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King Ad Rock
as

Ziek Sidane

Name: Ziek (Pronounced ZAI-EEK) Sidane

Age: 26

Race: Nomasdae-Kildran (Kildran Father, Nomasdae Mother]

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.


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.


Description:





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 Hawk’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.


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.


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.


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.


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:
​

• 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.

• Forced to hunt daily for both Syler and himself, regardless of whether or not they had coin for food or meals.

• To learn horseback riding, Syler tied Ziek’s legs securely to the horse and set it off down the Kildran countryside.

• 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.

• 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.

• 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.

• 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.

• 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.

• 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.

• 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.

• 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.

• 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."

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 Channarong Kaouthai, 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.


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 "Syler's Butcher Boy" 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 heartbeat 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 capital 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 others paths since.


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.
​

 

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Vanse D'Enishora

Name: Vanse D'Enishora

Race: T'Odis

Age:32

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.

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, excelling in the Waltz classes all Justice Horde trainees must take.

Description:



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 6’9”, 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.

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.

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.​

 

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Kayso
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Rufus Nevarron
(Character and character sheet created by Savagai )
Race: Kildran

Gender: Male

Age: 21

Sexuality: Homosexual

Nation: Kildra

Noble Family: Nevarron Family

Title: Lord Heir to Lord Nevarrus and House Nevarron of Nevos

Nevarron Family and Estate: The Nevarron Family rules over some land inside Kildra and makes it own set of rules and has its 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.

Description:



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.

Personality: Rufus cares about everyone. He cares for the nice people in the villages of his Estate and they love him. He's not very shy and likes 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 have heard rumours about it. Some of his people have chosen to look past this and not mind because he has been the only one to care about them for some generations.

Biography: Rufus was born as the first son of Lord Nevarrus and Lady Kires, his twin brother came a few minutes later, stillborn. He started his sword 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.

​

 

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Zooks
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Renaria Velouse
​

Name: Renaria Velouse - Shield Maiden and Named Successor to the Roadalia Throne

Race: 75% Normasdae 25% Kildran

Age: 22 Years Old

Description:



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.


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.


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 analyze 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.


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.


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.


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...

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.

 

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Kayso
as

Lilly

(Character sheet and character created by Zooks )
Name: Lilly - slave name (actual name unknown)

Race: Full-Blooded T'Odis

Age: 16 years old

Description:



A long haired girl of clear T'Odis descent, 5'6", skin soft despite numerous cuts and bruises. Frame delicate and visually lacking in muscle definition.

Weapon of Choice: None

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.

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 bartered 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, jeweled 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.​

 

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Kayso
as

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.

​

 

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Kayso
as

Garrus Bergen


Name: Originally Garrison Bergen, but has taken on the pseudonym Garrus Corsolus.

Age: 28

Race: Kildran

Description:



Biography: Garrison is the second child born to Arrogus 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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


]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.


“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.”


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.​

 

[King Ad Rock]

Kayso
as

Mhisri Mhornn

Name: Mhisri (phonetic: ‘miss.ree ‘mor.rin)

Nickname: “Ri”

Age: 30

Race: 75% Parshumian, 25% T'Odis

Weapon of Choice: Her knowledge

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.


Description:



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.



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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


"Mhisri," he said. "Your hair."


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."


"You killed four men."


"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."


"Mhisri, you need to go. They already know where to find you."


"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-"


"Mhisri, please. I cannot go with you."


Mhisri stopped. "Why not?"


"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."


Mhisri didn't want to believe him. "Come on, grandfather. We can do this, I know how!"


“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."


"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!"


"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."


"Grandfather, PLEASE!"


"I will also be with you, always. And I will see you again."


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.
​

 

[King Ad Rock]

King Ad Rock
as

Uma Drefa

(Character and Character sheet created by Deathchart )
Name: Uma Drefa (Brave one)


Nickname: Lursa (horse)


Age: 50


Description:




6' 4" tall. Snow white hair and Bright blue eyes. Serious face.


Personality:
Uma Drena has seen a lot of stuff and lived through a lot. There's not much that can faze him and he tends to keep to himself. He never tries to be the hero or go and attempt to fix a city's problems. He's been called many things due to his tendency to stay out of the way. Things like coward, heartless, useless, along with some other names. He travels alone seeking companionship in the world itself other than in others. He is usually quick and to the point when talking to people. His traveling and living inside all of the capitals has allowed him to pick up the different languages, but he doesn't like to have a conversation last hours. Despite all of this, Uma is actually a caring person. The select few that know him on a personal basis will tell you, that if someone needs help and he can help them, he usually will. Even at the cost of some of his hard earned money. Through the many years trading he has gotten very good at reading people, knowing if they are lying or telling the truth. This paired with his years of life experience makes him decently intelligent. He has a lot of street knowledge and economics knowledge, but when it comes to book smarts and science he falls behind.





Weapon of Choice: His fathers blade: Ysa dhek (Black Ice)





3 1/2 foot blade made from a strong T'Odis material. It has gold finishings and the name of the blade etched into the handle. The metal shines in the sunlight and if held at the right angle, almost seems slightly transparent.


Background:


Uma Drefa was born in the year 319 and war had been ravaging T'Odis for 37 years. Uma's father Toldren had been trying to conceive a child with his wife Melinda for ten years. Their dream to become parents ends in tragedy as Melinda's life was taken during Uma's birth. The complications during the birth also leaving Uma with a paralyzed right arm. Toldren asked to leave the royal army to live at home and take care of Uma. The Emperor allowed it, on one condition. Toldren was to raise and train Uma to be the best warrior he could. Toldren agreed to the terms. Any T'Odis father would be proud of a son following his footsteps. So, as Uma became old enough to wield a blade Toldren trained him and honed his skills. Along with basic training Toldren also had to train Uma to use a sword with only his left arm. Eventually, Uma could hold his own against his father in one on one combat. He was around twenty when he decided to join the royal army. The army however, decided it was not his place. His paralyzed arm gave the generals worrying thoughts about his combat abilities. Heartbroken, Uma returned home to his father only to be met with a lashing of words. Toldren had failed to turn his only son into a soldier. He had failed as a father. Toldren would scold him for ten nights, until one night he had gotten drunk enough to throw Uma out. Uma packed up what little belongings he had and left his home, heading towards the main hub of the capital.


Uma wandered the streets looking for a place to rest his head. He needed to sleep and maybe his father would take him back in the morning. Regardless, Fate had a different plan for Uma. As he made his way into an alleyway he could hear fighting. As Uma inched closer to the corner of the alley, he could start to see some shadows against a wall. It looked like three men were beating up someone. Uma decided to attempt to help. He turned the corner and began beating down the stranger's assailants. His training made quick work of them and they fled the scene. The man who was getting beat up stood up and began to dust off his bright purple and gold clothes. He introduced himself as Salek, a traveling merchant. Sales asked Uma why a man like him was walking through dark alleyways. Uma explained him the situation and Salek offered him to sleep in his Inn room that night. It had two beds and he had already paid for the room. With no where else to go Uma agreed. That night, Uma and Salek traded stories. Uma talked about all of training he was put through as a kid while Salek talked about the different lands that he had traveled. Indoria was the one that Uma questioned the most about. The next morning, Salek offered Uma a chance to learn the ins and outs of being a merchant. Uma began to decline, but realized that being a soldier, the thing he had trained his whole life for, wasn't an option. Uma agreed and for the next two years he trained to become a merchant. Salek taught him everything he needed to know.


As Uma's training began to end so did the war. Now that peace had been made, Uma could begin his journey as a merchant and start his travel to Indoria. He had saved up enough money to purchase a cart and a decent horse. He also managed to get some T'Odis goods to sell in his first city. With a full stomach, cart, and heart he started to make his way across Kilda and eventually made it to Kein. The magnificent and grand city left Uma speechless. He had never seen anything like it before. He Had found a cheap inn he could stay at, and started to set up shop. He sold his T'Odis goods rather quickly with all of the tricks Salek had taught him. Eventually his store became filled with all sorts of goods. Uma's silver tongue got him some good deals from other venders, allowing him to turn a pretty hefty profit. Realizing how good he was doing in Kein, he decided to purchase a small house to live in. He sold his goods and purchased more for months, until a year had passed. Prince Anthony II and Lady Marie would marry and this would cause a boom in trade. People who traveled from other cities would want something to remind them of this magnificent day. After the travelers left Uma decided it was time to move on. After all, he never intended to stay there for as long as he did. The next stop was Indoria.


A couple months would pass and Uma found himself in the desert capital of Indoria. Just like before, Uma was stunned. The texture of the sand was nothing like the white powder he was accustomed to. It looked so similar yet was so different. He made his way into the main town and noticed some major differences. First off, there was far less people around, This would make trade difficult. Second, it seemed like the town wasn't doing good economically. Closed stores and shops were scattered around. This didn't discourage Uma, however. He decided to try and make it work. Luckily, a newcomer to Indoria is rare, let alone one from T'Odin. Most people cam to Uma's store just to see him. They all left with something so Uma couldn't complain. A couple of months passed and the year of 343 had started. With that came the Tral-el Hunting boom. This jumped trade through the roof and eventually led Uma to purchase another home. He sold his good and bought some more for two years. Eventually, the hype of a T'Odis being in the town had died down, and Uma had only Tral-el goods. This caused Uma to start to lose money. Salek told Uma that if he ever started losing money, it was time to go. The next city Uma had in his sights was Libertia.


Uma would travel for another couple of months only to be stopped at the edge of the capital. He was asked if he was part of some group called the defenders. He denied any involvement with the group but the guards continue to keep their eye on him. As Uma made his way into the center of the city he saw a large group of people shouting about something. They seemed like they were starting some chaos so Uma decided it would be best to set up away from them. He made his way towards a more peaceful section of the town. He set up his stall and began selling the goods he had obtained at the desert lands. After selling his goods for a couple of months he was approached by a general in the council army. He was asked if he sided with the Defenders or with the Soovs. Uma explained that he was just in town to trade and make some money. The general gave him a suspicious look and left. Uma would no doubt have eyes on him for a while. Five years passed and the defenders started shouting about tradition. Uma also noticed the numbers of the defenders start to dwindle. He had heard that they were going to Indoria to study some tome. He decided it would be best to leave the city as well. He had grown tired of it and he started to get bored of selling the same goods day in and day out anyway. With a cart full of Libertia goods he set out for his next city, Ashah. Once again, fate had a different plan for Uma. After traveling for one month Uma was attacked by bandits. Uma hadn't been training since he started being a merchant but he still had his old sword and after a few blocked strikes from the bandits he began to remember his training in his homeland. He managed to fight off the bandits but not before the let his horse off of the cart. The horse went into a panic and ran off. Uma only had one choice. Mustering up all of the strength he could, Uma lifted the cart and began pulling it. After four months of agonizing pain and fatigue he had made it to the gates of Ashah. A feeling of relief washed over him and it must have been too much. Uma passed out at the front gate and the guards quickly bring him, and his goods into the city.


Uma awoke a day later in a house he had never seen before. A man sitting in the chair next to him began patting his head with a damp cloth. Uma began to speak but the man shushed him. He explained to Uma that he had collapsed from exhaustion and he was very lucky to be alive. Uma needed rest, so as the man poured some water into Uma's throat, he slowly drifted to sleep. Uma woke again. Feeling alive and awake. He no longer felt the weight of tiredness and sore limbs. He did however feel really really hungry. He made his way into the kitchen where the man from before was making him a meal. Uma gladly accepted and found out the man's name as Otto. Otto explained that the guards have Uma's belongings and if he needs them back he only needs to ask. He also mentioned that the town was bustling and talking about Uma. There were rumors of a strange merchant who carries his own cart with ease. The guards started it, but it must have gotten twisted and the collapsing part lost in the process of exchanging rumors. Eventually the name Lursa would start going around. They called him that because it was Horse in T'Odis. The bright white hair and blue eyes kind of gave away the race of this mysterious merchant. Uma laughed as Otto told the stories being spread around the city. Everyone was talking about it, and since Uma had been bedridden for about a week, people had started calling him an omen or a spirit. Uma kind of enjoyed the idea of being a mysterious being so he decided to embrace the name. He found a small house near the outskirts of town and began training himself to pull his own cart. Eventually he paid a carpenter to make him a belt to attach to the cart, making it easier to travel with. His training lasted for five years. He attended the funeral of Queen Bernadette and the crowning of Gayana Dasa. Rumors begin to spread that the promise of marriage that ended the T'Odis war had happened. This made Uma want to visit home. Feeling homesick, Uma packed up his things and bought extra supplies. The trip to T'Odis would not be easy. It was pull of dangerous encounters, and not having a horse to pull the cart in the snow will slow him down. Uma double checked to make sure he had everything and set off for his homeland.


Six months of traveling and Uma makes it back to his home town. He walks up to the familiar house and knocks on the door. With no answer, Uma's instincts take over his mind. He opens the door and walks into the house without any warning. Laying on a bed that had been moved to the main room, was Toldren. His age was apparent and he didn't look like he was in good health. As Toldren's eyes adjusted and he saw Uma he began to cry. He couldn't get out of the bed due to his condition. Uma came to him and hugged him. He began telling his father stories of all of the places he had been. All of the places he had seen. His father then explained to Uma that he didn't have much time left. He was going to die. He gave Uma his home and all of the belongings and asked Uma to bury him next to his mother. A few more days go by and Uma attempts to take care of his father, but to no avail. His father passes and with his dying breath he tells Uma that he's proud of him. Uma goes on to bury his father next to his mother. While searching for things to bury with his father he had found his old sword and armor from his days as a royal soldier. The sword was gargantuan, with a 3 and a half foot long blade, golden finishes and complicated grip it was one magnificent weapon. It was just as heavy as it was long. Uma buried his father with his armor but kept the sword. He knew his father would want him to have it. He trained himself to use it, despite him being paralyzed. It too three years but eventually, Uma could swing it like any other sword. This training also allowed him to learn to move with it quickly. He couldn't get past one design flaw, however. It was made for a man with two usable arms. The weight of the blade mad it difficult to hold on to if swung in a fast swipe. This meant, Uma could be fast with his movements but his strikes would be slow. After the three years passed and he felt like he had learned to defend himself, he decided it was time to travel to the one place he hasn't. Parshum.


Uma bought himself and his goods passage to Parshum. He kept his fathers sword on the cart, so no one would think of him as hostile. He set up shop and began trading. He noticed something different though. He was being harsher with the customers. More direct. Less friendly. He didn't intend to act this way but Toldren's death left a scar inside Uma's heart. Less people traded with him than normal but he still managed to make a profit. After a year of trading he managed to obtain quite a few serpent goods. He decided he needed to pick a place and stay there for a while. Somewhere he could call home. Not his old one. After some serious though, Uma decided on Kildra. It was in the center of everything and it had a bustling main city perfect for trade. Uma bought passage onto another boat and make his way to Ocean's wake where he began traveling to Kildra. After a couple months, he managed to make it to Kein but it was a lot different than before. There seemed to be some sort of war going on. Uma years ago would have tried to figure out what was going on, but he decided against it. He found a small place outside of all the fighting to live peacefully. He owns a shop nearby and uses it to keep himself fed. He also had a decent amount of gold saved up from his past ventures if he really needed it. As the war started to die down in the year 365 Uma began talking to some of the nobles and higher ups in society. He liked to keep informed. Eventually he heard a rumor of a slave that was fetching the highest price of a slave to date. She had beautiful blue eyes and white hair. At first Uma tried to ignore it. It wasn't his business. She probably sold herself to make some money. But as he thought about it more and more, he decided to investigate it. If she wants to be a slave then at least whatever part of Uma that is telling him to check it out will be satisfied.​

 

[King Ad Rock]

Orikanyo
as

Eliza Quinn

"Come one come all! Trinkets! Baubles! Artifacts! All yours with just a modest price!"


:Name:


Eliza "The Eleventh" Quinn


:Age:


"Full of youth and beauty~!"


24 years old.


:Race:


"Is it really that hard to figure out?"


Kildran


:Sexual Orientation:


"Money."


Description:

"Don't stare too long now~!"


A average height yet lean build, this woman stands 5' 6" and weighing in about [REDACTED] pounds. her typical style consists of vibrant reds and whites, and at times a bit of yellow here or there if she feels particularly sunny that day. Most of her height being her legs, them being rather strong due to her constant walking, running, jumping, sneaking, running, kicking etc etc... Lean and lithe, yet with a very, very powerful kick.


You'd find very little weaponry upon this woman, sporting at most a dagger for utility at most, her boots are quite the stunning sight, in the bad way. off putting from the rest of her rather vivid outfit the boots are made mostly of iron and steel, more like greaves then actual normal footwear. These are her weapons of choice, not counting her secret technique, easy enough to bring in to just about any occasion, so long as formal attire is not required of course. out of all of her outfit, the one thing she loves more then anything is her cloak, a vibrant crimson shield against the elements is a thing of the highest quality, soft and silky even after years of use but shows wear and tear around the edges.


:Weapon of Choice:


"It's time to unleash my secret technique!"


A proficient user of her naturally forming strengths, ie: kicking the utter living shit out of people, she uses her steel boots to help her get the point across when she really, really wants to deliver some pain. that aside, she really doesn't want to get into combat much at all, if anything, she'd fight only if backed into a corner, and then you'll see the true meaning of "Fighting like a cornered rat."


Her secret technique how ever... is not one she talks about often, nor really does she get the chances to use it... But when she does... she performs rather well.you will see her true power.


Personality:


"Sunshine and rainbows around these parts, if you don't open your eyes to the scenery that is."


A cunning and devious merchant with a hot streak of deals and bargains that she can recount like a warrior could recount battles. Her battlefield is the markets, each barter a skirmish, each coin a blade. And at times her blades cut deeper then any sword or dagger, and she has become a quite accomplished warrior in such regards. outside of her merchant occupation you'd find a a worldly woman, experienced in her travels and adventures she seems almost prepared for about anything that comes her way. Be it theives, weather, annoying laws, greedy fellow merchants, ne'er do wells or any other, she will have a plan, the plan it is likely to be is run away.


Yes indeed she is far from a courageous person, it's not her lot in life to spend her's righting wrongs and fighting evils, shes not that type of person, shes the type to dig into forgotten tunnels and ruins in search of buried treasure no matter what trial stands within her way. A raider of tombs, crypts, ruins, burial grounds, nothing is kept out of her reach for long, and with a stubbornness inherited from her mother she most certainly will not let her target escape her grasps!


:Background:


"The only past you need to care about is your account ledger."


Born in Kein to a already impossibly large family Eliza was one of the many children who lived in the household, her parents were rather well off, enough so that she only had to share a room with 3 other sisters. She had taken to learning at a remarkable speed in her younger life, not necessarily a abnormal thing for the family as each of the daughters seemed to have an interesting in bartering and selling, among other things. Some would go to become smiths, some would become artists, but all shared the merchantry job for atleast a time, some staying with it, some not. Eliza from a young age loved to explore, her first find being a strange stone mask she plucked up from the basement, a dark scary place none of her sisters would dare go into.


But she did, and was rewarded with the old mask for her bravery in the face of such a frightening place. Well, less rewarded, more she kept it and never told anybody about it. The mask is an ugly thing, but very sturdy, hell Eliza has once or twice tried to smash the thing with no luck. it has no features, and is kinda erie... but Eliza will not let it go, she keeps it with her in her travels as a reminder of the thrills of adventure, what secrets could be hiding in the deep darkness. What rewards could be yours if you simply brave it, swallow your fear and throw caution to the wind.


These days she is searching for her next target, rumors, stories, anything that could lead to a big find. She worries shje might not get a lead for quite some time... wondering if what she has right now will be enough to sell and trade. But she will persevere, she always will! And when shes in need she can always contact her sisters, whats family for right? She'll pay them back of course, but hopefully it wont come to that....


But where... where could she find her next lead?


:Misc:


Has a dire fear of lightning.


Keeps a pet snake named Sir. Snapper Slitherton, hes not venomous(Enough to kill humans, does cause a big rash and numbness) and shares the same coloring as Eliza, bright reds and yellows. He has a cage but when on the road Eliza keeps him on her, lest he get lonely.


Hates fish.


Has an insatiable sweet tooth.


Sings when she thinks shes alone.


No concept of mercy when it comes to debts owed to her.





​

 

[King Ad Rock]

DemetrioMachete
as

Heinrich Klaus



Name: Heinrich Klaus


Age: 27


Race: Kildran


Sexuality: Bisexual


Personality: Comes off as polite and quirky, but this façade quickly gives way to sadism and brutality during medical practice and combat. He is addled with a mental illness which impairs his sense of Id, Ego and Superego. That said, he rarely displays an ethical conscious, a sense of self-preservation, or even sympathy for the sick, whom he is supposed to treat. Many metaphorical screws are loose from the doctor's head, and often whispers to himself; particularly the repetition of his surname. "Klaus Klaus Klaus..."


Description: Most of Klaus' features are concealed behind his elaborate Plague Doctor outfit, consisting of a rimmed black hat, white plague mask with rose lens, a long black coat and black pants. Behind this, Klaus hides his glasgow scars, which forces him into a permanent smile, and his hair, dyed white out of T'Odis envy. His eyes are green, and their vibrant gaze easily gives away his madness and lack of human empathy.





"There's no need to be afraid... everyone has to stew in their own blood at some point in their life."


Weapon of Choice: A common mace, good for bludgeoning and flaying. Usually it is kept clean, for Klaus has grown attached. Engraved on the handle is a name. "Mr. Spanky".


background: Heinrich was born and raised in Roadalia. His father having died shortly after his birth, Klaus was instead raised by two mothers. His mother by blood, Gertrude Klaus, was once an accomplished adventurer but retired to a life of guard duty. His other mother, Mildred Klaus, was a butcher, who harvested and sold meat. Though treated like second-class citizens, Heinrich's family still made enough to live comfortably.


One night though, Mother Mildred had what seemed like a mental breakdown. In a delusional stupor, she attacked her son Heinrich with a knife, and carved into his face a grotesque, bleeding smile. When Gertrude learned of this, Mildred was arrested and hanged, from there on, Heinrich lived with only one parent, forever scarred to smile. This experience traumatized him, and slowly sent him on a downward spiral into madness.


As the young Heinrich came of age, he joined up with a nearby Church of Azae, learning the Clerical arts of healing, prayer, and discovering faith. Upon adolescence, the Church began to fill Heinrich's head with ideals of combatting heresy, and how the heathens needed to be punished, by any means within their power to act. Klaus, however, took it the wrong way, and would harshly abuse and injure heretics he found, often leaving maimed and dissected corpses behind. It was around this time Heinrich began to develop a morbid infatuation with the human body...


As he became an adult, Klaus was unleashed upon the world; officially asserting himself as a Cleric and Doctor, providing his trades of mending and maiming to anyone that piqued his morbid curiosity for sentient anatomy.



​

 

[King Ad Rock]

Khadame
as
Guinevere “Jin” von Vasten


Name: Guinevere “Jin” von Vasten

Age: 26

Race: Kildran

Personality:
A no-nonsense woman who prioritises duty above all. Her vigorous training and valuable experience from countless battles have shaped her up to be the perfect partner in battles, as she has a sharp mind and is a born tactician.



However, outside of battle or matters concerning her work, Jin is incredibly awkward and stiff. She prefers to stay alone as her attitude never earned her any friends and she would rather have no strings attached.


Description:



Around 180cm tall, with a muscular and rather burly build, yet distinctly slim. She has a naturally light complexion, but earned herself a light tan from training in summers. Most of her few scars are visible except for two large ones around her breasts and back. She keeps that entire area bandaged.



Her face is graced with high cheekbones and sharp eyes, almost slits. They have heavy bags and deep lines beneath, giving her a look of constant exhaustion. Her eyes are a dull grey with hints of green. Her black hair is put into a bun on one side and freely flows on the other.


Weapon of Choice:
A plain set of a heavy steel shield and equally heavy sword. Her armour is incredibly thick; she wears several layers of it, a mixture of titanium, chain mail and steel.



She prefers a “tanky” fighting style and usually stays in the front line, dealing moderate damage but making it up by taking heavier hits for other and setting enemies up for a kill.


Background:
Jin’s childhood was not necessarily bad. It wasn’t good, either – a murky in-between. She owed her parents everything. Her position and her unwavering will, but on the other hand, she sometimes wondered if everything was really worth it.



Her upbringing had been nothing like everyone else’s. She was determined to be (forced, rather, for she didn’t have much of a choice at five years of age) a honourable knight in the future, one that would make her family and her country proud to have her as one of her own. Jin’s parents were very religious, almost borderline so, and this attitude they tried to pass on to their daughter.



Slowly, as she grew up and matured into a respectable young girl, her parents wanted to cement the future they had so carefully planned out for her. Guinevere, her mother used to say, go make your folks proud, will you? And she would agree and promise to, not really knowing what they wanted.



They sent her to training. Away from home, at least half the country, and the good-bye brought out the tears of no one. Not Jin, not her family (they even cherished it, and justified it by saying it was all for the greater good) and certainly not the man leading the carriage away, who at best sneezed once during their ride towards the capital.



Training was led by a man (much to her parents dismay, but they had been told there wasn’t anyone better and they would never settle for the second best), a gruff guy without any sense of humour and a look that would send anyone fearing for their life.



She was twelve when she first joined his ranks and he didn’t seem to care for her age at all. Jin was – literally and figuratively – dragged through the mud day after day, running laps and sparring with others through gritted teeth and with the desperate wish to return home. Three years of stomping her dreams, of crying, and of working herself to the bone paid off when her mentor approached her, the hint of a smile on his face, and said: “Congratulations.”



Congratulations. It seems you have been noticed by the royalty of Roadalia. They consider you to join the ranks of the Knights, at such a young age even. You must have impressed the right person. It’s the greatest honour. You should be proud of yourself.



Jin grimly smiled and pretended to care.



It went smoothly. One more year, and she went through the ceremony in front of Roadalia’s most important people, accepting her new badge and uniform with a thanks and a vow to never betray her country, her queen and her goddess. The threat in the words she was forced to speak was clear. Do it or you’re dead.



It had barely been three months when she broke her vow.



She met him when she was assigned a task. “Some folks have been spreadin’ lies again”, her captain said, feet on the table and as nonchalant as she could be, “about Azae and all that. You know how the queen is.” Jin knew how the queen was. Met her, twice, and wasn’t particularly keen on doing so again. She reminded her too much of her mother. “Just get ‘em and I’ll deal with the rest.”



It didn’t even take one day for her to screw it all up when she caught the lot right in the act; they were hanging crudely drawn posters everywhere, pinning them to some houses and some posts. She shouted (“Stop right there, you criminal scum!”), drew her blade and immediately got knocked out from behind.



To her never-ending relief and thankfulness, she woke up not in heaven, but in the small bed of a cheap-looking tavern with a bandage wrapped around her forehead. He was there, seated on a stool next to her and read a book. All smiles and sunshine, even when she immediately came to the conclusion that she had been kidnapped, and calmly explained that some scoundrels got her by the head. In the same sentence, he confessed being part of the scoundrels.



“You can tell on us”, he murmured, “we kinda deserve it for being assholes to you. In their defence, they’re new and all. Really sorry.” Jin didn’t answer, and he took it as a sign to continue. “I used to look up to the Knights when I was younger. I saw your badge and... ah. You know how it is.” She mildly informed him that she didn’t know how it was. He smiled, and said: “It’s the least I can do for someone who inspired me so much. “



Jin was positive that she sure as arse didn’t inspire him for the five months she had served, but gave him her thanks anyway and left the inn. When she had to hand the daily report over to her captain, she wrote that there were no results that day.



Through sheer dumb luck (and on a small part, her desire to find him again), they met each other again. “Fancy seeing you here again”, he laughed, as if he couldn’t believe it himself, “how’s life?”


Somehow, that morphed into an entire day of procrastinating on her work and spending it with the person she was supposed to get executed in the first place. It didn’t faze her in the slightest.



And this brief encounter turned into something more, and for a moment of her life, Jin felt love and loved. The sensation of him overwhelmed her with his perfection, the care he put into every single touch against her skin and the laugh he would share with her everyday. Yet, all things beautiful were never supposed to last, and she was a damned fool to ever ignore that lesson.



Her captain became increasingly suspicious of her non-progress. A year with any sort of report? Not even a clue? The woman sent out another one of the Knights and it didn’t even take a day for her to catch him red-handed. How incredibly ironic, Jin thought bitterly when she saw them take him to prison, chained and barely conscious.



The sentence was clear even before he offered himself as the group leader. Execution. The others got a lifetime in the dungeons. The Knight’s captain invited Jin to her office the day before his beheading and said: “I know what’s up, von Vasten. You don’t even need to confess.” She didn’t try. “I’m disappointed in you, but I’m not going to tell anyone. It would be a shame to lose a good woman for such a trivial matter. However, I want no more mistakes. This is your second and last chance. Understood?” “Crystal”, Jin answered and left the room without another word from her superior, trying to keep her hands from balling into fists.



She had planned on staying in bed the day afterwards. Pretending to be sick, she mused, pretending was her strong point, anyway. Her plans were discarded when a servant knocked on her door and informed her that, apparently, the prisoner’s last wish was to see her again. Jin almost refused in the heat of the moment, but ultimately brought out a breathless “I will be there in five minutes.”



Immediately after she arrived, she regretted ever coming. He was a mess; miserable, bloodied and broken, and Jin nearly threw up when she saw the striped marks litter his body beneath his prisoner rags. “Hey there, sunshine”, was the first thing he said, not even enough strength to lift his head and meet her eyes. She couldn’t bring the words out.



“I found a tunnel”, a minute afterwards, “some-“, he coughed, and even against the dark tiles the blood in his spit was visible, “-hah, some guy probably dug it out. I could escape.” “Good for you”, Jin whispered and she feared incredibly what she knew came next.



“Come with me.”



“I can’t.”



“Didn’t you want freedom? Wasn’t it your biggest wish?”



“Damn it, I can’t!” She beat the metal bars that kept him in his cage, feeling something crack that shouldn’t when she hit harder. “Just go!”



“Not without you.” He smiled despite her tears. “Never without you.”



In the end, his last wish had been for her to execute him. She couldn’t refuse him that. So she stood, the unfamiliar feel of an axe in her hand in the midst of a crowd of hundreds, who all cheered her on to murder the person who deserved it the least.



Jin heard him speak before she was instructed to put the axe to use. “My last, true wish... is for you to be free someday. Just like you told me.” He closed his eyes and breathed for the last time. It sounded like he held back tears through his quivering smile. The signal for her to start echoed through the plaza.



She raised the axe...



“I’m sorry I couldn’t see the world with you.”



...and swung.​

 

[King Ad Rock]

Tice
as

Sesler'ther Var-indis

Name: Sesler'ther Var-indis


Age: 44


Race: Nomasdae


Sexuality: Heterosexual


Personality: Sesler'ther is a sensible man before all else. His history shapes the hard realism and knowledge of the blacksmith trade. He is not obliged to drink much if at all when there is something for him to do. Perhaps restless from years of being scolded for laziness, Sesler is constantly thinking of a new project or what his chores are going to be. His eyes wander a good deal around the area he is in, always inquisitive. He has an apprentice's background in his trade, and not formal schooling. Common academics were taught by examples of how many bush deer were in a field or buckets of water in a barrel. Sesler's father impressed this thinking into the boy from his own lineage, having served in the last battle of the Lindor-Soov war. He sought to ensure that his son would never need to lift a sword lest in his own defense. Socially, Sesler'ther surrounds himself with like-minded individuals. Indoria was a hard place on its own; he didn't need moronic friends. He talks in words of literal meaning, lacking a use of hyperbole. Slangs, however, will appear in his speech. Mostly names or adjectives for someone. Sesler isn't one to go out of his way to bother someone on a trivial matter. His father's teachings warded him from wanton violence. No child grew up in the dry plains without having a fight or two, but Sesler avoided as much as he could.


Description:



Sesler'ther carries the commonplace features of a Nomasdae; a dark complexion from work in the sun and heredity and a 6'3" height. Growing up in a smithy has given Sesler a hardened edge to his body tone, tendons forming rivulets on his arms and back. However, his childhood did not grow around lifting extremely heavy objects. Rather, his muscle was toned by years of bending metal into shapes and being his own handyman. This hardened look is emphasized in his facial features, scarred and burned from forging mishaps. His eyes are rounded and a deep set into his skull, the pupils surrounded by rings of brown. His jawline is masculine and linear with his chin, forming a smooth and round bottom to his face. Sesler's ears are close to his skull as though flattened. Rings of skin are missing from the edges of the earlobes. He has an even, calculated gait, and a brooding persona. When he speaks, his voice is deep and similar to a hollow drum. A unique mark is the word Lointine upon his left shoulder in a pale blue ink.


Sesler'ther prefers to keep his hair cut short, as to prevent dirt, sweat, and sand to get stuck inside. However, finding a decent razor can be hard, so his facial shaving style is patchy and uneven. But, it is low. Age has done its part on his facial features, lines across his forehead from years of frowning or smiling, wrinkles forming at the corners of his mouth and eyes, and occasional grey hairs appearing in his short crop.


Weapon of Choice: Sesler'ther, though a man who had forged such weapons, is not inclined to be exceptional in using any particular item. In fact, he'd be better off using a hammer from his shelf than anything. With a lack of formal training, perhaps only a shortsword would be best for him due to the ability to be used without intense training.


Background: Sesler'ther's childhood was dominated by his apprenticeship into his father's steps of becoming a blacksmith. From the age at which he could lift a hammer, Sesler spent more time around the blistering heat of the forge coals than anywhere else. He learned that the metals he worked with was like paint to an artist; great things could be made from nothing more than a simple material. Frugality was a staple at home, growing up in the nation of Libertia as a boy before the war. As such, crafting the weapons of warriors was a rarity, instead acting as creators and distributors of the common-man's tools. Life was simple and dull for the single-digit aged Sesler, religiously following the same patterns every day. The anvil and hammer was his toy; his hands were calloused and wrinkled as though he worked a lifetime. Burns from mishaps scarred his face and body. And a strong silence was building inside of him. Most of the people he knew well were older, his father's friends and their families. Valued customers and fellow craftsmen. His mind never wandered far beyond his little village, instead staying close to the Libertia he knew.


Sesler'ther's father was a great shaping figure in his life. His mother was more docile, less of an influence on his future. It betrays the mindset of Indorians to picture his father as a form of a pacifist. When the Lindor-Soov war began, he wanted no part of it. M'Run Var-indis enjoyed his small business in Libertia as he worked to start a family with his wife, Neoveta Kolste. It is was his brother, whom Sesler would never learn of his name, that perhaps forced M'Run's hand. This anonymous uncle was a patriot, fighting for the Soovs to preserve the land from the radicals of the Lindors. He viewed them as little more than rebels and seeked to vanquish them. He believed that M'Run needed to fight for Libertia, requesting several times over the course of the war for M'Run to help defend the cities before they fell. Towards the later end of the war, once word began to spread that larger cities seemingly crumbled from within, he asked only one more time for M'Run to join arms with him in the fight for Libertia. M'Run believed that he was doing all that he could for a man of his talents. In fact, the war led to a great deal of profit for his business as the request for weapons, armor, and miscellaneous bits for the cavalry. The uncle, now certain that his brother was instead working for the Lindors, deserted from the military to confront him in M'Run's home. He aggressively interrogated M'Run over why he avoided enlisting, and yet did not comprehend the fact that his brother was in fact a great supplier of the army. This uncle took it upon himself to end what he believed was an ally of the Lindors. The conflict ended abruptly, M'Run alive while his uncle was not. Sesler'ther's father never spoke of the incident again, not even to his wife, who was a witness of the event. M'Run, believing that he'd be prosecuted and executed for the murder, joined the Lindors upon the last siege on the capital to ensure that his family would successfully immigrate into the new nation of Indoria.


Once Sesler'ther moved past his prepubescent years and into the teenage stage of life, he began to freelance beyond the forge so that he could learn the common sense of the world. Sesler had high hopes of constructing his own home and took an apprenticeship in carpentry. There, he quickly learned that a good deal of lumber came in as imports, due to his new home of Indoria's dry climate. The philosophy of imports and exporting intrigued him, enough to ask of his master more about the aspect. It was here that the man who would train him in woodworking would learn of Sesler's ability to read, write, and do arithmetic. A rarity in such poor village life. So, instead of mastering the art of woodwork, Sesler instead became a bookkeeper for the carpenter and later for a seafaring trader. Although the ledgers were brought to him instead of delivered to an office by the port, It opened the door to a thinking of a broader world. There was a sea to the east and countries in all directions. Countries where the minority races were not so minor. Places where plant life was plentiful and water abundant. But, he couldn't travel abroad. No, when he wasn't freelancing, he was maintaining the forge that his boyhood revolved around. Sesler's father was aging, growing weaker though he wouldn't admit it. Still capable of crafting works of beauty from raw ore, his speed slowed while his work transcended into perfection. His newfound artistic ability was inspired perhaps by the grief over his lost wife, succumbing to the consequences of old age. Sesler's father's work sold at a higher price than Sesler's swiftly-produced tools, M'Run now forming wonderful creations of gates, fence designs, and other art pieces of iron.


A healer was summoned as Sesler'ther aged to sixteen to treat his ailing father, who passed into the final stages of life. Sesler was a hard man at this point, built of a strong material both physically and mentally. He knew his father was dying. It saddened him, but there was reason. M'Run had lived to be quite old and had a prosperous life. It would only hurt his father more to see him depressed. So once his father passed, it was him who buried the man. Sesler didn't want a service, no organized event to mourn the man. Neither him nor his father were big on useless gatherings. His father was dead, and that was final. Sesler would tell himself this many times when he felt trodden by the fact. There was no good reason to emigrate from his village, so Sesler instead lived inside the empty house of his parents, working the forge full time to provide for himself. Grown solitary, Sesler wasn't akin to feeling lonely. His parents were always there for a discussion or to simply comment on him or his work. But now, in the silence of their home, Sesler began to feel oppressed by the emptiness. He had turned seventeen at this point, and it was around this time that he met Parthis Rotila, who would later become his wife. It was chance that brought him to her; she had been a traveler at the time, stopping at the market where Sesler sold his goods. It wasn't the tools or devices he crafted that caught her eye. It was rather the remaining pieces of ironwork that Sesler's father had forged. A doorplate-a circular metal disc one would place in a door to hold a design-depicting a desert Trae-Le in a primal and untamed form. Sesler had sold the piece to her at a cheap price, perhaps infatuated by Parthis's appearance. He convinced her to stay at the village for a short while, so that he could show how the doorplate was created. Neither of the two were fools, and neither were naive enough to overlook the deeper meaning. This short time showed Sesler who she was as a person, the freethinking woman with such social finesse that betrayed her private love of joy and happiness. She filled a void in Sesler's life with her optimism and hope. Parthis was capable of bringing laughter to his grim face, and able to make him blush. So, in a quick time, Sesler was convinced that he needed to propose to her. Parthis had little to return to; her nomadic lifestyle meant most of her life was traveling with her. So, after a fair amount of convincing, she agreed to settle down with Sesler'ther and take his last name as Parthis Var-indis.


Once M'Run's masterpieces ran out, Sesler used his profits to invest in a supply of steel, leather, and iron. He believed that weapon forging will profit both him and the growing military of Indoria. Mercenary contracts meant that interested individuals needed weapons, and Sesler was happy to supply them this need. So, Sesler prospered with Indoria, soon earning enough wealth to build his own home in the same village the way that he wished to by the time that he was twenty and Parthis was twenty-two. But the house was a large project. It needed to have enough space for his future family and a forge. It was all he knew, and couldn't leave the work behind. He wanted new equipment, replacing the worn-out anvil with a stronger version, a system of several bellows for a hotter flame so that he could properly used the new materials that he had purchased, and a large basin to cool several pieces of metal at once instead of the thin trowel he was accustomed to. Sesler constructed the foundation from cobblestone, using a mix of sand, water, and clay to secure the rocks together. By importing felled trees from the forests of Libertia, he constructed the first floor by interwoven logs that connected by notches at either end of every log. The interior walls were created by planks smoothed by a thick belt of sand glued to a strip of leather. The planks, running from grooves in the floor to where the future ceiling would be, outlined the rooms of the home. A spiral of the same combination of materials that made up the foundation formed the roof, giving it a conical top where the chimney could be easily made. Now that the actual home was created, Sesler worked on installing the equipment he envisioned so well in his mind. This would prove to be a lengthy stretch of time before the forge was created, as the entire room needed to be secured with the cobble mixture so that his home would not burn down. He was twenty-three when his home was finished.


As the years wore on and Sesler furnished his home, he began to renovate it by purchasing glass and carving holes for windows, then building a porch, and later a fence to encircle an area for a backyard. Parthis was pregnant at this time and he intended to give his child an area to play. Though it burned in him to, Sesler did not want to force his kid to become a blacksmith like he. Rather, Sesler would travel his nation and show his son multiple trades. Not only will Sesler's child learn different aspects of the world, but they will also build a sense of social etiquette. But Sesler did not know what he would do if he had a daughter. It wasn't that he felt adverse to the idea, it was simply that he grew up in a very masculine household and saw little of womanly professions. Sesler didn't want her to find a job where she would leave them, as Parthis had done with her family, but it may be inevitable. But his worries were replaced with loss as Parthis miscarried the child. Sesler couldn't understand why, however. Parthis was in decent health, he was a gentle soul to her, and midwifes assured that the child was healthy. It was simply fate. He was twenty-five by then. Over the course of time, it was eventually discovered that Parthis could not bear children. It was a defect from birth. A misshapen chamber, as the healer put it. Incapable of properly holding the unborn child and nourishing its growth. Both Parthis and Sesler'ther were deeply wounded by the loss. Sesler eventually engraved himself with skin inks, placing the name of his unknown child upon the back of his left shoulder in a pale blue to draw contrast against his dark skin; "Lointine".


Further time passed on without variety, bland as the desert itself. Sesler provided for his household by his trade and Parthis did well to take care of him and the home. Once again Sesler'ther felt the impeding loneliness even with a wife at his side. He wanted to father a child and yet was unable to. When he had turned thirty-nine, however, this feeling of loneliness was replaced by dread when yellow strands began to develop under Parthis's skin, in gradual amounts. It was the exterior sign of Mirerot, a disease that was seemingly without cause. It wasn't contagious, hence the reason why Sesler remained in good health. Mirerot was lethal in the end, but was slow to arrive at that final stage. The journey to that end was painful, as the expansion of the yellow wisps under the skin wrapped around the blood vessels, making circulation to the limbs difficult. Parthis grew sore and weak, until ridden to a bed nearly permanently. Sesler scrounged the land for information on some type of cure, throwing money almost carelessly to any form of rumor. The once sensible and silent man became a mental wreck, incapable of focusing his mind on anything else. His handiwork became shoddy, his tools second-rate. Parthis had reached the middle trimester of Mirerot, by far the slowest. She would be more comfortable than she once was, yet soon lose the ability to properly walk. All of this marks the beginning of Sesler's journey to find a cure for his ailing wife before it was too late.​

 

[King Ad Rock]

Gradous13
as

Artyom Okra'nev


Name: Artyom Okra'nev

Age: 38

Race: T'Odis

Personality: Artyom is a no bullshit kind of person, he doesnt play around and gets to the point with most things. However he is resectful in general. His loyalties are to those who see life as how it is and dont cause problems, if he has a gut feeling that someone wil betray him he will immidiately dispose of them, either by killing or by ridding said person verbally and rarel is it the later of the two. Artyom keeps his judgment fair and finds no honor in ripping another person off or taking unnecessary advantage of another person.



When in combat, Artyom is merciless and kills to kill. He cares not of the pleasure that some feel from killing, or honor that others get from it, he soley does it to protect himself and T'Odis.



Description: Artyom towers at 7 feet, 8 inches tall, making him a tower of flesh, bone and muscle. He has a warn out look on his long, square face. battle scars cover a bit of his face here and there and a decent amount of his body as well. Artyom has peircing gray eyes and has a long scar running down the left side of his face close to the front of his ear which runs even with the top of his ear down to where the the jaw hinges.






Extra Description: Atyom has a snow leopard that he has raised since it was a cub which he named her Seria (Sir-eye-ah). Artyom has taught Seria hand motions for when he commands her. Seria is about three years old and is in very good shape and health, Her coat has a very light blue shine to it which is hard to notice unless you are looking for it and her eyes are a deep blue.



Weapon of Choice: T'Odis Longsword, a type XIX style that is a two handed variant, also has round shield with a metal outer ring and a simple shield boss



Background: Artyom was an orphan and was conscripted into the "Justice Hoards." The training was brutal and it was during this time he quickley learned from his mistakes, his first was showing emotion.



It was during an intense training fight where he made this mistake. Artyom and another child dealt blows back and forth until Artyom delivered what he thought was the final blow when he struck his opponent in the head with the oak training sword, when he saw the other boy was badly hurt he ran to him only to be attacked again. Artyom blocked a heavy blow with his left arm which broke immediately. He then grabbed his weapon, which at this stage represented a two handed sword, and fought back with a rage induced strength, wielding the heavy dummy sword with ease. The fight ended with his opponent dead on the cold ground.


Emotion was his first mistake but learning about an anger he had never experienced before soon became one of his greatest ally once he learned how to produce, channel and use it almost spontaneously.



After getting hs arm broken, Artyom was going to be disposed of but he promised he was able to fight with his weapon of choice, the two handed sword, with one hand. It was a harsh time but eventually his perseverance, determination and hard work payed off. By the time his am healed, his training weapon was replaced by a T'Odis two handed sword , the weight was only a couple pounds heavier, that what it seemed like when it was in reality several more.



By Twenty, Artyom was getting close to becoming a lieutenant, but unfortunately for him, he made a mistake. He was sent out to deliver a message to their headquarters but on his way back he accidentally killed someone by running them down with his horse. He was reported the next week and was given his two choices, Trial or Fight...of course Artyom chose to fight. His own Captain was his opponent who underestimated Artyom, as seious mistake which caused his death.



After being released he left to The Great Ice Mountains to start a new life. Artyom took his sword along with other supplies, bought a round shield, a bow, arrows and a quiver only to venture off into the wilderness to find a new purpose for himself...​

 

[King Ad Rock]

Gradous13
as

Riene Yurivich


Name: Riene Yurivich (Your-ehh-vich)



Age: 25

Race: T'Odis


Personality: In her younger years growing up she had a very mild, kind, loving temperment which had become the light to her darkness which she had grown a taste to. Late in her teenaged years her mind began to lust for blood, but only that of a specific man. Killing is an exiting sport to her now sadistic mind and it has always given her a high like no other ever since her first kill...It never changes...its always exhilerating to her, sometimes it has a stronger, euphoric effect depending on her basic mood for that day. Riene has become to have no recognition for others lives unless they have something she can gain from.


Description: Riene isn't the shortest at 6'9" with her build well balanced for agility and strength though her speed is lacking in comparisson it is average or above depending upon her opponent. Her armour is comprised of relitively strong armour, but only consists of pauldrins, breastplate and plackart.


Extra Description: If one looked closely, Riene has a natural grin on her face which she developed over time, it is rather unsettling in combination with her the frozen glare of her steel colored eyes. Riene will let her hair grow in the colder months and cut it short during the warmer seasons.


Weapon of Choice: T'Odis long-sword with a long cross-guard.


Background: Riene's childhood was nothing special, nothing made her better or worse in anybodies eyes until she was fifteen when her life would change forever... Her father took her into town to make a few deliveries of their crop that they grew as well as pick up any needed suplies for the Yurivich homestead. As her father finished making his sale for the crop he crossed the street to return to her but was stopped by a horseman, "YOU DARE GET IN MY WAY OLD MAN?!" He belowed getting off his horse. Unfortunately Riene's father had a hot temper when it came to disrespect of those who were older, which he clearly was. the horseman got into her fathers face and repeated the question, Riene's father struck the man who immidiately drew his sword, driving the blade through her father's gut "Haha, now you understand why you get the fuck out of my way, foolish old man!" the horseman laughed, returning to his horse, only to make direct eye contact with silent, crying Riene. The two stared at each other for what felt like hours, Riene remaining motionles, expresionless as the tes streamed down her face. The horseman smirked and shoke his head slightly, "Your father was a fool, girl, let him be the set example!" he said aloud and cracked the reigns, causing his horse to take off unto the horizon with its rider with it. It would take Riene two years to find the name of who murdered her father as well as the reported "accident" that caused his death, now she hunts him killing all who gets in her way... "Im coming...you justice hoard bastard, soon your blood will be abosrbed by T'Odis land...the last thing you will see is the smile upon my face"​

 

[King Ad Rock]

Character and character sheet created by Opaque Artifex


Lemercer
as

Zal N'Arodh

Name: Zal N’Arodh


Age: 32


Race: T'Odis


Sexuality: Heterosexual


Personality: Dutiful and to the point, Zal prides himself on his pragmatism. While a strict upbringing in the Lawful Lands of T’Odis has left him with a cynical outlook on the world; he maintains an intelligent if somewhat ruthless approach to life. His pride comes at a cost however, as he tends to hold deep seated grudges and relentlessly pursues revenge (often at the expense of his otherwise shrewd judgement). Thus Zal is a wildcard and a bit of a loose cannon for those who deal with him.


Description: Zal stands at an average height for a T’Odis; carrying himself with a similarly average build thanks to his diligent training. He is neither particularly attractive nor particularly unattractive which gives him a convenient subtlety when needing blend in. Well groomed to a degree, Zal keeps a head of short black hair and a neatly trimmed circle beard. A pair of unfriendly dark rings circle his milky blue eyes, standing out from the rest of his pale complexion.


Weapon of Choice: Various subtle killing instruments hidden about his person and other asymmetrical methods.


Background: Born to a large magnate family two years on from the Battle of the North Mountains, Zal was the youngest in a line with too many heirs. During the T’Odis-Parshum war the N’Arodh household had lost numerous close relatives and taken significant financial losses; giving Zal’s father (Thoth N’Arodh) a vested interest in supporting the T’Odis war effort. Six years later, as peace talks draw to a close with what the N’Arodh household perceives to be a bitter capitulation to Parshum; Zal enthusiastically begins his tutoring. Developing an appetite for reading both fiction and non-fiction; Zal becomes increasingly introverted as his older brothers find employment and his sisters are married off one by one to other powerful families.


At the age of ten, Zal is accepted into a special training academy for military operatives in the T’Odis army. A year later he would witness his father fly into a fit of rage at the decision to allow Parshumians to help rebuild L’Aorn (which would ultimately have a permanent impact on his health). In 351 with business via the land-based trade routes taking a hit from banditry; Thoth suffers his first ‘attack’ from a condition which physicians put down to stress. As a result, many of Zal’s brothers return to the family estate in the T’Odis countryside to discuss the issue of inheritance. A fifteen year old Zal is too deep in his studies to attend and much to his bitter dismay; he is thoroughly robbed of his inheritance by his older siblings (subsequently refusing to attend his father’s funeral after his death that same year).



[SIZE=10pt]In 355 the N’Arodh household boycott the imperial marriage to the Parshumian Calar’s youngest daughter, privately declaring it to be an outrage. Zal uses his last year of study to enlist directly into the T’Odis army; pursuing a reasonably successful career until his transfer to the direct service of Varaxas II at the age of twenty nine. Having reluctantly served the heir to the throne for three years, Zal now finds himself deployed outside of T’Odis with his family back home privately cursing the eventual ascension of his employer to the Imperial throne.​

 

[King Ad Rock]

archur
as

Arthric Lorgar


Name:​

Arthric Lorgar, sir.




Age:


I'm around 36 years of age. Seen enough of what's out there already.


Race:


T'Odris


Personality:


Well, I think myself to be... Free. I think that's the word. I've been called a rogue before. Strange choice of words. I seek sustenance through the possessions of others, to simply put it. I know those horde boys don't understand, but I've been doing this for so long, I don't see a point as to why I should stop. I've fought my fair share of them too, so it isn't like their records and accounts of me matter. What does matter, is what I do. I steal the clothes off a man, and the jewelry off a lady like picking a berry off a bush. I can also take a head off a target, and be gone with a breeze, and a slight smell of foul tincture. For the right price of course, but it's not often I get the latter. And mostly when it does happen, it's a blood feud, which is great for me, when I can cater to either side.


I am getting off topic. I may be a thief and a killer, but don't call me an unpleasant man. That is what most confuse about me. I have a strictly business side, but I know how to have fun. At least my version of fun. Horse riding, dueling, chatting. Partying is a waste of time and money. I've got plenty better to do than drink my life away.


Description:


I stand at an average height for my race, 6'10" units. My hair is white, and my skin is pale. My physique rates me to be fit, but not bursting with muscle like those glory hounds. I am used to wearing my armor, which is quite light for the protection it gives. It weighs 35 kilograms, and does not leave me overly exposed. It has a lot of free movement, but not as much protection as those proper full suit plate mail armors. I keep a cape about me, I find it to be stylish.


Weapon of Choice: I call them Glyssa and Tygus. Dual blades from captains I've defeated in the past. They only have slight alterations in their design, but they're more or less the standard draft the glorious horde is given. I have commissioned a artist to carve a inscription of their life onto the blade. Though they were my enemy, they won't be forgotten. Hardest fights in my life I've ever had. My first fight I had, I was armed only a dull blade I've picked off some bum on the street!



Background: As a child, I grew up in a blacksmith's household. There wasn't much to say about it, besides in school where I was pushed around by the others. I had to learn to conceal myself then, and to protect myself. I taught myself to steal apples from passing carts, and to run if I ever did get caught, which was a lot of the time. My father taught me to use the sword he had gotten me for my eighth birthday. I never made friends with anyone, because there always seemed to be more of those "goody two shoes" bastards around. Especially since I lived in a sector with plenty of military families. I crept towards deviancy as I was being pushed towards being conscripted to a horde boy. Since then, I've just been practicing thievery, until something big hit me at 16. I learned of mercenary work. Something where I could put my skills at swordsmanship to good use. It's history after that.​

 

[King Ad Rock]

Kayso as

Kael Gilgrend
(Character and Character sheet created by Crucified Fear )



Name: Kael Gilgrend


Race: Kildran


Age: 34


Weapon of Choice: Dual Scimitars (formerly long sword)

Personality: Jovial, witty, sarcastic and hedonistic.

Background:


"Gilgrend The Great"

The Gilgrend clan claimed their nobility through chronicles of blood and ash, and Kael was no different. Time after time the family had proven itself reliable, vital, and on the battlefield: absolutely ruthless. Tutored, trained and nearly brainwashed by his father, the General and war hero Artimedes, or "Gilgrend The Great," the young Kael was poised to take this title from his father and stake claim to his own place amongst the legends of future days. To sit amongst the stars with other great gods and monsters.


And he nearly did so. Kael rose quickly amongst the ranks, demanding to be shown no preferential treatment because of his fathers status. In the midst of the War of Royalty, Kael was awarded with the rank of Commander, due to his valor, battle tested strategy and undying camaraderie with the men. Eternal glory was at his finger tips.


And it was whisked away in the flanks of a messengers stallion.




"The Butcher of Yensa"

To this day, one of the crowns most profound mishandlings was the immediate declaration of General Artimedes Gilgrends death by Unger's forces in an ambush just outside of Yensa. What ensued was one of the largest abominations of war in Kildran history. Kael disregarded orders to sit tight, rallying his men to march, they as well driven by the loss of their leader, their love fueling their hate. The legion of 5,000 men cornered the much smaller force of less than 2,000 south of the city, between natural rock formations and the dark sea.


The white flag flew. The battle was won before it even started, but Kael had not marched for prisoners. He would not show a courtesy that was denied to his own blood.


So the men charged. The stories that are told in only whispers describe the massacre. Flesh, bone and blood littered the shores, so much so that not even the mighty tides struggled to wipe away the stain. They say partially eaten remains sometimes wash ashore. Those who chose to faith the perils of the water, than the wrath of Kael.


He had made his mark. Claimed his title and solidified his place in history amongst the reviled and damned.


They say the fire they started to burn the bodies was so large it could be seen from the capital.


There's truth to every legend.

"The Exiled"

The Queen was a good woman, but such a crime would not go unpunished.


"The Kingdom appreciates everything your family has done for it Kael," she said in almost a whisper, "but the crown will not stand for such blatant disregard for authority, honor and life. Enemy or not."


Kael slouched, on his knees, awaiting the sentence of his execution. He almost pleaded for it. The thought of dying at the side of his soldiers placed a cold calmness over him.


"Your acts permit death as a plausible course of action, but I'm not sure you deserve something so quick. In a way, execution is a soldiers death, and you have proven to be no such thing. Instead I will strip you of everything you are or would be. Of your ranks, your home and status. I won't be so naive to think I can keep you out of the country, but if you so much as breathe in Keins direction, you will lose your head.


Kael could do nothing but stare. Banishment wasn't a punishment, but a torture.


"I want you to live with your dishonor, Kael. Embrace it. Meditate it. And perhaps one day before you die, you'll find a way to salvage your soul. Guards? Escort The Butcher to the outlands." With a wave of her elegant fingers, Queen Suzane, a thing of such beauty and kindness, destroyed him.



And for the first time in his life, Kael was alone.​

 

[King Ad Rock]

Kayso as

Seraphina Aeritheos
(Character and character sheet created by Spacing Out )

Azae rules us still. She will come from the heavens and she will no longer be kind.


Name: Lady Seraphina Aeritheos


Nickname: Sera, Lady Sif


Age: 23


Gender: Female


Race: Kildran


Sexuality: Bi-curious


Allegiance: Roadalia


Occupation: Holy Knights of Azae


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."


Faith: Religion of Azae (Church of the Mother)


"Look at me. Look at my face. it's the last thing you'll see before you die."


Eye color: Stormy Grey eyes


Hair color: Brunette


Skin color: Fair


Height & Weight: 5'6 / 126lbs


Physique: Hourglass figure but just says that all the weight goes to her bottom half.


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 skeptical 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.


Fears: Dementophobia: Fear of insanity. Atychiphobia: Fear of failure.


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 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 was a combatant from Kildra 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 rose through the ranks of the Roadalian military and was eventually invited into the Holy Knights of Azae at the age of 21. 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. Sera could only watch as Roadalia was beginning to fall into Chaos, and the executions elevated. She found herself calming weekly riots and bringing people forth on the charge of religious 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?


Secrets: Considered assassinating Miranda.

“My Sword and Shield are my greatest weapons but my fists are just as effective."

• Double bladed sword

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.

• Shield

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.

• Combatant

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​

 

[Dominaiscna]

Name: Mai Kotone Uduliadej

Age: 29

Race: Parshumian

Sexuality: heterosexual

Personality: To almost everyone, Mai comes off as this charming and alluring young lady who seems to not have a single worry about her. Nothing can seem to unhinge her or break her mask of utter composure and confidence. Each step and action is sure with grace and elegance that only a cultivated princess would have. However, often she is seen as frivolous and childish by her many siblings; a playgirl who only knows how to spend riches, play with men and live in luxury, never seeming to take anything seriously or do any work. To them, she is at best a pretty face and that's about it.

However, only few truly know Mai; those being Boonsri, Malee, her mother and her late lover. She is incredibly calculative and manipulative, knowing how to effectively and efficiently get what she wants, especially when it comes to dealing with people. She is ambitious to an extent and wants power and influence... but her means of getting such are way different. Due to her occupation and holding the favor of many wealthy families and patrons, Mai has countless connections, even to the darker side of society.

She also truly and wholeheartedly cares for the special few in her life. For them, she would do anything and sacrifice herself for their sake. Though she does not often show it, she worries often about those people in her life, especially her little sister Boonsri now that she is in a place beyond the horizon and far away from her home. She is not above the law and there is no limit to what she would do.

Description:
Unlike many of her siblings, Mai's appearance is not that of a warrior or a fighter of sorts, but rather one of a beautiful maiden or princess. Her lovely fair skin, dark silken hair and exquisite figure contribute to her beauty and grace, earning her many admirers. Aside from her natural talent, her physical features are a key factor to her success as a performer of music and dance.

She generally wears her dancer's outfit everywhere she goes as a symbol of her status as well as her identity. These silk and satin drapery and cloaks comes in many beautiful shades colours, namely pink, blue, white. All over her body are silver accessories and ornaments. Often she is seen carrying either a fan or an umbrella.

Weapon of Choice: War fan ( Tessen ) Subs : Poisonous hair pin and concealed blade in umbrella.

Background: Mai was born in the year of 340, later becoming the 4th youngest child of the Calar's. From a young age, as a child of high social standing, she was put through a lot of enormous mounts of studying and schooling to expand her knowledge and increase her intelligence as well as harsh training in martial arts and fighting. She easily excelled in all fields being a clever and gifted child at birth and was hailed among the more promising of his children. However, despite her abilities and potential, Mai's heart was not in the art of war or fighting, but rather in performing arts. From an early age, her dearest mother whom she had spent most of her time with took note of her interests and capabilities, hence making plans for the young girl to learn to dance and play musical instruments. Under the private tutor's watchful eye, she flourished into a talented performer.

As a child, she had a good relationship with her younger siblings as the smaller of the Calar's offspring often remained together at their mother's side. Mai would often dance and sing for them during their afternoon adventures in the garden and around the family home, followed closely by their watchful and loving mother. However, as the years passed, the siblings grew apart as one after the other they found their own paths and interests, instead preparing to carve their own ways in life. Still, they were family and she could not help but love them, even though each became more like strangers as the days passed on. The last thing she could bring herself to feel for her beloved younger siblings was hatred. Boonsri whom was beloved by all, remained close to Mai's heart as they grew and, though their time spent together grew less as each became increasingly busy with their own lives, their relationship did not seem to deteriorate. Instead, Mai learned to cherish those short and sweet moments with her little sister.

Going into her teenage years, the young Uduliadej grew close with her older sister Malee due to their common passion for the arts, often acting and performing in the playwright's plays. Over the years, Mai developed deep respect for her sister, stemming from her talent and character. To this day, they still have a close relationship despite having busy lives of their own.

At the age of 17, Mai joined the other 11 children of the Calar's in T'Odis to attend Boonsri's wedding to the heir Varxas II. They'd known for many years before that the youngest daughter would be married off when she came of age, but having her dear sister married off to the enemy as some object to ensure peace enraged and broke Mai's heart. Had she the chance, she would have gone in Boonsri's place but the agreement had been set in stone almost a decade before. Despite T'Odis being a strong and good empire to have on their side, the young princess hated her father for using his daughter as a chess piece. Though she herself knew that it was for the good of Parshum, she could still not stifle the resentment she felt that was partially directed at herself for her incompetence and inability to help her beloved sister when she needed her most.

Still, Mai put on a happy face for her family's sake and helped light up the festivities held in honor of the wedding with her performances. During the festivals, a young man caught her interest. He was one of the men who worked for the Imperial fleet on which the Calar and his family had sailed to T'Odis. During their stay in foreign lands and sailing back home, she got to know him and it was like fate, drawing two soulmates together. They courted for a year or so before he explained his intention of taking her own as his wife. However, to prove his worthiness as her suitor, her lover followed tradition and sailed out with his crew to bring back a Child of Vavos. He and his ship were never seen again.

At present, Mai remains in Ka Ja Ta and has grown considerably in fame and influence over the society without coming off as posing a threat to other high standing members of society, such as her older siblings. She wishes to have full control over her life. She regrets being unable to help Boonsri when they were younger and will do anything to do help her beloved sister now that she has some power of her own.

 

[Kayso]

Hanen Uduliadej Sumai Uduliadej

Played by Kayso

Age: 27 Age: 28
Male Female

Race: Parshumian​

Appearance:

As brother and sister, they have many similarities and just enough differences. Both are fairly tall at 5’9” and 5’10”, and they carry themselves with a regal and haughty air. Despite their propriety, they both have a playful look in their eyes that betrays their cunning, while both are also subject to heterochromia, which, ironically, enhances their cunning. It is not known why both the children have this particular eye condition, as it is rare and even rarer since they are not twins, but some suspect that it has helped them take on their namesakes, how it is they always know their ‘mark.’ Both have long, black hair that falls to the middle of their backs, each tying it up in fashionable styles with decorative combs, beads and ribbons. Their clothing is also costly, as they have no desire to downplay who they are or the power they hold as children of the Calar.

Bio:
The eleventh and twelfth children of Calar Uduliadej, they are both very close in age and confidence to each other and to Boonsri, the youngest daughter who was married into the T’Odis royal family. The two remained close to their youngest sister as she was sent to live in T’Odis, keeping correspondence regularly. Hanen and Sumai, who were never particularly close to their older siblings, or, even, to the rest of their family, preferred to socialize among their peers, and in so doing, have created a network of contacts and friends that is said to span the entire continent, even perhaps reaching into the farther lands of Azae. This network serves as a vast collection of informants, associates, allies, debtors, and those who just want to be part of their circle, and Hanen and Sumai use it. Always with the best honor, and in the best of taste, however. A debt never goes unpaid, by either side.

Being part of the Uduliedej 13, they were naturally trained in hand-to-hand combat. Hanen was given the long, thin samurai sword at the age of 4, and has practiced with it ever since. Sumai, on her 4th birthday, was given the dual short blade machetes. They have both become quite proficient in their respective weapons; however, they have developed an affinity for the use of poison, which they enjoy experimenting with in secrecy. As they say, “Poison will enhance mere objects into weapons, and will enhance weapons into killers.” While not cold-blooded killers, they have taken up the habit of keeping tallies of those whose lives they have taken, whether through self-defense, land skirmishes, or personal missions. It has become somewhat of a competition, though neither is particularly eager to triumph over the other.


Background:

At age 12 and 13, Hanen and Sumai were playing with a friend, the child of a noble family that lived on the outskirts of Ka Ja Ta, halfway in the country. As they ran around outside playing King, Queen and Servant (Hanen had taken it upon himself to play the servant), they heard a crashing noise coming from the front of the house. Following the shouting that had ensued, they ran to see a group of drunk mercenaries that had decided to tear down the gate of a wealthy estate for fun. When their friend’s parents had confronted the group, however, things turned sour and a fight erupted, ending in the loss of the parents’ tongues and the mercenaries disappearing. The children expected their father to do something about it, as he was the Calar and should care about the friends of his children, but no investigation came of the incident, even after their pleas to see justice. That was when Hanen and Sumai decided to take things into their own hands. Realizing the influence they held, they began to question people who lived or worked nearby, offering their assistance for any correct information they received. Through this experience, they found that everyone is out for the betterment of his or her own circumstances, and because of this, anyone could be bought with the right payment. After giving of their wealth, their skills, and their promises, they were able to track the small mercenary group down and, over the night, restore balance and justice. Due to the mysterious loss of their tongues, the mercenaries have become known by the common crowd as the Silent Sellswords. Ever since then, the two have realized the benefit of having trustworthy informants to turn to, and have been spreading their circle everywhere they see fit.


In keeping correspondence with their younger sister, they have recently learned some troubling news that has prompted them to leave Parshum and travel across the Dark Seas toward T’Odis, calling on some of their expansive contacts for assistance.

 

[Cosmo]

Theuderic Grimoald

Played by Cosmo (Character and character sheet created by Cosmo )
​

Age​

31
​

Race​

Kildran
​

Sexuality​

Heterosexual

​

Personality​

Sardonic || Abrasive || Pragmatic || Honorable [In a way] || Clever​

Theuderic has a very sharp sense of humor, sadly, his humor tends to be mean-spirited, grim and comes often at the expensive of others. If there is something one cherishes such as family, honor, religion or nationality, it will not take long for Theuderic to tear it down with a a cutting remark. He does not care what feelings he hurts or what bridges he burns, even if the world gasp in horror at what he has said, or the nearest warrior draws their blade demanding satisfaction, Theuderic will smile for his arrow has found its target, and in that flash of pain that he draws out from his words, an iota of pleasure worms its way into his heart. For the world is bitter and cold, so why should he be any different? Those with thicker skin or kindred sense of humor can find him quite amusing, but those are rare indeed and most of them have 'boundaries', and Theuderic can count on one hand the amount of times he has said something... and then regretted it afterwards wishing he could take them back. Suffice to say, Theuderic is a very abrasive human being as he has no care about the feelings of others nor of their personal values. He rubs off wrongly on nearly anyone he meets and what employment he finds tends to be very short lived simply because his employers cannot stand his remarks anymore and some have even tried to have him killed either before, or after, his contract with them has ended. To say he is 'harsh' is an understatement, as he has no love for the gods, sons and daughters of nobility or poor farmers, in the end, they can all 'piss off' for Theuderic only needs Theuderic as people are born into this world alone, and they die alone, life will be no difference no matter how people delude themselves into believing otherwise.

Despite his.. rough nature, Theuderic is a very pragmatic soul. He understands how the world works, his place in it, his value and, at times, how unimportant he truly is in the grand scheme of the world. The few times he manages to curb his tongue is when his pragmatism raises its ugly head and wards him off, often, due to not wanting to lose a possible profitable venture as Theuderic is not nearly as worried about his life as he is his reputation. This pragmatism is what makes Theuderic honorable.. in a sense. He would never claim to be a chivalrous knight, someone who rides out to save the princess from the dragon, if he were to slay any great beast, it would be for the girl's parents and the amount of gold they could shite out, and make no mistake, Theuderic has no qualms about killing, it is not that he enjoys it, it is just an action, something he has become immured to, any pleas of mercy or regret he has gets buried and locked away in the back of his mind and never thought of again, because, on the field of battle, he is no longer 'him', instead, he is an outsider watching his body move to the whims of years of training, experience and instinct and the people he kills? They simply lacked that. But, he is 'honorable' as he will never break his word or contract, while this seems surprisingly noble, it is entirely practical. As a mercenary, Theuderic has only his reputation, without reputation a man has nothing in this world. If he murdered a client or failed to uphold his end of the deal, no one would ever hire him again, at least not at his current demanded rates, and he would go back to the bottom again and have to scratch and claw his way back up. He would rather die then do that again, rather lay dying on a cold, bloody ground having shit his breech and scream for his dead mother in fear then restart once again. He will never, ever, go back on his contract or word, and this has led him to do terrible things as well as heroic actions that have earned him some renown as a soldier of fortune. It is never wise to underestimate the mercenary for despite his uncouth looks and wicked tongue, Theuderic is a very clever man. As he was once the son of a landed knight, and destined to become a knight himself, he was given the best of educations, however, he will never claim to be intelligent, that was always his sister's gift, instead, Theuderic is possessed of a base cunning. He is able to, often, talk his way out of trouble, if not handing out barbed words with every sentence, is adept at reading the intentions of others and has an instinctive awareness of a dangerous situation that usually manifest in sweaty palms. This base cunning is what makes him brave for Theuderic knows he is going to die. Not an old man in his bed, surrounded by children and held by a wife, he will die on some shit stained battlefield fighting for some puffed up noble with a gilded sword shoved so far up his ass that he spits out gold coins, and he accepts that. Sooner or later, his killer will come, and when that happens, all Theuderic can do is keep his chin up, smile and send the man on his way with a few, well placed, dying insults.
​

Description​

Theuderic is not a large man, nor a tall man, physically, he is quite average for a Kildran man which puts him on the lower end of the spectrum for most of the races, standing at a 'mighty', 5'11, he is not particularly broad either, while he has a fighting physique, he is not winning any contest of strength against laborers or other, stockier, men, but nor is he particularly quick never quite able to win any races when he was younger lacking the length of legs of slim, quick build of his fellows. One could almost say that his body is delightfully droll, and they would not be wrong, in fact, if anything, he is quite hair.y His arms and legs are covered in thick brown hair, and his chest in a much finer brown that all mask numerous scars that run along his body, his eyebrows are quite thick and are not what anyone would consider 'elegant', his face has a short, but thick, beard stretching across his chin, parts of it sticking a bit further out from the rest as if defying any pathetic attempts of its masters grooming, and from his head spills a great wealth of hair that stretches down past his shoulders. Grey streaks run through his hair and beard, the stress and rough life starting to age him prematurely. His nose is angular and tips down at the end, and could be called 'hawkish', his eyes, perhaps, the only singular beautiful thing as they are a deep forest green and while they do hold a certain weariness and sharp, dangerous glint to them, they are not quite as worn as the rest of him. Most of his features, individually, do not make a handsome man, however, when brought together, they somehow.. work, making Theuderic have a certain rough charm... which is often lost thanks to his sharp tongue and biting remarks.
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Weapon of Choice​

Polehammer

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Possessions​

1 Destrier Mare called Basina
1 Wine Skin
1 Water Skin
1 ox-tonque war dagger at his waist
1 hunting knife in his boots
3 Saddle Bags containing a mixture of oats, hard bread, cheese and dried fruits/meats
1 piece of flint and box of tinder
1 roll of parchment, ink bottle and quill
2 worn blue tunics, 2 worn leather breeches, 1 wool breech, 1 rough pair of leather boots, 1 pair of worn leather gloves, 1 wool cloak
1 worn gamberson, 1 chain hauberk, 1 suit of worn and dented plate armor including sallet helm and bevor
1 Flanged Mace
1 Polehammer
1 torn tabard of two foxes chasing one another used as a horse blanket
1 Saddle
1 hard sleep roll and wool blanket
3 coin pouches containing [Pending till I find the currency] spread around over his body, one tied around his left wrist and tucked in his glove, one tied at his waist, and one in the toe of his right boot.
​

Background​

"I have the honor, no, the great 'distinction', of being the son of Rolf Grimoald of House Grimoald, not the most prestigious or mightiest of houses, but a proud family nonetheless. My father, may the gods piss on him, was a landed knight, and unlike those other puffed up birds, we earned our nobility through battle. My great, great, whatever the fuck he was, grandfather fought under the esteemed Gex the Decapitator, ah, come now, you remember him, the man that lost the First Kildran Civil War and ended up executed? HA! That must have been fun to say, I wish I was that fucking speaker, 'Here be Gex the Decapitator, sentenced to Death by Decapitation..', anyways, what was I.. oh, right, my great whatever-the-fuck-he-was, was there when the soldier wounded Kalin! Saw it with his own eyes... or he... he was that soldier, I can't really recall the details and bugger if they really matter, either way, after the war, to keep up the idea that they didn't just lose a fucking war to a band of rebels with a quarter the resources, my family was given land and knighted along with many others, well, those dead nobles had to be replaced some how, right?

Anyways, go forward a couple hundred years, past those other civil wars, to this last one, aye, you know what I mean, the war against the commoner bitch whose greatest claim to fame is knowing whom to spread her legs to, but fuck me if she isn't doing better then us right? What I wouldn't give for a nice pair of tits, might be able to retire! Ha, so anyways, my esteemed father sided with the noble Prince Unger II, the great defender of Kildran nobility and all that horse shit. So, I'm a good son, was three and twenty then, joined him in war, now, I don't mean to brag, but I am a damn good fucken' killer. I am not a knight, I ain't no warrior, I'm a killer, plain and simple, even back then. But our great, glorious, prince couldn't lead his way out of a whore's bedchamber. Bested by fucking mercenaries. I fought them, they weren't all that great. I feared the other knights that sided with their commoner whore then I did those mercenary arseholes. Sure they fought well, but not well enough. No, we lost because... well, our great prince should have been reading strategy instead of how to poison his dear old daddy, and fuck me if he didn't, I would put my.. well, I don't got much, but what I would have says that boy murdered his daddy.

I did.. some awful things. Some of those caravans.. Well, awful things... Then the Battle of Bore's Den, city burned right down. Do... you know the worse thing about a city burning down? It isn't the screams of pain or please of mercy and cries of help. Its the smell. Of burning flesh and meat, and you know, what you smell is human. You smell children burning a room over and no matter how hard you hit that door, it won't come down, even as you hear their small little hits on the other side of the door begging you to please them... Just a piece of fucking wood between you, why won't it break, why can't you.. Ain't nothing you..

....

I, uh, well, we lost. My father and I were captured. My father captured trying to ride down their mercenary general in the confusion, I was captured when.. Well, it doesn't matter. War was over. Glorious prince that he was fled with his cock in hand. We were prisoners for time and dragged before the whore queen herself, she was rather attractive, but I imagine she was, I mean, hard to attract a king's attention if you are ugly as that areshole in the corner... Offered a choice. Serve or banishment. Could have been worse. Could have had us executed. Ah, but my father, the brave, honorable was has, spat on the floor before her claimed throne, he was forcibly removed, his armor, coat of arms and weapons torn from him and together we were thrown from the castle. We traveled home and... were different men. Something in both of us had broken during that war and it would never be the same. We got home just in time to see its new ruler arrive, big fat toad of a man, a merchant we used to deal with in a neighboring village, he had grown quite wealthy during the war, playing both sides but throwing in his coins with the winning side at the right time. Came with a 'noble' offer, he would marry my sister, who was beautiful, kind.. and so smart. She didn't deserve to be married to that fucking toad of a man who was three times her age, but my father agreed, better she have a roof over her head and food in her belly even if she had to lay under that fuck of a man. My father hung himself that night, in the barn. Fucking coward. Couldn't stand to see his family home taken away, so he ended it. It didn't matter that he was leaving us behind to deal with the mess, that short sighted fucking fool. I was forced to give my sister away and pretend I didn't see her tears. I didn't stay for long, I couldn't, not anymore. I left. I abandoned my sister as well, last I heard she had two children and that fat fuck had a terrible fall. I believe she is married to a sweet heart she used to have when she was younger, one of our old knightly neighbors who is also widowed.... I hope she is happy. I wandered for bit. Worked here and there as a hired sword. Saved a few peopled. Killed.. many people. Visited the other nations, also, may I say, fuck Roadalia and all who live in there, bunch of crazy religious freaks. Now, here I am, back after these years in this fucking land with its whore queen and well..

Oui, did you fucking fall asleep, Hey!... Ah, what an arsehole... Bring me another Ale!"​

 

[Lakita]

Maerwynn T’iiosha

Name: Maerwynn T'iiosha

Race: Predominantly Kildran. If you track down her family tree you'll find a T'Odis here and there but not nearly enough to count. However, it still counts enough to explain her unusual surname.

Age: 22


Description: Maerwynn has straight, dark-brown hair that falls just below her shoulders. It's often mistaken for black however, as she's never quite in the right lighting. She stands at around 5' 7" tall and has a small, slender physique. She has a slight ruddy complexion especially on the bride of her nose. She suspects it's because of her time spent out in the cold. Maerwynn wears a heavy fur coat with a deep hood on top, though it reaches down to her knees (like an overcoat really). It's essential to living in the Lawless Lands, and so are her hide boots, gloves, leggings, and an invention of her own make - goggles.

The makeshift goggles are made of bits of glass and leftover pieces of animal hide. Maerwynn speaks with a bit of vocal fry and tends to use short, to the point phrases (a habit picked up from her upbringing in the Lawless Lands).


Weapon of Choice: A simple crossbow


She also has a small hunting knife used to skin animals.


Personality: Maerwynn T'iiosha, despite her dislike for her surname, is all about family. After all, in the deep woods of the Lawless Lands, you can trust only those born of the same blood (and even then, you must be wary). Growing up in a secluded cabin has also made her deeply suspicious and wary of strangers. At the same time, however, it has only increased her natural curiosity. There's only so many days you can spend in the hinterlands before the sight of trees and snow bore you to death. Maerwynn is quick to adapt to her surroundings but she doesn't make decisions on the fly often. She prefers to think things through for a long time, perhaps a day or so, before acting. Once her opinion is made on something or someone, it takes a while for it to change. In this way, Maerwynn can be both a most loyal friend and a deeply prejudiced enemy. If faced between taking a beating for a friend or escaping unscathed, she's the type to grit her teeth and tell the assailant to "get it done fast". Despite her loyal nature, Maerwynn also remains a very private person and leaves much of her personal life out of public knowledge. What happens at home, stays at home, so to speak. She's also a very practical person when it comes to things outside of her family/friends, as she's been burned (sometimes literally) too many times to take much pity on anything. In the woods of T'Odis, a wandering beggar is often found out to be a bandit scouter - experiences such as this makes her remain a bit cold to others. Although she fits many stereotypes of the "gruff, crazy hermit in the woods" Maerwynn does not go out of her way to antagonize others. At least, she doesn't mean to. She may have a short way with her words but often-times it is out of necessity, not malice (in her opinion). Being civil has saved her life more than once and Maerwynn tries to be as polite as her somewhat brusque nature will allow.


Background:

A list of entries in Maerwynn's diary:

The wind's howling. It's going to be another big one, I can feel it. Father taught me how to look out for blizzards. How to build a dig-out in case I ever go stuck in one too. Luckily, the small fire we have inside keeps the worst of the cold from reaching our bones. For now, anyways. Fire's greedy and always asking for more than we can spare and eventually, we have to let him starve if we don't want him to devour our house. Father taught me this, along with how to catch the rabbit that's spitted and roasting right now. Yes, Father taught me this and many other things. But now, I'm not sure if he could even tell me his own name. I can hear his breathing, the creak of his chest struggling to take in more air, his slight moans as he tries to tell me whatever it is that he cannot. Life, it seems, remains harsh and cruel to the end of his days.



I've wrapped Father up in whatever bandages we had. When that ran out, I used my blankets too. He almost looks like he's dressed in what we buried Mother with. I think Mother looked better. At least she looked peaceful when she left. Father looks like he's screaming. It wasn't always like this. I thought that it was a wolf bite when he came home. Or that maybe one of our Yiptiks had gone feral. Maybe Yarah - she's getting more wilder by the day. He didn't tell me anything about the attack. What it was, what had happened, if we should be worried of a second attack. Nothing. And now he tells me nothing too. I remember when I cleaned up his wound, how hard the bite marks were. Exactly like the deer we bury in the snow for later. I thought little of it then. I wish I had thought more and perhaps persuaded Father to go to the Lawful Lands and find a healer. I hear they have a lot of those there. It's in my books. Here, we have have bandages, snow, and ice-grass tea to patch you up. It didn't work on Father.



I look at him sometimes, when I'm changing his wrappings. His hands are stuck to the wooden chair, his fingers almost breaking the arm-rests. And yet, when his grip shoves the splinters through his nails, there is no blood. As if he is frozen. I wouldn't know if he died or not if not for his eyes - they are always moving. They scream at me, plead at me, curse at me, until I cannot bear it any further and cover him up again. I don't know what he's asking of me but I know I'm trying my best. Every day I try to feed him some soup but it merely slides out of his mouth. I peer in sometimes, to try to poke it down, but all I can see are his blackened and receding gums along with his shriveled tongue. He's stopped drooling for days now. I try to tilt his head back but it's so brittle and hard I'm afraid his head will snap right off. Sometimes I'm afraid of why he isn't dying, and I want to snap his head right off. But I don't. Because he is my Father, and family means everything to me.



It's so cold here. I've had to kill Yarah... her fur I can use for Father, the meat for me and the rest of the Yiptiks. We ran out of firewood today too. I'll need to cut some later. Now that the worst of the blizzard is over, I've begun to think more clearly. There must be a cure somewhere beyond these woods. Father doesn't seem close to dying - his eyes are moving faster than ever before. I don't know what's keeping him alive - he hasn't eaten or drank anything in days - but whatever it is, it's working. The old sled behind our shack isn't strong enough anymore to drag Father along though. The wood's too rotten. I don't know if it's a good idea to leave him behind though. I don't know how long it's going to take, or if anyone's going to come visit our shack in the future. I don't know what to do.



Another snow-storm today. It doesn't look like it's going to be a long one like before though. I have made up my mind to go beyond the Lawless Lands and come back to cure Father. I'm bringing the crossbow with me. It will be safe. I've released all the Yiptiks today as well - there's no point in them starving while I'm gone and Father can't eat them in his state. I have a bag packed with enough for a week if I skip meals and my snowshoes. It should be enough. When I told Father that I was leaving to find a cure, his eyes stopped moving for once. I thought that he had died, until I heard him groan. When it became apparent to us that he could say nothing more than a gasp, he began to move his eyes again furiously. I think that's as good of a farewell as I'm going to get. I kissed him on the forehead and it felt like I was kissing a block of ice wrapped in bandages. It's close to sun-up soon. The wind's quieted down a bit but the snow's still falling. Still, if I'm ever going to make it in time I need to leave now. I've said my good-byes to both my family and my home but at the same time it's hard to leave. My stomach's turning. It will be the first time I have ever left these woods. The thought of it fills me with as much dread as it does anticipation. I don't dare think of it as my last. If - no, when - I return, it will be with a cure.

 

[Dominaiscna]

Name: Ysuba Kovalyova
(common Kildran : Isolde Kovalyova )

Age: 25 (born year 344)

Race: 75% T'Odis 25% Parshumian

Sexuality: hetero-sexual

Personality: Ysuba generally is a reserved and quiet young woman who keeps to herself in order to not attract unwanted attention to herself. Due to living constantly on edge, she is cautious and seems to always have her guard up around people who she does not trust and often, she would bear a placid expression, keeping cool and collected under pressure or stress. However, she can be quite witty and fun to talk to if the situation, people and mood is right. She is careful with her words and actions, often thinking plans of action through carefully. Her strategic mind makes her excellent for seeking out flaws in plans.

Despite growing up under the care of the Lost Children, she has had to learn to be independent as members mostly become sleeper agents who will go out to live their own lives, going for months to years without having contact with the head of the group. It was inevitable that when she was old enough to fend and provide or herself, Ysuba would have to find her own path out in the world. Living alone has made her self sufficient and skillful in many trades of everyday life. Despite striving to remain alone for her own sake, the young woman also craves company as any social being would. She yearns for human companionship much to her frustration and often feels lonely.

She is the type of person who would rather avoid conflict that comes her way if she can even if she may be capable of handling such trouble. She will most often pick to flee rather than fight if given the option however, if backed into a corner, Ysuba is not afraid to draw blood. She is an unflinching and ruthless fighter when she needs to be, due to her training within the Lost Children and years of surviving as a young and lone female within the lawless lands. If danger comes to her, she is not afraid to bite back.

Ysuba feels most at home out in the natural and wild frozen world of T'Odis, far away from where the towns and villages lie. There, she feels free and has the most fun in the snowy winter. She greatly enjoys hunting out in the wild despite the harsh cold weather and savors those moments of complete isolation where she can relax. She loves riding with the snow tickling her face and wind whipping her hood and hair back.

Description:

Ysuba who is a quarter-caste took after her father who was a pure T'Odis, rather than her mother who was a half-caste. She stands at an average height for female T'Odis with a slender yet lean build under her clothing. She bears white hair that reach her chest and eyes that are more silver than the common icy blue. Often she is dressed in black dress with a grey hooded cloak to help shield her against the cold. While hunting, she wears a black-blue outfit under her cloak in place of the dress.

She bears her insignia of the Lost Children on the back of her right shoulder.
The skin of her right fore arm is decorated with red skin-ink, a mark of honor for her contribution in L'Aorn during the imperial wedding of Boonsri to Varxas II. Despite being young, she had participated in the peace keeping of the wedding through the Lost Children removing opposing groups behind the scenes. It was with her bow arm that she took down 7 people.

Ysuba is often seen with her owl Lumi perched on her shoulder or flying around nearby, keeping watch. The bird of prey has a beautiful plume of white, grey and brown feathers with large gold eyes. The huntress also has a large and sleek grey horse by the name of Esen.

Weapon of Choice:
Ysuba was trained under her guardian in mainly swordsmanship though, before she was taken under his custody after her father's death, she has been sent back to Parshum to connect with her mother's side of the family where she learned archery. Later years have given the skills of being a huntress.
A T'Odis steel katana-like sword

A black and blue Hunter's knife/dagger

T'Odis ironwood longbow:

Background:
Ysuba is a member of the second generation of Lost Children

Spoiler: Lost Children Information

In short, Ysuba is part of the second generation of an underground (almost rebel-like) group of people who have been most commonly known as the Lost Children.

Lost Children are recognized by the tattoo (or Skin-Ink) that all official members bear on various parts of their body hidden under the wraps. It is white against already pale skin so that it is difficult to notice and also references the snowy world the members grew up in. It is an insignia of the moon which makes reference to the Parshumian flag as well as their strategy of them being out of the lime light yet still being quiet but powerful and significant force.

Few members of the group bear red tattoos that, though appear to be for decorative purposes, are symbols of exemplary contribution and sacrifice to the work of the Lost Children. These skin-inks are recognized within the group like medals of honor for soldiers in the military. Due to them appearing as decoration rather than holding meaning, these insignia are often not covered up. These are permanent.

Once a member resigns, they have the option of removing the tattoo through burning it off with fire (due to a chemical reaction with the special ink) however, many choose to carry the insignia of the Lost Children for the rest of their lives. If they ever wish to return, it would be their ticket back into the group.

History of the Lost Children:
The group was made up mainly of Parshumian half castes who had been born in T'Odis and had survived the massacre of 310 in the Lawless Lands due to taking after their T'Odis parents.

Initially, it started out as individuals/small groups of half castes who attempted to aid Parshum in the war effort through causing chaos within the empire, trying to slowly dismantle T'Odis from the inside in their own ways. They were mostly characterized by their use guerrilla warfare within the Lawless Lands as well as more undercover missions. As the years rolled by and the war raged on, the small groups of half castes began making contact with one another, realizing that they all shared a common goal. Hence, this gave birth to a nameless rebel group who would only be named later as the Lost Children. They acted completely independently from Parshum and on their own accord, based in P'Iking though their operations effected most of west T'Odis. With time, the group grew as more and more half castes joined their ranks. Still they were a small group, which was both a disadvantage in being unable to provide a lot of fighting power and an advantage as they were harder to track down or infiltrate.Few members made contact with Parshum and opened up a network for the gathering and distribution of vital information to Parshum on the happenings within T'Odis. Though the Lost Children never joined in directly fighting on the war fronts, they were of great assistance behind the scenes.

Their most significant contribution to the war was the assistance of Parshum soldiers in the surprise attack through the North Mountains. Their information and later on, smuggling and guiding of Parshumians through the mountains were key to the success of the attack. Many of the fighters within the Lost ranks joined in in the fight for the capital where they made their first official stand off out in the open against the T'Odis.

Their fighting power gave the side of the Parshumians a significant advantage as many members of the Lost had also been ex-soldiers, conscripted into the T'Odis army when the Emperor had become desperate for troops. Nearing the end of "the Battle of the North Mountains", many Lost soldiers who were unable to escape Justice Hordes, were known to commit suicide through burning them selves with Fire-Water in order to destroy their own bodies and leave them unrecognizable.

After the war when peace was made between the two empires, the Lost Children was to be disbanded though, many voiced their wishes to continue to serve Parshum in T'Odis as their was still great tension throughout the lands and another war was possible. There was also the subject of the Calar's daughter Boonsri and her protection as the sole keeper of peace between the nations.

In the end, a large amount of Lost members left the group in order to live their own lives yet most stayed on to adopt the task of being the Calar's official special forces within T'Odis. They would watch over and protect Boonsri in order to keep the peace... and be the ones to break the empire from the inside should war break out again.

Ysuba was born to a half-caste mother and a pure T'Odis father. At the age of 3, her father died of an illness during the incredibly cold winter of that year. Her mother would continue to look after her until she was 7 when she was sent to Parshum by herself without knowing the reasons for her sudden transfer. There she would be looked after by her Parshumian side of the family and would be taught in the basics of archery per request of her mother. She would remain in the island nation until the age of 9 when she was supposed to be sent back to T'Odis.

However, she was not greeted at the harbor by her mother but rather by a middle aged man named Kahek who was, at the time, a high ranking member of the Lost Children. There it would be revealed that her mother had been a Lost member who had sent Ysuba away due to all sleeper members being called back into service. However, she was killed during one of the missions. Per her request, the young Ysuba would be taken under the care of Kahek who was a good friend and comrade of her mother. He would become the fatherly figure for the young child and trained her in swordsmanship and the art of fighting. To Ysuba, he was teacher, friend, ally and, most importantly, family.

6 years later, Kahek would pass away illness. 15 year old Ysuba who had up until then been completely under the guidance of her guardian, found herself completely alone. Before his passing, Kahek had referred the young girl to another Lost member but she had later decided against being under the care of another guardian and instead chose to survive on her own. By then, he had taught her everything that she knew, enough for her to fend and provide for herself. She inherited his small shack of a home and though she would no longer have any family, Ysuba was not alone. She had Esen, a horse Kahek had found, tamed and given to her as a birthday present a few years back and Lumi, an owl trained and given to her by the Lost Children as a means of finding and connecting with them again after she chose to live by herself.

At present, Ysuba traverses the snow tundra of the eastern lawless lands, having made a name for herself as a ruthless huntress without raising suspicion as a Lost member. She has generally been living alone with only her owl and horse as companions though has made several acquaintances within the towns she frequents. Despite having not gone on a mission or had contact with the Lost Children for over 2 years, she knows that when the time comes, they will send for her again and she will be ready to fight.

 

[Saavedra]

Astoria Ci Garland

26 years old Kildran noble, famous scholar and philantropist​

Astoria Ci Garland was born to the noble Garland family. Her mother died in childbirth, and she was doted upon by her father and grandfather. Her intelligence manifested early on and, though her father insisted on leading her toward the kind of life any noble daughter could expect, Astoria´s grandfather often satisfied her inner need to use the family library, or hold conversations with those not of the nobility. Life was pleasant, calm, but not devoid of mental challenges as Astoria learned about all sorts of subjects: history, literature, architecture and engineering, etc...

When she was sixteen years old, the civil war in Kildra began. Her father supported Queen Suzane, and died for her in one of the first battles of the war. This left Astoria to mourn alone with her grandfather. It was during this mourning that the two of them decided they had grown tired and uninterested in the games of power among the nobles. Together, they decided to abandon everything and give themselves to that which the two of them truly desired: a life of study and observation, to gather knowledge and share it with others. A scholar´s life.

The Garlands sold their lands, freed those servants unwilling to follow them, and left to establish themselves somewhere else. Soon, wherever it was they built their home became a footnote in their lives. Astoria and her grandfather travelled far and wide, studied and learned whatever they pleased from whoever was willing to teach them, built up impressive libraries and became patrons of the arts, and participated in different businesses with positive result for the most part. They lended a hand to those that required their help, and soon had powerful merchants and personalities in their debt.

Eight years after they left their ancestral home, the Garlands own a vast fortune, have more friends than enemies in the noble courts and trading houses of three nations (Kildra, Roadalia and Libertia), and possess a reputed status in the scholarly world all across the continent. Their willingness to help and neutrality toward politics has made them either amiably popular, or affably inoffensive among the ruling classes. Their economic and scholarly generousity has improved the lot of merchants and commoners in many towns and villages.

Astoria measures an unimpressive 5'4", making her about as tall as the vast majority of Kildran noblewomen. Her body is generously endowed, with fair skin that contrasts with her fiery mane, and eyes bright and intelligent. Her clothes lean toward simple colours, fine details and large volume. Reds and greens with golden filigree over white or black. Dresses and robes that wrap around her like walls around a castle, and which hint at her character. However, this Kildran noblewoman does not often wear jewels beyond a brooch on her neck or perhaps a couple rings around a finger. Her outfits are therefore simple and comfortable in structure, but carefully detailed and adorned so as to avoid being ostentatious.

Astoria often moves at a hurried pace, with firm steps and clothes bellowing in her wake. That is not to say she lacks grace and elegance. Quite the opposite, in fact. Her noble origins are obvious to anyone in her presence through her gentle gestures, soft voice and sheer charisma.

Like any other Kildran noblewoman,she is polite and gentle. However, Astoria has been spared a life of power games and submission, allowing her to grow open and strong in character. Even though she spends most of her time poring over parchments of all sorts and dealing with the lower classes, she projects majesty and gives orders without hesitation. Astoria is more a scholar than a politician, yet she is not shy, much less meek. While she does not abhor taking part in social events in the courts of any country, she prefers to host visitors from strange lands. It is these moments that truly bring out her inquisitive character, and make it obvious that hospitality is her favourite pastime. She is eager to listen and learn, and appreciates books and recollections more than jewels or horses.

That said, her eagerness to make a guest feel at home can be overbearing at times. Even more than her wide knowledge of the world and its peoples. Astoria sometimes behaves more like an interrogator than a host, and does not shy away from asking awkward questions. This young woman can put people in tight spots, sometimes as a small test of their character or truthfulness, or as a form of malicious teasing.

Astoria learned to use a bow when she was a teenager. She has not touched one for the last eight years. Nor any other weapon, for that matter. Astoria´s defence and offence are of a very different nature: the allegiance of trading captains and caravan heads, the gratitude of burgmeisters and guild masters, the ear of dukes and knights, and many more. The Garlands were always important figures in Kildran society, but Astoria and her grandfather expanded their family´s wealth and prestige far beyond the Old Kingdom´s borders. Through their combined efforts, they have amassed a fortune in assets all over Azae, particularly in the river triangle that spreads through the center of the continent, and in the coasts of the Dark Seas. They own or hold shares of ships, caravans, libraries and bookstores, alchemy establishments, inns and hostels, engineering guilds and several other businesses. Rather than amass wealth through specialization in a single activity, the Garlands´ thirst for knowledge has driven them to participate in a wide range of economic activities.

This has only been possible through Astoria´s impressive intelligence, her knowledge vast and wide, and her willingness to share the fruits of her endeavours with others.

That said, Astoria´s influence depends a lot on her neutrality and respect for the law of the lands in which she conducts her business. Also, while she is always accompanied by half a dozen well-paid sellswords of some repute, Astoria is as good a fighter as most noblewomen... which is not at all.