Post by Aegon on Jan 20, 2014 9:36:37 GMT
[attr="class","ws"] [attr="class","h"]AEGON [attr="class","fc"]  [attr="class","bi"]REAL NAME: Baldr Drakeldson [attr="class","bi2"]REAL GENDER: Male [attr="class","bi2"]GENDER: Male [attr="class","bi2"]AGE: 19 [attr="class","bi2"]SEXUALITY: Demisexual [attr="class","bi2"]FACE-CLAIM: Young Griff, A Song of Ice and Fire [attr="class","bi2"]PLAYED BY: Blood [attr="class","h2"]Appearance [attr="class","b"]Aegon resembles the ideal look of a kingly figure. In the real world, he had fair, silvery hair, however, he changed it in-game due to his hatred of the color which received him so much spurning. Along with that, he also had bloody red eyes in real life, but they are now the shade of the evening’s horizon—that is to say, a deep indigo color. Those are the only real differences between their appearances in real life and in-game. In-game, Aegon has a well-made, lithe build that seems a bit lanky. It suggests that he still has room to reach his full growth, if that’s even possible in-game. His body is lean from repetitive use of a sword, as his class is mainly combat based. His eyes are a dark blue, but look black by lamplight, and purple in the light of dusk. His eyelashes are long, making him seem a bit more effeminate than most. He is exceptionally handsome, both in real life and in-game, as their facial structures and bodies stayed quite similar after the shift. This has led to him attempting to force a somewhat irritated expression at most times, to deflect glances at his person. Having practiced swordplay in real life since a young age, he has the gait of a swordsman and walks usually with his hand on the pommel of his sword, belted at his right side. An odd feature about him is his left-handedness. He is ambidextrous, but very much prefers using his left hand for fighting over his left, as it confuses human opponents and such. Another attribute about him visually is that he most always wears the colors of red and black, which compliment his eye color and would compliment his hair color, if it weren’t dyed a similar blue to his eyes. His preferred armor is made of blackened, oiled steel, and his animal of choice is a dragon. Overall, he looks like a king. Or perhaps a lost prince. Image:  [attr="class","h3"]Personality [attr="class","b"]Being brought up into a well-natured and above average family in terms of both wealth and aspirations, Baldr was put up onto a high plate in terms of his mindset and goals. As such, he is quite insightful and knows how to give advice, as well as receive it. As long as you can offer him new insight on how to do something, and do it better than he can, he will listen to you no matter how deep you go into criticizing him. He will give those critiques thought and will do his best to come to some sort of consensus with them. He is well-learned and doesn’t dislike the company of others. He enjoys being accompanied by people who can strike up an interesting conversation and truly is pleased when at peace. He is quite content when at rest, usually forgoing his standard stern look for a complacent smile and cheerful demeanor. Easily making japes and setting a light tone for the next day, he usually is the standout of the people surrounding him, both due to his appearance and overall aura. He is the outlier in a majority of the player-base, being an extroverted optimist with a lot of initiative where others are lacking. He’d much prefer action over inaction, whatever the situation. Being stagnant and unchanging—for lack of better words—pisses him off. In a bit of a more negative sense, he can be truly ruthless at times, making decisions with a heavy heart and a steeled mind. He wouldn’t like having to do such a thing, but he would, more often than not, choose to sacrifice a few pieces on the chess board in order to win the game. Though, this does not mean he wants to lose them, he’d much prefer winning wholly over winning with a few losses. Despite having the capacity to be harsh to those who show opposition to his dream, he can also be generous to those that are assets at his disposal. He is a clearly confident person, as his initiative would make you expect. He fights in order to become powerful, incredibly powerful, and thus become a man greater than anyone else. Though his path is paved with struggles, he has no problems with that. Through charisma and commands, he will achieve it—he firmly believes in that. He could be described as an enigma. Despite the aforementioned extroversion, that is only a façade—in reality, he’s quite a solitary person. He has had no “friends” in life, and he does not feel he needs anything of the sort, so long as he’s following his goal. [attr="class","h3"]History [attr="class","b"]A comet flew over the burnt indigo sky of winter on the night when Baldr was conceived. His father observed it from the window of his room, believing this to be a sign of divine intervention. He, being a faithful man, saw this as an anomaly—he and his family had never had any good luck in their whole lives, would that be annulled by this birth? With this question in mind, he planned for the future, burning the image of that “bleeding star” into his memory. --- Baldr was born on midsummer’s eve in Morgenpunkt Castle, located in the Harz mountains above its town, Morgenpunkt. This section of the country is the highest mountain range in northern Germany, in the region of Saxony-Anhalt. It was also the place he would come to know as the whole world, for the majority of his life. From birth, he was piled under countless expectations from his family. He was to be the prophetic prince that saved the land from a hundred year war of turmoil and triumph over the forces of darkness—no, not really. Though expected to take over the castle that his family lived in once he became of age, it was merely a duty that decided that, nothing more. The castle itself was inherited from some long dead ancestor with a frayed and skewed lineage linking back to his grandfather, and thus for the past two generations was put under their family’s ownership. It was honestly more than the family could ask for, as at the time, Baldr’s grandfather was struggling for a home after being estranged from his parents and having gotten his young wife pregnant. Getting the castle was a godsend in the unluckiness that made up his life. In any case, it wasn’t as if they were given any special privileges with the ownership of the castle—in fact, it taxed them heavier and harder than most other people due to its size and the fact that they didn’t use it for living—rather, it was more of a tourist attraction. The family themselves lived in a small offshoot of a cottage near the backend corner, far from the main spectacle. It was merely the way they had to live. Without any sort of proper income, doing this allowed them to live on the property and pay for food and the normal needs for a whole family. So it was just natural that they followed this path in life, complacently accepting their place and living as usual, totally fine with their lot in life. Though they had back luck, they were quite optimistic for their child—mostly on the father’s part. His father was full of ideas and plans for his child. Naming him Baldr—“Prince”—he was obviously filled with ambition. Baldr’s birth was the trigger that ignited the revolution in his mind which told him that this life would not suit his child. No, this child certainly had to remove himself from this cycle of complacency and would certainly become something better than he had in his life—he firmly believed in this. Due to this, from the day of birth, he made sure to do his best for Baldr. He took up another job, along with his wife, in order to have Baldr’s health be well, and also to ensure that he could go to a good school once he was of proper age. Most of all, they made sure he was well-fed, something neither his mother or father could truly attest to at the time. Winters were the worst, but it was the winter after his first birthday that he started to truly become conscious instead of merely being a crying babe. He started to remember things, the way lights flickered when he looked at them, the different pillows and their respective amounts of fluffiness, the difference between his mother’s milk and mediated baby formula—these changes and disparities slowly began to take effect on him. He, as a child, moreover one of not so well-off parentage, realized the differences between an onlooker and an action-taker. He, watching his father go off to manage the workers in the castle, realized the difference between a deferrer and a initiator. And he also realized, as his first original thought, that he was doomed to become one of the deferrers if he didn’t actively try to change that. It was then that his own gears were put in place—but they had not been set in motion yet. Something needed to trigger him to leave the complacency that encompassed his life, something that would enlighten him to the world outside of the cyclical path he would walk. It didn’t come. At least, not for a while. After all, he was still a toddler, only just able to walk. It was a miracle he was even able to understand most things at his age, most of all the aforementioned ideals about initiative. Anyhow, he was quite healthy and developed well as a young child. His mother enjoyed—and he, in turn, enjoyed as well—reading him story books about knights, kings, and dragons. Most of all, dragons. And knights defeating said dragons, but it was mainly the dragons and their kingly attributes that interested him as a child. Even at a young age, he had an affinity for fantasy, and at many a time dreamed of being a king with his own dragon, flying atop mountains, over his own castle. In his dreams…he dreamt of owning the castle. The one above him. The one he was always looking up to. The one in his dreams, the one he aspired for, even as an unaware child. He wanted to live up. He wanted to go higher and find out what was above. He wanted to be free to explore that world he wanted to see. Still young, however, he was to be kept inside at most times, especially in the cold of winter. It was just natural, really. What kind of parents, wholly focused on raising a good child, would let their son out into the frigid German cold? Most certainly not them, as they weren’t uncaring parents by any means. So, stuck in his room, with the only glimpse of outside he could see being the window, showing him the expansive, dreamlike castle he so truly wished to attain, to make his own, he fantasized as he read more and more about kings and dragons, searing the image into his mind. His expansive imagination and wish to go outside and be free would become a major part of him, ever since that time. Nearing the end of winter and the spring before his fifth birthday, he had become completely engrossed in the world of fantasy and had quite some trouble differentiating reality from dreams at his young age. He didn’t truly know what to expect from the world, outside of the books he was given. Of which were all fiction, and not realistic in most senses. Anyhow, in the summer of his birthday, he was granted the first piece of non-fiction literature he had ever seen in his life. It was a set of children’s encyclopedias, easy to read for one so well-read as himself, but also filled with information about the world that he hadn’t previously known of. Though many of his fantasies were shattered, like that of giant spiders existing or that of immortal wizards, he still clung dear to the idea that he could one day be a king with a dragon. To rule over the land with his companion—that was the only thing that lasted the disillusioning he had received. However, though disillusioned—he was also aware. Aware of the world outside, and what it housed—most of all, what to expect from it. He rarely left the house, and only to be babied by his mother while she walked him around the garden. So being able to get a glimpse of the rainforests on other continents and the deserts of the hot sands and the volcanoes on islands distant, he soon began to accept the curiosity that emerged from within him. This also became an important part of him—curiosity. He wanted to know more, he wanted to gain an understanding of what he didn’t previously know. Insight, in any sense, was of incredibly high value to him, as one who wanted to discover how to use his knowledge to achieve his aforementioned dream. By the winter after his birthday, he must have read through those encyclopedias more than a hundred times, flipping pages into the deep of the night, soaking in every single bit of knowledge that he could. He was incredibly happy, immensely overjoyed at the fact that he was finally able to get a deeper understanding of how life worked and all those sorts of things. It was also this very winter that he experienced deep loss for the first time. He read a lot about snow in his books; he was more interested in that than most other things. It made him wondrous and gave him an immense desire to see it for himself. The concept of something being so different from one another—he read that the chances of two snowflakes being the same were virtually nonexistent—made him curious. He internally compared it to himself. It was due to this desire that his parents finally took the effort to appease him, spending some money on winter clothing for their young son and preparing to help him explore the outside world for once. He was incredibly eager to do this, as he had been getting something of a cabin fever after nearly five years staying inside of the same small home. In any case, he was “free” in a sense. He was capable to take leave of his small room with the window with only one view, finally able to leave. He was more than happy to do so, really he was quite overjoyed. But it felt odd. A small sense of fear took him, and did so for the next while. Despite this, his parents were patient and let him make the decision of whether he wanted to explore the outside world on his own. They were truly kind and empathic, happy to wait a bit to make their scion content. And then he realized—nothing would change if he didn’t put forth the willpower to change it. And thus, the choice was made. Realizing that everything came at a price, he gave up his contention and donned the winter clothing that would bring forth his journey outside. And though perhaps quite a small venture to another, this was the first step outside of his world for this six-year-old boy, who knew very little out of what he learned from books. He made a decision for himself, and he would continue to follow the path chosen for him—his destiny, in a sense. His first thoughts—it was cold and desolate. The lands outside were a barren of frosty white, thick sheets of ice and fang-like icicles falling from the rooftops and an unendurable frigidity that shredded through his clothing like razors. It was a harsh sight for the boy, who immediately fell to his knees after running outside from his doorstep. He fell, face first, into the ground. He felt crestfallen, quite literally. His very first steps into this world, not even a yard out, met him with a stingingly cold face and prickles running down his spine. It felt, honestly, quite horrible. He tried to raise himself, but his body was heavy from the padding of the clothing. So he merely turned his head. The sight was quite beautiful. It was a flower, breaking the crust of the hardened snow, its dark indigo color speckled with dots of morning dew and sparkling radiantly in the light of dawn. It was the first truly beautiful living thing he had seen in the outside world with his own eyes. But, even as beautiful as it was, it could not quell the impulse within him to lurk further, beyond it, for beyond the beauty—it laid itself, magnificent and glorious, standing proudly against the burning sunrise. The stony castle in its majesty lay beyond the flower. The lifeless, glorious cold, or the beautiful, vivid life? It was a choice he didn’t even realize himself. But he chose the former over the latter. He forced himself up and began walking—stepping over the flower, not looking back. He then began exploring everywhere he could, without his parent being too permissible about it. He did take the time to study the plant life, and found many more flowers that he likened to the one he just barely avoided trampling on, but none were exactly the same. Along with that, he found many of the things called “animals.” Squirrels, birds, and other woodland creatures intrigued him, and he made many attempts to catch one or two, with nothing availing. He was a bit disappointed in his meager athletic ability; he lost his breath in a few seconds of running. He guessed his complacency within the house was what left him like it did. So he resolved once more: he would catch a snipe. He learned a long while ago that a bird called a “snipe” was indigenous to a majority of the world, and Germany was included in that. Its name was what gave way to the common term for people who were deadly accurate, “snipers.” This was because, just as snipers of present, “snipers” of the past were hunters skilled enough to catch a snipe, who were nigh impossible to hunt properly. So, along with this in mind, he continued to venture further. Into the woods. Luckily—or unluckily—his mother was fine with this, despite the day growing long by that time. It began to seem like dusk, what with the sky turning a deep purple and beginning to sear the skyline with colors, just as the dawn. He travelled along the marked path, glancing at everything happily and gleefully, but never was he so happy as when he turned around and peeked at the large castle that only seemed to be growing smaller as he walked further and further away. He decided that, before he went home, he would go visit that place, but before that, he would visit what they called a “river.” And that’s where it all went wrong. He ran to the river, nearly sprinted in fact. As he was youthful, he had gained larger lungs that day from simply running around and resting often, and he was outpacing his mother’s calm walk by far with his own sprint. He did his best to slow himself as he thought he began to near it—but it was a failure. He fell in. Due to freezing and a layer of snow hiding it, the riverbank ended at least ten feet away from where he had expected it. And so he fell under, sinking. He heard his mother scream, but it went faint after a few seconds. He closed his eyes. It was cold, but it was so cold that it was burning. He didn’t like the sensation, but what was he to do? He didn’t know how to swim; he just barely got outside today. He fell into sleep, not knowing what would happen— And his mother thereafter saved him from going too deep, drowning, and disappearing as a corpse further downstream. But it took a toll on her body, and she spent even more time soaked than he was, as she didn’t waste any time to unclothe herself after saving him from the waters, as she did for him. It turned out that their worst fears weren’t realized, as his parents sat around the fire. He woke up a few hours after being lain by the fire, roasted to warm by the heat of the fire. After he awoke, the first thing he saw the blazing inferno that was burning in front of him. It comforted him; he was content to sit there forever, gazing into the flames. But he was quickly grasped by his clammy mother, pressed against her chest in an embrace, and only the lingering sense of fire remained, burnt into his eyes. He didn’t catch pneumonia—that was truthful. He was still as healthy; it was just a little swim, was all. But his mom…she had caught it. She laid in bed for days, nigh on a month, quietly resting and timidly moaning in discomfort as she slowly and painfully succumbed to the disease which she had taken in placement of her son. Baldr himself understood only one thing—it was his fault this had happened. Because of his aspirations and actions, directly because of those, she had caught this and was going to die. And he had no way to repent, save for… “Listen, my love, you must love your father, and me as well, though I shall soon be gone. Please follow his instructions. Be obedient, but not without frankness; you’ll understand…in time…be better than you appear to be; do not allow anyone to put you down without proper reasoning…and…most of all…remember that I love you, always…always…” …taking her death as a meaning and turning it into resolve. He firmly grasped her limp hand and nodded in assurance, with as much composure as a heartbroken child could. He trusted in her words, and in himself to be able to follow them. Sure enough, the house had lost a third of itself with her untimely death. His father took up drinking for a month before seeing that it accomplished nothing and putting his time to use once more. He wouldn’t waste any more time—he had to make sure that, for his wife, that he would raise their child well. That was—for the time he had left. After taking up more than a few jobs which required him to make use of his aging body, he quickly realized that something was off. First off, it hurt to even twitch his wrists slightly, knocking out the extra writing he had been doing for a newspaper. Secondly, his body was not made out of the steel it used to be; his bones felt like they were splitting every time he tried lifting, which ruled out construction work. The only thing he was allowed now was to watch over his own child as best he could. That was, for as long as he could. A year was spent in this state before he had the sense to go to a doctor. When he did so, he wasn’t too surprised to find that he was diagnosed with both arthritis and leukemia. Honestly, he didn’t have too much of a reaction, other than asking if his son could be checked on for symptoms of similar things. To his relief, Baldr was and had been free of disease since birth. In any case, his father had no one to receive a marrow transplant from. His son had the marrow, but was too young and his father refused to even think of accepting such a thing from his very own child. No, he would bear with it. And the month of having a bedridden parent once more repeated itself. Baldr learned, in that time, how to go to the store for food, cook for himself, and thereafter a majority of how to take care for himself—all at quite a young age. It was bittersweet for his father; on one part, his son was growing and learning, which made him happy, but at the same time it left a sour taste in his mouth to know that the reasoning for him losing his childhood was because of his own fault. And then, after much struggle, Baldr once more held the hand of his only parent as they both accepted what was going to happen. However—this time it was different. His father felt strong enough to move at this time, surprisingly so. Though it was against doctor’s orders, he didn’t care, he wanted to show his son the castle which he hadn’t. Baldr’s father long ago had realized how much his son was enamored with the fortress, and realized at the same time that he had never shown it to his son. At the very least, before he died, he wanted to see the joy on his son’s face at having the castle as his own, even if just for a moment. He could die relieved if that were so. And so he, with assistance from his son, climbed the mountain, all the way up to the top of the hill, and entered the gates of the castle. The boy’s face was alight with eagerness and impeccable happiness—his dream was finally being realized! He could finally see what lay within that which he always looked up at, and which always looked down upon him. The light burst through the gates, and— “…what is this?” he asked. The boy’s voice was quiet, and lost. Baldr, looking at all the people gathered within the courtyard, walking around casually and without care, not even for a moment giving him and his father a look. They were just strangers, random passerby. And yet they were inhabiting this place and were calling it their own, despite obviously not living in the space itself. “…why are they here? Aren’t…isn’t this our castle, father…? So, why…why…?!” he asked, his young voice cracking at the end. These people were taking over his home—what he thought was his own—and he hadn’t even had it for a moment! So, why!? Why?! He didn’t understand, and he gave a despairing look to his father, who could only blink in surprise. Breathing out, “I see. Well…I guess they’re visitors. We’ve never truly owned this castle, after all.” He said. And at that, his son made a choice. “…Ah, I get it…so then…all that’s needed to be done is to become so great that they can’t deny me this castle, is that it? Take it for me own?” “I wouldn’t say that’s the way, but it’s one way. I would think that you should choose what makes you happy. Please, at least…make yourself happy.” His father was on his last few breaths, sitting on the bench that he fell back into. His son, staring into the gates, then blinked and turned to his father, with clear, defined eyes. “Yeah, I’ll definitely do that.” He said, his father smiling in relief and surprise, trusting his only scion with his last wish. “After I get my own castle.” And then realized what he had done, before taking a final breath and passing away. After that, his son just sat next to his cooling body, all the while looking at the ground, feeling horribly numb. Soon after, security discovered what happened, and then the two of them were taken into custody, if a corpse could be taken into custody, that is. What happened after was a bit convoluted. With both his parents gone, an improper home and no relatives, an orphanage seemed the best option. But Baldr was given a choice at that point. It was an odd one, but it was something that was offered, and he could not deny an offer. The security officer who picked him up after his father’s demise, he was the one who made the offer. ‘Instead of going to an orphanage, would you like to come live with me and my family, and be in better conditions than you would at an orphanage? I hear they’re horribly over-filled as of late.’ Was what the man said. Obviously, as a child, he didn’t have too much natural intuition. But it was through deliberation that he was able to understand what that offer entailed—a better chance at his dream. So he accepted. And he became a Drakeldson. It was an odd switch from living in a small cabin, but a welcome change. Instead of a small cabin, he brought the one small suitcase he had stuffed with clothing and books and brought it into a large manor, hoping to live in well esteem and be happy, even without the two proper parents that life had given him. His expectations were met, but in the most tentative way possible. As it turned out, the family was truly well-endowed, but with many mouths to feed, and now another one due to the kindness of their head’s second son, it wasn’t anything overly extending. No, moreover, it was better to guess that he wasn’t going to be treated as anything special, despite being incurred into a new family. In any case, he melded well with most of the family. The head father was more than happy to advise him when needed, the mother was as caring as his own, the one who picked him up was the closest thing he ever had to a brother, and the only daughter was a kind sister to him. But the third son, the youngest and closest to his age—they were at odds ever since they first heard each other’s voice. Of course, it was the third’s voice before Baldr’s, since Baldr became unseemly quiet after the transfer. He didn’t see a reason to speak up—but this only made the third more angered. The third picked on Baldr’s appearance mostly—which Baldr couldn’t really blame him for. With ghostly white skin, fair, silvery hair, and violet-red eyes, Baldr’s appearance certainly was out of the ordinary. Moreover, the fact of where Baldr came from still remained clear in all of the family members, except for the second son. All but he kept Baldr as an outsider and ostracized him to arm’s length. But it didn’t matter to Baldr, that was how he liked it. Whatever the case was, time went quickly after that point. Waking up, being sent off to school, getting picked on by the third son, going home, eating supper, getting picked on, and sleeping became the standard schedule for every day for him. Now that he had some sense of stability and focus, he was growing fast and learning faster. Every day’s cycle was only differed by the fact that he was always honing himself to his limits in order to follow through on his dream. He was constantly reading, having taken quite the interest in the house’s large library, its stockpile of books allowing him knowledge on everything he could want. He had a habit of carrying a book on him wherever he went, for light reading. He also took to taking care of the gardens and tending to the places that a housekeeper would normally. This led to him gaining a more solid foot in the areas of which his other adoptive siblings lacked: handiwork, tedium, and dirtiness. He commonly had a dirty face—only made more dirty-looking from his complexion—and had a sweatier forehead than anyone else in the house. This got him more teasing from the third, but it didn’t matter to him. He was learning, and achieving. After he became old enough to wander on his own, he took to trying to catch that snipe he wanted to, ever since he was a child. He practiced walking in the woods quietly for quite some time, whenever he was free, to get a hunter’s sense of footing. He never caught a snipe, but he did learn that most people are really quite loud when they walk, and he learned a lot of patience from that boredom. Further looking into areas his other siblings would ignore, he took to fishing and attempted to do his best to bring home food at times. He learned how to thread a net, set a line, and all the other stuff. It became a hobby for a year, before he got more caught up with studies. And as he grew older, he found an interest in keeping his body honed, as well. So he took up cleaning the family’s large garage when he found the chance, and used the large empty space to practice swinging a sword around. It wasn’t anything special, but he learned how to shift the weight of the blade properly, and found that his most applicable use of the weapon was made through sustaining large, combos: risking everything for a fierce victory—a boy’s tactic. But it worked for him. However. As much as he learned, it came at a price. He mastered none of it. While he could retain what he did, he never mastered anything. It obviously made sense. Jack of all trades, master of none, correct? So he did his best to find a good balance between the two. By the time he was an adult, he was integrated well into the family. Ten years passed by quickly. He did well in school, was as intelligent and healthy as one might want, and was becoming quite the man. He was given a year to choose what major college or university in Germany or otherwise to head to—but he didn’t want to live in Germany any further, he realized. He pleaded to his father to allow him to leave the country and go abroad to study in other places. He had learned a multitude of tongues in order to achieve this end, his first choice being the kingdom of England. Impressed by the boy, his father allowed it. And so he left, saying his farewells to all that had helped him in that time. England was quite nice, and so was his university. Though his dark clothing got him looks, along with his appearance, he still fit in well enough as some time passed. It was only a week when he finally felt totally settled into his dormitory in the university he had entered. Luckily, his roommate wasn’t as obnoxious as the standard one might be; they were both respectable of each other and knew the term of personal space. This wasn’t to mean they were total wallflowers to each other, as they got along nicely. Though—the roommate had an asset that Baldr had never had. The internet. He didn’t really understand it well, but it was an easy enough concept to grasp after he gave it some more thought. In any case, his roommate was a major gamer in his spare time, leading to some odd situations where he frantically and frequently asked Baldr to do different things on his laptop that Baldr just barely got. Near the end of the first month in England, Baldr’s life on Earth came to a halt when his friend asked him to download the latest game and update it quickly at around five in the morning. Baldr was tired, and his roommate was out of town with family at the time, and there was nothing for it. He did so, and subsequently followed through on “make a random character with a random name and a random class, doesn’t really matter, just see if it runs.” As such, Baldr picked the randomizer option for appearance, a randomized name, and used an RNG to choose a class from the twelve listed. The appearance was nigh uncanny to his own—a probably one-in-a-hundred, no, a one-in-a-thousand chance. The name was a name of an old king, a famed conqueror—another virtually impossible chance. The class was one most suited to him—a last coincidence of pure chance. He looked outside, towards the mountains in the distance, where dawn was breaking. His finger pressed downwards to complete the process, as he looked away from the screen, at the rising sun. As he blacked out, all he could think about was how ironic it was that he had each of those chances pass by him, when he had horrible luck. He had never much luck in this world. [attr="class","h3"]Extra [attr="class","b"]Longest history 2014. 5329 words. Anyhow, tl;dr: Baldr was born in Germany, he always liked castles and dragons, had a lot of curiosity, went outside one day, his mother caught pneumonia and died after saving him from the disease, his father then died in despair after realizing that his son would never choose happiness over a dream, he was adopted into a family where he did his best to hone himself to the limit, he went to college in England, got stuck in the new reality. Think that's it. Oh, wait. You can all thank Amon Amarth for giving me the inspiration enough to write all that history. |
[attr="class","ws"] [attr="class","h"]statistics and inventory [attr="class","fc"]  [attr="class","bi3"]RACE: Half-Alv [attr="class","bi4"]CLASS: Samurai [attr="class","bi4"]SUBCLASS: Apprentice [attr="class","bi5"]CRAFTING CLASS: Alchemist [attr="class","h4"]Stats (DO NOT EDIT THIS SECTION) [attr="class","b3"] [attr="class","lt"] [attr="class","lt1"]character level [attr="class","lt12"]001 [attr="class","lt2"]subclass level [attr="class","lt22"]001 [attr="class","lt2"]crafting level [attr="class","lt22"]001 [attr="class","hm"]HP [attr="class","hm2"]---- [attr="class","hm"]MP [attr="class","hm2"]---- [attr="class","st2"]Strength [attr="class","st22"]--- [attr="class","st12"]+00 [attr="class","st2"]Dexterity [attr="class","st22"]--- [attr="class","st22"]+00 [attr="class","st2"]Agility [attr="class","st22"]--- [attr="class","st22"]+00 [attr="class","st2"]Intelligence [attr="class","st22"]--- [attr="class","st22"]+00 [attr="class","st2"]Wisdom [attr="class","st22"]--- [attr="class","st22"]+00 [attr="class","rt"] [attr="class","h3"]Skills [attr="class","b2"] [attr="class","skill"]Parry: Tier I Skill - A hard parry that is delivered to reduce the force of an incoming attack. It is one of the samurai's most basic and effective defensive techniques and comes with a fairly low cooldown. [attr="class","skill"]Transmutation: Alchemists are able to use Magitech in battle without any penalties based on their main class. Also a toggle skill. Through their abilities in creating efficient Magitech, all costs for using Magitech are halved for the Alchemist. Their research also give them an advantage in fighting Artificial Life and deal an additional 10% damage. [attr="class","skill"]Orientation: The apprentice's talent is their eagerness to learn from others. By using this skill and selecting a party member, Orientation transforms into the Level 1 Skill of the target. This lasts until the end of the thread. [attr="class","h3"]Equipment [attr="class","b2"] [attr="class","skill"]Armor: Starter Chainmail - A basic set of chainmail armor made from cheap iron. They are not really protective, but they are better than going naked—probably. You probably do want to replace these asap, when you think about it. [attr="class","skill"]Left Hand: Starter Long Sword - A starter weapon designed for novice adventurers, made out of cheap iron. It is well-balanced and easy to use but doesn’t hit particularly hard at all. You probably should get this replaced as soon as you can. [attr="class","skill"]Right Hand: Starter Dagger - A starter weapon designed for novice adventurers, made out of cheap iron. It is well-balanced and easy to use but doesn’t hit particularly hard at all. You probably should get this replaced as soon as you can. [attr="class","skill"]Accessory#1: Description [attr="class","skill"]Accessory#2: Description [attr="class","skill"]Accessory#3: Description [attr="class","skill"]Accessory#4: Description [attr="class","h3"]Inventory (DO NOT EDIT THIS SECTION) [attr="class","b2"] EMPATHION OF INGENUITY: Lv1 accessory. You found that delivering the items to the mysterious Executive Chef caused a mysterious gemstone necklace to appear in your possession. It resembles an emerald in appearance but the gemstone itself phases through to the touch as though it were an optical illusion. Is the banquet a stage to something bigger? Cannot be reforged or enchanted. When this item is equipped, it applies a crafting bonus of +1 toward a craft's final item level. AP Potion (5 AP): A potion for 5 AP. Use it in the Market Center. |
[attr="class","ws"] [attr="class","h"]Change Log (DO NOT EDIT THIS SECTION) [attr="class","b"]MM/DD/YYYY |
Coded By Archetype=Luna
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