Post by Kidney on Mar 14, 2020 12:55:26 GMT -8
Churchill Hall
Resolve level: Level 0: 0/1
Class: Crusader
-Appearance
Portrait- (Credit to BloodStrider!) 
Age: Mid to Late Thirties, likely 34-36 (Birthdate is January 21st)
Sex: Male
Physical Description:
As if told to do so by the angels themselves, Churchill exercises daily, early, and hard, leading to a tallish (5’9) form that represents hours upon hours of running, jumping, climbing and training, corded and strong, yet lithe as well. Skin a good number of shades darker than the average man of Middle Europe, Churchill exhibits a lineage both bastardized and celebrated, a roman nose on a handsome face, with a chiseled jawline, though low in the cheekbone, and sunken in the cheeks. Eyes dark like a forest canopy in the dead of night, framed by a patchy, oddly shaved head, longer by a half-inch on the top than the sides, and set underneath small temple dimples. Though his head hair may look terribly groomed... the story does not change for his mustache. An unkempt mess of dark auburn hair shooting from top lip and running down beside the corners of his maw, the mustache has grown so thick it mats at the edges, begging for some sort of grooming, cutting, shaving, anything!
Though, in its hedge-like growth, the mustache-facial hair combination does somewhat cover intense dueling scars that line the man’s face, some cresting above the hair and along the cheekbones and cheeks like lightning striking from the ground to the sky, while others seem to be serpents of scar tissue delving into a dark matted mess of hair-sea. The scars do not end there, as a fair bit of scars dot him, smallish piercings from strikes not meant to kill.
Attire: Churchill wears most often the works of the Crusader wardrobe, chain covering any area where dented plate does not, accented by personal modifications, that being a grand Coat of Arms emblazoned on a maroon piece of a circular fabric, draping over his shoulders and down to about mid-bicep on each arm, sprouting from beneath the collar like a flower whose pollen is hidden underneath a Sugar-Loaf Helm. The design is that of a tranquil forest, that of which is only aflame at the very top of its dark green canopy, the flames encircling his neck and head, of which acts as the padded hood for his helm. In his own words, it was meant to symbolize that all light that would be used to hurt him will bend around him.
-Biography
Quirks:
Hippocratic: “The Light guides, heals us, uplifts us. It gives me hope in my darkest hours, share in its radiance.”
Spiritual: “Oh holy sisters, let us pray together! No need for poultry societal segregations, we are all children of the Light, Forever.”
Early Riser: “Though not as brilliant as I would like it to be, Morn’s grace benefits the soul.”
Dud Hitter: “I fear I am not as experienced in combat, nor as versed, as anyone would like me to be.”
Thin Blooded: “I...am sorry...my sermon must be cut short due to this cough!”
Weak Grip on Life: “In time, I will try to leave this place. And when I do, I will not fight the men that arrive to kill me in the night.”
Backstory Synopsis: A sermoner and holy man, Churchill believed himself to be visited by the Light itself, and told to find The Order of The Light, Forever, finding success as a raiser of morale and religious consultant and confidante of Officials, Churchill was given a leadership position in the crusades, and failed at every turn to provide anything viable in terms of tactical prowess. In an attempt to fake being abandoned by the Light, Churchill was condemned and excommunicated from the Order, and exiled to The Hamlet. Should he attempt to leave, mercenaries lie within the wood to murder him in his escape. He is trapped.
Full Backstory:
From the writings in The Poem of The Damned.
Where my sins begin or end, I know not. I was conceived in sin, barbarian blood pumping through an infant's veins in the presence of unmarried parents. So dastardly was my birth I spent an entire lifetime trying to prove myself to the Light, Forever. In its brilliance, I did indeed sin, tempted by woman, wrathful in adolescence. My years continued, and I did much to connect to the heavens above, becoming quickly a holy man in my own right. My sins are limited here, but nonetheless present, my doubts in the Light’s abilities hindering my soul throughout my experiences with the commonwealth. As my sins grew once more, my doubts becoming wrathful expulsions of my words at nameless walls, the Light called to me in my wretched state. Charged with finding The Order of The Light, Forever, I expedited without proper goodbyes, abandoning those who followed me. In my visions from then on, I grew closer to The Order, finding them near the almighty Crusade’s battlefronts. Long had been my travels, and my frustrations with my induction into The Order were certainly wrathful. On my induction, I was hailed for the miracles I performed, and given a position as a leader of the young hopefuls around me. In their first battle, I led them into death. Inevitably, my force was vivisected, and my uncaring, useless misgivings about war led me to not be as well versed in combat as I should have, and I watched my friends die before me. I turned away, too craven to witness my folly, and escaped with who I could. In my return, I shied away from responsibility for my actions and was thus demoted and sent away from the war front. On the trek home, I, Churchill, attempted to administrate a great falsehood, the goal being the convenient and self-serving goal of returning home and relinquishing The Order’s responsibilities onto another. I attempted to pass the deception that The Light, Forever had abandoned me past Great Black Knight Gael, who punished me for my insolence. In time, I will come to commit sins past this event, for I am to be exiled to a place known as The Estate, where I am told I am to be thrown to a great Heir, a pawn of a grand machine determined to reclaim pointless land. A fitting end for one such as me. I am to never achieve the heights I was raised to, and I will forever live in servitude and villainy. I pray tha- (The text stops there. It is signed at the bottom)
Churchill Hall, Master of None.
Misc. Notes: Churchill smells of sweat quite often, as he is most often cooped up within his plate armor, though, on days he spends away from it, it is as if holy scripture and a life of servitude gift him his natural scent, that of morning dew and fresh rain.
Churchill has a bit of a slur, and somewhat of a drawl after a particular duel early in life separated his lips into four parts, and healed back together not the same as they once were. He sputters occasionally on ‘P’ sounds and has a particularly whistling quality on ‘wh’ and a wet sputter on ‘th’ sounds.
-Skills & Equipment
Weapons:
Damnation: A greatsword-styled Flamberge blade, this edge boasts a two-handed grip, one grip placed over the other by about four inches, protected by a lower and upper crossguard.
Redemption: A set of scrolls on his hip, used for study, prayer, and Zealous Accusations.
Armor: Plate mail, the standard.
Other gear: Churchill carries the quintessential prayer instruments, as well as a smallish knife and lucky rock, smooth, with a divet in the center for thumb-rubbage.
Strengths: Churchill is well versed in prayer and healing, an incredibly proficient crusader from the angle of magical healing (The banner abilities in-game) as well as motivational speeches and in-depth camping skills (Stand Vigil, etc.)
Additionally, Churchill is a very good motivational speaker and a charismatic individual in general.
Weaknesses: While excelling at non-combat roles and healing ones too, Churchill is not nearly as capable in combat as one would assume, a virtual 5 compared to his 10 in healing, so to speak, Churchill can bring a man up to his feet to fight again, at his side, and be cut down by anyone willing to exercise caution around his large blade and flank him effectively.
Resolve level: Level 0: 0/1
Class: Crusader
-Appearance
Portrait- (Credit to BloodStrider!)
Age: Mid to Late Thirties, likely 34-36 (Birthdate is January 21st)
Sex: Male
Physical Description:
As if told to do so by the angels themselves, Churchill exercises daily, early, and hard, leading to a tallish (5’9) form that represents hours upon hours of running, jumping, climbing and training, corded and strong, yet lithe as well. Skin a good number of shades darker than the average man of Middle Europe, Churchill exhibits a lineage both bastardized and celebrated, a roman nose on a handsome face, with a chiseled jawline, though low in the cheekbone, and sunken in the cheeks. Eyes dark like a forest canopy in the dead of night, framed by a patchy, oddly shaved head, longer by a half-inch on the top than the sides, and set underneath small temple dimples. Though his head hair may look terribly groomed... the story does not change for his mustache. An unkempt mess of dark auburn hair shooting from top lip and running down beside the corners of his maw, the mustache has grown so thick it mats at the edges, begging for some sort of grooming, cutting, shaving, anything!
Though, in its hedge-like growth, the mustache-facial hair combination does somewhat cover intense dueling scars that line the man’s face, some cresting above the hair and along the cheekbones and cheeks like lightning striking from the ground to the sky, while others seem to be serpents of scar tissue delving into a dark matted mess of hair-sea. The scars do not end there, as a fair bit of scars dot him, smallish piercings from strikes not meant to kill.
Attire: Churchill wears most often the works of the Crusader wardrobe, chain covering any area where dented plate does not, accented by personal modifications, that being a grand Coat of Arms emblazoned on a maroon piece of a circular fabric, draping over his shoulders and down to about mid-bicep on each arm, sprouting from beneath the collar like a flower whose pollen is hidden underneath a Sugar-Loaf Helm. The design is that of a tranquil forest, that of which is only aflame at the very top of its dark green canopy, the flames encircling his neck and head, of which acts as the padded hood for his helm. In his own words, it was meant to symbolize that all light that would be used to hurt him will bend around him.
-Biography
Quirks:
Hippocratic: “The Light guides, heals us, uplifts us. It gives me hope in my darkest hours, share in its radiance.”
Spiritual: “Oh holy sisters, let us pray together! No need for poultry societal segregations, we are all children of the Light, Forever.”
Early Riser: “Though not as brilliant as I would like it to be, Morn’s grace benefits the soul.”
Dud Hitter: “I fear I am not as experienced in combat, nor as versed, as anyone would like me to be.”
Thin Blooded: “I...am sorry...my sermon must be cut short due to this cough!”
Weak Grip on Life: “In time, I will try to leave this place. And when I do, I will not fight the men that arrive to kill me in the night.”
Backstory Synopsis: A sermoner and holy man, Churchill believed himself to be visited by the Light itself, and told to find The Order of The Light, Forever, finding success as a raiser of morale and religious consultant and confidante of Officials, Churchill was given a leadership position in the crusades, and failed at every turn to provide anything viable in terms of tactical prowess. In an attempt to fake being abandoned by the Light, Churchill was condemned and excommunicated from the Order, and exiled to The Hamlet. Should he attempt to leave, mercenaries lie within the wood to murder him in his escape. He is trapped.
Full Backstory:
From the writings in The Poem of The Damned.
Where my sins begin or end, I know not. I was conceived in sin, barbarian blood pumping through an infant's veins in the presence of unmarried parents. So dastardly was my birth I spent an entire lifetime trying to prove myself to the Light, Forever. In its brilliance, I did indeed sin, tempted by woman, wrathful in adolescence. My years continued, and I did much to connect to the heavens above, becoming quickly a holy man in my own right. My sins are limited here, but nonetheless present, my doubts in the Light’s abilities hindering my soul throughout my experiences with the commonwealth. As my sins grew once more, my doubts becoming wrathful expulsions of my words at nameless walls, the Light called to me in my wretched state. Charged with finding The Order of The Light, Forever, I expedited without proper goodbyes, abandoning those who followed me. In my visions from then on, I grew closer to The Order, finding them near the almighty Crusade’s battlefronts. Long had been my travels, and my frustrations with my induction into The Order were certainly wrathful. On my induction, I was hailed for the miracles I performed, and given a position as a leader of the young hopefuls around me. In their first battle, I led them into death. Inevitably, my force was vivisected, and my uncaring, useless misgivings about war led me to not be as well versed in combat as I should have, and I watched my friends die before me. I turned away, too craven to witness my folly, and escaped with who I could. In my return, I shied away from responsibility for my actions and was thus demoted and sent away from the war front. On the trek home, I, Churchill, attempted to administrate a great falsehood, the goal being the convenient and self-serving goal of returning home and relinquishing The Order’s responsibilities onto another. I attempted to pass the deception that The Light, Forever had abandoned me past Great Black Knight Gael, who punished me for my insolence. In time, I will come to commit sins past this event, for I am to be exiled to a place known as The Estate, where I am told I am to be thrown to a great Heir, a pawn of a grand machine determined to reclaim pointless land. A fitting end for one such as me. I am to never achieve the heights I was raised to, and I will forever live in servitude and villainy. I pray tha- (The text stops there. It is signed at the bottom)
Churchill Hall, Master of None.
Misc. Notes: Churchill smells of sweat quite often, as he is most often cooped up within his plate armor, though, on days he spends away from it, it is as if holy scripture and a life of servitude gift him his natural scent, that of morning dew and fresh rain.
Churchill has a bit of a slur, and somewhat of a drawl after a particular duel early in life separated his lips into four parts, and healed back together not the same as they once were. He sputters occasionally on ‘P’ sounds and has a particularly whistling quality on ‘wh’ and a wet sputter on ‘th’ sounds.
-Skills & Equipment
Weapons:
Damnation: A greatsword-styled Flamberge blade, this edge boasts a two-handed grip, one grip placed over the other by about four inches, protected by a lower and upper crossguard.
Redemption: A set of scrolls on his hip, used for study, prayer, and Zealous Accusations.
Armor: Plate mail, the standard.
Other gear: Churchill carries the quintessential prayer instruments, as well as a smallish knife and lucky rock, smooth, with a divet in the center for thumb-rubbage.
Strengths: Churchill is well versed in prayer and healing, an incredibly proficient crusader from the angle of magical healing (The banner abilities in-game) as well as motivational speeches and in-depth camping skills (Stand Vigil, etc.)
Additionally, Churchill is a very good motivational speaker and a charismatic individual in general.
Weaknesses: While excelling at non-combat roles and healing ones too, Churchill is not nearly as capable in combat as one would assume, a virtual 5 compared to his 10 in healing, so to speak, Churchill can bring a man up to his feet to fight again, at his side, and be cut down by anyone willing to exercise caution around his large blade and flank him effectively.
