Post by steinerman on Jun 11, 2009 14:02:17 GMT -5
Your Name:Steinerman
Your Age: 18
Canon or Custom Character:Custom
RP Experience:Little-to-none
Rules Password:killerbeesandbumbletrees
--------
NPC or PC:PC
Real- Life Character Name: Michael Forester
Ymaggion Character Name: Michael Saint
Alias: The Forge Master
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Nationality: American
Rank: Gamma
Specialization: N/A
Strengths/Weaknesses:
Strengths:
Master Swordsman
Quick thinker, unlikely to be taken by surprise
Confident in his own abilities.
Highly moral, will always try to do what he deems right. Not best.
Weaknesses:
Cares for his friends. (Can lead to irrational decisions if friends are in danger.)
Persistent to the point of folly.
Highly moral. Can be counted upon to do certain things.
Cares little for his own safety.
Clothing/Armor:
Non-combat situation: In most peaceful settings, Michael’s attire is modest. He wears simple
leather sandals, worn over years of use. Rough-spun trousers of white wool, with small red crosses made of silk sewn into the knees. A rough-spun woolen overcoat, reaching a few inches past his belt-line, with golden trim and five onyx buttons, also immaculate. The only oddity in his humble attire is the heavy workman’s belt he wears across his waist, it is roughly four inches wide and made of heavy-duty leather.
Combat: Michael enters combat in the battle attire of a middle ages Templar, all of his gear can be described by one word, “Heavy”. His inner layer is comprised of nondescript, yet comfortable and breathable cotton fabric. This layer covers him from head to toe, and to the uninitiated he appears like some comic cotton snowman. The true purpose of the inner layer is to keep his skin from rubbing against the cool metal of his true armor. Over the first layer goes the steel boots and greaves, these are simple pieces of unadorned platemail.
Next come the breastplate, which is still standard platemail, though adorned with a blood-red cross emblazoned in the direct center of the chest. Connected to this are pauldrons for each of the arms, which give full protection to each appendage.
Protecting his hands, yet still allowing for free movement, are a pair of simple fingered gauntlets. His neck is protected by a standard steel gorget, while over his head goes first a chainmail coif, then a Great helm. The Great helm is simple enough, though the eye-slit and ventilation slits are fashioned into the likeness of a cross. This armor covers Michael completely, so not an inch of flesh is exposed.
There is one oddity to the armor, each and every piece has had ballistic Kevlar sewn into the reverse side, to give at least some protection versus modern weapons. It was also forged from Heaven’s Forge, thus giving it protection versus demons and other evil creatures.
Physical Appearance:
(Note: Though the player himself is 18, his character has the appearance of a man closer in age to 25, beside the slight age difference, the player and character look exactly alike)
Michael can be described as easily as his armor, though adding the word “massive” along with “heavy” may be more appropriate.
He stands at an impressive six foot three inches. A large, squarish head with chiseled features, though his sky-blue eyes shine with an inner warmth. And his small, close-lipped mouth is quick to smile, which is evidenced by the faint wrinkles around his lips. His square torso is well-muscled, as befits a man who wears full platemail in many situations. His arms as well, are well-muscled, and though his hands look large and brute-like, they are in truth quite delicate and deft.
His legs are as well-muscled as the rest of his body, added along with that is the dark tan to his Caucasian features and the blond hair cut short, he looks to some like a professional wrestler or athlete.
Personality: Michael has been enamored by the chivalrous knights of the middle ages, as such his personality in many ways is like that of a middle-ages knight. He is courteous at all times to all those he meets, even in the game, and even to NPCs. Like the idealized knights of old, he will immediately jump into any fray to protect those who can not protect themselves, he does so selflessly, with no thought for payment or thanks. He is intelligent, though by no means a genius. A cautious man, he slowly thinks his way through problems, and once a plan is made he carries it out with the utmost speed. Michael is an avid reader and student of history, and is also well-versed in military tactics, both middle-ages and, to a lesser extent, modern day military strategy. As a student of history, his personal hobby is the forging of armor, which he has become quite adept at creating.
Equipment: The heaven-forged broadsword Amoracchius.
Miscellaneous Items: Current owner of Heaven's Forge.
Elemental Affinity: N/A
Special Abilities: N/A
Transformations: N/A
Techniques: N/A
Super Techniques: N/A
Battle Style: While Michael is a fully capable battlefield commander, he is an expert judge of when to enter a battle and turn the tide with his excellent swordsmanship and superior armor. When that time is near, Michael will wade into the thickest part of a battle and seek out the most dangerous foe in that area. When on the defense, he will use his armor and sheer prowess to anchor a shieldwall or defensive formation. Though he rarely needs to, as he is more comfortable on the offense.
Companions: Jill Nimble, Joe Nimble.
History: Born to a unmarried mother in the slums of a distant city, Michael grew up far too quickly for his own good. Though his mother was hard-pressed attempting to hold a job while caring for her child, she was able to make time to teach her son a moral code, dissatisfied with the world as it was, she instead attempted to teach him about the knights in the Middle Ages. Some would say this teaching was almost too successful, Michael grew up enamored with the knights and Paladins of the Middle ages.
Despite his lowly and somewhat fantasy-filled upbringing, Michael acclimated fairly well to the real world, though his mother’s teachings led him into dozens of fights defending others from bullies and those who preyed on the weak. Even when he had accumulated literally hundreds of wounds over his school years, including over a dozen broken bones, Michael continued with his chivalrous attitude, undaunted, much to the distress of the few friends he had.
This odd pastime earned him the dubious term of troublemaker from authority figures. Even with the odd and harmful term, Michael excelled in school, a straight-A student. Some say this was the only reason for his schools allowing him to stay.
At age sixteen Michael was introduced to the gameworld of Ymaggion, which he immediately fell in love with. Now he spends all of his free time devoted to the game, his few friends think this is a mistake, and repeatedly have attempted to pull him away from it. But he stays, enamored with a player he met ingame, a woman by the name of Jill Nimble. He and Jill set out to create an order, one the likes of which Ymaggion has never seen.
Almost immediately after meeting Jill, Michael found Heaven’s Forge, a metal-working forge which produced weapons of power with which to battle demons and demonic creatures. With his skill at metalworking in real life, Michael has easily taken control of the forge and produces weapons of far superior quality than those found even with the Angels.
Michael’s mother died when he was seventeen years of age, instead of entering the foster system, Michael undertook the process to become an emancipated teenager, and has no legal guardian.
RP Example:
The Highway was a dangerous place, the strong and cruel preyed upon the weak and innocent. His vehicle had been destroyed a day earlier, and now he walked down the road, a broad shouldered man with legs clad in steel, a backpack carrying his armor hanging from one shoulder, and over his other should hung the holy blade Amoracchius .
His name was Michael, he was a Knight of the Blade, and he was on a mission. Michael glanced behind him to where the other three members of the order followed. Fresh soldiers, new to combat, he thought to himself. They had been set upon by marauders a day ago, and though dispatching the fiends, had lost their vehicle in the process. Now they trudged stolidly down the bleak highway, carried on by his cheerful demeanor and resolute determination.
The heat beat down on the group mercilessly, they were all wearing only half their armor, it being too hot to make the trek fully armored. From up ahead came the sounds of battle, and a black column of smoke to reinforce the idea. Michael knelt quickly and let the pack roll to the ground. His deft hands unclasped the bronze latches and he quickly pulled on his armor. “Forward my brothers, innocents are in danger!” He called out. Without glancing back, he started into a run.
The din of battle grew closer, the air around darker with smoke, and something darker, Michael thought. A chill fell about him as he closed with the sounds of combat. He drew Amoracchius and with a roar cleared the smoke to find what appeared to be a biker gang attacking a small convoy of travelers. The convoy was faring badly, having lost many of their guards. And a large tanker truck had been tipped over, blocking any forward movement while the bikers went about their deadly work.
Four of the bikers turned to face him, two holding long, slender knives, the third carrying a small axe. And the fourth, who was obviously a more civilized opponent, held an automatic rifle. The cries of the travelers rose from the large bus they were riding, whose door had been blockaded by the bikers. Michael nodded towards his opponents, then in a booming voice, (only slightly muffled by the great-helm he wore) “Marauders, step away from the bus, or your lives are forfeit.” The man holding the rifle sneered, “bring it on tin-can-man. I’ll put a bullet through your skull before you get halfway to me.”
Michael bowed his head and whispered a quiet prayer, “As you wish Marauder. You had your chance.” With that final word, Amoracchius burst into flame, searing the nearby area free of the black smoke and causing the nearest bikers to shield their eyes. Michael roared and charged, his feet sure of themselves, the first biker recovered in time to meet Amoracchius with his knife. The holy blade sliced through the knife as if it were paper, biting deep into the man and setting his clothing aflame.
The second man never had a chance as Michael beheaded him with a sweeping blow from Amoracchius. The rifleman raised his weapon and fired, the first shell pinged off Michael’s medieval armor, the second penetrated, but stopped cold as it hit the ballistic kevlar sewn into the inner lining of the armor. Before a third shot came, Michael was upon the man, blade flashing in burning arcs as it danced around the man, and finally came to rest in the man’s chest, a look of utmost surprise upon his face. Michael turned and face the remaining bikers, eleven in number.
They stood, eyes agape in fear and anger. With an angry hiss Amoracchius’s flame sputtered out, leaving a blade of cold steel in it’s place. Michael brought his weapon into high guard and waited, eyes watching for the slightest hint of their next action. With a sudden roar behind him, the other three members of the order arrived, fully armored as he was. Broadswords held ready.
The bikers shrank back, hands held out in pleading gestures. “Go!” Michael said calmly, “And do not let me catch you again. Or I swear it shall be your end.” The bikers nodded frantically and stumbled backwards towards their bikes.
The four knights stood like statues until the roar of the motorbikes was a fading memory. Then they unlatched their helmets and let the comparatively cool air of the highway breath into them. Not bad for a few minutes work, Michael nodded to himself, then went to help the travelers. He was a wandering knight, a wandering mercenary, a wandering paladin, but a Knight of the Blade through and through.
Extra: Much of this character is based off Jim Butcher’s Dresden file Character Michael Carpenter.
Your Age: 18
Canon or Custom Character:Custom
RP Experience:Little-to-none
Rules Password:killerbeesandbumbletrees
--------
NPC or PC:PC
Real- Life Character Name: Michael Forester
Ymaggion Character Name: Michael Saint
Alias: The Forge Master
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Nationality: American
Rank: Gamma
Specialization: N/A
Strengths/Weaknesses:
Strengths:
Master Swordsman
Quick thinker, unlikely to be taken by surprise
Confident in his own abilities.
Highly moral, will always try to do what he deems right. Not best.
Weaknesses:
Cares for his friends. (Can lead to irrational decisions if friends are in danger.)
Persistent to the point of folly.
Highly moral. Can be counted upon to do certain things.
Cares little for his own safety.
Clothing/Armor:
Non-combat situation: In most peaceful settings, Michael’s attire is modest. He wears simple
leather sandals, worn over years of use. Rough-spun trousers of white wool, with small red crosses made of silk sewn into the knees. A rough-spun woolen overcoat, reaching a few inches past his belt-line, with golden trim and five onyx buttons, also immaculate. The only oddity in his humble attire is the heavy workman’s belt he wears across his waist, it is roughly four inches wide and made of heavy-duty leather.
Combat: Michael enters combat in the battle attire of a middle ages Templar, all of his gear can be described by one word, “Heavy”. His inner layer is comprised of nondescript, yet comfortable and breathable cotton fabric. This layer covers him from head to toe, and to the uninitiated he appears like some comic cotton snowman. The true purpose of the inner layer is to keep his skin from rubbing against the cool metal of his true armor. Over the first layer goes the steel boots and greaves, these are simple pieces of unadorned platemail.
Next come the breastplate, which is still standard platemail, though adorned with a blood-red cross emblazoned in the direct center of the chest. Connected to this are pauldrons for each of the arms, which give full protection to each appendage.
Protecting his hands, yet still allowing for free movement, are a pair of simple fingered gauntlets. His neck is protected by a standard steel gorget, while over his head goes first a chainmail coif, then a Great helm. The Great helm is simple enough, though the eye-slit and ventilation slits are fashioned into the likeness of a cross. This armor covers Michael completely, so not an inch of flesh is exposed.
There is one oddity to the armor, each and every piece has had ballistic Kevlar sewn into the reverse side, to give at least some protection versus modern weapons. It was also forged from Heaven’s Forge, thus giving it protection versus demons and other evil creatures.
Physical Appearance:
(Note: Though the player himself is 18, his character has the appearance of a man closer in age to 25, beside the slight age difference, the player and character look exactly alike)
Michael can be described as easily as his armor, though adding the word “massive” along with “heavy” may be more appropriate.
He stands at an impressive six foot three inches. A large, squarish head with chiseled features, though his sky-blue eyes shine with an inner warmth. And his small, close-lipped mouth is quick to smile, which is evidenced by the faint wrinkles around his lips. His square torso is well-muscled, as befits a man who wears full platemail in many situations. His arms as well, are well-muscled, and though his hands look large and brute-like, they are in truth quite delicate and deft.
His legs are as well-muscled as the rest of his body, added along with that is the dark tan to his Caucasian features and the blond hair cut short, he looks to some like a professional wrestler or athlete.
Personality: Michael has been enamored by the chivalrous knights of the middle ages, as such his personality in many ways is like that of a middle-ages knight. He is courteous at all times to all those he meets, even in the game, and even to NPCs. Like the idealized knights of old, he will immediately jump into any fray to protect those who can not protect themselves, he does so selflessly, with no thought for payment or thanks. He is intelligent, though by no means a genius. A cautious man, he slowly thinks his way through problems, and once a plan is made he carries it out with the utmost speed. Michael is an avid reader and student of history, and is also well-versed in military tactics, both middle-ages and, to a lesser extent, modern day military strategy. As a student of history, his personal hobby is the forging of armor, which he has become quite adept at creating.
Equipment: The heaven-forged broadsword Amoracchius.
Miscellaneous Items: Current owner of Heaven's Forge.
Elemental Affinity: N/A
Special Abilities: N/A
Transformations: N/A
Techniques: N/A
Super Techniques: N/A
Battle Style: While Michael is a fully capable battlefield commander, he is an expert judge of when to enter a battle and turn the tide with his excellent swordsmanship and superior armor. When that time is near, Michael will wade into the thickest part of a battle and seek out the most dangerous foe in that area. When on the defense, he will use his armor and sheer prowess to anchor a shieldwall or defensive formation. Though he rarely needs to, as he is more comfortable on the offense.
Companions: Jill Nimble, Joe Nimble.
History: Born to a unmarried mother in the slums of a distant city, Michael grew up far too quickly for his own good. Though his mother was hard-pressed attempting to hold a job while caring for her child, she was able to make time to teach her son a moral code, dissatisfied with the world as it was, she instead attempted to teach him about the knights in the Middle Ages. Some would say this teaching was almost too successful, Michael grew up enamored with the knights and Paladins of the Middle ages.
Despite his lowly and somewhat fantasy-filled upbringing, Michael acclimated fairly well to the real world, though his mother’s teachings led him into dozens of fights defending others from bullies and those who preyed on the weak. Even when he had accumulated literally hundreds of wounds over his school years, including over a dozen broken bones, Michael continued with his chivalrous attitude, undaunted, much to the distress of the few friends he had.
This odd pastime earned him the dubious term of troublemaker from authority figures. Even with the odd and harmful term, Michael excelled in school, a straight-A student. Some say this was the only reason for his schools allowing him to stay.
At age sixteen Michael was introduced to the gameworld of Ymaggion, which he immediately fell in love with. Now he spends all of his free time devoted to the game, his few friends think this is a mistake, and repeatedly have attempted to pull him away from it. But he stays, enamored with a player he met ingame, a woman by the name of Jill Nimble. He and Jill set out to create an order, one the likes of which Ymaggion has never seen.
Almost immediately after meeting Jill, Michael found Heaven’s Forge, a metal-working forge which produced weapons of power with which to battle demons and demonic creatures. With his skill at metalworking in real life, Michael has easily taken control of the forge and produces weapons of far superior quality than those found even with the Angels.
Michael’s mother died when he was seventeen years of age, instead of entering the foster system, Michael undertook the process to become an emancipated teenager, and has no legal guardian.
RP Example:
The Highway was a dangerous place, the strong and cruel preyed upon the weak and innocent. His vehicle had been destroyed a day earlier, and now he walked down the road, a broad shouldered man with legs clad in steel, a backpack carrying his armor hanging from one shoulder, and over his other should hung the holy blade Amoracchius .
His name was Michael, he was a Knight of the Blade, and he was on a mission. Michael glanced behind him to where the other three members of the order followed. Fresh soldiers, new to combat, he thought to himself. They had been set upon by marauders a day ago, and though dispatching the fiends, had lost their vehicle in the process. Now they trudged stolidly down the bleak highway, carried on by his cheerful demeanor and resolute determination.
The heat beat down on the group mercilessly, they were all wearing only half their armor, it being too hot to make the trek fully armored. From up ahead came the sounds of battle, and a black column of smoke to reinforce the idea. Michael knelt quickly and let the pack roll to the ground. His deft hands unclasped the bronze latches and he quickly pulled on his armor. “Forward my brothers, innocents are in danger!” He called out. Without glancing back, he started into a run.
The din of battle grew closer, the air around darker with smoke, and something darker, Michael thought. A chill fell about him as he closed with the sounds of combat. He drew Amoracchius and with a roar cleared the smoke to find what appeared to be a biker gang attacking a small convoy of travelers. The convoy was faring badly, having lost many of their guards. And a large tanker truck had been tipped over, blocking any forward movement while the bikers went about their deadly work.
Four of the bikers turned to face him, two holding long, slender knives, the third carrying a small axe. And the fourth, who was obviously a more civilized opponent, held an automatic rifle. The cries of the travelers rose from the large bus they were riding, whose door had been blockaded by the bikers. Michael nodded towards his opponents, then in a booming voice, (only slightly muffled by the great-helm he wore) “Marauders, step away from the bus, or your lives are forfeit.” The man holding the rifle sneered, “bring it on tin-can-man. I’ll put a bullet through your skull before you get halfway to me.”
Michael bowed his head and whispered a quiet prayer, “As you wish Marauder. You had your chance.” With that final word, Amoracchius burst into flame, searing the nearby area free of the black smoke and causing the nearest bikers to shield their eyes. Michael roared and charged, his feet sure of themselves, the first biker recovered in time to meet Amoracchius with his knife. The holy blade sliced through the knife as if it were paper, biting deep into the man and setting his clothing aflame.
The second man never had a chance as Michael beheaded him with a sweeping blow from Amoracchius. The rifleman raised his weapon and fired, the first shell pinged off Michael’s medieval armor, the second penetrated, but stopped cold as it hit the ballistic kevlar sewn into the inner lining of the armor. Before a third shot came, Michael was upon the man, blade flashing in burning arcs as it danced around the man, and finally came to rest in the man’s chest, a look of utmost surprise upon his face. Michael turned and face the remaining bikers, eleven in number.
They stood, eyes agape in fear and anger. With an angry hiss Amoracchius’s flame sputtered out, leaving a blade of cold steel in it’s place. Michael brought his weapon into high guard and waited, eyes watching for the slightest hint of their next action. With a sudden roar behind him, the other three members of the order arrived, fully armored as he was. Broadswords held ready.
The bikers shrank back, hands held out in pleading gestures. “Go!” Michael said calmly, “And do not let me catch you again. Or I swear it shall be your end.” The bikers nodded frantically and stumbled backwards towards their bikes.
The four knights stood like statues until the roar of the motorbikes was a fading memory. Then they unlatched their helmets and let the comparatively cool air of the highway breath into them. Not bad for a few minutes work, Michael nodded to himself, then went to help the travelers. He was a wandering knight, a wandering mercenary, a wandering paladin, but a Knight of the Blade through and through.
Extra: Much of this character is based off Jim Butcher’s Dresden file Character Michael Carpenter.