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PostPosted: Oct 17th, '08, 21:51 
Furfag
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Joined: Jul 20th, '07, 10:30
Posts: 801
I think i might be able to make it tonight then, shoved away some exams and finally have some time for myself : D


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PostPosted: Oct 17th, '08, 22:53 
Masters of Fate
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Location: Somewhere beyond the clouds
Galiae may still be making an appearance dependant upon how this event goes, or if she is required, but until then--



::Name:: Gareth Mortanis
::Age:: 17
::Alignment:: Neutral Good
::Class:: Pure Sorcerer, Divine Heritage
::Class Affinity:: Evocation – Lightning; Necromancy
::Hair Colour:: Golden Brown
::Eye Colour:: Blackened voids; Silver irises.


The young man regards you with a neutral gaze, peering over his spectacles with eyes of deepest black around a ring of grey; chaotic voids that pierce the very soul. Beneath this unnerving stare however is a serene and gentle smile, turning his expression into a contradiction of itself to those who would look close enough. After running a hand back through tousled, golden brown hair, the boy returns to what he had been reading.

“Perhaps someday they shall stop staring,” he sighed.


The son of Keldrin and Galiae Mortanis, Gareth is one half of a living testament to an eternal bond of Light and Darkness. By appearances he is beautiful; pale of flesh that is shaped into the sharp angles of both slender build and countenance. That face is framed by unkempt locks of golden brunette, the light colour perhaps betraying a divine heritage. Bearing the piercing eyes of his father, they appear as little more than blackened spheres beneath the lids, though interrupted by silver-grey irises. With a natural aversion to bright light because of these eyes, he is often seen wearing slightly tinted spectacles to aid in combating the difficulty. The remainder of his lean frame is garbed in loose, open robes of black and darker shades of blue or violet, belted into place above nondescript trousers and boots. He cuts an elegant figure, but a surprisingly unobtrusive one as well.

Despite harboring an innate connection to the evoked energies of the Weave, Gareth has chosen to follow closely in his father’s footsteps and the art of necromancy. While his sister Charlotte proves to be the more “adventurous” twin, he instead devotes himself to his art and apprenticeship, quietly preparing to seize the reigns one day. Shadowing Keldrin as he does, it is an intimidating thing to see both father and son stalking side by side in public; such a sight causing passersby to choose a different route themselves.

On the exterior, one might find the boy difficult to approach, and the surname he bears hardly makes things easier. His visage is often cold and brooding in the reflection of an ever-calculating mind, and this supposed apathy tends to keep others at bay unintentionally. Beneath this frigid mask, however, lies the gentle nature and serenity of his mother; ever willing to help another in his own quiet way should they need it. Though not typically one to initiate a conversation on his own, he proves to be eloquent and overly-polite in his speech and mannerisms—another trait perhaps inherited from his Galiae. The tranquil smile you see in passing becomes a window past the wall of ice that so obscures his heart.

Perhaps the only one who truly knows what lies behind that black stare is Gareth’s younger sister, Charlotte. Being twins, there is between them an unbreakable connection that oftentimes can be considered eerie, and there are occasions when neither requires a single word to communicate their every thought to the other. In part because of this connection, and in part caused by a sense of duty as the son and elder twin, Gareth is particularly protective of both his sister and mother. While able to deal with the grief he receives from his peers without blinking an eye, a severe intolerance of slander toward his family is the sole thing that causes his calm, collected demeanor to shatter and provoke a volatile temper that is otherwise carefully hidden. He has no love for paladins and their preaching a “tainted definition of ‘justice’”, and a particular hatred for the name Pelgrin Swordjust, finding no desire to hold back that angry, vindictive side of his personality from the likes of those who would cause his family pain.

“I suggest you do not meddle with the name of Mortanis. My family has worked far too hard for even the slightest semblance of peace, and may the gods strike you a thousand times over if you think that for a moment I shall stand for your loose tongue and ignorance.”

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PostPosted: Oct 17th, '08, 23:23 
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Location: In ur base killin ur doods.
Likewise I will bring Kothe if he's needed but otherwise i'll be on this one!


Charlotte Mortanis
Age: 17
Sex: Female
Class: Fighter/Sorcerer
Class Affinity: Evocation, Fire; Swordsmanship.
Height: 5’0’
Weight: 112 lbs
Race: Human (Minor celestial heritage)

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General Appearance:
This female stands the perfect figure of neutrality; born of a spawn of pure evil, spat from the very hells itself, and the essence of innocence and justice; she who would flutter from the heavens gates to grace the world with her presence.

Charlottes figure is much akin to her mother’s; a spritely, supple figure which flows with an evenly proportioned grace; beneath which lies just as much innocence and good will to all who live; even if this is shrouded by her father’s influence. Lengthy locks of golden brown hair falls to the small of her back, often, if not always tied into a tail of sorts before given the grace of falling unhindered between her shoulder blades; this style further accentuating the natural beauty which radiates from her youthful cheeks, and the fusion of black and silver in her eyes; a captive and radiant blend that could likely lock a demon in place with a single glance.

Despite the girls lithe figure she cannot be mistaken for your average rogue or bandit. Slender, athletically formed muscles lace her arms and when lucky enough to lay eyes upon them, her legs and stomach offering her minor physical strength; coupled with this, she often carries an intricately weaved, purple and black katana sheathe on the right hand side of her robe, within which sits an heirloom of sorts, a sword gifted by her father the very day she turned sixteen years of age. Since this day it has sat at her side; a tool for intimidation and protection, for all who gaze upon it will know of its lineage and fear the man her father has come to be.

Thick, Pale iron ringlet armour clings to her chest; clipped in place by various leather straps and a series of larger rings, and a similar armour hangs loosely from her upper arms to be met by a pair of heavy metallic, fingered gauntlets, riveted and custom made for the purpose of ease of movement. The chains cease at her waist to be met by a flowing silken robe, decorated in a pale purple colour which contrasts with one of deepest black, ending just above what might be a similar boot to that her mother wears.

Atop this robe sits a thick leather belt, to which, various pouches, bags and sacks are tied containing what is likely her lives belongings; herbs, potions, healing equipment whetstones and similar, each pouch padded with an interior lace of sealskin; perhaps to cease rattling of coins. Coupled with these, various “must haves” interlink with the belts material, including a compass, a sheathe for a dagger or knife, and a water skin and rope.



Familiar:
Name: Raziel
Race: Avian, Crow, Blackbird.

Image

Raziel is the perfect specimen of a crow, hobbling along in his own little humorous way, pecking at the ground from time to time as hunger takes him. He is well groomed to the point that the feathers he wields shimmer with a gentle blue light, reflected by the surface of the feathery bird, giving it a dark sapphire glow, both radiant and beautiful as it is illusive and wicked. This particular crow considers himself a king among birds, oft riding on the shoulder of the armoured mage to save his wings the effort, and stranger still is that he may make conversation with her, too, a trick likely picked up over the vast years of study and training.

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Never under estimate the power that language imparts. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can break hearts.

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PostPosted: Oct 18th, '08, 05:31 
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Joined: Nov 24th, '04, 20:55
Posts: 422
Location: Something serious.
I'm unsure whether I'll be able to attend or not, but here's a character just in case.

Name: Shreina
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Class: Druid/Monk (and eventually shifter)

The young woman who stands before you appears to be an elf in her adolescent years. Brown, unremarkable hair is tied up out of a face which looks average to elven standards. She stands at an average height and her body, although well toned, possesses neither the toughness nor lithe grace found in so many other adventurers. Her clothes are usually a mixture of greens and browns, looking almost sloppy on her average frame. In fact, the only thing that might be considered remarkable about her are her animalistic, golden brown eyes.


Branches spread their emerald leaves above the forest floor, creating an intricate pattern of lace upon the fallen leaves. A wind gently caressed the trees, floating through the forest and leaving the sound of rustling in its wake.
Shreina closed her eyes briefly, feeling the warmth of the sun soak through her clothing and to her skin underneath. The spicy smell of crushed leaves met her nose as she took it all in, enjoying the moment of peace and quiet.
A sound of a cracking twig snapped her out of her reverie as she quickly looked over her shoulder. A wolf came into sight, standing patiently as if waiting for her to speak. Its coat, a mixture of subtle greys, black, and white, glimmered dimly under the canopy.
Shreina crouched down, eyeing the pack member. What is it?
The wolf cocked his head to one side, We were wondering where you were.
Shreina resisted the urge to shrug...a human gesture. I was patrolling the area. I thought I smelled something.
The wolf scoffed, You can actually smell anything in that form?
Sometimes.
Well hurry back. We want to begin the hunt soon.
I will.
She watched the wolf slowly pad back into the underbrush of the forest, disapearing as silently as he had come. Shreina supressed a sigh, flexing her fingers slightly. To tell the truth, she had smelled something...and it had smelled distinctly human. It could have been a passing druid but she wasn't completely sure. She had assumed that she was familiar with almost all of the druids in her pack's area.
The wind whispered past her cheek as it changed direction. She would never be able to trace it now. Shreina shook her head briefly, debating whether or not to shift to the form that was most natural to her: a wolf's.
It was strange that a wolf's form felt the most like home. She supposed it had to do with essentially being raised by them. Granted, her mother had helped...but her care had only lasted as long as her life.
A smirk briefly flickered across her usually stoic face. Her father hadn't been much help in raising her, either. She could still remember how he had one day appeared out of the forest when she was still a child, claiming that he would take care of her...only to disapear a few weeks afterwards, leaving her parentless yet again.
She owed little allegiance to humankind...or elvenkind, for that matter. She admitted that there were exceptions and that there could be good people...but in her experience, they were few and far between.
Shreina shook her head once more before closing her eyes, feeling fur ripple down her body as her muscles and bones rearranged. Her sense of smell became keener...her eyes sharper. She lifted up her snout, sniffing at the wind briefly before running towards her pack once more.

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"I see,"
said the blind man
to his deaf daughter.


Title OSST - Official Server Sneaky Thing - Granted by Official Server Grouch
Title Grammar Police - Granted by community.
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Last edited by Archer14 on Oct 18th, '08, 16:11, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Oct 18th, '08, 07:36 
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Joined: Nov 13th, '06, 13:41
Posts: 1249
Location: In ur base killin ur doods.
Charlotte and Gareth's portraits can be found here:
http://w14.easy-share.com/1702041600.html


Wait for the timer to run out and then you will be able to download.

Apologies for whatever ad's are inapropriate :3

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Never under estimate the power that language imparts. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can break hearts.

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PostPosted: Oct 18th, '08, 08:22 
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Joined: Apr 12th, '07, 18:55
Posts: 971
Location: Another world.
I unfortunately won't be there tonight as I've accidentally double booked this and a PnP Game. If I choose this then I have to sit through another lecture about me putting On Line Gaming, before Off Line gaming.

My bad, I was going to join anyways because of the lack of Cleric, but you solved that problem with the Ring of 9 Heals you gave everybody, so I'm taking the PnP route.

Danny

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"Arrogance on the part of the meritorious is even more offensive to us than the arrogance of those without merit: for merit itself is offensive."
Friedrich Nietzsche


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PostPosted: Oct 20th, '08, 06:21 
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Joined: Feb 19th, '05, 23:11
Posts: 701
Location: Québec !!
So, which day was voted for the 2nd part ?

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as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour".

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PostPosted: Oct 20th, '08, 06:34 
Furfag
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I say Tuesday since i'm to excited.


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PostPosted: Oct 20th, '08, 06:55 
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Location: Another world.
Whenever I have 2 days prior warning and that isn't a saterday, or a friday.

Danny

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"Arrogance on the part of the meritorious is even more offensive to us than the arrogance of those without merit: for merit itself is offensive."
Friedrich Nietzsche


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PostPosted: Oct 20th, '08, 11:18 
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Joined: May 24th, '05, 00:48
Posts: 467
Location: Geek Haven
Monday is out for me.

Tuesday/Wednesday is fine.

Time: Anytime.

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I created the sound of madness, wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here to explain,
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?


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PostPosted: Oct 20th, '08, 14:14 
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Location: Somewhere beyond the clouds
Tuesday for me works perfectly, though I will not be home until 5:30. After that I'm good ^_^ If you guys need to start earlier, I'm sure Gareth could oversleep!

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PostPosted: Oct 20th, '08, 14:20 
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Joined: Feb 19th, '05, 23:11
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Location: Québec !!
Tuesday 6pm, East timezone.

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as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour".

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PostPosted: Oct 20th, '08, 14:23 
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Location: Another world.
which is what time GMT?

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"Arrogance on the part of the meritorious is even more offensive to us than the arrogance of those without merit: for merit itself is offensive."
Friedrich Nietzsche


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PostPosted: Oct 20th, '08, 14:29 
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Location: Somewhere beyond the clouds
11 pm for you guys, Danny. ^_^

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PostPosted: Oct 20th, '08, 15:09 
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Location: Another world.
I shall try to be there and awake, but expect nothing.

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"Arrogance on the part of the meritorious is even more offensive to us than the arrogance of those without merit: for merit itself is offensive."
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