The Great Ascent - Signups and OOC [RP Closed]

We’ve now got three new GM characters and more to come :goo:


Name: Nauja (Granny Nauja)
Age: 65
Gender: Female
Appearance: Nauja is 5’2", although she has a noticeable hunch in her posture. Her skin is red and toughened from the sting of snow. Her seal skin boots and caribou coat and pants hide the rather simple grey attire she wears most days, and her necklace is made of polar bear teeth - something she will never allow you to forget. Her gloves are also made of caribou skin, and all of her outer layer is worn and weathered. She usually keeps her hair in a bun and secures it with a carved seal rib.
Weapon/Tools: Nauja carries an Inuit fish spear, which consists of one center needle-like prong and two inward prongs set on curved extensions, designed to hook fish from three sides and pin them in place. She also carries an ulu knife for close-quarters combat or, y’know, skinning seals. She detests firearms and refuses to use them.
Personality/Bio: Nauja came from the great Canadian north, the only child of her family and never finding a husband to settle down with. At some point during her adult life, she was attacked by a polar bear and managed to kill it before it got the chance to mangle her, a story she eagerly recounts. Burying her parents some years ago, she made the long journey south to warmer country, eventually settling not too far from the depot town and watching its construction. Before too long, she became very well acquainted with the goings-on of the people there, and found herself becoming an integral part of its community, whether she liked it or not.

Although she will insist she hates company, conversation, children, celebrations, and communal feasts, she not only willingly participates in all of the above but very frequently goes above and beyond. Always ribbing everyone around her no matter their age, she’s not afraid to greet people with a smile, even in the middle of a tough love lecture. Particularly gets on Elijah Wembley’s nerves.


Name: Tagwanibisan “Tags” Dumont
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance: Tags is 5’11", thin, athletic, full of energy, with a temperament better fitting someone half her age. Her long brown hair extends to the middle of her ribcage, and somehow stays perfectly straight despite all the trouble she gets up to. Her skin is not quite as red as Nauja’s, and almost untouched by the elements despite her continued presence outdoors. Her tight-fitting caribou attire is all hand-made, by Nauja, and while she wears seal skin boots to match, she greatly prefers the modern gloves with fingers over the caribou mitts.
Weapon/Tools: A crack shot with her Jarmann M28 harpoon rifle, imported from overseas specifically at her request - the mayor never could resist giving gifts to the children, even if it meant spending a good chunk of the town’s money to do so. She also carries a carving knife, although the idea of cleaning anything other than her plate is an appalling one to her.
Personality/Bio: Born not too long after the depot town was founded, Tags was taken in by Nauja almost immediately, as her father, a French Canadian, skipped town, and her mother died during her birth. She grew up to detest the slow and content lifestyle of her foster grandmother and loved the idea of high-speed dog sleds, fighting in the World War, and basically doing everything she could to irk her Granny Nauja.

Her disposition towards everything and everyone is to have the attention span of a four year old on a sugar high, except with the intelligence of a teenager eager to push buttons. What she truly wants deep down is someone to relate to, but the closest person she has is Tesso, and he rejects her every time. Until she finds that someone, however, she’ll keep pushing everyone and everything to move faster, act quicker, and be better.


Name: Tessouat “Tesso” Eland
Age: 14
Gender: Male
Appearance: At 5’8", Tesso’s Algonquin genes dominated his european half, giving him almond skin and straight black hair set in an overgrown bowl cut. He wears a tight-fitting wool turtleneck and oversized work pants cinched tight with a belt, and has a stiff jacket clearly too large for him thrown over his shoulders. His wheelchair has an elaborate wooden back and three wheels, with the small third wheel in the back supported by a powerful brake clamp accessible in the arm of the chair. He typically wears a blanket over his legs when seated.
Weapons/Tools: While Tesso is quite knowledgeable around firearms, he has only a sawed-off shotgun usually hidden under the blanket atop his legs. He also has a small knife made from whale bone kept by his father, which he mostly retains as a keepsake.
Personality/Bio: Tesso’s father Mannes immigrated to the United States and moved to Canada for work, slowly traveling further and further west. There he met and married Sokanon, and the two had Tessouat shortly after. Tesso’s father was shot down during War Plan Red, something Tesso has never full recovered from. Just before his father’s death, Sokanon contracted polio, and the town crafted her a special wheelchair to get about with. She was bedridden shortly after Mannes’s death, and despite all that Tesso did to care for her, she eventually passed away, leaving him alone in the rapidly industrializing depot town. He clung to the chair in his misery, and before too long began to complain of the same incapability his mother suffered from.

Tesso is almost always in a state of misery, even if his angel-like face refuses to show it. He keeps himself distracted by mentally memorizing Quebec Sign Language, taught to him by his mother out of fear that the polio could render her mute. He bears no great sympathy towards Americans, holding them all partially responsible for the death of his father. In spite of his grief, he snaps at anyone that pries, delving all too readily to petty insults and blatant aggression for those who press topics he doesn’t wish to discuss.

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Should have rolled to seduce the Train instead

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Throw my hat back into the ring, been a while.

Name: Michael Grenda
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Appearance:


(an old photo, he’s a little older now)
Weapon/Tools: 1930’s era military kit (notable components: Shelter Half, Sewing kit, shaving kit w. razor, wire cutters, canteen, Bayonet). M1903 Springfield rifle+ ammo, his last paycheck
Personality/Bio:
Michael grew up in rural Michigan, in a small town in the upper Peninsula. With few prospects and even less funs, he enlisted into the army right before the great war ended and unfortunately as an enlisted man he wasn’t sent home when the war was over. Instead he was shipped back to the base and stayed on full time. His first and only deployment was to what is colloquially known as the Banana wars, fighting in various countries up and down central America. With the economic situation worsening and the pay getting worse, eventually went AWOL when they shipped him back up north. He snuck across the Canadian border and with an intent to find a life in the backwoods of Alaska or British Columbia. Unfortunately, the Red army came. Since then he’s been fleeing south again, hoping he won’t be caught by military authorities.

Michael is a shameless opportunist. While he does try and be pleasant and sociable, he will never hesitate to switch course when the opportunity to presents itself. Despite this, he does find himself with a few lines he will not cross, primarily betraying those who have not done him harm, joining forces with those who have wronged him, and harming animals or children. Otherwise anything is on the table.

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Been a while

I’ll need to know what’s in there.

Rest of it looks good :+1:

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I’ll do some digging and get back

I think this ought to be a good catchall. He’d probably be wearing a Campaign hat and the wool version uniform due to the location, and as he wasn’t an officer he wouldn’t have a pistol.

WW1 but i think its close enough for our use. It didn’t change much until the run-up to ww2.

Also for those who don’t know the Banana wars were real.

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I think a lot of that would be fairly useless in the rp and especially for someone who has been living in town for at least a little while. It’d be easier if you told me what was in his kit in particular as I don’t think I’m going to greenlight him carrying around extra pairs of long underwear and an entire tent to serve as torso-sized body armor.

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Name: Korismasta ‘Kori’
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Appearance: Kori is a 6’5 walking, but not very talking, reed. His body is sharp, fast, and agile, from years of hunting, stalking, climbing, and gathering. His hair is dark, long, and impossibly thick, like tangled vines, most braided with small wooden beads, etched with crude marks made in his free time. His hands are calloused, worn and scarred. His skin is additionally red and leathery from the battering of the cold weather, though not as significantly as Nauja’s. His face suffers a distinct Port Wine Stain birthmark, crossing from his most right side of his skull, ending near halfway toward his right cheek. His attire consists of a thick coyote coat- a prized find from a very lucky hunt- sealskin gloves and boots, and a large leather quiver- made from what, he can’t remember.
Weapon/Tools: Kori mainly travels with a large cable backed bow, made from a hard maple tree, and caribou sinew for the cable. He additionally carries a very full quiver, always stocked with enough arrows to exterminate a moose in the right hands. He also carries a hunting ulu, though the blade is much more narrow.
Personality/Bio: Kori was, and still is in his heart, a nomad. He had come from the north from his family to wander in warmer areas where he had yet to see, curious as much of the north is just snow, snow, and of course, more snow. During this time, he had stayed in a spot or two with roaming packs of coyotes, and had set some traps that caught him one. From this he made his coat, a rather well prize he still to this day takes great comfort in. Eventually, he wandered into town one stormy night, covered head to toe in snow, and it was possible someone had mistaken him for some beast, due to his rather quiet demeanor. Originally, he intended to simply leave and continue on his journey, though this idea was put on hold when he caught word there were other hunters much like himself. Kori ended up meeting both Tags and Nauja for the first time, and although he was very pleased to have met hunters, Nauja’s sometimes stubborn nature and Tag’s bubbly tone both equally spun him towards keeping to himself. For now, he’s made camp in town, and is planning where he should go next…though new events may cause his plans to be derailed.

Kori is a hunter through and through, being an absolute deadeye with his bow, and enjoying a thrill of the chase on the instinctual level. He’s very close to what some people would dub as ‘savage’ or ‘uncivilized’. Despite this, Kori does not hold any animosity toward most people. Unfortunately, he is god-awful at remembering anything that is not related to either hunting or survival, so it is increasingly infuriating trying to teach him anything like writing, titles, or certain monikers. He’s also very quiet, and it is not uncommon for him to not speak or make very much noise for extended periods of time. It is often due to this that he catches people unawares that he’s close by, and by proxy inadvertently scaring many off.

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It’s not a full tent, it’s a Shelter-half. It’s basically half a tent that can function as an emergency lean-to, and it’s not big especially when folded up as the body of the pack. It’s more useful as a pancho than a tent if there isn’t another half. Other than that relevant equipment would be: Sewing Kit, Shaving kit (older era so straight razor), Entrenching tool, bayonet, wire cutters, and canteen. They wouldn’t have re-issued the gas mask until they were actively aware of a war.

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I mean the point still stands, doesn’t it?

When it comes to melee options I try to be a little more selective if the character already has a firearm, so I’m going to count the straight razor, entrenching tool, and bayonet as melee weapons. I would say keep either the bayonet or the entrenching tool.

Rest of that selection looks good for having on his person :+1:

Yes I know Donkey Kong fought in them (his sacrifice will never be forgotten :saluting_face: :cry:)

Erm, leather, duh :point_up: :nerd_face:

Thought there was going to be something to address as is often the case with the more verbose signups, but nope, everything here looks good

Korismata approved.

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If he’s AWOL he would need it i figure, seeing as he would have had to be on the run. It’s not very protective from bullets just somewhat against the elements.

How does the razor and the entrentching tool as purely emergency weapons and the bayonet as the melee weapon sound. Like they’re only used when it’s the only thing on him or it’s a desperate situation or something. If not i’ll keep the bayonet and say he lost the tool and the razor rusted in the elements.

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With the caveat that I won’t consider it a form of body armor, I’ll allow it.

Whether or not he uses them, they are still weapons. I’ll allow the razor and one of the other two to stay, but three melee weapons is a little much.

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Sounds good on the shelter half, and i’ll take the bayonet.

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Edit those in and Michael is approved.

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done, looking forward to the start

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Name: Benedict “Krieg” Strauss

Age: 37

Gender: male

Appearance: Benedict is a 6’1” man of clear Germanic descent, with unkept dusty blonde hair going down to his ears and sunken brown eyes that constantly seem to be searching for something. Lanky but overwise well toned, his pale skin is covered with scars and burn marks of various ages. All expressions of life and joy have permanently been removed from his withered but well shaven face. He walks with an aura of self-defeat and utter deflation. He wears a grey overcoat, trousers, thick boots, helmet, and leather gloves which German soldiers were issued during the Great War. He has added extra wool padding to his clothing to help fight against the cold. All markings of rank and designation on his apparel have been removed and patched over.

Weapon/Tools: Benedict has three sticks of dynamite and detonation kit in a steel reinforced suitcase. He has his trusty Mauser Gewehr 98 with bayonet and Mauser C96 that he has taken very good care of over the years and knows how to use under combat pressure. He has other bits of equipment that he had in the Great War, which includes his trench spade, that has old blood on it, a well maintained gas mask, combat knife, and medical kit. All German symbolism across his old war equipment has either been scratched out or painted over. He also carries a stocked up oil lamb that he has strapped to his belt.

Personality/Bio: Once a bright and chipper boy, Benedict was born and raised in a well off and well connected German family. Raised to be a writer, he grew into manhood right before the start of the Great War. Inspired by German pride and social conviction, he joined the army and hoped to have a great adventure that would inspire his future writings. The reality of the war swiftly brought his back down to earth, and sunk his spirit deep underneath. The man that was Benedict died in those few years serving, digging, fighting, and killing in the trenches. However, his grief did not end there, as he constantly wrote to his family and friends abroad, and what he was told from them was the final nail in the coffin that shattered his soul. This war was pointless, spawned from foolish whims of murderous rebels in a neighboring county and the ego of the great nations of Europe wanting to prove their metal. He was over with this war, and he was over with his country. When the Treaty of Versailles was signed and the war ended, he did not report to his station nor return home. Instead, using this family’s connections and wit, fled from Europe entirely and sought out a life of reclusion and quiet in the Canadian mountain side. He currently uses knowledge he gained as a soldier to help create and set up the explosives for the nearby mines.

Now, Benedict is a dour and downcast man; keeping to himself and only seen around town when doing his duties. He has accepted the sour looks and spiteful comments from those that he meets, treating it like a form of cosmic punishment for his foolishness. He is not given to violence, and prefers to talk conflicts down when he can. His english is notably accented but clear, and he still has some small gift of words left in him. He occasionally hunts for sport or necessity, which he uses as means to vent out his deeper frustrations and keep up his skills. He does not have very many friends or acquaintances, which he does not seem to mind. However, those that have gotten to know him have learned one odd thing about him, never talk nor dare mention anything about rebels or revolutionaries.

3 Likes

There he is :sunglasses:

Benedict is approved.

Pending any other signups, the rp should start in the next few days. I’m trying to get the next chapter of the Wild Masks out before then, as I’ve been stalling, but we’ll see how it goes :grimacing:

In the meantime, here’s the final two NPC signups for now:


Name: Gerhard Mulder, Mayor Mulder
Age: 72
Gender: Male
Appearance: The spitting image of Santa Claus, both in disposition and physicality. He stands at 6’2", has a massive white beard with rolling curls, an extremely bald scalp, shimmering blue eyes, fat, jovial cheeks, a prominent belly, and massive, muscular hands. His body, despite its obesity, shows the telltale signs of an extremely strenuous life in his past, and his simple salmon-colored dress shirt and blue suspenders on his grey trousers hide how much muscle he actually carries. Heavy snow boots and the fur-collared green canvas jacket and mitts complete his look, with a grey beanie to match.
Weapon/Tools: Hidden in that massive coat of his is all sorts of odds and ends - hammers, screwdrivers, chisels, wrenches - and he never finds himself in a situation without whatever he needs at that moment. As for more typical weapons, he has none to speak of.
Personality/Bio: Rumor abounds as to what exactly his past was like. Some say he was a general in the American Civil War, others claim he operated with the Germans in the great World War and fled after their fall. The only identifiable fact in Gerhard’s life is that he was once married, and that marriage ended abruptly with the death of his wife. Nauda knows where she is buried, but refuses to tell. Beyond that, his more recent endeavors include personally assisting in the construction of the radio array, keeping a detailed ledger on how to operate the machinery, and due to his commitment was given mayorship over the rapidly constructed town. For everyone in the town, it’s hard to imagine a time when Gerhard wasn’t the mayor, and every election begins and ends with a mass majority vote for his reappointment.

Always bubbly, always jovial, Gerhard is Father Christmas brought to life. His smile is so constant that it seems he could never get angry, remaining on his face even in moments of great sadness or silent consolation. Absolutely thrilled with children, Gerhard has been accused of horribly mismanaging the town’s funds to procure rare and oftentimes internationally produced gifts for Tesso and Tags, but especially Tags, as his generosity gets nowhere with Tesso.


Name: Samlet “Smoky” Wilbur (Sam)
Age: Between 40 and 65
Gender: Male
Appearance: Sam is 5’4", slightly hunched, and dark as soot. He is one hundred percent caucasian, however; his swarthy appearance caused by immense exposure to the elements… And his near-constant exposure to smoke and grease. His teeth are all black at the roots, hidden behind a small and wrinkled mouth. Thick black eyebrows frame small, tired eyes, the rest of his face crinkled like folded sandpaper. His conductor’s outfit of blue and white stripes has faded in the knees and elbows, and is constantly smudged with stains of oil and smudges of grease, as are his bare hands.
Weapon/Tools: Sam carries an oil can, a revolver, and a box of ammo for it. He also has a small metal canteen which he sucks on during high-stress moments. What exactly is inside is unclear, but it does help clear his head, whatever it is.
Personality/Bio: Born at an unknown date, Samlet Wilbur has allegedly been everywhere and nowhere. A hard-working, hard-headed, hard-boiled little man, he gained a reputation everywhere he went for being the man for the job - no matter how insane that job was. Some of the ones he’s let slip over the years include: killing a great white shark, building homes during the banana wars, making the trek to and from Alaska, getting his leg broken by a crocodile in the Florida keys, and meeting a president of the United States, although he refuses to say which.

Sam’s voice is rough enough to cut sandstone, so gravely and torn from chewing tobacco that it’s often too hard to tell what he says. It has improved somewhat over the years, as pressure from Nauda has made him swear off the tobacco, and he’s kept his canteen hidden from her for fear he might lose it too. Unbothered by cold, heat, the sun, the dark, freezing water or even blisteringly hot saunas, he rarely brags, preferring to keep to himself and stubbornly refuse any and all compliments or commemoration. It was his handiwork that constructed Tesso’s wheelchair, it was he whom the mayor confided in about the radio array, and it was and still is he who runs the train.

3 Likes

Apologies for the delay, other tasks took longer than expected.


Name: Ronan Glöckner

Age: 36

Gender: Male

Appearance: About 5’11" with a lanky but still fit build from farming and long factory hours. And has a pale complexion that makes one wonder if he’s allergic to the sun or if the sun is afraid to touch him. Similarly, his baby bright blue eyes are only betrayed by specs of grey or green around the pupils and a nose that’s clearly been broken more than once between them. His dirty blonde hair, which gets dark around the roots, is kept trimmed short and combed back, though usually hidden beneath a flat cap or some other kind of hat. Though he used to only grow a mustache, the colder north has convinced him to grow a full beard. Which on particularly cold and windy days is covered up by his long blue and white scarf. Aside from the hat and scarf, Ronan is currently wearing a button-down blue ■■■■■, a sweater with some complex pattern, a darker pinstripe suit jacket and trousers (held up with suspenders), a large dark overcoat, and a pair of warm boots and mittens.

Weapon/Tools: Ronan has a Colt Cloverleaf Model Revolver with a box including its cleaning tools and some extra ammo, a Winchester Model 1886 (modified for .33 Winchester), a pocket watch and a small knife.

Personality/Bio: To the Feds, Ronan is a full-blooded American; a German-American if they must concede anything more. His parents, however? Well if his mother got her mouth shooting at you, Irish-German would be her words to frighten the purebloods. His father would describe it more reasonably - a Bavarian-American with an Irish fire. Indeed, his father is the son of two Bavarian Germans who were among the early settlers of Frankenmuth, Michigan, while his mother is the daughter of an Irish immigrant from Detroit. A union of which his Bavarian grandparents never approved of; the Catholicism being even more abhorrent than the Irish blood. Not to mention the woes of Detroit itself.

Despite protest, Ronan would largely grow up in Detroit. Often spending summers and occasionally other seasons with his grandparents in Frankenmuth. Which is were he was taught the family’s historic trade involving bells, along with many farming and hunting skills, and most importantly to his grandparents, to speak and read German and the proper Christian faith. Though his mother would ensure he knew how to speak the important bits of Gaelic.

But if anything could bring the two families close, it was keeping their men out of drafts. His mother kept her father’s spike bayonet on her person at most times. A reminder for when her father, Ronan’s Irish grandpa, was forcibly drafted into the Civil War despite his violent revolt. She could think of no better dagger than one whose sole purpose was to spill American blood to defend against the Feds. Perhaps more violent than the Bavarian side preferred, but if hiding in the farms failed it was a useful backup.

Escaping the Prohibition, however, proved to be more difficult than the Great War. Due to his mother, Ronan had always helped the extended Irish side in little odd jobs here and there. But in the full swing Prohibition the funny jobs increased - especially the transport requests. This came to a head when Ronan visited the Free Mason circus.

Ronan was seeking to learn how the circus obtained their animals. Inspired by a park over in Lansing, he was hoping to obtain some more unique animals of his own to start a similar thing back in Frankenmuth. But one unexpected visit from a head mob enforcer later and two people were dead - one Mason and one gangster. And Ronan was the one to blame, according to witnesses.

With the gangs in charge of Detroit and courts, Ronan couldn’t stay and expect a fair trial. If he even made it to trial. And this time, the calm hills of Frankenmuth wouldn’t be far enough. Letter and weapons in hand, Ronan fled. Going from island to island across the Great Lakes during winter, until reaching further west into Canada. According to his mother, there should have been a cousin in this town that could help him lay low for a time before moving on again.

For whatever reason, this cousin was long gone and no one was sure why. Without further direction, Ronan figured the depot town was as good as any to lie low before moving on again. The Canadian invasion, however, changed his plans. Michigan, ever a bloody and rebellious State when the Feds encroach, especially the gang controlled Detroit, would be a hotbed of violence between underworld and US Army. Enough of a distraction that neither the mob nor US courts would actively be hunting him.

Ronan has been living in the town for a couple of years now. Helping in any farming around the area and mine work when applicable. Perhaps even in another year or so the gangs will be destroyed and the courts safe enough for a real trial.

3 Likes

Good heavens :eye_in_speech_bubble: :eye_in_speech_bubble: really lumping on the lore with this one huh

Can’t even have backstory in Detroit :pensive:

Dang bro remind me never to go to Michigan :cold_face:

Honestly, I thought this would be another case of something needing to be addressed, but just like Oisli it’s all smooth sailing :+1:

Ronan is approved.

4 Likes

This is one of those times I wish that my guide was more publicly available. You don’t know it, but you gave me a lot of homework. I spent 24 hours reading up on some history, comparing timelines, working out family generational math, and a whole lot of other stuff before settling on anything. So I’m going to ramble as a treat for myself. [insert spinning derp emoticon here]

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We’re live :sunglasses:

I’ve still got at least one more person considering joining, so the signups will stay open for a little while more. I ave a feeling they’ll close once the train gets going, though, so for anyone still considering hopping on, don’t wait too long :pleading_face:

Oh yeah, and in case it wasn’t obvious, there will be attempts to kill the various characters involved so be ye warned :smiling_imp:

5 Likes