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Bone Daddy

Medieval Fantasy

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Table of Contents


1] Contents/Rules/Characters (You are here)

2] Character sheet

3] Setting

4] My intro.






1] Please be literate. No chat speak. As best grammar and spelling as you can, the occasional mistake is okay, but s I said before "d0n7 74lk lyke dis".

2] No godmoding, or powerplaying.

3] Don't kill someone elses character unless you have permission.

4] Ask to join in.

5] Have fun!

6] To show you have read the rule, give me a cookie when you ask to join.


Characters Involved:

Kazziel - Played by Bone Daddy

Ellibereth Asmodeus - Played by The Enigmatic One

Zex Stormcaller - Played by Paradox

Silavor Lightbringer - Played by Silavor

Hexias Scarto McKnight - Played by Master Neverdead

Hakin - Played by Haru

Vaskeros Cornelius Cervantes - Played by Bloodomen



When you ask to join, please fill out this character sheet. It is something for you too fill in, that outlines your charater. It is a fantasy rp, so you can make up your own race if you wanted! If you were to do that you'd have to have quite a good description, so we ca acuratly roleplay to your charater. Thank you for reading this.



Character sheet

[u]History (optional):[/u]
[u]Unique Abilities/Powers:[/u]



An example of a completed one is below. This is my character:


Name: Kazziel

Race: Drow Elf

Age: 213

Class: Assassin/Rogue

Appearance: Kazziel stands a normal 5'7" for a Drow. He hs shockinly white hair that flows a little past his shoulders like a waterfall. His eyes barely stand out in the gray skin of his face. They are as black holes in space. He has one pointed ear, the other one was cut in a previous battle. He also has a scar down his back from the same battle. His specially fitted leather armour makes no sound as he moves.

Personality: Kazziel is irrational, and sometimes quick to anger. He is wise by human standards, but that is only from seeing two of their life times o by. By Drow standards he is a fool hardy youngster with a shoret fuse and a quick sword hand.

History (optional): Coming from a race of Elves committed to war, Kazziel was trained in swordplay and in marksmanship with the crossbow. After his 80th birthday (cming of age) Kazziel left his city of birth for fortune and fame. He ended up in the gladitorial arena's of the humans. Being trained properly, Kazziel won all of his fights. One figt inparticular was a very close one. In the match that would win his freedom, Kazziel had retain a couple major injuries that would stay with him from then on. In a very close call with a sword, Kazziel lost the tip of his left ear. Also, as he was running for a shield, he had a dagger pulled down his back. If he had been any closer to his opponent, the dagger would havepierced is lungs and cut in spine in half.

After he won his freedom, Kazziel had his fame, enough of it to get some work as an assassin. That is where he is up to this day.

Weapons: A scimitar on his left hip and a crossbow on his right. Strapped to his right thigh is a small quiver for his poison tipped bolts. He has specially made this quiver, it has a top that can be fastened shut. This is because in his line of work, you find yourself in all sorts of positions.

Unique Abilities/Powers: Dark sight (ability to see n the dark).


Here is the setting:


The world is in turmoil. It is on the brink of war. Every country is setting spies and assassins on the others. Trying to get a foothold, a head above everyone else. In this time the Elves are mobilizing in their woodlands, the Humans are foolishly locking up their castles and forts. Accepting no aid. The Dwarves, whom have long been sealed away in their mountain kingdoms, are fortifying every known path through, and around the mountains. These mountains are in the center of the continent, the roads around them are vital for troop mobilization and attacks on anyone other than your neighbor.



You can place your chacter in any part of this wide world, but please don't leave him away from everyone. If he is on the other side of the continent, then make him ride with a troop of knights to deliver a message, or go on a campaigne and end up meeting another character.


My intro:


A cloaked figure walked up to the great gates of Hellea, asked the guard for passage, and followed a secondguard through a small door to the left of the gates. This door brought the figure through a series of tunnels under the walls, dimly lit by touches in brackets, every ten or twenty feet. These tunnels were quite wide, wide enough to lead a troop of men through, and every once in a while there was a ladder. They lead up to the top of the walls. After a good while of walking, th figure ws led into a small room, brightly lit by candles littered about as if the shadows were a disease to be warded away. There was a slightly pudgy man behind a desk, the guard motioned to him.

"Hallo," the pudgy man cheerfully, it sounded quite forced, "I am Brother Harold. I'll just need your name, and your business in Hellea."

"I'm," the figure paused, wondering if he should give his real name or not. He decided against it, "I'm Phillus, my business? I'm delivering a message to an old friend."

"Alright then, sign here," Brother Harold pointed his quill to a small line in his gigantic book. Handing over the quill, the monk shoved what looked like a small pastrey into his mouth. The figured signed, and followed the guard through another door behind the desk and found himself in a small courtyard. The guard told him where to go to find the nearest inn, and left him. The figure followed the guards instructions and found a seedy run-down old building. Instead of going inside, the figure decided to go looking for a decent tavern.

Edited by Master Neverdead

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Name:Ellibereth Asmodeus




Appearance:tall and handsome, when in lich form is a skeleton, rides a black steed.

Personality:jovial yet dark, quick personality changes

History (optional):Uknown, thought to be last of the living necromancers, most history unkown

Weapons:His skeletons, a scythe, silver, Pandamonium

Unique Abilities/Powers:This power is unique within Necromancers, he can summon a demon at the cost of much of his energy.

Edited by The Enigmatic One

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*Paradox gives cartoon Hero a cookie!


Name: Zex Stormcaller

Race: Half-dragon

Age 52

Class: Warrior

Appearance: A man with blue scales all over his body. Has claws instead of nails, and fangs instead of teeth. His eyes are yellow with a black snake-ish pupil in it. Two horns stick out of the side of his head, with long black hair that falls around it. he also has a set of wings. He wears decent warrior armour from his homeland of Storch. His wings stick through the armour, and nor his feet, nor his hands are plated. He also wears a helmet with holes in it for his horns and eyes.

Personality: Is a confused person. Keeps his cool in battles, but gets angry fast when people mention his race in a discriminating way.

History (optional): Born in Storch, homeland of the sellswords and trash, Zex was born. He had been conceived by a woman who'se life was once saved by a dragon. A magical bond ensured the woman's pregnancy of the dragon. The woman called Ella died while giving birth to Zex. She had to move to Storch for the disgrace of making a half-breed. After Zex was born, he was raised by a group of bandits called "The Lucky Hitters" Zex kept growing and the bandits teached him the ways of the warrior. Old enough to stand on his own, Zex left the bandits, ready to face the world, and try to make out whether he should follow the path of Dragons or the one of humans. He wasn't meant to do either. He became a sellsword himself to do something with his life and hopefully find answers on the way.

Weapons: Wield a huge broadsword he dubbed "Complete Being" the sword resembles everything he is not.

Unique Abilities/Powers: Zex being a halfbreed did receive wings, but his body stucture doesn't allow him to fly for long periodes of time. He can't breath fire, his body is too small to contain two sets of lungs, but he can adjust his own body temperature to avoid being burned, or undercooling. He also has a scary presence being a half-dragon, this works both ways. It's hard to walk into a simple shop without scaring people away, but not just anyone would pick up a fight with him either.


May I join? ^_^

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I am VERY interested and I will post my character's information later tonight.


Do we have a setting and backstory as of yet? If not, I'd be willing to assist in its development. I have created (I have maps...maybe I'll scan one) a world called Sorynn in my writings and would love to supply a corner for us to adventure on! I'm so excited!

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Name: Silavor Lightbringer

Race: Katyri

Age: 15 (Katyri age at the same rate humans do)

Class: traveller

Appearance: At first glance, Silavor appears to be a normal human. But look a little closer, and you'll realise that his ears are higher on his head. They're also shaped identical to a cat's, and have tawny fur covering them. Silavor also has a tawny tail, and furry arms with retractable claws instead of nails. His hair goes down to the base of his neck, and it too is tawny like the fur on his ears, arms, legs, and tail. The fur actually isn't that noticable from afar, and it's fairly short. His hands work the same as a human's, and his feet and torso are unaltered.

Personality: Calm, tries to solve problems without violence

History (optional): Born high in the mountains that the dwarves call home in a small Katyri tribe, he didn't even know humans existed until a few years ago. While Katyri and Dwarf societies aren't at war, they aren't exactly best friends, either. So it was quite suprising when Silavor befriended the dwarves he met so quickly. When he inquired about the sudden defense measures being put in place, the dwarves told him all about humans, and the rest of the races inhabiting the planet, and how they're all going to war. After hearing this, Silavor kept persuing an alliance between the dwarves and the Katyri, and after a few years of persistantly seeking the treaty, the dwarves realised that allies from the surface world could come in handy -especially since the dwarves vastly outnumbered the katyri in case of mutany between species- so the two cultures formed an alliance that was kept secret to the rest of the world. Since the Katyri didn't know about humans, it was the safest thing to assume humans didn't know about the katyri. But war bored Silavor, and he seeks to travel the world, attempting to make peace before it's too late.

Weapons: Requiem Blade, claws, teeth

Unique Abilities/Powers: It's not exactly unique (all katyri have this) but Silavor has outstanding agility compared to a human.


*Silavor tosses a cookie at bone daddy

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Name: Hexias Scarto McKnight

Race: Human

Age: 78

Class: Soul Reaper

Appearance: Even from a distance, this man's sheer size is enough to intimidate his opponents, and thats not to mention the wicked Armor of Craymora that he wears into combat. The black steel plate armor is decorated with bones, skulls, symbols of the God of Death, Tyrix, and Soul Gems. He carries with him Soulmangler, his massive and magical two-handed great sword. It looks too heavy to even lift, yet alone wield effectively in ocmbat, but Hexias is capable of using it as a one-handed blade easily. Without his ornate horned helmet Hexias appears close to middle-aged, his magic prolonging his life. His hair is white flecked with spots of the black it once was and his handosme face is scarred from a lifetime of conflict and destruction.

Personality: Hexias is cold, ruthless, and arrogant. However, he is a master of rhetoric and spoken word, thus he is termed Hexias the Gentleman by some of the ladies he has met in his travels. He is sly, cunning, and a skilled warrior. Yet, his adeptness with magic makes him arrogant and foolish. His headstrong nature may prove to be his undoing.

History (optional): Hexias Scarto McKnight was born to Wilhelm and Thereasa McKnight in the fair knight-city of Redhome, nestled comfortably in the Red Mountains northwest of the Kingdoms of Men. Right from the start his physical and mental prowess made him a favorite in the games played as children, and served as inspriation for his younger brother Atrias Torvent McKnight. However, Rikash Craymora sent a greedy band of Minotaurs and Undead to raid the city. The Night of Loss it has been deemed, since no one was spared the loss of a loved one. Hexias and Atrias, even at a young age, defended their home and their mother with the same bravery that kept Wilhelm on the walls defending the city the entire night. But when the three men returned inside their home they discovered Theraesa missing. Later that day they discovered her, rather, what was left of her lying in the street. Wilhelm broke down immediately and refused to look upon his dead wife. Atrias had similiar emotions and turned away. Hexias was left alone to bury his mother. His life took a drastic turn. He did not believe himself physically strong enough to deal with what might befall him in life, so he went out in search of magic to give him more power. He soon discovered an ancient city called Dilander, just beyoned Velgaard Forest, where Rikash Craymora lived in a dark tower. Here, Hexias learned of the arrogance of the wicked mage and desired to have power to justify such an ego. He learned the art of Soulreaping, but also discovered its curse. He is forever cursed to see in soulsense, rather then with his own eyes. Also, the armor Rikash gave him bore a horrifying curse as well. If Hexias remove the fell armor for longer then a few hours, then his soul will wither and die. Thus the armor has stayed alive thorugh the ages. Daily he struggles to control the armor but one day it will be stronger then him and will devour his soul. He roams the world in search of soul gems, to aide him in controlling and wielding his armor as a magical weapon in combat.

Weapons: Soulmangler, the Armor of Craymora.

Unique Abilities/Powers: Hexias is a Soulreaper, and as such has the ability to absorb an individual's soul essence and wield it as energy for casting spells. He is a cunning warrior and few are capable of getting past Soulmangler in a fight. He can prove to be one of the hardest fought warriors in all of the world, yet there are times when a child could defeat him. If he fights too hard or wearies himself with too many spells then his ever persistent armor tries to gain control during his state of weakness. It is impossible for Hexias to fight both the battle inside his mind and outside.

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:P Great app Hex! The reason I like this RP, is because it remembers me off your RP. Man I miss it so much. :s

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OOC: Thanks a lot Doomgay.


Intro (IC): The field outside of Hellea was overgrown with weeds. In this time of trouble no one though to keep it trimmed. "Might even slow an army down." An old gaffer might say. The city sat on the horizon in the distance, a black dot with mountains behind it. It would have been a breathtaking sight, if the person looking at it had mortal eyes. The warrior standing in the overgrown filed stared at the mountains, or rather, his perception of the snow-capped peaks. Uncerimoniously, the armored warrior continued through the tangle of weeds, his thick boots and heavy black steel armor providing plenty of protection from the thorns and scattered underbrush. His gaze was hidden beneath a massive horned helm, but his head was held high. It was apparent that he was here for a reason, and, judging by the loosened scabbard strapped to his back and with the deliberateness of his movements, that he was not in friendly territory.




"There he is." Whispered an astonished leather-clad elf. "The rumours are true! Hexias still breathes!"


"Of course, little brother, what did you expect? The wound he was dealt was not grievous." An older elf responded, his fingers fitting an arrow to a very delicate, yet powerful looking bow.


The younger elf peered over a bush. The Soulreaper was coming closer. The elf seemed ill at ease. "This evil is beyond us, Kiriliais. Let us return to our people and attack him tonight as he sleeps."


"No, the night his domain, we must strike now. With the element of surprise against him, even a brute like Hexias will fall" Kiriliais' bother did not seem convinced. "Triliyim, do not fear. We have Alavia's blessing!"




Hexias moved slowly, but he let his guard down slightly. No one was foolish enough to attack him in such a wide space. It was then his soul sense spotted something to his right. Two elves he could see, by the ancient colors swiriling in their essence and the years of history locked in their souls. "When will they learn?" He muttered absently as he continued forward nonchalantly. In his mind, the soulreaper prepared a spell. Elves were predictable, they preferred using their great skill and accuracy with a bow to an open conflict. Grinning beneath his full helm, Hexias continued on. Then, it happened. Two elves jumped out from the thich brush and fired two arrows at the gaps in his armor.


"Feal-thas nyr sinkis!" Hexias bellowed. Two white-blue charges shot from his armor, striking the arrows. They turned to ash in seconds. THe moment the bolts shot from his armor, the tall warrior lept forward, easily covering the distance between himself and the elves in a matter of seconds. His fist met the face of the first elf, sending the man into the weeds unconscious, his cheekbone littering the ground beside him. The enxt elf managed to draw his blade and strike at the reaper, but the blade hit noting but the cold steel of the Armor of Craymora and glanced off. Hexias rushed his opponent, his right pauldron striking the older elf with a loud crunch. Ribs broke as the elf collapsed, wheezing for air.


"D..De...Demon!" The elf hissed as he clutched at his bleeding torso.


Hexias removed his helmet, allowing his flowing white hair to fall around his shoulders. With a cold smile he responded, "You are mistaken, Elf. I am Hexias Scarto McKnight, servant to myself, and follower of none." He bent down to one knee, a crooked smile decorating his scarred face. "Are there anymore of you hiding in these brambles?"


"I- I wouldn't tell you!" THe elf responded harshly, blood beginning to flow from his mouth.


"Very well." Hexias poised a hand over the left breast of the fallen elf. "Since you won't give me what I wish for, I will take it from you!" He thrust his down, penetrating leather, cloth, and finally skin. Blood began to flow freely as Hexias grabbed the elf's soul essence and began to drain it into one of the many gems that decorated his armor. The elf wailed in misery, his cry hollow in the empty field. Then, as the last of his soul was drained, his body relaxed and fell limp.


Hexias stood and flexed his muscles. Elven souls were so delicious. His entire body tingled with pleasure and he felt his power growing. He looked to the other one, and decided against it. "Someone needs to remember my name." He muttered as he replaced his helmet and continued on towards Hellea. "Someone..."

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||Ooc|| Yes, everyone can join. Sorry, I couldn't get on here for a while then when I could I forgot about this! Really sorry. I'll start now.


@Master Neverdead: Yes, a map would be amazing! I don't have a map or a too detailed history of the world yet. You can help if you want. Pm me about it.




Walking around this strange, and surprisingly busy town, the figur looked right and left. Trying to find a tavern of some kind. He bumped into a couple beggars, and some rather shifty looking peple pushed their way passed him quite forcefully.

Afte passing the stall selling maps 6 times, the figure decided he could use one. He reached for the pouch at his belt the held his last few coins, a saphire, and one ring. It wasn't very valueable, but the sentimental value was enough to curl even a dwarf's beard, not that it needed it. Feeling around, all around his belt, the figure froze.

"Those little ba-" he spun on his heel and took off. Scanning the crowd for each and every person that touched him since he came through the gate house. Spotting one, the figure crouched down, then realized that this was a crowded street. If he stayed low, he would lose the thief, and stand out. Standing back up, the figure followed the thief at a fast pace, waiting until he went into an ally, or a..

"Tavern! Finally!" forgetting about his money problem for a minute, the figure started walking towards the bar. Then he rememberd and quickly took a seat two tables away from the thief, and his accomplice.

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Holy Shiznitt, Master Alwaysdead is here.. He's like the king of roleplaying.



Name: Hakin

Race: human

Age 23

Class: Blader

Appearance: Has black, spiky hair. Wears a white shirt, and a leather strap over his chest. Black, long, baggy jeans.


Personality: Kind, excited, loves to fight.

History (optional): He's basically a hunter, kills anything for money. He's been doing that for 20 years straight.

Weapons: Bladers carry only one weapon, a big sword. Its kinda like Clouds Buster sword.

Unique Abilities/Powers:


Obliteration Blow: Hakin jumps into the air, and brings the sword down onto the enemy, dealing incredible amounts of damage in a wide area. Consumes a lot of his energy.


Charge: Hakin dashes at the enemy at incredible speeds, and hits them with his shoulder, creating a large impact.

Edited by Haru

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OOC: Well, I've a map of MY world. Maybe I can make one of this world. Give me some time. Until then, we'll create our own brand-new world here. Let's call the continent we are on Jervindia, and the world Polis. Sound good? (It's easier for your mind to be creative once you know the names of where yoy are).


IC: As Hexias came closer to the city, the way became much easier until eventually, his boots felt rough grass give way to a solid street. "That's better." He muttered beneath his helmet as he entered the small city of Hellea. The streets were overly crowded this day, the markets unusually loud. The brewing conflict to the west and east of here had the people in a panic. They were getting everything they could now until it was too late. Hexias frowned at the peasants as the bustled by him. Most of them gave him a wide berth, but a few wandered too close only to nearly collapse in shock at the sight.


"A Soulreaper, here in Hellea?" A man whispered to his wife. "Bad tidings indeed. Lets get the kids home, bad deeds are afoot if he's here." He scurried off with the woman and kids quickly in tow.


Hexias heard the whisper and saw them hurry away like frightened rabbitts. He grinned to himself with pleasure. Suddenly, he felt the presence of someone he had not felt in years. It was a terrible sensation, like a thorn in the heel of your boot. Not too painful but bad enough that you cannot ignore it. Then, he saw its location. Hexias called out in a deep baritone, "Mikeal! How nice to see you again." He turned and smiled crookedly. "I missed your company, Half-Angel!"


A tall, well-muscled stranger stepped out of the crowd, casting aside a brown cloak. The half-angel was black, his skin covered in tatoos called the Mark of Death. Anyone who killed this man would be blessed by the Gods for life, since it was they who marked him at birth. Born to a mortal man and an immortal angel, his birth was an abomination. One might argue that it was not his fault, but the Gods would say, nor is it the spider's fault, yet you step on them without question! "McKnight, my old friend." The words seeped from his mouth like blood from an open wound, "I've finally found you."


The townspeople ceased in their bustle. Most were unsure as to what was going on. Was there going to be a fight? Some of the smarter citizens saw the size of Soulmangler and the large battlehammer clutched in Mikeal's hands and wanted no more of this. Quickly the square began to empty.


Hexias pulled Soulmangler from its sheath on his back, the large blade glowing brilliantly in the sunlight. "Where have you been these past years? I'd nearly forgotten about you." The words were thick with spite and the reaper's eyes flared with hatred.


Absentmindedly, the half-angel's fingers went to the large scar across his thick neck, "I've not forgotten you, Deceiver." He took a step closer, his face grim and determined. "You will answer for the havoc you have brought on to Jervindia!" As he spoke, his voice became louder and his wings burst forth out of his cloak, making Mikeal seem larger then he was. Now, his size rivaled that of Hexias. "I was unable to stop you in our last ecnounter, but today is the day of retribution. My mother has promised me that Alavia will protect me from you." He held his battlehammer out, its light shining brighter then the sun. "You will die, Reaper, and I will be the one to end you!"


"Enough!" Hexias roared, making the half-angel's voice appear flaccid and weak in comparison. "Why does every battle with you come with a sermon?" He jumped forward, his heavy set of armor creaking with the load. Mikeal parried with his hammer, but Hexias gained footing and succedded in knocking the heavy half-angel backwards. Before Mikeal could recuperate, Soulmangler flew towards him in a vicious arc. He dodged the terrible blow and charged forward, intending to knock his opponent to the ground. Hexias saw the attack coming and sidestepped it, causing Mikeal to take one too many steps. Hexias buried a fist into the side of the half-angel's skull. Mikeal whipped around in fury, striking Hexias in the ribs with his hammer. The sound of metal slamming into metal resounded through the square. Still the battle continued, Hexias threw an elbow at Mikeal in retaliation, striking him in the neck. As the half-angel lsot balance Hexias bull rushed forward, slamming his hard, jagged armor against the wekaer chain-mail of his opponent. Mikeal fell to the ground, blood staining Hexias' armor. But he was not done. The half-angel lept to is feet and swung his axe with a mighty roar. Hexias heaved his sword with all his might in retaliation and the two weapons met. The magic, evil from Hexias and good from Mikeal, met, causing an explosion to rock the town square. Both warriors were thrown to the ground, exhausted.


"That's enough you two!" Cried a town guard who, seeing them on the ground, worked up the courage to finally stop the fight. "This is a peaceful town, take your battle to the Plains."


Hexias looked up, his helmet lay behind him on in the dirt as well as his still-smoking sword. Blood stained his lips and he coughed when he spoke, "Some feuds know no boundaries, peasant." With a grunt he pushed himself to his feet and picked up his helmet. He limped over to Mikeal, that crooked smile returning to his scarred face. He looked at his wounded nemesis with pity, something he rarely felt. "There was a time when you, Mikeal Duratan, could have ended my life, but had pity on me in my weakened state." He turned and began walking away, "Consider us even."


"No!" Mikeal cried weakly. "I will see you destroyed!"


Hexias turned back and stood over the wounded half-angel. "Not today." He said bitterly as he balled a fist and struck the man in the face, effectively knocking him unconscious. "Somebody get him a ride to Aderain. He has friends there." He threw a coin at the guard and said, "Why don't you do it, you seemed to want to get involved." Chuckling he entered the only Inn he could see.

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Name: Vaskeros Cornelius Cervantes

Race: Demon Vampire

Age 342(died at 21)

Class: Bloodmancer


Face: Pale white face with two black-curved horns coming from his head, green souless eyes, long pointed ears.

Body: dark purple armour with gold trimmings, red rubys on each gauntlet, pale white skin, a red sash hainging downward from his waste, purple shoulderpads, long black nails, black wings with curved claws at the ends, hooves for feet

Here's a picture of what he would end up looking like

Personality: During battle, he's extreamly rash, and doesn't like to think things through, he acts on instinct the majority of the time, out of battle, he seems very clever in ways of infiltration and sneaking behind enemy lines

History (optional): Born in Carnica, Dravia, Vaskeros was a noble who hunted the local vampires, he quickly became deemed as top vampire slayer, but, when one of the leaders was killing live-stock, Vaskeros made a miscalculation and was quickly turned to a vampire himself. He formed a group called 'The Blood Cut', they were the most feared cult of vampires in al of Carnica, their hideout-Crypt Esterios, was a place for foll-hardy adventurers to wander in and die. When they made an attempt to take over all of the west side of Carnica, they had to go for one last place, Drynavile. Drynavile had recently suffered a horrible plague, and was open for take-over, this is when the Blood Cult had struk. In a finally attmept to liberate the western end, King Forrago sent his elite knights to kill the Blood Cult in Drynavile. As a final escape plan, the remaining Blood Cult legion retreated back to crypt Esterios, Vaskeros then told his Cult he would find a way to get Carnica back from the wretched humans, and found a portal to a new world, (insert name of this world here), he now resids in an unknown island, wandering what to do next. His cult await their masters return in Esterios. How he became a demon though, is unknown...

Weapons: Blood, his fangs

Unique Abilities/Powers: Can control blood, and has an unlimited supply of it, the more blood he sucks from enemies, the more powerful he becomes.


OOC: Ill add the map of Carnica when I get back on, Which may be a while, but aside from that...YAY! I finally get to Rp mith my Roleplay idol :D :D :D

Edited by †Bloodomen†

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A hooded man stood on the roof of an ancient temple in the underworld of Hellia, one of his hands were resting lightly on a gargoyle, in front of him was the deceased body of man he had slew here, "You decided to observe me, to spy on me, to see what I was, to see if my race still exists" He looked down at the form, a headless body, skin nearly stripped off, "Now look what has become of you, curiosity killed you, and now, your punishment, no, your death was not it, this is....." The dead body moved, slowly rising, "You shall be my slave! Forever!"

Edited by The Enigmatic One

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Clear water dripped of the washing bowl. A simple design but as white as the wings of an angel. It stood out in the dirty looking room. A typical room of an inn that has care-takers to old to keep it in shape. Ragged curtains and bed sheets smelled of fungus, and an always present damp made the walls bend in a frightening position.


It was luxury for Zex. Wether it was the fear of dieing, or the compasion of the elderly man that ran the Inn, Zex would never know. The short, wrinkly, bald man had given the monster he was a place to stay. Zex had spared no cost to express his graditude. He had cleaned the Inn's tavern every morning, and paid twice the prize the man had asked for. One repays the hand it hath received from was Zex's feeling towards it.


He was refreshing himself at the washing bowl ready to set out today. His supply was shrinking in a terrifing speed, and he needed a new job fast. His reflection in the water made him smile. Now that was a face people could rely on to take someone out. You didn't invest yor time in the small seeds when you can grow a tree that has roots with a stronger foundation than a castle.


He took a towel from the ground, and dried his face. The action was in itself useless. The dirty towel had done it damage again, but it was the thought that mattered.


He walked towards his window and opened the curtains. The late noon sun embraced his face and pointed him to go downstairs. Taking his backpack he made in the morning, and placing his sword on his back between his wings, he was ready to have one final drink and set out again.


Exiting his room the narrow hallway obviousley made for normal men made his approach to the stairs a slow process. Also the stairs that made loud cracking noises under his feet seemed to dislike the half-dragon. Descended he entered the Inn through the back door and saw the Inn was not too full. He sat down at a table and looked around him.

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As the new servant of darkness slowly slid into the ground, ready to be serve his master another day, the hooded person slid like a living shadow throught the underworld, radiating a sense of power and darkness, making those in his way move away from his way, yes he was known by many names. The Cursed, The Damned, The Darkness, The Shadow, The Hooded Rider, The Black Wanderer among them, but among all his namesakes, only one rang true, Asmodeus. Ellibereth, his birth name, was something of the past.


Asmodeus slowly made his way to the lower house of the city, higher than the underworld, yet lower than the middle and upperhouses. His kill of the day was already complete, his taste for blood being calmed, he sent a slight call into the air as a black steed rode up infront of him, he mounted it, and slowly, with a trot, rode through the Lower House.

Edited by The Enigmatic One

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Silavor cautiously exited the mountain fortress that was inhabited by dwarves and for the first time entered the real world. In front of him was a huge field, and the openness made him very fearful. Scared, he quickly ran into the town nearby. Humans and elves inhabited the town, and the calmness of the town also sent a shiver of fear down Silavor's furry spine. There was too much noise, too many crowds. Silavor slipped into the first building that didn't seem too crowded, and soon saw why. A large man dressed in what appeared to be demonic armour was inside. Perhaps he isn't so evil, just misunderstood. Silavor cautiously approached the large man, but didn't make his presence known.

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Hexias allowed himself to pause in the doorway, making his appearance just that much more dramatic. Light that should have poured into the Inn and warmed it did not make it past the Armor of Craymora, which sent a chill through the room before him. A few people got up and left the already sparsely populated Inn but it bothered the Reaper none, worse things had happened to him upon entering an Inn.


He glanced at each person that occupied the tiny room as he passed by. None seemed to take any more interest in him then usual. He was careful to look for an indication of an assassin or a Cleric of Alavia. None seemed present, and he allowed himself to relax as he sat at a small square table near the bar. Hurriedly, a barmaid rushed to his side. "What can I get you, sir?"


Hexias stood and removed his helmet. Bowing he took her hand, "You may call me Hexias, mi'lady." He kissed her hand gently and sat down.


Flushing red, the barmaid asked quietly, "What can I get you, Sir Hexias?"


Grinning handsomely he replied, "Your finest Mossberry Wine please, mi'lday."


She turned, and Hexias watched her fetch his ale. This might turn out to be splendid day afterall. However, as he leaned back in his chair, he couldn't help but notice the power in the souls of a few of those who remained in the Inn. He made a mental note to remember their presence, but became distracted when the sumptuous barmaid returned.

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The hooded rider rode forth until he was the Inn, he was regular there and was quite good friends with the kepper and cleaner of the place, that half dragon, he was one of those few who called him Asmodeus.

Asmodeus dismounted and walked into the Inn, observing the surrounding, the person with the wings caught his eye, "Hey, Zex, I'm back!" was the voice that came beneath the never-raised hood, not the evil voice previously heard, but a kind and jovial one.

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He was just making progress with the woman when suddenly, he felt the gut-wrenching sensation of...no, it couldn't be!


Sighing, he pushed the confused woman away and stood to his feet. There it was. It had just entered, its face hid beneath a hood. As he stared into the soul he could see the telltale signs.


He lifted a finger towards the hooded figure and said boldly, "You're supposed to be dead!" He took a few steps forward. "I watched as the last of the Necros were killed off, or so I thought..." Hexias allowed his crooekd smile to reappear. He may have found who he was looking for. Not only him, but there were several more powerful beings in the room as well, he could sense it. Before the being could respond Hexias asked cordially, "I am Hexias Scarto McKnight, Soulreaper and Servant to None, who might you be, Necromancer?"

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OOC: Is it too late to join? If not, then I will. I WOULD have joined as soon as this had come out, but I was a bit busy. :ice:






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Silavor watched inquiringly at the two patrons who looked like they were about to fight. He was feeling brave for some reason. "Um, excuse me, sirs, but what exactly is a necromancer... and a... soulreaper?" He inquired of the two men.

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Vaskeros was walking around the town, and heard somthing, "Hm, a backoning, I hear the dead calling to me...what could it be? A necromancer, and a soul keeper, ancient evil magic working together, seems to me like dirty buisness, buisness I woul like to be in, I think I'll pay a visit to the inn.", He thought to himself and entered the inn, He was in his human form, not his demon vampire form, his human form had Blonde hair fit for a prince, an angelic purple robe aith gold sleeve trimmings, bright blue eyes, and a smoth face.

"Hm, I sensed evil magic here, what goes on?", He asked, acting like one of them, or trying to at least.

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OOC: Yes! Feel free to join in!


IC: Hexias heard a small voice behind him. It seemed innocent and harmless so he ignored it, intent on learning who this Necromancer was. Then the door opened, and the hair on the back of the Reaper's neck stood on end.


He spun on his heels, a look of resentment brought about from a lifetime of hatred filled his scarred face. The look was menacing and those peasants brave enough to remain thus far scrambled to get out. "You!" Hexias roared, pointing a gloved finger at the stranger. "I can see your hollow soul, bloodsucker!" He stepped close, reaching for Soulmangler. "You've a lot of guts, approaching a Soul Reaper in the open! And for that, I'll allow you to introduce yourself, Vampire." He paused then said bitterly, "But do it quickly, and give me a good reason why I shouldn't end your tormented existance right here, right now." His voice trailed off to a whisper, but his eyes remained fixed on his objective.

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Silavor drew his sword, and it glowed in a thick cyan aura with white light in the blade metal itself, like usual. He waved it around over his head for emphasis.

"It's rather rude to ignore a Katyri! Now I'll ask you again; just what are you people!?" Silavor angrily shouted out at the three strangers as he put his sword in a defensive position.

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Vaskeros looked at Hexias intensley, "I sense great power in this one, I think I want him to be a freind, not a foe."


"My name is Vaskeros Cornelius Cervantes, I mean no harm, I came from a distant land, Carnica, I came from a portal, I mean nothing more than to form an allegiance with someone such as yourself.", He said, offering his hand for a handshake.

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