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Post by Robyn on Jul 2, 2005 13:08:21 GMT -5
She wouldn't stab you. Just run.
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Post by Skiv on Jul 2, 2005 13:08:35 GMT -5
She has nothing to stab you with dude.
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Post by Robyn on Jul 2, 2005 13:09:40 GMT -5
No, she has a small dagger, for cleaning animals with and stuff. But she doesn't kill humans.
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Post by David the Knight of Night on Jul 2, 2005 13:10:52 GMT -5
Ahh... okay then. Whatever. That would end up probably being some random event that might be important later... or maybe it'll change her character.
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Post by Robyn on Jul 2, 2005 13:13:52 GMT -5
Maybe.........*glances around mysteriously*
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Post by David the Knight of Night on Jul 2, 2005 13:14:58 GMT -5
Anyway, I will start the invasion tomorrow, wether MA gets on or not... I was kinda waiting for her, but I want to get this done before Oz decides to change locations again.
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Post by Kirukelgyr on Jul 2, 2005 20:51:30 GMT -5
Meh. Things aren't moving very fast.
David, David, just because Mimiko is...um...kinda preppy doesn't mean she'll get kidnapped by Bowser or something.
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Post by Oz on Jul 2, 2005 20:53:39 GMT -5
Anyway, I will start the invasion tomorrow, wether MA gets on or not... I was kinda waiting for her, but I want to get this done before Oz decides to change locations again. Actually, the round will change when you finally do decide to invade. I already decided that if you hadn't done it by next Monday/Tuesday, I'd fit it in with my finishing post.
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Post by Kirukelgyr on Jul 2, 2005 20:57:47 GMT -5
*shrugs* sure. Have fun.
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Post by CoffeeBeanAvenger on Jul 2, 2005 21:45:41 GMT -5
Name: Martheck Rontu
Sex: Male.
Age: 25
Appearance: Martheck wears primarily greens and browns, his clothes consist of a simple shirt and pants, with well-made leather boots reaching to his calves. He wears a hood of deep green at all times, concealing his light brown hair and casting his deep-set eyes into shadow. When the light does hit his eyes, they are seen to be green, with flecks of gray and and blue within, darkening to black in moments of high emotion; a trait he and Karana have inherited from their father. He has a moustache, goatee, and small sideburns, which he keeps neatly trimmed. Over his shirt he wears a leather curiass (sp?) with silver buckles, and a pair of leather bracers with iron bands running down the outsides for defense. Born to a different mother than Karana, Martheck is lighter-skinned, about 5' 10" and of somewhat heavier build. He wears only two pieces of jewlery, an obsidian ring on the third finger of his left hand, and a silver necklace.
Strengths: Martheck is adept in any woodland setting, moving swiftly and quietly among the trees and able to subsist on what he can find or hunt. He is an excellent marksman with his longbow, as well as a competent fighter with his broadsword. Martheck is highly proactive, taking the lead often, and offering his advice whenever he deems it appropriate. sure of his skills, Martheck moves through life with a quiet confidence that he can handle whatever comes his way. Martheck also tends to adapt quickly, doing whatever is needed to deal with the present situation.
Weaknesses: Martheck is not very social. He has foot-in-mouth disease out the yin-yang, and this, coupled with his socially outcast past, makes him leery of large groups of people, and uneasy in cities and crowds. Instead he prefers only a few close friends whom he can trust completely. A tendency to make snap judgements about people and then act on them without waiting for confirmation. A bad habit of looking down on others who don't live up to his standards, and treating them poorly. A terrible temper, somewhat akin to a Cork in a Sprite bottle (Volcano-ish, no warning) most often vented as scorn on those who he feels don't live up to his standards. (see above) He bites his nails.
Possessions: Longbow and quiver of battle-arrows for same, a broadsword of ordinary steel, flint and tender, hunting knife in a leather sheath, belt, pack with his money (not much) and various small possessions and food in it, and a silver necklace of his mothers.
History: Martheck was born in Europe, and travled to India with his father and mother to India at the age of 8. His mother was killed by the village bullies for refusing to sleep with them while her husband was away when Martheck was 9. Terrified, he fled into the forest and hid, only returning home after his father came searching for him, and then only for a short time. He lived his formative years in the silence and loneliness of the forest, and came to be known as the nymph-man among the villagers. He returned home on occasion, such as his fathers remmarriage, and the birth of his sister Karana, over whom he kept a quiet watch all her life, even following her to Europe after the death of their father. Martheck is not rich, and never really has been, since it is not one of his goals in life.
Combat Skills: able to defend himself at almost any range, a graduate of the school of hard knocks, competent with his sword while not great and somewhat of a pugilist.
Arcane Skills: moderate to high but totally undeveloped, at this point simply awareness of arcane events/objects.
Practical Skills: Tracker, learned to pick locks at the age of 10 (had to in order to steal a pie!) invisble and nearly untrackable in the woods, but easily confused in large cities despite an excellent directional sense.
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Post by Skiv on Jul 2, 2005 21:58:50 GMT -5
Jette IE our magic-nazi, does his arcane skills fit in with our type of magic? Your department, not mine.
How was he taught in an Indian and French school? Do you know where France is, as opposed to where India is? They're bloody far apart.
You two (Robin and Coffee) both need to learn about about India and a bit about it's culter before you try and RP Indians. You're starting to sound awefully Norweigion. It might be easier to change heritage.
About your sword: I'll quote a nice rant by TEO for it.
WEAPONS IN FANTASY: GEORGE GETS FRUSTRATED.
--Swords--
This scene may be a familiar, even comfortable one, but do not be mislead. There is something wrong going on here, something perverse, the spawn of ignorance.
Kyndall will stop being dramatic now, and hopefully get to the point.
So.
A callow youth-- probably sixteen, maybe as old as twenty-- is walking down the wide, dusty main street of his hometown, which is all he has ever known. He carries a pack on his back, and has a resolute expression on his face. Typical fantasy setting, typical fantasy lad.
He walks into the blacksmith shop and buys a sword.
Just to make you puzzle more, to build up the unbearable suspense, I’ll restate.
He walks into the blacksmith shop and buys a sword.
Here is the bit where I begin to boggle-- and believe me, I’m a world-class boggler. I do it quite often, if only to keep in practice.
Okay. Let’s outline why I am boggling-- why it’s damn improbable that this would be able to happen.
The walking, the street, I’m good with all of that. It begins to be a bit iffy at the blacksmith shop.
Right, now. The first problem Kyndall has with this situation is the blacksmith’s existance at all. If the town is small-- and we established this, one street, maybe thirty houses-- you’ll have maybe 120 people.
A medieval blacksmith would, on average, need over 150 people to make his business worthwhile.
In a town this size, there simply wouldn’t be enough business for the blacksmith to make any money. Hence, he would live elsewhere, and maybe come around a few times a year or be visited where he lives.
So. Our poor typical fantasy lad-- for the sake of easiness, let’s call him Generic George-- has to trudge about ten miles over the moor to get to the actual blacksmith. He’s wet, tired and irritable because a goat ate his lunch. Finally, he gets to go in and by a friggin’ sword.
Not so fast, George.
Okay, so he’s gotten to the smith’s, but the best thing in the way of weapons that he’ll be able to buy are nails and perhaps horseshoes. Maybe a fishhook or hinges, but he would have to wait a day or so to get them made. And none of those are much good for fighting the Evil Dark Lord’s Legions of Terror, unless you intend to chuck it at them or to puncture the tires of their carts.
A weapons smith-- Kyndall kids you not, she looked it up (1), needs about 4,500 people to support them. A normal blacksmith simply wouldn’t have the skill or training to make a blade.
George screams, beats his head on a convinient oak tree, and goes to find himself some actual lunch.
Having managed to compose himself with a mug of ale and some stew, Generic George packs his bag-- again-- and sets off for the city. Not the Big City, mind you. Just a sort of Medium-Small City.
Well into next week, he arrives, footsore, dirty, and even more hungry, because the aforementioned goat has been stalking him for days and has gotten his last three meals. He finds a bladesmith at last and tries to buy a sword. The bladesmith nods and tries to pick a sunflower seed fragment from his teeth with only his tounge.
“I c’n do’t, o’course,” he says, “but it will take some while. Come back next week.”
George decides he would rather be a cobbler, after all.
Anyways. The entire point that Kyndall is trying to make is that swords are-- or, at least, should be-- none too easy to get, even if one has the money and means to travel to get one. Not everyone and his sandwich-stealing goat should be running around with perfectly-forged, artful and unbreakable swords, simply because they weren’t available.
Okay, you say. Maybe George inherits one from his mad rich uncle when he dies. (His uncle, not George.) Jolly. Now, he needs it sharpened, polished, and-- most importantly-- he needs to learn to actually use it. Aha. He didn’t foresee this little snag.
Yes, folks, swordcraft actually does take a bit of time to learn.
And that's just about the sword and learning it. Now about his being able to defend himself at almost any range. Hmm, I'll take a bit out of the same rant.
Let’s pick a random, faintly Star War-esque scenario. Untrained little farm lad is being taught weapons by an old, wise master. He spends a few years learning and is finally sent out to experience the Real World. Things transpire, he meets the wrong people, and he suddenly has to defend himself in a duel. George takes his treasured sword out, touches tips with his opponent, gives a flourish--
--and is gutted in five seconds flat because his opponent learned in the Mideast, and he was educated in Scotland.
What a lark.
Sword-fighting styles aren’t universal, and some cultures have different techniques. So. Even if your character is an expert for his culture, someone from elsewhere probably still has a few tricks they can pull on ‘em.
Signed, Period Nazi
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Post by Skiv on Jul 2, 2005 22:15:38 GMT -5
Oye, Robin, also, having a brother changes lots of things, for one, your herritage. Two, you wouldn't be assulted by men if you had a brother with you. Irk, this is confusing! *dies*
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Post by CoffeeBeanAvenger on Jul 2, 2005 22:20:20 GMT -5
note: brother is in the woods, hunting and lurking and Karana doesnt know he exists (yet)
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Post by Skiv on Jul 2, 2005 22:29:20 GMT -5
*curious* Why didn't her dad tell her?
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Post by Oz on Jul 2, 2005 22:35:00 GMT -5
note: brother is in the woods, hunting and lurking and Karana doesnt know he exists (yet) I'm sorry, but this seems rather far-fetched. Even if they've never met and have no idea of one another's existance, it just screams of the 'Luke, I am your father' cliche. Now I'm sure if you guys put some serious thought into it you can make it work, but right now, I think you guys might want to change your stories around a bit. Plus, the Serious RP we're doing is not taking place in the actual real world. We're making it up as we go along so to speak. So although some countries might have influences from real life countries (Jin's home country for example is a bit of a mix of England and China) they would not actually BE those countries. Just throwin' out some ideas to you guys there.
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