Post by MARCUS on Dec 30, 2010 2:54:20 GMT -5
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ONE WORLD DRIVEN INTO MADNESS ,
[/color][/font]ONE WORLD DRIVEN INTO MADNESS ,
madness driven by the depths below[/font][/color]
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MARCUS
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ONE LIE TELLS A THOUSAND STORIES ,[/color][/font]
the greatest stories that were ever told[/font][/color]
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[/CENTER]
FULL NAME[/color] , Let's just go with Marcus shall we? Any Fae with an ounce of intelligence knows never to reveal his true name.
NICKNAME[/color] , Marc is fine.
SPECIES[/color] , Fae, though I don't much mix with my kin.
AGE[/color] , About 250 give or take. I don't really keep track anymore.
BIRTHDAY[/color] , Honestly? Any day I can trick someone into believing it.
HEIGHT[/color] , About 6'1 - tall for my race I know.
BODY TYPE[/color] , Slim but defined, like one of your human farmboys.
ALLIANCE[/color] , I have no allegiance. Where's the fun in that?
HOMETOWN[/color] , Molavon. I wasn't born there but the city had a unique charm that I could not resist. That some of the locals decided to erect a small altar to my personage might have helped as well.
PROFESSION[/color] , Farmhand. At least, that's what I tell the locals.
SEXUALITY[/color] , I've yet to give it thought. Have yet to come across someone that impressed me enough actually.
APPEARANCE[/color] ,
(Ryan Koning)[/BLOCKQUOTE]
Let's see... For the most part, I just wear whatever I happen across in my travels. Nothing too fancy of course - I am supposed to be a farmhand - an oversized cotton shirt, a pair of leather breeches and maybe a belt if I'm feeling ambitious. I do have a pair of boots that I lug from place to place. They're harder to find in some of the smaller villages and well, call me pampered but I hate getting my feet dirty. I have no idea where humans get the ridiculous notion that we Fae like to grip our toes into the dirt to get in touch with nature, so to speak. Certainly not from me. I have the sun for that, which is why I go without a shirt on occasion. Feeling the gentle warmth upon my bare skin, now that is communing with nature!
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ONE MAN CAN PREDICT THE FUTURE ,
a future journey into outer space[/font][/color]
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SO, WHAT ARE YOU INTO?
[/li][li] Humans, surprisingly. I find them to be amusing and perplexing. It baffles me how a creature so stupid could have survived all these years. And yet, here they are.
[/li][li] Sunlight. I believe we've already covered this one.
[/li][li] Traveling. The world is much too large a place to spend your life in one spot.
[/li][li] Water. It is my element.
[/li][li] Fun and games. What Fae isn't?
[/li][li] Praise. Worship is even better but any type of homage is greatly appreciated.
[/li][li] Molavon. Well, as long as they properly maintain my altar anyway.
[/li][li] Sweets. Can't resist 'em.
[/li][li] Affection. What can I say? I'm a softy.
[/li][li] Getting my way. Pretty self-explanatory.[/blockquote]
AND WHAT DO YOU HATE?
[/li][li] Being disrespected. I know, I know - there really are no such things as local deities. But... You let me catch you mutter any such thing around the altar to my alter ego and I'll have you swearing that you were violated by a fluffy pink fire-breathing cow. Then you can decide what is more impossible.
[/li][li] Other Fae. For some reason, they always rain on my parade one way or another.
[/li][li] Having to get even. Messy, messy affairs really - I hate getting my hands dirty. Figuratively speaking. I'd rather stick to my fun and games. ...Doesn't mean I won't follow through though.
[/li][li] Screwing up. Yeah, I'm not much a fan of the odd occasions where I do mess up one of my little schemes.
[/li][li] Whining. Really now people; you can be more creative than that.
[/li][li] Dogs. Some of the filthy things can sniff out what I am. Inconvenient little buggers.
[/li][li] When people mess with my worshipers. Like I said, softy.
[/li][li] Dragons. Ornery things they are. Especially that lot with the human partners. Think they own them or something.
[/li][li] Dumb people. You'd be surprised how hard it is to fool the stupid.
[/li][li] Not getting my way... The logical conclusion.[/blockquote]
OKAY... WELL, WHAT ARE YOUR GOALS?
[/li][li] Having Fun.
[/li][li] Upping my following.
[/li][li] Having some more fun.
Not really motivated, am I?[/blockquote]
GOOD LUCK, THEN. WHAT ARE YOUR FEARS?
[/li][li] Getting dragged back to that awful island with all the other kiss-ups. I left for a reason.
[/li][li] That the humans end up killing each other in their stupidity and I won't have anymore playthings to toy with.
[/li][li] Losing my magic. Again, pretty self-explanatory. Ugh, just the idea of having to root through the soil like a human...[/blockquote]
YIKES. NOW, LIST TEN CHARACTERISTICS THAT DESCRIBE YOURSELF.
[/li][li] Magnificent
[/li][li] Awe-inspiring
[/li][li] Witty
[/li][li] Benevolent
[/li][li] Fun
[/li][li] Funny
[/li][li] Carefree
[/li][li] Easygoing
[/li][li] Handsome
[/li][li] Modest...[/BLOCKQUOTE]
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ONE WORD BREAKS THE CODE OF SILENCE ,
[/color][/font]ONE WORD BREAKS THE CODE OF SILENCE ,
silence tells me all i need to know[/font][/color]
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NOW WE'RE GETTING NOSY. TELL ME ABOUT YOUR FAMILY.
What family? I don't have any. The Fae? I've forsworn them all. Only thing close would be my devotees... Maybe someday?
SOUNDS INTERESTING. OKAY. NOW, JUST TELL ME EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR PAST.
Where to begin? Well, obviously not the beginning - that part is tragically boring. All you need to know is that, yes, there is a magical island full of faeries and that, yes, I willingly ditched the place as soon as my wings could carry me. It wasn't the most fun few years of my life afterward but I managed. Learned quite a lot actually. Instead of wasting my time chasing rodents and bugs through the woods like the idiots I left behind, I spent my days exploring the vast expanse of my new home.
Nothing of note happened over the next few decades. Practiced my magic. Survived. It was during this time though that I encountered humans for the first time. The very first was a child, a little girl of about eight who wandered into the woods to pick mushrooms. I watched her for a few hours but soon got bored as I was still observing the rule of no contact at that point. I would not break it until I met my namesake some years later.
Marcus was... stupid. I know the attribute is typical of human children but he was particularly so. Without his mother about, he could hardly tell the difference between dirt and food. Thus I felt it was safe to reveal myself. I was wrong. It was on this occasion that I learned, much to my own chagrin, that the dumb are amongst the hardest to fool. They think in ways no person with any ounce of intellect would and get caught up in minor details. Marcus, consequently, did not believe my lies and stories. Despite his shortcomings, the kid proved very useful to me, if only as a reminder of my own limitations. It was for this reason - and, probably, sheer convenience - that I adopted his name. Just in case I ever think to get too full of myself again.
My new alias emboldened me. After making sure that no one had believed his stories of the little winged man in the woods, I left Marcus to his own devices and continued on my own journey - as a human. It was a thrilling experiment for me. After observing them for so many years, the chance to put that knowledge to work had finally come. I proved to be a natural at it, of course and settled upon my current guise quite soon after.
Everywhere that Marcus, the itinerant farmhand went, good fortune and chaos followed. It all just hinged on whether or not the townsfolk showed me hospitality. A simple little game really: I'd ask for a bite to eat and a place to rest. The reaction I received determined my response in turn. A flatout denial usually resulted in pretty intense flooding, begrudging accommodation in slight drought. Where I was received warmly though, I would ensure that only the adequate amount of rain fell until the end of the harvest.
It was during one of these little adventures, obviously, that I first gathered my flock. A strange little story to be sure and I really had no intention of doing it. It just... happened. About a hundred and fifty years ago, as I was making my rounds through Thivea for the year, I encountered a gaggle of old matrons out by a thin brook in the woods outside Molavon. Their sobbing - wailing - had attracted me and after going through the customary introductions, the women revealed the source of their grief. The region was experiencing an unusually severe drought and consequently, the army had requisitioned away most of the city's water for the soldiers in the north fighting on the front line. What little remained was barely enough for their children let alone themselves, their animals or their crops. They couldn't, however, stop sending water to the front lines either because many also had sons serving in the army. And yet, despite all this, they still offered me a drink.
That's when inspiration hit. I told the women that they should try praying to the god of the brook, that a sorcerer once told me woodland deities could be persuaded to give aid if an altar was erected in their honor and sacrifices were offered upon it. Surprisingly, they all decided to follow my advice, desperation probably divorcing them from the reservations their old religion might have mandated.
Upon the night of my altar's completion, I went and gathered as much water from nearby provinces as I could and unleashed it all as a gentle rain, filling the brook once again. The townsfolk declared it a miracle in the morning and offered yet another round of sacrifices. I ended up being so touched that I stayed for the next few years, until the drought naturally ended. The time, of course, later became remembered as a golden age for Molavon. Where the surrounding countryside was dry and barren, the immediate vicinity of the city remained lush thanks to its new, mysterious patron. As a result, it drew those of means from all over. Anyone with the money to move into the city did so, bringing their skills with them. This is how my Molavon was transformed into the cultural hub it is today.
I still visit at least once a year, to make sure that my followers have the water they need and, more importantly, to make certain that they remain devoted. Most of my time, however, is still spent traveling the land. I figure I might as well see all that I can before the coming war wipes it all away.
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ONE WORD, ONE WORD ,
[/color][/font]ONE WORD, ONE WORD ,
tells me everything i need to know[/font][/color]
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TELL US ABOUT YOUR EQUIPMENT.
Don't have any.
WHAT SPELLS DO YOU KNOW?
Spells? Hah. I don't need any spells. Those human sorcerers only wish they could do what comes to me naturally. But anyhow, like I said before, my element is water. I can sense any nearby sources and tap into them once I'm within a distance of ten feet. I can also draw it from the sky. This is a specialty of mine. I bring forth the rain if the humans pray to me enough. What do you think that altar is for? Anyhow, I've been playing with water now for over two centuries. I'm pretty sure I've gotten all the kinks out. It's been awhile since I've used my magic on a large scale though - too tiring. Plus, the occasion doesn't often come up. Not like I've decided to fight the humans' wars for them. What do I look like, a dragon?
THE SKILL CHART.
| Strength | Defense | Intelligence | Magic | Stamina | Speed | Medical | Total |
08 | 08 | 09 | 09 | 08 | 05 | 00 | 47 |
FINALLY, AT THE END! MY NAME IS DAVE
THIS APPLICATION HAS BEEN CREATED BY ANDREA FOR
THE RIDERS OF VALI. DON'T TAKE, OR I'LL EAT YOU.[/center][/size]
