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Kasmandre

Quill-Bearer
  • Content Count

    290
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About Kasmandre

  • Rank
    The Koot & Weenie
  • Birthday 04/14/1984

Contact Methods

  • AIM
    Herod the Nut
  • Website URL
    http://
  • ICQ
    0

Profile Information

  • Location
    EV, IL

Previous Fields

  • Characters
    Kasmandre, Shamin Sardin, Sheemie
  • Race/Gender Details
    Well, I was male last time I checked. One sec...yep, still male.
  • Bio
    Um, I'm wasting my time in college...yeah, that about covers it...
  • Feedback Level
    Anything you want to say, I'll listen.
  • Geld
    57
  1. Joachim Nellemt Title: Priest of the Illuminated Shadows Height: 5'9" Weight: 165lbs Hair: Stark white Eyes: Green Caste: Zenith Joachim was born a gutter of the Imperial City into a family of disenfranchised beggars who claimed to be an offshoot of one of the Dynastic houses. As such, he grew up with a moderate education from his parents until the day they were murdered in cold blood by a city guard. The guard's only punishment was a few days in jail for "staining the street with the filthy blood of the disenfranchised." When Joachim found out about this he gathered friends of his family in force and marched them toward the barracks to deal their own justice to that guard. They were met by a Dragon Blooded who was inspecting the barracks at the time. Joachim's makeshift mob scattered, but Joachim stood resolute even as the Dragon Blooded began to beat him. It was then that he had a vision of the Unconquered Sun exhorting him to stand against the Realm and speak out against its heretical Immaculate Order. Joachim stood up against the Dragon Blooded's blows, disarmed him and killed him with his own weapon. Forced to flee the Imperial City with the Wyld Hunt close behind, Joachim has crossed the Blessed Isle under the title of Priest of the Illuminated Shadows, exhorting the lower classes of the Realm to rebel in the name of the Unconquered Sun.
  2. Thankee sai. I had a very good day, more of the relaxing kind than the exciting (but that's what I wanted, so go me).
  3. I've been looking for a chance to try out the Lunar I created...
  4. Kasmandre the Koot makes his way into the Cabaret Room and, seeing the new scroll hanging on the wall, slowly ambles over to it, leaning heavily on his cane. Getting out a pair of reading glasses whose lenses were once used in a deep space satellite, he squinched up his eyes and stood a half inch from the scroll, staring intently at every word before making it out. After a good half hour, he'd finished, but forgotten what he just read. After getting reverie to explain it to him, he scribbled his name down on the parchment in an unintelligible scrawl and proceeded to pontificate on why modern artifacts were no match for the wonders created in his day. He continues on for a good three hours, pleased at not being interrupted for once, before he realizes that the room has completely emptied.
  5. Lunars?? Did someone say Lunars? Kasmandre makes an unsuccessful attempt to stifle his drooling I love Lunars! Seriously, though, I'd be into Exalted, especially Lunars or Abyssals (just started reading my roomate's copy of Abyssal). I've also played a lot of Mage and could get into that. Or Demon. A friend of mine's running a chron in that and it sounds cool. So, yeah, I'm in. Also, I have a lot of friends who agree with you about Neo-Wod, Deg, but I must say I deeply love the idea of running a mortals story and the new simplified dice rules make a good deal of sense to me. But, to each their own.
  6. Congrats. Sounds like things are looking up.
  7. Name: Beau Tosscobble Concept: Tenny-Tiny Thief Race: Halfling Gender: Male Eyes: Brown Hair: Brown Height: 2'5" Weight: 29 lbs Beau was the essential "runt of the litter" of his family. Short even for a halfling, Beau went to almost absurd lengths to get noticed by members of his family. Naturally, this led to a series of readily increasing injuries as Beau chose stunts far beyond his abilities, which in turn led Beau to meeting a great deal of clerics and healers. But where such exposure would have made another person deeply and sincerely religious, it gave Beau yet another way to grab attention. He began "collecting" gods like other Halflings collected jewels or weapons. At the moment, Beau worships a good dozen different deities, including Olidammara, St. Cuthbert, Boccob, Corellon Larethian, Fharlanghn, Pelor, and Yondalla. His goal is to collect 29 different gods, or "A god for every inch!" as he's fond of proclaiming (usually before some ill-conceived stunt). He attempts to perform worship to all of the gods he's "collected," a usually self-defeating enterprise which keeps him fairly broke most of the time. Beau usually takes to stealing to cover his expenses, reasoning that, no matter what god his victim worships, some of the money will most likely go to them. Beau tends to travel alone because many are offended by his collection and others don't want to be there when Beau's attention-grabbing gets the attention of the gods. However, if someone wants to travel with Beau, he's more than happy to tag along wherever they're going.
  8. ~Kasmandre the Koot~ Probably the easiest to talk about is Kasmandre the Koot, mostly because there isn't a great deal to talk about. He was originally created as comic relief (a role he fulfills often enough even now) and to create a "character" for more lighthearted roleplaying than I can usually put to the name. This is probably the first time I actually tried to make a definite difference between various ideas of Kasmandre. He's essentially a cantankerous old coot who spends his days decrying the actions of the younger generation, going on and on about how things used to be, and falling asleep. Even though I've never used him in anything more than some lighthearted RP, I'd like to use him in a more serious role at some point, just to see where the character could go and to try to assemble some kind of history for him.
  9. ~Appearances~ The Third Archmage Royal Rumble - Sardin's first appearance. The character was actually a lot different then in some ways (basically, I just wanted a simple character to use in the Rumble and made one up off the top of my head). Still, it's fun for me to see his "origin" Homeward Bound - The first real story with Sardin, still in progress at the moment. The set-up is here.
  10. Couldn't they both be scantily clad?
  11. If you're going to start up something like this, it would probably be better to start it in a whole new thread just to avoid the previous page and a half, which would be extraneous. Also, the thread recently past the second anniversery of its death and would likely make a rather mouldy zombie.
  12. The Jousting Tourney came pretty late in the big scheme of things. A lot of the Conservatory people here had already jumped ship by then. If I remember, it didn't get too far.
  13. I'm in. My system-based RPing experience tends more toward White Wolf: the Pretension games , but I've played enough d20 to know my way around. I don't know much about the settings, but from your description, I'd like to play Eberron. Maybe I just like the idea of fantasy-noir.
  14. Again the warriors moved through the night, back into their mortal hosts. There was one more secret killing to do before they could move on the colony en masse. There was one more power on the island that might stop them. And tonight would be its last night. They moved together through the night, stopping at the door to the prisoners' barracks. They swung the door open to find their prey... awake. The Shaman was sitting in the center of the floor, alone. He'd waited until the pirate had snuck out before beginning his preparations and had only just finished. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his body painted in the blood of an island bird he'd caught that evening. A circle of blood and sand surrounded him and runes were painted on every available surface. As the warriors entered, the Shaman began chanting. Behind them, the door slammed shut. The two warriors took an uncertain step into the room, pushing against the force the Shaman was sending against them. The very air of the room seemed to be resisting them, pushing back, pushing them away. But still they kept coming, closer, closer, until they stood just outside the circle the Shaman had drawn. The Shaman's chanting rose to a fevered pitch as the still air in the room kicked up and began buffeting the two intruders. Behind the warriors, someone was banging on the door, demanding to be let in. Inside, the warriors stood before the Shaman's last line of defense. With a simulaneous push, they stepped within the barrier and reached out, not with their physical arms, but with their spectral selves and reached deep into the Shaman. And pulled. The Shaman let out a single heart-chilling scream as his soul was torn out. His scream was soon drowned out, though by the blast of a rifle at the door. Its latch destroyed and the Shaman no longer holding it shut, the door swung open on its hinges. The warriors turned to see their new opponents. "Alright, you dirty blackguards, you just killed a man I'd've had on my crew and I take offense to that," Seth said as he stepped into the room, drawing a pistol from his belt and leveling it at the pair standing over the Shaman's corpse. Jamison looked like death warmed over, still pale from his near-death experience at sea and Spike looked like simply death. But the look in their eyes was the same and alien to either the frightened guard or the ravenous beast. It was the look of a hunter seeing his prey. "Bart," Corwin began, "I don't know what you think you've been doing or if you had anything to do with my Lilah, but I do know that no one else is dying on this island if I can help it." "But, poor fool," the creature that had been Bartholomew Jamison replied as he approached the pair, "you can't help it." Exerpt from the Report on the Incident on His Majesty's Penal Colony on Annisberg: ooc: Well, that's all she wrote. The wolves (Gnarlitch and Ozy) win! Their last kill, Venefyxatu, was an innocent villager. The Baner was Gryphon. Great job all!
  15. The prisoners started moving back to the barracks after a hard day's work, looking forward to whatever sleep they'd be able to grab with the spectre of the recent murders hanging over their heads. Aimo moved a little slower than the rest, nursing a hangover that didn't seem to want to stop. Holding his throbbing head with one hand, he slowly made his way toward the barracks. About halfway there his path was blocked by the Shaman. Not wanting to get into another fight, Aimo turned and started going another way, but the Shaman nimbly moved to block him. "Look, Shaman, I don't want any trouble. I just want to get back to my bed and rest my bruised body." The Shaman stood his ground, staring down the aching Arab. After a second, he began chanting, his multi-forked tongue flickering in and out of his mouth. Aimo turned around again and began running, not trying to get to the barracks anymore, just trying to get away from the Shaman. He'd heard stories about what he was capable of and he wanted no part of it. After he'd gotten a ways away he realized that the Shaman wasn't following. He wondered why. Aimo looked around, getting his bearings. He'd somehow managed to run to the far end of the colony in less time than he would have thought possible. Fear did impressive things for the body. Not to mention the fact that he was sobering up. Now he just had to get back to the barracks without running into- "Hello, Aimo!" Aimo flinched. Just as bad as the Shaman, he thought, worse even. All his bruises ached sympathetically as Jamison rounded the side of a building, a hefty club in one hand. Aimo put both his hands up, wanting to avoid another beating (or worse) from the guard. Jamison smiled amiably as he approached Aimo, then drove the butt of his club into Aimo's considerable gut. Aimo wheezed, trying to get some air back in his lungs as Jamison grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him to a small cell on the edge of the clearing. Spike's cell. Aimo gasped out an ineffective protest, looking around vainly for any help. The only person he spotted was the Shaman, still chanting. "G'bye, killer," Jamison whispered in his ear as he opened the door and shoved Aimo into the cell, slamming the door behind him. "Wait, but I was trying to help!" Aimo screamed, beating at the door. "I was trying to find out who was killing everyone! I found out who has the key to the Commandant's gun cabinet! Don't kill him, he's trying to help! Don't kill-" but the rest of what he was going to say was drowned out by the laughter of his cell mate and, shortly thereafter, Aimo's own screams. ooc: Tough luck, guys. Aimo/Sweetcherrie was the Seer. Oh well, Night Phase begins now. Wolves, baner, get your PMs in to me in the next 24 hours.
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