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Fandom Bravely Null: Roster and Characters

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InsaneAsylum

InsaneAsylum

The Chocobo Champion
Player Roster

Crusaders of Rivienne
- Arcanist Arcanist
- HeyItsBanana HeyItsBanana
- The Black Knight The Black Knight
- Takumi98 Takumi98

Defenders of Feurey
- Misuteeku Misuteeku
- FoldedPages FoldedPages
- Entity.Eclypse Entity.Eclypse
- dazzling dazzling

Survivors of Ventin
- Pilgrim59 Pilgrim59
- SilverBlack SilverBlack
- Open
- Open

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PM your character(s) to me for approval before you even consider posting it. We’ll likely ask you to make edits to some areas as well. You won’t get your name into a roster slot until your character sheet is fully approved. Once you’re accepted, you’ll also get the link to the discord server which will serve as our ooc.

Although making side characters is optional, I greatly encourage it. If you do decide to make a side character or two, know that every section with a (*) must be filled out.

Character Sheet Skeleton​

Code: 
[center][tabs]
[tab=Main Character Name]
[h](Full Name Here)[/h]
(Appearance Here)

Age: (No younger than 16, No older than 35.)

Height:

Weight:

Personality: (One Paragraph Minimum)

Backstory: (Three Paragraphs Minimum)

Class:

Magic Mastery: (Only fill out if making a magic user. One Branch at advanced level, or two branches at basic level.)

Fighting Style: (What’s your characters usual strategy in a fight? How do they work with teammates? What are their weaknesses?)

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[/tab]
[tab=Side Character 1]
*[h](Name)[/h]

*(Appearance)

*Age:

*Height:

*Weight:

Personality:

Backstory:

*Class:

*Magic Mastery:

*Fighting Style:

—————
[/tab]
[tab=Side Character 2]
*[h](Name)[/h]

*(Appearance)

*Age:

*Height:

*Weight:

Personality:

Backstory:

*Class:

*Magic Mastery: ƓƼᕓ ΣՆԖΛⴵᕓ ՆЦ ЩᕓⴵᕓԖΛƓ

*Fighting Style:

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[/tab]
[/tabs][/center]
 
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  • Sheridan SasakiYoung girl.png

    Age: 25

    Height:
    4'4 ft

    Weight:
    64 lb

    Personality:
    Sheridan doesn't expect much from people, which includes herself sometimes. When it comes to interacting with people she'll always be cautious, wary around them, even when she knows them well enough. Though that doesn't mean she'll shy away from confrontation and will cooperate if need be. This does not apply to those who she truly does trust, or kids. While still quiet, she'll be happier to engage in a conversation with someone she knows. Sheridan prefers to be in the company of animals and her puppets. Animals, however, are scared of her due to her finding them 'cute' and constantly wants to pat them. She tends to talk to her puppets, out of loneliness, and gives them all kinds of names and personalities. Though she has a tendency to forget their names and personalities, whenever she is done talking with them. She's also curious about things around her given that she hasn't experienced things much.

    Backstory:

    There was a noble who traveled around the country. He was on a journey to find a woman and wed her to become his wife.Coming across Sheridan's mother, he fell in love with her beauty. It didn't take long before the noble enlisted her service and wanted her for his wife. His clan disagreed. They didn't want a prostitute among them, especially one who was of Rivienne blood. Broken between his love for his new wife and his duties to his family, he abandoned his wife. Left in the same hell hole, Sheridan's mother broke. Unknown to the both of them, the wife was pregnant.

    Sheridan didn't have the most pleasant childhood. Constantly bullied due to her mixed heritage and her mother's status of being a prostitute. While her mother was valued highly in the brothel due to her being 'rare,' Sheridan was treated as an outsider by everyone around her. Ignored, abused, bullied by those around her. Even her mother did such acts. There had been a few who were nice, but those memories were swamped with agony. She cursed her existence and everyone around her. At her young age, Sheridan knew that the world was unfair. People will hurt you just because you had some blood that you didn't even know about.

    When she grew older, she ran away from her mother. She couldn't take anymore abuse and ran away. Alone and starving on the streets, Sheridan didn't care anymore. She knew the outcome was if she ran away. Accepting her fate, she sat there in the cold night as she waited for her body to rot away. That was until an old man came and rescued her from the gutters. He was kind, generous, and most of all loving. Sheridan was at first hesitant, but the love was toxic. It had been the first time since she had been in constantly loved. He taught her to read, and write. The man was like the father she never had. Most of all, he gave her a name.

    Sheridan Sasaki.

    One day she found herself within her caretaker's study. Coming across a scroll, she read through its contents. Each entry had details about each and every one of the experiments going on in her caretaker's basement. All of the experiments were on orphans that he had found on the streets. Heart broken, she resigned herself to her fate. Running would lead to the same ending at the lonesome, cold streets. At the very least, she could satisfy the one she saw as a father.

    When the time came, she walked down the stairs along with her caretaker. The ritual circle glowed a faint black before darkness consume her entire being. She awakened to a rather crazed caretaker. He was happy that he had finally done it, that he had finally was one step closer to his plans. Confused, she looked down and saw herself. Her caretaker had transformed her into a child. Seeing in her success, her caretaker took her in as his protege.

    From there she started researching into her own project. She would make an artificial friend that would never betray her. She worked, studied, and learned. Slowly her craft began to grow under guidance of her caretaker. From first a simple wooden doll, next a wooden dog. She worked and worked until one day, maybe she will create a true friend.

    Using her memories as a base, she animates them using her memories as a base. These puppets will act according to what memory they are. For example, if she were to use a memory of a loyal dog then the puppet will mimic the dog. However, it can only mimic what Sheridan has witnessed. That means if she didn't witness it biting then it wouldn't be able to bite. All the puppets can do is mimic the memories Sheridan had given them. She works to make a puppet that can act out of the limits of the memories she has given it. Sheridan can also give them a little push to make them do what she wants. All puppets destroyed will return the memory Sheridan gave them. If Sheridan were to give them no memories then she would be able to control them manually.

    Class:
    Onmyoji

    Magic Mastery:
    Black Magic: Advanced Dark

    Fighting Style: Being a Dark Onmyoji, Sheridan is able to spell cast curses at a rapid rate. She'll rapidly assault the enemy with weak spells in order to weaken them up. Her puppets bodyguard her during this and do their best to fend off her enemies. Once the enemy is weakened enough, she sends her puppets out to attack while casting her strongest curse at them. If she is working with someone else, then she'll try to adapt along with them and use her puppets to support them.

    Due to her being unable to carry all of her puppets, she only has two puppets. A wooden doll and a puppet dog.

    —————
 
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  • Lanthane Aramis Grivois
    Lanthane.jpg

    Age: 23

    Height: 5'9.

    Weight: 141lbs.

    Personality: To most people, Lanthane is everything a prince should aspire to be; confident, chivalrous to the ladies, and a man who holds attention. This would be all well and good for Lanthane, if some of the qualities weren't tweaked and warped in different ways. To several others, he is over-confident, particularly of his abilities and his apparent intellect. He is most certainly courteous towards the ladies...if you regard courteous as being someone who showers constant attention on women and making flirtatious comments consistently. It's a trait many associate Lanthane with his late father, seeing the late King's success in bedding several women over the course of his reign. Lanthane primarily holds attention by demanding it, always trying to make his voice heard among a group of people, and insisting he has far better ideas and points to be making in a conversation.

    Despite the outward disgust towards this persona he wears, Lanthane is a reliable young man, who attempts to keep his word to those he gives it to. If, on the very few times he does break his promises to others, it's an action he loathes himself for, and often carries around a guilt for otherwise. In the face of danger or fear, he has the courage to carry out the choice he has made in a particular situation, or to speak out against others, something others have noted have caused strife between him and his later father on several occasions.

    Backstory: Born to King Jerald Grivois and his second wife, Lanthane had always been a vocal and outgoing boy. He had clung to his mother from a young age and always sought her for comfort and attention compared to their father. He never loathed his father or had anything against him; rather, he gravitated towards his mother much more than he ever did with the King. War had been a pressing matter even before he was born, but in his view, it didn't affect him and most certainly not his mother. There were people fighting it for them, and his father was making sure all went smoothly for Rivienne. For years in his early childhood, he was oblivious - or made himself oblivious at least - in terms of what was happening in the war. Nothing bad could happen, if they were safely tucked away in their kingdom, with all the soldiers bravely fighting for them, as his mother always told him. Nothing bad could happen.

    Then something bad happened. At age six, Lanthane was informed that his mother had died as a result of poison. The young Prince found it hard to conceive. His mother had kissed his cheek the night before, told him stories of fantastical beasts and brave knights who fought them, and left him to fall asleep in his bed. Now, the day after, she was gone, poisoned, dead. It was an upsetting and rather sobering experience for Lanthane, who discovered that neither he nor his family were exempt from suffering in war, even if they didn't fight in it. He could no longer act oblivious to the fighting that happened all around them.

    The boy had a good deal of growing up to do. So, he found himself taking his studies more seriously and taking more of an interest in what the warring between nations had laid out for them each day. Lanthane made multiple attempts to try and form a closer relationship with his father, who only seemed to grow more and more distant after finding a third wife, and subsequently finding other women to keep him company. When he reached ten, he found himself a new companion - or rather, was assigned a new companion after his mother's death - in a personal Knight, Ser Gerran Perall. Though the older man and the young Prince didn't see eye-to-eye at first, what with Gerran's more stoic personality, the two would go on to form a close bond with one another.

    Early into his teenage years, the event of his mother being poisoned was still something that deeply affected him, to the point he had feared the likes of potions or any concoctions. This slowly changed upon meeting an elderly woman in the poorer areas of the city, which he felt free to do at his leisure as long as Gerran followed. At first, her babbling about plants and animal parts being used to make what he viewed as diabolical potions made him rather fearful of the woman's profession...yet, he found curiosity in it. Every so often, he returned to that little haphazard shop corner, expressing a little more interest each and every time. It eventually got to the point where Lanthane had tea in the back with the elderly woman and they discussed potions and concoctions galore. Yet another bond had been formed between Lanthane and another, and a strong one indeed, for she parted with some scrolls and books she had kept from her earlier days of learning the trade.

    From learning from these books, Lanthane slowly gained proficiency in the way of alchemy. He found that not only could one make dangerous weapons to use against foes, but also aids to help those in suffering. His interest in the war and politics waned somewhat in favour of studying the ways of an Alchemist instead. Though upon hearing of a possible peace treaty among the kingdoms, Lanthane became relieved that a war that shadowed many people's lives may finally come to an end. Once again, Lanthane let his guard down, thinking peace was finally at hand.

    Until he heard of the Northern Catastrophe. Though he never did grow closer to his father as he had hoped, and the death hadn't struck him as hard as his mother's, it was still met with a deep sadness, especially upon hearing of the deaths of several other leaders.

    With the political climate in Rivienne being completely tipped onto its head, Lanthane has no love for the Church of Dieux who has tightened their grip on the kingdom, and who in his view, have seemed to tighten and oppressed the Kingdom he had grown up in with strict policies. Knowing he cannot do anything in his power to stop it, he bites his lip, biding his time until he finds a way to release the chains of religion from Rivienne. He hopes for not only their sake, but other the other Kingdoms' sake, that they not fall under the rule of the Church...

    Class: Alchemist

    Magic Mastery: N/A.

    Fighting Style: Lanthane loves using his creations to cause havoc. If he knows an enemy's elemental weakness, he'll often try to use that to his advantage with some items that would deal hefty damage to them or deal some nasty side effects on them. If he has no creations on him, or if he hasn't time to make them in the heat of the battle, he'll opt to using a dagger instead and physically attacking. It tends to be more of a backup or desperation attack if anything. Though, he does support his teammates at times with items that could boost their speed, attack, and so forth.

    Though Lanthane is proficient in the art of Alchemy, it can take a bit of time to throw something together on the spot. It leaves Lanthane vulnerable and often open to attack.

​
 
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  • Mason Arembur
    590978

    Age: 25

    Height: 6' 4''

    Weight: 180lbs

    Personality:
    Mason is a happy soul, it seems that no matter what happens to him or what burden he is forced to bear he finds a reason to smile. Quick with a joke, often at his own expense, to bring light to another heart. There is nothing he desires more in this world than to it at peace. He is too humble for his own good most times, where the sick that he has healed have offered him coin or goods in exchange for his services, he will brush off any payment of coin, Father Bartholomew taught him to never turn down an invitation for food. Truly, his lack of confidence is one of his worst features and his fear of failure usually causes him to apologize more than he needs to, but any who know him will speak tomes of his kind nature and giving heart.

    Backstory: From his youngest days, as far back as he can recall, the only family Mason knew of was Father Bartholomew and the many others who worked at the church. Despite his continued asking, the only explanation for how he had gotten to this place he now revered was from Father Bartholomew's mouth itself. "It was so many years ago now, but I remember coming back from a particularly late visit, to a tend to an ill child. I remember explicitly that the mother had baked such a wonderful smelling pie, she had even offered me a piece once I had finished with my spell and of course I couldn't decline." It would be at this point, every time he told the story, that Mason would have to remind the Father of what they were speaking of so he would not navigate too far off course. "Ah, right, I had finally returned when I was greeted with a wicker basket, when I looked inside I was greeted by the smiling visage of a baby you. Nobody was in sight and I couldn't very well leave you alone in the cold, so I brought you in and here we are now." Though Mason continued to ask, the story never changed, and try as he might he never remembered anything from that night.

    Naturally, as he grew into his early teenage years, he became invested in magic and the clergy was more than happy to teach him. He was taught the value of white magic and all the ways that it is used to help people, curing sicknesses, it's even said that a powerful enough caster can pull others back from the dead, even still others employ their will onto their comrades strengthening not only their weapons but their bodies as well. Mason poured himself into practicing and refining these abilities, spending countless late nights casting and re-casting spells to maximize the number of spells he could weave. There are a number of white mages who make a luxurious living off their abilities, charging exuberant fees for healing the sick and injured, Mason was not going to be one of them. Even though he was very young, the boy knew that his only desire was to help people, his own heart ached when he saw others in pain, regardless of who they were. The ideal driving Mason forward was a simple one, "If I have the ability to help someone, I should." he would repeat this phrase to himself at nearly every crossroad, forging a resolve that couldn't be broken.

    Though far from brave, and even further from heroic, Mason's view of his growing abilities got him into trouble on more than one occasion. When his skills became notable enough for him to be considered an official white mage, he took it upon himself to begin walking the city. These daily trips served many purposes, but the most important to him were thus, learning the layout of as much of his city as possible, every nook and alley that he could memorize, he would. The other part was people, he would be able to see and react firsthand to those in need, truly learning of their problems and what plagued them. One would thing that all would be accepting of a wandering healer, but this was not so, as some of the aforementioned luxury mages had areas of the city they had claimed, and tried to bar anyone else from healing there. Mason learned, more than once, the costs of disobeying some of them. Savagely he had been beaten, more than one of his bones broken and both of his eyes blackened, during his first few years of walking the city it was more common for him to come home with a new injury than not. Either through admiration of his determination, or sheer stupidity, the luxury mages stopped sending goons after him, he was not truly making a dent in their profits, to them it was about sending a message that this man seemed to not understand.

    Though he was often concerned as to being different, many of the other mages from the church did not dare to walk alone, Mason did not truly understand how different until very recently. It had been a long day, the stars spotted the sky above him, twinkling beautifully on another day that had been full of work. Something had been bothering him though, that gnawing that always came back to him, he had carved out a niche in life that he was happy with, but he could not shake that one thought: "Who am I?" That same question that haunted him for as long as he could remember, the answer for which he pestered Father Bartholomew but never obtained anything new. Today would change everything.

    If it wasn't peculiar that Father was waiting for him when he returned form his walk, the nervous look on his face made it so. "Mason, I'm afraid there is something we must speak upon." He said, a solemn sadness palpable in the air about them. In the thick fingers of the rotund man was a letter, the parchment that it was written upon looked old, creases where it had been folded and unfolded hundreds of times revealed that it was a document that had been well read. Father Bartholomew handed the item to him gingerly, as if he were afraid it would fall apart. Mason began reading it aloud,

    "Mason, my young babe, I'm sorry for all I have been unable to provide for you. I'm sorry for never having the ability to meet you and see you grow into the good man I know you will become. You are the outcome of a chance interaction with King Grivois himself, while there is nothing I would love more than to give you a life and provide the things you need, I'm a simple hand maiden. I was terrified, young and alone, I could not handle a child, and for that I am deeply remorseful. There is a magic seal attached to this letter, it is akin to a signature and will only react to those of noble blood. Use it, show the royalty and live the life I could never give you."

    Mason's voice had grown quiet, the last words barely audible as he slumped onto the front steps of the church. He hadn't even noticed, but there was a dull blue glow coming from the back of the parchment in his hand. Looking closer it was the coat of arms of Rivienne, and it was glowing with a faint magic light. Tears were flowing from his eyes, as he looked to Father once more, who was ready to receive a through scolding for keeping this from him for so long, was instead greeted with possibly the largest hug he had ever been given, though Mason's arms did not even fully reach around the large man. Even more tearful than the revelation was the exodus the next morning, with Mason leaving the church to go and finally discover who he is. His next stop, the royal palace, though with the current events in the north, it would either be much easier, or much more difficult to reach someone who would believe his story, even with the letter.

    Class: White Mage

    Magic Mastery:

    Basic Healing

    Basic Enchantment

    Fighting Style:

    Mason is a gentle man who much prefers to settle a problem with words before it comes to blows, but that is because he is much better with words than any weapon. When push comes to shove even a poorly trained squire could beat him in single combat, he is quite pathetic, but he doesn't mind. Though he wears a rudimentary mace on his hip it has seen even less combat that Mason himself, the only memorable time he spent using the thing he somehow managed to smash two of his own fingers. Though quite terrified when it comes to him in dire combat with another, he is the first to rush to the aid of someone who is injured no matter the danger. White magic is the sole purpose for his existence, and he intends to do everything he can to assist, aid, and mend those around him, preferring to stay out of the way of those more skilled in combat, but helping through healing or enchantment magic.​

    —————

 
  • Fuzen "Inari" Akatsuki
    6aca543aba5172a45dc77946af70380e.jpg

    Age:
    Twenty-One (21)
    Height:
    5"7 (170cm)
    Weight:
    140lbs (63.503kg)
    Personality:
    Fuzen, or Inari as he prefers to be called, is what you could refer to as selectively social or even reserved. Inari tends to avoid starting a conversation, at times this leads to him staying out of group discussions or more commonly listening in on them. Mentally he's like an iron trap, once he knows someones face or name they're committed to memory the same could be said for oaths. Along with this he is a disciplined lad, tending to be polite to those who are less fortunate than himself or even to a noble who may be a bit too full of themselves. Despite his standard withdrawn disposition he's capable of holding a conversation if he desired to. If an occasion such as this arises he can be a decently enjoyable person to speak to, usually resulting from his capability to read the room and adapt to such a thing. Unfortunately this capability of reading the room doesn't apply to a romantically charged environment, that has yet to effect him thus far.

    Alongside this, Inari could be considered somewhat of a con-artist when it comes to trade. Growing up in the way he did gave him the upper-hand in getting used to this sort of action. Then of course there's the topic of the mask, this almost never leaves it's station upon Inari's face. Without it he usually diverts his entire personality to one of silence, letting someone see what lies beneath would require a great deal of trust- something that he has built in few and far between.
    Backstory:
    The life of Inari isn't a very glamorous one by any definition, his parents were something of a mystery to him in all honesty. What is known of this comes in another way, Fuzen Akatsuki had been raised among numerous other children in an orphanage. The owner of this orphanage had been a stern old man, one who had supposedly been a great warrior at one point in his life, he spoke of a noble man and a kind woman. The identity of this noble was left shrouded in mystery, supposedly he hadn't even granted the woman with his name. There is speculation about who the man may have been though, a few people had witnessed the two together and he appeared to be from the crane-clan's nobility. She had been a lower-class woman, a baker, one who was known for her kind smile no matter the circumstances that came her way. But after she had given birth to her only son this smile weakened, she had approached the owner of the orphanage and her facial expression wavered as she made her situation known. "Please take my child into your care... I fear that my life is to end shortly." The old man could recall this detail and that was why he decided to take in the child with such dire circumstances. The woman had supposedly been assassinated two days later by an unnamed group.

    Growing up in an orphanage hadn't been too difficult for Fuzen, his life was filled predominately with chores and what learning they could manage to have. Meals of lukewarm porridge and scraps of meat filled his stomach fairly consistently, but it was this that led him to appreciate them. He'd gotten to about the age of ten when things became a little shaky, the old owner of the establishment had passed away from an illness that had culminated over the last few years of his life and a new leader rose to take his place. This one had been far crueler to the children than the older man, his care was harsh and strict enough to send a military leader running. Fuzen was among the kids that gathered his ire, but the bad came with some good. In this time he'd made friends with a girl from outside the orphanage, she never would tell him where she came from but would stick around with him for a few hours of the early morning, this girl had been one of his closest allies then and in the years to come. Within this time the man had begun to test Fuzen's patience he had gotten to a rebellious stage of his life, so he stood up for a group of younger kids who the man had been fussing at. The outburst of rebellion led the man to use the boy as an example, physical punishments were common but this had proven to be one of the worst- he'd been thrown into the floor and beaten until his face had been coated in ichor and his body becoming a body of bruises and wounds. This example only served as a catalyst to worsen the punishments he employed on the other children, and a few began to plot revenge. Fuzen had cemented himself as a leader among them and therefore was designated to execute the revenge.

    Night had fallen and the other students had went to bed, only a close group knew his plan but they awaited the result and had gone to bed themselves. He'd set up a straw dummy by the fireplace, the shadows of night and light of the fireplace disguised it well enough that a wandering caretaker wouldn't be aware until they approached it closer. Fuzen stealthily moved throughout the orphanage before coming across the directors room, the man within had fallen into slumber. He entered the room and found a heavy book from the shelf before approaching on the man who had collapsed at his study. The following few moments had been filled by a rage that Fuzen previously hadn't awoken to, he bashed the man in the head with the heavy book until the same red ichor he'd produced before made itself present on the back of the mans indented head. Dropping the book to the ground the air became hard to breath, and the world around him seemed to darken. The child had blacked out in the room and then Fuzen's memories became a little fuzzy. When he awoke next he sat on a hill outside the orphanage and a bright light illuminated the land.

    When he turned to face it, the world he'd known as home had been engulfed in flames- sounds of pain escaped from it and dug into his ears. The sounds of his family dying as the building began to collapse filled the night, smoke billowed through the sky before vanishing into equivalent darkness. He became desensitized, the world seemed to be sucked into a void and his next amount of time was shrouded with thoughts of turmoil, grief, and the overpowering thought of guilt.

    The next thing that he could remember was being inside of a house and staring down at a table, sitting upon it was an item and a voice called out to him. "Child... make an oath to me, follow under my teachings and I shall be your father" The voice spoke but he sat there staring at the item still. "Take it, with it you leave behind who you once were and become what I shall make you." The voice said and pushed the item towards him, reaching forward the young boy lifted the item to his hands- it was a mask of white and red, the mask of a kitsune. "With this you throw away your past- Here forth you are the one basked in flames, bathed in blood."

    "You are Inari"

    The next years of his life he was trained in the way of the shinobi, his actions instructed by those of the rat clan. His body was strengthened and broken, conditioned and honed to best fit the goal they'd set for him. In a short time he had become the very thing they set him out to become, soon becoming capable of surpassing his master in feats of athleticism and even that of intellect. He was a key for handling the deals that his master wished upon him, missions to negotiate and trade things that may not have been approved to the outside world. In some instances he was requested with his peers to handle assassinations for typically minor targest, namely just traitors to the clan. In this time he had grown closer to the person who had saved him from the blazing orphanage to begin with, a girl by the name of Aimi Fujisaki. This became one of his closest accomplices yet again, along with a training partner when it was required of her. The two of them took an oath back when he first joined, an oath to have the others back if they ever needed it. She pursued her goal of growing in the ranks of the Rat clan, supposedly with the intention of marrying a noble, while he decided to distance himself from the clan and find something different- he hasn't cut ties with the clan by any means and would still help them if ever they called for his aid. His future is something that he's never been sure of, as of current he could be considered a wanderer or even a rogue-element among the clans of Feurey. Memories of the past still plague him nightly, the person he was before etching it's way back into his mind as he searches for purpose. As he searches for a chance at redemption.
    Class:
    Ninja
    Magic Mastery:
    N/A
    Fighting Style:
    Inari's "Combative style" would better be described as a "Scouting style" seeing as he doesn't specialize in combat. In truth he acts more as a guide for combat, this is done by scouting out the enemy and reporting any signs of weakness to those who he works with. Because of this he is rather excellent when it comes to providing others with the information they need, this of course isn't meant to say he's completely useless in combat. He's fully capable of handling someone who's off on their lonesome, or even making swift work of a deeply injured opponent. But more-often-than-not he'll be supplying others with information and hiding about to survey the fight rather than participate in it, playing the part of a tactician or an informant is the role he handles with joy.

    His greatest downfall comes from direct combat, his strength is of course one of the less notable features he possess. He's able to hold up in direct combat for a short period of time, such as to distract an opponent from his allies but he still has to back out or be overpowered. This makes physically dominating opponents quite a challenge, as they will win a battle of strength nine times out of ten. The next downfall he has comes for personal reasons more than anything, fire magic is one of those things that unnerve him- it draws back memories that are otherwise pressed back. The issue of fire is something that he's slowly improving against, in the past he used to collapse against an opponent with this capability, as of current he may flinch out of an attack or miss a weakness/weak-point when exposed to this. If this sort of magic kills someone he's close to then a shutdown is possible, this could stem anywhere from silence to a refusal to fight for a period of time.
 
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  • Rin Warui Uryu592456

    Age: 20

    Height: 5'6

    Weight: 120 lbs

    Personality:
    Rin is the embodiment of her name - severe and cold. This comes off as haughty to most, which is why Rin has trouble creating friendship. In reality, her haughtiness is a mask that hides the guilt she feels for abandoning her clan. She is often described as foul-mouthed, brutish, loud, and brash. Despite these shortcomings, Rin is extremely resourceful, albeit, bossy at times. She is also prone to angry outbursts. Though she claims her actions are due to calculated and cold rationales, deep down she is a caring person who steps up for others when needed. Because of her true nature, most animals are attracted to her spirit (and she loves them as well). What most do not see is a quirky and playful side she rarely reveals. She is known to slip up from time to time, however, and playfully pokes at others.


    Backstory:
    Unbeknownst to most, Rin is the blood-daughter of Fubu Warui, the head of the Rat Clan of the Land of Feurey. It is said that her mother had passed away during childbirth, but some speculate Fubu's paranoia led him to poison Rin's mother shortly after her birth. This claim went unanswered due to the fear of being retaliated against. Rin's life was riddled with abuse by her father, and she often felt she could not measure up to his absurd expectations.

    She was stripped of a normal childhood, which was replaced with constant training. Early on, it was clear that Rin possessed magical abilities, presumed to be from her mother's side. Fubu decided to use this to his advantage, training his daughter to become adept in Dark Magic. What started out as proficient Fire Magic, turned into advanced Lightning Magic. This brought false hope to Rin, believing her father had finally accepted her. However, this hope was quickly extinguished when her father voiced hostility towards Rin's chosen weapon - a spear. He believed a spear to be too bulky, but Rin was able to train in a way to use the spear as one, and still able to travel through the shadows quickly and unseen.

    Still, no matter how often and hard Rin trained, she was never quite good enough in Fubu's eyes and he often described her personality as boorish and unrefined.

    As Rin grew older, Fubu's paranoia worsened. The Uryū's, a family close to the Warui's, began to become more involved with Fubu and his unethical and unloving demeanor towards his daughter due to this paranoia. Rin began to see the Uryū's as her own family, becoming close with Hiroaki Uryū, one of the most skilled members of the Rat Clan, despite his age. The Uryū's came to Fubu, asking permission for Hiroaki to become Rin's bodyguard and protector. Fubu begrudgingly accepted after much convincing. Hiroaki and Rin quickly grew close, becoming confidants. Rin often spoke about her troubles with her father and her concerns.

    After Rin turned 20, Fubu's paranoia had reached a paramount. Hiroaki's mother, one of the few who believed Fubu had poisoned Rin's mother (her best friend), voiced her concern to Rin, fearing Fubu would soon try and kill his own daughter and her son. Hiro's mother then revealed to Rin her mother's concerns about Fubu trying to kill her. Distraught, Rin wished to stay in the clan, afraid of what may become of everyone. This was futile, however, and Hiroaki and Rin left the village in the dead of the night disguised as siblings.

    Class: Red Mage

    Magic Mastery: Black - Advanced Fire

    Fighting Style: Rin is not afraid to get her hands dirty and often prefers to act first and then ask questions. She uses her Lightning Magic and spear in conjunction, which, although formidable, often depletes her magical abilities faster and fatigues her faster as well. Her ninja training has made her proficient in speed, her spear often appearing as one with her body when fighting.

    Her Lightning Magic is dark in appearance with a white core. The more powerful her spell, the more wild and unpredictable her Lightning becomes, which poses the risk of hurting herself and her allies.

    She is able to wield her Lightning in three ways:

    Traditional - manifesting it from the sky like traditional lightning. Though she has control over small amounts, if she wishes to wield more or use more powerful traditional lightning, it often becomes unpredictable in nature.

    Wave - manifesting in a waveform which sends out a 360-degree burst of lightning.

    Pulse - manifesting in a pulse, which is a more focused version, sending out a pulse in a 45-degree cone towards a specific target.

    Her wave and pulse form demand more energy, time and expenditure through paper seals.

 
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  • priyati.regular.png


    6f9a812c1605ee6dca4cfac7a0612036.jpg


    Age: 23

    Height: 6'3"

    Weight: 192 lbs (87 kg)

    Personality: Locke likes to travel and discover places he has never been. He likes to help those who can’t help themselves and defend the weak much like a typical boy scout. He always wears a smile and most would find it hard to believe that he is a dragoon after meeting him because…well…he sucks. He is a decent swordsman but he is also not a great swordsman, so his fame mainly comes from his support and not from his swordplay. Shaia still finds him to be an interesting protagonist in her tales and she feels she hasn’t learned completely what there is to “Locke the Bastard” (he hates that title so much).

    The dragoon is playful, silly, and can be at times mischievous when getting out of trouble. He likes good food and drink and so will often times indulge until his friends have to carry him home. As a fighter, Locke…tries. He makes an effort and with his friends’ support, he succeeds. As a dragoon, Locke’s battle prowess seems to take a dramatic change. He is at home with the spear and well-practiced with it. Even if it isn’t a spear, if he is ever holding a pole-armed weapon or object such as a broom or mop, prepare to be amazed!

    Because Locke is no longer being waited on by butlers and other sycophants hired by his family, he has become a little greedy when it comes to money. Learning to earn money on his own is a pain, and if it wasn’t for Hiro, he would spend it all as soon as he earned it. He hasn’t quite learned how to save. Who has time for finances?


    Backstory: Lockheed was born to a renowned noble family of dragoons called The Highwinds. The Highwind family had a lineage guarding the Kingdom of Rivienne. When Lockheed’s father Zefron was on leave to his home village, Eagle’s Landing, he reinforced that duty and history into his son. Zefron was commander of the dragoon unit in Rivienne. In Rivienne, he was worshiped as a hero and there were many ballads sung about him and his spear, Last Hope. At home, Zefron was strict and often times considered abusive. He was a pain in Lockheed’s butt! Lockheed spent his adolescence training to become a dragoon and often running away from home when his father returned to duty. Each time, he never got far for the trainers his father hired always found him. His mother, Evelyn, was a scholar and she home schooled him when he wasn’t swinging his spear. When Lockheed finally came of age, he enlisted in the military and did not disappoint. At 18-years-old, he fought in his first tournament and won it. While Lockheed believed he had won the tourney for himself, even when being the victor, no one seemed to truly acknowledge his achievement. It was always, “Highwind’s boy won” or “Of course, Zefron’s son would win.” Rarely was he ever called by his name. Instead, Lockheed was always in his father’s shadow and despite actually being a good dragoon, the other valkyries and soldiers harassed him when he rose in the ranks to captain. While they had to work extra hard to get the position, his father handed it to him, insisting to have his son in command. It drove Lockheed insane, and one day, to the embarrassment of his father and the Highwind family name, he deserted the kingdom. Lockheed disappeared and not even his old mentors could find him.

    Lockheed, having adopted the name “Locke,” became a sellsword. He travelled Lunacresta performing small jobs and errands. As Locke’s good deeds spread about the poor regions, minstrels started to sing about him (for the first time since he finally left his father’s shadow). One of those minstrels named Shaia Thornbow decided to follow him, claiming that he was her inspiration to write songs. Armed with a bow, Shaia provided Locke with ranged support.

    In search of more sellsword work, Locke’s journey eventually led him to meet another warrior, a monk by the name of Hiro Noiyega. He met Hiro in the Lands of Feurey. Both were drawn to a small tournament in the Crane lands, and expecting to win like before, Locke instead was swiftly defeated. It had been the first time Locke had ever encountered martial arts. Amazed by Hiro’s techniques, Locke tried to beg Hiro to teach him, but the fighter refused. Locke continued to provoke and initiate spars with Hiro until the fighter lost his discipline and put Locke to bed for a few days. While Locke was recovering from his injuries, robbers attempted to steal offerings from the Cat Eye shrine—a shrine famous for the numerous cats that made it their home. Locke assisted in helping catch the bandits and found himself meeting Hiro again. Hiro stubbornly set aside his irritation with Locke to defeat the bandits and return the stolen offerings. When Locke was prepared to resume his journey, Hiro decided to leave his homeland and follow the interesting warrior. Hiro became Locke’s teacher in martial arts, and a second good friend.

    Class: Knight

    Magic Mastery: N/A

    Fighting Style: Lockheed as “Locke” is decent with swords. He wields two long blades, but mainly fights with them one at a time. If ever he is disarmed, he has a second sword as a backup. With Hiro’s training, he is learning to defend himself without weapons. But overall, no matter how much he trains or familiarizes himself with other weapons, the spear is Lockheed’s master profession. Often times the abilities he learned as a dragoon show in his sword fighting such as jumping in the air and performing acrobatic feats. Hiro believes that such moves demonstrate Locke’s potential to be a great martial artist when really it means he just needs to return to the spear.

    As a dragoon, Lockheed’s skills nearly mirrored his father. Of course they did. The were religiously beaten into him and he wasn’t allowed to suck. The Highwind techniques were his family's pride and joy—even more than life and sanity. With a spear, Lockheed can perform several maneuvers that not only aid him in avoiding damage on the ground, but also allow him to land devastating attacks from above and catch his enemies off-guard.

    Locke’s main weakness is he’s not using his primary weapon. He is decent with swords but he doesn’t specialize in them like he does the spear. As a dragoon, Lockheed is not much of a tank. He specializes in dealing critical damage and should not take on tanky foes alone. Lastly, like the rest of his party, he does not know magic.

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  • Vivian Amara Grivois
    ihalXt1DQaaeQTSr7KANFGutNPxqlJgbeetR2ve9JaDRMid5lXHzI0JIwmnMyVzbnkA


    Age: 17

    Height: 5'3"

    Weight: 136 lbs

    Personality: Vivian is a kind girl who wishes for peace to return to the kingdom, and is determined to get things done one way or another. Once she sets her mind, it'll take a bit of persuasion to get her to back down from it. She isn't extremely fond of the church disrupting the monarchy, and although she doesn't have too high of an opinion of herself she at least thinks that her second elder brother could make a good king some day.

    Backstory: The child of King Jerald and the third queen, Vivian didn't get to spend much time with her father, most of it being spent with her mother or nannies growing up. Despite this she spent much of her early years wandering the halls and convincing servants to play with her when not busy reading or studying what she could. She once told her mother she wished to one day write a book.

    While the few memories she has of her father are pleasant ones, her grief over his death doesn't hurt as much as her mother's. She's still trying to figure out her place in life, feeling more like one of the forgotten children now in recent times. Whatever her place, she intends to do all she can for her kingdom. Shortly after her mother's death she met Ashe, who would be appointed to watch ovee her. The two hit it off quickly, and Vivian would talk to him any and everything to distract her from the grief she felt, however briefly it helped.

    Less than a month ago she, after a bit of back and forth, convinced Ashe to allow her to go on a personal "pilgrimage" through the poor parts of the country, there she did her best to heal any and every one she could despite Ashe's insistance that in doing so could do more harm for herself. She continued regardless, though took breaks every now and then after some convincing from the redhead. In one particular village Ashe caught a thief attempting to steal from them, and after a brief skirmish subdued her. Vivian, after speaking with the woman in question, healed her and gave her what little coin she had. The woman known as Rafa, taken aback by this kindness, requested to join them temporarily, and after a bit of disagreement between charge and protector, Rafa joined the two as a bit of extra muscle.

    Class: White Mage

    Magic Mastery: Basic Healing and Basic Light

    Fighting Style: Vivian isn't much when it comes to offensive attacks, not being very skilled with it. She can hold her own with a sword, but only for a short amount of time. She's best used to heal or to combact darker arts, and although she still has much to learn with her magic she can at least heal small cuts and scrapes. She hopes to improve in both her magic and swordssmanship in the future.

    —————
 

  • Sarah Grivois07DC8B1E-4085-4381-A432-28AA412B37A7.jpeg

    Age: 22

    Height: 5’7

    Weight: 130

    Personality: Sarah is always looking ahead to the future, whether it be the next battle, the next step in a plan, or the next meal, Sarah is always thinking of the future. Rarely ever is she present in the moment, which at times causes her to space off in the midst of battle. She claims to be working on this issue, but there has been no progress.

    There are times when Sarah is paying attention. These times are often very stressful, urgent, and downright horrifying. These times are either when Sarah is drunk, performing one of her ‘experiments’, or cooking a meal. She’s killed more small animals than a hawk, all because she enjoys seeing just how quickly a fire spell can annihilate a creature. Although her obsession with the specifics of fire magic can be off putting, she would never put an ally in harms way for an experiment. Well, or so she claims.

    Backstory: Life was always easy for Sarah. Her mother provided her with everything she needed from a very young age. She never knew what it was like to actually want something until she saw one of the church’s white mages in action. Their ability to heal wounds and remove curses with a simple little spell amazed her. She’d barrage these mages and priests with questions about how magic worked, where it came from, and what it was made of. She never got any answers besides the usual ‘gift from the gods’ type of answers. These unsatisfactory answers were what led Sarah to become the mage she is today simply because they made her want to know more. Of course Sarah would learn that everything she would learn would never end up being enough.

    The church wanted Sarah to learn white magic. Unlike her older brother who was awful at magic, Sarah seemed to have an affinity for it. However, when she tried to perform any sort of white magic spell, she would quickly find her magic bubbling out of control which lead to her harm instead of heal and protect. So, the church begrudgingly allowed the young princess to begin working with black magic. Sarah demanded to only learn fire magic. It was not only then flashiest magic, but in Sarah's eyes, the strongest! She’d heard stories of powerful mages annihilating the armies of Feurey and Ventin with their amazing spells, and Sarah wanted to be just like them.

    The day after she successfully cast her first spell was the day her mother died. Sarah was left a little broken inside, but not enough as bad as it affected her older brother. Her mother was one of her few supporters when it came to learning magic. Her father, the king, was not around enough to pay her much attention so Sarah felt lonelier than ever. She would avoid other nobles, solely devoting herself to her own magical abilities. If her mother believed she’d uncover the truth about magic, then she had to do it. No matter what.

    As Sarah grew older her passion for magic only intensified. She had rooms full of notes on her theories and observations of her own spells. However she found that only knowing one form of magic was very limiting when it came to discovering what magic was all about. She needed other mages to cooperate with her. The best way to do that was to join the war effort. The battlefield would be a wonderful place to observe the immense variety of magic scattered across Lunacresta.

    Class: Black Mage

    Magic Mastery: Advanced Fire

    Fighting Style: "There's a spell for every situation!" This is Sarah's motto for battle. Her mastery over fire magic is enviable, and her skill on using the correct spell is unparalleled. Although she struggles to trust others to protect her for long enough to cast her more powerful spells, Sarah is quick take whatever chances are provided to her. When things get rough, Sarah has trouble concentrating on spell casting.

    Believe it or not, cooking with fire magic is actually an excellent way to cook!

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  • Mey Ragnan
    3DPLHxj.png


    Age: 17

    Height: 5 ft. 4 in. (162 cm)

    Weight: 100 lbs. (45 kg)

    Personality:
    Mey is a docile, shy girl of her age. Like her sister Ley, she is often considered a quiet personnel of interest. Despite her nonconforming and firm crimson eyes like that of her mother, Mey is tamed in her demeanor and shows a moderate level of courtesy when addressing others. Mey is very self-conscious and withholds a certain gloom over her lack of confidence. She usually sticks to her elder sister, learning all she could from Ley, and often times become a subtle mediator. Mey loves her sister to a fault, and strives to better herself to be of use for her.

    While often deemed as a pushover of sort, Mey is no coward. Despite her frail physique and shy conducts, she retains her father's firm will in combat. Although she is venerable for most, excessive use of dark magic tends to bring out her less-than-conforming side. All in all, Mey will treat others with respect and kindness where she is familiar with them. Initial encounters with unfamiliar faces will make her feel wary for most.

    She has a certain fondness for berries.

    Backstory:
    The younger daughter of the house of Ragnan, Mey was nurtured by her father's lenient side, and molded by her mother's impetuous zeal. Indulged by her parents' unconditional love, Mey led a mostly 'peaceful' childhood, full of affections. This leads her to develop a certain attachment to her family and close peers. Where her sister Ley was driven by personal passions, Mey's ideals resided with her faith and obedience. She would often greet her father after every council meetings and field exercises, with her basket of berries in tow in return for his praises.

    Growing up in the palace, Mey often followed her sister around, embarking on juvenile adventures that taught her a multitude of lessons. When Ley took up painting as a passion, Mey would be there to watch her sister, and at times, clumsily procuring canvas and paint for the prior. As time went on, Mey took it upon herself to dwell in the art of magic and partook in lessons overseen by King Ragnan himself. Inspired by her sister's archery accomplishments, the young girl strives to emulate her sister's ways, albeit with different means. She eventually found her own enthusiasm for books and magical research. Putting in countless nights to study, Mey quickly learnt a multitude of spells and crafts, albeit not specializing in any one branch.

    As Mey came of age, she began to further her studies and physical training, in hopes of becoming as strong as her parents and her sister. Taking on other skills that befit a lady of her household, Mey quickly adapted to responsibilities required of her, among other professions that would gradually mold her tolerant and enduring personality. When Ley departed for the northern ranges, Mey followed - inadvertently avoiding the disaster that would otherwise consumed the two. Ever since that fateful day, Mey was separated from her mother, of whom she wishes to see and embrace once again - no matter what it takes.

    Class:
    Red Mage

    Magic Mastery:
    Basic Dark (Black Magic)
    Basic Enhancement (White Magic)

    Fighting Style:
    Mey is a studious person when it comes to combat. Where she lacks in efficiency, she makes up for with quick reflexes to react to the ever-changing courses of a battle. As such, Mey are usually well-equipped with pre-disposed woven tattoos on her body to neutralize her opponents with haste. While this enables her to counter most surprise attacks and ambushes, the diverse set of her spells restricts her from dishing out full damage. As an adapt practitioner of Dark and Enhancement branch, Mey usually support her allies by debuffing hostile disposition, all the while buffing her allies to increase their efficiencies in combat.

    Knowing when and where to commit herself, Mey is a semi-competent tactician, always adaptive to any circumstances. As a skilled attrition mage, she generally wears her opponents down with her dark magic, inflicting damage over time rather than dealing direct damage. Mey is often time described as the powerhouse of any team due to her unique dispositions and priorities for her teammates, rather than herself. While formidable at range, she is particularly vulnerable at close encounters, prompting her to keep a certain distance in between her comrades.

    When in a pinch, Mey's light physiques and dark magic are put to good use - slowing her opponents, as she maneuvers about.

    —————
 

  • Flynn Relvern
    Anime Boy, schwarzes Outfit, Hut, Maske, weies Haar, Umhang, cool; Anime Jungs - #anime #jungs...jpg568c50cd6a67cc7be179fc1b721978ee.jpg

    Age: 22

    Height: 5'11''

    Weight: 145lb

    Personality:

    “If you frown too much, you’d be getting wrinkles on your forehead by the time you’re 30, my friend.”

    Find him at a bar occasionally, and one would see him with his scarf covering his mouth down, either chilling with fellow drinking pals in the center or at a corner or spending his time with the ladies, wooing. A bit of a womanizer, but rarely does he go overboard (not wanting to bear any responsibility of getting any woman pregnant, that is.) Women like him due to his facial features but also for his gentleman-ly behaviors, reserved and mysterious aura, however ways they compliment him. However, for many men and for those whose personalities are much more serious, some can’t stand how light-hearted and carefree he could be sometimes, especially when people try to inform him of a serious situation and he merely chooses to brush it off. He’s even seen by some as lazy and weak, don’t like facing issues head-on.

    Though, it’s more so because the lad decides for himself what type of issues he should engage himself him or avoid troubles from. Lighthearted, teasing nature that he displays in bars or in public aside, Flynn is rather steady-headed and prudent as an individual. He’s sly and intelligent, calm during battles and planning. Those close enough to him knows that he is to be trusted when leading a plan or coming up with one. Despite so, Flynn prefers working alone, sometimes in secret. Ultimately, he likes solitude, and rarely does he likes sharing things about himself. He’d rather people just think of him as a chill, bland individual who walks the Earth like everyone else.

    However, though usually just a kind, casual man, people who know Flynn enough knows he can be cold and merciless toward people he believes deserves death. He has the tendency to work in secret and alone, and ultimately, he lives up to people’s usual first impression of him: a mysterious, even dangerous, young man who shows nothing about himself except for his snowy white hair and emerald green eyes. He dodges answers to questions, and often seems to have something in his mind that he’s unwilling to share with others, making it hard for others to know what he’s thinking.

    Flynn personally thinks there’s nothing mysterious about him. He gets cold physically very easily, so he rather covers his whole body up, especially when living in Kingdom of Ventin. Most of the time, he’s really just a man who seeks anything fun and is interested in learning anything new, rarely rejecting women who swarm up to him, becoming known among the villages he visited as a heart-breaker since he only plays around and never settles on anything long-term.

    He laments a little on the idea that some are scared of him due to his knowledge in dark magic (despite knowing it makes sense), himself fascinated by wind magic, for it would’ve helped him so much if utilized together in sword fights. Knowing he’s a fast learner, however, Flynn looks forward to the opportunity when he can begin to learn that branch of magic.

    Backstory:

    The Naive Days

    “Oh, may the god and goddess tell me, what have we done wrong? What sins so unforgiving had we committed to deserve this fate?”

    One could open those eyes to see the whiteness coating nearly every house and the thin, crooked streets. The acres of lands that once were able to grow food despite the harshest of weather using the nature of the products and magic now were just pure wastelands. Animals were no longer safe to eat, poisoned by a mysterious illness that left them naked of fur with dark, purple spots covering their bodies. Hunters or those brave enough to venture out of the village for food never returns. Houses collapsed day by day, no faster than the pace of people’s deaths--from famine, from the same illness, from exhaustion, from despair.

    People say the King of Ventin loved his own kingdom and people, but even such man with his grand background and nature would not pay a foolish, small village farthest from his majestic castle any mind. Not like he could do much, however. By the time, even if any assistance or resources arrive, thinking back to those days Flynn believed they would all pretty much be dead by then anyway. Besides, with so many other important matters at hand, sacrificing a small village away wasn’t the wrong decision, if the King was ever aware that this incident happened, that is.

    Like most other villages, the one the lad grew up in was prosperous at first. Self-sufficient and tough, the people of Ventin were known to be able to survive the harshest and coldest weather. There were not many people who trained magic in this small village, people were satisfied with what they had and choose to just live a simple, happy lifestyle. Aside from the weather, they paid little concerns for any other types of dangers. After all, their biggest protection against outsiders was this exact climate they lived in. Not many dared to venture here, especially alone. From time to time, shivering travelers asked for shelters, but encounters like that were rare.

    Therefore, when an old, cloaked man came upon the village with nothing except a small pouch carried on his shoulder, the villagers treated him as just another rare traveler that would bring them no harm. They welcomed him nicely, a couple invited him to their houses--indeed, it’s an accomplishment to even reach their village despite being at the outskirts of the kingdom, especially at the old man’s age and weak fatigue. They were excited to hear his tales and the words he had to share.

    The old man claimed himself to be Deus, and said that he had come from the Kingdom of Rivienne to preach and spread the words of gods. He had survived for so long and so far, because many people aided in his long journey by offering themselves to him. The villagers were confused by his words, but paid it not much mind. The old man then proceed to ask what religion the villagers followed, who eagerly responded that they worship the Eternal Beings, for without them the Elemental Children would not even exist.

    The old man shook his head, and firmly warned the people that they must turn away from the Eternal Beings for the Elemental Children should be the only ones deserving of worship. They shaped the history of today, the true heroes and creators of humans. When the villagers refused, the old man merely stood up from his seat. Beneath his cloak, his thin, cracked lips stretched into a crooked, malicious smile.

    The day the old man left, the village turned to ruins.

    The weather fell down harsher than usual, but the most terrifying of all would be the plague that wiped out all sources of food. People who also got the plague died almost just two days later, Houses constantly fell apart despite it never done so in the past. People’s health deteriorated to an extent that none were able to survive long enough to escape the village and ask the nearest one--which is still hundreds and hundreds of feet away, for help. Many prayed that the King would take notice, or a savior would appear, but neither did. Many eventually recognized this as a curse, a curse laid down by the old man so powerful in dark magic, punishing them for not following the religion that they should be. Cries filled the air, day and night.

    The chief the village soon passed away, then a new one, his son, took his place. As grim defined the atmosphere of the little village, he declared that sacrifices must be made. Young children, if physically capable, must take up labor to create new lands, must travel out of the village to hunt for food. They would be guided by elder men or women, to whom they must obey completely. If they were fortunate enough to meet people from other villages, they were free to sell the children off in return of money, food, or any resources that could aid in the village’s survival. The other children, women, or men that were too weak should merely be abandoned or, worse, killed, for that would be one less mouth to feed.

    In fact, when food became scarce and the situation became so dire and hopeless, the village turned to their last resort:

    Cannibalism.

    This is the village that Flynn, at the young age of 13, grew up in. Emerald eyes, now dim, watching as both of his parents were stoned away, chopped to pieces, cooked over an open flame, and devoured. Shared upon the villagers.

    He was never born in this village, as his mother told him, that she brought him here when he was just a baby, that his current father living under the same household and him shared no blood connection. To never view it as his permanent home, because he deserved so much better. Nonetheless, being raised up here, he viewed it as his birthplace, sharing as close as any relationship one could form with their family and friends here, devastated by the tragedy.

    He is not the only victim, however. Hopes and any sense of morals had faded away from people's eyes. As if the curse had no longer only affected their physical bodies but also mentality, people gradually grew insane. Standing next to him were many other children, some women, some men. Many of them had their loved ones taken away as well. Many of them become the food themselves. Scars covered their bodies, beaten from the adults towering over them as their source of stress relief. But no labor or beating, no suffering or torture could compare to the level of horror of watching one’s loved one being devoured and eaten by wild beasts known as human beings.

    But even those who used to stand side by side to him collapsed and fell, until so few were left that Flynn had felt like he was alone in this world. Standing by the edge of the village he watched it turned to ruins, his ears filled with the cries of the people and the angry yells of those who had long lost their sanity. It was then the old man once again occurred.

    Like wind, or merely a shadow. The old man’s sudden appearance sent goosebumps down the young boy’s spine. He shivered as if he had been spotted by the devil, but for some reason he stood firm, refusing to back down. The old man laughed, then, at the sight.

    “Do you hate me, child?”

    Flynn did not say a word.

    “It’s only been one year, and see how much this village had suffered. This is the punishment for not following the wisdom passed down by the Elemental Children.”

    There was a pause, before the old man spoke again. “But they had suffered enough. I would do what you would wish for me to do, child. Let me bring their suffering to an end.”

    With wide eyes, then, Flynn watched as dark energy took form like long, black shadows that encircled the entire village, then, as if impaled by the forces of invisible dark claws, the remaining couples of villagers fell onto the floor, lifeless, as if their souls had long left their bodies but now their bodies could finally be put to rest, too.

    Then, the old man retreated the man that he had already stretched out and exhaled a long, satisfied sigh. “I felt them in me--the little warmth left of their life force. Usually, even advanced dark magic could not achieve this far. But I had managed to steal life, lives, and absorbed them all at once in me. So many people had sacrificed for me to live longer, and I appreciated every single one of their lives. It allowed me to preach more. Preach about the Elemental Children.” Drowned in his own pleasure, the old man gave his speech, only to find the younger boy staring at him with hard, cold eyes, with a hint of curiosity behind.

    “Why did you let me live?” The boy asked in a trembling voice.

    “Because of those eyes, child. The moment I saw you, I knew you’d be the one. The hatred harbored in those eyes! The fear, but the stubbornness! The cursed emerald! I see the potential in you. You’d be the one to take after me, for me to pass my knowledge onto. I cannot let my life’s study go to waste. With this experience, you’d be fueled by even more resentments, and all those would make you even more powerful. Follow me, boy. If you don’t, you’d be living a life that’s worth than death. Oh, oh dear, I would guarantee that. So follow me, and I’d make you my greatest accomplishment in life before I die.”

    On that day, Death had furiously tried to take his hand. However, fear and hesitance had stopped the yet-naive boy. Frightened by the old man’s threat, and a firm growing seed of revenge planted into his mind, Flynn stepped into the old man’s shadow and since then followed his footsteps.
    ---
    Reaching Adulthood

    It was a full moon.

    Ink sept through the pages of the books on the table, candlelights barely illuminated the little space in the basement. However, the old man’s cries of agony pierced clearly through the air, resounded and echoed against the walls. Pleads and begs reached his throat, but before he could utter them out, blood gushed out instead. He screamed as his eyes melted away, as bugs chewed over his body, eating away his skin. He felt his lungs burnt as images of his dead wife and daughter were dragged away by the wolves of the night, stomped on by terrifying monsters and the Undead.

    Flynn, now 20, stared at the old man crawling about on the floor, fighting with none other than himself and the hallucinations cast upon him. He watched the man struggled, scratching against his own skin, clawing his own eyes. The young man’s eyes were as cold as ice and spoke no words, it was merely until several moments later, as his so-called master tried to balance himself up on the wooden table, did he pull out his dagger from his side. Then with a clean, clear thrust, the dagger impaled straight through the old man’s back and cut through his heart. Flynn watched as the old man gasped, then collapsed onto the floor.

    “May you continue to suffer in hell,” he said in a tone that was as angelic as it is cruel.

    Six years had he accompanied Deus, or so the old man called himself. By the time he reached the kingdom of Ventin, however, he was already too weak by his age’s limit to muster up the strength to start a long journey back to the Kingdom of Rivienne. It was at a point that no matter how much dark magic he used, or how much life force he attempted to steal to try to claim for his own, could help with. Although he had devoted a huge part of his lifetime in lengthening human life span, there was a limit to it, which partly played into why he forced Flynn to become his underling as well. Someone must continue his research after him, he must pass on his knowledge of dark magic to someone else. He wanted to create a monster by the end of his life, a monster with dark magic so strong, fueled by resentment and hatred even if it’s against him, as long as he could control it before he released it to the wild. It’s a selfish wish before his death.

    And as selfish as the dream as it is utterly foolish. Nonetheless, Flynn took after his master’s lessons, learned after him, and absorbed his knowledge. He trained himself in dark magic with as much human capacity as he could hold, but never did he become the monster his master would’ve wished him to become, and there were still barriers and limits he would have to cross. Instead, with every village in the Kingdom of Ventin they traveled, Flynn would spend some time away from his master just to learn about the villages themselves. He would learn from the villagers and greet new people. Perhaps he’d gotten it from his parents, but Flynn forced himself to not be swarmed by the terrors of his past, to not be haunted by the images of his parents devoured and friends’ deaths. Instead, he should face his future and do the things he could do at this point, as pointless as some may see it to be.

    He made friends and also some enemies. The six years he spent with his master allowed the guard between them to lessen overtime, Flynn whose natural instincts to not dwell on the past allowed him to still be himself. With new friends he made he began to practice swordsmanship, particularly interested in fencing. Never again did his master created the same level of devastation to another village. For some, it’s because they practiced their religion on the Elemental Children. For some others, it’s because Flynn had secretly warned them beforehand. But mostly it’s because the closer they got to the kingdom themselves, the closer the old man feared his actions would be noticed by the King, who was known to care for his kingdom very much. In the end, a coward is a coward.

    As the years passed, Flynn’s skills in swordsmanship improved, and he took advantage of his agility to fight with not only a long sword but also the two daggers by his side. Despite knowing advanced dark magic, Flynn rarely used them, finding it happier to live without it using purely his physical attacking skills. At the very same time, his master’s health continued to weaken. On the day he turned 20, the frightened man asked if Flynn would be willing to pass on a bit of his life force for him to live longer, a couple drops of blood and some rituals, as if he’d forgotten he was the very man who’d destroyed Flynn’s entire childhood. It was the same day Flynn exerted his revenge, using as much dark magic as he’d learned from his so-called master to torture him physically and mentally before ending his life. With dark magic, the body rotted to the bones as fast as the time he took to decide to go with the man six years ago. He burnt the skeletons to ashes, then moved on.

    For the rest two years, Flynn spent his time in the Kingdom of Ventin merely traveling from villages to villages, earning money by doing all kinds of errands, both legal and illegal, and sometimes even involves killing an individual that Flynn would only accept if the individual is a criminal or a person truly deserving of death in his opinion--all the while looking for chances, even temporarily staying under a new master before, to improve his swordsmanship.

    It was also during these two years period that he encountered an old knight when he was in one of the largest villages closest to the Castle Noire. Upon chilling at a bar, a casual conversation by the counter turned into a grand reveal when the old knight was shocked to hear his last name: Relvern. It was then Flynn learned about his true identity and the story behind his parents. His mother, Vienna Relvern, was once one of the closest female knights serving directly for King Ragnan. As forbidden as their intimate relationship eventually developed into, Flynn was in fact an illegitimate child of the King. At first, despite being illegitimate, the mother and her child would’ve supposed to be able to live in the castle in peace. However, when one day the whole castle roared with news of an assassination attempt of the Queen, all evidences seemed to point toward Vienna as the culprit.

    It was obviously framed, as the old knight reflected. However, there were no proofs to turn the tide around. Vienna Relvern had the evidence and more so a reasonable intent, she could very well be killing the Queen off in hope of taking her place herself. Hopes were vain, and though King Ragnan refused to believe it himself, under the persuasion of the royalties and nobilities living in the castle and the evidence laid in front of him at that moment, he had no choice but to announce punishment, changing it from a death penalty however to banishing her and her newborn child to the outskirts of the kingdom.

    The year Flynn followed Deus’s footsteps after his village turned to ruins is the year King Ragnan learned of the truth, that it was revealed that years ago the assassination attempt was actually done by the Queen’s own elder sister, Elvrelina, in a fit of jealous rage and wild desires to take her place. New key evidence enough to prove it true and to revert Vienna Relvern back from guilty to innocent. King Ragnan, furious, executed out proper punishment and ordered for Vienna and his child to be brought back to the kingdom. However, by the time they found her tracks, the village had already been destroyed. The old knight lamented at this tragedy, but was overjoyed to learn that her son was still alive. He insisted for Flynn to follow him back to the castle to meet the king, believing that the king would be willing to meet him as well.

    Shocked by his identity, Flynn, after a long period of thought, agreed to accompany the old knight, but only after he paid a visit back to a village closest to where he came from, for a close friend there would soon die of illness and his fellow friends and families wished for Flynn to return to at least bid goodbye. Not really treating the notion of meeting the King as something urgent and immediate, the old knight and him agreed to meet two weeks later, then, before traveling together. By then, the Peace Treaty between the three kingdoms would also be signed, the knight happily noted. Under the most peaceful atmosphere, informing King Ragnan of Flynn’s return may be ideal at that time as well. In this regard, Flynn cared little. Although he liked learning about what’s going on with the political issues, he never really was interested enough to dive himself deeply into all the matters.

    However, on the day that the Peace Treaty was supposed to be signed by all three kingdoms, news passed down to where Flynn was with his dying friend about the opening of the portal and the devastation that the Kingdom of Ventin had plunged into with the out-pour of monsters and beasts, along with the deaths of the rulers. Being on the very edge of the kingdom far away from the core, Flynn had the opportunity to escape before the monsters reached their locations as well. Disappointed by the loss of chance to meet his real father, and grieved at the possibility of the old knight’s death--In the grimness of the situation, the young man had no choice but to leave the Kingdom of Ventin and venture down towards the Kingdom of Revienne and the Land of Feurey that he had heard about but never yet decided to travel to.

    Class: Dark Night

    Magic Mastery: Advanced Dark

    Fighting Style:
    In usual battles for fun and casual spars, Flynn rarely involves dark magic into it. His main weapons are his long, thin sword and the two daggers by the side of his waist which he flexibly switched between. His advantages in battle has been his agility and swift, quick movements, utilizing his intelligence and fast-responding skills against enemies, preferring a fight that’s fair and square. Flynn is particularly good at fencing, finding this type of sword-fighting itself a form of elegant art. It is his no-magic-involved most utilized strategy in fighting, though he could change it as fast as the sudden decision to regular sword fights.

    When dark magic is involved, Flynn alternates between the two in a battle, his spells focus on weakening his enemies’ defense, blinding or poisoning them in the most part, while continuing to challenge them physically. It is particularly draining for him to perform powerful, advanced dark magic such as quickly absorbing life force or creating the undead then fighting physically at the same time, and he only uses them when he deems it necessary, and is training on himself for his body to be able to handle it when those times come. What Flynn did the most with dark magic in a battle is maximizing his spell to create a dark hallucination in which the opponents were forced to face several grotesque monsters as a distraction while he aimed toward his enemy. He could create the undead, but never multiple at once. Perhaps due to his own body’s maximum capacity, he would feel extremely exhausted if he does so, and the more he created the harder it is to control. Flynn himself despised the undead so he barely would even touch upon that in the first place.

    Flynn’s physical weakness lies in the fact that he still needs to work on his speed, and the fact that his body itself is vulnerable as he finds it difficult to fight with actual armors on. His physical status weakens when he uses too much dark magic at the same time, and his own mental reluctancy prevents him from ever really unleashing a lot of his powers except against his master that night. Despite knowing multiple spells and able to handle different dark magic skills, Flynn is still working on fully controlling all of them at the amount of force and powers he wants. He is more used to fighting by himself than as a team as well.

    Off battle, though rarely, Flynn would use harmful curses on people he believes deserves it, though most are curses that are not too severe, unless his intention is to kill. For most people, he kept the fact that he used dark magic hidden if he can. He doesn’t want to leave the impression that he’s one of those dark magic users that are evil and heartless as his master was like and for the most part only used his dark magic in necessary battles or situations he personally believed can be used.
 
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