full dark lips. Her nose curls out softly, her nostrils are wide. Her ears, for an elf, are floppy. Facing forwards way more than most of her kin. Her own kin sees this as a flaw, however humans may find it more positive. And one of the most obvious traits, are the burns running from her face down to her lower leg, all along her right side of the body.

To hide she is an elf within Soren, she ties her long ears flat against her face with help of elastics, bound at the back of her head. Painful; but she has to stick through it. The multiple layers of robes further make sure the tips of the ears are not seen poking through the cloth.

Her expression when seeing strangers, is somewhat down-trodden. Careful. The way she was taught. She can be uncomfortable and all over the place. Once she gets more comfortable around a person however, she starts to be extremely extraverted. A cheerful expression, with a wide smile. She then shows a little gap between her two middle teeth.

Extra Information:
- Great with a crossbow.
- Can use little selfmade salt-'bombs' filled with spices and salt, and other little knick-knacks.
- Ambi-dextrous.
- Needs a magnifying glass to read, or sometimes see certain things. Bad eyesight.
- Has burns across the right side of her body and face.
- Afraid of conflict, even if she doesn't always show it.
- Afraid of failure.
"Everyone's an Atheist until turbulence starts shaking the plane".

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