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Fantasy The Lost Child CS

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Lekiel

Two Thousand Club
Supporter
Before creating your Character, it would be good to keep all these in mind about the story:

1. Tel`Quessir have been at war with The Wretched for over a thousand years, barely holding on. They're all that's left (in the known world at least) of the sentient creatures of Order.

2. The Tel`Quessir recently retook their ancient capital, Tal`Velahr, so everyone is rejoicing as they have never pushed the Wretched back so far before. (our rp will begin about a year after the retaking of Tal`Velahr). Although they have gained ground, the Wretched are still very much a threat throughout the lands, even behind the defense lines.

3. But between a very detached high king and a rather selfish crown prince, the Tel`Quessir pretty much put a fullstop to their fight and called it a day, celebrating their 'victory' like retaking the capital was the main goal afterall, instead of eradicating the Wretched. Despite that, certain quarters still call for vigilance and for the Tel`Quessir to continue to press the fight. Namely the First Princess (which I will play) the Grandmagus and a few other generals. But due to the holding order from the high king, any sort of counter-attack by the Tel`Quessir is a moot. **tentatively, RP will start roughly here**Worse still, a 'mysterious figure' will appear and bring darker tidings. That the retreat of the Wretched is just a distraction, and that a huge force of Chaos is preparing to sweep out of Blightreun and decimate the Tel`Quessir once and for all. But there is hope, an ancient treaty (that's the weird language bit in 'forgotten promises' tab in the main thread) signed by the long forgotten races with a Great Elven King of a time passed, Sildorin Velahr who sacrificed himself to end the Wyrmwars (crazy dragons basically). The catch is, according to the treaty, the Saelas and dwarves will only answer to someone from the bloodline of Sildorin Velahr. And his last descendant died fifty years ago without an heir. BUT the mysterious figure will reveal that there is indeed an heir to the Velahr bloodline, and that King Erlathan was not the last. I could go on, but we're already pass spoiler alert territory ^3^

4. Knowing all this, Princess Amaranth will have to gather a group of close individuals, people that she can trust, to find this heir. Seek the aid of the dwarves and saelas before the Wretched begin their attack! So yes, there is a 'quest' (adventure), there is political intrigue (cos the Crown Prince is uhm... lets say, deluded for now and will do anything to see himself in control of everything), and yes friendship (cos we're people on a quest! also, Hell0NHighWater Hell0NHighWater will be co-GM with me, and will be playing Amaranth's childhood friend. hence' there will be some romance (within the usual guidelines ofc))

*if any of you wants to step up I don't mind discussing the finer details of plot with you guys too. Such as how you guys might be related (or not related) to Amaranth such that she would include u in the group. I've opened up the spot of her younger sister as a very obvious and straightforward option.

Your CS will be approved when I 'Like' it.

~*~
You may use your own CS as long as all the important bits are clearly seen. Alternatively, you can make use of this form (credits to RI.a RI.a for the nifty coding!), the capitalized parts is where your suitable background/character image is placed by simply pasting the URL between the quotations marks :

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[div class=openbutton][font=Timelord]INSERT CHARACTER NAME HERE[/font][/div][/div][div class=mainpage][div class=closebutton][fa]fa-times-circle[/fa][/div]

[div class=textbox][font=Timelord]Name:
Age: (This does affect your character's skills and background. Do note that elves are not considered a full adult until they are 30. Recommended age for elf, 25-200. Human, 20-50.)
Location of Birth: (One of the major cities)
Appearance: (include one realistic (basically non-anime design/colours) art picture, if you can't find one I can help!)
Equipment: (Be reasonable, you can't carry a house)
Class: (see the available character classes for further details)
Personality: (flaws and virtues, you don't need to be overdramatic, but no mary-sues.)
Tagline: (include how you were given/named. e.g. Luthien Goblinsmacker. Famed for killing a hundred goblins with a flyswatter in one night.)
Backstory:

Story Relation: (If you know any of the other characters. Your character's thoughts on the Chaos War. Should the Tel`Quessir bolster their defenses as the Crown Prince and High King wishes? Or press the attack as Princess Amaranth and the Grandmagus calls for. Do note that regardless of your view, you will eventually have to team up with the Princess on her quest. So try to tie your character in some way. I'm open for discussion!)

Skills, Interests and Fears:

Spells: (For Mages only. Describe in sufficient detail the extent of your abilities)
Other:
Link to RPing/Writing Sample:
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[div class=openbutton]AMARANTH SILVERHAND
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Name: Princess Amaranth Faenalla "Silverhand"
Age: 99
Location of Birth: Numenlad, though her home has always been An`Falithe
Appearance: Amaranth has auburn hair reminiscent of the autumn hues of the great trees surrounding her home of An`Falithe. They cascade in soft waves down her back reaching her shoulder blades. When heading into battle, she twists two braids on either side of her head while still keeping the rest unfettered. She stands at a respectable 5 ft 7 inches (170cm) and is of slim athletic build with just enough curves to appear feminine. Her eyes are a warm hazel which does much to soften her otherwise austere features.

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Equipment: Other than the usual supplies and herb poultices, Amaranth carries a finely crafted Ghaastwood bow and elven longsword named Anorlindir (Dawnsinger). Both weapons belonged to her late mother, with their polished wood surfaces alabaster white and inlaid with runes. Anorlindir will gleam a soft amber glow when creatures of Chaos are nearby. Amaranth often dons a dark green cloak and a well-made albeit simple mail armor, fashioned with the bronze scales of a Dremorian Hydra. When dealing with issues of court, her official garb is a decently fashioned light blue dress.

Class: Ranger Enchanter
Personality: Amaranth has always been a very empathatic soul which did much to bring her down to the ground level despite her noble birth. Taught from an early age by her mother to take notice of the plight of her people, and to never take her position in society for granted, but instead to use it to help better the lives others. This instilled in her a constant drive to engage herself in politics, though her motivations were often too idealistic to the extent of being naive. She has learned much from the conniving political maneuverings of others over her lifetime, and has wisened up but nevertheless still finds it difficult to imagine any elf capable of selfishly harming their own people what with the ever present threat of Wretched; this internal conflict is especially apparent in her dealings with the Crown Prince and the High King as time and again, she has put her hopes in them only to be proven wrong.

Regardless, Amaranth has a quick mind, proving to be an asset on the field of command in the battlefield. However, being so used to smarting her way to success, on the rare occasion that things take a turn for the worse, she can get overwhelmed with frustration if left on her own.

Tagline: Silverhand. A title given to her from soldiers on the battlefield. As during her earlier years and even now, she was often seen near the frontlines using her divine providence to the Goddess Felariel to heal the wounds of the injured, having nearly lost her own life on several occasions. She has a scar on her chest from a black arrow just above her heart and three gashes at her lower back to the right side of her waist.

Backstory: Amaranth Faenalla is the oldest daughter of the then advisor to the king, Althuras Faenalla and Elmyra Ellrohir. Her early years growing up as a child was pretty normal as far as children of the Highborn go, if a little subdued. Her mother had been suffering from an illness caused by the very same type of arrow that would very nearly claim the life of her daughter many years later. Nevertheless, Elmyra would live on for several more decades. It was said she never quite fully recovered, leading to her death after giving birth to her third child.

As Amaranth reached her adolescent years, she took an interest in the Priestesses of Felariel, having volunteered to perform during one of the festive dances on the festival of Faradome on her sixteenth birthday. During her time at the temple, she witnessed the priests healing many of the sick and injured. The elevation of the suffering of others struck a chord within her and she requested to join the ranks of the priestesses. Nevertheless, growing older also came with other frustrating nuances, namely her brother's incessant attempt to arrange her to be wed. Though largely irritating, she did tolerate the customary visits though it was more out of courtesy, and her nature of trying to find the gentlest approach to turn people down. The last straw came when out of the blue, her father himself remarked about the possibility of Amaranth marrying the High King, as he did not seem interested in taking a queen from any of his previous courtships.

Frustrated at her family's disregard for her own individuality and seeming lack of focus on the Chaos War, she asked for her mother's blessing to join the Ranger academy so she could serve the Tel`Quessir on the frontlines. A former ranger herself, Elmyra was at first reluctant, but eventually succumbed to her daughter's pleeding. Her actions did not go unnoticed, and one day, she was visited by Grandmagus Kharis Bhallen, who was impressed that such a young noblewoman would give up her life of privilege to serve her people on the front. Amaranth eventually found a kindred spirit in the elderly isilhin and often took to the Arclord for wise counsel.

Story Relation: Amaranth believes that her brother and father have become too comfortable with the status quo, afraid of risking their comforts to lead their people against the Wretched. She still believes in them, especially her father who had once been a very astute and brilliant general.

Israfael, Castien Aeris - Being highborn, there was no shortage of peers for Amaranth to get acquanted with, but none stuck with her quite as closely during her childhood years as the adopted noble-boy she met on her first visit to Ilshari. She had been so taken in by the great tree-houses of the moon city that she wandered away from her attendants. Distracted by a particularly alluring sight, she slipped off the pathway and tumbled into a shallow river. She landed conscious but had fractured her arm and was unable to climb her way back out. It was fast approaching twilight and the river was in a quieter part of town. All of a sudden, a pale skinned isilhin boy poked his head over the side of the riverbank. Young Amaranth had been so relieved she did not allow the boy to leave to get help, threatening to scream her lungs out if he did. Eventually, he calmed her down enough to allow him to call for help and save the day!

Their friendship blossomed after that, with Amaranth finding the smallest reasons to visit her newfound friend from Ilshari. But as they grew into young adults, her duties and the increasing threat of the Wretched made travelling between the two cities difficult and they grew apart. But the sun elf never forgot her days spent with Israfael, longing to be with him once again until one day, he appeared to her in the dark of night with a blade to her throat. She would've been horrified at what he had chosen to become had she not been so relieved to see him again.

Skills, Interests and Fears: While Amaranth is an accomplished ranger and fully capable of holding her own in a fight, upfront battle has never been and will never be her forte. Nevertheless, she has decent skill with the bow and can be quite the marksman when she puts her mind to it. Conversely, she is an adept at healing magic and has a wide understanding of conconcting healing salves and poultices.

She loves the finer arts of dancing (from her time in the Temple of Felariel) and tailoring.

She fears the idea of being powerless (also applies in instances of facing insurmountable odds) and of course, losing loved ones.

Spells: (For Mages only. Describe in sufficient detail the extent of your abilities)
Other:
Link to RPing/Writing Sample:

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[div class=openbutton] ISRAFAEL
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Name: "Israfael" Castien Aeris

Age: 102

Location of Birth: Ilshari

Appearance: Standing at approximately 6'0" with a lithe but muscular build, Israfael is an imposing figure who can just as easily command the attention of the entire room as he can blend into the background. Like all Isilhin, Israfael has such pale skin that it is almost a ghostly white. His silver hair adds to the paleness of his appearance which is contradicted only by the blueness of his eyes. A defining feature besides the crazy good looks is the scar that runs diagonal from his right eye across his nose and resting in the middle of his left cheek.

Equipment: Dual daggers, a leather pouch full of coin, a vial of poison just in case you know? and birdseed?

Class: Rouge| Infiltrator

Personality: A man of few words, Israfael has always preferred remaining quiet until there is something that is worth being said. However, due to his upbringing he can be quiet charming when he pleases but the facade is tiresome and he would rather not exert the effort if it is not needed. There are few things in life that Israfael applies himself to, he has never been overly ambitious and his high intellect has been both a blessing and a curse. The memories of the worse parts of his childhood have left him with a motivation for wealth, if that is any motivation at all. If the price is right, he will do almost anything. He has never seen himself as a man of honor and keeps his emotions locked within himself preferring to live life behind a mask of nonchalance and impassiveness.

Tagline: The Prince of Shadow, a man featured mainly in the horror stories and gossip surrounding the Conclave of Shadows, is a title that has belonged to many within the shady organization. Though none of his predecessors have been as....invested in the name sake. It is said that the Prince of Shadow is the best assassin in the order and that his allegiance is only to those who have enough coin. He is known to be there one minute and gone the next, just like a shadow.

Backstory: Born Castien Aeris, an orphaned boy in the city of Ilshari, life had never been easy for the young moon elf. He was adopted at the mere age of six by some bleeding heart nobles who thought that giving an orphan a home would increase their standing with the local populous. He was renamed Israfael and as expected as the ward of a noble house he became versed in their culture, their mannerisms, but no matter how well he was educated or cared for there was something darker that stirred in the depths of his soul.
As a teen, Israfael was no stranger to trouble. Often seen getting into fights with other boys his age, his adoptive parents decided to place him in Ranger training hoping that the anger that consumed him would have a healthier vent.

Israfael was a ranger for years, joining the Moongarde albeit reluctantly, he lived on the edge of their code of honor only doing the bare minimum with no real interest to apply himself. Then one day he received an offer. In a breach of moral code, the Rangers were forced to terminate his service. The Conclave of Shadow, however, saw his potential and inducted him into the order.

Israfael became a tool, a blade in the darkness, and the only thing those who believed themselves untouchable came to fear. He never questioned his marks and eventually earned the moniker Prince of Shadow. That is, until a mark claimed an old friend of his. A woman who he had not seen since they were children and despite his training he found himself unable to send her soul to the unseen world. The only person in his entire existence that he considered a true friend, Israfael pledged his blade to her cause and his life to hers.

Story Relation: Having been a victim of the Chaos War himself, Israfael has always believed that it would be better to take the fight to the enemy instead of cowering behind the walls of some Capital that has been overrun before. The Tel`Quessir are not invincible. The Crown Prince and the High King would bleed as any other, yet they do not wish to face the reality of the situation having been pampered by the false safety of the castle walls. Princess Amaranth and the Grandmagus are the best option for the survival of their people.

Not that it really matters much to him either way. He is a weapon, a tool to be used, and all she needs to do is give him a Mark.

Skills: As a Ranger, Israfael learned how to handle all sorts of weapons though he is most proficient with daggers and a bow. He never had much for the affinity of communication with the forces of nature and his outward lack of magic was always seen as a disgrace to the noble family who adopted him. Even so that didn't stop him from training until he was an expert with dual-wielding daggers and stealth. His time with the Conclave of Shadow has shown mass improvement in his skills, yet strangely he still has no ability to control any kind of magic.

Interests: Spying, gathering information, reading, and training.

Fears: Watching the ones he cares for die. Deep bodies of water

Other: Every so often, Israfael is seen with an owl of snow white feathers and onyx eyes named Salazzar.
Link to RPing/Writing Sample: Futuristic - E D E N S E E D;)
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[div class=openbutton]Aerilaya
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[div class=textbox]Name: Aerilaya Lightningborn
Age: 52
Location of Birth: Ilshari
Appearance: Aerilaya stands tall at five feet and nine inches, weighing one hundred twenty eight pounds. Her platinum blond hair reaches down past her hips and stops near the back of her knees, though her hair is never down unless bathing or getting dressed. She always keeps her hair up in a low bun, tight enough to keep her mass of hair together in a fight or scuffle. Her skin is a fair amount of pale, but nothing in comparison to most Islhin. Aerilaya's eyes are a bright spring green, which has been dulled due to her mass exposure to the sun. She has markings on her face, which were tattoo'd into her skin by tempests to mimic a containment or reversal like spell.
Equipment: Aerilaya carries a cloak with her at all times and a crystal fastened into a necklace that is wrapped around her arm, the crystal always rests on the back of her hand.
Class: PlainSwalker
Personality: (flaws and virtues, you don't need to be overdramatic, but no mary-sues.)
Tagline: Aerilaya was given the title Lightningborn due to her being a plainwalker with the lightning affinity. There are also stories of her being born and immediately summoning lightning spirits that killed her parents. Others say the markings on her face are from being struck by lightning whilst she was born, which is how she gained the affinity in the first place. Other people still say she is a spirit in disguise from another plain. All are just rumors.
Backstory:

Story Relation: (If you know any of the other characters. Your character's thoughts on the Chaos War. Should the Tel`Quessir bolster their defenses as the Crown Prince and High King wishes? Or press the attack as Princess Amaranth and the Grandmagus calls for. Do note that regardless of your view, you will eventually have to team up with the Princess on her quest. So try to tie your character in some way. I'm open for discussion!)

Skills, Interests and Fears:

Spells: (For Mages only. Describe in sufficient detail the extent of your abilities)
Other:
Link to RPing/Writing Sample:
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[div class=openbutton]Leoroc Bladesinger
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[div class=textbox]Name: Leoroc Thastrosen "Bladesinger"
Age: 136
Location of Birth: Ilshari
Appearance: Pale, almost ashen skin with cold blue eyes. He stands 6'-3" and weighs in around 180 pounds. Tattoos resembling symbols of war can be found around his body, showing his dedication to being a protector of his people.
Equipment: "Ravenforged" Armor; Two-Handed Sword (Dadao / Nodachi hybrid); a coin purse; water skin; crystalline pendant.
Class: Warmaster / Warrior
Personality: Jovial, charming, yet arrogant. He's proven himself charismatic among others in social settings, though his pride has always been easily inflated. This can most plainly be exhibited on the battlefield, which has often landed him in trouble in one way or another.
Tagline: "Bladesinger" - Given to Leoroc for his love of singing battle hymns in battle, somehow making the strokes of his blade act as the core of his rhythm.
Backstory: From the outside, looking in, Leoroc's was a sad tale. A knight for a father who was away more days than he was around, and a mother that was more concerned in maintaining social capital than anything else. Leoroc did not see his childhood to be so destitute. On the contrary, the "neglect" his parents enacted he perceived as their offer of independence, albeit at an earlier age than most. He was dramatic soul and like his mother, Leoroc always had a passion for the theater. Unlike his mother, however, he loved entertaining the crowd, not being the entertained. And unlike his father, he believed that entertainment was not just limited to comedic skits, but rather with sword and shield - paint brushes to which the actor would paint the battlefield as his canvas.

Like his father, Leoroc was quite the bladesman. Gladiators were not a common theme in popular entertainment, but the shows that offered combatant roles were ones that Leoroc reveled in, though he was not actually running anyone through. Leoroc had become a fan favorite in these displays, and he had become known as Leoroc, the Sword-Dancer. His life was perfect, all things considered. That was, at least, until the day his father was brought home from the war with the Wretched. Though the two never got to know each other as much as they both may have liked, Leoroc still loved his father and such loss would be too deep for any show to mend.

The armor of Leoroc's father was unmistakable and it was shaped his father's name. Black and gold armor decorated with raven's wings on the shoulder guards, his father was Kostrir Ravenstrike. In his honor, Leoroc dones his father's armor and had his own blade to be forged for himself, one where the handle was easily wielded by two hands and where the blade was long and narrow to promote swiftness in his strikes. Many laughed at the premise of an actor going to fight. They never would have imagined the new raven-armored knight cutting through swaths of the Wretched as he was. He would even sing to the rhythm his blows and parries would reverberate in combat which is what gave him the name "Bladesinger."

Story Relation: Though he does not know Amaranth personally, she would know his name thanks to his theatrical career and having made a name for himself in the Tel'Quessir military. The Chaos War made its mark on Leoroc by claiming the life of his father, which made him realize the dire importance of the war effort. Thus he fervently believes that the Tel'Quessir should continue the war campaign. That said, he isn't a warmonger, and he wants to see this conflict to its end as soon as possible.

Skills: Charisma is one is strongest skills. The charm of the theater is something that he has learned to tap into on a day-by-day basis. Beyond his ability to sway both individuals and a crowd.

Interests: Entertaining, preferably through a demonstration of combat, but wining the favor of an individual or an audience has always appealed to him. He enjoys reading, though has rarely the time.

Fears: The loss of his father made him realize his own mortality, but more so did such sorrow make him see the mortality of his mother and last living family member. His other fears are more disgusts than anything, being spiders and rats.

Link to RPing/Writing Sample:
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[div class=openbutton]SANINE DRAHRIL
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[div class=textbox]Name: Sanine Drahril, “Cutter of Throats and Purses”

Age: 24

Location of Birth: Numenlad

Appearance: Sanine is an Edan who stands at around five foot eight and has a lean, strong build that’s reasonably curvaceous. Her hands are calloused from holding weapons and scaling walls. Her skin is a rich, dark brown that seems to glow in the sunlight. Lying above her plump lips, Sanine has a golden nose piercing that’s accompanied by two golden studded earrings. However, the most eye-catching feature of her face is her eyes — piercing, apple-green orbs that, depending on the circumstances, can be alluring or terrifying. She has coarse, dark brown hair running down to her chest. A large burn scar covers the majority of her back, stretching from her shoulder-blades to above her hips.

Equipment: She has two main daggers strapped to her thighs and a one-handed war axe that she keeps on her back, hidden behind a cloak that she wears. Sanine always has extra weapons hidden away somewhere on her — usually throwing daggers kept in creative places. She can sometimes be seen with an incredibly sharp hair pin. The clothes and armours she wears aren’t the most attractive but they’re functional. She likes wearing armours that protect her enough from basic attacks but are light enough so that her agility isn’t hindered and so that enemies aren’t alerted of her presence when she’s sneaking toward them.

Class: Rogue

Personality: It’s very hard for Sanine to develop an emotional bond or attachment to somebody. She always pushes them away so she doesn’t feel bad when she eventually robs them for all they’re worth — or if she receives a Mark to kill them. However, her greatest fear, though she may not admit it, is losing somebody she cares about so she closes herself off, makes an effort to limit her socialisation and often acts rude or cold to repel others.

Growing up in Numenlad, Sanine learned to become very distrustful of anybody. If anyone is ever nice to her, her first thought will be: “What do they want from me?” Her view on people is very pessimistic, believing that everybody is vile, selfish and immoral. The only people exempt from this view were her parents. She knows that if they saw what she’d turned into, they would be disappointed in her. She likes to tell herself that she doesn’t care.

She’s very conflicted inside. She blames everyone and herself for the death of her parents, making her very resentful. In her dreams, she sees her parents die, over and over again with nobody being able to do anything about it, and in her reveries, she goes through several what if...? scenarios in which her parents are somehow saved.

The thief also has her mischevious side which flares up quite often around others. She loves the thrill of a challenge and won't hesitate to aggravate others until they fight her.

Tagline: She’s nicknamed the “Cutter of Throats and Purses” due to her methods of making money: funded assassination and thievery.

Backstory: Living on the outskirts of Numenlad with her parents, Sanine’s childhood life was turbulent, to say the least. Without enough money to move to another city — or at least further into Numenlad where their daughter would be just a little bit safer — anyone would think her parents would lose hope, give up amidst the chaos all around them, live in fear before their almost-certain deaths. But they didn’t. Or, at least, if they did, then they were damn good at hiding it. Every battle, every nearby pillaging, every ‘disappearance’ of a neighbour or a friend, Emilia and Melgron Drahril would hold their daughter in their arms, kiss her on the head and tell her that that sort of thing would never happen to them because their family were ‘special’. Sanine wanted to believe — did believe — that they were telling her the truth.

That was until one night, when Sanine was but a child of nine, her family stopped being ‘special’.

She had woken up in the middle of the night from nightmares of the Wretched. Her senses dulled by sleep, she couldn’t hear the crackling of the fire that she had shut her eyes to, nor could she hear the sounds of screams and shouts intermingling around her in a cacophony. Snuggling further into her parents’ arms, leaning her head against her father’s chest, all she was focused on was the blissful feeling of being sheltered between her parents — this was how they slept every night. They were warm — hot, even. Sanine quickly grew uncomfortable under them and shuffled to try and put a little distance between her and her feverishly hot parents. That was when she realised that it wasn’t just them; she was hot, too. Then her senses rushed back to her, clearing the clouds of sleep that had addled her brain.

She could see the ranks of flames eating away at her wooden house, crackling in mirth as they destroyed all she had known for her whole life. She could see the thick, black smoke lying in the air lazily, making her head pound. She could feel the frantic pace of her heart, beating so wildly like a mad drum in her chest that she feared her ribs would be shattered by the sheer force.

But most of all she could smell the scent of burning flesh flooding through her nostrils.

She screamed until her throat ran dry. And when she couldn’t scream, she wept almost as loudly. With weak and feeble arms, she tried to drag her parents out of that hell, adrenaline numbing her to the fire licking up her legs. Had a soldier not arrived then, Sanine would have died there; she would have gone to sleep, for the last time, between the arms of Emilia and Melgron Drahril. For a long time after that, she wished that she had.

With nowhere else for her to go, the warrior who had saved her took her to an orphanage near the center of Numenlad. She thought it was terrible — nothing there could surpass the love shown to her by her parents — and so she escaped. But she’d overestimated the difficulty of surviving alone on the shady streets of Numenlad. So she adapted. With her keen eyes, she observed thieves pickpocketing their unknowing victims and then mimicked their sly movements, resorting to thievery herself; she witnessed con artists fool civilians out of their (presumably) hard-earned money with rigged games, robbed those same con artists, and then carried out the scam herself; she studied the technique of brawlers and, when she was old enough, entered taverns to earn her own fortune through fisticuffs; and she learned to sleep with a dagger by her side every night because she never knew what could happen to her. However, her transition to a jack of all (illegal) trades was not an easy one: she had been caught many times and her retributions ranged from having everything she owned stolen from her to being beaten to a pulp.

Not long after her nineteenth birthday, she was invited to join the Conclave of Shadows. She jumped at the opportunity to make coin and to feel like part of a group again — even if only by alliance. It didn’t take long for her to transfer her skills over to killing and since then she has become a highly-skilled assassin.


Story Relation: Sanine hates the Chaos War for ripping her parents away from her. She hates the Wretched for their merciless onslaught and hates the Tel’Quessir for not doing more to stop them. She believes the Tel’Quessir need to press the attack until the Wretched are wholly eradicated.

The soldier who saved her when she was younger was Leoroc. She's learned to be grateful to him for this since she understands that, if it weren't for him, she would be dead. She was then taken to Amaranth as a child, who treated Sanine's burn-wounds and comforted her when she was heavily traumatised. The Princess became a light in her life after all the tragedy that Sanine had faced. But Sanine knew that it couldn't last due to Amaranth's busy life and, soon enough, she was alone again. Sanine is bent on repaying both Leoroc and Amaranth if she ever sees them again because, despite genuinely being grateful for what both of them have done for her, Sanine hates feeling indebted to anybody.

Skills, Interests and Fears: Due to the way she has lived, Sanine is skilled at sneaking around undetected and stealing just about anything. She’s skilled at quiet assassinations, working the best when she applies her sneaking skills to creep up on someone before slitting their throat. Though she prefers to avoid fights to the death when it comes to assassinating her targets, she’s quite good at it due to having to defend herself innumerable times.

She’s interested in flowers, singing, sweet treats, listening to stories instead of reading, and drinking.

She’s terrified of watching her loved ones die and fires. Both of these deep-rooted fears are due to traumatic experiences during her childhood.


Link to RPing/Writing Sample:
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[div class=openbutton]Eleveil D'ashun
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[div class=textbox]Name: Eleveil D'ashun

Age: 67

Location of Birth: Ilshari

Appearance: Eleveil does not possess the large muscles of a warrior, his body more toned for his lifestyle. His skin is darker than what would be normal for Isilhin, though his hair is right up there. His eyes are slightly unusual. Depending on the light, his eyes can be a steel gray or a light green. There are various tattoos that cover parts of his body where he's been wounded in the past, not as a sign of disgrace, but of pride, to show that he survived those events and came back stronger.

Equipment: His main weapon is a Dual Bladed Spear Glaive he affectionately calls "Zephyr" from shaft to blades, the weapon is large in length. When resting on his back, one end reaches above his head and the other to his lower thigh. It's size belies its weight however as the materials it is made from are exceptionally light, allowing him to wield it as he wills.

The armor he wears is simple light steel and only covers the vital areas of his body, leaving his arms and legs free to move as he wishes.

Other items he carries are the basic essentials, coin purse, waterskin.

Class: Ranger Moongarde

Personality: Eleveil loves a good fight, good natured insults and sparring are what he is after, often times you'll find him in a tavern or flirting with various ladies and he's not ashamed to admit that he is handy with a musical instrument or two. In true combat though, he is fierce and loyal, guarding those who have his back with a ferocious tenacity. But woe to those who betray his trust as he does not forgive easily and without blood.

Out of battle, he is generally laid back and unconcerned with life's troubles as a whole, more concerned with enjoying himself than what will come. "Live in the now and deal with the future when it comes" is his philosophy. Of course, this philosophy has gotten him into trouble more times than he could count, some to true detriment and some to his own amusement. In a good natured spar, he rarely uses Zephyr as it is a tool for ending lives. His bare hands are just as tough after all.

Tagline: Red Mist With speed so great, Eleveil was once called Red Mist for that is all anyone ever saw of him, the mist of blood he left in his wake as he tore through his enemies. However, there was one other name he was known by. Empty. For after the battle, he had no emotion on his face, no sorrow or anger, no happiness, just cold emptiness in his eyes.

Backstory: Eleveil's story isn't one of sadness or strife. If anything he lived quite well. Like many, he was an orphan, but he was raised in the Temple of Eweca. However, the properness of the temple combined with a growing boy surrounded by beautiful Priestesses was not the best environment to let himself loose. On his free time he spent among the slums, where people weren't so proper or devoted, where his knuckles and knees could get scraped and his eyes blackened. A good fight was fun.

Of course, no young child can hide their antics, especially when one is fighting and tossing skirts. Since he enjoyed fighting so much, he was to train with the Moongarde Warpriests. It was with them that he was shown that his way of fighting had been so very immature and raw. A fight could be enjoyable and graceful, like moonlight dancing over a rippling lake. So he was honed.

When he first went to battle, he found that his skills were no better than a majority of others. He was driven. Not to become stronger, but to become quicker and deadlier. It was in those battles that he found he didn't enjoy killing. The faster he moved, the quicker he could end it all. He saw the need in killing his enemies but wished no prolonged pain on them. It was this very reason that he became so enamored with having fun and living in the moment. Everyone died, even him in the end, so why not make their lives enjoyable and enjoy his own in the process.

Story Relation: Being the person he is, Eleveil really never put much thought into what should be done. Defense or Attack. He didn't care honestly. It wasn't his place to decide. However, during combat his desire to end fighting quickly often put his life at risk. A lot of his scars are from those fights, close calls and near deaths, sacrificing pieces of himself to end the fighting. It was the Silverhand herself that saved him from the brink time and time again. Of course, he naturally repaid the favor, a battlefield was full of near death experiences. He once told her that his blade was hers and all she had to do was ask for it.

He'd been flirting, how was he supposed to know she'd actually call on him to honor his word?

Skills, Interests and Fears:

Trained by a Moongarde Warpriest, his forte lies in his speed and dexterity. To quickly enter and leave an opponents range and deal the maximum amount of damage possible in that time. His speed is his greatest strength, enabling him to move as a blur at the height of his movement. Woe to those who let him build up momentum.

Outside of battle, he's experienced in all forms of merriment. Drinking, gambling, singing and dancing, playing instruments, romance. Most of his interests are focused towards making life as fun as possible.

Eleveil's greatest fear is suffering. If he was to die, then he would want it to be quick. It is the same reason he ends lives as quickly as possible, just as he fears for his suffering so does he for others.

Other: A great strength of Eleveils is his surprisingly high alcohol tolerance. Just because he looks like he's about to pass out doesn't mean he is a good target.

Link to RPing/Writing Sample: Fotíste ti Nýchta: Illuminate the Night
Other - Roleplay Ideas
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[div class=openbutton]Silvyr Irian
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[div class=textbox]Name: Silvyr Irian
Age: 78
Location of Birth: An'Falithe
Appearance: Standing at 5'10, Silvyr has blonde hair and ice blue eyes, a very well fit form that manages to still look somewhat feminine. Under the faceplate of her helmet are two facial tattoos, two blue lines going down her face, oriented over her eyes. The Anahrin's right arm is also dominated by tribal tattoos. She has obvious strength in her arms, while the rest of her body is balanced I strength. Her left arm has some scarring from shield mishaps, either failing to block a strike or cutting herself with it, and a few scars on her abdomen from swords. Nothing recent however.


Equipment: Due to her station as the honor guard of Princess Amaranth, she is always well protected, wearing hide armor with a chain shirt underneath, as well as the helmet that earned her namesake: an iron helmet with silver linings and ram horns adorned on either side of the helmet. She carries a wooden shield, with blades encircling the circumference, and a javelin with an oak shaft and iron blade, the haft tipped in iron for blunt attacks. She also carries a simple shortsword with her in case of emergencies.

Class: Warrior
Personality: Silvyr has a few faces, to put it simply. She can be a stoic, indifferent soldier who follows orders and does her job, as if she weren't even a person. This form is rare, however, and only usually comes out when around other nobility and doesn't want to make a fool of Amaranth. She always has a sort of pleasant vibe, making her somewhat likeable. More commonly, she is nice and warm, even if she carries an undertone of wariness. She likes to think she is perceptive of how others feel, even though that isn't really the case unless blatantly obvious. She can be overbearing at times, mostly when trying to be a protector. It doesn't happen always, but when it does she doesn't stop until practically ordered.


Those who know her know she is respectful, especially towards the princess, not due to her job, but a genuine respect for what she does. She isn't as close as other guards before her, only being with the princess for twenty years, but she knows her bounds, and has enough common sense of when to step in and when not to. Very few see her outside of her armor, but those moments, equally or possibly moreso rare than her stoic state, reveal her to be very laid-back and a go where the wind takes me sort of person. Someone who wants to see people at their best, and help them out of their worst.

Tagline: The Ram, the name given due to her helmet and for her willingness to put that helmet to good use. She is a very aggressive fighter who isn't afraid to get close if it comes down to it. She would do anything to do her job.

Backstory: Silvyr was not necessarily Highborn, but her family did have a history of working the honor guard. Even as a child, she spent much of her time at the castle, learning it's paths and it's etiquette much like any other person, at least until she was old enough to begin training. She trained with her father, the current Captain of the honor guard, with spears and shields, until she enlisted in the army at roughly 40. From there she learned to carry a sword in case of trouble. The story of her helmet comes around this time, and also her tagline. The helmet came up as a bet formed between her and a friend, which she actually lost the bet, and was forced into wearing the ram-headed helmet into battle, and it soon became a rallying point of sorts, as a many a soldier saw her using the infamous helm to her advantage. After twenty years of fighting the Wretched, she returned home upon hearing her Father resigned, taking his place as the Captain of the Honor Guard.

At first, she was gruff with the Princess, unsure of how to be as some of her childhood teachings left her, but slowly she got back into things, and got a mutually respected reputation with her after a rocky start. She learned her place, understood the balance of where to be and when, and tried to not intrude too much in her personal life, only as much as necessary to be able to keep a close eye. For a time, she wondered why the princess even needed a guard, she was a fighter after all. She even brought this up once as a joke, that the 'Honor' was more like 'honorary' guard compared to an actual guard.

Story Relation: Silvyr has no one way she views the war. Peace not being an option, being able to fend them off would be best, until a strong blitzkrieg can be formed to crush the Wretched in one fell swoop.
Amaranth: Silvyr is the Honor Guard to the princess, and has been for the last twenty years. Their relationship may not be the best, but each respects the other.


Israfel: she only knows him very barely, and not even by name. She prefers calling him a thief much more so than his real name, after his nigh random appearance to the Princess' side. Plus, he just looks up to know good to her.

Skills, Interests and Fears:
Interests: Sparring, Reading, Humming, Birds
Fears: High Places(like cliffs not tall buildings), Losing Amaranth, Being overwhelmed.
Skills: Silvyr has a high proficiency in polearms and shields, with some skill with a sword. From her time with Amaranth, she has a basic knowledge of medicines. Talking is not one of her best skills, nor is is dealing with ranged combatants.


Link to RPing/Writing Sample: Story
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[div class=openbutton]Maulluch Felldren
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[div class=textbox]Name: Maulluch Felldren
Age: 40
Location of Birth: Numenlad
Appearance: i_m_a_beast_wip_by_vaigh-daos46v.png
Maulluch's hair is a light grey, his eyes a dim yellow.
Equipment: Set of grey Leather armor with a poncho, parchment paper and charcoal pencil, an old flask, a well made shortsword he's used for some time (mostly for emergencies).
Class: Stormlord
Personality: A quiet reserved man understanding of the suffering war and power brings. Maulluch is quite self-conscious about his burnt face, knowing how horrifying the absence of skin and flesh on his mug makes him appear. Despite his reserved nature, there was a time when the Stormlord had a strong sense of justice, he still has it but it has weakened and become jaded. Reserved, aware, stubborn and jaded, Maulluch is a man who know what the world and his place in it all too well. The Magus likes the military not for the violence it brings and the profit it reaps, but for the order it manages and the place of belonging it offers; Despite his love for the military, he'd gladly give it and his own happiness away for the war to be over. Maulluch is disfigured, somber, bitter and cold, but the man's heart is good and strong, selfless almost; Sometimes it almost seems like he's trying to prove something.
Tagline: "Gravestorm" Maulluch earned his name during a skirmish in the woods near Numenlad. Maulluch and the few other warriors of a failed ambush on Wretched forces joined together in flight from an orc unit numbering more than a hundred. Fleeing the battle with the survivors, Maulluch reached an old cemetery and decided running was no longer an option; A vicious fight ensued, magic and steel clashing in a hurricane of combat with Maulluch at the center. The disfigured magus fought until his last breath was expended and his Manna gone, till but seven men were left standing. Maulluch did not triumphantly return to his home as some might of expected, but instead with head low and hands bound. He was court-martialed as the only surviving officer for cowardice, gifted with a nickname and a demotion, the Stormlord crushed. Stripped of rank and drive Maulluch now works according to his wishes, traveling and living as he likes for the most part.
Backstory: Born in Numenland, Malluch knows suffering the likes of which not many, even in a world as grim as the one he dwells in will ever know. Forced to grow up quickly, Maulluch began to train as a Stormlord at an early age in order to try and gain some sort of advantage in the violent times he lived in. Somewhere along the way his face was horribly scorched; He refuses to discuss what happened, becoming near sick when the topic is brought up. Around 33 the Stormlord decided to join the Numenland offensive guard, a unit that was to raid Wretched territory simply for kills and stories to boost morale for the city guard. While in the guard Maulluch finally found his place, on the front line serving his people in the most violent way imaginable up until the aftermath of a savage battle near Numenlad, afterwhich he was discharged from the military. Earning the title "Gravestorm" from his unit, Maulluch left the service he'd thought of as his destiny with certainty in his identity and nothing else. Nefari of Storms

Story Relation: Maulluch wishes for the war to finally end so most would think he'd side with the High King over the Princess, but they'd forget his lengthy experience with the Wretched as a soldier which has brought him around to the idea that the only way the land will ever know peace is if the Wretched are eradicated. He has offered his services as an experienced and well-trained battlemage to the Princess wishing simply to serve his people.

Skills, Interests and Fears:
+ Organized
+ A quick learner
+ Has some connections in the military
- Enjoys gardening
- Favorite season is Fall
- fears failure and abandonment, along with fire slightly
Spells:
Other:
Link to RPing/Writing Sample: Sample
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[div class=openbutton]Fenris Fleetfoot
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[div class=textbox]Name: Fenris Ellrohir Fleetfoot
Age: 133
Location of Birth: Ilshari
Appearance: Fenris' hair resembles that similar to the snow that coats the ground of the city where he studied magic, Cal'Ancelan. It grows straight, stopping just below his shoulders. His skin is light, translucent, similarly to other Isilhin. He stands at 6'3 even, or so that's what he likes to think. In reality he's an inch off, standing at 6'2. Due to constant moderate exercise, his body is tone and lean. His are similar to the color of the element he casts, being a sharp, icy blue. His brow seems furrowed constantly, giving off the connotation that he is irritated, angry, or deep in thought at every waking moment, and this fact is intensified during the day, when the sun is painfully bright for him. Due to this, he wears a hood during the day.

Equipment: Even if Fenris' main weapon is his magic, he understands the importance of being at all adept with close quarters weapons, and due to this, he carries a single curved dagger concealed away in his robe, resting on his back, near where his legs begin. The dagger is ironbark, in compensation for the fact that metals inhibit his ability to use magic. Even though he carries one, Fenris is by no means proficient with any blade. It's purely an emergency dagger. Under his clothes, he has a large patch of leather sewn into the inside of his clothes that covers his front to give himself at least a little bit of protection. He also has an amulet in a satchel not far from where his dagger is sheathed, that when worn will boost the power of his ice spells.
Class: Tempest
Personality:
Fenris is a seemingly indifferent person, next to never showing an external response to an event or statement, thus, his neutral face becomes his face for everything. He's not one to listen to long explanations, and prefers thing in the simplest, and shortest way put, and he chooses to speak according to that as well, always making objective statements and speaking with just enough words due to get his point across effectively. Simply put, his behavior is restrained, low energy, or boring. He only asks 'Why', 'When', 'Where', or 'How' unless it's crucial. Otherwise, he prefers to figure it out himself, which mostly, he can do due to his above average problem solving skills. He's not one to become super determined towards a goal on the fly. It's not unlikely for Fenris to simply give up after his first few failed attempts (if any) to achieve a goal.

Like said before, while he doesn't show it, he cares about people's needs and wants, and their feelings overall. He sometimes makes his own efforts to find out what a person likes, doesn't like, needs, or wants without actually asking. That said, if those cannot be figured out without asking, Fenris becomes interested enough to actually ask the person about themself. He doesn't like it when people cry specifically, not for the fact that they are upset, but for the reason that someone potentially has to cheer them up, which is something he struggles to do himself, and on part of his lack of determination, he will not try to console someone due to his lack of ability. He understands one who does not understand his choice to ignore someone else's misfortune as selfish, but he doesn't often strive to change himself. He tries to be empathetic when applicable, usually when trying to solve a problem that involves people.

In regards to things that don't relate to his core behaviors, one of the few things that may provoke a reaction from him, aside from reasonable things like physical pain, he can't stand dumb people. He especially dislikes them when they can't understand his simple explanations or statements, or people who take no initiative to answer their own questions before they ask (given they reasonably can.) Things similar to what was previously stated annoy him equally. Even though he rarely responds to other stimulants or stigma, he is easily frightened. While places frighten him, he is no more than tense or edgy, but when a person scares them, depending on their relation to Fenris, he responds with aggression to varying degrees, degree again - depending on their relation to Fenris. He also takes hygiene and organization in most of its forms very seriously. Someone displaying bad hygiene will only earn concerned looks from Fenris, while a unorganized setting while urk him to no end. He likes animals that are trained to be comfortable around elves - shortly, ones who won't try to kill him. If something isn't so important that it'll kill him, or majorly inconvenience him to not remember, he won't remember. Due to this, he often mispronounces names shamelessly, knowing full well he'll be corrected.

In battle his personality changes a little bit. He hardens into what some would call a tactical genius, and what others would call the lucky guesser who never runs out of luck. His voice hardens and his brow furrows comically more. He never spares any unless they have uses, and will recklessly use his strongest spells against large groups of enemies no matter who's in the area. He'll always give a warning before he uses a spell, but not much time to get out of the way. He wants perfection out of everyone when they're fighting, and will sometimes fire shots at those who don't perform well.

Tagline: Before Cal'Ancelan was surrounded, during a skirmish between the Wretched and Tel'Quessir forces at Numelad, Fenris was sent around the front lines with a small detachment to scout the Wretched's flank, to see if it was defended from the side. If they proved to have their flank guarded, they were to do no more than pull back, and if that were not the case, they, especially Fenris, were supposed to hit them hard and as quickly as they possibly could to sew a bit of dismay into their ranks. Briefly, they arrived at their position, and made the deduction that their flank was guarded, but even more than that, they were prepared for scouts, and Fenris and his allies were ambushed. Everyone made it away with their lives, but the way they did it was different than the way Fenris did. See, everyone immediately got onto their horses and fled, while Fenris forgot altogether that he even arrived on a horse. Despite the fact that Fenris may have been able to deal with the ambush himself, despite orders to not engage, at the sight of his allies pulling back, he panicked and ran, far faster than anyone would expect of him. He ran all the way back to Numenlad, the only thought driving him was that the Wretched were merely a quarter mile behind him. By the time he had left the forests around Numenlad, the skirmish had shortly ended with a Tel'Quessir victory. He stumbled into the barracks, only to be met with a mix of laughter, disappointment, and the occasional look of shock at the speed that he arrived. He only arrived back at Numenlad minutes after the horses did. This earned him a title only said in jest or mock, "Fleetfoot."`

Backstory: Fenris is the only son of the Lord of Ilshari, Lord Evindall Ellrohir, who is also the brother recent queen. His childhood was low energy, for a noble. When he wasn't learning about governing, Fenris was taught mathematics and engineering to some degree, but he only received this tutoring on the condition that he had to plead for one. This took up most of his day to day time until his adolescent years, when he became infatuated with magic. He wanted to leave to Cal'Ancelan to study as soon as he could, but was not granted permission to do so until a year after he turned thirty.

Before he even enrolled into the Mage Academy, he too two years to settle into Cal'Ancelan, brushing up on old lessons he had already learned in the first year, then learning as much as he could (without enrolling) about magic in the second year. Even with his extra preparation time, Fenris was not a very talented mage, nor was he a below average one. He was about even, with little will to become any better. He was particularly interested in ice magic and its applications, which, he could easily deduce that due to ice's tangibility, it had more uses than the other elements, or so, that was what he always argued. Despite his opinion that ice was scores greater than the rest, he did not deny that the other elements had their uses. In his twilight years of the academy, his aptitude for magic strangely increased sharply. Had he been a little more determined, he could've graduated at the top of his class.

As a stormlord, anyone could think that Fenris was just a discounted Tempest, as he had the ability to cast all elements like any stormlord, but mainly relied just on ice. He was discounted because he lacked only the power. Anyone could guess that when or if he reached the level of a Tempest he would no doubt choose to master ice. He saw only a little bit of action(enough to earn a tagline) before on the request of his father to Arclord Kharis Bhallen, Fenris was kept away from any fighting for the most part, and was given more menial tasks, barely fitting for a Highborn Stormlord. Since Fenris is so emotionally inanimate, he didn't really mind, or really notice that he was essentially kept in Cal'Ancelan. Around the time that Cal'Ancelan was surrounded a few decades in, Kharis finally let Fenris off of his thin leash around the time that High King Erlathan Velahr gave his life to keep Cal'Ancelan safe. Fenris became apart of small operations to clear our the shroud of Wretched around the city. By this time, Fenris had been training himself to become a Tempest, namely expanding his mannapool and learning to turn himself into an elemental conflux successfully.

Story Relation: Fenris strongly agrees with the Grandmagus that the offensive should continue against the Wretched, as even as they scored a huge victory after the reclaiming of Tal'Velahr, Wretched still persist even behind the faintly drawn defensive line. Even if the attack is temporarily stopped, he believes that there should still be an elaborate purge on whatever remains behind the lines to further ensure security. As the son of Lord Evindall, he is also Amaranth's cousin, though their limited contact would nearly render their interactions to what you would expect of an exchange between two strangers.

Skills, Interests and Fears:
(S): Fenris is a gifted climber of anything. Tree or cliffside.
(I): Fenris hopes to become the Tidemaster someday, and to further prepare himself for the position, he studies how to handle matters of state in his free time.
(F): Fenris is afraid of all feral animals, even more so if the animal is bigger than himself. It won't stop him from fighting them, but he's more likely to make fatal mistakes.
(S): Even though Fenris doesn't always keep one on him, archery is a hobby of his. He's no wizard with the bow, but he's definitely got acknowledged skill. He's got about the same level of skill with throwing weapons as well.
(I): Fenris loves architecture, whether it be recent, ancient, foreign, or native. He's pretty good at making (albeit small) elaborate structures from ice whenever he's bored.
(F): Fenris is easily scared of anything he doesn't expect, or merely just an eerie setting.
(S): Fenris is excellent at making accurate estimated calculations of distance and time.

Spells:
Sanya;
From Elvish, it translates to "normal."(basic). These are just basic, low cost and reliable spells that Fenris can cast scores of. Small ice shards fired from the hands or streams of frost. Always smaller and weaker than any of the spells listed below.

Kantkhelek; From Elvish, it translates to "to shape ice." Simply put, Fenris can make various shapes of varying complexities from ice. Normally, the simpler the shape, the bigger he can make the shape, such as making a cube to act as a wall, he could make it as large as having a 15x15x15 foot perimeter, or, in much simpler design, he could make a wall 1 foot thick, and even ne able to add something similar to a two way door to it without effecting the size. It can also be assumed that he can make other projectiles, such as shards, spiked balls, or whatever other shape his mind can throw together. It is noted he can make more than one shape at a time, and control. If a shape is made on the same position as something bigger than the object made, it will hollow out around the obstacle - though, objects can only be made around a foot away from Fenris' hands, if not closer. Visually, when he casts this spell, blue mist will cover the area the spell is being casted on, form the desired shape, and then solidify at a quick rate. Usually, shapes bigger than Fenris will take more time to form than smaller, simple shapes. This is also the spell in which Fenris casts basic spells, like firing ice spikes from his hands. Shapes made can be stationary, or launched when made.
With Amuelet: The range of sizes he can make shapes are much greater. Usually, when shapes are being put together, it's near instant. If someone so happens to be in the place he decides to make a shape with the amulet on, they will be frozen all the way through.
Common applicable uses include: making small shards and raining them upon an area, making even smaller shards, no bigger than a grain of sand, and sending hundreds in the form of gale, or making defensive barriers, occasionally with protruding from the adjacent end. Your mind can think of anything else.

Teakhelek; From Elvish, it translates to "Precise ice." (or Line ice) The more complex version of Kantkhelek, Fenris can make shapes, and most rules from that spell apply to this. While in Kantkhelek, ice is made from Fenris' hands, but in this spell, ice is made stationary from a desired position, specifically for as far as he can see. However, the size of these shapes become much smaller the farther it is cast. He can also cast this spell underground, allowed him to make shapes rise up from the ground, and in turn, also giving him the ability to make traps, or attack from beneath an enemy's very feet. Visually, this spell looks no different than Kantkhelek when you can see it. The special thing about this spell is that the ice can be made to serve a function, like a large shard of ice exploding into icy shrapnel when someone comes near, or simply at the snap of a finger.
With Amulet: Size drop off and distance no longer share a correlation, and the size is entirely up to Fenris. Biggest shape size is doubled.
Common applicable uses include: Raising spikes from the ground immediately, or at a set time. Raising a barrier from far away to defend a far off ally. Make a block of ice above a target and let gravity do the rest.

Poldor-Losa; From Elvish, it translates to "Snow Force." This essentially sets a blizzard upon an area of varying sizes. Visually, it appears as a cloud of viciously swirling snow and ice. The bigger the area, the less violent the winds are. At its biggest size, it will essentially act as a natural blizzard - only fatal to those who are not prepared and linger too long in the effect. It's biggest size is a quarter of a mile in diameter. At smaller sizes, the swirling chunks of ice move at such speeds that they would fling a being in similar size to that of a human effortlessly. Similar to most storms, this spell has an eye that people can remain safely in until the effects of the spell cease. The eye is normally wherever Fenris is, if ever in the storm. (Oddly)Wood and metal are temporarily stained blue if they're in the storm for too long. The storm, will last longer the bigger it is made, but will ultimately be weaker, longest lasting a minute and a half, and at its greatest intensity, 30 seconds. Given he doesn't want to attack anyone, he can merely make it snow gently in an area.
With Amulet: Those caught in the storm for too long will freeze solid until the spell is over. Maximum size is roughly doubled in diameter.

Sul; From Elvish, it translates to "Wind." This is the only move that Fenris can cast that is not ice related, since it's not an ice spell, it is significantly weaker than all other spells. Generally he uses it to bring smaller objects to himself with a simple breeze, and even then, it rarely finds use.

Hilkin Arda; From Elvish, it means "To freeze Earth." This just makes the ground on the target area freeze. The shape is defined by Fenris, and the biggest size in 10 feet in any one dimension/axis. When the spell is cast, there's no visual cue, the ground just freezes over in the desired area.

Nefari of Storms
Other:
Link to RPing/Writing Sample:
A sample of my writing can be found here.
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[div class=openbutton]Jaelyn Dawns fire
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[div class=textbox]Name: Jaelyn Forsyth "Dawnsfire"
Age: 24
Location of Birth: Ilshari
Sexuality: Pansexual
Appearance: Jaelyn is a human of above average height. She stands at five foot seven, or one hundred and seventy-seven centimetres tall. Her hair is a dark brown, almost black, that is cut short, stopping just above her shoulders in order to avoid it being grabbed or caught when fighting or moving through the thick forest undergrowth. Her hair is a soft wavy form, and when rained on, refines to tighter curls. Her eyes are a dull brown, unable to reflect light but just as expressive as any other colour. With a soft, doll like features, she lacks the usual desirable cheek bones of a woman of her age, instead appearing to be of a younger age. Most of the time she is asked for her age when in bars and other restricted areas because of her softer features. With her heart shaped face and button nose, her skin dusted with freckles, she comes across easily as innocent and harmless.
Her body is muscular, yet lean, a body made for the strength needed in a heavy set long bow and the lean body of an agile, fast ranger. She lacks the desireable curves of most woman her age, something she has brushed aside with a simple, 'I run faster this way'.

Equipment: Saxe knife in a belt sheath, long bow, a side bag with light foods, spices, a map, compass, small torch and water flask. Jaelyn carries her saxe knife in a sheath on her belt, snug against her hip in order to be able to hide it under a cloak but also be able to grab it at a moments notice. The hilt is a gorgeous slightly curved hard, red wood. Though plain, it was gifted to her by her parents who had it made especially for her when she had started on trying to become a ranger. She has her elven long bow, gifted to her after becoming a ranger with beautiful, intricate engravings of fine skill- it was kept in her bow bag, often hanging from her shoulder. Around her thigh, she keeps her throwing knives, often hidden in the sewn pockets of her pants. She has her ranger cloak that is made of heavy wool, coated in oil to keep it waterproof and ready for warm nights.

Class: Ranger

Personality: As a warrior, Jaelyn carries the virtues to be a successful ranger, having spent many of her childhood years in the Ilshari forest, learning to climb and move through the forestry- her determination of her younger years training herself before being mentored by another ranger who subsided in the Ilshari forest creating a fearsome, stealthy ranger. As a friend, she is fiercely loyal. She is introverted and likes to focus on self-improvement due to the many flaws she sees within herself. She never seems to think she is good enough, or that she is pleasing the people around her enough. She goes above and beyond to feel validated and in many cases, this is used against her. When she was younger, she would play with the kids in the forest, and often times they would convince her to do something she shouldn't, with nothing more than a 'I guess we can't be friends' or a 'You're really upsetting me Jae! Come on... Please?'

As a lover, she is caring, even though she is insecure and stumbles over every decision she makes. She is loyal and honest and expects the same of her partner. As a ranger, she has little time for romances due to the dangers they can bring. She was taught to keep her mouth closed about most things or deceive without lying in order to keep close guarded facts about herself a secret- this makes close relationships very difficult.

Tagline: Jaelyn Dawnsfire, famed for her stubborn determination

Backstory: Due to her appearance, she decided to learn skills to be a ranger- archery that started with a home-made recurve bow and worked up to a stronger, heavier recurve until she finally grew old enough to use a long bow. She also learned how to throw knives that may not have been made for the action, such as her saxe knife. She now knows how to perfectly time the hilt rotation with the force of her throw in accordance to the weight of the blade and the handle, in order to land a deadly blow every time. She learned all sorts of techniques to build her stealth skills and her navigation, sometimes spending days out in the less civilised, less inhabited areas of Ilshari. She was stubbornly determined to become the best ranger of the human race in order to help end the war in some way. She stayed up many nights, often being seen in the dawn light, her body bruised and cut from the forest, her features set in determination as she threw knife after knife and pulled back arrow after arrow. This earned her the name 'Dawnsfire', for she was the girl that was awake before dawn, with a fierce, fiery passion. Due to the human race being shunned by elves, her parents were poor, explaining why her saxe knife is rather plain despite the many hours of hardwork her parents went through to save up for the materials to make it- this only increased her love for the blade. She was mentored from a young age by a Bluecloak human, leaving her with a rather disdainful taste in her mouth in the regards of the elven race. Her parents had simple lives that they resented, which was why they encouraged her to train every day and didn't mind that she disappeared at times, only beginning to worry if she didn't return after three days. This simple life of mistreatment has lead her to have trust issues when meeting new people, especially elves.

Skills, Interests and Fears:
In regards to her skills, Jaelyn is a weak close quarters trainer though she has the same training as every other ranger. She is a brilliant marksman and prefers to use her long bow or throwing knives in stealthy ambushes. When it comes to confrontation, she finds her best point of attack is by having her enemy underestimate her- something she used to lose her temper over but was mentored to use to her advantage. She is skilled in cookery as her mother hoped to pass one skill at least down to her from their simple heritage while her father taught her how to make fletching for her arrows and what she could and couldn't eat. These skills from her father gave her a step up in her apprenticeship with the Bluecloaks.
As far as her interests go, they are quite narrow. She has her mindset on one thing- to help stop the war. Although she has acknowledged her interest in both men and women, she deems it a silly thing to focus on with a war at hand. Jaelyn is focused and one-minded when it comes to her life goal. She only thinks she should find time to have a family because of how happy and the deep meaning it would give her family. She has only ever been interested in the traits that it takes to become a range- archery, knife handling, combat, tracking, botany, survival.
Jaelyn's biggest fear, like many living throughout the war, is that she won't survive. That her family won't survive. She is fearful of disappointing her parents and having to return home to face the same simple life that her parents dreaded her having.

Link to RPing/Writing Sample: Funus Mortuorum | The Northern Wind: A Multi-Fandom Roleplay
(I won't write this much in a general post, but this is the extent of my literacy. My average post length is 100-300 words. I am Dawnfire)
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WORK IN PROGRESS


  • kisspng-final-fantasy-brave-exvius-dissidia-final-fantasy-final-fantasy-brave-exvius-sakura-5b55a952b8bba6.1287827515323405627567.png
    Name
    Nichol Silvergale (Nik-all)

    Age
    23

    Location of Birth
    Cal’Ancalen

    Sexuality
    Pansexual

    Appearance
    Nichol is a young human male of slender build. He is easily recognized by his icy blue hair and blue scarf he wears wherever he goes. When on duty or traveling, he wears white and blue robes that cover a simple outfit underneath. He stands at an average height of 5”9 And is also often seen wearing a pair of thick framed rectangular spectacles.

    Personality
    Soft spoken and earnest is an accurate way to describe Nichol. Being the youngest sibling in his family has led to him to bein a bit more reserved than his brothers and sisters since he has a lot to look up to. Although he isn’t particularLy anxious to engage with others, he is by no means aloof or timid. He enjoys conversing when an opportunity to do so presents itself and he likes to spend time with those he considers friends. He is also quite attentive to the mannerisms of others giving him a natural sense of empathy. As a byproduct of his chosen career path, he is intellectually gifted. He is also quite easily flustered as evidenced by countless moments of teasing and embarrassing accidents in the pressence his friends and family. He seeks to become a professional Magus in hopes of living up to his parents’ and siblings’ names as honored Valiants of the Bluecloaks.

    Class
    Stormlord - Tempest - Wind Focus - Nefari of Storms

    Equipment
    - A pristine dagger sheathed in his belt. Almost never used and he hopes to keep it that way.
    - Aspiring Magus’ Journal. A book that Nichol uses to help him study vein patterns and other concepts relating to magic. He adds to it whenever he learns something new.
    - A staff for casting. The thin base is made from silver and is tipped with a small shard of mythril.
    - A backpack. There for obvious reasons.
    - Scholar’s supplies. Writing utensils, parchment, etc.
 
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[div class=openbutton]𝔗he 𝔖leeping 𝔅lack 𝔏ion
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[div class=textbox]𝕭𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖘
𝔑
ame: Estelle 'La Noir Descoteaux but has taken on the name of Antoinette Alex Lyon.
People are still free to call her by either of the two names; how she acquired those names? Long story short, at first she didn't quite like the name she was given so she made a new name

𝔄ge: Estelle is at the age of 107 years old.

𝔏ocation of 𝔅irth: The dear girl was born in Ilshari

lass: Ranger ▶ Moongarde


  • [IMG='width:209px;']https://pre00.deviantart.net/9638/th/pre/f/2018/251/c/1/2s_by_wlop-dcmduvz.jpg[/IMG]

𝔄ppearance
Lyon is appears to be a pretty young female, doesn't she? Well, she is definitely aging gracefully and beautifully like any elf. The pros of being an elf is how merciful with aging.. But of course, don't just let someone's appearance fool you into thinking they're really that specific age. Who knows? You might've fallen in love with an old grandmother and nobody would be able to figure it out. Looking upon her face, one might notice either her bright emerald green eyes that glistens and seemingly "glowing". With her captivating forest gems reflecting back the lights and colors that are in her view, Antoinette is probably known for her brilliant green eyes as that's probably the most remarkable appearance trait she has. Contrasting against those forest gems would be her locks of obsidian jet black that is frequently seen to be kept in a singular side braid -- going past her waist by just a couple of inches. Estelle doesn't enjoy having her hair actually out as it tends to get in her way whenever she is trying to accomplish some sort of task or goal for the day. With that out of the way, literally, Noir seems to have soft peachy porcelain white skin that would remind one of a porcelain dolls that are sitting by the window of a toy store. Doesn't that just suit her name, Antoinette... Delicate and clear skin but so easily bruised and damaged compared to most people. So she has to be careful of what happens to herself, she is prone to getting injuries a lot more. But upon her facial features, looking up close, across her cheekbone to cheekbone - even upon the top of her nose; this female's face was lightly decorated with slightly darker tone of "stars" (freckles). A little feature that this Lyon carries which isn't bad in all honesty, maybe it makes her a little bit more unique? This 5'6" (167 cm) female seems to have a decent height for a female, one can not label her as short nor tall. Well, that is unless you're shorter than her by more than just a couple of inches, but yeah. She has what she likes to call it, "the perfect height", all thanks to the genes her parents had passed down.


𝔈quipment:

  • Water canteen
    Dried food
    Herbs (She only learned the basics, hopefully she'll be able to expand that knowledge)
    Silver wires
    Arrows


    Outside of Satchel
    Bow




  • Antoinette is a bit of an.. unusual elf one could say. Some would even say her personality may be a bit "bland". It all depends on the beholders point of view, of course. This female is pretty easy going, give her enough reasons to do something and she'll might actually do what you request for her to do. Although, she does go along with the saying "𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒." She'll ask for a favor in return or just some money for her to just get along with her life really. Even if you're not asking for her to do something, she is still a pretty easy going person who really doesn't care for what kind of things you say about her. If it's offensive, then she'll just shrug it off and sometimes even just go along by saying it's true. Which sometimes does provoke the person who had said that... Noir really don't think there's any reason for her to be spending that much energy on something so... unnecessary. Rumors and lies aren't something she enjoys spending her time dealing with, which is why she barely pay any attention to them.

    Which does kind of give you a rough idea of how she is like, Estelle is a very straight forward person who doesn't like beating around the bush. You're going to be saying the same thing to begin with, one is the shorter way on saying or the other way is where you sugarcoat, prolonging what you're trying to say. Listen, Alex is also a very lazy female, so save her the time and just cut to the chase. Even if you don't have her the time, save your own time and breathe by going straight to the point. So lying is something she also doesn't do, some would even say she is brutally honest at times but that's just how she is. Oh wait, don't take it as if she has no remorse or conscience with her words. Of course the onyx haired female would apologize if she had hurt someone's feelings, but if she doesn't notice that someone is hurt by her words, apologies doesn't seem to pop up in her head. Lets say that she is maybe a bit naive about other people's emotions? She finds people complicated at times because of how many things they say that would contradict what they mean..

    Noir does her work quite similar to how she speaks her mind, she likes to make things quick and short. Give her a task, she'll try to finish it as soon as possible before wandering off to go take a nap or something. Wait! Hold on! Don't mistake her as an impatient woman, this Lion really isn't impatient at all. She just prefers to finish and do things quickly instead of prolonging certain subjects for far too long. Sometimes needing to wait is an inevitable topic, Toinette does not mind waiting as long as it's a reasonable time. But yeah, she might just be one of the laziest people you come to meet later on in life and you'll probably find it amazing as to how quick she falls asleep, no matter the place and situation you put her in. Many apologies if she has fallen asleep on someone, trust me, that kind of happened a bit too often...

    Simply put it, this Lion is just a really "tired" lazy, easy going, honest, and straightforward person. So good luck with this one.


𝔖ample 𝔚riting
┏ 🏵 ━━━━ Broken ━━━━ 🏵 ┓
.。.:*✰ 「 Kim , Bo - Yeong 」✰*:.。.
❝ All of these glass mirrors but I still
can't find myself . ❞
┗ 🏵 ━━━ Alice ━━━ 🏵 ┛
Tucking her luscious sun kissed golden locks behind her ears as they were now introduced to an unfamiliar scenery, the female's bright oceanic crystals seems darts around admiring and absorbing the flourished environment. Flowers, herbs, basically a fragment of nature was spread across the property. In the middle of the dazzling bright colors was a somewhat small hut, Bo-yeong seems to be taking in everything that was introduced to her eyes by the companion of the elf. Wait, was it really alright for them to walk in like this? For all Ziylana knows is probably her pet wandering off, not bringing home two people and a guardian.. So stopping herself in her tracks before looking back at Atsushi, starry night skies for eyes seems to shimmer with a anxiousness before it seems to fade away as fast as it came, which wasn't that fast. The female's guardian trudges slowly behind the pair, the large sized guardian had his head held up high while he walks, examining his surroundings and taking in the fresh scent of flowers mixed with the sharp scent of herbs. Herbs has these distinct scent, it's sharp and could be sought out from others. A heavy breathe was huffed out of the feathered guardian as it took it's slow steps behind the duo.

Of course, things sort of happened a bit too fast, Bo-yeong didn't have much time to put in her opinion nor comments so she merely bit her tongue. Clutching the sketchbook to her chest closely, she felt unease, not about the food placed in front of her by the gardener but this whole situation. The vampire seems to just settled herself down in front of the table, finally placing the tattered up book upon her sky colored blue dress that was lined with a white “apron” design. Lifting up her right hand to poke some edibles with curiosity before hearing Atsushi speaking to Ziylana. Touchy, touchy. The male had held the female’s hand and in return, the female had brough his hand against her chest. Bo-yeong didn’t quite understand the situation, not that it had processed through her mind fully to begin with. Nothing seems to be processing through her mind as she had placed the savory edibles into her mouth, the girl was just quietly eating before having Soleil placing his head upon the female’s lap. He was gentle, the guardian didn’t want to harm the sketchbook upon her lap but he still rest his semi large head on her. Looking down, blinking her oceanic clear blue crystals, acknowledging his presence before continuing her dine. Of course, she had finished her meal rather quickly due to her hunger for food but hunger for something else.. “Thank you for the meal. It was delicious, Ziylana.” The blonde female had commented and thanked the elf. Resting her hands on top of the feathered pearl white head of Soleil, gentle strokes against the feathers and having her fingers gently running against the bright golden pearl gem upon his forehead. The jewel seems to glisten and gave off a soft luminescent glow with her touch, the bright colored eyes seems to close when Bo-yeong strokes the top of his head.

Suddenly, a gnawing hunger starts crawling in her stomach and her throat seems to be getting and feeling dry, Bo-yeong slowly let her hands dropped to her side. She stares down at the table for a good moment before clenching her hands into a tight fists, knuckles turning ghostly white from her effort. Slowly turning over to the taller male of the trio, her fingers seems to be attracted to the male’s sleeves before tugging upon it, notifying the demigod to give her his attention. Once she has gotten what she needed, the vampire opens up her mouth just a bit with her fangs poking out now. Hopefully he has gotten the hint of her hunger, closing her mouth within a couple of seconds, Bo-yeong stares at the male to see what his plan was for her. That was until she heard a slam of the door, the door swung open and it seems to have loosen up the hinges. So much for door locks. Soleil seems to have lifted up his head slowly to look at the... awfully looking angel. Rather dramatic, that’s what he wanted to speak out but didn’t. “Acel?—“ Her voice was cut off as soon as the male came stumbling in with spider webs and creepy crawly insects upon him, amongst those creepy crawlers, some were frozen to death. No doubt that this male had tried to get rid of them with his ability. As soon as Bo-yeong was about to get up to help the male, the elf had beat her to it. Puffing out her cheeks like a young child, the girl seems to have situated herself back comfortably in her seat before seeing Keeva making her way over to the particular vampire. This vampire seems to bend slightly to pick the guardian up, lifting Acel’s guardian up and into her arms, settling Keeva upon her lap. The Golden Nightingale seems to be hugging Keeva like a teddy bear while watching her close friend being taken care of. That was until Ziylana had touched the male’s wings. “I wouldn’t do that—“ It was a bit too late for her to say it now, the gardener has already gotten her hands upon the male’s wings.

Her sapphire gems seems to look down at Acel, “Ace... You’re not going to die from them, you basically killed almost like- all of them with your ability.” By now, Bo-yeong was definitely used to these situations; the male getting himself involved with nature’s creepy crawlers. “Keeva, tell me, did Acel walk into a cobweb?” Here’s the thing, this vampire dislikes insects too but she would react as badly as Acel would. The angel was terrified of these things! Oh, she felt a bit bad if you have to ask her. Slowly her gaze travels over at Atsushi, wondering what his reaction to this situation was but also somewhat hoping he could do something about her hunger. “But what great timing you have, Ace! Shi and I were planning on looking for you just like a couple of minutes ago! But then... I had gotten hungry..” Slightly embarrassed by her confession, the female seems to lower her head on top of Keeva’s, burying her face into the soft blue fur of the guardian. “Shi, can you bring Saint out soon? I haven’t seen him in a while...” The vampire seems to finally recalled that previous conversation she had with Atsushi about his guardian. At the corner of her eyes, she could see that Acel had started bawling his eyes out because of the insects. Oh boy, the female wanted to help but Ziylana has it covered. Somewhat. Let’s hope Acel doesn’t get touchy about his wings, his wings were this angel’s treasure. He loves to keep himself clean and everything organized, when he falls into such trouble, he gets a bit.. emotional. Atsushi and Bo-yeong were the witnesses of such events and also the people that helped him out, now there is someone new. “Ace, don’t cry.. We have food after you get yourself cleaned.” The vampire said with a slightly happier tone, she was god damn relieved that Acel came back. She was worried about his wellbeing when he flew off without a warning. Bo-yeong would hug the angel but he is in his moment right now. Although suddenly, a sharp shock seems to have sent through her entire body. The female’s eyes widened upon such feeling, paralyzed in shock before her oceanic eyes traveled over to the door slowly. He is back..
┏ 🏵 ━━━━ Shattered ━━━━ 🏵 ┓
❝ A smile is the best mask that anyone
can ever pull . ❞
.。.:*✰ 「 LOCATION. West, a Hut 」✰*:.。.
┗ 🏵 ━━━ Wonderland ━━━ 🏵 ┛
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code by Ri.a
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