[glow=red,2,300]NPCs, useful little meatshields. ^_^ Here's a place to store all thier useful NPCish info. Don't worry if you can't fill out all of the sections on this thingie - NPCs are NPCs because they're less developed than personas.
What counts as an NPC? It's a gaming term, and it means Non-Player Character. While Guild personas are like main characters, NPCs are side-characters. NPCs are generally common property, though they're usually played by the same person for consistency's sake. They don't have elaborate backstories and are usually props to hold the plot up. They keep large guilds like the Spacefleet running where one or two active members can't. Recurring NPCs are a lot of fun, too. ^_^
So please, post profiles of the NPCs that you make here in case we want to use them again. [/glow]
"Our first course will be Nitroglycerin soup, followed by TNT with gravy and a side of gunpowder. Finally for desert you have a choice between a strawberry plastic explosive sundae or Uranium cobbler. A selection of wine is also available on request."
Age: In her mid-30s. Actually over 1000 years old, but don't try telling her that.
Appearance: Of fair skin and dark hair, with Asian-ish eyes. Looks older than she is when she gets angry.
Outfit: Queenly things. Lots of velvet and itchy lace.
History: In ancient times, she was born into a noble family and betrothed to the heir to the throne. Shortly before she was married, she met a young man named Randorph and fell madly in love with him. She used to sneak out of the castle in disguise to meet with him. However, she was married to the king and the ancient guilds fought a bitter war. Her husband was killed and Kienne became bitter. She was with her troops when the demon Leraye forged them into a magical gem. 1000 years later, she was freed from the Gem with the rest of her soldiers and lo and behold, the Pirate King who she had been fighting turned out to be her long-lost love. The two were married on the spot and have been happy ever since.
Personality: Before she married Rane, she was crazed with her bitterness and determined to destroy her enemies at any cost, even by the filthy art of assassination. However, now that peace has returned to her life, she has settled down and become a wise and patient ruler with the interests of her people at heart. That's not to say she doesn't become her old self on occasion when Rane is away.
Weapon of choice: Her quick temper.
Other Notable Information: Rane is not king of (wow, we really need to name her kingdom) because he was never coronated. If he were, the people would probably riot. As it is, people only tolerate her being married to Rane because it gives them Diplomatic Advantages with the pirates.
Age: Honkin' old, he's an elf. An elf who was frozen for an additional 1000 years. Appears to be middle-aged.
Appearance: A dark-skinned elf with fair hair.
Outfit: Usually wears simple clothing that's easy to move around in, and an ash-grey cloak.
History: Unknown. He is Queen Kienne's swiftest sharpshooter. He is also the Lord of the most powerful noble house in (again, we need to name that kingdom), House Aeriole.
Personality: Completely stoic. He lets no emotions show. He has perfect discipline and will carry out his Lady's orders without question.
Weapon of Choice: A masterwork longbow.
Abilities: Can transform into a bird-of-prey at will.
Other notable info: He has a bit of a crush on the Queen, but above all, he does not believe a commoner is the right husband for her. Naturally he believes she should marry a noble, and who better than himself?
Appearance: A sandy-haired young ninja with green eyes.
Outfit: Black ninja gear.
History: Unknown. Led the Ancient Ninja in the war 1000 years ago.
Personality: A lot more laid-back than most ninja, but still willing to fight to the death to protect his people. Many underestimate him due to his young age. He knows how to manipulate people and backstab people and did so many times during the war.
Weapon of Choice: Katana.
Abilities: Teleportation, poofs of smoke, standard ninja stuff.
"Our first course will be Nitroglycerin soup, followed by TNT with gravy and a side of gunpowder. Finally for desert you have a choice between a strawberry plastic explosive sundae or Uranium cobbler. A selection of wine is also available on request."
Name: Kassandra Amethyst Moonbean. Was called Kassy in her youth, but now the whole name is always uttered in full. With suitable stress and pathos.
Age: unknown, but probably hundreds of years. Appears to be under 20.
Apperance: Tall, slender, muscular in a decidedly feminine way, with long silky silver hair, slanted violet eyes, pointy elven ears, wears a silver diadem and a very unpractical (but very hot) leather outfit, overall graceful and perfect and flawless, et cetera, et cetera. She's part elf, part human, part narrative reality, quite possibly part some kind of an elegant animal, and full Mary Sue.
History: Strictly defined, she's a demon, more specifically a succubus, more specifically a Sue. Most demons dwell in alternate dimensions, planes and realities around and within the human world; Sues in particular have found their home in the realities defined by narrative laws. A Sue usually builds a nest that's best described as a story: she warps the reality around her, turning it as favorable for her as she can. Since Sues are, compared to most other demons, rather shallow and not particularly bright, they usually overdo it, but even so it takes a strong mind to deal with one on her own turf. Their vicinity is made more complicated by the fact that they're convinced that they're always right and always doing good things, which makes them nearly invincible on the planes of narration.
Kassandra in particular grew up with elves, being a kind of childhood friend to Dragon, and later settled down as the guardian of an ancient treasure in an ancient ominous temple, acting as a right-hand woman to the huge and powerful demon spirit that resided in the temple and using the blarf race trapped in that same temple as her food and energy source (and it was a-okay because the blarfs were terrible ugly monsters). She was defeated and her story-nest broken as the crew of the White Weewoo showed up and Hunty applied logic on her actions. Her current location is unknown, but it's certain that she's hiding somewhere, licking her wounds, building a new nest and plotting bloody vengeance. (And will probably return one day because as far as characters go, I somehow managed to make her a heckuvalot more interesting than a Sue should ever be.)
Personality: Depends on who's looking. The closer you get to her, the stronger the influence of her story and the more positive she appears. If your mind isn't set right, you'll be convinced that she's sweet and mellow yet strong-minded and perfectly capable of taking care of herself name-that-reference even if she's currently killing you. If logic and objective thinking are applied, she's revealed as mostly arrogant and self-centered - a predictable trait in someone who's used to being able to handle everything.
Weapon of choice: Used to own a magical rune-carved sword that wasn't actually so much magical but as dependent on the narrative laws as Kassandra herself. In its natural state, it's a sad-looking wobbly piece of tin that turns into an invincible and unbreakable half-sword half-shield when powered by the narrative realm. Kassandra lost that sword to Hunty when she lost the battle with her, and it's unknown what she currently uses, but chances are it works on the same logic.
Abilities: Within her nest - that as a rule can stretch up to a mile from her body - she can do pretty much anything. It should be noted that the nest only has an effect on humans and other higher creatures who know the concept of narrative laws. For animals, she's just a creepy demon.
Name: Lord Randorph, Prince Consort of Leona. Generally just goes by Captain Rane.
Affiliation: Ancient Pirates
Age: thirtysomething, although he comes across as much younger than that because of his shy schoolboyish demeanor.
Appearance: Know those teenage boys who look like they have their limbs operated by a puppeteer and constantly feel like they don't have anywhere to put their hands and feet and are overall in the wrong place? Rane never quite got over that stage. More often than not he looks slightly hunched and unsure, and considering that he, as the supreme lord of the entire fleet of ancient Pirates, wears flamboyant overadorned clothes, he tends to perpetually look very out of place. All that aside, he's lanky, taller than average (and seems even taller because of the hunching), with shoulder-length wavy brown hair and mellow dark brown eyes.
History: To be fair, Rane often looks out of place because he often feels out of place. A typical case of going to sea at a young age in order to seek a better life and pamper his bleeding heart because the girl he loved was betrothed to another, the king of the land no less, Rane is the perfect example of someone who was caught in the cogwheels of the gods' boardgames. His career was quick and rather against all odds, as he didn't do anything besides make a couple suggestions here and there... like ways to waterproof the ship... and better tactics for battles... and ways to avoid pursuit... and so he was promoted because in the maritime world of the olden days, brains were less represented and the pirates in a bigger need for someone able to make smart decisions. Due to that, they completely overlooked the hesitant, awkward kid Rane was and became fully relient on his tactical thinking. Having started out on a merchant ship, he accidentally landed on a pirate ship due to a cotton crate he'd fallen asleep in at the wrong time, got elevated to captain status over a rather short time and eventually promoted into the position of the lord of the entire pirate armada. He fully justified his position by leading the armada to many a successful epic raid against invincible coastal fortresses and rich merchant cities - not that he ever really wanted to, because he feels sick in battles and isn't much of a fighter, but when you're in front of everyone, you either keep running or get trampled. Nonetheless, the fact that he was able to unite the legion of pirate crews that are by nature as cooperative as cats says a lot about the underlying virtues of his seemingly limp and wussy personality.
As the great war of the ancient times broke out, Rane was washed along with the tide of battles and had no choice but to keep on fighting, always actually wishing that he could just drop everything that'd piled up on his shoulders over the time and go back to find the girl he'd loved before leaving home. And after having spent a thousand years locked in Leraye's magical gem, he was reunited with the now-Queen Kienne in what his chroniclers have come to call the Great Battle in Wyrmberg (name that reference) because pirate chroniclers are rather fond of flashy events, especially if they won.
Although now technically the co-ruler of Kienne's lands, Rane still spends most of his time out at sea leading the pirate armada and trying to get used to the new world they'd landed in.
Personality: Rane maintains the respect of his officers (completly unintentionally) by being a harmless, agreeable, rather meek-looking guy. Because of how little command he has over his own life, he's become rather sulky and bitter over the time, and that's what constantly keeps his officers on their toes: in a crew where everyone says what they think and instead of keeping a grudge punch the other guy in the face, held-back bitterness has the effect of a gunpowder barrel under pressure. Everyone's convinced that since Rane never gets angry, his anger would truly be horrible and sea-splitting, mountain-breaking, head-rolling, should it ever actually happen. Right? Right? Right. Therefore, they fall over themselves to do as Rane says all the time lest he snaps and does something ugly to their spines, eyeballs, and immortal souls. And should he ever snap, there'd be nothing less than that. Right? Makes perfect sense to them.
In reality, Rane really is a meek and somewhat wimpy guy, but it comes with a unbending determination to do the Right Thing. He's a nice guy by nature who truly believes in a better world and better people in it, and tries to do his best in every situation. As such, he has the reputation of someone his crew can count on, and he doesn't have any actual rivals. He's feared, beloved, respected and supported, and it's only a minor detail that he never meant to end up where he is.
Weapon of choice: If given a choice, diplomacy. Generally carries an old sword, not quite a cutlass but not quite a regular sword either. It was forged in the times when swordsmiths believed that a sword is supposed to be a) pointy, b) sharp and c) meant to be stuck in other people, nothing more than that. Rane had his made slightly curved because of the improved cutting qualities, even if the idea of cutting into other people always makes him queazy.
Abilities: Knows his way around herbs. And, of course, tactics. Has been known to go berserk in really rough battles, which only solidified his reputation.
Appearance: A seven-foot tall skeleton in a black robe. Sounds like the echo of old tombstones falling over in a damp catacomb, denoted in text ALL IN CAPS and is generally a blatant reference.
History: Death as such has existed since the first amoeba went plop in the primordial goo, but Death as an anthropomorphic personification dates back to a couple thousand years. He remembers everything before that time, but can pin down the exact moment when he took the form of a robed skeleton, donned a scythe and became the First Horseman of the Apocalypse. Although the Horsemen are considered equal, Death is generally accepted as being the first and primary, probably because of his inevitability. He rides a small Arabian horse that due to a number of translation issues and other confusing things is roan-colored. Death exists rather the same way as monarchy, being only there to keep things running and not having to show up in person whenever someone dies, but when something really big and cataclysmic happens, he's generally there.
Personality: Not much to speak of, since he's not a human, nor particularly affected by them. But in general, he's stoical, loyal, very duty-conscious, and usually not swayed by anything.
Weapon of choice: The scythe isn't actually a weapon, considering that Death doesn't have to fight; he's what happens after fights. But it's still a long thin bright-blue blade of some kind of metal-like substance unknown in human planes, and Death keeps both sides of it sharpened because if there's something he knows about life, it's the total and complete unpredictability.
Age: well, if you asked him, he's likely to ask back, "Can you tell when the first time was when some monkey led a bunch of monkeys against other monkeys? That old."
Appearance: a big, strong, muscular fair-haired and light-skinned middle-aged man with a horned helmet, iron underwear and braids in his hair and moustache. He's gone through several self-reflection periods of different appearances (and he really doesn't want to talk about the 70s) but eventually decided to stick to traditional looks, even if it means that instead of washing powder, he needs insane quantities of sandpaper.
History: Although the Horsemen of the Apocalypse don't come in numerical order, apart from Death, War is generally agreed to have come second, which says a lot about mankind in general. He has a kind of semi-friendship with Death, considering that the two work together most often. As other Horsemen, he shows up whenever big groups of people go against other big groups of people, and is generally there to keep an eye on things. He rides a big blood-red horse that was carefully bred to contain the best traits of battle chargers, the Norwegian fjord horses, and the Shire horse (the latter mostly for size, as chargers and fjordings weren't particularly big).
Personality: Quite frankly, not very vicious. War is a rather jovial, happy-go-lucky fellow who isn't easily angered. He keeps up a grim apperance whenever the job demands it, but is usually the first to kick back and relax whenever the Horsemen hit a pub.
Weapon of choice: A bloody doubled-edged sword. Nobody's blood in particular, just blood. War doesn't generally use it for hacky-slashy - although he likes to keep it around just in case, would be a royal shame if he was unable to defend himself, should anything happen - but because he reads the blood patterns on the sword for keeping track of his job-related issues in the universe. If War's sword was available for humans, nobody would need diplomats.
Name: Famine, as of her death. It's been hinted that back on the days she was called Christina.
Age: 22 when she died, which was a couple decades back
Appearance: 'Skeletal' sums it all up rather well. Medium height and anorexic, with thin bleached hair, overly tanned skin and big cheerful brown eyes (she's a natural brunette). She has a fairly good fashion sense, but has a tendency to overdo the glitz and glitter in her wardrobe. She also tends to look like she's overdone her makeup, but that's mostly because there's very little that can be done to make her face look better.
History: Famine is the only Horseman who used to be a human (and also the only female Horseman, although in the strictest biological sense, the other Horsemen could take any form they like). She was a runway model, and a fairly successful one until her severe eating disorder took its toll and she died of malnutrition on the catwalk.
At the same time, the former Famine of the Four Horsemen had retired a couple months back because it had seemed at the time that the mages of the land had put a final end to famines and the Horseman was out of work. However, it turned out that the world needs four Horsemen to stay in balance, and that there's still plenty of work in Famine's field due to the increasing psychological problems of mankind. As the old Famine could no longer be reached (rumor has it that he retired to some private astral plane and put out DO NO TRESPASS spells all around it), Death brought in the freshly deceased model as a desperate last-minute measure, otherwise the world might've caved in within a few days. Famine took to her new afterlife rather well and is overall happy that she can still wear designer clothes, gets to meet new people and see interesting places, and doesn't have to eat any more - and even if she did, she wouldn't gain any weight.
The other Horsemen are often a little iffy around her (because she used to be a human, therefore isn't quite the real thing) but have quite a bit of respect for her devotion to the job, considering that she wasn't originally born to do it like the rest of the riders. She rides Death's old horse, a skeleton that Death discarded because the horse's bits kept falling off and he was constantly behind schedule because of that. Famine sewed a horse hide around the skeleton, solving the problem and getting herself an in-character steed at the same time. The horse, matte-black/dusty grey because of the dead skin, is rather fond of his new owner, even if it means having to wear pink and fluffy saddlepads.
Personality: Slightly ditzy and airheaded, mostly as a reaction to the loosened-up afterlife after the hectic and crazy modelling career. Loving, affectionate, indiscriminately liking everyone around her, and generally living to the max. Since her life was dominated by hard work and a messy tangle of insecurity, pressure, and endless self-image related problems, her real personality could only flourish after she died. Her story would probably be more tragic if she herself didn't take it so lightly.
Weapon of choice: Nothing physical, unless you count the fact that if she smiled at you, you'd suddenly find it very hard to attack what's essentially a skull covered in very little skin and a lot of mascara. When in a pinch, she generally relies on her horse and the other Horsemen, although she would be able to do very cruel things to the amount of nutrients in any attacker's body. For the Horseman business, owns a pair of silver scales (Tiffany's, custom made) and is able to read the patterns of diamond glitter on them in order to follow the important related events of the universe.
Name: TMC. Technically it's short for Too Many Connections, but that's not his name. He just goes by TMC.
Age: unknown. Or quite possibly just 'none'.
Appearance: Seems to be in his mid-twenties, with fairly light skin, messy shoulder-length jet-black hair and a perpetual three-day beard. He always wears sunglasses, largely because it looks cool but it also serves a practical purpose: his eyes cannot be looked into. They're there, the glance just never reaches them or slides right past. If you were to ask him, though, and if he was in the mood to answer, he'd say that they're light blue. You'd just have to take his word for it.
Clothing-wise, he wears the classical greaser outfit from the 50s - black leather jacket, white shirt, blue jeans, black boots. Although he mocks the other Horsemen for their traditionalism, he's stayed true to that look even though the following decades would've given him a lot more hardcore choice in terms of rebel clothes. As far as he's concerned, it works for him.
History: As the mages of the NTWF put an end to big diseases and illnesses, Pestilence retired from the job, and while the higher-ups were looking for a way to find a new guy for the job in order to maintain the universal balance, TMC appeared one day and claimed the place without any explanations. The higher-ups claim that he wasn't their doing and TMC himself speaks nothing about it, but the fact could no longer be changed. He controls the time and temporal continuity, and he's always remained distant from the others because while they consider the Apocalypse-business a necessary means of maintaining the balance in the world and mankind, essentially doing cleanup when the mankind goes overboard, TMC considers his powers to be for his own personal fun and aims to bring forth the Apocaypse just for the heck of it. The last time he tried it was during the second Guild Wars, which eventually caused Death to overstep his boundaries and kill TMC. His soul was forged into a magical gem before it could fully leave the world and the gem itself got shipped off to Rane, so after a while TMC found a way to sneak into his head and take him over. The two eventually struck up a kind of totally-not-a-friendship-don't-be-stupid and TMC ended up learning a lot more about humankind than he'd ever like to admit. Eventually he broke loose thanks to being reunited with his bike in the Fleet HQ and disappeared.
TMC loathes horses - he doesn't particularly like anything living - so he rides a white, overly chromed and tuned Harley Chopper that shares some of his powers and has dials no mortal should ever look at. For the time being, it's kept in the Spacefleet headquarters for testing.
Personality: 'Arrogant jerk' begins to cover it. TMC has no regard for anyone but himself and his own purposes. He's very singleminded once he's set on something, and can get very creative to get it done. At the same time he's a very sore loser.
Weapon of choice: Temporal lagging. Conventional attacks simply won't reach him because he can shift in and out of regular time at will and walk away from whatever's threatening him, and whenever he needs to attack, his move of choice is making the offender's body parts move at different speeds. It can get very messy when your entire blood circulation suddenly fails to catch up as you rush forward.
Name: Pestilence. The humans who know him usually know him as Pete. He likes the subtle reference.
Age: If you asked, he'd ask what War told you, then grin at the answer and say, "Well, when the wounds of those monkeys went bad, I showed up". Or, if you're a human asking him at the bar, he usually says 42. Most people don't care that he's said 42 for years now.
Appearance: Ever since his retirement, he's appeared as a sturdy red-faced barkeeper, complete with short sandy hair, a wide smile and a loud jovial voice. Before that time, he looked mostly... oozing, so everyone generally considers it a change for the better. Pestilence has made a point of looking as down-to-earth and average as possible, and now retains that look even if he's lurking around in the more interesting realms for a change.
History: Pestilence was one of the Old Doers in Apocalypse business and when he was made redundant, he didn't take it well. More specifically, he fell into a planet-sized depression and drank for three days. The extremely understanding barkeeper who helped him through those days ("Yeah, really a shame there, man. And you'd been working there for centuries? No respect for the bluecollar these days. Another pint, sure thing") gave him the idea of gearing the rest of his days towards an equally people-centric profession. These days Pestilence owns a dirty little bar by the main road to Dunburrow, being one of the pillars of the local society and generally loved by all. Despite the regular issues with health inspection - he doesn't want to lose his touch - the place is actually fairly hygienic, and as he puts it, a little pneumonia in the soup doesn't kill anyone when you know your quantities, ensures work for the healers and keeps money in circulation. He's married, has a daughter and a one-horse household. The horse is, of course, his former steed, currently a bay clydesdale. Pestilence changes his color and breed every fifteen years or so, because an immortal horse would make the villagers suspicious.
Personality: It's generally unknown whether Pestilence's cheerful innkeeper act is an act or his real personality. When he started his business, he did some thorough research on how a tavernkeeper should act and then acted that way. Whether it really clicked with him or whether it just became so much of a habit that it became natural is up to anyone to decide. In either case his best friends are always notorious for their very good health even during epidemics and there has been the occasional miraculous recovery after the husband of some terminally and irreversably ill woman has chosen Pestilence's little pub as the place for drowning his sorrows.
Weapon of choice: Any illness you can think of, and he's very creative. Doesn't fight much these days, but when you need the entire enemy army that's planning to attack your country to get athlete's foot all of a sudden, Pestilence is a useful outpost to have by the main road where said army would be marching by. That aside, his Horseman-item is a white circlet that usually hangs on a hook in the bar or the kitchen. Whenever he goes out, he takes it along - just in case.
Affiliation: none, although she does rather like the Pirates, considering how they've been good customers for years.
Age: well over fifty. She does, however, look about thirty.
Appearance: ethnic. Very over-the-top ethnic. If it's foreign at all, she'll make use of it in her appearance, and even things that are as local as mom's apple pie end up looking foreign on her. She's a short stocky tan woman with thick messy black hair and bright emerald green eyes, and she dresses in a way that'd make a gypsy raise an eyebrow. Colorful skirts, the occasional veil and colorful patch are a must. She also speaks with a kind of vaguely over-the-top ethnic accent that seems to operate on an 'as long as it sounds foreign' logic and isn't actually heard in any place on the planet except in Zagora's little shop.
History: Zagora is a voodoo witch, and an extremely good one at that. Her actual ethnicity is a well-kept secret, although she's known to come from a small swampy kingdom down south. She picked up voodoo as a young girl and has been perfecting her arts ever since. She spent most of her life in the southern archipelago just off the coast of the mainland, presumably because finding ingredients for her work was easier there, and helped whichever sailors found her and were willing to pay the right price. Eventually she decided that there had to be more to life than eating bugs and moved to the big city to set up shop in the uptown district of Tabloid Town. Now she spends her days in a small overly ethnic-looking shop in Beaver Hills, selling creepily organic potions and amulets to posh people who can afford her prices. Because she has really very high prices, largely due to the rarity of her ingredients.
Personality: Mystical babble is part and parcel of every voodoo witch's shtick, so it's anyone's guess whether she actually acts like that or is just very good at marketing. Generally calm and collected, like most people who have a number of amulets and spells protecting them from all possible monsters, demons and lawyers.
Weapon of choice: intimidation, actually. She's capable of making an attacker's bits and pieces shrivel up and fall off, and she generally knows in advance when someone plans to attack her, but voodoo takes some time to prepare and execute, so usually she just keeps herself carefully neutral and sells anything she can to both parties of a conflict.
Last Edit: Mar 5, 2010 16:37:23 GMT -5 by Huntress
Name: Merpo. His culture does not have surnames as we think of them; instead, your surname is whatever your job is. (This is occasionally awkward, in such cases as Bob Assistantheadofpublicrelations.) When he was working for Spacefleet, he went by Merpo Physicist. His current profession is a bit more hard to define, but he considers himself Merpo Inventor. However, since he quickly got tired of explaining the odd last name, he prefers simply to be called Merpo.
Affiliation: Currently none. Formerly a member of Spacefleet.
Age: 53. What does it say about us that this is the first straightforward age given on this thread?
Appearance: An abomination to color theory. Alternately, a pimp who's trying way too hard. Whenever he leaves his house, he specifically chooses his clothing so that he has at least one example of every primary and secondary color. His preferred arrangement of clothing is an electric blue vest over a Renaissance-style white shirt with frilly cuffs, yellow and orange harlequin-patterned trousers, a red cape with purple cuffs and edging, and a gold-trimmed wide-brimmed acid green hat with a peacock feather sticking out. He chose this style because he found it makes people stay away from him, in the "Anyone dressed like that is either fearless, crazy, or both" vein of thought. Adding to the appearance, he wears a large fake grin that always seems like it was pasted on a bit lopsided and generally comes off as more than a bit creepy. When not out in public, his dress is much more reserved: long-sleeved shirt and long pants in muted colors, frequently with a lab coat. Physically, Merpo is fairly thin, except for a bit of inescapable middle-age flab that is usually hidden by his outrageous clothing. He is average height, around 5'8", though seems taller because of his hat. Unlike all the other characters on this page, Merpo looks about his age or a bit older. Has a thin, slightly sunken face with the usual wrinkles that come with aging. Has a heavily wrinkled brow--he frowns whenever he has to concentrate, and he spends a lot of time concentrating. Hair is about two inches long and always messy--it was once all black, but is now salt-and-pepper with about 75% pepper and 25% salt.
History: Born and raised on an Earthlike planet that is part of some UN-style interstellar organization. Highly intelligent, he studied some branch of physical science that is more trouble than it's worth to try to attempt to explain. He married at 25 and had a daughter at 28, his only child. At 33, as part of a cultural and intellectual exchange program, he came to Spacefleet to work in their science program. Almost immediately upon joining Spacefleet, he found out about the Underdeep and became fascinated by it. Magic was rarely used on his home planet, but he had long had an interest in how magic and science can interact. He found as many documents as he could on the Underdeep, but soon realized that very little had been written on it. He had been working on several personal projects in his off time, but his research on the Underdeep soon became primary among these. He managed to set up equipment on the NTWF's surface to study the Underdeep--he managed to get permission to set up this equipment, but due to a clerical error, no one realized exactly what he wanted to study. Soon, Merpo realized that the magic in the Underdeep could be used as a source of vast amounts of power, more than enough to support his homeworld completely. However, when Spacefleet officials discovered what he was doing, they became terrified, since they thought the Underdeep was far too dangerous to study, and forced him out of Spacefleet on trumped-up charges of stealing laboratory equipment. (The equipment in question was a beaker that he was using for another side project unrelated to the Underdeep. Normally, this wouldn't even have gotten him a slap on the wrist.) He was put on the NTWF with hardly any possessions and was told in no uncertain terms that he would be imprisoned and possibly killed if he ever tried to come back to Spacefleet. He had been in Spacefleet's science program for a total of six months. He had managed to bring to the surface only a few of his personal possessions and a small number of pieces of equipment he had manage to steal. Most importantly to him and the Redemption RP, he had been unable to bring his notes on the Underdeep, as these had been confiscated. He managed to build several small, simple things out of what he had brought with him--simple electronic devices, mostly--and patented these things as his own inventions. This patent money gave him enough to live on for a while, but also enough to buy supplies to make more so-called inventions, which were simply pieces of technology that had existed for centuries or millennia in more advanced parts of the galaxy. He is currently credited as being the inventor of such things as the doorbell, microwave, dry-cell battery, wind turbine, gas powered stove, electric corkscrew, mechanical bull, and self-sealing stem bolt. From these inventions he made his fortune, bought a mansion strategically placed right over a corridor to the Underdeep, and built four wind turbines to power it and managed to commission a steady stream of supplies for his various projects--thereby making a certain metalsmith's fortune as well as his own. For the next twenty years, he patiently reconstructed the data he had gathered on the Underdeep. It took far longer this time, because he had to build everything from scratch, and building more things to patent to make money to build equipment to reconstruct his studies took just as much time as building the equipment itself. After just under 20 years, in a twist of plot devicefate, he found out that Huntress and her crew were trying to steal something from Spacefleet, but needed money. He offered to finance their trip to Spacefleet, but in return asked them to bring back the notes he had taken on the Underdeep. Carrying his complete notes once more, he was able to construct a suit that works like a Faraday cage, but with psychic/magic fields rather than electric fields. Wearing this suit, he could enter the Underdeep safely. As of now, he intends to set up a lab and equipment inside the Underdeep, eventually harnessing the energy within it.
Personality: Unhinged, antisocial bordering on agoraphobic, cowardly. Even before his exile to the NTWF, he was described as being a bit off, in the way that many brilliant scientists frequently are: so focused on his studies that real life didn't quite seem real to him. Despite this, he was a loving, devoted father and husband. After being exiled to the planet's surface, a combination of manic fervor to reconstruct his studies on the Underdeep and grief at being unable to contact his family pushed him over the proverbial deep end. His insanity is one of obsession.
Weapon of choice: None. Managed to construct a simple phaser-like weapon and would use it if absolutely necessary, but would be much more likely to run away than fight. If forced to choose a conventional weapon, would use a dagger.
Abilities: None to speak of, aside from remarkable intelligence. An accomplished bagpipe player, but some of the neighbors keep complaining.
Full name: Scorchen Age: 34 Gender: Male Species: Culanian (canine humanoid) Alignment: Lawful Good Skills: Melee combat, dagger weilding, discipline, agility and focus. Abilities: He can smell fear from far away. Weapons: Two silver daggers. Accent: North American, bass
Personality: Scorch is what you could call a mix between Master Yoda and Terminator. He can be very calm and wise, but when he's in battle he will plow through the enemy with his huge daggers and high agility level. He won't turn down firearms, but prefers up and close combat. A personal quote of his:
"Some soldiers are told to fire when they see the white in the eyes of their enemies. I wait until I see I see my own reflection in them so I know I'll be the last thing they see."
He is very very loyal and will follow his orders without question... with few exceptions. He is not in it for the fame, glory or money. He is in it to serve and obey. But he's not without common sense. Scorch is very wise and an experienced fighter. He won't hesitate to teach the new recruits how to meditate to keep them focused. Due to his high self-discipline, it is almost impossible to get him to do or say something irrational.
Scorch does not have any close friends and his family is long gone. Some say that Commander Strife was the person closest to him - like a brother. But even when Strife disappeared... there was not even a hint of sadness in his face. Though, now he mostly roams the hallways of Spacefleet or spends time alone meditating or training.
Appearance: Scorch is tall. About 7 feet. He's muscular without being grotesque. He keeps his body fit and focuses on maintaining his agility. So his main muscle areas are the abdomen and chest, theighs and biceps. His limbs are like those of a human, except his facial features: Icy blue eyes that seem to change colour depending on his mood. Low forehead and very distinguished facial lines (brows, jawline and nose bridge). Medium long muzzle with black snout and pearly white teeth (left canine tooth is chipped). Upwards pointing ears and a furcoat that is devided into black and white. He's mostly black from the back and white from the front. Long-ish tail and claws instead of nails.
Clothes: Black cargo pants and boots. Tight Spacefleet shirt that bears the V-shape line that devides the bottom black part from the top coloured part. Scorch's colour is red. Though, when he's on a stealth mission, he prefers to be topless and rolls himself in the dirt to dim the whiteness of his fur. He also wears a utility belt and straps that cross his chest to hold his two daggers on his back.
Appearance: Corenu is a half-unicorn, with the head and (2) legs of a unicorn, but body and arms of a human. He wears dark blue pants and a white shirt.
Skills/Powers: Able to use a bow, by creating magic arrows, to a helpful level. However, he mainly uses magic for support purposes. He can sense magic, heal, shield against all but strong magic, and manipulate light in a non-harmful way (unless you count blinding people, of course). He is also able to bring people back to life, but if anything is missing from the person he's bringing back, he needs to replace it with other organic material, else it will use his.
He also carries a magic stone in a bag around his neck. When this stone is touched by something living, a few creatures from other planes are summoned.
Personality: Currently thinks he's possessed, and acts as if he was a servant of the Underdeep.
Appearance: Short, with short black hair. Body is partly wood, partly flesh, in patches, due to Corenu's healing. Wears a yellow robe.
Powers: A few spells, all well practiced, to the point where she can do them in her sleep.
Blast: Fires a bolt of magic. Fairly destructive. Grapple: Applies force around an object to hold it in place, or can be be used to move lighter objects around. Also can crush some things. Harder to do on larger and stronger objects. Ball: Fires a ball of magic, which absorbs everything around it and gets bigger, until it hits either the target or something it can't absorb, at which point it releases the power of everything it absorbed, like a bomb. This can absorb anything inanimate. Harder to do on further away targets. Form: Makes any desired shape out of concentrated magic. Mostly for illusions, but can make real objects as well. Harder to do when making larger objects.
Personality: Currently thinks she's possessed, and acts as if she was a servant of the Underdeep.
Appearance: A chimera of human, wolf, bat and lion. Kwoi was a humanoid with a canine head, bat's ears, light grey fur, a tail with a darker grey tuft on the end, and grey eyes. Her standard outfit (consisting of a green shirt, dark blue pants, an orange vest, a greyish-blue headband, and a yellow bandana worn cowboy-style) used to be bright and colourful, but the colours had long since faded. This was only her standard appearance - she was a shapeshifter.
History: The little that is known about Kwoiffei's past goes as follows: she was an interdimensional traveller. She had been in the NTWF for more than one extended stay, one of which ended during the second Guilds' War. Turns out she didn't die, but went away for a while... yet the formerly self-serving anti-hero had changed, and not for the better. She regarded the Underdeep as an enemy, which led her to fight against Sandra and Patri - the latter of whom eventually erased her from existence forever.
Personality: Not much is clear about her personality during her final hours, although Kwoi had clearly changed during her time away from the NTWF. She was loyal to her lord and master, whoever he is, but enjoyed a chance to procrastinate, and apparently loved to play the role of a villain. However, she was also impulsive and rash.
Weapon of choice: Since she was a shapeshifter, Kwoiffei chose to create weapons for herself on the fly, although she was just as capable of using improvised and/or stolen weaponry.
Abilities: Shapeshifting. It's also been implied that Kwoiffei may have had psychic powers.
Appearance: Anthropomorphic black panther (melanistic jaguar) with blue eyes. Surprisingly short (1.7m/5"7'), but has a very stocky and powerful build. No visible scars, save for a large chunk missing from his left ear. Always wears black clothing, even when he's not on a mission.
History: Not much is known about Oncara's history; he was born into a ninja clan, and raised as a ninja. At some point he was expelled from the clan for attacking and nearly killing one of the younger members; a few years later he joined the NTWF's Ninja Guild. People fear that there may be a repeat of that incident in the future if he doesn't swallow his pride and seek help anytime soon. During the events of the third Guilds' War, Oncara set out to investigate a series of disappearances, only to disappear himself.
Personality: Proud and arrogant. This arrogance does have some basis in reality; Oncara is experienced, skilled and well-trained, and a strict traditionalist in more than one sense. He also knows it. A very headstrong feline, he believes in doing things on his own, and doing things his way, which has frequently caused him to butt heads with other members of the guild. On top of all this, he holds some very poorly-hidden malice towards the world as a whole. (And he's not a major antagonist because...?)
Weapon of choice: None, if you don't count the weapons he was born with. He has claws, fists, feet, and jaws that are powerful enough to bite through a tortoise's shell - or a human skull.
Abilities: Far-above-average speed, agility, strength and endurance, partly due to constant training.
Appearance: An anthropomorphic coati. Nasue has blue fur with lighter blue markings on her face and darker blue hands, feet and rings on her tail. Her eyes are a gold-yellowy colour. She's tall (1.83m/6'0"), thin with thin limbs ("EAT SOMETHING ALREADY" kilograms), and androgynous - the combination of her build, a low-pitched voice, her clothing choices and a total lack of feminine things means that she is constantly mistaken for a guy. Speaking of clothing choices, her typical pirate outfit consists of a shirt, a closed vest, and ankle-length pants. Optional additions include a hooded jacket, a utility belt (for her weapons), two watches (one for each wrist), and glasses. Note that she doesn't actually need glasses. Also note that she abhors and avoids footwear.
History: Nasue arrived in the NTWF two months before the Underdeep's attempted takeover. She lived in an abandoned building in Le Singe, occasionally visiting Tabloid Town for various reasons. It was during one of these visits that things really went haywire, with the Underdeep possessing people, her strange powers awakening, a trip beyond the Fourth Wall, and many things that should have killed her somehow failing to kill her. Something good did come out of this, though: Nasue discovered, and joined, the crew of the White Weewoo. Despite being seperated from the others, once she was reunited with the pirates in Le Singe, the coati decided to come with them.
Personality: Nasue is easily spooked and cowardly to an extent, preferring to run or hide instead of fighting - but if pushed too hard (or in the right way), she'll push back with a lot of force. And claws. She has problems with self-esteem, and is more comfortable following orders than telling people - even herself - what to do. In a way, she sees the world as an obstacle course. She also has trouble getting along with others. This isn't entirely her fault; it's more that she struggles to read social signals and subtext, and she's not exactly the best judge of character. The fact that she's an off-worlder doesn't help. People who she's warmed up to will find that she is honest, straightforward, reasonably intelligent, somewhat snarky, and possibly more moral and kindhearted than you'd expect from a pirate. Emphasis on "possibly".
Weapon of choice: A knife and a flintlock pistol. She also has claws and teeth.
Abilities: She knows parkour - she's not particularly good at it, but it has improved her ability to jump and climb. As for extraordinary abilities, she has two: the first is an ability to sense magic. When her eyes glow, she sees magical energies as solid colours. Overwhelming this can cause migraines. The other is a defensive type of anti-magic. When her entire body glows yellow (and her voice becomes otherworldly), magical energies that touch her are neutralised - in other words, they have no effect. It also applies to other things touching her, such as clothes and handheld items. However, this only seems to work in a small range, and it won't do anything to protect her from more mundane ways to hurt her. Also, the effect is usually temporary. On top of all this, Nasue has no idea how to control either of these powers.
A shapeshifter and a member of the Mages Guild. Locke is, to put it bluntly, a jerk. He's a certain kind of jerk who never seems to take things seriously... which makes his serious moments all the more surprising. Worryingly, he also opposes the idea of Celestial Tien leading the guild.
Locke has some martial arts training, and his shapeshifting mostly focuses on changing parts of his body rather than the whole (not that he's incapable of the latter). When fighting changes his hands so that they have enormous claws.
One of the ninja elders who took charge of the guild after the death of the Ninja Superior. Ginga is one of the youngest of the elders; this may be to do with the fact that he's a talking dog. (To be precise, he resembles a white-furred Shiba Inu.) Perhaps not coincidentally, he's also one of the more open-minded members of the council. However, he can be quite underhanded, and is willing to break the rules in order to get things done.
Ginga does not actively fight, but he can summon weapons and armour and control the former telekinetically. He's also good with a small blade held in his mouth.
Last Edit: Dec 29, 2010 3:12:26 GMT -5 by Nasuella
I - I will become And when I've won When I have conquered time and space I will live on And you will remember what I've done --"The Artist", Allen/Lande
The NNPCS or Ninja NPC Squad are just random nameless ninjas. They are the nameless heroes of the NTWF. Meaning they die a lot instead of us ^^; They talk, they do things we really don't want to do, and there are more where the first dies. They wear the normal, cliche, ninja garb, except with red belts on. They have nothing that can tell them apart from each other. If you can tell them apart, they are not a member of the NNPCS. "The Red Shirts" of the Ninja.
Appearance: Skinny and average height (5'7'' - 5'9''). She refuses to say. She has long silver hair. Kind of pale skin.
History: Refuses to talk about history. Works for Gil Maxwell as a assistant.
Personality: She's lazy. She doesn't really want to do anything. Everything is just to cumbersome for her to really care about it. She usually speaks in a very lazy kind of voice. She tends to get depressed easily at times.
Vehicle: Air Bike. What started out to be a simple bike, flappable wings and a propeller were added to allow it to fly around. No matter how much she's tried, she can't get it to stop squeeking.
How she got a job from Gil is a miracle with all of her unknown spots.
These rats were once normal types of vermin type of rats. They raided foot storage, dig through the trash, left tiny little 'presents' in places, left strange marks on walls, etc. They roamed the sewers, walls, and alleyways.
When Brassport was brought into the new world of NTWF, something happened. It didn't happen all at once, but the rats began to change. Some started to walk upright. They began study the many people around the city. Soon enough, they to were creating there own small devices from small items found anywhere they could.
Now the once normal rats roam the city in secret, living a world the majority of the people of the NTWF will never see or know.
Physical Description: Fat and woolly, and is thickly muscled with tufts of grey poking out of his ears. He would be described as beefy were that not offensive to his kind. He has a short ... not a goatee. We'll call it a beard.
Personality: Around his comrades, Malinovka is jovial and brotherly, feeling a strong sense of comradely with not only his own kind, but also the oppressed masses, no matter whether they're woolly or pink and fleshy. He is strong willed, and often stubborn but has a strong sense of liberty and justice for all, especially against the draconian capitalist shepherds and shearers. He stands tall and has a strong sense of pride in himself and his work.
Clothing: Normal woodsman garb, complete with tight tights and a beret out of which his ears poke. He also has an olive green cloak for camouflage purposes.
Weapons and Armour: A simple crossbow with red-fletched bolts. Occasionally an English longbow (with hoof attachments to allow the sheep more dexterity) with quivers of red-fletched arrows.
Physical Description: Short, lanky and balding, Molotov is old enough to know not to follow the flock.
Personality: Slightly caustic and sometimes bitter, the old healer is nevertheless a firm believer in equal rights and would gladly give up his life for this cause. He is intensely loyal but not at all stupid and can be relied upon for almost any task that doesn't require much physical strength.
Clothing: The usual olive cloak. Molotov refuses to wear tights, instead preferring a brown tunic and pants.
Weapons and Armour: A few daggers hidden in his wool and his father's old crossbow.
Physical Description: Helga is elderly and seemingly frail, but one kick of those vicious hooves and you'll wish you'd worn a cup. She's nimble, lean and sharp of eye, despite her age.
Personality: Warm and doting to those she cares for, nasty to her enemies, Helga has a mother's instinct to nurture and protect her friends and comrades. She can be as gentle as a soft breeze, or as ferocious as a tornado and her underhand tactics are not to be messed with.
Clothing: A dress, not made of wool. Plus her olive cloak and slightly-too-fancy tophat.
Weapons and Armour: Helga carries only two daggers and much prefers to use her sickly sweet and very unique form of spite to humiliate and crush her enemies.
Physical Description: Mariya is short and broad-chested with overly-skinny legs and thick wool.
Personality: As one of the youngest in the band, Mariya has the intense desire to prove herself and her abilities. She is very clever and innovative, though her revolutionary ideas often go unappreciated due to her overenthusiastic use of explosives and the group's liking of traditional methods of subterfuge and guerrilla warefare. She is ruthless and takes great pleasure in her work.
Clothing: Tunic and leggings with the trademark olive cloak.
Weapons and Armour: Mariya is apt at creating poisons and carries a stock of poisoned crossbow bolts as well as a short sword, though this is rarely used.
Appearance: A brown haired man with dark brown eyes and pale skin. Very thin and lanky. Doesn't have a hair out of place, which makes him a little uncanny.
Outfit: A brown two piece double-breasted suit with silver buttons and a white bow tie. His shirt collar is high and turned up to conceal his neck where you can just see a brown strap with a silver buckle on it which depicts the 'Squared Circle' alchemical glyph. In addition to this he has the alchemical symbols for Mercury and Bismuth on each lapel of his jacket. Shoes are black and sensible. He also has dark brown gloves and glasses with a thin, metallic rim. Never seen without his pipe, despite him being around books all the time.
History: Claims that he was orphaned at a young age following the death of his entire village at the hands of bandits and has lived in Tabloid Town as a thief until he came to Mage Manor. Became interested in books as he lived near a library and had to pass the time somehow. Came to the Mages after stumbling across a demon book infested Manor and while the mages were panicking and discussing how to control it, he calmly strolled in and stared down the demon books, forcing them back into their proper places whimpering, all while his expression remained perfectly calm. The Mages, despite being wary of him, knew they needed this guy to control their books. He's been their faithful librarian ever since.
Personality: Very quiet, stoic, reserved, to the point and business-like. Seems near emotionless. He cares very deeply about books and will not get angry at you unless you've done something to the books, like having them overdue or damaging them. If you do something really bad, he won't get angry. He's be perfectly calm. Calmer than he normally is. Bad things will happen to you. If it's not book related, he won't talk. Has plenty of snark if he does. Doesn't seem afraid of anybody, not even the Archmage and will argue his point if he has one. You can't win an argument against the Librarain. However, he can be very gentlemanly in his own way.
Weapon of Choice: None.
Abilities: Dealing with any book known to man. Extreme neatness and cleanliness, despite the smoking habit. Taking people who anger him behind the book shelves and sending them screaming for some reason.
Last Edit: Oct 2, 2010 20:34:15 GMT -5 by Celestial
History: Not much is known. He worked with Leraye at some point, but the nature of their affiliation is very hazy. Jonah seems to think that Leraye betrayed him.
During the second Guild War, Jonah was able to escape the gem and possess Speck. While in possession of her, he wanted nothing more than to seek revenge on Leraye. At some point, Speck was able to will him out of her (presumably). He left her with his powers, and the knowledge to use them. He said nothing about skill, however.
Personality: Fiery, sneaky, mischievous, sly...
Weapon of Choice: Magic and knives.
Abilities: Blood magic. He was able to heal, see other's health... but he was also able to turn someone's blood against them. Nasty.
Appearance: Dark hair, coffee-colored skin, blue eyes.
Outfit: She dresses herself in purples and dark blues, and adorns herself with as many shiny baubles as possible. Some of her jewelry helps her cast specialized spells, but most of it is for show. Her clothing is often reminiscent of a noblewoman’s outdoor attire.
History: Jonah Farlap's older sister. She and her brother were brought up in a fairly wealthy family, and were both able to attend a university to hone their magic abilities. While Jonah got more attention for his unique abilities, Joce fought fiercely to protect him.
During the Ancient Guild Wars, she did not join with any of the guilds... but she chose to weed out any major threats to her brother's life. Some time after she was released from the gem, and after the second Guild Wars had ended, she teamed up with the demon Bennett (and his blood-bond Noah Speckleton). After that, she was approached by a faction of the demon rebellion, and convinced to help go after Spacefleet.
Using Noah Speckleton as leverage, she was able to bribe Speck into helping her, though she was purposefully vague with the plan. She holds a grudge against Speck for forcing her brother to cross over. Her spell controlled Speck for a short period of time and resulted in bringing down Spacefleet’s defenses and life support systems (momentarily).
Personality: Cool demeanor, fiery temper, and selfish to boot. Except when it comes to her brother, of course.
Weapon of Choice: Magic... and psychology.
Abilities: She's a powerful mage who specializes in illusionary magic. Anything from light manipulation, to trapping someone in their own mind is possible. You never know. The bigger stuff seems to be in reserve, though.
Other: She has feelings for Bennett, but won't openly admit it.
Appearance: Dark red hair, blood red eyes, pointed ears, and a long, tufted prehensile tail.
Outfit: Dark clothes and leather armor, accented with gold-plated metal.
History: Beyond the fact that he saved Noah Speckleton, not much is known about this blood demon.
Personality: Probably what you would classify as the “strong and silent type.” His motives aren’t well known to others, nor are his opinions.
Weapon of Choice: Pistols.
Abilities: Can absorb the life force of a living being through open cuts in the being’s skin. This is an ability inherent among his people, the blood demons. Bennett prefers not to take the life of another intelligent being; if need be, he will only drain a small percentage so that he or she might replenish themselves.
On the weapons-side, Bennett is a decent shot with a few different guns. He does not particularly like hurting other beings, but will do what is necessary to survive.
Appearance: Light brown hair, red eyes, tan (weathered) skin.
Outfit: Long coats, jackets, short boots, long pants. He doesn’t wear shirts.
History: Fern “Speck” Speckleton’s father. He started off as a merchant sailer while his wife and daughter ran their drug/grocery store in the port town of Le Singe. During Speck’s adolescence he became more adventurous, and started leaving on longer journeys into foreign territory. He was caught in a hurricane, and would have lost his life, if his crewmate Bennett hadn’t saved him.
By the time he got back to Le Singe, his wife was dead, and his daughter had left home. He and Bennett searched for her until they ran into Joce Farlap. Joce and Bennett formed an alliance, preventing Noah from continuing the search for his daughter.
Personality: A loving father, and generally friendly person. Since being bonded to Bennett, he has become slightly more idealistic (morally). He will do almost anything to get out of a fight.
Weapon of Choice: Knives and crossbows.
Abilities: He can use weapons if he needs to? He feeds off of “life energy” much like Bennett does, but he doesn’t depend on it to live. He’d much rather have a nice, juicy steak instead, anyway.
Other: The only weapon Noah carries is a hunting knife, sheathed on his left side.
The best ideas come when you've broken all your pencils. Neopets: sillygirl_543 | Deviantart: speckledbat