Character Bio Compendeum (Now Helmed by the Murgence)

My RP ^^

The story of Never – The Exiled
Never (real name unknown) was the younger sister of Marvellous Chester. After his sudden and unexplained disappearance, Never made it her goal to find her estranged brother and return with him to their homeland of Carim.
On her pilgrimage to Lordran she came across a self-proclaimed peddler and his bodyguard both from Zena with whom she decided to accompany. The peddlers use of language and humour amused Never and confused her as her homeland was a dark, serious place with little use of merriment.
The journey Lordran lasted for weeks with Never and Domnhall getting on favourably. The journey was not without its share of dangers however. Domnhall revealed himself to be skilled with a long sword and his bodyguard’s great sword also became useful, especially when travelling through the undead villages in Balder. Never had never before seen such chaos and destruction as in those 2 weeks walking through the undead infested land.
Never’s arrival in Lordran was one of violence, Domnhall stated that the best route into Lordran was through the plague infested Blightown, a pitiful place where the citizens had become warped und no longer recognisable as humans.
It was through this section of her journey that Never fell into a state of depression, Domnhalls words no longer comforted her and the realisation that the population was all but destroyed, filled her with grief, the road they travelled was littered with the bodies of women and children and the idea of Never seeing the sun again had been plaguing her mind. Never took time to cleanse and lay to proper rest the bodies of the children she found, after all, Chester would have just laughed at her for doing so if she did on the way back. Domnhall was squeamish about contact with the bodies but his bodyguard helped Never silently.
They finally made their way up the collapsing scaffold up to the exit and stopped outside the famed city of New Londo, Never did not like it there and asked Domnhall to take them forward, as he happily obliged she turned to look behind her and saw a white transparent body drifting along the waterlogged rooftops, the bodyguard pulled her towards him and told her not to look, “Nothing can be done for those ones”.
They stopped at Firelink shrine at the top of the elevator to rest. It was here that Never encountered here first new person in weeks, the only word she could use to describe the man was morose, Domnhall argued that he looked crestfallen, but Never could not see a difference between the to words and dropped it, too tired to argue with the quirky man.
“Next is through Sens Fortess” Domnhall smiled. A deadly house of traps awaited them. Never knew she would have nightmares about the place for years, luckily for her the snake men who resided in the keep were dim-witted and easily fell into the traps they themselves had set. It also helped that the crossbow given to her by Eidas was powerful enough to fell the few that got to close. At the top of the fortress was a giant tunnel. Domnhall said it would take them straight into the heart of Anor Londo, the first place to start looking if Chester was indeed in Lordran.
The tunnel, despite its girth was short and it wasn’t long before they arrived at the top of the famous Anor Londo Elevator. Domnhall suggested a peek at the Archives of Seath, “a wealth of knowledge after all! And who knows who we may find there”.
The undead here were different to the rest, the bodyguard stated that they were cursed and that they were “not your average hollows”. After pouring over tomes and examining volumes of books, Domnhall stated he wanted to continue upwards and they all took the book scrolling lift to the 3rd floor, crystals identical to those on the hollows lined the walls here. After reaching out her hand, the bodyguard slapped it away and warned her not to touch the crystals. Domnhall continued happily along the crystal lined corridor and peered through the archway at the end, Never remembered clearly his burst of joy at the sight he saw, floor after floor of books circling around them in a room bigger than any Never had ever seen. Domnhall ran up to the 1st floor to start and the bodyguard and Never made it to the middle of the room. “something isn’t right”, the bodyguard looked up at the giant dragon Seath perched on the ceiling. The bodyguard pushed Never out of the way and rolled back as Seath crashed onto the marble floor, Domnhall ran next to them out of breath as the balcony where he had been standing was reduced to splinters by the giant dragon. “Run” the bodyguard said calmly as the pulled his great sword from his back and charged at the dragon. Never ran, without looking behind her and didn’t stop. She ran until she found herself lying on the muddy ground outside of the archives. 10 minutes later Domnall appeared, carrying the crystallised armour of the bodyguard. “He didn’t need it anymore.” He stated bluntly as Never stared at him disbelievingly.
A mutual agreement was made. Never would continue to keep searching for her brother and Domnhall would return to the lower levels of Lordran. They stopped at the entrance to the tunnel and curtly said their farewells. “Here, It’s better than what you’re currently wearing” he handed her the crystal bodyguards set. “Look after it, he was a good man.” Never watched as he walked away she even watched as he placed the black firebombs at the other side of the entrance. “Good day to you. And goodbye”. Never walked away before the dust clouds could reach her.
Her stay in Anor Londo was not a long one however, after a few days a woman who identified herself as the Darkmoon maiden stopped her and attacked without warning, easily defeating Never who was undoubtedly better equipped to long range fighting. When she awoke she was greeted by another woman with a face masked by a giant sun shaped crown above her head, in her hands she was holding Nevers Avelyn. “Yes, there is no doubt. An assassination attempt” She stated. “Heritic, thou art here bye banished to Ariamis. May you rot away with the other abominations there”.
***
Never stopped at the icey door and stared at it, the path had been horrific with monsters and warped undead at her heels the entire way. Her brother was gone, she had given up on him, the cunning fool would be fine anyway, provided he didn’t annoy anyone TO much. She opened to door and stared at the sight she saw. A girl, 8 feet tall, holding a scythe in her two hands, her silver hair slowed over her shoulders and her furry tail wrapped around the front of her body, wait…. tail?
***
Never stared out over the Ariamis graveyard, contemplating her exiled existence, her brother rarely crossed her mind and there wasn’t much to miss when It came to that joker Domnall.
Her journey was over though, Carim was a nasty place anyway, certainly not a place worth missing, besides, this place was fun, the food was good, the company was excellent, and there were plenty of would-be assassins available for target practice.

My lore


Once there was a Nordic huscarl known only as Tuhka. He wandered his
frozen home using his pyromancy to keep him warm. He used his chaos
magic and his skill with a blade to storm castles that were home to the
enemies of the Nordic civilization alone. He wandered for years until he
found a gem with a rune on the sides and it was the runes for blizzard.
As he read the words frost covered his body and he slowly froze to
death. He was reborn as an undead and he wandered aimlessly until he
found a strange doll and held onto it. He walked to a painting in Anor
Londo and it reminded him of his home. He went to touch the painting and
fell into the world the painter had created. He met the queen of the
world and was grateful that she offered him a home. He had purpose once
again. Now he stands guard like a statue frozen in time until the frost
whispers to him and calls him to battle. He serves his new queen without
hesitation and slays her enemies without mercy. He felt like a new man
and he thought he needed a new name so he choose the only thing that
kept him company in his home. Frost. The warrior watches over his new home with great pride. As he dead before he became undead.

Lore of the Character Sare, Exiled Of Ariamis.

Appearance: Tall, very thin, wears the robes of the Painting Guardians, wielding a Washing Pole and Composite Bow.

"She was born in Anor Londo. Abandoned on the streets. Ridiculed and outcast by a genetic disorder forbiding her
hair to grow. In her early years, she would visit the great painting room, allowed to enter by the Guardians of
whom did not see her a threat to, in her young knowledge, the paintings and their great worth. Forever transfixed
by the enormous painting that has been hanging in that room, she almost felt... Safe, while staring at it. She longed
for a way to live in a place of which she would not be disgarded for her deformities. One day, after spending 4 days
straight in front of the painting, a solitary guardian whispered in the dead silence of the room "There's a way.."
Taken aback by the guardian's few words, she left. Fearful, as she had never heard the Guardians speak. Alone she wandered
Pondering what the guardian meant. "There's a way.." She thought for days, weeks, until she couldn't think of anything
She asked the Guardian, standing in the corner, looking over a fresh corpse of black iron that had fallen from the rafters,
"How?" He pulled her close, she looked at the corpse, and felt cold steel slide between her ribs. She had never felt the
pain of death before. Her last images were of the guardian, lifting his hood, telling her that this is "the way...."

She jolts awake, an inferno in her chest, looks around the room and finds herself in a cell in an unfamiliar place.
Her only companion, an old, shrivelled man who tells mad tales of a living painting, built with his own hands, and a key,
Of which is not in the shape of a key, but holds the power to open the door. A small doll, of which he hands to her in his
last breaths, swearing he is going home, to see his beloved friend. She thought nothing of it, but kept the doll close.
Only after talking to the man who claimed his name to be Ariamis, did she notice that she was cold. Too cold. She felt
her face, looked at her arms. She was dead. And yet living. She left her cell, wandering the Asylum of which she had decided
was no place for her. One day, a crow came. It lifted her off of the desolate graveyard, and takes her to a new home.

For the next 13 years she wanders this place, learning the lore of the realm, learning of the place that she never knew
existed over the walls of Anor Londo. She learns of a way to return to the old city, through the fortress of Sen. Upon
Returning to her home, she finds that, unbelievably, the Guardians are still here. Standing vigil over the same room. Dust
upon their clothes, dried blood upon their daggers. The guardians recognize the doll, and understand it's meaning. Without
words they turn, gesture to the painting. She is scared. How did the Guardians live for so long? She saw her old.. Friend,
still standing over what is now a skeleton in black iron. He speaks only these words. "You have the key. Enter our world,
become one with us." She notices now, he has 6 fingers on each hand. He too was an outcast. She walks to the painting, as
She did so many years ago. A slight ripple, and she jumps back, suddenly aware that the painting is not what it seems. She
approaches cautiously, touches the painting, and is sucked into what can only be described as a portal. Upon opening her eyes
she realizes she is on a bridge. Inside the painting. She travels North, finding a small scrap of paper that reads "Find
the cloth. Find your power" written in letters far too large for human hands to write so intricately. She wanders this world
for days, finding a chest with a set of white robes, and an enormous blade sitting on a table with a shield and bow.
Upon finding Priscilla, she swears to protect her, as this is the first place, and she is the first person to accept her
openly, and trains with these weapons day and night for years. She returns to the bridge, standing as gracefully on the swaying bridge as a leaf
in the wind, watching. Waiting for intruders to blunder their way into this sacred place. She was donned the name "Sare"
by Priscilla, Meaning "Beauty" in a long forgotten tongue, and has lived to serve her queen, never fearing Hollowness,
for she will never lose her purpose. Never lose her love. Never, lose the will to protect."

Hope I've posted all of this right. >.>

Name: Lucien
Home Country: Astora
Covenant: Leader of The Sunlight Coalition
Appearance: Not very tall, but not short either. A muscular build. He wears his old Astoran armour from when he was a solider, and carries his father's sword. He has a tan, being a warrior of sunlight and all, and has thick black hair, with no facial hair.

Backstory:
Born into a poor family, and losing his father at 10 years old, Lucien quickly learned how to fend for himself. He always had a fascination in the sun... How it worked, what it was, why it was there. His father was a solider, and taught his son the basics on how to use a sword, and a good thing to, for one fateful night, screams could be heard. A large group of undead were raiding his village, The militia - Which included his father - of his village quickly took arms and fought them off. Sadly they were outmatched, None of the soldiers survived, his village was destroyed and he was forced to escape to, What was then the Capital of Astora, Having nothing but a weeks worth of food, His great-grandpa's golden coin, and his father's old sword. About five years later he joined the Astoran Army, and fought against the undead, wielding his father's sword. He proved talented and moved up the ranks quickly. He was about to receive the biggest promotion of his life at around the age of 19. The King of Astora had called for him, and 9 other elite knights. They were to go to Lordran, and retrieve and ancient blade known as the Sunweaver. Upon reaching Lordran, they ventured up to what is now called the Undead Parish, spoke to the local priest, and he said "There is no such blade, I do not know who told you this, or why you have dared venture here". Confused, they asked him why it might be such a dare to come to this place? The priest replied "The undead live here, I keep them at bay with a few sorceries but I fear I may not be able to hold them off for very long. You must leave before the curse falls upon you!" Lucien and his men laughed, He replied "Foolish old hermit, just us few men could take down an army of the undead, They do not scare us. Come men, we must continue our search." Quickly after they heard steel fall to the ground from upstairs. Lucien turned to the Priest, "Who else is here?". He did not answer, he ran as fast as he could. Rolling his eyes he drew his sword and walked upstairs, while being accompanied by two of his finest men. When he reached upstairs he saw an armoured man, digging through a barrel. "Hello? Who are you?" The man quickly turned around, and revealed himself to be undead. Lucien put up his guard, "Quick men, Formation!" They quickly circled around the armed undead and waited for it to make a mistake. Just then two more undead crawled in from a nearby window, and drew out their swords. "Pick a target men, don't let it outsmart you." Lucien finished off his foe then turned and looked at the rest of his men, "Hey! We could use a bit of a hand up h-... Oh my god!" One of his partners replied without keeping his gaze off the undead in front of him, "What is it Lucien?". Lucien kept staring at the lower floor, "Their all dead!" He could hear footsteps coming from upstairs, "Come on men we need to get out of here!" They nodded and quickly went downstairs, but were greeted... by their dead men. Or should I say, "Undead" men. They were surrounded on the stair case, with little room to maneuver in, They were quickly overwhelmed and killed. Lucien woke up days later, with the bodies of his fallen foes lying on him. Pushing them off he checked his corners, and continued out of the Parish assuming he was merely knocked out earlier. He continued on until he found, what looked like, a man standing near a broken down shrine, staring at the sun. He tried to sneak up on him, but was interrupted by him speaking. "You know it's not all that bad." Lucien was confused, "What?". The man turned around revealing armour with a sun painted on it. "Being like me, you know, undead!" Lucien then realized what had happened. The man turned and looked at him, noticing his armour, "Ah, A fellow Astoran. Solaire of Astora, At your service..." There was a brief pause, "You're awfully quiet, If I didint know any better you could be a hollow! Ohohohoho, ah what a shame that would be..." Lucien quickly looked up, "Im sorry, im just... in shock I suppose. What are you doing here?"
"Ah, Gazing at the sun... Magnificent isint it, like a wondrous body."
"When I was a boy, the sun fascinated my greatly, and now that I look back at it, I seem to have fallen under it's spell again."
Solaire turned, "We seem to be exactly alike... You and I, would you like to join my order? Warriors who fight under the name of the sunlight?"
"Can't turn back now, I would be an outcast. Yes I will."
Solaire chuckled. "Ohoh, wonderful, I think we are going to be great friends you and I."



I hope nobody cares that I put Solaire in my story, it would be the only logical way Lucien would have been able to join the Sunbros.

Say, is this thread dead? The edits to the front page stopped WAY earlier than the last post was made. And the thread holder didn't sign in for about half a year either.

Would love to post my character profile, but what's the point if this thread is dead and there's no real way of finding the character profiles anymore? Eventually, it'll just end up being buried amongst others who posted their character posts in hopes of others reading them...

I've been keeping up with the new additions, as I explain at the very beginning of the OP. I have just been editing in new submissions, they just haven't been called out in the edits for some weird reason. You can post away with confidence!

Name: Oerest (Oh-er-est), The Deformed, Exiled of Ariamis

Appearance: Tall, somewhat thin, burnt and disfigured face, callused and cut hands

Bio: Oerest was born in a small village just on the outskirts of Astora. His father worked as a merchant and his mother died in childbirth. Since his dad was a merchant he traveled all over Astora and even to other countries, always taking Oerest with him. One day they arrived in a small town on the outskirts of Astora; the streets were empty and the homes looked run down. Noticing the mysterious and suspicious nature of the town the two made camp a few hundred yards away. As their eyes began to shut they heard the beats of hooves on the ground behind them. Off in the distance they saw a large group of mercenaries riding towards the village with torches in hand. Oerest and his father sprinted to the town and took shelter inside an abandoned general store. Shortly after the mercenaries rode through the town and began to burn it hoping to flush out Oerest and his father. As the fires raged around them they scrambled to find a way out of the burning store and away from the mercenaries; however, the only way out seemed to be through the entrance and right into the hands of the mercenaries. Oerest's father found an old smuggler's room and hid Oerest inside in order to keep him safe from the fire. His father then ran into the street and lured the mercenaries away from the town. He ran as long as he could until they caught him, killed him and pillaged his merchandise. Oerest was only twelve that day and suffered burns all over his face, scaring and disfiguring him permanently.

    After that tragic night Oerest wandered through the Astoran country side until he found his way home. After four years passed and Oerest reached manhood he joined the army and began his military career. He trained extensively and developed his combat skills swiftly. He was on the fast track to becoming an officer until he was discovered taking weapons to trade on the side. After being dishonorably discharged from the Astoran Army, Oereste made his way east and began training with the weapon masters there; however, his concept of honor differed from that of the men in the east. Oerest felt that he should be able to fight without restraint and that combat didn't stop at surrender, for Oerest, combat only stops when the other man is dead. After being exiled permanently from the temple he made his way to Balder. He didn't stay there for long as he was instantly shunned because of his appearance. 

     Throughout his travels Oerest had heard tales of a land called Lordran where gods where born and heroes thrived. He eventually made the pilgrimage to Lordran. Upon arriving at Firelink Shrine, Oerest met with Laurentius and learned the very basics of pyromancy. Laurentius told him tales about the first flame and the Witch of Izalith and urged Oerest not too seek out the powerful chaos pyromancies. Of course Oerest didn't heed Laurentius's warning and headed into Blighttown to seek out a way to the Demon Ruins. In Blighttown Oerest met Quelana, a daughter of the Witch of Izalith. Oerest trained under her for a very short time until she discovered he wanted access to the chaos pyromancies. Quelana refused to continue his training and forever banned him from returning to Blighttown; if Oerest did return, Quelana said it would be the end of him. Knowing her power Oerest fled Blighttown and made for Anor Londo. After a harrowing journey through Sen's Fortress Oerest defeated the Iron Golem with the help of Black Iron Tarkus. Oerest quickly found out Anor Londo was not everything he had heard it to be. After being chased through the city by giant guards, gargoyles and bat demons Oerest took refuge in the chapel. 

     He hid in that chapel for several weeks and he could never tear his eyes away from the giant painting on the back wall; it was as if the painting had called out to him. Eventually, he gave in and touched the painting. All of a sudden he was dragged in and he found himself on a rickety bridge in the middle of a snow covered mountain range with what appeared to be the ruins of an old castle in front of him. Curious about his new surroundings, Oerest made his way to the entrance of the castle and was greeted by a half-dragon/half-woman creature wielding a large scythe and on her side stood a much smaller man in an odd yellow outfit. She introduced herself as Priscilla and offered sanctuary to Oerest. Graciously Oerest accepted and became a part of the Exiled of Ariamis. He vowed to protect Priscilla at all costs and to forever keep the secrets of the painted world safe. Now he works closely with the Exiled of Ariamis to hone his skills and to forever to keep Priscilla safe.

Name: Ignis, the raging fire.

Covenant: Follower of Izalith

Appearance: Very muscular appearance, scars from burns, Suprisingly well kept hair and handsome face with green eyes. He wears a ripped up gold hemmed hood, and skirt, with some pieces torn around his body. He wields two Chaos Furyswords and has a very bright pyromancy flame.

Bio: Like his sisters he was trained in the arts of fire sorceries from his mother, The Witch of Izalith. But he was definitely not a favourite. His sisters teased him, He was not talented like they were. He could only produce a flame big enough to be seen, or burn one's finger. But there was one sister who cared for him. She was the oldest of the sisters and would comfort Ignis when he was bullied, and gave him private lessons of things that their mother would not teach them until they were older. However this was for a good reason, He could not control this fire and his skin was badly burned when he attempted to use it, especially when he was angry. His entire body went up in flames and ended up falling down a series of floors, down into the bottom of Izalith. He was trapped down there and forgotten, but he could not die. Something had changed.

He practiced his fiery powers in seclusion. He did this for hundreds of years, until finally something happened...

For 1000 years he watched his city burn until he finally had the power to escape where he had been trapped. Many demons took his place down there, and he sealed them off. He escaped the city that was being raided by demons until he met two of his sisters, Quelaag and his older sister, They were not the same. They had been transformed into strange spider half demons but they were still conscious. One sister disappeared, while the others had either been killed or consumed in chaos. When they had explained what happened, they all vowed to protect their lost city, and family.

Ignis and her sisters developed new pyromancies together, with the power of Chaos. They are extremely powerful and they each hold their own seperate unique power. But sadly, the Elder sister's care, and humility was the death of her, She had sacrificed herself to protect a human pyromancer, and a follower of the Chaos Trinity. This was too much to bare for the others, so they each collected humanity for the sister, and continued to do so. The sister started to lose memory, first about her brother who she had recently met up with again, Ignis. And then started to lose memory of Quelaag her last known sister. Ignis secretly gave humanity to Quelaag that was then delivered through her, to avoid scaring the eldest sister. Ignis can still be found today in Lost Izalith protecting his mother, and chaotic sisters, and the Fair Lady.

There is only so much one can do though... For in Lordran there are no happy endings. It is a lost cause for Ignis to protect his lost city... He is alone, and all memory of him is erased...

That is when he finds them...

Tempestatem Ignis...

Name: Silvester of Carim

Covenant: Gravelord Servant(in-game only)

Appearance: Pale skin, medium black unkempt hair and slim body. Wears a black hood, with a black coat, with tattered clothes around his hands and, armored leggings. Wields an assort of weapons at the ready including knifes and bombs

Combat skills: Uses parrying dagger, a great scythe and, occainsionally uses a sword he looted from a balder knight. He loots bodies for a living so he's quick on his feet and doesn't stay in one place for long. Will use magic if possible, mainly to buff his weapons.

Bio:
  When he became undead he traveled to Lordran with a group of people, one being a "Sir Lautrec the Embraced", while one wore crimsion colored robes and the other wore simple leather armor. Silvester was always quiet, he was always in the shadows. They came across a "peddler" named Patches and asked if he could follow them. They quietly talked it over and then agreed. It took them a month to reach Lordran.
  When they did they rested at a bonfire near a church ruin. They were all quiet until Patches asked what they all hate. The one with robes said "hard headed idiots', the one in leather said "thieves", Lautrec said "those who are greedy and horde everything". Patches was silent after hearing there answers and quickly turned to Silvester and asked him the same. He simply replied "People who shouldn't stick there nose into other peoples business", this startled Patches.
  After about an hour Silvester simply got up and left for the Catacombs. He noticed that Patches was following him and quickly used to ledges in there to lose him, but sliped and fell onto another ledge, almost losing his grip on it. Almost able to get up Patches walk in front of him steping on his fingers, "hey there buddy, how's it hanging", he pressed harder on his finger, "dont worry you'll be with your other buddies soon". He then kicked Silvester off the ledge and he died for the first time. He was then reanimated back at a bonfire, soon he left to find patches.
  He checked where he was at and found a strange scythe near the ledge and picked it up. After a few swings he thought he would keep it, and he continued with his manhunt. He searched though the Catacombs and a little bit into the Tomb of the Giants. Soon he gave up and fell asleep in a coffin, after a few hour he got out and saw a giant coffin with Nito, the First of the Dead, inside. He hear a voice saying that if he'll joined the Gravelord he would help Silvester find Patches, after some thought he agreed.
He now skulks around the Catacombs waiting to do his master's beding, and for Patches to come looking for him.

Name: The Exiled One

Appearance: Black, well kept hair. His face is pale and handsome, but many scars streak across the little skin that he shows. He has eyes that are black as night, as described by an adventurer who returned from the painted world. He wears a long, black, leather coat. Uses a sword from Balder, and a massive sword in the other hand. His right hand almost seems like it is on fire to one who looks closely.

Birthplace: Presumed to be Astora

Current Residence: The Painted World of Ariamas

Affiliation: None.

Bio:

A man with no past, no future, and no present. He wanders Lordran with the desire to hunt, fight, and kill.

His stone cold veins run with the blood of the Painted World, where he currently resides. He sees this land as he sees himself; Forgotten and an old Legend. This is the only confirmed location anyone has ever seen him. But most who wander into the painted world never return, so it is likely that he does not exist at all. Perhaps it's his image that drives young ones and adventurers to become great people, whether that greatness lie in evil, or good...

The Arena of Astora was always known for it's gore, and pride. Many died and many triumphed in this small arena, it was where you got your name engraved in a tablet, to be forever known. To bring honour and wealth to your family...

Our story tells of a person who wanted none of this, for he lived for the excitement of battle, and the rush of the fight. He enlisted in the arena with no name, no title, and no story.

His first match was a quick one, but very bloody. The cheers could be heard throughout Astora, Our nameless hero/villain had... fallen. He seemed to give himself up to his combatant.

The cheers quickly grew silent... Something had happened, as if a dagger had stabbed the heart of the crowd's excitement.

The Combatant who's face grew saddened, and then in pain, turned red, with blood. He looked down at his chest and saw a knife covered in toxins. He fell down to his knees as the Nameless one  got back up. They stared at each other, The Combatant's face was terrified, it seemed that the more he died, the more the Nameless one revived. The Combatant's skin turned to fire, then quickly turned to ash.

A few screams could be heard in the audience but most were quiet. Guards entered the arena to stop whatever he had been doing to his opponent. Fire spread through the Nameless one's arms and fire pillars arose in the arena, the guards had been burned alive.

The Spectators screamed as they ran out of the arena frantically. A battalion of guards came and arrested the Nameless one.

He was in the Astorian court, but no jury could find a crime committed that was worthy of execution. He had done as he was allowed to do, kill his combatant. But the way he did it frightened almost all of Astora. He was sent into exile and would never again be able to enter Astora.

The only memory that existed of him, became rumour, and rumour became legend, and all legends are either forgotten, or twisted in a way that they become false in every aspect.

But he was stricken down, the mighty saviour of Astora and the world, was stricken down. But he could not be killed, he would not quit. He destroyed the Evil Eye, and saved Astora! With a mighty leap he plunged his blade into the heart of the beast and it was no more. - Excerpt from a children's book of legends.

No one can tell if he was the Hero, or the Evil Eye. No one has the answer.

For all records that may have ever been true...

were destroyed, the Astora Archives burned down the day he was exiled, in a wild fire that almost destroyed half of Astora. No bodies were ever found in this fire, and the source, was never confirmed...

Hello,

it has not been long since I've entered the Convenant of The Exiled or Ariamis.Thus and because I've always loved to do those things,I've decided to create my very own RP Character (which is also currently the one I'm leveling up).I hope you can write me down on the list under the convenant;I will copy my RP post into the convenant thread itself!Please keep in mind that my native language is not English.This could mean a few mistakes here and there as well as a more "standart" vocabulary than what you may be used to.If this doesn't bother you (the reader),then I hope that you will enjoy my RP posting!

Link to my covenant:
https://soulswiki.forumotion.com/t23838-the-exiled-of-ariamis-epoch-five-transcendence

And now,this is the story of Darron of Carim:



Darron had always been a faithful knight with enthusiasm, hope and love in his heart. He had been a sworn warrior in the army of the Kingdom Carim, following his family traditions and dutys. In every war since he had started his soldier life, he obeyed without asking and done what has been asked of him. The number of slain traitor souls, spurring on against the leadership of Carim, was beyond counting. He had been in the glory of was life...before an event happened that changed everything he knew.

A fierce opponent he was indeed. Bravery, skill and honour were part of his image. Though, if you would ask Darron today, he would call him a mere coward. A bastard whose luck was blessed by the pityful gods he was worshipping.

It was actually supposed to be a simple mission. Kill the bandit raid pillaging through the fields of the farmers. Darron and his troup he was leading were searching for them in the mountains were they had been seen to have made their retreat to. As they were marching, an ambush took the two last men and the two first men with arrows. Then the raid showed itself. Over a dozen bandits clothed up as barbarians, fought the army troup. What they lacked in skill, they made up with their numbers. Every soldier was fighting at least two bandits at once. A few even three. It was a massacre. Blood split all over the field, men were begging for their lifes on both sides and the fight seemed to go on forever. Just one of the troup was remaining; Darron himself. He was out of breath, trying to defend his back and sides at its best, but he wouldn't stand a chance against the remaining bandit raid, even though a lot of them had already been killed by the troup.

The raids leader then fought him head on head alone. He was no mere bandit like the others. Darron soon saw that and he realized that his opponent was an ex-soldier of the army of Carim.

"Why...why and when did thou choose to do this? Was thou not one of us?" he yelled out to the bandits leader.

"When I would have stayed any longer in the so-called heroic army of Carim who butchered kept innocents in their dungeons to rot and die due to starvation, I would'nt be a human anymore."

He grinned as he saw that Darron's face was shocked by those words, hearing for the first time. He saw that the troup leader was letting down his guard and took the chance to slice his heavy greatsword into the shoulder of his opponent. This day Darron would surely have lost his whole arm if the ex-soldier wouldn't have stopped the power in the swing by himself.

A cool silent was going on. Nothing could be heard but Darron's scream of pain. He then was quickly left to die with his fellow soldier comrades. But this man wasn't to be killed that quickly. He rose from the muddy ground he was still laying on after the battle had ended and he somehow got his way back to the headquarters.

With his wound still burning like somebody was throwing salt at it the whole time, he was glad to finally have made it home. But he was not been given glory. He was not been given the title of a hero doing his duty since he was a cripple now. He wasn't even been given aid as fast as possible. Instead he was accused of not fulfilling his duty, being a coward and have betrayed his home country. He was sentenced to banishment and exile and soon he was sent to Lordran to remain there and die a sorry death. In his last words to the court, he said:

"So, I am the traitor for doing my duty and trying to die for it? And my only reward will be exile? Ha, be merciful, say 'death', for exile hath more terror in his look, much more than death."

It of course didn't help him much to say such things to the court of Carim.

In Lordran he found that his death would come soon for him. The wound on his shoulder side was still hurting him and it didn't seem to be healing at all. He had to accept his faith and chose one of the many dark places in New Londo to die. But his death didn't hold for long. The next time he opened his eyes, he found himself at a bonfire. He was wondering if all this has been a dream and he would have finally awoken from it. Far from it. He looked at his body and saw the rotting flesh on his bones. Even his shoulder wound was vanished as it had never happened.

As if the gods had at last seen his suffering, Darron was given the answers by another fellow undead. An undead woman from The Great Swamp. Her name was Lauren and she explained to him everything about the Darksign, the Curse of the Undead, the story of Lordran and how everything and everybody in this land went mad and finally how he ended up at this bonfire.

Darron still could not believe what he had heard, but he could see it. And as such he would have to believe it and live with it. Desperation made its way into his mind. If not this by the gods sent angel had been there for him, he would have gone Hollow in the blink of an eye; or at least so he would tell others his story of how he felt in this moment.

The two then walked through this desolated country, with few sane minds remaining. They supported each other and kept themselves from going Hollow. He even started to learn Pyromancy from her, a sheldom gift she shared with others. In return, Darron taught her the art of sword fight.

Darron started to see more of Lordran. The former human burg, now infested by undead gone mad, the church, defiled and also infested by Hollows...Lauren even showed her Anor Londo, the famous and noble city of Lordran. Even if he could only see its walls, he now knew that this he had to see.

The night before they went for Anor Londo, they rested in a protected place near the church. They talked a lot, about historys and storys, how it was like in the places they were coming from and many things more. He understood that he had found a companion.

The next day he found Lauren a little bit away from the church, now dead. The only thing that gave him information about the cause was a note of Lautrec of Carim who had obviously seen them before because in the note it was standing that Darron shouldn't get used too much to companionship for it was an uncertain thing to do in a land like Lordran.

Anger and Hatred marked him. His new purpose was revenge. He so started searching for a way to do so and seeked out the primordial serpant Kaathe to join the Darkwraiths. With his new power, he would make Lautrec suffer for the crime done to Darron and his companion.

With the skills in swordmanship from his soldier life and the lessons in pyromancy from Lauren, he made his way to Anor Londo. He was told by Kaathe to look for answers there since his other task was to obtain the Lordvassel. But his hunger for revenge took the lead and he searched for Lautrec.

Days passed as he looked for Lautrec, but he could not find him. Another day passed, and another. His hatred and anger slowly began to dissappear, leaving only dispair and hopelessness in him. He was just about to go Hollow when he heard about The Exiled of Ariamis. As an Exiled himself, he went out to find this convenant in order to join them. And he succeeded. It was a group with a purpose, a group of people who shared a fate with him.

The once faithful knight from Carim, with hope and love in his heart...now a mere shadow lurking in the dark, with a new and noble purpose to hold on to, to prevent himself from completely going Hollow.

Here is my RP about Tamar and Tamara, her twin sister. It's a tentative start and like pieces in a puzzle at the moment. But I will be expanding on the bits so as to have their proper bios.

Ahhotep1 - "Tamar and Tamara:

The Batman of Lordran: http://mmdks.com/3xcg

Name: Brutus Vayne

Birthplace: Carim

Current Residence: Lordran, venturing through the Undead Church to the Lower Undead Burg

Affiliation: Darkmoon Blade (eventually)

Lore:

Elite Knight wrote:The Batman of Lordran: http://mmdks.com/3xcg

Name: Brutus Vayne

Birthplace: Carim

Current Residence: Lordran, venturing through the Undead Church to the Lower Undead Burg

Affiliation: Darkmoon Blade (eventually)

Lore:

That's perfect.


Anyway,

@ Emergence - I'd be willing to recreate this thread and manage it if you're too busy.

I've noticed the lack of updates on this, i'm not criticizing you, please don't think i'm complaining, (I really appreciate the work the staff does here). I was just wondering if you wanted help with it is all.

I will get through them. I have not been getting the watch alerts for some odd reason so it slipped off my radar. There would really be no easy way to hand the thread over, it would require a ton of copypasta and linking as far as I can figure.

Up to date. Two or three posts seemed more to be stories so I will create a subsection for that.

Heya, E  

Put mine where ever you see fit. Since I still have to write a proper bio for both anyway. Thanks for letting me put my spoiler here, though. It was more for logistics so I could easily come back to it and do a proper job later.

I thought there was a proper RP thread that consolidated various stories. But it seems those threads are quite spread out. Creating a story subsection would be a good idea.

Emergence wrote:I will get through them.  I have not been getting the watch alerts for some odd reason so it slipped off my radar.  There would really be no easy way to hand the thread over, it would require a ton of copypasta and linking as far as I can figure.

Yeah, I figured it would be more trouble than it's worth.

Oh... And this is embarrassing on my part but "The Exiled One" is not actually part of the Exiled of Ariamas. I should have made that more clear.

He is unaffiliated with any covenant. He just resides in the painted world.

Name: Nevis Ysbrid. Nevis, in reference to a mountain, and 'ysbrid,' literally meaning 'ghost, apparition, phantom, wraith.'

Stats for Rynn's roleplay
Starting Stats

Gender: Male
Age: 21
Race: Astoran
Bio:
History: Nevis was born seemingly humble origins; a dirt-poor freeman and wife, between the city and the countryside. Beneath this simple appearance lay something much darker; the father, once knight of the underworld who relinquished his trade, and his mother with a history of abuse and the child of a soldier, was born with something strange inside him. This child inherited an animosity perhaps unlike any other, a seed of hatred with a potential yet unseen by the world. Perhaps, the Dark itself sensed this potential and touched the babe before he was even born, creating him as its perfect champion. And, yet...
The child grew in a far kinder, more loving environment than most of any class. He was intelligent, kind sweet. The seed went unnutured and did not sprout.
The child, though, was enamored with stories of masters of a craft, those who bore a single skill of legendary, unequaled proportion. He compared himself to his heroes, and wondered what his gift was. Test what he would, experience what may come, he found none that awoke the deepest recesses of his soul as he knew it should. Years passed, and the child of six grew anxious and frustrated, and even depressed. One day, the child sobbed aloud to the heaven, tears upon his face to tell him, answer him, what his greatest potential was. And it answered.
The seed awoke within him, and he felt a hate beyond at the very limit of what a human may harbor. The child, terrified, closed his heart, his emotions, by becoming empty, by turning his heart into nothing. Dead inside, the child nearly made himself the same without. For his family, though, he stayed his hand, and grew.
Years passed, and he grew ever further more distant and unusual. He believed himself unseen, not understood. And how could they? They, who would not understand, let alone believe his plight. He spent more time with books and stories than with people, and wrote much. He had a gift for it, especially poetry, though he payed little attention to it. His education suffered, though, as he was unwilling. Incomplete and inexperienced, his outer existence began to mirror his within; nothingness.
Then, during a hollow outbreak, he died.
And then, the Darksign branded his corpse.

Name: Grell the Abyssal Drake

Origin: The Duke's Archives

Covenant: Darkwraith (in-game only)

Appearance: Hood & coat made for a wanderer, silver leggings and gauntlets. Whited eyes & occult energy riddled scales, with pale skin and scales. Longs white hair and a pendant around his neck.

Skills: Though possessing incredible strength, he prefers to wield knives and thrusting weapons. He uses a rapier and off-hands a knife, both are finely made. Fast nibbled fighter, is also adapt with several forms of magic. Has a catalyst and another knife hidden away.

Bio: He is the son of Seath the Scaless and brother to Priscilla, he was born shortly after Priscilla but was hidden away from Gwyn. He was hidden for most of his childhood in the archives with his father helping conduct research. The only place he wasn't allowed inside was the archive tower which only the channelers were allowed to be in. One day he pickpocketed one of them and entered the tower only to find the dark side of his father's research. He saw the women his father kept locked up, and the serpent-like creatures guarding them.
   He was trying to free them but was caught by a channelor and was brought before Seath. His father sentenced him to head to Oolacile and find out about there magic...but that's when the abyss began to spread. He wore and attire to hide his scalely hide from other travelers, one begin Artorias himself. He traveled along side him exchanging words about random subjects. Sif knew that Grell was a crossbreed and often times growled and snarled at him. Once there they parted ways, Grell went to the entrance of the abyss.
   As he tried to enter to began to overwhelm him, he felt the darkness coursing through him. His mind began to dull out and his vision blurred. He felt as if they abyss was absorbing into his very soul. The draconic nature began to rage and lash out, while his deity nature began to fade and malformed into another being entirely. His senses began to be overwhelmed and his body collapsed to the ground. He blacked out entirely for an unknown period of time.
   When he came to it he was laying next to artorias, both were injured and riddled with what appeared to be stain of magic marks that burned to the touch. Heavy breathing could be heard, Manus was be hide Grell. Grell was frightened by the primeval human and coward next to artorias. Suddenly Artorias leaped to his feet sword readied. He signaled for Grell to run, as Grell fled he was swarmed with humanity phantoms and sounds of Artorias's screams in his ears. He awoke in front of a large serpent who introduced himself as Kaathe.
   He was told the "truth" about Gywn & the other lords, including his father. Outraged by his father he joined Kaathe and was given the power of the Darkwraiths and mastered the black magic's. Years later he traveled back to Lordran seeking the Lords killing them off. Once he got into the Kiln of the First Flame he killed Lord Gywn with the very magic he tried to stave off. Once the death of Gywn he simply left and ushered in Age of Darkness with him as its lord.