Open Post

[andreadallover]

WHO

General Information

Młynar Nearl is a tall (six foot three) blond man with golden eyes and, on most days, a resting expression that’s on the “disapproving” side of neutral. He nearly always has a longsword hanging from his belt, regardless of whether it seems appropriate for the situation or the outfit. He genuinely always wear a gold-plated gauntlet on his right forearm, again regardless of the present context. He tends to layer, with the topmost layer being a long, dramatic coat. Also, he has horse ears on the top of his head and an improbably fluffy horse tail, which match the coloring of his hair. There’s also that.

The second son of a storied noble family of knights, he trained and was taken along on his father's missions in the countryside from a young age, developing many thoughts on chivalry, justice, leadership, responsibility, compassion, and all that. As a result, he is...deeply opposed to class distinctions and has categorically refused to be officially knighted by any formal institution. He is a perfectly ordinary wanderer, thank you very much. He's often quiet, if he engages in conversation at all, but once he's comfortable around someone or if you get him started on the right topic he won't hold back.

“Knights should stand with those in distress, those with nothing but the clothes on their backs. This alone I will always believe in.”

Option 1
[Młynar in his early 20s keeps his hair long, appropriately tied back in a ponytail. He is serious-minded, attentive, infuriated by injustice, eager to help, and very protective of his friends. He has a tendency to see the best in people, and wants others to see that too. Although he’s not particularly expressive and is hardly outgoing, he's happy to spend time around people and can be open about himself or join in the fun if it's appropriate for the occasion. He is cynical, but too determined to do something about the state of the world to be pessimistic most of the time.]

Option 2
[Młynar in his mid-40s has cut his hair to just above his shoulders, though his bangs have grown out to match the rest of it. He is at most times operating on multiple levels of pessimism, anger, idealism, realism, concern, and self-hatred, which has a history of manifesting in behavior that can be best summed up with the phrase "stone-faced hypocritical asshole." That being said, he's a perfectly polite, even considerate, coworker, and is actually fairly easily swayed into helping others. He prefers to keep himself at a distance socially, but if he has the slightest reason to care about your wellbeing he has your back. Just, from far enough away that he has plausible deniability. Is probably carrying a newspaper at any given time.]

WHERE

Option A - generic magic 1940s jamjar

[It's my open post and I'll make a film noir option if I want to. A city that is roughly equivalent to the 1940s in technology, but the main power source is magic, derived from little cracks in the universe that also sometimes throw player characters into the place. Magic is mostly gathered and then housed in devices (like cars) or implements (like magic wands) that can be used by anybody. The government has recently righted itself under new leadership but its position is precarious due to all the corrupt guys from the old regime still hanging around, not to mention the organized crime that said old regime had deals with. Perhaps you're helping a dogged newspaper reporter uncover a smuggling ring. Maybe you've temporarily agreed to become a government agent to help steal a bomb back from the mob. Did you open your own private detective agency? Or maybe you just really need coffee from this 24-hour diner.]


Option B - Collab Event

[Have you ever wondered "how would my character deal with being suddenly dropped into a world that's regularly riven by natural disasters on a nearly apocalyptic scale, where nearly every government is dystopian in some way, people keep getting incurable magic rock cancer, and nearly everyone is some kind of furry?" Wonder no more. Thanks to magic rock nonsense, we can justify whatever we want!

Whatever you were doing, it's interrupted by the sound of a nearby explosion. Yet, the next thing you know you're waking up, lying on your back in the middle of a dirt road through a forest.

There are footsteps approaching.]


Option C - Uno Reverse Collab

[A horse is loose in your canon.]


Option D - It's just Deer Country

[Look I liked the setting for him.]


Option E - Wildcard

[Hit me with what you've got, or hit me up and I'll work out a different starter!]

Comments

for @burtgang

[andreadallover]

Młynar is far from being any sort of formal instructor. It's been years since he taught anyone, and even then no one would have mistaken it for a calling, or an area he was gifted in. And yet, one person asked him to spar, and then another requested pointers on using a sword, and over time it reached a point where half the time he wandered into the practice hall, he tutored somebody. Młynar wasn't certain how he felt about this. But...as long as it was kept to weapons training, and only when he visited here, he didn't mind it.

"You've put too much weight on your right."

B

[gemuinemanagement]

[This is more than a little alarming! Explosions generally should not happen in the forest-

This isn't even in the right forest? This is some other forest. It may or may not also be haunted, but it doesn't really matter, because Suga has a duty to guard that specific forest and he can't do that if he's somewhere else!

Suga sits up and feels around for his sword (made of magic rocks but not those ones), which thankfully is lying on the ground next to him. That's something. Enough that maybe he can bluff his way out of a fight if it comes down to that.]

A

[auntiewitch]

[Katherine Regnard has a million reasons not to be out in public. Not even nursing a coffee in a little hole-in-the-wall diner at this ridiculous hour, when most of the other patrons present probably shouldn't be out in public, either. She's easy to identify, is the thing. The Regnards were never quiet about their assorted political ambitions back in the day, and the family has been terribly visible in the background of things for generations — which made their fall all the more spectacular when the wayward youngest daughter of the current brood went and ran off with a crime boss the better part of a year ago.

She had good intentions. Really, she did. Her problem was that she believed him when Albus said he did, too, filling her head with notions of a sort of Robin Hood existence, outlaws fighting against the corruption her own family had their fingerprints all over.

Not so much.

Albus has now been rather explosively murdered, which solves one problem. A hydra of others has risen in his place, many of which have been in the newspapers recently, or will be soon. And Kitty, who contains within herself all the potential to rise from this as a cunning femme fatale moving effortlessly through an underworld of strings ripe for the pulling, is mostly just sitting here thinking about how stupid she is. How awful, how wretched a person. It'd be one thing if she'd just been naive, arrogant enough to get caught up in things much too big for her to handle, that sort of business. A silly girl who never once thought the older man saying such wonderful things to draw her to his side may be lying. And she had been all of that, certainly. But the truth is that she'd been lying to herself about her motivations the whole time, too, hadn't she? Was any of it really about changing the world for the better, or deep down, had she really just been searching for any way to get away from her family...?

She stares blindly down into her untouched black coffee, the disheveled white hair that proclaims her name nearly glowing in the dark corner she lurks in. She doesn't bother to look up at anyone who walks by. Truthfully, if she were to be arrested or assassinated or the like now, it would save her the trouble of trying to figure out which shattered piece to pick up first.]