Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

    twilightwarwolf
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    Post by twilightwarwolf on Sun Aug 12, 2012 8:55 am

    Name: Chris Kokatsu, The Twin Shadow Wolves of Nito, Gravesworn

    Appearance: tall lean man, blue/black eyes and hair(long),cloak with slits open for hands, feet(gold hemmed armor) face which is only bone showing (dark set helm), carries a scythe and a sword made of bones

    Bio: A member of a forgotten clan, a clan that was powerful spiritually but Chris and Dakota were on a totally different level than the rest of the clan. The clan was also very connected to wolves and since they were very spiritually powerful they were able to avoid fights with them. As said earlier Chris and Dakota were on different levels and were able to be in a pack of their own of spiritual or non-spiritual wolves. Not to mention they took on certain characteristics of the wolves such as personality traits and physical features.

    Over the years the chief of the clan noticed how much they were progressing in their training as a warrior and as a spiritual combatant. And as such he started to fear that they would over throw him and take his spot as chief. After thinking about it for some time the chief could only come up with one solution. He had to kill them but he had to do it in such a way that it didn’t seem like he killed them but he needed to do it soon so he had to be careful. A few day s later the chief decided to take Dakota and kill him far away from the clan under the impression that he was going to give him special training. A day later the chief came back and looked like he got in a fight and barely survived. When he was well enough that could talk to the clan he explained that Dakota had died by a surprise enemy ambush and that he had barely escaped with his life. Judging from how he had appeared when he came back everyone just decided that it was one of those things that just happen because people were at the wrong place at wrong time. Even Chris was fooled until by the Chief until the night of the New Moon came.

    He was out training when his brother Dakota appeared to him and explained what had truly happened that day with the chief and himself. When Dakota was done telling him and had to leave Chris swore he would avenge his brother’s death. A little after he had finished his training and had started on his way to the village he encountered a company of knights who recognized what clan he was from and started to attack him. After a few parries with his dagger and some well timed hits Chris beat them but not without some serious casualties of his own. For one he had no shield so he was bleeding profusely from all the hits he had taken and for another they had some magic as well something like an explosion that had pushed him back and into a couple of trees. Chris decided to take the time to patch himself up just enough to get him to the village so he could get the proper treatment but right as he was about to get up and move an intense searing pain over his heart appeared. He looked at his chest to see a burning orange circle appear. He started looking around frantically to see who was giving him the Dark Soul curse. It was only when he noticed a figure coming out the trees and the voice of said person did he realize who it was. It was the chief of the clan. Chris wasn’t so much in shock by what the chief was doing but more so as to how he knew how to use the Dark Soul curse. And although he wanted to fight back being as injured as he was and how the curse was taking all his energy away the most he could do sit on the ground and watch. And when he finished the curse the chief knelt down pulled out his axe and hacked away at Chris’s neck. There was a sharp pain but after a second it was gone and he felt nothing.

    But the feeling of nothingness lasted for what felt like only a few seconds because he started to feel again. He opened his eyes to see that he was in a dilapidated ruin. After a second though he realized that this ruin was actually his home but it had been destroyed. A weak voice caught his attention so he looked behind him to find what he thought to be a necromancer on his last moments of life. The necromancer spoke before Chris even had a chance to ask anything. He told him that a covenant called the Noble Knights had found his village and killed everyone in it and then destroyed the village to make it the state it was now. Already being angry that he was woken up from his rest by someone unimportant but now hearing that his entire village was killed and he can’t avenge his brother not to mention his village was destroyed in the process all this made him swell with anger. So much even that he killed the necromancer without a second thought. The one thing that made this bearable was that he knew who destroyed his clan and village and he would wipe them from the existence as soon as he found them but for the moment he needed to go get some stuff from the remains of his village. He went to a chest his brother hid and pulled his cloak out and put it on and swore that he would never forget what happened to his brother or his village. After this he went to look for his mom’s hidden scythe and not long later he found it under some rubble in yet another chest. He threw it on his back and picked up a few more personal items and then took one last look at what was left of his village knowing he’d never return.

    After some years of travelling he came to Lordran in search of the Noble Knights after hearing some rumors that they had come here for various reasons. But he also came to Lordran in search Wulf Kastarnen. He had heard that he was very wolf like in personality and physically like Chris. If he found him he was going to see if he could join his pack as he had heard a great many things he also wanted to challenge him but that would havet to wait until he was part of his pack.

    After some time of traveling in Lordran he found no knights or Wulf Kastarnen but eventually he found a burial area and as he was taught he prayed for the souls of those who had passed. It was then he heard a voice inside his head. It was a whisper an ancient and kind whisper. It meant no harm and it said that it would like to talk to me but that I would have to come to it. Chris gave it some thought and eventually said yes and it told him how to get to the catacombs and directed him through them and its traps.

    Eventually he came to the bottom and heard not one but three voices all of which were old but not ancient like what had been talking to him and energetic like they had just done something or they were excited. The whisper came again and told him that this was Pinwheel and that he is excited because he took a part of his soul and they were using his power to defile his tomb and the catacombs. At this Chris stopped listening and confronted Pinwheel who as soon as he saw him attacked with a huge fireball which Chris just barely dodged and went to slice him in half only to realize that it was a fake to which he spun around and sliced him in half effectively killing him. Pinwheel started to fade into nothingness and when he was gone a small orb appeared. He picked it up to inspect it only to have the whisper that had been talking to him become a normal toned person. It told him that what he was holding was part of its soul and it asked him to return it to him since they were gonna talk to each other or at least so it seemed. After some thought Chris decided since he was half way there he might as well continue so the voice told him where to go to avoid traps and to keep him safe enemies.

    Eventually he came upon a cliff and was told to jump off it so they could finally talk while reassuring him that he could in fact make it. Chris decided that since it brought him this far why would it lie now after which he jumped off only to find that the voice was right and that he made it. He looked around and found himself in a cave and when he looked up he found out what he was going to talk to.

    A huge skeleton made of other skeletons with a cap made of some sort of darkly colored energy. After a second the skeleton spoke in a loud voice that was still ancient, powerful and also in a way comforting. It told Chris that he is Gravelord Nito Lord of the Dead. He told Chris of how he watched him since him his brother died by the hands of their chief and how he would help him reunite with his brother if he gave him the part of his soul that Pinwheel had taken. Chris agreed and walked up to his sarcophagus to give it to him. The little orb flew from his hands into Nito’s chest and when it became one with his soul Nito brought his hand down on Chris’s head. It began to glow an eerie red and after a second Chris felt another energy merge into his body but it was familiar, it was his brother Dakota. When the merging of the soul to the body was done Nito took his hand off Chris’s head and let the two chat for a couple of minutes.

    After the couple of minutes Nito proposed a deal to Chris that if Chris go after the Noble Knights and wipe them from existence so they can’t interfere and that if he help spread misery to help bring the Age of the Dead about then Nito would bring back Dakota’s body for him and transfer his soul to it and that he would let Chris and Dakota stick around in the Age of the Dead not to mention give them powerful magic and a powerful sword given only to those who are in his covenant. Chris and Dakota both agreed and ever since then have been spreading misery and wiping out the Noble Knights from existence one by one just like he promised. The only way anyone would know that there once was a knight is by the blood spilled on the ground by the knights. Currently Chris, Dakota, and there pack of wolves have been searching for Wulf Kastarnen over all of Lordran to try and join his pack.


    Last edited by twilightwarwolf on Sun Aug 12, 2012 2:02 pm; edited 1 time in total
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    Post by Federally on Sun Aug 12, 2012 11:32 am

    Okay, you're both added to the OP.

    Two quick things Twilight. One, please add some line breaks to that post. Giant walls of text can be difficult to read. Two, if you wanna join the Gravesworn please post in our thread HERE


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    Post by twilightwarwolf on Sun Aug 12, 2012 2:04 pm

    i fixed it so it had paragraphs now. im srry bout tht i was so tired earlier i forgot to do tht but now it is easier to read!!!
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    Post by Federally on Sun Aug 12, 2012 2:05 pm

    Great, thanks big grin


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    Post by ROOSTER330 on Sun Aug 12, 2012 3:26 pm

    SURTR

    Follower of Izalith, Path of Chaos

    His skin glows fire red, the burning inside is unbearable. The Chaos flame sears every inch of his body, having been fueled by the recent kill. It torments him endlessly, as it has for longer than Surtr has memory. Such a conflict Surtr has with the fire. It yearns for combat, feeds on the death, grows with every battle. Oh how he suffers for it. Oh how he needs it. Been that way since the storm. Forcing him to love the battles. A deep, dark, hateful love of combat. He needs it, craves it with every fiber of his being. Every fiber that ignites with pain so intense, so unbearable.

    Every lord needs soldiers. The Witch promised him glory beyond measure. He cared nothing for glory. Only battle. And battle they did, until there was nothing left to kill. She calls him by his name, a name he no longer remembers. Protect her, protect her while she works her spells. He obeys, as every good soldier does. Something went wrong though…something happened. The fire, it could not be controlled. It refused. And then the storm. Surtr was the exception, all the other soldiers made only piles of ash now. Not Surtr. The fire got inside him…made his skin boil. Fuelled his need for battle as much as he fuelled the fire with death. So long ago. Its only Surtr and the fire now.

    He kneels on the hot stone floor and wrestles the gauntlet from his lifeless enemy. Its now useless weapon falls from its hand and skips off the bridge, splashing in the lake of glowing lava far below. Surtr was offended when the Darkwraith first invaded his beloved Izalith, how dare this fool trot into his home. Doesn’t he know Surtr stands guard? Has he no respect? Well, not now. A heap of gore cant have respect. But it does have some nice gauntlets, and to Surtr’s delight, they fit quite well. Too bad the killing blow split that skeletal mask in half though, he would have liked to try it on. He likes his thorn covered helm, anything that can help him spread his pain to others is a good thing, he wouldn’t get rid of it. Still a shame nonetheless. Can’t be too picky when swinging an ultra great sword though, have to take what you can get.

    The flame intensifies, reminds him where his attention should be. Constant pain, unthinkable, unbearable pain. He could make it go away. He could stop killing, stop fueling the fire within. Could have peace. But Peace is a word unfamiliar to Surtr. Peace is not in the vocabulary of Surtr’s mind. No, he cant make it go away. He desires it. He craves the pain, the constant suffering. And does he ever love to spread that pain to others. That’s why the flame chose him. It knows they are one and the same. The pain can never go away, the battle can never stop.

    A red orb. He hadn’t seen it before. Its cracked, broken. Probably happened during the battle. Surtr picks it up slowly and holds it to the lava light. It pulsates gently. Broken, but still useful. Strangely reminds Surtr of himself. Maybe this can help Surtr fuel the fire, spread the pain even further than Izalith…Surtr’s blistered lips part and he smiles under his helm….


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    Post by ROOSTER330 on Sun Aug 12, 2012 7:47 pm

    Well mine is sort of in story mode as opposed to a true name, age, hieght, wieght type bio. But hopefully that works.


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    Post by ViralEnsign_ on Sun Aug 12, 2012 7:48 pm

    post it man. I have a well know toon called Letos who cant be posted here/ his lore is 49 A4 pages in length.


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    Post by ROOSTER330 on Sun Aug 12, 2012 7:52 pm

    ViralEnsign_ wrote:post it man. I have a well know toon called Letos who cant be posted here/ his lore is 49 A4 pages in length.

    Thats alot of pages! Too bad you cant post it, be interesting to delve into. Oh and I did post it, just a short little story/scene like bio, two posts previous to this one happy


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    Post by Darksomething56 on Sun Aug 12, 2012 8:35 pm

    Leonardo Lazra , Seathe's Sorceres Apperance: Tall and strong. Usually in Black Knight armor in memory of his brother who departed with lord gwyn to link the flames, also from time to time wear crystallized armor.
    Bio: ever since Leonardo was a child he loved sorcery and usually went to any event or place that includes sorcery even if it's in a dangerous area. When Leonardo became 18 he begin to travel. Leonardo went to Blighttown for adventure, while his brother who joined the knights of Anor Londo went to face the chaos demons, was brutally killed by a blood thirsty demon. Before that Leonardo was able to see him killed, who in turn slay the demon. He tried his best to heal him, but it was to late, so he took his armor and weapons and then ventured back to anor londo. To his suprise he saw a knight being chased by several others (refrence to another bio ) He followed them until he was exhausted and then decided to rest. After a bit of rest he continue to the duke archives where he was swarmed by crystallized undead.
    After destroying them with sorcery, he continued on till a blue spirt stabbed him. leaving him for dead, before passing out he begged to live and have his brother's strength and power. He awakes feeling stiff in open room as he look around he saw seathe.. staring at him then seathe questioned him: " Are you willing to serve me and defend the archives and my domain?" Leonardo answers:Yes! but where is my brother's body?" seathe then answers " you have his strength and power and your bones are crystallized to keep you intact and oh yes you must sacirfice something un turn" " I Sacirfice my memory of everything set for my brother and sorcery" seathe then full incrystallized him and took all of his memories where only fragments remain and his sorcery and passes out shortly after.Then finds himself at the entrance of the archives and says " I Will serve you my master"


    Last edited by Darksomething56 on Mon Aug 13, 2012 9:47 pm; edited 1 time in total


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    Post by ROOSTER330 on Sun Aug 12, 2012 9:45 pm

    Well I like it darksomething, was wondering, is the memory of his brother all he has left? Or is that the memory he sacrificed?


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    Post by ViralEnsign_ on Sun Aug 12, 2012 10:09 pm

    let it be the memory he sacrificed and he is looking for a way to undo it!


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    Post by Darksomething56 on Sun Aug 12, 2012 10:33 pm

    I might and yes it is Rooster and also sorcery and thanks


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    Post by Federally on Mon Aug 13, 2012 2:42 am

    Okay, you two have been added to the OP!


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    Post by ROOSTER330 on Mon Aug 13, 2012 4:51 am

    Fed, you spelled his name wrong! Lol! Surtr


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    Post by Federally on Mon Aug 13, 2012 5:00 am

    Well I swear I double checked, but honestly that name needs another vowel lol.


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    Post by ROOSTER330 on Mon Aug 13, 2012 5:29 am

    Federally wrote:Well I swear I double checked, but honestly that name needs another vowel lol.

    Lol, its from Norse myth, a fire demon of sorts. All the names are spelled similarly.... i used the true spelling, it sounds more like Surtur. Thanks btw


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    Post by Seth Winternight on Tue Aug 14, 2012 6:21 pm

    Here's my character's bio:

    Simbarda
    Paladin
    The Noble Knights

    Appearance: 5ft9, 218lbs (muscled), hair of pure black, defined facial features, green eyes. Thick metal armour with a faintly-coloured cloak of blue and gold, he wields a sword called "Andreia."
    Good traits: Strong, protective, loyal, calm & collective
    Bad traits: Gets overly attached, generally quiet, often strains to do too much and has tendencies to lose control if pushed hard enough.

    Making the journey to Lordran was somewhat of a neccessity to Simbarda. The lands of the firstborn to the flame are brimming with knowledge and secrets that would surely provide him with the strength and the answers he needs, in order to overcome his burdens and his darkened past. Dark memories that plague his mind... Black tendrils probing his conscious in an atempt to taint his sanity. Yet, this does not show on the exterior as he keeps a calm, straight face. The sweet scent of pollen and grass fade gradually, moulding with the encroaching stench of ash and death and this is a signal that Simbarda had arrived. A short breath gives him acknowledgement of his arrival in Lordran.

    The sunlight emboldened the grandure of this land, providing a shadowed silhouette before his eyes, so Simbarda took to a hightop while sweeping away what miserble creatures tried to hurt him. The better view gave him a better insight to his surroundings: tall keeps and castles stood guard over Lordran, as a unison of warriors suspicious of young Simbarda's arrival and this only peaked his curiosity.
    As much as a cliche in his mind that it was, Lordran appeared like an aged painting of undeniable beauty when the soft colours of nature met with the cold, hard tones of decadent structures old and new... New? At least appeared new to him. The warmth of the sun however, was peculiar as it felt warmer than in previous visited places, but the air tasted dry and stale as if something was missing... An uneasy feeling of emptyness. Simbarda felt a non-existent chill, yet he's dealt with lonliness and the austere before, being a knight in Thorolund's ranks... This was nothing new to him.

    He always had a knack to analyze landscapes quickly and he used said talents to scan his surroundings: chaos, putrid death and war can be easily masked by the dense forrests and towering masses of stone. Simbarda was to be careful and alert at all times, given the mad and wicked roam these lands... Even the once mighty and good have been tainted as they turned hollow. Prepared with supplies, thick metal-plated armour and his greatsword (dubbed Andreia), he headed for the nearby flame that is an obvious sign of a campsite... To the fabled firelink shrine.

    Each careful step was accompanied by a faint clank and sheen of his metal armour grazing plating and chain links, which resonates a harmonious yet calm sound against the bark and stone. Aproaching the bonfire cautiously, Simbarda felt a deep pain within his chest... Particularly his core where his heart is. But, this was regular since that incident, so he just beared with it. Focus regained on his vicinity, he kept a careful pace to the bonfire, eyes and ears out for danger as he knew all too well the deviousness of strategy and combat.

    Once the caution was reassured, he sat down and lay against a pillar of bricks to rest. Andreia place in her sheath and his pack laid on the ground, he finally had time to think in a relaxed state-of-mind. First step was to check his current condition: muscles ached with the exertion of his journey and received some minor injuries from battles... Nothing his skin couldn't heal over. This reminded him that he needed to clean and sharpen Andreia, so he spent the next few hours doing so.

    In this time, Simbarda recollected his memories of Andreia, his beloved, who he named said blade after. From his teens he always grew up around soldiers. As such, he always knew how to use a sword and knew how to use it well. In his homeland of Thorolund, he became a decorated knight and this resulted in his transformation into a man who rallied comrades. His strength, skill and intelligence did indeed earn him respect, but most of all, it was his willingness to sacrifice his life for the lives of his fellow knights. He would rather take the hit than have an ally take it instead... But his skill made sure that the enemy was killed. He smiled and as a response, Andreia gleamed a tad brighter. Back in the days of knighthood, he fell in love with a woman called Andreia, who was a sister knight and of similar age to Simbarda. Her long beautiful hair and faint blue eyes captured the young Sim's heart at first glance and her heart was captured by him in vice versa. As both their skills were tasted in battle, so was their companionship and the feelings they shared. The strength in their arms were met by the strength in their undying love for eachother and the two were later wed under a radiant sun in Thorolund countryside among a crowd of its citizens. She was Simbarda's heart and soul hereon after.

    The radiant sun reflected in his smile... But then his face turn cold as he remembered the tragedy followed some time after on an expedition into the East. In the dead of night, warriors and witches attacked his camp while many were asleep and indeed many of his brothers and sisters were slaughtered before alarm was raised and the battle ensued. In the frantic rush to battle, Simbarda got separated from his beloved Andreia who undoubtedly led a small detachment elsewhere in the camp. Chaos resounded in the clash of steal and the roars of fire... Accompanied by the screams of many and the splatters of blood. This however, did not phase young Simbarda as his calm mind strengthened his reflexes when he needed his skill to cut them down one by one. Eventually, the battle was turning in the Knights' favor and this was the moment Simbarda realised he had to look for his beloved, so his strength carried him swiftly along through the camp until he found her.

    In that moment, everything changed when Andreia and her small detachment were set upon by a great many dozens of the enemy and it was just a short time before her detachment was slain and she was left isolated. Desperation grew as Simbarda was frantic to reach her, cutting down all of the enemy in his way... But it was not enough. In those few seconds, time slowed down as Andreia and Simbarda's eyes locked in a gaze and a thousand unspoken words were shared: the lives they had, the lives they would have lived... the family they would have made. She clutched her stomach and smiled at Simbarda and his eyes widened as he realised what that meant.

    Alas, her body was impaled, cut and eviscerated by those savage and wretched bastards. Her tears mixed with the blood as she cried tears of crimson and her limp body boiled young Simbarda's blood to the point he lost all control. One by one the barbarians and witches were cut down with such force that the blood became a torrent as his once calm attitude vanished with pure rage.

    After all was done, the remainder of his fellow knights gathered around a crumpled man who was clutching the remains of his beloved Andreia. All of them knew his emotions were torn into tatters as he knelt in this wretched state. The blood in the vicinity painted a thousand words of sadness... A thousand words of revenge.

    "Simbarda, the enemy... are... dead. Defeated," said Tobias, a close comrade.

    "Just leave me Tobias, everyone. I-I... I need to rest... Here."

    "Yes sir... We will clear the bodies and prepare for a small funeral for knight Andreia and the others."

    "Thankyou."

    The respected wishes of his friend is what drew him close to Tobias. The funeral was short and quick, but even up to this day, it hasn't ended for Simbarda. He clutched his beloved's sword in his stone grip and it was then he decided to reforge his weapon with hers, to take revenge. The result was a weapon of extremely dense titanium metal that cut through rock with ease... But the blade was forged on revenge. In the following night, he scoured the camp's surrounding area alone and came upon a village that housed the same barbarians and witches that slew his brethen and his beloved.

    Simbarda drew his sword and set upon the small village. What few warriors were there, were quickly slain and he then set upon the women and children. Innocent blood was spilled and this hatred and impurity resonated within his blood and his blade. A frail looking woman cast this curse of impurity upon him as her final moments were met at the end of his blade. The following day he wallowed in the mass of corpses and blood... Horror rose up in his conscious as he finally took in his actions. This was not him, it was not what he took the knighthood for.

    The blood of the innocent have stained me. I am impure.

    Memories after that were gone... dissapeared. All he remembers, was leaving that camp to travel to Lordran.
    He came back to his situation at hand, to find he was crying. Yet these tears were of blood, as he was tainted by his impurity. Knelt to the ground in pounding agony, crying tears of blood, he remembered why he came here. He came seeking the strength of companionship to help him bear his pain, the strength to fight for a cause he could be true to... to regain his old self. But most of all, he sought ways to become pure again, within the kindred flames of the first. Maybe then, his beloved's soul shan't be tainted with guilt by his reckless actions and once again they could be together. Whether Simbarda makes these goals a reality lies upon his strength and the lands of Lordran to embrace him.


    Last edited by Seth Winternight on Wed Aug 15, 2012 7:04 am; edited 4 times in total (Reason for editing : missed out some words and spelling)
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    Post by Seth Winternight on Tue Aug 14, 2012 6:23 pm

    As his crippling agony and eyes shedding crimson contrasted with his goals on why he came, he somehow found a way to will himself to stand, but this wasn't for long as he buckled down again. Wiping his face clean, he didn't realise that a man, an unfamiliar figure was watching him some distance away. He couldn't tell the man's expression from underneath his helmet but he could probably guess it was pity. The steel-clad figure aproached Simbarda, walking casually yet his footsteps were strong.

    The man knelt down beside Simbarda and asked "What ails you paladin?"

    He felt the reassurance of his grip on his shoulder and this just acted as an urge of truth, but Simbarda knew better than to trouble strangers with personal problems, so he gave a fake excuse:

    "My body is just exhausted from the journey here, some blood got caught in my eye as I hacked away at a wretched undead. It's body lay upon the edge of the well."

    The knight laughed and tapped Simbarda's helmet grill back down so it covered his eyes.

    "That's what these are for Paladin."

    Still chuckling, he stood and offered a hand down to him and Simbarda gladly accepted his offer. Know that when this man hoisted Sim up, he took in his strong grip... But the man also had control over his strength. He was warm in spirit and this gave Sim a feeling of warmth too. What peaked his interest was his seemingly friendly nature, considering Simbarda was a stranger to him... But was he? He knew Simbarda as a paladin, but he never seen him before and most people outside of Thorolund hardly knew of what a paladin looked like.

    "You know I'm a paladin and one of Thorolund?"

    The knight points up and down his armour :

    "The armour gives it away, as I spend a lot of time with Paladins of my own these days, planning for the Gravesworn and all." He Pauses...

    "Forgive me, I haven't introduced myself. Oscar II of the Noble Knights."

    In politeness, he raised his right fist across his chest and bowed in Oscar's direction. He knew of Oscar's father, the legendary knight who came to Lordran to light the first flame at the kiln. He did not know that he had a son and this was interesting. Simbarda did not know of what Oscar spoke of, but he made sure to offer courtesy in return first. Gravesworn? He thought to himself.

    "I'm Simbarda, once Knight of Thorolund, I am now just a lone warrior." A sigh escaped Sim's lips. He was curious though from the mention of the Gravesworn and the Noble Knights. Noble knights? In Lordran? The curiosity would show on his face, but the grill hid his expression. Having taken a glance at the sky, the sun come just above his head, assuming that it's midday. No clouds were in sight and the sun's rays were warm, but that didn't disguise the stench of ash and death. Yet this whole place was calming and the greens from the stone's moss appeared brighter and more colourful. Rain was not to fall for quite a long time now.

    "I'm sorry, but I have just traveled to here recently and I do not know this 'Gravesworn' you mention, n'or anything of the 'Noble Knights' so I do apoligize Oscar."
    Oscar pointed to a hill a small walk away.

    "The stench of our victory is quite strong. I would happily tell you of my knights but I would rather do it in a more pleasant area."

    With that he walked towards the hill he had selected, Simbarda in tow. There he sat on the grass, waiting for SImbarda to catch up before he told him the tale of the Noble Knights. Of their wars, victories and losses. He told him of their foes and their allies in this new land. By the time he had finished quite a time had passed, and storm clouds gathered on the horizon.

    Indeed, the ground was charred along the way, indicating the signs of a battle, but the ground was starting its restoration process. The ground was indeed soft as he rested with Oscar and heard the exciting tales of the Noble Knights and their struggles. He was enthralled not just with the Knights' acts of bravery and good will, but with how Oscar told the story as his solid tone kept it exciting and he did not enjoy such a tale for quite some years now. By the time he was finished, he realised that the Noble Knights could indeed have the strength and the answers he looked for, but what would the knights want with an impure wretch as myself? The storm clouds appeared almost as a reflection that Simbarda thought of himself.
    "I had never known of such strength and good will in this place of Lordran. I merely thought it was for the wicked and corrupt... Or the impure. Yes..."

    This was a first that he lost focus and just trailed off in his thought.
    "With my knights, we plan to erase the corruption from this land. Humans will once again walk among its fields and cities, free from danger."

    He regained focus as Oscar began to speak. A man of his friendly attitude and supposed authority demanded respect.
    "And I find that it must be quite difficult for you, as this land would be crawling with a great many enemy. Surely you're outnumbered given the scale of the land in comparission with your following of Knights. Indeed I would help, but... I am not so sure."

    "We are always happen to accept new recruits into our ranks, especially knights and paladins at this time. But why are you unsure? Apart from a bit of forgetfulness you appear a capable warrior."

    I raise my head to look at him and I take off my helmet. I cannot lie to this man anymore, I may aswell just come out with it, considering anything out of the ordinary is ordinary here.
    "I am not as I once was. I have done terrible... horrid... wretched things. This was before I made this pilgrimage of my own accord. I'm not as Noble as I once cherished."
    On cue, his eyes leaked crimson once more as he felt the burden in his mind and the pains in his chest. Each heartbeat only ushered another bloodied tear and he almost felt ashamed in such company.

    "The blood of the innocent stain me, Sir Oscar... I am impure. What would noble knights, who strive for good, want with someone who is so wretched?"
    He was hoping Oscar would understand what he did from the way he spoke. Oscar looked at the man's bleeding eyes. The sight did not trouble him, Lordran had worn out any disgust he had before he arrived.

    "You can try Sim. You say you have sinned, and here you are in Lordran to punish yourself. But you can earn your redemption. Join me. Fight at the front of my lines, redeem yourself in the cleansing of corruption. Do not let this mistake destroy you."
    Redeem himself? Two words that he found hard to believe he heard. He would happily jump at the chance to redeem his impure blood. Such a man as Oscar, who showed him kindness without fearing I would have just turned and attacked... So relaxed and yet so authoratitive. His words strung truely like a finely crafted bowstring and he would accept his offer, but he had to ask something:
    "I would gladly accept your hand, but not to say I'm ungrateful or to be rude, I just wanted you to be sure. I may be worth more trouble than you can afford... Would you still chance that? If so, I will gladly join you."

    Oscar stood and walked a fair distance away, drawing his sword and shield as he did. He turned back to Simbarda and dropped into a fighting pose. "Show me you are worth it." he grinned.

    Confused at first, but realising that to Oscar, a good swordarm is one of the things he needs, he unsheaths Andreia and brandishes her like his own shining beacon. In one of his signature stances, he swiped his gauntlet across the flat of the blade to resonate a harmonious tone that echoed across the area.
    "Then I shall show you my strength and drive to fight."

    With that, Simbarda began aproaching Oscar, ready to swing. With that, they fight as Simbarda swings Andreia in an overhead arc that was designed to break oscars shield guard and leave him open. Indeed it did land on his shield, but the most it did was just stick Oscar further in the ground as his position was strong. Realising he left his chest open and Oscar was prepared to strike, he decided to let go with one hand and use his gauntlet to swipe away at Oscar's thrust. The clang of steel excited both of them as they met blade with blade and both showed skill, flaring some of their best techniques. The rain chattered upon steel, but the storm did not stop these two dedicated warriors from finishing their duel early. Both were determined to outmatch the other and the fight went on for what seemed an hour . After that, all was a blur as a flurry of blows from Simbarda were met by the clash and clunk of Oscar's sword and shield. He did land a hit on his pauldren and his left leg and severely dented his armour and drew a slight amount of blood. But in the exchanges, Oscar's blows were just as fierce and he even had the trick to swing both his shield and sword, the shield aimed to bash my head and the sword aimed to slash at my gut.

    Judging the risks, it was paramount to block the blade, but the shield would connect with his jaw. Understanding the best technique to block this, his used his sturdy gauntlet to punch the shield upward with the intention to knock him off balance and use Andreia to block the sword swing. Indeed it did play out as he intended, but he did not expect Oscar's strong kick which hit him straight in the ribs and knocked him over.

    When he regained his breath and found Andreia raised infront of him, it was a tad too late, as Oscar had his sword aimed right for Simbarda's chest. Oscar sheathed his sword and clipped his shield to his back, offering Simbarda his hand for a second time.
    "You fight well Paladin. I'm sure you'll be worth more than any trouble you could make."
    "I yield to your strength and I am pleased to have found my place in Lordran. Rest assured, my swordarm is yours m'sir."
    With that, Simbarda gladly accepted his hand and sheathed Andreia myself, as he led me to the Knights base of operations, the Duke's Archives, where he was to become a Noble Knight.


    Last edited by Seth Winternight on Sat Aug 18, 2012 11:06 am; edited 3 times in total (Reason for editing : Added part 2 of the story. Thanks to Dough for his Input.)
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    Post by Federally on Tue Aug 14, 2012 6:34 pm

    You sir are added!


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    Post by Seth Winternight on Tue Aug 14, 2012 6:36 pm

    Thankyou fed big grin
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    Post by ViralEnsign_ on Tue Aug 14, 2012 7:20 pm

    Nice story dude I especially like how you added your own characters flaws that was awesome


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    Post by DoughGuy on Tue Aug 14, 2012 7:21 pm

    You've got competition Viral winking


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    Post by Federally on Tue Aug 14, 2012 7:31 pm

    Yes flaws are incredibly important omniscient, omnipotent RPs are so dull.


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    Post by ViralEnsign_ on Tue Aug 14, 2012 7:36 pm

    I dont know about competition..... I'd say different style to mine own.


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    [11:10:14 p.m.] Robb "the Ensign_": FATALITY!
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    Post by mrbeckham87 on Tue Aug 14, 2012 7:41 pm

    I'm a horrible story writer. but I want mine up there!


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