Post by Akanyara on Nov 1, 2008 10:12:08 GMT -5
Your Name: Risk
Your Age: 15
Canon or Custom Character: Custom
RP Experience: 3 years and a little bit
Rules Password: killerbeesandbumbletrees
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NPC or PC: PC
Real- Life Character Name: Ithal
Ymaggion Character Name: Kartik
Alias: N/a
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Nationality: Indian Gypsy
Rank: Gamma
Specialization: Warrior
Strengths/Weaknesses: strong from his lifestyle, stubborn, hides fears well // doesn’t like to be open with people about his feelings, has frequent nightmares, left leg gives out at times
Clothing/Armor: Kartik wears a very simple ensemble of clothing and no armor. Always, a white button-up shirt is found over his torso, though only a few bottom buttons are done, leaving his muscular body exposed for the most part in front. A blue sash is found around his waist over a leather belt. On the belt is a long curved dagger with a ruby melded into the golden handle. He wears brown, soft-leather pants that fall over his black boots. Inside his left boot another, smaller dagger lies in wait of its need. He wears a golden medallion that falls in the center of his chest, and a ring on the middle finger of his right hand. On colder days, he will sometimes wear a black shirt instead and a black trench coat. Kartik also carries a large axe on his back.
Physical Appearance: Kartik is a rugged man, and it’s seen clearly. His body, thin and tall, boasts toned muscle, outlined everywhere you look by sharp shadows. He stands about six foot two, but weighs only about 125 pounds. His large eyes are a dark brown in color, but more beautiful than is imaginable. His hair, cropped close to his head, but enough left to spike up, is nearly black in color. Kartik’s hands are rough, worn with work. They are large, with long fingers and short nails. His heart-shaped face is stern, a jaw with a firm outline setting him with a very adult look, but a boyish tinge still creeps across the corners of his mouth.
Scars: One long scar down his left arm, from his shoulder to the tip of his middle finger/a small scar over his right eye/A large, thick scar on his left leg, mid calf/many on his back/a thick scar on his right hand
Personality: Kartik is very adult for his age. He takes things seriously, fights against urges that are either impure, or simply wrong altogether, and thinks a great deal about major decisions. Memories of his trials from the Rakshana do not shadow his every step, though they do haunt his dreams, but he is very careful to avoid danger if he can help it. He has a fierce compassion for those he loves, and he takes care to do the best things he can for them, even if it means never seeing them again. Kartik won’t let what happened to him happen to those people, not if he has anything to say about it.
Equipment: Two daggers, a large two-headed axe
Miscellaneous Items: Red handkerchief
Elemental Affinity: Fire
Special Abilities:
Transformations:
Techniques:
1. Death Mark
2. Fiery Assault
3. Flameball Fan
4. Flashing Sun
5. Holocaust Cloak
6. Lingering Inferno
7. Insightful Strike
8. Moment of Alacrity
Sources: projectepsilon.proboards78.com/index.cgi?board=canontech&action=display&thread=1255
projectepsilon.proboards78.com/index.cgi?board=canontech&action=display&thread=1255
Super Techniques:
1. Inferno Blade
2. Salamander Charge
3. Diamond Defense
Battle Style: Kartik doesn’t like to fight, but when he has to he much prefers a close, hand-to-hand combat style.
Companions: A large black mare, Freya.
History: Born to the gypsies of India, Ithal was raised in the forests, on the land. With the gypsy culture ground fiercely into his mind, he learned his place quickly. At around the age of 7, his family was killed, and a man took him in to raise by himself. After settling into his new life, Kartik began to wonder about what the man did. All he knew was that the pin he wore on his cloak was perhaps not a friendly symbol, and that he attended a “gentleman’s club” called the Rakshana. Following him to the club one evening, he learned of what they really were. They were an organization, fighting against something called “the Order”, trying to take back the magic from somewhere called “the Realms”. Spotted near the end of the meeting, the Rakshana decided that there was only one way to deal with the intrusion. He would have to become one of them.
And so he was initiated into the brotherhood. Brother Ithal, they called him. He was to watch over a girl, Libba, until something could be done about her. At about the age of 16 however, the tragic death of the girl’s mother sent her family off to England, and so he followed her. Finding a gypsy encampment on the ground of the academy the girl attended now was a shock to him, and he found himself shadowing her every step. Soon he appeared to her, warning the girl that she should try to cast away the visions she was experiencing. It was not long before he realized that he’d begun to fall in love with her, and soon he was aiding her despite the Rakshana’s power. He wanted her to be safe, away from him, away from the danger of the realms. Soon, she had sealed the realms, safety shrouding her from the Order and the Brotherhood. For now.
It was at that time that he entered the world of Ymaggion, to train his battle skills to defend her. She joined him as well, and in this world they could truly have each other to themselves. But when the Rakshana came after the girl again, threatening the life of her beloved Ithal, if she saw him again, he all but disappeared from her life. She wanted nothing to do with him now if it would save his life. But he came to her one night, told her of his love for her, how his fear was overcome by his desire to be with her every day of his life. He did not realize that his Brotherhood was watching over her.
They stole him away in the night, dragged him to a stone room where they chained him to the walls, beating him until he was unable to lift his head. And then the questioning began. Such torture he had never known before in his life. Information about Libba was what they wanted, about how her powers worked, how she had sealed them from the Realms. But he would not give her to them that easily. The pain of his questioning was unbearably great, and he learned to shut himself down, to let the pain become a soft pressure on his skin. He could not let her be harmed. It was knives, slowly sliding through the muscles of his leg. Blades pulled from the furnace and carved through his arm, burning and slicing through the skin and muscle. A large iron nail, sharpened to a fine point and hammered into his hand, ripped out and hammered in again.
His cries of pain became a sound that was known well in this chamber below the Rakshana’s hideout. Something that their twisted minds looked forward to in the evenings when Ithal was too tired to fight back.
And finally, salvation. Amar, the brother Ithal had loved so long, came for him. Fighting with his gypsy army, they rescued Ithal’s broken body from the place where death had whispered to him many a time. They healed him, mending the scars and open wounds, the burns and bruises. White scars against his tan skin were the only reminders of his fight for Libba’s life.
And then the nightmares began.
RP Example: Run Kartik, run for Gemma.
Kartik’s boots left heavy impressions in the dark dirt underfoot as he ran toward his beloved Gemma. They were never to be separated again. He closed his eyes as he ran through a clear streak of the path. Her face shown brightly in his mind. Her long, flowing, red hair falling over her shoulders. Her kind blue eyes looking up at him lovingly. Her mouth, a smile that he could not forget as much as he tried. She whispered his name, her eyes softening even more, fluttering shut; he could almost feels her lips upon his. And then her eyes snapped open, a scream filled his ears that he knew was hers. The world behind her lovely face turned scarlet and he let his own eyes open wide. He pushed himself harder.
Suddenly he stopped, spotting something in the distance. Something lay in the road in front of him. He walked toward it, a heavy feeling filling his stomach. He wanted to turn and run in the opposite direction, to not know what he already felt in his soul. The figure, clothed in a long white dress, a veil over her face, lay on the ground, sprawled in a most unnatural fashion. He knelt down, felt a tear fall from his eye, and then the whispered word, “No.” he said to himself, “Not my Gemma. Not you my love.” He pulled her into his arms, the dagger in her chest held firmly in his grip. He slid it from her skin, a trickle of blood running down the beauty of her wedding dress, the fabric stained with her life gone away. A final kiss, one last touch of love and affection. He drew the dagger upward, into the air above his own chest, and as he closed his eyes, he plunged it downward toward himself.
Kartik woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed. His breath ragged, his shirt clinging to him with the sweat that had broken over his skin, he still felt the horror of the nightmare upon him. A nightmare. He let himself fall back to the sheets. Rolling onto his side, he let his hand raise up to the pillow beside him and stroke the soft, beautiful skin of the woman next to him.
My Gemma.
Extra: If someone would like to create Libba, I’d be more than happy to give you the information about her. =D
Your Age: 15
Canon or Custom Character: Custom
RP Experience: 3 years and a little bit
Rules Password: killerbeesandbumbletrees
--------
NPC or PC: PC
Real- Life Character Name: Ithal
Ymaggion Character Name: Kartik
Alias: N/a
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Nationality: Indian Gypsy
Rank: Gamma
Specialization: Warrior
Strengths/Weaknesses: strong from his lifestyle, stubborn, hides fears well // doesn’t like to be open with people about his feelings, has frequent nightmares, left leg gives out at times
Clothing/Armor: Kartik wears a very simple ensemble of clothing and no armor. Always, a white button-up shirt is found over his torso, though only a few bottom buttons are done, leaving his muscular body exposed for the most part in front. A blue sash is found around his waist over a leather belt. On the belt is a long curved dagger with a ruby melded into the golden handle. He wears brown, soft-leather pants that fall over his black boots. Inside his left boot another, smaller dagger lies in wait of its need. He wears a golden medallion that falls in the center of his chest, and a ring on the middle finger of his right hand. On colder days, he will sometimes wear a black shirt instead and a black trench coat. Kartik also carries a large axe on his back.
Physical Appearance: Kartik is a rugged man, and it’s seen clearly. His body, thin and tall, boasts toned muscle, outlined everywhere you look by sharp shadows. He stands about six foot two, but weighs only about 125 pounds. His large eyes are a dark brown in color, but more beautiful than is imaginable. His hair, cropped close to his head, but enough left to spike up, is nearly black in color. Kartik’s hands are rough, worn with work. They are large, with long fingers and short nails. His heart-shaped face is stern, a jaw with a firm outline setting him with a very adult look, but a boyish tinge still creeps across the corners of his mouth.
Scars: One long scar down his left arm, from his shoulder to the tip of his middle finger/a small scar over his right eye/A large, thick scar on his left leg, mid calf/many on his back/a thick scar on his right hand
Personality: Kartik is very adult for his age. He takes things seriously, fights against urges that are either impure, or simply wrong altogether, and thinks a great deal about major decisions. Memories of his trials from the Rakshana do not shadow his every step, though they do haunt his dreams, but he is very careful to avoid danger if he can help it. He has a fierce compassion for those he loves, and he takes care to do the best things he can for them, even if it means never seeing them again. Kartik won’t let what happened to him happen to those people, not if he has anything to say about it.
Equipment: Two daggers, a large two-headed axe
Miscellaneous Items: Red handkerchief
Elemental Affinity: Fire
Special Abilities:
Transformations:
Techniques:
1. Death Mark
2. Fiery Assault
3. Flameball Fan
4. Flashing Sun
5. Holocaust Cloak
6. Lingering Inferno
7. Insightful Strike
8. Moment of Alacrity
Sources: projectepsilon.proboards78.com/index.cgi?board=canontech&action=display&thread=1255
projectepsilon.proboards78.com/index.cgi?board=canontech&action=display&thread=1255
Super Techniques:
1. Inferno Blade
2. Salamander Charge
3. Diamond Defense
Battle Style: Kartik doesn’t like to fight, but when he has to he much prefers a close, hand-to-hand combat style.
Companions: A large black mare, Freya.
History: Born to the gypsies of India, Ithal was raised in the forests, on the land. With the gypsy culture ground fiercely into his mind, he learned his place quickly. At around the age of 7, his family was killed, and a man took him in to raise by himself. After settling into his new life, Kartik began to wonder about what the man did. All he knew was that the pin he wore on his cloak was perhaps not a friendly symbol, and that he attended a “gentleman’s club” called the Rakshana. Following him to the club one evening, he learned of what they really were. They were an organization, fighting against something called “the Order”, trying to take back the magic from somewhere called “the Realms”. Spotted near the end of the meeting, the Rakshana decided that there was only one way to deal with the intrusion. He would have to become one of them.
And so he was initiated into the brotherhood. Brother Ithal, they called him. He was to watch over a girl, Libba, until something could be done about her. At about the age of 16 however, the tragic death of the girl’s mother sent her family off to England, and so he followed her. Finding a gypsy encampment on the ground of the academy the girl attended now was a shock to him, and he found himself shadowing her every step. Soon he appeared to her, warning the girl that she should try to cast away the visions she was experiencing. It was not long before he realized that he’d begun to fall in love with her, and soon he was aiding her despite the Rakshana’s power. He wanted her to be safe, away from him, away from the danger of the realms. Soon, she had sealed the realms, safety shrouding her from the Order and the Brotherhood. For now.
It was at that time that he entered the world of Ymaggion, to train his battle skills to defend her. She joined him as well, and in this world they could truly have each other to themselves. But when the Rakshana came after the girl again, threatening the life of her beloved Ithal, if she saw him again, he all but disappeared from her life. She wanted nothing to do with him now if it would save his life. But he came to her one night, told her of his love for her, how his fear was overcome by his desire to be with her every day of his life. He did not realize that his Brotherhood was watching over her.
They stole him away in the night, dragged him to a stone room where they chained him to the walls, beating him until he was unable to lift his head. And then the questioning began. Such torture he had never known before in his life. Information about Libba was what they wanted, about how her powers worked, how she had sealed them from the Realms. But he would not give her to them that easily. The pain of his questioning was unbearably great, and he learned to shut himself down, to let the pain become a soft pressure on his skin. He could not let her be harmed. It was knives, slowly sliding through the muscles of his leg. Blades pulled from the furnace and carved through his arm, burning and slicing through the skin and muscle. A large iron nail, sharpened to a fine point and hammered into his hand, ripped out and hammered in again.
His cries of pain became a sound that was known well in this chamber below the Rakshana’s hideout. Something that their twisted minds looked forward to in the evenings when Ithal was too tired to fight back.
And finally, salvation. Amar, the brother Ithal had loved so long, came for him. Fighting with his gypsy army, they rescued Ithal’s broken body from the place where death had whispered to him many a time. They healed him, mending the scars and open wounds, the burns and bruises. White scars against his tan skin were the only reminders of his fight for Libba’s life.
And then the nightmares began.
RP Example: Run Kartik, run for Gemma.
Kartik’s boots left heavy impressions in the dark dirt underfoot as he ran toward his beloved Gemma. They were never to be separated again. He closed his eyes as he ran through a clear streak of the path. Her face shown brightly in his mind. Her long, flowing, red hair falling over her shoulders. Her kind blue eyes looking up at him lovingly. Her mouth, a smile that he could not forget as much as he tried. She whispered his name, her eyes softening even more, fluttering shut; he could almost feels her lips upon his. And then her eyes snapped open, a scream filled his ears that he knew was hers. The world behind her lovely face turned scarlet and he let his own eyes open wide. He pushed himself harder.
Suddenly he stopped, spotting something in the distance. Something lay in the road in front of him. He walked toward it, a heavy feeling filling his stomach. He wanted to turn and run in the opposite direction, to not know what he already felt in his soul. The figure, clothed in a long white dress, a veil over her face, lay on the ground, sprawled in a most unnatural fashion. He knelt down, felt a tear fall from his eye, and then the whispered word, “No.” he said to himself, “Not my Gemma. Not you my love.” He pulled her into his arms, the dagger in her chest held firmly in his grip. He slid it from her skin, a trickle of blood running down the beauty of her wedding dress, the fabric stained with her life gone away. A final kiss, one last touch of love and affection. He drew the dagger upward, into the air above his own chest, and as he closed his eyes, he plunged it downward toward himself.
Kartik woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed. His breath ragged, his shirt clinging to him with the sweat that had broken over his skin, he still felt the horror of the nightmare upon him. A nightmare. He let himself fall back to the sheets. Rolling onto his side, he let his hand raise up to the pillow beside him and stroke the soft, beautiful skin of the woman next to him.
My Gemma.
Extra: If someone would like to create Libba, I’d be more than happy to give you the information about her. =D
)
