Character Introductions

A Warhammer Fantasy PbP run by Barrier Peaks.
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Barrier Peaks
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Character Introductions

Post by Barrier Peaks » Fri Jun 30, 2006 8:36 pm

The last thing I'd like everyone to do is to take a few moments to introduce your characters to one another.

When this game starts, you will all have known one another for a short while, perhaps longer. What I'm looking for here is a physical description: what you look like, how you dress, how you carry yourself, what sorts of weapons you carry and/or use.

You might also consider describing the first impression that folks have upon meeting your character.

Until Sunday...

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Post by smartmonkey » Fri Jun 30, 2006 10:10 pm

Hildred is a medium-tallish younger man - no older than his middle-late twenties, though he could be much younger than that, it's hard to tell. He is balding prematurely, dark brown hair ringing a darkly tanned spot at the crown of his head. His eyes are an eerie dark purple, almost maroon eyes - he never glances, always staring intently at whatever has caught his interest, rather like a cat or predatory bird. He has a narrow, undistinguished face, which would -almost- be forgettable, but for his long, hooked nose. He usually wears a sneer on his face - not on purpose, mind you, but a knife-scar pulls his upper lip upwards on one side. He dresses in plain clothing, somewhere between rich peasent and poor merchant, with a leather jerkin and a skullcap which fails to hide his receeding hairline. His crossbow, a well used, but meticulously maintained weapon, hangs over his shoulder. At his waist, a club dangles by a leather thong from his belt. If traveling, he carries a small bag over one shoulder, with his personal effects inside. His voice is low, grating, and his speech is thoroughly laced with curses and half remembered sermons from a Sigmarite priest.
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Post by mordraine » Fri Jun 30, 2006 11:47 pm

Laurenor Fleetwing is a tall elf, standing 6'1" tall. He's on the thin side, as are most elves. His hair is long and light brown and tied in a loose ponytail most of the time. He's fair of skin and his eyes are a deep black. His face is long and thin, with a hawkish nose and high, sharp cheekbones.

His clothes and cloak are worn but serviceable, being made mostly of deep and medium green hues. The Fleetwing clan crest (a stylized black hawk taken wing on a wine-red shield) is embroidered on the left breast of his shirt. He carries with him his cherished heartwood longbow, and a sword hangs at his belt.

Personality-wise, Laurenor can be pensive and thoughtful. Though not quick to laughter, he can be jovial when the mood strikes. However, his pensive nature leads most people to assume he's haughty and stuck up (okay, they might be slightly correct in that assumption).

He's not entirely sure how he fell in with his current crowd of associates.
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Post by BlanchPrez » Sat Jul 01, 2006 5:56 pm

Vargroth Skorlokson is a broad, muscular dwarf, reaching just over 5 feet in height. He has long brown hair that is worn in a double braid down his back, and his long beard, also double braided, comes down below his waist, where it is tucked into his belt. He wears colored ribbins in his beard that indicate his clan and family. What little of his face that can be seen through the hair consists of a large, bulbous nose that happens to be crooked from being broken, and two large, expressive eyes that usually appear to be laughing at some inner joke. His mouth is rarely seen, but when he does smile, it's almost frightning, with crooked, ale stained-teeth showing. His clothing, well worn but sturdy, consist of a deep blue jerkin, breeches that are stripped blue and white in the Empire fashion, and hard leather boots, so dirty that it is impossible to tell their original color. Hanging around his belt is his everpresent metal tankard. His hads, the only real bit of skin besides his nose one can see, are a tark color, almost brown, and well calloused from hard work and labor. When on duty, he carries an axe over his shoulder, in a very comfortable mannor.


Vargroth smiled as the two humans came towards him.

"I see ye caught yerself another one," he said to the taller of the humans, called Hildred the bounty hunter, who he had worked with before. "And this one be alive. Either yer losing your touch, or yer gettin' better, I canna tell."

"Yeah," was the only word that passed through his snarled lips as he tossed his prisoner on the floor in front of the dwarf. He was a young man, not more than 17 summers, in prison for stealing. He had escaped three nights ago, and Vargroth had immedatly contacted Hildred with the standard bounty.

"Right. Well, yer bounty's in the office. Tell ye what. Me shift is up, what say I get yet reward, and then we head to the tavern for an ale. I'm buyin'."

Hildred looked the dwarf up and down as if he didn't trust the statement. "Yer buyin'? Yeah, okay."


(more coming, but I gotta go right now)
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Post by devlin1 » Sat Jul 01, 2006 11:35 pm

The first thing one notices about Baldrick Mozart is not his height, nor his clothing, but his smell. The stench of sewage and excrement precedes him as a herald precedes a Lord, announcing his presence with a flourish that cannot be ignored. And like a herald, Baldrick's odor encourages those before him to make way. Those with stronger constitutions (or those who share his social standing and consequently don't notice his stench -- or, indeed, their own) who brave the olfactory onslaught to catch sight of him are bound to be disappointed with the result. Better to have fled with the rest.

He is of average height, slightly underweight, and, if not wet, usually damp, giving him the appearance of one of the half-dozen rats that hang from the pole he carries -- proof of his rodent conquests. Competing with his bulbous nose for dominance of his face is a large wart growing from his left cheek. It's difficult to tell if his ragged clothes are meant to be dung brown or if they've simply acquired that particular sickly shade over time due to the circumstances of his profession. A sling hangs from his rope belt, as do two patched burlap pouches and a club, permanently dyed a deep rust by the blood of vermin.

Trotting beside him is Strohmian, a mangy, disagreeable mutt who sticks to Baldrick like disease to a Plague-Bearer. Strohmian is an expert at tracking down rats despite the fact that he has no nose. Some have speculated that this is why the dog is able to tolerate his master's rich aroma, or even that Strohmian himself removed it for this very reason. Whatever the case, though, Baldrick is sometimes asked how, if the dog has no nose, he smells. His answer is always the same: "Awful."

Accustomed as he is to living in the lowest strata of society, Baldrick generally assumes that anyone to whom he's speaking is his social better, and habitually inserts the address "m'lord" into his speech, just in case it's applicable.
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