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requiem_roleplay [2025/08/31 23:45] – [Apothecary Example] tuliprequiem_roleplay [2025/09/01 01:38] (current) – tulip
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 ====== Requiem Roleplay ====== ====== Requiem Roleplay ======
  
-NOTE: The below are simply examples of characters and ideas that may exist within the requiem universe. This page is intended to provide you with role-play primers for things you may be interested in.+
 ===== Knowledge for Mages ===== ===== Knowledge for Mages =====
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 +
 +=== NOTE: The below are simply examples of characters and ideas that may exist within the requiem universe. This page is intended to provide you with role-play primers for things you may be interested in. ===
 +
  
 ==== Inquisitor ==== ==== Inquisitor ====
  
 +{{:inquisition-1-1.png?direct&200}}
  
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-==== Apothecary Example ==== +==== Apothecary  ====
  
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-==== Legionnaire Example ==== +==== Legionnaire ====
  
 +{{:legion-4.png?direct&200|}}
  
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-<--+**How They View Themselves**
  
-==== Templar Example ====+Dren Holt sees himself as a shield of the Republic, a soldier bound by duty to hold the line against chaos. Raised in the rugged hills of Sulastas, where Legion outposts dotted the landscape, he views his role as a protector of the common folk, even if the Republic’s leaders often fail them. The Legion’s bronze armor and disciplined ranks are his pride, a symbol of order in a world unraveling under the Torment. To him, each patrol or skirmish is a test of honor, a chance to prove his worth against the Afflicted and the Republic’s internal rot.
  
 +This self-image carries a mix of loyalty and disillusionment. He believes in the Legion’s mission—maintaining stability—yet grumbles about the bureaucracy that starves their supply lines or sends them into hopeless battles. He might call himself a “last bastion,” seeing his comrades as brothers-in-arms, but there’s a growing sense that they’re pawns in a game played by Prelacy elites. Still, duty anchors him, a belief that without the Legion, Vivateus would collapse entirely.
  
 +**Roleplay Approach**
 +
 +//Behavior:// Dren moves with a soldier’s stiffness, his bronze armor clanking as he adjusts his stance. His voice is gruff but steady, often barking orders—“Form up, no stragglers!”—though it softens with comrades. He carries a notched sword and a dented shield, symbols of his service, checking them with a habitual glance.
 +
 +//Interactions:// He’s respectful to fellow Legionaries, sharing war stories or ration tips with a nod—“Kept me alive last winter.” Outsiders get a curt salute unless they’re deserters, met with suspicion—“State your business, or march on.” He’s disciplined, maintaining formation even under pressure, viewing chaos as the enemy.
 +
 +//Actions:// He focuses on patrols, fortifying outposts, and engaging Afflicted hordes. His work ethic drives him to train recruits or scout terrain, seeing each task as a brick in the Republic’s defense, even if he doubts the cause. 
 +
 +**Impact on Sanity and Mind**
 +
 +The Legion life wears on Dren’s sanity. Constant clashes with the Torment—watching comrades turn into husks—plant seeds of dread, each groan in the fog a reminder of mortality. The Republic’s neglect—rations cut, orders delayed—fuels frustration, making him question if they’re fighting for a lost cause. He might mutter, “For what honor?” under his breath, battling the urge to desert.
 +
 +Over time, this erodes his mind. Some nights, he dreams of Sulastas’ green hills, now ash, triggering guilt over fallen brothers. Paranoia grows; he checks his squad for Torment signs, fearing infection. To cope, he polishes his shield or recites Legion oaths, believing they restore his resolve. The line between duty and despair thins—some snap, others cling to camaraderie, their sanity a fragile shield against the valley’s gloom. 
 +
 +**RP Scenario:** 
 +
 +In a muddy trench near Rumbling Pass, the clink of armor punctuates the silence as two Legionaries—Dren Holt, a scarred veteran with a weathered shield, and Kael Torm, a lean scout with a chipped spear—hunker down. The air is thick with Torment stench, and a distant Afflicted wail echoes.
 +
 +Dren: (wiping mud from his shield, voice low) "Another day guarding this hellhole. Saw a husk patrol last night—three of ‘em, shambling toward the pass. Took ‘em down, but my sword’s notched to the hilt. You find anything on your scout, Kael?"
 +
 +Kael: (leaning on his spear, nodding) "Aye, a supply crate near the ridge—half-rotted grain, Republic stamp still on it. Tor’s lost, but they’re still hoarding. Found tracks too—boot prints, not husks. Might be deserters, or worse, Forlorn scavengers. We holding this line much longer?"
 +
 +Dren: (grunting, adjusting his helm) "Long as the orders come. But if the Torment breaches, we’re dead men walking. Sharpen that spear—might need it before dawn. Pass me that whetstone; let’s keep our edge."
 +
 +Kael: (handing over the stone, grimacing) "Edge won’t save us if the supplies don’t. Still, we’re the wall. Let’s hold it, Dren."
 +
 +They work in silence, the whetstone’s rasp a steady rhythm, their shared resolve a thin thread against the valley’s despair. 
 +
 +
 +<--
 +
 +==== Templar ====
 +
 +{{:templar-1.png?direct&200|}}
  
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 +
 +**How He Views Himself**
 +
 +Brother Garrick Thorne sees himself as a divine shield, a vessel for the Apostles' will, sworn to protect the faithful from heresy and the Torment’s blight. Born in the cloistered halls of Athaerun’s monasteries, he believes his Templar oath elevates him as a guardian of Eden’s purity, his steel and faith the Republic’s true strength. To him, each battle is a prayer made flesh, a testament to his devotion, where doubt is sin and mercy weakness. He carries a quiet certainty that his sacrifices secure salvation, viewing his role as a sacred burden, a light against the encroaching dark.
 +
 +This self-image blends humility with unyielding conviction. He doesn’t seek glory but fulfillment in duty, his scarred armor a chronicle of trials endured for the greater good. Yet, there's an inner flame— a belief that the Templars are the Republic’s moral core, uncorrupted by bureaucracy.
 +
 +**Roleplay Approach**
 +
 +//Behavior:// Garrick moves with disciplined grace, his white cloak flowing over steel plate, sword always at the ready. His voice is measured, often laced with scriptural quotes—“By the Apostles’ grace, the unclean shall fall”—delivered with a steady gaze that brooks no argument.
 +
 +//Interactions:// He offers guidance to the faithful with a paternal nod, sharing rations or prayers. Doubters get a stern lecture, while threats meet swift judgment. He’s vigilant, scanning crowds for signs of corruption, his actions a blend of compassion and resolve.
 +
 +//Actions:// He focuses on patrols, purging Afflicted, and aiding the needy—escorting refugees or fortifying villages. His work ethic is tireless, viewing each task as a step toward redemption.
 +
 +**Impact on Sanity and Mind**
 +
 +The Templar life tests Garrick’s sanity with every Afflicted horde or heretic pyre. Constant vigilance breeds paranoia; he questions if the Torment taints his own soul, leading to sleepless nights of prayer. The weight of lost comrades erodes his mind, manifesting as visions of the Thirteenth mocking his faith, or guilt over innocents caught in purges. To cope, he clings to rituals—polishing his shield or reciting oaths—but the line between devotion and fanaticism thins, his resolve a fragile armor against despair.
 +
 +**RP Scenario:**
 +
 +In a quiet chapel corner of Saints Hollow, Brother Garrick Thorne kneels before a cracked altar, the candlelight flickering on his scarred armor. The valley’s distant wails filter through the stone, a reminder of the Torment’s reach. He stares at his reflection in his polished shield, the weight of his oath pressing heavy.
 +
 +Garrick: (whispering, tracing a scar) "Apostles, am I still worthy? Each husk slain, each heretic judged—does it cleanse or stain? The Torment laughs at our prayers, and the Republic crumbles while we stand guard. Is my blade a shield or a curse? The fire in my chest burns, but what if it's the Thirteenth's flame?" He grips his shield tighter, eyes hardening. "No—doubt is the true enemy. I am the light. I must be." Rising slowly, he extinguishes the candle, the darkness mirroring his inner turmoil, yet he steps out with renewed resolve.
 +
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 ==== Foundry ==== ==== Foundry ====
  
 +{{:foundry-3.png?direct&200|}}
  
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-==== Consortium Example ====+==== Consortium ==== 
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 +{{:consort-1.png?direct&200|}}
  
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-<--+**How They View Themselves**
  
-==== Pagan Example ====+Mira Voss sees herself as a master of balance, a weaver of connections in a world teetering on collapse. Raised in the bustling trade hubs of Niunas, where goods flowed like rivers despite the Torment’s grip, she views the Consortium as the Republic’s lifeline—neutral ground where profit and survival intertwine. To her, her role as a merchant and mediator is a craft, turning chaos into coin and offering sanctuary to mages with her writs. She might call herself a “guardian of the market,” believing her negotiations keep the fragile economy alive, even if it means dealing with unsavory factions.
  
---> #+This self-image blends pragmatism with a subtle pride. She sees herself as above the petty wars of the VIC or Forlorn Hope, a diplomat who thrives on leverage rather than loyalty. Yet, there’s a quiet burden—she knows her neutrality is a tightrope, and one wrong step could see her branded a traitor by all sides. She values her silver tongue and ledger of contracts as her true armor, a belief that sustains her through the moral grayness of her trade.
  
-<--+**Roleplay Approach**
  
 +//Behavior:// Mira moves with a smooth, calculated grace, her silk-trimmed cloak rustling as she adjusts a satchel of writs. Her voice is smooth and measured, often sprinkled with a merchant’s charm—“A fair deal benefits us both, yes?”—though it sharpens with negotiation. She carries a ledger and a hidden dagger, symbols of her dual nature as trader and protector.
 +
 +//Interactions:// She greets peers with a warm handshake and a knowing smile, exchanging market tips or writ details. Outsiders get a shrewd appraisal, met with offers or veiled threats—“Cross me, and the trade dries up.” She’s adaptable, reading people to broker deals, seeing every encounter as a transaction.
 +
 +//Actions:// She focuses on trade runs, securing resources like Rustwood timber or Torment antidotes, and issuing writs to mages. Her work ethic drives her to navigate quarantines and rivalries, viewing each deal as a thread in the Republic’s fragile tapestry.
 +
 +**Impact on Sanity and Mind**
 +
 +The Consortium life strains Mira’s sanity with its constant balancing act. The Torment’s threat—seeing Afflicted husks on trade routes—plants a nagging fear of infection, offset by her belief in profit as a shield. The moral ambiguity of dealing with corrupt Prelacy or desperate rebels gnaws at her; she justifies it as necessity, but doubts linger. “It’s survival, not sin,” she whispers, though the line blurs.
 +
 +Over time, this erodes her mind. The pressure of neutrality breeds paranoia—she checks her writs for forgeries, fearing betrayal from allies. Sleepless nights spent tallying accounts can spiral into obsession, her ledger becoming a lifeline. Rituals like polishing her trade seal or reciting a merchant’s creed anchor her, but the strain risks snapping her into cynicism or a breakdown, her sanity tied to the deals that keep her afloat.
 +
 +**RP Scenario:** 
 +
 +In a candlelit warehouse on Niunas’ docks, the scent of salt and spice fills the air as two Consortium members—Mira Voss, a sharp-eyed merchant with a silk cloak, and Tobin Grey, a wiry courier with a scarred ledger—huddle over a crate of Torment herbs. The sound of waves outside masks their hushed tones.
 +
 +Mira: (running a finger along the crate’s seal, voice smooth) "These wyrm’s heart stocks are thin—Rustwood traders hiked the price again. Your last run brought half the yield, Tobin. What happened?"
 +
 +Tobin: (shifting uneasily, adjusting his satchel) "Fog rolled in—had to dodge Apothecary patrols. Lost a mule to a sinkhole, but the writs held. I bartered with a smuggler for the rest. Should fetch double in the valley, if we move fast."
 +
 +Mira: (nodding, scribbling in her ledger) "Smart move. I’ll draft new writs for the mages—keeps them quiet and our margins up. But we need a safer route. I’ll scout the Dray River next week. Pass me that ink; let’s seal this deal before the tide turns."
 +
 +Tobin: (handing over the ink, a faint smile) "Aye, the market waits for no one. Keep that seal tight, Mira—we’re the thread holding this mess together."
 +
 +They work in tandem, the candlelight reflecting off their trade seals, their shared focus a fragile bulwark against the chaos beyond.
 +
 +<--
  
-NOTE: The above are simply examples of characters that may exist within the requiem universe. This page is intended to provide you with role-play primers for things you may be interested in.+=== NOTE: The above are simply examples of characters that may exist within the requiem universe. This page is intended to provide you with role-play primers for things you may be interested in. ===
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