Fatal_Exodus
[14] Master
A knight you say? (And you say it looks generic :x)
Hmmm, I thought Bertram and/or Ivan got that covered...
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A knight you say? (And you say it looks generic :x)
Hmmm, I thought Bertram and/or Ivan got that covered...
Murasame
[10] Knight
I don't see a problem in things looking too anime-ish (this may need definition), since anime-ish =/= generic at all depending on the definition. Asking for more realism doesn't guarantee that the "genericness" that you see will be taken away either, if that was what you were suggesting. And yeah, Bertram is basically the heavy armored knight while Ivan is light armored knight, both not looking very over-the-top either, so that was already covered.
I think a bit of elaboration is needed when such statement are told with the purpose of giving a good criticism, or else its seriousness may be undermined.
Pledis
[09] Warrior
So he needs a knight, the most generic thing you could possibly make in CaS, to have his roster look less generic?? Ummm...
Norik
[14] Master
I don't think I expressed myself the right way: I think you need more diversity, a bit more cliche, and a bit more badassery. The characters in your roster seem all too similar from one another, especially the females. Notice how they're all similar between one another, yet their designs are extremely unique - to a boring degree. Song and Yao are great, but they're WAY too similar. Imagine SFII with three ryu's, two chun li's and no zanguief...
But that's just me anyways. Just add a badass character.
But that's just me anyways. Just add a badass character.
Fatal_Exodus
[14] Master
- Can you explain how some of them are similar?
- No badasses? Ivan? Dante? Bjorn? Yasuhiro? Bertram?
There's no pleasing everyone, hm. .___.
Murasame
[10] Knight
That's a lot more clearer now. However, I believe you might have missed a few characters, such as Dante and, especially, old man Bjorn. If not, then I'm wondering that maybe you may be applying a bit too much of your personal/subjective view of "badassery" on the design. Using our personal tastes as a base is almost inevitable, and okay, but the rest should be a bit more objective if one's going to be direct about it when telling someone that he "needs" such and such character. Suggesting is one thing, seemingly imposing is another. Since I might be wrong in saying that, it is why I'm saying "maybe" a lot, so keep in mind I'm not being judgmental of you. ;D
I think that some of these characters, such as the two I named, fit well in that "badass" category, especially when I think of cliches.
Fatal_Exodus
[14] Master
Anyway, here's a new update that I've been totally slacking on in the past few days. :x
Bjorn
The humans were undeserving of such a great power. They had done absolutely horrible things with it; cause wars, despair, mass extinction at some points. How the swords had escaped the hold of the other neighboring tribe of elves was beyond him. There was something at fault. Someone had exposed their kind.
Over the years, the elven population had dwindled, their culture lost to the depths of history. People had started leaving the villages to seek a grander purpose in life, other than passing on the teachings of their elders. By the time his daughter Astrid was born, Bjorn and his wife were the only practitioners of the elven arts left in his village. Who knew if the other tribes still had any practitioners, much less, if the village was still there.
Still, the exodus of the elven race continued in his village. Bjorn had to stop everyone from leaving, for he was the only one who still sensed the power of the swords, and that something absolutely horrible was about to happen.
One night, a blinding flash overcame the village, and Bjorn awoke to find his wife gone, and young Astrid wailing in her chambers. With sweat on his brow, Bjorn squinted his eyes as he gazed outside his window, the sky a wicked crimson, and a bright shaft of light surging from the west. His eyes widened.
It was the Evil Seed.
He carried Astrid around with him, running around the village, frantically asking where his wife had gone. The spiritual bond he usually felt with her, it seemed nonexistent now, and he was growing insane with worry. The other villagers awoke with terror, their hearts pounding as the bonds they shared with elves long gone from the village were suddenly...severed.
Just as fast as it arrived, the night ended with a shockwave, their minds shaken and their ears ringing. Bjorn and Astrid passed out in the village square, as did everyone else in their homes.
It had been years since he last felt that painful surge of power reach their village. Had the village not been like any other elven settlement, complete with a ward, they would've all lost their minds and he surely would've killed his own daughter. It was hard enough to know that his wife had not come back after that night, and it still was, and just knowing he could've killed his own daughter in a frenzy made his heart ache.
Everything seemed fine now; Astrid was a young woman, with a young, yet sightly irritating, man courting her (as if he'd let him get anywhere with her). No one had left the village, and everything was peaceful after the traumatizing event that transpired.
Wrong.
He felt the same evil power growing once more, and this time it angered him. The humans were abusing this power again. He didn't want to have to go through that memory ever again. That power needed to be controlled.
That night, he would go on to tell his daughter that he had to leave, and that everything was going to be fine...
Bertram Diedrich
Bertram was brought up in a prestigious home, spoiled to the neck with riches. He always got what he wanted, whatever the cost, whatever the sacrifice. It was this that gave him his rotten personality, snobbish and superficial. As a young man, he'd had girls beaten for not complying with his requests, maids fired for not doing the right orders, guards slashed for letting even a single particle of dust fall on his royal garments.
He thought he had it all. Money, women, power. It all came crashing down on him.
The man awoke to the pungent odor of smoke, and came conscious in a coughing fit. His eyes watered and he immediately felt the searing heat against his body. His mansion was burning down.
Forcing his eyes open, the scorned nobleman slipped out of his chambers, trying to keep himself from getting close to the burning walls. He tried to rush out of the burning building, only to fall through a burning floorboard, and landing in the armory room. The walls creaked unnervingly, making his mind frantic. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he quickly grabbed a large blade from one of the nearby shelves, his hands painfully going numb at the feel of hot metal.
With tears in his eyes, the nobleman charged at the weakening walls, gouging his way out of the burning building with the heavy slab of metal. His skin felt increasingly hotter with each second that passed by, his hair singeing as well as his once-royal clothes.
He barely made it out, crashing through a glass window that shattered into brittle pieces. Bertram broke into a coughing fit, and stared up at the mansion, its roof already collapsed. Had he not woken up earlier, he'd be dead. His eyes stung and he weakly scrambled to his feet, his ears catching the sound of rejoice.
Rage flashed in his eyes as he wondered who would be rejoicing at the idea of him burning down. His feral gaze caught on a group of scraggly looking barbarians, pale-skinned and wild. Were they the ones at fault?
All logic was thrown out as the scorned nobleman lunged at the men, and mere moments later they were all laid on the ground, slain. Bertram could barely hold himself before he collapsed to the ground in exhaustion.
Before he lapsed into unconsciousness, his vision got a hold of a masked man in armor.
Bertram combed his hair neatly, ready to fulfill his duties. He would want to please the Graf so he may receive a reward for tonight. The Graf needed some malfested taken of. He briefed Bertram in on a trio of suspicious, pointed-eared individuals traveling in the are lately...
Emilie Reinhilde
She had no shame, nor dignity. She had forgotten both these things long ago.
All she knew was power.
Power was what she craved, what she lived for. She wanted the ability to dominate people, to make them feel lower, to make them bow at her feet. She wanted to be praised, that's what Emilie wanted.
If corrupt was a bad word, she was worse.
A young woman at the bottom of the aristocratic hierarchy, she slowly made her way up, seducing men into marrying her, poisoning them and the mistresses that tried to get rid of her, leaving her a wealthy, yet distressed widow, ready to be married off once more to another willing fool. It was a process done again and again, rinsed and repeated.
She had no match, and she was unstoppable. At the times where she did get caught, she had her ways. Toxics and acids in tiny vials, slyly slipped into goblets of wine while she used her skilled fingers to caress her new husband's cheek. A vile powder sprinkled on top of a sweet cake to be given to the man's mistress, who would later be found with her skin pale and red foam bubbling out of her mouth.
The maid who witnessed her wrongdoings, her neck horribly snapped and her body thrown into the furnace. She was a murderer, and she was proud of it.
This process was r!epeated, over and over again, until she was as high as high she could ever imagine. Her power and influence over the people was impeccable, and what should wouldn't pay in monetary value, she paid with her body...and a dagger to the unmentionables.
But alas, the prospect of the entire thing had become a chore to her, and she needed someone worthy of her real talents. With a smirk upon her plump red lips, she reported herself to the Graf, a powerful nobleman who was her one and only equal. This...this was a man she wanted to be with, the one she wanted to rule with. She could already imagine her fantasies coming true; together they would level cities and destroy vast empires.
As she laid in bed, stroking the Graf's chest, she could smile sincerely at the thought of the despicable things they would do together...
tada, enjoy :D
next update: meet Maxine, Jikinniki, Tariq, & Feallmarfoir!
Bjorn
The humans were undeserving of such a great power. They had done absolutely horrible things with it; cause wars, despair, mass extinction at some points. How the swords had escaped the hold of the other neighboring tribe of elves was beyond him. There was something at fault. Someone had exposed their kind.
Over the years, the elven population had dwindled, their culture lost to the depths of history. People had started leaving the villages to seek a grander purpose in life, other than passing on the teachings of their elders. By the time his daughter Astrid was born, Bjorn and his wife were the only practitioners of the elven arts left in his village. Who knew if the other tribes still had any practitioners, much less, if the village was still there.
Still, the exodus of the elven race continued in his village. Bjorn had to stop everyone from leaving, for he was the only one who still sensed the power of the swords, and that something absolutely horrible was about to happen.
One night, a blinding flash overcame the village, and Bjorn awoke to find his wife gone, and young Astrid wailing in her chambers. With sweat on his brow, Bjorn squinted his eyes as he gazed outside his window, the sky a wicked crimson, and a bright shaft of light surging from the west. His eyes widened.
It was the Evil Seed.
He carried Astrid around with him, running around the village, frantically asking where his wife had gone. The spiritual bond he usually felt with her, it seemed nonexistent now, and he was growing insane with worry. The other villagers awoke with terror, their hearts pounding as the bonds they shared with elves long gone from the village were suddenly...severed.
Just as fast as it arrived, the night ended with a shockwave, their minds shaken and their ears ringing. Bjorn and Astrid passed out in the village square, as did everyone else in their homes.
It had been years since he last felt that painful surge of power reach their village. Had the village not been like any other elven settlement, complete with a ward, they would've all lost their minds and he surely would've killed his own daughter. It was hard enough to know that his wife had not come back after that night, and it still was, and just knowing he could've killed his own daughter in a frenzy made his heart ache.
Everything seemed fine now; Astrid was a young woman, with a young, yet sightly irritating, man courting her (as if he'd let him get anywhere with her). No one had left the village, and everything was peaceful after the traumatizing event that transpired.
Wrong.
He felt the same evil power growing once more, and this time it angered him. The humans were abusing this power again. He didn't want to have to go through that memory ever again. That power needed to be controlled.
That night, he would go on to tell his daughter that he had to leave, and that everything was going to be fine...
Bertram Diedrich
Bertram was brought up in a prestigious home, spoiled to the neck with riches. He always got what he wanted, whatever the cost, whatever the sacrifice. It was this that gave him his rotten personality, snobbish and superficial. As a young man, he'd had girls beaten for not complying with his requests, maids fired for not doing the right orders, guards slashed for letting even a single particle of dust fall on his royal garments.
He thought he had it all. Money, women, power. It all came crashing down on him.
The man awoke to the pungent odor of smoke, and came conscious in a coughing fit. His eyes watered and he immediately felt the searing heat against his body. His mansion was burning down.
Forcing his eyes open, the scorned nobleman slipped out of his chambers, trying to keep himself from getting close to the burning walls. He tried to rush out of the burning building, only to fall through a burning floorboard, and landing in the armory room. The walls creaked unnervingly, making his mind frantic. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he quickly grabbed a large blade from one of the nearby shelves, his hands painfully going numb at the feel of hot metal.
With tears in his eyes, the nobleman charged at the weakening walls, gouging his way out of the burning building with the heavy slab of metal. His skin felt increasingly hotter with each second that passed by, his hair singeing as well as his once-royal clothes.
He barely made it out, crashing through a glass window that shattered into brittle pieces. Bertram broke into a coughing fit, and stared up at the mansion, its roof already collapsed. Had he not woken up earlier, he'd be dead. His eyes stung and he weakly scrambled to his feet, his ears catching the sound of rejoice.
Rage flashed in his eyes as he wondered who would be rejoicing at the idea of him burning down. His feral gaze caught on a group of scraggly looking barbarians, pale-skinned and wild. Were they the ones at fault?
All logic was thrown out as the scorned nobleman lunged at the men, and mere moments later they were all laid on the ground, slain. Bertram could barely hold himself before he collapsed to the ground in exhaustion.
Before he lapsed into unconsciousness, his vision got a hold of a masked man in armor.
Bertram combed his hair neatly, ready to fulfill his duties. He would want to please the Graf so he may receive a reward for tonight. The Graf needed some malfested taken of. He briefed Bertram in on a trio of suspicious, pointed-eared individuals traveling in the are lately...
Emilie Reinhilde
She had no shame, nor dignity. She had forgotten both these things long ago.
All she knew was power.
Power was what she craved, what she lived for. She wanted the ability to dominate people, to make them feel lower, to make them bow at her feet. She wanted to be praised, that's what Emilie wanted.
If corrupt was a bad word, she was worse.
A young woman at the bottom of the aristocratic hierarchy, she slowly made her way up, seducing men into marrying her, poisoning them and the mistresses that tried to get rid of her, leaving her a wealthy, yet distressed widow, ready to be married off once more to another willing fool. It was a process done again and again, rinsed and repeated.
She had no match, and she was unstoppable. At the times where she did get caught, she had her ways. Toxics and acids in tiny vials, slyly slipped into goblets of wine while she used her skilled fingers to caress her new husband's cheek. A vile powder sprinkled on top of a sweet cake to be given to the man's mistress, who would later be found with her skin pale and red foam bubbling out of her mouth.
The maid who witnessed her wrongdoings, her neck horribly snapped and her body thrown into the furnace. She was a murderer, and she was proud of it.
This process was r!epeated, over and over again, until she was as high as high she could ever imagine. Her power and influence over the people was impeccable, and what should wouldn't pay in monetary value, she paid with her body...and a dagger to the unmentionables.
But alas, the prospect of the entire thing had become a chore to her, and she needed someone worthy of her real talents. With a smirk upon her plump red lips, she reported herself to the Graf, a powerful nobleman who was her one and only equal. This...this was a man she wanted to be with, the one she wanted to rule with. She could already imagine her fantasies coming true; together they would level cities and destroy vast empires.
As she laid in bed, stroking the Graf's chest, she could smile sincerely at the thought of the despicable things they would do together...
tada, enjoy :D
next update: meet Maxine, Jikinniki, Tariq, & Feallmarfoir!
Norik
[14] Master
Well, that Bertram guy is exactly what I mean!
Fatal_Exodus
[14] Master
And with that, I only need to announce about four more characters before my roster is complete.
Now to figure out a way to take HD photos in battle...
Now to figure out a way to take HD photos in battle...
DeathWarden
[09] Warrior
Good God, I fucking love Emilie. Easily my favorite out of this roster. Why do I imagine Shaun Hasting's voice whenever I read her and Bertram's bios I do not know.
For those who want to see badassery, wait till you see Jikinniki and Feallmarfoir.
For those who want to see badassery, wait till you see Jikinniki and Feallmarfoir.
Fatal_Exodus
[14] Master
Fatal_Exodus
[14] Master
Fatal_Exodus
[14] Master
Just to end today on a better note, here's four more characters!
Maxine
Birthplace: Unknown
Birthdate: March 12, 1594
Age: 13
Height: 5'0" (152cm)
Weight: 91lbs. (41kg)
Blood Type: A
Weapon: Ring blade
Weapon Name:
Fighting Style: Tira
Family: Her real family has died; Emilie has taken her in out of care
Jikinniki
Birthplace: Izumo, Japan
Birthdate: Unknown
Age: Several hundred years old
Height: 8'2" (249cm)
Weight: 471lbs. (214kg)
Blood Type: Unknown
Weapon: Giant hammer
Weapon Name:
Fighting Style: Astaroth
Family: He only serves Lord Yama
Tariq
Name: Tariq Rashid
Birthdate: November 1, 1576
Birthplace: Medina, Ottoman Empire
Age: 30
Height: 6'0" (183cm)
Weight: 165lbs. (75kg)
Blood Type: B
Weapon: Scimitar
Weapon Name:
Fighting Style: Mitsurugi
Family: His lover has passed away; he is taking care of a lost orphan
Feallmarfoir
Birthdate: Unknown
Birthplace: Unknown
Age: He has been dead for a long time
Height: 6'4" (193cm)
Weight: 187lbs. (85kg)
Blood Type: None
Weapon: Dual katars
Weapon Name:
Fighting Style: Voldo
Family: His master is Bjorn
Anywho, happy reading.
Next update: 2P's, backstories, and meet Gregory, ???, and !!!
Maxine
Birthplace: Unknown
Birthdate: March 12, 1594
Age: 13
Height: 5'0" (152cm)
Weight: 91lbs. (41kg)
Blood Type: A
Weapon: Ring blade
Weapon Name:
Fighting Style: Tira
Family: Her real family has died; Emilie has taken her in out of care
Jikinniki
Birthplace: Izumo, Japan
Birthdate: Unknown
Age: Several hundred years old
Height: 8'2" (249cm)
Weight: 471lbs. (214kg)
Blood Type: Unknown
Weapon: Giant hammer
Weapon Name:
Fighting Style: Astaroth
Family: He only serves Lord Yama
Tariq
Name: Tariq Rashid
Birthdate: November 1, 1576
Birthplace: Medina, Ottoman Empire
Age: 30
Height: 6'0" (183cm)
Weight: 165lbs. (75kg)
Blood Type: B
Weapon: Scimitar
Weapon Name:
Fighting Style: Mitsurugi
Family: His lover has passed away; he is taking care of a lost orphan
Feallmarfoir
Birthdate: Unknown
Birthplace: Unknown
Age: He has been dead for a long time
Height: 6'4" (193cm)
Weight: 187lbs. (85kg)
Blood Type: None
Weapon: Dual katars
Weapon Name:
Fighting Style: Voldo
Family: His master is Bjorn
Anywho, happy reading.
Next update: 2P's, backstories, and meet Gregory, ???, and !!!
DeathWarden
[09] Warrior
There's something about Jikinniki that puts folkloric oni to shame. The oni mask itself gives a sense of fear, since you can't see face. Feallamafoir looks like zombie, which is nice. Maxine looks so innocent and adorable. And Tariq looks like he's emotionally worn out, which is fitting.
Cjiddy
[10] Knight
Tariq is the definition of badassery.
I agree with DeathWarden about Jikinniki.
I like Feallamafoir, zombies amuse me.
Maxine is amazing, love her oufit! It gives off an innocent, adorable essence to her personality.
I agree with DeathWarden about Jikinniki.
I like Feallamafoir, zombies amuse me.
Maxine is amazing, love her oufit! It gives off an innocent, adorable essence to her personality.
Norik
[14] Master
When I saw the name "Maxine", I thought I was about to see Maxi in a pink dress.
Pledis
[09] Warrior
Tariq and Maxine asdfghjkl;'
Fatal_Exodus
[14] Master
Just to keep this fresh, and to give you guys one last hoorah for SCIV, here's some nostalgic outfits to stimulate those somewhat wonderful yet quite unbearable memories with the previous Soul installment.
Our favorite wind priestess, who sadly has been left a dry spell this SCV.
The poster boy for heroism and impulsive antics, the Patriot of the Flashing Leg!
The tomboy who just would not settle down.
The mysteriously murdered MILF with blonde hair that everyone grew up with.
And of course, her loving sister...uhm.
Anywho, these photoshoots were sponsored by nobody, and these five, young people will be expecting adequate payment.
Good night.
Our favorite wind priestess, who sadly has been left a dry spell this SCV.
The poster boy for heroism and impulsive antics, the Patriot of the Flashing Leg!
The tomboy who just would not settle down.
The mysteriously murdered MILF with blonde hair that everyone grew up with.
And of course, her loving sister...uhm.
Anywho, these photoshoots were sponsored by nobody, and these five, young people will be expecting adequate payment.
Good night.
Pledis
[09] Warrior
Holy Cheese Balls Casstroklos.
Fatal_Exodus
[14] Master
hahahahaha genderbender
That Sophitia took me the longest to make. Those sleeves are the death of me. .____.