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NecroPaladin

NecroPaladin's Puppet Collection

POLL IDEA SHAMELESSLY RIPPED FROM MS E'S PROFILE



THE COLLECTION:

TOWN:

Greater Characters

1. Namesake
2. Clergyman State
3. Revenant

Lesser Characters

4. Malleo A. Quatis
5. Morbius E. Quatis
6. Deckard Dark and Dexter Darkling
7. District
8. Barus Caine
9. Edward Redd
10. Red-Cap Rose and The Iron Woodsman

Least Characters


KNAVES
Arrives (The Angel of the Scale, although he's more of a lesser character)
Shadow Arrives
Captain Orwell
Chief Armiger Hermann

THE NOOK AND CRANNY
Mathias
Haull
Mister Looms

MODERN TOWN

Greater Characters

Chuck McNormalGuy
Father State (Town's Clergyman State)

Lesser Characters

Rich

Least Characters

The Office Zombies
NecroPaladin

NAMESAKE (Old Version)
Spoiler:

Name: Namesake the Necropaladin (as in, Namesake IS his name)
Race: Was human 85 years ago
Class: Paladin 10/Sacred Purifier 5 (LM)
Alignment: Lawful Good, but to the most extreme and literalistic defenitions.
Temperament: Xenophobic, cold, and tactical. Utterly lacking in social skills or the ability to read between the lines. It also probably doesn't help improve him because generally people don't tell you that you're offending them if you have a mouth like a meat grinder and a voice as cold as a blizzard. Will sometimes baby-talk his Paladin Mount, an overgrown crocodile named "JJ (Short for 'Judge and Jury.' Namesake himself is the 'Executioner')." It is quite disturbing to watch him do this.
Age: 112 (Died at 27)
Height: 5’10 1/2
Weight: 158 lbs. (Weighed more in life)
Hair Color: None, save for a few bleached strands.
Eye Color: Sockets filled with red light, white when angry.
Talks: With the chill of the grave. Always bluntly states the obvious but still has the flair of experience in his vocabulary. Has a bit of a slur to his speech due to the fact that it’s been a good 70 years since he’s had lips. His jaw is partially unnatached, and every other sentence he has to pause to let it set itself back in place.
Equipment: Mithril Chainmail, and an unworked Holy Greatclub which will be used until it snaps, upon which another club will be consecrated. Enchanted Hood; it completely blacks out his face when in human society. (Hood is currently burned to a crisp and not functional)

[Description]
The man who passes by is slightly disproportionate, as though he were missing some parts of his body. He is covered head to toe in religious garb, with a tabard on his chest, velvet gloves, cast-iron boots, underlying chainmail, and an ominous curved hood. He carries a stick that seems much too big for him, but more disturbing is the fact that he carries it in a manner that would suggest he cannot feel the pain and stress that it causes to his muscles. The only bit of skin you can see through his vestments is gruesome enough that you would rather not see the rest: his jaw has been utterly skinned, leaving a bare rictus of menacing teeth and red muscle. His mouth twitches slightly as he glances (or at least you think he glances) at you. He is followed by a massive blue-tinted crocodile, which seems wary of all that is around it in the same way that he seems detached.


[Backstory]
Namesake supposes that he was once a Paladin. In much the same way that he supposes he was once human, and that he once could remember better. Humans aren’t built to exist for more than a century, so he has to suppose things instead of remembering them. Not that there’s much to remember in this accursed world. Among the rare things that Namesake remembers there is nothing pleasant. There was his body before and now, and his mind; every vestigial, useless organ of his frame a reminder of his former glory. He remembers his anger at how he would be cheated out of a true knight’s death, and he remembers the lengths that he went to in order to return himself to death. Although he fights the fiends, and fights the vile bandits, he has always had a penchant for the Necromancers. They are his…special interest. Namesake has an alter ego/body double named [COLOR="DarkRed"]Clergyman State[/COLOR]. State is a blackguard who is effectively what would happen if Namesake's xenophobic views and homicidal urges went unchecked.

[Common Knowledge]
-Namesake should be called Humors' sake. He doesn't have any.
-Namesake is in the Town due to an Inquisition. He has come to confront the “deplorable wretches who might so find shelter in this place.” Not really a get-along type.
-Creepy guy, although not immediately seen as undead. If questioned repeatedly he will pass off his appearance as a deformed man or a leper.
-Is accompanied by a hideous crocodile and, some say, a small, black rabbit.
-Namesake was “born” in an obscure offshoot of the negative energy plane. He left there long ago and does not talk about his experiences there.

[Ongoing Storyline]
Necromancer Hunting with the help of Sir Olbrecht. See "Hangman Hill."
Namesake HATES Ruin, the wing of Maph'tey, with a firey passion and has tried to murder it or get someone else to do so multiple times. Their spat shows no sign of stopping.



NAMESAKE (New Version)

Name: Namesake
Race: Was human 85 years ago. Currently, an animate wood carving.
Class: Paladin 10/Sacred Purifier 5/Gray Guard 5 (LM)
Alignment: Lawful Good, but to the most extreme and literalistic defenitions.
Temperament: Xenophobic, cold, and tactical. Utterly lacking in social skills or the ability to read between the lines. It also probably doesn't help improve him because generally people don't tell you that you're offending them if you have a mouth like a meat grinder and a voice as cold as a blizzard.
Age: 112 (Died at 27)
Height: 5’10 1/2
Weight: 60 lbs. He's made of wood.
Hair Color: None, save a green leaf or two.
Eye Color: Empty brown holes, can glow red.
Talks: With the chill of the grave. Always bluntly states the obvious but still has the flair of experience in his vocabulary. Has a bit of a slur to his speech due to the fact that it’s been a good 70 years since he’s had lips.
Equipment: An unworked Holy Greatclub (shillelagh!) which will be used until it snaps, upon which another club will be consecrated.

[Description]
The man who passes by is best described as a full-size wood carving of a skeleton. Nothing else seems to fit him. He carries a massive club over his shoulder, like the branch of a tree, and his mouth bristles with thorns. Despite the feeling that he shouldn't be able to move, he walks in a stiff, goose-stepping manner. He wears simple peasant clothes over the knotted, wrenched wood beneath, and his twisted visage carries an unpleasant, if not hostile, scowl.


[Backstory]
Too long has Namesake the Necropaladin gone on a false fate, cheated in his view of life and death. An undead who vowed revenge against all necromancers for what they'd done to him, this misguided [aladin did not know that he himself was a necromancer before he died. His horrid alter ego, Clergyman State, fought with him until, in death, they split. State's ghost still runs KNAVES, but Namesake rose again as a man of wood to face another danger facing the Town: Father Lues.

[Common Knowledge]
-Namesake should be called Humors' sake. He doesn't have any.
-Namesake came to the Town as part of an inquistion, but has since dropped his fanaticism and pursues combating evil in the classic way.
-Namesake was “born” in an obscure offshoot of the negative energy plane. He left there long ago and does not talk about his experiences there.
-He's...made of wood.

[Ongoing Storyline]
Reunited with an old friend
Namesake regrows
NecroPaladin

CLERGYMAN STATE:

Name: Lyandis Strewen Alemnon in the past, Clergyman State now
Race: Was human 85 years ago
Class: Ex-Paladin Blackguard 10/Ex-Paladin Corrupt Avenger 5/Dread Necromancer 5
Alignment: Lawful Evil, in terms of an evil obsession with law.
Temperament: Bitter. He is less inept at social situations than Namesake, and thus is able to act the diplomat when need be. He is very, very, very commanding.
Age: 112 (Died at 27)
Height: Variable/7'00 in robot body.
Weight: None/immensely heavy in robot body.
Hair Color: None, save for a few bleached strands.
Eye Color: Sockets filled with white light, jet black when angry.
Talks: As he did in life. He was a nobleman once, and it shows. He has a little bit of a boom, despite his voice not being excessively deep.
Equipment: Full uniform, with an enchanted mask to hide his undead nature (except for his jaw, oddly) and a very nasty unholy axiomatic baton.
[Description]
The man before you marches by in a very stately, if a bit evil-looking, manner. He wears an officer's cap, spiked as in the military of old. His head is wrapped save a pure gold mask that covers his forehead, cheeks, and nose, a hideous, undead lower jaw, and sunken, empty eyes. He wears a clergyman's collar with military epaulets, fully armored arms, red pantaloons, and iron-tipped military boots. Most noticeable is his coat, a double-breasted affair which stretches down to form a medieval tabard in the front and two coattails in the back. He carries the image of a scale on his chest and his helm.
[Backstory]
Clergyman State is the lingering taint of the Angel of the Scale left in its original host, Namesake. As such, State has his own memories and feelings, but is not whole enough to truly possess a soul.
[Common Knowledge]
State should have died, but here he stands. He's a ghost.
[Ongoing Storyline]
To be edited...

"State will make you listen to this text."
NecroPaladin

REVENANT:

Name: Revenant, alternatively "Rev'nante" or "Revenante." Previously Maph'tey, or State depending on how you look at it.
Race: Divine Undead
Class: Knight, All-purpose divine being
Alignment: Lawful Good, less out of devotion to the law than that he feels comfortable in a regimented lifestyle.
Temperament: Awkward. He's a man in a monster's body, and gets very self-conscious.
Age: None...there are so many ways to define this, although ultimately his maturity level echoes that of 20-something.
Height: 6'0 (He stands perfectly upright, and thus has an inch on Maph'tey)
Weight: 140 lbs. (He's inherited a little bit of a musclebound physique from Namesake, to counter out Maph'tey's entirely frail figure)
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Sockets, jet black
Talks: Stutters and blusters, although he gets over it. He has a voice that one could define as clearly masculine, but it's often cut off by his incessant whining, yelps of surprise, etc.
[Description]
This man looks like a handsome boy in his early 20's...were it not for a few key differences. The most clear and glaring is that he has no eyes. He simply has empty sockets where his eyes should be, and somehow manages to be just as expressive as if he did have eyes. That aside, the next thing to point out is his skin, which is quite literally as white as bleach. The third major difference are the scars. He has a number of scars running all over his body, the three most prominent being a horizontal line running directly off the edges of his mouth, a vertical scar running up his left cheek, and a curved one that slits his nose on the right side. As if to counter this, and to make his appearance more human, he has simple, short brown hair, and wears a rather nondescript outfit. One wonders what he'd look like in something more extravagant...
[Backstory]
(Under Construction)
[Common Knowledge]
-Romantically entangled with Irisa de Ricciolino, although he gets all blushy and sputtery if you mention that.
-Son of Clergyman State/Namesake, brother of Alastor
[Ongoing Storyline]
Revenant is the ideal bodyguard. Or was, before he betrayed Clergyman State. The Angel of the Scale is not an angel at all, but an undead creature made out of Maph'tey's corpse, left over from the April Fools' Day Bombing. Revenant broke off from State with a shock, fighting his living self and two KNAVES operatives after greivously wounding his creator. Revenant was at a loss as to how he should act, as his personality was caught between State's evil and Maph'tey's good. Although the possessing force, the Angel, took control for a short while, Irisa de Ricciolino and Namesake came to save the day. He left his father in jail, but he and Irisa have since become romantically involved. Not that he'd admit that. As of recently, Revenant has faced a number of troubling ordeals, not limited to the return of the Angel of the Scale in the body of a diplomat and the 'birth' of Revenant's loving brother, Alastor. The two perished in combat with one another, leaving Revenant and Iris alone once more until the triumphant return of Revenant's leading father-figure, Namesake. Namesake moved himself in with them, for better or for worse, although likely spends little time indoors for the sake of their privacy.
NecroPaladin

MALLEO A. QUATIS OR "MALLEO THE MAD":

Name: Malleo A. Quatis
Race: Human
Class: Expert, with a little bit of rogue for the fights and the sneaking things into people's drinks.
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (Psst! Don't tell KNAVES!)
Temperament: Malleo cares for no one but his experiments. He is ecstatic when he meets you only because he's imagining how you'd react to a blast of knockout gas in the face. He's optimistic, clownish, and very, very, very annoying.
Age: 23
Height: 5’6
Weight: 145 lbs.
Hair Color: Bright flourescent neon pink.
Eye Color: Pink as well, but no one ever sees through the goggles.
Talks: Very very loudly, except when he takes down notes. High-pitched and foppish. He has a slight Italian accent. Very, very, very slight.
Equipment: Chemicals strapped all over his body, which he loads into a gun-arm.

[Description]
FROM KNAVES:

A young man dressed in a labcoat stands at the gate. One of his arms is that of a construct, and appears to have a revolving barrel built into it. Inside the revolving barrel, as well as various places all around his person, are test tubes and vials of a strong-looking crystal, filled with odd liquids of every color imaginable. One cannot help but notice that the test tubes have been made, more or less, into the shapes of bullets.

The goggled man grins as the gate begins to churn open, revealing that all but his canines and incisors are artificial, hollow and filled with various liquids. He looks to be in his mid 20's, eager and quite sinister looking despite a head of spiky pink hair, streaked with black (the effect of one botched experiment).

[Backstory]
Will add later.

[Common Knowledge]
-This man prides himself on testing various dangerous substances on people. Be wary.
-The inventor of Alchemical Bullets

[Ongoing Storyline]
Avoiding getting killed by Affadavit.
NecroPaladin

DECKARD AND DEXTER:
PIC BY WUKEI

Name: Deckard Dark and Dexter Darkling
Race: Human and adorable cloth doll.
Class: Scout/Fighter/Tempest and Ragamoffyn/Spellthief
Alignment: True Neutral and Chaotic Neutral
Temperament: Deckard is blunt. Very blunt. He says what has to be said, and not much else, even though he has a penchant for small talk. The best way to describe him is that he likes to talk, but he just isn't a very remarkable speaker. Dexter, meanwhile, loves to yell and rant, and is quite articulate despite his childlike manner of speaking. He can be quite crude and annoying sometimes, but his cuteness makes up for it.
Age: 28 and ???
Height: 5'11 and 1'1
Weight: 162 lbs and 5 lbs.
Hair Color: Greenish Yellow mohawk, combed over onto the side of his head. Dexter has modeled his fake, string hair in a similar style.
Eye Color: Jet black, with yellow irises. Dexter has buttons for eyes.
Talks: Deckard is always a tiny bit muffled beneath his scarf, but still easily understandable. He has a rather nondescript voice, the only interesting feature being that no matter what his emotion, he tends to keep a monotone. Dexter's voice is high and screeching, and he giggles a lot in a wicked-witch manner.
Equipment: Two huge butcher knives, and a series of blades concealed all over his body. Dexter wields a bejeweled shish kabob skewer gained from a random encounter here (it carries the magical ability to cook and shrink anything it kills down to prawn size), but his main weapon is his magic, which is drawn from some unknown source within Deckard.

[Description]
From "The Swamp:"

A man [<---pic] steps through the brush, whipping two massive butcher's knives back into place, parallel down his back. He is skinny and lanky, and wears loose, dark robes and a flowing coat over what appears to be red-and-white striped stockings and a shirt colored likewise. He wears heavy leather boots and gloves, almost too big for him. He wears a heavy scarf that covers his face from the nose down, obscuring his mouth. He is bald save what appears to be a yellowish-greenish mohawk combed over to one side of his head. He wears earrings and his eyes are the most striking-his irises are yellow, in the midst of the rest of his eyes, which are black.

A cute, button-eyed doll built in a likeness of him rides papoose-style on his back, holding on to his scarf for support.

[Backstory]
I'll put in more later, but here goes. Deckard was a fairly small-time mercenary, taking rather unprofitable and unremarkable jobs. His luck changed when he got the job to take on the evil archmage...changed for the worse, that is. He and his entire team were wiped out. His only remarkable achievement in life? He had been the last casualty. Dying, he was approached by a small magical construct that had sprung up in the wizard's lab. A free-floating wad of cloth, this being supposedly had the ability to bring him back...But he had to be partners with this creature, to help it escape in return. In other words, he signed over his soul. The creature wrapped itself around him and his body sprung back up, to strike down the mage when he least expected it. The strange cloth being stole a number of spellbook pages and other magical implements, and then commanded the mercenary: make me a body of my own. Complying to his new master's whims, Deckard sewed the cloth into a doll, one built in his likeness out of some ironic humor. The thing asked him for a name and, seeing the creature that had saved him like a brother or son, he named it "Dexter Darkling," or just "Dex." The creature now incorporates itself into Deckard's clothes, and uses him to channel its spell-grabbing ability. Although once he was afraid, Deckard and Dexter are friends despite the soul contract, and often bicker with each other in public to date.

[Common Knowledge]
-Almost nothing. He's mysterious.

[Ongoing Storyline]
-Job hunting.

[DEXTER POWER TALLY]
-Heal (always had)
-Harm (always had)
-Summon flaming ash weapons (Dante)
-Breathe fire (Dante)
-Acidic horseradish projectile vomit (animate horseradish)
-Summon Aether Constructs (Maph'tey)
-Negative Energy Missile (Destro)
-Popguns that shoot real bullets (Joseph the Vampire Hunter)
-Summon Banjo (Raril)
-Frightful Appearance (a mummy)
-Ability to assume the appearance of any of his previous victims, albeit with button eyes (The Rod of Eh?)
NecroPaladin

DOCTOR MORBIUS E. QUATIS:
PIC BY WUKEI

Name: Morbius E. Quatis
Race: Human
Class: Doctor, if that's a class. He has experience as a combat medic.
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Temperament: Polite. He's struck by the Quatis family madness, and as such has developed a shock collar that keeps him in line whenever he isn't a pleasant, orderly man.
Age: 25
Height: 5’9
Weight: 150 lbs. (He wears a metal breastplate all the time)
Hair Color: Pale blonde.
Eye Color: Yellow. Yes, yellow.
Talks: Eccentric. He's very eager to show off his work in any situation. Unlike Malleo, however, he dislikes trying new things; it's always the shock therapy.
Equipment: Lots of electrodes, his shock collar, prosthetic nose (he lost it when attempting to comfort an armed and insane man years ago), and metal cane.[Description]

The man is blond-haired and pale-skinned, and fairly young. He has a thin face that carries a wide, smiling mouth, and the rest of his face is obscured by thick goggles and a metal nose (one can't be sure whether it is a prosthetic or simply a covering). He bears some similarity to the chemist Malleo the Mad...perhaps they are related. He is dressed in some manner of combination between a military coat, a labcoat, a simple suit, and even more simple commoner clothes, which ultimately means a large, button-up blue coat with patchwork yellow and blue pants below. His belt has an ornamental swirl in the center of the buckle, and looks rather thick. He wears white gloves and black boots, similar to a military medic's in style. He is average height, but a lanky physique causes him to look taller than he actually is.

Most striking about him, however, are his neck and cane. He wears a thick breastplate over his coat that ends in a wide collar that somehow seems tight-fitting, studded with sparking electrodes. His neck is not visible; the contraption seems to envelop him from shoulders to chin. In a similar electric motif, his cane is made entirely of metal (save the rubber ends) and an open spot in the center reveals a buzzing current running down it.

[Backstory]
FROM MORBID TOWERS:
Since his childhood, Morbius has been afflicted with the recessive genetic madness possessed by all members of the Quatis bloodline; his cousin Malleo is a prime example of this. However, with this madness came genius. While his cousin became a chemist, he studied electricity. And he beat his madness, regulating it all into the simple collar he wears around his neck; the same one that provides much of his rather shocking powers.

[Common Knowledge]
-Cousin of Malleo A. Quatis
-Policeman
[Ongoing Storyline]
Morbius E. Quatis came to town shortly after developing his shocking cure for his own insanity, adamant on establishing an insane asylum dedicated to his life's work. Due to the negative perception of the insanity plea in the legal system, he decided to go to work as a civil servant; namely, a police officer. After a number of misadventures involving getting captured by the Fourth Empire and crashing a flying magnet, he came across a case of a police officer supposedly abducted by The Many, odd bug-like creatures. The police officer, a young woman from another world named Phoenix, was the most immediately sociable police officer to him, and so he took an immediate liking to her. In a botched attempt to raid the Many's hive, failed because of a faulty chemical supplied by Malleo, Phoenix was captured and Morbius enlisted his cousin's help to rescue her. Little did he know that she was already safe, although she brought to him another problem...a man from her past named Gethin. It was after she was fired from the police force for endangering other officers that Morbius spent a night with her...and promptly met Gethin at the barrel of a gun. A rather traumatic ordeal later, he threw caution to the wind and kissed her. The business with Gethin continued, until Morbius decided to pay the ultimate price...He renounced his studies and work in science, and allowed Gethin to kill him to motivate Phoenix into killing Gethin. Morbius had designed a failsafe, however, and is alive once more, working in a partnership with Phoenix by day and spending the nights in a lakeside cabin with her.
NecroPaladin

DISTRICT:

District is the unholy love-child of a night of drinking for Tom (The Geomancer) and Clergyman State's magical attempt to communicate with him, basically to order him around. District is a malleable, four-inch tall (although his height varies) State, with a head that takes up about a third of his body. He tap dances every waking moment without end, and flashes in and out of reality regularly, usually only visible to the inebriated. He has a magical ability to change his wardrobe, which is mostly fluff until we get to the hats. He can generate hats (all sized for him) at will, and they are quite corporeal. He will often nag K.N.A.V.E.S members by tossing his adorable headgear at them. His favorite projectile to date is the sombrero, of which he has many nonfatal but annoying variations. He speaks in the same wording as State, but sounds like a chipmunk.
NecroPaladin

Name: Barus Caine
Race: Human
Class: Slaver
Alignment: Neutral Evil, motivated almost entirely by profit.
Temperament: Cold. Once he's found someone he can sell, he'll find any excuse to buy them...or get his hands on them in any other way.
Age: Late 30s
Height: 6'2
Weight: 201 lbs.
Hair Color: None (Bald)
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Talks: Slowly, in a deep voice.
[Description]
This is a huge man, tall and, even more noticeably, wide. He bulges with muscle to the point of seeming inhuman, and has long passed the level of toning that might be eye-pleasing. Aside from a shaved head, his body is hairy, giving the backs of his arms and knuckles, and his chin, an almost simian or wolfish appearance. He wears tough-looking leather pants, heavy, buckled boots, and a sleeveless leather jerkin-type vestment. He has a scarlet cloak, drawn back behind him as he is not bothering to be inconspicuous. One hand, garbed in a studded leather glove, carries a cracking whip. He seems to tense his hand around the whip, clearly aiming to give someone a debilitating punch. The other hand is much more terrifying, consisting of full, jagged armor and a wicked-looking set of spiked manacles that seem almost incorporated within. The ends of these manacles float and hover about his arm, seemingly animate. One would think that when this hand reaches for you, you'd best run.

[Backstory]
(Under Construction)
[Common Knowledge]
-This man is notoriously involved in humanoid trafficking, selling them to all less-than-savory sources who will buy them.
NecroPaladin

[MODERN]

Name: Chuck McNormalGuy
Race: Above Human
Class: Action Hero
Alignment: Chaotic Good. He's the criminal-with-a-heart-of-gold-type, although sometimes he resembles other cliches.
Temperament: Badass. It's like he doesn't have emotions, just pure, undiluted manliness.
Age:28
Height: 6'0 exactly
Weight: 180 lbs. of solid muscle
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Blue
Talks: Awesomeness
[Description]
From Downtown:
A man in a long, flowing black trenchcoat, a white sleeveless t-shirt, blue jeans, fingerless gloves, and combat boots shreds 15 horrible office-zombies falling with him by dual-handed uzi bursts, and smashes into the ground. He stands up, having somehow survived, spits on the ground, and puts his sunglasses back on, before lighting a cigarette and clenching it between his perfect teeth. His three-day growth of stubble seems somehow unphased by all of this.
[Backstory]
(Under Construction)
[Common Knowledge]
-This man busts balls while he kicks ass, eats evil for breakfast and shits justice.
NecroPaladin

EDWARD REDD

Name: Edward Redd
Race: Animate idol carrying the soul of a privateer
Class: Privateer, Shaman
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Temperament: Blunt and a bit boisterous, though there's something deeper...
Age: The idol is ancient, but Edward is about 40.
Height: 7'2
Weight: 800 pounds or so, but he can lessen it by levitating parts of his body.
Hair Color: None
Eye Color: One red ruby, and one socket that could hold a jewel.
Talks: Like a sailor, but with a deep, scary booming due to his nature.
[Description]
With huge, heavy footsteps, a figure best described as an animate wooden tiki statue held aloft by floating cannon-balls, wrapped in barely-fitting privateer garb, strolls the docks. He (?) carries a cannon over his shoulder, and seems to watch the area around warily with a ruby set in his visage as though an eye. The other 'eye' is an indentation where there was clearly once a gem, but there is no longer.
[Backstory]
(Under Construction)
[Common Knowledge]
(Under Construction)
[Ongoing Storyline]
None, yet.
NecroPaladin



RED-CAP-ROSE AND THE IRON WOODSMAN:

Name: Briar Rose (for those of you who find the name familiar, it was the original title of CORRECTED: Not Snow White, Sleeping Beauty. Thank you, Ms E.) and Nick Chopper.
Race: Human /// Humanoid Construct
Class: Hunter /// Fighter
Alignment: Lawful Neutral /// Lawful Neutral
Temperament: Stoic and just a little bit rude. She always gets the job done, and doesn't have much time for socializing /// Never speaks unless spoken to. Suprisingly polite for his intimidating appearance.
Age: 22 /// Unknown
Height: 5'7 /// 6'4
Weight: 145 lbs /// Immeasurably heavy
Hair Color: Red /// No hair
Eye Color: Green /// Red
Talks: In a husky, more-or-less desexed tone. Very brisk and businesslike /// Politely, if in a bit of a robotic metal ring.
[Description]
Clankity CLANK.

Clankity CLANK.

And so on and so forth, because there's little variation that I can describe when The Iron Woodsman's mechanical footsteps are quite literally incapable of falling out of time.

But this, of course, is naught but a detail of the great mechanism which is The Iron Woodsman.

The machine formerly known as Nick Chopper is a good seven feet tall, minus the little steam-vent of a hat, and his head is cylindrical with few features. His eyes are tiny red lenses, and his mouth is a mechanized jaw that does not exist for any particular reason save to synchronize automatically with his speech. As he does not truly need it, it is best to define it as a vestigial organ, albeit a metal one. A thin pipe of a neck leads to an equally cylindrical body, from which sprout yet more pipes and a good quantity of bolts and other such things for holding the vast container in one solid piece. His massive forearms and calves, clearly in contrast to the simple pipes of the rest of his limbs, are like steam engines in and of themselves; bulky, ugly, and powerful enough to blast clear through rock. He hefts an axe designed with hearts over his shoulder, locking it at an exact right-angle impossible to achieve without perfect control over one's body. If one were to look through a tiny glass panel in the center of his chest, one would understand his axe's motif...hooked up to the pipes and steamworks is one very tired, overworked human heart.

Clankity CLANK.

Clankity CLANK.

Following in his shadow is a more inconspicuous figure, although not by much. Red-Cap Rose, bedecked with a flowing maroon cape and scarlet beret that explain her most peculiar moniker, is a sight in and of herself. The young woman could have been described as feminine, once, but that designation has long since been unattainable. The mendicant beast-hunter has built her muscles to an almost (although not yet) unsightly mass and has cut her red hair short in an effort to be better prepared for the many threats that befall herself and her clockwork compatriot. A bodice, corset, and choker necklace would restore her beauty, were they not lined with plates of armor, and heavy leather gloves and boots complete the decoration of her most intimidating, if voluptuous, frame. She wears a sparse amount of make-up, all red, a spiral design over her right eye, and various piercings on both ears. A frown seems fixed on her face, and her soft green eyes bely a hardness that would be unbecoming in any other woman.

Lining her cloak (and invisible to onlookers) is a vast collection of axes and hatchets of all shapes and sizes, most of them well-used.

[Backstory]
(Under Construction)
[Common Knowledge]
-Both of the pair are mendicant monster-slayers
[Ongoing Storyline]
NecroPaladin

[HAMLET]

((I'm lucky I remembered these two. I made them in February but didn't use them 'cuz I thought that they were too weak to survive in the Town..))

HULLABALOO THE PESTERFEY AND WIDDERSHINS THE COUNTERCLOCKWISE

Names:
Hullabaloo//Widdershins. Wow, predictable.
Race:
Half-Celestial Bog Imp//The disembodied head of a malfunctioning Inevitable. Basically a tiny-size construct Gauth with telekinesis and other powers to use the environment as if he had hands.

Class: None for either.

Alignment: Chaotic Good and Chaotic Neutral, respectively, with more emphasis on the Chaotic than the Good or Neutral.

Temperament:

Hullabaloo is the essential trickster. He delights in pranks and tricks, and will often send someone into danger just for the fun of it if he knows that they can get out without any permanent harm. Will counter out this evil tendency by entertaining children and occasionally taking small, charitable jobs. Hullabaloo rescued "Widdy-Diddy" from destruction by mechanics a while ago, and thus talks to him like a brother.

Widdershins is a wackjob, pure and simple. He giggles all too often at the pain and misfortune of others, especially that caused by his "Hully-Bully." His head, or rather, he, spins around constantly and involuntarily (although not all at once. His jaw might spin before his nose, etc.), meaning he never keeps his eye on one spot for long. This also means that he is eternally dizzy and punch-drunk. Likes throwing things. A lot.

Age: Unknown, but both assumed young.

Height:
3'2//Human-head-size

Weight:
33 lbs//Weightless/produces own gravity

Hair Color:
Off-white with a hint of yellow//None

Eye Color:
Yellowy//None/gears that look like eyes

Talks:

Hullabaloo talks like a child. A surprisingly verbose child, but a child nontheless. He gives people cutesy nicknames, and orates to himself and Widdershins in a singsong voice. His laugh sounds like someone squishing a rat underfoot, and his voice is high and a bit taunting. Hullabaloo loves poems, and will often speak in verse just to hear himself do so.

Widdershins has a fluctuating voice, always metallic but different for every gear out of place at a given time. Thus, although he tends to speak in a high tone, he covers all dialogues, accents, and genders, even switching languages or speaking in tongues. A notable feature of his speech is that he always starts and ends with a mechanical sound of some sort.

Equipment:
Hullabaloo carries standard adventuring supplies, as well as an axiomatic shortbow. He wears a toga most of the time. He has an assortment of tricks and gadgets that he unveils at opportune times.

Widdershins IS equipment.

[Description]
UPDATING...
[Backstory, etc]
SAME

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