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Character Forms
Topic Started: Sep 6 2016, 08:46 AM (73 Views)
Spartan
Member Avatar

Roleplayer Info
Username: Spartan
Contact Details: Skype - tom.harrington60

General
Full Name: Raigor Karrok
Title(s): The Titan of Aggadar, Winterfest Grand Champion
Age: 55
Gender: Male
Race: Human (Half-Giant)
Home Region: Agaddar
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Height: 7"10'
Weight: 16 Stone w/ Armour. 25 w/Armour.
Appearance:

Spoiler: click to toggle

Personality: Raigor, like all of the people who hail from Agaddar, value honour, duty and justice above all else. A stalwart soul who has watched many friends and foes fall alike, he does his best to endure any hardship. When not focusing on the task at hand, he tends to be more cheerful and upbeat, especially now in his older years he has become more jovial about the idea of dying. Given that he has proved his mettle to the entire continent in the Winterfest tournament, he feels like he has done his job to make his people proud. Nevertheless Raigor still wanders the roads of Estar in order to mete out what justice he can and to help those who cannot help themselves. There, however, lies his greatest weakness. His own honour can be abused by his enemies, and he will refuse to kill someone who does not deserve it. He always wants a fair battle, even if it will give the enemy a chance to gain the upperhand. He never backs down from a fight, and commits himself to defending the innocent and to captivating the hearts and minds of the people.

Weapons and Abilities
Weapon(s): Greatsword
Magical Abilities:
Earth Manipulation - Can raise, lower, break, build and telekineticly throw rocks and boulders that would otherwise be impossible to move. The larger the amount of rock, the more energy is needed to use it.
Energy Fissure - Plants his sword into the ground powerfully. A bolt of energy runs down the blade and causes cracks to appear in the ground surrounding Raigor in a 5m radius. The cracks implode with energy shortly after appearing, stunning any who are near. Requires large amounts of energy.

Backstory:
Born and raised in the smallest of Estar's Regions, Raigor Karrok hails from Agaddar. He was born to a half-giant mother and a human father. His father, Brynjolf Karrok, was the Region's renowned blacksmith and town guard. Being from such a small clan, many people learnt to take multiple jobs. In his early years, he and his father travelled north to watch the Winterfest Tournament, and Raigor's eyes lit up with admiration as all these brave men and women gave everything they had to seize the glory and fame of winning it. When they returned home, his clanfolk dismissed the prospect of him trying to become a fully-fledged knight. But Raigor was destined for much more than a dutiful life inside the walls of Agaddar, as his sheer size and strength were not best used there.Instead, his father taught him everything he knew in the art of combat (as well as smithing), and on the day of his 16th birthday, Raigor was sent away from his home Region and was not allowed to return until he had proved himself as a worthy and honourable warrior. Before he left, however, Raigor's birthday gift was his own armour and weapon. With the knowledge that he could not return home until he had proven himself, Raigor set himself on a righteous path, helping the weak and innocent and bringing the guilty to justice.

Ten years passed and Raigor was welcomed back with open arms. The Clan Council, now proven wrong after their initial judgements about Raigor, bestowed the highest honour they could. He would fight in the Winterfest Tournament as Agaddar's selected champion. He accepted the offer and rode to the far north of Estar. In the icy fields of Northwrack stood the mighty Winterfest Arena, and he would spend the next 5 days battling with and against 31 other Champions. He emerged victorious, and had more money than he would ever need and fame beyond measure. Raigor had finally fulfilled his lifelong goal.(edited)
But as happens, eventually he faded from the limelight, and he returned home to try settle down, and perhaps even to try and start a family. He became instantly restless as soon after he bought his new house and felt he was needed on the roads, and that in his hubris and search for fame and glory, he forgot what was important: People still needed to be helped. He once again donned his armour, put a new weapon on his shoulders, and set out into Estar's many regions, once again helping those who truly needed it.

Another ten years has passed, and Raigor is getting older. His strength, whilst still massive, is not what it used to be. He's slower now, slightly weaker. So he begun his preparations in the formation of a sort of Heroes Guild, where he could train a new generation of warriors to take his place in delivering justice and protecting those who cannot protect themselves.

Allegiance: Heroes Guild

Other Information
Raigor has a very gruff tone and his manner of speech is sometimes hard to follow due to his thick Scottish accent. He is the leader of the Heroes Guild.

"Being the strongest and hardest man to kill on the battlefield often means you watch all your friends die first."

Edited by Spartan, Sep 6 2016, 08:54 AM.
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Operaror

Roleplayer Info
Username: Operaror
Contact Details: skype -eldarjoshua Discord- Operaror#3749

General
Full Name: Rhygia Brarum
Title(s): Leader ofhe unseen hand,
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Race: Snow Elf
Home Region: Northwrack
Sexual Orientation: Asexual
Height: 6'1
Weight: 10 stone
Appearance:Pale skin, long green hair parted to the left. Lithe and spindly in stature and standing at a meter and seventy centimeters. Often clad in black studded leather which is accompanies by his sigil on the left breast.
Personality:Once upon a time he was a great hero, a complicated man who buried his misanthropic tendencies behind the guise of 'hating evil' and 'purging the evil' but inside is a darker tale which was shown after his split.
Rhygia is two very different people, united only by their hatred for the world and the so-called heroes who defend it- one of him is a wild dog. They are ravenous and unable to control their hatred, often the one of the two who is sent to the frontlines, sent to do the dirty work. He takes a thrill out of the pain of his foes and has no time for monologues, he has time for action and enjoys doing his part to tear the world apart. Although his moves are beastly they have a certain practice to them- the years of heroism do pay off for the man.
His other self is a very different affair, icy and distant as opposed to the fire of his comrade- his hatred for the world manifests itself as a cold duty, a bitter resolving to destroy the world for how it left him by the wayside. The brains behind the organization, endlessly proud and self-assured and damned likely to give in to a good monologue at a broken foe. He enjoys his work, but wishes he didn't feel the need to do it but will nonetheless take a thrill in the pain of his foes and the discord which he sows.

Weapons and Abilities
Weapon(s): Nightstar, a sword which is imbued with the same magic Rhygia possesses, capable of selectively phasing through physical materials as he wills.
Magical Abilities: Splitting himself into two, phasing through solid matter(this can not be done indefinitely).

Backstory:

Rhygia was not always the man who he is now. he wasn't always the agent of chaos and discord he seeks to be now. Once upon a time he was virtuous, strong-willed and kindhearted; once upon a time he was even considered a hero but that was many long years ago. Something happened.
In his childhood he grew up in Northwrack, intoxicated by stories of Heroism and greatness; he began to train himself from as young as he could. He'd defend his village and upstage the guards to the point of it being near comical but eventually he realized that evil was far more widespread than he could've believed, so the young snow elf set off for the south.
For many years he was regarded as one of the best in the business who would bring peace, justice and goodwill wherever he went and even ended up being teamed up with the famous Raigor Karok to bring their justice throughout the land. The two of them were unstoppable and bandits would cower and their very names being mentioned until one day at Marsch things all began to go wrong. What would have been a routine mission to defeat some bandits took an unfortunate turn.

Outnumbered by 50 to 1 even the great Titan of Aggadar found himself outmatched. Rhygia was lost in the maelstrom of the fighting and thought to have died in the ensuing melee. He was not so lucky; the titan made an escape relatively unscathed but Rhygia was taken into captivity where he lost all faith in Humanity, elfkind, trolls, goblins and anything else to live or breathe. It was there he decided that the world had to burn.
For five years he'd disappeared off of the face of the Earth, victim to the sadistic tortures of the bandits who held him. He had been burned, beaten, cut and bled. The only thing he had not experienced in those hellish years was the relief of death But eventually it proved too much for him; on the brink of death he found solace in emptiness and thus learned of his magical potential and affiliation with nothingness. It was here he learned to split himself and to phase through the material realm. His soul had been split into two parts; his old self in a baleful, vengeful rage and the shattered remains of his mind. Insanity and warped heroism united by the perverse goal of wiping out life.

From here he returned to the north but instead of his homeland the two of them sought out the scummy undercity within Clyf and from there built a reputation. Having two of him meant he was known for his violent moodswings, ability to seemingly be in two places at once and cutthroat ethic. He assembled a following of the disenfranchised, misanthropic and evil and set upon tipping the world to anarchy by hacking at the thin threads of peace which remained between the races of Estar.
"Evil lives within the hearts of all men, so all men must die." "Limbs are overrated anyway, hah!!!"

Allegiance: Unseen Hand

Other Information
No visible difference between the two selves, only in disposition. Known for indifferent slaughter and recruitment across all peoples despite his racially aggressive messages, can not phase through things forever but he won't let on about it.

Edited by Operaror, Sep 6 2016, 12:51 PM.
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Operaror

Roleplayer Info
Username:Operaror
Contact Details: Skype- eldarjoshua Discord- Operaror#3749

General
Full Name: Nasthun Driaya
Title(s): N/A
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Trolls
Home Region: Pyre
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Height: 5'9
Weight: 9 stone
Appearance: Dark-red skinned, horns which curve backwards to the sides of his temples and hair slicked back to follow a similar look for his hair, giving an air of a debonair street con. His clothing was once that of a pauper, presented to the best standard but now he dresses in fine clothing. Often a jacket and buttoned shirt with gold along his lapels and in an ornate pattern along his sleeves. An air of cocky confidence often follows him.
Personality: Speaks in a calm, sophisticated tone. Suave without condescension and tries to keep his past as a pauper and a petty thief far behind him. He may seem superficially kind but his smile hides knives and he tries to seem serious and dangerous to people he's unfamiliar with although drops the facade for those he knows, to whom he is rather welcoming and protective.
Despite his professional workplace conduct he will often soften up when his Sister is involved. It is a weakness of his, a devotion to the only family he's much cared for; hit him there and he will seek revenge or else tread much more carefully when the betting is for her life rather than his.

Weapons and Abilities
Weapon(s): Knives (three) one hidden in the boot, one in the pocket, one up the sleeve. Although usually able to rely on his quick thinking and skills at close combat street-fighting he has an emergancy plan: a hallucnogenic on the knife hidden in his sleeve. A last resort for when things go awry.
Magical Abilities: Alchemical knowledge, particularly in posions, paralytics and hallucinogens.

Backstory:
Nasthun grew up an older brother, two years ahead of his sister: Sekh Driaya. They grew up close, competitive and were scarcely apart during their formative years. Like most of the troll families who lived in the hellish lands of Pyre he was expected to go to work in the mines to gather the minerals which littered the floor due to the high number of volcanoes in the area. He was told that his ancestors had done it, his parents had and that so should he. This was not the life he wanted and it was not the life which he wanted for his sister. He made his plans; he began to speak to local crime lords, gangsters and people who could offer him a way out. Over his teenage years he began to learn the ways of street thuggery and by the time he was aged eighteen he was a proficient conman and thief. By age eighteen he was ready to leave Pyre forever. He made a promise that he and his sister would never need to worry for the rest of their days so long as she trusted him.
That was the night they left Pyre. Smuggled out in a shipment of contraband they made their way north, out of the horrific fire-scarred blasted-lands and into the lush, rich verdant potential which he saw in Courtslyn. Here he had to provide for himself and his Sister. A life of pickpocketing, conning and smuggling was upon him. He would rob people blind without them realizing and at the height of his new career he would consort with the aristocrats and oligarchs of the cities as they commissioned whatever sordid services they required from him. His name became synonymous with guile and skill. A thief, a smuggler, someone to acquire fake-goods and nearly everything that could be imagined. But one day he was asked to take a life; he'd known this was coming for so long but when it was finally time he did not know what to say! He accepted the job, of course, the fee which was attached to it would've been foolish to leave. The target was fat and overwealthy, a political move to see them dead but even then he found it difficult. Faced with a sleeping fat-man the weight of his actions hit him until the thought of his sister's safety and potential happiness persuaded him. They persuaded him to plunge the knife into his throat and thus add 'assassin' to the lengthy list of criminal titles which were attached to him.
Years of this work came by, bold jobs, jobs which could leave a score of people dead. Corrupt officials murdered for the same price as the pure. He clad himself in gold and finery as he so desired and as money began to become less of an issue and a stable accommodation and income to buy food came to him he began to crave funds less and less. He craved excitement. Smuggling weapons, drugs and whatever else the common people would want did not give him the same thrill as crawling through an area crawling with people who'd slit his neck if they saw him. He finds himself living with his sister in Courtyln and desperately hoping a job would come to him.
The son of the miner turned thief and murdered lived in the same luxury as those who he'd robbed and yet he finds himself dissatisfied. With razor-sharp knives and a tongue which is sharper the troll just waits for another job to get his blood racing and his heart singing again; his conditions were the same as they had always been. Anything has its price...though surely there is something he would refuse to do?


Allegiance: Neutral

Other Information

Edited by Operaror, Sep 7 2016, 12:10 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Operaror

Roleplayer Info
Username:Operaror
Contact Details: Skype- eldarjoshua Discord- Operaror#3749

General
Full Name: Nasthun Driaya
Title(s): N/A
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Trolls
Home Region: Pyre
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Height: 5'9
Weight: 9 stone
Appearance: Dark-red skinned, horns which curve backwards to the sides of his temples and hair slicked back to follow a similar look for his hair, giving an air of a debonair street con. His clothing was once that of a pauper, presented to the best standard but now he dresses in fine clothing. Often a jacket and buttoned shirt with gold along his lapels and in an ornate pattern along his sleeves. An air of cocky confidence often follows him.
Personality: Speaks in a calm, sophisticated tone. Suave without condescension and tries to keep his past as a pauper and a petty thief far behind him. He may seem superficially kind but his smile hides knives and he tries to seem serious and dangerous to people he's unfamiliar with although drops the facade for those he knows, to whom he is rather welcoming and protective.
Despite his professional workplace conduct he will often soften up when his Sister is involved. It is a weakness of his, a devotion to the only family he's much cared for; hit him there and he will seek revenge or else tread much more carefully when the betting is for her life rather than his.

Weapons and Abilities
Weapon(s): Knives (three) one hidden in the boot, one in the pocket, one up the sleeve. Although usually able to rely on his quick thinking and skills at close combat street-fighting he has an emergancy plan: a hallucnogenic on the knife hidden in his sleeve. A last resort for when things go awry.
Magical Abilities: Alchemical knowledge, particularly in posions, paralytics and hallucinogens.

Backstory:
Nasthun grew up an older brother, two years ahead of his sister: Sekh Driaya. They grew up close, competitive and were scarcely apart during their formative years. Like most of the troll families who lived in the hellish lands of Pyre he was expected to go to work in the mines to gather the minerals which littered the floor due to the high number of volcanoes in the area. He was told that his ancestors had done it, his parents had and that so should he. This was not the life he wanted and it was not the life which he wanted for his sister. He made his plans; he began to speak to local crime lords, gangsters and people who could offer him a way out. Over his teenage years he began to learn the ways of street thuggery and by the time he was aged eighteen he was a proficient conman and thief. By age eighteen he was ready to leave Pyre forever. He made a promise that he and his sister would never need to worry for the rest of their days so long as she trusted him.
That was the night they left Pyre. Smuggled out in a shipment of contraband they made their way north, out of the horrific fire-scarred blastedlands and into the lush, rich verdance which he saw in Courtslyn. Here he had to provide for himself and his Sister. A life of pickpocketing, conning and smuggling was upon him. He would rob people blind without them realizing and at the height of his new career he would consort with the aristocrats and oligarchs of the cities as they comissioned whatever sordid services they required from him. His name became synonymous with subtlty and skill. A thief, a smuggler, someone to acquire fake-goods and nearly everything that could be imagined. But one day he was asked to take a life; he'd known this was coming for so long but when it was finally time he did not know what to say! He accepted the job, of course, the fee which was attached to it would've been foolish to leave. The target was fat and overwealthy, a political move to see them dead but even then he found it difficult. Faced with a sleeping fat-man the weight of his actions hit him until the thought of his sister's safety and potential happiness persuaded him. They persuaded him to plunge the knife into his throat and thus add 'assassin' to the lengthy list of criminal titles which were attached to him.
Years of this work came by, bold jobs, jobs which could leave a score of people dead. Corrupt officials murdered for the same price as the pure. He clad himself in gold and finery as he so desired and as money began to become less of an issue and a stable accommodation and income to buy food came to him he began to crave funds less and less. He craved excitement. Smuggling weapons, drugs and whatever else the common people would want did not give him the same thrill as crawling through an area crawling with people who'd slit his neck if they saw him. He finds himself living with his sister in Courtyln and desperately hoping a job would come to him.
The son of the miner turned thief and murdered lived in the same luxary as those who he'd robbed and yet he finds himself dissatisfied. With razor-sharp knives and a tongue which is sharper the troll just waits for another job to get his blood racing and his heart singing again; his conditions were the same as they had always been. Anything has its price...though surely there is somethings he refuses to do?

Allegiance: Neutral

Other Information

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Spartan
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Edited by Spartan, Sep 7 2016, 02:21 PM.
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