spyro1201

Monksley got up from his rickety tavern seat. He picked up the leather bag containing his belongings and from it, took out an ornate silver tankard, asked for it to be filled with ale and proceeded to atach it to the right side of his belt. Afterwards he made his way outside and took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly "Ah, nothin' like the smell of a run down town in the morning...Now, I'm going on foot. I had a jackass that carried me close to here, but it....well...died along the way. Long story short: don't share your drinks with your steed, no matter how close you both are. Anyways, onward! ~ Monksley enjoyed the gloomy weather. Was never a big fan of the hot beating sun, making him sweaty and dehydrated. The journey was nice and quiet so far; very calmping and somber. "I'd prefer if we go during the day. Not only would it make my job easier, but some of those blokes are likely to be either sleepy, or with a hangover. Besides, overcasts make me sleepy." - The archer said upon hearing Komolov's suggestions.

Monksley turned to Cameron. " *hic* Now see here, you, I'll have you know, that despite my abundant consumption of alcohol, I am still capable of both sober thoughts and accurate shooting. Why I bet, I can- " The archer paused as he heard Komolov's proposal. "Yes! Verily! I could really go for some adventure. Some extra denars in my purse wouldn't hurt either. Also, by 'week's trekking' do you mean by foot or horseback?"

"B'ah! Swaddian or not. There's a black sheep in every herd." - Monksley said in a harsh tone, still going on about the drunkard from earlier. "Oh, but where are my manners... *hic* " The archer stood up, straightened his attire and pulled down his chainmail hood, and walked over to Bellatrix once more and made a slight bow. "My name is Monksley von Harwich, My lady. Pleasure to meet thee. I am also not even remotely notable and frankly - a nobody. Though, I do pride myself on my archery skills, that it's anything special, but I digress. So, what brings someone like you here? Hired blade? Trade? Or is hanging out in a seedy tavern amidst the godsforsaken war an odd pleasure of yours? *hic* Either way, I'm quite curious."

After downing yet another mug of ale, Monksley overhears what might be a conflict in the making. As soon as the woman practically threatened her 'fan', the greying archer couldn't help but get up from his rickety wooden chair, walking over to the offender and with a smug smile rests his left arm on his shoulder and looks him stright in the eye. "Buddy, what you're about to say will lead to one of two possible situations. Either the gods intervene at this very moment and grant you claivorance, and with it - a feesable excuse, leading to you probably being left off with a warning from this fine lady; or you could just open your big gaping chasm you call a mouth and utter a comeplete crock of bull dung, and as a result, leave this fine establishment as a less of a man, in more ways than one. Choose your next words veeeeery carefully." Without missing a beat, Monksley casualy went back his chair.

Please sign your full name here: Creeg, The Explosive Mage! Race: Fire Genasi Age: 29 Please describe your physical appearance: Tall, dark and handome! Well...not really. I'm of average height and handsomeness. Mommy always said I was pretty and special! I also have short dark hair and pale reddish skin. Years of adventuring experience: For the most part worked as a hired hand or a demolisher. Been in many travels, mostly around the deserts. Bombed the ever lovin' hells out of more bandit camps than I have fingers...in my private collection. Professional training: None! However, I've been hitting the alchemy books since I was a wee lad. I've been compared to a masterful alchemist before, though. My mom also taught me a lot over a span of many years. Apart from that, I can swing a mace. Most folks don't make it that far, though... Current adventuring equipment: My undergarments, I hope. Light full body steel armor (including mask) with special padding on the inside, to cushion the force from explosions; and a dark brown robe and traveling alchemy equipment. As for weapons I have a shiny steel mace, a surplus of home made alchemical bombs and a (hopefully) unique spell that lets me detonate MYSELF like a bomb. It's my specialty. Oddly enough, despite my nickname, it's the only spell I have. Please describe your personality (Flaws included please) : Crazy, wacky, goofy, mad, etc. It has it's ups and downs, depending on what kind of person you are. Some find it entertaining and funny, and thus it keeps morale up. However, more often than not, it tends to get on people's nerves. I mean well! I swear! Despite my destructive tendencies I CAN tone it down, if the situation requires it. Also, I'm not evil. Honest! List of relatives: Me dear ol' mum, Ana. My dad gets squat. They live in Memnon.

Name: Monksley von Harwich Gender: Male Age: 46 Physical Description: Monksley is roughly 6 feet tall and physically fit. He also has a short black/grey beard. Nation of Origin: Foreigner. Fighting Style: Archer Equipment and Clothing: Often wears chaimail with a blank tabbard over it; and leather bound boots. His trusty bow and quiver are tied to his back and has a shortsword in a scabbard tied to his belt. Background: Monksley von Harwich was born on the battlefield. Both of his parents were fighting in a war on another continent. As a boy he started learning how to use a bow and arrow. During his early adulthood, all the way into his late 30's, Monksley has tried to work as an archer for all of the kindoms, but he didnt like it. Oh and he likes to drink a lot as well. There have been many cases where he's been drunk on the battlefield and suprisingly still managed to get a kill or two (whether said kills were enemies or not, is not important) Reason for Becoming an Adventurer: In his own words: "The other kingdoms are full of arseholes!"

I was 3-4 years old. I had just woken up and went to the living room to see my mom and dad. They seem em come in, i walk to them, i trip and I start crying.

"What was yer name again?" - asked Monksley. "Markus Zemya." "Right, so yer tellin' me that I've been chosen by some flyin' geckos to "Defend the realm from an ancient evil"?" - said the archer, as he and Markus walked across the cobblestone road leading out of the village they were just in. The sky was now dim and engulfed in twilight. "Ignoring your remaks about the Dragons; yes, that is one way to summarise it I suppose. You're not the only one chosen to be a dragon knight, though. There will be others. Some have already been chosen, some have yet to be. I sent out couriers to find the others, though I don't expect those letters to be delivered anytime soon, if at all. We're headed to another town and close to it is the old temple. That's where I set up the initial meeting rezendevous with the others. We should be there by morning. Afterwards we wi-" "Hold on there! Don't I get a choice in the matter or something?!" "No." "Ugh....I'm guessing this dragon knight thing ought to involve some adventurin', loot and booze, so there's that I guess. Not like I had anything important going on anyway..." Markus simply replied with a sigh. "By the Dragons, I pray the others aren't as....moronic...as this one...What were they thinking!?" - he thought to himself.

This is the RP thread for Guardians of Iskra. The discussion / sign up thread is here. * * * A gentle breeze blew across the small meadow and onto the cobble road cutting though it. The golden light from the sunset made the scenery look like something from an artist's painting. One might even say that the small little village in the distance, resting neatly between the hills and in their shadow, was put there purely to enhance the view from this part of the road. Amidst all of this, a figure covered with a dark green cloak was going down the road towards the hamlet. Each of his steps came with a slight clanging metal sound. As he walked, his armored hand reached out from beneath his cloak, holding a piece of parchment. His gauntlet had a polished silver gleam to it, with a slight green trim. The sun's light reflected off of it like it were a mirror. "Why do I have the feeling he might be some lowlife drunkard with nothing better to but advancing on barwenches... - an old man's voice came from under the hood. - ...Bah, probably not. I'm worrying over nothing. The Elders wouldn't choose just any random person off the street..." <---<---<<>>--->---> Twas a lively night at the tavern. The bards were singing, the bar patrons were either eating, drinking, gambling or some combination of those. As seedy as it was, this was still the best place to get a good drink, or go looking for someone. "Pass me another mug 'o black ale, lad!" At the counter, there was a man, looked like in his mid forties, clad in chainmail with a blank tabard on top of it, tied to his armor via leather belt with a leather scabard attached to it. On his back he carried dark wooden bow with ornate steel covering the grip and edges, and a matching quiver full of arrows. "How many have ya had so far? I lost track a while ago. - replied the bartender as he handed the bowmn yet another mug. - Most people would be on the floor wondering what world they're on by now!" "I'm not most people, lad." - the bowman returned, after taking several big gulps. Moments later, the tavern door was opened and in came the cloaked man. He immediately made his way towards the counter and sat down. "Excuse me, I'm looking someone. I think his name was...uh...Monksley...something. Any idea where i might find him?" - the man asked, without hesitation. Without missing a beat or saying a word, the bartended dully pointed at the neighbouring seat. Feeling dumbfounded, the hooded man's head slowly rotated to the right, only for his see a drunken archer, barely able to see his own feet in his current condition. "Aye, I'm the man yer lookin' fer, geezer. Whaddya want?" - said the archer with a grogily tone. Not bothering to even answer, the old man simply facepalmed with his armored hand, thinking: "I can't believe what I'm seeing right now.Why did I have to be the only survivor..."

Looks awesome! Approved! I think it's safe to start the actual RP. WIll do so later today!

Guess it's time for my characters. Please forgive the vagueness. Was never good at descriptions. Name: Monksley von Harwich Name: Markus Zemya As the boss around here, I hereby abuse my power, and grant myself a stamp of approval. Please direct any and all objections and complaints to your doctor.

Approved! Welcome aboard!

Welcome to the recruitment/OOC thread of my brainchild - Guardians of Iskra. Please keep any and all OOC comments, questions and discussions here and not in the RP thread. *RP thread is here.* GoI is a fantasy RP, situated in the single continent planet called Iskra. The continent covers slightly over half the planet's surface and is rife with a wide array of colorful landscapes such as plains, forests, deserts, mountains, canyons and ice-bound lands. One of Iskra's most stricking features is the numerous flying islands that pepper both dry land and the ocean. The gem in the center of it all is The Capital, the largest city in Iskra. The many landscapes (incluing the floating lslands) are dotted with smaller cities, towns and villages. Transport to the air-borne islands is achieved in two ways. Either sky ships, powered by magic, or portals. Now for some rules. To start off, here are the general guidelines, written by Lisnpuppy If need be, I'll add more rules later on. Here's an example character sheet:

"Last I recall, I had rented a room in an inn near Kvatch, on the road towards Anvil. I went to bed and then just woke up in the middle of this forest. However, I don't think we're in Cyrodiil anymore. I don't see Masser or Secunda in the sky. If that's so, we're totaly lost" - replied Shadow, thinking the elf woman was from his own world. He then turned to the creature, reminded again of it's ungodly odour. "Are you...from around here?"

Shadow was dumbfounded by the situation he was in. Oh well, might as well go with the flow...The argonian sheathed his sword on his back and then awkwardly shook the elven woman's hand; he felt some slight relief to see someone that he can talk to in this unknown land. "My..uh...my name's Shadow...So...who's your...charming friend?" - he said whilst gesturing to Scuttles.