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Character Exploration Challenge #1 - Description Sans Appearance

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Hi guys! So, for fun, I want to start issuing character exploration challenges for people to participate in. This time, it's a paragraph writing challenge.

Describe your character in one or two paragraphs, with no mention of their appearance.

Tell me what their laugh is like, the rhythm of their walk, or how they smell on a hot summer day, but no descriptions are allowed regarding colors, whether they're exotic or plain in the face, or how they wear their hair or goatee.

If their clothing is important, describe the sound of their gloves creaking or the rustle of their skirt, but no visuals!
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Posted Jul 17, 17 · OP
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As Limu walks her clothes make a slight ringing sound, most likely coming from the Orichalcum metal weaved into her kilt, her Orichalcum boots should make a loud clomp but due to her size they instead sound like normal shoes. The large gauntlet on her wrist makes a faint humming sound if you were to get up close to it and when it's dial turns it makes a satisfying cranking sound followed by a loud hiss as the gem changes colour.
The golem on her back would make a whirling sound from time to time as it's blue glowing lens darts around it's surroundings.

Limu's laugh is more of chuckle but if something really tickles her she'll tilt her head back and let out a load a loud laugh, though she rarely laughs. On a hot summers day she would of fish (NO NOT BECAUSE OF THAT) because she lives in Lions arch, more so, near the docks, where will people would bring in fresh fish or, better yet, she just bought some fish for her guardian.
On a other day, she would smell of strong flowers, mostly due to her praying outside with some incense and if she's lucky, she can hear the songs of bards coming from the local bars, to Limu this would put her mind at ease certainly as she prays to Zintl , the sun god of the Hylek.
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Posted Jul 17, 17
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Thea's garments provide little noise save the occasional creak of leather or the unclasping of snap buttons.

A hollow, wooden jingling in her quiver accompanied by the twang of a bowstring and the crunch of leaves and dry sticks under foot would signal her approach. Thea's steps are measured, and often if one listens closely they can hear the dirt grinding under the woman's boots.

A true laugh from her is loud and obnoxious, accompanied by the occasional deep snort.
More often than not she smells of sweat, earth, and bonfires.
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Posted Jul 17, 17
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As Torchclaw enters a room, the first thing to announce his intimidating presence is the heavy thud of his darksteel peg leg and the clacks as his metal shod boot hits the floor boards. Second comes his heavy and slightly laboured breathing through his gas mask, accompanied by the quiet hiss of working pneumatics. If by then you're not aware of his presence, the odour of petrol and smoke with traces of burnt gunpowder, will surely change that.
Of the sounds of the lumbering charr himself, the most notable is the string of guttural and growling curses, muttered in the old tongue of the charr, that flow freely wherever the ageing grump goes. Second would be the rare occasions that he's driven to laughter, provoking what many would mistake for the rusty engine block of a derelict war wagon tearing itself apart as the pistons thump through their casing.
Ikata.3750

I've too many characters to even list here..
So here's the names of a few:

Torchclaw Cloudfire
Sheila Braidtail
Shaman Cauldronburn
Kyra Whisperwood
Imus Underboot
Kennis Eveningsong
Posted Jul 17, 17 · Last edited Jul 17, 17
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The first sign that Marea is close often comes in the form of warm breath on your arm, or, in the case of similarly sized people, a gag-worthy cloud of jerky, caramel candies and tooth decay wafting into your face. But perhaps it's a windy day, her terrible self care blown away before it can affront your nose, in which case you can probably sense her, having shamelessly popped your bubble of personal space, hovering like some unlucky, spastic shadow, the sound of her coat flapping crisply in the breeze.

From across the room, the impression is much the same--though her voice is initially low, a little raspy and potentially sexy, any amount of appeal it could contain is ruined by her animated, goofy nature, changing pitch wildly and gurgling up a strange fusion of cackles and giggles, hanging off her friends like a monkey and sloshing hot cocoa all over her hands. Speaking of which, she tends not to notice if you touch her hands, and she can sometimes be spotted picking things up and pressing them against her face, as if to get a better impression of them. And as quickly as she comes, she goes, having lost interest, and her boots clack sharply against the floor, her fingertips ringing and skidding off each other as she attempts to relearn the art of snaps.
Posted Jul 17, 17
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Truu is almost ghost like, barely a sound is made by her footsteps or clothing, yet the first thing anyone would notice form the asuran woman is the scent of strawberries and lavender, pleasant if unusual for one of her kind.
Her voice doesn't help this ghostly presentation either, a low alto-tone that is very soft spoken with a heavy Lion's arch twang. It however is a tone of confidence and quickly change to a loud, comanding tone that can be silence even the busiest of tavens where it to be raised to it's higest pitch.

Though at it's lowest, one would barely make out a whisper, as if she was never truly there..
Gametag: RobinTair.1806

Truu: Pact soldier turned merc
Diathi: Mender, Gardener, Troublemaker.
Laossi: Pastel-hued pacifist

Posted Jul 17, 17
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Khalia's entrances to rooms are silent, her presence marked by a distinct lack of noise rather than any presence of it. An attentive and alert gaze always scans a room, ready for any threat. Every action is carefully deliberate, no energy wasted in frantically twitching in nervousness. She stays away from the center of any room, staying close to shadowy corners. She smells of forests and wild lands, as if dragged from the wilderness she likes to call home, with looks to match.

When Khalia speaks, others stop to listen. Her words are like her movements; carefully deliberate, with not a single breath wasted on something that doesn't need to be said. Her wisdom is trusted and her knowledge nearly unparalleled about the group she pledges her allegiance, yet shadowed by the traitor who taught her. Every show of power is done so to prove she is different; she is unique, she is a force to be feared.
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Posted Jul 17, 17
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Gwyndd's eyes are bright and twinkle with mischief as she teases her drinking companion for the evening. Her fingers swirl about her glass as her voice rises and falls melodiously with each slight and barb. When her companion manages a retort, she tilts her head back and her easy laughter is like a chime, pealing and high. Once her laughter fades, a warm smile takes its place and her eyes soften - the teasing comes to an end.

As the evening wanes, her companion asks her for a dance. She obliges, and proves herself light on her feet, with quick measured movements accompanied by the muted rustling of her clothing and the rhythmic taps of her feet. Her companion moves in closer and her scent is like a field in summer - grass and frond sweltering under the sun, dusty haze, ground gasping for rain.

When they part for the evening her companion is left wondering if they will meet again.

Posted Jul 17, 17
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Benefactor
Sometimes it's a whisper of fabric or the scrape of a claw that draws your attention to Simuel. More often, though, he is nowhere until he is suddenly speaking.

Magic bristles in the air.

His voice is calm, nasally, and has something of a hollow quality at first. It seems to solidify as you listen. And for every word he 'says' you may swear there are words in between; things spoken too softly or too quickly to be heard. His laughs are wrong. His sighs are wrong. In fact, all of his noises appear to be approximations of the true thing, stolen from the world around him.

The ticking of a clock replaces what should be a thoughtful hum, and Moa screams replace his cries of pain and rage.

Often he is moving during these little chats, uncurling like a spider and swinging his entire body along every step like some kind of river bird. There is something charming about his strangeness, but there is also something dangerous in the way he regards you.
Posted Jul 17, 17
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A loud 'YEEEEEEEEE HAAA!' echoes from the asuran's maw as the clawed fingers clench around the reigns. The clear mighty hoots and hollers soaring from her tiny chest. It was clear she was no native to the likes of Rata Sum or Metrica Province. Or maybe she was, no one knew. All the crowd could tell that by the way her head swung back, and fire trickles from her lips like a stick a dynamite ready to explode, that she was most definitely high off of life.

By the time she hopped off of her bucking, wild companion of the skies the asuran woman slide of the saddle with a clear 'ker-thunk', turning in a small circle to watch many hands and many smiles greet the fireball. Her eyes sparkled, the shark-toothed grin growing further and further with each passing second. The smell of burnt firewood clung to her skin like a sheet, but luckily it was her just sweating. She wasn't sure, what to do, hell even the red cheeks could tell you that she was capable of feeling embarrassment. However, the way that her confidence practically exploded from her body, and the way her eyes twinkled at everyone; human, charr, sylvari, norn, and asura alike, it was very clear that nothing could get in her way. No wall was too high, or too great for the most rootin' tootin' bookah out there.

After a minute or two of finally being able to catch her breath, the asura finally walks up to you. The cloth dragging across the ground, while the leather peels from the skin. She clicks in skipping strides towards you, zero'ing in with a look that only say that you were the most important one in her sights right now. She stops, sizing you up and down, before bobbing the wizard hat off of her head and catching it within a free palm. The other hand rises up, tilting up towards you as the harsh accent trickled out from her lips.

"Howdy! M'name's Neemah! Some of these here folk have nicknamed me Neemah the Rage, Neemah Blazeclaw dependin' if yer talkin' about m'charr buds, or hells! Even Neems! But fer now, ya can call me Neemah!"
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Posted Jul 18, 17 · Last edited Jul 18, 17
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