For the Throne - Discussion

[Hickory]

Rusk, the second-in-command?
You got me... That was my goal in suggesting it all along.

[The Skarzs]

Thought so. Yeah.

Okay, so I think a time-skip may be in order soon. We can summarize that some civilians joined the army. Kraoleck starts an attack on a known area of the resistance, where Hazel gets killed.

[The Skarzs]

I have no idea how well this RP is going to go. I have had very little inspiration when it comes to getting a decent story plan set in, and I don't want to make everyone else bow to my wishes. However, I seem to have set Kraoleck in so well that there is little hope for anyone to try to do anything. What would need to happen is more than just the resistance getting stronger; there would need to be a power struggle. Something bad needs to happen to get this story actually moving.
I apologize for my lack of posting; it's not in the least bit encouraging to the other players if the GM is having trouble being active in his own RP.

[Hickory]

I've just been distracted by other things.

[The Skarzs]

. . .

[The Skarzs]

Alright, so I'll be making a sketch of the map for everyone to have reference to.
Sage, you were wondering about the last question. What I mean is that we can't have two very different times going on at the same time.

[Hickory]

Ah. Okay. So, what do you want me to do then? (If you want me to do anything specific)

[The Skarzs]

Nothing, at the moment. I want to see what Eul will think.

[Dannflower Reguba]

Name: Syphyir (sife-ear) Risskinwel

Species: Grey Fox

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Weapons: Two, long knives cross-sheathed over the back of his waist. Though he also uses his natural body.

Occupation: Member of the resistance/Imperial Spy

Appearance: The silver/grey portion of his softer than normal fur is brighter with more silver than grey, while the orange is fire bright. His eyes are deep, mesmerizing blue pools, and his tail's dark tip is shorter than average, but has veins that stretch back, some going half way back. He wears a dark, forest green tunic with medium brown trimmings, and a grey hood. His trousers are stone-washed black and his boots are dark grey/brown. His belt and satchel are both molasses brown. His height is rather average, and he is sometimes accused of being skinny, though underestimating his physical prowess can be a dangerous mistake.

Personality: He's got a bright demeanor to match his fur. Well-tempered, patient, loves to kid around with his friends. Though his sense of humor darkens when he's "working," and he could easily be mistaken for a nut case. Naturally facetious, but still well-mannered in tone. Tries to keep others out of his problems, but has no qualms with assisting them in dealing with theirs.

History: Syphyir was a typically rather well behaved during his childhood. Born to a family of relatively decent stature due to his father being a Lieutenant in the Imperial army, he was raised in a fairly easy-going environment. Then again, when the fox went un-supervised, he became a mischief-maker the likes of which you will never find an equal. He would often play practical jokes on neighbors, or steal miscellaneous items from passersby and the like. Theft being more of a hobby then anything, he'd later return these items... All without ever getting caught.

       It came about shortly after Syphyir turned over his 19th year that his father was injured in an ordeal with what appeared to be insignificant street rabble. This injury ultimately proved fatal. The young fox soon after arrived at the hub of the military to enlist. His was a familiar face, and he was offered training to become an officer to which he gave a firm "no." He eyed his interviewers, some who he'd known for some odd years through his deceased father. He wanted to be a spy, seemingly working for the resistance, providing information on any important targets or locations they may have. After a brief moment of objections, seeing as it wasn't impossible that some unknown member of the resistance might happen to identify him, Syphyir gave his response, though not with words. Reaching into his satchel he produced the wallets of every beast in the room beside his own. The silence was palpable, but was swiftly cut through by a flying knife. The applicant had been lackadaisically twirling it in his fingers until the moment he threw it before it's actual owner, an old friend who'd had the blade for many years, a gift from a deceased family member of his own. Syphyir's expression screamed with the silent laugh of victory as he gave his two cents, "I can take an item from another, convince him it's mine, and then give it to him as a gift. Do you honestly think that shedding suspicion will be so hard?" He was admitted with little delay, and his mission began mere months later... at the turn of his 20th year.

       Since, he has made a name for himself in the resistance, long past any suspicion from his colleagues. To the resistance, he's a valuable assassin, and field operative, capable of making quick work of any job requiring stealth or sleight of hand. Even gathering tips as to where the cracks in the Imperial forces may be... But to the Imperial Officers and higher ups, he's a secret weapon on a simple mission to make the resistance the insignificant gnat it is today, turning some against them by sneaking in a piece of skewed information, leading to the incidental death of those un-involved. Re-focusing attentions away from larger, more impacting strikes to minor dings in a seemingly unstoppable colossus. In truth, the entire operation has been relatively easy due to one simple fact.... Syphyir became their friend. He knows several of them personally, even risked his life on occasion, just so a compatriot might escape a sticky situation. He harbors actual positive feelings for the group he's come to know so well... But even so, that didn't stop him from dropping off the location of the hidden headquarters of the resistance shortly before the attack was staged.

Other: There are times when Syphyir confuses himself, trying to sort out what action he should take, or is supposed to take, the motive behind each seeming to be mismatched. His talents are wide and varied, but outside of his abilities in the field, few are particularly fantastic. Even so, he's made himself somewhat of a handy-fox, a body to assist with a heavy load, a hand to cut onions for the soup, a voice to raise in boisterous song, or an ear to listen private troubles. His desire for family and friends is rooted so deep within himself that even he can't fully comprehend the need. In short, he loves them, be they enemy or not, he loves his companions.



It's not complete (duh), but it's a start at least -_-

       'Tis finished! SKARZ AH DID IT! AH MADE DEH CHARACTER!  I shouldn't be this hyper at 3 o'clock in the morning, I need sleep, but I think I'm too busy roleplaying as myself in the OOC to do anything else... My character's done.... yeah.... G'night!

[The Skarzs]

Looking forward to having him complete.

[Dannflower Reguba]

       Hey Skarz, it done. -_-

[The Skarzs]

Most intriguing character. Accepted.

[The Skarzs]

Ugh. Double posting again.

Let's do our discussion here, shall we? So, what I would want to happen with the timeskip is for Kraoleck to get word of the attack's results, and continue with his preparations. Fauken, my other character, is going north, but I don't want to reveal what I have planned.
The resistance should begin settling in the forest.

[Jukka the Sling]

Okay, so, I'm sorry I haven't been posting lately.  To be honest, I have no excuse; I just haven't felt like it, and my character's a bit of a recluse who hasn't done anything important so far.   I will try and post sometime soon, but I have to finish a LotR fic I'm writing for a contest (and the deadline's today, and I'm foolishly procrastinating).  Anyway, yeah.

[The Skarzs]

I just need everyone at the meeting to finish up so that we can skip to morning.