Hello hello everybody.
Its time to get ready for Tephra, the steampunk rpg with style.
This thread will just be used for bios, discussion, and character journals, of course.
Tuesdays at 5:30 in the Psych auditorium
This post was updated on .
With a thousand lies
And a good disguise
Hit 'em right between the eyes
Hit 'em right between the eyes
When you walk away
Nothing more to say
See the lightning in your eyes
See 'em running for their lives
Defining Quote: Lying is like, 99% of what I do.
Second Generation Farishtaa (Born as a Farishtaa from two Farishtaa Parents. He was never an elf).
White Tower Mercenary,
Currently an double-agent for the Ashen Angels.
Uther has few, if any, distinguishing characteristics or features. His face is frustratingly non-descript and difficult to describe or remember, he is of average Farishtaa height, has short hair, keeps himself cleanly shaved, and is in excellent physical shape. He has a His body, while lean, is tightly packed and seems ready to spring into action at the first sign of danger.
He is often seen in a variety of outfits and disguises, though he prefers well-fitted clothing that ristricts his movement as little as possible. He often wears a sleek Slightly-Darker Black turtleneck under his civilian clothes in case the situation calls for a tactical garment.
Uther was born to a pair of wealthy and affluent Farishtaa parents. Until recently, he suffered little real hardship, and was afforded every opportunity to succeed. He was educated by the finest tutors, and when he showed an aptitude for military skills, he was sent to the West Column, The White Tower Mercenaries' most respected, toughest and finest military school.
It was there he developed his considerable skill with the Rifle, and his aptitude at manipulation. He was fast-tracked to join the most skilled and secretive branches of White Tower agents. His being a second-generation, or "True-born", Farishtaa only accelerated him further in what promised to be a shining career. He seem truly destined to reach the highest pillars of Dalvozzean society. He recieved high praise and awards for his discovery of the use of the Slightly-Darker Black Turtleneck as a tactical garment, and popularized its use among White Tower operatives.
All that changed after his first assignment. Uther was to assassinate one of the top leaders among the Ashen Angels. He believed that he was eliminating a real threat to the safety of his home. the plan was to infiltrate the Ashen Angels, and kill a local leader of the group from within. Uther, in attaining the trust of the Ashen Angels, began to sympathize with them, and so when he found himself alone with the leader in his quarters, silenced-pistol in hand, staring at him. He handed over his weapon, confessed his mission, and pledged himself to the Ashen Angels. The leader of the local Ashen Angels faked his death, and made it appear to be as if Uther had succeeded. Allowing Uther to return to the White Tower as a Double-Agent.
The real Uther is buried under layers and layers of masks, personas and falsehoods. He puts on an outer appearance of a sarcastic dillitante that puts his own needs and desired before those of others. Deep down, he deeply cares about injustice in the world, and works behind the scenes to fix those injustices.
Uther's presence exudes careful confidence and intense capability. Every movement is careful and deliberate, as if he had spent more time than he had weighing and calculating every shift in posture, every step, and every sidewards glance.
Paldoran Insanity Wards
Patient # 9304
Name: CORRUPTED DATA Gerbil's Burp (possible alias according to one interrogated associate)
Nationality: Paldoran Exiles (banished)
Status: Escaped and Dangerous
Entry by: Dr. Rellik
Physical Characteristics: Height: 2'2, Weight: 85lbs. Appearance: Bespectacled (or begoggled) with long red dreadlocks tied back.
Notes: His condition seemed to manifest during adulthood. From all reports (namely from that of his sister and certain childhood acquaitances.) he was a quiet child, albeit one with a mild temper. Living with his older sister (name: CORRUPTED DATA) and widowed mother (name CORRUPTED DATA), he received little attention in his upbringing due to his mother's focus on his sister's special needs due to a disability. This led to not atypical adolescent angst.
His eccentricities seemed to show themselves after a routine scavenge, during which he acquired some minor explosives. Always the tinkerer, his interest found a focus. Apparently, he was content at the time to use these for acts of minor vandalism. This is where his rap sheet begins. From all reports, the normally quiet and subdued CORRUPTED DATA cackled maniacally as he watched his mild destruction, which led to his easy arrest. Serving short time for the misdemeanor, he was released yet not rehabilitated.
With his interest in explosives now turned into an obsession, her earned a reputation as the "go-to-guy" for bombs amongst his compatriots. This led to his involvement in several major crimes including the death of 4 innocent bystanders on one occasion. Put on trial for manslaughter and other charges, his sentenced was reduced from execution to an indefinite confinement in the Wards.
From here, he seemed to be by all accounts including my own, to be a prime example of how modern techniques of rehabilitation can heal the criminally inclined. He was a quiet and polite patient, with one noticeable eccentricity. He gave all of his mechanized possessions sentient names. His automatic privy and waste dispenser was named "Sam" for example.
We realized we had made a grave mistake in letting our guards down around him, so to speak, when only it was too late. With chemicals taken from medication and other unknown sources, he built enough explosives to blast his way out of the wards. Once outside, he murdered a woman for her transport, and made a complete escape.
After 10 years he is still at large and extremely dangerous, if he is still alive.
This post was updated on .
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Dr. Izzad - Log One - Bio-Flux Experiment, Genetic Alteration
So far, my first forays into Bio-Flux were fairly successful. Bio-Invigoration seemed like the safest field, unless you try to bring back the dead of course. (Seriously, did those people working with the princess think that there would be no problems at all? It was the first time anyone had ever tried resurrection, and they should be surprised that they had even that much success! We're not God.) So I've decided its time to move on to something much meatier, in the form of genetic alteration. I've gotten plans for a rudimentary device, and I'll begin assembling it over the next day.
So I've finally put together the device. This thing really doesn't look like any Genetic alteration device I've seen in my experience, but of course that hasn't been much, with the ban in place it's pretty difficult to find fellow colleagues. Come to think of it, the person I got this from seemed a bit strange, covered in robes with his face wrapped up. Well, at worst, its probably some scam combined with a little prank, possibly one of those things that fuses your eyelids together (the man did mention something about "preparing for unforeseen consequences" I assumed it was a standard warning.) Still, I might as well activate it, maybe I'll get my prince's worth out of it.
Shit. I...I don't remember entirely what happened. Some sort of odd explosion, and then my arm, my goddamn arm, it changed, and it started moving of it's own accord. All I could think of was to amputate the horrifying thing, and as soon as I did, it got up and ran off, jumped through a goddamn window. Of course, that's not the only thing that changed. Part of my face got caught, but there's not much that's doing, except a twitch or convulsion every so often. The worst part, I think it changed part of my brain. I've begun to hear whispers, that weren't there before. Propagate. Spread. Whatever it is, I think it wants to change every being on Tephra. It doesn't seem particularly complex in its desires. Luckily enough, I've been dabbling in prosthetics, so I should be able to do something about my arm.
The demon still resides within my mind. It still wishes to spread it's filth across the world, and some of its blasphemous utterances reveal to me the method in which it wishes me to do this. I have been brash in my attempt to gain the power over life, a power reserved for the goddess, and she has sent a demon to see if I truly have the strength of will to wield such power. I have accepted her test, and made myself in the image of one of her divine servants in order to show my devotion.
"And lo, she sent down her angel. With a hand made of fire, it smote the wicked, and with it's other hand, it healed the faithful."
This post was updated on .
Name: Robin Pendergast
Theme: See You Tomorrow composed by John Powell
History: Not much is known about the early life of Robin Pendergast, aside from the fact that he was not born a free citizen. At some point in his childhood, he was brought or escaped to Evangless. He is likely in his early-to-mid twenties at best. He's spent most of his years in the port city of Viraguay in the far west of Evangless. He apparently made well enough for himself on the streets of Viraguay, so it seems, because he's gone from a runaway slave to a confident and talented rookie adventurer.
When asked about his past, he will cheerfully recount the adventures he's had in Viraguay--seeing the ships come in and out, running errands for the sailors, watching the local constabulary chase down a thief in the night--but he becomes uncomfortable if pressed about his life before he reached the city.
The What: Robin is average-height for a satyr, which is to say a bit shorter than your average human, with medium-toned skin. His hair and fur are very dark brown, nearly black, and his eyes are grey. The horns that sprout from his head are slightly curved and oriented towards his back, and they are black. Robin also possesses a particularly fluffy deer-like tail, with white fur along its ventral side, which contrasts sharply with the darker fur of the rest of his hindquarters (he's very self-conscious about it). When he is frightened or startled, it gets even fluffier, much to his chagrin.
The Who: Like most satyrs, Robin is cheerful, exuberant, and quite social. It doesn't take terribly long to befriend him as long as one treats him with a decent amount of respect... and even if they don't, he's quick to forgive and forget small slights. He can become quite serious quite fast when something unsavory is afoot, and holds no mercy for those he considers wrongdoers. The same cheerful fellow that may try to cheer a grumpy comrade with a goofy limerick will ruthlessly cut down a foe in cold blood.
He is somewhat naive to the broader workings of the world, and has a tendency to be scatterbrained. Robin often pulls through when his comrades least expect him to, though. He will sometimes take charge in tactical situations, but he's more of a follower than a leader, and will usually defer to others if pressured.
(character journal #1 woo woo; grammar and spelling mistakes in the letter are intentional.)
Well things are picking up in a big way and make no mistake! Do you remember the junkyard dogs that used to bark at us when we went though Wyatt Street? Imagine if they were, instead, monstrus snakemen! Then you will have some manner of idea as to what my first adventure was like. Only, there was no fence, and they also had a Gattling Gun, and quite a bit of axes and fisticuffs and shooting gentleman in their Unmentionables was involved.
I apologize for my sloppy penmanship, I am endeavoring to improve it but these days I am ever more convinced that improving my swordsmanship is more important! Perhaps I shall find time for both, and then I will wielde both a Mighty Pen and a Sword, ha ha!
I do not know much what to make of my companions? Otto is very deadly with his rifle, but I fear at times he gets carried away, and he is a Farishtaa. I do not know how to spell the name of our Gnomish explosives expert, so I will refer to him as G. If I were to ask him, I am half-certain he would give me one of his shrill cackles rather than answer me. We are also accompanied by an Ayodin, and I am afraid I have forgotten his name. He is a quiet sort, but very skilled with his most unusual of weapons! Dr. Izzad is a human and has a pros-thetic (?) arm, he is also an accomplished healer. Sorrel is quite strong, though he is somewhat grumpy, but hopefully a bit of Good Cheer will lighten his mood. I am afraid I have quite forgotten the name of our last member, but he should be called Silvertongue because he has a way with words that is mightier than any pen or sword!
I have more to say but I am afraid I am running out of paper! I will write to you once again as soon as I am able.
Hoping this Correspondence Finds You Well,
That is all.
In reply to this post by Tomasik
The purveyor of Shadwell's Curatives had seen many odd customers in his time, but he had never encountered something quite like this. He stared, utterly stock-still, at the form before him: a young, middle-sized satyr, utterly caked in blood and gore. The shopkeeper's eyes slowly sunk to the floor, at what the bedraggled figure had tracked in with him. That's quite a mess, he thought to himself, dazedly, I'm going to have to clean that up... "C-can I help you, sir?"
"Soaps. Shampoos. Anything," the satyr replied, "that will make me clean again."
The shopkeeper stared back for a few long moments. "Er, we have Brewster's Hair Dressing? It's rather expensive, though..." He gestured to one of the bottle on display.
The satyr peered forward, eyes traveling over the intricate lettering of the label. Brewster's Hair Dressing, Prepared with only the Finest Oils and Delicately Perfumed for Lasting Luxury- Leave no Follicle Untouched!
In larger letters, underneath, it proclaimed its endorsements by several important-sounding doctors. "Will it... will it help?" The satyr asked, looking back up to the shopkeeper.
The clerk nodded grimly. "It may be the only thing that can."
"I'll take six bottles."
They made me play good today. Why I'm following these holier than thou do gooders is beyond me. We had what it took to wipe out the law, kill the robbers, and take the loot for ourselves. Instead, I find myself shootin off a man spider's arms with no reward but a pat on the back and whatever few princes he may have on his person. Fuck that. Fuck them. They can't cage me. The team dynamic shall change. Just need my chance to break free, then the only code I will have to follow will be what I decide will blow up into tiny-bloody-little-bits and what will not. I will be respected. I will be feared.
Plus, I want a friggin dog.
- Johnny Boom Boom
Uther stops by the local postal office and purchases a postcard, quickly scrawls the following note, and has it mailed off to a remote address in Dalvozzea.
For those keeping track at home, here is the XP allotted in this thread so far
(That awkward moment were everyone's names are absurdly close in alphabetical order)
Stay tuned though. As soon as I can, I'm going to post something really, really important. I just had a wonderful idea
This post was updated on .
click here for free sex
Also, I had 3 xp. You counted my post as a journal and a character backstory.
that free sex left something to be desired...
This post was updated on .
Theme Song: Sword of the Stranger (異邦人の刃)
Alternate Theme Song: To the Edge of the Sky (空の涯まで)
Nagin is an Ayodin of typical size. He is flexible, agile, and in peak physical condition. His skin is covered with scars all over his body, and has a dark blue color, a typical characteristic for deep-sea Ayodin. However, he has a rare genetic trait that causes the hair-like appendages that extend from his head to be red, rather than the typical blue. He normally disguises these through various methods, be it the use of a cloak or temporary dyes, particularly in the presence of other Ayodin. He has a surprising amount of control over his wings, which he moves as deftly as he does his arms and hands. His clothing tends to favor comfort over fashion, and he is almost never without a black cloak that he uses to cover his wings.
Nagin is typically soft-spoken and reserved, only speaking when he deems it necessary. He typically lets his actions, which are always deliberate and precise, show how he feels. Some may call him cold, but he has a gentle demeanor and is welcoming to those around him, provided that they do not inquire about his past, which is known only to his closest friends. He has a profound respect for life and despises killing, but he will kill those who threaten the lives of innocents without hesitation. He still carries the weight of his past on his shoulders, and while he may wear a cheerful smile on the outside, those around him may notice a deep sadness behind this facade if they are observant.
Born in the great depths of the ocean, Nagin lived most of his early life in total darkness. He is the eldest son of an extremely nationalistic and supremacist family. He comes from a long heritage of proud Ayodin warriors; both his mother and father were prominent officers in the Ayodin military. Eager to live up to his parents' reputations, Nagin spent his childhood and adolescence honing his mind and body. The little free time that he did have was devoted to tinkering with technology, which led to him developing a penchant for blades and altering their capabilities.
By the time Nagin had reached adulthood, he was already experienced in various styles of combat and was extremely well educated for his age. Nagin joined the Ayodin military as soon as he was of age and quickly rose through the ranks. His skill with the blade that he created himself made him an ideal candidate for the special forces, where he received stealth, infiltration, and espionage training.
Nagin gained command of his own squad, where he gained a reputation as a decisive leader, but was eventually reassigned as a one man unit specializing in surgical elimination of key targets. He became a legend within Ayodin military circles, and as his body count climbed, so did his renown. When the Hurricane Wars began, however, the nature of his targets changed. No longer was he killing war criminals and dangerous political figures; he was instead tasked with slaughtering innocent surfacers, which weighed heavily on his conscience, causing him to reconsider the supremacist values that had been instilled within him since his birth.
This culminated when he was ordered to kill a pair of human children who had survived a raid on a small village by the Ayodin army. He stood, ready to strike, and for the first time in his career as soldier, he hesitated, caught in the terrified gaze of the young child, holding her younger brother in her arms. His commander shouted the order again, and he instinctively struck them down.
Distraught by the guilt of killing the two children, he deserted the Ayodin army and pledged allegiance to the surfacers. He helped to turn the tide of the Hurricane Wars, often deploying by airship to assassinate key members of the Ayodin chain of command. When the war ended, he quietly moved to the frontier hoping to escape his bloody past and find the freedom of a new beginning. While on the frontier, he joined the sons of strife, where he wandered from town to town, helping rebuild the nation that he originally helped destroy.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Izzad
We are sorry about your son's disappearance. We know that Dr. Bahaar Izzad was meant to be heir to the caravan, and his loss is as devastating to us as it is to you, especially after the death of Shurima, who served as a faith healer with us for several years, helping many patients. I used to be somewhat of a skeptic before I saw how much better patients felt with her around. Bahaar was close with her, and it was after her death that Bahaar began to change. He constantly stated that there had to have been a way to save her, and he seemed to be growing increasingly impatient with the methods of his and our work. We also apologize for being unable to find time to meet with you in person, but in addition to us being very busy as usual, we have also been dealing with the disappearance of Shurima's little brother, Jasper. Jasper, who you may be familiar with, is a very young man who has proved to be a savant in the area of building automatons. It's surprising what he manages to do with the salvage in the caravan, but he is very eccentric, his sister and his constructs being the only company he keeps. He probably wouldn't last very long in the desert, and we have desperately been trying to find him before something happens to him. Still, if you have any other questions, we would be happy to assist you.
This post was updated on .
In reply to this post by Jacbo117
Nagin pulls out a small leather-bound journal and begins writing in the language of the Ayodin.
"Pardon me Gents, I'm going to go see what has happened to our stewardess," Uther said with a smile and a slight bow as he stood up from his seat in the first class dining car, "for I fear my glass is empty."
Twenty minutes had passed since the train was scheduled to stop for fuel and supplies at a depot, and the train had been gathering speed since. Uthers suspicions about the group he had identified at the station were proving to be accurate. Bulky and unseasonable clothing betrayed a clumsy and painfully obvious attempt to hide weapons, nervous glances towards the one whom was clearly their leader, and the large, heavy, and misshapen carry-on luggage that was clearly a bomb or other mission critical device were all obvious indicators to Uther that one, this group was up to something, two, that they were amateurs, and three, that rail security had ignored his anonymous warnings about them.
Stopping by his private cabin on the way to the front of the train, Uther took off his White Tower Officers Trench-Coat, revealing a slightly-darker black Tactle-Neck, and hung his coat on the coat hanger on the inside of the door. He then entered the combination to the lock on his rifle case and removed the weapon from it's foam casing. He had applied his knowledge of firearm a bit in caring for his weapon, having modified the upper reciever to accept auto-loading magazines, and to fire a higher caliber round. He grabbed two of the 6-round magazines before loading one into the rifle, checked his side-arm and sabre, removed the peace knots from both, and began to head to the front of the train to rescue the pretty stewardess from the clumsy and amateurish attempt at domestic terrorism.
Time to get to work, he thought.
- - - LATER - - -
'The roof...Why did they have to get on the roof of the train? Why do people do this?! You're still just, on the train. Except now you have to deal with dust impacting into your eyes (like being shot with a glitter gun), low-cover bridges, and limited room to maneuver. Though sometimes, they have a helicopter, but I doubt these amateurs thought that far ahead. Fighting on top of a train is probably their lifelong dream.' Uther mused as he climbed the ladder to the roof of the train chasing after the "terrorists".
"The Good news is," he muttered as he peeked out from the roof hatch and set up his rifle, "Now, I'm furious."
With a steady hand and careful aim, Uther squeezed off shots down the train towards the back. His rifle cracking like thunder each time. With each gentle pull of the trigger, a fountain of blood and gore appeared in his scope. Uther calmly picked off each of the "terrorists" that were foolishly standing on top of the train.
This post was updated on .
Theme song: Cruel Angel's Thesis by Yoko Takahashi. Some of you will surely recognize it as the intro to Neon Genesis Evangelion. Here are the English lyrics; I feel it fits what I plan to do with Kova perfectly.
It was just a few months after the airship Kova was assigned to took off. He had dreamed of this opportunity for quite some time; the chance to work on the crew of one of these behemoths excited him more than anything. Who would ever want to stay in one place? Unlike many Ayodins, Kova was a man of ingenuity and broad perspectives. He wanted to see the world and could not think of a better way to do so than aboard a "living cloud" as he called them.
In his youth, Kova had seen a decent portion of Paldora while traveling with his family. The Licious family, while not extremely wealthy, was well-known in certain parts of Paldora for its high-quality organic crops. Their plot of land was quite sizable and had been in the family for generations. The wealth really began to pour in as the land began to die and most of the farmland across Paldora could not produce. The Licious plantation stayed lush and green much longer than the rest of the nation, probably due to the powerful druidic shamanism at work. Kova's mother is a skilled shaman and Kova is beginning to uncover and hone his skills.
After being reassigned to the crew of a different living cloud Kova decided to make his break and return to the surface. Life in the skies wasn't all he dreamed it would be and he missed his parents. They had chosen not to evacuate, choosing instead to nourish the land and do their part to recover Paldora. He eventually found his way back home and was disturbed, although not surprised, by what had become of the people who raised him. They were not dead yet thank goodness but the radiation had taken its toll. They did not have much time left and neither did the land. He decided to stay with them until the end even if hanging out in this wasteland meant risking his own life. Only 4 days after returning to Paldora Kova had to bury both of his parents on the same day. He loaded up the corpses in the largest of four wagons they owned and rode out to the edge of the plantation where the star fruit orchard was. There was one living tree left, similar to his family. After saying a long-winded prayer to Gilkoroh he spent all day digging a deep hole and fashioning a crude headstone out of what materials he could find. "I'll come back someday" he said out loud as a tear fell from his pale blue face. He returned home, prepared himself a quiet meal of toast with star fruit jam, and began to see what all had been left to him.
Since he was little, Kova had known of the cellar beyond the cellar. He saw the door underneath the rug in a corner beneath a shelf and asked his father about it. "That is where we keep things that should never be seen again. Don't let me catch you down there" his father said, eyes full of a mixture of rage and sorrow. Now, however, things seemed different. Kova needed to know what was down there and he found a key in his mother's bureau. "Perhaps this is it" he thought as he proceeded downstairs and opened the familiar door that led to the cellar. So much food! It was obvious his parents did not plan on selling any of their harvest, choosing instead to can and preserve as much of it for themselves rather than keep it fresh. No other eyes have seen so much pickled kale and star fruit jam. After removing the lower two shelves above the secret cellar door Kova used the key and clambered down the ladder into a tiny crawlspace. There on a dais was an old trident and a small leather-bound notebook.
Obviously these things belonged to his father and were used during the Hurricane Wars, something his parents never talked about. What was so terrible that it was forbidden to be allowed to resurface? "Doesn't matter; this is my story now" Kova thought as he removed the items from their supposed-to-be final resting places. "I will start a new chapter in the Licious legacy somewhere." There was plenty of space left in the little notebook and Kova decided he would add to it in his travels since he could not stay here for obvious reasons. He vowed not to read his father's entries until he was satisfied with his station in life, whatever that may be.
I bought a train ticket to go to the capital city and see the crowning ceremony. Not sure where i'll stay while i'm in the city but it seems like a great place to start over. All I know is farming but I have some money. Maybe I can learn another trade? Or maybe I can put my farming skills to good use. I've never ridden a train before; this is nice even in coach. It is a bit chilly but I have plenty of warm clothes.
What the hell?! This surface world is ridiculous. I want to go back to my living cloud. Good thing I am curious I suppose though. Only a few people on the train bothered to do anything when things went awry. I don't know anything about the political atmosphere in this region or the other passengers so i'm not sure why this train was targeted for amateur terrorism but they were quickly dispatched. I saw an odd symbol on the uniform of one of the terrorists. Hopefully I can figure out what it means eventually *hasty scrawl of Harbinger insignia*
One of the people who helped stop the train from crashing was a fellow Ayodin. We haven't talked much but I plan to learn what I can from him. I hoped to talk to the others but we all went our separate ways once we reached the city.
In reply to this post by Jacbo117
Nagin returns briefly to the building that houses the Sons of Strife to find it empty; all of the members have mobilized in response to the terrorist attack and are currently aiding the citizens within the capital. He quickly scrawls a note on a scrap of paper and leaves it on the desk of the branch's supervisor.
After leaving the message, Nagin quickly returns to the town square to assist in whatever way he can, and possibly pick up on a few leads along the way. He thinks to himself, It seems that I will be in the capital longer than I had originally planned, I cannot allow this terrorist threat to persist.
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