So, this is a side project I shall be working on. I was somewhat inspired by MoonFairy's and Tacky's thread Adventures of AG: A State of Emegency, and a desire to use my own thread, The Deck of Games, for something a little more creative. The basic premise is the same I'll need you, the users, to create a short character sheet. There are restrictions though:
1. You must be in The Deck of Games 2. The character sheet must be filled out correctly 3. Weapons cannot be modern and must be fantasy related (Swords, bows, magic, ect)
If you would like to be in The Deck of Games, see this and comment on which possition you would like. Also, please provide a good reason as to why, I shall not accept reasons like: because I am like, good!
Now, the character sheet.I will use my personal one as the example you MUST follow.
Name: Wolf House: High House Tragedy Position: King Weapon:Hand and a half Sword Bio: A wanderer of far off lands and a master of the sword, Wolf has lost all that he once held dear. Posed as the King of High House Tragedy he has degenerated into a cynical and bitter man, infected by sadness. Description: Wolf has shoulder length dark brown hair. He is of average height and build, having mostly wirey muscle. He only possesses his right hand having lost his left in a duel years ago.
If I have time, I may create pictures of the cards based on your descriptions of your characters. Well, I can't draw, so I may ask someone else XD
:b If we're doing the strengths and weaknesses (I don't know why I wanted to do these so much)..:
Strength: Very agile. Is good at squeezing through small spaces and navigating rough terrain. Also good at reading emotions and analyzing when not hyper. Weaknesses: Lacking in the strength department. Also can be a ditz. Can also be extremely clumsy when handling delicate things. When in alter personality is overly distrusting.
I am still recruiting! I'm currently developing a little more plot. I'm hoping for at least five or so more characters! However should more arrive (or less) I shall adapt.
Name: Nurvana, or Nurv. House: High House Unaligned Position Mercenary Weapon: Black broadsword a hand wide and Nurv's length long, stapled across his back. He also carries the fencing rapier of his rival, whom he killed. Bio: Nurv has experienced much misfortune at the hands of the deck, including many undesirable murders for his various masters, and wishes to violently extract the card from it's tragic king. Appearance: Six feet, brown hair that covers his eyes, no shirt, ripped, dirty trousers that are torn away at the calves, broadsword across his back, rapier at his left hip, fingernails jagged and bloody.
"Gods be dam*ed!" Wolf's shout broke the silence that had cloaked him and Moon for the better part of a day.
"What now Wolf?"
"This Gods cursed Deck! What else?" Writer, Queen of Games, Queen of Counting Time, Fool of Tragedy, and the Mercenary! No matter the draw."
It had been three days since the had left Nightstone Keep. Wolf was irriatable having been drawn out of his self imposed isolation. He had left his servants strict instructions on how to maintain Nightstone while he was away, no matter the length of time. They were good men and women, but even the best would likely slip, and should he survive this mad adventure he was bound to come back to an empty tower.
Currently they were seated in a forest clearing. Seperate tents were pitch at either end. Wolf had drawn the Deck for the umpteenth time since dawn, it was now noon.
"We're wasting time, Wolf." Moon said.
"Quiet." He mumbled.
He laid out the cards again. Still bound to a crucifix he studied the patern, hoping to discern something different, no luck. He placed the Mercenary. It fell to the right of his own card. The side of the card which reflected his missing hand. Wolf frowned, shook his head and reached for a new card. Card number 7 he thought How many times have I had seven cards? Gods be good, how many will I draw? He placed the seventh card to the left of the Queen of Games. He flipped it up. White Rabbit of High House Insanity, not only rare, but unusual to have it placed so far out. The White Rabbit was a curious one. Hardly ever in the midst of things, but never so far out to be obsolete. And paired with the Queen of Games? What is going on?
Moon walked over from where she had been waiting on fallen log. "Are we going, or do you just want to play with your cards all day?"
He looked up, her eyes were crimson, the air about her tense as she glared down at where he sat. Her sandy blonde hair nearly stood on end from the pent up magical energy she was storing. Yet, somehow, Wolf didn't care. She saw his disregard and kicked at the Deck. In one flowing movement Wolf had gained his feet and unsheethed his hand and a half sword. The point rested on Moon's throat.
"Don't." His voice was ice, "Do. That. Again."
Moon's eyes shifted to deep brown. Her wings twitched as she spoke, her voice dead calm, "What the hell Wolf? I've interupted your readings before."
Wolf kept his gaze locked, "Don't touch the Deck, Moon." His eyes shifted to his reading, his face paled. Scattered in a perfect circle the Deck encompassed the crucifix and laying in several spots throughout the cross, were cards, face down. Wolf removed his sword from Moon's throat. Hands shaking he sheathed it across his back once more.
"Where's Nurvana?" he asked.
Moon shrugged, "How should I know? I probably haven't seen him just as long as I haven't seen you."
Wolf nodded, then pointed to where the Mercenary lay, "Look."
She looked, "I don't understand these things you know that Wolf."
"He's placed to the card's right, or, on the left hand from out perspective. I don't have a left hand, that means he's placed on my weak side."
"So?"
"He's going to blind side me Moon. He may blind side everyone on this field. And he wants his card Moon."
"Where's the harm in that? You have your card."
He shook his head, "I don't own my card. I'm more of a steward for the Deck. Nurvana wants to own his card. He wants to move outside the Deck. I can't let him do that."
"Why? Because you don't like giving up your power over things Wolf?" her anger started to creep back in to voice.
"Gods Moon! Moving outside the Deck is dangerous! Nurvana could cause some serious damage and I'd have no means to predict his actions. I don't have any power except to read events Moon. Peoples and their intents, but not all their intents. You want to know what the Night Road is Moon? Take possession of your card right now. Or, wait until Nurvana comes for his."
He gathered the Deck and stalked off.
Moon flitted behind Wolf, troubled by what he had said. He had always been serious, always obsessing over his Deck of Games and trying to puzzle out the riddles it's strange readings held. she remembered the last time she had seen him do a reading, five years ago before the Siege of Stormfast. He had managed to reach a seven card count before he couldn't go any further. A count high enough to read the danger they had been in from a myriad of factions, but not enough to see how near at hand. He had lost his hand for that.
She then thought of what he had said about Nurvana. Or, as he always called him, the Mercenary. It was no secret there was bad blood between the two of them. Wolf with his condescending manner and Nurvana with his brash arrogance. The two had often traded words, and sometimes blows. Again, Nurvana had been at Stormfast, but she had never known why. Until now. The thought chilled her. To think that Nurvana was so obsessed over his own fate.
She began wondering if dragging Wolf out of his tower had been such a good idea after all.
WOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Me gusta.
But. I do think I might speak for a few other lurkers when I say, your way of handling the cards is.... weird. The way you describe it, try to make it a little bit clearer, and not so... thrown together. When you describe your actions with the cards, I don't think we would mind it if you shortened the sentences. Like. "I flipped the card to the left. Then the one on the right." Like thaaaaaaaat. But hey. I still like iiiiiiit.
Bio: Death was the king of Deathlinia, also known as Hopperland. After a revolution the monarchy was replaced by a Republique. The king and queens of this far away land were mere touristic attractions. Tired of his uselessness, Hopper decided to leave his nation and wandered of hoping to find a new home. He happened to stumble upon the Kingdom of Armor Games. He now lurks around the city's busy streets and buildings hoping to find friends and have fun. He's becoming more known, but shall still remain silent. His main weapon is an old sword passed down from king to king. This magical sword has the power to make the wielder invisible for a short period of time.
Descriptioneath is 55 of age and has black hair and a small beard. His blue eyes are friendly and welcoming, but his old weary face shows the struggles he had to face in life. His fine lips let go a deep voice. His body is muscular for a man of his age, but he grows tired fairly fast. He is wise and gives good advice to his comrades. Sadly he is impatient and let's his anger take the better of him. When enraged his strikes are dangerous and lethal.
Strength: Death greatest strength it his ability to sword fight. He is also fairly deceiving in his looks. He looks more like an old sage than a violent warrior giving him a slight edge in combat.
Weakness: He is highly impatient and when angry he takes action before thinking, leading which could lead him to his own demise. He is also unable to properly use his magic sword thus his invisibility is almost useless unless in the rare cases he succeeds to make it function.
I think I put in slightly to much information. Oh well.
I disagree slightly with this. The sword either makes you invisible or is invisible, I can't tell which. I don't mind magic swords, I just hate invisibility with a passion. As of right now it'll be a plain sword, you may make it magical, either tell me your change on my profile or here.
I've changed my mind about the sword. Mainly because I didn't read everything before I wrote my last post >.< The restrictions imposed give me more creative freedom. The sword is fine.
Name: Cowmaster House: High House Religon Position: King Weapon: A straight white wooden staff that is just over his head. On the top is a cross and engraved throughout the staff are ancient runes. His main attack is magic. He has a secondary knife which is mainly used for skinning animals. Bio: Cowmaster is a wise for his age. He is in his mid 30s. He has traveled the land assisting churches and is widely respected by all of religion. He only speaks when it matters and tends to be a man of few words. He is almost to the point of stubborness about his beliefs. Some say his voice ensnares the people who hear it. Occasionally he will lash out in anger but these are rare. when he is not talking, he seems to be in deep thought.
Description: Cowmaster is about 6'2 and averagely built. His hair is dark brown. His face is rarely clean shaven and always has stubble on it. He wears a black monk robe with a white belt. He is fit and has great endurance due to his early morning running. Depending on the terrain he has shoes or sandals. There are no noticeable scars.
Name: Ethan House: High house insanity Position: The Mad Hatter Weapon:Alchemical munitions (coloured smoke and fragmentation), 1x plain dagger (5 inches), 1x short sword (24 inches). Bio: Ethan behaves quite normally in most situations. However he is prone to fits of rage during battles and fights and occasionally during ordinary situations. During these fits he has been described as brutally insane. And will often throw himself into the thickest of fighting, he claims to never remember anything he does during those fits of rage. Otherwise he is normally quiet, sitting alone mixing chemicals for his munitions or getting utterly pissed wherever the best drink is. Description: Heavy set, medium height, wears a large sack on his back. Lightly armored during battle with chain mail, but usually relies on a thick 'leather' coat (though most people believe it's something other than leather). Steel capped boots.
One...two...three... Concentrate, he isn't far. Just a bit more... A crash to his head snapped Nurvana's eyes open. Sprawling to the ground he glared at the old man, who was grinning. It warped the old man's features into a grotesque mask, there was a face not meant to smile.
"I told you not to close your eyes boy. Din't I tell ya?"
Standing and dusting himself off Nurvana kept his gaze looked on the old man. He was leaning heavily on his narrow long sword, clearly winded from their sparring. Nurvana shook his head, turning away he headed off to find the priest.
He heard the old man shout behind him, "Where ya goin' young fella? Are we done?"
He ignored him.
He found Cowmaster in his chambers sitting cross legged in the middle of a series of arcane glyphs cast around the floor. The room was mostly empty save for a cannopy bed off in the far right corner and a series of tables with maps on them. With such a spartan air in such a large room Cowmast looked like a dwarf admist his glowing runes that were scrawled on the floor.
The white glow from the glyphs began to fade as he entered the room. Within a few moments Cowmaster was blinking as if waking from a dream. Leaned up against the door frame Nurvana asked, "Any luck?"
The priest shrugged, "A little. You know how this stuff is."
"And?"
Another shrug, "Pour me some wine and I'll tell you," he said, nodding to a jug and some spare cups sitting on a nearby side table.
Nurvana poured a cup for himself as well, sipping it he grimmaced, "What is this stuff?"
"Something I picked up in the last town we passed through."
Nurvana looked incredulous, "Town? The place was a hovel? Where did you even manage to get this?"
"A local farmer," Cowmaster took a sip, musing, "A little sour, but good none the less
Nurvana dumped the rest of his cup on the floor, "So what'd you find?"
"Not too much." He began pacing, across the room, using his staff as a leaning stick. Stopping to look over a map he waved Nurvana over. Nurvana looked at the map Cowmaster was studying, it was a map of the surrounding area of their current location, Stormfast Keep.
"So he's around here?"
Cowmaster chucked, "Death Hopper gave you another wack to the head didn't he? If our quarry was anywhere within a hundred miles of here, I'd know, that kind of power doesn't hide easily."
"Then why, by the gods, can't you find him?!"
Cowmaster crossed himself in the sign of the Lady of Light, "Don't curse the gods Nurv..." Eyes flicking between the map and Nurv's face he said, "I said he couldn't hide easily, I didn't say he couldn't hide. That man is good at hiding, that Deck of his even better."
"How can a clump of wood hide?"
"That clump of wood has power. Remember the last time you tried taking your card?"
Nurvana scowled as he turned away. How could he forget? It had been in this very fortress. Beseiged on all sides by a foreign enemy he would have no better chance, Wolf was sure to be preoccupied enough to leave the Deck lying around. But no...he had to make things complicated. At least I took off his hand... The thought did little to appease him though.
Ever since he had found out he was placed within the Deck of Games as the Mercenary he had wanted his card. There was just too much power to be had in that Deck. No one but the gods should know the fate of others, and no one else should control it. Despite Wolf's protests, despite Wolf's own claim to the Throne of Tragedy, Nurvana had suffered more. How else could he explain why Wolf always seemed to escape? True there was always a price, but wasn't that the pact of High House Tragedy? No victory is pure?
Was freedom so wrong? So long as he could destroy his card Nurvana would be free. He could live his life for himself, not as a puppet to some hermit who simply wanted control over the lives of mortal men and women. Wolf had sympathy from many, but, that could all be part of his plan. Nurvana shook his head. It was no good, freedom would have to wait. He turned back to Cowmaster. "So where is he?"
"Somewhere way up here," he said poiting to another map, this one detailing the lands of Nathil.
"How do you know?"
"Well...I don't, not precisely, but, I didn't bother looking for him in a direct fashion."
"Then how?"
"I looked for Moon."
That made sense. Moon was bound to have kept in touch with Wolf, and even if she hadn't, she may know where he may be hiding, the coward was always hiding. "Get the old man while I saddle the horses."
Nurvana was grinning as he went to the stables. Finally he might be able to free himself from Wolf's influences. Everyone said it was wrong for him to try and take his card, but they hadn't suffered the same losses. And was freedom to choose one's fate, or the freedom to leave it to the gods to decide, such a bad thing?
Well looks like I'm an ignored crazy old guy in this story and apparently I'm also very ugly! You did a great job and I'm intrigued. Can't wait for more. Just one thing.
Din't I tell ya?"
Is this a typo or those my character also have a strange accent?!
