King Ad Rock
Abednego
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@King Ad Rock as[/SIZE]
Ziek Sidane
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Ziek (Pronounced ZAI-EEK) Sidane[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 26[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Nomasdae-Kildran (Kildran Father, Nomasdae Mother)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of Choice: A long serrated spear with a heavy, steel counter-weight at the base of the wooden handle, used to make it both perfectly balanced, and as a means for non-lethal combat. This weight also allows Ziek to throw the spear with deadly accuracy and strength. His former mentor, Syler Hazule, had the unique weapon forged and gave it to him as a gift during their participation in the War of Royalty.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Those who have met Ziek do not forget him fast. A loud, sarcastic, self-perceived smooth-talker, he always has a witty response (or at least he judges them to be) for any precarious situation regardless of appropriateness. His loud, foul mouth and cocky behavior have, on more than one occasion, gotten him into visible trouble at a time in his life when he should be keeping a low profile. A veteran of war, Ziek suffers from what is known as “Soldier’s Shakes”. To combat the sleeplessness, nightmares, anxiety, and depression that comes with this; Ziek spends his time drowning himself in liquor, women, and false bravado. While traveling from city to city in Southern Zeldwa, he participates in any risky behavior he believes will help him forget the dead and the past.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]If not standing next to a towering T’Odis, one would describe Ziek as being quite tall standing at 6’6. His lithe yet muscular frame hints at both speed and power, although it is usually hidden under loose fitted clothing. Both of his exposed arms are riddled with scars from battles past, while his right is covered from forearm to shoulder in a black skin-ink of a Hawke’s Talon. With a deep bronze skin tone and his black, messy and curly hair, his mixed-race origins are apparent. The darkened hue and squint in his eyelids reveal his lack of acceptable sleep, his emerald green eyes always narrowed. His mouth is seemingly forever plastered with half-smirk, constantly hinting at his mischievous personality. In his ears and left eyebrow are several piercings, a fashion he picked up from his time traveling with pirates in his youth. Ziek spares the occasional moment every few weeks to shave, refusing to grow a long beard. On Ziek’s left wrist is an old Nomasdae slave chain, worn as a memento and a reminder of someone he met long ago.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: Ziek was born in a small smithing village just on the outskirts of Ozryn in Kildra to a Kildran father and a Nomasdae mother. His mother unfortunately died during childbirth, and this took a deep emotional toll on his father, the famed smith, Archkan Sidane. Falling into a deep alcoholic depression, Archkan left Ziek mostly to his own devices and to fend for himself. This gave the young Ziek a sense of self-reliance and independence at a young age.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Ziek lost his father at the age of twelve when a band of bandits raided and burned down the quiet village he called home, coming specifically for his father’s steel. Ziek could only watch helplessly, hidden behind a suit of armor, as his father was cut down with his own blades. He was able to escape both the flames and the murderous outlaws, and ran aimlessly into the Kildran plains. It was there that he met a camping Syler Hazule, a bald, meditative Nomasdae man who had just entered the country. Proceeding to tell the strange man of what just happened, while fighting back his tears, the boy hoped to warn the old man of the dangers. Ziek then stared in both bewilderment and awe as Syler wordlessly stood and walked towards the burning village in the distance with nothing but a cane. He contemplated leaving, but with nowhere to go and no coin in his pockets the young Ziek decided to follow the old man out of pure curiosity. From the not so distant hills that lie near the village, Ziek watched Syler stroll over to several boorish looking bandits who were looting a small home on the outskirts of town. It appeared as if one of the bandits was about to speak to Syler, but before he could get a word out, Syler thrust the tip of his steel tipped cane deep into the eye socket of the leather-clad criminal. The other two bandits dropped their ill-got gains and rapidly drew their blades in panic. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]What came next was a work of art. Ziek gazed, almost as in a trance, as Syler danced amongst the flames. Every step, every movement was perfectly calculated. They swung their weapons with every bit of their lives, but they never did knick him, even the once. Using only the cane, Syler Hazule ended every bandit’s life that participated in the raid that night, as he fought well into the morning hours. After Syler yanked his cane from the throat of his last victim with a sickening noise, he then turned and, again, wordlessly strolled back to his camp as if nothing had happened. Ziek had witnessed every last action, breathing it in as if it were life saving air. The tragedy of losing his father and everyone he held dear, witnessing Syler’s massacre, and the cold Kildran fall winds all combined has Ziek shaking head-to-toe while he slowly approached a now sitting Syler with caution. The trembling young man asked the elder warrior if he would be willing to take him to Ozryn, where he had family. Syler agreed, although they never made it to Ozryn, instead deciding to travel together through Zeldwa, looking for odd jobs. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Along the way, at Ziek’s behest, Syler began to subject his youthful traveling companion to his rigorous, psychotic, and seemingly abusive combat training. Every morning, afternoon, and evening was spent learning to handle a sword and shield. There would be sparring with two swords in one hand as soon as he was strong enough to hold them for weight training. For months at a time he would be rarely given a break. Running miles, lifting large weight, and climbing hundreds of feet; these were all daily and even hourly activities. When his sword fighting became strong enough, nighttime became designated for reading and studying. Syler would pull books, almost as if out of nowhere, and demand that Ziek read them in short periods of time. Books on fencing, hand-to-hand combat, military strategy, herbology, fictional ballads, and poetry were given to him. Even a cooking book was once thrown at him while Syler was in a drunken stupor, demanding the recipes be memorized. Then, with no warning whatsoever, Ziek would find himself being put through some kind of bizarre tests and trials formulated by the strange and booze soaked mind of the mysterious Syler. With the traditional sword training came these intense feats:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• At the age of thirteen, Ziek was left deep in the unsettled portions of the Swazi rain forest in Libertia to fend for himself for two months with nothing but a fishing net and a small dagger.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Forced to hunt daily for both Syler and himself, regardless of whether or not they had coin for food or meals[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• To learn horseback riding, Syler tied Ziek’s legs securely to the horse and set it off down the Kildran countryside[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• For days at a time Ziek would be forced to stand on one leg, on small tree trunks, in the pouring rain and snowstorms to work on his balance and endurance while Syler threw small pebbles at him and laughed.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Was sold to pirates on his fourteenth born-day by Syler when Syler lost a round of Parshumian dice to the Pirate King Chavi. Ziek had his left pinky removed when caught cheating with said Pirate King in Parshumian Dice. He was bought back by Syler 6 months later, and the old man acted as if he had never left. Ziek had learned to sail in the meantime.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Was locked in a library in Libertia by Syler for one month at the age of fifteen until he taught himself how to ask to be let out articulately in Parshumese, T’Odis, and Ancient Nomasdae.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• After being taught tracking skills, Ziek would constantly awake to find Syler had abandoned camp and left him a note (usually in a language other than the Common Words) telling him to catch up.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• While he was bathing, Syler would put Ziek’s clothes at incredibly high heights, such as tied to the tops of trees or hanging from a mountainside cliff. Ziek would be forced to reclaim these in the buff.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Was abandoned in the Desert of Swords for one month with nothing but a few gourds of water and a short sword. He was commanded not to run if meeting a Tral-el, and that Syler would somehow know if he did.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Instructed by Syler to fence with him blindfolded after becoming somewhat accomplished with swordplay. Each misstep or missed swing was met with a hearty smack on the top of Ziek’s head with his cane.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Was left in the North Mountain of T’Odis for two months at the age of fifteen with nothing but some furs and a rickety longbow, while Syler stayed comfortably at an inn in L’Aorn. Ziek was not allowed to show his face at the inn until he had a severed B’Aork’s head.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Syler forced him to make his first kill at the age of fifteen while hunting a bounty they had taken in Kildra. The man, accused of kidnapping, murder, and slavery, pleaded for his life, Syler’s only words were, “Be merciful. Make it quick and painless, young one.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]It was during these travels over Zeldwa that the pair met and amassed a following of like-minded and almost equally skilled friends. They had acquired expert swordsman to deadly precise marksmen of all races. From these friends Ziek learned as well. He learned how to wield and properly handle a spear by a famed Parshumian warrior named Nattapong Aromdee, a weapon he quickly became fond of. This core group of friends and travelers eventually became known as the Black Talon Mercenaries. They gained a reputation and notoriety for carrying out any mission handed to them. It was this prestige that earned them their place in Queen's Suzane's Mercenary Army at the beginning of the War of Royalty in the Year 361. Ziek had killed several times since taking his first life, mostly crime bounties, but war was different. He proved to be a fearsome and proficient warrior on the battlefield at a staggeringly young seventeen years old, but his adolescent mind had trouble coping with the realities of warfare. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]After several successful battles, where the young merc collected a nearly unbelievable amount of kills, and slayed numerous high-ranking noble generals, captains, and lieutenants in the Kildran Royal Army, tales of his speed, sheer ferociousness, and tenacity earned him the titles "The Child of Death" and "Nomasdae Blood Child" by the Kildran Royal Army, and even those fighting alongside him. Something changed deeply inside of Ziek at one point during the war, and he started to freeze in the midst of battle. Being frozen by his nerves, his blood would rush and his hear beat would increase to the point that he felt like he would lose consciousness. Numerous times towards the end of the war Ziek endangered himself and those around him with his reluctant and delayed behavior on the battlefield. These symptoms are known to veterans of war and combat as "Soldier's Shakes", but luckily for Ziek the war was coming to an end. Prince Unger II forces were defeated at the Battle of Boar’s Den, and the allied Mercenary forces returned back to the capitol for their assumed appointed nobility. Things did not go as planned for the Black Talons. Only Syler, Ziek, and Queen Suzane herself know exactly what happened that evening, but for some reason Syler Hazule was accused of attacking the Queen. Many Kildran Noble Lords, when learning this information and with the Queen’s permission, instantly decreed all the Black Talons were to be immediately executed without question. What came next is now known as “The Slaying of The Talons” as the Kildran royal guard surrounded and attacked every Black Talon in Kein. They fought bravely and the streets ran red with blood, but they all were eventually, one-by-one, overwhelmed and slain. Only Ziek and Syler were able to escape in all the chaos. Once the pair had made it safely away form Kein and could rest, Ziek confronted Syler with many truths. The two had a heated exchange that ended in a physical altercation between the mentor and protégé. Finding that Ziek had now grown to be his match, Syler let him go as the men parted ways, so far not crossing each[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] others [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]paths since. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]It has been almost five years since that day, and Ziek now travels through Zeldwa with no direction, while drinking whatever he can get his hands on to help sleep and forget the past. His travels have brought him to small village named Jakka’s Crossing in the jungles on the border of Kildra and Libertia. It is here that he has found a small tavern to set up lodge and cause a ruckus, much to the exasperation of the owner and staff.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@Dirk Diggler as[/SIZE]
Vanse D’Enishora
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Vanse D’Enishora[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: T’Odis[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 32[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of Choice: His double-edged long sword “Khione”, always sheathed at his side. It’s a long thin blade with a thick golden cross-guard and spade shaped pommel.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Many outside the Lawful Lands of T’Odis could describe Vanse as cold and humorless, but he shares the same temperament as most T’Odis Justice Horde soldiers. He is a man of keen focus and determination and a firm believer in his own moral code. His peers describe him as quiet and intimidating, but those closest to him would rave about his kindness and patience. He always thinks before he speaks. He is well read and fluent in the Kildran Common Words, T’Odis, and even old Parshumese. A lover of fine wine and poetry, Vanse is also a gifted dancer, exceling in the Waltz classes all Justice Horde trainees must take.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Vanse is the epitome of the T’Odis race. His thin, stern, and focused gray/blue eyes are made ever more prominent by his thin face and frost white skin. His golden hued white hair and long and layered. Cut just above the shoulder, it resembles almost that of a lion’s mane. At 6’6”, with a slim frame and a medium build, he has a very stoic posture. With his chin up and his shoulders back, his militaristic background is always obvious. He walks with purpose. Often seen resting his left hand on the hilt of his blade, always at ready. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: One of the many children left orphaned due to the violence in the Lawless Lands of T’Odis, Vanse was taken in to the justice horde training academy at the age of nine. Showing exceptional aptitude at combat, language, and T’Odis Law, Vanse flew to the top of his class. After his graduation at twenty-two, the instructors felt it was in his best interest to be placed under the most effective Justice Horde Captain in T’Odis’ history, Xhane M’Iam. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Vanse served under Xhane for a contentious yet successful decade, until things came to head when a lone surviving but severely injured member of Vance and Xhane’s Justice Horde came back from a mission claiming Vance was accused of not allowing a culprit to submit peacefully. When confronted by the rest of the Horde, Vance was accused of slaying them all, including Xhane. The surviving member claimed Vanse then fled and believes he is on his way to the T’Odis Gate to escape the country. Several Justice Hordes have been sent out to capture him, with the Duke, Kart G’Orm claiming Xhane’s defeat only frees Vanse from one murder, not the other seven.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@Zooks as[/SIZE]
Rufus Nevarron
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Rufus Nevarron[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Kildran[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Gender: Male[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 25[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Sexuality: Homosexual[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Nation: Kildra[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Noble Family: Nevarron[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Title: Son of the [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Lord of Nevos[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Family: Father: [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Lord [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Nevarrus; Mother: [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Lady[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] Kires; Grandparents father side: Illion and Sophie Nevarron; Granparents mother side: Kreatas and Nienke Silvan[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Nevarron Family and Estate: The Nevarron Family rules over some land inside Kildra and makes it own set of rules and has it own Court. Their main area is between the rivers of Vendel. They share their borders with the Nation borders and manage some of the important trading routes. During the Second Kildra Civil war, the Nevarron family sided with the Queen. However they still think she's not fitting to rule and prefers her son on the throne. That is also one of the reasons they make their own rules.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Fighting style: Rufus fights with two light swords, his main hand is left and he wears light armor in combat. Normally is that a black colored. He 's light infantry and normally scouts the area. He prefers fighting on the ground, however he can fight from a horse.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Rufus cares about everyone. He like the nice people in the villages of his Estate and they love him. He's not very shy and like to speak to the public. He generally doesn't like the nobles who don't care about their people. In his Estate it is public knowledge Rufus likes man, outside some might has heard rumours about it. His people don't mind because he is the only one who cares about them for some generations.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Biography: Rufus is born as the first son of Duke Nevarus and Duchess Kires, his twin brother came a few minutes later. He started his swords training at the age of 5 and still trains sometimes, if he has free time or someone out of the villages want to spar with the Rufus.. From the age of 10 he started also to learn about the History of the Continent, the Politics of it and Diplomacy. During the war he stayed at the family house, however he was sent one time to the war zone. His life was all about training till the age of 18. He became officially adult and started to travel around the Estate to get to know the people who he was ruling.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@Robyn Banks as[/SIZE]
Seraphina Aeritheos
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Azae rules us still. She will come from the heavens and she will no longer be kind.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Lady Seraphina Aeritheos[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Nickname: Sera, Lady Sif[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 23[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Gender: Female[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Nomasdae/Kildran[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Sexuality: Bi-curious[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Allegiance: Roadalia[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Occupation: Holy Knights of Azae[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Roles to this occupation: Lead troops of soldiers to war; participate in the Queen's hobbies (even if she doesn't like them.); managing the peasants on behalf of her superiors; serving as the Queen's "bodyguard."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Faith: Religion of Azae[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Look at me. Look at my face. it's the last thing you'll see before you die."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Eye color: Stormy Grey eyes[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Hair color: Brunette[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Skin color: Fair[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Height & Weight: 5'6 / 126lbs[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Physique: Hourglass figure but just says that all the weight goes to her bottom half.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Seraphina is a brave, resourceful and practical woman . She is extremely loyal to her country, and will usually, but not always, do what Queen Gayana asks her to, and cares a great deal about her. Though she is well aware of the Queen's mental state and disapprove of her 'Holy' executions, she reflects back in when she was a competent leader that was beloved by her kingdom. She is also very selfless and modest, as she puts herself at colossal personal risks to help fellow comrades, rather sceptical about her ideals. She is very sarcastic and has an erratic sense of humour. She is also very religious knowing every scripture and prayer from the holy book of Azae. Though she shows selfless personality traits she is still manipulative, devious, enigmatic, and clever. Sera can be ruthless, cold and fierce at times but showed emotional intelligence towards the likes of certain people.On certain occasions, if a person seems worthy she would flirt with them out of boredom but would never want to go far with their relationship.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Fears: Dementophobia: Fear of insanity. Atychiphobia: Fear of failure.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: Seraphina was born on a cold winter night, crying like a Banshee as a typical newborn would.Her mother holding her firmly in her arms with a gleaming smile, her father nowhere to be found. She was born into the noble family of Aeritheos which was well known for their breeding of desired horses and warriors. When she was young she would ask about her father and his whereabouts only to find out that he is Nomasdae combatant with untrimmed hair. After many years of wondering why he never returned her mother only replied with a simple question. "Why would a man stay to be ruled by a woman, if he could control them elsewhere?" That was one of the few times she saw her mother. Though they stayed under the same mansion, she was raised primarily by servants, having rare encounters with her mother for training purposes only. Conditioning since she was old enough to stand on her own, she was prepared to be along with 12 other girls of an honorable lineage selected by the high priestess at the age of 7. Though her training was relentless, she managed to complete it at the top of her class, receiving as a reward her mother's love that she gained when she earned it. She served the queen without questions even making her an idol. That soon ended when a Nomasdae woman appeared at the gates named Miranda. Miranda soon became favorable by the queen,positioned as her personal advisor. Making her Knights and shield maiden no longer needed. She soon fell into insanity visioning herself as a prophet after executing the priestess that 'defied' her. Sera could only watch as Roadalia fell into Chaos, as the wall were built and the executions elevated. She found herself calming weekly riots and being people forth on the charge of treason. Sif began to question her allegiance and the people that she served, keeping her opinions buried within her. She continued to follow her duties and stay optimistic but how long would it take for her to break?[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Secrets: Considered assassinating Miranda.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“My Sword and Shield are my greatest weapons but my fists are just as effective."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Double bladed sword[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Sif's signature weapon of choice is a double-bladed sword. One of the two blades is retractable, allowing for Sif to fight with a single-blade.Wielded as a pair, these weapons complement Sera's fighting style, allowing her to balance fighting ability while remaining protected from a variety of enemy attacks. During combat the sword is capable of changing form into a staff-like weapon with two identical sword-blades bound at the center by a single handle.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Shield[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]To complement her swordplay, Sif carries a small, versatile, heater-shaped shield to counter others' attacks and protect herself in battle. Being made as a pair, the shield contains a scabbard for Seraphina's swords. Forged from a sturdy metal, it can defend against a variety of attacks, but is not impervious to damage. When Sera travels, she keeps her sword and shield together bound to her back, while in battle, she will carry the pair on her arm, ready to draw the sword if needed.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Combatant[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Sera is an excellent combatant and has received extensive training in unarmed combat and swordsmanship, Through years of experience (and likely a few close calls), she became a master at hand-to-hand CQC (close-quarters-combat) and, on more than one occasion, she was able to out-maneuver and defeat other experienced combatants.While being capable of taking on opponents, she never rush a battle to leave room for his own mistakes - unless she really needed to do so out of desperation. She can also be caught off guard by surprise attacks, leaving her vulnerable for a brief amount of time[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@Zooks as[/SIZE]
Renaria Velouse &
Lilly
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Renaria Velouse - Shield Maiden and Named Successor to the Roadalia Throne[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: 75% Normasdae 25% Kildran[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 22 Years Old[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A woman of clear Nomasdae descent, tanned skin with flowing, thick brown hair. Her blue eyes the only traces from her Kildran linerage. She is tall for a woman, standing at close to 6', with most of her height in her long legs. She is fiercely strong in her own right, but dexterous and fluid in combat.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of Choice: A beautifully crafted Longbow made from the tree's surrounding the village she grew up in at on the edge of the Giant Swazi Forest. Arrows also made and fletched by hand, originally from the village but now with the supplies she can access directly from the Ashah Capital in Roadalia. She also carries a short sword strapped to her lower back for close combat fighting and has trained a Homing Hawk to help her send/receive messages directly to Queen Dasa of Roadalia. She is skilled in tracking and horseback riding which includes Archery while on horse. Her aim is pin-point accurate and in one of the many reasons the current Queen chose her as Successor.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Renaria, simply put, is a shell within a shell. She is reserved, smart, calculating and will only speak when absolutely necessary. This may make her seem submissive, shy, or unintelligent but she is none of these. Rather, she will speak only when absolutely necessary and will act when absolutely needed. Nomasdae blood clearly runs through her veins, her determination and ferocity seen only through battle or in command. She will over analyse every aspect of a situation, even to something as mundane or as little as the way the person addresses her, the way they kneel to Pray or the tiniest flick of their wrists. She is always watching, taking in every single detail with barely the movement of an eyelid, like a hawk. She will understand the concept of humour but finds it too troublesome or needless to act in on it. For this reason, she can come off as Cold or Unfeeling. But she has a fierce devotion to those of lesser circumstances, mostly the homeless, children, farmer's, workers and women. She does not take kindly to drunken escapades nor violence without reason. She absolutely detests womanizers.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: Renaria grew up in a household with 3 other siblings and was the youngest of all three. There village placed in the outskirts of the Swazi Forest, where they would hunt and gather supplies to sustain them without a fierce needing of going into town or to the Capital unless absolutely necessary. In was on one such occasion, on her 14th birthday, that Renaria arrived at Ashah for the first time and was greeted with a thriving city and the hustle and bustle of people. Ever cautious, always watching, she left her parents Market Stall to disappear into the Halls of one of the Great Churches. The silence was deafening but the young girl relished in it. Coming before an Altar in silence she was gracious and fluid in her approach as she knelt and prayed. Here the girl stayed, in silence, for 5 hours. Not moving a single muscles. Even in her village, she was always the first to pray and the last to leave. Mostly, for guidance, and for strength for the Goddess Azae. Unbeknown to her the Queen had entered the Church Hall to also pray for some Guidance, but having observed the very nature and gracefulness as the girl fell to her knees she felt compelled to stay. Minutes, hours even ticked by and still the girl didn't even move a muscle. The Queen could tell by the simple way her head never even bowed further to her chin, or shoulder's sagged, that she was indeed conscious and not sleeping. Almost to the minute, 5 hours later, the girl stood and made her way to leave. The Queen was so astonished she stepped before the girl and asked her name. The girl simply gazed up to her and honestly said "14 years to this day." Even the way she spoke seemed far older, far wiser than the Queen had expected. From that day the Queen approached the girl's parents and had her moved to the capital Ashah, where the girl very rarely left her side. Morning/Midday/Dusk were times of pray, Mid-morning a time for military training, both with short sword, shield work, and practicing her bow (which her calm, calculating mind even at the tender age of 14 caused her to incredibly gifted, combined with a Longbow designed with the exact density to be subtle enough for both long range and devastating mid range). By late afternoon, she walked beside the Queen for her civic duties, an ever ending list of paperworks, connections to various officials, The Church as well as other nations. Renaria, always watching, always taking without needing to ask a single question. A curt nod of her head and nothing more was needed. At night they would dine together. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]As much as the Queen tried to almost talk to her like a daughter, love her and cherish her, the girl knew this was the Queen and made a clear distinction between her and her real Birth Mother whom still resided at home with her siblings. The family still hunted even from the royalties of Renaria's Shield Maiden duties, but without working they simply would have been purposeless. They were comfortable in their lifestyle. Over the years, Renaria growing older but not wiser as such, for she had always been observant and dutiful, the now woman noticed a strange occurrence from the Queen.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A new visitor arrived, an advisor, and at first Renaria would sit in on their meetings as she had always done. Not advising, simply being present. A shadow against the wall. But then she was unexpectedly refused a seating in the meetings. The Queen's attitude began to change. She withdrew from everyone, including Renaria but still issued orders from fast paced notes shot out from under doors. Servants scurrying past hearing thrashing of furniture inside her quarters. Renaria grew more tense. Finally when the Queen emerged, the Shield Maiden noticed almost immediately she seemed feral, almost manically so, barking orders with a hiss and flick of her arm, shouting at the crowds, calling for public displays of torture for heretics. Claiming the Goddess Azae spoke to her... [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Renaria, had her doubts. But what could she do? Watch the Kingdom fall due to the Queen's fanatical tirad? The fact the Queen still kept her somewhat within distance spoke volumes of how much the Queen adored her, but even so, the woman doubted a single out of place word would not see she to, would be executed. So she waits and watches. Like the Hawk.[/SIZE]
Lilly
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Lilly - slave name (actual name unknown)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Full-Blooded T'Odis[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 16years old[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A long haired girl of clear T'Odis descent, 5'4", skin soft despite numerous cuts and bruises. Frame delicate and visually lacking in muscle definition.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of Choice: None[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Lilly is young and scared. Things frighten her easily and she will be the first to flinch from conflict, bloodshed or tension. She has a fear of physical contact or close presence. She does not speak common but will sometimes say a word or two in the T'Odis home language. Loud noises will terrify her. Weapons scare her.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: Lilly remembered a snow covered home full of laughter and a warm fire. A house full of siblings, parents, aunts, uncles having a feast. She remembered being asked to go to the closest household for supplies, but being side stepped and surrounded by a group of Kildran men. Screaming, she was thrown into sack and the group roaring on horseback to the T'Odis Gate before an alarm could be be raised. That was almost 4 years ago. Since then she had one of the worst treatments a Snowhaired slave could endure. As most Kildran slaves were dark skinned and dark haired, she fetched thousands and was constantly barted and sold to the highest Kildran Noble. 'The little snow angel' she was often nicknamed. Her treatment turning the stomachs of almost all Slavery-haters. She almost always has a collar strapped around her neck, and heavy black bracelets around her wrists and right thigh, jewelled in sapphires as if one might dress up a pet. Her face always half sad, distant and lonely. Like the light seemingly just disappeared from her eyes. Years of her collar now etching a permanent scar across her neck even if the collar is removed.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@too much idea as[/SIZE]
Thera
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Thera[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Nomasdae -Parshumian[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 21[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of Choice: Twin hook blade, an exotic weapon rarely seen or used by anyone. Thera learned how to use it on the pirate ship, and took a liking to it. Before she began her training, she asked her father to order one for her. The weapon is perfect for her, since she is very agile and moves a lot in battle.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Sees herself not as a soldier, but as a weapon instead. Cold blooded, ruthless, she follows any command they give to her without question and shows no mercy to the enemy. She doesn’t talk much, unless she is required to do so and allowed to speak her thoughts. Years of enduring hardship has made her patient and much more mature than other people her age. She believes that there will be a time for everything, even during a battle where she can be so calm and silent it’s almost intimidating. But the hardship she endured also scarred her for life, as she resulted in believing that God/s did not exist. She respected people who believe that there is one and pray to it, and mocked fanatics who could pray several times a day and couldn’t stop preaching including Queen Gayana. She also despises any form of slavery and slavers. Thera also occasionally has nightmares, which wake her up and make her unable to sleep. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A beautiful woman of mixed descent while her Parshumian feature are more prominent, with smooth light brown skin and curly raven black hair that she cuts short. She stands at 5’6” with a lean muscular body, with long arms and legs. Under her clothing is scarring from her time as a slave.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: The girl did not remember much about her past. She remembered that she had an older sister, and lived by the sea in a small port town. It was there she got lured into an alley with an empty promise of free candy, kidnapped and sold to the pirates. Those with good looks are taught how to please people of all gender and all preferences, those with good physical ability are taught how to fight and how to kill, the leftovers are taught how to clean and how to cook and how to sew. The girl was the second one, for her nimbleness and good hand to eye coordination. She traveled with the pirates for years, where she learned how to fight and defend herself, how to speak and curse in several different languages. The girl was happy, she starting to see of them as her new family. But the pirates saw her as nothing but raw material that needed to be transformed into high-quality goods. And now that she was one, it was time to sell her at a high price. And so the girl was sold, bought by a slaver from Kildra as a cage fighter where she would be put inside a small fighting arena and entertain the rich and nobles almost every single day. The girl killed someone for the first time there, an older boy she grew up with on the pirate’s ship. They were pitted against each other, with a blade in his hands and a dagger in hers. The boy lunged forward, and the girl’s instinct kicked in and then, before she knew it, she slit the boy’s neck wide open. The audience, dressed in pretty colourful clothes with a mask to hide their face, laughed and clapped and cheered on her. The girl didn't understand. What was so funny? What was so interesting? And yet she didn’t stop. She knew she couldn't. The moment she dropped her blade or put down her dagger someone would put her down. The girl had no choice but to continue killing, to the point she no longer cared about who or what she killed. A wolf, a lean man older than her, a child younger than her- all fresh meat. The girl thought that she was going to die in the area one day, the same way she had been killing people. Someone will take her down. Maybe someone younger, talented and lucky. Or maybe someone older, careful and experienced. Then her corpse will be cut down into pieces, and fed to the animals locked in cages. That is, until the man came. He was a soldier, a captain of a foreign army. He bought her freedom, released her of her chains, took her to his home and told her to clean herself and fed her with meat. The girl snatched a fork and lunged at the man, she almost made it, if not for the man’s quick reaction. He pressed her down to the ground, and laughed. The man told her that he had taken a liking on her, and was interested in her ability with a blade. That’s why he brought her in, as a weapon. He named her Thera, after his daughter who died of sickness years ago. He trained her harder than the pirates, taught her things that a fighting arena does not, and gave her love more than anyone had ever given her. He taught her how to write and how to read. She began to love him back, so much that it warmed her heart and she started calling him “Father”. When Thera was old enough, she joined the army and became a soldier under the man she called father. She joined him in battles, fighting side by side and back to back with him. Until one day, the man was injured during a mission. He recovered, but no longer was allowed to fight and soon lost the ability to walk. Thera replaced him as captain, and her ability and how she carried out every command given to her helped her climb the ranks and before she knew it, she had joined the Holy Knights of Azae. Thera is well known as the loyal guard dog, attacking anyone on command and striking down whomever she is tasked to even after Queen Gayana’s descent to madness, claiming that the Goddess had spoken to her and executing the High Priest. Thera doesn’t like the Queen and lost all respect to her, but she’s still her soldier. Her sword and her shield, are still a weapon to be used. So she turned blind eye to it, and continued to carry out any command given and protected the Queen as she was required to do which brought her more enemies than friends. And no matter how free she is now, Thera is still that girl who fought inside the fighting arena. She despises slavers and slavery and nobles of Kildra and their Queen, after finding out that it was the nobles of Kildra behind the fighting pit and the slavers. Thera would do anything to get her revenge.[/SIZE]
Kum Liadej
Name: Kum Liadej
Race: Parshumian - Indorian - T'Odis
Age: 40
Weapon of Choice: A profecient hunter who is good at using bow and arrow, but as a friendly merchant he carry and hides a dagger under his belt.
Personality: A little bit arrogance at times, with his high and mighty with his "richer than thou" attidute. But he's actually very kind and friendly, and could be generous at times like buying the freedom of two dozen slaves that he come across in a Kildran secret market.
Description:
A baby-faced man on his forties, with a handsome face that still capable of making woman of any age and background fall in love with him. Standing at 5'8, he is considered as tall as a mixed blood in Parshumian. Fit and stocky, with beautiful piercing Jade green eyes.
Background:
Kum's father, a Parshumian, married a woman of Indorian-T'Odis descent and gave birth to seven sons and three daughters. Kum was the youngest of the siblings, that put him at the bottom of the list to be the heir of Liadej - the world famous Parshum based merchant guild. But Kum was fine with that, he doesn't need to carry the burden that his oldest brothers and sisters had to carry. He was free to do and learn anything he wanted to.
So he asked for his father permission to be allowed to travel around the world, his father allows him as long as he goes as the representative from Liadej- so he could help the business by making business deals while he went away.
And so he travels, seeing things that no one might never see and experiencing things that one might never want to experience like being hunting with high ranking government officials in Libertia, spending a few weeks offcoast with the pirates to negotiate a friendly deal, attending a party held by Kildran nobles and then trapped inside Kildran's Civil War where he sold weapons to both side of the war. When asked, Kum said that his only allegiance is to money.
He returned to Parshum shortly after and meet the woman of his dreams, one that he immediately marry. His now-wife likes to tells him a story about her lost sister, kidnapped when she was a child, and made Kum promised to try to find the sister thought Kum doesn't know exactly what to do since it was like looking for a needle in the haystack.
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@King Ad Rockas[/SIZE]
Dariela Zulton
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name : Dariela Zulton[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age : 18[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Nomasdae-Kildran (Nomasdae Mother; Kildran Father)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of choice : Dariela has a passion for anything pointy. From a beautifully crafted dagger, to a pointy kebab stick, her long fingers can easily manipulate the sharp pointed weapon to her advantage. She has a collection of pointed weapons in her secret hiding place in the desert. However, she has a dagger under her loose pants at all times. She stole the dagger from an official when she was 16 years old, the dagger is light and thin. It's silver, it holds a crest, unknown to the eyes of Dariela.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality : A marshmallow, compared to anyone else. Dariela is a charming, bubbly, teenager born and raised near the outskirts of the Kingdom of Indoria. She always has a smug grin on her face, regardless of who she's talking to. She's kind and loving. She trusts people easily… despite her trying to act tough. She's gullible and easily manipulated. She's easily offended, but not quick to tears. She'll pout and throw tantrums until she gets what she wants. She's extremely talkative and blunt. She says what she wants to say, and she's very open to options. Dariela absolutely loathes the racism she experiences day by day. It's not easy being a "half breed", as the call it. Nonetheless, she faces them with a smile and a playful wink. She steals from the rich and gives to the poor. Despite her out-going and carefree nature, she calculates every single theft she's going to make. She doesn't go somewhere with more than a 65% chance of getting caught. She's quite lucky.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description :[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Dariela has dark dreads, decorated in gold. She has black eyes, a dark complexion, full smug-looking lips, perfectly white teeth, highly arched eyebrows, and a tattoo on her arm. She's 5’5”, with a lean, and slightly muscular body. Perfect for getting away and blending in.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background : Dariela was born in the outskirts of Indoria, by her Nomasdae mother. They were assisted by the poor, and accepted by the poor. Dariela's mother took care of the baby until she was 13 years old. Growing up, Dariela would often wander alone in Indoria. Observing people, watching the different Classes everyday and wondering why can’t everyone have the same things. When she gets too near the Capitol, things get worse. She always gets shooed away by the people, not wanting to see her. Considering her an abomination, a big error in the course of nature. She didn't understand why, and it irks her. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]She often wonders about her Kildran father. Where he is, who he is… why did he even go at it with her mother. She'd look for him, too. Sometimes. She grew up far from the capital everyone accepted each other for who they are. She was surrounded by trusting and reliable people, ergo her gullible and carefree nature. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]When she was 12, she wandered alone near the capital, and for the first time, she saw a thief getting caught. It was brutal. The thief was stripped off of his clothes, everything stolen was lain on the ground, and the thief was beaten to a pulp before dragged further in the capital. Mesmerized by the turn of events, she thought of the possibilities of her becoming a thief. She left her mother by the time she reached 13. Saying that she'll make her life better. Her mother, kind woman that she is, couldn't say no to her. She started stealing from the middle class people. She did that for a while, until she realized that it wasn't the middle class that she should be stealing from. They served their purpose, by stealing from the middle class, her skills were sharpened. She stole from the upperclassmen ever since. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]She was discovered by the underground systems when she was 14. They called her "The Sand Storm". Whenever she had inside jobs, she'd always leave her signature. A bunch of sand everywhere. Thus her name, Sand Storm. It started off as an annoyance to her. It wasn't like she did it on purpose, it's just that it's the desert. And there. Is. Sand. Everywhere. She tried to clean it up during her early years of theft, but it became a chore. So she embraced her signature and she's become well known for it.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@Edin as[/SIZE]
Mhisri Mhorinn
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Mhisri (phonetic: ‘miss.ree ‘mor.rin)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Nickname: “Ri”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 30[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: 75% Parshumian, 25% T'Odis[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of Choice: Her knowledge[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Mhisri loves to laugh. She laughs whenever possible because it a) keeps her warm and b) helps her remember that there's good in the world. She is incredibly smart and dedicated, and that is an understatement. She uses her seemingly boundless knowledge to get her out of sticky situations and make a living on the mainland of Azae. While she seems to know everything, she doesn't always seem to know how to use it until opportunity strikes. She might be able to spout off facts, but she hasn't practiced everything she has read about-only a few weapon techniques and martial arts, at least where combat is concerned. This often leads her to use things in unique ways, like the time she was being pursued by unsavory characters through a dark part of town and, in a small scuffle, grabbed one of their daggers. Instead of cutting their throats or plunging it into their hearts, however, she rubbed it against an herb she carried with her and then used it to light a spark against a wall that was covered in a dark powder, which caused a bright flash and filled the small alleyway with fumes, causing them to fall to the ground unconscious. Except for Mhisri, of course, who'd had the sense to cover her nose and mouth. She kept the dagger and took some of the sooty material with her.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Mhisri is about 5'10", with mostly Parshumian features except for her white hair, which has begun to accumulate various colors as it has come into contact with consistent chemical reactions. She wears simple clothing, brown and white and close-fitting, with not much specifically designated as protection. She wears a long brown cloak for warmth, as T'Odis was quite cold when she arrived on the mainland. She does not carry much weaponry, as she hasn't found anything she likes better than what she has been able to use under each individual circumstance. She does carry various compounds with her as she has found them useful in her travels, and has collected various trinkets such as hairpins, gears, darts, and other little things she can easily carry which she figures might come in handy someday.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: Mhisri's grandfather is a T'Odis who married a Parshumian woman, quite scandalously and dangerously, during the later years of the T'Odis-Parshum War. Her grandmother was killed as a traitor as a result, and her grandfather fled to the T'Odis Lawless Lands with their young daughter to wait out the rest of the war. He returned to Parshum after the war ended, wanting to be surrounded by the things that reminded him of his beloved late wife, so that he might live every day as a testament to her. Mhisri's mother is half-T'Odis and, as a result, Mhisri was born with very pale white hair, a recessive gene, apparently, which causes some strife with the older generation Parshumians and the younger radicals who still foster some contempt toward the T'Odis for the wars that plagued their country for so long. Even her mother is ashamed of her T'Odis blood and has fully adopted the Parshum lifestyle, often ignoring Mhisri's grandfather, her own father. She resembles a pure-blooded Parshumian, and was horrified to find that her daughter had been born with bright white hair that must have come from the T'Odis side. She tried to get her daughter to dye it, but Mhisri loved her T'Odis heritage.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Mhisri didn't have a horrible childhood, but she didn't have a luxurious one either. She was raised in a middle-class family in Parshum - fishermen, of course - and her grandfather took care of the largest library on the island, a menial task that was granted him by the government, but one he loved nonetheless. Parshum is one of the oldest nations in Azae, therefore the knowledge held in that building was extensive, and her grandfather appreciated knowledge. Mhisri was raised fishing and being at sea, but women were not allowed to do it for work; at least it was frowned upon by the government and they could not legally sell their wares. Women preferably stayed home and took care of the houses and children. That was all fine and well for others, but Mhisri was easily bored by such a life. She was a natural on the water, and could bargain up a storm like the most seasoned of merchants. She continued to spend her days on the boat, but since she couldn't sell her catches, she was bringing home too much food.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]By age 10, she decided that she needed something else to do, so Mhisri started to spend her time at the library where her grandfather worked. Not many people visited the library. Libraries were mainly used as a tool of reference for government officials-not a learning space for the common man. The main population of people were too busy with their ordinary lives to bother with such a place as a library, so even though an incredible amount of information-information that could kill or save-rested among those pages, the resource laid there, among the stone and paper, virtually untapped. It was here that Mhisri learned everything. And she did learn everything. She started small, reading things like poetry and sagas and ballads. She ran out of those in about 9 months, however, and moved on to bigger things. She started educating herself in history and religious works, then had exhausted that section. While reading those histories though, she discovered politics and language. She then moved on to those topics, working her way through book after book, year after year, learning and remembering everything, until, after 16 years she knew all the languages and religions of Azae, was well-versed in the war strategies of the separate kingdoms, could paint and build and write and sculpt, understood engineering and physics and chemistry and medicine. She had learned martial arts and sword-fighting and could build a bomb...at least, she knew all these things, but she hadn't necessarily done all of them. She had built something here and there or spoken with this or that foreigner, but that wasn't all that impressive. All that knowledge was resting inside her. She needed to test herself further, prove something to herself.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A month later was the Isle of Lights Festival. Her grandfather loved that festival, and she spent it with him every year, lighting lanterns, watching street performers, and enduring the stares and jeers of a few pure-blood Parshumians. This year, as Mhisri stood on a bridge overlooking the bay of Ka Ja Ta with her grandfather, a cart rolled by with paper lanterns for the Midnight Lighting, where thousands of lanterns were released into the air in a sign of reverence and peace toward the other nations of Azae. She purchased a couple-one for her and one for her grandfather-and when she turned around, horror struck her face. Six young men were beating her elderly grandfather-beating him with their arms and legs and large bottles they had picked up on the street, as he lay nearly helpless on the ground, pleading with them to stop, on this day of peace and unity. They spat hateful comments and were clearly drunk. Enough was enough.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Mhisri barely even needed to think as she glanced at the lanterns she held in her hands. The cart vendor also sold small fireworks, had a lit lantern-stick, and Mhisri had once read in "The Merchant Army" by F. Migodore that Fire Water was often kept in small vials or flasks underneath their strongboxes, an old habit from the war days when merchants would assist in protecting the Ka Ja Ta shoreline from invaders. Mhisri had read in another book, "Everyday Pyrotechnics" by Royland Cauldric, that Fire Water enhanced the effects of combined saltpetre, sulphur and charcoal, common ingredients in fireworks. She calculated the small wind speed that fluttered the festival air as she jumped over the countertop of the cart. She grabbed the nearest firework and, hoping that this merchant was attuned to the old ways, reached under the strongbox. She ignored the merchant's angry protests. Her fingers felt the cool glass of a flask. From behind the counter she yelled "STAY DOWN, GRANDFATHER!" and in mere fractions of a second had spilled the contents of the flask onto the firework. The burning tip of the lantern-stick lay exposed, protruding from the top of the cart. In one swift movement, the firework was lit, aimed, and shot off toward the towering figures of the group of young men. An explosion rocked the bridge, followed by screams. The one or two young men that weren't lying on the ground were running, their clothes and flesh on fire. Mhisri's grandfather lay on the ground, the wind having been strong enough to spread the Fire Water outward but not down. He was a bit bewildered and shaken, however. She grabbed his arm and helped him up, urging him on.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]They escaped the scene and headed into a back alley, though Mhisri knew they wouldn't be alone for long. Her hair was a dead giveaway, and everyone who had seen her on the bridge would know where to send the guards. She just needed to get her grandfather to safety. Her grandfather was standing on his own now, and a strange reserve of strength was overcoming him. In "An Anthology of Azae Peoples" by Elderhard M. Keeryn, Mhisri had learned that the T'Odis people were known for their strength and hardiness, often summoning fortitude from previously unknown reserves in times of need. Her grandfather would make it. She was filled with relief. Suddenly, he stopped her.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Mhisri," he said. "Your hair."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]She pulled a lock of hair to the front of her face. It was tinged with faint purples, pinks and blues, an oil-slick-like tint that covered a small but noticeable portion of her hair. "Chemical reaction." she replied. "From the T'Odis pigmentation in my hair mixing with the sulphur, charcoal and fire water." [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"You killed four men."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"They were beating you, grandfather. They would have killed you. They always have fear and anger in their eyes, I see it every day. They only needed an excuse to release it. They would have easily swayed a jury and you wouldn't have seen justice-not the way this system works. You won't see justice now. We have to get out."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Mhisri, you need to go. They already know where to find you."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Let them come. I don't plan to stay. I have a boat, and we can escape on that. I built it myself after I read "The Shipmaker's Handbook", and I know how to man it with two people because I read "The Serpent's Toll," that saga by Berlund. You can row and I can man the sails and steer, then when we hit a storm I can drain the water and you can steer. It's approximately 1,032 miles from Ka Ja Ta to the Lawless Lands of T'Odis, so we can be there in about 5 days. I can grab enough food and water for the both of us, and according to the T'Odis government regulations-"[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Mhisri, please. I cannot go with you."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Mhisri stopped. "Why not?"[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Because your grandmother...she is here. In the trees and flowers, in the wind and the sea. I cannot bear to leave this place. At least not yet. I know it has been a long time, but I have not yet said goodbye. Maybe one day I will meet you in T'Odis, but for now...I have peace to make."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Mhisri didn't want to believe him. "Come on, grandfather. We can do this, I know how!"[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“You have much to offer, Mhisri, and it lies suppressed in you while you remain in this city. Go out and find it. But remember, the hatred that lies within some of these people does not lie in all."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Grandfather, they will throw you in prison in my stead! The prisons lack necessary nutrients found in sunlight and the constant damp is a breeding ground for approximately 6,400 bacteria, half of which can cause death or severe respiratory malfunction! Come on!"[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"I know, my dear. There is bad here, yes, but there is also good. The good cannot overtake the bad if we run from it. You...you go bring good wherever it is you go. You have read enough of this land's history to know that good never comes by way of the bad; it only sprouts from the ashes of what was destroyed by it. I will do it here, with your grandmother beside me, always."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Grandfather, PLEASE!"[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"I will also be with you, always. And I will see you again."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]He ran to the edge of the alley where they had been conversing. A commotion was heard not too far away. He signaled her to run. She hesitated. The commotion grew louder, and her grandfather looked stern. Lifting his huge hand to the air with a heavy stroke, he again pleaded with her to leave, as if the mere motion of his hands could spirit her away. She ran. To her house. She didn't say a word to her sleeping father and mother. She gathered food, water, a few books, fishing accessories, and trinkets she had collected over the years. She left. She never saw her grandfather again. She cried.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@Edin as [/SIZE]
Azria Rohodege
Azria Rohodege
Name: Azria Rohodege
Age: 30
Race: Nomasdae
Occupation: High Priestess of Roadalia
Twin Sister: Taiza "Tai” Rohodege
Description:
Background: Being the High Priestess of Roadalia takes a lot more than ritual prayers and scented rumination. It is a position of defense in an ever-raging battle of failing morality and absent conscience. It is one of a teacher and one of an advisor; ultimately one of peaceful compromise, but occasionally exceptions must be made. The darkness must be trespassed so that the light might survive. This aphotic encroachment is what Azria Rohodege, High Priestess of Roadalia, must accomplish every day.
Born with the Mark of the Dove, a birthmark signifying the future high priestess of Roadalia, twin sisters Azria and Taiza Rohodege were raised in the church, each being taught the ways of the priestess, so that one day one of them would be chosen to lead the people of Roadalia in all manners of spirituality. They learned well, but as can be expected of those who have much expected of them, they often succumbed to their innocent wild streak. Sneaking out of the temple at night, when all other duties and lessons had been accomplished, the two would meet outside in the brightly-lit city streets to frequent the even brighter merchant gatherings, filling their evenings with song, dance, and often a little drink. Many friends were made, many tricks were learned, and the sisters always returned to the temple and their responsibilities, ever heartfelt and dutiful to the church despite their adventurous escapades.
But such is not the way for things to remain pleasant always. The Queen began to deteriorate, acting strangely and showing signs of brutality. A wall began to be erected, and the merchant gatherings in the city soon disappeared. Innocent people began to be nonchalantly thrown in prison, and their families were left behind. Food and everyday supplies became hard to come by, and the needs of many people only rose higher and higher. Azria and Taiza soon realized that they had a responsibility not only to their church, but to the people of Roadalia, and they had the means to do it.
They began sneaking out of the city at night, much as they used to sneak out of the confines of the temple walls. They met trader groups wherever they went, sometimes as far as outside the borders of the country, where they would move silently through gaps in the wall’s construction. Here they would barter the small gold and silver pieces that adorned the temple for as much food, water, clothing, blankets, medicine and other necessities they could carry back to the city, giving freely to those who knew where to find it.
As this behavior went on, Azria’s love for the people grew. She became more devoted to the righteous cause of the church, using it as a means of lifting the people’s spirits through these hard times. Taiza, on the other hand, loved the rebellious nature of their actions more. She began to go out on her own, often returning with things that were not considered necessities, and without taking anything from the temple to trade for them. Azria began to be suspicious of her sister’s methods, confronting her about it, but being shrugged off. Taiza left more and more, until she never came back.
Azria received a letter from her sister one day, explaining that she had joined a group of fearful characters called the Black Talon Mercenaries, who were causing myriad destruction in the nearby country of Kildra. She expressed a deep regret for what she had done, and wanted to meet with Azria to ask forgiveness and return to her life in Roadalia, serving the people under the shield of night, paid for by the church. Azria was overjoyed, and agreed to meet with her one night as she went outside the walls to collect a large cache of supplies. She would need both of them to carry back the things she won in the trade. Taiza met her there, and as Azria saw her, she was struck with fleeting visions of a confrontation, of striking moonlight and a severed dove. Her head reeled in pain and confusion, and she realized too late that Taiza was not alone. Azria was quickly overcome, relieved of her burden of hallowed wealth, and forced to defend herself from the sharp moonlit blades of their knives. Years as a young girl who spent her time with merchants had taught her well in the ways of self-defense, however, and she was skilled enough to keep from death. The small, shadowed group fled, but not before Azria had obtained one of their daggers, which she flung at Taiza as she rejoiced at her corrupted victory upon leaving. It struck true, severing the flesh of her shoulder, cutting clean in half Taiza’s Mark of the Dove. Taiza left, screaming curses, and Azria never saw her again.
Upon returning to Roadalia, she found that not only was she empty-handed, but her quarters had been robbed of the temple items she had stashed away for trading. She had been used as both a target and a diversion, and now had much less with which to help the people of the city. Her head began to sear in pain again, and she saw another vision, one of a tucked-away closet filled with rations distributed by the high priestess, which she now saw was herself. Since Taiza was gone and had relinquished her right to this title, that mantle would fall now to Azria, and she intended to use her life solely in service to the people of Roadalia.
@Edin as
Garrison Bergen
“Garrus Corsolus”
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Originally Garrison Bergen, but has taken on the pseudonym Garrus Corsolus[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 28[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Kildran[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Biography: Garrison is the second child born to Tidus and Marguerite Bergen of House Bergen in Kildra. Friend to Prince Unger growing up, the two spent much of their time together, along with Marit, Garrison’s first love, who was everything to him. She was beautiful, kind, and gifted in all things artistic. Poetry, painting, music...she could do it all, and she shared it with Garrison. They were inseparable. He remembers a childhood sweetened with her words, colored by her deeds, and softened by her presence. He would have done anything for her: written books full of sonnets that lauded her beauty, gathered every single flower in Zeldwa just to see her smile, even fought the impending war single-handedly to ensure her safety. He had asked her one night, under an exquisite veil of stars and mist that accompanied their favorite secret meeting place, if she would be his wife. She had said yes.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]They made plans and loved and slept under those stars that night, but with the dawn of the next day their happiness was cut short. The Fourth Kildran War erupted and Garrison’s parents, who had chosen to support Queen Suzane, warned their son against consorting with Unger any longer. But he was an honorable man and would not turn his back on a friend, expressing his intention to continue supporting the true king of Kildra.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Garrison’s parents considered this an act of treachery and betrayal and had him removed from their estate-sent to live with his aunt and uncle in another city-and he was separated from both Marit and Unger, unable to return due to a harsh, prison-like house arrest. He made many attempts at communicating with Marit and Unger, but he had no idea if those attempts were successful. One day, several months after his imprisonment, he received word from home. The parchment burned in his hand like fire; froze like ice. Marit was dead.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]The short, cruel words written by his father were laconic and obligatory. Killed due to the violence of the war was all he was told. Garrison’s life was shattered and he could not pick up the pieces. He no longer tried to escape, no longer ate or drank or slept. He could do nothing. He had failed her. He lived life as if it were a dream, remaining in a state of constant shock. Days turned into weeks which ultimately swayed with a drunken haze into months. He had absorbed himself in his studies, burying himself in anything and everything that reminded him of her, but the tastes, the words, the colors...they were nothing. He was nothing.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Almost four years had passed before he heard word from home again. This time it was Unger. He was gone; presumed dead after the Battle of Bore’s Den. The shock awakened him from his catatonia, and he was rapidly overcome with the horrifying revelation that had he been there, none of this would have happened. Enough was enough; he couldn’t stand the sight of himself any longer. Even though there was no longer anyone he loved left in this world that could be hurt by his neglect, he refused to stand by and remain prisoner. Perhaps there was something he could still do.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Instead of immersing himself in the memories of Marit’s life, he began to focus his abilities on the manners of death. He was robbed of fighting alongside Unger, and robbed of fighting to protect Marit, but he would make up for it now. A silver bow hung beautifully on the wall of his uncle’s study; Garrison had only learned the basic art of swordfighting as a noble son, but something drew him to this weapon. He trained and studied it mercilessly, even learning the art of crafting arrows for it. His aunt and uncle believed it to be a harmless interest, and were actually somewhat relieved to see their nephew returned to the world, but he intended it to be much more. This weapon would help him one day. It would allow him to redeem himself.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]In a celebration of Garrison returning to his senses, his aunt and uncle ordered the good stuff. Aged wine of the finest quality, and plenty of it. It was easy to get them drunk, even easier to pull the bowstring back and release it. The guard was lax that day, but he still needed to take down several with his stolen bow and hand-crafted arrows, not worried about a rampage, because he would be hunted down for the rest of his life no matter what he did. Making his way down to the kitchen, the only room in the manor that did not have barred windows, he made his exit with arrows pointed at the help.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“I’ve no mind for your heads, but if you get in the way of me going after those that I DO have a mind for, I will gladly take it.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Garrison slipped into the cover of night with naught but a new name, a new bow, a large sum of stolen money and the only spark of hope he still clung to: that Unger was still alive… somewhere.[/SIZE]
Ziek Sidane
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Ziek (Pronounced ZAI-EEK) Sidane[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 26[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Nomasdae-Kildran (Kildran Father, Nomasdae Mother)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of Choice: A long serrated spear with a heavy, steel counter-weight at the base of the wooden handle, used to make it both perfectly balanced, and as a means for non-lethal combat. This weight also allows Ziek to throw the spear with deadly accuracy and strength. His former mentor, Syler Hazule, had the unique weapon forged and gave it to him as a gift during their participation in the War of Royalty.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Those who have met Ziek do not forget him fast. A loud, sarcastic, self-perceived smooth-talker, he always has a witty response (or at least he judges them to be) for any precarious situation regardless of appropriateness. His loud, foul mouth and cocky behavior have, on more than one occasion, gotten him into visible trouble at a time in his life when he should be keeping a low profile. A veteran of war, Ziek suffers from what is known as “Soldier’s Shakes”. To combat the sleeplessness, nightmares, anxiety, and depression that comes with this; Ziek spends his time drowning himself in liquor, women, and false bravado. While traveling from city to city in Southern Zeldwa, he participates in any risky behavior he believes will help him forget the dead and the past.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]If not standing next to a towering T’Odis, one would describe Ziek as being quite tall standing at 6’6. His lithe yet muscular frame hints at both speed and power, although it is usually hidden under loose fitted clothing. Both of his exposed arms are riddled with scars from battles past, while his right is covered from forearm to shoulder in a black skin-ink of a Hawke’s Talon. With a deep bronze skin tone and his black, messy and curly hair, his mixed-race origins are apparent. The darkened hue and squint in his eyelids reveal his lack of acceptable sleep, his emerald green eyes always narrowed. His mouth is seemingly forever plastered with half-smirk, constantly hinting at his mischievous personality. In his ears and left eyebrow are several piercings, a fashion he picked up from his time traveling with pirates in his youth. Ziek spares the occasional moment every few weeks to shave, refusing to grow a long beard. On Ziek’s left wrist is an old Nomasdae slave chain, worn as a memento and a reminder of someone he met long ago.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: Ziek was born in a small smithing village just on the outskirts of Ozryn in Kildra to a Kildran father and a Nomasdae mother. His mother unfortunately died during childbirth, and this took a deep emotional toll on his father, the famed smith, Archkan Sidane. Falling into a deep alcoholic depression, Archkan left Ziek mostly to his own devices and to fend for himself. This gave the young Ziek a sense of self-reliance and independence at a young age.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Ziek lost his father at the age of twelve when a band of bandits raided and burned down the quiet village he called home, coming specifically for his father’s steel. Ziek could only watch helplessly, hidden behind a suit of armor, as his father was cut down with his own blades. He was able to escape both the flames and the murderous outlaws, and ran aimlessly into the Kildran plains. It was there that he met a camping Syler Hazule, a bald, meditative Nomasdae man who had just entered the country. Proceeding to tell the strange man of what just happened, while fighting back his tears, the boy hoped to warn the old man of the dangers. Ziek then stared in both bewilderment and awe as Syler wordlessly stood and walked towards the burning village in the distance with nothing but a cane. He contemplated leaving, but with nowhere to go and no coin in his pockets the young Ziek decided to follow the old man out of pure curiosity. From the not so distant hills that lie near the village, Ziek watched Syler stroll over to several boorish looking bandits who were looting a small home on the outskirts of town. It appeared as if one of the bandits was about to speak to Syler, but before he could get a word out, Syler thrust the tip of his steel tipped cane deep into the eye socket of the leather-clad criminal. The other two bandits dropped their ill-got gains and rapidly drew their blades in panic. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]What came next was a work of art. Ziek gazed, almost as in a trance, as Syler danced amongst the flames. Every step, every movement was perfectly calculated. They swung their weapons with every bit of their lives, but they never did knick him, even the once. Using only the cane, Syler Hazule ended every bandit’s life that participated in the raid that night, as he fought well into the morning hours. After Syler yanked his cane from the throat of his last victim with a sickening noise, he then turned and, again, wordlessly strolled back to his camp as if nothing had happened. Ziek had witnessed every last action, breathing it in as if it were life saving air. The tragedy of losing his father and everyone he held dear, witnessing Syler’s massacre, and the cold Kildran fall winds all combined has Ziek shaking head-to-toe while he slowly approached a now sitting Syler with caution. The trembling young man asked the elder warrior if he would be willing to take him to Ozryn, where he had family. Syler agreed, although they never made it to Ozryn, instead deciding to travel together through Zeldwa, looking for odd jobs. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Along the way, at Ziek’s behest, Syler began to subject his youthful traveling companion to his rigorous, psychotic, and seemingly abusive combat training. Every morning, afternoon, and evening was spent learning to handle a sword and shield. There would be sparring with two swords in one hand as soon as he was strong enough to hold them for weight training. For months at a time he would be rarely given a break. Running miles, lifting large weight, and climbing hundreds of feet; these were all daily and even hourly activities. When his sword fighting became strong enough, nighttime became designated for reading and studying. Syler would pull books, almost as if out of nowhere, and demand that Ziek read them in short periods of time. Books on fencing, hand-to-hand combat, military strategy, herbology, fictional ballads, and poetry were given to him. Even a cooking book was once thrown at him while Syler was in a drunken stupor, demanding the recipes be memorized. Then, with no warning whatsoever, Ziek would find himself being put through some kind of bizarre tests and trials formulated by the strange and booze soaked mind of the mysterious Syler. With the traditional sword training came these intense feats:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• At the age of thirteen, Ziek was left deep in the unsettled portions of the Swazi rain forest in Libertia to fend for himself for two months with nothing but a fishing net and a small dagger.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Forced to hunt daily for both Syler and himself, regardless of whether or not they had coin for food or meals[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• To learn horseback riding, Syler tied Ziek’s legs securely to the horse and set it off down the Kildran countryside[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• For days at a time Ziek would be forced to stand on one leg, on small tree trunks, in the pouring rain and snowstorms to work on his balance and endurance while Syler threw small pebbles at him and laughed.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Was sold to pirates on his fourteenth born-day by Syler when Syler lost a round of Parshumian dice to the Pirate King Chavi. Ziek had his left pinky removed when caught cheating with said Pirate King in Parshumian Dice. He was bought back by Syler 6 months later, and the old man acted as if he had never left. Ziek had learned to sail in the meantime.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Was locked in a library in Libertia by Syler for one month at the age of fifteen until he taught himself how to ask to be let out articulately in Parshumese, T’Odis, and Ancient Nomasdae.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• After being taught tracking skills, Ziek would constantly awake to find Syler had abandoned camp and left him a note (usually in a language other than the Common Words) telling him to catch up.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• While he was bathing, Syler would put Ziek’s clothes at incredibly high heights, such as tied to the tops of trees or hanging from a mountainside cliff. Ziek would be forced to reclaim these in the buff.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Was abandoned in the Desert of Swords for one month with nothing but a few gourds of water and a short sword. He was commanded not to run if meeting a Tral-el, and that Syler would somehow know if he did.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Instructed by Syler to fence with him blindfolded after becoming somewhat accomplished with swordplay. Each misstep or missed swing was met with a hearty smack on the top of Ziek’s head with his cane.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Was left in the North Mountain of T’Odis for two months at the age of fifteen with nothing but some furs and a rickety longbow, while Syler stayed comfortably at an inn in L’Aorn. Ziek was not allowed to show his face at the inn until he had a severed B’Aork’s head.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]• Syler forced him to make his first kill at the age of fifteen while hunting a bounty they had taken in Kildra. The man, accused of kidnapping, murder, and slavery, pleaded for his life, Syler’s only words were, “Be merciful. Make it quick and painless, young one.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]It was during these travels over Zeldwa that the pair met and amassed a following of like-minded and almost equally skilled friends. They had acquired expert swordsman to deadly precise marksmen of all races. From these friends Ziek learned as well. He learned how to wield and properly handle a spear by a famed Parshumian warrior named Nattapong Aromdee, a weapon he quickly became fond of. This core group of friends and travelers eventually became known as the Black Talon Mercenaries. They gained a reputation and notoriety for carrying out any mission handed to them. It was this prestige that earned them their place in Queen's Suzane's Mercenary Army at the beginning of the War of Royalty in the Year 361. Ziek had killed several times since taking his first life, mostly crime bounties, but war was different. He proved to be a fearsome and proficient warrior on the battlefield at a staggeringly young seventeen years old, but his adolescent mind had trouble coping with the realities of warfare. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]After several successful battles, where the young merc collected a nearly unbelievable amount of kills, and slayed numerous high-ranking noble generals, captains, and lieutenants in the Kildran Royal Army, tales of his speed, sheer ferociousness, and tenacity earned him the titles "The Child of Death" and "Nomasdae Blood Child" by the Kildran Royal Army, and even those fighting alongside him. Something changed deeply inside of Ziek at one point during the war, and he started to freeze in the midst of battle. Being frozen by his nerves, his blood would rush and his hear beat would increase to the point that he felt like he would lose consciousness. Numerous times towards the end of the war Ziek endangered himself and those around him with his reluctant and delayed behavior on the battlefield. These symptoms are known to veterans of war and combat as "Soldier's Shakes", but luckily for Ziek the war was coming to an end. Prince Unger II forces were defeated at the Battle of Boar’s Den, and the allied Mercenary forces returned back to the capitol for their assumed appointed nobility. Things did not go as planned for the Black Talons. Only Syler, Ziek, and Queen Suzane herself know exactly what happened that evening, but for some reason Syler Hazule was accused of attacking the Queen. Many Kildran Noble Lords, when learning this information and with the Queen’s permission, instantly decreed all the Black Talons were to be immediately executed without question. What came next is now known as “The Slaying of The Talons” as the Kildran royal guard surrounded and attacked every Black Talon in Kein. They fought bravely and the streets ran red with blood, but they all were eventually, one-by-one, overwhelmed and slain. Only Ziek and Syler were able to escape in all the chaos. Once the pair had made it safely away form Kein and could rest, Ziek confronted Syler with many truths. The two had a heated exchange that ended in a physical altercation between the mentor and protégé. Finding that Ziek had now grown to be his match, Syler let him go as the men parted ways, so far not crossing each[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] others [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]paths since. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]It has been almost five years since that day, and Ziek now travels through Zeldwa with no direction, while drinking whatever he can get his hands on to help sleep and forget the past. His travels have brought him to small village named Jakka’s Crossing in the jungles on the border of Kildra and Libertia. It is here that he has found a small tavern to set up lodge and cause a ruckus, much to the exasperation of the owner and staff.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@Dirk Diggler as[/SIZE]
Vanse D’Enishora
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Vanse D’Enishora[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: T’Odis[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 32[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of Choice: His double-edged long sword “Khione”, always sheathed at his side. It’s a long thin blade with a thick golden cross-guard and spade shaped pommel.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Many outside the Lawful Lands of T’Odis could describe Vanse as cold and humorless, but he shares the same temperament as most T’Odis Justice Horde soldiers. He is a man of keen focus and determination and a firm believer in his own moral code. His peers describe him as quiet and intimidating, but those closest to him would rave about his kindness and patience. He always thinks before he speaks. He is well read and fluent in the Kildran Common Words, T’Odis, and even old Parshumese. A lover of fine wine and poetry, Vanse is also a gifted dancer, exceling in the Waltz classes all Justice Horde trainees must take.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Vanse is the epitome of the T’Odis race. His thin, stern, and focused gray/blue eyes are made ever more prominent by his thin face and frost white skin. His golden hued white hair and long and layered. Cut just above the shoulder, it resembles almost that of a lion’s mane. At 6’6”, with a slim frame and a medium build, he has a very stoic posture. With his chin up and his shoulders back, his militaristic background is always obvious. He walks with purpose. Often seen resting his left hand on the hilt of his blade, always at ready. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: One of the many children left orphaned due to the violence in the Lawless Lands of T’Odis, Vanse was taken in to the justice horde training academy at the age of nine. Showing exceptional aptitude at combat, language, and T’Odis Law, Vanse flew to the top of his class. After his graduation at twenty-two, the instructors felt it was in his best interest to be placed under the most effective Justice Horde Captain in T’Odis’ history, Xhane M’Iam. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Vanse served under Xhane for a contentious yet successful decade, until things came to head when a lone surviving but severely injured member of Vance and Xhane’s Justice Horde came back from a mission claiming Vance was accused of not allowing a culprit to submit peacefully. When confronted by the rest of the Horde, Vance was accused of slaying them all, including Xhane. The surviving member claimed Vanse then fled and believes he is on his way to the T’Odis Gate to escape the country. Several Justice Hordes have been sent out to capture him, with the Duke, Kart G’Orm claiming Xhane’s defeat only frees Vanse from one murder, not the other seven.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@Zooks as[/SIZE]
Rufus Nevarron
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Rufus Nevarron[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Kildran[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Gender: Male[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 25[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Sexuality: Homosexual[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Nation: Kildra[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Noble Family: Nevarron[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Title: Son of the [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Lord of Nevos[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Family: Father: [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Lord [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Nevarrus; Mother: [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Lady[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] Kires; Grandparents father side: Illion and Sophie Nevarron; Granparents mother side: Kreatas and Nienke Silvan[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Nevarron Family and Estate: The Nevarron Family rules over some land inside Kildra and makes it own set of rules and has it own Court. Their main area is between the rivers of Vendel. They share their borders with the Nation borders and manage some of the important trading routes. During the Second Kildra Civil war, the Nevarron family sided with the Queen. However they still think she's not fitting to rule and prefers her son on the throne. That is also one of the reasons they make their own rules.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Fighting style: Rufus fights with two light swords, his main hand is left and he wears light armor in combat. Normally is that a black colored. He 's light infantry and normally scouts the area. He prefers fighting on the ground, however he can fight from a horse.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Rufus cares about everyone. He like the nice people in the villages of his Estate and they love him. He's not very shy and like to speak to the public. He generally doesn't like the nobles who don't care about their people. In his Estate it is public knowledge Rufus likes man, outside some might has heard rumours about it. His people don't mind because he is the only one who cares about them for some generations.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Biography: Rufus is born as the first son of Duke Nevarus and Duchess Kires, his twin brother came a few minutes later. He started his swords training at the age of 5 and still trains sometimes, if he has free time or someone out of the villages want to spar with the Rufus.. From the age of 10 he started also to learn about the History of the Continent, the Politics of it and Diplomacy. During the war he stayed at the family house, however he was sent one time to the war zone. His life was all about training till the age of 18. He became officially adult and started to travel around the Estate to get to know the people who he was ruling.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@Robyn Banks as[/SIZE]
Seraphina Aeritheos
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Azae rules us still. She will come from the heavens and she will no longer be kind.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Lady Seraphina Aeritheos[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Nickname: Sera, Lady Sif[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 23[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Gender: Female[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Nomasdae/Kildran[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Sexuality: Bi-curious[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Allegiance: Roadalia[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Occupation: Holy Knights of Azae[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Roles to this occupation: Lead troops of soldiers to war; participate in the Queen's hobbies (even if she doesn't like them.); managing the peasants on behalf of her superiors; serving as the Queen's "bodyguard."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Faith: Religion of Azae[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Look at me. Look at my face. it's the last thing you'll see before you die."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Eye color: Stormy Grey eyes[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Hair color: Brunette[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Skin color: Fair[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Height & Weight: 5'6 / 126lbs[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Physique: Hourglass figure but just says that all the weight goes to her bottom half.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Seraphina is a brave, resourceful and practical woman . She is extremely loyal to her country, and will usually, but not always, do what Queen Gayana asks her to, and cares a great deal about her. Though she is well aware of the Queen's mental state and disapprove of her 'Holy' executions, she reflects back in when she was a competent leader that was beloved by her kingdom. She is also very selfless and modest, as she puts herself at colossal personal risks to help fellow comrades, rather sceptical about her ideals. She is very sarcastic and has an erratic sense of humour. She is also very religious knowing every scripture and prayer from the holy book of Azae. Though she shows selfless personality traits she is still manipulative, devious, enigmatic, and clever. Sera can be ruthless, cold and fierce at times but showed emotional intelligence towards the likes of certain people.On certain occasions, if a person seems worthy she would flirt with them out of boredom but would never want to go far with their relationship.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Fears: Dementophobia: Fear of insanity. Atychiphobia: Fear of failure.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: Seraphina was born on a cold winter night, crying like a Banshee as a typical newborn would.Her mother holding her firmly in her arms with a gleaming smile, her father nowhere to be found. She was born into the noble family of Aeritheos which was well known for their breeding of desired horses and warriors. When she was young she would ask about her father and his whereabouts only to find out that he is Nomasdae combatant with untrimmed hair. After many years of wondering why he never returned her mother only replied with a simple question. "Why would a man stay to be ruled by a woman, if he could control them elsewhere?" That was one of the few times she saw her mother. Though they stayed under the same mansion, she was raised primarily by servants, having rare encounters with her mother for training purposes only. Conditioning since she was old enough to stand on her own, she was prepared to be along with 12 other girls of an honorable lineage selected by the high priestess at the age of 7. Though her training was relentless, she managed to complete it at the top of her class, receiving as a reward her mother's love that she gained when she earned it. She served the queen without questions even making her an idol. That soon ended when a Nomasdae woman appeared at the gates named Miranda. Miranda soon became favorable by the queen,positioned as her personal advisor. Making her Knights and shield maiden no longer needed. She soon fell into insanity visioning herself as a prophet after executing the priestess that 'defied' her. Sera could only watch as Roadalia fell into Chaos, as the wall were built and the executions elevated. She found herself calming weekly riots and being people forth on the charge of treason. Sif began to question her allegiance and the people that she served, keeping her opinions buried within her. She continued to follow her duties and stay optimistic but how long would it take for her to break?[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Secrets: Considered assassinating Miranda.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“My Sword and Shield are my greatest weapons but my fists are just as effective."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Double bladed sword[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Sif's signature weapon of choice is a double-bladed sword. One of the two blades is retractable, allowing for Sif to fight with a single-blade.Wielded as a pair, these weapons complement Sera's fighting style, allowing her to balance fighting ability while remaining protected from a variety of enemy attacks. During combat the sword is capable of changing form into a staff-like weapon with two identical sword-blades bound at the center by a single handle.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Shield[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]To complement her swordplay, Sif carries a small, versatile, heater-shaped shield to counter others' attacks and protect herself in battle. Being made as a pair, the shield contains a scabbard for Seraphina's swords. Forged from a sturdy metal, it can defend against a variety of attacks, but is not impervious to damage. When Sera travels, she keeps her sword and shield together bound to her back, while in battle, she will carry the pair on her arm, ready to draw the sword if needed.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Combatant[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Sera is an excellent combatant and has received extensive training in unarmed combat and swordsmanship, Through years of experience (and likely a few close calls), she became a master at hand-to-hand CQC (close-quarters-combat) and, on more than one occasion, she was able to out-maneuver and defeat other experienced combatants.While being capable of taking on opponents, she never rush a battle to leave room for his own mistakes - unless she really needed to do so out of desperation. She can also be caught off guard by surprise attacks, leaving her vulnerable for a brief amount of time[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@Zooks as[/SIZE]
Renaria Velouse &
Lilly
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Renaria Velouse - Shield Maiden and Named Successor to the Roadalia Throne[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: 75% Normasdae 25% Kildran[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 22 Years Old[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A woman of clear Nomasdae descent, tanned skin with flowing, thick brown hair. Her blue eyes the only traces from her Kildran linerage. She is tall for a woman, standing at close to 6', with most of her height in her long legs. She is fiercely strong in her own right, but dexterous and fluid in combat.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of Choice: A beautifully crafted Longbow made from the tree's surrounding the village she grew up in at on the edge of the Giant Swazi Forest. Arrows also made and fletched by hand, originally from the village but now with the supplies she can access directly from the Ashah Capital in Roadalia. She also carries a short sword strapped to her lower back for close combat fighting and has trained a Homing Hawk to help her send/receive messages directly to Queen Dasa of Roadalia. She is skilled in tracking and horseback riding which includes Archery while on horse. Her aim is pin-point accurate and in one of the many reasons the current Queen chose her as Successor.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Renaria, simply put, is a shell within a shell. She is reserved, smart, calculating and will only speak when absolutely necessary. This may make her seem submissive, shy, or unintelligent but she is none of these. Rather, she will speak only when absolutely necessary and will act when absolutely needed. Nomasdae blood clearly runs through her veins, her determination and ferocity seen only through battle or in command. She will over analyse every aspect of a situation, even to something as mundane or as little as the way the person addresses her, the way they kneel to Pray or the tiniest flick of their wrists. She is always watching, taking in every single detail with barely the movement of an eyelid, like a hawk. She will understand the concept of humour but finds it too troublesome or needless to act in on it. For this reason, she can come off as Cold or Unfeeling. But she has a fierce devotion to those of lesser circumstances, mostly the homeless, children, farmer's, workers and women. She does not take kindly to drunken escapades nor violence without reason. She absolutely detests womanizers.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: Renaria grew up in a household with 3 other siblings and was the youngest of all three. There village placed in the outskirts of the Swazi Forest, where they would hunt and gather supplies to sustain them without a fierce needing of going into town or to the Capital unless absolutely necessary. In was on one such occasion, on her 14th birthday, that Renaria arrived at Ashah for the first time and was greeted with a thriving city and the hustle and bustle of people. Ever cautious, always watching, she left her parents Market Stall to disappear into the Halls of one of the Great Churches. The silence was deafening but the young girl relished in it. Coming before an Altar in silence she was gracious and fluid in her approach as she knelt and prayed. Here the girl stayed, in silence, for 5 hours. Not moving a single muscles. Even in her village, she was always the first to pray and the last to leave. Mostly, for guidance, and for strength for the Goddess Azae. Unbeknown to her the Queen had entered the Church Hall to also pray for some Guidance, but having observed the very nature and gracefulness as the girl fell to her knees she felt compelled to stay. Minutes, hours even ticked by and still the girl didn't even move a muscle. The Queen could tell by the simple way her head never even bowed further to her chin, or shoulder's sagged, that she was indeed conscious and not sleeping. Almost to the minute, 5 hours later, the girl stood and made her way to leave. The Queen was so astonished she stepped before the girl and asked her name. The girl simply gazed up to her and honestly said "14 years to this day." Even the way she spoke seemed far older, far wiser than the Queen had expected. From that day the Queen approached the girl's parents and had her moved to the capital Ashah, where the girl very rarely left her side. Morning/Midday/Dusk were times of pray, Mid-morning a time for military training, both with short sword, shield work, and practicing her bow (which her calm, calculating mind even at the tender age of 14 caused her to incredibly gifted, combined with a Longbow designed with the exact density to be subtle enough for both long range and devastating mid range). By late afternoon, she walked beside the Queen for her civic duties, an ever ending list of paperworks, connections to various officials, The Church as well as other nations. Renaria, always watching, always taking without needing to ask a single question. A curt nod of her head and nothing more was needed. At night they would dine together. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]As much as the Queen tried to almost talk to her like a daughter, love her and cherish her, the girl knew this was the Queen and made a clear distinction between her and her real Birth Mother whom still resided at home with her siblings. The family still hunted even from the royalties of Renaria's Shield Maiden duties, but without working they simply would have been purposeless. They were comfortable in their lifestyle. Over the years, Renaria growing older but not wiser as such, for she had always been observant and dutiful, the now woman noticed a strange occurrence from the Queen.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A new visitor arrived, an advisor, and at first Renaria would sit in on their meetings as she had always done. Not advising, simply being present. A shadow against the wall. But then she was unexpectedly refused a seating in the meetings. The Queen's attitude began to change. She withdrew from everyone, including Renaria but still issued orders from fast paced notes shot out from under doors. Servants scurrying past hearing thrashing of furniture inside her quarters. Renaria grew more tense. Finally when the Queen emerged, the Shield Maiden noticed almost immediately she seemed feral, almost manically so, barking orders with a hiss and flick of her arm, shouting at the crowds, calling for public displays of torture for heretics. Claiming the Goddess Azae spoke to her... [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Renaria, had her doubts. But what could she do? Watch the Kingdom fall due to the Queen's fanatical tirad? The fact the Queen still kept her somewhat within distance spoke volumes of how much the Queen adored her, but even so, the woman doubted a single out of place word would not see she to, would be executed. So she waits and watches. Like the Hawk.[/SIZE]
Lilly
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Lilly - slave name (actual name unknown)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Full-Blooded T'Odis[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 16years old[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A long haired girl of clear T'Odis descent, 5'4", skin soft despite numerous cuts and bruises. Frame delicate and visually lacking in muscle definition.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of Choice: None[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Lilly is young and scared. Things frighten her easily and she will be the first to flinch from conflict, bloodshed or tension. She has a fear of physical contact or close presence. She does not speak common but will sometimes say a word or two in the T'Odis home language. Loud noises will terrify her. Weapons scare her.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: Lilly remembered a snow covered home full of laughter and a warm fire. A house full of siblings, parents, aunts, uncles having a feast. She remembered being asked to go to the closest household for supplies, but being side stepped and surrounded by a group of Kildran men. Screaming, she was thrown into sack and the group roaring on horseback to the T'Odis Gate before an alarm could be be raised. That was almost 4 years ago. Since then she had one of the worst treatments a Snowhaired slave could endure. As most Kildran slaves were dark skinned and dark haired, she fetched thousands and was constantly barted and sold to the highest Kildran Noble. 'The little snow angel' she was often nicknamed. Her treatment turning the stomachs of almost all Slavery-haters. She almost always has a collar strapped around her neck, and heavy black bracelets around her wrists and right thigh, jewelled in sapphires as if one might dress up a pet. Her face always half sad, distant and lonely. Like the light seemingly just disappeared from her eyes. Years of her collar now etching a permanent scar across her neck even if the collar is removed.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@too much idea as[/SIZE]
Thera
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Thera[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Nomasdae -Parshumian[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 21[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of Choice: Twin hook blade, an exotic weapon rarely seen or used by anyone. Thera learned how to use it on the pirate ship, and took a liking to it. Before she began her training, she asked her father to order one for her. The weapon is perfect for her, since she is very agile and moves a lot in battle.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Sees herself not as a soldier, but as a weapon instead. Cold blooded, ruthless, she follows any command they give to her without question and shows no mercy to the enemy. She doesn’t talk much, unless she is required to do so and allowed to speak her thoughts. Years of enduring hardship has made her patient and much more mature than other people her age. She believes that there will be a time for everything, even during a battle where she can be so calm and silent it’s almost intimidating. But the hardship she endured also scarred her for life, as she resulted in believing that God/s did not exist. She respected people who believe that there is one and pray to it, and mocked fanatics who could pray several times a day and couldn’t stop preaching including Queen Gayana. She also despises any form of slavery and slavers. Thera also occasionally has nightmares, which wake her up and make her unable to sleep. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A beautiful woman of mixed descent while her Parshumian feature are more prominent, with smooth light brown skin and curly raven black hair that she cuts short. She stands at 5’6” with a lean muscular body, with long arms and legs. Under her clothing is scarring from her time as a slave.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: The girl did not remember much about her past. She remembered that she had an older sister, and lived by the sea in a small port town. It was there she got lured into an alley with an empty promise of free candy, kidnapped and sold to the pirates. Those with good looks are taught how to please people of all gender and all preferences, those with good physical ability are taught how to fight and how to kill, the leftovers are taught how to clean and how to cook and how to sew. The girl was the second one, for her nimbleness and good hand to eye coordination. She traveled with the pirates for years, where she learned how to fight and defend herself, how to speak and curse in several different languages. The girl was happy, she starting to see of them as her new family. But the pirates saw her as nothing but raw material that needed to be transformed into high-quality goods. And now that she was one, it was time to sell her at a high price. And so the girl was sold, bought by a slaver from Kildra as a cage fighter where she would be put inside a small fighting arena and entertain the rich and nobles almost every single day. The girl killed someone for the first time there, an older boy she grew up with on the pirate’s ship. They were pitted against each other, with a blade in his hands and a dagger in hers. The boy lunged forward, and the girl’s instinct kicked in and then, before she knew it, she slit the boy’s neck wide open. The audience, dressed in pretty colourful clothes with a mask to hide their face, laughed and clapped and cheered on her. The girl didn't understand. What was so funny? What was so interesting? And yet she didn’t stop. She knew she couldn't. The moment she dropped her blade or put down her dagger someone would put her down. The girl had no choice but to continue killing, to the point she no longer cared about who or what she killed. A wolf, a lean man older than her, a child younger than her- all fresh meat. The girl thought that she was going to die in the area one day, the same way she had been killing people. Someone will take her down. Maybe someone younger, talented and lucky. Or maybe someone older, careful and experienced. Then her corpse will be cut down into pieces, and fed to the animals locked in cages. That is, until the man came. He was a soldier, a captain of a foreign army. He bought her freedom, released her of her chains, took her to his home and told her to clean herself and fed her with meat. The girl snatched a fork and lunged at the man, she almost made it, if not for the man’s quick reaction. He pressed her down to the ground, and laughed. The man told her that he had taken a liking on her, and was interested in her ability with a blade. That’s why he brought her in, as a weapon. He named her Thera, after his daughter who died of sickness years ago. He trained her harder than the pirates, taught her things that a fighting arena does not, and gave her love more than anyone had ever given her. He taught her how to write and how to read. She began to love him back, so much that it warmed her heart and she started calling him “Father”. When Thera was old enough, she joined the army and became a soldier under the man she called father. She joined him in battles, fighting side by side and back to back with him. Until one day, the man was injured during a mission. He recovered, but no longer was allowed to fight and soon lost the ability to walk. Thera replaced him as captain, and her ability and how she carried out every command given to her helped her climb the ranks and before she knew it, she had joined the Holy Knights of Azae. Thera is well known as the loyal guard dog, attacking anyone on command and striking down whomever she is tasked to even after Queen Gayana’s descent to madness, claiming that the Goddess had spoken to her and executing the High Priest. Thera doesn’t like the Queen and lost all respect to her, but she’s still her soldier. Her sword and her shield, are still a weapon to be used. So she turned blind eye to it, and continued to carry out any command given and protected the Queen as she was required to do which brought her more enemies than friends. And no matter how free she is now, Thera is still that girl who fought inside the fighting arena. She despises slavers and slavery and nobles of Kildra and their Queen, after finding out that it was the nobles of Kildra behind the fighting pit and the slavers. Thera would do anything to get her revenge.[/SIZE]
Kum Liadej
Name: Kum Liadej
Race: Parshumian - Indorian - T'Odis
Age: 40
Weapon of Choice: A profecient hunter who is good at using bow and arrow, but as a friendly merchant he carry and hides a dagger under his belt.
Personality: A little bit arrogance at times, with his high and mighty with his "richer than thou" attidute. But he's actually very kind and friendly, and could be generous at times like buying the freedom of two dozen slaves that he come across in a Kildran secret market.
Description:
A baby-faced man on his forties, with a handsome face that still capable of making woman of any age and background fall in love with him. Standing at 5'8, he is considered as tall as a mixed blood in Parshumian. Fit and stocky, with beautiful piercing Jade green eyes.
Background:
Kum's father, a Parshumian, married a woman of Indorian-T'Odis descent and gave birth to seven sons and three daughters. Kum was the youngest of the siblings, that put him at the bottom of the list to be the heir of Liadej - the world famous Parshum based merchant guild. But Kum was fine with that, he doesn't need to carry the burden that his oldest brothers and sisters had to carry. He was free to do and learn anything he wanted to.
So he asked for his father permission to be allowed to travel around the world, his father allows him as long as he goes as the representative from Liadej- so he could help the business by making business deals while he went away.
And so he travels, seeing things that no one might never see and experiencing things that one might never want to experience like being hunting with high ranking government officials in Libertia, spending a few weeks offcoast with the pirates to negotiate a friendly deal, attending a party held by Kildran nobles and then trapped inside Kildran's Civil War where he sold weapons to both side of the war. When asked, Kum said that his only allegiance is to money.
He returned to Parshum shortly after and meet the woman of his dreams, one that he immediately marry. His now-wife likes to tells him a story about her lost sister, kidnapped when she was a child, and made Kum promised to try to find the sister thought Kum doesn't know exactly what to do since it was like looking for a needle in the haystack.
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@King Ad Rockas[/SIZE]
Dariela Zulton
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name : Dariela Zulton[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age : 18[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Nomasdae-Kildran (Nomasdae Mother; Kildran Father)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of choice : Dariela has a passion for anything pointy. From a beautifully crafted dagger, to a pointy kebab stick, her long fingers can easily manipulate the sharp pointed weapon to her advantage. She has a collection of pointed weapons in her secret hiding place in the desert. However, she has a dagger under her loose pants at all times. She stole the dagger from an official when she was 16 years old, the dagger is light and thin. It's silver, it holds a crest, unknown to the eyes of Dariela.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality : A marshmallow, compared to anyone else. Dariela is a charming, bubbly, teenager born and raised near the outskirts of the Kingdom of Indoria. She always has a smug grin on her face, regardless of who she's talking to. She's kind and loving. She trusts people easily… despite her trying to act tough. She's gullible and easily manipulated. She's easily offended, but not quick to tears. She'll pout and throw tantrums until she gets what she wants. She's extremely talkative and blunt. She says what she wants to say, and she's very open to options. Dariela absolutely loathes the racism she experiences day by day. It's not easy being a "half breed", as the call it. Nonetheless, she faces them with a smile and a playful wink. She steals from the rich and gives to the poor. Despite her out-going and carefree nature, she calculates every single theft she's going to make. She doesn't go somewhere with more than a 65% chance of getting caught. She's quite lucky.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description :[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Dariela has dark dreads, decorated in gold. She has black eyes, a dark complexion, full smug-looking lips, perfectly white teeth, highly arched eyebrows, and a tattoo on her arm. She's 5’5”, with a lean, and slightly muscular body. Perfect for getting away and blending in.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background : Dariela was born in the outskirts of Indoria, by her Nomasdae mother. They were assisted by the poor, and accepted by the poor. Dariela's mother took care of the baby until she was 13 years old. Growing up, Dariela would often wander alone in Indoria. Observing people, watching the different Classes everyday and wondering why can’t everyone have the same things. When she gets too near the Capitol, things get worse. She always gets shooed away by the people, not wanting to see her. Considering her an abomination, a big error in the course of nature. She didn't understand why, and it irks her. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]She often wonders about her Kildran father. Where he is, who he is… why did he even go at it with her mother. She'd look for him, too. Sometimes. She grew up far from the capital everyone accepted each other for who they are. She was surrounded by trusting and reliable people, ergo her gullible and carefree nature. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]When she was 12, she wandered alone near the capital, and for the first time, she saw a thief getting caught. It was brutal. The thief was stripped off of his clothes, everything stolen was lain on the ground, and the thief was beaten to a pulp before dragged further in the capital. Mesmerized by the turn of events, she thought of the possibilities of her becoming a thief. She left her mother by the time she reached 13. Saying that she'll make her life better. Her mother, kind woman that she is, couldn't say no to her. She started stealing from the middle class people. She did that for a while, until she realized that it wasn't the middle class that she should be stealing from. They served their purpose, by stealing from the middle class, her skills were sharpened. She stole from the upperclassmen ever since. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]She was discovered by the underground systems when she was 14. They called her "The Sand Storm". Whenever she had inside jobs, she'd always leave her signature. A bunch of sand everywhere. Thus her name, Sand Storm. It started off as an annoyance to her. It wasn't like she did it on purpose, it's just that it's the desert. And there. Is. Sand. Everywhere. She tried to clean it up during her early years of theft, but it became a chore. So she embraced her signature and she's become well known for it.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@Edin as[/SIZE]
Mhisri Mhorinn
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Mhisri (phonetic: ‘miss.ree ‘mor.rin)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Nickname: “Ri”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 30[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: 75% Parshumian, 25% T'Odis[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Weapon of Choice: Her knowledge[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Personality: Mhisri loves to laugh. She laughs whenever possible because it a) keeps her warm and b) helps her remember that there's good in the world. She is incredibly smart and dedicated, and that is an understatement. She uses her seemingly boundless knowledge to get her out of sticky situations and make a living on the mainland of Azae. While she seems to know everything, she doesn't always seem to know how to use it until opportunity strikes. She might be able to spout off facts, but she hasn't practiced everything she has read about-only a few weapon techniques and martial arts, at least where combat is concerned. This often leads her to use things in unique ways, like the time she was being pursued by unsavory characters through a dark part of town and, in a small scuffle, grabbed one of their daggers. Instead of cutting their throats or plunging it into their hearts, however, she rubbed it against an herb she carried with her and then used it to light a spark against a wall that was covered in a dark powder, which caused a bright flash and filled the small alleyway with fumes, causing them to fall to the ground unconscious. Except for Mhisri, of course, who'd had the sense to cover her nose and mouth. She kept the dagger and took some of the sooty material with her.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Mhisri is about 5'10", with mostly Parshumian features except for her white hair, which has begun to accumulate various colors as it has come into contact with consistent chemical reactions. She wears simple clothing, brown and white and close-fitting, with not much specifically designated as protection. She wears a long brown cloak for warmth, as T'Odis was quite cold when she arrived on the mainland. She does not carry much weaponry, as she hasn't found anything she likes better than what she has been able to use under each individual circumstance. She does carry various compounds with her as she has found them useful in her travels, and has collected various trinkets such as hairpins, gears, darts, and other little things she can easily carry which she figures might come in handy someday.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Background: Mhisri's grandfather is a T'Odis who married a Parshumian woman, quite scandalously and dangerously, during the later years of the T'Odis-Parshum War. Her grandmother was killed as a traitor as a result, and her grandfather fled to the T'Odis Lawless Lands with their young daughter to wait out the rest of the war. He returned to Parshum after the war ended, wanting to be surrounded by the things that reminded him of his beloved late wife, so that he might live every day as a testament to her. Mhisri's mother is half-T'Odis and, as a result, Mhisri was born with very pale white hair, a recessive gene, apparently, which causes some strife with the older generation Parshumians and the younger radicals who still foster some contempt toward the T'Odis for the wars that plagued their country for so long. Even her mother is ashamed of her T'Odis blood and has fully adopted the Parshum lifestyle, often ignoring Mhisri's grandfather, her own father. She resembles a pure-blooded Parshumian, and was horrified to find that her daughter had been born with bright white hair that must have come from the T'Odis side. She tried to get her daughter to dye it, but Mhisri loved her T'Odis heritage.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Mhisri didn't have a horrible childhood, but she didn't have a luxurious one either. She was raised in a middle-class family in Parshum - fishermen, of course - and her grandfather took care of the largest library on the island, a menial task that was granted him by the government, but one he loved nonetheless. Parshum is one of the oldest nations in Azae, therefore the knowledge held in that building was extensive, and her grandfather appreciated knowledge. Mhisri was raised fishing and being at sea, but women were not allowed to do it for work; at least it was frowned upon by the government and they could not legally sell their wares. Women preferably stayed home and took care of the houses and children. That was all fine and well for others, but Mhisri was easily bored by such a life. She was a natural on the water, and could bargain up a storm like the most seasoned of merchants. She continued to spend her days on the boat, but since she couldn't sell her catches, she was bringing home too much food.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]By age 10, she decided that she needed something else to do, so Mhisri started to spend her time at the library where her grandfather worked. Not many people visited the library. Libraries were mainly used as a tool of reference for government officials-not a learning space for the common man. The main population of people were too busy with their ordinary lives to bother with such a place as a library, so even though an incredible amount of information-information that could kill or save-rested among those pages, the resource laid there, among the stone and paper, virtually untapped. It was here that Mhisri learned everything. And she did learn everything. She started small, reading things like poetry and sagas and ballads. She ran out of those in about 9 months, however, and moved on to bigger things. She started educating herself in history and religious works, then had exhausted that section. While reading those histories though, she discovered politics and language. She then moved on to those topics, working her way through book after book, year after year, learning and remembering everything, until, after 16 years she knew all the languages and religions of Azae, was well-versed in the war strategies of the separate kingdoms, could paint and build and write and sculpt, understood engineering and physics and chemistry and medicine. She had learned martial arts and sword-fighting and could build a bomb...at least, she knew all these things, but she hadn't necessarily done all of them. She had built something here and there or spoken with this or that foreigner, but that wasn't all that impressive. All that knowledge was resting inside her. She needed to test herself further, prove something to herself.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A month later was the Isle of Lights Festival. Her grandfather loved that festival, and she spent it with him every year, lighting lanterns, watching street performers, and enduring the stares and jeers of a few pure-blood Parshumians. This year, as Mhisri stood on a bridge overlooking the bay of Ka Ja Ta with her grandfather, a cart rolled by with paper lanterns for the Midnight Lighting, where thousands of lanterns were released into the air in a sign of reverence and peace toward the other nations of Azae. She purchased a couple-one for her and one for her grandfather-and when she turned around, horror struck her face. Six young men were beating her elderly grandfather-beating him with their arms and legs and large bottles they had picked up on the street, as he lay nearly helpless on the ground, pleading with them to stop, on this day of peace and unity. They spat hateful comments and were clearly drunk. Enough was enough.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Mhisri barely even needed to think as she glanced at the lanterns she held in her hands. The cart vendor also sold small fireworks, had a lit lantern-stick, and Mhisri had once read in "The Merchant Army" by F. Migodore that Fire Water was often kept in small vials or flasks underneath their strongboxes, an old habit from the war days when merchants would assist in protecting the Ka Ja Ta shoreline from invaders. Mhisri had read in another book, "Everyday Pyrotechnics" by Royland Cauldric, that Fire Water enhanced the effects of combined saltpetre, sulphur and charcoal, common ingredients in fireworks. She calculated the small wind speed that fluttered the festival air as she jumped over the countertop of the cart. She grabbed the nearest firework and, hoping that this merchant was attuned to the old ways, reached under the strongbox. She ignored the merchant's angry protests. Her fingers felt the cool glass of a flask. From behind the counter she yelled "STAY DOWN, GRANDFATHER!" and in mere fractions of a second had spilled the contents of the flask onto the firework. The burning tip of the lantern-stick lay exposed, protruding from the top of the cart. In one swift movement, the firework was lit, aimed, and shot off toward the towering figures of the group of young men. An explosion rocked the bridge, followed by screams. The one or two young men that weren't lying on the ground were running, their clothes and flesh on fire. Mhisri's grandfather lay on the ground, the wind having been strong enough to spread the Fire Water outward but not down. He was a bit bewildered and shaken, however. She grabbed his arm and helped him up, urging him on.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]They escaped the scene and headed into a back alley, though Mhisri knew they wouldn't be alone for long. Her hair was a dead giveaway, and everyone who had seen her on the bridge would know where to send the guards. She just needed to get her grandfather to safety. Her grandfather was standing on his own now, and a strange reserve of strength was overcoming him. In "An Anthology of Azae Peoples" by Elderhard M. Keeryn, Mhisri had learned that the T'Odis people were known for their strength and hardiness, often summoning fortitude from previously unknown reserves in times of need. Her grandfather would make it. She was filled with relief. Suddenly, he stopped her.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Mhisri," he said. "Your hair."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]She pulled a lock of hair to the front of her face. It was tinged with faint purples, pinks and blues, an oil-slick-like tint that covered a small but noticeable portion of her hair. "Chemical reaction." she replied. "From the T'Odis pigmentation in my hair mixing with the sulphur, charcoal and fire water." [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"You killed four men."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"They were beating you, grandfather. They would have killed you. They always have fear and anger in their eyes, I see it every day. They only needed an excuse to release it. They would have easily swayed a jury and you wouldn't have seen justice-not the way this system works. You won't see justice now. We have to get out."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Mhisri, you need to go. They already know where to find you."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Let them come. I don't plan to stay. I have a boat, and we can escape on that. I built it myself after I read "The Shipmaker's Handbook", and I know how to man it with two people because I read "The Serpent's Toll," that saga by Berlund. You can row and I can man the sails and steer, then when we hit a storm I can drain the water and you can steer. It's approximately 1,032 miles from Ka Ja Ta to the Lawless Lands of T'Odis, so we can be there in about 5 days. I can grab enough food and water for the both of us, and according to the T'Odis government regulations-"[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Mhisri, please. I cannot go with you."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Mhisri stopped. "Why not?"[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Because your grandmother...she is here. In the trees and flowers, in the wind and the sea. I cannot bear to leave this place. At least not yet. I know it has been a long time, but I have not yet said goodbye. Maybe one day I will meet you in T'Odis, but for now...I have peace to make."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Mhisri didn't want to believe him. "Come on, grandfather. We can do this, I know how!"[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“You have much to offer, Mhisri, and it lies suppressed in you while you remain in this city. Go out and find it. But remember, the hatred that lies within some of these people does not lie in all."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Grandfather, they will throw you in prison in my stead! The prisons lack necessary nutrients found in sunlight and the constant damp is a breeding ground for approximately 6,400 bacteria, half of which can cause death or severe respiratory malfunction! Come on!"[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"I know, my dear. There is bad here, yes, but there is also good. The good cannot overtake the bad if we run from it. You...you go bring good wherever it is you go. You have read enough of this land's history to know that good never comes by way of the bad; it only sprouts from the ashes of what was destroyed by it. I will do it here, with your grandmother beside me, always."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"Grandfather, PLEASE!"[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]"I will also be with you, always. And I will see you again."[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]He ran to the edge of the alley where they had been conversing. A commotion was heard not too far away. He signaled her to run. She hesitated. The commotion grew louder, and her grandfather looked stern. Lifting his huge hand to the air with a heavy stroke, he again pleaded with her to leave, as if the mere motion of his hands could spirit her away. She ran. To her house. She didn't say a word to her sleeping father and mother. She gathered food, water, a few books, fishing accessories, and trinkets she had collected over the years. She left. She never saw her grandfather again. She cried.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]@Edin as [/SIZE]
Azria Rohodege
Azria Rohodege
Name: Azria Rohodege
Age: 30
Race: Nomasdae
Occupation: High Priestess of Roadalia
Twin Sister: Taiza "Tai” Rohodege
Description:
Background: Being the High Priestess of Roadalia takes a lot more than ritual prayers and scented rumination. It is a position of defense in an ever-raging battle of failing morality and absent conscience. It is one of a teacher and one of an advisor; ultimately one of peaceful compromise, but occasionally exceptions must be made. The darkness must be trespassed so that the light might survive. This aphotic encroachment is what Azria Rohodege, High Priestess of Roadalia, must accomplish every day.
Born with the Mark of the Dove, a birthmark signifying the future high priestess of Roadalia, twin sisters Azria and Taiza Rohodege were raised in the church, each being taught the ways of the priestess, so that one day one of them would be chosen to lead the people of Roadalia in all manners of spirituality. They learned well, but as can be expected of those who have much expected of them, they often succumbed to their innocent wild streak. Sneaking out of the temple at night, when all other duties and lessons had been accomplished, the two would meet outside in the brightly-lit city streets to frequent the even brighter merchant gatherings, filling their evenings with song, dance, and often a little drink. Many friends were made, many tricks were learned, and the sisters always returned to the temple and their responsibilities, ever heartfelt and dutiful to the church despite their adventurous escapades.
But such is not the way for things to remain pleasant always. The Queen began to deteriorate, acting strangely and showing signs of brutality. A wall began to be erected, and the merchant gatherings in the city soon disappeared. Innocent people began to be nonchalantly thrown in prison, and their families were left behind. Food and everyday supplies became hard to come by, and the needs of many people only rose higher and higher. Azria and Taiza soon realized that they had a responsibility not only to their church, but to the people of Roadalia, and they had the means to do it.
They began sneaking out of the city at night, much as they used to sneak out of the confines of the temple walls. They met trader groups wherever they went, sometimes as far as outside the borders of the country, where they would move silently through gaps in the wall’s construction. Here they would barter the small gold and silver pieces that adorned the temple for as much food, water, clothing, blankets, medicine and other necessities they could carry back to the city, giving freely to those who knew where to find it.
As this behavior went on, Azria’s love for the people grew. She became more devoted to the righteous cause of the church, using it as a means of lifting the people’s spirits through these hard times. Taiza, on the other hand, loved the rebellious nature of their actions more. She began to go out on her own, often returning with things that were not considered necessities, and without taking anything from the temple to trade for them. Azria began to be suspicious of her sister’s methods, confronting her about it, but being shrugged off. Taiza left more and more, until she never came back.
Azria received a letter from her sister one day, explaining that she had joined a group of fearful characters called the Black Talon Mercenaries, who were causing myriad destruction in the nearby country of Kildra. She expressed a deep regret for what she had done, and wanted to meet with Azria to ask forgiveness and return to her life in Roadalia, serving the people under the shield of night, paid for by the church. Azria was overjoyed, and agreed to meet with her one night as she went outside the walls to collect a large cache of supplies. She would need both of them to carry back the things she won in the trade. Taiza met her there, and as Azria saw her, she was struck with fleeting visions of a confrontation, of striking moonlight and a severed dove. Her head reeled in pain and confusion, and she realized too late that Taiza was not alone. Azria was quickly overcome, relieved of her burden of hallowed wealth, and forced to defend herself from the sharp moonlit blades of their knives. Years as a young girl who spent her time with merchants had taught her well in the ways of self-defense, however, and she was skilled enough to keep from death. The small, shadowed group fled, but not before Azria had obtained one of their daggers, which she flung at Taiza as she rejoiced at her corrupted victory upon leaving. It struck true, severing the flesh of her shoulder, cutting clean in half Taiza’s Mark of the Dove. Taiza left, screaming curses, and Azria never saw her again.
Upon returning to Roadalia, she found that not only was she empty-handed, but her quarters had been robbed of the temple items she had stashed away for trading. She had been used as both a target and a diversion, and now had much less with which to help the people of the city. Her head began to sear in pain again, and she saw another vision, one of a tucked-away closet filled with rations distributed by the high priestess, which she now saw was herself. Since Taiza was gone and had relinquished her right to this title, that mantle would fall now to Azria, and she intended to use her life solely in service to the people of Roadalia.
@Edin as
Garrison Bergen
“Garrus Corsolus”
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Name: Originally Garrison Bergen, but has taken on the pseudonym Garrus Corsolus[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Age: 28[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Race: Kildran[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Description:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Biography: Garrison is the second child born to Tidus and Marguerite Bergen of House Bergen in Kildra. Friend to Prince Unger growing up, the two spent much of their time together, along with Marit, Garrison’s first love, who was everything to him. She was beautiful, kind, and gifted in all things artistic. Poetry, painting, music...she could do it all, and she shared it with Garrison. They were inseparable. He remembers a childhood sweetened with her words, colored by her deeds, and softened by her presence. He would have done anything for her: written books full of sonnets that lauded her beauty, gathered every single flower in Zeldwa just to see her smile, even fought the impending war single-handedly to ensure her safety. He had asked her one night, under an exquisite veil of stars and mist that accompanied their favorite secret meeting place, if she would be his wife. She had said yes.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]They made plans and loved and slept under those stars that night, but with the dawn of the next day their happiness was cut short. The Fourth Kildran War erupted and Garrison’s parents, who had chosen to support Queen Suzane, warned their son against consorting with Unger any longer. But he was an honorable man and would not turn his back on a friend, expressing his intention to continue supporting the true king of Kildra.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Garrison’s parents considered this an act of treachery and betrayal and had him removed from their estate-sent to live with his aunt and uncle in another city-and he was separated from both Marit and Unger, unable to return due to a harsh, prison-like house arrest. He made many attempts at communicating with Marit and Unger, but he had no idea if those attempts were successful. One day, several months after his imprisonment, he received word from home. The parchment burned in his hand like fire; froze like ice. Marit was dead.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]The short, cruel words written by his father were laconic and obligatory. Killed due to the violence of the war was all he was told. Garrison’s life was shattered and he could not pick up the pieces. He no longer tried to escape, no longer ate or drank or slept. He could do nothing. He had failed her. He lived life as if it were a dream, remaining in a state of constant shock. Days turned into weeks which ultimately swayed with a drunken haze into months. He had absorbed himself in his studies, burying himself in anything and everything that reminded him of her, but the tastes, the words, the colors...they were nothing. He was nothing.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Almost four years had passed before he heard word from home again. This time it was Unger. He was gone; presumed dead after the Battle of Bore’s Den. The shock awakened him from his catatonia, and he was rapidly overcome with the horrifying revelation that had he been there, none of this would have happened. Enough was enough; he couldn’t stand the sight of himself any longer. Even though there was no longer anyone he loved left in this world that could be hurt by his neglect, he refused to stand by and remain prisoner. Perhaps there was something he could still do.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Instead of immersing himself in the memories of Marit’s life, he began to focus his abilities on the manners of death. He was robbed of fighting alongside Unger, and robbed of fighting to protect Marit, but he would make up for it now. A silver bow hung beautifully on the wall of his uncle’s study; Garrison had only learned the basic art of swordfighting as a noble son, but something drew him to this weapon. He trained and studied it mercilessly, even learning the art of crafting arrows for it. His aunt and uncle believed it to be a harmless interest, and were actually somewhat relieved to see their nephew returned to the world, but he intended it to be much more. This weapon would help him one day. It would allow him to redeem himself.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]In a celebration of Garrison returning to his senses, his aunt and uncle ordered the good stuff. Aged wine of the finest quality, and plenty of it. It was easy to get them drunk, even easier to pull the bowstring back and release it. The guard was lax that day, but he still needed to take down several with his stolen bow and hand-crafted arrows, not worried about a rampage, because he would be hunted down for the rest of his life no matter what he did. Making his way down to the kitchen, the only room in the manor that did not have barred windows, he made his exit with arrows pointed at the help.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“I’ve no mind for your heads, but if you get in the way of me going after those that I DO have a mind for, I will gladly take it.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Garrison slipped into the cover of night with naught but a new name, a new bow, a large sum of stolen money and the only spark of hope he still clung to: that Unger was still alive… somewhere.[/SIZE]
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