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Fantasy Axelis Fantasia - Characters
- Thread starter Novelight
- Start date
- Created at
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Novelight
Reverence In Stars
Axelis Fantasia
Characters Archive
Ashen Knights
Companions
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Novelight
Reverence In Stars
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by Serobliss
Chapter I. Introduction
Solara "Khelarys" Evernight
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Archon
Awakening History & Experiences
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Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Item One
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Item Two
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Item Three
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Chapter III. Background
Backstory Title
Act I. Childhood
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nulla rhoncus, purus at accumsan viverra, orci lacus varius massa, sit amet volutpat ligula mauris ut orci. Vestibulum in lacus volutpat, mattis mauris nec, laoreet ipsum. Vivamus nec purus tincidunt, eleifend ex sit amet, tincidunt diam. Nunc non auctor mauris. Donec sollicitudin tempor risus viverra rutrum. Etiam interdum ipsum leo, a luctus nibh placerat in. Sed quis fermentum felis. Aliquam porttitor urna sit amet eros viverra eleifend. Nullam non enim dolor.
Vivamus eu laoreet quam, eget varius augue. Aliquam rhoncus mauris et aliquet porta. Duis est sapien, ultrices sollicitudin risus id, suscipit semper felis. Maecenas malesuada volutpat vehicula. Fusce semper eleifend orci sit amet accumsan. In volutpat velit a felis aliquam, nec hendrerit erat volutpat. Vestibulum eleifend dictum neque, non dictum nibh dictum in. Maecenas quis justo vulputate, blandit tortor at, lobortis mi. Donec tincidunt nulla eget mi tempor, vel aliquet sapien cursus. Cras rutrum elit sit amet mi elementum lobortis.
Act II. Early Life
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nulla rhoncus, purus at accumsan viverra, orci lacus varius massa, sit amet volutpat ligula mauris ut orci. Vestibulum in lacus volutpat, mattis mauris nec, laoreet ipsum. Vivamus nec purus tincidunt, eleifend ex sit amet, tincidunt diam. Nunc non auctor mauris. Donec sollicitudin tempor risus viverra rutrum. Etiam interdum ipsum leo, a luctus nibh placerat in. Sed quis fermentum felis. Aliquam porttitor urna sit amet eros viverra eleifend. Nullam non enim dolor.
Vivamus eu laoreet quam, eget varius augue. Aliquam rhoncus mauris et aliquet porta. Duis est sapien, ultrices sollicitudin risus id, suscipit semper felis. Maecenas malesuada volutpat vehicula. Fusce semper eleifend orci sit amet accumsan. In volutpat velit a felis aliquam, nec hendrerit erat volutpat. Vestibulum eleifend dictum neque, non dictum nibh dictum in. Maecenas quis justo vulputate, blandit tortor at, lobortis mi. Donec tincidunt nulla eget mi tempor, vel aliquet sapien cursus. Cras rutrum elit sit amet mi elementum lobortis.
Act III. Adulthood
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nulla rhoncus, purus at accumsan viverra, orci lacus varius massa, sit amet volutpat ligula mauris ut orci. Vestibulum in lacus volutpat, mattis mauris nec, laoreet ipsum. Vivamus nec purus tincidunt, eleifend ex sit amet, tincidunt diam. Nunc non auctor mauris. Donec sollicitudin tempor risus viverra rutrum. Etiam interdum ipsum leo, a luctus nibh placerat in. Sed quis fermentum felis. Aliquam porttitor urna sit amet eros viverra eleifend. Nullam non enim dolor.
Vivamus eu laoreet quam, eget varius augue. Aliquam rhoncus mauris et aliquet porta. Duis est sapien, ultrices sollicitudin risus id, suscipit semper felis. Maecenas malesuada volutpat vehicula. Fusce semper eleifend orci sit amet accumsan. In volutpat velit a felis aliquam, nec hendrerit erat volutpat. Vestibulum eleifend dictum neque, non dictum nibh dictum in. Maecenas quis justo vulputate, blandit tortor at, lobortis mi. Donec tincidunt nulla eget mi tempor, vel aliquet sapien cursus. Cras rutrum elit sit amet mi elementum lobortis.
Act IV. Extra Chapter
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nulla rhoncus, purus at accumsan viverra, orci lacus varius massa, sit amet volutpat ligula mauris ut orci. Vestibulum in lacus volutpat, mattis mauris nec, laoreet ipsum. Vivamus nec purus tincidunt, eleifend ex sit amet, tincidunt diam. Nunc non auctor mauris. Donec sollicitudin tempor risus viverra rutrum. Etiam interdum ipsum leo, a luctus nibh placerat in. Sed quis fermentum felis. Aliquam porttitor urna sit amet eros viverra eleifend. Nullam non enim dolor.
Vivamus eu laoreet quam, eget varius augue. Aliquam rhoncus mauris et aliquet porta. Duis est sapien, ultrices sollicitudin risus id, suscipit semper felis. Maecenas malesuada volutpat vehicula. Fusce semper eleifend orci sit amet accumsan. In volutpat velit a felis aliquam, nec hendrerit erat volutpat. Vestibulum eleifend dictum neque, non dictum nibh dictum in. Maecenas quis justo vulputate, blandit tortor at, lobortis mi. Donec tincidunt nulla eget mi tempor, vel aliquet sapien cursus. Cras rutrum elit sit amet mi elementum lobortis.
Act V. Extra Chapter
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nulla rhoncus, purus at accumsan viverra, orci lacus varius massa, sit amet volutpat ligula mauris ut orci. Vestibulum in lacus volutpat, mattis mauris nec, laoreet ipsum. Vivamus nec purus tincidunt, eleifend ex sit amet, tincidunt diam. Nunc non auctor mauris. Donec sollicitudin tempor risus viverra rutrum. Etiam interdum ipsum leo, a luctus nibh placerat in. Sed quis fermentum felis. Aliquam porttitor urna sit amet eros viverra eleifend. Nullam non enim dolor.
Vivamus eu laoreet quam, eget varius augue. Aliquam rhoncus mauris et aliquet porta. Duis est sapien, ultrices sollicitudin risus id, suscipit semper felis. Maecenas malesuada volutpat vehicula. Fusce semper eleifend orci sit amet accumsan. In volutpat velit a felis aliquam, nec hendrerit erat volutpat. Vestibulum eleifend dictum neque, non dictum nibh dictum in. Maecenas quis justo vulputate, blandit tortor at, lobortis mi. Donec tincidunt nulla eget mi tempor, vel aliquet sapien cursus. Cras rutrum elit sit amet mi elementum lobortis.
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lunar_moth
✧･ﾟ:* ♡♡♡ *:･ﾟ✧
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by lunar_moth
Chapter I. Introduction
Anthy
Chaos Root: Archon
Anthus Casimir Grey
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Archon
Awakening History & Experiences
His seventeenth birthday is a strange one. Anthy sits alone in his room and tries to count out loud to himself every helpful thing he did today: I scrubbed the walls. I fed the birds. I washed the laundry.
…That’s not very much, is it?
He scrubs one hand over his face. The fur comes away damp. Oh, even better. He’s nearly a full-grown man and he still can’t help but cry over something as silly and piddly as feeling, what, insignificant? He wipes his teary eyes harder with the back of his hand. But as he lifts his hand to his face, his peripheral latches on to one thing: his mark, dark and inky among his dusty-coloured fur, and taking the shape of a flowering blossom. His mother’s, supposedly, was an apple blossom. Long life. But Anthy can’t help but think his looks a little too sharp-edged. Oleander, perhaps? Wouldn’t that be fitting.
“…It’s not fair!” Anthy snarls to the dark room, digging his clawed nails into his hair. He’s pulled his knees up to his chest at thus point, and is only a huddle of a shape on his bedroom floor. “It’s not fair, not fair, not fair! Why did she have to give it to me? I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it. I can’t even figure out how to make it work!” What’s the point of a sacrifice for someone who can’t use it? If he were worth anything, he would know how to use something that belonged to him.
In his fit of emotion, the hanging lanterns outside his window begin to tremble. Their flamelights, too; they flicker, once, twice, and just as the lump in Anthy’s throat threatens to spill over into real cries, they swell into great big orbs of fire with an audible fwoosh, and Anthy is shaken from his reverie by the warmth that tinges his face. The lanterns shatter from the heat. Their glass shards sound like rain as they hit the forest floor one at a time. And as suddenly as it happened, the flames flicker out, and all that is left is the burnt metal skeleton of the lanterns and the boy sitting in a now pitch-dark room. The blossom’s disappeared from his hand.
Well, there you go. There’s his win. There’s his proof that his Chaos Root is alive and well inside him, and not dead or dormant.
And as vindicated as he should be, Anthy only feels a hollow surprise; of course the first time he ever activates his mark, all it does is leave him fumbling around in the dark again.
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Dual Hook Swords
A pair of swords resembling shuang-gou from our world. Their blades are a dull green and the woven grips are worn from use. Makes an excellent climbing tool if their user is so inclined.
Pocketwatch (?)
A metal ornament that resembles a pocketwatch at first glance, but when opened, holds only a pane of glass instead of a watchface. Beneath the glass is a little wisp of trapped mana; when it is close enough to a useable element, it will react with Anthy’s Chaos Root and begin to glow at different strengths depending on how near or far he is to the elemental source. When the pocketwatch symbol appears onscreen, you may use the X button to unleash an elemental attack!
Chapter III. Background
Lex Talionis
Act I. Birth
A man will jump off of a burning building just to try and save his own life. Remember this.
A mother and father welcome their first and last kit into the world in a haze of sweat and tears. They’re traditionalists; their clan trusts no one from outside their treetop village, and so when mother begins to hemorrhage faster than their healer can stop, father just holds her hand and whispers her through the process: if you die now, your root dies with you. Pass it along to him, quickly, so that we may have any chance of being survived.
Anyways, a healthy baby is born, with all of his mum’s ferocity and nothing of his father’s. Perhaps he’s too small, but that doesn’t stop father from holding him close, blood and viscera dampening both their coats, and pulling apart the fur on top of his paws. On his right, the skin underneath is blotted black, like ink spilt over paper.
Father breathes a sigh of relief and hands his son off to the only other nursing mother of the village. He does not wait until the morning to perform the funeral rites; instead, under the light of a lantern in
He doesn’t visit the baby until nearly the end of the week; and when he does, it’s only to check that its mark is still growing steady.
Let it be worth it.
It has to have been worth it.
…What if it wasn’t worth it?
Act II. Adolescence
Anthus Casimir Grey is gifted his name twenty-one days after he is born, as is tradition. Mustn’t be hasty to get attached. Flowering songbird, bringer/breaker of peace, depending on who you ask. The Grey is his father’s name, and his father’s in turn; for their silvery coats, supposedly, but when Anthus is old enough he’ll look at his reflection in a pool of rainwater and wonder if he’s perhaps inherited too much of his mother’s gilded colours to be worthy of that namesake.
Regardless, he grows older, and he tries his best to grow stronger. His mark deepens and darkens on the back side of his hand, and he only tries to hide it a little bit when he realizes the sight of it sours his father’s mood.
He’s definitely the sensitive type, and more than once his father throws his paintbooks into a fire in order to coax him into spending more time focusing on what matters. After all, it’s a chieftain’s duty to ensure his heir is suited to the role. It’s just a shame that when father canes him across the shoulders for trying to sleep through his fighting lessons, all that does is make it harder for him to hold his sword the next day.
When Anthy is sixteen — and he’s begun going by Anthy, now, amongst friends his age and the gentle old lady across the way who feeds him dinner when father withholds it as punishment (the nickname removes all the sharp edges, you see, and it makes him sound a little more like his mother) — his father decides that he’s old enough to learn all the secret knowledge that’s held by the village chief.
He’s told he must keep the ritual a secret. Wouldn’t want the other boys finding out and becoming jealous of his birthright, now, would we? The two sneak off before dawn, under the guiding light of the moon still dappled between the trees.
Father takes him deep into the woods, far from the village, and Anthy spends eleven days alone. It’s to prove he can take care of himself; and, in turn, care for the entire village. On the twelfth day, father comes to fetch him (“—followed your scent on the wind,” he says, but Anthy could swear he caught gleaming eyes peering out at him from the underbrush some nights), and this is where Anthy makes his first mistake:
“So, what next?” Anthy preens, still a little sweat-ruffled and dirtied but immensely proud of himself.
“Next?” Father says. He casually lifts his arm over his shoulder and unsheathes one hooked sword, then the other. “Well, I guess now would be when I make good on my promise to your little village friends, and tell them that after all my searching, I managed to find you. Even if it was too late by then.”
And then he lunges, dual blades swinging. Ks-swk!
Anthy tries to scramble away, legs shaking like a newborn fawn, but father’s played his cards and he knows how he wants this to end.
“Pshht, I thought a week and a half alone with your disposition would have weakened you more than it did; still, I can make do. Little scuffle’s nothing I’m not prepared for.”
The boy falls backwards and hits the ground hard. Father’s blade kisses his cheekbone and makes it weep red. He tries to claw himself backwards and out of the way, dirt and grit packing itself under his nails, but father’s been chief since Anthy’s been alive and he’s been wielding a blade for almost twice that, and when father stalks up to tower over him, bristly tail brushing the ground in long, sweeping strokes, close enough to see his own reflection in father’s dilated pupils, he— well—- Anthy tries. He fights back. He really does. He gets nothing out of his attempts at struggle except for bruised hips and a sinking pit that takes the place of his stomach.
And for what it’s worth, he really would rather have stuck to the plan and just been killed instead, but what can you do?
Father probably figures he’s as good as a goner anyways, because he leaves Anthy in a heap, tucked into the brush in an almost laughable attempt at subtlety, and stalks back to, presumably, his sad little kingdom. Probably now mourning the loss of its heir. Oh, the poor boy, how terrible a fate it was to be snatched away by monsters in the night. The chief must be distraught; he searched for nearly a fortnight. First his lover, now his only successor— what a waste. Is there anything left he hasn’t lost?
Anthy lets himself lie there until the next morning, lets himself feel the chill of the ground seep into his bones till he’s beyond shivering. It’s better than any of the other things he’s feeling right about now.
He picks himself up only when a roaming group of bandits comes along and tries to nick him of any valuables. Sorry, I’m picked clean already. They startle upon finding him still alive, but recover quickly upon hearing his offer: Lend me a hand getting there and I’ll lead you to something so much better.
***
It goes like this.
Anthy watches as the bandits cut the ropes that tie the beast down. It’s like a hog from the deepest depths of hell, eyes all over and maw gaping and dripping with stench and saliva. It wrenches against its restraints; when the rope goes slack, it takes no time at all to leap upright and begin to rush towards the scent of the villagefolk. Prey.
He can hear the screams from here as the beast presumably barges in, the women probably all ushering their children up the trees and into their safehouses, the men choking out breaths one by one as they’re crunched to bits by its hooves.
Father’s going to be the last one behind. He’s going to evacuate all the little ones, then all the fighters, and then it’ll just be him. The captain goes down with the ship.
And that’s what Anthy wants, right? Try as he might, it’s never been easy to love father, harsh and uncaring as he is, and, well— father’s made it clear he doesn’t love Anthy. Not enough to make up for how much he loved Anthy’s mother, at least. So this is it. This is how it’ll end. An eye for an eye. Father will learn his last lesson and Anthy can finally go back home and feel safe.
Right?
…So why does such a pit open up in his chest, when he sees father speared open on the hell-pig’s tusk? His guts spilling out of himself, making the grass reflect thick and oily red.
“—No! Wait, stop! I changed my mind!” Anthy wails, breaking from his cover along the treeline to dart hands outstretched at the beast, as if it’ll do anything. Father’s already gone. With the village empty and the boar distracted by the stench of Bestiard-kind, the bandits have already scurried up the ropes into everyone’s treehouses to loot through their belongings, just as instructed.
There’s nothing left. There’s no one to help him now.
…It wasn’t worth it.
The boar’s busy crunching father’s ribs between its jaws. It looks up for one brief moment and meets Anthy’s widened eyes. It does not move. Father’s clavicle snaps. And Anthy knows he has one last decision to make.
Run.
Act III. Inheritance
By twenty, Anthy has grown into himself, and he makes a fine village chief.
He mends the houses’ rooftops when they begin to leak, he gathers herbs and berries and root vegetables and he makes stews hearty enough to feed a family, he writes down anything he can think of that might need adjustment so that might remember to bring it up at the next council meeting.
His note list is pages upon pages thick.
Still, he continues. Life goes on. Some of the uppermost houses become home to spider nests and mold. When Anthy learns this he frantically sweeps the spiders and their eggs out, replaces the floorboards, because after all, he must keep everything just perfect. You never know when the house’s owner might come back home.
It’s got to be any day now. It has to be.
It’s been quite a little while since Anthy stumbled his way back home to an eerily quiet village, picked clean of both bodies and belongings. Still, no bodies means no proof— he saw the villagefolk leave, that night, that terrible, dreadful night, and never found hair nor hide of them again. They must have found a new land to settle on. That’s alright. Someday, someone will make the trek back home to collect him, or even purely for nostalgia’s sake, and when they do come, Anthy will be ready. The houses will be clean. The food stores will be plentiful. And he’ll smile serenely and tell them, “Welcome home!”
Act IV. The Call
When the letter arrives, it’s addressed to the village chief. Of course it is; Anthy’s kept close enough contact with the neighbouring settlements that they certainly know he’s taken up role of chief, and that Brindleweald is still in the midst of recovering from a terrible tragedy, with the help of Anthy’s gentle guiding hand. It’s close enough to the truth that he hasn’t bothered to correct them any further.
And it’s a silly thought, in retrospect, that life outside the village would stop and wait with him, but Anthy is still surprised to see the messenger ride up on horseback and into the woods to hand over a letter, sealed tightly with wax. It’s been so long since he’s had visitors.
“You’re the one in charge here?” the messenger asks, eyeing the trees criss-crossed with rope bridges and houses. Anthy gives the affirmative; the messenger nods back, hands over the letter. “People have heard of this place, you know. Well, some people have, at least — the ones who have been paying attention. They need strong people to fight for them right now; I guess they think that’s you, huh?” And then he leaves without the chance for Anthy to refute anything he’s said.
He reads the letter. Then he reads it again. He closes his eyes, and lifts the letter to his chest. I’m sorry. I haven’t forgotten you. I’ll come back and wait for you all again, but first, I need to do something you can all proud of.
Anthy packs a bag with his few belongings, and begins the trek towards central Exultius, where the disgraced princess and her rebellion have offered him a chance to do the right thing.
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Malphaestus
Touched by the Apocalypse
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by Malphaestus
Chapter I. Introduction
Virtue
Chaos Root: Archon
Aetheros Virtus
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Archon
Awakening History & Experiences
Born to the disposition of the Archon, Aetheros is a 'Caster' of great competence, having earned the mixed-moniker of 'Brightest Star' in youth; wielding innate awareness and understanding for his role accentuated by the stellar magic through which his character was remembered. But since youth, he was taught in every aspect of the chaos root's art of war, making him a competent wielder of many techniques. Aetheros had risen to the gates of the first Awakening within short order but has remained stuck since aligning himself with the Ashen Knights. It is because of this, caused by his awareness of his own talents, that he is prone towards actions and battlefield performances which go in direct opposition towards what is expected of a traditional caster, putting him at risks which he relies upon himself to escape. A disposition fueled by confidence, pride, and wanting. Whilst this can result in good outcomes, it is solely his own luck and talent which has seen him survive to the present day, and makes him a poor subordinate: in pursuit of evermore difficult accomplishments, whether his unique disposition will see him walking long upon his path or briefly is for any to contemplate, though realistically there is but one answer. What is known is that he cannot be expected to survive unless he adequately fosters his own talents, which he is most certainly not the best at doing. For great dangers beyond knowing linger where the sun has yet to travel.
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Child of the Beyond (Necklace)
Though his birth was an auspicious one, it was one influenced by something; so did he always think, and so they, his family, had always thought. It had been rain, but it had ceased at his mother's increasing readiness, and during the emergence, so had the clouds parted and the rays of the sun dug themselves to his flesh. His parents had been waylead, and been informed by the Predictors of their child's importance to them and all, and so they had comissioned a jeweler with their ever-dwindling coinage to produce a fitting tribute to their future saviour.
Needless, the blackened-stone necklace was never returned for failed promises: never having promised others of his own commitments. Wonderfully embroidered, and seeming more mystical than it was supposed to be, it is laced with indented golden powder hardened under heated treatment. Immaculately glowing to the touch of light, abyssal dark at it's absence, the jewelry is a complicated mixture of worked obsidian interwoven with rare earths in descending helix. Though by no means a regalia of royal magnificence, it is certainly impressive. But, though it has no reason to, it seems to appear eerie for most, surrounded by tainted presence, though grossly outshoned by it's wearer's own.
It has no ability, merely the manifest destiny of a single person's supposed prophesized future: to reign the House of Virtue and see it set back on track, a future since ruptured and foregone. The family no longer in decline, but the man in question since disowned and abhored by those who had made him. Personally, he had always gauged the necklace as the symbol of his destiny, a jewel that had been with him since birth, and walked along him on his many paths. He considers it tainted by the jealous of others, but regardless of what is true, that- most definitely- is not.
Throughout his years, he had never been the kind to attach himself to things, or people, for long. This is the one oddity to him, the one unwilling sacrifice in his posession: a piece of his identity.
Virtuous (Bracelet)
Heirloom of the Seventh Lord of Virtue, Cardinal Auspicostos Virtus, the reader of the Divine Law and Deliverer of those Unrightly. Characterized by his golden void, he was a caster of great competence during the first awakening of the Nephilim and the progressive rise of the Theocracy. As the only character of note throughout Virtus' history bearing the Archon's disposition, it was natural that upon Aetheros' first awakening, he would bear his bracelet and tint his colour's in the Cardinal's image to uphold the legacy and legend of the House of Virtue upon his emergence into the complex world of Aeslengard's nobility.
Though the Arcane Armament was once a weapon as well as a protective artifact of unparalleled strength, it's power has progressively waned over time, the artifact almost dispirited by neglect and in the process of a depressive death. Born with a near-life of it's own, it could imbue it's wielder with understanding and provide assistance in awareness in addition to providing it's wielder with always-correct judgement from their own vantage. But it has since infantilized, merely a large bracelet covering the forearm, capable of tinting the colour of the void to it's golden hue, and little more. Though the intention had once been, under the guidance of it's first wielder, to imbibe ohers with assurity and certained minds, now it glows too brightly in the hands of Aetheros, inhibiting the vision of those who gaze upon the void which its current wielder delivers.
It is, also, yet another thing stolen by Virtue's son, the Star Too Bright. Though without emotional attachment, he sees possibility in it for the future; ever prideful, it does him no harm to take it when else others would provide it no purpose. In tandem, Virtuous is a prideful item, carrying a pseudo-sentience formed from mystery. And though it has slept for uncounted years, he hopes that it can be reawakened.
Virtuous is the manifest grudge his family bears upon him, and though he does not know it, it is also the reason for which he is destined to meet them once again in future time. His sister, now of age beyond his care, awakened to his own disposition, that of the Archon, proving his parents, maddened beyond comprehension at his treachery, a purpose to reacquire the heirloom.
They should be thankful that their son was not born with an inclination towards the blade, shield, and the plate; then their treasury would provide nothing from whence they could build.
Written Destiny (Earrings)
Though Aetheros is far more subdued than he once was, during the height of his pride's development and the expansions of his ego, his uncle had smothered him underneath the testament of destiny which they had provided him: a telling of the Predictors, wayseers and diviners, and the prescribed destiny which they had seen for him. Whether true or false, it had been written, and the devout House of Virtue had transcribed their words unto silken cloth and fashioned scripture into these earrings. Upon one, is the destiny of the House, and the other, his own; written in the indecipherable, and delivered under the authority of a God-since-dead, it's authority had always been fallible in the eyes of the objective. But devoutedness had served little when faith was all that the once-mighty House could trust itself to.
Now it stands merely as a personal signifier, a symbol which represents who he is, and an icon of scorn to those who felt themselves betrayed by his nature. But he was gluttonous since inception, fostered to desire and required to strive towards the unobtainable. Though he served his purposes well, his family on the rise for it's role in his vanishment, putting some credibility to the talisman, it had done so in dubious fashion.
Aetheros sees it as an extension of his own character, but lacking the personal connectedness he holds for his necklace. And though he had learned his lesson since departing the Theocracy, within himself he remains who he truly is, a thing which slips regularly from the mask he is too inexperienced to maintain for long. Hardly manipulative, a star is merely radiant in and of itself, and brighter than much other. And even the blind can know who he is by the sound of his earrings fluttering along with the wind.
Should he come across the abilities of a renowned crafter, doubtlessly this would be the first thing which he would choose to emulate: an item made of his own destiny, for his own purposes.
Chapter III. Background
Backstory Title
Act I. Emergence
The clouds had loomed for three days, and upon the fourth, so too did the rain downpour; the estate was rampant with the rain, and what few servants remained scurried to relieve the house of it's leakage. Though an imposing structure from the street, within it was as austere as any other common hold: a family tormeneted by past glories unrequited, and a legacy great enough to see middlingness as criminal. The moment it had begun to lose ground within the political sphere of Aeslengard, panic had begun to set, and the smallest issue was aggravated by three generations of the mediocre in the wake of it's latest hero: the Virtuous Marshal. A competent warrior, but incapable administrator and statesman: what he had earned in battle was left squandered in peace, introducing his successors to an ever-declining influence, and an ever-increasing distraught.
The House of Virtue, built upon the shoulders of seven generations of heroes, crucial in all aspects of the deciding conflicts Aeslengard had undergone, and once prided as one of the archangels of the Earth, had then become merely another noble house. An incomparable failing, and one which triggered frantic actions which merely worsened their standing, made under the influence of unstable minds and endless worries. Self-manufactured decline had been so wide-reaching, that they were mocked in relative public amongst the other nobility, and the phrase 'to do as the Virtuous' shifted from praise into scorn.
It was upon this bed that this rainy day would gain unparalleld significance to those who witnessed it. Within the Estate was a struggling mother, an expectant father, and the soon-to-be-dismissed staff, all with demands too grave and too grand to ever satisfy themselves with the normal. Perhaps, as thanks to this, and as repayment for their struggles, they were greeted with the extraordinary. For in the moment of his Emergence did the rain cease, and the clouds parted: through yet-dripping windows did the sun's blessed rays gleam, and through the droplets was the room engulfed in its shimmer.
Magical, to all who beheld it, and far too much so. Expectation had been met, and that was the most frightening result of all. Immediately he was destined for greatness, and the unnatural weather had been beheld by all within the declining territory: an auspicious day, forever destined to taint the man with unbridled ambition. For he had not been born normal, destined to meet expectations, always fostering greater wants and aspirations in others, and of himself.
Ever destined to remain wanting, unobserving of satisfaction; ever-pursuing always obscured fulfillment.
But this was not yet known, and of all his days, it had always been the most peaceful and joyous of them all. As an infant, he was unable to appreciate it as he should, but in the eyes of his parents and the servants of the House, it had been a day so happy that it had guaranteed their eventual division. A mediocre father, competent enough at the crafts of politics to barely prevent his house's plummeting, and potent enough to rule his territories middlingly, was allowed to dream of reconquered greatness; growing into obsession. An exhausted, yet loving, mother who came from little renown was left aware of the potential of her accomplishment: siring a creature doubtlessly destined for importance.
And a staff, priorly destined to ever-decline, now found itself reimbued with vigour and competition in recognition of a seemingly guaranteed employer supposedly destined for recognition once again. An atmosphere suffocated in nonsensical expectations. Expectations of a toddler, wholly incapable of even recognizing the wants and wills of all around him, emerged instead in it's own world. And in it's own nature.
Not did he cry, nor did he whimper: he was still, calm, and uncaring. It appeared warm, but since inception his mind was not like most others. Within his mother's embrace, he appeared gallant: a hero to save them of their struggles, but in his own, he had always been self-centered.
But he was radiant, all the same. Bathed in the embrace of the Sun, his mother, and the hand of the one who would eventually drive him from Aeslengard: that of his father, Alvis Virtus. A mediocre man, married to an unimportant mother: not great nor failures, merely normal people, born to ever-increasing expectation. Ruined by the failures of a Hero long-since dead, ruined by those who'd sired them, and ever-unwilling to suffer the inevitable, going to ever-greater lengths to endure and revive. Destined, until then, never to succeed; destined, since then, to part ways.
Act II. Radiant
Throughout his days, and throughout the whole of his youth and fostering, he had been trained in all there was to know: the family betting it's very last, and it's very all, for the seemingly guaranteed return it expected of him. He had talent in all things, seemingly: adept at all he was taught, quick to learn and easy to teach, a natural in what there was for a child to learn and known. It had become guaranteed, that he, and those who believed in him, would acquire success. A guarantee which, in his own mind, has never been unreciprocated. Though his goals began small, but upon their accomplishment, his father and educator, expected no less from him: moving swiftly, seeking to teach him as much as possible within as quick a pace as his own giftedness could afford him. The pace was frantic, but none thought he could not endure, for he could and did do so.
It was not an enduring task, it had been easy. But it resulted in an unappreciation for the goal, and his life resulted in the pursuit of tasks both obscure and obvious. He needed to be great, and he knew very well, beneath the unending praises of those who he walked past in youth, that he was destined; he was bright. He was young in all that he acquired, and the acquiring of skills were in and of themselves easy. Training, therefore, never crossed his mind. He did not need to, for in youth and in life there-to, he was someone who simply was Great. It was his character, and he did not need to spend effort in becoming it. For whilst he was destined to Greatness, there-to, he was not destined for struggle.
Whilst it would later result in the falling-out of his family, until his early adulthood he was the Sun that Shone, and the greatest of all Heirs born to his generation. Everything was given to him, and his competence not only earned him accolades, but gifts as well. But never could they have expected what guarantees would make of the child, taking for granted that he would serve the ends of the lineage and the Theocracy itself. But when greatness is guaranteed, and all one achieves is praise, a selfish youth cannot become a virtuous man. In truth, though a child of Virtue, his parents made every error concievable in fostering pious character.
They did all take everything given for granted, generations of failure fostering desperation vast enough to be blinded by unbridled talent, being thus wholly incapable of adequately cultivating him into what they wanted him to become. And though he succeeded in all he did, and answered to all expectations there were of him, his path would instantly divert the moment he would reach adulthood.
As the Second-Coming of one of the House's most distinguished characters, one who once served as distinguished Cardinal, the moment he left home to pursue his place within Aeslengard's hierarchy, they had expected him to be pious and serve the will of their since-diseased deity. But they had not fostered faith, he was too appreciated, and regarded far too magically, to ever submit himself to the whims and demands of others. And though he joined the Hierarchy, and would excell within it as a talent unseen for generations, he did so merely to achieve ever-illusive, always unending accomplishments self-servingly.
His family had never been cherished, merely characters taken for granted, giving him all he asked for, and teaching him all he wished to know. Affording him, at their own peril, with any opportunity they could spend their coin towards, and yet more. Had he left Aeslengard after departing the House of Virtue's doors and establishing himself within the world, they would have crumbled within moments. But Aeslengard was the whole of the world he'd known, that which was beyond merely letters upon the books he'd been immersed within as a result of his education.
And so he pursued the ranks of the state, and was entered into the world of the priesthood, in recognition of his ability. But there was none to tell him right from wrong any longer, and whilst his family celebrated his increasing distinguishment, the lack of written letter to their household made the looming reality become increasingly evident. But it would take years before they were forced to acknowledge reality. And for those years, they were engrossed with hope. Teaching their second-born child, Victoria, of the figure of her brother. But to her, whilst present in all aspects of her youth, he remained someone she had never seen. And she built her own idea of his identity, his character, based on the truth which their parents were too blinded by time to recognize, that was until the day of her own Awakening.
In the line of her brother, Aetheros, Victoria had also risen to the disposition of the Archon. And the day of her awakening had always been one to anticipate. For though her brother was a busy man, praised by all, and radiant enough to bear the moniker of the Sun, he could not miss the ceremony. The culture did not afford him to, nor did the accomplishments he desired allow him to avoid it: thus resulting in their first meeting, and there-to the last.
He had arrived with an entourage of notables, all kind and compassionate, well-wishing and responsible. But her brother, the supposed Sun, was of a different matter. For he did not arrive as one should, bearing mask and remaining virtuous. For though he spoke rightly, did rightly, and appeared as he should, there was but one exception. One which would ever-haunt her: the mask, common courtesy and the symbol of a being which was rightly, was absent. Momentarily bewildered, as the days passed, and they parted their ways, she was the first to acknowledge reality. For whilst all found fault with his action, they were simply too impressed with him, to be as great as he had been at such an age, that it simply took too long for them to recognize the obvious faults with both his actions and his demeanour.
But she was bathed in the stories of who he'd been, never left to witness what he'd done, merely how he'd been. And she was not only disappointed, but she was also grudge-ridden.
Act III. Division
Perhaps in accompanyment of his Sister's aging, and subsequent entry, herself, into the realm of the socialites, word began to spread of the character of the Radiant One. Disillusionment had begun to set in, and whilst talent remained in the man, it became clear that he would neither change nor pursue the Virtue from which he'd come. And progressively factionalism emerged, between those who'd faced reality, and those progressively fewer who refused to. Whilst he broke from increasingly greater convention, his own self-awareness fueled by the compliments of those increasingly few around him, it had crossed to such a point where his position afforded him enough power to rival that of the family which he had rescued. But neither he, nor they, were content with what he'd done, or would do: they lead the opposition, and worked schemes to his disadvantage. And he was simply too assured to his destiny to bother counter-act their plans.
He had always been self-centered, since birth, and always after. But he had hid it well, though not consciously, but under the etiquette provided to him by his father. But as praise rained, so too did he recognize that he was not beholden to the ways of others: pursuing his own path, and abiding his own rules. He thought this would be as allowed as everything until then had been, but he had been wrong. And though he would never recognize it as one, he had made an ever-increasingly number of social mistakes, which would amount to ever-increasingly grudges with ever-increasing numbers of the slighted.
He was demeaned with increasing regularity, and his character was increasingly attacked by the passing of the days and the years: no amount of talent could afford him immunity from the machinations of the jealous and the insulted, and his place within Aeslengard- which until then had steadily increased- sharply dived as he suffered one too many plots and one too many intrigues. Aeslengards displeasure had become evident when, delivered by Cardinal missive, his stature within the priesthood would be retracted in the months which would come since his reading. And though a normal man would recognize their error then, by this point his ambitions had grown ambiguous enough that no amount of displeasure by others would afford him the ability of self-reflection.
His methods would simply change, and his nation forfeited. He recognized that the world was more than merely Aeslengard, and opportunities had never been limited, he had simply not needed to pursue them elsewhere until then. But he was no fool, recognizing the events and his own actions. But he saw it as an inevitable path towards his destiny, aetheric and immaterial as it was, making necessary adjustments, and learning his lessons, but remaining taintedby his all-consuming nature. The pursuit of Apotheosis, which he had since began to wander, would not allow him the ability to self-reflect: a demanding task, perhaps even impossible, but nonetheless one he was destined to pursue.
And so he departed Aeslengard, not present at the ceremony of the withdrawal of his place within the priesthood, and the disownment of his family. As nobility dragged his name through the mud, and insults became so prevalent that they simmered down to the point where the peasantry used his name in common passing, he had already arrived at the border, and wandered past the boundary: consumed in his own pursuits, and recognizing his faults.
He had allowed others the ability to be disappointed in him. Or so he perceived it, and for the first time in his life, he trained. But he was without master, nor work ethic: thus proving a bad self-study, affording middling results. He had long been stuck before the advent of his Chaos Root's advancement, and without the aide of others, he would never arise beyond it. But he will never recognize this, his destiny bound to the unknowing encounters he will have to endure as his life grows longer.
Act IV. Resurgence
Though he bore great grudges at his back, from his time in Aeslengard, it had not been a fruitless venture: with him was the prized artifact which he had been granted from the then-dwindling sanctum of the House of Virtue: Virtuous. The regalia of the ancestor from whence the path he walked had been formed, in the eyes of his parentage, and the symbol of the faith they had held in him, which he'd since betrayed. They had wished to wrangle it from his grip, during the ceremony, but his abrupt departure and subsequent vanishment from Aeslengard, had proven it impossible. Whilst they did send people after him, he'd moved too swiftly and too far to find within such short notice, meaning their destined meeting would have to take place at a different time.
To his benefit, as he wandered the lands beyond Aeslengard, he was uncaring for the customs of his birth, and the ways of the society which he'd come from: a deviant, for long, proving him little difficulty in subsuming himself amongst those who hated the Nephilim without much hinderance. What issue he came across were more often the results of his character, having yet to suffer any true plight. And it would take many more years in passing before he would recognize a need to improve himself further, suffering through life with assurance and self-constructed certainties- compelled, as if, that everything went as it should. Being swept away into events, relationships, and missions in is hunt for information towards Apotheosis.
Every once in a while, the truth of his lineage would emerge itself. Whether through the inevitable inquiries of his family and the rampant injustices which they delivered to all none-nephilim, or through simple coincidences, such as the accidental spillages of blood. He took little issue, carrying himself with the poise of the Godslayer; as if immortal, wandering from town to town when the time for him to be gone would dawn itself on him. Though a character of quirky nature, this would afford himself the opportunity to venture with the Ashen Knights as thanks to a relationship he'd fostered wandering the Frontiers. Though he was one of many, he would accompany the Crown Prince of Exultius unknowingly for a period of time, finding himself written down in the Diary of the now dead.
Though he was capable, and partook in a wide array of tasks and challenges as part of this brief entourage, it became clear to the Prince that he hindered his own growth unknowingly, or rather, that the world he lived within saw to it that the way of his carrying himself, and living, was at an antithesis to what the world demanded of him to pursue what he wanted. Though it was never mentioned to him, too bright to see such truths bathed beneath the shine of his competence as he was, it would become increasingly obvious that his growth had stunted, and as time would go on, and unless he experienced some form of growth once again, the head-start which he had received as a result of his grotesque talents would wane and become irrelevant.
But for now, he was a skilled caster. Had he been of different mind, perhaps he would have become unparalleled, though such prospects may very well be blasphemous to contemplate for most. To his own, however, nothing which may come, or go, as things are, will make him think that he cannot overcome and become what he was destined to: and even as his brief escapades with the Crown Prince ended, and his lonesome wanderings through the borderlands and the frontiers continued, there was nothing which had changed his mind. But he had baggage of his own, though the extent had yet to make itself known: having delivered the Crown Prince an oath of once-again meeting, when he received a missive of their relative, he decided to settle it.
But little had he known, far out in the beyond, that who he had expected to see was already dead and buried; all that was left was a sister distraught, pursuing instead a venture wholly her own since then. An inherited will of steel and sharpened wit engrossed him then, Ashen Knight ever since. Though times were tough, during its inception, time would pass and he would meld in amongst them; never hiding his disposition, flaring up the occasional squable and making enemies as was in his nature. But unlike before, he was more capable of melding in with his surroundings, and honestly, the moderate freedom, astronomic by comparison to his life in Aeslengard, but still limited when similarized with his wandering, suited him well enough.
Settling in, his new life since begins.
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NUSKI
new-skee
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by NUSKI
Chapter I. Introduction
OTIS "NINE-FINGERS"
Chaos Root: Hyreus
O T I S
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Hyreus
Awakening History & Experiences
Otis, Adeline, and Cecil knew they were coming sooner or later. As if the number of them wasn't enough, they possessed weapons made from obsidian, and they could clearly see the effects of it on Adeline as she writhed in pain in their current hiding spot. If they lit a fire, the Nephilim would immediately find them and they didn't have the energy to run. As long as they stayed quiet and low for the next few days, they would have a chance to escape... which is why Otis was confused when Adeline suggested he should take her Chaos Root before she died. Cecil was immediately against the idea, but Adeline insisted, seemingly tired of fleeing.
It took no more than two days after the transference for Adeline to die. Their pursuers didn't even wait for Otis and Cecil to finish burying the body before they attacked. They were completely vulnerable and unarmed. Although he had no experience with magic, it was the only thing at his disposal. Unknowing of the requirements for dispelling magic, Otis' left pinkie was seemingly ripped off as the two Draculi fled and he shot forward with incredible speed, crashing into Cecil and dragging him into the water below. The drop was so massive that the Nephilim fell back, hoping they would be able to catch up to them if they found a safer way down.
Already feeling like he was the reason for Adeline's demise, the loss of Otis' finger was enough to convince him he didn't want to use magic anymore. Not even given time to mourn the loss of his finger, Otis and Cecil were forced to split up to confuse the Nephilim that raced behind them.
Currently, Otis has two marks on the back of his left hand.
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Cecil and Adeline
Crafted using Draculi blacksmithing techniques, strapped to his person at all times are two swords, dubbed Cecil and Adeline. Cecil hangs above his groin and is short, wide, and serrated, best used for when enemies get too close. Adeline hangs on his left and is thin and long, sharing the appearance of a needle attached to a beautifully crafted ornamental hilt.
Lilith
A Chaos Root-powered bow found in the ruins of Asura Village's forge which Otis decided to name after the greatest being to ever step on Paymonian soil. Otis is unaware of the weapon's true nature or why his father possessed such a weapon.
Vials of Blood
Otis tries to keep 3-4 vials of blood on him at all times in case of emergency. He has learned to be satisfied with animal blood if more appetizing species aren't around.
Chapter III. Background
Otis - "Failed Retribution"
Act I. Childhood
Jezal Murcatto was a disgustingly sanguinary thug who caused nothing but anguish, stress, and anger to those in Asura Village, a large town in the Southlands. His mother had become quite ill and passed a few weeks after his birth, leaving him to be raised by his older brother Leon, as their father was a blacksmith who spent most of his spare time hugging a bottle of ale. In the years following the death of his mother, Jezal’s brother had gained some popularity in Asura Village especially after he picked up a position as captain of the local guard.
Despite Leon's best attempts to get his brother to follow in the same steps as his own, Jezal could not help but get himself into trouble. First, it was stealing bread from the bakery. He got away with that one, using his young age to feign naivety. Next, it was stealing valuables from the drunken fools at the tavern. After that, Leon caught him releasing horses from the stable just for laughs. From there Jezal and his witless friends committed pranks and crimes from throwing mud at houses to lighting them on fire. In fear for his own reputation, when Jezal reached the age of 16, Leon had enough and forced his brother to join the local guard, hoping it would teach him some discipline.
Act II. Early Life
Much to Leon's disappointment, it only taught Jezal how to collect bribes and abuse his authority over the villagers. However, at first, it seemed to work. Jezal would spend his mornings with the hunting parties and fellow guards while in the evenings after patrol, he would join brawls and sparring matches. A strict routine established by his brother quickly fell apart when their father died from alcohol poisoning. Leon who grew up watching their father drown himself in ale was heartbroken and as a side effect, distracted himself with work.
Jezal mourned differently. Without his brother watching over him, Jezal slowly began to miss shifts and eventually return to his old ways. When he would've spent his evenings practicing the fundamentals of combat, he would roam the taverns and cause trouble to anyone who would even look at him wrong. While he would never admit it out loud, he was furious his fairly absent father had died, and decided to take it out on the people around him.
Act III. Adulthood
By the age of 20, Jezal was despised by every resident of Asura Village with the exception of the lackeys he kept around him at all times. Jezal's own iniquity would become shadowed by those who followed him, whose behavior became so unbearable that Leon was forced to side with the people when demanding that the Village Elder enact justice.
It was around this time that Tythos returned from exile to wreak havoc on the world. Although Jezal and his lackeys were already imprisoned while the Village Elder decided what to do with them, they could not avoid the plague that spread amongst the people in the village. Whether they forgot him in his cell or the villagers were too occupied with their own welfare, he stopped receiving food and water. It was shortly after this that he fell victim to the plague as well, his body morphing into something that could only be described as unnatural.
Leon had fallen ill as well and thought that if he were going to die, he would like to free his brother before he did. Unfortunately for him, Jezal had been craving flesh for days and his brother was no exception. As soon as Leon opened the cell door to get a closer look, Jezal ripped him apart before eating his fill. Confused and even disgusted by his own actions, Jezal disappeared in the night, leaving the residents of Asura Village as they succumbed to the plague.
Act IV. Extra Chapter
Jezal had spent many years by his lonesome in the Southlands, slowly attaching himself to more and more Nightwalkers until they were enough of them for Jezal to become a self-proclaimed tribe leader. He rarely thought of his brother and father; his main focus was on survival and feasting on adventurers who were foolish enough to wander into their territory. That all changed for him when he met Lilith Draculus and was convinced to exterminate a village of humans intent on killing the Nightwalkers.
Although skeptical at first, Jezal subjected himself to being burned at the stake, re-emerging from the fire as a Draculus. Enamored simply by her ability to lead, Jezal changed his name to Otis and devoted himself to Lilith. He spent 8 years solely focused on the recruitment of Nightwalkers, burning them at the stake to be reborn as Draculi. Eager to prove his worth to Lilith, in 3690 he jumped on the first opportunity to follow in the footsteps of his father and lead the effort to develop weapons that would be sold to Aeslengard during the Third Divine Conflict.
This would soon be interrupted by the rise of the Nephilim race and their theft of the blacksmithing methods of his people. Otis felt responsible for this great loss, his own embarrassment greatened after they were able to successfully mimic the Draculi weaponry. His troubles would not end there though. After the Draculi blacksmithing methods were stolen, Otis was demoted which made him feel even more helpless as his people were getting enslaved and tortured. After the initial attack, he regrouped with some Draculi to fight back against the Nephilim threat. Any time they proved victorious, they would unmask the Nephilim and place their heads on pikes, and any time they lost, they would attack human settlements and lick their wounds before going again. After spending nearly a century going back and forth, they were all ambushed and slaughtered with the exception of Otis and two other Draculi: Adeline and Cecil. In the middle of all the hysteria, they fled, all their loyalty to Lilith and elitism suddenly irrelevant.
Act V. Extra Chapter
Even though the majority of their squad had been crushed and the Third Divine Conflict had ended, the three Draculi could not rid themselves of the Nephilim who had their attention turned to them. They would find a nice spot to camp and several days later, a group of Nephilim daring enough to leave the walls of Aeslengard would find them. After years of escaping them by nearly a hair, Adeline was wounded greatly and eventually succumbed to her wounds. Barely given enough time to grieve, Otis and Cecil were found once again and forced to split up, promising they would regroup in a forest outside of a place called Asura Village.
Otis remained in hiding for over 70 years, feeding on the occasional hunter or adventurer. Even as the majority of his people continued to be tortured and massacred, he was forced to move locations on a monthly basis in fear for his own life. It was only in 3898 that he established his own place of residence, a small cabin in a forest by the former Asura Village, now nothing but a ruin. Cecil has failed to show, so Otis has assumed that he was killed in battle or tortured to death. Having his fill of the outside world and disliking the aftertaste, he has mutilated anyone foolish enough to enter the territory of his cabin, leading to many horror stories about the true nature of the forest.
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Ayan
Cat Girl Extraordinaire
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by Ayan
Chapter I. Introduction
Mai
Chaos Root: None
Maihra Melody
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Archon
Awakening History & Experiences
...
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Old Training Staff
A sturdy mahogany staff about five feet long, it is older than Maihra, the same staff her father used in his early training. Despite it technically being a training weapon, it is actually her weapon of choice in most situations, covered with scrapes and chips, its legacy is obvious to even a casual observer.
Vile Bane
A bastard sword made for and used by her father. It is covered in intricate engravings, and is of an undoubtedly masterwork quality. While it was attuned to his root, becoming a devastatingly potent weapon capable of piercing the toughest armors, and even cutting through magic like thin air while his mark was active, for her, it is a regular, if quality, sword. It does still carry with it proof that she is her father's child however, which sometimes, is all she needs.
An unfinished masterpiece
Her mother's unfinished composition when she died. Titled Vile's Bane, it is dedicated to Maihra's father, a hauntingly sweet but inspiringly bold piece. It is nearly complete, only missing a few final notes.
Chapter III. Background
A painful melody
Act I. Childhood
Sir Edward Brightshard had fallen deeply in love with the feline composer Mistra Melody. They married, the knight taking the bride's name as his comrades used to joke he'd do so one day. A short year later, Maihra was born, if it had been in any other city, any other country, she'd have been called a blessed child. She was always curious, always moving, always playful, even as a baby. By the time she was a child proper, she had begun schooling, and insisted her father teach her how to fight like him. He eventually obliged, training her as both an apprentice and daughter. When she was six, Edward made a promise to her. He would retire in a decade, when she was sixteen, and when he did, he would give his chaos root to her, and she could follow in his footsteps. This was not him pushing something onto her, this is what she wanted. Her dad was a hero, loved, she wanted to be too. She similarly took interest in her mother's pursuit, and by the time she was a teenager, her life was going as good as it could have been. She had inherited the best of both of her parents, athletic, smart, attractive, brave, with compassion and a good heart to top it all off. She was even courted by the sons of other knights and other people of high renown.
When she was fifteen, almost sixteen, Edward left home to take care of his duties, as he often did. He would never return.
Act II. A legacy granted
Sir Edward Melody died honorably and as a hero. He alone stood against a lesser vile beast no one had expected that had just slaughtered a unit of soldiers, ready to assault and likely destroy a village. For thirty minutes he locked the beast in bloody and exhausting combat. Allowing the wounded and defenseless time to flee, stalling the rampage of the behemoth. It is said he actually ascended in the heat of the combat, and with a final decisive strike causing the beast to flee, he had won. Moments later he fell to the ground, dead. He had saved dozens of lives, maybe many more, and had single handedly done what many knights would not even be willing to do with countless allies. Of course, it is impossible to know how much of this is embellished, but no one can dispute that he faced a (potentially already injured) vile beast, and (either with or) without help, drove it back. Few would be willing to actually downplay the myths of his heroic deeds that day though.
Maihra learned of this all about a week later, sending both her and her mother into a state of grieving. She was given his sword, as his will requested, while much of his small fortune was spent to compensate the families of those he had failed to save from the beast, as well as to both help rebuild the outskirts of, and overall improve the village. His funeral was a public one, where even the Godslayer himself spoke to his honor. A lone Nephilim had begun to approach his casket, and his remaining family, to offer his praise to the fallen hero as many others did. Or that was what was assumed. The man in fact despised the late knight, how dare he tarnish the purity of humanity by marrying a beast and siring a bastard with them. His wrongs must be righted. And so, two flintlock pistols drawn in a moment, he tried to shoot both Maihra and her Mother. Maihra was hit in the shoulder, her mother in the head. In less than a second the man had been effectively eviscerated, but it was already too late. Dazed and barely registering her own wound, Maihra focused on her mother, who had only a few short breaths to say what little she could. "Do not despair. Continue... Melody." Maihra would never know it, but her mother had actually been trying to say for Maihra to create her own melody, unfortunately, the ability for those lobotomized by a ball of lead to communicate coherently was severely limited. In Maihra's eyes, this was her mother's dying wish, for her child to continue the legacy of the family name.
Act III. Change
The next several years of her life were actually remarkably boring. She finalized her education, occasionally did some sparring with soldiers, tried unsuccessfully to complete her mother's unfinished masterpiece, and did all she could to research chaos roots, and the methods one could theoretically acquire one with infused mana. She was granted a generous share of wealth from the government, given the tragic death of both of her parents, and was allowed to keep the house and all such similar amenities she could be afforded. Her father was known far and wide, tales of his heroism spreading far out of the capital and even the city, doubtless plenty believed him not to be real. And she had to live up to that. Shortly after cresting twenty though, she was cut off from her stipend, and her home was seized. It was impossible to tell what drove the Godslayer to make such a decision, but it was no more irrational than the execution of his own son. Since then she has traveled, searching for a group to prove her worth and make a name for herself, on her father's behalf. Perhaps now she has finally found one.
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SleepySheepiez
New Member
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by SleepySheepiez
Chapter I. Introduction
The Dawnseeker
Chaos Root: Hyreus
Esther
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Archon
Awakening History & Experiences
Awakening from a bloodlusted Stupor, Esther trembles as she scrabbles to her feet. Around her lies what remains of the wounded Nephilim she had come across. His obsidian blade lies useless on the ground, kicked away out of reach. It had been her only chance. She had watched him use the marks before. A surprise attack was her only bet. That kind of power was the only way she could ever hope to survive the horrors that were sure to come. She had to do it, Vanhela forgive her she had to. The draculus woman in the plain dress, stained and ragged with red, watches as the marks come into being.
Was the gift of the chaos root one that could truly be taken? or was it only given. The first had been the reason she'd taken her moment to strike. The second, was far more disconcerting to consider. The Nephilim did not give anything to a creature like her. They only took and took and took. Esther dries her tears and turns to stalk away into the night, filled with newfound fear and power.
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
A Gilded Birdcage
Finely crafted, sturdily made, Some strange power exists within it's thin golden bars. Despite the beautiful fragility of its design, the birdcage will not break, no matter how forcefully it is smashed against. Esther has tried crushing it beneath boulders, watched as it's trampled by wild beasts, felt the deadened rattling of a steel blade in her palm as it is jounced harmlessly off it's delicate-looking, gilded door. The draculus keeps the cage with her always, one of the few possessions she carries with her. When asked about its purpose, she will retreat coldly behind an emotionless mask. It is a telltale sign that some part of her is too deeply attached to it.
Far too deeply to let anyone find out.
A Blood Red Blade
The Dawnseeker carries with her a stained blade of forged and tempered steel, perfected by the renowned metalworking techniques of her people. It is not a pretty sword. Its straight utilitarian edges are forever sharpened and kept with care, even if the things she's killed with have left their bloody mark on an otherwise unassuming and straightforward weapon. The murky, rippling reddish-silver of the flat is the only notable aspect of it. A butcher's knife needs no gilded adornments to be effective.
There's a different kind of beauty to be found in this truth.
Esther had never seen fit to give it a name.
Chapter III. Background
Esther - "Caged in Endless Dusk"
Act I. Larva
Once upon a time, in the dust coated halls of a since abandoned churchground, there lived a quiet human girl with ebony hair. Her parents had left her there, gone of to live or fight or die without the burden of a girl weighing them down. Whoever the two had been, the care of the daughter still too young to remember them was left to the religious caretakers of several other abandoned children, owners and custodians of those venerable shrinegrounds. They preached to her of a Goddess of life and love. A goddess worthy of adoration. Vanhela was a goddess to take solace in even as the scourge of disease and wicked creatures left in the wake of the second divine conflict continued to ravage this forlorn stretch of marshy Aeslengard countryside.
The young girl could most often be found playing near the gilded golden cage of a blue songbird that was kept in one of the many empty rooms filled with sheet covered furniture that brought to mind ghosts of the of the tenants who had once called the church their home. Everything about the cage was enamoring to the impressionable mind. The simple beauty of the bird with its feathers and its voice. The way it looked fondly at her when she brought it feed, chirping its gratitude.
It is here by the cage that the ebony haired girl curled when she began to get sick. It was here the screams graced her ears when all across the village, the humans began to turn.
Act II. Chrysalis
There is little of the girl's life as a Nightwalker that she cares to remember, and littler still that she found pleasure in. The Nightwalkers may not have been savage beasts, but this one preferred to be seen as such. It kept the curious away from the slowly decaying grounds of the Church in the ghost town of Murkmourn. The animals that are killed, are hung half-eaten from the branches coming in, and the foolish who ignore the warnings find a gruesome end in the jaws of the reclusive monster of Murkmourn.
Should a stealthier individual have evaded the beast's attentions and for some reason followed it about as it made its tireless rounds in and around that abandoned marsh graveyard of a village, they may have borne witness to the Haunting sight of a gangly Nightwalker kneeling in gutteral prayer before the crumbling shrine to the goddess of life, speaking a language only, or perhaps listened to it's croaking sobs as it curls around an empty gilded cage, carressing bars that should have reasonably been broken by now in the creature's supernaturally powerful embrace.
Act III. Metamorphosis
The burning was agony. She had considered fighting it at first, considered breaking away to hide away in her familiar trails and musty buildings. The town was empty and rotting, but it had become hers over the years. For one turned so young, the finer points of interaction were sorely lacking.
And yet...
When she saw what it was she was becoming... the woman emerging from the howling husk of the hulking woodland beast found herself wearing a smile. This was a gift! It was surely a blessing from the goddess that she had not only reclaimed her 'humanity', but had become something more. She was Draculus they told her. They fed her, and clothed her, and taught her once more the ways of civilized life. The woman took the name Esther, and devoted this new life ever more fervently to Vanhela. The gilded cage she carries with her always, a reminder of what was lost, a beautiful trinket, and a mystery coursing with a strange pulsing power that Esther sometimes swore she could feel.
Act IV. Pursuit of the Dawn
The advent of the third divine conflict was the hammer that crashed down to shatter the relatively peaceful existence of esther the priestess. Well adjusted, and far more composed than she had ever been, The ethereally beautiful draculus now sports a golden undertone to her ebony hair. She walks with pride and grace among her newfound people, wanting for nothing. Her days of reclusive hermitage and killing to survive were long past. This was when the Nephilim came. The Nephilim with their obsidian swords and their stolen knowledge. The Nephilim with their betrayal and their self-righteous extermination of every last draculi they could get their steel into.
The life Esther was living was dashed to pieces.
But though the woman no longer lived the life of the wild nightwalker, the Monster of Murkmourn, the lessons it had taught her were what ultimately saved her. She could disappear into the marshes she knew like no other, follow the well traveled animal trails hidden by the cover of brush, and she could kill if need be, with only her seemingly magical birdcage as witness to her foul deeds.
And that is what she did.
It was the only way. Her only ticket out of hiding. To become powerful enough to escape the Nephilim menace for good. Though her life as a true citizen of the draculi had perhaps lifted her pride above that base necessity, her present circumstance was quick to dispel those acquired notions. And so she waited, watched, and bided her time. By stroke of luck, she came one night across a lone Nephilim soldier, wounded in the fighting. He bore, as most of his kind did, a dangerous Chaos root. It was to be Esther's key to living.
Somehow... She took it.
And took her leave of the country.
In the years to come, Esther would gradually be molded into a warrior of some modest renown, wandering from town to town, place to place. The somber traveler from afar would slake her thirst on the guilty and the criminal, all in search of a way to finally be at her goddess's side. Seeking a way out of the grey murk her world seems to have cloaked itself in.
Act V. Call to Flame
Initially, Esther regarded the beautiful letter as nothing more than a pretty piece of paper. It was on a whim that she decided to answer the summons. This would be another dalliance to while away the time until her opportunity to achieve her only wish presented itself. It would be amusing at least to watch this girl's dreams crumble and fall before the unbelievable power she attempts to stand against. None of it would really end up mattering in the long run, now would it.
However, It was on the journey there that her opinions began to shift, Little by little, right up until she met the Daughter of the Godslayer in person. The more thought the Dawnseeker gave to this silly quest, the less ludicrous backing it began to seem. After all, was the holy corpse of Vanhela not held somewhere under the deepest protection of her father's kingdom? Did this not present as clear an path as ever could be found to strike down his undying wickedness for good?
Was this not the very opportunity she was claiming to wait for?
To a wanderer such as the Dawnseeker, there exists no nation for her to abandon that she has not already. The promise of adventure is amusing, a welcome prospect even, but there will be no new purpose for the driven Draculus just yet.
Only an old one.
A fallen purpose that bleeds divine gifts into a nation built on blasphemy of the highest order.
And so, though her goals might lie only loosely in conjunction with that of the Evernight Princess, that is all the reason Esther needs to devote herself wholeheartedly and soulfully to the cause, even if her usual methods aren't quite all that much as bloodless as her new liege might hope.
voided
이미 넌 빠져들어 점점
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by voided
Chapter I. Introduction
Hurricane Maverick"
Chaos Root: Hyreus
Shufen Liang
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Hyreus
Awakening History & Experiences
Shufen wasn’t too sure when her Chaos Root awakened. According to her, it wasn’t there one day, and it was the next. She woke up and stated that whatever God existed decided to bless her, and her only.
Which quickly prompted a playful chop on the head by one of her siblings.
Unbeknownst to her, what happened was a form of inheritance. When Tanya went missing and presumably died, the mark appeared on Shufen’s hand. However, Shufen feels this is simply coincidence. There is no way Tanya is dead.
Perhaps there’s a little bit of denial and guilt eating Shufen up.
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Pair of Daggers
A pair of daggers that Shufen keeps strapped to her at all times, one on each side of her hip. Its use has mostly been for defensive reasons, but very rarely has she used this to start conflict. Where has she obtained them? Good question. Most of her past is shrouded in secrecy, but being from the city of commerce, one can infer where she may have obtained it from.
Brass Knuckles
Usually, she uses her daggers in a stealthy manner to confirm quick, silent kills, but sometimes when things go south, she has her brass knuckles to finish the job. Her reckless nature shows as her aim quickly turns from silently killing adversaries to beating them down. Usually, her Brass Knuckles are in her pockets when they aren’t in use.
Crossbow
For times where melee will not suffice, Shufen has a foldable, bolt crossbow to attack from a distance. However, she hasn’t trained all too well with this, so her accuracy is not the most reliable. Her bolts sit comfortably in a quiver that is attached to the back of her belt, between the sheaths of her daggers.
Chapter III. Background
Shufen - "Rise of the Maverick"
Act I. Childhood
Orphaned at a young age, Shufen never really had a parental figure growing up. Instead of going to an orphanage, she was picked up by a group of others, all varying in races except Nephilim. Due to this, from a young age she was taught about the Nephilims, how they were a terrifying race that began the The Third Divine Conflict and almost wiped out races.
Shufen was a young girl, she understood that the conflict was horrible, but she was too young to grasp certain concepts. One of the many concepts she failed to grasp was the hatred of Nephilims in this day and age. Her view on this conflicted with the folks she grew up with. They were directly or indirectly harmed by Nephilims, Shufen was not, so she couldn’t really see eye to eye.
She could never see eye to eye.
Act II. Early Life
Then Tanya entered. A Nephilim that shouldn’t have been in Mutou-Kagyou City. Despite this being a neutral ground for commerce, hatred for Nephilims was still seen. Tanya somehow managed to evade the venom-laced words. Tanya somehow was a Nephilim that rarely wore her mask.
Tanya somehow befriended the Azelthyrian named Shufen.
Seeing past their racial differences and the past that affected Azelthyrians and Nephilims, Shufen and Tanya were close friends. Being young, they ran around, causing childish trouble and spending time with one another. However, it was also this time where she realized the wealth inequality in Mutou-Kagyou City. Being someone that barely made ends meet with her apparent siblings, she noticed how everything was so much easier with Tanya around.
A rich Nephilim. Now that’s something she didn’t expect to run into.
Due to this, she picked up on certain mannerisms. Certain shrewd mannerisms to obtain the money needed. A few brows were raised once her siblings took notice, but they gave her the benefit of the doubt. This was Mutou-Kagyou City after all. However, she would talk about Tanya to her siblings. She would not dare to blurt out Tanyas race, but she would still talk highly of her. Her siblings listened, but they had other ideas in mind. To find out who this Tanya is.
Act III. Adulthood
With time, they eventually found out Tanya was not who Shufen said she was. A rich woman? No, she was someone who managed to make ends meet in more amoral ways. A nice person? To Shufen, maybe. But to others, not so much. Someone who fights for money is not a good person in their eyes. Wait, was she using her blood to harm the poor Azelthyrian who didn’t pay her back? By the gods, a Nephilim without a mask? This woman had to be suicidal.
Shufen’s siblings didn’t do anything. They tried telling her to cut back on hanging out with Tanya, but of course, Shufen didn’t listen. Why would she?
Regardless, Shufen also picked up some sort of work. She would do odd jobs around Mutou-Kagyou City. With or without Tanya. The jobs ranged from helping old ladies cross the street, to grabbing apples and hunting animals, to juggling knives for entertainment, to occasionally making someone meet the edge of her blade. She found this fun, despite going down a shady route.
People called her a Hurricane due to her reckless nature of handling certain things. She would go out, cause havoc, and return with a few injuries while potentially hurting others around. Don’t ask how she gets injured picking apples.
It’s a sight to behold but not something she likes to talk about. It’s embarrassing.
Act IV. Disappearance
Tanya then disappeared one day. Shufen didn’t know why or how. A few days ago, she was there, eating food with Shufen as the two talked about their day. But then, she was gone. Shufen asked around. She started with the folks she and Tanya worked with. They didn’t know much either. Just that they needed Tanya to do something and she wasn’t around.
Being the one closest to Tanya, they made Shufen do some of the dirty work instead.
Upon reaching home, she unloaded the same questions to them. “Where was Tanya? Do you know?” Only for them to avoid the topic. The first time, they simply switched topics, asking about Shufen’s day. The second time, they just said they didn’t know, adding good riddance at the end.
The third time she pressed on, she got her answer. Something about how Shufen was better off without Tanya being around. Something about how Tanya was taking part in dangerous jobs. Something about how Shufen hid things about Tanya from the rest of the family.
After all, how dare she befriend a Nephilim. She was taught from a young age how bad they are, and yet she went against her family and hid it from them.
Regardless, she felt that her family had something to do with Tanya’s possible disappearance. But she didn’t press further. She wouldn’t get answers anyway. There were more things that she had to worry about. Such as that mark that was on her hand.
Act V. Arrival of the Maverick
Upon getting the letter, Shufen didn’t care much about it. The disappearance of Tanya knocked her into a depressive state. She didn’t do much, nor did she care about much. She locked herself into the same boring routine of working and practicing. For some reason, she hid this letter from her siblings. Perhaps for the same reason they kept skirting around the topic of Tanya.
She was old enough to make her own choices, but she felt she had no choice to make.
But was family really her only option?
In a daze, clutching the letter in hand, Shufen left her home. She walked through Mutou-Kagyou City, taking in the sights of her beloved commerce town one last time. She stopped at one store. They were selling some weapons. Brass knuckles specifically. Tanya used those as well. With a goal to find Tanya and to see the world, Shufen set out.
Initially, her goals did not coincide with the princess. She couldn’t care less about helping the princess. But on the way there, she managed to make a name of sorts for herself. She would help out on certain things, but in a way that people didn’t usually accept. She got the job done, so they didn’t complain much, at least not to her face.
They began calling her Maverick, an unconventional woman who doesn’t abide by rules.
“Hurricane Maverick. Huh, that flows well.”
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Monday
Formerly Vulpes lagopus.
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by Vulpes lagopus
Chapter I. Introduction
Aniketos
Chaos Root: Archon
Aristaios Solon
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Archon
Awakening History & Experiences
Aristaios was not born with a Chaos Root and does not currently possess one.
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Knapsack
A weather-worn leather knapsack carries all of Aristaios' worldly possessions, which, aside from basic provisions, include his journals and writing supplies, fletching tools, a plain hunting knife, needle and thread, a cloak for cold weather, a small book containing the proverbs of Aerouant the Sage, and a wooden flute he carved himself.
Bow and Quiver
For hunting and self-defense, Aristaios carries a sturdy and well-crafted, but otherwise ordinary, wooden longbow along with a quiver.
Staff
A walking stick is a fine traveler's companion for many reasons, not least of which being that, in a pinch, it makes for a serviceable melee weapon.
Chapter III. Background
For All That Is True
Act I. Wonder
"Why?"
Every Aerouant is born into an inheritance of tragedies unwitnessed and miseries not his own. By the time Aristaios first drew breath, the Fourth Divine Conflict was well underway, and its shadow loomed large over the Ukrethian Empire. His parents would tell of the Aeslengardian occupation and of their liberation by the hands of the Godslayer, alongside tales of relatives and friends: some who fell to the enemy, some who remained as scarred veterans, and some who took up arms for their savior. The very air was thick with anticipations and uncertainties, though the very young perceived only a sense of unease, and strange murmurings after dark.
As the middle child in a large and moderately prosperous- if insignificant- merchant family in Ukrethia's capital, Aristaios grew up surrounded by love, affection, and plenty of noise. Despite what their occupation might suggest, his parents were upright, honest, and traditional folk who did their best to conduct their business affairs according to the Sage's ethics, and to give all seven of their children a sound moral upbringing.
According to his mother, Aristaios was restless from the moment he left the womb. Even as an infant, his bright, clear eyes seemed to take in his surroundings with insatiable curiosity. As soon as he could walk, he tried to explore every inch of the house, and as soon as he could talk, he clung to his mother's skirt and let her drag him all around the house while he bombarded her with questions. Like most toddlers, his favorite question was "why". Unlike most, he never grew out of it.
When he learned to read, his parents thought they'd have some reprieve, but if anything the books they gave him only provided more questions to ask. But he was also capable of daydreaming or playing imaginary games for hours at a time, to the point of completely forgetting what he was supposed to be doing. Several times they thought he'd gone missing, only to find him in some out-of-the-way corner of the house, lost in his own world.
While talkative enough on his own, he lapsed into silence in the presence of his noisier, more assertive siblings. This made him rather easy to misplace. More than once he was left behind on a trip to the market, though it didn't occur to him to be frightened. On one such occasion the whole family frantically combed the marketplace for an hour, only to find him engaged in earnest conversation with a priest of Herrsher. Amid their profuse apologies, the man seemed rather bemused.
All in all, it was a peaceful time, one he'd remember with pleasure in the years to come. A calm before the storm, perhaps.
Act II. Doubt
"This world... is mad."
Life in the Solon household was not without frictions. While the mild Aristaios seldom took part in siblings' rivalries, the attention lavished on him on account of his intelligence did not go unnoticed. Nor did he exactly welcome it. His talents conferred an expectation, almost an obligation, to do something important- yet all he wanted was a quiet, ordinary life. As his parents ceased to be the infallible fountains of wisdom of his early childhood, he turned to teachers, to books, and to his own thoughts. His fixations were a source of annoyance to his family members. Once, for example, he wondered if there were a way to avoid committing the same mistakes as in one's previous life, if all one's memories had been lost in the Underworld, and worked himself into a frenzy over the course of a week.
At the age of seven, he found himself enrolled in a classical school meant to prepare him for a higher learning institution sponsored by the church or military. Despite his misgivings, he took well to his studies. Some teachers were annoyed by his inquisitiveness, but one, in particular, took a liking to him, and they would often walk together and talk after school hours. Of all the classical arts he studied, archery became a favorite. Meditation was nearly impossible for him, but with arrow nocked, bow drawn, and eyes on the target, he achieved the inner quiet that eluded him. In time, through consistent practice, he excelled. His peers considered him eccentric, but he got along with them well enough. To all appearances, he was on a safe, predictable path to success.
By far, his favorite memories of this time are of reading to his youngest brother and sister, or of sitting on the roof with his next youngest sister during the long summer nights and teaching her the constellations, or of lazy afternoons spent reading or making wood carvings in the attic, or of the rare times when everyone was home at once and they were free to talk and laugh and play while he observed contentedly. Still, life would intrude on his peace and quiet in the form of interminable social gatherings, which his parents used to mingle with the upper classes, form business connections, and secure their children's futures. Though outwardly on his best behavior, he would far rather have been at home reading or at least standing in the corner while his mind wandered. No one wanted to talk about anything interesting.
Except for the war, that is. As it dragged on with little word and no sign of an end, the Godslayer was a popular subject. Though he had done them a great service in freeing them from their oppressors and most were supportive of his ambitions, some questioned the wisdom of wiping out the gods altogether, or doubted he could succeed. Aristaios listened keenly to these debates, and though it would have been rude to join in, he certainly had his own thoughts.
For him, the problem was not whether the Godslayer could or should succeed, but that there should have been need for him in the first place. A chaotic, malevolent place, the world seemed, with vile beasts roaming the wilds and, on top of that, constant strife between nations. Gradually, through the contemplation of history and the unfolding of current events, a horrible realization dawned on him. "This world... is mad." Not that it had gone mad. Oh, no. This war was but a manifestation of the disease that had ravaged Terra since the beginning.
Civilization reconstituted itself again and again, born anew from the ashes of war. This proved, at least, that everyone had some notion of right order and common good. If there was a righteous and correct way to live set down in the nature of things, why did people and rulers and kingdoms insist on seizing more than was due them, to the ruin of all? "Mortals are unaccountably foolish." As for the gods... This was the second bitter truth. Intrigues amongst the gods and mortal designs alike wrought tragedy across the face of the earth. Mortals paid for their sins after death, but to whom did the gods answer? If there was a universal order, oughtn't there to be someone to judge the gods? Why was Heaven silent?
Such were the questions that consumed his adolescence. Childlike wonder was eclipsed by melancholy, and peace would only become more elusive.
Act III. Resolution
"What is wisdom? What is truth?"
As his education drew to a close it came time to decide what role he was to play. Like most young men, he appreciated the romance of the soldier, but his teachers advised him, if he must join the military, to aim for one of the more sedentary positions. With his penchant for daydreaming, he seemed ill-suited to a night watch, much less a battlefield. He would have liked to prove them wrong, but that wasn't a righteous motive. He ought to go where he was needed most. Whether through the church or the military, government administration was a way to work toward a better world, one he probably was suited for. And yet...
There were certain questions that couldn't be answered even by the Great Sage's teachings, questions which threatened to render meaningless anything he might accomplish on the path laid out for him. What was truly worth protecting? What did every person want, but the preservation of life, home, property, and family? Were not these the foundational pillars of mortal life? Yet, the universe itself seemed determined to smash them at every turn, through the wrath of nature and the avarice of gods and men. Fragmentary peace hung ever poised on the brink of chaos.
What proof was there of a universal order amid such madness? If the short-sightedness of gods and mortals had no end, if the truth of things was so elusive, and so hard to obey... how could he be sure of his own knowledge? Why should he be an exception? A terrible abyss yawned before him. Suppose these cycles of war and vengeance were part of the very nature of things, like the endless cycles of life and death, or of the seasons? Suppose the ideals for which generations of mortals had fought and died were mere illusions? Suppose there were no truth at all?
This was too horrible to contemplate. But he did not shrink from it. At the height of this crisis, he locked himself in his room and refused to come out until he knew. Hours of agony followed as he balanced all he had ever come to know on the razor's edge of despair. In the end, he found no conclusive answer, but rather decided that he did not want to live in such an insane universe. If there were no truth, it didn't matter what he believed. And he wanted to believe in truth. So, he would demand answers to five central questions: "What is the purpose of mortals in this world? What is the purpose of gods? How are we to live together? What is the source of our foolishness? What is its antidote?"
After three days, he finally emerged, to his family's immense relief, and ate a large meal his mother had prepared for him. Then he pushed back his plate and announced his intention to leave Ukrethia and travel the world in search of wisdom.
It was not received well. In fact, they thought he had finally lost his mind. For all their protestations about the dangers of the world, the comforts he would leave behind, and, most importantly, his duty as a son, he would not be deterred. In the end, he was persuaded to accept a sum of money to take with him, and they had to be content with his promise to return once he was satisfied. Clearly, they expected him home in a few weeks once this foolishness wore off. It hurt him greatly to disappoint them, but turning a blind eye to those central mysteries would pain him still more.
Thus began his endless journey. He would experience the nature of the world firsthand, and ask these questions of every people and culture he encountered, high and low, great and small, renowned or obscure. If possible, he would demand answers of Heaven, too.
Act IV. Flight
"If the greatest of mortals can fall..."
At the height of his bravado, he'd intended to march straight into Aeslengard, the Terra's greatest source of concentrated foolishness, to try and comprehend it. If not for the group of seasoned travelers he happened to meet, he may well have been arrested the moment he set foot on Aeslengardian soil. Despite his best-laid plans to spend his money sparingly, most of it was gone by the time he reached the Ukrethian border. As a matter of fact he'd given most of it away to people he thought were beggars, though anyone remarking on his story suggested they may not have been entirely truthful. Whatever the case, his funds were dwindling, and his courage began to falter. Belatedly, he realized he had no notion of how to earn his living outside of the city.
Thankfully, the itinerant laborers who had set him straight, perhaps feeling pity for one they assumed was a hapless runaway, invited him along as they sought temporary work on farms, orchards and plantations during the harvest season. And so he was given a rather rude introduction to manual labor in the rural areas of Exultius. The scorching sun burnt his fair skin to a crisp, his delicate scholar's hands blistered and cracked, and for once, he needed to sleep nearly every night. In one way, it was awful, but in quite another, it granted him a perspective he would never have gained otherwise. How ignorant he had been, and how attached to his comforts!
Soon he arrived in Falhades, capital of Exultius, paragon of egalitarianism and sanctuary of Avalon's ideals. Here, it was easier to find work that utilized his learning, and he could observe the different races firsthand. Much of this culture he found to his liking, but their taboos of discussion rather undermined the ideal of freedom, he thought. Meanwhile, strange rumors reached the capital from Avalon. The Aerouants sent to deal with the Vile Dragon had abandoned their task. Speculation abounded, but none knew the cause. The Nephilim renewed their assault, and Terra was once again at war.
Then came the fateful decree. "Wipe out the traitors." With it came the news that all who had entered the divine realm were slain. The Godslayer, the liberator, the champion, the one mortal who dared pass judgement on the gods, had abandoned them. Once again, the children of Aerouant were orphaned and alone. A generation gone in an instant. It was too much to comprehend. Stories of those he had not known, but would have in a world at peace, were intrinsically woven into the backdrop of his life. Now it was unraveling. Could there have been no dialogue, no negotiation? They must have acted according to what they believed best for the world, but, to the Godslayer, that was tantamount to the utmost treachery. What had really happened? Would he ever know?
In the initial confusion an Aerouant friend of his, a native who knew the city well, lead him out by a back way. Then he bade Aristaios come with him to Ukrethia. It had been only two years since he left home. What was this but the universe itself laughing in the face of his ambitions? No doubt a dutiful Aerouant would return to be with his people, his family, in their hour of grief. Exultius was no longer safe. Even so, how could he face his family again, with so little to show for his journey? Some as-yet untapped reserve of stubbornness took hold and would not yield, despite his better judgement. So they parted ways, his friend having agreed to convey to his family that he was alive and determined to stay that way.
That resolution was soon to be tested. Escape was imperative, but flying would draw too much attention, and in addition to the ordinary population he had the armies of both Exultius and Aeslengard to avoid. The weeks that followed were the worst of his life. He kept to the wild places, traveling mostly by night, but since he knew little of navigation and could not ask direction, he wandered an erratic course, wasting precious time. He had his bow, but owing to his lack of skill and reluctance to start fires, he often went hungry. Winter was coming on, and he had little protection from the cold. Demand for sleep grew, but he would not shut his eyes for a moment, lest danger strike him unawares. Starving, exhausted, and feverish, he stumbled into a ravine while seeking shelter from a storm and finally lost consciousness.
Act V. Stagnation
"What do I know? What can I do? I'm just one helpless fool..."
Aristaios awoke surrounded by warmth and concerned faces. When he bolted upright in alarm, he was quickly assured that no harm would come to him. He had crossed the border into a small country outside Exultius, and had been taken in by a kindly homesteading family who survived on subsistence farming and trapping game. On account of his health, they wouldn't hear of him leaving before the end of winter. To show his gratitude, he insisted on teaching the children to read and write and on doing his share of the household chores. When he was well enough, he also picked up something of woodcraft from the master of the house. Come spring, he took to the road much better prepared than before. If there was any benefit in his harrowing experience, it was that the normal rigors of travel seemed tame by comparison.
Since Aeslengard and Exultius were closed to him, he followed a slow, meandering course through the minor kingdoms, traveling by land and sea. No one understood his mission when he explained it, but many were intrigued by "the young Aerouant gentleman with the fancy speech". An exchange of information was the typical arrangement. Mostly he was welcomed by the common folk, but he was invited into noble homes as a curiosity or a bearer of news, or, occasionally, as one learned in the wisdom of the Sage. In the small villages, he learned their ways and recorded the sayings of their elders, and in the cities, he associated with people from all walks of life and delved through libraries and archives. To support himself, he took on whatever odd jobs he could find. So he need not fear the road ahead, he learned to start fires, to hunt and prepare wild animals, to recognize danger from fellow travelers, and find his way by the stars. Eventually, his homesickness began to fade, though it would never truly leave him.
He knew hunger, he knew cold, he knew loneliness; and the rhythm of the seasons was like music that sunk into his very bones. Thus he drifted, learning more of the ways of the world with each passing year, but learning, also, that people were everywhere the same. The teachings of Aerouant held true, especially those on the importance of family ties and education in virtue, but the answers to his great questions remained elusive. Gradually a weariness settled on him, not of body, but of spirit. Integrating himself into one community after another only to cut ties and leave again, never to put down roots, was taking its toll. Where once all the world had come to feel like home, now the earth under his feet seemed as welcoming as a frozen sea. His journey had become an exile. Still, he wandered, unable to complete his mission, unable to return home, unable to rest.
At last he found himself in Mutou Kagyou. Disheartened by the cutthroat nature of business there, he set up a school for slum children, where he would keep a low profile for the next fifteen years. By making a concrete difference in the lives of even a few he staved off his sense of appalling helplessness while his journals lay gathering dust. Perhaps, also, there was some unconscious yearning to test his accumulated knowledge through action and experiment. Another crushing blow was dealt by the death of Exultius' beloved prince. Even when he slaughtered the Aerouants, there had been some inkling of reason in the Godslayer's actions. Now it was clear to all that he was no less foolish than the gods he claimed to judge; perhaps more. What hope was there for mortal kind?
Then a letter arrived, from one Princess Solara Evernight, its promise of lasting peace like a shining beacon in the dark. Aristaios knew what he must do. Once again, he would give his all in pursuit of wisdom, if, indeed, there were any to be found.
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WinterFestivity
Shez Emblem!
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by
WinterFestivity
WinterFestivity
Chapter I. Introduction
Nemesis
Chaos Root: Hyreus
Enyo Klymene
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Hyreus
Awakening History & Experiences
Enyo Klymene couldn’t have been born with one, nor has she had the opportunity to acquire one, so she does not possess a Chaos Root.
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Item One
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nulla rhoncus, purus at accumsan viverra, orci lacus varius massa, sit amet volutpat ligula mauris ut orci. Vestibulum in lacus volutpat, mattis mauris nec, laoreet ipsum. Vivamus nec purus tincidunt, eleifend ex sit amet, tincidunt diam. Nunc non auctor mauris. Donec sollicitudin tempor risus viverra rutrum. Etiam interdum ipsum leo, a luctus nibh placerat in. Sed quis fermentum felis. Aliquam porttitor urna sit amet eros viverra eleifend. Nullam non enim dolor.
Item Two
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nulla rhoncus, purus at accumsan viverra, orci lacus varius massa, sit amet volutpat ligula mauris ut orci. Vestibulum in lacus volutpat, mattis mauris nec, laoreet ipsum. Vivamus nec purus tincidunt, eleifend ex sit amet, tincidunt diam. Nunc non auctor mauris. Donec sollicitudin tempor risus viverra rutrum. Etiam interdum ipsum leo, a luctus nibh placerat in. Sed quis fermentum felis. Aliquam porttitor urna sit amet eros viverra eleifend. Nullam non enim dolor.
Item Three
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nulla rhoncus, purus at accumsan viverra, orci lacus varius massa, sit amet volutpat ligula mauris ut orci. Vestibulum in lacus volutpat, mattis mauris nec, laoreet ipsum. Vivamus nec purus tincidunt, eleifend ex sit amet, tincidunt diam. Nunc non auctor mauris. Donec sollicitudin tempor risus viverra rutrum. Etiam interdum ipsum leo, a luctus nibh placerat in. Sed quis fermentum felis. Aliquam porttitor urna sit amet eros viverra eleifend. Nullam non enim dolor.
Chapter III. Background
Backstory Title
Act I. Prelude
Enyo’s direct relations are the heirs to a legacy few are aware of, being the direct descendants of Aerouant the Sage, something which they are highly secretive about due to a desire to avoid the unwarranted attention such thing bring upon them. It was little wonder that they were able to escape the Godslayers betrayal of their entire race, although the event would have profound influence on every aspect of Enyos life from the moment of her birth to the modern day.
The Klymene would silently relocate to Ukrethia, choosing to avoid involvement in the actual affairs of the state beyond their inherent obligations as citizens to the Empire. They took up residence within an estate in the depths of a city named Stathford - although Enyo barely got to know the name - as early on it was decided that all but the highest echelons of the family would be forbidden from leaving the estate except under explicit order by the family head, in order to protect the family as a whole.
Enyo herself was born after this edict was put into place and as such she never knew what she was missing, as she was born into what was essentially a gilded cage.
Act II. Childhood
Her childhood, if nothing else, was fairly consistent, she was raised with an expectation of duty towards all those in the wider world, with it being instilled into her that it’s an imperative that she continue the legacy of her ancestors and spread the wisdom of peace that Aerouant and his kin held so dearly. Other than that, Enyo was raised on heavily traditional ideals, with her being expected to become proficient in a wide variety of skills, such as; Calligraphy, Archery, Martial Arts (Specifically in the use of swords or spears.), and the Musical Arts, particularly with the Flute and Violin.
She found herself becoming quite fond of the more physical aspects of these arts, quickly developing a strong physique and considerable skill at the combat forms, along with considerable precision in most strikes she took, close or ranged. Although, this isn’t to say that she fell behind in her other expectations, or education in general, as she quickly became literate, taking to reading books just as strongly as she took to her physical education.
She was a bright girl, but one for whom every book she read or every session she spent training her physical skills, was left with her mind wandering to the bustling city outside of her family's walls. Enyo had wanted for very little in her time growing up within the walls, but a growing longing to see what lay beyond the set limits upon her was left, however for the time being she opted to submit to the familial head and follow the rules set before her. Even as she read of the wonders of far away places and cities long-gone, even as she would be left longingly looking out at the vast community that surrounded them, ever considering how she might truly help the people of Strathford and beyond.
Act III. Early Life
Enyo’s first true interaction with the outside world would come in the form of a visit from a foreign Prince, one of the first outsiders that Enyo got to properly interact with, whom she’d come to know as “Wilhelm”, the Prince was passing through Strathford and ended up being invited into the Klymene estate once they learned of his presence, the reasoning for which was never fully disclosed to Enyo, not that she particularly cared as she would quickly hit it off with the visiting Prince, the two indulging in conversation late into the night, with her asking endless questions of the wayfaring Prince’s travels through the world.
It would be here that she would first vocalize the beginnings of her desires to truly leave a mark on the world that would continue to benefit it for generations to come, something frustratingly out of reach given her confinement to the walls of the Klymene. It was here that Wilhelm would first take note of her desire to impact the world for the better, which would down the line to him determining her to be of potential importance. Simultaneously it was here that she would, while learning from him of the world beyond the walls, that she would begin to formulate the beginnings of how she’d pursue her ambitions, on her own terms.
He wouldn’t remain in Strathford for long, but the two parted ways after those few days with a desire to meet again, the two having become friends - and pen pals - over their relatively short time together, leaving Enyo with a brewing plan, one that would see her leaving home for the first time in her life.
Act IV. Early Adulthood
Upon entering into her early adulthood Enyo would slowly put into place a plan to, essentially, sneak out from the Klymene estates walls using an upcoming festival as cover, a relatively harmless plan in her head as she’d merely go to join the rest of the city in its festivities before quietly slipping back to her family home. The initial part of this plan would actually go off without much of a hitch as she slipped out in disguise.
There she would indulge in the utterly alien experience of being among those she was entirely unfamiliar with except from a distance and she absolutely adored it, the sheer noise, revelry and excitement of the festival - and people in general - was something she never knew that she missed, and it was at this moment that she knew that escaping her family's safety and traveling the world would be something of the utmost importance to her overall goal, even if it placed herself in danger, learning about the people who inhabit the world, helping them firsthand and discovering things organically. She knew it’d be worth it, but first, she had to put in further preparation for such an unfamiliar undertaking.
Her escape hadn’t gone entirely unnoticed, though, as she’d quickly discover upon returning to the Klymene estate, as apparently several servants vaguely familiar with her opted to spread word back to the main household of the wayward daughter outside of the walls - something forbidden except when given express permission - and as such, she was subjected to punishment, even more binding restrictions, with her disallowed from even carrying out her usual physical training, instead being confined to her room almost entirely.
Still, this only steeled her desire to set out for her own, a full plan that she’d start to put together with haste and would only get the chance to carry out over a year later.
Act V. Adulthood
A year later, long after her punishment had been put aside due to her seemingly abiding by things to the letter since, Enyo would finally see her opportunity to escape with little chance of her being followed, as she’d use the cover of a visit from higher officials in Ukrethia to grab the supplies she’d been preparing - including a weapon - and promptly leave, leaving behind only a letter addressed to her family in general, about how she was sorry to leave without any permission, but if she were to truly follow and carry out her duties she had to leave.
So, she left, refusing to look back as she promptly (and hastily) signed on to work as a guardian for a caravan heading to some other city who-knows-where, by the time that her family discovered her absence she was already long gone with little to indicate where exactly she had went. Enyo quickly took to the life on the road, surprisingly well for one with so little knowledge of the way the world worked on an interpersonal basis, but her polite manners and her undeniable martial skill quickly proved her worth, even as those she traveled with, to the point that she would end up permanently joining with the rest of the guards. She used that as her method of traveling the world, seeing all that she may.
However, it didn’t last particularly long before a peculiar parcel found its way into her hands, addressed to Enyo Klymene. Where she’d learn of her long-missed friend, Wilhem’s, death and the desire for her to join the Ashen Knights in support of his sister. The news came as an undeniable shock to Enyo, but it only steeled her to take action as she’d promptly say her goodbyes to crew that she’d oh-so briefly become acquainted with and set off, taking the chance to carry our her ambition, and at the very least, provide some sort of thanks to the Prince, even if he wasn’t around anymore.
ATurei
The Attic Ghost
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by Aturei
Chapter I. Introduction
Wistful Drifter
Chaos Root: Archon
Iana Ilmarinen
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Archon
Awakening History & Experiences
Nameless are encounters in the wild that go unrecorded. Where events occur without witnesses and evidence deteriorates back to mother earth. In such places, Iana in her wandering has seen many a bizarre thing. And among them, strange creatures and sights stay with her as little more than yarn to spin in taverns among curious strangers, but one, in particular, left a mark on her memory and body.
By a small creek shadowed under great ancient boughs, dozens of leagues from the nearest settlement, Iana once found a very old and injured man of unknown origin. She never learned his name, but knew what he was, for his entire body was clad in armor, and a mask concealed his face. The old man was deeply shaken by her appearance, as though facing a bygone ghost. The name of her people sounded harsh upon his lips, carrying echoes of rue and sorrow. And his reason for being there, full of irony and bitterness: in search of a deserved death. Iana could not comprehend his purpose. Far from his country and people, the Nephilim had ventured deep into enemy land, where he was hunted and gravely wounded. And yet the man refused help, requesting instead to be killed by her hand. She called him a silly old man.
That night when she was asleep, the old man wandered deep into the forest, never to be seen again, leaving behind only his Mark of Nevrys on the back of her hand.
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Etherealite Crossbow
Tier 5 Vile Beast - Hesria
A vile beast with the appearance of a she-bear. When traveling to the abyssal dungeon in search of a precious gem as a gift for his newborn daughter, Iana's father found instead a remarkably clever low level vile beast. He found the beast cute in his peculiar way and brought her home instead. Iana was first allowed to play with the beast on her fourth birthday, and since then they have been inseparable. A grumpy and lazy beast, she sleeps for twelve hours a day and eats away most of Iana's traveling fund when not in the wild hunting.
Though lacking in offensive abilities and mobility, Hesria is a physically strong and sturdy beast, able to withstand blows from creatures above her tier. When hunting strong vile beasts, she often plays the role of bait to lure them out and withstand assaults while Iana takes time to aim her killing shot. However, when in one of her not-so-rare reckless moods, Iana would simply ride on Hesria and go ham instead.
Chapter III. Background
Backstory Title
Act I. Childhood
Iana grew up in a rural village far off from the big cities of Exultius. As is her people’s tradition, her parents, both retired adventures, took care of tamed vile beasts and lived on the land through farming and hunting. As a child, she could never sit still for long, but always dash off into the woods, chasing rabbits and squirrels. Her friends are many among the animals, for she is kind and unthreatening. Though once she was injured by a wild beast, instead of forbidding her from wandering again, her parents took to teaching her combat. For that too is a tradition of her people, ever brave the dangerous world instead of sitting back and cowering.
Act II. Early Life
Growing up she started to take a great liking to the occasional trips to the nearby cities. And then like many youths, she set out along with the merchants to head into the open world. She lived on her skills of hunting and foraging, but soon learned other trades like woodworking and seafaring. She dabbled in many trades, taking apprenticeships in whatever place would take her, and on any convoys to a new place. Gradually she got used to a life on the move, befriending new people, and the occasional retreats from the civilization world. Though she could never find true love, more than once she had been heartbroken, for her ways of life were simply incompatible with most people.
Act III. Adulthood
On one of her many journeys, she encountered the prince, and joined him on his journey, eventually placating both sides of a war. It was then that she found for the first time a purpose larger than her own wants. She could forgo her needs and work for the benefit of the people. And so for a while, her heart was at peace. This was it, she thought, at last, what she needed was not to satisfy all her contradicting desires, but to something so great she could devote herself into. The larger-than-life prince was the symbol of those wonderful ideals, and she developed feelings for him, though she never acted on those, knowing that they both ultimately live in different worlds. And then, as had all her adventures before then, her journey with the prince ended. He returned to the capital and would never leave or see a new day again. The news came devastatingly to her. She found herself wandering once more aimlessly in this big world. Until a sealed letter came.
OverconfidentMagi
Laugh Like You've Won Always
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by OverconfidentMagi
Chapter I. Introduction
Blue Dragon
Chaos Root: Hyreus
Anaias
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Hyreus
Awakening History & Experiences
In an exception to the common rule as a Nephilim child, Anaias was not born inheriting a Chaos Root. This unluck of chance caused her much misfortune, but that time will be covered elsewhere. We skip ahead to after all of that, when she was safe being lost in the wilderness with the gruff old Aerouant that rescued her from her situation. Like her previous captors, he was interested in using her for his own goals. But unlike those before, he was not cruel about it. He traded access to her blood for a promise to do what he could about her missing arms. That would eventually lead to him transferring a Chaos Root into her, taken unwillingly from another Nephilim, which she couldn't have cared less about. Having gone through many experiments involving implanting Chaos Roots into her body in the past, this time like all the other times her body rejected it. Her master forced the bond to hold using the Astral Armament in his possession, a golden dagger with the properties of shaping, bonding, and repairing broken things. Not only did the Chaos Root take hold, it immediately absorbed the armament itself to fulfill Anaias' desire. She gluttonously took his weapon and used its properties to drain the nearby river of its water and shape it around herself to give her the appearance she wished for. Curiously, marks that appear on her body near the golden scar where the Chaos Root was implanted fade immediately the instant they recover. Her master's theory is that all available magic is being funneled into maintaining her initial wish, but he wasn't able to come to any definite conclusions before he had to depart and send the girl away.
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Astral Armament: Kintsugi
Aeslengard Mask
Chapter III. Background
Backstory Title
Act I. Days spent Lying
Anaias comes from a small village hidden beyond Aeslengard. Not as hidden as they'd thought. It no longer exists.
Anaias was unlucky enough to be captured by Aeslengard, resulting in her imprisonment, torture, and experimentation on. But in a reversal of fortune was lucky enough to be rescued when a red dragon attacked and completely destroyed the facility she was kept in. She took advantage of the chaos to escape in the only direction she considered safe: following the dragon when it retreated after its attack. The dragon proved to be another aerouant, which she only discovered after her starved endurance reserves finally ran out and she collapsed, only to wake up to a gruff old man preparing food.
This man, for all his unfriendliness, allowed Anaias to travel with him and even taught her how to defend herself for when he had to go off to places she couldn't go with. She calls him her master, a title he neither approved not discouraged. It's clear as day how strongly she feels about her stern mentor, beaming and blushing at the most meager of praise from him. After travelling together for a long time, he told her he would be leaving on a longer journey and that she should find a place in the world for herself. Anaias only cared for her master, so she begged him to let her help him, even if it wasn't at his side, and after wearing his patience to nothing he finally told her of a person he thought held great promise, and asked Anaias to help that person. Solara Evernight.
It makes for a good story, even containing bits of the truth, as all good lies should. Now, for the truth.
Act II. Days spent in Bliss
Anaias, born Sephira Anael, as with the overwhelming majority of Nephilim, hails from Aeslengard. Knowing nothing but her own blessed way of life, she had a perfectly normal, perfectly happy childhood there. She was happy to serve her gods, happy to wear her mask, happy to hate the unclean outsiders, and after her eighth birthday came and went, she was happy to go with the masked men that arrived to escort her away. Because nothing unhappy happens to the blessed within Aeslengard.
Act III. Days spent in Pain
But she was not one of the blessed. She was defective, having failed to inherit a Chaos Root, and therefor must be unclean herself. She didn't understand it. She hadn't done anything wrong, not in all her life. She'd done everything right!
It's hard to know exactly what Anaias experienced after being taken away. Even when truthfully retelling her story thus far, there are things she refuses to speak of. Things that only escape her lips as pitiful echoes rising up from the depths of her frequent nightmares, that not even the most spiteful soul would dare press her to recall once awake. Those things are finally receding into her past, and she survived, though she'd call it more of failing to die, those long five years during which she experienced a living hell. But even as she tries to forget everything she was put through, her body will always remember. Remember how her arms burned and destroyed themselves from the inside and needed to be amputated before her entire body was torn apart, remember how she screamed so loud and often that her body got used to it and her throat began to heal itself back to that damaged state, remember that the first thing Aeslengard does to defective Nephilim is ensure they can never produce more unclean offspring. Anaias' scars remind her of many unpleasant things, but one scar is different: a thin golden scar centered just below her chest. That one is different.
Act IV. Days spent Free
Without prelude or warning, the facility she was being held in was completely destroyed. A red dragon of incredible size simply tore and melted its way inside, looking for something, slaughtering everyone and everything that tried to stop it, and after presumably finding what it sought, simply leaving as unceremoniously as it had appeared. The sudden chaos and destruction just happened to free Anaias, and as in her fake story she fled following the dragon's path. A young girl, lacking in proper clothing besides a thin medical sheet, footwear of any kind, stamina from not seeing the world outside her holding cell or labs for experiments for years, not to mention the difficulty of giving chase while lacking two limbs important for balance, she of course soon collapsed trying to give chase after the retreating dragon's shadow. And when she awoke, she was somewhere unknown, far from where she'd fallen, with a man sternly looking down at her. He'd prepared food for her, and that was the extent of his kindness. He watched in stony silence as she struggled to get the food to her mouth. That set the standard for the time they would spent traveling together, her and the dragon-man that had never meant to save her. He was not kind, offered no warm words or help, he simply tolerated her presence with constant indifference. He only ever brought up her failings when it inconvenienced him, such as when he climbed a cliff and it took Anaias multiple days of of failing to make any progress before somehow managing to drag herself up, her blood, sweat, tears, and spit marking her struggle to get to where he'd reached effortlessly. He was not happy to be forced to wait, not that he'd been obligated to or indicated any intention to wait for her.
It was simply for his own convenience that he did what years of torturous experimentation hadn't managed to and gave Anaias a Chaos Root. He needed Nephilim blood for his experiments, but unlike her previous captors, he didn't care to take it from her unwillingly. He offered a trade: her blood for his experiments in return for his efforts to restore her missing arms. He had an idea to use his Astral Armament to accomplish such a miracle, but the arms he created for her failed to respond to her movement, so his next experiment was to implant her with a Chaos Root so she could move the arms using mana. Hunting down a Nephilim to rip a Chaos Root from was trivial, but getting the girl's body to accept it much less so. He ended up having to use his Astral Armament throughout the process to force the bond to take, only for the girl to sacrifice the thing, a tool of immeasurable value, the instant the root bonded in order to fulfill her wish. Well, what's gone is gone, and she'd made her new arms for herself. There was an odd side-effect that seems to make her unable to cast any other magic despite now having a Chaos Root, an odd phenomena he spent many months studying, but regardless he'd fulfilled his side of the promise.
After traveling with her master for a few years, Anaias had gotten used to him leaving her for stretches of time, sometimes many weeks. He simply told her he would be gone for a while and disappeared to parts unknown, leaving her to fend for herself until he reappeared wherever she happened to be later. The first few times she was left alone Anaias struggled considerably. She was terrified of being alone, that her master had abandoned her and would never come back for her, just as her family had abandoned her so easily, but she soon lacked the time for such trivial thoughts as, on top of having to provide for herself while alone, she also came under constant attack from all of the monsters that her Nephilim blood attracted in droves, monsters her master's presence usually kept far away or that he thought an annoyance and delt with before she was even aware. She quickly got used to surviving on her own though, and each time her master returned she was able to simply greet him with a smile or unreturned hug.
Act V. Days spent Apart
He wrote a short and impolite letter and sent it alongside his ward off to find the princess.
Dear spoiled brat,
My response to your once in a human lifetime offer is as follows: No, I'm busy. Deal with your dear old daddy issues yourself. I assume it was your brother that told you how to contact me? A shame about him, he wasn't terrible. Considered making a detour for the funeral. Didn't bother. If you follow in his footsteps I might attend yours instead. Should be lively. As I said, I'm busy with other things at the moment. A strange kind of monster decided to eat my weapon, so I've got to go find another. Ask me again after that and I might reconsider. Anyway, the girl I've sent with this letter is my apprentice or something. I don't feel like babysitting her anymore, so she's your problem now. Don't worry, I told her to listen to you, so just use her however you want. And good luck with that whole god-killer-killing thing.
Later,
-Nidhoc
-Nidhoc
TheRealAngeloftheStorm
Beyond the Red Gate
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by TheRealAngeloftheStorm
Chapter I. Introduction
The Hammer
Chaos Root: Hyreus
Lothair Martell
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Hyreus
Awakening History & Experiences
Lothair is one of the men who lost life’s proverbial coinflip at his conception. Born without a Chaos Root, he simply went the other way and trained his skill at arms - particularly with the greatsword and bow. Mounted warfare as well, befitting his own preferences and his lifestyle as a drifter. And for the majority of his life, this served him well in his wanderings.
Until his Azelthyrian sister-at-arms died and charged him with returning her Chaos Root to her sister.
Now he bears her Root, and while it has granted him her strength - now made his, even temporarily - how it came into his possession leaves a very bitter taste in his mouth, and he longs for the day he can divest himself of it.
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Ainstoldir
House Martell’s sole remaining heirloom after its fall ended with even it’s famed spear, Ruilt, carried off by House Martell’s enemies, Ainstoldir is a greatsword with history stretching back to the Third Divine Conflict. While it has no real properties beyond its rugged make, the centuries it has seen has made it one of House Martell’s most prized possessions, boasting a history that few weapons can match. With each enemy slain as Lothair continues his journey, he pens a new page for Ainstoldir’s story.
Kryiothios
A bow of indeterminate make, originally used by Elenuta Kryiothios as a supplement to her brother’s swordplay and her own. Much like her Chaos Root, Elenuta passed this on to Lothair on her deathbed. Unlike her Chaos Root, she bequeathed it in full to her brother, with the implicit agreement that this would be something to remember her by, and he would carve his name into history with sword and bow in accord.
Worn Plate Armor
More fitting for a middling knight than nobility, the wear and tear of Lothair’s armor tells many a story of his travels. Unlike Ainstoldir, it is not an heirloom of House Martell: rather, it is a scavenged suit of armor from the House’s armories from its fall, kept in formerly pristine condition even as the Martells degenerated into countryside barons. It was a promise to the ailing House that one day, they would have bannermen wearing this armor once again, raising their swords up high in honor of the Martells.
Alas, history has already cast its judgment.
Chapter III. Background
The Last Martell
Act I. The Fall
Tracing their lineage to Baldwin I Martell, a knight granted land as the Third Divine Conflict petered out, House Martell boasted a long and storied history under the purview of Exultius and its conflict with Aeslengard. Throughout most of its existence, it made a name for itself as a militarily minded dynasty, with many of Baldwin’s descendants becoming knights in service to the throne of Exultius. It was one of the Houses that raised its banner in support of the Godslayer, and fought with him on the mortal plane before he went into the heavens to excise it of the cancer that was the gods. But even before this, some Martells rose to heights beyond the rest, and they would leverage this fame to gather more power for the dynasty.
But a star can only rise so far above before its inevitable fall, and House Martell was no different. Mismanagement of resources, inability to adapt to the politicking of other Houses, and a particularly unfortunate case of disease wiping out the cadet branch and a significant number of the main branch all contributed to House Martell’s downfall in the aftermath of the Fourth Divine Conflict, where an alliance of other Houses plotted and executed House Martell’s annihilation as a political entity. The lands granted to Baldwin and his descendants were divvied up between the participants, along with the wealth and treasures it had accumulated over the centuries. The last living Martell of the main line, Baldwin XIV, and his family were effectively exiled to the edges of Exultius to live with what little they had left, never to regain their lost glory.
Act II. Life and Death
Lothair would grow up only one step removed from being a peasant, constantly surrounded by House Martell’s past glories. From old plate armor with the golden cross and moon etched on it, Ainstoldir hanging over the fireplace, a tattered banner of the house, stories told to him by his father and older brother - Lothair would always be reminded of what the Martells had been.
But unlike his father Baldwin and brother Carloman, Lothair held very little interest in reclaiming what his grandfather had lost. Trapped in a prison of the past, Lothair yearned to be free of the chains that bound his father and brother. Why bother trying to crawl back into relevancy in an empire that loathed them? Was there not a whole world out there beyond the confines of Exultius? This was the dream that captivated Lothair, and what drove him to seek training in the art of the sword from his father and brother. Regardless of his true desire, Baldwin and Carloman drilled him relentlessly with the hope that Lothair would be able to protect himself from the dangers that lurked beyond their lonely countryside manor. It was not merely the art of the sword that they trained him in, however; survival skills, riding horses and mounted warfare among others were added to his repertoire. Even without a Chaos Root like Carloman, he still showed impressive skill.
But disease is not something no sword can cut down, not something a horse can trample under its hooves. Just as it had claimed the lives of his great-grandfather, the looming specter of disease would strike again. It was only through a stroke of luck that Lothair was away when the plague swept the countryside, finally snuffing out the fire and spirit of reclamation in Baldwin and Carloman’s hearts - and with it, House Martell. His mother would cling on just long enough to see her son off, urging him to chase his dreams and not feel burdened by the dream that his father and brother left behind.
And with that, Lothair left the place of his birth after laying his mother to rest, intent on seeing what the world had to offer.
Act III. The Hammer
With his home wiped out and left with nothing but the last pieces of House Martell’s history - that old suit of plate armor meant for a bannerman and Ainstoldir - Lothair set out with his trusty steed in tow at the tender age of 22, riding forth into the beyond.
Having cast off any lingering doubts about loyalty to his homeland, Lothair decided that he would not be bound to any of the nations on Paymonia. He would never raise his sword in defense of the thrones of the continent’s major powers. His one true burning desire was to go forth into the beyond, a place that he had thought unreachable - now, Lothair was ready and to bask in the glory of the world. And so he did; no amount of coin glimmering in his eyes could shackle him to the desperate and conniving nobles of the frontiers. The promise of a restoration, too, did very little to sway him, thoroughly disillusioned with the petty bickering of the ones in power. His grandfather’s fall had soured him on the idea of giving up this freedom, tantalizing and sweet and all-consuming, just to bend the knee to a ruler that was slipping further and further from the path he had set.
Of course, even with the dream in his heart, he would not - could not - abandon those in need. Perhaps it was the final lesson that Baldwin and Carloman had hammered into him, or his nature. Nevertheless, he wielded Ainstoldir in defense of the innocent, the downtrodden and trampled. Over the course of his exodus from Exultius and into the lands beyond, he wiped out many a bandit group preying on isolated villages. And it was not only bandits; Vile Beasts were felled in pitched battles, petty nobles were forced to repent for their crimes against their own subjects, and more.
For this, he extracted little compensation beyond the supplies he needed for his endless journey. But the people would not forget this man who had come to them in their hour of need. Across many villages, a tale began to form - justice riding on a steed, clad in armor and hefting a mighty sword that would strike down the wicked and smite the Vile Beasts. Soon, it was self-propagating, and he would come to be known as ‘the Hammer’.
Act IV. Siblings
The newly christened Hammer continued his journeys. He learned much in his journeys, and despite lacking a Chaos Root, garnered a healthy respect for his martial prowess by those who he faced - either ones who sought him out for a challenge, or those who recognized his sobriquet. Caring little for anonymity as he rode across the continent, it was only a matter of time before he came across a kindred soul - an Azelthyrian, armed with a bow and empowered by a Chaos Root. Her name was Elenuta Krykiothios, and much like him, she had taken flight from her nest to see the wonders of the world.
Their meeting was auspicious. Meeting under the moonlight, they brandished their weapons in defense of a small town against raiders. They did not know each other at the time, but they fought them off with a speed and ferocity that neither of the pair expected. With blade and bow in lockstep, Lothair and Elenuta proved to each other they were a good match. In the immediate aftermath of this, they would bond, sharing their own desires in seeing the world.
Struck by the similarities between them, it was the latter who proposed a partnership - they would see what Paymonia had, together. It was temporary, of course. The Azelthyrian would surely outlive Lothair by dint of her race’s lifespan, and her Chaos Root combined with her blood made her far more potent than her partner in battle. But Lothair agreed nonetheless, clasping her hand firmly in agreement.
As they traveled together, they grew closer. They were not lovers, but rather like siblings - both of them easily unwinding in the other’s presence and needling the other as siblings do. But they shared tender moments together, reflecting on Lothair’s advancing age and Elenuta’s family, among other things. They swore an oath - the other was no longer a friend, and most certainly not a lover, but family to be cherished and loved. Elenuta swore that they would visit each others’ homes - that lonely countryside manor and the graves, and the small village that Elenuta had called home.
Act V. The Promise
Alas, the vicissitudes of life were unpredictable.
Tragedy would strike as the two made their preparations to leave Paymonia. Struck down by a particularly powerful Vile Beast, Lothair could do little to match it without a Chaos Root. Even Elenuta, powerful as she was, struggled in the ensuing battle. The Beast was felled. But in doing so, Elenuta suffered a mortal wound. In spite of the belief that she would outlive her brother, Elenuta would now see the specter of death looming over her instead.
Even though she knew that Lothair would absolutely see it though, Elenuta steeled herself before asking anything of him. The idea that she would force her brother, already beginning to approach the dusk of his prime, to march all the way across Paymonia to deliver on the promise broke her heart. Their shared desire to cross the sea into Kyohen would now be a weight he had to carry on his lonesome. Elenuta hoped that he would be able to do so, after it was done.
On her deathbed, she bequeathed her bow to Lothair, charging him to not let it rot as a decoration piece, before giving him his task - take her Chaos Root, and return it to her sister. She beseeched him, telling him that it was time for him to visit his newfound family - even if it was for such a dire occasion. Holding his hand tightly, Elenuta apologized for burdening him with his task. And with her last breath, she passed on her Chaos Root to Lothair.
After the tears had dried and bitterly remarking that once again, forces beyond his control had taken his family away from him, Lothair buried his sister quietly. With a grim determination, he rode into the darkness, intent on fulfilling his sister’s last wish.
Yuka
Please save me from programming
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by Yuka
Chapter I. Introduction
The Unfathomable Swordsman.
Chaos Root: Hyreus
Sogo Matsuyama
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Hyreus
Awakening History & Experiences
At the time of his birth, the mark was already engraved into his body. A mark that has an uncanny resemblance to the First Sword Saint, Arthurus. At a young age, Sogo learned all of the Bushin-ryu techniques that required a Chaos Root to pull off, since the sword style can only be brought to its full potential when an individual possesses a Chaos Root. After assisting numerous people in fighting against monsters, he realized how powerful and devastating the techniques of the Bushin-ryu are if they're used in a conjunction with his Chaos Root. Therefore Sogo vowed to only use it whenever the situation calls for it, as a result, he rarely activates his Chaos root.
Currently, Sogo has about five marks in his Chaos Root.
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Tenmetsu; 天滅 - All-slaying Heaven
It was the sword of Miyuki Matsuyama, the current head of the clan as well as the father of Sogo. The sword was forged by Sogo’s grandfather as he was a talented blacksmith in the past, however, after the trauma that Miyuki went through, he decided to pass it to his son since he believes that he’s a much more suitable wielder than himself. Now, it’s currently in the possession of Sogo ever since he embarked on his journey to earn money for his clan, and is his trustworthy partner. Sogo cleans the blade during his free time to keep it in a pristine condition, he can’t afford to break it since it's his only remembrance of his father.
It has a solid hilt with a samegawa wrapped around it. The crossguard is in the shape of an annular flower, with the sides being dark gold but the edge being normal gold. A saw hamon pattern adorns the sides of this blade in a shining dark gray, characterized by its soft curvature and gentle, wave-like profile, though it is equally as dark as the black bo-hi. It has a traditional wooden sheath and the brass utilized within the piece is well-balanced and polished to a mirror-like shine. The blade itself is deep, deep black and can endure even the strongest of attacks, making it quite effective in blocking and deflecting incoming physical or magical attacks. Not only is it quite durable, but it is also incredibly sharp, it is sharp enough to cut through incredibly durable materials and cleanly cut or pierce through flesh.
If an experienced or seasoned swordsman were to take a look at this sword, it is undoubtedly a first-rate sword due to its majestic appearance and its flawless quality.
Lucky Charm
It is a lucky charm given by his mother. It has the clan’s crest on it and a message where it says “May the Heavens protect you from any harm.” Sogo always makes sure he has this charm with him at all times since he feels safe with it. It is also his only remembrance of his mother.
Chapter III. Background
The Child of Hope.
Act I. Birth
By the time Sogo came to the world of Terra, his parents were delighted and so were the members of his clan as an auspicious joy showered them. They were blessed by the heavens that a Chaos Root bearer finally appeared in the clan for the first time since the Second Divine Conflict. Everyone had high expectations for the newborn child simply because of the sheer potential he possesses, believing that he will bring prosperity to the clan.
His parents were overwhelmed with joy as well, believing that their son will lead the clan to the right path in the future. They believe that he will fix the clan’s mistakes and restore their honor; it is the only way for them to redeem themselves once again in their hometown. After all, the Matsuyama clan were once the protectors of MKC, where numerous nobles hired them to safeguard the city and acted as an enforcer to the public. Not only that, they were known for their impeccable swordsmanship and the numerous feats they achieved in the Second Divine Conflict, as they played a major role in fighting against Tythos.
But that’s all in the past as they’re now a fallen clan that is on the brink of bankruptcy, suffering from debt and such. However, now that Sogo has arrived, they finally have a ray of hope shining upon them and they will continue to cling to that hope, even if it may be small.
Act II. Childhood
At a young age, he became the heir apparent of the Matsuyama Clan and his father taught him various things. Such as the clan’s history, the clan’s legacy, and the clan’s code of conduct. It was around this time that he discovered Sogo’s immense potential for swordsmanship and decided to teach him the way of the sword. The boy also has a strong heart and an undaunted spirit, his father believes that his son will be able to properly master the Bushin-ryu techniques of their clan. Not only did Sogo learn about the art of fighting, but also household chores as his mother wanted him to become an independent person. They didn’t want Sogo to turn out like the rest of their ancestors as he is the last bastion of the clan, they wanted to raise him right.
He developed three hobbies that were influenced by his mother, which are gardening, cooking, and wood carving. His mother was a skilled sculptor and held her in high regard as he became very passionate whenever it came to wood carving. Sogo often assisted his mother whenever she’s cooking, since she’s doing most of the cooking as none of the female members in the clan knows how to cook. It almost seemed as if they had no talent for it. Everyone in the clan idolized and adored Sogo for how hardworking he is, always helping out his relatives and teaching them how to be much more helpful to contribute to the clan.
Even if they were useless or worthless, the clan head never disowned them nor abandoned them. A clan head should never leave their kin behind, that is the number one rule that’s stated in the clan’s principles. And Sogo’s father was very devoted to those principles and dedicated himself to them to restore his clan to its golden ages, but he’s passing that responsibility to Sogo once he becomes an adult since he believes that he’s a much more suitable fit.
At the age of sixteen, Sogo had mastered every single technique of Bushin-ryu and he was worthy of the title “Sword Saint” that was being passed down in their clan. The title is only given to those who possess the highest level of skill in swordsmanship in the clan and that title was left untouched since the Second Divine Conflict, but with the arrival of Sogo, he dethroned his predecessor. Not only was he awarded by his father for the title, but he also became quite popular in MKC and many people have hired him as a bodyguard. Because of Sogo’s reputation, the honor of the Matsuyama clan was slowly being restored and they were slowly earning money as well.
Act III. Adulthood
However, at the age of eighteen, Sogo was then hired by a foreigner, or rather, a Paymonian native from Exultius. Where he offered a huge sum of money to him, which Sogo believed was way too much, but the money would be a lot of help since he would be able to send his cousins to school and pay their debts as well. The only downside was that he would be venturing into the vast lands of Paymonia and leaving his clan behind, his job was to simply escort the Paymonian native till he arrived in Exultius. He was conflicted, therefore he asked the guy to give him a day to decide whether he should take it or not.
That night, they had a clan meeting and discussed whether they should let Sogo go or not. Most of the clan members didn’t want him to leave, but it wasn’t decided on a majority vote, it was decided by the clan head himself. Miyuki was unsure about it as well, he didn’t want his son to just leave the city just yet, while he knows how powerful Sogo may be, he knows that he doesn’t have the experience to fight against monsters just yet. Then again, this is also a golden opportunity for Sogo, where he might be able to unlock his full potential as a swordsman as staying in this city would only hold his abilities back.
Therefore, Miyuki decided to let Sogo take the job, which led everyone in his clan to a shock, even Sogo himself. It led to a fierce argument with the clan, but ultimately, everyone accepted it since it was for the sake of Sogo, and the clan.
Next day came and Sogo was at the MKC’s gate. A lot of people came to say their goodbyes since he was mostly acquainted with everyone in the city. While his cousins were quite frustrated and depressed that Sogo is leaving, they tried their best to hold their tears back but it wasn’t long before they started bawling. Which caused a chain reaction as his other clan members started crying as well, this made the atmosphere quite emotional as eventually Sogo and his parents started crying as well. Miyuki gave his sword to Sogo, believing that his son will make good use of it and protect him from danger. Yukina, Sogo’s mother, gave a lucky charm that she made for Sogo. With these two items, Sogo made sure to keep them safe no matter what and will cling to them even til death.
Act IV. Journey
At the start of his journey to Exultius, it first started quite slow as there were barely any ambushes by monsters or bandits. However for Sogo, he was experiencing a whole new thing since what he’s seen outside is a first for him, therefore he’s very ecstatic about the situation right now. Even the man was relaxed around him due to how calm and carefree Sogo can be, but there was just an odd aura that Sogo emitted that allowed the man to be at ease. They both got along really well and exchanged their stories and such since this trip will be quite a long ride after all therefore they took this opportunity to know more about each other.
Sogo learned that the man was one of the executives in Exultius, he visited MKC to see how it's been doing since it's under Exultius and he needed to examine if there is anything that needs to be maintained or such. But there was barely any crime there, the man assumed it was because of Sogo’s presence that terrified the criminals that prevented them from doing anything. But now that Sogo is gone, who knows what the state of MKC is right now? However, he didn’t really pay attention to that nor brought it up to Sogo since it might complicate things for both him and Sogo.
Halfway to the kingdom, they were soon ambushed by a group of goblins as they passed by the forest for a shortcut. Sogo promptly goes into a combat stance and draws his sword out, though while he’s able to gauge the strength between them, he struggles to make the first move. And this forced him to stay in a defensive position as he continuously parried every strike that the goblins made. The man ordered him to slay them right away as they were mere weaklings, but their sheer numbers intimidated Sogo. The man was disappointed at his escort, believing that his money was a waste, and thought that he was scammed. He thought that Sogo would be an invaluable escort, but he was wrong…. or so he thought.
Sogo conquered his fear right away and dispelled the intimidation with his resolve. Instead of thinking of the consequences, he just cleared his mind and listened to his instincts. Therefore he has let his body take full control and swiftly beheads three goblins in just a single slash, a quickdraw technique that reminisces the iaijutsu in our world. From that single action alone, it stunned both the man and the horde, though the goblins didn’t back off and continued to attack him as a group, swarming the cart with arrows. The swordsman easily repelled every single one of them and immediately dashed to the archers, slaying them one by one in quick succession. His speed and technique were incredible, so much so that it impressed the man, almost as if he thought Sogo was a seasoned knight.
Eventually, he dealt with the horde by himself and earned XP for the first time. Even without the use of Chaos Root, his sheer skill and technique in swordsmanship made up for it. From what the man had witnessed, he took back what he stated earlier and knew that his hunch was right, the swordsman was unlike any other as he possesses the skills of a master swordsman at a young age. From there, it was smooth sailing to their destination as they eventually arrived in the Kingdom of Exultius, the man apologized to Sogo doubting his capabilities, and offered his utmost gratitude as well. He even gave him a handsome tip, which was enough to keep Sogo alive for at least three months in Exultius. Now that he’s in a different kingdom, he wanted to try a lot of things, so he decided to take this opportunity to experience new things here.
Act V. Present
After a year, Sogo has earned numerous feats throughout the lands of Paymonia, he has assisted numerous people in fighting against monsters in the dungeons. He was referred to by a lot of people and was hired mostly everywhere, using his incredible swordplay to overwhelm his enemies. Furthermore, he earned the title of “The Unfathomable Swordsman” for pulling off an impossible feat by buying some time for his group to escape while fighting against a horde of monsters that were a mix of tier 5 and 6. It was a hard and bloody battle, a battle that he shouldn’t have survived but with his incredible resilience and tenacity, as well as his supreme skill and technique in swordsmanship. He was able to persevere and make it out alive, thus earning that title for his self-sacrifice and undaunted spirit.
The rumors spread like a wildfire, scattering throughout the vast lands of Paymonia as he became a hot topic in Exultius, making him quite famous there. However, he was not only limited to Exultius as his service also extended to the other two Kingdoms, Aeslengard and Ukrethia. In just a year, he earned himself a moniker and has garnered enough attention as well. He will continue to reenact the feats that his clan has pulled off in the past to bring prosperity and restore the honor of his clan.
Now, he’s currently residing in Exultius since all of the money he has earned from his jobs is stored here. However, his main reason for residing in Exultius is to gather information about the Godslayer to know more about his abilities and weaknesses. After all, he needs to make sure that he has been punished for the deeds he has done to his clan, even though he knows that the gap of strength between them is in another league. Nevertheless, he will continue to persevere till he finds an opportunity to defeat him for good.
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Sharatayn
Aries Star / Yatagarasu
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by Sharatayn
Chapter I. Introduction
Reaper's Successor
Chaos Root: Archon
Helena Zeresveil
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Archon
Awakening History & Experiences
It was an expected occurrence. As his strength would only keep waning in the days to come, the date of the transference was decided upon, perhaps a bit earlier than he would have liked. Despite any apprehensiveness he still held, it took place in the middle of an unassuming autumn night, a gift from a master to his pupil, from an uncle to his niece. Just like he had passed on his expertise, his knowledge, and his weapon, he had now given her everything he once was.
The mark appeared that same night, not long after he had gone to sleep, weakened as he was from the new emptiness. Out in the fields, beneath the twilight, she stared at the back of her hand, running a finger over the colored skin, over and over, until dawn broke beyond the horizon.
For the rest of the time he had left, he instructed her on how to properly utilize the chaos root's power. How to feel it, how to convert it, and how to apply it to the Scythe he had spent years teaching her how to use. While her class was widely different from his, he was still able to give her some last guiding maxims, a bit of help in the path she would have to pave on her own.
That would be his wish for her. A path of her own, that only she could travel.
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Cersen | Blade of Promises
A large Scythe, utilized first by Atol Corelas, and passed on to Helena once she became able to wield it properly. The long Hickory handle is 2 meters long, perhaps even longer if one takes the curve into consideration, and the silvery metal blade is 100 centimeters long, curving downwards from where it is attached to the handle. There are no special markings or unique identifiers on it, save for a simple 'x' carved onto the blade. Surprisingly, the wood and metal it is made out of are both quite resilient, even though they seem to be common materials.
When ignited with Root energy, any momentum applied to it is multiplicatively supplemented, easily delivering strikes that would take much more force to realistically create.
Sword of Veil
An odd 76 centimeter long sword, kept hidden in the deepest parts of the isolated house she was raised in, alongside a note. She was only told of its existence soon before her uncle's passing, and when she found it, most of the note had already been corroded by time. What little she could decipher let her know it used to be her father's favored weapon. However, no matter how much she's tried, she could never unsheathe it further than 6 centimeters, just enough to see the red metal and a crystal of unknown origin embedded upon its surface. Infusing Chaos Root energy onto it only makes the crystal glow dimly, so it has been kept inside her rucksack, waiting for the day she can figure out how to use it properly.
It's not like it could be such an important item if it was hidden for so long, right?
Chapter III. Background
Of the past
First | Of Zeres & Veil
Gina Zeres, the Bestiard, and Arthur Veil, the Human, found comfort in each other. They were not prestigious, they were not influential, and they were certainly not important to any outside of their small circle. Perhaps it was this lack of presence that allowed them to vanish into thin air after their daughter was born, leaving behind a name, a sword, and a note for her, and nothing more. Helena was to be left with one of their acquaintances, who would raise her, telling her nothing about them. What was the reason for this? She would have to one day locate them to find out, if they were even alive anymore...
However, for some lucky few, the names of Zeres and Veil hold a completely different meaning. As the authors of a series of Encyclopedic tomes titled "The Akashic Records", their work had circulated around the oddest of places. Most thought them to be some sort of pen name for a highly respected erudite, perhaps even Aerouant the Sage himself!...of course, those notions were all wrong, a simple unknown couple the ones behind the rare copies. The contents of each tome varied greatly, and could benefit just about any walk of life. From herbs to metallurgy, from high society to commerce, from chemistry to language studies. If a topic made its way onto Gina and Arthur's ears, it would be researched, and then promptly included into one of the tomes, seemingly at random. It wasn't rare to see both a common thief and a magnate of commerce to desire the same volume, but with how limited each one's print numbers were, even just hearing about them was considered a good fortune, let alone owning one (or even multiple) volumes.
Second | Of the Reaper
Atol Corelas was a Human and a natural Vanguard, whose close-range combat style earned him the moniker of 'Reaper', mainly due to the Scythe with which he would reap life as swiftly as one would reap wheat. In youth, his talent and apparent power led to him gaining an ego, believing himself to be much stronger than he really was. This would carry on until the day of his first live combat experience, in which an avoidable mistake cost the lives of his companions, and almost his own as well. The sole reason he lived the confrontation against the Vile Beast was the interference of a traveling Bestiard warrior, who could still only just fend the creature off enough for the two of them to escape. While the beast was later hunted down by an appropriate force, and the warrior returned Atol to his residence, he would soon find the youth following after him, ready to dedicate his life to his savior.
So did Atol's life became entangled with the Zeres family. Thanks to his talent, he quickly grew strong enough to be considered an asset, and was put to work as the family's protector. When Gina Zeres was born, Atol was assigned as her personal guard, to keep her from all harm that could befall her. Like that, he saw the daughter of the man he had sworn his life to grow up, just as his savior grew old and passed away. When she met a Human around her age, in her father's stead, Atol tested him, to see if he was qualified to be Gina's new protector. And as the two left to explore Paymonia by their lonesome, Atol believed himself obsolete, settling down at the outskirts of Exultius, letting the last living Zeres enjoy her life of discovery and adventure alongside her husband.
One day, right after his daily training session, he saw the two approach his locale, and at first was overjoyed. He welcomed the two (three?) inside, and brewed some tea for them, expecting to be regaled with tales of adventures and remarks of their feats. Soon, his excitement became confussion, however. Gina and Arthur were not there to visit Atol, but to ask something of him; to raise their daughter in their stead, and to never tell her anything of them. All they would leave her would be a name, a letter, and Arthur's sword, for when she was ready. He wanted to dissuade them, of course. To offer them to stay alongside her, with him. But he knew that no matter what, he could never win over Gina's desires. And so he agreed, one last duty to fulfill, as the sworn protector of the Zeres family. Helena Zeresveil would be his last ward, and he would give her his everything. So swore Atol Corelas once her parents departed, never to be seen by him again.
Throughout the years, he taught her and trained her. It was a bit tiring, as he had only seen most of the process from the sidelines, when acting as Gina's protector, rather than being the one doing the work. But he still did quite well, making him question if he should have been a father when he had the chance to. Still, above all, he wanted the child to be sure that she had real parents, somewhere. And while he promised not to tell her anything about them, he could still simply call himself her Uncle, letting her draw conclusions of her own. That, and wish for her to never make the same mistakes he had made.
Third | Of a Wanderer
On the same year Helena turned 15, during a calm Spring night, a wanderer approached the home that Atol and Helena shared. Before the break of dawn, Atol happened upon the visitor while making his rounds, collapsed on the road leading towards the water well. Calling for the girl to prepare a clean surface, he moved the woman carefully, finding her body covered in wounds. For the next few hours, meticulously, methodically, they began caring for her; cleaning the cuts, disinfecting and covering up the burns, and even attempting to stitch a particularly long gash. Throughout the process, the wanderer introduced herself as Anastasia Amber, 'just a rootless nomad who got unlucky', and told them how she was ambushed by a particularly strong monster. While not at the level of a beast, it was still too much for her, and she barely (if it could even be considered as such) managed to escape.
As dusk crept from below the horizon, something was clearly wrong with the woman. Her thoughts became less coherent, repeating events she had already recounted, and even recalling nonsensical events. Her sight had clouded over, and now she didn't look away from a particular spot on the roof, right above the makeshift cot they had laid her on. Soon, it got to be too much for Helena, who hadn't faced death so clearly before in her entire life. Against better judgement, she ran out of the room, leaving Atol alone with the dying woman. According to him, she didn't blame the young one, and with some last lucidity sparks, tried to get an apology delivered through her uncle.
By the following week's end, Anastasia was buried next to a willow tree, close to the house. The blood of the beast that had extinguished her life was poured on the grave by Atol, and every year after, Helena would make a short visit in order to ensure the marker they had carved her name on was still standing.
Act I. | Zeresveil
For most of her life, Helena had only known three things. The house she lived in, surrounded by green fields and occasional trees. Her uncle's clumsy lessons, in all the subjects he thought would be important for her to learn. And his ruthless training regimen, ensuring that she did not put her natural strength to waste. She was raised by Atol in his lonesome, no hide nor hair of her parents, no matter where she looked. Although, short of when the topics came up during the lessons she was given, she had no real attachment to them; after all, she had never seen them, not once in her life.
Every day, Atol would instruct her in a different discipline related to combat. At first, she simply trained her body (which, as a Bestiard, even a halfling, could exert incredible force.) But simple pure strength would do her no good, and so she was instructed in all of the techniques her uncle utilized. Using a Scythe for combat required quite a specific set of movements, not to mention control over the unwieldy weapon. Day after day, for months at a time, and then years, he would hammer in all of the things he had learned in his long life as the 'Reaper'. How to keep your balance while swinging, the right way to apply force to the handle, and how close one had to be to be able to use the edge on its inwards blade. Avoiding what could be avoided, blocking what could be blocked, and ignoring what could be ignored. While he never went to the extreme in his training, he still mentioned how she would, eventually, have to overcome fear and pain. Not completely, never that, but enough to be able to survive in the worst of situations.
While he could keep her safe, it was only a momentary arrangement. One he would not be walking out of. So the better prepared she was before then, the more at ease he would feel. If anything worried him the most, it would be...what went on inside her head. He knew she wouldn't grow up to be a dainty lady, much like her mother was far from one, but maybe him being the only other person she knew had affected her train of thought a little...well, with some luck, she would meet some nice people and grow to understand how to interact with others that were not himself. Maybe, one day. How nice it would be.
Netzah
New Member
Design & Code by Serobliss
Axelis Fantasia
Character by Netzah
Chapter I. Introduction
The Gentle One
Chaos Root: Archon
Masudi Hetep
Chapter II. Combat Statistic
Chaos Root: Archon
Awakening History & Experiences
As you'd expect, Masudi was not born with his Chaos Root, yet, he possesses one on the back of his palm. It manifested as a hydra of sorts, having three heads, with one head disappearing every time it would activate. When questioned about it, he refers to it as a "final gift" from a friend some twenty-years ago.
The "gift" in question comes from a nephilim who, at one point, fiercely declared him as his enemy. It all started with Masudi offering assistance in his usual kind demeanor, with the nephilim in question being named Vaegant. At the time, he was bitter, brimming with disdain for the world around him, but he was on a quest. He, just like Masudi, could not find someone important to him.
Their tale began with Masudi leading Vaegant to his lost family member and ended with Masudi bringing Vaegant's corpse to the said family member. What started off as a one-sided hatred, ended as a mutual friendship they never got a chance to enjoy. In his very last moments, Vaegant realized just how much Masudi valued him even if he constantly tried to hunt Masudi down. It was clear just how much Masudi cared when he himself didn't. And for that, as an apology, as well as his final gift, he passed his Chaos Root onto Masudi.
Physical Examination
Strength Measurement
Inventory
Heirloom Dagger
To this day, Masudi remains unable to figure out the origins of the dagger he wields. He knows it was left to him by his parents because of a note they wrote, stating that everything there was now his. It appeared before him the day they vanished, but not once had they ever mentioned such a weapon to him. Yet, there it was, left to him as one of their parting gifts. So far, just like him, albeit scratched up and scarred in a few areas, it has withstood the tests of time.
Satchel of Herbs and Medical Supplies
Masudi never realized how much he needed one until he held one in his hands. This time, it wasn't a parting gift from his parents. Instead, it was a gift from a stranger he met during his travels. He happened to cross paths with a couple of strangers who needed some assistance when they were briefly overwhelmed by a small band of beasts. Although the situation was far from dire, Masudi knew assisting would at least prevent unnecessary injury. Once he jumped in, the tides turned, and they quickly dispatched the remaining beasts. With business done, Masudi was on his way. However, one of the strangers stopped him and offered a satchel of his as thanks. Masudi wasn't sure at first, but after thinking about a few situations that would've helped had he supplies, he changed his mind and graciously accepted it.
Due to taking especially good care of it, Masudi has managed to keep it in pretty good condition. Even to this day, it's very serviceable. In the satchel, Masudi carries his dressings, waterskin, various herbs for mixing, a mortar and pestle, and alcohol. He personally doesn't indulge himself on the alcohol but always brings some in the event he might need to numb the pain for others.
Thread and Needle
Masudi can't even begin to recount all of the altercations and skirmishes he's gotten himself into, and it'd be even harder for him to remember a fight in which his clothes didn't at least get a little torn. Because of this, Masudi gradually decided to learn how to sew. To his surprise, he's naturally pretty good at it. With a steady finger, and plenty of time on his hands, Masudi learned the ins and outs fairly quickly.
Chapter III. Background
Backstory Title
Act I. Earliest years.
Masudi's earliest years were simple, and lasted him 16 years. During this time, his horns were visible and vastly different than they are now. Of course, the changes weren't just physcal. Mentally, he was a completely different person. Instead of his outgoing and overly-friendly nature, he was somewhat more secluded and kept to himself often. At the time, he didn't have many ambitions in life, nor did he have a direction for where he wanted to take it. For the first few years, all he had to worry about were his books and conforming to the rules to avoid trouble. Fortunately, thanks to his timid nature at the time, as well as the careful influence of his parents, Masudi never found himself in any kind of trouble.
Although it was a good thing at the time, he didn't exactly make many friends, so when it came time for him to do so, he struggled a bit. But his father helped him along the way, encouraging him to keep going instead of staying reclusive. Surprisingly, once Masudi managed to do it once, it almost became natural to him. He was still a little timid in some aspects, but he was showing vast improvement. So long as he was nice to others, he could make more friends. And it was pretty for him easy too.
Unfortunately, one of many harsh realities finally came crashing down on him. Some people will refuse to like him, either because of what he is, how he acts or just because. In spite of his best efforts, even with how hard he tries, they wouldn't change their mind. When he came to his parents and asked why this was the case, they had no feasible answer and that despite that, he should keep doing what he does. Though the reality hurt him, nothing was as crushing as what happened just few weeks later.
Just weeks after coming to that reality, Masudi's parents would vanish from his life without a trace. They only left him a note, a dagger, robes with a hood that were specifically tailored for him, and his favorite fruit. Though they left a note, it only served to raise more questions. It was "necessary" that they leave. Why would that be the case? Did they do something they weren't supposed to? What was supposed to happen to him?
Act II. Last few years in Exultius
Masudi was lost for a while and was unsure of what to do. They left him without even the slightest warning. They didn't even provide a reason for why they abandoned him. Even his neighbors were unsure of what was going on with his parents. From their experiences with the two, they were led to believe that they deeply cared for him and that the two would cherish him for as long as they were allowed. To find out that they left him on his own in such a hurry was a shock to everyone around that cared. Masudi knew a few things, but how would he provide for himself?
Fortunately, this is where the connections he's made thus far came into play. They knew Masudi was a bright young man with plenty of potential and vitality, so they offered him what work they could and gave him solid pay. From minor tasks to intense physical labor, Masudi managed to find a steady source of income. Best of all, it was from people who actually cared for him. He knew he was surrounded by friends, so much so that he was willing to settle for this kind of life. It wasn't the best thing, but it was far from the worst. For the most part, it was satisfying work, and he got used to it pretty quickly. Thanks to all the rigorous work and the side training he did, he managed to build up his endurance and stamina. By the end of it, he looked very well-built. The only thing he wasn't satisfied with was that he hadn't gotten any taller.
Now seemingly settled down and ready to live out his days, Masudi would've been in his bedroom and gotten ready to sleep for the night after having a nice dinner and cleaning. Well, in Masudi's mind, that was the plan, at least. When he got home, he noticed something was slipped underneath his door.
It was a letter, and addressed to him too. Of course, it'd make sense for it to be addressed to him since it was in his house. But it wasn't directly delivered to him, he's gotten letters from others on occasion, and they'd always be given straight to him. Why was this different?
Masudi looked to see who it was from, and as it turned out, it was an old family friend who traveled to sell his wares elsewhere. But it'd been ages since they'd spoken, so why was he reaching out to him now? Perhaps he had a job for him, and he might've had a chance for a sizable payment? Or maybe he was in need of help, and the only person he could reach out to was him? Masudi could've thought about more hypthoeticals, but there was no real point since it was right in front of him. So, after a bit of cleaning, he took the letter and read it at the table.
Masudi nodded along as he read the letter. For the first half of it, it was just updates on himself and casual questions, like how he'd been and if he was making enough to live satisfyingly, the usual pleasantries. Masudi didn't mind, but he did skim past a bit of it to find the purpose of this letter. When Masudi got to the 2nd half of the letter, his eyes began to widen, and he stopped skimming to properly process all of the information.
According to the family friend, he saw two figures that seemed eerily close to his mother and father, and when he tried to approach them, they fled the area. This greatly confused Masudi. Could it be that they really are still alive out there? What reason would an old family friend have to lie to him? In Masudi's mind, there was none. However, Masudi was suspicious of the end of the letter, noting that "He'll take care of the house in his absence if he decides to go." It seems as if Masudi was being baited to come over, but what other choice did he have? He was content with his current life, but now more than ever, he needed answers. Especially if there was a chance that he could meet up with them again.
With a newly instilled vigor, Masudi prepared everything he had, deeply thanked those who'd helped him thus far, and decided to begin his journey.
Act III. Adulthood
Now acknowledging himself as an adult, Masudi heads out on his quest to find his parents. The world is pretty vast, and although he's dreamt of exploring the outside world, curious of what wonders and happiness awaited him, that wasn't his primary goal. He could figure that out when he finally determined where his parents were. Unfortunately, as he journeyed out in desperate search of his parents, he would slowly but surely become more and more aware of the world's current state. Being the sheltered child Masudi was, this came as a bit of a shock to him. He was aware of a few tragedies, but for most of his youth, he wasn't privy to any of this. It wasn't too bad at first, but the more he ventured, the worse it got to him.
During this time, Masudi is an idealist, and to this day, he still is. But as he grew older and as the woes of the world made themselves known to him, he started realizing that his views were perhaps a little too ideal. So much so that during his younger days, it wasn't uncommon for him to be attacked for it. In fact, it wasn't a rare occurrence for him to be assaulted in general. Perhaps it was his way of going about it back then and the willingness of the people he crossed to exploit him. Or it was quite possibly how often and unconditionally he spoke of how hope would grace them all one day and save them, with those around him viewing his attempts to spread that hope as an annoyance than to genuinely lift their spirits. After all, he was still young. How could he speak of such salvation when their weary hearts had already gone through too much? How could he sound so sure yet come off as absurdly ignorant? He'd never seen what they'd seen, felt what they felt, experienced the hells that they did. What right did he have to talk? For his childhood, Masudi had it exceptionally well, and at the time, it was obvious that he was sheltered and truly didn't know what he was talking about. Though it helped a good few of the people he crossed, it wasn't exactly rare for those who immediately got sick of it to get a bit hostile. Factoring in that Masudi was also unlucky with some of the people he crossed, it was essentially a recipe for disaster.
And yet, in spite of his terrible luck, Masudi made it to his destination alive and in one piece. Partially due to the assistance of others, with the other part being his own skill and instincts kicking in, but the largest contributor was luck. Taking it into account, Masudi was a peace-loving boy who was pampered for most of his life who only recently learned some self-defense with a dagger. Under most circumstances, Masudi should've died. Of course, he was in great shape, and his experiences hardened him enough to survive, but during those experiences, there were plenty of people and plenty of things that very well could've ended his life. For his first-ever journey, to deny the fact that Masudi was very fortunate would be a lie, and he knows that. Perhaps a divinity in hiding took pity and smiled upon him to ensure his safe journey, but it was more than likely just a very fortunate stroke of luck. But unfortunately, that luck streak ended when he needed it most. By the time he got there, Masudi couldn't find them at all. He looked everywhere for hours on end, perhaps even a few days, yet he could not find them. It was only when he provided a description that Masudi became aware of the fact that the people matching that description left the city three days ago, just two days before he got there. Masudi contemplated quitting his search. After all, could he really withstand the harsh outside again? Perhaps this was a ploy to get him killed so that old family friend could take his home. Maybe he'd been lied to the entire time? To Masudi, none of these things mattered.
So long as there was a chance his parents were still out there, there was hope that he could find them once again and reunite, making his perilous journey worth it. So yes, Masudi took a day's break to relax at the old friend's house, then left to continue his search. There was no guarantee the two Aerouant the locals saw leave were even his parents, but he wanted to believe they were. Perhaps if he was fast enough, he could catch up to them before they got too far. There was no time to waste, and so Masudi set out once more in search of his parents.
Act IV. Experiences and Learning.
Masudi met an assortment of people during his travels, some good, some far from it, and others that could and couldn't be reasoned with. As Masudi travelled on, he started to pick up more and more on social cues. For example, meeting a band of people who are slowly yet subtly surrounding you meant that he should take any and every opportunity to flee. Whereas someone who threatens you whilst shakily backing away should be persuaded and talked down from a distance instead of casually walking over to seem "friendly." Fortunately, two of the three times he did it, the individual couldn't bring themself to attack, and the one time the individual did, Masudi managed to reduce the puncturing of the lower left half of his stomach to a graze.
As time went on, Masudi became more and more competent. The longer his search for his parents became, the more he learned and the more experience he had under his belt. By age forty-five, he was no longer the incompetent sheltered child he was roughly twenty years ago. If you were to approach Masudi now, he'd seem like a completely different person. Instead of coming off as some fool who never had to struggle a day in his life, he came off as someone who, in spite of the tragedy and sorrow he's experienced, still chooses to smile and believe that there could be a better tomorrow. Back then, it only proved to repel and annoy most, but now, it seemed to bring them in. Contrary to his younger self, there was a certain charisma about him now that he didn't have back then. Now when he crosses the paths of others, he generally has success with easing their minds and their hearts, even if for a moment. As he's learned, a moment's respite and a minute to collect yourself is far better than none, no matter how brief.
Act V. "To spread my wings and fly once more."
Masudi lost most of his horns in an altercation between him and a group of people that realized they could abuse his passive nature. Unfortunately, this was before he would ever decide to stand up for himself, and this also was during a time he believed that with enough sacrifice, they'd eventually respect him and treat him well. Sadly, that day never came, and Masudi, for once in his life, felt furious. The day he confronted them for a fight was the very last day he would naturally ever transform into his draconic state. Even to this day, he doesn't know how he managed it. Regardless, this was the very last time he would ever be able to transform.
However, this changed when Masudi received a final gift from Vaegant, a friend who passed away. He refers to it as the "Gift that granted him back his wings." He himself doesn't exactly know why it works the way it does, but he knew it'd be better for him to not question it. After all, it's what allowed him to take flight once more and to protect those around him. And for that, he doesn't mind the mystery of its inner workings.
The tale of Vaegant and Masudi began with Masudi admitting that he saw who he was looking for but refusing to elaborate when Vaegant demanded to know where as harshly as he did. This resulted in a fight Masudi couldn't win. Vaegant had more strength and had the gift of the Chaos Root, something Masudi didn't. Fortunately, with the nephilim's slip of his tongue, Masudi now knew he was looking for a family member, more specifically, his sister. So he agreed to show him where he last saw her, so long as he could ensure that he was telling the truth. If he could, Vaegant would've killed him right then and there and moved on, but seeing as he was the only lead he had, he decided to at least check. If he was lying, he'd kill him on the spot. If not, he'd consider making it a quick death.
Eventually, the duo reconvened with the nephilim's sister, who was being attacked by a few beasts at the time. Fortunately, with Masudi's direction, they got there in time to fight them off together before any real damage was done. Even Masudi assisted, which caught Vaegant's attention. He found it interesting that he didn't take this chance to run away, even though he tried to off him just moments ago. Surely, Vaegant would offer his thanks to the stranger and apologize for his rudeness, right? Of course not. That would've angered him beyond belief, to be thankful to a lesser being, to admit he, a higher being, was wrong to someone like Masudi? Unacceptable! Instead of a reward or a "thank you," at the very least, Masudi was beaten, and pretty badly too. He intended to do more, but his sister officially stepped in and stopped him. Vaegant was annoyed by the notion of her actually worrying about him, but the nephilim let it go for now. He was glad to find his sister, but the fact he needed Masudi's help greatly displeased him. He was more than enough to handle the beasts, but he would've never known where she was had he not been shown the way. For now, Vaegant was "grateful" and decided to let Masudi go.
Instead, Vaegant decided that he'd allow Masudi to live for now. But as a "reward," he'd give him the honor of "Being cleansed with a clean death" if they should ever meet again. Which, surprisingly, didn't take too long, and the nephilim chose to try and make good on that promise. Fortunately for Masudi, he managed to evade him. Truth be told, Masudi wasn't a big fan of this hostile arrangement of Cat and Mouse, but he had no real way to stop him. For now, all he could do was evade him, which he was better at than fighting him directly.
Of course, in more serious situations, Masudi would stop evading him to try and help him if he noticed something was wrong if Vaegant didn't. It wasn't too uncommon for Masudi to save him, only to start running again because Vaegant wasn't keen on giving up on this entire ordeal. For a time, Masudi thought it was a "fun" waste of time, briefly reminding him of the less murderous alternative of "Hide and Seek," he used to play with his friends. Perhaps if he could convince Vaegant to drop the sword and to stop trying to murder him for a moment, they could both have that past fun. But that wasn't going to happen.
The more Vaegant failed, the angrier he got, and his blind rage would lead to carelessness. He wished to return home at once with his sister at his side, but his pride couldn't allow it, not until Masudi was dead. How could Masudi manage to evade him again and again? Even worse, how could Masudi help and even SAVE him a few times when he needed it? During one of their last encounters, he chased Masudi to a cliff and attempted to stab him off said cliff. However, it turned out that he completely and utterly underestimated just how flexible Masudi was. If it weren't for his own quick thinking, he would've fallen to his own death. Fortunately, he managed to cling to the side of the cliff, and Masudi pulled him back up without any hesitation. For a moment, the two caught their breath. The nephilim, as always, was confused. He's trying to murder this man, so why does he keep helping him? It bothered him greatly, so after that incident, Vaegant walked away, not even trying to attack him again.
Vaegant was infuriated, so much so that he went on a killing spree. Whatever beast crossed his path met the edge of his blade. His slaughter was indiscriminate, working his way up the tiers until he bit off way too much than he could chew and very dearly paid the price. Before he knew it, he was knocked to the ground, and the beast tried to tear him apart, which it partially succeeded in doing. The Nephilim could only heal from so much damage. By the time the beast was stopped, it was too late for him.
Masudi was awoken by Vaegant's sister, who, in an ironic twist, asked him to track her brother down. And stumbling upon the trail of dead beasts, he could only assume that Vaegant was somehow involved with it. Masudi rushed as fast as he could, but he was too late, but he didn't quite know that. While it tore at Vaegant, Masudi quickly attacked from its side and jabbed his dagger in both of its eyes repeatedly. With the beast blinded and severely pissed, Masudi had an opening to take Vaegant to safety.
At this point, it was too late for Vaegant, and he himself knew that. If the beast didn't do him in through some miracle, if his luck was rotten, he expected that his blood would attract something even nastier. It was his own foolishness and rage that got him here, and it was finally catching up to him. But before he passed on, he saw Masudi's last actions in his last-ditch effort to save him. Once again, he wondered why. Did he really care for him that much? Even after those countless attempts to kill him, was he really willing to forgive and still try to save him? Whilst his life flashed before his very eyes, he remembered when he viciously attacked Masudi, even though he assisted him. He thought back to how angry he would've been if he had to thank or apologize to him to any capacity, so instead of doing either, he beat him. So in his final moments, he at least tried to amend that.
"Thank you... And... Sorry..."
Those were all the words he managed to utter before passing on, but of course, not before passing on his Chaos Root to Masudi. Hoping that he could find a use for it and that it would be a sufficient enough apology, he passed on in Masudi's arms.
