Post by hallowell on Nov 13, 2007 0:04:02 GMT -5
Other Characters
None as of yet.
General Character Information
Character Name : Rouram Orielt Kalximdoe
Character Age : 17.5
Character Gender : Male
Character Race : Witch (Other)
Character Position : Neutral (Leaning More Toward Good)
Character Personality : Forever a peacemaker, Rouram has always been known as the 'easy-going', 'self-effacing' type. He is accepting, trusting, and stable. Also tends to be creative, optimistic, and supportive, but can sometimes be too willing to go along with other to keep the peace. Rouram's simplest want, is for everything to flow smoothly and be without conflict. However, at times, this same want causes him to be complacent, simplifying problems and minimizing anything upsetting. At his best, the man is indomitable and all-embracing, filled with the ability to bring people together and heal conflicts.
Common qualities of his are; dependability, popularity, and observation. Rouram is deep and thoughtful, which occasionally brings on bouts of moodiness. Emotions happen to influence everything he does. Unique, and expressive, other's tend to find the man's quirky ways to be charming.
Preferring to maintain an ethereal and jocular air about him, Rouram often avoids situations in which he is forced to uphold a serious outlook. Generally equipped with a cold and calculating mindset in aforementioned occasions, the man thinks in terms of extreme cause and effect, in the truest sense of the word. He is certainly not himself, and anyone who is at least semi-close to him will immediately recognize this.
Character's Appearance : Rouram is infamous for shattering stereotypes of the word, "Witch". First of all, it is a large misconception that said term is specific to women enchantresses, and although the majority of the man's kind is female, this is obviously not the case. He is no Wizard either, and has known to be offended if referred to as such. Really, he does not match many folks' perception of one with Arcane knowledge. On the contrary. Rouram, in order to make up for his heavy reliance on Magical Combat, has worked his body to the rival that of a fine-tuned machine. That's to say, the man has a muscular frame set. As for hair or eyes, Rouram has a full head of mid-length, windswept, chestnut-colored locks, and a pair of shimmering blue/green head-lights. He was also born with a bronzed complexion, that he's managed to retain to this day.
Dress wise, the Witch wears a fitted cloak, that looks a tad snug, but feels comfortable for him. There's a bulky hood attached to it, which is usually left resting on the man's back. The sleeves have been removed, and in their place, on one arm, randomly spaced clusters of chain mail, progressing down Rouram's semi-exposed arms and shoulders, until they reach and tie into a beaten half glove. On the other, a full-fledged length of plate armor. Going across the Witch's waist, is a tight, bulky belt, (matching previously mentioned gauntlets) which sits at a slight upward angle. Rouram's pants are typical, (if not a little loose, hence the need for the support of a belt) as are his low-top shoes. Besides what has already been spoken for, the man only carries around a tiny, enchanted pouch, that carries any and all of his magical supplies, and is strung across the Witch's slightly broad chest.
Battle Information
Weapon('s) Name(s)/Appearances :
Lyvalciniad (Lie-Vall-Sin-Ee-Ad) : Even for a Rapier, this weapon's blade is uncommonly slender, with an incredibly sharp point. It is quite an uncommon sword, able to imbibe itself with Rouram's own Arcane energies. It's metal is eternally ablaze with various hues of red, yellow, orange, and crimson. The colors of the rising sun, setting the dawn sky on fire, all contained within the sliver of steel. The hilt, and crosspiece are both forged of brass. A navy-blue cord is wound tightly around the first of which. The latter, is of a wispy and curvaceous pappenheimer design, who's strands trail off to form clenched eagle claws. Serving as the decorated pommel, is a proud Griffin, sitting upright, with wings unfurled.
Kischkolynd (Kish-Co-Lynnd) : A Wand, crafted of wood which was taken from the heart of a Hornbeam. A small, hardwood tree, which is also known as the 'Ironwood', or 'Muscle-wood'. The tool's length is roughly thirteen-and-one-half inches. Similar to the plant which it was taken from, the wand has a natural spiral about it's shape. Near the tip of the rod, the wood coils up to form somewhat of a tangled circle. Lodged in the hollow section of this organic shape, is a fairly good sized Moonstone Sphere. Wrapped around the bottom of the wand, is a short Pearl plate. It is sunken in, so as to match Rouram's personal grip.
Abilities :
Psychokinesis : By drawing on usually dormant regions of his mind, (which are usually left un-tapped by humans, for the entirety of their existence) Rouram has gained the power to influence various forms of matter, without the use of any physical means. This really only pertains to 'Telekinesis', which is manipulation/movement of matter. This skill is performed with a gesture of either the hands, head, eyes, or feet. The amount of energy it takes to perform such a task, is relative to the mass of the area effected, object in question, etc.
Temporal Stasis : Simply put, this is the power to freeze or stop, time or objects by slowing down molecular movement rate to such a point where they appear not to move. Whereas this talent is new, it's still at the phase where it is triggered by such emotions as panic, surprise, or fear, and Rouram has a difficult time calling on it at will, or controlling it. On top of this, the Witch can only freeze everything in his immediate location, and this only lasts for a few minutes, at best. Whenever it is used however, the man has to make something of a hand gesture in order to cause things to freeze or unfreeze. Therefore, if his hands were tied, this skill would be entirely useless. Also, this skill (though with a high success rate against projectiles, and Heartless) is easily countered and or broken, by enemies with either in-human physical, or magical, aptitude. An up side, is that if Rouram's opponent is not in possession of these traits, they are almost always ensnared. Temporal Stasis is entirely in-effective toward those of the 'Good' alignment. Though the Witch may or may not have a positive opinion of someone, this ability is an ever-accurate judge of character.
C.D.T (If Successful) : Four Posts
C.D.T (If Failed) : Two Posts
Premonition : This refers to Rouram's passive gift to forecast future events. Sometimes known as precognition, or retro cognition respectively. His third, (and at this point, last) paranormal or supernatural ability. Unfortunately, the accuracy of these visions or predictions, fluctuate frequently, changing from situation to situation. They are triggered when the man touches, or is in the presence of, something that has to do with whatever the premonition is about. As a note, this skill is uncontrollable most of the time, and usually only presents itself when a life is in danger. Though, in some extreme occurrences, there have been instances where Rouram was able to force one, at a great blow to his stamina. Any images or sequences shown are seen in black and white. An added bonus of this talent is enhanced intuition, which (at times) grants the Witch the ability to anticipate, avoid, or sidestep an immediate attack.
Additional Abilities :
Special Abilities :
Summons :
Items :
Character History
Salem, Massachusetts, 1690's. Picture this setting, as the motif, and way of life, for an entire world. A world, where the charm brandishing, ritual practicing, are grossly outnumbered by those who both reject, and hunt them. Rouram's kin, and the rest of his kind, are forced to survive in harsh environments, clustered in small encampments and divided, in hopes to avoid annihilation. If any are unfortunate enough to be captured, they are imprisoned, most likely tortured, dragged to biased trials, convicted, and hung. That's leaving out those who died in prison, or were beaten to death when they refused to enter a plea. The reason for this, you ask? Charges ranged from 'Heresy', to full blown, 'Satanism'. Puritans, the majority, believed the one's soul was considered predestined from birth as to whether it had been chosen for Heaven, or condemned to Hell, after death. With this in mind, the Church, and therefore nearly everyone else, considered them a, 'Lost Cause'. They were doing their part, to rid the world of the 'Heathens', and appease their sickened God. At least that's how they saw it. Most who slew the Witches were viewed as intolerant blood-hounds and bigots, converting Christianity to a tool of conscience appeasing Genocide.
Now, with the back story covered, we stray from the big picture, and more toward Rouram's specific existence. His mother, 'Abigail Faulkner', was one of the more quiet women of her Covent. Though beautiful, and at least semi-powerful, she hardly ever concerned herself with the potential social half of her life, feeling entirely comfortable in the solitude of her own company. His 'father', was named, 'Cotton Mather', and was one of the most prominent Witch-Hunters of that era. This vile man, had taken the shy women into his wig-wearing community, keeping her as something of a project. Cotton intended to 'purify' her, and turn her life around. He made sure to keep her heritage a secret, ordering her to convert. At least, that's what she had to do if she wanted a better, healthy life for her daughter, and Rouram's older, half sister, 'Ann'. Her weak spot pin-pointed, Abigail could see no other choice, and gave in, un-willingly burning the bridge which led to what was now her past life. She would be a good, Christian woman, a homesteader. Rearing Ann in a relatively safe situation, and succumbing to the wants and needs of her ham-fisted husband.
Things went on like this for quite a while, and though the women's heart had broken long ago, she pushed forward for all that she had left, her daughter. Abigail had made a convincing turn around, and the once tense folk around her, seemed thoroughly fooled. Still, Cotton's stress progressively worsened, leaving him in a constant state of fear. What if the found out? What if they heard? What if they.. saw? Questions like these started to infect the man's brain. Excommunication was the whispered answer. When he shook though, it was not for anyone's sake but his own. All of it took a turn for the worse when Abigail's belly grew once more, signaling the birth of yet another.. threat. Cotton would prod his tortured victims with questions of what would wriggle out of his wife, and the responses were overwhelmingly similar, regardless of the Witch in question. Among the spits, and the snarls, and the curses that followed, the man learned that his future son had been foreseen to be one of the mightiest arcane beings in all of creation. Eventually, these predictions began to drive Cotton insane, and it didn't' take long for Abigail to notice. She sent word to her former occult group, so that they might be able to save her children away if anything.. harmful might happen. It was a good thing, because on the night of this un-name child's birth, the damaged man slew his wife, as well as Ann. The Witches who'd broken in, were too late, and barely managed to sweep 'Ross' into the night, before he was cut down as well. The party took him to their village, and there, raised him as their own. Ross changed his name as soon as he was of age, and took on pieces of the ones that had brought him to salvation. This eventually brought about the title, 'Rouram'. He made sure to keep at least the root of the one that his mother had christened him with. For those around him, Rouram was the key, to.. freedom, survival, and everything else that mattered. Despite this though, the Witch never felt much of a burden on his shoulders.
Still, Rouram can remember the day vividly. He was a ways off into the woods, with a two or three friends. They were playing some variation of hide-and-go-seek. Their outpost was barely in sight. The teen had closed his eyes, it being his turn to find the rest. Rouram couldn't hear much of anything after a while, his companions had vanished. Confused, the Witch could only stumbled forward, trying to get closer to home. Before he could get very far though, he heard a mass of screams, shouts, booms, yelps. The cacophony of battle. Frightened, Rouram had no idea how he might be able to help. The youth ran headlong, at full speed.. straight into a pack of cavalry. Who was leading the charge, but his own father, hardened, and obviously warped. The boy had heard enough stories to know who this man was, and evidently, Cotton saw a glimmer of himself in Rouram, enough to recognize. Later, that would come to make the Witch sick. Father and son were moments apart. Frozen, the youth's fixation was only broken by an explosion, preceding one of the straw huts catching fire. This was all the motivation both needed to move. Instinctual. Rouram spun around, and rocketed toward the forest. Shooting in zig-zags for the cracked trunks and leafy canopies. Pounding hoof beats echoed all around him, and the ground quaked as his chest heaved. The teen, nearly out of breath, and almost completely spent, ran for all he was worth. Never once turning his head to look back. The Witch only noticed the increasing gloom of his surroundings. Spiderwebs were thick among the branches. The air was stale. Vines crept out of shadow. Tripping over an exposed root, Rouram fell, and slid along his knees, into a massive Hornbeam tree, embedded with Moonstones.
Battered, and with small cuts all along his face, the boy reached out a flat palm, and laid it on the wood, which had an odd glow about it. Immediately, as if in reflex, a trail of blinding light erupted from the strange gems, forming the shape of a keyhole. Startled, after everything that'd happened, the youth noticed that among the emotions that he felt, fear was not one of them. Somehow, for whatever reason, the Witch was a little.. relieved, at ease even. Rouram heard some scuffling behind him, and, not caring to see who or what it was, he reached up, and broke off a large stick from a low-hanging appendage of the tree. In it, laid one of those wonderful rocks. The teen thought that he ought' to have something to arm himself. Unable to think of anything else he could do, the child stepped closer, and breathing in sharply while screwing his eyes shut, walked up to, and through the mammoth portal. Without daring to see what he was moving through.. the youth just kept going. Falling through empty nothingness, Rouram blacked out, and woke up face up to a twinkling night sky. With a stiff neck, the boy peered around to see buzzing.. signs, towering brick buildings.. lamps on poles. One of the largest banners, strung along chimneys, read, 'Traverse Town'.
"Traverse Town, Hrm?"
Other
None as of yet.
General Character Information
Character Name : Rouram Orielt Kalximdoe
Character Age : 17.5
Character Gender : Male
Character Race : Witch (Other)
Character Position : Neutral (Leaning More Toward Good)
Character Personality : Forever a peacemaker, Rouram has always been known as the 'easy-going', 'self-effacing' type. He is accepting, trusting, and stable. Also tends to be creative, optimistic, and supportive, but can sometimes be too willing to go along with other to keep the peace. Rouram's simplest want, is for everything to flow smoothly and be without conflict. However, at times, this same want causes him to be complacent, simplifying problems and minimizing anything upsetting. At his best, the man is indomitable and all-embracing, filled with the ability to bring people together and heal conflicts.
Common qualities of his are; dependability, popularity, and observation. Rouram is deep and thoughtful, which occasionally brings on bouts of moodiness. Emotions happen to influence everything he does. Unique, and expressive, other's tend to find the man's quirky ways to be charming.
Preferring to maintain an ethereal and jocular air about him, Rouram often avoids situations in which he is forced to uphold a serious outlook. Generally equipped with a cold and calculating mindset in aforementioned occasions, the man thinks in terms of extreme cause and effect, in the truest sense of the word. He is certainly not himself, and anyone who is at least semi-close to him will immediately recognize this.
Character's Appearance : Rouram is infamous for shattering stereotypes of the word, "Witch". First of all, it is a large misconception that said term is specific to women enchantresses, and although the majority of the man's kind is female, this is obviously not the case. He is no Wizard either, and has known to be offended if referred to as such. Really, he does not match many folks' perception of one with Arcane knowledge. On the contrary. Rouram, in order to make up for his heavy reliance on Magical Combat, has worked his body to the rival that of a fine-tuned machine. That's to say, the man has a muscular frame set. As for hair or eyes, Rouram has a full head of mid-length, windswept, chestnut-colored locks, and a pair of shimmering blue/green head-lights. He was also born with a bronzed complexion, that he's managed to retain to this day.
Dress wise, the Witch wears a fitted cloak, that looks a tad snug, but feels comfortable for him. There's a bulky hood attached to it, which is usually left resting on the man's back. The sleeves have been removed, and in their place, on one arm, randomly spaced clusters of chain mail, progressing down Rouram's semi-exposed arms and shoulders, until they reach and tie into a beaten half glove. On the other, a full-fledged length of plate armor. Going across the Witch's waist, is a tight, bulky belt, (matching previously mentioned gauntlets) which sits at a slight upward angle. Rouram's pants are typical, (if not a little loose, hence the need for the support of a belt) as are his low-top shoes. Besides what has already been spoken for, the man only carries around a tiny, enchanted pouch, that carries any and all of his magical supplies, and is strung across the Witch's slightly broad chest.
Battle Information
Weapon('s) Name(s)/Appearances :
Lyvalciniad (Lie-Vall-Sin-Ee-Ad) : Even for a Rapier, this weapon's blade is uncommonly slender, with an incredibly sharp point. It is quite an uncommon sword, able to imbibe itself with Rouram's own Arcane energies. It's metal is eternally ablaze with various hues of red, yellow, orange, and crimson. The colors of the rising sun, setting the dawn sky on fire, all contained within the sliver of steel. The hilt, and crosspiece are both forged of brass. A navy-blue cord is wound tightly around the first of which. The latter, is of a wispy and curvaceous pappenheimer design, who's strands trail off to form clenched eagle claws. Serving as the decorated pommel, is a proud Griffin, sitting upright, with wings unfurled.
Kischkolynd (Kish-Co-Lynnd) : A Wand, crafted of wood which was taken from the heart of a Hornbeam. A small, hardwood tree, which is also known as the 'Ironwood', or 'Muscle-wood'. The tool's length is roughly thirteen-and-one-half inches. Similar to the plant which it was taken from, the wand has a natural spiral about it's shape. Near the tip of the rod, the wood coils up to form somewhat of a tangled circle. Lodged in the hollow section of this organic shape, is a fairly good sized Moonstone Sphere. Wrapped around the bottom of the wand, is a short Pearl plate. It is sunken in, so as to match Rouram's personal grip.
Abilities :
Psychokinesis : By drawing on usually dormant regions of his mind, (which are usually left un-tapped by humans, for the entirety of their existence) Rouram has gained the power to influence various forms of matter, without the use of any physical means. This really only pertains to 'Telekinesis', which is manipulation/movement of matter. This skill is performed with a gesture of either the hands, head, eyes, or feet. The amount of energy it takes to perform such a task, is relative to the mass of the area effected, object in question, etc.
Temporal Stasis : Simply put, this is the power to freeze or stop, time or objects by slowing down molecular movement rate to such a point where they appear not to move. Whereas this talent is new, it's still at the phase where it is triggered by such emotions as panic, surprise, or fear, and Rouram has a difficult time calling on it at will, or controlling it. On top of this, the Witch can only freeze everything in his immediate location, and this only lasts for a few minutes, at best. Whenever it is used however, the man has to make something of a hand gesture in order to cause things to freeze or unfreeze. Therefore, if his hands were tied, this skill would be entirely useless. Also, this skill (though with a high success rate against projectiles, and Heartless) is easily countered and or broken, by enemies with either in-human physical, or magical, aptitude. An up side, is that if Rouram's opponent is not in possession of these traits, they are almost always ensnared. Temporal Stasis is entirely in-effective toward those of the 'Good' alignment. Though the Witch may or may not have a positive opinion of someone, this ability is an ever-accurate judge of character.
C.D.T (If Successful) : Four Posts
C.D.T (If Failed) : Two Posts
Premonition : This refers to Rouram's passive gift to forecast future events. Sometimes known as precognition, or retro cognition respectively. His third, (and at this point, last) paranormal or supernatural ability. Unfortunately, the accuracy of these visions or predictions, fluctuate frequently, changing from situation to situation. They are triggered when the man touches, or is in the presence of, something that has to do with whatever the premonition is about. As a note, this skill is uncontrollable most of the time, and usually only presents itself when a life is in danger. Though, in some extreme occurrences, there have been instances where Rouram was able to force one, at a great blow to his stamina. Any images or sequences shown are seen in black and white. An added bonus of this talent is enhanced intuition, which (at times) grants the Witch the ability to anticipate, avoid, or sidestep an immediate attack.
Additional Abilities :
Special Abilities :
Summons :
Items :
Character History
Salem, Massachusetts, 1690's. Picture this setting, as the motif, and way of life, for an entire world. A world, where the charm brandishing, ritual practicing, are grossly outnumbered by those who both reject, and hunt them. Rouram's kin, and the rest of his kind, are forced to survive in harsh environments, clustered in small encampments and divided, in hopes to avoid annihilation. If any are unfortunate enough to be captured, they are imprisoned, most likely tortured, dragged to biased trials, convicted, and hung. That's leaving out those who died in prison, or were beaten to death when they refused to enter a plea. The reason for this, you ask? Charges ranged from 'Heresy', to full blown, 'Satanism'. Puritans, the majority, believed the one's soul was considered predestined from birth as to whether it had been chosen for Heaven, or condemned to Hell, after death. With this in mind, the Church, and therefore nearly everyone else, considered them a, 'Lost Cause'. They were doing their part, to rid the world of the 'Heathens', and appease their sickened God. At least that's how they saw it. Most who slew the Witches were viewed as intolerant blood-hounds and bigots, converting Christianity to a tool of conscience appeasing Genocide.
Now, with the back story covered, we stray from the big picture, and more toward Rouram's specific existence. His mother, 'Abigail Faulkner', was one of the more quiet women of her Covent. Though beautiful, and at least semi-powerful, she hardly ever concerned herself with the potential social half of her life, feeling entirely comfortable in the solitude of her own company. His 'father', was named, 'Cotton Mather', and was one of the most prominent Witch-Hunters of that era. This vile man, had taken the shy women into his wig-wearing community, keeping her as something of a project. Cotton intended to 'purify' her, and turn her life around. He made sure to keep her heritage a secret, ordering her to convert. At least, that's what she had to do if she wanted a better, healthy life for her daughter, and Rouram's older, half sister, 'Ann'. Her weak spot pin-pointed, Abigail could see no other choice, and gave in, un-willingly burning the bridge which led to what was now her past life. She would be a good, Christian woman, a homesteader. Rearing Ann in a relatively safe situation, and succumbing to the wants and needs of her ham-fisted husband.
Things went on like this for quite a while, and though the women's heart had broken long ago, she pushed forward for all that she had left, her daughter. Abigail had made a convincing turn around, and the once tense folk around her, seemed thoroughly fooled. Still, Cotton's stress progressively worsened, leaving him in a constant state of fear. What if the found out? What if they heard? What if they.. saw? Questions like these started to infect the man's brain. Excommunication was the whispered answer. When he shook though, it was not for anyone's sake but his own. All of it took a turn for the worse when Abigail's belly grew once more, signaling the birth of yet another.. threat. Cotton would prod his tortured victims with questions of what would wriggle out of his wife, and the responses were overwhelmingly similar, regardless of the Witch in question. Among the spits, and the snarls, and the curses that followed, the man learned that his future son had been foreseen to be one of the mightiest arcane beings in all of creation. Eventually, these predictions began to drive Cotton insane, and it didn't' take long for Abigail to notice. She sent word to her former occult group, so that they might be able to save her children away if anything.. harmful might happen. It was a good thing, because on the night of this un-name child's birth, the damaged man slew his wife, as well as Ann. The Witches who'd broken in, were too late, and barely managed to sweep 'Ross' into the night, before he was cut down as well. The party took him to their village, and there, raised him as their own. Ross changed his name as soon as he was of age, and took on pieces of the ones that had brought him to salvation. This eventually brought about the title, 'Rouram'. He made sure to keep at least the root of the one that his mother had christened him with. For those around him, Rouram was the key, to.. freedom, survival, and everything else that mattered. Despite this though, the Witch never felt much of a burden on his shoulders.
Still, Rouram can remember the day vividly. He was a ways off into the woods, with a two or three friends. They were playing some variation of hide-and-go-seek. Their outpost was barely in sight. The teen had closed his eyes, it being his turn to find the rest. Rouram couldn't hear much of anything after a while, his companions had vanished. Confused, the Witch could only stumbled forward, trying to get closer to home. Before he could get very far though, he heard a mass of screams, shouts, booms, yelps. The cacophony of battle. Frightened, Rouram had no idea how he might be able to help. The youth ran headlong, at full speed.. straight into a pack of cavalry. Who was leading the charge, but his own father, hardened, and obviously warped. The boy had heard enough stories to know who this man was, and evidently, Cotton saw a glimmer of himself in Rouram, enough to recognize. Later, that would come to make the Witch sick. Father and son were moments apart. Frozen, the youth's fixation was only broken by an explosion, preceding one of the straw huts catching fire. This was all the motivation both needed to move. Instinctual. Rouram spun around, and rocketed toward the forest. Shooting in zig-zags for the cracked trunks and leafy canopies. Pounding hoof beats echoed all around him, and the ground quaked as his chest heaved. The teen, nearly out of breath, and almost completely spent, ran for all he was worth. Never once turning his head to look back. The Witch only noticed the increasing gloom of his surroundings. Spiderwebs were thick among the branches. The air was stale. Vines crept out of shadow. Tripping over an exposed root, Rouram fell, and slid along his knees, into a massive Hornbeam tree, embedded with Moonstones.
Battered, and with small cuts all along his face, the boy reached out a flat palm, and laid it on the wood, which had an odd glow about it. Immediately, as if in reflex, a trail of blinding light erupted from the strange gems, forming the shape of a keyhole. Startled, after everything that'd happened, the youth noticed that among the emotions that he felt, fear was not one of them. Somehow, for whatever reason, the Witch was a little.. relieved, at ease even. Rouram heard some scuffling behind him, and, not caring to see who or what it was, he reached up, and broke off a large stick from a low-hanging appendage of the tree. In it, laid one of those wonderful rocks. The teen thought that he ought' to have something to arm himself. Unable to think of anything else he could do, the child stepped closer, and breathing in sharply while screwing his eyes shut, walked up to, and through the mammoth portal. Without daring to see what he was moving through.. the youth just kept going. Falling through empty nothingness, Rouram blacked out, and woke up face up to a twinkling night sky. With a stiff neck, the boy peered around to see buzzing.. signs, towering brick buildings.. lamps on poles. One of the largest banners, strung along chimneys, read, 'Traverse Town'.
"Traverse Town, Hrm?"
Other
I did post in shades of grey if anyone even remembers that lmao