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They came to you in a dream.
“Go!” they ordered. “Board the
Swallow Tail
And fly west.”

Decided to host something of my own. I’ve been on this site long enough that it was bound to happen eventually. This is a fantasy journey RP with a hint of mystery to it. Part of a watchdog's duty, after all, is getting to the root of an area’s problem and flushing it out, and that requires some investigation. Or you could just call upon your patron to smite the place. After all, there can’t be a problem with the town if there’s no town to begin with.

I was thinkinking three to five players, though I suppose that depends on the level of interest. Feel free to ask me any other questions you might have, and I hope you enjoy!

Rules

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  1. All NCM rules apply. This is an Advanced RP, so this includes the Advanced Clause
  2. This is a PG-16 RP largely due to themes. It’s a story about the end of the world, after all.
  3. A post every two weeks is my expected low end. If you’ve gone a week without posting while you had the ability to, you’ll get a ping in discord and maybe a PM -- after two weeks, we’ll need to have a talk about your continued presence in the RP.
  4. I’m sure there are other rules but they can probably be covered under GM fiat. Which is me.
  5. Have fun! This is important. I really hope you do.

The Story So Far

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Describing the history of Naviim is generally regarded as a fool’s errand these days. Not that there wasn’t once a rich history -- the surviving epics tell tales of a bountiful land, of warring kingdoms and glorious heroes -- it’s just that, well, most of it is gone now. Literally. The apocalypse has already come and gone and all that is left of this glorious world are some remnant islands floating over oblivion.

And yet, humanity has survived. Clingers-on to those remaining rocks have managed to rebuild remarkably well given the circumstances, and now many remaining islands are home to practically an entire city-state. With zeppelins available to make the trek between islands, trade has returned, and therefore, culture. But at the same time, it would be foolish to call this new Naviim “normal”. No matter how well the population seems to be doing, no matter how far in the past Naviim’s destruction drifts or how faded those stories become in people’s memory, the apocalypse has left an indelible mark on the human psyche.

Fear not, however, for there are gods! Yes, the gods exist, and though long ago they had sworn an oath to cease meddling in human affairs, that has not kept them from feeling sympathy for the mortals they watch over. Thus, they came up with a loophole. The terms of their oath permitted them to intercede with individual prayers that fell within their domain, so all they had to do was find mortals they trusted, mortals who so aligned with their values it was like they were the gods themselves, to make such a prayer for the good of humanity.

They called these mortals their watchdogs.

More colloquially known as “dogs”, these people are more or less exactly as they have already been described: representatives of their god or goddess so that they may assist humanity without breaking their sacred oath. By the nature of the selection process, they generally have the same disposition as the god(dess) who has chosen them, and because they and their patron are so similar, they are allowed to operate basically carte blanche in their service. Those who have a problem with a watchdog’s actions can take it up with that dog’s patron.

That isn’t to say all, or even most of a dog’s duties require objectionable action, of course. The largest part of a dog’s life is simply travelling from place to place, spreading news, delivering mail, and participating in temple ceremonies. But what they also do is resolve conflicts that only they can. Sometimes, something happens or is happening where the gods feel they must intervene, and because they cannot directly intervene, they send a watchdog.

And, in this case, they’ve sent you.

FAQ

Spoiler

How do you pronounce Götterdämmerung? Naviim?
"Ger-ter-de-me-rung". Using a german accent is helpful as well, but is by no means required.
"Na-veem" is how I would pronounce it but it's a made-up word so you can say it how you want, with whatever accent you want, too.

Götterdämmerung is the German word for Norse mythology’s Ragnarök, are the gods of Naviim from the Norse Pantheon or Norse-inspired?
Part of the worldbuilding has watchdogs similar in personality to the god or goddess are a watchdog for, so I don’t want to pin people down by using a preexisting pantheon or even making one myself. The intention was to have applicants create their own patron, and then I could establish the rest of the pantheon once the RP started proper.

How is combat going to work?
Narrating combat is a bit of a weakness of mine, so I was hoping to avoid it wherever possible. Not that I expect there to be no combat at all -- by nature of the story there are going to be confrontations and I obviously can’t guarantee they won’t escalate -- but these are characters who, while still fragile and mortal, can still call down the wrath of the gods upon those they think deserve it (see above with the "call upon your patron to smite the place" line) so when combat does happen, it’s more about describing the effect and its aftermath.

What’s the technology level like?
Naviim is largely a swords and sorcery-type world. Zeppelins exist out of necessity, but there isn’t anything really "out there" besides that.

Does becoming a watchdog alter somebody’s appearance in any way?
Dogs in the Vineyard, a major inspiration for the RP, spends a good deal of time talking about scarves and their importance, and that’s something you might consider for your character to set them apart and let people know they're a watchdog, but that’s just a clothing choice. Becoming a watchdog does not physically change someone, no.

Can a god have more than one watchdog at a time?
Yes. The thinking behind this is, if you can imagine a god and an individual having a similar enough personality, enough for the god to trust their judgement, one could also feasibly imagine two such individuals sharing a temperment. And if that second person can pass the same trial (if there is a trial at all), why couldn’t they also be that god’s watchdog?

Application:

Spoiler

Application:
Name: (What would you like to be called?)
Age: (One generally has to be of age to become a watchdog. That’s the lower bound. Older watchdogs obviously have more experience, but are also more likely to deviate from the perspective of their patrons) 
Gender: (Pronouns work too)
Patron Deity: (<Name>, god(dess) of <Domain>)
Appearance: (A picture along with some height, weight and alterations to the image works, as does a paragraph of text. Or both! You could do both)
Biography: (How did your character become a watchdog? Did your patron have a test/trial or were you simply chosen? How has their life been since? Have they had to exert their divine-given authority yet?)
Personality: (Remember, the point of a watchdog is that your character and their patron are similar in nature. But as above, if your character has been around longer, they might have deviated from that. Or maybe you were never an exact match to begin with. If so, how?)
Miscellaneous: (Is there anything else we should know about your character?)

Application (without all that stuff in parentheses):
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Patron Deity:
Appearance:
Biography:
Personality:
Miscellaneous:

Accepted Apps:

 

Edited by radio414
(10/24/2022) The RP is complete!

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Here I am trying not to join new things and then Radio goes and makes this cool-ass thing. You've got me hooked, good sir.

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Amir Qureshi

 
 
 
 
 
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"Never underestimate the power of a good nap."

Name: Amir Qureshi

Age: 28

Pronouns: He/him/his

Patron Deity: Myria, Goddess of Dreams, Prophecies, and Rest

Appearance:

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Amir is a bit on the shorter side, standing at 5'6". He has a very slight frame and always walks with his head tilted upward just a bit. His hair is perpetually a beautiful mess, one that he doesn't usually bother to even push up out of his face. He has a tattoo below his left collarbone, the symbol of Myria, that peaks out of his flowing garb. 

Personality(WIP):

Spoiler

Amir is not a quick person by nature. He likes to mull over a problem, to sleep on a question before finding an answer. He believes that solutions often have a way of revealing themselves if one is patient enough to wait. He is often seen as wise beyond his years, but from an internal perspective he just knows no other way to confront a problem. 

He enjoys simple things in life. The shape of clouds. A cool morning breeze. A nap in the sun. He is a great listener and is always happy to talk with people, though he rarely starts conversations himself. He is a naturally trusting person, perhaps too trusting at times. A psychologist might theorize that he is eager to foster companionship because he grew up without much of it, but does not have the social experience to understand when he is being manipulated. As such, he's maintained a naive innocence to the dangers of people and power. Instead, he sees the best in people and expects honesty.

He finds himself looking for meaning in the grand things. What is his purpose? Why was he chosen as a watchdog? It is this combination of curiousity and the trust that the answers will reveal themselves in time that caught the attention of Myria in the first place.

Biography:

 
 
 
 
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To understand Amir one must first understand where he came from. The Moirai Archipelago is a collection of islands close enough to allow for quick and easy transportation between them. The islands of Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos are the three largest in the archipelago; each major island is represented by an elected official on the Moirai Council. The Moirai Council acts as the governing body for the Archipelago. In addition to the elected council members, there are 4 other seated members of the council. The Spinner, who oversees the production of the Archipelago's main export of fine clothing. The Allotter, who is responsible for the economic prosperity of the archipelago. The Inflexible, who maintains order across the islands and has the final say in regard to the enforcement of the law. And finally, The Dreamer, whose only responsibility is to interpret the will of Fate and often serves as the tiebreaker when the council cannot decide how to proceed.

Amir's mother was chosen to act as The Allotter when he was just shy of ten years old. Both his father and mother are pragmatic people and have little time for flights of fancy or to waste on lofty ideals. Being put in a position that imparted the responsibility of the entire archipelago's wellbeing did little to soften their edges. So, Amir was always treated with a firm hand and was expected to model the work ethic his parents had.

Unfortunately, Amir shirked from such rigid ideals. Even at a young age, he cared more to watch the clouds go by than to try to meet the expectations thrust upon him. This led to Amir being stereotyped as lazy, ungrateful, and stupid. He grew up under a magnifying glass and was ostracized before he was truly old enough to know what it was he valued.

Amir grew to expect judgment and as such, learned to trust his own instincts. 

Amir was 18 when he started having strange dreams. At first, he thought they were just dreams and didn't think much of them. Once the dreams started to come true, however, he sought guidance from Erin Lantiri, The Dreamer on the Moirai Council. Amir wondered if this was magic or if he was going crazy. Erin suspected that it was the will of the gods, that Amir was being contacted by the Archipelago's patron goddess Myria, but he kept it a secret from Amir. Erin feared that if Amir was named Myria's champion that the council would vote to replace Erin with Amir as The Dreamer. So, Erin convinced Amir to keep it a secret and spent years convincing him that they were omens of evil.

When Amir turned 22, Myria, known for subtle communication, was finally forced to plainly reveal herself to Amir in a dream. She claimed him as her watchdog and told him of Erin's treachery. Amir, betrayed and hurt, tried to confront Erin during a meeting of the council, but the councilman had already anticipated the day that Amir would discover that he was divinely chosen. Erin accused Amir of lying and practicing the forbidden rituals of Epiliases, the dark god of deceit and nightmares. 

Not a single person on the council, not even Amir's own mother, rose to his defense.

The council voted to banish Amir. It was ruled that he was not allowed back in Moirai. And so, he became a wanderer. Unsure of what it was that he was supposed to do. Dreams and visions from Myria continued, leading him to different islands and meeting different people. There would be times where the goddess implored him to help, to offer guidance to people, and there were times that he had no clue why she had brought him there. 

 

 

Edited by Ren✧

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I am the Bone of my Sword

Spoiler

"Your steel is my body, your fire...my blood."

Personal Information
Name:
Kitt Axton
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Patron Deity: Taros, God of Blacksmiths and the Forge
Appearance:

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Height: 5'7"
Weight: 133 lbs

Kitt's general appearance seems that of quite a fair complexion, despite him doing grueling work as a blacksmith and constantly working in the forges. His clothing appearance is that of the Caminusian fashion, crafted especially for him due to his status as a Watchdog. On the back of his jacket, there holds a glyph embroidered onto it, which signifies the mark of Taros.

Personality:

Spoiler

Kitt doesn't seem different than any other individual at first glance, but if one would look closer, they would see the subtle differences between others and this Watchdog.

He always finds himself a worker and always needing to do things with his hands, one of the things he's always been accustom to since he started life as a blacksmith. This shows that not only is he a reliable help when work needs to be done, but it also depicts his eagerness to help others when he can and to put 100% in everything he does. It's a lesson his father instilled within the young man from day one and it's one of those many lessons he takes seriously, especially given the fact that all the work he does, he does as if it was for Taros himself. A hard worker and an eager young man to get things done right the first time rather than having to go through things and do them over due to a small mistake, Kitt makes sure he gets any job done.

In the vein of being a hard worker, Kitt also takes a fancy to doing any sort of blacksmithing work both seriously and his way of unwinding, though this manner of unwinding and relaxation is few and far between if a town doesn't have a good enough forge or blacksmith to utilize. He finds doing this helps him reflect on situations, looking at his own reflection of sorts with the metal he uses in each weapon, plus allows for the metal to be cleansed through the fire...burning the impurities it and himself have. This process of self reflection in forging weapons was suggested to him by the Watchdog directed to assist in raising him as well as Taros himself. Kitt believes that this process allows him to keep himself in check and in line with what his patron wishes, so he practices this as much as possible. However, if the blacksmithing and weapon forging is unavailable to him, he tends to do a form of meditation (roughly about 15 minutes or so) to unwind and collect his thoughts. Unfortunately, if Kitt isn't able to unwind by either of those methods, this could result in the young man almost shutting down and even, the worst case scenario, lash out at those around him.

A young man who has his mind and thoughts in order, never one to act on impulse...unless the situation absolutely calls for it (or Taros basically gives him the go ahead), Kitt is the type of mortal to do what he can to be the mediator between arguments and disputes, trying his best to usually quell them to where they don't get heated. Kitt does his best to also keep his emotions in line and in check in order to make sure they don't force him to act suddenly, like most of the mortals happen to do...a lot.

At the end of it all though, while he knows what his mission is as the Watchdog of Taros, he hopes to find out the true reason he lives...sort of trying to find himself within the world he travels (as many young men his age have had).

Biography:

Spoiler

"Being told you were made for greatness is one thing. But after being told you were literally made for greatness...that's something entirely different..."

Caminus, known throughout the world as the birthplace of the greatest blacksmiths and even the origin of the first forged blade. It is here that the order known as the Forgekeepers give and offer prayers to Taros, the god of blacksmiths and the forge. He is known by many titles: the Great Forge Maker, the Lord of Ironworks, the Weaponsmith of Caminus, the Hammer of Caminus…the list goes on and on. However, the god of the forge seemed...displeased with Camnius...or was it bored with them? Those of the island of Camnius, although praised him and prayed often to him...there was something missing. Could it have been that unlike others of his divine spirit, he couldn't find many suitable mortals that could be his vessel and take the title of Watchdog? Taros had a few, but nowhere enough than the others...until, there came one prayer that he found as an opportunity to shake things up. This is where the story of Kitt begins…

Gaillard Axton, a well-known blacksmith and lover of the mystic arts, came to the shrine of Taros with an unusual prayer. Gaillard wished for nothing more than his lineage to continue onward after his death, the wish and hope for all parents. However, Gaillard was in a predicament that found him alone. During childbirth, Gaillard’s wife passed away and before he could even hold the newborn child for the first time, it too passed. Alone and desperate for a son, Gaillard turned to what he knew best: forging and creating things. He attempted to create a vessel...a shell for a spirit to dwell within, or perhaps come alive in general. However, no matter how Gaillard shaped or formed the golem and homunculus, the truth became evident: the vessel was unsuited for such a task. This is when he approached the shrine of Taros with the most unusual prayer and request, for the god of the forge to create for him a son within his Great Forge.

How peculiar this prayer was to Taros, but when he heard it, this began to fill in quite a bit to what he was missing. Taros humored Gaillard’s request, but this was at a cost. While he would forge for the mortal a son to have and let live out his days, the cost of this was that the child would be officially one of his Watchdogs with another of his Watchdogs to assist with raising the child. An equivalent exchange in the eyes of Taros, after all, he created the child...it’s only fair that he serve him. With the offer in motion, Gaillard agreed, knowing this might be the only way his name and legacy would live on. With a great spark of joy and myrrh, the god of the forge began to create and forge together his newest Watchdog...before he was looking for qualities within mortals that fit him to use as Watchdogs, but this time...he’d make one himself. Thus the child was forged and blessed to Gaillard, which he named Kitt Axton.

As the child grew, he had exactly three mentors who helped shape him. The first was his father Gaillard, who taught him the basics of life in Naviim and on Caminus, the one who taught him how to put a weapon to the grindstone and even forge a weapon to the expectations of not only the customer but to put 100% into the weapons, as if they were making them exclusively for Taros himself. The second mentor Kitt had was Taros’ Watchdog within the Forgekeepers, only known as Flynt. He had been Taros' "dog" since he was but a young lad, being roughly in his mid-thirties at the time he became Kitt's mentor. He taught the child the ways of their patron deity and what they're responsibility as Watchdogs was in the realm of mortals, as well as the art of self-defense via the manner of swordplay. But of course, the third mentor Kitt had was the god of the forge himself, who spent time with this creation of his to teach him how to call upon him and his power in times where it's necessary. But most of all, Taros took time to ease the young child's mind of worries and even possible insecurities he would begin to develop as he grew.

As time grew on, Kitt had grown into quite the fine young man. He had quickly become a master blacksmith just like his father, as well as in fine tune with Taros and his needs just like Flynt was and even was a prodigy when it came to the sword. However, not unlike all young men, Kitt knew it was time for him to fulfill his role as Watchdog for Taros, knowing this was the time he had to leave home. Gaillard, saddened but at the same time quite proud of his son, saw him off, presenting him enough supplies and money that he had been saving up...just for this day. After this, he bid farewell to the Forgekeepers and Flynt, who blessed him with what they could to prepare him for his journey and telling the young man to never doubt Taros or his guidance, to always follow the Forge Master. Lastly, he made it to Taros' shrine, presenting his offering to his patron: an elegant but strong sword that he had been working on tirelessly for quite a few years and asked for both his protection and guidance to be with him as he made this trek. With all of his loose ends tied, Kitt began his journey around every corner of Naviim...starting with where he felt himself being called to...the Swallow Tail.

Miscellaneous Information
Kitt's Theme (Alternative) | Battle Theme

  • Kitt's name means the following: Kitt - an English name which means "He who holds Christ in his heart", Axton - an English name which means "Swordsman's stone".
  • The island where Kitt lives, Caminus, is Latin for "forge".
  • Before settling on the "Forgekeepers" for the religious order of Taros on Caminus, other ideas where: Order of the Hearth and Brotherhood of Steel (which is just the group from Fallout, so it was already out to begin with).
  • The appearance of the God of the Forge is based on the character known as Ornn from the game "League of Legends".
  • The general idea of Taros forging and creating Kitt himself was sparked with Yui memeing in this RP's Discord, but at the same time had me think in regards to taking elements from the story "Pinocchio", namely a father trying to make a real son.

Taros, God of Blacksmiths and the Forge

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Theme

Known by many titles, such as: the Great Forge Maker, the Lord of Ironworks, Weaponsmith of Caminus, the Hammer of Caminus, Taros is a deity that’s works can only be halted by his lack of imagination...that of which there is no bound. The general depiction of the forge deity is that of a burly humanoid figure, adorned with two masterfully crafted horns and robed in an attire which can only be described as that of a blacksmith. The topic of what Taros looks like, aside from the depictions, is never a thing that is up for a debate as many of his followers truly believe this to be what he is like...for who are they to question their patron deity? However, one thing is for certain, the plane of existence that Taros remains in the realm of the gods, is nothing more than a great holy forge among a wasteland filled with untouched weapons.

Taros, like many of his kin, requires there to be some type of order within the world. Much like an order to how a weapon is made, there must always be an order within the world of mortals. Therefore, he put in place a manner of regulations for his followers to adhere to...thus having the Forgekeepers form from this. Putting in place a sect of followers to form the Forgekeepers would ensure the order that Taros preferred, as well as being the measuring stick for mortals to strive for if they wished to be selected as a potential Watchdog to the Forge Master.

In terms of selecting a potential Watchdog, Taros’ methods may be different than his kin. While the Forgekeepers are his measuring stick for mortals to strive for, his actual methods are much different. Along with following the regulations that his followers would adhere to and follow, they must commit their lives to the forge, to be utilized as a tool to the Forge Master. For the final test to see if Taros has chosen them as his Watchdog, the applicants must forge a weapon...but the criteria for this weapon is quite tedious. This weapon must be forged within Camnius’ first forge, also known now as the Shrine of Taros that is below the mountain. This being what is believed to be the first forge that was created by Taros while he was within the mortal coil. This weapon must reflect the applicant’s body and spirit, but with the bladed portion of the weapon...must show the reflection of the Forge Master. If this doesn’t occur, then Taros has not deemed the applicant worthy enough.

Communication with the Forge Master isn’t as hard as communing with other deities, it is however quite tedious, especially if the deity happens to be in one of his moods of feeling bored with his followers. This is especially true when he’s trying to find another potential candidate for being one of his Watchdogs. Nevertheless, communing with the Forge Master isn’t too difficult of a task, for one simply needs to seek out a member of the Forgekeepers to simply recite the Prayer of the Forge, as the deity speaks the common language, not needing anything fancy of a tongue to impress the mortals. However, aside from this, communing with Taros can be done at a forge’s open fire, but reciting the Prayer of the Forge would still be required.

Taros’ Current Watchdogs
-Flynt
-Kitt Axton (His most prized creation)
(More possibly, but unknown currently to Kitt)

Edited by Chaos Sonic

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Ashes to Ashes

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"Noble, monk, watchdog... ugh. Too many titles."

Name: Neasa Flynn
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Patron Deity: Nuumu, God of the Afterlife

Appearance:

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Height: 5'5"
Weight: 127lbs

Biography:

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Sonus. A peaceful island far to the south defined by its chilly climate, bountiful hunting scene, and Ashwood Citadel, which serves as both an impressive fortress and the largest temple dedicated to Nuumu in the world. Living within the temple is the Order of Ash, a sect of warrior monks who serve various purposes vital to keeping Sonusian lives running smoothly. Joining the Order is a trial in and of itself, what with the strict criteria for recruitment and the initiation rites that most would-be recruits quit in the middle of.

Neasa is a true rarity among the Order's members simply because of her background. Formerly the child of a noble family hellbent on bringing magic back to the world, Neasa's was the type of spirit ill-suited for lofty manors and aristocratic mingling. She was most at home in the forests around the city, and her only true friend among the manor's roster was a maid named Eilis. When Neasa was thirteen years old, Eilis was discovered to be a traitor to the island, selling secrets of the island to Sonus's enemies, and in Sonus tradition, she was executed by fire and had her ashes thrown to the void between islands. Neasa - having no further reason to remain with her family, fled her home, and presented herself to the monks at Ashwood Citadel.

The requirements were met. Neasa had no attachments to the living, and had experienced the death of another. Although older than most children that were recruited into the Order, she was still a recruit all the same. In a batch of seventeen aspiring new monks, only Neasa and two others endured the full five-day length of the initiation rites. Those three were recruited into the Order, and Neasa's training began. The grades in her studies were very middling, as was her performance with any combat trials, but Neasa was driven to graduate from a young new recruit to a fully-fledged Monk of Ash. However, the amount of time one must spend in the Order before being properly given the rank of Monk is twenty years. For the first three of her years since joining the Order of Ash, she and the other monks were bombarded with demands from the Flynn family, ordering them to return her daughter once word got out that she'd joined the Order. The Order - having a higher position of power in the Sonusian hierarchy than the nobles - was allowed to repeatedly refuse. A bit past the four-year mark, the Order was met with a move from the one and only entity higher on the hierarchy than they were.

Nuumu himself.

A few new recruits within the Order of Ash had prayed to Nuumu that he have a bit more presence, the recruits not fully understanding divine affairs yet. While the level of presence they had in mind was not allowed for gods, that didn't mean there wasn't a way to lawyer his way into meeting this prayer and also handling something that had been on his to-do list for a while. And so, the Ashen King had appeared before his faithful monks, and declared that there would be three trials in which the ambitious sorts could prove their worth and become his watchdog. However, he only named two of them: A martial tournament, and a more intense version of the Order's initiation rites. No matter how much the monks asked, Nuumu refused to name the third trial or provide hints to what it might be. Neasa was one of very few monks who had no interest in any of these trials, content to merely observe. Even when the  other monks who hadn't joined either trial tried to appeal to Nuumu in other ways to earn his favor, Neasa merely observed, only intervening in the relative chaos after the final match of the martial tournament, when Nuumu had told the winner to execute the loser. While the other monks watched in suspense, Neasa stepped forth to bring up one of the core tenants of the Order - tenants supposedly written by Nuumu's own hand - that this divine command was in clear contradiction of.

"Death is to be neither feared nor pursued." In short, no killing for sport, which was exactly what Nuumu was telling the martial champion to do.

An impartial observer who was familiar with both the sorrow of death and the beauty of life, only intervening when necessary to preserve order, even if it meant defying the gods themselves. That was what Nuumu had called Neasa after she stood up to her own god that day. The next thing he called her was "the perfect watchdog" before imparting her with the authority to use his power and returning to his domain, having successfully obtained a watchdog, thus increasing his presence in Naviim. Adjusting to the new honor of being a watchdog for Nuumu was a challenge Neasa is noted as having called "far more difficult than the initiation rites." Yes, she had new divine powers to borrow from Nuumu and new responsibilites thrust upon her out of nowhere, not to mention all the unwanted attention she was getting from the other monks, but more importantly, she simply had no idea what she was supposed to do. At least, not until the monks forcibly removed her from Ashwood Citadel and told her to simply follow her feet and instincts.

Neasa's journey has since been impressively plain. When set to work as a watchdog, it's been mostly the same work that she performed as a monk: Overseeing funeral rites, giving prisoners to be executed their last rites, and offering spiritual guidance to those mourning the loss of a loved one, among other things. The most notable event in the year since becoming a watchdog is when she heard rumors of shambling corpses roaming a city's streets at night. As it turned out, the rumors were false; they weren't corpses, but emaciated beggars. Neasa spent a whole week hunting animals to cook for the lot of them, as it wasn't yet their time, and she feared that by not stepping in, those beggars would soon starve to death.

Personality:

Spoiler

Not prone to flights of fancy, the fastest way to describe Neasa would be "the heart of a hunter trapped in the bearings of a noble." Black sheep though she may have been, and as much as she hates to admit it, Neasa's noble upbringing has stuck with her to this very day. She's most comfortable in lavish environments, and still occasionally forgets that sometimes you just have to get your hands dirty yourself. Although normally a pretty blunt and rough girl, Neasa's manner of speech and actions can turn on a dime to the more proper form of behavior expected of nobility. It's exactly this divide in her nature - combined with her preference to observe rather than act unless necessary - that makes her a picture-perfect fit to serve as Nuumu's watchdog.

"Everything has its time and place" has been a recurring theme in Neasa's life so far, so it should be no surprise that she's very much a methodical and punctual girl, who thrives on routine and order. She has trouble adjusting to new things on any level, but in an environment she's familiar with, she can be quite productive. Two of Neasa's greatest qualities are her personal drive and her mental fortitude. She has all the tools in her mind to not only force herself into action, but if not for her mortal body, remain in action indefinitely. She also isn't really the type to get attached to people or things, allowing her to keep a cool head in most scenarios. Unfortunately, that cool-headed thinking is more often used to crunch her thoughts down into as few blunt words as possible than it is to come up with a plan of action.

"It'll work out anyway."

 

More about...

Spoiler

Nuumu

Spoiler

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Not to be confused with the god of death, whose task is to bring an end to all that lives, Nuumu's divine duty is to oversee the souls of the dearly departed in their afterlife. Also known by such aliases as Lord of Hunters, Grayfather, and most commonly Ashen King, the appearance Nuumu presents others with is said to not be his true form, but a fabrication based on the most ancient depictions of him by mortals. In these depictions, he is an impossibly tall and emaciated man, with gray bony flesh, a slim skeleton-like frame, and a pair of horns emerging from his head made of wood, with his many eyes peering out from within the horns. Nuumu's true form is a topic of debate among his faithful, with common theories being a monstrous stag, a withered and blackened tree, a giant worm baring fangs like swords, or a flock of crows with eyes on the undersides of their wings.

He is - more than any other god - highly committed to order. The tenets of the Order of Ash - his most devoted followers - are said to have been written by Nuumu himself in a time when gods still walked the earth, and most of them stress the importance of the natural order of things, particularly between the worlds of the living and the dead. Although he has no control over when or how things die, he all the same urges others to not take life without reason, and was historically known to zealously punish those who practiced or even studied the art of necromancy in the time when he walked among men. This feverish crusade against the undead is also what sparked the tradition of Nuumu's faithful practicing cremation as the standard means of handling the remains of the deceased, in turn earning him the title Ashen King in reference to the ashes of his burned followers and enemies, as well as causing the god to be strongly associated with fire, enough so to allow him control over it to a moderate (for a god, anyway) degree.

As well as overseeing the dead and assigning them a purpose within Ashwood based on their life, Nuumu is responsible for determining when a soul is ready to be reincarnated. The system he uses is equal parts rigid and enigmatic. For this reason, he's associated with the passing of seasons, both in the "dying" seasons of autumn and winter, and the seasons of "rebirth" in spring and summer. Followers of Nuumu are known to hold special festivals at the start of each season for this reason.

Although the tenets of Nuumu strictly forbid killing for sport, they don't forbid killing entirely. In fact, the hunting of wild animals for pelts, meat, and even bones, is encouraged by the Ashen King, as it keeps the cycle of life and death flowing. Although not a god of the hunt, he is for this reason seen as a patron of hunters all the same. However, animal sacrifices are known to displease Nuumu, as the animal's death serves no purpose once its body is thrown into the pyre. The best way for one to appease Nuumu after a hunt is to make use of as much of the animal's body as possible, and to not hunt in excess.

Communication with Nuumu is historically a bit of an uphill battle, even for his most faithful monks. Be it in his true form or the one he appears before others in, Nuumu has one glaring physical flaw. He has no voice box or lungs, and as such, cannot speak the languages of men. What he can speak, however, is the language of the dead, often called precisely that. While studies of this language are by no means restricted, it's pretty niche information to have since it will likely only come up if you are either communing with Nuumu himself, can see dead people that for some reason have escaped Ashwood, or are studying necromancy. For this reason, those seeking to communicate with Nuumu will commonly do so in the presence of a member of the Order of Ash that has finished their studies, which includes fluency in this language.

 

 

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Marking this post as my spot for a W.I.P. application. Look forward to working with you.

 

[The Duke of Dirty Coin]

"I'm mostly interested in coin, but I'll take your wife's knickers too... if you'll bargain of course."

Name: Olive Yurgold (Olivander Steel is his actual name)
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Patron Deity: Hinder, God of Gambling, Thievery, and Wealth
[Appearance]

Standing at five feet and seven inches, Oliveander is quite slender. Constantly on the run, Olivander is built for speed. His core isn't fantastic, but it's by no means sloppy. His legs and calves are quite well toned from years of thievery. He has very mangled, unkempt black hair that just barely grazes the back of his ears. His eyes are a tender, forest green, giving him a misleading, innocent appearance. His slim nose and budding jaw, along with his broad shoulders and mustache makes it just as easy to swoon ladies as it does to steal from them. Olivander's bronze skin allows him to portray a variety of nationalities as well, making him, almost, the perfect swindler.

[Biography]
Olivander was born and raise among the slums of Sindalium (sin-day-liam), an island in the west. Ever since he was a boy, the earliest memories he has had are of stealing to survive. Never knowing his parents, Olivander has fended for himself by taking from others. As a boy, he was an awful thief. From bread to wine, he was barely avoiding capture. He would often have to go several days hungry in order to hide himself from the threat of Sindalium soldiers who wanted to cut off his hands. As luck would have it, however, Olivander was not destined to be a terrible thief for long. His mischievous ways actually drew the eyes of like-minded people who wanted to help him. But they didn't want to help him out of his situation. They wanted to help him master his craft. Enter: The Sindalium Thieves Guild. Nearly busted on another desperate job, a single guild member ambushed Olivander and swiped his goods, prompting Olivander to give chase.

After a rowdy ten minute hunt to recover his own stolen goods, Olivander cornered the guild member in a narrow alley. It was there that Olivander stomped forward, demanding the thief return his loot. And the thief did comply, but only after throwing Olivander's loot over the alley wall and forcing him to chase after it one last time. Olivander took the bait, and on the other side, he was face to face with three other guild members who knocked him unconscious.

When he awoke, Olivander was in a damp, cold cave with four guild members standing over him. They were draped in red and black robes with their faces covered, and they were muttering something about "average" and "amateur" under their breaths.

"Well, we can teach him, can't we?" said one.

"If he wants to learn. Judging by the last week, he's quite stubborn," said another.

"He's desperate. We can always use more members," said a third.

"And what do you think the others will say if we simply... induct another?" asked the fourth.

They looked to each other before turning back to Olivander.

"Alright. Let's help him. I've been in his shoes," said the first.

"Agreed. We'll give him a chance," the third said with a nod.

"If he blunders and dies, who's responsible?" asked the second.

"She is," said the fourth, pointing to the first.

All the while, Olivander stared on, speechless at what he was witnessing. "Just what is going on? Where's my loot!? And who the heck are you!?" he demanded. Olivander sprang to his feet and began pointing his finger in the chest of guild member number two. "Was it you who took my loot!?" he barked. He poked the chest of guild member number one and asked the same question. "Or was it you!?" he snapped. But it was as Olivander pressed his finger into this woman's chest that he realized the mistake he made. Because, by the time he finished asking his question and processing what he had done, he was looking up at the guild member, and the back of his head was bleeding. The room began to spin and Olivander was going to pass out once more. The last words he heard were, "well he clearly has no respect for women!"

Some hours later, Olivander awoke once more, but this time to a prison cell. And at the ripe age of 14, he just knew this was the end of his life. As he sat up and stared out of the prison bars, he realized he was surrounded by guild members. There were at least a dozen or more of those red and black cloaks, except for one, which was red and white. This one was clearly their leader and they marched forward with a shit-eating grin on their face. "Desperate. Reckless. Dirty. You've got the makings of a thief alright. But you're half-assed and one copper short of a warm cot. So welcome, boy-o," he said as he lowered his cloak to reveal his dark brown hair and black eyes. "We'll make a proper thief of you yet. And you can start by breaking out of that cell and earning your loot back. Once you're free, we'll show you the tricks of the trade," declared their leader.

"Bullshit! You can't just abduct me and take my loot! I earned that!" Olivander argued.

"Then you can earn it back. Good luck, boy-o!" said their leader before he began to walk away.

"You could at least tell me where I am and who you people are!" Olivander protested.

The guild leader stopped and turned on his heels. He was still wearing the same cheeky grin. "My name is  Pfeifer, leader of the Sindalium Thieves guild. And you, young man, are about to have your balls drop." After dropping a key at his own feet, Pfeifer disappeared with his thieves in tow, leaving Olivander in his cell with only the light of the moon to guide him.

Over the next forty-eight hours, Olivander would struggle valiantly to break free from his cell. He tried slipping through the bars, digging under them, bashing the lock open with rocks, but nothing was working. He was desperate and he was hungry and he was tired. He hadn't slept because he was starving. And ten feet away, teasing him in the dark, was a single rusty key, lying in the dirt. Olivander was sure now that the only way out of his cell was to get the key. Finally, he resorted to desperate measures. Olivander stripped himself of his only clothes and began to tear them to shreds with his bare hands. This took all of his remaining strength, but he managed to form a lengthy rope from his clothes. Naked and starving, Olivander tied a knot in one end of the rope and slipped it out of the bars. Slowly and carefully, he tossed the knotted rope outward and, after many tries, it landed squarely over the key. Olivander gently dragged the key back to his hands and finally opened his cell.

After that day, Olivander would be trained with the greatest thieves in the west, with Pfeifer leading them. "The test was to see just how far you would go to get something you wanted. How vulnerable are you willing to be? How desperate will you become? How long can you wait? Can you strike carefully? That is what it means to be a thief."

Olivander had lived by those words for five years before he graduated and earned his robes. Over the course of this time, Olivander honed his skills. Sleight of hand, light stepping, moving with the wind, and of course the thief's most underrated weapon: the gift of gab. Olivander quickly learned that he could talk his way in and out of situations, but harnessing those skills to earn trust and get on the inside and move toward a goal would be his biggest asset. And it was then that that Pfeifer revealed the greatest secret the guild had to offer to their thieves: prayer.

"Prayer? To whom?" Olivander asked.

Pfeifer had lead Olivander to a hidden temple on the north of the island, beneath a rugged crag and covered in brush. "The god of thieves himself, of course. Hinder," Pfeifer began to explain. The temple was filled with sacks of gold, bursting at the seam as offering to the god of thieves. "Many thieves pray here that their sleight of hand might be the most subtle, or that their footsteps be the most silent. But that's not something that Hinder will grant. Those are things that a thief must learn on their own. There is but one blessed thief at a time under Hinder's watch. That chosen thief is his watch dog," Pfeifer continued. The further into the temple they went, the more gold seemed to fill the air around them. Eventually, they reached a large awning that rose into the temple's ceiling and stretched into a rounded offering room. At its center was a rounded metal plate engraved with the symbol of the guild of thieves. This symbol was a closed hand grasping tightly to a torn cloth that fluttered, empty.

"The watchdog is effectively Hinder's right-hand man. He doesn't represent our god, per say, but he has unique capabilities that other thieves may not. That, and of course he is closely linked to Hinder and may even speak with him," Pfeifer went on to say. They paused at the offering room entrance and stood to observe it. It was dimly lit by four torches surrounding the offering plate. "There, you may pray when you please and bring offerings to Hinder."

Olivander stood silently as he observed the offering room. Finally, he addressed the elephant in the room. "So, who is Hinder's watchdog, then?"

Pfeifer smiled. "It used to be me," he said softly. "But now, I've no idea who has been blessed by Hinder. Maybe he's chosen someone outside of the guild. Maybe he hasn't chosen anyone at all. Who knows?"

Olivander scratched his young head. "Well, has anyone tried asking him?"

Pfeifer laughed. "Of course we have. But no one has heard directly from Hinder in thirty years. He's gone silent, so to speak. We haven't had much meaningful insight into great heists in some time. Still," Pfeifer said with a nod. "We continue to offer to Hinder as much as we can."

Olivander sighed. "I only see gold and gems here. Is there something else you can offer to Hinder?"

Pfeifer smiled again. "You're quite the inquisitive one, Olivander. Perhaps that is something we should consider. An offering so great, Hinder would have to answer us." Pfeifer's smile slowly turned into his usual shit-eating grin.

Olivander chuckled. "I know that look. You've got a target in mind, don't you?"

Pfeifer smacked Olivander on the back. "I do boy-o. And you're gonna be a part of the team that steals it."

Pfeifer began to feed Olivander's curiosity as they returned to camp that day. And it was that day that Olivander learned more intimately about Sindalium's history. Having founded its riches on the backs of slave-trade, Sindalium was an island that was mostly devoid of common decency. The only people who called it home were slave masters and merchants. It was a western trading hub that saw hundreds of slaves go through it every day, being traded for everything from coin to spices and gems and oxen. It's busiest city, Rourtoria (roar-tore-e-uh), hosted its crown jewel and most prized possession: the Sindalium Spinning Wheel. A magical spinning wheel produced by the gods long ago, which created a thread that was light, pliable, and stronger than diamond. The trade value of the wheel was priceless. It was also impossible to get to due to the twenty-four hour patrol of Rourtorium guards circling the Spinning Wheel itself.

But that was just the tip of the iceberg. The Spinning Wheel was staged on a large, raised platform in the center of Rourtoria, concealed in a cage of steel bars. It was placed just so that there was a clear view of the wheel with plenty of positions for Rourtorium archers to fill any intruders with arrows should they attempt to get to close. The only way to actually reach the wheel was a cleverly housed lever system that raised and lowered the platform from two kilometers south of its position. This housing was also guarded twenty-four hours a day.

"So how the hell do we get to it?" asked the now twenty-year old Olivander. They had been planning the heist for six years now.

"The wheel? Well, we have two choices: we can sneak into the lever house and lower the platform, slither our way to the center of town, bypass the few hundred guards, and get to it. Or, we can infiltrate the Rourtorium archery guard, take up positions around the town square, and grapple our way up to the cage while simultaneously avoiding enemy fire," Pfeifer said confidently.

Olivander shook his head. In the last six years, he'd worked his way up the ranks of the Sindalium Thieves guild and he was now a commander in Pfeifer's ranks. "Even if we reach the cage, we'll need the key to open it. And there's only one key and its around the neck of the king's guard," he said.

Pfeifer's shit-eating grin returned. "We're not after the wheel, boy-o. We're after the thread."

The room grew silent with anticipation. Pfeifer's commander's stepped closer and listened close. As the thought soaked in their heads, Pfeifer continued on. "You see, the thread is blessed. A gift from Hinder to the people of Sindalium. Steal from the god of thievery himself--"

"And you're bound to draw an audience," Olivander finished. "It's genius."

And to think, the past six years would quickly prove just how well Pfeifer had taught Olivander. You see, the entire time in which this heist was being planned, Olivander was finding secondary routes to come out on top. And once he learned what Pfeifer's ultimate goal was, stealing from the guild leader himself would prove to be the greatest heist he alone would ever accomplish. The fateful day that the heist was underway was the same day that Olivander met Hinder for the first time. Olivander had successfully stolen the godly thread from the Sindalium Guild Leader, taking it all the way back to the offering chamber where Hinder was waiting for him.

Hinder stealthily slipped the thread out of Olivander's hands when he entered the offering room and sealed the room behind the thief. "You stole from me" Hinder chuckled from the dimly lit room. The god's presence was ethereal, making up nothing more than a shadow that Olivander could perceive to take a "human" like form. Olivander stopped on the offering plate and faced the ethereal being in silence. "Not only did you steal from me, but you crossed your own men, stole from them, and made away with the goods," Hinder said with a chuckle. "I've never been disgusted before in my infinite lifetime, but this must be what it feels like," Hinder said. "And yet, here you stand before me, a god, flaunting your heist with great pride. You're quite bold, Olivander Steel. I'm impressed," Hinder admitted.

Olivander tucked his hands behind his head. "Impressed enough that, after all this time, you'd see the audience of a mortal like me? I must've done something right," he said cockily.

Hinder laughed heartily. "So you were doing all of this just to speak with me? And what for?"

Olivander smiled. "I want to be a watchdog," he said happily.

Hinder clutched the thread tightly until it disappeared. "But why? You already have great talents as a thief. And I already have a watchdog. Not that I can't have more than one if I so choose... but why should I make you a watchdog? What do you gain from it, boy?"

Olivander shook his head. "I wanna be the greatest thief the world has ever seen. With a bit of your power, I'll be a breeze in the night, accomplishing heists that even the guild couldn't dream of," he said boldly.

Hinder was silent for a moment but finally spoke up. "Well. You've proven that you can steal from this god," Hinder began. "But you've been trapped on Sindalium your entire life. Can you go further than this?"

Olivander grew excited. He stepped forward hastily, his fists clenched. "Make me a watchdog and I'll prove that I can."

Hinder nodded. "Okay, boy. I'll give you what you seek. A taste of what it is to be the greatest thief. I want to be entertained by your escapades. Show me something that even you wouldn't believe."

There was a rumbling in Hinder's temple and the dimly lit torches began to burn with a great intensity. Hinder snapped his ethereal fingers and Olivander was knocked off of his feet. He flew backward into a pile of coin and hit his head. Now, he was slowly falling unconscious. "Good luck, Olivander. I look forward to telling your story," Hinder said as Olivander lost consciousness at last.

When Olivander awoke next, he was aboard a ship he had never seen before and there were several others there too. He wasn't sure how he got there or why he was there or even where he was going. What Olivander did know was that he had a new opportunity in front of him now, and he wasn't about to question it. "Gambler's luck," he thought to himself.


Personality: Olivander is almost unnaturally charming. He's quick-witted and cunning. He's not extremely intelligent, but he's by no means an idiot. All of these things make him an excellent match for Hinder. With that in mind, while Olivander seeks to earn others trust, he does not trust so easily. His life of crime and crummy past have left him very closed off when it comes to new relationships. He is more likely to commit to a heist than to a person, which is why its no surprise that he betrayed the guild that made him who he is today. Olivander prefers flings and one-night stands. He unknowingly fears deeper connections with people because he knows that the outcome will always be the same: he will abandon them.

Miscellaneous:

  • Inspiration for the character came from a bit of self-reflection, a bit of my own written work, and an interest in taking a less direct path to the inevitable "Watchdog Abilities"
  • His name was meant to be a joke from the start, but I got so into the character that I decided to make it an in-game "alias" but to give him a generic last name to complete his identity.
  • Additional inspiration comes from the "Assassin's Creed" video game series.

 

 

Edited by Comrade Duck

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The IC thread is live! 

I've changed the bit in brackets to say "Conditional Acceptance" because, technically, there is still an open slot, but I'm not comfortable adding characters mid-island. When the current team resolves whatever's going on on Galatea (hopefully they don't smite the place but you never know...), we can talk about adding an additional app in.

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Spoiler

Name: Finn Flanagan 
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Patron Deity: Dia, Goddess of Water and Purity
Appearance: 

Spoiler

 

 

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Height: 5'5"

Weight: 150 lbs

 

Biography: 

Spoiler

 

The isle of Mokuo'Mana, known vastly as an island with the largest body of water, is where Finn calls his homeland.  Practically born on the rocking waves, he grew up learning the ways of sailing and fishing as if they were second to breathing.  The 'ocean', or so they liked to call it on the island, was named Mokuo'Kaliki.  The body of water itself was considered holy ground by the islanders, as it lay right in the middle of the heart of the island, spreading out nearly to the edges .  The ring of land that surrounded it seemed almost as thin as a strand of hair if one were to look down upon the island from above.  Holy Doctrine states that the island seems to be a strainer of sorts, allowing one drop of water to escape through a tiny pour in the bottom of the island.  It is said that the drop seems to be the water with the most purity is allowed to escape the island and fall into the abyss. These drops of holy and pure water are called 'Dia's Tears'.  One of these tears is said to have created Mokuo'Kaliki herself, and the islanders wish to spread the gift of her divine water throughout Naviim.

None wanted this more so than Finn.  He loved the sea, and all the strange things that inhabited it.  He loved how he could see his own self reflected in the waters.  Which was more pure, him or his reflection, was solely up to interpretation.  His family hailed from a long line of protectors of the water, making sure it stayed absolutely pure of filth and garbage.  He loved his job as a purity keeper, and went about his days sailing through the pure blue waters in search of invasive species or trash to clean up.  He quickly became the best fisherman on the island as well in the process of disposing of wastes in a clean manner, able to determine whether he was fishing out an old boot or a Berry Cod with ease.  Once he had turned the ripe age of 14, Finn was given his own boat, crafted by his own father's two hands.  With it, he was set to go fourth on his own as Mokuo'Kaliki's keeper.  He set sail with pride, hoping to reach the center of Mokuo'Kaliki's heart before the weeks end.

With a map of the stars, the helpful direction of coral whales, and a couple of months of coursing through tumultuous storms, Finn had made it to the heart of Mokuo'Kaliki, and Mokuo'Mana herself.  There, he found more sea life than he had ever in his life, and was almost able to see to the core of the entire island through the water alone.  He dropped anchor.  Now that he was here, there was something he wanted to see for himself.  He jumped into the water, and dove down as far as he could.  He had always been a good swimmer, and he could hold his breath for a long time, but swimming through this water was almost like walking through air.  Still, even after a couple of minutes, he couldn't hold his breath any longer.  He was forced to the top.  Finn wanted to see the bottom of this island, to see if he could find one of Dia's Tears himself.  After months of breathing control, and extreme swimming technique perfection, he had finally made it to the depths of Mokuo'Kaliki.  

When he opened his eyes, after touching something soft, he opened them.  He was met face to face with a beautiful girl, clad in shells and bubbles, with a small crystal in her hand.  She looked at him just as bewildered as he felt in that moment.  They stared at each other for a good while until Finn could feel his lungs collapsing.  He begun to swim up to the surface, when she felt her hand grab his wrist.  A cold feeling took him over, but he was able to breath now.  

"What are you doing here?" The small girl asked him.  "This is not a place to be reached by mere humans."

Not only could he breath effortlessly, he could hear her voice as plain as day through the water.  Amazingly, when he began to talk, he could hear himself as well.

"I came to find Dia's Tear!  I want to spread her beauty throughout the world!  We shouldn't just keep it to ourselves!"

The figure blushed for a moment, before seeming to rummage through her head.  

"It's been such a long time since I had a watchdog..."  She whispered to herself.  

Finn had heard of Watchdogs.  Many came to his island in search of something...but they mainly just polluted the island with garbage.  He mainly was the one cleaning up after them.  However, if he was going to be in service to Dia, he would take that role as a watchdog wholeheartedly!  Now he just had to find Dia.  He asked her if she knew the Goddess of Mokuo'Kaliki, to which the girl seemed stunned again.  She revealed herself as the Goddess of Water and Purity, all the while losing her cool and smacking him multiple times.  This immature girl was Dia?  He could only laugh, while she continued her onslaught upon him.  Now holding the girl's hand in his, he bowed before her.  He asked her if he could spread her influence around the world, and make bountiful seas like that of Mokuo'Kaliki on other islands.  The goddess pouted, but ultimately gave in.  He was crowned her watchdog.  He was given a condition that he had to visit her every time he came upon a body of water, no matter how small.  Finn agreed, and the contract was sealed.  

 

Personality: 

Spoiler

 

Finn is as free a spirit as those people come.  He often can be found lazing about, fishing or napping wherever he goes.  Patience is one of Finn's best attributes, as he has been known to go days on end, sleeping by his fishing rod, until he gets a bite.  His patience goes hand in hand with his determination when it comes down to something he really sets his mind to do.  When it came time to make his own boat, he went days on end trying to perfect each step before he put them all together, only taking short breaks to eat and sleep.  That's why whenever he has free time, he tends to slack off to the max.  He works incredibly hard when he puts his mind to something, but takes it easy ten times harder.  His favorite method of lazing about is to take a small raft, and float on a gentle current, while staring at a clear sky above.  

Finn hates wearing clothes, and always strips down to his swim trunks whenever he gets the chance.  He only wears his regular clothes out of sheer joy to be Dia's watchdog.  Finn loves helping other people, as long as they understand the true beauty of water, and wouldn't mind spending the whole day fishing up a meal for a whole town in no time.  However, when it comes to his lapdog duties, Finn takes care of them in a rush, just so that he can go back to his leisurely lifestyle, lest he be berated and beaten by his goddess for neglecting his doggy duties.  

Finn obviously prefers the ocean to land, and can't stand heights.  He'd rather dig through a mountain than have to traverse by zeppelin.  His favorite food is still fish dishes, even though he has had many types of food since then.  He still loves the familiar and homey flavors of seafood, plus the excitement of eating aquatic life he's never seen!  He's incredibly crafty with his hands, and can build a makeshift boat in under an hour with varying degrees of seaworthiness.  If there was one thing he hated in this world, it was pollution.  People mistreating nature and trying to corrupt it.  Finn hardly gets mad, if ever, but he had been none to cry when he sees a river polluted with filth.  He rarely resorts to violence, rather wanting to talk a situation through and come to a better understanding between parties, but will protect himself if there is no other option.  

 

 

 

Edited by Mr. Hyde

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Hey y'all,

I just wanted to post here for some sense of formality idk. My most recent post will probably be my last. I enjoyed my time in this RP, but it's not in the cards for me right now. I wish you all the best. See ya!

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We just finished up our first arc, very exciting! In celebration, I'm bumping up this thread to temporarily reopen apps for the next few weeks or so.

EDIT: Few weeks of so are over

Edited by radio414

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      (AM 11/30/2022): The RP has now started! IC link added, accepted characters tab updated, discord invite link removed
      (PM 01/13/2023): Updated cast list upon Yui's departure
      (AM 04/13/2023): Forgot to update the cast list again, oops
      (AM 09/10/2023): Formally adding Belladonna to the list of players, also I changed a name in the setting spoiler because I am *very good* at keeping track of established moments
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