{EX} {Heroes Antica} *Heroes of Rome* *Character Sheets-O.O.C.*
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: VandalSavage on 07-12-2008, 06:00:55</h2>
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				Title: <strong>{EX} {Heroes Antica} *Heroes of Rome* *Character Sheets-O.O.C.*</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>VandalSavage</strong> on <strong>07-12-2008, 06:00:55</strong>
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				Character sheets for regular players and guest stars are to be compiled here.
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				Title: <strong>Re: {EX} {Heroes Antica} *Heroes of Rome* *Character Sheets-O.O.C.*</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aestas</strong> on <strong>07-12-2008, 07:05:40</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 25pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: edwardian script itc;" class="bbc_font"><em>Sthenae</em></span></span></div><br><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v494/Summerschild/Elliquiy/Medusa_Commission_by_froggiechan.jpg)</td><td><strong>Currently Found:</strong> In Heroes Antica: The Cellar of Mystery (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=25318.0)<br><strong>Age:</strong> 124 Human Years.<br><strong>Race:</strong> Gorgon<br><strong>Description:</strong> °¤<strong>Gorgon</strong>¤°: At first glance she appears to be nothing more than a young woman.&nbsp; Shapely of form.&nbsp; A modest veil falling over delicate features, hiding them from view, giving one to wonder if the face beneath the clothe is as sumptuous as the pale skin revealed beneath drapes of linen and ornate jewelry.&nbsp; That is, until the shift of hair reveals it to be something else entirely.&nbsp; Long, writhing snakes, in darker shades, dark green, violet-black, maroon.&nbsp; The moment of stillness passing quickly as the sentient locks of 'hair' shift and turn, snapping at anything that draws to close to the perfection that is her human form.&nbsp; Should any peek beneath the veil they would see the soft pouty lips, nearly hiding the snake-like fangs.&nbsp; Large golden eyes tilted at the edges, the pupils appearing to be a slit within the golden irises. <br>°¤<strong>Naga</strong>¤°:In her full glory.&nbsp; The upper torso of a woman.&nbsp; Pale skin, kissably soft, with the first soft flush of youth.&nbsp; Though from the waist down she appears to be a snake of untold power.&nbsp; Long coils constantly shifting until one could not say</td></tr></tbody></table>exactly how long her body is.&nbsp; Dark violet scales glinting in the light, paler scales along her 'belly'.&nbsp; Though even in this form those annoying snakes still curl around her head, hissing at anything nearby and snapping with their poisonous fangs.<br><br><hr><br><strong>Abilities:</strong>&nbsp; <strong>Petrification</strong>: An active ability, rather than passive.&nbsp; Under her control to some small degree, though it tends to fall under 'startle reflex' all to often.&nbsp; The ability to turn a person of flesh and bone into stone.&nbsp; <strong>Pheromones:</strong> Her scent coils within one, urging them to look in her direction, the subtle throb of lust in the air..<strong>Venom</strong>: Two types.&nbsp; Her 'pets' have a low-grade poison, which likely will cause a rash, and itch like hell, but is not deadly.&nbsp; However, her own fangs produce a highly noxious poison which when injected into a human host will freeze their limbs, leaving them alive, but unable to move for a period of time.&nbsp; &nbsp;<strong> Shape-Shifter</strong>:Two forms.&nbsp; That of a human girl with snake-hair.&nbsp; And that of a Naga.&nbsp; In naga form, the girl's scales offer more protection than human legs, as well as a better ability to move and climb rough surfaces, such as the sides of buildings or trees.&nbsp; This form also comes with advanced senses.<strong>Accuracy in Archery</strong>: As is common in her race, the Gorgon has been trained in the skill of Archery, to the point that it seems Superhuman.. <strong>Resistance</strong>:To both Aging and natural disease.&nbsp; Making her long lived and youthful.&nbsp; Though at 125 years old the Gorgon would be comparable to a 20 year old girl.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>Abilities:</strong> [16pp]<br>STR 10<br>DEX 14<br>CON 12<br>INT 10<br>WIS 10<br>CHA 20<br><br><br><strong>Saves:</strong> [8pp]<br>Toughness +1/+3 in Naga form<br>Fortitude +3<br>Reflex +6<br>Will +2<br><br><br><strong>Skills:</strong> [10pp]<br>Bluff 12 (+17/+21 with Attractive)<br>Handle Animal 8 (+13)<br>Intimidate 8 (+13)<br>Notice 4 (+4)<br>Stealth 8 (+13)<br><br><br><strong>Feats:</strong> [12pp]<br>Animal Empathy<br>Attack Focus (bow) 6<br>Attractive 1<br>Fascinate (Bluff)<br>Redirect<br>Skill Mastery (Bluff, Handle Animal, Intimidate, Notice)<br>Taunt<br><br><br><strong>Powers: </strong>[80pp]<br>Alternate Array (human form) [80pp]<br>::Immunity 2 (aging, disease) [2pp]<br>::Paralyze (Venomous Bite) 8 (Alternate Save: Fortitude) [16pp]<br>::Pheromones 7 (Flaw: lust only)<br>::Petrification 10 (gaze)<br>::Super-Senses (low-light vision) 1<br><br>Alternate Array (naga form) [80pp]<br>::Immunity 2 (aging, disease)<br>::Paralyze (Venomous Bite) 9 (Alternate Save: Fortitude)<br>::Petrification 10 (gaze)<br>::Pheromones 4 (Flaw: lust only)<br>::Protection 2<br>::Super-Movement (slither) 1<br>::Super-Senses (darkvision, smell [acute] 1, tremorsense) 5<br><br><br><strong>Combat:</strong> [20pp]<br>Attack +5/+17 with bow<br>Defense +5<br><br><strong>Drawbacks:</strong> [-6pp]<br>Action [assume alternate form] [-1pp]<br>Disability [hostile snake hair] [-2pp]<br>Full Power [Petrification, Pheromones] [-2pp]<br>Noticeable [-1pp]<br><br><hr><br><strong>Brief History</strong>:<br><br><em>It had happened so quickly.&nbsp; Her sister had ruled their tiny family with a iron fist.&nbsp; She was the first among them.&nbsp; The eldest child of Typhon and Echidna..&nbsp; With such examples of parentage.. What else could she have become?<br><br>Sthenae moved slowly through the rubble strewn garden.&nbsp; Stone creatures all around her.&nbsp; Animals.&nbsp; Reptiles.&nbsp; Humans.&nbsp; They stood.&nbsp; They begged.&nbsp; They glared defiantly.&nbsp; Yet all of them had ended up the same..&nbsp; All save one.&nbsp; The slender girl stopped before one stone specimen in her contemplation.&nbsp; The very likeness of a virile human.&nbsp; Her head resting against his shoulder, the hiss and snap of her companions a they would lunge towards his neck, their fangs snapping against stone, too strong to be bitten, yet that did not stop them from trying.<br><br>“Who were you in life?”&nbsp; Her voice was soft, undoubtedly human, her slender hands slowly caressing that stone chest, perfect still, though it would never again lift with each breath taken, never again would a mighty heart pump underneath it.&nbsp; Her fingertips finding ruts in the stone, little pieces having chipped away, crumbling to nothing.&nbsp; Nothing..<br><br>That irrational anger bursting from her in the sudden thrust of her body against the statue, she was slight, but the sculpture was top-heavy, and tumbled over rather easily.&nbsp; The head smashing against a stone, huge chunks rolling away from what was left of the whole.&nbsp; “Nothing!&nbsp; All has come to.. nothing..”&nbsp; The sudden release of anger left her weak.&nbsp; It was like walking through a battle field.. The dead surrounding her on all sides.&nbsp; Strange that the ground was so pure, so devoid of the blood that she felt should soak it.&nbsp; <br><br>Of course, this brought her to the point.&nbsp; The center of this macabre little garden.&nbsp; The place she had been carefully avoiding even looking at.&nbsp; She hated her sister.&nbsp; Loathed the stranglehold she had kept over her siblings.&nbsp; Until they were but mere appendages, rather than equals.&nbsp; Golden eyes slowly rising to that dais.&nbsp; Raised in the center of her sister's playland, it was square, each step bringing one closer to the long bench that lay atop of it.&nbsp; Specially designed to hold her lately departed loved one in either of her forms.&nbsp; The lush, inviting, but ultimately deadly human.. Or the long, coiled Naga.. <br><br>“Oh Sister..”<br><br>Sthenae's sibling.&nbsp; The Monster.&nbsp; The Bitch.&nbsp; The 'Hero' Perseus had not even bothered to remove her body.&nbsp; The stinking remains draped across the bench as she might have been in life.&nbsp; One long leg curled over the other, her dress revealing the still-perfect flesh.&nbsp; Their kind resisted aging, and disease, and even now the voluptuous form looked as if it might rise and embrace her..&nbsp; “Medusa..”&nbsp; A megalomaniac of the worst kind, luring men with her supple curves and then adding them to her garden, as if they were nothing more than pieces upon a board.&nbsp; To entertain her. <br><br>Yet, sister she had been.&nbsp; Sometimes tender.. Though more often not.&nbsp; If her head had not been removed, Sthenae might have reached out to stroke the smooth cheek.. Instead she would lightly draw her arms under the body, heavy in death, though less so in human form, than it might have been in Naga.&nbsp; The girl slowly trudging from the dais with her burden, her head resting lightly against the dead Gorgon's shoulder, silent tears spilling against smooth flesh.&nbsp; <br><br>She alone wept for the dead serpent-kin.&nbsp; She alone cared enough to offer her a proper fare-well.&nbsp; Carefully carrying her sister to the pyre she had built with her own hands.&nbsp; Not even Euryale, their sister, and the last of the three siblings, cared for naught but that Medusa's death now made her the oldest.&nbsp; No tears would be shed from her cold golden eyes.<br><br>That headless body laid to rest upon the pyre, a moments silent weeping over the often-hated form, before fire would be laid to wood, catching quickly.. The plumes of smoke rising darkly into the sky as near-immortal flesh was slowly consumed.<br><br>“Farewell, Sister..”</em><br><br><div align="center">¤°*°¤</div><br>Sthenae was one of the sisters of the infamous Medusa.&nbsp; As a child she was terrorized by her older sisters.&nbsp; The girl growing up withdrawn and introverted.&nbsp; Until the time when her older sister was beheaded, a terrible misunderstanding that nearly tore her family apart.&nbsp; The head of one at once hated and beloved used as a bargaining chip?&nbsp; As a gift?&nbsp; Rage filled her even as she was glad to be free of her sister's stifling influence.&nbsp; Even as young as she was, for a gorgon, she had a hard decision to make.. To follow in her sister's footsteps and eventually end up flung at the feet of some king..&nbsp; Or to take her destiny into her own hands..<br><br>It was at this time of youthful crisis that the young gorgon was carefully approached by the philanthropist Catulus.&nbsp; She had been staying in the Balkans. Living in hiding from her true self as well as from her family.&nbsp; The older gentleman managed to coax her out of her shell.&nbsp; A tedious thing when dealing with a girl whose first instinct is to turn what scares her to stone!&nbsp; Yet he must have seen something beneath the surface.&nbsp; Beneath the scales and her writhing, poisonous companions.&nbsp; A need for redemption.&nbsp; A need to be seen as something other than a Monster.&nbsp; <br><br><em> “The World needs Heroes..”</em> Such a strange thought.&nbsp; And yet it stayed with her, festered in her dark little heart. Until she found herself heeding his call for adventurers.. For those of certain Power to come to the aide of the land..&nbsp; But could she overcome her base nature.&nbsp; Could she be.. Good?
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				Title: <strong>Re: {EX} {Heroes Antica} *Heroes of Rome* *Character Sheets-O.O.C.*</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vella</strong> on <strong>08-12-2008, 04:07:20</strong>
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				Name: Sibyl<br>Class: Mystic<br>Deity: Cybele<br>Race:&nbsp; Human<br>Age:&nbsp; &nbsp;approx 24<br><br>Physical description:&nbsp; 5'8" 130 lbs.&nbsp; Fairly lithe with soft curves.&nbsp; Deep black hair to mid thigh. Olive complexion.&nbsp; Light blue, almost white eyes fringed with thick black lashes.&nbsp; Moves cautiously almost slowly.<br><br>Attire:&nbsp; Long white shift almost togaesque, sleeveless.&nbsp; Gold bracelets, dangling earrings and torque with leather and gold sandals.&nbsp; A soft long, oversized white hooded cloak with brass clasp at her throat is worn when needed.&nbsp; A satchel, also white, is carried with her.&nbsp; Some small personal items inside along with a curved ornate dagger and a few coins and a chunk of sparkling amethyst, rubbed smooth in spots.<br><br>Born blind (hence the near white eyes) Sibyl was raised carefully.&nbsp; The lack of sight bringing with it the gift of second sight.&nbsp; Her cautious careful movements simply her way of making her way through the world.&nbsp; Her hearring as well as her sense of smell and touch greatly magnified to the point where she rarely needs guidance to walk through a normal day to day life.&nbsp; Her cautious steps gracefully see her through many situations so that some may not realize she is actually sightless.<br><br>Her touch is always questioning as this is, as well as her hearring are her way of discovering the world around her.&nbsp; Touch is also her method of divination.&nbsp; Touching or holding an object brings visions she could not see with her sightless eyes.&nbsp; <br><br>Once she had reached her majority, after a life of careful training at the temple, she began her duties.&nbsp; <br><br>Generally fearless, Sibyl tends to be overly curious, again due to her lack of sight.&nbsp; Music one of her greatest passions she will stop everything to listen, giving alms to any who gift her with their music.<br><br>Abilities: [28pp]<br>STR 10<br>DEX 12<br>CON 10<br>INT 16<br>WIS 22<br>CHA 18<br><br>Saves: [19pp]<br>Toughness +0<br>Fortitude +5<br>Reflex +8<br>Will +14<br><br>Skills: [17pp]<br>Acrobatics 8<br>Concentration 10<br>Diplomacy 8<br>Knowledge (arcane lore) 8<br>Notice 8<br>Search 8<br>Sense Motive 10<br>Sleight of Hand 8<br><br>Feats: [12pp]<br>All-Out Attack<br>Attack Focus (Dagger) 3<br>Attractive 1<br>Evasion<br>Fearless<br>Power Attack<br>Ritualist<br>Trance<br>Ultimate Save (Will)<br>Uncanny Dodge<br><br>Powers: [40pp]<br>Healing 5 [Persistent, Regrowth]<br><br>Super-Senses [33pp]<br>::Awareness 4 [Cosmic, Divine, Magical, Mental]<br>::Blindsight 4<br>::Communication Link 1 [Variable, one person at a time, thought and feeling]<br>::Danger Sense 1<br>::Direction Sense 1<br>::Distance Sense 1<br>::Hearing [Accurate 2, Extended 2, Radius 2]<br>::Microscopic Vision 2 [Flaw: Touch only]<br>::Postcognition 4 [Flaw: Touch only] <br>::Precognition 4<br>::Scent 1<br>::Time Sense 1<br>::Touch [Acute 1]<br>::Tremorsense 3<br>::Ultra-Hearing 1<br><br>Combat: [36pp]<br>Attack +8/+14 with dagger<br>Defense +11<br><br>Drawbacks: [4pp]<br>Disability [Blind]
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				Title: <strong>Re: {EX} {Heroes Antica} *Heroes of Rome* *Character Sheets-O.O.C.*</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kolbrandr</strong> on <strong>08-12-2008, 04:16:11</strong>
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				Caius Valerius Argentum<br><br>Backstory:<br><br>The siege of Syracuse had been a baffling, frustrating and occasionally outright terrifying experience for the Romans. Oh, not for the soldiers themselves, but for the mind at the center of the siege, for the genius it unleashed on Mars’ chosen sons. Rays of energy consuming ships in raging fires. Giant metallic claws grabbing whole maniples and crushing them to gory ruin. Equations so precise the mere speaking of them deformed reality onto itself. Archimedes would not surrender his home without a fight, and the inventor turned all his artifice onto holding it against the Republic.<br><br>The Romans did not lack for puissance of their own, and though the cost was bloody, the city eventually fell before them. Just before the end, Archimedes unleashed the last of his creations on the advancing centurions. Inspired by stories of the great bronze warrior, winged Talos, of the tale of Pygmalion and Galatea, he sought to create life in his own image. Working in strange layerings and alloys of silver, he forged a working of synthetic life, of complex internal clockworks and what even looked as organs, shaped in metals. Alchemy and engineering were fused in a being who he had only just imprinted with his intellect, &nbsp;but now would never have time to transfer his knowledge as well. It was a keen mind all the same, and along with a refined, perfected body, with sculpted silver wings that put those of Talos to shame, it seemed as if to the Romans that the embodied wrath of the gods had been turned onto them.<br><br>But however keen it was, the warrior in silver had only a nascent consciousness, with knowledge of nothing, and needing compulsion from the inventor himself to have any idea what to do at all. When the Romans at last managed to kill Archimedes, it seemed as if his living silver sculpture fell inert. In truth his final masterpiece had gone still in order to focus entirely on understanding anything, anything at all, about the dizzying confusion that surrounded him. Enhanced perceptions taking in even the smallest of details, and quickened thoughts attempting to sort some kind of sense or logic out of it, to create some kind of idea of the world, even of language.<br><br>In the interim, he ended up a trophy seized by the Valerii, crafted exquisitely enough to make a fine display within their family estate. And still he just listened, and took in detail. The grumbling of soldiers along voyages home, even what the ocean itself must be, he was making his reality for himself, from a starting ground of nothing. All he knew for sure was that it was best to do so while still, movement required thought, and he needed every single one he could muster. And besides, motion would likely lead to what he was understanding as violence, and that would make hope of comprehension impossible.<br><br>Many years passed. On sheer intellectual rigor he pieced together the language of those around him, and then applied that analysis as best he could to the things he heard. In the halls of a high powered aristocratic family of Rome, much of what he heard was hardly pleasant. He was eventually able to bring insight to bear, and from simple tone he could make out what were to him baffling attempts to conceal their actual feeling or reaction, all too often. The arrogant, prideful scheming was beginning to make him a touch cynical about these.. humans, in terms of what they seemed to be classified as. He enjoyed far more watching their children at play, at trying to understand the wonder and joy in their eyes, paying a careful attention to the lessons they would sometimes take from slave tutors in their courtyard. It seemed sad to him that the larger humans had apparently had that joy bled out of them, that whatever pleasures they felt seemed by comparison darker, perhaps.. what was that word.. perverse?<br><br>Time enough passed where however boundless his intellectual curiosity had been, he decided he had his fill of this world, this Rome. He had learned enough of the shape of reality. His decision came during the violence of the Gracchan era, and the timing of his step back into motion would prove fateful. The back and forth bloodsheds had come to the Valerii. Truth be told, he did not care. But then they came to the children of the Valerii. It was interesting, the silver man thought, to sigh, when he didn’t even need to breathe.<br><br>The flash and vigor of their rescue lead them to asking after friends, family, playmates. His thoughts could not escape that all throughout Rome, there were many young eyes that gazed out with wonder. And that if he did nothing, all the light in them would be snuffed out as if they never were. The thought outraged him, even as part of him found outrage entirely new and interesting.<br><br>He took another step, but it was instead into the city itself, at times leaping up to let silvery wings carry on the wind. It seemed to the people of Rome as if the gods had beheld a city on the verge of brutal riot, and sent forth their own power to restore peace. For every one that decried their manhandling and injury at some metal juggernaut, ten spoke in hushed awe of a perfect silver man putting out fires, propping up crumbling buildings, pulling people out of trampling crowds and with mighty fists and booming roars scattering would be rioters to the winds. Even if a perceptive few noted his expression looked something like sheer exasperation as he did. Oh, the Gracchi in question died (his life was nowhere near any concern of the figure’s), but the city itself, was saved from itself. All factions had praise spilling from their lips of the deeds of this mysterious hero, Argentum, they were calling him.<br><br>The elder Valerii, quick to seize on an advantage, proclaimed that the being was of their home, their family, that it was preserving them that had clearly bade the gods to bring their personal lares, their guardian spirit, to life. That they then magnanimously sent him forth in the name of the Roman people entirely. This was.. yes, the word /is/ perverse, perversely close enough to the truth for what was now Caius Valerius Argentum not to disagree.<br><br>After what he had done, he could not simply walk away into obscurity, and he would have to exist somehow, and live somewhere. And he did like the Valerii children. He indulged in being cynical enough to accept the status this would give him. <br><br>And so it has been for years since. He has come to terms with Rome, as much he can. He likes their ideals, their dreams of ideals, but their constant failure to live up to them, to even live in mockery of them, seems to him grotesque. It is a poor treatment for such shining thoughts. He finds himself in regular stretches of trying to live up to them, half in spite of all those who do not, half to see if it might otherwise inspire them to. He has otherwise become looked to as the embodied lares of the city of Rome itself. Caius Valerius Argentum, called the Silver Tribune for his more usual association and rescue of Rome’s plebians from their troubles (outside of the now generations of Valerii children he has served as tutor and mentor to, he finds he still cannot stand most of the aristocracy, having had a personal window into their lives). As tensions begin to grow between optimates and populares, so too do grumblings begin to sound about just what this hero of Rome could one day do, but for now Argentum remains as a shining exemplar (if in private, a weary one).<br><br>He journeys every so often across the Republic, satisfying curiosities, chasing after the stranger things in the shadows that he has found plaguing the people he guards. He otherwise takes his idle time in educating himself further on the world, in its various disciplines, for his creator’s intellectual hunger lingers in him still. And when his troubles go too heavy for him, he finds a ball, and a park, and children at play, and joins in their games with as warm a laugh as is left him. The Silver Tribune, even to this day, is a friend to children.<br><br>It has been in his more shadowy, farwandering conflicts that he was approached by Catulus after the clash at Antica, for the use of his name as a factor to convince others in power of the viability of Victus, his cognitive acumen, and his sheer physicality.<br><br>He can see the necessity of it to a certain degree, but like everything else with Rome, he finds it too much to be a case of good idea, horrifying execution. And he wonders if his own involvement with this civilization is becoming very much the same thing.<br><br>Appearance: <br><br>Argentum looks like nothing so much as a classically perfect sculpture of a man, cast somehow from a single piece of pure silver, and yet vibrant and lifelike in motion, gaze and demeanor. Athletically defined silvery muscles tense and strain in all the ways that life should, for all that the mind cries out that they /are/ silver, and not flesh. The faintly curly hair kept closely cropped even blows within whatever errant breeze might form. He is at the same time an embodiement of a man shaped as Platonic ideal, yet done so as a walking statue. Though it can seem distanced, there is a strength in his gaze as it sweeps, a force of personality that can transfix. Those that manage to hold to it long enough take in a sense of stoic wisdom and insight. Those that look past such perfected ideal and closer still might gain some notice of the heavy weariness from which it springs. Wings that could otherwise be an eagle's spread out from his back, though it can seem that when he moves, light itself bends around them as a shimmering distortion, and when they unfurl fully, that light blazes, sending his entire body gleaming, a comet in flight with a powerful, precise grace to his every motion. Such sense of the divine as may be around him is no less encouraged (to his quiet dismay) by a periodic habit of floating slightly off the ground. Though he would be the first to say he honestly just does it to avoid providing strain from the weight of his body.<br><br>He tends to wear a well made blue tunic that comes down to his knees, belted off at the waist in gold. 
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