Minerva [WIP]
Sept 29, 2017 21:26:11 GMT -6
Post by arenmori on Sept 29, 2017 21:26:11 GMT -6
Name: Minerva Mori
Class: Soldier
Dragon Element: N/A
Age: 23 y/o
Born in: Ostia
Appearance: [See Profile Picture]
Personality: Is normally a very calm and logical girl, attempting to approach things with meaning and purpose instead of doing things simply for the enjoyment of them. She's easy to understand once you get to know her, having tiny tells of when she's nervous or angry that the more observant ones will be able to notice. When she does break out into her more emotional or angered side, it's difficult to calm her down, aside from directly knocking her out. She tends to go on furious rampages when needing to get out stress, such as beating a training dummy to shreds, or going in a berserk rage on the battlefield, ripping and tearing apart her enemies ruthlessly.
History: Born into the slums of Ostia, lone and hungry on the streets, she had grown and learned to fight in a makeshift arena pit, placed in a small wooden cage and given a training lance to beat the opponent for coins. Eventually becoming more and more skilled to survive, she had grown enough to get a proper job at a small forge, used to heavy lifting due to her training, and how lances were supposed to feel and weigh, eventually getting her own bunk on a small fort on the outskirts of Ostia, where she worked at the forge, and continued her training with the lance, until eventually enlisting in the army, positioned at the same fort she had been living in for the past few years. Intends to make more of a name for herself, and become a superior soldier to most in hopes of becoming part of the royal guard.
NPC fight: Twirling the lance in my hand as I bend my knees slightly, I would lock my elbow in place in preparation, feigning a swiping hit with my halberd, before dropping the shaft down into my other hand, slamming my foot into the dirt and thrusting forward towards the armored soldier, my hair whipping forward as I thrust forwards.
PC fight: Backing up slightly with my cracked armor shifting under my chest, wiping some blood from my cheek, I would desperately reach upwards to block with my shield, lifting a short sword off of the corpse below me, shoving it forward towards the swordmaster's gut, desperate to get a single hit on him.
Class: Soldier
Dragon Element: N/A
Age: 23 y/o
Born in: Ostia
Appearance: [See Profile Picture]
Personality: Is normally a very calm and logical girl, attempting to approach things with meaning and purpose instead of doing things simply for the enjoyment of them. She's easy to understand once you get to know her, having tiny tells of when she's nervous or angry that the more observant ones will be able to notice. When she does break out into her more emotional or angered side, it's difficult to calm her down, aside from directly knocking her out. She tends to go on furious rampages when needing to get out stress, such as beating a training dummy to shreds, or going in a berserk rage on the battlefield, ripping and tearing apart her enemies ruthlessly.
History: Born into the slums of Ostia, lone and hungry on the streets, she had grown and learned to fight in a makeshift arena pit, placed in a small wooden cage and given a training lance to beat the opponent for coins. Eventually becoming more and more skilled to survive, she had grown enough to get a proper job at a small forge, used to heavy lifting due to her training, and how lances were supposed to feel and weigh, eventually getting her own bunk on a small fort on the outskirts of Ostia, where she worked at the forge, and continued her training with the lance, until eventually enlisting in the army, positioned at the same fort she had been living in for the past few years. Intends to make more of a name for herself, and become a superior soldier to most in hopes of becoming part of the royal guard.
NPC fight: Twirling the lance in my hand as I bend my knees slightly, I would lock my elbow in place in preparation, feigning a swiping hit with my halberd, before dropping the shaft down into my other hand, slamming my foot into the dirt and thrusting forward towards the armored soldier, my hair whipping forward as I thrust forwards.
PC fight: Backing up slightly with my cracked armor shifting under my chest, wiping some blood from my cheek, I would desperately reach upwards to block with my shield, lifting a short sword off of the corpse below me, shoving it forward towards the swordmaster's gut, desperate to get a single hit on him.