Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Yam I Am
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Yam I Am Gorgenmast Did Nothing Wrong

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A Letter of Marque from the Republic of Aira? Right where your journey to the New World begins.

Though, perchance one did not know about the New World would do one well to heed the tales that long stem from Cascadia. Among the Old World rumors, there is a constant peddling that the New World would be a free land, one of infinite possibility, ripe with riches for the taking which hang so low that one must only walk to attain their righteous fortunes.

These whispers, like all others, are only part true. Cascadia herself is a bountiful and beauteous land, true, yet the tale that these lands are up for grabs is, as tales tend to be, embellishment. Long before there were settlers from the Mediterranean lands of Fioretza nor the highlands of Calleighn, prodigious empires and proud nations called the region their proper domain, and only through conflict and resolution have these lands ever exchanged lands. The natives of Cascadia have in their codices a body of legend which may very well dwarf any mythos of the Old World, documented or forsaken, and in those oft-preserved stories remain the tales of mighty rulers who ruled over the sun itself, of mythics and heroes who stood as insurmountable champions, the slayers of foul spirits and fell gods, and from their victories, carved empires of unparalleled wealth and prosperity. Alas, as the stories of all account, from settler to pilgrim to native wise-man again, the larger the empire, the greater the fallout. And, perhaps, as the stories of the keen do say, that there exists few worthy successors to these ill-spoken dominions would suggest there is a particular wisdom toward the modest lifestyle of many a Cascadian tribe.

And what are the boundless rumors without envy?

Surely, there cannot be any denial that any of the Old World who have lasted to this year are not in some ways jealous of the achievements of the mighty Dudatihna, Xia’pct, Altepeme, or Yona Empires, said to have stretched through Cascadia and Ambrogia alike, even to lands far to the East in locales yet unexplored to the Old World. Even if many dismiss the ruins which dot the landscape as a bygone legacy or the vibrant fables of Cascadia as nothing more than fairy tales, that they so willingly subscribe to the ancient Hero-Kings, Warrior-Queens, and Saviors from Dragons of ages long past show it naught but ridiculous at best.

Yet what none in the Old World can rightly deny is the sheer bounty Cascadia has to offer. Motta flower and juniper grow abundantly in the otherwise frigid Cascadian climate that cultivation of the otherwise exotic crops is a near moot endeavor, for the crop will inevitably grow far beyond the normal boundaries of one's land grant to where management becomes an impossible task. The virgin forests which dot Cascadia's many coasts stretch far into the interior, and the boreal hardwood within grows from rich, volcanic soil, giving it an unmatched hardness, sheen, and durability. Clusters of iron and copper ore burgeoned from the earth like weeds grew in an empty field, and so precious were the many minerals in Cascadia that it was reported back that the whole of the Holt Mountains were constituted of near-pure silver. To such an end, it was unavoidable that countless farms and estates established themselves along Cascadia's coast...and, as envy so does, has stemmed countless conflict within and without.

Many of the natives soon tired of their mistreatment for money, and would form the Confederacy of Cochise in lieu of the many splintered nations which dotted much of Cascadia. The many estates have formed houses and wealthy families from their profit, who seek to have their industry unperturbed or burgeoned, no matter the cost. The disenfranchised and unscrupulous alike prey upon the many exports of Cascadia, for her constant churn of wealth outbound make their work a steady and lucrative - nevermind free - trade. Many within their capacity find uses for such mariners, who in turn are rewarded handsomely for their expertise. Likewise, many such brigantine tasks on Cascadia's mainland require those with a certain finesse, for there exists much intrigue along the the settled coasts of Cascadia - and even more spoilage.

You, under the employ of two co-captains, are privateers to the United Republic of Aira, administrators to the Province of New Bretagne. Though this may seem restrictive, true pirates, as the co-captains would tell you, are simply privateers flying under one fewer flag. Yet, with your Letter of Marque, you possess a level of legal immunity many would be envious of. Couple this with an adventurous life, flexible hours, and as much pay as you can pillage, your adventures of Cascadia will certainly be that to spark legends all their own...



Creating a Character


Creating a character for Fire Emblem: Sword and Sail is a fairly streamlined process, in my personal opinion. Though the character sheet is quite long - and can easily be considered intimidating, there's a few basic steps i've outlined that should assist in the process.


  • Think of a character you want to play. Don't be concerned about what roles need filling! The game is intended to be played by any assortment of cast, and although there are stats in effect, they are only there to provide clarification for what your character is capable of achieving.
  • Think of what your character is like as a person. What are their goals and ambitions? Their worst fears? What makes them angry? What's their favorite thing to eat? Do they drink themselves to sleep before noon, or are they straight-edge? If they're from the Old World, what made them want to leave?
  • Don't be worried about stats. This RP is intended to have multiple solutions to every problem you come across. Don't be worried if you think your stats won't be high enough! With a little ingenuity or teamwork, you can get through any problem!
  • That said, try to make stats that represent them as a person. The option to raise and lower stats is there, certainly, but more often than not, you might find min-maxing your character to be overkill in many situations. The best attribute you can have is your own ingenuity!













Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Psychic Loser
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Psychic Loser The Worst Psychic

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Portrait:

Full Name: Everild Pasternack
Allias: Dancing-Gun

Age/DoB: February 15th, 1754 (27)

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual



Class: Brawler



Skills:

  • Martial Arts/ Hand-to-hand combat
  • Weapon Proficiency: Handguns
  • Cartography
  • Navigation


Equipment:
  • Sai
  • Truncheon
  • Handgun
  • Steel leg cannon prosthetic



Appearance:

Like many Czaszkan people, Everild possesses fair skin, pale-blonde hair, and blue eyes. She styles her mid-back length hair into a low ponytail, complementing her fit physique quite well. Although easily her most defining feature is the mechanical marvel that resides just below where her right calf should be. It's a prosthetic limb; a reminder of the war from ten years ago in Czaszka.

Typically, she wears a white blouse with black shorts and covers her left leg with a pale blue skirt. Belts around her thighs secure her metal leg and left boot. In cold weather, she wears a navy blue jacket, resembling an officer's coat.

Personality: Everild, having both served the nobility of Czaszka and the militaristic White Herons, is typically quite strict. She is a diligent and dignified woman. However, she is not devoid of kindness and is especially polite to those she sees as friends or family. This behavior combined with her monastic training and adherence to routine makes her not too unlike a teacher or older sister. Due to her self training, she often attempts to see the bigger picture in a given scenario but can be blinded by her optimism.

Biography: Everild was born in the capital of Czaszka, Kolzow. She was the eldest daughter to Elias Pasternack. Their life wasn't an easy one. As peasantry, Everild's family had issues supporting themselves. So, at the age of ten, she and her family swore allegiance to a noble house and began working as servants. After a few years, Everild's younger brother, Kaspar was born. The Pasternack family was united in taking care of the young Kaspar. However, due to the rising tension in the empire, when the noble family ultimately sent off their sons to war, Everild and her mother were sent off as well to serve as nurses on the field.

She and her mother were stationed at a makeshift fort a good few hours away from the capital. It didn't take too long for the Danic army to arrive. When the siege began, the cannons ripped straight through the loose stone and wooden beams. Everild found herself and her mother buried under the rubble. There were very few survivors. Everild herself even would have died had it not been for the Danic battle reporters who dug her out. With their help, Everild managed to return to her home. This was three days after the Danes had taken Castle Zeidik.

When Everild had returned home, she watched the nobility walk out, leaving the country to the Danes. Despite how she had heard of the rebel movements but had little interest in them. Why would she help reestablish the throne when they had abandoned the throne? She didn't want to help the nobility; not anymore. She had already lived that life. She just wanted to know why. Why after all the talks of the great empire and chivalry would they abandon what they built? That was all she needed.

She did her best to help her family, but with her missing leg and newfound questions, she could no longer be her old self. She needed to find those answers, even if it cost her. Rejected by the military for her missing limb, she only had one option available to her to proceed in her selfish quest. She joined a rebel faction known as the White Herons. She hid this fact from her family under the guise of a cartographer apprenticeship. She hated it, but they provided what she needed and her new skills gained a bit of notoriety. With enough funds and a few favors, she was able to commission a new leg from her rebel allies.

With her new leg, she gained renown as the "Dancing-Gun" Everild. Then her Letter of Marque arrived...




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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Eisenhorn
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Eisenhorn Inquisitor of some Note

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Name:
Weiland Voss

Alias/Nicknames:
Wei (Among Friends), Arak'tur (Noble Storm in his adopted tribes name), Silver Eyed Devil (Mostly family and those unfamiliar with him)

Date of Birth:
April 22nd, 1751

Gender:
Male

Sexuality:
Heterosexual

Class:
Nomad

Stats:
Strength: 13
Willpower: 13
Dexterity: 14
Speed: 13
Toughness: 13
Luck: 1

Skills:

Class Skill: Awareness

Deft Hands - When it comes to dexterity and working with fine motor skills, Weiland has an unusual knack for it. Be it reloading a musket or pistol at speed, assembling or disassembling traps, or other fine detailed work, the nomad is capable of doing so fast and accurately beyond what his peers normally would expect.

Close Quarters Combat - Despite the musket and pistols he carries, Weiland is a deft and fast hand in a brawl, preferring the knife he earned from his adopted tribe many years ago, coupled with employing leverage and putting people off balance to leave them vulnerable to finishing blows with said knife or to create enough distance to shoot them instead, employing the fast, brutal style of his adopted tribe's fighters.

Light Footed - Coupled with the dexterous hands, Weiland is able to not only cross most difficult terrain faster and more easily than normal, employing a variety of fast movement and, at times, brute force, but also tends to walk lightly enough to avoid tripping pressure plate traps, though tripwires will still trigger if he isn't paying attention for obvious reasons. He can also guide others, though he is limited to their speed to ensure they can safely traverse the hazards.

Trapper - Weiland has grown familiar with traps, to the point of not only using his personal kit to set them up when being pursued or protecting a camp, but also in identifying them as well as putting them to a newer, maybe less honest, purpose. After all, traps are for all sorts of prey, sometimes a little bigger than your average beast.

Equipment:
Musket
Khukri Knife
Trapper's Toolkit
x2 Flintlock Pistols

Appearance:
It is hard to tell that Weiland came from one of the Fioretza merchant families, having gone native shortly after being sent to oversee family holdings in the new world. This is mainly due to his stance and attire, always wary and expecting trouble, and dressed like the wanderer traders that still operate in the province of Peruzia. Standing at a meager 5'9", with a mess of dirty brown hair often times covered by the hood, one can be caught off guard by the steely silver of his eyes, a trademark of the Voss lineage and by product of constant and controlled breeding.

His attire is that of the tribe that Weiland both adopted, and was adopted by, hood and cloak worn and faded from long travel, the only real color being the red and gold colored scarf wrapped around his neck and dangling loose. Under the cloak and hood is the faded remenants of his old noble's garb, broken in and far more serviceable than new, prettier attire. One could even place the almost knee high boots, worn and faded with use and age, in a noble's court once upon a time.

Personality:
Even before abandoning the family he was firstborn to, Weiland was a stubborn soul, determined to do as he saw fit with his life. That bloody minded stubborness ran in the family, though unfortunately it was poised against pretty much everything the Voss merchant family had stood for. This gave the young Weiland a devil may care, flippant attitude that he carries with him casually to this day, coupled with a world weariness that really should not have been in a man so young. This was lessened to a degree by his time fighting alongside the tribe he was supposed to bring to heel and prevent the undercutting of profit for, giving him a more balanced, yet pragmatic, view of the world. Wanderlust is an eternal battle for Weiland, however, as it had driven him to agree to his family effectively kicking him out to the New World, driven him to abandon his entire life in favor of a chance at something new, and drove him to seek fortunes outside the tribe.

In short, Weiland is quick to deconstruct things as they are, being blunt and to the point with little regard for authority, though shows sometimes uncharacteristic excitement when faced with something new, or the potential for facing the new and unknown. Add in a dash of that well known Fioretzan spirit, which still rings true in Weiland, and you have a rather rough and tumultuous bundle to deal with, though invaluable for what he brings, and he knows it.

Biography:
The Voss Merchant House of the Social Republic of Fioretza, as the full, formal title on the coat of arms reads, is an old and established family, though one that is known for its risk taking and willingness to dig their heels in and push back hard. Founded and centered in Ocella, the capital of Fioretza, would maintain a tradition of the firstborn taking the rightful place that the father, and current Patron, of the house would leave in his wake after his passing. Weiland was born into such expectations, and was expected to learn everything deemed necessary, and many things that would improve upon what was already built by his father's hands. What none of them were ready for, Weiland included, would be how he responded to these demands and expectations.

Eventually, at the age of sixteen, his father and family Patron gave him an ultimatum. Fall in line, or head to holdings in the New World and see to sorting out recent problems with local tribes refusing to work within their lawfully given roles. For the Voss Merchant House, being forcibly sent to the New World was an exile, and it was expected to either scare him straight, or at least give him practical experience before he was called back. Weiland walked out, heading for the family docks with his meager belongings, a pair of pistols given to him for protection in the New World, and set sail for the province of Peruzia. It would not be an easy trip, the weather seeming to oppose the merchant ship at every turn, though they were fortunate enough to not run afoul of privateers or pirates targeting Fioretzan vessels.

Weiland would arrive and, much to the surprise of the aging aunt who had been running things and sending routine complaints about the tribals not falling in line, demanded to be given a means to meet with this tribe. With a local interpreter hired on, Weiland would spend the next two years meeting with and negotiating with the Glin'tur tribe, Silvered Storm tribe, though he grew to spend more time learning about them and their ways instead of actually working out how to fix the issues between his family holdings, and the tribal needs and desires. By his eighteenth birthday, he was fluent in the tribal language the Glin'tur shared with many others like them, and was made an offer by the tribe Matron, to join them and live a life he clearly was seeking and sorely needed.

Much to the shock of his bodyguards, who had been assigned to partially make sure he didn't go native and escape, Weiland simply turned up missing one day. Patrols were sent out, bounty hunters hired, and for awhile the Voss Merchant House searched for their missing firstborn. Rumors of a "Silver eyed tribal" always brought them running, though after several years they had given up spending concerted efforts, only sending the odd, dedicated parties and bounty hunters were only promised pay should they actually find and return him alive and well. Weiland would learn that his younger sister of several years would be taking over in his stead, a rare break of tradition due to his refusal to fall in line with his family desires. He would spend ten years with the Glin'tur tribe, wandering and learning to fight and move as they did.

Shortly after Weiland's 28th birthday, the wanderlust and desire to roam settled in again, much to the chagrin of a tribeswoman only a few years his junior. Such things were not unheard of, and even encouraged at times, as it allowed diversity and experience to be shared among the tribes, strengthening them all. Weiland was given his musket and the signature blade of the Glin'tur, a large, curved knife that functioned both as tool and weapon, as well as being allowed to keep his trappers kit and some basic supplies, before he set out. This whole time he had also kept and maintained his paired pistols, sturdy, well made flintlocks that lacked the fanciness or complexity of some weapons, and departed into the northern most portion of Peruzia. Operating out of Fernetti's Horn, he would sell his services as a guide and fighter, putting to good use both the formal training he received growing up, blended with the brutal and vicious tribal fighting of the Glin'tur.

Two years would pass like this, earning the nickname of the "Silver Eyed Devil" for his downright underhanded fighting tactics, when much to Weiland's surprise, a Letter of Marque made out for him would find itself finally delivered to him.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Jacky
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Jacky

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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by dwyer austin
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dwyer austin

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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Smike
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Smike

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Think I got everything

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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by cryptokaiser
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cryptokaiser Mind of An Enigma

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Name: Silvio Corsetti

Age: 23

Gender: M

Sexuality: Straight...mostly

Class: Merchant

Stats:

10 Strength
14 Dexterity
8 Willpower
14 Toughness
14 Speed
4 Luck

Class Skill: Despoil

Skills:

Friends in All Places: For one reason or another, usually through drinking or competition or both, Silvio knows someone wherever he is.

Fine Print Specialist: From growing up, Silvio's got an eye for making and finding loopholes in contracts.

Escape Artist: His speed and dexterity, coupled with constantly pulling pranks, meant both a need and a knack for getting out of situations quickly.

Jockey: Riding horses was the only way to get around the countryside of Zuria in any reasonable time, and Silvio spent a lot of time riding.

Equipment:

Throwing Knives
Lustergrapher
Merchant's Scales
Forgery Kit

Personality: Impulsive, oblivious, gregarious, proud, overtly friendly, all about fun and partying; secretly longs for genuine attachment, for people that value him rather than his money. Not always the sharpest tool in the shed-especially when it comes to memorization, and wears his heart on his sleeve. Always looking presentable is a major concern for him. Quick with a joke-usually a barb-and an offer to drink or to compete. Proud of his skills and achievements, will brag unprompted, like most Fioretzans. Views new challenges as a thrill, be it party dares or things he hasn’t tried before.

Background: Born under the auspicious stars of December 8th, 1756; or so he was told. Silvio Corsetti, the middle child of the Corsetti banking family, grew up in the province of Astiazza, West Fioretza. His open-hearted demeanor differed from that of his polite yet stoic older brother Fernando and his younger brother Lorenzo, considered a downright prodigy. With Fernando the presumptive heir to the family bank, and Lorenzo the favorite (according to Silvio); Silvio went out of his way to prank, trick and generally mess with his family and friends. His mother attempted to teach him to act with decorum-it didn’t stick. Her cooking lessons, however, stuck. His father brought him in to teach him the family business-appraisal, contracts, exchange rates. Some of it stuck-mostly finding loopholes and appraising metals.

Uncle Giovanni and Aunt Claudia moved to the Zurian countryside before Lorenzo was born. They always came back for birthdays and holidays, with gifts and stories and new pranks that Giovanni showed Silvio. On his 15th birthday, Uncle Giovanni asked Silvio if he’d like to live with them. Silvio walked out the door right then and there, only remembering to grab some stuff to travel with after Aunt Claudia shooed him back in the door.

Life in the countryside was a revolving door of neighbors, friends, coworkers; every day a new guest at dinner, every day Silvio made a new friend. His cooking, looks, sense of humor won over many. Through these friends, they introduced him to the party scene: Zadar, Presice, Keslapest, and others...life became a blur. One party after another, be it a festival or a friend’s house, float back home to finally rest, do it all again.

During the days when he wasn’t partying, Silvio hung around the artisans, especially the metalworkers. Or racing through the countryside on horseback. Or pulling pranks on high society and narrowly getting away with it. One notable prank was a prank gone wrong that ended in a low-speed carriage chase, when Silvio was 18. It was here that Silvio and his friends/accomplices Bernhard De Vries and Sigrid Olafsdottir met Izabela Sivok, the oldest daughter of the family that owned the stolen carriage. She’d been hiding in the back-but rather than spoil the fun, she wanted to join the mischief. Thus formed “The Four Musketeers”. Bernhard was the only one with Musketeer training, but that didn’t stop them from choosing the name.

Another notable prank ended with Silvio in his underwear atop a shrine in Mullin-alone, when he was 19. The first people to find him wasn’t the other three musketeers, nor the city guard, but members of the Ordine di Savona Rola. The Order was a branch of the South Prusarian Church, worshipping Zizilia, Ognevik and Suvid in equal measure. They believed in venerating the arts as much as the natural order of things, and how they were mirror images of each other. This creative juxtaposition lent itself to the welcoming, proudly independent nature of their gatherings. Silvio found himself a second home; one where he felt valued for his friendship, not just his money or his partying.

Life was pretty good at this point; a steady home with Uncle Giovanni and Aunt Claudia, reliable friends in the Order, fun friends in the party scene, and steady income from metalworking and scrivening. Not to mention Izabela Sivok, his lover and beloved. The only downside to Silvio and Izabela’s relationship? Had to be kept secret, as her family never approved of her dating someone they didn’t arrange, much less a wastrel like Silvio.

Things shifted rather seismically when Silvio was 23. The Order had grown steadily more vitriolic and patriotic-sayings such as “restoring the civic glory” and “excising the rot of corruption from nature”-though Silvio hadn’t paid them mind. Until the leadership, with one Laszlo Semjen at the forefront, laid a contract in front of him. Silvio read the fine print much like any other contract-and walked right out. Not soon after, Uncle Giovanni told Silvio that people had been watching them, Aunt Claudia had been followed...and then Izabela’s father “discovered” their relationship.

Silvio grabbed what he could carry from his home in Zuria and met Izabela one final time. She told him about a friend of hers in the New World, one that could take him in until things boiled over. She handed him a letter of marque and told him to find “Kazik”. They shared one more passionate night, and Silvio left in the morning for the harbor.
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