Azae - A World At War - Out of Character Chat

[Spacing Out]

@Robyn Banks


c:

Also you should know that this group accepts my bitchness so you have to embrace it or else... Well, Nothing will probably happen since I'm all talk but still. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

 

[DemetrioMachete]

Thats all fine. It also means you have to accept my goofiness, right?


Right?

 

[DemetrioMachete]

So. When should I get involved? Would it be alright to post now or should I wait for a setup?

 

[King Ad Rock]

So. When should I get involved? Would it be alright to post now or should I wait for a setup?

First, go on ahead and post your CS right here for everyone to check out as well. When you do, I will then get it into the cast section myself. Seems redundant, but it has helped loads in the past having the CS's posted in multiple places. I'll message the person I may have playing the new Holy Knight of Azae about starting and then will be in touch with you asap.

 

[King Ad Rock]

Updated Checklist !!!:

1. Start the third and final part of the secret meeting collab. Then @Zuka @Robyn Banks @Edin and @too much idea characters will all split up finally.(This is in the works, will send out my next part sometime in the next 24 hours. Should have this bad boy finished by the weekend easily.)
   
2. Garrus meets Sef (Sef Setaro's introduction) @Savagai and @Edin ( I need some possible help writing a short NPC profile for Sef before getting started on this. @Trickster314 will be in on the action now.)
   
3. Start the second round of the tournament. The new match will be Sef Setaro vs @CupAndCough Aloysius. (I will write a NPC profile for Sef very soon, then I will begin this with you Cup. It's a long time coming)
   
4. Queen Suzane's second post. (She will meet Kindrel Iornia, the lord noble of Iorn and his right hand man: Jason V'Arnak) (Working on this as a collaboration with @Orikanyo. Post is on it's way)
   
5. Add Desert Tral-el to Indoria Wildlife thread. Add Jungle Tral-el to Libertian Wildlife thread. (This is finished! Check out the fearsome reptilian beasts of Azae!)
   
6. Start breaking up the original Important People thread into the individual country sub-forums.
   
7. Add more wildlife profiles that have been written such as B'Aroks, Tusk-Faced Boars, and a few different types of fish.
   
8. Adding/ finding people to help flesh out/write profiles for Factions such as the Holy Knights of Azae or T'Odis Justice Hordes. Please volunteer.
   
9. Find someone to help write out the profiles for Vavos' Children (Sea serpents) and Ice Tral-el. Please volunteer.
   
10. Find people to help flesh/write out City descriptions, especially capitals/cities that have already shown up in the RP. Please volunteer.
    
11. Add lore on the Devotion to the White Being (T'Odis Religion)
    
12. Update Cast Section
    
13. Update the "Update" Thread (it's very outdated).
    

Also everyone, if you haven't already, welcome: @DemetrioMachete @Milus @Aenon @Soma_ @Khadame @Whisker @Syrenrei @Dannytm & @Galahad. It's a whole party. Please PM me for links to our Discord server!

 

[Vali Ulfr]

hi guys im joining the rp and this is my character excited to do this with you guys  



[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: “The name’s Alister. Alister Huginn”[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: “I'm 23 years of age”[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: “I’m a Kildren-Nomasdae mix. Father was a Kildren and my mother was Nomasdae”[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Alister is a [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]quiet[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] fellow, but is a very [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]hard and steadfast worker[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] and any goal he has in his eyes will work until the job is done. Alister is very[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] humble and honest[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] for a person who spent much of his youth thieving. He takes things to heart and can sometimes never forget it. He stole and gave a lot, mostly for the right reason so he has a [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]generous[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] part of him that is hidden and only comes out when it seems necessary.[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description: Alister has a light frosty like blue in his eyes, though it doesn’t show much because of his hood. Under his right sleeve he has a lash that looks like a arrowhead from a bow string snap. He stands about 5 ’8 with the light weight of 147. His height mainly comes from his mother who was Nomasdae. [/SIZE]





[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of Choice: Alister is a Expert marksman with the bow. he keeps a knife close also[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]background: [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“As I said my mother was Nomasdae and my father was a kildren. My father was deported by the Defenders when I was 1 years of age. He was the best man My mother said. But when he left our money depleted and we became extremely poor. Every thing went to shit and at age 4 I was pulling scams left and right, scavenging and stealing everything i could. One day I went behind a man’s house and found a bow lying there. The stupid, curious thieving kid that I was, I picked it up. When I picked it up I immediately felt comfortable.”[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“I picked up an nearby arrow and aimed for a tree. All the motions felt like walking, so calm, easy, and I felt full composure. I took a breath and WOOOSH the arrow vibrated as it cut into the tree. What I hadn’t realized was there was someone standing behind me. I didn’t move for some reason, even though I ran when ever someone saw me or I saw them. This  encounter I had with this man changed every bit of my life. I looked at him with fear struck eyes and he stared back at me calmly. Until he said “keep it young man. You're a good shot. Maybe you will become something bigger in this life.” Said the man. Slowly I backed away and sprinted back to the “house” to my mother. Sometimes I go back to the tree and i still see the mark.” [/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Now I work within the forest of Libertia as a ranger. As a Ranger it is my full duty to protect and provide aid to those who need it. There are many more rangers out there, but still not enough. As it is my job to aid the people of Libertia, and defend them from the dangers that prowl within this forest. My enforcer name is Libertia Ranger Huginn. [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]That is all i have left to say.”[/SIZE]

 

[DemetrioMachete]

INTRODUCING...


Name: Heinrich Klaus


Age: 27


Race: Kildran


Sexuality: Bisexual


Personality: Comes off as polite and quirky, but this façade quickly gives way to sadism and brutality during medical practice and combat. He is addled with a mental illness which impairs his sense of Id, Ego and Superego. That said, he rarely displays an ethical conscious, a sense of self-preservation, or even sympathy for the sick, whom he is supposed to treat. Many metaphorical screws are loose from the doctor's head, and often whispers to himself; particularly the repetition of his surname. "Klaus Klaus Klaus..."


Description: Most of Klaus' features are concealed behind his elaborate Plague Doctor outfit, consisting of a rimmed black hat,  white plague mask with rose lens, a long black coat and black pants. Behind this, Klaus hides his glasgow scars, which forces him into a permanent smile, and his hair, dyed white out of T'Odis envy. His eyes are green, and their vibrant gaze easily gives away his madness and lack of human empathy.





"There's no need to be afraid... everyone has to stew in their own blood at some point in their life."


Weapon of Choice: A common mace, good for bludgeoning and flaying. Usually it is kept clean, for Klaus has grown attached. Engraved on the handle is a name. "Mr. Spanky".


background: Heinrich was born and raised in Roadalia. His father having died shortly after his birth, Klaus was instead raised by two mothers. His mother by blood, Gertrude Klaus, was once an accomplished adventurer but retired to a life of guard duty. His other mother, Mildred Klaus, was a butcher, who harvested and sold meat. Though treated like second-class citizens, Heinrich's family still made enough to live comfortably.


One night though, Mother Mildred had what seemed like a mental breakdown. In a delusional stupor, she attacked her son Heinrich with a knife, and carved into his face a grotesque, bleeding smile. When Gertrude learned of this, Mildred was arrested and hanged, from there on, Heinrich lived with only one parent, forever scarred to smile. This experience traumatized him, and slowly sent him on a downward spiral into madness.


As the young Heinrich came of age, he joined up with a nearby Church of Azae, learning the Clerical arts of healing, prayer, and discovering faith. Upon adolescence, the Church began to fill Heinrich's head with ideals of combatting heresy, and how the heathens needed to be punished, by any means within their power to act. Klaus, however, took it the wrong way, and would harshly abuse and injure heretics he found, often leaving maimed and dissected corpses behind. It was around this time Heinrich began to develop a morbid infatuation with the human body...


As he became an adult, Klaus was unleashed upon the world; officially asserting himself as a Cleric and Doctor, providing his trades of mending and maiming to anyone that piqued his morbid curiosity for sentient anatomy.

 

[Khadame]

Also introducing:


Name: Guinevere “Jin” von Vasten


Age: 26


Race: Kildran


Personality:
A no-nonsense woman who prioritises duty above all. Her vigorous training and valuable experience from countless battles have shaped her up to be the perfect partner in battles, as she has a sharp mind and is a born tactician. 



However, outside of battle or matters concerning her work, Jin is incredibly awkward and stiff. She prefers to stay alone as her attitude never earned her any friends and she would rather have no strings attached.


Description: 
Around 180cm tall, with a muscular and rather burly build, yet distinctly slim. She has a naturally light complexion, but earned herself a light tan from training in summers. Most of her few scars are visible except for two large ones around her breasts and back. She keeps that entire area bandaged.



Her face is graced with high cheekbones and sharp eyes, almost slits. They have heavy bags and deep lines beneath, giving her a look of constant exhaustion. Her eyes are a dull grey with hints of green. Her black hair is put into a bun on one side and freely flows on the other. 


Weapon of Choice:
A plain set of a heavy steel shield and equally heavy sword. Her armour is incredibly thick; she wears several layers of it, a mixture of titanium, chain mail and steel. 



She prefers a “tanky” fighting style and usually stays in the front line, dealing moderate damage but making it up by taking heavier hits for other and setting enemies up for a kill.


Background: 
Jin’s childhood was not necessarily bad. It wasn’t good, either – a murky in-between. She owed her parents everything. Her position and her unwavering will, but on the other hand, she sometimes wondered if everything was really worth it.



Her upbringing had been nothing like everyone else’s. She was determined to be (forced, rather, for she didn’t have much of a choice at five years of age) a honourable knight in the future, one that would make her family and her country proud to have her as one of her own. Jin’s parents were very religious, almost borderline so, and this attitude they tried to pass on to their daughter. 



Slowly, as she grew up and matured into a respectable young girl, her parents wanted to cement the future they had so carefully planned out for her. Guinevere, her mother used to say, go make your folks proud, will you? And she would agree and promise to, not really knowing what they wanted. 



They sent her to training. Away from home, at least half the country, and the good-bye brought out the tears of no one. Not Jin, not her family (they even cherished it, and justified it by saying it was all for the greater good) and certainly not the man leading the carriage away, who at best sneezed once during their ride towards the capital.



Training was led by a man (much to her parents dismay, but they had been told there wasn’t anyone better and they would never settle for the second best), a gruff guy without any sense of humour and a look that would send anyone fearing for their life.



She was twelve when she first joined his ranks and he didn’t seem to care for her age at all. Jin was – literally and figuratively – dragged through the mud day after day, running laps and sparring with others through gritted teeth and with the desperate wish to return home. Three years of stomping her dreams, of crying, and of working herself to the bone paid off when her mentor approached her, the hint of a smile on his face, and said: “Congratulations.”


Congratulations. It seems you have been noticed by the royalty of Roadalia. They consider you to join the ranks of the Knights, at such a young age even. You must have impressed the right person. It’s the greatest honour. You should be proud of yourself. 



Jin grimly smiled and pretended to care.



It went smoothly. One more year, and she went through the ceremony in front of Roadalia’s most important people, accepting her new badge and uniform with a thanks and a vow to never betray her country, her queen and her goddess. The threat in the words she was forced to speak was clear. Do it or you’re dead.



It had barely been three months when she broke her vow.



She met him when she was assigned a task. “Some folks have been spreadin’ lies again”, her captain said, feet on the table and as nonchalant as she could be, “about Azae and all that. You know how the queen is.” Jin knew how the queen was. Met her, twice, and wasn’t particularly keen on doing so again. She reminded her too much of her mother. “Just get ‘em and I’ll deal with the rest.”



It didn’t even take one day for her to screw it all up when she caught the lot right in the act; they were hanging crudely drawn posters everywhere, pinning them to some houses and some posts. She shouted (“Stop right there, you criminal scum!”), drew her blade and immediately got knocked out from behind. 



To her never-ending relief and thankfulness, she woke up not in heaven, but in the small bed of a cheap-looking tavern with a bandage wrapped around her forehead. He was there, seated on a stool next to her and read a book. All smiles and sunshine, even when she immediately came to the conclusion that she had been kidnapped, and calmly explained that some scoundrels got her by the head. In the same sentence, he confessed being part of the scoundrels.



“You can tell on us”, he murmured, “we kinda deserve it for being assholes to you. In their defence, they’re new and all. Really sorry.” Jin didn’t answer, and he took it as a sign to continue. “I used to look up to the Knights when I was younger. I saw your badge and... ah. You know how it is.” She mildly informed him that she didn’t know how it was. He smiled, and said: “It’s the least I can do for someone who inspired me so much. “



Jin was positive that she sure as arse didn’t inspire him for the five months she had served, but gave him her thanks anyway and left the inn. When she had to hand the daily report over to her captain, she wrote that there were no results that day.



Through sheer dumb luck (and on a small part, her desire to find him again), they met each other again. “Fancy seeing you here again”, he laughed, as if he couldn’t believe it himself, “how’s life?”


 Somehow, that morphed into an entire day of procrastinating on her work and spending it with the person she was supposed to get executed in the first place. It didn’t faze her in the slightest.



And this brief encounter turned into something more, and for a moment of her life, Jin felt love and loved. The sensation of him overwhelmed her with his perfection, the care he put into every single touch against her skin and the laugh he would share with her everyday. Yet, all things beautiful were never supposed to last, and she was a damned fool to ever ignore that lesson. 



Her captain became increasingly suspicious of her non-progress. A year with any sort of report? Not even a clue? The woman sent out another one of the Knights and it didn’t even take a day for her to catch him red-handed. How incredibly ironic, Jin thought bitterly when she saw them take him to prison, chained and barely conscious.



The sentence was clear even before he offered himself as the group leader. Execution. The others got a lifetime in the dungeons. The Knight’s captain invited Jin to her office the day before his beheading and said: “I know what’s up, von Vasten. You don’t even need to confess.” She didn’t try. “I’m disappointed in you, but I’m not going to tell anyone. It would be a shame to lose a good woman for such a trivial matter. However, I want no more mistakes. This is your second and last chance. Understood?” “Crystal”, Jin answered and left the room without another word from her superior, trying to keep her hands from balling into fists.



She had planned on staying in bed the day afterwards. Pretending to be sick, she mused, pretending was her strong point, anyway. Her plans were discarded when a servant knocked on her door and informed her that, apparently, the prisoner’s last wish was to see her again. Jin almost refused in the heat of the moment, but ultimately brought out a breathless “I will be there in five minutes.”



Immediately after she arrived, she regretted ever coming. He was a mess; miserable, bloodied and broken, and Jin nearly threw up when she saw the striped marks litter his body beneath his prisoner rags. “Hey there, sunshine”, was the first thing he said, not even enough strength to lift his head and meet her eyes. She couldn’t bring the words out.



“I found a tunnel”, a minute afterwards, “some-“, he coughed, and even against the dark tiles the blood in his spit was visible, “-hah, some guy probably dug it out. I could escape.” “Good for you”, Jin whispered and she feared incredibly what she knew came next.



“Come with me.”



“I can’t.”



“Didn’t you want freedom? Wasn’t it your biggest wish?”



“Damn it, I can’t!” She beat the metal bars that kept him in his cage, feeling something crack that shouldn’t when she hit harder. “Just go!”



“Not without you.” He smiled despite her tears. “Never without you.”



In the end, his last wish had been for her to execute him. She couldn’t refuse him that. So she stood, the unfamiliar feel of an axe in her hand in the midst of a crowd of hundreds, who all cheered her on to murder the person who deserved it the least.



Jin heard him speak before she was instructed to put the axe to use. “My last, true wish... is for you to be free someday. Just like you told me.” He closed his eyes and breathed for the last time. It sounded like he held back tears through his quivering smile. The signal for her to start echoed through the plaza.



She raised the axe...



“I’m sorry I couldn’t see the world with you.”



...and swung.

 

[Syrenrei]

Nari Uduliadej
​

Age: 31
​

Race: [SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Parshumian[/SIZE]
​

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Se[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]xuality: Heterosexual[/SIZE]
​

 
​

Personality
​

Nari is a bit of an oddity. She is frequently seen with her head in a book. The subject is secondary to the pursuit of knowledge itself and if there were any trivia nights in the local taverns that would allow her to enter a competition, she'd surely win. One might think this would make her into an insufferable know-it-all but instead she tends to watch people much like she reads a book. It's irrelevant if she knows what they do not, or what will come to pass, it's the observation and the journey that is enticing to her. On the rare occasion someone engages her and queries about her more intellectual interests she does not temper her enthusiasm. "Intense" and "suffocating" are descriptions old childhood friends used for how firmly she latched onto similar mindsets. She tries very hard to learn from these mistakes but she can't help be downright giddy at the presence of another scholar. With her wide breadth of knowledge on many subjects she has proven to her father (and family) she can be a trusted advisor easily recalling and citing obscure historical accounts that can bring insight. Her etiquette is nearly flawless and she recalls the names, faces, and pertinent information of the dignitaries are of even tiny consequence.


Nari truly tries her best to be well-educated and to help bring success to her family... with the exception of marriage. With so few friends and journals and written records full of horror stories of arranged marriage, she has managed to avoid engagement thus far. It is fear though, not all the eloquent arguments that are made to her father, that motivate her however. She has struggled to find people that don't her "boring" or "too eccentric" so she remains less than optimistic about a spouse. In addition, a marriage that is founded on business rarely has a "happy ending" if her reading is any indication. Nari is so firmly pessimistic on this topic that she has been to known to bolt at the subject and it's become a well-known deterrent if her siblings want her to leave the room.

 
​

​

Physical Description
​

Nari is a very lovely, although slightly more tall than the average [SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Parshumian[/SIZE] woman. She stands roughly 5'7" and has a thin figure and pale complexion; she looks more frail than intimidating, but has sharp eyes that roam indiscriminately over people and places. It is important to Nari to a positive extension of her family so she does use make-up to hide her flaws, but awkwardly shuns male attention of the romantic persuasion. The chemical composition of dyes is one of her many interests and as a result she has taken to using various hues in her hair, usually indigo or a red, although she has used blue, green, and a bleaching/yellow agent on them as well. Most of her hair is long, but a few locks that frame her face have been cut as they've become damaged from the use of aforementioned dyes.

Weapon of Choice
​

Nari does not carry any weapons except a few very heavy books that, if thrown or used as a blunt force weapon, might leave one sore.
​

 
​

Background
​

While many, if not all, of her siblings were being trained in the martial arts and celebrating their success therein, Nari was making compelling arguments on the pursuit of more academic knowledge. It was not her coordination that lacked but rather the passion and commitment that others held for physical tasks. In a battle of wits, whether it be written or spoken, Nari was eager to prove her worth but her disdain for every weapon presented to her was thinly veiled. Threats and persuasion were unsuccessful and her teachers gave up after they made certain she could defend herself minimally. Nari was then given tutors on all the academic subjects her family could find and she was a sponge, soaking up everything they taught without complaint. As soon as she could read she was toting books around with her and perfected the act of reading and [poorly] walking to a destination without glancing up from the page.


When she entered adolescence Nari broadened her horizons; instead of just trying to learn medicine, or the history of a nation, or advancements in fishing, she became interested in people. She began to collect journals and study individual monarchs, people who lived during their reign and the impact decisions made on them, and even the diaries of more mundane bakers, cobblers, blacksmiths, weaponsmiths, and the like. With the permission of her father (and sometimes a bodyguard or other escort) she'd then visit different shops and watch glass being blown, swords being forged, or leather being tanned. While she couldn't herself perform these tasks she felt that it helped develop her learning and understand subjects more wholly.


There was one singular subject she did propose she be allowed to pursue the practice of: healing. It seemed appropriate with so many warriors in her family that one of them ought to learn how to tend to their wounds and occasional illness. With all the deception and deceit that preyed upon people of power in the past and present she felt she was better trusted than an "outsider" or servant to her family. She began as an apprentice and devoured every medical tome she could locate. Her bedside manner was cold to start, however, and learning how to connect to patients took more time than the technical aspect of the profession.


As an adult she spends time advising his father (when he allows), dodging marriage contract proposals, and tending to the sick and wounded. As her family are not chronically ill or needing attention, she has taken to helping the populace regardless of their status or wealth. This has helped curry favor for her father and some of the poor view her acts as a sign of the grace and wisdom of their ruler. Nari has become restless, however, and hopes to travel abroad to study medicine of other countries as well as collect knowledge she has not been able to gain locally.

 

[Tice]

After looking at these impressive new members to the cast, I forgot to pitch in my own. I'm gonna browse the creativity forum to see if I can get a good sketch of him.


Name: Sesler'ther Var-indis


Age: 44


Race: Nomasdae


Sexuality: Heterosexual


Personality: Sesler'ther is a sensible man before all else. His history shapes the hard realism and knowledge of the blacksmith trade. He is not obliged to drink much if at all when there is something for him to do. Perhaps restless from years of being scolded for laziness, Sesler is constantly thinking of a new project or what his chores are going to be. His eyes wander a good deal around the area he is in, always inquisitive. He has an apprentice's background in his trade, and not formal schooling. Common academics were taught by examples of how many bush deer were in a field or buckets of water in a barrel. Sesler's father impressed this thinking into the boy from his own lineage, having served in the last battle of the Lindor-Soov war. He sought to ensure that his son would never need to lift a sword lest in his own defense. Socially, Sesler'ther surrounds himself with like-minded individuals. Indoria was a hard place on its own; he didn't need moronic friends. He talks in words of literal meaning, lacking a use of hyperbole. Slangs, however, will appear in his speech. Mostly names or adjectives for someone. Sesler isn't one to go out of his way to bother someone on a trivial matter. His father's teachings warded him from wanton violence. No child grew up in the dry plains without having a fight or two, but Sesler avoided as much as he could.


Description: Sesler'ther carries the commonplace features of a Nomasdae; a dark complexion from work in the sun and heredity and a 6'3" height. Growing up in a smithy has given Sesler a hardened edge to his body tone, tendons forming rivulets on his arms and back. However, his childhood did not grow around lifting extremely heavy objects. Rather, his muscle was toned by years of bending metal into shapes and being his own handyman. This hardened look is emphasized in his facial features, scarred and burned from forging mishaps. His eyes are rounded and a deep set into his skull, the pupils surrounded by rings of brown. His jawline is masculine and linear with his chin, forming a smooth and round bottom to his face. Sesler's ears are close to his skull as though flattened. Rings of skin are missing from the edges of the earlobes. He has an even, calculated gait, and a brooding persona. When he speaks, his voice is deep and similar to a hollow drum. A unique mark is the word Lointine upon his left shoulder in a pale blue ink.


Sesler'ther prefers to keep his hair cut short, as to prevent dirt, sweat, and sand to get stuck inside. However, finding a decent razor can be hard, so his facial shaving style is patchy and uneven. But, it is low. Age has done its part on his facial features, lines across his forehead from years of frowning or smiling, wrinkles forming at the corners of his mouth and eyes, and occasional grey hairs appearing in his short crop.


Weapon of Choice: Sesler'ther, though a man who had forged such weapons, is not inclined to be exceptional in using any particular item. In fact, he'd be better off using a hammer from his shelf than anything. With a lack of formal training, perhaps only a shortsword would be best for him due to the ability to be used without intense training.


Background: Sesler'ther's childhood was dominated by his apprenticeship into his father's steps of becoming a blacksmith. From the age at which he could lift a hammer, Sesler spent more time around the blistering heat of the forge coals than anywhere else. He learned that the metals he worked with was like paint to an artist; great things could be made from nothing more than a simple material. Frugality was a staple at home, growing up in the  nation of Libertia as a boy before the war. As such, crafting the weapons of warriors was a rarity, instead acting as creators and distributors of the common-man's tools. Life was simple and dull for the single-digit aged Sesler, religiously following the same patterns every day. The anvil and hammer was his toy; his hands were calloused and wrinkled as though he worked a lifetime. Burns from mishaps scarred his face and body. And a strong silence was building inside of him. Most of the people he knew well were older, his father's friends and their families. Valued customers and fellow craftsmen. His mind never wandered far beyond his little village, instead staying close to the Libertia he knew.


Sesler'ther's father was a great shaping figure in his life. His mother was more docile, less of an influence on his future. It betrays the mindset of Indorians to picture his father as a form of a pacifist. When the Lindor-Soov war began, he wanted no part of it. M'Run Var-indis enjoyed his small business in Libertia as he worked to start a family with his wife, Neoveta Kolste. It is was his brother, whom Sesler would never learn of his name, that perhaps forced M'Run's hand. This anonymous uncle was a patriot, fighting for the Soovs to preserve the land from the radicals of the Lindors. He viewed them as little more than rebels and seeked to vanquish them. He believed that M'Run needed to fight for Libertia, requesting several times over the course of the war for M'Run to help defend the cities before they fell. Towards the later end of the war, once word began to spread that larger cities seemingly crumbled from within, he asked only one more time for M'Run to join arms with him in the fight for Libertia. M'Run believed that he was doing all that he could for a man of his talents. In fact, the war led to a great deal of profit for his business as the request for weapons, armor, and miscellaneous bits for the cavalry. The uncle, now certain that his brother was instead working for the Lindors, deserted from the military to confront him in M'Run's home. He aggressively interrogated M'Run over why he avoided enlisting, and yet did not comprehend the fact that his brother was in fact a great supplier of the army. This uncle took it upon himself to end what he believed was an ally of the Lindors. The conflict ended abruptly, M'Run alive while his uncle was not. Sesler'ther's father never spoke of the incident again, not even to his wife, who was a witness of the event. M'Run, believing that he'd be prosecuted and executed for the murder, joined the Lindors upon the last siege on the capital to ensure that his family would successfully immigrate into the new nation of Indoria.


Once Sesler'ther moved past his prepubescent years and into the teenage stage of life, he began to freelance beyond the forge so that he could learn the common sense of the world. Sesler had high hopes of constructing his own home and took an apprenticeship in carpentry. There, he quickly learned that a good deal of lumber came in as imports, due to his new home of Indoria's dry climate. The philosophy of imports and exporting intrigued him, enough to ask of his master more about the aspect. It was here that the man who would train him in woodworking would learn of Sesler's ability to read, write, and do arithmetic. A rarity in such poor village life. So, instead of mastering the art of woodwork, Sesler instead became a bookkeeper for the carpenter and later for a seafaring trader. Although the ledgers were brought to him instead of delivered to an office by the port, It opened the door to a thinking of a broader world. There was a sea to the east and countries in all directions. Countries where the minority races were not so minor. Places where plant life was plentiful and water abundant. But, he couldn't travel abroad. No, when he wasn't freelancing, he was maintaining the forge that his boyhood revolved around. Sesler's father was aging, growing weaker though he wouldn't admit it. Still capable of crafting works of beauty from raw ore, his speed slowed while his work transcended into perfection. His newfound artistic ability was inspired perhaps by the grief over his lost wife, succumbing to the consequences of old age. Sesler's father's work sold at a higher price than Sesler's swiftly-produced tools, M'Run now forming wonderful creations of gates, fence designs, and other art pieces of iron.


A healer was summoned as Sesler'ther aged to sixteen to treat his ailing father, who passed into the final stages of life. Sesler was a hard man at this point, built of a strong material both physically and mentally. He knew his father was dying. It saddened him, but there was reason. M'Run had lived to be quite old and had a prosperous life. It would only hurt his father more to see him depressed. So once his father passed, it was him who buried the man. Sesler didn't want a service, no organized event to mourn the man. Neither him nor his father were big on useless gatherings. His father was dead, and that was final. Sesler would tell himself this many times when he felt trodden by the fact. There was no good reason to emigrate from his village, so Sesler instead lived inside the empty house of his parents, working the forge full time to provide for himself. Grown solitary, Sesler wasn't akin to feeling lonely. His parents were always there for a discussion or to simply comment on him or his work. But now, in the silence of their home, Sesler began to feel oppressed by the emptiness. He had turned seventeen at this point, and it was around this time that he met Parthis Rotila, who would later become his wife. It was chance that brought him to her; she had been a traveler at the time, stopping at the market where Sesler sold his goods. It wasn't the tools or devices he crafted that caught her eye. It was rather the remaining pieces of ironwork that Sesler's father had forged. A doorplate-a circular metal disc one would place in a door to hold a design-depicting a desert Trae-Le in a primal and untamed form. Sesler had sold the piece to her at a cheap price, perhaps infatuated by Parthis's appearance. He convinced her to stay at the village for a short while, so that he could show how the doorplate was created. Neither of the two were fools, and neither were naive enough to overlook the deeper meaning. This short time showed Sesler who she was as a person, the freethinking woman with such social finesse that betrayed her private love of joy and happiness. She filled a void in Sesler's life with her optimism and hope. Parthis was capable of bringing laughter to his grim face, and able to make him blush. So, in a quick time, Sesler was convinced that he needed to propose to her. Parthis had little to return to; her nomadic lifestyle meant most of her life was traveling with her. So, after a fair amount of convincing, she agreed to settle down with Sesler'ther and take his last name as Parthis Var-indis.


Once M'Run's masterpieces ran out, Sesler used his profits to invest in a supply of steel, leather, and iron. He believed that weapon forging will profit both him and the growing military of Indoria. Mercenary contracts meant that interested individuals needed weapons, and Sesler was happy to supply them this need. So, Sesler prospered with Indoria, soon earning enough wealth to build his own home in the same village the way that he wished to by the time that he was twenty and Parthis was twenty-two. But the house was a large project. It needed to have enough space for his future family and a forge. It was all he knew, and couldn't leave the work behind. He wanted new equipment, replacing the worn-out anvil with a stronger version, a system of several bellows for a hotter flame so that he could properly used the new materials that he had purchased, and a large basin to cool several pieces of metal at once instead of the thin trowel he was accustomed to. Sesler constructed the foundation from cobblestone, using a mix of sand, water, and clay to secure the rocks together. By importing felled trees from the forests of Libertia, he constructed the first floor by interwoven logs that connected by notches at either end of every log. The interior walls were created by planks smoothed by a thick belt of sand glued to a strip of leather. The planks, running from grooves in the floor to where the future ceiling would be, outlined the rooms of the home. A spiral of the same combination of materials that made up the foundation formed the roof, giving it a conical top where the chimney could be easily made. Now that the actual home was created, Sesler worked on installing the equipment he envisioned so well in his mind. This would prove to be a lengthy stretch of time before the forge was created, as the entire room needed to be secured with the cobble mixture so that his home would not burn down. He was twenty-three when his home was finished.


As the years wore on and Sesler furnished his home, he began to renovate it by purchasing glass and carving holes for windows, then building a porch, and later a fence to encircle an area for a backyard. Parthis was pregnant at this time and he intended to give his child an area to play. Though it burned in him to, Sesler did not want to force his kid to become a blacksmith like he. Rather, Sesler would travel his nation and show his son multiple trades. Not only will Sesler's child learn different aspects of the world, but they will also build a sense of social etiquette. But Sesler did not know what he would do if he had a daughter. It wasn't that he felt adverse to the idea, it was simply that he grew up in a very masculine household and saw little of womanly professions. Sesler didn't want her to find a job where she would leave them, as Parthis had done with her family, but it may be inevitable. But his worries were replaced with loss as Parthis miscarried the child. Sesler couldn't understand why, however. Parthis was in decent health, he was a gentle soul to her, and midwifes assured that the child was healthy. It was simply fate. He was twenty-five by then. Over the course of time, it was eventually discovered that Parthis could not bear children. It was a defect from birth. A misshapen chamber, as the healer put it. Incapable of properly holding the unborn child and nourishing its growth. Both Parthis and Sesler'ther were deeply wounded by the loss. Sesler eventually engraved himself with skin inks, placing the name of his unknown child upon the back of his left shoulder in a pale blue to draw contrast against his dark skin; "Lointine".


Further time passed on without variety, bland as the desert itself. Sesler provided for his household by his trade and Parthis did well to take care of him and the home. Once again Sesler'ther felt the impeding loneliness even with a wife at his side. He wanted to father a child and yet was unable to. When he had turned thirty-nine, however, this feeling of loneliness was replaced by dread when yellow strands began to develop under Parthis's skin, in gradual amounts. It was the exterior sign of Mirerot, a disease that was seemingly without cause. It wasn't contagious, hence the reason why Sesler remained in good health. Mirerot was lethal in the end, but was slow to arrive at that final stage. The journey to that end was painful, as the expansion of the yellow wisps under the skin wrapped around the blood vessels, making circulation to the limbs difficult. Parthis grew sore and weak, until ridden to a bed nearly permanently. Sesler scrounged the land for information on some type of cure, throwing money almost carelessly to any form of rumor. The once sensible and silent man became a mental wreck, incapable of focusing his mind on anything else. His handiwork became shoddy, his tools second-rate. Parthis had reached the middle trimester of Mirerot, by far the slowest. She would be more comfortable than she once was, yet soon lose the ability to properly walk. All of this marks the beginning of Sesler's journey to find a cure for his ailing wife before it was too late.

 

[Soma_]

And here we are, introducing the dude with the short character profile


Name: Luka Mikael (Known among the ranks as Aia which in T'Odis means eye but is called this for his superb bow skills.
 
Age:22
 
Race:Mix of Kildan and T'Odis (Father Kildran, Mother T'Odis)
 
Sexuality: (Optional) Straight
 
Personality: Luka comes off as a relatively calm and passive individual. He has a semi brooding undertone when he isnt talking as when he isnt hes definitely thinking hard. He is generally sarcastic and cynical in normal conversation but is able to turn into a serious and blunt individual but is generally a lighthearted fellow. He has a very calm temper but is terrifying when its broken.
 
Description: (Physical, can include reference picture, but should still write out.) Luka is a tall individual at 6'2 due to his T'Odis mother. He has dirty blonde hair with a slight browning that reaches his shoulders. He has a slender frame that lends itself to agility over strength and is used to more fast paced environments. He has a chiseled and rugged facial structure and non monochromatic eyes. (fancy for different colours) that are colored green and blue. Due to this he is known to the locals that do not know him as 'Strange Eye'.
 
Weapon of Choice: His weapon of choice is his longbow that he has had since the age of 10 years old but has only been able to use it since the age of 14. It is made of a roasted maple material and reinforced with a form of hardened steel. The wood is inscribed by his mother with the quote 'third eye' in T'Odis (Glyrb Aia) He also carries a pair of scythe sickles that he carries in both hands in close range combat


background: (Short biography/history. At least 3-4 paragraphs.)  Luka always grew up in a two parent household until his father was killed in the a tragic murder and robbery when he was four years old. (His fathers name was Matias Mikael) so he lived with his single parent mother Valka Mikael. His mother worked in the shop of a blacksmith because she had always had a knack or smithing and being tall and large as a T'Odis was a huge advantage in the environment of carrying things. Due to this he grew up around weapons and learned to shoot and hunt at an early age as being a single parent household that lived in a small home he had to feed him and his mother.


At the age of 15 he has recruited to start training as part of the yet to be named group of covert rangers and the only possessions he took with him were a long green cloak and his bow his mother gave to him as a present and holds that as his most precious possession. He trained with a senior ranger for 4 years before he was accepted into the ranks and started on normal duty and started to see his mother less and less. He also shows musical talents within his spare time as a ranger and often plays at inns whenever he gets the chance.


Luka is now a ranger that defends villages and cities from various wildlife and is responsible for the forests of the Libertian province. He has a paranoia of other nations attacking Libertia and is slightly rattled by his corps being one of Libertias only defences against enemies. He has traveled all around Libertia and is known by civilians and those who do not know him as 'Strange Eye' and amongst the rangers he is simply known by the term 'Aia'.

 

[Whisker]

Sorry for the wonky format, guys. The site likes to screw with my edits. 


Name:  Abraxas G'auldr 


Age:  30 


Race:  T’Odis 


Sexuality: Heterosexual


Personality: 


Abraxas is loyal to nothing and no one but himself. Growing up in the Lawless Lands of T’Odis has given him a fierce streak of independence that will be weighed down by nothing. He clings not to the laws of society, but rather to his own code, his own set of beliefs; they change daily based on his experiences. It makes him complex and hard to understand, but even so, he is not difficult to get along with. He is rather amiable despite his grim disposition. He hungers to know more about the world, and what lies beyond the barren ice-lands he grew up in. He’s teaching himself to read oh-so-slowly and painstakingly, writing proving itself to be a far more challenging beast than wielding an axe ever was. He’s slow to learn, but makes up for it with a ceaseless determination that carries over to his other tasks. Beware pricking his pride, however. He does not easily forgive.


Description: 

Spoiler

Abraxas is a grim, unsmiling man in his late twenties or early thirties. It is difficult to tell his precise age due to tangled beard that obscures most of his face. His eyes are the palest of blues – fading to grey in some lights – and mired behind an ugly zig-zagged scar on the right hand side. His skin is fair rivaling most of his kind, though his hair is a shade or two darker than the snow-colored locks his people are known for. He prefers to wear a studded brigantine with hand-made pelt breeches, a cloak of yiptik skins oft removed during hot weather, and a battered old half helm for protection. At 6’8, he has the look of a warrior, hard-framed and hearty, though the last few years or so have robbed him of some of his imposing stature.


Weapon of Choice: 

Spoiler

A two-handed bearded axe with an attached iron butt-spike upon the end.  It doubles as a walking stick  when not being used in melee combat.


 Background: 


Abraxas was born into fighting, the bastard son of a bandit warlord operating in the southern reaches of the Lawless Lands. The Parshum-T’Odis War was winding down into ashes, the landscape still ravaged by the fires of confrontation, but it made very little difference to the inhabitants living within those barren wastes; they were always at war even if not from foreign invaders. Pirates raided the coasts frequently, and it was not uncommon to spot smoke dwindling into the sky as refugees and hunting clans were set aflame from raiders. It was one endless battle for supremacy over a frozen hunk of rock steeped from years of bloodshed.


But that was life. He knew nothing different.


His mother, an enslaved captive, had been the daughter of a wealthy merchant from the Lawful Lands who had unwisely attempted to welsh on an under-the-table deal on Parshumian goods from some wrecked cog off the coast. She found it difficult to love her son born from her unwanted nightly ordeals, but she did her best for him, attempting beyond hope to curb the wildness she believed to be in him. She failed.


By the time he could walk, he was moving among the urchins, stealing and soaking up information. The bigger lads were often in charge, and they were almost as cruel as the adults to those whom they chose to bully. The lesson that he should trust no one but himself was hammered in young before he had even left the security of the camps. When it was deigned that he was big enough to ‘earn his keep’, he was taken from his mother and squalling newborn sister and put to work.


There was no formal training – no one had time to train brats, after all. Abraxas like so many other of the urchins tailing the pack had to learn as they went. Maybe one boy in ten would survive. Others simply disappeared. For a time, he was but grist for the mill to pad the ranks. Then, when he was ten, he joined a band of outriders who scouted ahead of the band and operated in secrecy. He honed his style in those four years, switching from the blade to the axe. All sense of right and wrong was buried in the will to survive, to make it from one day to the next; it was all that mattered.


He might’ve gone the rest of his life in this manner, a nameless bastard brigand like so many others who clung to strength. However, when he was approaching manhood, his life as he knew it began to fall to pieces. It began when his father rode out to raid, and his second returned only with his head. The story spread from lip to lip that the Hordes of Justice had tracked him down and cut him to pieces as they had so many men before him. The death of his father ignited a power struggle. Who would lead them now? Factions sprung up in the camp overnight. Brother turned against brother. Even Abraxas, a low-born bastard son, faced constant threat of assassination for sharing the blood of his father. He killed. And killed again. He learned to sleep with one eye open.


In the midst of this bloodshed, the raiders chanced upon a caravan of foreign men on their way to spread the word of Azae. They were captured and rounded up like cattle, their wealth divided and split. The poor among them as well as any who resisted were gutted or hanged. Only a few – the men too old to fight and the very wealthy – were spared in the hopes of generating a ransom. Among them, an old man stood alone and bore his captivity with dignity and grace. Even as he was starved and denied of food, his eyes burned brightly, looking down at those who sought to oppress him. Curious, the boy within him wanted to know what made him different. Everyone else whom they chanced upon fought, groveled, or joined like moths to the light. This man did neither --- he bore his suffering with his head held high.


Whatever the man’s secret was, it would remain hidden from Abraxas. The night came where the boiling tensions within the band exploded into sudden violence. In the night, they were attacked by their rivals, many turning their cloak without so much as batting an eye. Abraxas, aware of the threat he presented, fled among the stragglers. He ran, and ran, and ran until he could run no more. He was found by a mercenary company somewhere on the outskirts of P’Iking. He joined them and never looked back. He never forgot the religious man with the burning eyes, however … For the first time in his life, he found he wanted to know. For the first time ever, he realized that there were more animals in the woods than those who lived to eat or be eaten.

 

[CupAndCough]

WIP CHARACTER PROFILE 

             Aiza Sher-Ket                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    
​

---
​

 

[Zooks]

Well @King Ad Rock Drops the plot today after MONTHS OF KEEPING IT A SECRET!
I HATE YOU SO MUCH and also you're the best GM for keeping the secret so long even from me *slow claps*


(Also don't mind me just finding pictures)

 

[Goaty Love]

What follows are the profiles for two characters who are going to be going on an adventure with @Syrenrei's character.


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name:[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]William Steirn [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age:[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]32[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race:[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Kildran[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: [/SIZE]


William is a caring and friendly individual who has a strong intellect and finds joy in providing a helping hand where he can and having intellectual conversations. William is more of a talker than a fighter and believes many people can be won over with words to prevent violence if approached right.


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description: [/SIZE]





William is a simple Kildran, he is 5 foot 11, has some muscles, has some fat and has a sun kissed skin. He has calm hazelnut eyes with a light hint of wisdom trickling through. His face is slender and he has a slightly narrow jaw. He has brown hair which he keeps short just like his beard, he doesn't shave but he does cut it. He can always be seen in well crafted travel clothes which look more expensive than a peasant's garb but are very modest compared to what merchant's in cities wear.


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of choice:[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]His short sword or his wits[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background:[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]William was born to Eric and Ada Steirn [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]who were running a calm tavern in Iorn 'The Squire's Ass'[/SIZE] where customers of all strata were welcome as long as they behaved. William was the firstborn child of his parents and had the luck that his parents saved money to see him educated so he could make something of himself. He drowned himself in Mathematics but also Economics during his student years and mastered the two with great speed. He gathered a starting capital, bought a car, a donkey and hired two guards before he began his life as a caravan merchant. That was years ago and he has seen most of Kildra and some major trading hubs in Libertia. During and after the Fourth Kildran civil war he mostly spent his days in the capital and the surrounding area to keep trade flowing and to help the villages wherever he could, he didn't pick a side though.


---


Name:


Lisa Pam


Age:


24


Race:


Kildran


Personality:


Lisa has a gentle soul but is very protective of those she cares about (or paid her enough to go so far) and loves being in the open air. Loves history.


Description:





Lisa is a slender blonde of 5 foot 9 with visibly developed muscles if she would bare her limbs. She has deep bronze eyes and a few scars on her cheeks from close calls with wildlife. Her face is plain with a small chin and full lips. She usually keeps her long hair in a bun but lets it hang loose when she is done traveling for the day. She always wears simple clothing which doesn't limit her movement or weighs her down. She wears painted iron bracers and shin guards.


Weapon of choice:


Two light blades with which she has learned to be like a rapid whirlwind.


Background:


Lisa was born in Iorn as the seventh child to her father Tim Pam the carpenter and her mother Nel. She had a calm childhood with the usual things that happen in a large family, clashes with siblings, great times with siblings, getting yelled at for misbehavior and the sort. She discovered her aptitude for fighting during some pretend fights with her bigger brothers. She wanted to train in it but her parents were against it. In secrecy she met an arena fighter who taught her a lot throughout the years. She met William a few years back and has been in his employ ever since and has grown to be his chief of security.

 

[Gradous13]

Name: Artyom Okra'nev 
Age: 38
Race: T'Odis
Personality: Artyom is a no bullshit kind of person, he doesnt play around and gets to the point with most things. However he is resectful in general. His loyalties are to those who see life as how it is and dont cause problems, if he has a gut feeling that someone wil betray him he will immidiately dispose of them, either by killing or by ridding said person verbally and rarel is it the later of the two. Artyom keeps his judgment fair and finds no honor in ripping another person off or taking unnecessary advantage of another person.



When in combat, Artyom is merciless and kills to kill. He cares not of the pleasure that some feel from killing, or honor that others get from it, he soley does it to protect himself and T'Odis. 



Description: Artyom towers at 7 feet, 8 inches tall, making him a tower of flesh, bone and muscle. He has a warn out look on his long, square face. battle scars cover a bit of his face here and there  and a decent amount of his body as well. Artyom has peircing gray eyes and has a long scar running down the left side of his face close to the front of his ear which runs even with the top of his ear down to where the the jaw hinges.



Extra Description: Atyom has a snow leopard that he has raised since it was a cub which he  named her Seria (Sir-eye-ah). Artyom has taught Seria hand motions for when he commands her. Seria is about three years old and is in very good shape and health, Her coat has a very light blue shine to it which is hard to notice unless you are looking for it and her eyes are a deep blue.



Weapon of Choice: T'Odis Longsword, a type XIX style that is a two handed variant, also has round shield with a metal outer ring and a  simple shield boss



Background: Artyom was an orphan and was conscripted into the "Justice Hoards." The training was brutal and it was during this time he quickley learned from his mistakes, his first was showing emotion. 



It was during an intense training fight where he made this mistake. Artyom and another child dealt blows back and forth until Artyom delivered  what he thought was the final blow when he struck his opponent in the head with the oak training sword, when he saw the other boy was badly hurt he ran to him only to be attacked again. Artyom blocked a heavy blow with his left arm which broke immediately. He then grabbed his weapon, which at this stage represented a two handed sword, and fought back with a rage induced strength, wielding the heavy dummy sword with ease. The fight ended with his opponent dead on the cold ground.


Emotion was his first mistake but learning about an anger he had never experienced before soon became one of his greatest ally once he learned how to produce, channel and use it almost spontaneously.
After getting hs arm broken, Artyom was going to be disposed of but he promised he was able to fight with his weapon of choice, the two handed sword, with one hand. It was a harsh time but eventually his perseverance, determination and hard work payed off. By the time his am healed, his training weapon was replaced by a T'Odis two handed sword , the weight was only a couple pounds heavier, that what it seemed like when it was in reality several more.
By Twenty, Artyom was getting close to becoming a lieutenant, but unfortunately for him, he made a mistake. He was sent out to deliver a message to their headquarters but on his way back he accidentally killed someone by running them down with his horse. He was reported the next week and was given his two choices, Trial or Fight...of course Artyom chose to fight. His own Captain was his opponent who underestimated Artyom, as seious mistake which caused his death. 
After being released he left to The Great Ice Mountains to start a new life. Artyom took his sword along with other supplies, bought a round shield, a bow, arrows and a quiver only to venture off into the wilderness to find a new purpose for himself...

 

[Gradous13]

if the skin complection was were I wanteded it, hi pic would be scary AF

 

[King Ad Rock]

Cast Section is now completely updated. If I missed something let me know.

 

[Orikanyo]

I forget, is there a profile for Suzane?

 

[King Ad Rock]

I forget, is there a profile for Suzane?

The Six Nations thread in the Overview sub-forum has a short profile for each nation leader.

 

[Orikanyo]

Cool.

 

[Tice]

Been looking for a picture of Sesler. Real soon.

 

[Kayso]

New character:


Skara Lag


[SIZE=18.666666666666664px]Age: 27[/SIZE]


[SIZE=18.666666666666664px]Race: T’Odis[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]

[/SIZE]


 

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Skara has always followed the law of the land, and no others. To her, there is no higher law. The fastest, the strongest, the fiercest survive, and that is the way things are. Nature is meant to be revered, yet challenged. Humanity is meant to be survived, yet understood. When you need something, you take it. If you succeed, you are stronger, and you earned it. People don’t help you unless they want something, and you do the same to them. [/SIZE]


 

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Skara learned this lesson as a young girl. Living in a small mountain village in the T’Odis Lawless Lands, life was already difficult for their tiny community. Skara lived with her father, mother, and two older brothers in a small but cozy wooden shed that was frequently coated with a thin layer of ice and a thick blanket of snow. They all managed, somehow, but things were never [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]good[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]. One morning, however, just as the sun began to peek above the snow-covered caps of the mountains that surrounded their little valley, tragedy struck, in the form of gruesome enlightenment. [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]B'Aech Drymtar, the most formidable, menacing tral-el in all of T’Odis, came to make a point. Soon after, everything was destroyed; everything was ablaze; everyone was gone. Everyone, except one small, seven-year-old girl. The tral-el simply looked down at her, its hot, blood-drunk breath steaming in the cold morning air, waiting. Skara was terrified-she’d never had combat training of any kind; she couldn’t even throw a rock without missing the mark. So she stood, trembling, doing the only thing she knew she could do: face her imminent death. But it never came. After a minute or two of waiting, of staring, the hulking creature simply turned around and walked away. Skara was left in the smoldering ruins of her mountain town, her family dead, her feet frozen, and the realization that what she had just received from the legendary beast was respect.[/SIZE]


 

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Since that day, Skara had made it a point to be stronger than anything she would ever face. Her family, the villagers - they were not strong, and they were destroyed. The only reason she was left alive was because the tral-el, the more powerful of the two, decided it. Skara was not going to be caught in such a predicament again, however. She would make the decisions, and if she was victor, she would advance. If she wasn’t, well, then she deserved it.[/SIZE]


 

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Skara has traveled all over Zeldwa since, strengthening herself through confrontations in the wild or through the coin purses of wealthy cowards who couldn’t handle things themselves. It didn’t matter to her, however: she got what she needed and it was, essentially, their own way of surviving. She knew of her own abilities and she wasn’t worried about them. Skara hunted, but only took what she needed. She lusted, but it never lasted. She marks her skin with the deaths of those whom she has overcome, and does not stay long in favorable company. She has become well known among the various taverns and merchant groups, being a generally jovial person, but not one to get too close. Earn money, use money, repeat. Earn respect, give respect, repeat. But give nothing away for free.[/SIZE]


 

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of choice:[/SIZE]


 

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]

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[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A large poleaxe of iron and banded steel, with a hefty blade on one side, hammer on the other, and crowned with a sharp, piercing spike. It was simply found at a market, a spoil of war no doubt, and in desperate need of some tender loving care. It was not out on display with the other, shinier weapons when Skara noticed it. Instead, it was leaning up against the shopkeeper’s cart and she demanded that he sell it to her, and for a good price. He didn't say no. It was a perfect fit.[/SIZE]

 

[Vali Ulfr]

we need more people in Libertia :/

 

[Syrenrei]

Maybe if/when I make a CS for Silver I'll put him there, @Aenon!