I'm the one to blame. I was a little intimidated because I had never role played before. Tonight I'll read over all the material, sleep on it, and in the morning I will write up an epilogue.
You can have only one character. And you cannot use someone else’s character without their permission.If you want to give your character a name other than your forum username you may do that.Bio’s can be as big or as small as you want, the more detailed it is, the better it will help to describe your character, and you wont have to try do it later, but do leave some room for development.
Name: Age: Skill Trees:
Weapon of Choice:
Bio:
The way we will use skills in this RP is unique. You can pick from any of these skill trees:
Note: If you have a skill tree that is not portrayed in the zakarum faith (Combat skills, Offensive auras, fire, lightning, and cold spells) You must provide a background as to how you acquired those skills in your bio.
There will be six "acts" in our main quest. After each act you will unlock a new tier of skills on all of your skill trees.
Example of character build: (dont use this one, its mine!)
Name: Divinus Ventus
Age: 46
Skill Trees:
Combat skills (barbarian)
Offensive auras
Lightning skills
Weapon of Choice: Polearm axes.
Bio:
Divinus Ventus was born Kontak Marenfel of the Crane Tribe. His childhood was spent in rigorous training sessions with polearm axes. The harsh training was not his lone burden, but the burden of all who were born into the Crane Tribe. The weapons were heavy and unweildy, wearing his fingers to the bone, and the rigors of training often overcame his resolve as he cried out in pain. Over time however his hands became as tough as the hide of a yeti and his skill with the weapons grew to surpass his instructor. Though he had gained much respect within his tribe he often wondered about the lush landscapes laying south that he had heard of in many of his elders wonderous and often exaggerated tales.
After his father died in a raid by a neighboring tribe he found it hard to justify living out his years in cold isolation from the rest of the world. At the age of twenty Kontak Marenfel cut his ties with the crane tribe forever and began his journey south.
Ten years after his departure from the crane tribe he found himself wandering the streets of Kurast in search of his next job. He had become a well known mercenary in the years following his journey into the civilized world. But now work was sparse, there seemed to be nobody in need of his services.
An ear battering crash radiated from behind him as the entrance gate was smashed down. Cries of terror rose up all around him as the crowded street quickly emptied. He turned swiftly to face the source of the commotion, and what he saw astounded him. A dozen hulking figures made their way towards him. As they grew nearer he could see that they weren't creatures of flesh and bone but creatures of wood. Their trunk like feet scraped the cobblestone street uprooting the individual cobbles as they approached him. They were too close now, Kontak drew an axe from his back, and gripped it firmly as he had been shown by his instructor. The leader of the pack swung at him in a violent display of power, causing Kontak to step backwards as its large wooden fist drove into a building on his left. To his surprise lightning bolts crackled away from its fist and shocked Kontak. Kontak had never faced such a daunting opponent, but his resolve remained unscathed. He swung straight at the creatures head with an upswing, but the axe head lodged in its forearm as it blocked. Kontak ripped at his polearm so hard that it tore the creatures arm clean off. The wooden beast let out a cry as lightning emminated from its wound. A second blow sunk straight into the creatures forehead causing it to burst into flame. The rest of the pack stalled for a moment as if unbelieving of what they had just witnessed. Their wait was short lived, Kontak lept towards the closest beast and whacked its head off. Having left his back turned toward another beast, it took its chance and brought its fist into Kontaks back, sending him crashing into a vendors cart, full of oranges. The smell of citrus filled his nostrils as rage filled his mind. Kontak slashed the beast chest in a criss cross motion. Flame bust forth from the deepest wound and singed Kontaks eyebrows. The creature fell back into its counterpart and they both hit the ground burning as if he had just lit a bonfire for the annual crane celebration of his home tribe.
The rest were closing in when the sound of thunder struck his ears. The foul creatures were reduced to ashes in a moment, as light flooded the surrounding area. For a second Kontak thought that he had been defeated, but as his vision and hearing returned he noticed a wizened old face staring down at him. He bore the insignia of Akarat, marking him as a zakarum faithful. " That was a impressive display young man" the old man said. "But it looked as though you were in trouble so I intervened" he continued. " It was you who fell those beasts?" Kontak asked. "Indeed" the old man responded, twisting his beard as he spoke. "Where did you learn such powerful magic?" Kontak asked. "Through my many years as a priest of the Zakarum faith." He retorted. "Get up and follow me" He said. Kontak did so willingly.
Kontak gazed at the many shelves full of potions and strange artifacts that poulated the elderly mans house. "So why did you bring me here?" Kontak requested. "To offer you an apprenticeship" the old man groweled. "What you saw of my power today was only a glimpse of what you can attain" he went on. "I see many aspects within you that are perfect for this type of spellwork" he said with a renewed sense of youth in his voice. "I have never used a spell in my life old man, what makes you think that I have the ability to do that?" Kontak said in a tense voice. "just a feeling" he said in a calm voice that threw Kontak off.
Sixteen years has past since Kontak had met the old man and became his apprentice. He had been given a new title by his master, Divinus Ventus "the divine wind". The old man is currently the last living council member that is outspoken against the Zakarum Inquisition, but now he lays upon his death bed, slowly declining in health.
Divinus, tended to his masters high fever, laying a soaked washcloth across his forehead. The old man strained to make words but failed. Divinus noticed and brought him a quill and parchment. As the old man wrote the ligaments in his hand crackled, but he continued. After he had finished his short note he collapsed back into his bed and let out a last puff of air. Silence, Divinus reached over to his masters face and closed his lids shut. After a moment of reflection he read the barley legible note that his master had written.
"The inqusition is wrong, you must confront the evil to the west. The Triune is upon us."
Divinus's mind struggled to decipher his masters criptic death note...
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Fuck you, I'm a dragon.
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Fuck you, I'm a dragon.
Name:
Age:
Skill Trees:
Weapon of Choice:
Bio:
The way we will use skills in this RP is unique. You can pick from any of these skill trees:
Note: If you have a skill tree that is not portrayed in the zakarum faith (Combat skills, Offensive auras, fire, lightning, and cold spells) You must provide a background as to how you acquired those skills in your bio.
There will be six "acts" in our main quest. After each act you will unlock a new tier of skills on all of your skill trees.
Example:
act 1 bash
act 2 leap, double swing
act 3 stun, double throw
act 4 concentrate, leap attack
act 5 frenzy
act 6 whirlwind, berserk
Example of character build: (dont use this one, its mine!)
Name: Divinus Ventus
Age: 46
Skill Trees:
Combat skills (barbarian)
Offensive auras
Lightning skills
Weapon of Choice: Polearm axes.
Bio:
Divinus Ventus was born Kontak Marenfel of the Crane Tribe. His childhood was spent in rigorous training sessions with polearm axes. The harsh training was not his lone burden, but the burden of all who were born into the Crane Tribe. The weapons were heavy and unweildy, wearing his fingers to the bone, and the rigors of training often overcame his resolve as he cried out in pain. Over time however his hands became as tough as the hide of a yeti and his skill with the weapons grew to surpass his instructor. Though he had gained much respect within his tribe he often wondered about the lush landscapes laying south that he had heard of in many of his elders wonderous and often exaggerated tales.
After his father died in a raid by a neighboring tribe he found it hard to justify living out his years in cold isolation from the rest of the world. At the age of twenty Kontak Marenfel cut his ties with the crane tribe forever and began his journey south.
Ten years after his departure from the crane tribe he found himself wandering the streets of Kurast in search of his next job. He had become a well known mercenary in the years following his journey into the civilized world. But now work was sparse, there seemed to be nobody in need of his services.
An ear battering crash radiated from behind him as the entrance gate was smashed down. Cries of terror rose up all around him as the crowded street quickly emptied. He turned swiftly to face the source of the commotion, and what he saw astounded him. A dozen hulking figures made their way towards him. As they grew nearer he could see that they weren't creatures of flesh and bone but creatures of wood. Their trunk like feet scraped the cobblestone street uprooting the individual cobbles as they approached him. They were too close now, Kontak drew an axe from his back, and gripped it firmly as he had been shown by his instructor. The leader of the pack swung at him in a violent display of power, causing Kontak to step backwards as its large wooden fist drove into a building on his left. To his surprise lightning bolts crackled away from its fist and shocked Kontak. Kontak had never faced such a daunting opponent, but his resolve remained unscathed. He swung straight at the creatures head with an upswing, but the axe head lodged in its forearm as it blocked. Kontak ripped at his polearm so hard that it tore the creatures arm clean off. The wooden beast let out a cry as lightning emminated from its wound. A second blow sunk straight into the creatures forehead causing it to burst into flame. The rest of the pack stalled for a moment as if unbelieving of what they had just witnessed. Their wait was short lived, Kontak lept towards the closest beast and whacked its head off. Having left his back turned toward another beast, it took its chance and brought its fist into Kontaks back, sending him crashing into a vendors cart, full of oranges. The smell of citrus filled his nostrils as rage filled his mind. Kontak slashed the beast chest in a criss cross motion. Flame bust forth from the deepest wound and singed Kontaks eyebrows. The creature fell back into its counterpart and they both hit the ground burning as if he had just lit a bonfire for the annual crane celebration of his home tribe.
The rest were closing in when the sound of thunder struck his ears. The foul creatures were reduced to ashes in a moment, as light flooded the surrounding area. For a second Kontak thought that he had been defeated, but as his vision and hearing returned he noticed a wizened old face staring down at him. He bore the insignia of Akarat, marking him as a zakarum faithful. " That was a impressive display young man" the old man said. "But it looked as though you were in trouble so I intervened" he continued. " It was you who fell those beasts?" Kontak asked. "Indeed" the old man responded, twisting his beard as he spoke. "Where did you learn such powerful magic?" Kontak asked. "Through my many years as a priest of the Zakarum faith." He retorted. "Get up and follow me" He said. Kontak did so willingly.
Kontak gazed at the many shelves full of potions and strange artifacts that poulated the elderly mans house. "So why did you bring me here?" Kontak requested. "To offer you an apprenticeship" the old man groweled. "What you saw of my power today was only a glimpse of what you can attain" he went on. "I see many aspects within you that are perfect for this type of spellwork" he said with a renewed sense of youth in his voice. "I have never used a spell in my life old man, what makes you think that I have the ability to do that?" Kontak said in a tense voice. "just a feeling" he said in a calm voice that threw Kontak off.
Sixteen years has past since Kontak had met the old man and became his apprentice. He had been given a new title by his master, Divinus Ventus "the divine wind". The old man is currently the last living council member that is outspoken against the Zakarum Inquisition, but now he lays upon his death bed, slowly declining in health.
Divinus, tended to his masters high fever, laying a soaked washcloth across his forehead. The old man strained to make words but failed. Divinus noticed and brought him a quill and parchment. As the old man wrote the ligaments in his hand crackled, but he continued. After he had finished his short note he collapsed back into his bed and let out a last puff of air. Silence, Divinus reached over to his masters face and closed his lids shut. After a moment of reflection he read the barley legible note that his master had written.
"The inqusition is wrong, you must confront the evil to the west. The Triune is upon us."
Divinus's mind struggled to decipher his masters criptic death note...
Fuck you, I'm a dragon.