Fantasy Eaethix Characters

character sheet

(appearance) - use a fantasy-like pic preferably

Name:
Gender: / Age: / Height:

Race:
Race Explanation:

About:

Skills:
Magic (if any):

Extra Unique Things:

Curse:

Try to add a significant weakness or issue your character deals with. If they have something really strong about them, try to add a problem that counteracts it in your character. In other words, I don't really want OP chars, so if you have something "OP" I'd like if your char had something negative to offset that. Though I don't mind if there's some aspect to them that is OP, but so long as there's a balance, or it doesn't break the world, you know?

Add a reason that your character is "running away" or a reason they would be in Wraevadar.

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Name: Faiglyn Zolhana
Gender: Female / Age: 18 / Height: 5’3’’

Race: Hyu Elf
Race Explanation:
Hyu Elves are a race with mixed human and mixed elf blood. Their blood can be donated to either race, and has healing properties. They have stronger wills, and life spans and are typically quite dexterous. Their eyes are better than humans’ and can mystically see in the dark. They are weak and susceptible to mystic disenchantments and mind attacks. Especially curses.

About:
Faiglyn is a Dryar. Which are what the warriors of her village were called. Trained by her father and brother, who are esteemed Dryar. However, like many of the females in Qhuon Village, she was trained as a priestess as well. Something she did fine, but never really focused on, preferring her Dryar training and job.

As it so happened, the Successions were taking place. The Successions are where girls are to succeed the older priestesses, taking their place and duties as the new Priestesses of whatever god. Priests and other religious Zealots from the Grand Cathedral arrived in Qhoun Village. Unfortunately for her, after their tests, Faiglyn was determined to be the successor, and was told she would be the next Priestess of Airros, the god of the sky, storms, and known for quick retribution. Faiglyn never believed she would be chosen. She didn’t even care about the gods, or priestess duties! Nor did she act them out particularly well!

But her feelings didn’t matter. The tests said she was to be the successor, so she was taken and made to perform the Priestess Ritual, which would forever cement her as a priestess, bound to her duties. Just before she finished it, her heart faltered. Knowing she didn’t want this, she sabotaged her own Ritual. Resulting in a massive attack from Airros in retaliation. Which cursed her. The god’s strike also killed many in attendance of the Ritual. Which was a large number from her village, many from the Grand Cathedral, priests, priestess attendants, and the like. Including her own father and brother who were watching her ritual. Her mother was also in attendance, but was able to survive. However, afterward, she disowned her, never wanting to see or speak with her again.

In further retaliation, the Grand Cathedral sent its Zealots and Crusaders after her. Faiglyn was forced to flee the village who now hated her. Chased by a powerful enemy who had vengeance on its mind, Faiglyn found herself crossing the mystical barrier leading into Wraevadar.


Skills: Excellent archer, tracker, and hunter. Good at traps, and subterfuge. Quick and quiet. Capable of creating unique arrows, like rope arrows, smoke arrows, etc.
Magic: Can call upon Airros’s air and wind from her very-short stint as a priestess of Airros. These wind abilities afford her many unique things one wouldn’t normally be able to do, even surprising her sometimes.

Dryar: A warrior-like profession in Qhoun Village. Dryars are so named due the village’s relation to the Dryads of the forest. The village holds Dryads in high regard, with the people seeking out Dryads for advice and wisdom. Dryars are the warriors that protect, guard, hunt, and fight for the village. Many types of Dryars exist, with Faiglyn steering more towards hunting duties, as she was a natural with a bow.

Airros’ Curse: In punishment for her defiance, Airros laid this curse upon her. She has two stimagata on her palms. Every time she draws her bowstring the marks grow. They are snaking their way up to her eyes. Once there, she will go blind.
Other effects:
Her eyesight gradually dwindles, and at times is painfully blurry. Her chest will struggle to take in air, causing her painful feelings of suffocation.

Dryad’s Gift of Life: Before she left, Faiglyn beseeched the dryads around her forest to grant her a gift. Heeding her prayers, they granted her the gift of life. She carries a pouch of healing waters around with her. As long as miracle water remains in her pouch, she -and whoever else she wishes- can recover from mortal wounds.

Extra Unique Things:
Is very adept at playing the Lyute. Which is a simple flute-like instrument from her village.

Name: Ser Quinn Port
Gender: / Age: / Height: Male/200+/6'5

Race: Steelbound
Race Explanation: The Steelbound were once mortal beings, noble knights, honorable dukes and powerful lords. Bound by oaths and chivalry, these knights continue to protected and guard their realms with honor, steel and faith. However at a strange cost. To keep themselves bound to their armor, they must consume energy in its purest form. Life and souls. They drain the souls from the living, primarily sentient being, for what they call the Soul Tithe. Through the Soul Tithe, the Steelbound keep themselves in the mortal realm, otherwise they will eventually become unbound, and be dragged into the hungry maw of the god that had cursed them.

About:
Quinn was a young man, who had just managed to become a fully fledged knight of the House of Port, when what was known as the Cursed Binding happened. A magical explosion that rung throughout the entire realm, covering all the various keeps, castles and citadels for many miles around. Those affected were immediately turned to nothing more then a pile of amber ash, bones and clothes. However there are those who are lucky enough to be wearing a full suit of armor at the time, and should one be wearing a full suit, they would instead "survive" the Cursed Binding, and instead have their souls bound to their armor.

Quinn was one of the many who was confused, troubled and disturbed at what he saw and even more disturbed as he soon realized what it took to sustain his new body. There were many who survived the Cursed Binding, primarily those in the outskirts of the explosion. they were slowly found, herded into the city of Uronne, and were given a choice. To slowly allow their souls to ebb away slowly, to fuel their new masters, or to allow their souls to be ripped from their bodies entirely in one painful, sudden motion. Many chose the former. And for centuries the Steelbound Knights protected Uronne, allowing the serfs and peasantry to farm for themselves, for what did the Steelbound need with food and drink? But in return, the peasants would give a little bit of their souls every month for the Soul Tithe, and Quinn questioned if their honor and chivalry could last while literally draining the lives of the people they swore to protect.

He did not want this to be the end. He knew what would happen should a Steelbound becomes unbound, but he needed to take the risk that many Steelbound were too afraid of taking. He left Uronne, cutting himself from a constant supply of souls and life to drink in order to stay bound to his armor and began a quest to hopefully find a way to not just reclaim his people's honor, but to hopefully release them and their people fully from the curse that hangs over their heads.

Skills: Excellent swordsman, has training in a variety of weapons, but prefers spears, swords, shields, axes and crossbows. Durable, and sturdy. Doesn't need to eat, drink or sleep and doesn't get tired.
Magic (if any): Sigil Casting: Sigils are magical carvings, etched into the armor to allow for the casting of directional, versatile magical abilities. Quinn has access to three of them.
-Sigil of Ethereal Flames: Creates a single ball of ghastly flame that can be used to light up a room, or if Quinn wills it, be flung at a target like a stone. The fire acts like regular fire, except it doesn't spread, nor does it require air to burn.
-Sigil of Mending: Mends an object to become its original form, assuming the object has not taken significant damage. A dull knife can be almost immediately sharpened. A scratched piece of armor can be be made like new, and a bent arrow can be made straight again.
-Sigil of Glowing Messages: When the Sigil is active, the caster can use their finger to write messages on any solid surface that glows with a golden light. The writing will slowly disappear over the course of an hour.

Extra Unique Things:
-Soul hunter: Quinn suffers from Soul Hunger, which has left him rather sluggish and slow. He's not feeling sick or nauseous, but his reaction time is slower then it should be and it feels as if he is fighting his own body all the time. He likely has maybe 6 months, maybe slightly less time, before he becomes unbound.
-Noisy Armor: It is rather difficult to sneak up on people in a suit of armor. Every step Quinn, he makes enough noise to wake up even the heaviest of sleepers.
-Curse of The Morrv, the Soul Drinker: A minor god, who had granted the Steelbound their wish of immortality, but at the cost of acting as his collectors whether they know it or not. Every soul they "consume" actually acts as an offering to Morrv. And should they fail to offer him sufficient tribute, Morrv would consume their own soul.

Name: Gion Stickman
Gender: / Age: / Height: Male(?) / 9 months / 5'10

Race: skeleton
Race Explanation: A living skeleton.

About:
Once upon a time a powerful necromancer was banished into Wraevadar. In his blind revenge the necromancer tried to make a powerful magical weapon, a wicked-looking staff with an enchanted skull attached on top of it. The necromancer died before he could execute whatever plan he brewed however, leaving the staff abandoned in his lair for a long long time. The enchanted skull was drowned in the corrupted energy from tormented soul of the necromancer's victims. Slowly, it absorbed those restless souls. Slowly, the skull learned to be alive.

As an amalgamation of suffering souls, Gion knows very well about the negative emotions people can feel, but happiness? Joy? Delight? It's a refreshing feeling for him! He is finally 'alive' and there's no reason for him to submit to sadness just like the poor souls within him. He wants to be happy! He wants to find the ultimate happiness! So he wanders around the edge between Wraevadar and Eaduxath, meeting various kind of people who managed to cross the boundary. Most of them pointed their weapon when they see him, but he did found a few friendly people and he offered to help them traverse the dangerous terrain of Wraevadar. Those journeys were fun while it lasted. Sad those good people got killed on the way, they gave him a nice guitar! Ah, his chest is itchy, very itchy.

Skills:

• Bone formation - Gion's skull is the only 'real body' of him. The rest of the skeleton are just exchangeable parts. He could rearrange himself as an eight-legged giant skeleton lizard with four wings and three dozens horns if he has enough bones, but he choose the most mundane one so he looks approachable.
• Runner - He is very fast when it comes to running and can do it for a very long time. This is why he can survive in Wraevadar. He runs from problems, also almost no beast wants to eat a skeleton. Playing dead is also his forte.
• Self-proclaimed Maestro - Gion can sing and play his guitar but it's far from being decent. He has no musical knowledge so he just mish mash all kind of notes together, but atleast he has the spirit!

Magic:

• Necromancy - As a living weapon designed to cast powerful spell, Gion can cast various necromancy spells. Though he so far only use the simple ones. Like mending bones or animating bone decoys.

Extra Unique Things:

• Partial senses - Gion has no functional eyes, ears, skins or any other necessary organs. He is a skeleton. His senses are simulated by magic, but only vision and hearing. He can't feel the texture of what he is touching and can't smell at all.
• Weapon - Gion's weapon is a spiky mace made of bones. He got it from the skeleton of an armored lizard thingy. It is usually slung on his back.

Name: Nightmare/Nalia
Gender: None/Female / Age: Unknown/19 / Height: Unspecified/5'5

Race: Evil/Human
Race Explanation: Nightmare is the corporeal manifestation of corruption. They rely on a living host, be it a person, animal, or even plant, to grow in power and knowledge. Only after sufficient growth has occurred can Nightmare create a body of their own and retain the physical form.

About: Nalia was a young girl from a small village in Eaduxath who had a knack for powerful magics. She left her village with a group of her friends to assist in the reclamation of Wraevadar. On their way to their destination, the group was attacked, and all but Nalia and one of her friends were killed. Nalia and her companion were taken to Wraevadar by a small group of cultists who revered the corruption of the dying land. Nalia and her friend were the centerpieces for a dark ritual that lasted several hours as their lives were painfully ebbed away, encircled by the cultists all the while. Instead of granting themselves power, the cultists summoned an otherworldly entity.

Nightmare inhabited the dying body of Nalia once the ritual was complete, taking her over and killing her completely. With the new host, and desire to destroy, Nightmare made quick work of the cultists, twisting Nalia's magic into a more lethal and dark power in order to do so. Limited by their host's body, Nightmare set off to survive in the harsh and dangerous land, hoping to gather enough power to eventually form a body of their own and consume the world with their corruption.

Skills: Nightmare can mimic voices and sounds

Magic (if any):

Necromancy - Nightmare is a natural user of dark magics, specifically those associated with the dead and the life force of the living.

Illusionist - Nightmare can tap into the minds and hearts of others, causing hallucinations and altering feelings powerful enough to change memories, induce trauma, or even cause death if the target's will is weak enough.

Druidic Magic - Spells revolving around nature and plant life are an addition to Nightmare's arsenal because of inhabiting Nalia, but with a darker twist.

Absorption - Nightmare can absorb the life force of whatever body they possess, growing their own power

Possession - Nightmare can possess any living organism

Extra Unique Things:

Nightmare learns the magic of the host they inhabit, either slowly through osmosis, or immediately through complete possession

Nightmare's vessel, if fully possessed, does not need to eat, drink, sleep, or breathe in order to function.

Nightmare can inhabit and empower a willing host without completely possessing them

Curse: Humanity - Nightmare retains portions of the personality, memories, and even soul of those they absorb from, eventually preserving the individual within Nightmare indefinitely.

Name: Izak
Gender: / Age: / Height: M/100/175cm

Race: Demon
Race Explanation: Demons are inhabitants of the Netherworld

About:
Izak was abandoned in the lowest reaches of the netherworld, where only savages and lawlessness was found. Left to be eaten by Goblins or Kobolds. He somehow held on to life despite the harsh conditions. Taken in by an old witch who wanted to use him as potion ingredients. Izak was instead raised as her own. Growing up in a landscape where might was right. The little demon was pounded into the dirt on a daily basis by older demons. This did not deter him, only instilling within his very being a deep obsession with power. Izak would eventually begin winning his bouts with greater and greater foes. Each time he would consume their flesh, growing stronger. On occasion he could even transmute the souls of the strongest creatures into Demon Weapons for his personal use. Leaving his homeland once his appetite for battle could no longer be sated. Izak fought his way through the Netherworlds Hierarchy until finally facing the Demon King himself. Despite his best efforts, he was cut down and banished to Wraevadar. This was in hopes that he'd die trying to free himself. Such an act would have killed a lesser demon. Though, Izak was no lesser demon.

Skills:
.Able to adapt to any weapon given enough time
.Master Martial Fighter
.Demonic Physiology makes him many times more capable than the average mortal being

Magic (if any):
Devour: The primary power of Izak. He can consume the flesh and spiritual energy of anything to replenish his vitality. In addition this also allows him to increase his power through continuous feedings. The more he eats, the stronger he will become.

Demon Weapon: The secondary power of Izak. He can transmute the souls of particularly powerful creatures into powerful weapons for his own use. The form and abilities of said weapon will match whatever creature created it. Demon Weapons also alter his true form. Changing it into something that better suits whatever weapon he is currently wielding.

Extra Unique Things:
.It takes a while for him to fully master a new weapon. Since its form and powers are based on whatever it spawned from.
.Assuming his true demonic form will tire him out quickly, as it consumes more energy to fuel its greater capabilities.
.Was thrown into Wraevadar by the Demon King

Name: Valentine Smyth
Gender: Male / Age: unknown, but mentally 20 / Height: 5'10

Race: Homunculus
Race Explanation:
A being created by either a scientific or magical origin. (For the sake of simplicity I'll just explain Valentine's case as a homunculus) While homunculi differ depending on the whims of their creator in Valentine's he was created magically by someone or something. His body is seemingly human and functions as a normal human's, though he lacks an actual soul and instead has an artificial magical one that comes with its own ups and downs.

About:
Valentine has no recollection of his origins, his memories start shortly after he was found in some subterranean ruins. While he believes he has memories before this event he can't recall them for some odd reason, as if his brain is actively trying to suppress them. At this time Valentine believed he was a normal child and had no idea of his homunculus origin, but nevertheless, he lived a normal life. While seen as a bit odd by his peers for seemingly being emotionless and absentminded Valentine didn't notice his magical nature until he grew into adulthood... and didn't grow out of it. As those around him grew older Valentine's body stayed the same. He began to worry, time seemed to move so fast and Valentine lost track of it. Soon a hundred years passed in the blink of an eye, andthe people he grew up with were gone. Now the village he called home was foreign to him.

Fearing what others might think of him Valentine left his home, he still didn't know exactly what he was but he sure as hell knew he wasn't human or normal at that rate. One thing called out to him though, Vrucurial. It was like a hazy dream or memory but something within him called out to maybe Valentine couldn't find his true origin there.

Skills:
Jack of all Trades ~ Master of none, Valentine seems to pick up anything quickly though he can never really master anything (Except for Magic).
cooking ~ Surprisingly Valentine is a fairly good cook, originally taught by his grandmother he can make a wide variety of dishes.

Magic:
As a being made out of and from magic Valentine is naturally skilled at spellcasting, though as of now he's only picked up some basic elemental spells there's more room for him to learn.

Known Spells:
Tonitrua ~ Valentine condenses lightning into his hand resulting in a high voltage close-range attack.
Ignis ~ A simple fireball spell.
Glacies ~ Rapidly decrease the temperature of anything he grasps.

Extra Unique Things:
While Valentine can survive without basic needs such as eating and sleeping it severely weakens him if he ignores them.
Seeing as Valentine's soul is artificial, spells revolving around draining or affecting a creature's lifeforce have no effect on him. Evidently, he can be detected through spells like detect magic and other spells that alter magic (Enchantments are especially useful against him).
As hinted at before Valentine is semi immortal, as he can't die from old age but he can still be physically killed.

Name: Nerissa Fairchampion - Captain Sagyo Silver-Serpent the "Hydra of the Seas"
Gender: Female / Age: 25 / Height: 6'7''

Race: Vrucurial Descendant/ Vruvan/ Clearvans
Race Explanation:
Direct surviving descendants of the race of people that lived in Vrucurial. The people there were known for their affinity for magic, their intelligence, and their strong life force, which meant they tended to live longer life spans than your common human. They were typically considered "pure" and incorruptible. However, in an ironic twist of fate, it was this purity that actually aided in their corruption within Wraevadar. For once some more powerful corruption was able to infect that purity, it was able to spread through the purity even faster. Anyway, the modern "Vruvan" is not quite the same as the Vrucurial race of the past. They are more diluted and not quite as powerful and "pure" as their ancestors. Still, that "purity" is something that they retain, to the point that they're known as Clearvans, as an interchangeable name for the race. As if they have "clear souls", that are -like their past selves- untouched and incorruptible. It is this unique clearness in their souls that give them unique abilities, powers, and magical resistance or affinity.

Vruvans or Clearvans are very similar in physicality to the modern human, however they're considered a "pure" or "clear" human. And they tend to be highly resistant to curses. (It takes a strong curse to affect a Vruvan).

About:
Nerissa is from Stormlace Thalassocracy. A nation known for its powerful seafaring people, and its naval supremacy. The Stormlace people police many of the waters around Eaduxath. Their primary export is, of course, many types of fish and other seafoods. In fact, Stormlace has its own religion, and The Church views their sea-presence as a threat, but largely leaves them alone due to their naval might, and how well they keep pirates at bay. Though that may be changing.

Stormlace Thalassocracy is located mostly on the eastern coast of the East continent called Eavos. It is touched to the West by the country known as Atham. Or that's what it used to be known as. It has since been rebranded under the name Emersity's Kingdom of Justice. As the power of The Church has grown exponentially there. And touched to the North by the Lands of Imdross. Which tend to be a sprawling land of self-governing cities and towns. With peoples that tend to enjoy their freedoms. These places tend to be irreligious and often lawless, or at the very least, dangerous. It is for this reason Eavos is known as the Pagan continent. (By The Church and their followers).

Stormlace never had a strong relationship with Atham. That is to say, they had many disputes, that lead to many skirmishes through the years. The two nations were always on edge around one another. However, under the control of The Church, those hostilities have escalated.

Nerissa is from one of the main houses that govern Stormlace. Specifically the Fairchampion house. Who are known for their prestigious noble sons and daughters. Many take up positions on ships in the navy, which is exactly what Nerissa did, becoming Chief Mate of the Pleasant Wind. One of the premiere battle ships of the Stormlace Navy. A ship that was built for speed and efficiency. It's main job was cleaning up the seas and taking out pirate ships, which it was real good at.

The woman known as Nerissa Fairchampion became wildly beloved on the ship, and with her stern disposition she gained much respect from the crew. She was known as an excellent sailor and swordswoman. Though she could be stern and stiff, it was surprisingly that demeanor that drew people to her.

However, there was a darkness within Nerissa. As the Pleasant Wind continued to take down pirate ship after pirate ship, Nerissa began to change silently. She grew to covet the pirate's way of life, and grew tired of her own on board the Pleasant Wind. She grew to covet money and other priceless artifacts she confiscated for the crown of Stormlace. She began to feel anger for every coin handed over to the greedy people in power. Though ironically, it was her own greed that transformed her.

At some point, Nerissa sabotaged the Pleasant Wind in a skirmish with a pirate ship. She had actually made a secret deal beforehand to do just that to be allowed to join the pirate's crew. She hopped ship in a dreadful encounter with this pirate crew which sunk the Pleasant Wind and ended up killing many of her crew. Nerissa didn't seem to mind it, despite being with those people for years.

She used her intensive knowledge of how the Navy operated, their trade routes, their patrol routes, etc. to great effect. They began targeting merchant ships, stealing what was valuable. Then they targeted ships of the wealthy. Her pirate crew quickly became a bane on the navy, and quickly became infamous. Her popularity among the crew rose with their exploits under her guidance. And alongside that, her greed grew. It didn't take long for Nerissa to mutiny against the current captain. Many favored her and after a bloodied battle on the ship, she took the place of captain, killing the previous.

As her notoriety grew, so did other things. She gradually grew bolder, more envious, more covetous, wanting more and more power and riches. "Nerissa Fairchampion" disappeared that day that the Pleasant Wind sunk, and in her place, a brand new woman appeared: Captain "Sagyo Silver-Serpent". Known as the Hydra of the Seas, captain of the Pearl Lamia.

A certain island was within Sagyo's knowledge. A dangerous island that not even pirates ventured towards, and the navy were cautioned to stay away from its dangerous shores. Island of the Dragon, in the Gray Sea. As it just so happened, in this island lived a Dragon, with its horde of treasure. Sagyo set her sights on the treasure. But more so, the power of the dragon.

With her particular Vruvan heritage, she was capable of absorbing the dragon's power. So she sailed to the island, and with impressive ship control, managed to avoid the rocks that made a natural barrier around the island, and docked.

As she ventured within the depths of the temple there, a large, booming voice met her. "Who dares to enter my home?!" The voice of the giant lizard.

"I do." She brazenly answered. Stepping onto his giant treasure mound, facing down the dragon, Sagyo grinned.

"Don't you dare mock me, pathetic worm!" The dragon roared. "For your impudence, perish!" It blasted her with its silver breath of razor heat.

Sagyo simply held up her hand. Her particular Vruvan ability allowed her to suck in that attack. "Heh, dragon, your power is mine!" She shot back, eyes bright, glowing with covetous light. She began to fully suck in the dragon's energy, not satisfied with its simple breath attack.

That was when the dragon felt something was wrong. Horrifically wrong. "HOW DARE YOU!! YOU THINK YOU CAN STEAL MY POWER FROM ME?! A PATHETIC, WEAK, MORTAL WORM LIKE YOU! YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE IT?!"

"I do," she boasted.

The dragon began to writhe, as energy drained from its body. As its scales began to rip off its body. It flailed atop its mountain of gold. "LITTLE WRETCH! VERY WELL! I CURSE YOU! I CURSE YOU FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS!! FROM THIS MOMENT ONWARD, NO PIECE OF SILVER OR GOLD WILL GRACE YOUR HANDS. NOT A SINGLE CUP, FORK, OR CANDLEABRA CAN BE HELD BY YOU! YOUR FINGERS WON'T KNOW THE JOY OF A SINGLE COIN DANCING BETWEEN THEM! THE TREASURE YOU DESIRE YOU'LL NEVER HOLD! THIS I CURSE YOU!!" The dragon roared as it turned to bones, collapsing atop the treasure horde.

Despite its last words, Sagyo had not a single care about them; she honestly didn't pay them any heed, thinking nothing of them. All she cared about was the power that flooded her. She stared at herself as the power entered her, literally glowing under her skin. She began to grow, sprouting new appendages, scales bursting from her skin and armoring her. She was gaping in awe at her new body and power when suddenly she felt it.

Beneath her, the gold coins she stood upon began to erode. They turned to dust that blew away, her feet hitting the floor. She stared, almost not comprehending what had just happened. But then the dragon's words rang in her ears. She reached down. Then paused, hesitant. Then Sagyo grabbed a handful of coins. Lifting them up, she watched as the gold coins turned brown, coppery, reddish, then grey, and turned to dust that blew off her palm. That was when it hit her. His curse was real.

Then she noticed, from the same hand and arm, that silver scales fell away, hitting the ground with little dinks. There was more to this curse.

Back on the ship, her crew marveled at her new form, praising her. Praising their captain for defeating the dragon and delivering them a horde of untold riches! Sagyo let her crew rejoice and party as she retired to her quarters. She picked up a goblet to drink some wine. Only to drench herself, as the goblet melted away under her hand. The curse wasn't only coins; it extended to even her expensive tableware. Then she fell back, hitting her butt on the hard floor. The half-dragon lady watched as her beautiful, upholstered sofa-chair began to break apart. The silk unravelling. The ornate wood bending, rotting, and snapping. Even fancy chairs fell apart under her touch. More and more scales began to fall away from her, leaving her face and neck exposed.

She glanced over at her grand bed. She knew what laying it would mean.

Regardless, this was the start of the "Hydra's" reign on the seas. Word of her new powers and draconic appearance quickly spread. Stormlace made her priority number 1, raising her bounty, and sicking their strongest houses against her.

Even with her newfound power, the Navy's constant harassing and hounding began to really hamper her crew's ability to survive, let alone steal. The strongest ships, strongest members of the strongest houses were now on her tail. Even Sagyo couldn't combat all of them.

Eventually Sagyo's ship was pushed out of those profitable waters, and towards The Black Current. A dangerous river in the sea that everyone knew to avoid. For it flowed right into Wraevadar. Unable to fight the current, the Pearl Lamia was pulled right into Wraevadar. Luckily for them, they had someone on board capable of purifying water so they could survive in this place. It would actually prove to be beneficial, as these waters were completely lawless. No Navy after them. Sagyo quickly made the Dark Depths her hunting grounds. A notorious pirate even in Wraevadar.

Skills: Great pirating, thieving, and pillaging skills. Master swordswoman. Super strength. Enhanced durability (especially on her scales which are tougher than the best armor). Enhanced speed. Superhuman jumping skills.
Magic (if any): White-hot breath filled with scales and razor wind. Draconic magical effects. Magic barrier. Fire-based magic. Crystalline magic. Nautical and astrological sense. Underwater-breathing. Cloning magic.

Extra Unique Things:
Sagyo is capable of transforming into a full-bodied dragon, though it isn't easy to do so, and takes a lot of energy to maintain. It leaves her exhausted (to the point of needing immediate sleep).
Due to Vruvan heritage, capable of absorbing magic to cancel it out.


Curse: Citrinitas Rot Curse
Every piece of gold (and anything valuable) turns to dust, ages, and/or rusts under her touch.
Other effects:
She also loses bits of her draconic self. (Scales will fall from her equal to the value of what she touches).

Name: Annaliese Fortis

Gender: Female /Age: 24 / Height: 5'7"

Race: Human
Race Explanation: If you know, you know.

About: For as long as she could remember, Annaliese had wanted to join the Crusaders, the Holy Knights of the Church, the servants of the gods, the shining beacon of righteousness, and the allies of justice. For this very reason, once she was old enough, she left for to the city of Hyperiaura to join the ranks of the priest and the zealots, so that she may better help those suffering and in need.

She had, of course, been warned by her elders of the greed and corruption that hid within the shadows of the so-called 'City of Light', but Annaliese was determined. Of course, she knew that evil will exist no matter where she went, that even the Church itself wasn't free of corruption. Even so- No, especially so, that was why she's going. Because she believed that good will always triumph over evil, that so long as they were willing to fight, the righteous will eventually become victorious. And so, with determination in her heart, she set off.

Annaliese can't quite remember when, but somehow, she had wound up in Wraevadar, the Jailed Realm. She had become a Crusader, just like she wanted, and was rather excited to be sent on her first mission. Something about keeping back the darkness and preventing evil from spreading and all that. The fact was, Annaliese wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed and most of that fancy speech flew over her head. That being said, she was confident in her memory, despite the fact that she can't quite remember what the mission was or how she got here. These days, there were even times when she'd forget the fact that she's a Crusader. Well, it's probably from the lack of sunlight in this place.

Skills:
Master of Arms: Being a Crusader meant that one had to master a variety of weapons. Annaliese was no exception. Heck, she was apparently more talented than most when it came to mastering conventional arms such as swords, spears, maces, and whatever could be used to swing at someone. Maybe she's just good at swinging things around.

Magic (if any):
Healing: The first spell she ever learned. Could be used to heal minor wounds.

Shield of Light: As the name suggests, this spell creates a shield of light in front of the user.

Radiant Blade: Channeling the blessing of Preeminence into her steel, her sword glows in a brilliant light that is capable of burning through foes upon contact.

Extra Unique Things: N/A

Curse: Curse? What Curse?

"Listen up, if any of ya you don't die out there, I might have work for ya."

Name: L’arc Settrigh
Age: 23
Race: DragonShifter
Gender: Male
Class/occupation: Pitboss

Biography:
L’arc grew up in the city of Tior’Ted, one of land’s largest hives of scum and villainy where all sorts of illegal activities are carried out. He is the bastard son of a famous travelling pit fighter, he had the title of lord of dragons due to his ferocity and the powers. He taught L’arc everything he knew about pit fighting, both the good and the bad. Although he can be harsh at times, L’arc had always respected him and loved him.

That all changed when the father he had looked up to so dearly abandoned him and his mother, leaving them both in great debt to the pit boss, much to the surprise of both of them. It seems daddy had been spending much more than he should and made some bad investments here and there.

For the next few years, his mother was forced to toil away at menial labour while L’arc fought in the pits. With each fight, regardless of it being victory or defeat, he seemed to grow stronger. If there was one good thing that his father had taught him, it was how to fight, especially with his powers. Eventually, he climbed his way to the top of Tior’Ted pit fighting food chain. In his latest fight, he had secured more than enough money to buy back his freedom. At least that's what he thought.

The pit master was absolutely delighted by L’arc performance, realizing that he was responsible for a significant amount of his revenue, he decided to “extend” L’arc “contract”. He at first offered him more riches for his continued service which he swiftly declined as he promised his mother that he would stop fighting in the ring. Upon rejecting his offering, the pit master instead responded with a threat of violence against him and more importantly, his mother. L’arc was just about to leave, ignoring the threat he had made to him, however he couldn’t ignore the threat to his mother. L’arc smiled and made a “counter-offer”. The screams of the pit master and his bodyguards could be heard from outside of his office. Seconds later, the doors opened, the pit master along with his many bodies of his guards lay across the floor bloodied and bruised, just barely alive. The message was clear, there was a new boss in town.

Now L’arc lives a luxurious and lavish lifestyle, his mother will never have to worry about the money ever again. Although she doesn’t quite understand completely what his son does, she knows he means well. Recently, he rose to power, claiming the Tior’Ted as his own, gaining the title “The Dragon of Tior’Ted”. Rumors say he has a dragon under his beck and call, but not many have ever seen it. The pirates were equally terrified and bewildered by this rumour, since anyone who was welcomed to Tior’Ted seemed to be protected by a large red dragon, while others were not as fortunate.

L’arc had recently caught wind that his father was headed towards Wraevadar, an inhospitable land, full of deadly creatures and hazardous environments. No matter how he paid his bounty hunters, none dared to accept the bounty due to the land’s reputation. And so, the pit boss decided to venture to land himself.


Traits:



Dragon’s Might
"A wise master once said: 'Be like water.' Guess I'm kind of a tsunami."
Greatly enhanced strength and speed. Capable of punching holes through thick armor and is fast enough to catch an arrow mid-flight.

Dragon’s Vitality
"Only one of us is leavin' this fight."
Able to recover from grievous injuries at tremendous speed.
Greatly enhanced durability and healing, able to survive injuries which are fatal to other humans.

Dragon’s Eyes
"You swing on the boss? You better not miss, cause I won’t."
Able to see magical and spiritual auras and see through most illusions.

Magic absorption/redirection
"They say you learn a lot from a beating. If that's true, I've made the whole world smarter."
L’arc is able to absorb offensive magical spells into his body. While he takes damage from offensive spells, he stores a portion of said attack’s energy within his body. He can release said energy, amplifying it for a devastating counter strike.

Dragonic Transformation
"You got guts. Too bad I gotta put my fists through 'em."
L’arc is able to fully or partially take the form of an obsidian dragon for a limited amount of time. During this time all of his draconic abilities greatly amplified in effectiveness, gaining the ability to fly and dragonic constructs.


Curse:
"Tell my pa... I hate him."
Curse of Greater Weakness. Becomes extremely frail and weak when he gets close to his father.


Extra:
"If I ever find my old man, well, I hope he's been training."
-Wants to beat the crap out of his father.

character sheet


Name: Theodoric
Gender: M / Age: ? / Height: 6'1"

Race: Wilted
Race Explanation: One of Genderan's knights. Theodoric regained his mortality at the cost of enraging Mrrv and was set aflame inside his armour. He has little time left on this world.

About: An amnesiac, unable to remember past events. He's confused about the strange memorabilia that's in his possession, supposedly from a past era? He just doesn't know. He's been wandering the Wraevadar on a year-long expedition since regaining sapience, slaying monsters and demon alike, his health slowly dwindling. Theodoric has surmised that he was one of Genderan's elite (equipped with armour from a bygone age) and has the combat prowess to demonstrate, but he never explored his past any further than this. A faraway necromancer strings Theodoric along, sapping away his soul in increments, harnessing the old knight's power for themselves. Despite these ailments, he's still a formidable opponent and cunning warrior. Notably soft-spoken and has a calm and soothing cadence to his voice. He journeys the Wraevadar in search of clues to the whereabouts of the cult and uncover what they're doing to him.

Skills: Grand Master Swordsman (One-Handed); constant practice for well over a century.
Athletics; agility, nimble, can switch up his stance in the wink of an eye.
Survivalist; has found ways to live in Wraevadar.
Aggressive Fighter; morale is insanely difficult to hamper.

Magic (if any):
Eternal Flame - Theodoric smoulders inside his armour. The harder he fights, the hotter these embers become. He's able to manipulate the flames into super-heated air and even cast rudimentary destruction spells. He has an innate ability to enchant his sword with flame - only his sword.

Extra Unique Things:
An impeccable swordsman, a legend from his age, though greatly hindered by his armour and weakened body.
A light smoky haze emanates constantly through the gaps in his armour.
He's warm to stand near and his boots are capable of melting away snow.
Immune to poison for some reason (and subsequently, most potions).
Armour is scorched to his skin.

Curse: Looming Dread. Cursed by a warlock skilled in necromancy, marked by death, it's only a matter of time until he crumbles into ash. Theodoric wonders if assassinating the cult that soul trapped him would break the curse... he's determined to maintain his humanity.

Name: Jullen Lǫk
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Height: 6'
Race: Human (approx. 2% Vanir)

Race Explanation: The Vanir are a race of mystery and speculation, many believing that they are pure fiction. On top of that, they are hardly talked about and the name is known by many few, but they are very much real. A single drop of their blood is fatal to a mortal, due only to their immense power that the human body can't handle. These beings have great strength, and Jullen has only a drop of their blood running through his veins. His survival was a fluke.

About: Jullen was born into a family of acrobats, and by the time he was three, he showed great promise in the craft which only grew. By the time he was thirteen, he had become the star of the show. Some years later when his parents retired, he and his siblings all went on their own to pursue a name for themselves. However Jullen was a little different. He had already found fame for his prodigal talent, but somewhere down the line, he had also discovered his talent for pick pocketing. His side hobby was just that, and greed was his muse.

He had already moved far away from a forgotten home by adulthood, and his joy as an acrobat took a backseat for pick pocketing, which evolved into pure thievery. As a thief, crime was becoming easier, and this gateway lead to braver, more dangerous crime. He was picked up by a crew of bandits, and had grown accustomed to getting his hands dirty. The Twenty year old was once sent on a simple mission to steal an artifact from a nobleman in the city. "No sweat." He thought, and it should have been, if it wasn't for something unexpected.

Slipping through the home to find his prize, a small statue of a long forgotten deity. As soon as he touched it though, it resonated with him and in an instant gave him strange powers, that just as instantaneously lost control. This resulted in the artifact crashing to the ground, but it's purpose had been fulfilled; finding someone it found worthy of it's power. As soon as the artifact crashed however, the sound alerted the Nobleman and his hired blades. This eventually lead to getting caught, and to be dead if it weren't for Jullen's ability to negotiate.

He managed to talk his way out of his mess in exchange for ratting out his gang, allowing him freedom. He gladly double crossed them to save his own hide, under the noblemen's belief that it would 'clean up the city' like the fool he was. This wouldn't be his last betrayal or his last theft. With new found powers and many more years, Jullen became so bold that only a couple of years later, he managed some of the biggest hits known to man. He began to steal from the gods themselves, taking various artifacts, riches, and most importantly to him, beautifully crafted weapons.

He was in over his head, but it had yet to catch up to him. By the time he was inevitably caught by higher beings, Jullen had collected what he called his '11 treasures' of weapons, helms and armor, and trinkets that gave him otherworldly magics. Had it not been for these treasures, he would not have made it as far as he did, but one fateful day, his luck met its end.

On his way to gaining his 12th treasure, he was caught by one of the most powerful and ruthless gods, who he was trying to steal from. As expected, this god swiftly beat Jullen, and would have killed him if he did not escape. Jullen was able to hide, but not for long. He was covered in his own blood and could hardly move, when a mysterious man appeared. Jullen was panicing. He pleaded with the man to help him escape, and when he agreed to help, he asked where he would like to take him. "It doesn't matter, somewhere far away from here!" and the man just grinned.

Wraevadar is where Jullen found himself moments later, hitting the ground hard. He didn't know it, but he was just tricked by none other than Morrv. In fact, it was Morrv that made it possible for Jullen to ever enter the domain of the gods and take so much stuff. It was all a game to him, just seeing how far he could take it. His own personal thief to cause trouble for the other gods, and how long it would take Jullen to get caught. And when he did, Morrv simply reaped the rewards. He alone imprisoned the gods little pest in the perfect prison, where he could twist it into whatever he wanted.

Jullen was confused, but knew he had been tricked, and so easily. To make matters worse, his 11 treasures had been scattered across the land of Wraevadar. He was unarmed and close to death in an unknown land. Moments before slipping into darkness, he was met with a large dark figure who spoke down to him. He spoke of his blood, and an experiment, but Jullen was unable to understand it while slipping out of consciousness. "May luck be on your side, Mortal." the figure spoke in a foreboding tone, before dripping a single drop of it's own blood into one of Jullen's gruesome gashes. He was instantly snapped awake as he was put through excruciating pain, like every inch of his body was held against cattle prods.

The last thing he saw before fainting from pain was that same figure floating back up to the gray skies of Wraevadar, but when he awoke, he found that strange markings had appeared. Ran up his arms and chest, but had no meaning to him. Whoever that person was, if they weren't just some dream, did something to him that changed him. Whatever it was, he could feel it, he was no longer human. He may have survived this experiment, but the gods knew he was in this land, and will be hunting him down for his crimes. The only question is which god will have his soul in the end.


Skills:

• thievery
• stealth
• pick pocketing
• lock picking
• acrobatics
• assassination
• deception
• survival

Magic:

• Heat magic: Heating up his body to burning temperatures.
• Weight magic: Able to make himself or parts of him heavier. Alternatively he can give other things more weight.
• Sense concealment: Allows him to see concealed objects through clothing. Visually, his target becomes a black silhouette, while their items are highlighted in colorful aura.

Extra Unique Things:

• The powers he was given by the artifact allows him to grows his limbs at incredible length and speed.
• The blood gave him Vanir physiology; enhanced agility, strength, and over his powers, as well as an overall tougher body. But it also gave him a strange, supernatural ability to stand and walk on inclines and ceilings.

Curse: He can not leave Wraevadar, and can hardly navigate the land. A sigil is placed on the top of his right foot, and will physically stop him from leaving, something of a magic ball and chain.

character sheet - this one's a bit longer aha


Name: Disgraced Leonhard
Gender: M / Age: 33 / Height: 5'9"

Race: Helsi
Race Explanation: They speak a floral and beautiful language, as well as worship romantic deities. The Helsi are an islander people hailing from a massive continental archipelago that features grand deltas with permanent rolling mists. It has a rich and elaborate but extremely hostile jungle with a thick overhead canopy that often snows. The temperature is unnaturally cool. An abundance of (poisonous) fruit-bearing trees exist in vibrance but only a select few can be prepared for consumption, otherwise granting monumental physiological benefits to that person. 'Jungle stalkers' return these fruits to the Flotilla - an offshore community where most Helsi reside since no settlement in the jungle is ever permanent. Helsi priests will then utilize these fruits in rituals and traditions that forms a majority of their culture and society. They're reported to be tough and cunning, as well as great sailors and gifted swimmers. Jungle Stalkers compete for survival and resource, and are naturally gifted warriors given their harsh lifestyle.

Once every hundred years, a strange frigate with blue-white sails in a horizontal pattern will emerge creaking from the horizon. It sways and groans gently into harbour, drifting as a solitary figure stands before the bowsprit, watching. When they drop anchor, the Helsi remain onboard for several days, until they're just not there anymore. It's a mystery as to what happens to the rest of the crew. All investigations have revealed abandoned interiors and no one to be found therein. It's alleged that the crew evades suspicion and sneaks onto the mainland. Mercenaries with tanned skin, blue eyes, and fair hair have been sighted fighting pitched battles and possessing great combat proficiency.

About: Leonhard's birth was destined. He was a fighting prodigy throughout his childhood and felled several great champions before turning 18, at which point he became a Jungle Stalker (and the youngest ever). Convening with the Gods, he embarked on a quest to explore a mighty labyrinth believed to house monumental treasures (and inexplicable danger). When his torch ran out... most of the squad were already dead or dying. Trapped for two years in the dark, and forgotten. He paced through a maze of unlit hallways for months on end, slaughtering each and every beast he encountered, only resting to eat, drink, sleep, or heal. His rampage concluded in purging entire sections of beast dens and monster lairs.

One of the goddesses felt endeared by his exploits and tasked Leonhard with uncovering a lost and ancient sepulchre within the labyrinth. Consequently, this released sickening dangers to the outside world. He chased horrific demons through the portal and spent the following decade rallying groups of expeditionary forces against in purging remnant and lingering danger. He was blessed with Heroic status by the Council of Saints and his soul enchanted with Ethereal magick.

A Voyager frigate was commissioned. Leonhard summoned. Helsi customs and religion dictates that eleven Heroics fight on its deck, spill blood, and to the last man standing, take it upon themselves to partake on a lone odyssey. A priest burns incense, performing a ritual to evaporate the blood. It's then extended as an offering to the Gods. If the sacrifice is rejected, it rains blood - and the priest will die. A Helsi Saint must then execute the captain so that the process can be restarted. It's considered highly dishonourable to resist their execution. And that day rained blood on Leonhard.

The fight was abysmal. Leonhard fought viscerally. He sailed for three years across perilous ventures (otherwise never graphed) to escape the Gods redemption. Killing a Saint was a horrendous sin - their blade takes the departed's soul to Paradise. The Saints are regarded as the sons and daughters of the pantheon and rejecting their offer of companionship...
He knows what he's done... but, why?

Skills: Master Combat Specialist; a way of life for the jungle stalkers.
Strength; dealing destructive, herculean blows onto the enemy.
Hardy; capable of withstanding arduous work strain and weather.
Strategy; on the rigours of warfighting and swordplay. He fights dirty.

Magic (if any):
Frostlain - adept frost spells and ice magic.
Restoria - a healing kiss by a demigod... he can still feel her warmth.

Extra Unique Things:
SHORT STORY
Leonhard grinned heartily behind a smashed helmet. Blood trickled down his forearms. It coated his blade. And everywhere else. The priest rose his staff and slammed it onto the ship's deck. A moment. Then two. The blood evaporated. The priest coughed. Death clutched him before even hitting the ground. Leonhard's grin simmered to pursed lips and gritted teeth. A Saint strolled up the deck as blood dropped around them. The Saint dipped their head in respect of the priest, then bowed to Leonhard. Who, he remained - silent and hardened. Our Saint then steps forward with a drawn blade... Leonhard inched. The crowd was mortified, shunned into a shocked silence upon hearing their blades clash. The Saint's eyes grew wide in disbelief. Leonhard glared. A moment's pause. A clatter of steel. Dire pleading. An orchestra of violence. Seeping blood. Death. Leonhard betrayed his faith and was Disgraced.

Curse: Hera's Spite. The Matriarch of the Pantheon (within Leonhard's religion) punished his betrayal with virulent affirmations, brought to him in nightmarish visions and jarring perspectives that come realized in forced epiphanies. He's forever lost the love of a God. His damnation prevents him from ever connecting with the Gods for prayer, counsel, guidance etc. ever again. He encounters misfortune and ill fate. They scorched his soul and stripped it of Ethereal magick. He travelled to Wraevadar after disembarking the frigate to explore his opportunities as a spellsword.