BladeRunner

Well, I suppose the three of us has something in common then. Already got my header for Kuran if anyone wants to reply to that.

Amongst the scholars and those of the likes were a red skinned individual looking through a braille. Though these types of books were made for the blind, the Hobgoblin was not blind at all and instead was reading word for word the various marks and engravings amongst the thick pages. There were few literatures he tended to seek out that were rare, his own little shop of books and herbs were more an exotic taste however that never stopped him from seeking out different styles and forms of foreign literature. His finger traced across each piece of the paper and was writing down from the other hand onto a selection of scrolls the words he perceived. Kuran was a Hobgoblin researcher, in some sense, and he thoroughly enjoyed a good read if not a good discovery. His kind weren't necessarily welcomed to Runae City and it was a rare sight to see one at all due to their home being so far into the bogs. People whisper and gossip and come up with wild theories that Hobgoblins are just a devilish breed of Goblin. No, that wasn't the case at all, all Hobgoblins come from Kao'Crys, far away from the Lowland continent. Idiots, all of them, but at least he did good business and the people who actually speak to Kuran will know he is soft spoken and respectful. Right now he has closed the shop to come to the archives where he indulges in various writings. Ignoring the loud footsteps, Kuran was deep in focus as he just finished the final pages of the braille, "Mysterious Things Hidden in the Mist." In the braille were the various reports and happenings around the wastelands of Lowlands and these, "Mistmen," were practically a cult of banshees. It was worth looking into, and this book, amongst other Eldritch-like things. It was the only recorded piece on the matter as the actual written words for people to visibly read were destroyed long ago. It was well worth looking into! The research and the investigation are something to look forward to! Just as the red man finished his recordings he sighed, and at the same time he heard plops of books on a nearby table sounding in the library. A pompous scholar looked up as if annoyed, but upon seeing the tall fellow grumbled something under his breath. He immediately looked to Kuran and whispered, "I swear! It's like some people don't know how to be a tad more quiet!" Kuran raised a brow as he started to roll up the scrolls and carefully closed the braille, and with a smirk he replied, "I know, it's almost as if others cannot mind their business either! Strange times these are." The scholar threw a glare at the Hobgoblin, and Kuran could have sworn he heard a slur when he was walking away. Pompous prick, thinking more about how to write romantic poems that were too cliché and caught some poor girl's heart, that relationship wouldn't last a week. At the last possible second Kuran cast a trick spell invisible to the eye and immediately the book to that scholar closed and smashed his fingers with the force of a rock. He cursed out loud which caught the attention of everyone else, and all the Hobgoblin did whilst walking to put the braille in its proper spot was smile at the satisfaction.

Huh... What a coincidence! I too have a library character

So, I might have made lore for the guild I was gonna throw in Lowlands with my recent character. It is on a Google docs, you wouldn't mind if I shared it would you? It's still a work in progress, so you'll see changes and expansion.

Photo- Name- Tarato Kuranaro, "Kuran" Race- Hobgoblin Age- 125 Personality- Kuran is notably a calm individual, patient and extremely knowledgeable. He is quite known for being a simple man with no troubles it seems, and compared to a lot of the clerics or renowned doctors many people come to Kuran medical purposes, so much so that many professionals try to debunk a variety of his medicines and works. These critics have failed at every turn. Kuran is quite hospitable and welcoming to patrons of his archives and herbs, however one should beware the fury of the patient man. Kuranaro has his limits and let's no one abuse his hospitality, as all patrons of his business must respect the rules. That said, he isn't a stranger to kicking out people and even beating them if he must. He is a man of various skills and talents and has been seen to take on ten soldiers at once. However his displeasure to rude guests isn't matched by the searing hatred for the supernatural beasts such as vampires, any form of undead, and of course the Beastmen to some extent. Bio- Meant to serve as a Royal Vanguard for House Ito back in Kao'Crys, Kuranaro was groomed for his position and shown great promise in skill and intellect. While he did mature without such the role, he was meant to serve the next heir when the time came. That was, until the war broke out between Kao'Crys and the neighboring Futsuki Empire. Kuran was on the front lines and served as a spy, responsible for sabotage, espionage, and assassinations. While he was very important to the war effort Kuran discovered agents amongst the ship possessing the royal family and "precious cargo." With no other choice and in an effort to preserve the remaining royalty of his people, Kuran snuck on board and dealt with the spies himself, alerting those on board and bringing traitors and the likes to a swift end. Unfortunately, he couldn't get back to the mainland as the ships were too far away, and since then Kuran has lived amongst the immigrants of Kao'Crys in the bogs. Eventually in an effort to spread his people's literatures and types of minor magics, Kuran opened up a library that seconds as a herbalist shop as well, popularizing many of the exotic fruits, vegetables, and herbs of Kao'Crys. He once had a wife and child until the Beastmen attacked, and since his run-in with a variety of vampires and other supernatural beasts, Kuran secretly started the Crypt Keepers alongside others afflicted by these events; a guild devoted to hunting undead in the name of Khozhan, the god of light and dark and the embodiment of the Twilight. And for years to come, they would go into the night devoted to no rule of royalty, and would smite anything that poses a threat to the good people. _________________ Abilities And/or Skills- -Hobgoblins have a few natural abilities: -They can live for up to 300 years, some recorded to reach 400. -They have a strong resistance to disease and toxins, including poisons. -And fire and illusion magics come naturally, they are proficient in it. +Kuranaro is a master Illusionist and is capable of casting tricks and spells that can easily trick the mind, even of those who are resistant/strong-willed against magic in general. This also includes invisibility spells, camouflage, and so forth. +As a result of being one of the original members of worshipping Khozhan and creating the hidden Crypt Keepers guild, is immune against pestilence, toxins, and poisons, and is immune to the effects of charming, fear inducing, and any magic that can alter the mind. Those who frequently worship the god and hunt the undead are given a long life, living half the amount more than usual (ex: instead of a Human living for 90 years they can live up to 135 for example.).

Amon entered the room after the painstaking adventure up the stairs. Why the hell he didn't take the elevator was beyond him, but still it allowed him to ponder the job situation. It wasn't dire, but it could be something extra for him to do. Amon closed the door behind him and walked over to the couch, he plopped down and sighed. Everyday, with no breaks or any days off for that matter, Amon has been constantly moving and after a good minute he started to feel it. He was tired from constantly moving, always trying to find something, people weren't stupid enough to go into the jungle so he couldn't adventure out there; and there weren't a lot of monsters he could hunt that trespassed. Amon was still... Not too privy on mingling with the locals, and talking to the staff was something he was trying to get used to. Still he couldn't help but remember that night with Vanilla, her skin was silk, her touch was comforting... And it was of course because of that little orientation they had the day he arrived... Or was it a date? The lady was nice, and so were everyone else. Amon doesn't get to see Vanilla often. But oh well. He sat on the couch and closed his eyes trying to relax.

Personally I think that be catfolk/dogfolk, Centaur, or whatever else like that (excluding werewolves and those of that nature) could be classified as Beastmen. While say an anthropomorphic fox people are more intelligent and do not align themselves with Beastmen they'd still get classified as such due to their appearance and neutral affiliation with the King/Queen. It's more a mentality of not taking those chances with species/creatures like that since the entire world seems to be at war with the Beastfolk. Would you be safer not taking those chances or would you allowed yourself to be fooled? I can see almost everyone having a hatred for Beastfolk in general and see it evolve into a racial thing, much like the Nords in Skyrim hating almost everything not a Nord. Also, quick question. For my third (and final) character I was wanting to do a simple librarian, however beneath the surface he's part of a secret guild that hunts down undead, werewolves (and those similar to Lycanthropy), and creature of dark and demonic nature's. If not, then I'll just make a librarian who knows good magic.

I might as well throw him in here, I know he's in regular sheets but I feel it should be here as well because people look at this shit... I guess Name: Amon Vale Age: 23 Gender: Male Species: Human Job: Hunter, handyman, exterminator Origin: Amon grew up in the South, primarily Texas however due to his mother's constant moving-in and cycles with boyfriend's he eventually ended up in Kansas. Finishing High School, Amon moves out and began to live at a coffee shop. Saving up money, he would buy a ticket to an island in hopes of settling there, instead accidentally buying the ticket to Sweet Treat Island. Height: 5'9" Weight: 220lbs. Eye Colour: Hazel Green/Brown Hair Colour: Deep Brown Physical Description: Amon has an athletic build, seemingly keeping his physique up to par as to not get lazy nor any weaker. He generally wears plain colored shirts from white to black and red to blue with blue jean shorts and pants, depending on what he's doing. Amon sports a Longhorns white and orange ballcap and waterproof boots. Other Details: Sexual Orientation: Straight Turn ons: There isn't a lot for turn-ons for Amon. Much like any guy if a woman shows an obvious attraction he might take notice, but due to his oblivious nature Amon won't notice anything unless it's really put out there. For his arousal it's... Really nothing, just maybe if a girl likes him that much he might like her back. However he has a weakness for Goth and Emo girls, he also can't help but be attracted to blondes, Latinas, and short hair, However fishnet clothing seem to grab his attention too... Skills: Hunting, Fishing, Survival, Marksmanship, and Repairs for weapons and vehicles.

Amon walked through the doors and passed the two ladies, the weird sword woman and Lemon. As he passed by he simply said, "Lemon," In a greeting manner before making his way to the stairs. He didn't wanna interrupt so he felt it the best way to say hello instead of bursting in their conversation. Amon could have taken the elevator but felt this was more necessary as he had some things to work through his headspace, like what more he could do for the island and how to simply... Be. The man had had no one to really relate to in his recent ongoings, like how easily Human he was or what the new song of the month was, who the favorite football team was and so forth. He couldn't do that with the other staff he felt since they were... Something- someone else in a sense, and everyone else was either from some other world or a decade ago. It wasn't easy for Amon to make friends either since he's been burned and stabbed in the back so many times, trust issues became a problem and so did self security. The first time he lowered his defense were around Velvet and Vanilla, but no one else has taken the time to get to know Amon... And he didn't know any other way. So up the stairs he went carrying the gun bag across his back. And on he went to solitude in his room.

Ye, I don't see why not. And I hope you're feeling better

Kinda at a loss as to where to go now. Pretty much killed the chances of interest with the Bloodborne chick, so now, I guess I wait... Lest someone wants to mess around with someone who is rough around the edges. And sorry @Lollipop Hope you get better

Amon stopped at the hotel... again, at the front to let the lady off. He said, "Just make your way inside and someone at the front'll help you." After dropping her off and parking the ATV to the side of the building where the garage is, Amon makes his way to the front of the Hotel. He supposed he could finish his routes later tonight when people settle in.

The lady didn't speak which seemed to bode well for Amon thus far. He didn't need to talk or anything like that, just try to do what he could for her... He guessed. Amon didn't fully trust that she wouldn't get get in trouble, further more that sword she seemed to fondly grope and her attitude of, "Can't trust anyone," Also started to aggravate him. For the love of God, the only normal person on the island seemed to be that... Avery? That Avery trap guy that was washed up on the beach, he was normal for the most part. Not that the other staff weren't almost normal either, the while thing was just off to Amon. All that would take is a little time of getting used to, and his thoughts came to a halt when they were up on the Hotel...

Entering the tavern was a hooded figure, carrying several large cases, keeping its path clear and out of the way. Looking around for a moment it stopped against the wall while no one in particular paid any mind to it, however it moved cautiously and calmly across the midst of laughter. The hood turned ever so slightly until catching the glance of the ship captain Thomas Redhawk. At its own pace the figure moved toward the table where a Goblin of all things and the man sat at before taking it's seat across from the man. Looking toward the entrance, the hood turned back and down at the table until leather armored gloves, lined with iron spikes and studs came up and removed the hood back to reveal a Hobgoblin. Ikaski Urakasa came all this way through the troubles of the bogs after he returned to make sure his schools of pyromancy and alchemy were well kept. Of course, there are those who sought out knowledge from the sage as well as those who wanted to challenge the man. He was undefeated of course, but still in case he went against a real threat that magic didn't work well on, Ikaski had chemical vials and his katanas as well as a few tricks up his sleeves. The sage's eyes scanned the captain over for a moment before he spoke in a calm tone, "I assume you are the Captain Redhawk?"

Hm... Well I certainly can see about that notice, introduce the character that way. And thanks for the char count, I'm not sure if I'll reach that max limit but it's nice to know.

The day was, as it had always been, normal. Out in the training yard were several squires, knights and guards as well as soldiers of the sorts practicing and training to either keep up their skill or because they were new to the army. Off to the side were several orcs fighting each other in a free-for-all soaring match, they used their strengths and exploited each other's weaknesses but diligently avoid, parried or blocked another's attack. The four orcs, two Badland, a Common and a Frostbitten Orc flowed in motions amongst another that rapidly changed at extremely fast paces, and as Orcs were known to certainly be faster and stronger than most Humans. Of the two Badland warriors, a male was using duel sickles and was garbed in leather armored pants and hide boots, while the female wield an iron parma and scimitar while wearing tight leather pants, leather boots and a tunic that was quite revealing. The third Orc guard used a bastard sword while donning a complete set of leather armor- light and protective against low damaging weapons. And the fourth one, a Frostbitten Orc sentinel who had a war axe and a short hammer, drab in hide trousers and boots with a loose tunic. While their dress wear seemed inappropriate for training, the Twilight Guard preferred using light clothing if any at all and became common sight fir anyone watching. A fully armored black man standing to the side watched carefully, his arms crossed as he wore the fully plated armor of a knight. His appearance was clean but grizzly, as he had been with the guard long enough to earn his scars. And today he would get to watch the night guard train to make sure they were up to par even against the day guard. As was his job as Vice Captain, Chomjra Bale was a no nonsense type individual who took his job quite seriously, which meant no slack and very little room for error. As the four Orcs fought in the training yard, in a room to the side connected directly to the castles garrison we're one of two rooms: the day guards' Captains quarters and the Twilight Guards' Captain quarters and office. In the latter at a desk were another armored Orc, wearing medium iron plates as he jotted away on a paper with an ink covered quill. This was Orchcash Bloodstone, Badland Orc Chieftain of the Bloodstone Battle Clans, and Captain of the Twilight Guard was writing out a statement regarding an incident in the slums involving exotic drugs and a slew of murders. Orchcash sighed when he finished the report and rolled the papers up for deliverance to the higher command. Normally things like this never happened, then again the criminals were tough to catch and in this case he had sent an agent to go into deep cover and accomplish the mission ad all costs. Now all that was left was to allow the steward to pick up the statement on a job accomplished, but was with bloodshed and four casualties that the suspect left behind. Civilians, of course, addicts just trying to get a fix, the poor bastards. Crescent Root, or Escaliat as it was better know as was a very powerful herb, however if tampered with became a very addictive narcotic which was why it was banished from normal use via city vendors. Stepping away from the desk, Orchcash figured a walk would help him clear his head. Of course he's been up for a moon and now half a day, but he couldn't rest at all. Orcs like him didn't need much sleep and rarely did he see live combat or worthy foes to contend with. He wondered if the tournaments were soon, he couldn't join no less as he was part of the army, but no less he could certainly watch interesting competition. Orchcash didn't need fighting nor did he want to do his duties right now, instead he desired... Talk. Talk about anything as long as it could take his mind away from work, the sane work he sweat and bled for since it's creation. Hell, he could also use some rest but couldn't find the means to do so either...

Amon cranked up the small vehicle once more and takes off slowly, and states, "I'm not making things up, lady. If Vanilla told me right the island is... Magical? I guess? So we get people from other worlds... Look shit might sound stupid as hell but it's what I was told, couple weeks ago I ran into some chick with cat ears so you tell me." Amon's tone was almost neutral but he still had a hard time believing the stuff in general. So the island was whimsical in some sense, there are freaks and people from all over here, and he normally misses out on the interesting stuff. However one thing he was certain was that Amon would need to put a notice in on this lady. He was knew she might go off killing whatever and in the process get into some serious heat, both metaphorically and literally. Last thing Amon needed was for this one to get into trouble especially in the jungle... That's the last place anyone should go. (Thinking after next post we'll transition to the Hotel)

"...The capital of England, and the United Kingdom?" Amon states a little dumbfounded. Jesus fuck what are the people drinking these days? "Let's forget that. If you have a... Quarters, and it's not on the island I'm gonna need to direct you over to that large building over there," Amon states pointing to the beautiful and massive ass structure in the distance, "The staff there can explain things better than I can. And I do suggest you do that now, just get it out if the way. You'll be taking to Lemon or whoever's working reception right now. Now just in case, would you let me to give you a lift over there on my noble steed?" Amon pats the space just behind his flat seat of the ATV, "I can give ya answers on the way there, can't stay here for too, gotta finish my shift ya know?"

Amon turned the baseball cap around from its rear direction to the proper front atop his crop cut Brien hair. His hazel green eyes stared when the chick referred to her place as a quarters. Funny. Amon could have responded in a dickish manner but chose not to, it would be plain rude... And he wasn't being a pain in the ass unlike this bitch. Whelp! Time to tell her not to where to go! "Islands pretty secure save for the jungle. What comes out goes into the ground by your's truly, that's my job is to hunt whatever tries to meander out of the jungle. Unless you are a staff member or part of the defense team you will not go into there for that's a big no-no, otherwise I'd have to drag your ass out. Now that that's out of the way, there's no need to hunt anything, you should probably just relax and mingle with everyone else... Erm... Brave warrior of London."

The man shrugged debating whether he really wanted to give a name. The lady didn't seem to be the smart-ass and more than anything serious if not overtly cautious. She looked like one of those Victorian-era cosplayers, or a larper rather. For all Amon knew the little jewelry and odds and stuff, as well as the sword were fake... Then again the clinking of metal tells otherwise. With a sigh be needed to give a response. "Amon. You're on... Uh..." Amon stopped until he got it again "Sweet Rest Island. Unless you just washed up on the beach either you're on vacation or you just love here too. If you want know about the island more I can give you a ride to the Hotel... Or I can show you around."

"Blink motherfucker." Amon wanted to say after an awkward moment of silence. The man then said with an unamused tone and a neutral face, "I'm a lot cuter up close. Just checking up on you to see if you need help." Amon waited for an answer but if this fucking goober didn't want to talk that was fair enough. He already had his pistol unclipped to his side that the woman couldn't see just in case she too was from Florida. That last guy didn't seem half bad, but this chick might be the "Florida Girl" Amon always wanted to witness. He wasn't wrong when he came to this island and though, "These people are crazy," And this lady with- wait is that a sword?

Coming back to the beach on the fourwheeler, Amon was going to do his rounds again along the island. He thought about doing his next patrol later at night when people were asleep and the idiots go skinny-dipping or whatever they do. He was about to pass the area when he came to a slow stop looking at someone clad in fucking leather wear. Staring for a split second the person looked lost, so Amon decided it might be best to get his... Her? Its attention. "Excuse me miss," Amon called out from the paved road, "You need help with anything?"

Revving the fourwheeler Amon sped off and when he got to a benched area he made a sharp turnaround before speeding off in the right direction again. He had originally wanted to launch a little at Avery making fun of himself but chose not to, not so much to keep the whole, "Tough guy persona," but rather he was talking to a stranger he knew nothing about. A ship meant shit, but if this guy was wanting to stay here then so be it. Amon was Amon, and it was hard for him to really be social; the other staff were an exception however. "What was it..." Amon started until he got the words, "Sweet Treat Island, that's what it was. Interesting place since I been here, left home to start a new life and- well, here I am. We're heading to the Hotel where we'll meet one of the staff... Either Vanilla or Lemon, most likely Lemon. And before you ask yes, those are their real names. This island... Isn't necessarily normal, so if you get a weird question from someone whose been here the longest don't worry much on it. The staff can explain it better to you." And on the Hotel they were coming up to... (I'll let you kick off at the Hotel, not sure what flavour of character Lollipop would choose)

Amon had nothing else to do but he looked the least amused at all. Despite the memes and the crazy stories of Florida people it was clear this guy wasn't bat shit insane at least... Not like himself. Amon did crazy shit on a daily to keep himself entertained and took risks, but, whatever needed to get done had to get done. Yep, Amon absently replied as he turned and got onto the ATV and kicked it on. "Climb on, and hold onto the back racks of the vehicle. I can take ya there." Amon states not wanting people to mistake that the guy was seeing other guys now. Last time some dude tried to grind up against him at a party the jackass got kicked into the bonfire pit. Amon warned him at least. But he did have a gay friend who was a brilliant fucking wingman and even of the chicks were taken it gave Amon a number or two. Wonder what happened to Jakob?

Amon's attention was caught by an individual. Maybe the shit head had a problem with the ATV? Maybe they're a tourist looking for directions? He just stared with a hard glance that was his resting bitch face and wait for the guy to start talking. Annnd there it was... Amon raised a brow keeping his arms crossed, saying in a neutral tone, "I forget the name of the place truth be told, but you're on an island indefinitely with a decent populace. Where you from?"