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You know the drill, don't post unless your name is in the title.^^ |
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Constance
["firm of purpose"]
"You will reap what you have sewn, I will see it done."
Age
23 Gender
Male Archetype
Psychopath Trait
Honor Sexuality
Heterosexual Religion
His faith lies within the Heroes
"If setting the world into a blistering inferno is what it took to bring back our saviors, I would happily watch the world and everyone in it burn."
Appearance
Just below 6-feet-tall, Constance is a striking individual. Bright sun kissed hair that is styled as shorter on the sides and longer on the top rests neatly atop his head. It is evident there is a strong level of discipline he possesses by the way he holds himself posture wise. His skin tone is more of a medium toned cream which usually tans well in the summer and almost never burns despite the sunniest of days. There are accented warm undertones that aid into his almost tanned skin.
Constance has a heart shaped face, his cheekbones defined rather than severe. A button nose and thinner lips rest upon his face. His mouth is usually always in the form of a malicious smile or partial smirk. Moving onto the eyes, they are slightly upturned and almond shaped. Pale emerald eyes are what bare and pierce into people's soul, as his eyes convey most of his emotion. There are visible crow lines in the corners of his eyes due to his practically unwavering smiles of ill intent.
When it comes to build, proportional describes him best. He is leaning more towards the nimbler side, but agility and muscle are both qualities easy to pick out by looking at him. Everything about him physically screams predatory, from the way his eyes track people's movements to his leisurely yet focused walk. Along his arms, shoulders, and especially back are a multitude of scars. While most are fairly old and faint, his back sports the larger and more recent scars acquired by a whip.
Whenever he is in any sort of public place, he will always be seen wearing the Chevalier Order uniform. While most knights tend to sport the more common silver plates from chest to feet, Constance wears minimal crimson red armor, usually only chest and shoulder plates. The Grand Crosses cape is something he wears proudly, as the highest ranking knight in the kingdom. It's golden sun colored threading framed the blinding white primary color of the cape. His mostly midnight colored boots were stained with the same color crimson he wore on his chest. Wherever he went, so did his silver and gold hilted sword sheathed on his hip. It was shorter than the average blade a knight would carry, but it was just as lethal if not more so when being wielded by him. Belonging to his father, the one person he had ever been attached to, he carried it with nothing short of pride. Personality
"There's no joy in just killing, it has to be... theatrical if you will."
Constance is a very peculiar and twisted soul. Cruel, sadistic, and merciless are traits that are often used to describe him, though it would be surprising to some that he had his fair share of supporters. His cruelty stems from the actions he takes based on his beliefs; mankind is a disease that kills everything it touches, and without the righteousness of the Heroes, he must enforce the abiding of laws by any means necessary. People in general are expendable to him, no one being more or less important than anybody else. Without the Heroes to enforce law, and the government doing a poor job of it, Constance has taken matters into his own hands. Whether it's the crimes of stealing, lying, or killing, no one was exempt from the justice he would deliver in the form of public execution. The bigger the crowd that gathered, the better. Not only was it humiliating to be slain in front of strangers of all classes, but it dually served as teaching others to think before they act. No man, woman, or child was spared from his malice. It brought him a sickened level of joy to know he is what is weeding out what's wrong with his kingdom, serving the oath he swore to uphold. More often than not, wicked cackles and prideful smiles accompanied him while he put on a show for the public during his executions. Self satisfaction was not what he directly sought, but it is something he was rewarded with time and time again.
In the name of honoring the beings of his faith, there is not much he wouldn't do, or at least for his twisted sense of honor. The Heroes served as entities of punishment and peace within Victory, and desperate to uphold these things, he will do whatever it takes. There is a great level of passion he holds when it comes to his actions. For each life he takes, he attributes it to the Heroes as a way to show someone is continuing on with their work people have otherwise abandoned. Determination goes hand in hand with his passion, no one has a scarier level of want when it comes to what Constance wants to accomplish. Constance has completely devoted himself entirely to the act of ridding Victory of 'unworthy' individuals. Striving to please the lost Heroes, no matter how much a person may beg and plead for mercy, he will not give it. Manipulation is also something that can be his best friend, less so of lies, and more of twisting and sprinkling half truths where they need be to benefit him.
He has no regard for emotions, a weakness that is the base for illogical and careless actions against what should be held with respect. They are also the root of attachment, something Constance will never make the mistake of doing again. One of the only things he does allow himself to feel is pleasure from pain he feels or inflicts upon himself, a masochist at its finest. It started as actions done in his times of private self-loathing behavior, and while he does not go out of his way to indulge in pain, he happily takes it as it comes. Being more than a little unstable, blind fury and wrath will be swiftly delivered to those who question him or those who would foolishly point out flaws embedded within the Heroes. If people would have kept their faith and lived up to the Heroes wishes, he wouldn't have to be the middle man. He believes himself to be a monster of the peoples' own making, but he is more than delighted to play the part.
Confrontation is not only something he enjoys, but actively seeks. Unless you were to critique his beliefs, he is otherwise unbothered and willing to argue and go toe-to-toe with anyone for the thrill of it. It's his spine chilling grin and the disturbing twinkle in his eyes that would usually leave people to think better of engaging with him. Every so often though, there is someone who pursues challenging him, and those people fascinate him. Intrigue was something he held for very few people, they would have to truly stand out to him to be noticed. Despite the fixation he may hold for a person, if push came to shove, he would still feel little to no remorse disposing of them if they were to give him a reason.
"The human race is expendable. We are a disease that ravages everything we touch, we are all monsters truly. I'm just not willing to pretend otherwise."
Likes:
- Physical pain
- Succeeding in his mission
- Confrontation; most of the time
- The position of authority he holds
- Star-gazing
- Stormy weather; particularly thunder storms
- His sword; it holds a deep meaning to him Dislikes:
- Anyone who goes against the law
- People questioning his loyalty to his oath
- Begging; whether it be for mercy or from those who are less fortunate
- The lax stance the kingdom has taken to law breakers
- The heat
- Shouting; despite how wrathful he can get, he very rarely raises his voice
Strengths:
- Observance; it comes very natural to him as he seeks to find those that try to hide or directly defy his beliefs
- Determination; what needs to be done he will do with little hesitation
- Combat; hand-to-hand, sword play, and knives, he definitely knows how to hold himself well in battle, his footwork is extremely remarkable as well
- Fear of dying and fear in general are unknown entities to him
Weaknesses:
- Has no regard for others
- Tunnel vision; all he wants is to uphold his oath, no matter the cost
- Not a team player
- Beyond stubborn; he's not willing to change his views nor is he willing to go against what he decides Hobbies:
- Fencing and sword play
- Whittling Greatest Goal:
To succeed in eliminating disobedient and unlawful individuals. He wants nothing more, and he will settle for nothing less. Greatest Fear:
The absolute biggest, failing. The only other thing next to that is becoming what he has set out to abolish. Family:
Merit (father)- Deceased
Mother- Unknown Relationships:
Hahaha... nope Backstory:
The child Constance once used to be is very different from who he is now. Kind, outgoing, and loving were his principle personality points. He never knew his mother, but his father, Merit, was a fierce and gentle man. Poverty is what Constance had become accustomed to, up until 11 years old. His father found his way into the good graces of the Royal family, and in return, was knighted. It was Merit's willingness to protect and serve the kingdom and its people that made him so loved. Naturally, Constance wanted nothing more than to follow in his father's footsteps.
"By taking this oath, you swear to uphold justice and serving those who served us. You swear to remain loyal, through the heavens and below, to those who stayed loyal to us. You swear duty comes before self." His father spoke passionately as Constance knelt down before him. His father always spoke highly of the lost Heroes, and in turn, Constance also admired and respected the beings who lovingly served the kingdom.
"I swear to abide by this oath. I swear to dedicate myself to the values the Heroes of old upheld. I swear to never falter in my fidelity. I swear to do whatever it takes." He spoke just as passionately, if not more as his pale green orbs looked up into his fathers sky blue ones.
"Then I welcome you my son to the Chevalier Order, may you honor the Heroes well." Officially being sworn into the Chevalier Order, the 14 year old's chest swelled with pride. It was in that moment, he truly dedicated his entire life's purpose to serving.
~~~~~~~~
Two years later, and Constance was next in line to hold his fathers rank, the highest rank, Grand Cross. It was an honor to be serving, even as an Apprentice for the time being. True to his words, Constance both followed his oath and enforced the laws he swore to. The only problem; the kingdom's Royal family and overall system of government as a whole did not see the constant breaking of law as a problem that required much of their attention. Time and time again, Constance would arrest and present those who broke the laws he devoted himself to upholding to the kingdom's court. More often then not, they would release the defiant with nothing more than a warning. Even his own father began to hold back on what he had sworn to enforce.
"Disobedient dogs will only remain harmless for so long, their feral and recreant ways will wreak havoc in this kingdom." Constance stated harshly to his father after watching yet another prisoner be released. This particular man stole from one of the Heroes' shrines and assaulted a knight during arrest. This man needed to be enlightened in the ways of correction, to be punished.
"They are not dogs son, they are people just as you and I. It is in our nature to make mistakes, sometimes a gentle and merciful hand is all someone needs to change." Merit responded in a soft tone, glancing to his son with loving eyes. Constance stared his father down, infuriated by his lack of understanding of the importance for the matter.
"We did not devote our lives to dishing tender loving care. I swore to serve in the name of justice, loyalty, and duty. My faith in the Heroes' ways has not faltered and I will give my life to serving in their name. Did we not take the same oath father, or have you forgotten what you stand for?" His tone was cold, his eyes stormier than usual as he spoke. A sigh was all Merit gave before he began to walk away, stopping several paces in front of Constance.
"You should smile more my boy, you would be surprised how far one can get you." With that, Merit disappeared and left Constance to stand alone outside of the court he took his oath in. Smile? What good, what effect, what impression did a smile give?
The love and respect he had for his father was unrivaled, but when had his father lost his way? What good was anyone if they could not serve through faith and the doing of good. His father's judgment was clouded with empathy for those who did not deserve it, he lacked seeing the necessary.
~~~~~~~~~
A year later Merit was slain in the kingdoms Piazza. The man who killed him being the thief who was released the year before, again attempting to steal from the same shrine. When Constance had heard of his father's demise, he rushed to the now empty vessel of the person he loved. The sword Merit carried proudly was covered in crimson and embedded in his chest. The thief managed to escape and go into hiding while Constance found himself on his knees at the statues of his Heroes at a shrine in ruins outside of the kingdom.
"Why my father? He was a good man who served in your name." Tears poured from his clouded eyes as he remained in front of the statues for 3 days hoping to gain an answer from the beings of stone. Other apprentices, knights, and people of the kingdom who loved and respected his father came to offer him nourishment and to check on him. Each time, he turned them away uttering harsh words and returning his tear stricken face to the statues. Deranged and incoherent mumbles were what he uttered to the lifeless stone beings, all in the hopes of gaining understanding. By the time he crumpled from exhaustion and lack of sustenance, a being robed in white came to him as he lay awaiting death to free him of his misery.
"Why do you lay here and do nothing Purposed One?" The man spoke. Constance couldn't make out his features, the only thing he could see was the blinding white of the man's attire.
"There is no saving this land, it is has been lost to the filth that plagues man." He responded wearily, his tone laced in venom.
"Beaten so easily? What good are you to your oath shall you die here in cowardice." The being responded in indifference. Constance's head rose slightly, his eyes swirling with fury and wrath.
"Never will I defy my oath, I only surrender to the carnage destined for me before it can best me." His head lowered, and his eyes closed for just a moment before opening them again, as he tried to blink through his suffering to find clarity.
"The only thing destined for anyone is the promise of the reaping of what we have sewn. We all embody what we stand for, our actions reflecting such beliefs. What is it that you believe in?" There was a moment of silence that fell over the ruins. Constance knew exactly what he had believed in, but what did it matter, nobody else shared the same moral burden he was willing to stand for.
"Honoring the Heroes, honoring my oath." The words that Constance said aloud felt just out of his grasp, as if the honor he sought was unobtainable. "Are you saying I embody honor?" He asked with a slightly raised brow, the robed man beginning to walk away.
"You are what you believe." Was the last thing the man said to him before he disappeared just as quickly as he had come. It was after mulling over the robed man's words for a few hours did he stir from the shrine and return to the kingdom's court.
Walking into the court, a slight sway was evident in his walk as he refused succumbing to his sickened state. A crazed smile formed on his lips as he forced himself to stand the way any knight would before the King and nobles who sat, disciplined and ready for action. He demanded his father's former place, and with little debate, the court agreed to swear him into the position of Grand Cross. Taking only a few days to recover from his weakened state, he began his mission, starting with finding the thief who killed his father.
~~~~~
It took Constance another 2 years before he found the man he was hunting, by then already acquiring his renown reputation. His public executions began to attract mass crowds, some of those who are in support of his actions, others who would protest his cruelty. When he finally got his hands on the thief, the man begged and pleaded for his life.
"Sir Constance, I beg you to spare me. I have changed for the better, I only ask for your mercy." The man was old, frail, and carried deeply sunken eyes. Constance's smile found its way to his face, the familiar malicious intent evident from the way he presented the grin, and spite that shined brightly in his eyes.
"I am sparing you, from yourself. You have indulged in the wickedness of man and let it poison your soul, and I will free you from such torment. First, however, you will be served with an appropriate punishment to atone for your crimes." With that, the thief was placed onto his knees with his hands forced out in front of him. Constance took those from him with a single forceful down motion of his sword, Merit's sword. "Do you recognize this blade? You used it to slay my father, where was your mercy for him? Do you not find it poetic to be tortured by the same weapon you wielded so carelessly?" The thief shrieked and cried as Constance circled him a few times, his smile not once wavering and his tone joyous..
"You're a monster!" The thief cried as he flailed helplessly on the ground.
"Of your making." Constance stated with a hint of rage before he instructed one of his knights to toss a torch down onto the man.
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Vim “Liveliness and Energy”
Age
26
Gender
Male
Archetype
Bad Reputation
Trait
Courage
Sexuality
Heterosexual Though Vim would shrink from the idea of a relationship now, he’s only ever been with women and he’s never once stopped to think about it.
Religion
Varying Vim’s parents were religious, in the minority in a place where religion is seen as antiquated and strange. He was named for a religious building, and though he has flipped between religions seeking enlightenment for years now, he has yet to find that “one right way to live.”
Appearance
Vim has a smooth face, fairly good-looking though not enough to really be considered traditionally handsome. He has a rounded face with a curved chin and full cheeks. His nose is long, straight, and though it seems to have been broken once or twice, it’s not that crooked. His mouth is small, with lips pinker than the rest of his skin, and he has thick dimples when he smiles, though that is very rare indeed. His eyes are dark brown, the kind of dark brown that seems black until you really look at them, and mixed with his serious expression and firm posture, they often give him a glowering sort of look. The eyes themselves are monolid and almost straight on his face, very thin. His eyebrows are black, slightly above his eyes, slightly untidy and thick, like charcoal smudges. His skin is a pale brown with warm undertones, and is very smooth and almost totally free of scars and blemishes, the skin of someone who’s been used to a life of pampering. His hair is also soft and long, going down to just below his shoulders. It has a lot of volume and is usually just worn natural, though when he’s hunting, butchering, or doing physical activities he always ties it back into a bun. It’s coal black, and doesn’t have the shine of some black hair.
Vim is a rather small person, both in size and build. He’s 5’6”, and he has a weedy sort of build that’s thin but not totally without muscles. He’s in good shape, and he has a lot of upper body strength, making his arms more filled-out than his legs. He has the willowy build that would normally go with being very tall, but lacks the height to go with it. His palms show what was once undoubtedly nothing but soft skin, but now have a number of very new calluses and bruises. His fingernails are clipped and clean, his hands always washed, a must if a butcher is to keep his customers safe. On his body he has a few scars, most of them the kinds that any person is bound to get from things like hunting and thrill-seeking. He also has one down his shoulder blade which was obviously from some sort of fight or altercation. He’s a very clean person, and keeps himself fresh where he can, and he usually smells like pine sap and meat, though he tries his best not to let that smell get too strong. He always holds himself with his shoulders back and chin up, and his walk is more of a stride, confident and upright.
If Vim has let go of the idea of money, he’s not yet quite ready to let go of the idea of comfort - something which will become incompatible soon enough, but has worked out fine for him for now. Although he’s technically not really nobility, he often wears clothes that most people would consider distasteful for anyone not in a noble house. He prefers bright colors, particularly reds and oranges, and has a great many vests and jackets of just these colors. He often wears wool or linen tunics with long, loose sleeves underneath his skirted jackets or tight vests. They’re mostly plain cream or white with colorful patterns along the edges. A long leather belt is tied around his waist, and his trousers are rather tight and often brown or black. He owns a pair of fine leather boots that are laced up all the way to his knees and are rather soft and flexible. When he’s doing his job or going out in nature, he wears just a brown tunic, dark trousers, and his boots. In the butcher shop he wears a large bloodstained white apron. But the most notable thing about how he dresses is his accessories. He has holy symbols of several religions hanging from his neck, clashing strangely. He has signet rings on his fingers and heirograms dangling from his belt. He has a small black tattoo on the back of his right hand depicting an ancient mantra, and a black string braided into a small portion of his hair as is often worn in mourning for the heroes. He’s constantly adding new things, and refuses to take a single one of them off.
Personality
Vim hardly seems like a good-hearted person - he shows no signs of the warmth that so often comes with kindness, though it happens that he was once living proof that not every smile comes with good intentions. He offers no compliments or words of kindness, and expects none in return. No smiles are offered to the less fortunate, and no friendly hand is extended. If a good-hearted person tries to prise him open like a clam with a pearl inside, looking for a heart of gold, he pushes them away. Vim despises the idea of help for so many reasons, and this part of his life is the part he has to figure out on his own. If he doesn’t, can he really say he’s changed? Vim doesn’t ever trust anyone not to be gearing up to stab him in the back, but he doesn’t have the heart - nor the right - to turn them away. He’ll let people walk all over him if they want to, and he never calls anyone out for lying or cheating - not to him, anyway. He’s mild and quiet, not in amount of speech but in volume. He doesn’t get upset or angry, he doesn’t let anyone get under his skin, and he takes all insults and remarks without complaint. When Vim does good deeds, he does them quietly, as though hoping not to be caught. He never offers emotional support and never tries to comfort people. He just does what he can and leaves the rest up to the world. Money is no object to him. In fact, with money so unfairly earned, he’s just dying to get rid of it. It’s dirty money, and the sooner it’s gone the sooner he can forget about it. It’s the easiest thing he does to help people, and the one which requires the least thought. And if they’re lying just to get money, let them. But things get more complicated as he starts to think about what’s truly good. Are the laws really fair? And how are things like lying and manipulation not illegal? How can they be sure that the first person to ever say “you can’t do that” didn’t have their own agenda? Vim has searched for answers to this for years, in religion and heroes and philosophies, but it’s the simplicity of the dogma that makes him turn away every time. He’s constantly picking certain aspects out of these things and sewing them together like a ragdoll of morals, trying to create an image that makes any sense to him.
When Vim was younger, and maybe not even that much younger, he never would have cared about charity or about helping people who have less than him. Life was about winning, and money was the greatest prize of all. They say money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy you the time and ease to find your happiness. People have always fascinated him, but when a young man learns how to play people like a harp he’s bound to use that ability for his own benefit once or twice. Or, in Vim’s case, for six years consecutively with not a drop of remorse. He could do it in a million different little ways: he could appeal to people’s pity, he could whisper lies about them throughout town, he could butter them up to get what he wanted. But he found that the most powerful motivator of all is love. And he found that most people couldn’t tell the difference between real love and an act. He made a lot of money that way, from people who gave so freely and innocently, and he never lost anything from it. Law enforcement, even if they had been any good at their jobs, had nothing on him. People could rage and cry, but he almost always got away before they could really hurt him in return. He would have gone on and on - most people believe he still is going, and few want anything to do with him. If he’s lying, he won’t win this time. And if he isn’t, he only brought this on himself.
Vim has always been quite the actor. Everything about him seems so real, until the real becomes unbelievable. His lies come out twisted up in his truths, and his tangled web has become impossible to right. Vim has sworn not to lie again, but why take the chance with a person like him? You see, there’s something about the thrill of lying, so addictive to Vim, that makes it hard to believe he could give it up just like that. He may seem quiet and serious at first, but his taste for thrills and for the rush of life-or-death is always there. When he gambles, he gambles big, and if the risk is losing everything it only sweetens the pot for him. He’d rather break both legs sliding down a steep cliff on an upside-down table than live knowing he had that chance and never took it. For now, maybe, he can be content leading a normal life at the butcher’s shop, but soon enough he’ll start getting restless. He has a feverish energy about him, always wanting to move and constantly fluttering around and doing things with his hands. Even when he’s hurt, he refuses to rest and let himself heal - and lately, with his refusal to fight back and the fact that he’s finally made himself easy to track down, he’s gotten hurt a lot more than usual. He has more energy than he knows what to do with, and he’s a very physical person, though fighting isn’t his forte. He likes to hunt, something he often does for his brother’s butcher shop, though this too is subject to some confusing morals.
Likes
Jewelry Giving things away Hunting Gambling Physical activities Raising his adrenaline Warmth Helping people Meeting new people Dislikes Trying to figure out what’s right People who already know him Darkness People who take advantage of others Staying still Very small spaces Strengths Hunting Physical fitness Acting Lying Generosity Good manners Weaknesses His past Fighting Moral confusion Thrill seeking Restlessness Pushover Hobbies Hunting Reading Gambling Swimming Sports Exploring Greatest Goal Right now it seems Vim’s biggest goal is to change how he is and who he is, though he’s been struggling to figure out how exactly to go about it. It might be said that his first goal, the one he must achieve for he can get to the second one, is to find a system of morals that makes sense to him. Greatest Fear Vim can’t be entirely sure it’s possible to change, and this would be his worst fear: to find out that people simply are what they are and there’s nothing they can do about that. Family Mother: Felicity Father: Earnest Brother: Brio Relationships Romantic? No, not any more. Vim has a lot of people who don’t like him for various reasons, though, if that can be counted as relationships. Though few are really after his blood, and then most they’ll do is shun him, the fact remains that Vim’s made enemies nearly everywhere he’s gone - and he’s travelled around quite a lot of the kingdom. Backstory Vim can’t say he had a reason to turn out like he did. Maybe he’d like to be able to. He’d like to have a real sob story to tell, so that people would start to feel bad for him and make up excuses for the way he was. They’d call him a real redemption story. But instead the only thing he can say for himself is “I was a spoiled brat. I started out one and I’ve only gotten worse.” Vim’s parents weren’t nobility, but they made it clear that they were no peasants either. They had money - just enough to call themselves better, but not enough to call themselves wealthy. They were neither a model family nor an abusive one: they got along but they weren’t too close. Vim’s parents had little to do with his life, though not to the point of ignoring him. Though they weren’t the richest, they were wanting for very little and Vim’s parents never dedicated their lives to money the way that he did. They gave freely to their children, who could have whatever they wanted, and slightly less freely to the less fortunate. They were devoutly religious (something that always embarrassed Vim) and donates large sums of money to their small, humble little church. How does such a nondescript beginning lead to a person with such disregard for others? Perhaps a child so spoiled, with parents who would give them whatever they wanted, started to want more. Maybe he started it out of curiosity, or a moment of weakness, and simply couldn’t find it in him to stop. Maybe he never really learned why it was that people had to look out for one another in the world. Or does it even really matter why? Vim used to make up reasons, to justify to himself why he wasn’t responsible for himself. Now he doesn’t think much about the why, which seems so very unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
Vim was, for most of his life, wealthier than his family had ever been, and he got all of his money from other people without having to do a thing for them. They gave it to him because they felt bad for him, or because they would have given him anything he asked for. He was with many women throughout the years, waiting until they started to resent him or grow suspicious and then leaving. If anybody confronted him, he would only say that he hadn’t broken any laws. If there was anything wrong with what he was doing, let the pathetic law enforcement come along and teach him a lesson. And for the most part, Vim lost absolutely nothing from what he did. Sure, people found out and some of them tried to get their revenge, but Vim was always way ahead of them. And there were times he did caught, and he nearly got himself killed, but those weren’t what made him change his mind about the way he was leading his life. What caused that he hasn't shared with many people, and perhaps he hasn't changed after all. He’s done everything he can just to show that he’s different - everything short of saying sorry. Time will tell if that change is permanent, and, more importantly, if it’s real. For now Vim's been working for his brother, who owns a butcher shop and can just barely stand having Vim around. |
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Well, what I originally had was a floating wooden island, but we've already set up a more normal land-based kingdom, so we can do that. I can generate a map and we can tweak it. I mentioned heading through the "savage lands" and that they would be going northeast in an early post - but we can easily change that. I'll show you the normal and biome versions of the map I generated. Obviously, the names aren't final - I just don't want to change them all, and I don't want to name everything without your input. If the map doesn't work for us, we can regenerate. 
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:0 Vim is amazing!!! I can't wait to see our characters interact with one another, it should be interesting! |
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Why, thank you you very much :) I feel like I could've flesh him out more, but sometimes that comes with RPing. I do hope they interact well, since I made Vim particularly with Constance in mind. You can start any time you like, I'm again busy for the rest of today. |
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No, he seems perfect to me. There are a few parts I wanted to flesh out more about Constance, but like you said, it really just comes out more, if not better, when you're actually RPing with the character. And alright, I'll start on setting the stage. Aligning with the start in the Set-Up section, I'll be starting with him getting to where the letter instructed him to go. |
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Just so you know, my posts might be sporadic for the next few days because our internet and electricity here has been going on and off. |
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No worries! <3 Sorry to hear that though, doesn't sound like much fun having power go in and out. |
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Urgh, yeah, it's quite irritating. But in my town it's pretty normal throughout winter, and we just got our first snow, so I was expecting it. |
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Winter 
Night 
Sleet Moon: 
