Here is the list of the chars, will update the first page with links towards this post and the mission's briefing for easier navigation later on Player : Bossaroo Character name: Ave'ras Sex: Male Class :Kabalite Warrior Equipment: - Kabalites armor with deeper embedment spikes to secure the armor , a modification made after a horrid incident - a jagged , serrated combat knife used on foes, allies, and whomever he takes fancy ro - a Splinter gun -a mnemonic scope to record foes and whomever is hit, their dying moments perserved Appearance: Ave'ras is noticeably shorter compared to others of his kin and an avearage build. His face is relatively unscarred with only a minor scar across his eyebrow though down his body the scars are exceedingly more evident . The areas showing repeated damage from the imbedment spikes which hold his armor in place, and A massive maring across the left side of his chest asking of which will lead to the Kabalite's usual docile demeanour disappearing rapidly The Kabalite's expression is generally one of uniterest on most occasions , combined with his docility it generally seems as if he is bored though his eyes are always crtical Background: A seasoned Kabalite having gone on quite a few raids into realspace and tasted the agony of the pitiful mon'kiegh and even on one occasion back-water exodite kin . He is suprisingly docile for a Kabalite though it is unknown whether the docility is an descrete ploy or if the Dark kin is particularly foolish Player: @Casavay Character Name: Suraina “Surion” Lathellion Sex: Female Type\Class: Artisan of Armaments (Primarily a bladesmith) Equipment: Kabalite Armour, Splinter Rifle, a self-forged combat knife, the tools of her trade Appearance: Surion is, for a Dark Eldar, neither tall nor short; muscular from her self-appointed hours of hard physical labour the likes of which are left to slaves by others but not crude or unrefined (truly, quite the opposite, and the artisan would take great umbrage at any suggestion to the contrary), particularly broad or clumsy. Her pale Eldarith Ynneas skin is marred by a few scars and badly-healed wounds, and where once was a rune of the Obsidian Rose tattooed onto the right side of her neck now proudly sits a patch of burned tissue, whiter than her hide normally is. On the opposite side now sits the mangled rune that spells her pseudonym, drawn in fire-red ink. On the Dark Eldar sliding scale of arrogance versus malice, Surion's face generally falls on the arrogant side of the spectrum. Pretty enough for an average Trueborn, though not enough by far to impress those of distinguished standing, she possesses an angular visage framed by long, dark blond hair. Green eyes that flicker up with excitement whenever the smith gets to test out her creations, or see them in action wielded by skilled hands, sit perhaps a bit too deep within her skull, surrounded by eyerings that speak of an abstinence from sleep. Background: Spoiler: spoiler Half-born into the Obsidian Rose by virtue of being, nigh literally, pushed out of the artificial womb into a weapons factory, Suraina Lathellion spent her early existence building Splinter Rifles as one of the faceless many under Aestra Khromys' thumb. And like all slave-workers within her Kabal, she was subject to the Queen of Splinters' noncompromising, almost unreachable standards when it came to her arms. Standards she always had difficulty meeting – a young Suraina was eager to work and avoid punishment, yes, earn a place on whatever raid the Rose was planning, but she lacked skill and focus. As she matured, Lathellion, and the Archon noticed this, became skillful beyond compare to her fellow slaves, but lacked the enthusiasm and drive to utilise these skills. In an attempt to motivate untapped talent, she was put into the care of a proper artisan of arms, with a proper workshop. He hated the young Half-born, but the increased scrutiny only served to increase her skill. It was true that Lathellion hated the monotony of the task, but the Splinter Rifles she built launched their poisonous payload like lightning from an angry God; not simply perfectly built to order, but she had also perfected the slicing mechanisms to a level normally reserved for Trueborn, each newly-sliced Splinter perfectly shaped, grooved, to strike true. Commorragh did as Commorragh does, and eventually, she was asked to make side earnings with sharing those well-made weapons she crafted with rivals of the Obsidian Rose. Monotonous or not, this tickled her ego just the right way to enter a deal even if she hadn't been threatened. To protect her identity, and to feed her hubris, the Half-born marked these weapons with a stylised rune, similar to an opening rose (a mockery, directed at her cruel masters), that read as 'Surion'. Alas, Surion's guns never earned the fame she felt they deserved, because that faction within the Kabal who had drawn their weapons from her would soon realise that her boredom and their faith in her only earned them a distinct lack of arms. They were crushed, and the artisan responsible flayed alive – Surion's master, that is. Suraina, after all, carried the Archon's favour. She took over the workshop. As years passed, Surion, who'd learned to make sure to only trade in small amounts, and not to Obsidian Rose usurpers (still bearing the unmistakable mark, however), found herself in a position of enough resources to focus on something she wanted to do: Craft blades, work with the forge, cut gems and weave wires to build arms that would actually taste blood. The thought excited her. They excited her enough to funnel all resources available into learning and working this new craft. And the blades that resulted from it were, while flashy and certainly ceremonial in appearance, nevertheless more than workable arms worthy of a Dark Eldar. With confidence, after quite a few years of Surion-blades finding their ways into the hearts and bodies of mon-keigh, Craftworld kin, and other unfortunates present in whatever raid she took part in, she presented her work to the overseers. Surion was certain they spoke for themselves. They were made gifts to the Wych-Cults that Khromys supported, and the aspiring bladecrafter was told to return to splinter weaponry. No, their worth was acknowledged. But it had not been her place. Not all tales of dissent are heroic. Surion faced the order with obedience, and fled in a manner most cowardly soon thereafter, taking her beloved tools with her to find a patron who would admire and respect her talent. Soon thereafter, certain individuals not bearing the colours of the Obsidian Rose had begun enjoying the oddly-runed, cruel weapons. And the Rose of Surion had just begun to become recognised, once more. This time, however, as the mark for a weapon that was as much art as armament – a weapon that sung of the love its maker poured into it. The agonious tools of a passionate blademaker. Character Name: Heltherith Mertrixa Sex: Female Type\Class: Wych/Healer. Equipment: Glaive with a blade at both ends of the shaft, Splinter Pistol, Dagger. Make-shift Wych-Suit Appearance: Heltherith is around average height and girth for a Dark Eldar with azure eyes and raven-black hair, kept long and bound up. Possesses a small, but still notable scar on her right cheek in the pattern of a claw from a beast, along with a faded marking on the left side of her neck where she had been tattooed as a part of her punishment. Prefers clothing that would be considered daring, mostly as a proclamation of her skills. Background: Heltherith is Trueborn even if her relationship with her parents and siblings is rather... Strained after her misdeeds. Suffice to say, an attempted heist (which would have grandiose if it had been executed correctly, and made their target a laughing stock among their peers) upon a Kabal of high stature to gain some extra wealth was not the best uses of her time. That lead to her having a long stint as a slave to that Kabal as punishment for Mertrixa's transgression, one that made her wish she'd been given the regular treatment rather than the one her parents agreed that she could undertake to preserve her beauty. After her time in captivity was done, Heltherith ended up as a wanderer on the wrong side of the tracks, only saved from the life of the Parched by being willing to step into various back room gladiator matches as a contender. Unlike what was expected by those running the ameture games however, she developed a talent for that style of bloodshed, the dance of blades becoming part of her skill set. Likewise, Mertrixa also ended up learning about healing wounds and leaving no trace of the blow’s existence, given that she lacked the personal funds for medical care (that was even remotely trustworthy), and wouldn’t besmirch her body. Player: Wata Character Name: Kaesar Sex: Male Type\Class: Trueborn Incubus Equipment: Klaivex and Incubus Warsuit Appearance: Two small and careful vertical scars under his right eye from fights he deemed to be most exhilarating. Possesses a wiry yet intimidating build. In the tallest side of Eldar standards regarding body height. Background (optional): Tahkos holds little interest in the myriad power plays and political intrigues that Dark Eldar are infamous for. He cares for combat and the feeling of seeing his opponent hopeless and broken before the killing blow. The scars on his face are a record of kills, which are from his trials to reach incubus status. His predecessor Incubus and Craftworld Aspect Warrior specifically. Player: Brother_Draconion Character Name: Gorthâür Dráuglanath, "Thû" for short. Sex: Male Type\Class: Mandrake Assassin Equipment: Twin power falchions, scoped Splinter rifle, courtly robes with hooded cloak, ivory masquerade mask, grisly trophies, sundry odds and ends. Appearance: In build, Thû is a typical Mandrake - lean and hard like a starved wolf, ropey muscles rippling with savage grace, light-drinking skin shot through with swirling patterns of frozen fire that blur vision and nauseate the viewer. That being said, he is in many ways not your grandmother's Mandrake - rather than the crabbed, feral poise commonly adopted by the barbarous cannibals, he grooms and carries himself upright like a high noble of Commorragh. Likewise, he has speech and manners to match, able to blend seamlessly with the poisoned politesse of a great Archon's court and converse knowledgeably - in an incongruously melodious voice - on almost subject at length. In combination with obsidian eyes that glow electric blue when flush with stolen life, features oft described as 'statuesque', and a quirky half-smile that echoes the decadence of the Fall itself, more than one female Archon (and at least one male) has attempted to retain the ostensibly-civilised savage long-term for less-than-professional reasons. Background (optional): Like most others of his kind, the Mandrake known to greater Commorragh as Thû makes his living as an assassin, plying his trade freelance to the highest bidder. Again, like most Mandrakes, no one knows much about his origins, nor even his real name. All they know is that, approximately twenty years ago, a strangely urbane Shadewalker appeared out of nowhere within the circles of the city, announcing his presence with a series of high-profile decapitation strikes that ended a three-way war between bitterly feuding middle-tier Kabals. Before long, a mysterious figure began appearing throughout the courts. Cloaked and cowled in midnight blue, face obscured by an impassive ivory mask, this mystery man would be seen conferring with the powerbrokers of Commorragh. Wherever he trod, death would soon follow - none could foresee where or when the stroke would fall, but fall it would before long. In another unusual twist, reports soon arose of a Mandrake whose attacks were often presaged by sniper fire - typically on the principal target's security and other companions. Few had the savvy or privileged information to put two and two together, but those who did wasted no time in putting the right whispers in circulation, hoping to summon the masked man in midnight blue to help them with a sticky problem or two. For those who offered the right price, the masked man would indeed appear at their door within a matter of days. Inevitably, he would set their problems aright. Invariably, he would also demand this privilege on top of the agreed-upon fee - that he be given leave to freely circulate in their courts for a period of time - days, weeks, months - speaking to all comers. Watching. Listening. Learning. Player: Vlayden Name: Venessia Class: Trueborn Incubus Sex: Female Equipment: Incubus Warsuit, Punisher Appearance: She wasn't quite different from most of her kind, with dark-brown hair and paranoid eyes that glanced this way & that. Her form was considerably wiry. and while she may be considered beautiful by any Mon'keigh standards, to Eldar she was... Well. Certainly not feminine. Little in the way of curves that could catch the eye, though what attraction one might have certainly would be in her face; even with the scars upon her chin & left cheek, she was certainly able to grab one's eye. Though they'd best hope, not literally. History: As a Trueborn she'd been spoiled to a considerable degree; something that had made her somewhat disgusted at times, moreso when she had witnessed how some would try to get her favour through gifts, yet show no loyalty. Years down the line once she'd come of age, she would have turned to the Incubus shrines, where her training had started. Numerous times she had nearly failed, though even then the Trueborn showed no respite; the Aspirant showed no quarter when she tore the armour from the Incubus in training, and showed even less against the Aspect Warrior. A Striking Scorpion. The fight itself had admittedly been accidental, her eyes set upon a Dire Avenger that she had stalked through the forests, only to get ambushed by him. The fight itself had lasted for hours, though neither called for help. And when she had finally bested him, she showed a rare thing amongst her kind, in the Craftworlders' eyes; respect. After taking his soulstone for her final trial, she had set to burying his body, marking the grave with his chainsword. Player:Hamonculus Character Name:Yrara Sex:Male Type\Class: Hamonculus Equipment: Modified Shardrifle , Hamonculus experiment armor(Mix of operating tools, drugs and chemicals and armor), power blade Appearance: Tall Compared to most Yrara bears many self surgical scars on his body and several wrinckles among his forehead a crazed expression can be noted on the Hamonculus face and at times when enthusiast or amused a long smug grin will appear across it. More surgical tools on his armor then him he often seen with a rifle and a husk blade at his side while out on a mission always looking for odditys in living beings for him to capture and examine. Background (optional): Yrara is a oddity amoung Hamonculus due to his many Enthusiastic views and desires, To him simple direct toruture is boring more subtle means are need for him to be truly pleased. From seeing a fantaical imperials body changed into that of the Vial mutant to they hate to causing one of there way ward cousins falls Yrara Goals are alwalys odder and more long term with what he works on, Many rumored and whispers among other eldar believe Yrara has some type of plans for Real space as he has been seen on many more raids out of commograh then in bringing in specimens and oddly taking some out. Player: kanila Character Name: Aesra Sex: Male Type/Class: Beastmaster Equipment: Modified Skyboard (pheromone emitters built in), barbed whip, knife, assorted vials of pheromones, flock of razorwings (4 razorwings) Appearance: Almost always wearing a mask, which currently mimics the razorwings he controls, Aesra has ritualistic tattoos across his right shoulder and bicep in tribute to the razorwing. Of average height and build to his dark kin he bares numerous scars from taming beasts and fighting in the wyche arenas. Background: Aesra spent much of his time staging hunts in the wych arenas and random realspace raids. During realspace raids pushed his ambitions to control even more deadly beasts, razorwings had a special place to him as they would drag their victims directly in front of him for his entertainment as they shedded the flesh to get to the bone they so desired. But working the arenas didn't offer him the opportunity to REALLY use his talents to the fullest. And it appears that his chance may have just presented itself in the form of an open call to all who seek glory, time would tell if this would end in glory or his own death.....
Observation: After having RP'ed @Colapse for so long, I am starting to suspect his favourite colour is red I could be wrong, though
Once we are done with questioning and move into armory\you figuring out a specific plan phase, I'll also draw you a map for further clarification if you wish (Armory is coming once you guys run out of questions for the Archon )
I think at this point, we are hampered by people conspicuously not replying to interactions, or posting in general. @Vlayden @Vulpas
We do have wireless communication of some kind. Whatever it is Dark Eldar use. At least, that's what I remember Colapse mentioning at some point.
Ye, you do have some form of wireless communication like Wata said, I mentioned it at the end of my post. It's whatever Dark Eldar use, so I guess it's like vox beads but more sophisticated.
Useful info here so you don't have to scroll through the thread - Dracon Uril (pirate, scoundrel, has the biggest army) - Wych Zalaya (has the best fighters with her, has the smallest army) - Haemonculus Xurilith (has lots of flesh things, normal (?) Haemonculus) Map: https://forum.eternalcrusade.com/th...ark-eldar-casual-rp.62566/page-9#post-1377005
