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Author Topic: Briaash (Ash), Kyranian Stablehand  (Read 4837 times)
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Ash Tyr
Phoenix
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Human, Kyranian


« on: July 21, 2009, 12:46:37 PM »

Name: Briaash Tyr
Nickname: Ash
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Race: Human
Tribe: Kyranian
Occupation: Any job will do, more often than not, he's worked as a stablehand.
Title: Phoenix

Height: One palmspan shy of two peds
Weight: Two pygges
Eye color: Grey
Hair color: Reddish brown

Overview: Independent, strong, troubled, these words serve to describe Ash. He has no master save his own whims, his desire to travel, and the haunts that linger in his past.

Appearance:
Reddish brown hair falls about his face, unkempt, windswept, shimmering in the sunlight, the locks almost burning with a mind of their own. They would be his only claim to royal blood, as his eyes are dark, a smoldering, smoky grey, not the dark green of the Thromgolin line. Sun-kissed, his skin retains a tan from a young life spent sweating beneath that hot sun. His face he keeps roughly shaven, yet his cheeks cling to that shadowy stubble all the same. High cheekbones grace those cheeks, his face lean, echoing of times past when hunger was not unknown to him. His frame is equally lithe, his muscles lean, toned from years of work. The litheness of his frame is emphasized by his height, the top of his head at just one palmspan shy of two peds from the ground. Most notable are his hands, calloused and scarred, the scars a myriad of scratches crossing over his fingers, speaking of a time past, when stone and wood would not yield to his clawing attempts to escape a raging fire.

Clothing: His clothing is simple, serviceable, practical. Ash dresses for comfort and for durability, his shirts nothing more than homespun cotton in earthly hues that hang loosely on his lean frame. The front of the shirts dip in a v to reveal the beginnings of a toned chest. The sleeves for each shirt descend only partway along upper arms corded with the iron hardness of muscles used often. Brown leather breeches are his standard fare for covering his legs and hips, the leather tight-fitting, hugging his hips. Black boots climb midway up his calves, the leather worn, weathered. In the winter, he dons a simple black woolen cloak to protect himself from the elements.

Personality: Flames lick at his mind still. He will never overcome that memory; he will never outlive it. Nightmares of the night he almost died to the flames haunt his slumber and impose on his waking moments with a maddening fear of fire in the moments it grips him. Simple fires like bonfires and kitchen fires do not trouble him, he can even light them without worry. It is when a fire rages out of control that he loses all reason. His reaction can only be described as flight, as a need to escape that overrides all else.

Fire is not the only fear to lurk within his mind. Closed spaces trouble him, to the point that it feels like he cannot breathe. Ash will work inside and beneath a roof, so long as there is plenty of space, he will not be bothered by it. Yet, he absolutely refuses to sleep beneath a roof, to be closed in when he closes his eyes to sleep. An open sky above soothes him, a starry sky in particular.

Independent, hardworking, Ash has always seen to his own needs. It is not easy for him to rely on others and nearly impossible for him to ask for help. He will find his own way, no matter the blood and sweat needed to trudge his way through. It would be an understatement to call him stubborn, stone is more yielding when he sets his mind to something. A desire to travel, to explore, remains part of his stubborn pride. He does not allow himself to settle for long at any one place.

Time spent working at an inn served to grace him with some social skills, but he remains less than sociable. He listens and waits before speaking, taking time to form an opinion and even longer to add it to any given conversation. There remains one exception to his relaxed manner, women. Ash has no idea how to handle them, the slightest flirtations leave him blushing and stumbling for words. But it is their words that pose the threat, that manipulate him, that bring him to serve their desires, their whims, sometimes at the cost of his own well-being.

Hardworking though he is, Ash has stolen before. Theft remains a constant temptation to him, a way to live beyond his means, though he possesses no skill at it. The line between right and wrong, between good and evil, is one he treads daily. He will cross the law to serve his own needs, or, sadly, at the behest of a woman. Guilt has yet to trouble him; he has never been close enough to someone to warrant it.

Strengths:


- His skill with a quarterstaff is entirely self-taught, used in times past to protect the herd of cattle from predators. He can maybe defend himself against an attacker with it, maybe.

- His physical strength and endurance have been hard earned from long hours of grueling work.

- Independence courses through his blood. He has always looked after himself and is confident in his ability to survive alone. In times past, the aid of others certainly would have been a boon to him, but no matter the situation, Ash will trudge through and survive or fail on his own merits alone.

- He has worked hard in the past to feed his stomach and has no qualms about nearly any job, so long as it earns him the money he needs.

- With animals, livestock in particular, he has a rapport. Working with them is almost second nature, and he has years of experience in their care.

Weaknesses:

- Fire haunts his past, his dreams, and his waking moments. He fears it. Any out of control fire he will outright flee. Madness grips him in those moments, he does not know reason. If cornered by the flames, he becomes as dangerous, as chaotic, as any caged beast.

- He has hardly any experience with women, and did not even have a mother to raise him. Their words and any suggestions, any flirtations, manipulate him all too easily.

- It is a fine line he walks, between what is right and what is wrong. He does not possess a sense of justice, rather it is his desires he serves with any action, whether it is right by the law or not. The trouble is, he doesn't actually posses the skills to pull off a crime, to successfully steal whatever caught his eye.

- He is independent to the point that he does not know how to ask for help. Stubborn pride would make him hesitate, maybe indefinitely, even if he did.

History:
Flames. He saw them still. Burning at the edges of his vision, they sinisterly sizzled with an insatiable hunger. His hands clawed at wood and stone, his voice lost to the smoke as he silently screamed for salvation. The heat smothered him, inescapable, it pressed him against the unyielding stone. In despair, he collapsed in on himself, curled up, tears streaking his face as the fire raged around him.

He tasted blood. It flowed over his tongue as he bit down on his lower lip. His eyes fluttered to only partial wakefulness as a scream tore itself from his throat. Sweat covered his brow as he fought to wake from his fitful slumber. A single drop of rain fell to his lips, and he smiled, a smile of hope amidst the pain. His mind fled to pleasant memories as his breathing slowed and deepened, his eyes closing to accept a more peaceful slumber.


It was a hard life, a simple one, but he was content, at first. The sun rose each morning to find him already awake and hard at work. Lean muscles gleaming in the waking sunlight, he worked to chop firewood for the coming winter and to tend the cattle that were his responsibility, his livelihood. They were the only companionship he had now; the previous winter had claimed his father with a wasting sickness that simple remedies could not cure. As to his mother, she died giving him life. He would never even know the sound of her voice or the look of her face.

He knew nothing but his work and his dreams. The sky above, vast though it was, could not contain him. It was all he knew, yet he dreamed of more, of exploring the world around him, beyond the simple fields and homestead that had been his birthplace. He could not abandon the home of his father, the place built on his blood and sweat. Briaash knew one thing above all others: he would continue to work the land and honor his father.

Nature would not comply. It roared its fury one night as he lay huddled in the barn with the cattle, sheltered from the raging winds, furious rain, and booming thunderclaps. Every few minutes the sky would burn brighter than day with the flash of lightning before going dark once more. One particularly loud boom of thunder was followed by a horrendous crack only seconds before the roof of the barn crashed in. The weight of a burning, lightning-struck tree slammed down, the flames rising to spite the rain that fell inside, sizzling with each drop.

It was chaos within those four walls of wood and stone. The cattle brayed madly, it was all Briaash could do to not be trampled on as they kicked at walls and stall doors, their hooves finally smashing open the barn doors as they raced into the stormy night. The way was open, it should have been easy enough to stumble his way out of the flames and smoke, it should have been a gut reaction. Reason was lost to him, lost to the smoke that clouded his mind and filled his lungs. He could only claw at the unyielding stone, his body seeking to flee as his mind already had.

He knew nothing more after that. It was instinct alone that dragged his body across that smoke-filled room, that guided him around the flames as they licked at the air above. When he next opened his eyes, they beheld the dark clouds of the night sky, pierced only by moonlight as the rain slowed, each drop a lover's caress to his heated skin. His clothes were singed, his hair was singed, he looked the part as to what he was, the survivor of an inferno. He didn't have the energy to so much as roll over before he passed out into a fitful slumber, his mind haunted still by the flames.

Briaash awoke to ash. The barn and his past, both were reduced to mere cinders by the night's blazing fire. Little hope remained of herding the cattle together. There was nothing left for him here. He did the only thing he knew to do; he approached the house that he would never sleep in again and gathered provisions for a journey. Where he went did not matter to him, just that he put distance between himself and the fire. He armed himself with a simple quarterstaff, more of a walking stick than a weapon, used in times past to defend the herd against predators. Ash, as he thought of himself now, left his home, never to set eyes on it or the cinders ever again, save in his nightmares.

He wandered aimlessly, collapsing tiredly each night beneath a starlit sky. When his provisions were depleted, he lived off the land as best he could, just barely keeping his hunger pains at bay. There was no end to his wandering it seemed. But then, it ended. He came to a sight his eyes had never beheld before, the gates of Naios. To not enter would be to deny his curiosity, and that, he could not do. So, it was with eyes wide open that he walked a city's streets for the first time, amazed and overwhelmed by the sights, the sounds, and the smells. It was nothing like the world he knew.

He did not know how to survive here. Work was all he knew, but his kind of work could not be found within the city walls. Hunger drove him to steal, albeit clumsily, and it was not long before he was caught. Only through an innkeeper's mercy was he allowed to work for the food he had stolen, in lieu of being thrown in the city's jail. He began to enjoy his work as a stablehand and stayed on, mostly keeping to himself and the animals but learning to socialize all the same, slowly and bit by bit.

Ash should have been able to stay there indefinitely, to build a life within the city. Maybe he would have, had it not been for the innkeeper's daughter. He knew nothing of women and had no defense against the pretty girl's advances. Even then, all would've been well, but for the innkeeper finding them in the hay loft. He barely managed to grab his belongings before being chased out, still only half dressed, by the enraged innkeeper with a pitchfork. There was no hope of staying in the city, of finding honest work there again, so his wandering began anew as he sought to see more of the world, to experience it.

Weapons:
His weapon of choice is a simple quarterstaff, little more than a carved piece of wood. Yet, it is thick and has some heft behind it and extends for a length of two peds. Black leather wrapped around the middle serves as a handle.

Belongings:
He has only a few sans, some provisions, and an extra change of clothes or two to claim as belongings.
« Last Edit: December 01, 2012, 12:20:12 PM by Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin » Logged

Irid alMenie
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« Reply #1 on: July 21, 2009, 02:29:45 PM »

Hi Briaash! Very nice beginning of a character you have here, I must say. There's just one little thing I'd like to ask, and that is which city he ended up in? It's little things like that that give a character the feel that he really lives in Caelereth and not in some generic fantasy world :)
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Irid al'Menie
Ash Tyr
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Human, Kyranian


« Reply #2 on: July 22, 2009, 06:36:30 AM »

Thank you, Ma'am. That's a good point to make. The history has been edited accordingly and the rest of the character description filled in.
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Deklitch Hardin
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« Reply #3 on: July 28, 2009, 06:53:32 PM »

Hi Ash, sorry it's taken me a few days to get to your CD ... let's go shall we? I'll do my comments for you in yellow. Just so you know, Kyranians are my favourite human tribe, and know the tribe page quite well :D

Name: Briaash Any chance of a surname here? Kyranians males traditionally took their father's name as their surname. If he lives south of the Kruswik Steppe, he would still be likely to follow the traditional Kyranian ways. As he seems to be keen to honor his father, it might well be one way for him to do so.
Nickname: Ash
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Race: Human
Tribe: Kyranian
Occupation: Any job will do, more often than not, he's worked as a stablehand.
Title: Phoenix

Overview: Independent, strong, troubled, these words serve to describe Ash. He has no master save his own whims, his desire to travel, and the haunts that linger in his past.

Appearance:

Please don't forget the subheadings in here, even if you repeat these items in the Physical Appearance subheading, putting them here allows others to identify these things at a glance. :) The subheadings are
Height:

Weight:

Hair Colour:

Eye Colour:

Physical Appearance:

Reddish brown hair falls about his face, unkempt, windswept, shimmering in the sunlight, the locks almost burning with a mind of their own. They would be his only claim to royal blood, as his eyes are dark, a smoldering, smoky grey, not the dark green of the Thromgolin line. Sun-kissed, his skin retains a tan from a young life spent sweating beneath that hot sun. His face he keeps roughly shaven, yet his cheeks cling to that shadowy stubble all the same. High cheekbones grace those cheeks, his face lean, echoing of times past when hunger was not unknown to him. His frame is equally lithe, his muscles lean, toned from years of work. The litheness of his frame is emphasized by his height, the top of his head at just one palmspan shy of two peds from the ground. Most notable are his hands, calloused and scarred, the scars a myriad of scratches crossing over his fingers, speaking of a time past, when stone and wood would not yield to his clawing attempts to escape a raging fire.

That above paragraph reads well to me, not too much for me to comment on there, apart from to say I like it :D

Clothing: His clothing is simple, serviceable, practical. Ash dresses for comfort and for durability, his shirts nothing more than homespun cotton in earthly hues that hang loosely on his lean frame. The front of the shirts dip in a v to reveal the beginnings of a toned chest. Brown leather breeches are his standard fare for covering his legs and hips, the leather tight-fitting, hugging his hips. Black boots climb midway up his calves, the leather worn, weathered. In the winter, he dons a simple black woolen cloak to protect himself from the elements.

That above paragraph reads well to me again. The only question I'd have for you is, are the shirts long sleeved or short sleeved?

Personality: Flames lick at his mind still. He will never overcome that memory; he will never outlive it. Nightmares of the night he almost died to the flames haunt his slumber and impose on his waking moments with a maddening fear of fire in the moments it grips him. Simple fires like bonfires and kitchen fires do not trouble him, he can even light them without worry. It is when a fire rages out of control that he loses all reason. His reaction can only be described as flight, as a need to escape that overrides all else.

Fire is not the only fear to lurk within his mind. Closed spaces trouble him, to the point that it feels like he cannot breathe. Ash will work inside and beneath a roof, so long as there is plenty of space, he will not be bothered by it. Yet, he absolutely refuses to sleep beneath a roof, to be closed in when he closes his eyes to sleep. An open sky above soothes him, a starry sky in particular.

Independent, hardworking, Ash has always seen to his own needs. It is not easy for him to rely on others and nearly impossible for him to ask for help. He will find his own way, no matter the blood and sweat needed to trudge his way through. It would be an understatement to call him stubborn, stone is more yielding when he sets his mind to something. A desire to travel, to explore, remains part of his stubborn pride. He does not allow himself to settle for long at any one place.

Time spent working at an inn served to grace him with some social skills, but he remains less than sociable. He listens and waits before speaking, taking time to form an opinion and even longer to add it to any given conversation. There remains one exception to his relaxed manner, women. Ash has no idea how to handle them, the slightest flirtations leave him blushing and stumbling for words. But it is their words that pose the threat, that manipulate him, that bring him to serve their desires, their whims, sometimes at the cost of his own well-being.

Hardworking though he is, Ash has stolen before. Theft remains a constant temptation to him, a way to live beyond his means, though he possesses no skill at it. The line between right and wrong, between good and evil, is one he treads daily. He will cross the law to serve his own needs, or, sadly, at the behest of a woman. Guilt has yet to trouble him, he has never been close enough to someone to warrant it.

Very well written, Ash

Strengths:

- His skill with a quarterstaff is entirely self-taught, used in times past to protect the herd of cattle from predators. He can maybe defend himself against an attacker with it, maybe, but inflicting serious harm is unlikely.

- Independence courses through his blood. He has always looked after himself and is confident in his ability to survive alone.

- He has worked hard in the past to feed his stomach and has no qualms about nearly any job, so long as it earns him the money he needs.

- With animals, livestock in particular, he has a rapport. Working with them is almost second nature, and he has years of experience in their care.

Weaknesses:

- Fire haunts his past, his dreams, and his waking moments. He fears it. Any out of control fire he will outright flee. Madness grips him in those moments, he does not know reason. If cornered by the flames, he becomes as dangerous, as chaotic, as any caged beast.

- He has hardly any experience with women, and did not even have a mother to raise him. Their words and any suggestions, any flirtations, manipulate him all too easily.

- It is a fine line he walks, between what is right and what is wrong. He does not possess a sense of justice, rather it is his desires he serves with any action, whether it is right by the law or not. The trouble is, he doesn't actually posses the skills to pull off a crime, to successfully steal whatever caught his eye.

- He is independent to the point that he does not know how to ask for help. Stubborn pride would make him hesitate, maybe indefinitely, even if he did.

To me your strengths and weaknesses make sense and are balanced.

History: Flames. He saw them still. Burning at the edges of his vision, they sinisterly sizzled with an insatiable hunger. His hands clawed at wood and stone, his voice lost to the smoke as he silently screamed for salvation. The heat smothered him, inescapable, it pressed him against the unyielding stone. In despair, he collapsed in on himself, curled up, tears streaking his face as the fire raged around him.

He tasted blood. It flowed over his tongue as he bit down on his lower lip. His eyes fluttered to only partial wakefulness as a scream tore itself from his throat. Sweat covered his brow as he fought to wake from his fitful slumber. A single drop of rain fell to his lips, and he smiled, a smile of hope amidst the pain. His mind fled to pleasant memories as his breathing slowed and deepened, his eyes closing to accept a more peaceful slumber.


It was a hard life, a simple one, but he was content, at first. The sun rose each morning to find him already awake and hard at work. Lean muscles gleaming in the waking sunlight, he worked to chop firewood for the coming winter and to tend the cattle that were his responsibility, his livelihood. They were the only companionship he had now; the previous winter had claimed his father with a wasting sickness that simple remedies could not cure. As to his mother, she died giving him life. He would never even know the sound of her voice or the look of her face.

He knew nothing but his work and his dreams. The sky above, vast thought it was, could not contain him. It was all he knew, yet he dreamed of more, of exploring the world around him, beyond the simple fields and homestead that had been his birthplace. He could not abandon the home of his father, the place built on his blood and sweat. Briaash knew one thing above all others: he would continue to work the land and honor his father.

Nature would not comply. It roared its fury one night as he lay huddled in the barn with the cattle, sheltered from the raging winds, furious rain, and booming thunderclaps. Every few minutes the sky would burn brighter than day with the flash of lightning before going dark once more. One particularly loud boom of thunder was followed by a horrendous crack only seconds before the roof of the barn crashed in. The weight of a burning, lightning-struck tree slammed down, the flames rising to spite the rain that fell inside, sizzling with each drop.

It was chaos within those four walls of wood and stone. The cattle brayed madly, it was all Briaash could do to not be trampled upon as they kicked at walls and stall doors, their hooves finally smashing open the barn doors as they raced into the stormy night. The way was open, it should have been easy enough to stumble his way out of the flames and smoke, it should have been a gut reaction. Reason was lost to him, lost to the smoke that clouded his mind and filled his lungs. He could only claw at the unyielding stone, his body seeking to flee as his mind already had.

He knew nothing more after that. It was instinct alone that dragged his body across that smoke-filled room, that guided him around the flames as they licked at the air above. When he next opened his eyes, they beheld the dark clouds of the night sky, pierced only by moonlight as the rain slowed, each drop a lover's caress to his heated skin. His clothes were singed, his hair was singed, he looked the part as to what he was, a survivor of a fire. He didn't have the energy to so much as roll over before he passed out into a fitful slumber, his mind haunted still by the flames.

Briaash awoke to ash. The barn and his past, both were reduced to mere cinders by the night's blazing fire. Little hope remained of herding the cattle together. There was nothing left for him here. He did the only thing he knew to do; he approached the house that he would never sleep in again and gathered provisions for a journey. Where he went did not matter to him, just that he put distance between himself and the fire. He armed himself with a simple quarterstaff, more of a walking stick than a weapon, used in times past to defend the herd against predators. Ash, as he thought of himself now, left his home, never to set eyes on it or the cinders ever again, save in his nightmares.

He wandered aimlessly, collapsing tiredly each night beneath a starlit sky. When his provisions were depleted, he lived off the land as best he could, just barely keeping his hunger pains at bay. There was no end to his wandering it seemed. But then, it ended. He came to a sight his eyes had never beheld before, the gates of Elsreth. To not enter would be to deny his curiosity, and that, he could not do. So, it was with eyes wide open that he walked a city's streets for the first time, amazed and overwhelmed by the sights, the sounds, and the smells. It was nothing like the world he knew.

He didn't know how to survive here. Work was all he knew, but his kind of work could not be found within the city walls. Hunger drove him to steal, albeit clumsily, and it was not long before he was caught. Only through an innkeeper's mercy was he allowed to work for the food he had stolen, in lieu of being thrown in the city's jail. He began to enjoy his work as a stablehand and stayed on, mostly keeping to himself and the animals but learning to socialize all the same, slowly and bit by bit.

Ash should have been able to stay there indefinitely, to build a life within the city. Maybe he would have, had it not been for the innkeeper's daughter. He knew nothing of women and had no defense against the pretty girl's advances. Even then, all would've been well, but for the innkeeper finding them in the hay loft. He barely managed to grab his belongings before being chased out, still only half dressed, by the enraged innkeeper with a pitchfork. There was no hope of staying in the city, of finding honest work there again, so his wandering began anew as he sought to see more of the world, to experience it.

Once again, it reads well to me Ash.

Weapons:
His weapon of choice is a simple quarterstaff, little more than a carved piece of wood. Yet, it is thick and has some heft behind it and extends for a length of two peds. Black leather wrapped around the middle serves as a handle.

Belongings:
He has only a few sans, some provisions, and an extra change of clothes or two to claim as belongings.



Well Ash, not too much I can see that needs changing, just bits in your appearance section, and the consideration of whether or not you want him to have a surname. There are places where I would have an and instead of a comma, but I just put that down to a difference in writing style. :D

Well done on an enjoyable CD to read.
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Jenna Silverbirch
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« Reply #4 on: July 28, 2009, 11:46:34 PM »

I agree with Irid and Dek  : this is a great CD! Well written, balanced and interesting to read. All you need now is a surname- as he knew his parents, he would have had one, as Dek (a kyranian expert :D) points out.
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Ash Tyr
Phoenix
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Human, Kyranian


« Reply #5 on: May 14, 2011, 11:46:17 PM »

Hi Ash, sorry it's taken me a few days to get to your CD ... let's go shall we? I'll do my comments for you in yellow. Just so you know, Kyranians are my favourite human tribe, and know the tribe page quite well :D

Well Ash, not too much I can see that needs changing, just bits in your appearance section, and the consideration of whether or not you want him to have a surname. There are places where I would have an and instead of a comma, but I just put that down to a difference in writing style. :D

Well done on an enjoyable CD to read.

Only took me nearly two years to make the edits...

Edits marked in red!
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Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #6 on: May 15, 2011, 01:47:39 AM »

From your S's and W's:

Quote
- Independence courses through his blood. He has always looked after himself and is confident in his ability to survive alone.

- He has worked hard in the past to feed his stomach and has no qualms about nearly any job, so long as it earns him the money he needs.

The second of these two looks like it can just be tacked down to the first, which would be nice because you didn't relate to us much of how his independence actually affects him. So, I'd like to see you tack these together and try to inform us a little more of how the strength affects him, if that's okay.

I'll be doing the harder reading and study your personality and history pretty soon here, and will likely give you your first approval  cool
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Deklitch Hardin
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Human, Erpheronian


« Reply #7 on: May 15, 2011, 12:58:46 PM »

Personally, I think these two Strengths are different enough to warrant two seperate strengths. However, a bit more explanation on the Independence one would be nice.

Ultimately though, whether they are one or two strengths is up to you, Ash.

he went an awfully long way on foot ... it seems ... over 300 strals ... each stral is a kilometre if memory serves correctly ... no real purpose behind that comment, but just to give you an indication as to how long he must have been walking.

« Last Edit: June 03, 2011, 05:59:13 AM by Deklitch Hardin » Logged

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Leif Terskun
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« Reply #8 on: May 21, 2011, 03:33:29 PM »

Just a note - dropping in a bit late, it seems - if you''re still working on this, that I didn't see the physical strength you describe in the Appearance appear in you S+Ws.

It's a great CD, but that just bugged me a little. You could mention it in conjunction with his others, and I don't personally think it would unbalance you.

Leif
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Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #9 on: May 24, 2011, 06:50:33 AM »

Switched to the pencil icon so that everyone knows to let Briaash work on the current comments. Briaash, please color any changes you make.
« Last Edit: May 24, 2011, 10:39:52 AM by Alexandre Scriabin » Logged

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Ash Tyr
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« Reply #10 on: November 22, 2012, 08:13:07 AM »

Edits have been made!

... over a year later...  Shocked
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Shen Caz'na
Shade Scion
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Gender: Female
Posts: 63


Human, Karii


« Reply #11 on: November 26, 2012, 02:53:39 AM »

A very wonderful read Ash! Even with the addition of another strength this CD still retains a sense of balance for me.
~First Approval~
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•º•A knife at your throat another body on the pile. •º•
•º•A contract to keep and it's service with a smile.•º•
•º• Shen Caz'na's CD•º•
Alýr (Rayne)
Dreamress
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Posts: 2051



« Reply #12 on: November 30, 2012, 02:54:37 PM »

I wouldn't mind seeing something regarding your character's views on mages and other races (does he share the traditional Kyranian outlook on mages?). But it's not necessary.

Second Approval.  heart
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Ash Tyr
Phoenix
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Posts: 19


Human, Kyranian


« Reply #13 on: December 01, 2012, 04:35:56 AM »

I can't find anything in the Kyranian entry that mentions their opinion on mages.

But thank you for the approvals!
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Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
Adventurer
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Gender: Male
Posts: 7033


Human, Remusian


« Reply #14 on: December 01, 2012, 12:18:08 PM »

Since there is no colour in the CD to remove, then I shall title and archive this. :)  Congrats
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Favorite Cartoon Quotes
"It was a dark and stormy night."  - Snoopy
"Ack!" - Bill the Cat
"I did not have sex with that woman, Monica Lewinski." - President Bill Clinton

My Character can be viewed @Angelina Jolie's house.  But knock first, in case I'm in my underwear.
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