The Way Forward; A GATE RP [OOC] [OPEN]

[Bentus]

I'm curious how well they would work with Sherianna, as far as I can tell they have very similar goals.

Definitely, though I imagine most of them would still have the usual biases against the undead - they're all mortal after all. I'm actually still trying to think of ways to make them less-perfect that my current image of them is. I mean, an organisation devoted to spreading and gathering knowledge while caring for nature seems a bit too idealistic to be left without some nuances Unclear what I could introduce though.

[Vahltunskhja]

I'd imagine they'd view the undead as an interruption of the natural cycle of life and death, or as a symbol of rebirth and a part of that cycle.

[Korhal IVV]

Operation Forward until Dawn; UN Personnel File

Required Information

Name|Rank|Role:
Azjholiran Kazrath "Earth-Shadow"|Vizier|Arachnoid Spell-caster and fighter. Wanders from place to place.

Age|Height|Weight:
757|3 feet| 80 kilos

Allegiance|Character Class:
The Nerubian survivors| Mage

Magic Sensitivity: Maxi
D.O.B|Birthplace|Nationality
(1259|Kazar Breeding Grounds(again, up in the far north)| Nerubian

Sex|Sexuality:
Male|Hetero

Appearance Image & Description:

http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/wowwiki/images/5/5e/Nurubian.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/200?cb=20070618200142

Non-Required Information

Past Occupations, Positions, Roles, Ranks and Achievements: Formerly a royal Vizier to the Spider Emperor. Other than that, he is only known as a magical, wandering Nerubian that has left the ruined Nerubian Empire after hordes of orcs destroyed it and forced its surviving inhabitants into exile.

Equipment: A long bladed scythe, a rather worn coat, a magic staff, and a hive of... biting insects.

• Default Main Weapon & Specials: Teleportation, ice magic, and swarms of insects.
• Default Sidearm: The scythe
• Additional Munitions:
• Uniform Model:
• Misc. & Other Stuff:(Favorite cigarette brand, mp3 player, personal items, puppies? Whatever you can think of)

Moral Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Biography: Azjholiran was born from the Kazar Breeding Grounds in 1259. Immediately after he hatched from the egg, the Spiderlord who watched over Kazar, Ana'kreshna, can already see that he was gifted with magic powers; his eyes glowed with a blue flame, and whenever some harmful insects came near him, they froze up completely and died. After 15 years of living in Kazar, the magical powers began to manifest themselves in a less subtle way. That said, he froze a tunneling jurmongar(a big wormlike... creature) and it turned to solid ice. It was there Ana'kreshna revealed that he, was, indeed, gifted with magic, and he is the perfect Royal Vizier for the new Spider Emperor, Ashtardus. With that, Azjholiran was sent to the capital, Sapirius. The older Royal Viziers immediately began to train him to unlock and control his powers. After 6 long years, he has fully mastered his icy magic and was now an official Royal Vizier.

That done, he continued in his career of being a Royal Vizier for 5 more centuries. During those times, there was little to worry about; the Tuskars posed little threat, the Empire cannot penetrate the frozen north without its armies suffering from frostbite and ambushes, and the orcs were believed to be... dormant. But the old Oracle of Khazargoth said otherwise.

"Behold... I see the green tide, smashing through the gates of Sapirius. Many die; some flee; some remain."

During that time, the Spider Emperor was no longer Ashtardus, but rather, the foolish, idiotic Uraknor. For a fool like him, he only wanted to hear things that were sweet to the ears,and he had the old Oracle executed for irritating his ears. But the Royal Viziers and Spiderlords were disgusted, and began clandestine preparations for a mass emigration to the south. But their preparations came a little too late. After 5 months, the orc legions struck, and the Viziers and Spiderlords were caught in surprise; they thought that the prophecy would take place in a century or so. BEcause of this, out of the 50 Viziers, only 6 survived, including Azjholiran. 72% of the entire population of 15 million died, and half of the 400 Spiderlords were killed. But this did not happen in a course of hours; rather, it was a 10 year long siege. Slowly and slowly, orc raids and starvation took their toll. All entrances and exits were sealed, so there was no way out of the capital. The other subterranean cities have done likewise, and no help can ever come.

After these 10 years, the orcs finally charged into the city again. They found little resistance; most who were still alive were too starved to even fight. That was, until they reached the Viziers, who then unleashed their magics upon the orcish horde. In the process, the entire horde was eradicated, but all but 6 of the Viziers died as well. The surviving Spiderlords rallied all those who were still alive and migrated towards the south as planned. There, they never found a new home; eternally, they became endless wanderers in a foreign land. They were scattered amongst the Empire, allied nations, dwarves, everywhere.

In the midst of this, Azjholiran arrived near Italia. Here he must forge his own destiny. Here, he must survive.
Personality: Azjholiran is a traumatized and distrustful individual, especially after seeing all but 5 of the other royal viziers die at the hands of marauding orcs. However, despite it being very hard to foster his trust, one you do, he proves to be a reliable friend, err, ally. Because he has very few friends right now, he strives to keep them in his circle; he has simply lost too much.


Likes: Nice people, ice, freezing stuff, magic tomes, and the UN forces. They seem to be nice. Somewhat.
Dislikes: Orcs, expansionist kings and emperors, dragons, traitors of any kind

Theme Song:Hopes and Dreams

Leave This In Your App:
By posting this application, I have made a great app, read the OP

Senpaiiiiiiiiiiii

[Monfrox]

Gimme a break, guy. I had like 4 hours of sleep within the last two days.

[Hetland 2]

I'm curious how well they would work with Sherianna, as far as I can tell they have very similar goals.

Definitely, though I imagine most of them would still have the usual biases against the undead - they're all mortal after all. I'm actually still trying to think of ways to make them less-perfect that my current image of them is. I mean, an organisation devoted to spreading and gathering knowledge while caring for nature seems a bit too idealistic to be left without some nuances Unclear what I could introduce though.

Ohhhh, their organization is slightly different then I thought. Though, Sheri'd still be quite in favor of it.

[Monfrox]

Senpaiiiiiiiiiiii

1. Stop reposting the app. I can find it on my own, thank you.

2. Please don't pester me. I work for a living ad my supervisor has zero people skills so I get irate, especially when I'm not sleeping well. Which I'm not.

3. List the powers you think he should have and their levels. Then I'll consider it.

4. This will be the last app I'll consider since we're not closed.

[Hetland 2]

Senpaiiiiiiiiiiii

1. Stop reposting the app. I can find it on my own, thank you.

2. Please don't pester me. I work for a living and my supervisor has zero people skills so I get irate, especially when I'm not sleeping well. Which I'm not.

3. List the powers you think he should have and their levels. Then I'll consider it.

4. This will be the last app I'll consider since we're now closed.

I think you're doing an amazing job Mon. And I know what you're going through with your supervisor problems.


On an unrelated note, Sherianna knows English like a dictionary. She's fully aware of what each word means however she does not have cultural or contextual understanding of certain turns of phrases are, such as her confusion with Grave's order to "Get on the ground".

[Monfrox]

1. Stop reposting the app. I can find it on my own, thank you.

2. Please don't pester me. I work for a living and my supervisor has zero people skills so I get irate, especially when I'm not sleeping well. Which I'm not.

3. List the powers you think he should have and their levels. Then I'll consider it.

4. This will be the last app I'll consider since we're now closed.

I think you're doing an amazing job Mon. And I know what you're going through with your supervisor problems.


On an unrelated note, Sherianna knows English like a dictionary. She's fully aware of what each word means however she does not have cultural or contextual understanding of certain turns of phrases are, such as her confusion with Grave's order to "Get on the ground".

Thanks. I need to go make posts elsewhere too.

[Zjaum]

Do you know when Tophat's coming back?

[Monfrox]

Do you know when Tophat's coming back?

Nope. Top is doing his own thing, I guess.

[Vahltunskhja]

Whenever you're free, give 'er a look. I know you guys are busy and I don't mind.

Operation Forward until Dawn; UN Personnel File

Required Information

Name|Rank|Role: Níehv Lu Aois-Dàna | Skald Adept | Travelling Bard, Part-Time Mercenary, Rambling Rover

Age|Height|Weight: 62 | 187cm / 6'2" | 68kg / 149.6lbs

Allegiance|Character Class: n/a | Bard

Magic Sensitivity: Maxi

D.O.B|Birthplace|Nationality: 6th Day of Spring's Welcome | Dúnhafeith Moor | Half-Elf of Dúnha

Sex|Sexuality: Female

Appearance Image & Description:

Non-Required Information

Past Occupations, Positions, Roles, Ranks and Achievements:Educated at the Valourous Bardic College of Skáldskapr, prodigy of renowned warrior poet Snorri Ár Skálagrimm; petty thief on the streets of Skara Brae; stole a cursed sword and valuables from the treasure vault of a corrupt provincial governor and possible cult leader; member of the mercenary band the Black Company for a time, until their dissolution; currently once again an impoverished bard looking to make a name for herself, en route to the Imperial capital to find work.

Equipment: Elven Hunter's Cloak (green, basic stealth enchantment), Dúnhan Leather Armour (well used, high quality), Elk Antler brooch, hooded tunic, hunter's boots, Bag of One Man Band (useful for storing bulky instruments), Skáldskapr sash, booby-trapped money pouch, Amulet of Sound (magical amplifier), leather gauntlets, prybar, tattered plain trousers, fingerless gloves, wool scarf

• Default Main Weapon & Specials: Cursed schiavona sword (Diabhalta) - Lute, Harp, Fiddle, Dwarven Warpipes, Vocal Cords (Bardic Magic)
• Default Sidearm: Elven fighting dagger
• Additional Munitions: Hunting knife, hidden throwing knives x 4, pan flute, huntsman's horn
• Uniform Model: Traveller's garb and bardic frivolities
• Misc. & Other Stuff: Father's arrowhead, songbook and quill, ink, spare parchment, small torches x 3, whetstone, flint and steel, dry kindling, bedroll, lockpicks, waterskin, small bundle of books, sewing needle, spare cloth, hygiene products, rune stones, waybread, hunter's tools, assorted herbs.

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral/Good

Biography:

Among the barrows and marshes of Dúnhafeith Moor, there lies an ancient moss-covered stone known as Orphan's Rock. Here those unwilling or unable to provide for a family abandon newborn children to the mist. The disappearance of these unwanted souls is attributed to local spirits, and the lost children are said to dance forever among the dew-flecked heather as will-o-the-wisps.

On a hazy morning of Spring's Welcome many years ago, a wide-eyed elf child looked up at a morning sky and the black shapes of crows circling overhead. The east wind, uncharacteristically warm, tugged at the green cloak wrapped around the girl who lay innocent of the notion that her existence teetered on the edge of a blade.

However, the infant Níehv Aois-Dàna was fated to be spared from the oblivion of the mist. Instead she was taken by a travelling peat harvester to the groves of the obscure Dúnhan Order of the Green Priests, where she would join the other orphans of the rock raised among the quiet and peace of the hidden forest clearings. Or she would have, had she not proven an immeasurable pain in the ass.

---

All attempts to teach her discipline and tradition having failed utterly, Níehv's foster parents came to the conclusion that she was too unruly and restless to attain any measure of oneness with nature. She seemed far more interested in waking the grumpiest of druids in the middle of the night with a battered old lute, learning the most inappropriate of tavern ballads, or sneaking into forbidden places and reading tomes of knowledge not for her eyes. They resigned to teach her to be a scribe, spending her days recording, copying and binding books to be secured in hidden vaults beneath the trees. From the time she could walk and talk she knew she belonged anywhere but with the order, and grew even more disheartened as she grew older. Though they did care for her, in their own way, they seemed intent on curbing her aspirations and disapproved of her dream to play music for people all across distant lands. In truth they did teach her how to play and sing in an attempt to keep her out of trouble. And though she learned to sing quite beautifully, it was only old, sombre songs with moralistic narratives - her teachers scolded her when she tried to play other songs and soon restricted even her schooling in the arts.

Desperately in need of a purpose or direction in life, the young half-elf found herself hell-bent on learning as much as possible of the outside world, regardless of the Green Priests' attempts to keep her cooped up in the grove. She was doing errands one day with an escorting acolyte when a rather clueless minstrel passed by on his way south to the Bardic College of Lore in Arialica. The older elf maintained that the man was a fool and would come to no good, which of course meant she had to speak with him as soon as possible. With the persuasion of a flask of mead and, for the moment, away from the watchful eye of the acolyte, he told her of a distant place of learning on a frigid coast to the north, where only a few had ever been chosen to train under a man spoken of in legends and hero's ballads. As the minstrel stumbled off down the road and her escort came to drag her back to the grove, a plan began to form in her mind: one that her foster parents would wholly disapprove of. In fact, she herself was unsure if it was a good idea - but the very thought of it made her heart race and filled her with excitement. That alone strengthened her resolve. She had a goal now, a place to escape to; not to mention a dream to accomplish. That, and the convenient fact that she had discovered the weakness of the enchanted brambles that kept people from leaving the forest in a book she wasn't supposed to see meant nothing was going to keep her chained to this place any longer.

---

A month of journeying alone through dangerous wilderness and rough, lawless country brought her to the northern fringes of civilization, to a coastline of long grey grass swept by periodic frigid winds. There, on the night of a bitter storm, she came to a humble farmhouse laying in a grove of trees and boulders. Outside stretched a wide garden, blooming with pale but beautiful wildflowers. As thunder rolled in the distance and rainwater poured from the gutters, she stepped up to the door and knocked.

Once a warrior of great fame and a bard of unparalleled skill, Snorri Ár Skálagrimm, by now a scarred, greying man of laconic and solitary temperament, looked out into the storm to see a pointy-eared young girl in tattered clothes looking up at him from beneath rain-soaked bangs. When she demanded he teach her to be a bard, he closed the door. When a few minutes later she composed a five verse satire calling his mother a whore while effortlessly covering a range of six octaves, he opened the door again. Thus began her training at Skáldskapr, the humble and isolated College of Valour spoken of in tones of reverence by bards across the land.

Though the rustic homestead of an elderly man wasn't quite what she expected for a famed school of learning, Skáldskapr would test Níehv's resolve and drive. Despite displaying an innate ability to play and sing by ear, as well as developing a substantial range and the ability to almost perfectly mimic voices, Snorri 's training went beyond merely playing instruments. She learned ancient legends, tales, and knowledge from disintegrating volumes, pushed moss-covered boulders across a field, learned sleight of hand and the performance arts from other students at the college, gained the ability to throw her voice from a harpy opera singer, and climbed a mountain in the depths of winter to study the effects of air pressure on sound. He also seemed to have a fondness for screaming "WAX ON WAX OFF" while she cleaned carriages, though she wasn't quite sure how that transferred into bardic skill. It would be over a year before she was allowed to even begin learning how to harness her natural magic abilities and weave them into her music - first and foremost, as Snorri later told her, she had to learn the history, values, and purpose of being bard. She wasn't being taught to be a common minstrel plucking drunkenly at tattered strings and singing bawdy tunes for plastered patrons: a truly great bard put what they believed in into their music, inspiring people with their narratives, ridiculing the wrongs of society with their lyrics and aiding others with their magical abilities. Snorri taught her this in a number of indirect ways, though she still isn't sure why he made her catch flies with chopsticks. In addition to her unorthodox bardic education, the old warrior bard also taught her how to fight and wield a sword. After a decade under his tutelage, her music could heal wounds, make silent her footsteps, inspire unwavering courage in her allies, and send out devastating gouts of flame.

---

In the time it took for the half-elf to grown into a young woman, Snorri had deemed he'd taught her all he could. She would have to leave Skáldskapr to make a name for herself and find her place in the world. The aging warrior poet and his students wished her luck as she set out in the direction of civilization, saying goodbye to her teacher, childhood friends, and the haunting grey fjords of the north. Roving out in search of new people and places, she arrived in the thriving frontier town of Skara Brae on the very cusp of the Empire. Filling the streets of the new town with music and magic, Níehv thought she'd finally found her place. But the feeling that something was missed returned. Although she was hailed as a savant and her music brought vast crowds and smiling faces wherever she went, when she tried to experiment with heavy riffs and angry, screaming vocals she only drove away her audiences and gave them ringing eardrums. Snorri was the one person in her life who encouraged her to grow her own personal style, but everyone else reacted with distaste. She wasn't sure if it was the instruments she used, a lack of inspiration, or the wrong audience - perhaps it was something else entirely, but the young bard knew that as long as she was lacking a key component nobody would want to hear anything but songs and tunes that their grandparents had listened to. In frustration she began to lose interest in using what she felt were other people's styles, before eventually she stopped playing in public entirely. As her funds ran dry she began to earn her coin with dagger and prybar rather than the lute and fiddle.

A few whistled notes woven with magic of trickery and illusion and a merchant's attention could be distracted long enough to empty her register. A bird's call igniting the spell that silenced her footsteps marked the moment a traveller was relieved of the contents of his coin purse. In time she made a name for herself in the underworld, attracting the attention of some very special clients willing to pay substantial rewards for liberating specific items from especially secure locations. One such shadowy character gave her to task of breaking into the personal treasure vault of Governor Kaligula Va Harkyn, a man she was eager to teach a lesson to. For one she disagreed with the rather pompous Imperial official's unfair taxation methods, which didn't properly take into account the uneven wealth distribution of the feudal economic system, particularly capital gains, which are often subject to a lower tax rate than wages, salaries, livestock and harvest goods, which the vast majority of the every day peasantry rely on for... actually, she wasn't quite sure what that herb smoking college scribe had tried to explain to her. She'd be drinking far too much mead to pay attention. All she knew was that if she paid taxes she lost her hard-earned[citation needed] money, and if she didn't pay taxes then the town guard would try to kick her ass again. And she also knew for a fact that Harkyn was a creep, and kind of an asshole to boot. She'd relish the chance to not only take his shiny things but also pull off a heist that had ended the careers of dozens of lesser thieves in the governor's dungeons or on the receiving end of an executioner's axe.

Sneaking into the governor's mansion took little more than scaling the walls and singing a quick lullaby for the guards. The next part would be difficult, however: more than she could have imagined. Where she expected to find the entrance to the treasure vault was a dark room lit by dim candles. Blending in with the shadows, she quickly picked up the smell of blood rising from the floorboards. Her entire being screamed at her to get out while she still could, but something drew her deeper into the chamber. Slipping behind a tapestry just as the room erupted into a blaze of light, Níehv swore. Peeking out from her hiding spot she could tell the rumours of a treasure horde that could rival a dragon's were worth about as much as the cheap booze they were shared over. Strange glyphs lined a stone altar, ones she didn't recognize from any of the books from the libraries of the Green Priests or Skálagrimm's old tomes. The only indication of any valuables were glittering objects tucked away in alcoves around the slab. The notion that she might have stumbled upon a Emroy shrine or some kind of creepy cult had just entered her head when a hand clamped down on her shoulder. Twisting away from a hooded figure with enraged eyes, the half-elf and her attacker became tangled in the tapestry's folds in her desperate thrashing attempts to escape. Her flailing elbow connected with a crack against bone, and she managed to cut her way out of the clothe with her knife before sprawling out on the floor with a grunt. Her Bag of One Man Band had split open in the struggle and her instruments were strewn about the floor, the ominous sound of long blades leaving sheathe behind her sending her lunging desperately for the closest one. Two hooded humans roared as they charged at her with their swords, preparing to bring them down on the thief just as her fingers wrapped around the lute's neck and she spun onto her back - in a flurry of notes laden with enough magic to splinter the wood and tear apart the strings, a blast of fire materialized from the instrument and sent the men flying back across the length of the room and into the far wall. Scooping up the closest objects in the confusion and sprinting out as fast as her legs could carry her, Níehv only spared a breath to thank Lunaryur and Skálagrimm once she had reached the city limits. Unravelling the tattered section of tapestry, she looked down at what she'd managed to salvage from that mess of a job - a battered lute, her hunting horn, two ornate goblets, and a particularly fancy looking sword. The goblets would fetch her a good price on the market, but she couldn't bring herself to sell the sword. Perhaps it'd come in handy later.

---

Maybe it was something along the lines of the old phrase, "when you have a hammer, everything begins to look like a nail." In any case, soon after Níehv came into possession of the sword, a few days after the money from the goblets had run out, she found work within the ranks of a group called the Black Company. Ragtag mercenaries and highwaymen, they welcomed the presence of a bard in their midst as distracting caravan guards with magic was a lot easier and more humane than killing them all, in addition to leaving more time for drinking and enjoying their ill-gotten gains. It was a warm day in the summertime, a few months after joining their ranks, when the half-elf was sitting down at the mercenary's camp after a long day of dodging Imperial patrols. A merchant's hired goons had been all too easy to fool into drinking and singing as they stopped to let their horses rest, and her magical tunes kept their attention long enough for her allies to empty the merchant's carts of their goods. So far she hadn't bloodied her sword once, and happily went about cleaning it of dust and dirt instead of blood and gore until it shone. The sun reflected off the blade and her hand slipped, leaving a short cut on her hand and spilling a drop of crimson on the steel, eliciting a curse from her lips. As she sucked on the wound, a voice from the sword swore back at her. After that incident, she kept the sword locked in a chest except when out on the battlefield or backwoods, and never told the others that she could sometimes hear it whispering advice to her when the smell of blood was in the air. As the days to come prosperity and ease would flow to the Company like beer and wine. Unbeknownst to most of them, however, with their upturned fortunes came greed and inattentiveness. On the night of their biggest heist yet, the mercenaries lay in hiding along a forest road. Just as the scouts relayed the approach of the armoured carriages carrying imperial gold, one of their trusted lieutenants disappeared into the forest. Níehv ran after them, leaping through the trees until a crossbow bolt came speeding out of the foliage and tore through her flank, sending her tumbling down into the forest floor below. Stalked through the undergrowth by her former officer and a group of Imperial archers, she could hear the sounds of battle coming from the forest road. The tables had turned as their ambush was sneak attacked, and she was willing to bet their camp was being slaughtered as well. As storm clouds rolled across the sky and blanketed the woods in shadow, the bard slipped away into the darkness.

Sitting against the trunk of an ancient oak, too tired and battered to find shelter from the rain pouring down from the sky, she thought back to the night she first arrived at Skáldskapr. She had strayed from the teachings Skálagrimm had entrusted to her. She'd robbed and cheated, and now she'd killed for coin. What would he say if he saw her now? Struggling to her feet, she heard the shouts of Black Company soldiers in the forest. Her name cut through the darkness. She leaned against the mossy bark and closed her eyes until they faded away into the distance. In the morning she'd leave them behind, and journey south to the lands of the Empire, seeking a new source of inspiration, thrill, and purpose.

What she would find there would surpass her expectations. Whether she would find her fortune or ruin among what would transpire remains to be seen.

Personality: Níehv has long suffered from a rebellious nature and an general mistrust of authority and regulations. She views any attempts to stifle creativity or freedoms as a personal affront. One of her most defining characteristics is her deep passion and fascination with music, which she enjoys heavy, fast, and loud. Her personality reflects this to an extent; she often has trouble sitting still, and thrives on thrill and intrigue despite sometimes loudly griping about the hardships that come with them. Her mood can change quite quickly, as she can be curious and enthusiastic one minute then pessimistic and nervous the next. On top of this she is a quick learner and has a remarkable eye for details and a knack for picking things up quickly, though if she doesn't take to something quickly she'll quickly become frustrated and fed up with it.

Likes: Learning about new music, playing really loud, forests, dark colours, thrills, causing mischief, warm food.

Dislikes: Prolonged silences or periods of inactivity, the stifling of creativity, overbearing authority, rules, confrontations (at least those not in her favour), mushrooms.

Themes: Peace, War

Leave This In Your App:
By posting this application, I have made a great app, read the OP[/spoiler]

Addendum:

A Quick Guide to the extent and capabilities of Bardic Magic

Spells and simpler attack magics are similar to D&D cantrips, are more or less instantaneous, and only requiring a few notes or a whistled tune. Songs require continuous playing to have an effect, which often lasts for the duration of the tune. A large songs that acts as a support to groups of allies, creates a complex magical result, or unleashes a devastating attack on the foe are usually only able to be used once or twice a day. Smaller spells and songs are able to be used more than once. Otherworldly songs are introduced by the cultures and music of the United Nations, while bardic spells and songs are learned from Special Region sources. The Bard must learn new spells and songs to supplement those they already know, and will likely only be able to learn one or two major ones per mission or chapter, and/or a handful or simpler ones. Individual otherwordly songs (and some advanced bardic songs) are assigned to a specific “type” that generalizes their effects. Certain songs, depending on lyrics, tempo, and style may alter the effects of a certain type. (Example: songs meant to inspire allied forces - Iron Maiden’s Aces High will inspire air force personnel or allied dragon riders, Ensiferum’s Victory Song will inspire Scandinavian personnel or allied Special Region forces armed with melee weaponry, Scotland the Brave played at maximum volume with inspire British/Commonwealth UN peacekeepers and make everyone else roll around on the ground writhing in pain). Examples of spell types are as follows:

Initial Songs (Starting Powers):

Countersongs – Basic/Adept Bardic Song. Purely defensive spells that negate or lessen the effects of hostile magic. The most effective forms take the form of an improvised satire ridiculing and insulting the caster of the spell being defended against.

Songs of Distraction – Simple Bardic Song. Often ballads of a bawdy or humorous nature, these songs are weaved with simple magic that regales a crowd for a short period of time. Those with a strong will or focus will be more difficult to distract. Among the most popular is “Tale of the Buxom Wench” and “Lusty Catgirl Maid”

Hymns of Healing – Basic/Adept/Advanced Bardic Song. Songs of beauty and hope to restore the spirit and body. When played consistently over a period of time in close proximity to an ally, their wounds will heal at a quicker pace and fatigue and pain will gradually fade away. These spells can be quite taxing on the performer depending on the severity and amount of wounds healed, and darker melodies able to be learned by more advanced and selfless bards can heal the afflicted at an astonishing pace, at the price of transferring some or all of the wounds to themselves.

Hymns of Courage – Adept Bardic Song. Inspiring and restoring moral, and removing fear from the hearts of allies, these songs are an essential assets to the bard and the warriors they support. The hymn’s effectiveness is primarily drawn from the lyrics and beat’s connection to the experiences of the warriors themselves, as well as the passion and fervour of the performer.

Calming Melody – Simple Bardic Spell. A soothing song that will cool flared tempers and relax stress and anxiety in a nearby target.

Chant of the Chameleon – Advanced Bardic Spell. Weaving an illusionary chant, the bard can change their appearance through magical trickery, allowing themselves and up to two allies to adopt an excellent disguise. The effectiveness of the disguise, however, is susceptible to the discretion of the bard themselves; fake noses and moustaches, however magical, may not fool the more perceptive of guards.

Sagas of Battle – Advanced Bardic Song. Boiling the blood and filling the listener with martial fury, such songs increase the combat effectiveness of
nearby allies to a degree. The success depends on the camaraderie of the bard and the direct impact of the song on the allied combatants – if the lyrics and beat connect to them on a personal level, they will find their marks hitting true and their attacks doing more damage. If not, they may simply gain a slight edge or a small lucky strike that hardly makes a difference.

Cry of Freedom – Basic/Advanced Bardic Spell. The first verse of such a song, infused with basic magic, can free allies from bindings and ropes. The full version, when performed by an accomplished bard, will release its targets from magical bindings and entrapment.
Incantation of Cushioning – Basic Bardic Spell. A simple ditty that will slow the descent of a person or object and cushion their fall.

Huntsman's Call – Adept Bardic Spell. Commonly heard echoing through the shadows of the forest, this increases the luck of hunters and allows them to forage and track more effectively.

Nature’s Hymn – Adept Bardic Spell. A song waving together the whispering of the wind and the words of nature’s beasts and creatures, allowing the bard to communicate, to some degree, with the more intelligent animals and trees. Useful for asking friendly birds and critter for favours or simple reconnaissance.

Wall of Sound – Minor Battle Song: A quick series of heavy and loud strums or blasts that sends a burst of powerful soundwaves that can throw a nearby enemy across a room. Potentially devastating indoors and against human-sized foes; tougher races and large creatures are mostly able to shrug such an attack off like nothing.

Song of Rage - Minor Battle Song: The passion and anger of the bard is channelled into their music, summoning a violent blast of fire. Very short range, can knock medium sized foes off their feet and cause severe burns – less effective against anything larger or more resilient than a humanoid creature.

---Advanced Songs (Powers that can be learned at a later date):

Chant of Leadership – Advanced Bardic Song. Learned by advanced battle mages, this song has a chance to lend inspiration and tactical insight to officers on the battlefield.

Songs of Shadow – Adept Bardic Song. Such quiet and haunting songs can allow the bard or an ally to avoid detection, blending in with the night and muffling footsteps and sounds. Escape from Roksamur was a popular tune employed by scouts during the war between the Empire and the Warrior Bunnies

Song of Intimidation – Basic Bardic Spell. Such a tune will fill a single target with uncontrollable fear, and cause them to flee in terror. Ineffective on enemies with unyielding courage or powerful willpower.

Melody of Dread – Adept Bardic Song. Inspiring fear and paranoia in all within earshot, such songs are used as physiological warfare. One such song often taught as a primer to bards learning such melodies is the Curse of the Black Heron

Song of Storms – Adept-Advanced Bardic Spell. Depending on the skill and intent of the bard, the performer can summon anything from localized cloud cover to a raging violent thunderstorm.

Songs of Entanglement – Adept Bardic Spell. A bardic tune that summons thick vines from the ground to ensnare a foe.

Thunderclap – Otherworldly Battle Song. An advanced, otherworldly version of the Wall of Sound spell, allowing the bard to send out a shockwave capable of ripping up trees and launching whole groups of enemies a significant distance.

Firestorm – Otherworldly Battle Song. An advanced, otherworldly version of Song of Rage, creating a writhing storm of fire magic fuelled by the angers and passions of the bard.

Sound of Silence – Otherworldly Adept Spell. Completely muffles all sound coming from a location, object, or person for the duration of the song.

Pyrotechnics – Adept Bardic Spell. A simple spell that allows a bard to create blasts of illusionary fire, smoke and sparks, or increase the intensity and brightness of real blazes or lights.

Banshee’s Wail – Advanced Battle Song. An advanced battle spell that launches a cone of sound from the vocal cords of the bard, knocking opponents off their feet and dazing them from its sonic force.

Powerslide – Otherworldly Battle Song. an advanced, otherworldly battle spell that launches the bard forward with incredible speed, allowing them to hop around the battlefield or smash through enemies in their path.

March of War - Otherworldly/Bardic Song. An improved version of a Saga of Battle spell, allies are filled with martial prowess as their blood boils with the excitement of battle.

Saga of the Berzerker – Otherworldly Battle Song. Very advanced and potentially dangerous for the caster. The ghostly forms of ancient warriors drawn from the ancestral memories of nearby allies or locations appear and slaughter their enemies.

Rhyme of Miraculous Reinforcement – Advanced Bardic Song. Creates the illusion of an allied force being many times their real number.

Lover’s Ballad – Advanced Bardic Song. Increases feelings of affection and attraction between two targets for the duration of the song. Whether this blossoms into true love is not up to the bard, but they can’t fault them for trying, can they?

Theme Music – Advanced/Otherworldly Bardic Song. The bard imbues a specific individual with inspiration, luck, and heroic skill by playing the song that most resonates with them.

Storm of Blades – Advanced Battle Song. The bard summons an armoury’s worth of magical swords that scythe through the air around them, cutting down their foes.

Rolling Stones – Otherworldly Battle Song. A large boulder bursts from the ground and launches towards its target, crushing foes in its path.
Orchestral Enchantment – Adept Bardic Spell. Affected Instruments will play on their own.

Puppeteer – Advanced Bardic Song. The Bard can control a glove like a disembodied hand and use it to fetch objects or operate mechanisms for the duration.

Silken Steel – Adept Battle Spell. A scarf or fan becomes as solid as steel, able to be wielded as a deadly whip or shield.

Marionette/Master of Puppets – Advanced Battle Song. A single enemy will lose control of their limbs to the bard, allowing them to control them like an unwilling puppet

Blitzkrieg Bop – Otherworldly Battle Song. Allied soldiers and vehicles will receive an increase in speed and intimidate enemies.

Dance of a Thousand Cuts – Advanced Battle Song. A very advanced bardic spell, the caster becomes a lethal blur of grace and skill that can cut through a group of enemies like grass before the scythe.

Rock’n’Roll – Otherworldly Battle Song. An advanced battle spell influenced by otherworldly rhythms, creating seismic upheaval and causing bursts of rock spires to emerge from the ground before them.

Thunderstruck – Otherworldly Battle Song. A burst of lightening bursts out to strike foes.

Purple Haze – Otherworldly Battle Song. Influenced by otherworldly magics, the bard creates a cloud of purple smoke that can obscure allies and disorient any foe that enters it.

Rock Out (With Your Cock Out) – Otherworldly/Bardic Battle Spell. Literally rocking their socks off, this more advanced version of a similar nudist’s ballad literally blasts the clothes and armour off of opponents.

Sonic Fists – Otherworldly Battle Spell. Contact with the bard’s fists or other body parts during the duration of the spell’s effects receive massive damage as a result of violent sonic vibrations and increased physical impact force.

Bloodthirst – Otherworldly Battle Song. An advanced and potentially dangerous spell that sends enemies into a blind rage, attacking anything in sight.

Hellraiser – Otherworldly Battle Song. An advanced spell fuelled by otherworldly hellfire and evangelistic paranoia, summoning a daemon host to attack enemies for a short duration.

Invictus – Otherworldly Bardic Song. An advanced spell using up a large amount of magic; dangerous to the inexperienced user. The bard weaves a magical shield that, for a short time, can make one ally immune to all damage and attacks.

Rainbow in the Dark – Otherworldly Bardic Song. An advanced support spell that grants an individual great leadership skill and the ability to inspire hope and conviction in their allies.

Lead Zeppelin – Otherworldly Battle Song. A devastatingly powerful spell that summons a massive flaming airship from the heavens, crashing into targets below with a massive explosion.

Safety Dance – Otherworldly Battle Song. Also referred to as Dance Dance Revolution, No Friends of Mine, etc. All enemies within earshot begin to dance uncontrollably.

[Ormata]

The Black Company?

Croaker won't be too pleased. Neither will the Lieutenant.

[Zjaum]

Do you know when Tophat's coming back?

Nope. Top is doing his own thing, I guess.

Then... under what other conditions can my character come back into the IC?

[The Tophat Empire]

Do you know when Tophat's coming back?

Nope. Top is doing his own thing, I guess.

Im alive, just about, a lot of school crap this week, and personal stuff has limited my time, hoping to have a longer OOC reply up later today

Sorry

and Mon, Hang in there, and thanks for the help ^^

[Bentus]

-snip-

Woohoo! *Throws Confetti*

I'm pretty sure we can all understand irl getting in the way of things Think I'll wait for a post before trying to write something up myself, lest I just repeat what Parcia's already written.

[Monfrox]

Permission to advertise? Nvm, doing it anyways

Anyone want to join my RP? We're growing in numbers, it's about Nazis invading Earth from the moon

We need a USA

viewtopic.php?f=31&t=394747

Please stick to TGs for your shameless self-advertising needs.

[The Tophat Empire]

The Imperial Warglorian Empire, colour me unimpressed, and somewhat annoyed at that shameless self-advertising will be keept out of this thread, clear that post within 24 hours or ill up it one echelon.

---

Zjaum, accepted, will add you the archive for real when i got time

---

Rannoria, same as above

not sure what i missed, but ill be mostly dead for another few days i am afraid, sorry about that. preparations for Finals and all that

[Hetland 2]

Permission to advertise? Nvm, doing it anyways

This sentence is one of the reasons why I'm starting to not like you. Like seriously not like you.

[The Yuktobanian Republic]

I'm having trouble thinking of a new post.

[Monfrox]

I'm having trouble thinking of a new post.

Do some reloading, chat with some others, or get some character development between your crew going.

[Vahltunskhja]

The Black Company?

Croaker won't be too pleased. Neither will the Lieutenant.

I get it now. Took me a bit.

[Rannoria]

Sorry m8ies. Droppin out lol.

[Monfrox]

Sorry m8ies. Droppin out lol.

Thanks for telling ahead of time.

[Vahltunskhja]

Sorry m8ies. Droppin out lol.

Godspeed.

[Zjaum]

Sorry m8ies. Droppin out lol.

Have fun!