OC APPLICATION THREAD
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+ The bard is rather eccentric and flamboyant, making up songs off the top of his head about nothing of any real importance. He's always happy because he now has the chance to live out his dreams and do it his way. It is very rare that one could find him upset, and even if he was upset it would be rather comical as he is not a serious person. Complete and total devestation would be the only time he would show true sorrow, for example, if he lost his beloved Zaynah.
+ He loves to play tricks on people. It is a bard's job to sing of the local news, give directions, and so forth. However, he always gives false directions and sings about the hidden lives of the villagers, nonsense lyrics, or untrue events.
+ Though he was not well educated in the ways of words and speech (all of his eduaction funds went to combat training) he does his best to speak in a very proper manner to seem smarter than he actually is. He always seems rather stupid but he is usually polite and well mannered, even seeming so as he misleads people. His words are very flowery and he take great pride in complimenting people with terms of endearment.
+ He is very easily tricked and often lands himself into danger for which Zaynah must rescue him.
+ He reguards the safety of his musical instruments well over his own life treating them each like his beloved children.
+ He is either on full energy, skipping around and dancing, or he is draggy and sloth-like. There is no inbetween. He is either chipper or the laziest person alive. Sort of like someone gave him 5 energy drinks and then let him crash.
Background setting: [the setting your character came from before PC]
Raphier's world is somewhat medieval with castles, taverns, wenches, villages, wizards, kingdoms, and so forth. It's basically the middle ages with the usual fantasy/magical twist. He knows some things about the modern world due to books he obtains from dimension hoppers but he is otherwise ignorant to modern technology. I suppose it is similar to a Slayers-like world, being a generic fantasy world.
Physical description: [pictures are strongly encouraged & welcome]
+ Raphier has short red-orange hair, light blue eyes, and fair skin. He is somewhat tall for his age and extremely lanky with boney elbows and knees. Under his tunic he harbors scars from his many failed sword fights of his childhood training.
+ Though he usually wears a blue tunic and black pants he will often change to different colorful outfits depending on his moods.
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It took Raphier a good five minutes to realize he was no longer in the forest, an additional minute to realize his friends, Zaynah and Hogarth, were missing, and another twenty-five seconds to realize that probably wasn't a good thing. Zaynah was more of his body guard than just a traveling companion for poor Raphier was probably the wimpiest boy ever to breathe air. What was saddest out of all this is that instead of worrying first about Zaynah's wellbeing, he was more concerned about his cargo.
"Noo! My flute! My lyre! My talking lute! My harp! Where are all my instruments?? Dear lord, I've been mugged! When did this happen? And my goodness! They took my darling Zaynah! Who would steal my Zaynah? Who COULD steal my Zaynah? The girl only raises the dead and feasts on human flesh. Why am I talking to myself like this? This doesn't look like a forest either! DEAR LORD, THOSE FIENDS HAVE STOLEN THE TREES AND REPLACED THEM WITH TINY SPINNING HORSES!"
"... I could write a song about that..."
Sample post:
It's not that I don't particularly enjoy the company of my dear sweet Hogarth it's just that... It's a lot quieter without him here. Oh dear, I'm sorry. That was a terrible thing to say. No amount of tears could express the deep sense of loss that I feel in my heart without him at my side. Which is probably why I have shed none over the subject. Yes, that's it. There is no use crying over spilled milk, I suppose.
Though it is a rather sad thing, come to think of it. To waste perfectly good milk. After you walked all the way to the local market... In the rain, no less... Some poor farmer probably spent all day hunched over an old bucket and a pair of udders... Imagine what that's doing to his back day after day... To spill what he worked so hard to provide for me would be like spitting on his very grave!
Oh dear... I'm making myself sad...
And I promised myself I wouldn't cry!!!
CRUEL MILK STAINED FATE!
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