Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Ahhotep1 on Wed Apr 10, 2013 7:42 pm

    Nice E!! I'll modify the Exiled character lore section to simply link here...nice and tidy like! big grin

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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Forum Pirate on Thu Apr 11, 2013 10:27 am

    For existing characters, should I just post new stuff, or edit my OP, E?


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Emergence on Thu Apr 11, 2013 10:31 am

    If it's a character that is already existing and included in the compendium, just edit in updates to their lore in the op. I would only make new entries in this thread if you have a new character to submit to the compendium.


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Hokucho on Mon Apr 15, 2013 11:34 pm

    Heyhey, Im one of the Exiled. Orusae's profile and bio are up under the main topic of the covanent.
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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Emergence on Mon Apr 15, 2013 11:38 pm

    Post it here please so that I don't have to go all over looking for content and to keep everything compiled under one thread.


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Zodiaxel on Thu Apr 18, 2013 8:17 pm

    My RP ^^

    The story of Never – The Exiled
    Never (real name unknown) was the younger sister of Marvellous Chester. After his sudden and unexplained disappearance, Never made it her goal to find her estranged brother and return with him to their homeland of Carim.
    On her pilgrimage to Lordran she came across a self-proclaimed peddler and his bodyguard both from Zena with whom she decided to accompany. The peddlers use of language and humour amused Never and confused her as her homeland was a dark, serious place with little use of merriment.
    The journey Lordran lasted for weeks with Never and Domnhall getting on favourably. The journey was not without its share of dangers however. Domnhall revealed himself to be skilled with a long sword and his bodyguard’s great sword also became useful, especially when travelling through the undead villages in Balder. Never had never before seen such chaos and destruction as in those 2 weeks walking through the undead infested land.
    Never’s arrival in Lordran was one of violence, Domnhall stated that the best route into Lordran was through the plague infested Blightown, a pitiful place where the citizens had become warped und no longer recognisable as humans.
    It was through this section of her journey that Never fell into a state of depression, Domnhalls words no longer comforted her and the realisation that the population was all but destroyed, filled her with grief, the road they travelled was littered with the bodies of women and children and the idea of Never seeing the sun again had been plaguing her mind. Never took time to cleanse and lay to proper rest the bodies of the children she found, after all, Chester would have just laughed at her for doing so if she did on the way back. Domnhall was squeamish about contact with the bodies but his bodyguard helped Never silently.
    They finally made their way up the collapsing scaffold up to the exit and stopped outside the famed city of New Londo, Never did not like it there and asked Domnhall to take them forward, as he happily obliged she turned to look behind her and saw a white transparent body drifting along the waterlogged rooftops, the bodyguard pulled her towards him and told her not to look, “Nothing can be done for those ones”.
    They stopped at Firelink shrine at the top of the elevator to rest. It was here that Never encountered here first new person in weeks, the only word she could use to describe the man was morose, Domnhall argued that he looked crestfallen, but Never could not see a difference between the to words and dropped it, too tired to argue with the quirky man.
    “Next is through Sens Fortess” Domnhall smiled. A deadly house of traps awaited them. Never knew she would have nightmares about the place for years, luckily for her the snake men who resided in the keep were dim-witted and easily fell into the traps they themselves had set. It also helped that the crossbow given to her by Eidas was powerful enough to fell the few that got to close. At the top of the fortress was a giant tunnel. Domnhall said it would take them straight into the heart of Anor Londo, the first place to start looking if Chester was indeed in Lordran.
    The tunnel, despite its girth was short and it wasn’t long before they arrived at the top of the famous Anor Londo Elevator. Domnhall suggested a peek at the Archives of Seath, “a wealth of knowledge after all! And who knows who we may find there”.
    The undead here were different to the rest, the bodyguard stated that they were cursed and that they were “not your average hollows”. After pouring over tomes and examining volumes of books, Domnhall stated he wanted to continue upwards and they all took the book scrolling lift to the 3rd floor, crystals identical to those on the hollows lined the walls here. After reaching out her hand, the bodyguard slapped it away and warned her not to touch the crystals. Domnhall continued happily along the crystal lined corridor and peered through the archway at the end, Never remembered clearly his burst of joy at the sight he saw, floor after floor of books circling around them in a room bigger than any Never had ever seen. Domnhall ran up to the 1st floor to start and the bodyguard and Never made it to the middle of the room. “something isn’t right”, the bodyguard looked up at the giant dragon Seath perched on the ceiling. The bodyguard pushed Never out of the way and rolled back as Seath crashed onto the marble floor, Domnhall ran next to them out of breath as the balcony where he had been standing was reduced to splinters by the giant dragon. “Run” the bodyguard said calmly as the pulled his great sword from his back and charged at the dragon. Never ran, without looking behind her and didn’t stop. She ran until she found herself lying on the muddy ground outside of the archives. 10 minutes later Domnall appeared, carrying the crystallised armour of the bodyguard. “He didn’t need it anymore.” He stated bluntly as Never stared at him disbelievingly.
    A mutual agreement was made. Never would continue to keep searching for her brother and Domnhall would return to the lower levels of Lordran. They stopped at the entrance to the tunnel and curtly said their farewells. “Here, It’s better than what you’re currently wearing” he handed her the crystal bodyguards set. “Look after it, he was a good man.” Never watched as he walked away she even watched as he placed the black firebombs at the other side of the entrance. “Good day to you. And goodbye”. Never walked away before the dust clouds could reach her.
    Her stay in Anor Londo was not a long one however, after a few days a woman who identified herself as the Darkmoon maiden stopped her and attacked without warning, easily defeating Never who was undoubtedly better equipped to long range fighting. When she awoke she was greeted by another woman with a face masked by a giant sun shaped crown above her head, in her hands she was holding Nevers Avelyn. “Yes, there is no doubt. An assassination attempt” She stated. “Heritic, thou art here bye banished to Ariamis. May you rot away with the other abominations there”.
    ***
    Never stopped at the icey door and stared at it, the path had been horrific with monsters and warped undead at her heels the entire way. Her brother was gone, she had given up on him, the cunning fool would be fine anyway, provided he didn’t annoy anyone TO much. She opened to door and stared at the sight she saw. A girl, 8 feet tall, holding a scythe in her two hands, her silver hair slowed over her shoulders and her furry tail wrapped around the front of her body, wait…. tail?
    ***
    Never stared out over the Ariamis graveyard, contemplating her exiled existence, her brother rarely crossed her mind and there wasn’t much to miss when It came to that joker Domnall.
    Her journey was over though, Carim was a nasty place anyway, certainly not a place worth missing, besides, this place was fun, the food was good, the company was excellent, and there were plenty of would-be assassins available for target practice.




    Last edited by Zodiaxel on Fri Apr 19, 2013 8:42 am; edited 2 times in total (Reason for editing : Typo)


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by AshLumi on Mon May 06, 2013 6:13 pm

    My lore


    Once there was a Nordic huscarl known only as Tuhka. He wandered his
    frozen home using his pyromancy to keep him warm. He used his chaos
    magic and his skill with a blade to storm castles that were home to the
    enemies of the Nordic civilization alone. He wandered for years until he
    found a gem with a rune on the sides and it was the runes for blizzard.
    As he read the words frost covered his body and he slowly froze to
    death. He was reborn as an undead and he wandered aimlessly until he
    found a strange doll and held onto it. He walked to a painting in Anor
    Londo and it reminded him of his home. He went to touch the painting and
    fell into the world the painter had created. He met the queen of the
    world and was grateful that she offered him a home. He had purpose once
    again. Now he stands guard like a statue frozen in time until the frost
    whispers to him and calls him to battle. He serves his new queen without
    hesitation and slays her enemies without mercy. He felt like a new man
    and he thought he needed a new name so he choose the only thing that
    kept him company in his home. Frost. The warrior watches over his new home with great pride. As he dead before he became undead.


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Scryer569 on Wed May 08, 2013 10:32 pm

    Lore of the Character Sare, Exiled Of Ariamis.

    Appearance: Tall, very thin, wears the robes of the Painting Guardians, wielding a Washing Pole and Composite Bow.

    "She was born in Anor Londo. Abandoned on the streets. Ridiculed and outcast by a genetic disorder forbiding her
    hair to grow. In her early years, she would visit the great painting room, allowed to enter by the Guardians of
    whom did not see her a threat to, in her young knowledge, the paintings and their great worth. Forever transfixed
    by the enormous painting that has been hanging in that room, she almost felt... Safe, while staring at it. She longed
    for a way to live in a place of which she would not be disgarded for her deformities. One day, after spending 4 days
    straight in front of the painting, a solitary guardian whispered in the dead silence of the room "There's a way.."
    Taken aback by the guardian's few words, she left. Fearful, as she had never heard the Guardians speak. Alone she wandered
    Pondering what the guardian meant. "There's a way.." She thought for days, weeks, until she couldn't think of anything
    She asked the Guardian, standing in the corner, looking over a fresh corpse of black iron that had fallen from the rafters,
    "How?" He pulled her close, she looked at the corpse, and felt cold steel slide between her ribs. She had never felt the
    pain of death before. Her last images were of the guardian, lifting his hood, telling her that this is "the way...."

    She jolts awake, an inferno in her chest, looks around the room and finds herself in a cell in an unfamiliar place.
    Her only companion, an old, shrivelled man who tells mad tales of a living painting, built with his own hands, and a key,
    Of which is not in the shape of a key, but holds the power to open the door. A small doll, of which he hands to her in his
    last breaths, swearing he is going home, to see his beloved friend. She thought nothing of it, but kept the doll close.
    Only after talking to the man who claimed his name to be Ariamis, did she notice that she was cold. Too cold. She felt
    her face, looked at her arms. She was dead. And yet living. She left her cell, wandering the Asylum of which she had decided
    was no place for her. One day, a crow came. It lifted her off of the desolate graveyard, and takes her to a new home.

    For the next 13 years she wanders this place, learning the lore of the realm, learning of the place that she never knew
    existed over the walls of Anor Londo. She learns of a way to return to the old city, through the fortress of Sen. Upon
    Returning to her home, she finds that, unbelievably, the Guardians are still here. Standing vigil over the same room. Dust
    upon their clothes, dried blood upon their daggers. The guardians recognize the doll, and understand it's meaning. Without
    words they turn, gesture to the painting. She is scared. How did the Guardians live for so long? She saw her old.. Friend,
    still standing over what is now a skeleton in black iron. He speaks only these words. "You have the key. Enter our world,
    become one with us." She notices now, he has 6 fingers on each hand. He too was an outcast. She walks to the painting, as
    She did so many years ago. A slight ripple, and she jumps back, suddenly aware that the painting is not what it seems. She
    approaches cautiously, touches the painting, and is sucked into what can only be described as a portal. Upon opening her eyes
    she realizes she is on a bridge. Inside the painting. She travels North, finding a small scrap of paper that reads "Find
    the cloth. Find your power" written in letters far too large for human hands to write so intricately. She wanders this world
    for days, finding a chest with a set of white robes, and an enormous blade sitting on a table with a shield and bow.
    Upon finding Priscilla, she swears to protect her, as this is the first place, and she is the first person to accept her
    openly, and trains with these weapons day and night for years. She returns to the bridge, standing as gracefully on the swaying bridge as a leaf
    in the wind, watching. Waiting for intruders to blunder their way into this sacred place. She was donned the name "Sare"
    by Priscilla, Meaning "Beauty" in a long forgotten tongue, and has lived to serve her queen, never fearing Hollowness,
    for she will never lose her purpose. Never lose her love. Never, lose the will to protect."

    Hope I've posted all of this right. >.>


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Wilkinson3424 on Sun May 19, 2013 5:55 pm

    Name: Lucien
    Home Country: Astora
    Covenant: Leader of The Sunlight Coalition
    Appearance: Not very tall, but not short either. A muscular build. He wears his old Astoran armour from when he was a solider, and carries his father's sword. He has a tan, being a warrior of sunlight and all, and has thick black hair, with no facial hair.

    Backstory:
    Born into a poor family, and losing his father at 10 years old, Lucien quickly learned how to fend for himself. He always had a fascination in the sun... How it worked, what it was, why it was there. His father was a solider, and taught his son the basics on how to use a sword, and a good thing to, for one fateful night, screams could be heard. A large group of undead were raiding his village, The militia - Which included his father - of his village quickly took arms and fought them off. Sadly they were outmatched, None of the soldiers survived, his village was destroyed and he was forced to escape to, What was then the Capital of Astora, Having nothing but a weeks worth of food, His great-grandpa's golden coin, and his father's old sword. About five years later he joined the Astoran Army, and fought against the undead, wielding his father's sword. He proved talented and moved up the ranks quickly. He was about to receive the biggest promotion of his life at around the age of 19. The King of Astora had called for him, and 9 other elite knights. They were to go to Lordran, and retrieve and ancient blade known as the Sunweaver. Upon reaching Lordran, they ventured up to what is now called the Undead Parish, spoke to the local priest, and he said "There is no such blade, I do not know who told you this, or why you have dared venture here". Confused, they asked him why it might be such a dare to come to this place? The priest replied "The undead live here, I keep them at bay with a few sorceries but I fear I may not be able to hold them off for very long. You must leave before the curse falls upon you!" Lucien and his men laughed, He replied "Foolish old hermit, just us few men could take down an army of the undead, They do not scare us. Come men, we must continue our search." Quickly after they heard steel fall to the ground from upstairs. Lucien turned to the Priest, "Who else is here?". He did not answer, he ran as fast as he could. Rolling his eyes he drew his sword and walked upstairs, while being accompanied by two of his finest men. When he reached upstairs he saw an armoured man, digging through a barrel. "Hello? Who are you?" The man quickly turned around, and revealed himself to be undead. Lucien put up his guard, "Quick men, Formation!" They quickly circled around the armed undead and waited for it to make a mistake. Just then two more undead crawled in from a nearby window, and drew out their swords. "Pick a target men, don't let it outsmart you." Lucien finished off his foe then turned and looked at the rest of his men, "Hey! We could use a bit of a hand up h-... Oh my god!" One of his partners replied without keeping his gaze off the undead in front of him, "What is it Lucien?". Lucien kept staring at the lower floor, "Their all dead!" He could hear footsteps coming from upstairs, "Come on men we need to get out of here!" They nodded and quickly went downstairs, but were greeted... by their dead men. Or should I say, "Undead" men. They were surrounded on the stair case, with little room to maneuver in, They were quickly overwhelmed and killed. Lucien woke up days later, with the bodies of his fallen foes lying on him. Pushing them off he checked his corners, and continued out of the Parish assuming he was merely knocked out earlier. He continued on until he found, what looked like, a man standing near a broken down shrine, staring at the sun. He tried to sneak up on him, but was interrupted by him speaking. "You know it's not all that bad." Lucien was confused, "What?". The man turned around revealing armour with a sun painted on it. "Being like me, you know, undead!" Lucien then realized what had happened. The man turned and looked at him, noticing his armour, "Ah, A fellow Astoran. Solaire of Astora, At your service..." There was a brief pause, "You're awfully quiet, If I didint know any better you could be a hollow! Ohohohoho, ah what a shame that would be..." Lucien quickly looked up, "Im sorry, im just... in shock I suppose. What are you doing here?"
    "Ah, Gazing at the sun... Magnificent isint it, like a wondrous body."
    "When I was a boy, the sun fascinated my greatly, and now that I look back at it, I seem to have fallen under it's spell again."
    Solaire turned, "We seem to be exactly alike... You and I, would you like to join my order? Warriors who fight under the name of the sunlight?"
    "Can't turn back now, I would be an outcast. Yes I will."
    Solaire chuckled. "Ohoh, wonderful, I think we are going to be great friends you and I."



    I hope nobody cares that I put Solaire in my story, it would be the only logical way Lucien would have been able to join the Sunbros.


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by zwanzig-tausend on Thu May 30, 2013 6:10 pm

    Say, is this thread dead? The edits to the front page stopped WAY earlier than the last post was made. And the thread holder didn't sign in for about half a year either.

    Would love to post my character profile, but what's the point if this thread is dead and there's no real way of finding the character profiles anymore? Eventually, it'll just end up being buried amongst others who posted their character posts in hopes of others reading them...

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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Emergence on Thu May 30, 2013 6:12 pm

    I've been keeping up with the new additions, as I explain at the very beginning of the OP. I have just been editing in new submissions, they just haven't been called out in the edits for some weird reason. You can post away with confidence!


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Eko on Tue Jun 18, 2013 2:04 am

    Name: Oerest (Oh-er-est), The Deformed, Exiled of Ariamis

    Appearance: Tall, somewhat thin, burnt and disfigured face, callused and cut hands

    Bio: Oerest was born in a small village just on the outskirts of Astora. His father worked as a merchant and his mother died in childbirth. Since his dad was a merchant he traveled all over Astora and even to other countries, always taking Oerest with him. One day they arrived in a small town on the outskirts of Astora; the streets were empty and the homes looked run down. Noticing the mysterious and suspicious nature of the town the two made camp a few hundred yards away. As their eyes began to shut they heard the beats of hooves on the ground behind them. Off in the distance they saw a large group of mercenaries riding towards the village with torches in hand. Oerest and his father sprinted to the town and took shelter inside an abandoned general store. Shortly after the mercenaries rode through the town and began to burn it hoping to flush out Oerest and his father. As the fires raged around them they scrambled to find a way out of the burning store and away from the mercenaries; however, the only way out seemed to be through the entrance and right into the hands of the mercenaries. Oerest's father found an old smuggler's room and hid Oerest inside in order to keep him safe from the fire. His father then ran into the street and lured the mercenaries away from the town. He ran as long as he could until they caught him, killed him and pillaged his merchandise. Oerest was only twelve that day and suffered burns all over his face, scaring and disfiguring him permanently.

        After that tragic night Oerest wandered through the Astoran country side until he found his way home. After four years passed and Oerest reached manhood he joined the army and began his military career. He trained extensively and developed his combat skills swiftly. He was on the fast track to becoming an officer until he was discovered taking weapons to trade on the side. After being dishonorably discharged from the Astoran Army, Oereste made his way east and began training with the weapon masters there; however, his concept of honor differed from that of the men in the east. Oerest felt that he should be able to fight without restraint and that combat didn't stop at surrender, for Oerest, combat only stops when the other man is dead. After being exiled permanently from the temple he made his way to Balder. He didn't stay there for long as he was instantly shunned because of his appearance. 

         Throughout his travels Oerest had heard tales of a land called Lordran where gods where born and heroes thrived. He eventually made the pilgrimage to Lordran. Upon arriving at Firelink Shrine, Oerest met with Laurentius and learned the very basics of pyromancy. Laurentius told him tales about the first flame and the Witch of Izalith and urged Oerest not too seek out the powerful chaos pyromancies. Of course Oerest didn't heed Laurentius's warning and headed into Blighttown to seek out a way to the Demon Ruins. In Blighttown Oerest met Quelana, a daughter of the Witch of Izalith. Oerest trained under her for a very short time until she discovered he wanted access to the chaos pyromancies. Quelana refused to continue his training and forever banned him from returning to Blighttown; if Oerest did return, Quelana said it would be the end of him. Knowing her power Oerest fled Blighttown and made for Anor Londo. After a harrowing journey through Sen's Fortress Oerest defeated the Iron Golem with the help of Black Iron Tarkus. Oerest quickly found out Anor Londo was not everything he had heard it to be. After being chased through the city by giant guards, gargoyles and bat demons Oerest took refuge in the chapel. 

         He hid in that chapel for several weeks and he could never tear his eyes away from the giant painting on the back wall; it was as if the painting had called out to him. Eventually, he gave in and touched the painting. All of a sudden he was dragged in and he found himself on a rickety bridge in the middle of a snow covered mountain range with what appeared to be the ruins of an old castle in front of him. Curious about his new surroundings, Oerest made his way to the entrance of the castle and was greeted by a half-dragon/half-woman creature wielding a large scythe and on her side stood a much smaller man in an odd yellow outfit. She introduced herself as Priscilla and offered sanctuary to Oerest. Graciously Oerest accepted and became a part of the Exiled of Ariamis. He vowed to protect Priscilla at all costs and to forever keep the secrets of the painted world safe. Now he works closely with the Exiled of Ariamis to hone his skills and to forever to keep Priscilla safe.


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Wilkinson3424 on Mon Jul 29, 2013 3:37 am

    Name: Ignis, the raging fire.

    Covenant: Follower of Izalith

    Appearance: Very muscular appearance, scars from burns, Suprisingly well kept hair and handsome face with green eyes. He wears a ripped up gold hemmed hood, and skirt, with some pieces torn around his body. He wields two Chaos Furyswords and has a very bright pyromancy flame.

    Bio: Like his sisters he was trained in the arts of fire sorceries from his mother, The Witch of Izalith. But he was definitely not a favourite. His sisters teased him, He was not talented like they were. He could only produce a flame big enough to be seen, or burn one's finger. But there was one sister who cared for him. She was the oldest of the sisters and would comfort Ignis when he was bullied, and gave him private lessons of things that their mother would not teach them until they were older. However this was for a good reason, He could not control this fire and his skin was badly burned when he attempted to use it, especially when he was angry. His entire body went up in flames and ended up falling down a series of floors, down into the bottom of Izalith. He was trapped down there and forgotten, but he could not die. Something had changed.

    He practiced his fiery powers in seclusion. He did this for hundreds of years, until finally something happened...

    For 1000 years he watched his city burn until he finally had the power to escape where he had been trapped. Many demons took his place down there, and he sealed them off. He escaped the city that was being raided by demons until he met two of his sisters, Quelaag and his older sister, They were not the same. They had been transformed into strange spider half demons but they were still conscious. One sister disappeared, while the others had either been killed or consumed in chaos. When they had explained what happened, they all vowed to protect their lost city, and family.

    Ignis and her sisters developed new pyromancies together, with the power of Chaos. They are extremely powerful and they each hold their own seperate unique power. But sadly, the Elder sister's care, and humility was the death of her, She had sacrificed herself to protect a human pyromancer, and a follower of the Chaos Trinity. This was too much to bare for the others, so they each collected humanity for the sister, and continued to do so. The sister started to lose memory, first about her brother who she had recently met up with again, Ignis. And then started to lose memory of Quelaag her last known sister. Ignis secretly gave humanity to Quelaag that was then delivered through her, to avoid scaring the eldest sister. Ignis can still be found today in Lost Izalith protecting his mother, and chaotic sisters, and the Fair Lady.

    There is only so much one can do though... For in Lordran there are no happy endings. It is a lost cause for Ignis to protect his lost city... He is alone, and all memory of him is erased...

    That is when he finds them...

    Tempestatem Ignis...


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Pale_Drake on Wed Jul 31, 2013 12:00 am

    Name: Silvester of Carim

    Covenant: Gravelord Servant(in-game only)

    Appearance: Pale skin, medium black unkempt hair and slim body. Wears a black hood, with a black coat, with tattered clothes around his hands and, armored leggings. Wields an assort of weapons at the ready including knifes and bombs

    Combat skills: Uses parrying dagger, a great scythe and, occainsionally uses a sword he looted from a balder knight. He loots bodies for a living so he's quick on his feet and doesn't stay in one place for long. Will use magic if possible, mainly to buff his weapons.

    Bio:
      When he became undead he traveled to Lordran with a group of people, one being a "Sir Lautrec the Embraced", while one wore crimsion colored robes and the other wore simple leather armor. Silvester was always quiet, he was always in the shadows. They came across a "peddler" named Patches and asked if he could follow them. They quietly talked it over and then agreed. It took them a month to reach Lordran.
      When they did they rested at a bonfire near a church ruin. They were all quiet until Patches asked what they all hate. The one with robes said "hard headed idiots', the one in leather said "thieves", Lautrec said "those who are greedy and horde everything". Patches was silent after hearing there answers and quickly turned to Silvester and asked him the same. He simply replied "People who shouldn't stick there nose into other peoples business", this startled Patches.
      After about an hour Silvester simply got up and left for the Catacombs. He noticed that Patches was following him and quickly used to ledges in there to lose him, but sliped and fell onto another ledge, almost losing his grip on it. Almost able to get up Patches walk in front of him steping on his fingers, "hey there buddy, how's it hanging", he pressed harder on his finger, "dont worry you'll be with your other buddies soon". He then kicked Silvester off the ledge and he died for the first time. He was then reanimated back at a bonfire, soon he left to find patches.
      He checked where he was at and found a strange scythe near the ledge and picked it up. After a few swings he thought he would keep it, and he continued with his manhunt. He searched though the Catacombs and a little bit into the Tomb of the Giants. Soon he gave up and fell asleep in a coffin, after a few hour he got out and saw a giant coffin with Nito, the First of the Dead, inside. He hear a voice saying that if he'll joined the Gravelord he would help Silvester find Patches, after some thought he agreed.
    He now skulks around the Catacombs waiting to do his master's beding, and for Patches to come looking for him.


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Kahldris_Ducard on Mon Aug 05, 2013 2:20 pm

     The Saga of Kahldris Ducard….


     

                    Long ago, in the ancient kingdom of Balder, Knight King Rendal ruled the land with and it was prosperous.  The King wished to have an heir and wooed a young maiden of the church, convincing her to become his consort, as the Queen was barren. The young Maiden fell for this great man, and quickly became pregnant. As the young woman came closer to the birth a miracle occurred, the barren Queen became heavy with child, a surprise to the entire kingdom indeed! The maiden gave birth to a son, healthy and strong, yet the King did not proclaim him as his son, as the Queen was due later that year to have royal heirs be born. Poor girl, she was heartbroken, and so she took her son back to the church, and forsook the life she had begun to enjoy with the King. In time, twins were born, boy and girl, and the King swept them up and proclaimed them to be his only heirs, and he was happy. This tale is not about those children though…. What happened to the young boy born and then shunned by his own father?

     

     

                    The Maiden named her child Kahldris, after the Knight of old who saved the kingdom from Ruin. He grew as an acolyte of the church, from doing simple chores to maintaining the flame that never sleeps. Inside he yearned for more, as though he did not belong to this simple life. At 14, he began to sneak away, trying desperately to find new excitement and slake his thirst for new and unknown things. He became a page for a Knight of Balder, and served him well, learning the basics of combat, though he was not strong, his agility and grace made him a natural for the smaller weapons. At 16 this Knight made him a squire, and begun to teach him how to use the Famous side sword of balder, and the shield for which all knights use. The church knew none of this, for Kahldris kept up his chores in the evening, and trained and served all day. The Knight became as his father, giving the lad encouragement and the training to become a proper Knight himself. Kahldris soon became part of a junior knight squad, his prowess earning him the spot on the same group as the Prince himself…. The King wanted to push his son into greatness and was determined to send this young group on the most difficult of tasks not reserved for the Knights Proper……. Until one day…..

    Cedon the prince enjoyed bossing the other squires around, having them fetch things and taking the glory for himself, for he was a selfish and spoiled young man, and the other junior knights quickly grew tired of this, for they sought glory for themselves. They set a prank to play on the young fool, and Kahldris was to be the point man,  they planned and planned, and they thought it would be humorous and embarrassing to set up an assassination attempt in public on the prince. They set the event up, invited the guests and started the grand party. Unknowing to the poor youngsters, a real assassin would swtich out the blades, and poor Kahldris, he killed his own Half-brother!!! Enraged the guards arrested him and brought him before the King. The Maiden now a Mother of the Church, came to her sons defense, and in the Confines of a jail cell, Kahldris learned his father was the King!! So enraged by the gross negligence of his true father, he breaks free of his shackles and attacks the guards, bent on getting vengeance for his mother and himself for the life of peasantry forced upon them. He attacks the King, but to no avail, the Kings runs his own son through!!!! The accursed Darksign appears on this Poor Fools body, and he is cast into the ship, to be taken into the asylum for the undead. Clothed only in his trousers, from his mother’s church, and a broken sword clutched in his hand. He escapes  this forgotten asylum, and finds himself in lodran, a strange place where Dread and Misery seem to thrive. He makes his way through the Burg, avoiding the giant Bull Demon and past the Dragon, he then finds himself face to face with the Knight, the Knight who trained him!!! But the Knight did not Recognize him, and attacked, Kahldris fought with the training his friend taught him, sending his poor mentor to a better place. Kahldris then picked up his sword and shield, and Donning the Armor and gloves of his country he set off to bring Salvation to the cursed Blighttown. On his way down, he saved a happy little fellow in the Lower Burg by the name of Griggs, who taught him sorcery, a forbidden art in Balder. After learning the basics Kahldris feel so ashamed he takes the hood of a hollow thief, to hide his face in shame. He travels on Saving a damsel in distress, obtaining her ivory catalyst and even going back in time to save her kingdom, he offers the soul of a fellow knight to a strange woman, who gives him this dagger, which fits perfectly in his hand, and even conquers the Mighty Ornstein and Smough, but he finds no peace in this, no place to belong, The crystals of the Archives do not slake his thirst but his magic does grow. Finally a Painting calls out to him,  he touches this masterpiece and is sucked in. Inside this world, he discovers outcasts and exiles, people with whom he can relate. At the end of this world, he encounters the FurryTail one, the Exile Priscilla, who looking into his souls, offers him a home if he should defend her. Seeing this Gentle yet Dangerous woman offer him a home, brings a smile to his face for the first time in a long time, He agrees and becomes part of her loyal entourage of Exiles.


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by BloodMoon96 on Wed Aug 14, 2013 11:04 pm

    |The Dance of The Exiled|




    Alvina: Is it not so that thou art new.
    Thou fared well to find me.
    But cometh thee not for the grave of Sir Artorias?
    My advice true, forget this!
    The legend of Artorias art none but a fabrication.
    … Traversing the dark? 'Tis but a fairy tale.
    Have thine own respect, go not yonder knocking for nothing, I say!

    The Dancer: I have not come for the grave of Artorias.
    I've heard about your hunters and that which they protect, so to you I came..
    .. I came for the sounds of the forest, the song of protection made by the battles of your champions and protectors driving off those whom dare invade your land. 
    Everything to me is but a song.. A song to which I dance, and all those before me fall, caught in some unfortunate misstep which can not be corrected or undone.

    Alvina: Well indeed, thou art a strange one! Nevertheless, I feel some liking for thee.
    I'm Alvina of the Darkroot Wood.
    I command a clan of hunters who track down defilers of the forest graves.
    What dost thou say? Wilt thou not join us?
    Oh yes, I believe we would suit thee well.

    The Dancer: Ever since this curse of Undeath took me I've not used my true name, you may refer to me as "The Dancer". 
    As to your question.. Perhaps..
    -she'd pause to think about her options for a moment-
    I will join you and your hunters, Alvina.. but only for a time..
    Only until the song changes and carries me away, away to the next stage for my dance..
    .. My beloved dance of death.

    Alvina: I am very glad, Dancer!
    And now thou art one of us! Let us establish a Covenant. 
    -the feline would lower her left paw, in which a tarnish gold ring containing one pearl of pristine beauty would form from a thin tendril of fog-
    And here, thaketh this ring.
    If thou weareth that ring, it allows for thine summoning.
    If mine senses reveal intruders, then I will summon thee.
    Fend them off sir, I beseech only this.
    I shall summon others, who will by their honour work tirelessly with thee.
    Thou shalt receive great reward, and whatsoever ye shall pillage will be thine own.
    A true agreement, not so?
    But thou must heed the golden rule…
    The clan is thine own family. To thine kinsmen forever stay true.
    Dare'st not in any attempt to double-cross. Have no doubt, such wretchedness, never will we tolerate.

    The Dancer: -taking the ring she would place it upon her finger, nodding in respect to Alvina- 
    .. A fair agreement, yes, but do remember when the song changes I shall leave you.
    Until then I shall guard your forest and all those that reside here.
    -bowing before the grand feline she would turn and walk away, seeming to flow to a song which only she could hear, into the depths of the forest.. her temporary home-
    ______________________________________________________________________

    Over time the mysterious dancer would hold true to her arrangement with Alvina, felling all those who would enter the forest with intent to harm those within it.. Her short blades floating around her in a wondrous display of steel as the Dancer weaved, stepped, bobbed and floated around her enemies in her signature dance of death, spilling the blood of the guilty onto the forest floor which she walked.

    One day the Dancer approached Alvina only to lay the ring gave to her at the Feline's feet as she'd move away into the fog and trees, saying nothing more then "The Song has changed, I leave to stage it takes me next, so that I may preform there as I have for you..".
    ______________________________________________________________________

    Following the song which only she could hear the Dancer came to stand before a painting of snowy trees and crumbling castles, moving closer to inspect the work of art she would reach out to touch what would appear to be the face of a once beautiful maiden, now faded and torn on the painting. Once her fingers touched the canvas the Dancer would feel a strange pulling sensation, looking to where her fingers met the paper she'd notice the tips of her fingers blurring, the pigment of her skin appearing upon the snowy landscape of the picture.. Shocked she would try and draw back only to find she could no longer disconnect herself from the painting as her hand would be pulled whole into the canvas, truly worried now she'd try and tug with all her strength to get her arm out of the painting to no avail, the paintings force increase the more she struggled until her whole body was dragged into the beautiful masterpiece.

    Upon awakening the Dancer would draw a ragged breath of freezing air  into her lungs, causing her to cough violently before regaining her composure and pushing herself to her feet. Looking around she would note that the place she awoke in just happened to look exactly like the painting, the only thing which she remembered.. Moving throughout the frozen land the Dancer came across many monstrous and horrific beings whom barred her path, seeming as though they were trying to guard something precious to them, still here in this frozen world the song to which she danced grew louder, more instruments adding their sound to the rhythm within her mind the further she progressing into this new land.

    Time holding no meaning in this cold and harsh land the Dancer lost track of how many days she wandered about, only caring to find the place where her song would finally become complete. Many more days passed before she came to a gate of fog and snow, her song now near its climax, she would shoulder through the blockade stepping out of the snowy fog only to find herself before a pristine and graceful being.. which stood twelve feet tall, skin like alabaster, strands of hair - color rivaling the finest silversmiths work of art, and strangest of all a long white fur tail wrapped about her legs at the base of her snow white silk gown. 
    Looking up into the being's face the Dancer could only think Beautiful.. 

    "Who art thou?
    One of us, thou art not.
    If thou hast misstepped into this world,
    plunge down from the plank, and hurry home.
    If thou seekest I,
    thine desires shall be requited not." 


    The being would speak with a voice of soft velvet and shimmering silver while looking down at the Dancer.

    "Many have called me the Dancer, I am merely but a dancer whom followed the song within her soul to this place, this frozen and pristine stage.. 
    I can not leave, not yet.." 


    She, the Dancer,  would answer, her tone filled with awe.

    The pale yet beautiful being would lean down to look closer at the Dancer before speaking once more, a soft smile upon her face.

    "Thou may call me, Priscilla.. I pray to thee, thou must returneth whence thou came.
    This land is peaceful, its inhabitants kind, but thou dost not belong.
    I beg of thee, plunge down from the plank, and hurry home."


    Shaking her head in answer the Dancer would move forward gracefully, beginning to dance about Priscilla in a circle kicking and tossing up soft snow with every step she would take in this new dance of hers. 

    "I would like to oblige you and leave this place, but I can not.. the song, the song whose  rhythm I dance to in this life led me here to this painted world, to you..
    Priscilla, since coming to this land of yours my song has changed and grown into something worthy of the wealthiest kingdoms to bless their ears with and weep after it is over. Standing before you is where it came to it's climax, it's final grand moment!
    Do you not understand? This is where I belong, in this world.. by your side, if you would only let me stay.. I promise to dance to this wondrous tune which you have brought me and strike down all those who seek to cause you and your own harm.."


    Priscilla would watch the undead woman dance about her, a smile twitching about the corners of her mouth..

    "Very well Undead..
    Have thine wish and stay here in this painted world.. Thine dance shall inspire all loyal to this peaceful land and strike fear into the hearts all whom intrude with intent of harm.
    I welcome thee to my side, Dancer.. Thou dances the Dance of the Exiled now."
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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Kahldris_Ducard on Tue Aug 20, 2013 11:39 am

    The Tale of the Maiden…..
     
                    Long ago, in the kingdom of Thorolund, there was a pious Maiden of the Church, eager to be a servant of the Gywn, as the churches were dedicated to him, she was accepted as a novice to the Church, and given duties to perform.  So eager was she to serve, she noticed not the travesties taking place behind the closed doors, things so sick her young mind would have been crushed. The years passed and she became a full maiden of the church, and was always happy with this, trusting her faith in Gywn would see to everything. Yet this was not to be……….
                    Bandits came down from the mountains, looting and pillaging, nothing was safe from their hungry eyes, The Churches of Allfather Lloyd and Gywn stood no chance to be passed upon, for the riches of offerings was too great for the Bandits to pass upon. They sacked the Churches, slaughtering everyone they came upon, even the poor maiden who knelt in prayer. They did unspeakable things to the poor girl, then slitting her throat and leaving her crumpled body on the altar, they sacked the rest of the Church, going on to pillage till the Knights eliminated them. However the poor girls fate was not to die, the Darksign burst forth, and the few members left of both Great Churches knew her fate was sealed.  When she awoke as an undead, the clergy tasked her with the same mission as all other undead, to retrieve the Ritual of Kindling, and return it to Thorolund, the same task bestowed upon countless other undead from the land. She was sent to the Undead Asylum first, to then journey to Lordran, garbed only in her maiden’s outfit and a dagger, she felt as though she was being disposed of in a convenient manner. She traveled the lands of Lordran, meeting strange and interesting people, acquiring new skills, and new equipment.  She became fond of a side sword from an undead knight, and a wavy sword wielded by a man with a snake’s head. A small leather shield fit perfectly on her arm, and gave her defense from the world out to destroy her. Most importantly she met a man who shared his flame with her, and in the flame a voice called out to her. “Use me, take this instrument of fire, and use it to protect yourself from all who would do you harm.” She undertook the mastering of the flame with all seriousness, even meeting a new master in the bottom of Blighttown, who gave  her the ability to have a even brighter flame, and new ways to work the flames.
     

    And so she reached Anor Londo, the city of Gywn, the lord she has come to hate with all her being. The only concession she takes from the city is a pair of gloves from a giant, to protect her hands and stop a foe. Yet as she makes her way to destroy the city, thinking her great flames are up to the task, she hears a voice “Child why do you seethe inside, your hatred of Gywn has led you to this moment.” Startled she turns, looking into a mysterious and daunting painting, showing a world of cold and ice, of stone and tree. Touching the painting she is sucked in, teleported to the world she saw so breathtakingly depicted in the painting. She encounters various creatures, who make as to attack, yet they halt, perhaps sensing a kindred spirit, she bows and continues on, following this growing feeling of calmness. The maiden finds herself at the end of a bridge, looking upon the most elegant creature she has ever seen. “Please leave this place the people here are peaceful, and exiles from other worlds, as am I.” the enchantress spoke. The Maiden was in awe. For this being wished peace and welfare upon the people whom she looked over. “Madam, please let me stay for I too am an exile, and cursed as well.” The elegant creature looks at her for what seemed forever, then smiled to herself. “An exile you are, yet your home you have found, seek out Ahhotep, she leads my guardians, ask her to take you in, you may be  an Exile, but you are now My Exile, protect this painted world with all that you possess.” The maiden bowed, then set off to send this Ahhotep, a feeling of contentment arose from deep within. She was home, and no one or thing was going to separate her from her home again, a smile tugged the corners of her mouth, and she was surprised when a lone tear fell from her face, home is where she always wanted to be.  


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Wilkinson3424 on Sat Aug 24, 2013 3:56 pm

    Name: The Exiled One

    Appearance: Black, well kept hair. His face is pale and handsome, but many scars streak across the little skin that he shows. He has eyes that are black as night, as described by an adventurer who returned from the painted world. He wears a long, black, leather coat. Uses a sword from Balder, and a massive sword in the other hand. His right hand almost seems like it is on fire to one who looks closely.

    Birthplace: Presumed to be Astora

    Current Residence: The Painted World of Ariamas

    Affiliation: None.

    Bio:

    A man with no past, no future, and no present. He wanders Lordran with the desire to hunt, fight, and kill.

    His stone cold veins run with the blood of the Painted World, where he currently resides. He sees this land as he sees himself; Forgotten and an old Legend. This is the only confirmed location anyone has ever seen him. But most who wander into the painted world never return, so it is likely that he does not exist at all. Perhaps it's his image that drives young ones and adventurers to become great people, whether that greatness lie in evil, or good...

    The Arena of Astora was always known for it's gore, and pride. Many died and many triumphed in this small arena, it was where you got your name engraved in a tablet, to be forever known. To bring honour and wealth to your family...

    Our story tells of a person who wanted none of this, for he lived for the excitement of battle, and the rush of the fight. He enlisted in the arena with no name, no title, and no story.

    His first match was a quick one, but very bloody. The cheers could be heard throughout Astora, Our nameless hero/villain had... fallen. He seemed to give himself up to his combatant.

    The cheers quickly grew silent... Something had happened, as if a dagger had stabbed the heart of the crowd's excitement.

    The Combatant who's face grew saddened, and then in pain, turned red, with blood. He looked down at his chest and saw a knife covered in toxins. He fell down to his knees as the Nameless one  got back up. They stared at each other, The Combatant's face was terrified, it seemed that the more he died, the more the Nameless one revived. The Combatant's skin turned to fire, then quickly turned to ash.

    A few screams could be heard in the audience but most were quiet. Guards entered the arena to stop whatever he had been doing to his opponent. Fire spread through the Nameless one's arms and fire pillars arose in the arena, the guards had been burned alive.

    The Spectators screamed as they ran out of the arena frantically. A battalion of guards came and arrested the Nameless one.

    He was in the Astorian court, but no jury could find a crime committed that was worthy of execution. He had done as he was allowed to do, kill his combatant. But the way he did it frightened almost all of Astora. He was sent into exile and would never again be able to enter Astora.

    The only memory that existed of him, became rumour, and rumour became legend, and all legends are either forgotten, or twisted in a way that they become false in every aspect.

    But he was stricken down, the mighty saviour of Astora and the world, was stricken down. But he could not be killed, he would not quit. He destroyed the Evil Eye, and saved Astora! With a mighty leap he plunged his blade into the heart of the beast and it was no more. - Excerpt from a children's book of legends.

    No one can tell if he was the Hero, or the Evil Eye. No one has the answer.

    For all records that may have ever been true...

    were destroyed, the Astora Archives burned down the day he was exiled, in a wild fire that almost destroyed half of Astora. No bodies were ever found in this fire, and the source, was never confirmed...


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Mintgroove on Sat Aug 24, 2013 10:51 pm

    Name: Astaire

    Birthplace: Fivefinger Delta

    Current Residence: Roaming Lordran to either link the flame or extinguish it, as do you all.

    Affiliation: Chaos Servant

    Bio: I written this on another board and figured it'd be a pain to let it rout. Edited it a little.

    He sees any being that's supernatural as a subhuman abomination that needs to be put down, he is thriving on Demon's Souls logic. 

    His father was a Way of White pastor and his mother was, eventually, an Undead chased out of town who his family got killed trying to save: She had her life ended and defiled by demons and other monstrosities at the foot of her last moments, thanks to the Way of White pursuing her exile. He tended to her when she was Hollow and going nuts, in the end somehow contracting the Darksign himself.

    He carries the Old Witch's Ring with him as a memento from her that she perchance found without understanding, figuring the characters to be an antiquated practical joke turned modern curiosity.

    He believes and respects no gods, absolves himself of his contemplation and aspires their demise. You see, after some investigating, he perceived the gods of Anor Londo to be spreading deceptive propaganda to further their own ends because they fear the Undead. His efforts revealed them as little more than monsters controlling men through the Way of White. He witnessed first hand how Stray Demons are steadily accruing in their ranks and the awful things they did to his mother in the name of their gods and how powerless his father was to help. Why worship gods that advocate, nay, create such cruelty? She ran into a hive of Capra on the run, and he never forgave gods, demons, his father, the Way of Right, but above all he never forgave his weakness.

    years later, upon escaping the Undead Asylum

    He cleaves apart the many faces of the now split Everlasting Dragons, from the lightning infatuated Drakes, to the firey Hellkite Wyverns, to the aquatic Hydras. He trusts no serpent. Humans who use sorceries, pyromancies and miracles are tainted and warrant his contempt, though he values all people and non monstrous lifeforms. He would slay the gods, slay the demons, find some way for mankind to live independently of both their sustenance and it's own beginnings. He knows his dead angles, his spacing and has an intricate know how of armour combinations. Godly with all bows and weaponry and items.

    His story comes to a head when he slew Quelaag. He comes across Quelaag's sister. He lies to Eingyi that he's a new servant to add a classy spin on his attempt at murdering the fair lady like you'd expect him to, but he finds the ring his mother gave him belonged to Quelaag herself when the fair lady mistook him for her sister. She was scarcely conscious as she was assisting humans and gotten ill for it, and Quelaag only wanted for her what he wanted for his mother, judging by how the fair lady spoke to him under the delirious misunderstanding that he himself was Quelaag. But was he really so different from Quelaag?

    He felt like a huge hypocrite. To think this occult monstrosity did it to save humans.

    So what was he and everything he believed in? It got worse when it seemed apparent Eingyi is or was human and spread the same putrid bile on people with his poison. 

    What will he do from here on out?

    Starts Warrior as Hunters have an extra Attunement stat. He uses no magic. He is all swords, bows. Delta Farmer face type, edited to be more chiselled and masculine. Red hair, swept back. 

    He is a weapons master. He briefly entertains the notion of starting a mercenary band in Lordran from time to time. Having suffered through hellish experience after hellish experience, his skills and acceptance of his own fate have deified the familiar tremors of his Zweihander smashing the ground. Nearly impossible to kill through sheer force of will alone, he rings with a playful, sardonic wit.


    40/40 qual build
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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Valanor on Wed Aug 28, 2013 1:06 pm

    Hello,

    it has not been long since I've entered the Convenant of The Exiled or Ariamis.Thus and because I've always loved to do those things,I've decided to create my very own RP Character (which is also currently the one I'm leveling up).I hope you can write me down on the list under the convenant;I will copy my RP post into the convenant thread itself!Please keep in mind that my native language is not English.This could mean a few mistakes here and there as well as a more "standart" vocabulary than what you may be used to.If this doesn't bother you (the reader),then I hope that you will enjoy my RP posting!

    Link to my covenant:
    http://soulswiki.forumsrpg.com/t23838-the-exiled-of-ariamis-epoch-five-transcendence

    And now,this is the story of Darron of Carim:



    Darron had always been a faithful knight with enthusiasm, hope and love in his heart. He had been a sworn warrior in the army of the Kingdom Carim, following his family traditions and dutys. In every war since he had started his soldier life, he obeyed without asking and done what has been asked of him. The number of slain traitor souls, spurring on against the leadership of Carim, was beyond counting. He had been in the glory of was life...before an event happened that changed everything he knew.

    A fierce opponent he was indeed. Bravery, skill and honour were part of his image. Though, if you would ask Darron today, he would call him a mere coward. A bastard whose luck was blessed by the pityful gods he was worshipping.

    It was actually supposed to be a simple mission. Kill the bandit raid pillaging through the fields of the farmers. Darron and his troup he was leading were searching for them in the mountains were they had been seen to have made their retreat to. As they were marching, an ambush took the two last men and the two first men with arrows. Then the raid showed itself. Over a dozen bandits clothed up as barbarians, fought the army troup. What they lacked in skill, they made up with their numbers. Every soldier was fighting at least two bandits at once. A few even three. It was a massacre. Blood split all over the field, men were begging for their lifes on both sides and the fight seemed to go on forever. Just one of the troup was remaining; Darron himself. He was out of breath, trying to defend his back and sides at its best, but he wouldn't stand a chance against the remaining bandit raid, even though a lot of them had already been killed by the troup.

    The raids leader then fought him head on head alone. He was no mere bandit like the others. Darron soon saw that and he realized that his opponent was an ex-soldier of the army of Carim.

    "Why...why and when did thou choose to do this? Was thou not one of us?" he yelled out to the bandits leader.

    "When I would have stayed any longer in the so-called heroic army of Carim who butchered kept innocents in their dungeons to rot and die due to starvation, I would'nt be a human anymore."

    He grinned as he saw that Darron's face was shocked by those words, hearing for the first time. He saw that the troup leader was letting down his guard and took the chance to slice his heavy greatsword into the shoulder of his opponent. This day Darron would surely have lost his whole arm if the ex-soldier wouldn't have stopped the power in the swing by himself.

    A cool silent was going on. Nothing could be heard but Darron's scream of pain. He then was quickly left to die with his fellow soldier comrades. But this man wasn't to be killed that quickly. He rose from the muddy ground he was still laying on after the battle had ended and he somehow got his way back to the headquarters.

    With his wound still burning like somebody was throwing salt at it the whole time, he was glad to finally have made it home. But he was not been given glory. He was not been given the title of a hero doing his duty since he was a cripple now. He wasn't even been given aid as fast as possible. Instead he was accused of not fulfilling his duty, being a coward and have betrayed his home country. He was sentenced to banishment and exile and soon he was sent to Lordran to remain there and die a sorry death. In his last words to the court, he said:

    "So, I am the traitor for doing my duty and trying to die for it? And my only reward will be exile? Ha, be merciful, say 'death', for exile hath more terror in his look, much more than death."

    It of course didn't help him much to say such things to the court of Carim.

    In Lordran he found that his death would come soon for him. The wound on his shoulder side was still hurting him and it didn't seem to be healing at all. He had to accept his faith and chose one of the many dark places in New Londo to die. But his death didn't hold for long. The next time he opened his eyes, he found himself at a bonfire. He was wondering if all this has been a dream and he would have finally awoken from it. Far from it. He looked at his body and saw the rotting flesh on his bones. Even his shoulder wound was vanished as it had never happened.

    As if the gods had at last seen his suffering, Darron was given the answers by another fellow undead. An undead woman from The Great Swamp. Her name was Lauren and she explained to him everything about the Darksign, the Curse of the Undead, the story of Lordran and how everything and everybody in this land went mad and finally how he ended up at this bonfire.

    Darron still could not believe what he had heard, but he could see it. And as such he would have to believe it and live with it. Desperation made its way into his mind. If not this by the gods sent angel had been there for him, he would have gone Hollow in the blink of an eye; or at least so he would tell others his story of how he felt in this moment.

    The two then walked through this desolated country, with few sane minds remaining. They supported each other and kept themselves from going Hollow. He even started to learn Pyromancy from her, a sheldom gift she shared with others. In return, Darron taught her the art of sword fight.

    Darron started to see more of Lordran. The former human burg, now infested by undead gone mad, the church, defiled and also infested by Hollows...Lauren even showed her Anor Londo, the famous and noble city of Lordran. Even if he could only see its walls, he now knew that this he had to see.

    The night before they went for Anor Londo, they rested in a protected place near the church. They talked a lot, about historys and storys, how it was like in the places they were coming from and many things more. He understood that he had found a companion.

    The next day he found Lauren a little bit away from the church, now dead. The only thing that gave him information about the cause was a note of Lautrec of Carim who had obviously seen them before because in the note it was standing that Darron shouldn't get used too much to companionship for it was an uncertain thing to do in a land like Lordran.

    Anger and Hatred marked him. His new purpose was revenge. He so started searching for a way to do so and seeked out the primordial serpant Kaathe to join the Darkwraiths. With his new power, he would make Lautrec suffer for the crime done to Darron and his companion.

    With the skills in swordmanship from his soldier life and the lessons in pyromancy from Lauren, he made his way to Anor Londo. He was told by Kaathe to look for answers there since his other task was to obtain the Lordvassel. But his hunger for revenge took the lead and he searched for Lautrec.

    Days passed as he looked for Lautrec, but he could not find him. Another day passed, and another. His hatred and anger slowly began to dissappear, leaving only dispair and hopelessness in him. He was just about to go Hollow when he heard about The Exiled of Ariamis. As an Exiled himself, he went out to find this convenant in order to join them. And he succeeded. It was a group with a purpose, a group of people who shared a fate with him.

    The once faithful knight from Carim, with hope and love in his heart...now a mere shadow lurking in the dark, with a new and noble purpose to hold on to, to prevent himself from completely going Hollow.


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Ahhotep1 on Tue Sep 10, 2013 11:12 am

    Here is my RP about Tamar and Tamara, her twin sister. It's a tentative start and like pieces in a puzzle at the moment. But I will be expanding on the bits so as to have their proper bios.

    Ahhotep1 - "Tamar and Tamara:
    The following is the tentative and "bit" by "bit" beginning of their RP. I will be adding, editing, collating and rendering a cohesive back story(s)...eventually. silly

    For my reference:
    Exiled RP old links and how to's page of OP
    Lifehunt: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.

    Exiled: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

    1) Seth's "Shotgun RP Challenge"

    2) Valanor's RP Arrival at PW

    3) Response to Kahl's "Sorne" Char

    4) Exiled Farewell RP


    Last edited by Ahhotep1 on Wed Sep 11, 2013 2:26 pm; edited 1 time in total

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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Elite Knight on Tue Sep 10, 2013 9:11 pm

    The Batman of Lordran: http://mmdks.com/3xcg

    Name: Brutus Vayne

    Birthplace: Carim

    Current Residence: Lordran, venturing through the Undead Church to the Lower Undead Burg

    Affiliation: Darkmoon Blade (eventually)



    Lore:


                    Dead air billowed around the noiseless shrine. Even though a handful of weary travelers occupied the crumbling and godforsaken hallowed grounds, the atmosphere never felt more desolate. Spirits were dampened by an aura of hopelessness emanating from the stale air that seemed to haunt Lordran like the specters below in the ruins of the once-great New Londo. It was quiet. That was the way he preferred it to be. Normally, he perched himself atop the roof of the ruined chapel that sat, a moss-covered, stony reminder of the world that had once been. However, he sought for the comfort of the flame, reminiscing on past memories, painful apparitions that haunted even his most pleasant dreams, which were in themselves seldom occurrences.
                    His hands folded, his helmet by his side, facing away from the warrior who always sat idle along the wall, so as to conceal his identity, if only barely. His coat clung to him, sweaty and ragged and still as dependable as it had been when he fashioned it. His knives and bolts were secure in their harnesses, his belt equipped with all manner of items needed for him to wade through this deadened world and root out all manner of malicious activity and evil. He had returned from a bout with a pair of large gargoyles, his wits stretched far in order to succeed in that battle. His mind weighed heavily, thinking that, had the second beast not accidentally slain the first with a large sweep of its overlarge halberd, and fallen from the rooftops with its companion, it was highly likely that he would have been slain.
                    Not that such a thing mattered; death had no adverse consequences in the land of the Undead, other than being excruciatingly painful and **** one of their Humanity. But alas, such a thing was negligible in the long run of affairs, and in this land death was nothing but an obstacle rather than an absolute ending. Now the dark figure sat, silent and brooding in the pale gloom of seemingly endless Lordran sunlight. The lone warrior seemed to pay his company no mind, seemed not to care either way if this bleak and dreary frame were around anymore. He counted this as a blessing; this warrior’s disinterest of his company meant that he was less likely to study him, to learn of him and who he was. Brutus had no idea if his name carried much significance in this accursed place, but his name would remain free of the wind nonetheless.
                    He had invented this darkened persona for a reason, and to shatter the validity of that persona’s terrifying presence meant his lifework’s demise. He was a watchful shadow, striking and nightmarish even in this land of horrors. He was somewhat of a legend in the bordering lands, given a new name that struck fear into the hearts of evil men: The Batman. This name was revered by all; even by the dignitaries and righteous Clerics, and feared by men whose souls were tainted with Sin. He wasn’t a killer of men, not the blade that served as the bane of cruelty. No, he was something much worse than death incarnate. His existence beckoned pleas to die, from any who would fall under his never-ending wrath.
                    The Batman, a dark knight more haunting than those that wandered Lordran, a hunting shadow that stalked and watched and waited, until finally it struck, without warning. His eyes were always gazing, his mind always aware, his body prepared to do what was necessary to halt the existence of evil; even going so far as to adopt his own methods of cruelty. He had broken bones, shattered skulls, and beaten down many who had dared trespass into the realm of wickedness, be it by way of theft, political corruption, or murder. His enemies were many, and his friends were none. He was no beacon of righteous arbitration, nay, but one of necessary justice, the brand which is employed in dungeons where no one hears the screams of the tortured souls that are unfortunate enough to find themselves within their stone walls.
                    He, however, utilized the screams of his prey. Many a night in the darkness of Carim’s underworld he had coaxed the frightened and pain-riddled shrieks of street vermin, employing their psychological power in order to establish his role within the blackness: he was no Saint, nary afraid to stoop down to the requirements in which he would deem acceptable so that he may acquire what he needs; be it information or ceasing the wickedness of a man’s actions, leaving his broken frame for the authorities to apprehend, or crippling them so that may never do harm to anyone else ever again. And with no face, no name to trace back to, vengeance against this master of dark hunting was ill advised and absolutely impossible. He was a product of years of anger and training, an embodiment of vengeance, wrought from tragedy that he will never escape.
                    He began to reflect on that night, within Carim’s embracing walls, those many years ago. It was the night that spawned his sense of revenge, to right the wrong of the murder of his dear mother and father. He came to feel that wielding death would slay the hurt that resided inside him, that by striking down the murderer his conscience would become clear and that he could finally rest. However, as he grew he came to realize that such would not be truth, and that killing those who did evil made him no better than those he vowed to wage war against.
                    Brutus Vayne, born in Carim to loving parents, Thomas and Margaret Vayne. Thomas was an exceptionally wealthy philanthropist, physician and surgeon, and a close personal friend to Sir Arstor, the Earl of Carim. It was through his influence and the support of the Earl that Thomas was able to establish a network of infirmaries throughout Carim. Margaret had a fondness for the arts, and utilized the family fortune to promote all manner of artwork in Carim; painting, theatre, music, all art was beautiful to Margaret.
                    Despite the wealth the Vaynes possessed, they maintained a manner of humility and humbleness, instilling these qualities within their son as well. Thomas, ever the gold-hearted one, often gave his fortune for the betterment of civil life and Humanity. Brutus’ father once said that life is sacred, and that to turn a blind eye to your fellow man is to lose precisely what it means to have Humanity. These words would hold Brutus in his steadfast ascension to vigilantism.
                    He broke his thoughts from the past, returning his conscience to the present. He donned his helmet once more, stood and turned, heading back up to the Undead Church. He had much backtracking to do, and a ferocious dragon to outwit if he were to make his perilous plight into the godforsaken ruins of Blighttown. Thinking about such a journey did nothing to excite him; he’d rather enjoy it if he could stay here by the Bonfire forever.
                    However, there was evil in this land, and evil had to be eradicated. He walked, coming upon the lift, ascending higher and higher, his eyes closed in contemplation. His plan was formulating piece by piece as he lifted higher and higher into the air. He came to a stop within the hallowed and Hollow-infested halls of the church. Stepping forward, turning to the right to face the Undead knights of Balder that stood in the adjacent room. One noticed the dark figure, rousing its companions to join the fray.
                    A smile broke across Brutus’ face beneath the black horned helm. And within moments, his plan played out to his advantage, blurred and quickened. These Hollows were mindless beasts, lusting after the souls of the living so that they too may live again. They were doomed to an endless cycle of rebirth, and incapable of morality; they were primal creatures, having forgotten their senses long ago.
                    This made them ideal opponents, for they couldn’t truly be killed. Brutus walked away from the fallen Hollow knights, steeling himself for the challenges that would come. The path to Blighttown would be paved with the bodies of those he conquered in combat, but it would be paved nonetheless.
                    Lord knows what horrors he would face. But as the Batman of Lordran, he would face them; he would overcome.


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Wilkinson3424 on Tue Sep 10, 2013 9:57 pm

    Elite Knight wrote:The Batman of Lordran: http://mmdks.com/3xcg

    Name: Brutus Vayne

    Birthplace: Carim

    Current Residence: Lordran, venturing through the Undead Church to the Lower Undead Burg

    Affiliation: Darkmoon Blade (eventually)



    Lore:


                    Dead air billowed around the noiseless shrine. Even though a handful of weary travelers occupied the crumbling and godforsaken hallowed grounds, the atmosphere never felt more desolate. Spirits were dampened by an aura of hopelessness emanating from the stale air that seemed to haunt Lordran like the specters below in the ruins of the once-great New Londo. It was quiet. That was the way he preferred it to be. Normally, he perched himself atop the roof of the ruined chapel that sat, a moss-covered, stony reminder of the world that had once been. However, he sought for the comfort of the flame, reminiscing on past memories, painful apparitions that haunted even his most pleasant dreams, which were in themselves seldom occurrences.
                    His hands folded, his helmet by his side, facing away from the warrior who always sat idle along the wall, so as to conceal his identity, if only barely. His coat clung to him, sweaty and ragged and still as dependable as it had been when he fashioned it. His knives and bolts were secure in their harnesses, his belt equipped with all manner of items needed for him to wade through this deadened world and root out all manner of malicious activity and evil. He had returned from a bout with a pair of large gargoyles, his wits stretched far in order to succeed in that battle. His mind weighed heavily, thinking that, had the second beast not accidentally slain the first with a large sweep of its overlarge halberd, and fallen from the rooftops with its companion, it was highly likely that he would have been slain.
                    Not that such a thing mattered; death had no adverse consequences in the land of the Undead, other than being excruciatingly painful and **** one of their Humanity. But alas, such a thing was negligible in the long run of affairs, and in this land death was nothing but an obstacle rather than an absolute ending. Now the dark figure sat, silent and brooding in the pale gloom of seemingly endless Lordran sunlight. The lone warrior seemed to pay his company no mind, seemed not to care either way if this bleak and dreary frame were around anymore. He counted this as a blessing; this warrior’s disinterest of his company meant that he was less likely to study him, to learn of him and who he was. Brutus had no idea if his name carried much significance in this accursed place, but his name would remain free of the wind nonetheless.
                    He had invented this darkened persona for a reason, and to shatter the validity of that persona’s terrifying presence meant his lifework’s demise. He was a watchful shadow, striking and nightmarish even in this land of horrors. He was somewhat of a legend in the bordering lands, given a new name that struck fear into the hearts of evil men: The Batman. This name was revered by all; even by the dignitaries and righteous Clerics, and feared by men whose souls were tainted with Sin. He wasn’t a killer of men, not the blade that served as the bane of cruelty. No, he was something much worse than death incarnate. His existence beckoned pleas to die, from any who would fall under his never-ending wrath.
                    The Batman, a dark knight more haunting than those that wandered Lordran, a hunting shadow that stalked and watched and waited, until finally it struck, without warning. His eyes were always gazing, his mind always aware, his body prepared to do what was necessary to halt the existence of evil; even going so far as to adopt his own methods of cruelty. He had broken bones, shattered skulls, and beaten down many who had dared trespass into the realm of wickedness, be it by way of theft, political corruption, or murder. His enemies were many, and his friends were none. He was no beacon of righteous arbitration, nay, but one of necessary justice, the brand which is employed in dungeons where no one hears the screams of the tortured souls that are unfortunate enough to find themselves within their stone walls.
                    He, however, utilized the screams of his prey. Many a night in the darkness of Carim’s underworld he had coaxed the frightened and pain-riddled shrieks of street vermin, employing their psychological power in order to establish his role within the blackness: he was no Saint, nary afraid to stoop down to the requirements in which he would deem acceptable so that he may acquire what he needs; be it information or ceasing the wickedness of a man’s actions, leaving his broken frame for the authorities to apprehend, or crippling them so that may never do harm to anyone else ever again. And with no face, no name to trace back to, vengeance against this master of dark hunting was ill advised and absolutely impossible. He was a product of years of anger and training, an embodiment of vengeance, wrought from tragedy that he will never escape.
                    He began to reflect on that night, within Carim’s embracing walls, those many years ago. It was the night that spawned his sense of revenge, to right the wrong of the murder of his dear mother and father. He came to feel that wielding death would slay the hurt that resided inside him, that by striking down the murderer his conscience would become clear and that he could finally rest. However, as he grew he came to realize that such would not be truth, and that killing those who did evil made him no better than those he vowed to wage war against.
                    Brutus Vayne, born in Carim to loving parents, Thomas and Margaret Vayne. Thomas was an exceptionally wealthy philanthropist, physician and surgeon, and a close personal friend to Sir Arstor, the Earl of Carim. It was through his influence and the support of the Earl that Thomas was able to establish a network of infirmaries throughout Carim. Margaret had a fondness for the arts, and utilized the family fortune to promote all manner of artwork in Carim; painting, theatre, music, all art was beautiful to Margaret.
                    Despite the wealth the Vaynes possessed, they maintained a manner of humility and humbleness, instilling these qualities within their son as well. Thomas, ever the gold-hearted one, often gave his fortune for the betterment of civil life and Humanity. Brutus’ father once said that life is sacred, and that to turn a blind eye to your fellow man is to lose precisely what it means to have Humanity. These words would hold Brutus in his steadfast ascension to vigilantism.
                    He broke his thoughts from the past, returning his conscience to the present. He donned his helmet once more, stood and turned, heading back up to the Undead Church. He had much backtracking to do, and a ferocious dragon to outwit if he were to make his perilous plight into the godforsaken ruins of Blighttown. Thinking about such a journey did nothing to excite him; he’d rather enjoy it if he could stay here by the Bonfire forever.
                    However, there was evil in this land, and evil had to be eradicated. He walked, coming upon the lift, ascending higher and higher, his eyes closed in contemplation. His plan was formulating piece by piece as he lifted higher and higher into the air. He came to a stop within the hallowed and Hollow-infested halls of the church. Stepping forward, turning to the right to face the Undead knights of Balder that stood in the adjacent room. One noticed the dark figure, rousing its companions to join the fray.
                    A smile broke across Brutus’ face beneath the black horned helm. And within moments, his plan played out to his advantage, blurred and quickened. These Hollows were mindless beasts, lusting after the souls of the living so that they too may live again. They were doomed to an endless cycle of rebirth, and incapable of morality; they were primal creatures, having forgotten their senses long ago.
                    This made them ideal opponents, for they couldn’t truly be killed. Brutus walked away from the fallen Hollow knights, steeling himself for the challenges that would come. The path to Blighttown would be paved with the bodies of those he conquered in combat, but it would be paved nonetheless.
                    Lord knows what horrors he would face. But as the Batman of Lordran, he would face them; he would overcome.
    That's perfect.


    Anyway,

    @ Emergence - I'd be willing to recreate this thread and manage it if you're too busy.

    I've noticed the lack of updates on this, i'm not criticizing you, please don't think i'm complaining, (I really appreciate the work the staff does here). I was just wondering if you wanted help with it is all.


    Last edited by Wilkinson3424 on Wed Sep 11, 2013 7:29 pm; edited 1 time in total


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Emergence on Wed Sep 11, 2013 11:53 am

    I will get through them. I have not been getting the watch alerts for some odd reason so it slipped off my radar. There would really be no easy way to hand the thread over, it would require a ton of copypasta and linking as far as I can figure.


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    Post by Emergence on Wed Sep 11, 2013 12:02 pm

    Up to date. Two or three posts seemed more to be stories so I will create a subsection for that.


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    Re: Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

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