Fantasy (Characters) Chronicles of Cre' Est

[GojiBean]

Hoyo all!

I'm here to make a character sheets thread for the RP I'm working on, Chronicles of Cre' Est!

I've got two characters in mind for the moment, and am using placeholder images for them until I can commission custom images for them! The artist for the first character's current face claim image is skchkko, and I can't find the artist for the second image. If you're able to identify them please let me know who they are and I'll credit them! (I have a sneaking suspicion it's AI generated, but since it's a placeholder I don't mind using it for now)

Here we go!

• Lorraine
• Personality
• Biography
• Recent Events

• 
  
  Birth Name: Lorraine Xe' Almna
  
  Age: 24
  
  Date of Birth: June 6, 550 CE
  
  Height: 5' 4"
  
  Weight: 120 lbs
  
  Hair Color: Brown
  
  Eye Color: Amber
  
  Nicknames/Aliases: The Angel of Cre' Est, Angel, Doc, Doctor
  
  Profession: Clinical Doctor and Apothecary
  
  Clinic Established: June 6, 570
  
  Apothecary Established: November 19, 570
  
  Voice: (link ->) Rena Strober
  
• Lorraine is the personification of the word "benevolent." Born to a mother who was also a Doctor, and a father who was a military man forced to an early retirement due to injury, she was taught from her earliest memories of the value of life and the joy of being of service to others. Her mother impressed upon her to always consider the hardships others might be going through without her knowing, and to be kind and compassionate to all she met. Even humble insects which frightened her were living creatures worthy of respect, and that despite the fear they caused to live and let live was still the ideal she should strive towards.
  
  She hasn't a single malicious bone in her body and is adamantly against violence of any kind. Her father had seen the atrocities of war and impressed upon her that violence and force are never the best way to resolve problems. Even if everyone in the world her were to scream that violence is the only way forward she would push for peaceful negotiations and discussion.
  
  Having graduated from the prestigious Academy of Medicinal Arts at the age of 19 through an accelerated program, and having opened her first Clinic location on her 20th birthday, Lorraine very understandably is very proud of how much her hard work has paid off. She's the first to ever achieve graduation before the age of 25, and the first to open her own Clinic within 1 year of graduation. Her Apothecary was opened five months later, adding another accomplishment to her resume as the first ever to open both a Clinic and Apothecary within 8 years of graduation.
  
  Her success was viewed as prodigious by the majority of her peers and even many of her instructors. But Lorraine has never considered herself a prodigy as doesn't appreciate the implication that things just naturally came to her and gave her an advantage over others. She worked as hard as anyone could possibly work and sacrificed all of her free time, including any time for family and friendship, during her years of study at the Academy in order to graduate through their accelerated program.
  
  For all the good on the surface, Lorraine has her demons. Her father passed away during her time at the Academy. And because of a combination of her dedication to her studies and the fact that the Academy withheld mail from her until after her graduation, she never knew of her father's passing until it was too late. The fallout from this remains her greatest regret, and has become a source of continued nightmares.
  
• Lorraine was born to Helena and Rikard Almna on June 6, 550 CE. It had been raining all night and into the morning as her mother struggled through labor to deliver her. But at long last Lorraine was brought into the world. And as her mother held her for the first time the rainclouds parted just enough for the sun to peek through the window of the hospital. Her parents took it as a sign from Peur'tia that their daughter was blessed and would bring honor to their family.
  
  Raised with nothing but the strongest love and care from both her parents Lorraine wanted for nothing as a child. She dedicated herself to following in her mother's footsteps as a Doctor and a healer. And the thought of being able to bring both relief and happiness to others was what fueled her. Despite being bullied as a child, she held nothing against them and never fought back. She took the abuse and let it roll off her shoulders as she continued treating them with kindness and empathy. The older she got the more this way of living proved to her to be the right way forward. Eventually the bullies turned to admirers, one of whom even sought her hand in marriage shortly before she left for the Academy. She was forced to turn him down for numerous reasons, however, including that she simply never felt the same way he did. But she assured him that she appreciated his feelings and hoped that he'd find someone who could return them in full.
  
  Driven by a desire to become every bit the Doctor her mother was she applied for the prestigious Academy of Medicinal Arts and, following a recommendation from her mother who had also graduated from the Academy before Lorraine was born, she was accepted into their accelerated program. Lorraine kept a note written by her mother tacked to her wall which read as follows:
  
  My dearest daughter,
  
  You are my pride and joy, my greatest gift to this world, my greatest achievement, and the source of all light in my life. Pray, my love, if you would seek the life of a Doctor you must accept this truth: You are to enter a world where you must sacrifice yourself for the benefit of others.
  
  The road ahead within the walls of the Academy is going to be brutal. But you must persevere. You must work harder than everyone else. You must prove that you care about where this Academy is taking you more than everyone else. And you must prove that you are more capable than everyone else. The world of a Doctor is a world of self-sacrifice. You must give your all for the benefit of others which means you have no room for ego. Humble yourself, my love. Pray to Peur'tia every night as we've always done. But not for strength, courage, or fortitude to endure the duress of the Academy's schedule and teachings. Pray instead, my love, that you might remain true to your heart and your dreams of old that you may bring joy and comfort to all around you. For it's in the light you bring to others that you'll find your own happiness.
  
  I love you more than words can convey, my daughter.
  
  Be safe. Be happy. And never let anyone or anything discourage you from seeing your time on the graduation stage.
  
  Sincerely,
  
  Mother
  
  This note from her mother became her pillar of strength through all of the sleepless nights, the study sessions, the practical exams, and the attempted sabotage by her peers. And, at long last, the day of her final exams had come and gone. The list of those who passed was posted on January 8th, 570 CE. And the name occupying the #1 slot... was Lorraine Xe' Almna. She had graduated top of her class in the accelerated program. And upon seeing her name she nearly passed out from both happiness and relief.
  
  However...
  
  Because the Academy had withheld her mail she never received the communications from her mother that her father had passed away and that her presence was requested at his funeral which had long since come and gone during her time away. Her mother, stricken by grief, had developed a deep resentment for Lorraine's absence and lack of response to her communications. And on the day of Lorraine's graduation she arrived at the Academy to watch and greet her daughter as she walked off the stage. But not to congratulate her. Instead, Lorraine received a slap in the face, a scornful frown, the news of her father's passing and the fact she missed his funeral, and finally a proclamation from her mother that she had been disowned and was no longer welcome at the Almna family home. As her mother turned her back Lorraine fell to her knees at the base of the stairs in tears of confusion, disbelief, and sorrow.
  
  ... She was carrying her mother's note as she walked the stage...
  
• Because of her rapid rise to success in the medical field Lorraine was sought after by the Valkyom Royal Family. However, as Lorraine was unwilling to permanently separate herself from her community to become the Royal Physician, she compromised with them and instead became a volunteer on-call medic for the Royal Guards. Doing so reunited her with one of her oldest friends, Drake Rainscar, who had become the Captain of the Valkyom Royal Guards during their time apart. Because of the friendship and trust they shared he recruited her as a medical analyst for determining the cause of death for those assassinated or murdered in the streets. It also led him to request that she be the one to speak with the Red-Eyed Demon following his capture and four unsuccessful days of torture and interrogation.
  
  During her time with him, most of which was spent speaking at him rather than with him, she managed to discover that his eyes functioned in much the same way as a voice. The coloration would occasionally change depending on what he was thinking and feeling during the time she spent asking him questions. And she came to understand that when the coloration darkened it meant his reaction was negative, and when they brightened his reaction was positive. Reading these subtle cues in his eyes helped her determine several things about him and his time with Te'i Sai which painted a very unpleasant picture about his upbringing and, in her opinion, explained a lot about why he had become the living nightmare everyone knew.
  
  Following his escape the next day three months passed before Lorraine saw the Red-Eyed Demon again. She'd come home from her Clinic after a longer than usual day in the office. And as she placed her bag down and entered her room to change clothing he was there waiting for her. Initially thinking he was there to kill her she prepared to scream, but he closed the gap and slammed his hand over her mouth to silence her. Once she was quiet and had stopped struggling he took his hand away and began asking her questions which sparked a conversation which led deep into the night. After he left she tried not to give it any further thought. But, alas, that was not to be. He came first to her again two nights later and said he wanted to turn himself in so he could give the Royal Guards what they'd been after the first time he was captured. Seeing a change in his eyes and in his voice since their previous conversations she elected to go with him to oversee a peaceful event. Thankfully, though it was very tense at first, he was able to surrender peacefully with Lorraine as something of an envoy to help ease the transition.
  
  She learned the next morning from Drake, who came to visit her at her home to update her, that the Red-Eyed Demon had cooperated fully and given them more than they ever could have hoped for. They were planning to breach Roda Valley and wipe out Te'i Sai with the Red-Eyed Demon on the front lines with them. She accompanied them up until they reached the valley at which point she thanked the Red-Eyed Demon for what he was doing as it would not only ensure his own peace, but also for the nation as a whole given how much Te'i Sai had turned the night into a time of fear and discontent. The campaign was successful, and so the Red-Eyed Demon was granted a 6-month probationary period wherein which he would be under constant watch to prevent any incidents. Lorraine volunteered to be his overseer. And during the six month observation period he stayed in her home in the guest room, and was seldom far away from her even during her work at the Clinic. During this time she was able to talk to him like a normal person and came to learn much about him she never dreamed she would know. The more she learned the more sorry for him she became until she eventually took it upon herself, even after his probation was over and he was granted full amnesty and citizenship, to be his guardian until he felt comfortable enough to be on his own in society.
  
  With both Lorraine's help, and the support of Captain Drake whom he fought alongside in the campaign against Te'i Sai, he has been offered work as a combat instructor for the Royal Guards. He lives in the barracks, but Lorraine still goes to see him from time to time to check up on him and make sure he's doing well.
  

• Red-Eyed Demon
• Personality
• Biography
• Recent Events

• Birth Name: Unknown
  
  Age: 25
  
  Date of Birth: Unknown (September 28th, 549)
  
  Height: 6' 2"
  
  Weight: 200 lbs
  
  Hair Color: Black
  
  Eye Color: Crimson (Glowing)
  
  Nicknames/Aliases: Red-Eyed Demon, Nightmare, Reaper, Devil, Demon, Kyero (currently accepted name)
  
  Profession: Assassin (Former), Combat Instructor (Current)
  
  Voice: (link ->) Matt Mercer
  
  
  Theme: Red-Eyed Demon​
• The Red-Eyed Demon is a complex storm of conflicting emotions. Due to his initial upbringing as a child there's an innocent, empathetic, curious mind currently being suffocated by an ocean of pain, hatred, and indoctrination. Very few in the nation of Valkyom have truly accepted his amnesty or citizenship and actively avoid him or proactively shun him at their first opportunity since they know any retaliation could and likely will result in the revocation of both and lead to his lifelong imprisonment. Contrary to the deadpan and semi-angry expression on his face he's a calculating and observant individual who's always doing his best to process the information his eyes take in and make a choice about how to proceed.
  
  For example; On the first day of his amnesty and official citizenship he witnessed a child fall in the main marketplace and scrape their knee, which then started bleeding. He tried to walk over and help the child but was immediately confronted by a small throng of adults, mostly women, who accused him of trying to get close so he could make fun of the child or, worse still, try to harm them for his amusement. He tried to say he wanted to help, but his attempts to communicate were shut down and the adults all screamed for the guards. Thankfully, Captain Drake was nearby and came over to see what was happening and managed to diffuse the situation by assuring everyone the Demon was not going to do anything nefarious. Most did not believe these words, but out of respect for the Captain they dispersed and helped the child themselves while quickly ushering them away. Captain Drake gave him a pat on the shoulder and said it was good he tried to help. But that did little to ease the sting of what had happened.
  
  Because of this and many other similar experiences since his amnesty was granted he's taken to observing rather than helping when something goes wrong. The only time he took action was when a crazed murderer slashed a market vendor's stomach and tried to finish the job while the vendor's wife screamed for someone to help. He caught the man's arm and pinned him to the ground where he remained still as a statue while others flocked to see what had happened. Several people screamed that he was responsible despite the wife and the man, still bleeding profusely, screamed back that he was the one who saved the vendor. He had several stones pelted at him including once which struck dangerously close to his left eye, and had other food items like eggs thrown at him as well. When the guards showed up and spoke to the vendor and his wife they came to understand that the Demon had helped them and was detaining the true instigator of the incident. He was let off the hook, save for everything which had been thrown at him, and he went back to the barracks to change clothes and tend to the wound near his eye.
  
  Following this incident he refused to get directly involved with stopping crime in progress such as that, even if lives are at stake. This led him to observe another near identical incident whereby a clothing vendor was attacked and killed by a rogue mercenary who then proceeded to flee and escape. Since he was present to witness the event the crowd immediately turned on him and blamed him for the death because he didn't do anything to help. And, once again, the guards had to intervene and escort the Demon away while assuring him it's just the people's collected grief and shock which made them blame him. But since whispers of him standing idly by while murder takes place still circulate he's continued to struggle with determining what the right thing to do really is.
  
  Is he supposed to care and help? Or isn't he?
  
• The Red-Eyed Demon was born in Triveila's capital city of Auxeras on September 28th, 549 CE. His mother was a seamstress and his father was a shipping trade manager. However, unbeknownst to either the Demon or his mother his father led a double life as a cultist worshipping the nether realm. On the even of the boy's sixth birthday his father announced they'd be taking a family vacation to celebrate, and that their destination was Valkyom. Everyone was excited... Until his wife realized they were headed towards Roda Valley, home of Te'i Sai. She tried to explain away this strange development as maybe a thrill seeking behavior. But after their carriage was met by men in black robes which hid their faces who greeted her husband as "Master," she knew something was very, very wrong.
  
  His father announced that he intended to offer his son as a sacrifice to the dark spirits, and that his body would become the vessel for a dark God to enter this world. The boy's mother, obviously, was having none of this and tried to grab her son and flee. But she was shot in the back and left for dead while the boy was knocked out and dragged into the valley and up into the mountains to an ancient ritual site long forgotten to the outside world. He was tied to a post as the ritual circle was prepared. And come nightfall the ritual had begun by candlelight. His father read from a strange book while the others stood around the circle and chanted his words back to him. A shadowy mass began gathering beneath the boy as he looked on in terror. Before long the mass gathered and rose into the air before him with a pair of large glowing red eyes staring at him. His father stepped forward around the shadowy mass and used a ceremonial dagger to stab the boy in the chest just below the heart. The shadowy spirit shrieked before diving into the wound; a pain the likes of which the child never knew before and would never feel again.
  
  As this took place, however, the enraptured cultists failed to see that the boy's mother had survived her wound and bashed her husband's head with a lit torch taken from their horse drawn carts. She proceeded to violently flail the torch at anyone who came within range, including the shadowy mass which dispersed to nothing, ending the ritual prematurely. She paid a heavy price for her bravery, however, as she was stabbed and gashed multiple times before finally managing to force them all into retreat after too many of them had been set on fire by the torch. Cutting her son down and dashing away with him she collapsed near the bank of a river which flowed down into the valley below. She reached up to touch her son's weeping and terrified face, smiled lovingly at him, and begged him to live. Using the last of her strength she shoved him into the river which swept him away down into the valley before the light in her eyes faded under the pale moonlight.
  
  The following morning the boy's body, weak and wounded, but alive, was discovered by members of Te'i Sai. The Grandmaster, Te'Kai, happened to be in attendance to oversee a new training exercise when they found him. And as he checked the boy he at first considered ending his life as a mercy. That was, of course, until he opened the boy's eyelids and saw the glowing red spheres lying beneath. Entranced by the crimson glow and having his mind instantly filled with possibilities and a vision of what this boy could become he immediately changed his mind and adopted the boy as his own son to raise and train personally from this point foward.
  
  The Red-Eyed Demon's legacy had now begun.
  
  To call what he experienced "training" is an insult to the word. The Grandmaster expected absolute perfection from day one and harshly punished the boy for even the tiniest infraction or misstep. If the angle of his foot was off by even two or three degrees he would be back-handed across the face. If he stepped incorrectly or used the wrong hand during an exercise he was given a thorough beating. And if he ever spoke out of turn, refused to obey an order, or acknowledged the existence of anyone other than the Grandmaster he was subjected to hours of torture before being thrown into a tiny stone room devoid of light or furniture; a form of solitary confinement in total darkness. He was indoctrinated from day one as well with the Grandmaster repeating these words, verbatim, every day before training began and forcing the boy to repeat them:
  
  You are the voice of Te'i Sai. The blade of balance. The soul of progress. To kill is not to err, but instead to hasten the cycle of life to its natural conclusion. And only for those who deserve it to be made so. You are beyond the laws of society. You are beyond the limitations of man. You are the darkness of night made flesh. You are the wings of truth given form. You are the Red-Eyed Demon.
  
• The Red-Eyed Demon was captured by the Cre' Itian Royal Guards after they created the ideal situation for Te'i Sai to take action. However, it proved to be much easier said than done. Even standing 6' 8" and weighing almost 260 pounds of raw, lean muscle, Captain Drake required the aid of three other Royal Guards to immobilize him while a fourth knocked him out. With the Demon in custody they tortured and interrogated him for four days straight to try and get anything they could about Te'i Sai's whereabouts from him. However, their efforts were unsuccessful. That is until Captain Drake called upon Lorraine to come in and speak to him. It took some convincing, but he assured her he just wanted her to speak to him like a human being for a change of pace since torture and hard interrogation weren't working.
  
  Lorraine sat down across from the Demon for a few minutes before finally breaking the silence. She introduced herself and asked him basic questions about himself and if he was all right. She offered to tend to his wounds since she had medical supplies with her. But when she tried he lunged at her, stopped only by the shackles which kept his ankles on the floor and his wrists pinned to the wall. He'd lunged so hard the wrist shackles cut into his flesh and nearly toppled Lorraine backwards over her chair with how much it surprised her. Collecting herself she again offered to help him. She even went so far as to demonstrate that her salves wouldn't harm him by lifting her sleeve and using her nail to scrape her arm and apply the salve to her own skin. After the demonstration he seemed to relax a bit, but he still leaned away from her when she reached for him. But it was at that moment she noticed something.
  
  He was shaking.
  
  Whether it was out of fear, stress, his malnutrition, something else, or all of the above was up for debate. But given how wide his eyes had gone, even if they had the physical appearance of fury with the furrowed brow, she couldn't help but feel that he was afraid of her touch. She gently applied only the salve itself to his skin being careful to avoid letting her fingertip make contact. Very slowly his body relaxed. But that expression remained. When she'd finished applying the salve he stared a hole through her right between the eyes before looking down to the area where she'd applied the salve. After asking if it felt better she saw the light in his eyes brighten slightly. And it was then and there she understood the meaning behind the color changes in those crimson spheres. From there Lorraine was able to glean much more information about both him and Te'i Sai, though it was only speculation which wasn't enough for Captain Drake to risk taking action for yet.
  
  The following day he escaped his captors while they attempted to transport him to the public stage for his execution. But after returning to Te'i Sai he was subjected to torture for allowing himself to be captured. During this time he contemplated much of what Lorraine had said to him during her mostly one-sided conversation with him. Chief among them were how "training" was supposed to be a time of safe learning to hone one's skills rather than a time of pain and suffering. If that was true then what had the Grandmaster been doing to him? She'd called it "torture." Was she right? It was somewhat similar to how the Royal Guards treated him. She also said that she saw a human being when she looked at him. But that wasn't right, was it? He was a Demon. A monster. People were supposed to be afraid of him. But she sat there in front of him with a calm smile on her face as she spoke to him. Curiosity overpowered the fear of retaliation by the Grandmaster for what he was about to do, and he returned to Lorraine three months later when an opportunity presented itself where he asked her to explain more about how she viewed the things she found out earlier about him.
  
  After hearing what she had to say his anger boiled over into a nearly blind rage. Stopping himself just short of smashing his fist through Lorraine's wall at her home, he asked her if the Royal Guards were capable of destroying Te'i Sai. She assured him that they were since they were the private army of the Valkyom Royal Family, and their numbers were far greater than most people realized. He agreed to turn himself in on her word that they would hear what he had to say about Te'i Sai. She reached out to the Captain who promptly sprinted to her house with protective detail and detained the Red-Eyed Demon while the Captain berated her for allowing him to get that close. She rebuked his actions and demanded to stay beside them as she affirmed resolutely that she had no reason to believe his intentions were anything but pure. Taking her at her word the Captain reluctantly agreed to peacefully transport him to the prison where they sat him down in the same interrogation room they'd met previously. But, this time, they simply spoke. And the Demon gave them everything. The entrances to the valley, the secret paths and tunnels they'd created in and out of the valley and the fortress, their numbers, the safest paths through the valley, the best way to approach the fortress, and the layout of the fortress interior.
  
  At Lorraine's urging the Captain agreed to bring his cooperation to the attention of the Royal Family who requested to meet him. Under guard, of course, he was escorted to the throne room where he declared that he just wanted Te'i Sai to end and that he was done with the 'life' they'd forced on him. The Queen, being the more empathetic and perceptive of the pair, approached the Demon and stared into his eyes for a long, long time before finally turning to her husband and smiling at him. Almost as if by telepathy he knew what she was trying to say and heaved a sigh before announcing that the Queen wished for the Red-Eyed Demon to receive amnesty in exchange for his cooperation. The entire room erupted into chaos and disagreement about the decree. But the King silenced the room and explained that there would be conditions to such a reward. The first was that he would remain under constant observation for a minimum of six months by someone trusted by the Royal Guard and the King and Queen themselves. The second was that any issues, no matter how slight, would result in the immediate revocation of the offer and he would be imprisoned for the rest of his natural life. Lorraine stepped forward to volunteer to observe him, and her offer was immediately accepted by the Queen who thanked her.
  
  Captain Drake requested another condition: that the Demon be there on the front lines to assist them with eliminating Te'i Sai. The King and Queen mulled it over before accepting the request. Thus, the Demon accepted as well and accompanied the Royal Guards to the valley where he advised the Captain how to lead his men forward from the moment they entered the valley to the moment they secured their victory. Unwilling to be the monster the Grandmaster had raised him to be he relinquished the kill to the Captain who took the Grandmaster's head as a trophy to return to Valkyom as proof that the organization was no more. Once they returned his six month probation began during which time he stayed as a guest in Lorraine's home and remained within sight of her at all times when outside of the home, even while she worked at the Clinic. This allowed the populace to grow accustomed to his presence even if they were unwilling to accept him as one of their own, given his history. But, accepted or not, the Red-Eyed Demon made good on his word and caused no issues during his probation. Once it was over he gained amnesty and citizenship in Valkyom and was given a job by Captain Drake as a combat instructor with the Royal Guards due to his combative prowess.
  

Side Note: You don't have to put as much information as I did into your profile. A single paragraph for the personality and biography sections will suffice. I often prefer providing less so that characters can show who they are through interactions. But for the sake of proper context I decided to go all out on these two. Lol.

Cheers!

~ GojiBean

 

[Firewind]

• Lonán Arzura
• Personality
• Biography
• Recent Events

• 
  
  Birth Name: Melidan ibn Anduin Arzura
  
  Age: 26
  
  Birth Date: November 8 548 CE
  
  Height: 6’0
  
  Weight: 195
  
  Hair Color: Red (was forced to dye it Black till 18 till he earned the right to be proud of it, Given the Unknown reasons of being born with that hair color. )
  
  Eye Color: Amber/Hazel
  
  Nickname/Aliases: Lonán, Raven, Red Raven, Lonán Khan: The Raven Warrior
  
  Profession: Full Time Mercenary
  
  Voice: Oliver Quinn
  
• Lonán is a straightforward Saharan who often does what he sets his mind to, damn the consequences. If his words do not reach then more often than not, he’ll resort to his fist or his weapons to settle conflicts. He may appear unfriendly at first but if one shares a drink with him, they’ll find themselves in good company before long. Even more so a good friend if one manages to make him feel the sting of their punch, or if they end up paying for the drinks not long after.
  
  He’s a stickler for budgeting his money no matter what. Whether it be for buying food and supplies, more bolts for his handheld repeating four shot crossbow, which he call‘s ‘Serena’s Flower’, etc. He always ends up making sure he has just enough to keep on hand for any other pleasures. Pleasures such as gambling in fight clubs, or a friendly game of dice (of The Cho/Han like variety).
  
  He’d never go to the red light districts of any town, more or less because he has yet to completely comprehend physical beauty as a strength. On the other hand, sometimes a pretty face or a gorgeous body may fluster him, he is quick to dismiss it as a moment of Mental Weakness. Then he’d meditate for an hour without saying another word.
  
  Whilst he values strength as a feature, he somehow despises when one uses their strength to do harm or evil upon those weaker than him. This has put him at odds with foreign bandits, diplomatic envoys, or even other Saharans. Perhaps a result of old wounds from a time long past…
• Born in November 8 in 548 CE, he was given the name Melidan by his Father Anduin, whilst his mother, Zahra Ravensword, raised him and taught the boy his Clan’s Oral History. Many a night he would listen to tales of how the Arzura were a part of a larger tribe at Saharan’s founding. Tales of Powerful Warriors like Kalandros Arzan, who shared blood with the first of many a person that outside foreigners claimed to have made landfall in this Continent millennia ago. Stories of Leaders like Zianro Arzura, often called the Wolf, Who became the most powerful, and popular Sheikh of the Clan for not inly his strength, but an uncharacteristic sense of wisdom, almost as if he was one with the desert. Melidan so wanted to be just like them. His mother would laugh when he said this at the end of each story. “And you will my son. You will.” She would reply to calm the energy of the boy.
  
  Yet, she knew the challenges the boy would have to face. For if not the fact of the Arzura not being as great or grand in the days of Zianro, Melidan was born with red hair, naturally. His mother would often blame Her own mother, who had a habit of mating with any warrior from any land. Perhaps Melidan’s grandmother spurned one lover too many and that one called upon their Sky People to avenge this cruel injury. But no matter the reason, for a time, Melidan was forced to dye his hair black as pitch, for fear of other children bullying him or the older Saharans beating him. He also learned the desert was a cruel place and not for the weak or faint of heart. When that day came at the tender age of eight, his father and his clan began his education in Saharan culture, how to fight, how to survive and ultimately how to be strong.
  
  Life was not without friends, and a young Melidan had made friends with a foreign merchant family from a place to the west, beyond the mountains. A girl by the name of Serena. By her home culture‘s status she was a bit of a tomboy, but to Melidan, he thought she was born on the wrong part of the world. One day, when he was Eighteen and had grown into a fine warrior and swordsman, he wanted to fight her in the way all Saharans would initially fight their intended lover. Little did he realize another had eyes on her and when she refused him, the man smote her and slew her in front of her family, and little did the other man knew it, in front of Melidan. He couldn’t remember what happened next, he felt what he described a flame burn across his mind and charging at his rival, and in the next moment he would see he had scarred his face the next. The rival told declared himself as Khotun Zankora, of an ancient Rival Clan of Arzura, and that the cycle of the Rivalry had begun anew in their fight, and Khotun would not stop till Melidan was dead.
  
  Then the man was gone, and Serena’s family could only mourn the loss. Melidan tried to help in anyway, but her father dismissed him, calling him a “Godless Savage.“ in his anger. He didn’t expect to be hurt by the insult, for Saharan had no need for the Sky People. Yet, why did it hurt him so much? Why did his spiritual strength waver at that moment? That was when the most un-Saharan like thought entered his mind. “If Saharan did have a God, why would they leave us In the desert like a coward?”
  
  And that was the End of Melidan Ibn Anduin Arzura. He went on one more great hunt with his father and when he slew the beast, Melidan declared he would no longer dye his hair black. Nor would he stay in the Desert when there was a world to explore, and questions that stirred his heart to go out into the world. Thus he took upon himself a new name to match the prestige his latest kill had brought him. He called himself Lonán Khan, The Raven Warrior. But he would later shorten it to just Lonán Arzura. With his sword in hand, he took to the trail Leading through the mountains, and has only returned to them every now and again.
• Lonán took a job as a bodyguard for a traveling Caravan at Nineteen. From there he learned how to gamble and play dice, the latter becoming a vice that quickly taught him to be careful with his money. For he had lost half his month’s earnings after a lucky streak, thus teaching the Saharan a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. A few months rolled by and eventually when perusing a weapons shop in one of the Caravan‘s stops, he came upon a repeating crossbow that fit in the palm of his hand, and would Fire four shots before needing a reload. He bought it without a second thought and taught himself how to use it in tandem with his sword.
  
  Three years later and Lonán met a friend he could count on for life. With Chesnut hair, four powerful hooved legs, the Stallion was being used as a carriage horse for a rich noble that bucked and rebelled every chance he got. Lonán negotiated a fair price (in that he threatened the poor noble for mistreating such a fine animal), and thus he earned the loyalty and friendship of said Stallion. Lonán named him Hawk. After traveling with the Caravan for so long, Lonán parted ways at age twenty two astride Hawk, to fully become a drifting mercenary. In the next three years, Lonán would soon make a name of himself, with many in the Mercenary profession calling him Red Raven, or simply Raven. He preferred Lonán. Melidan died with his best friend Serena. Lonán had become stronger than him, yet his desire to figure out if there was once a God of Saharan never left his mind. If he ever found it, he’d find a way to drag it back to the desert and make it beg in forgiveness for abandoning them and having others look down on them as mere savages.
  
  Indeed, Lonán never forgot those words Serena’s father said to him, and he never forgave them…

 

[Wyll]

Anwyll Dagir​

• Basic Info
• Background
• Current Events
• Personality

• 
  
  Name: Anwyll Dagir
  
  Nickname: Son of Wrath
  
  Age: 22
  
  DOB: July 5, 552 CE
  
  Profession: Hunter/Merchant
  
  Appearance
  
  Eyes: Deep, forest green
  
  Hair: Shoulder-length, curly brown hair – sometimes hidden under his cloak
  
  Height: 6” 0’
  
  Weight: 190 lbs
  
  Skin: Olive toned
  
  Distinguishing features: Wolf-themed yin-yang tattoo on the upper-right side of his back
  
  
• 
  It was no secret that Anwyll's father owned a lot of weapons, however, Anwyll had always believed it was because his father was an arms merchant. Sometimes, his father would leave their home in Gweynura for several days at a time, sometimes as long as a week on trips to buy and sell wares and he would always bring home something he kept for himself. Anwyll loved hearing his fathers tales of the beautiful places he'd go and people he'd see. A wanderlust stirred in Anwyll every single time his father went out. Yet, for some reason - even when Anwyll was old and wise enough to take care of himself - his father vehemently refused to let Anwyll come along on the trips.
  
  Anwyll never really enjoyed nor understood his father's insistence on Anwyll not following him, but he obeyed. After all, he was happy and everything in his life was normal, just the way it should be. But his world doesn't deal with normal. And so, one day, when Anwyll and his father were in the back room while his mother was cooking in the kitchen, some thugs that had come to Gweynura, posed as merchants, broke into their house. The only thing Anwyll and his father heard was the scream of his mother. His father disappeared from sight faster than Anwyll could blink and, by the time Anwyll got to the kitchen, he saw his father covered in blood, two sickles in hand as he mowed through the bandits...with a smile on his face? Who was this man?
  
  His father was so taken with his killing spree that he didn't even notice Anwyll was there until the killing was over. At that time, he froze and looked Anwyll dead in the eyes and not knowing what to say.
  
  "Who are you?" Anwyll asked.
  "I'll show you," his father responded.
  
  And the next day, the two of them were off and headed to the headquarters of the assassins. He knew two things very quickly. The first was that these were dangerous people and he couldn't believe his father was one of them. The second was that he wanted to be able to protect those he cared about the way his father protected him last night. He wanted in, he was allowed, and he very quickly made that his home. Visits to Gweynura were scarce and got scarcer with time. From once a week, to once a month, to not at all. He learned the way of the sword quick and the way of the bow even quicker. He and his friends would take bets on which one of them was going to surpass the Red-Eyed Demon. Anwyll was nowhere close, but he was the closest amongst his friend group.
  
  However, it probably wasn't even the most accurate to call themselves friends, as the circumstances of Te'i Sai didn't really give much room for affectionate relations. In Te'i Sai, the closest thing he had to a normal relationship was the one with his dad. But even that got testy due to the nature of what they did. His dad was definitely criticized for the care he had for his son, they were called "soft", "weak". But as Anwyll became stronger, and his skills became more impressive, it became harder for him to accept people talking down about his father, even if he had little love for him. And one day, he snapped. A young assassin, Marni, had gotten careless with their words and called his father a disgrace to the assassins in Te'i Sai. The following encounter was brief and left Marni slowly suffocating to death as they gripped their now-crushed windpipe.
  
  Anwyll expected to be punished for this. Instead, he was praised for his "strength" and given the name "Son of Wrath".
• 
  
  One day, coming back from assignment, he felt the ground shake suddenly. He made it just in time to see the mountain collapse and had to watch helplessly as the home he had known for the last 21 years crumbled before his eyes. One of his friends, Ailen, had managed to make it out and, in his hysteria and tears, the Anwyll was able to pick out one thing…”Red-Eyed Demon”. The Red-Eyed Demon had done this. His father…his friends…the Red-Eyed Demon had taken all of them away from him.
  
  In anger, Anwyll ran. He ran back to the only other place he knew, Gweynura, swearing on his father's life that he would kill the Red-Eyed Demon if he ever saw him again. Upon arriving, though wary of him, they took him in and gave him a home. They would visit him and remind him the ways of Treantos. These teaching that he grew up with now seemed so foreign to him, as if they were bringing logic from a different world. However, they gave him a roof over his head, so he wouldn’t question it. He spent months learning “the proper way to hunt” and the importance of life. After all, he was too old to be re-trained as anything other than a hunter. However, for the comfort of all those around him, he would also do trade with other nations, sometimes spending several nights in Valkyom.
  
  It took time, but eventually, he learned the ways of Gweynura; he found peace; he buried the Son of Wrath to be born anew; and, somewhere in the depths of his subconsciousness, he even forgot his grudge with the Red-Eyed Demon. The smile hadn’t quite returned to his face, but there was a new light in his eyes now. He would spend his quiet moments at the top of the forest canopy, watching the stars; many nights even falling asleep up there to the sounds of nature.
  
• 
  
  "Impossible is a word made up to give an excuse to the lazy”​
  
  Positive traits: Focused, Reliable, Resourceful, Athletic, Protective, Just, patient, loyal
  Maybe not-so-positive traits: Quiet, Cold, Quick-tempered, Stubborn, Proud
  Likes: Animals, Kids, Nature, Starry nights, Spicy food, A nice adrenaline rush
  Dislikes: Loading
  
  
  In anything Anwyll does, whether is was in assassinations or simply travelling from one place to the other selling food and wares, Anwyll refuses to accept the impossible as an option for him. If it needs to be done, it would be done and Anwyll refuses to settle for less. He is also complicated in many ways. The biggest of which is his violent history, which is constantly at war with the peaceful life he now tries to lead. Despite his learned disdain for violence, he knows it to be a tried-and-true fallback should all else fail and is still a highly capable fighter in every sense of the word.
  
  To most, he is quiet and friendly and very few have seen his angry side. Those that have seen it, however, know to be wary of it. Otherwise, he is the neighbor you always say hi to, but you don’t really know anything about. To those that have gotten to know him, he is fiercely loyal and will go to the world’s end for their sake.
  
  He is the type to offer his help but firmly refuses to let anyone help him and is definitely not the most in touch with his feelings. He is able to endure anything you do or say to him without getting riled up, but the quickest way to see the assassin return is to threaten his friends or children.
  
  However, he was haunted by one, powerful, unrelenting feeling. He doesn’t deserve the kindness of these people, nor did he deserve the life he now lived…therefore, the only way he could find satisfaction is in spending this life he’d been gifted atoning for the sins of his previous one.
  

 

[Mineczka]

• Basic Info
• Background
• Current Events
• Personality

• 
  
  
  Name: Sosil Youra
  
  Written: 소실 유라
  
  Age: 27
  
  DOB: 28 December, 547CE
  
  Commonly worn attire: Queensguard Uniform (Minus the elbow guards), and traditional civilian attire. Though it's common for Youra to wear parts of her armour underneath, hidden alongside her weapons should she need to fight.
  
  Eyes: Ablino, varies by light. Often either silver or Red.
  Hair: Black
  
  Height: 181cm || 5'11"
  Weight: 79 kg || 175lbs
  
  Nationality: Trivelia
  Notable features: Scarring along her body, often hidden with clothes and the like, most notably, a scar over her left eye, reaching down to her cheek is always noticeable. In the heat of a fight, Youra tends to wear a black demon mask over her mouth and nose, seeming to attempt to intimidate with just looks alone.
  
  Occupation: Queensguard, Painter at home
  
  Voice: Yui Ishikawa
  
  
• 
  
  Born in a smaller village outside the capital, Auxeras, during a brutal winter in 547 CE. Named Youra, as her eyes appeared to be wrapped in silk. Raised by two painters, it wasn't long in her life before she took up the talent as a child, starting simply drawing little pictures for her parents, and fellows in her village. As she grew, it was apparent quickly, she was out-growing the other children her age, often stronger and faster too. Though, such did not stop young Youra from continuing to paint, far from, even as the sunlight turned her iris crimson, she still wanted to create, to bring colour to the world, and found herself doing so at the Academy of Arts in the Capital. Sent off by her village in hopes to create something to outlive her, and put the village on the map... If only...
  
  Being from a small village compared to other students was a bit of a hassle for anyone, let alone Youra. Often called 'Angma' for her stature, she found herself the subject of harassment and intolerance. Disgusted by her peers, she sought fit to find herself elsewhere, to put her stature and physical abilities to better use than knocking in the teeth of some Noble's child. In which, she joined the Army. Finding where she excelled was easy, as Youra passed any physical test with flying colours, however, she was not the best with weapons, seeming just fit to brawl with her bare hands, taking foes down without drawing blood, externally at least. It wasn't until her instructor handed her a set of tonfa, with broad sides, bladed on both side, equally as deadly as they were defensive, while keeping Youra's hands closest to the action... A perfect fit.
  
  Taking the Tonfas, alongside her bow, Youra would begin her service, often standing guard, and using her ability of intimidation to keep the peace.
• 
  Years later, Youra received a promotion of sorts. Returning to the barracks after a patrol, she received a missive asking her to meet at a specific location in the palace, undetected, for further training. A challenge readily accepted, action, however, was not so easy. Subtle as to not raise any alarms, Youra would find herself scaling the palace wall in the cover of darkness, avoiding as much light as possible as she crawled atop the wall, scampering like a cat in the night, watching the patrols before moving. She was cautious, but quick, though not realizing how stupid the idea was to sneak INTO the castle. Reaching the destination noted on the missive, Youra sensed it before it happened. She was ambushed.
  
  Pinning her to the ground, two Queensguard, seeming to enjoy the moment as a third approached, "Well well, miss Sosil. You seem to have passed." With those words, her arms were released. She became a Queensguard that night. Having to train further was agonizing, intensive and brutal, but worth it. Donning the western armour of the Queensguard, Youra would continue her duties quietly, for now.
  
• 
  
  
  Blunt and straightforward, Youra tends to answer most questions with one or two words. Often keeping her voice low, she presents herself as aloof and distrusting, seeming to guard herself from any further harm. Preferring to quietly observe others, she makes mental note of everything of those she cares about, what they like, who they are, what they dislike, what flower do they most resemble, and so on. It isn't uncommon for Youra to sneak into the rooms of her companions, leaving small gifts or trinkets, or in some cases, to sew a hole closed with a cute embroidered pattern. Though she seldom shows any emotion, it doesn't mean she feels them, deep down, Youra can feel everything well in her chest, bottled, ready to burst, to explode her into action without a thought, yet, she controls herself as much as possible, preventing her from hurting someone, or breaking something...
  
  However, in combat, as soon as that dokkaebi mask is put on, Youra becomes a different person. A monster almost, Violent and cruel. Referred to as simply "Angma" during it, she becomes a one-woman army, uncontrolled and overwhelming. Ready to break everything in front of her, ripping and tearing until the job is done, uncaring to the damage she causes, uncaring to the thoughts of those around her. In that moment, every inch of rage she built up, ever insult hurled her way, every hate she feels, is expressed through great violence and anger.
  
  Likes: Yurei has quite a few likes, painting and flowers being a big two. However she's fond of sweets, wolves, and the act of singing. It's rare for her to not quietly enjoy someone's singing, even if quality is not there.
  
  Dislikes: Being referred to as Angma, it's a quick way to get punched in the mouth. Overly spicy foods, the scent of decay, coconut, and unwarranted criticism. Even if it's not directed at her, she still gets upset.
  

 

[AI10100]

• Li An
• Personality
• Biography
• Recent Events

• 
  
  Birth Name: Li An Huang [Last, First, Middle]
  
  Age: 28
  
  Birth Date: December 23, 545 CE
  
  Height: 5'8
  
  Weight: 146 lbs
  
  Hair Color: Brown with highlighted red strands (or terracotta, as he would insist)
  
  Eye Color: Black
  
  Nickname/Aliases: N/A
  
  Profession: Artist
  
  Voice: TBA
  
• 
  Li An is particularly known for his eccentricity— the ability to see beauty from something that is typically mundane and otherwise uninteresting; seeing the good in the bad; but also seeing the bad in the good; the mundane in the extraordinary. Or perhaps one would even hear of him due to his willingness to throw himself into increasingly dangerous situations for a glimpse of a feeling that he believes would enhance his ability to create art. This has led him to dabble in many kinds of crafts; even attending lectures in sciences and medicine even if it is beyond his comprehension. Li An is an opportunist who rolls with the balls that life throws at him; whether this is in the face of a great adversity or from some nearly divine blessing. As such, it would not be rare to see Li An in the most unexpected of places with his wooden box filled with his art supplies.
  
  Li An is a free spirit and, as such, is a seasoned traveler. When he felt that Triveila had nothing more to offer to him, he turned his attention to the other kingdoms. He throws caution to the wind and travels with it, letting the waves of life carry him to his next destination. This makes relations with him to be flimsy and shallow as you would never know when he would grow bored and move on to the next thing. The entire world is his muse and so he has no reason to stay.
  
  True to Triveilan nature, he is not particularly fond of violence or anger— much more partial to settling disagreements with diplomacy rather than his fists. He is unsettlingly calm even in distressful situations, surprisingly strategic and silver-tongued. However, due to his own travels, he understands that not many people share the same sentiments as him. As such, he employs bodyguards when traveling through dangerous territory and carries a dagger for protection. Ironically, despite his peaceful nature, Li An has attended a few lessons on different kinds of martial arts— though these were mostly so that he could translate such fluid movement into his art.
  
  Li An's ability to use most kinds of artistic mediums to portray his emotions and feelings is what has set him apart from the rest of his family who adhered mainly to watercolor painting. Li An is also particularly proud of his ability to make his paintings "move" using masterful usage of shadows, perspective, blending, and so on to create this illusion; essentially breathing life and emotions into a still image. While most would state that Li An does not have a set-in-stone art style, keen-eyed collectors and artists would oftentimes be able to tell an artwork that Li An made and one that is counterfeit.
• 
  During the cold night of winter on December 23, Li An cried as his mother brought him to the world.
  
  Li Wei and Li Xiang are renowned for their talents as a playwright and an actress respectively. There is something different when the muse herself is the one playing the leading lady; how the two bounce off each other so well that it elevates their respective talents. And so, Li An grew up seeing them on the big stage— how the spotlight shone on his mother and brought his father's name to a near international stage. That was a lot to live up to and whispers had already gone around about how Li An did not inherit either Li Wei's talent for plays or Li Xiang's charm on the stage. And he really did not— even when his parents had paved the way for him and given him tutors, he simply did not show the talent for it. Instead, his artistic capabilities were highlighted in pictures— sketches and paintings that he could transcribe from mind to paper.
  
  "A natural talent, aren't you?"
  
  But that went for most Triveilans, didn't it? A natural inclination to the arts because they were surrounded by a beautiful landscape, surrounded by artists everywhere they looked. Being a "natural", a "genius", or even a "prodigy" in the arts was not anything special. What could separate you from others was being innovative and inventive. One should not fear progress and breaking from the mold. His father had crafted beautiful narratives and employed new techniques in stageplays to draw the crowd in and leave them wanting more yet feeling satisfied all at the same time. His mother, on the other hand, did not create a technique but rather polished the basics to perfection, leading to a well-rounded actress who could tackle any role she wished. Two powerhouses would, naturally, create an offspring that could surpass their heights, correct?
  
  Li An would carry this expectation into adulthood. Both of his parents were ever supportive, allowing him free access to anything money could buy. After all, with their accumulated revenue as some of the most famous talents around, money was no issue. To say that he was born with a silver spoon would be no exaggeration, but it would also not be correct to say that he did not work hard. His parents were kind, yes, but they were also strict and their name alone held almost unbearable pressure. But Li An merely used the pressure to push himself further and further. He entered the Academy of the Arts with a stellar recommendation from a teacher, his portfolio, and the name he had begun making for himself. At the age of twenty, he graduated with his final piece depicting Auxereilla with the rest of the pantheon behind her as a mural. The piece had taken months yet no one could say that they had seen any of it when it was still a work-in-progress.
  
  Li An returned to his family and was welcomed home with pride. He continued on to paint sets for his father's play— a family collaborative effort that only lasted for months before the sense of wanderlust hit Li An. There was a world out there that he had not seen yet. Triveila was amazing, the capital was comfortable— but it was predictable. He did not learn anymore. So, he bid farewell to his parents and hit the road.
  
  He proceeded to make a name for himself as not just an artist, but also as a man who was willing to try anything and everything. He entered lectures with permission and listened intently. He went into martial arts dojos and spent months training there before leaving once he felt satisfied. He would pick up the sword, the bow, the staff— he would never master these, not in the way that he could wield his art materials, but this is knowledge he has. He then proceeded to use all of this to create new artworks, something accurate to form, accurate to real life. Emotions and feelings are easier to portray when you have experienced them yourself.
  
  Li An was still most often found within the borders of Triveila. Many would commission him for paintings— and he had even tried his hand at sculpting which he slowly became a master at. However, that required a lot of preparation and, thus, was a more expensive venture that oftentimes took weeks or even months to polish and finish. Still, his reputation carried all the way to higher nobility until he was invited to a banquet. He was still a commoner, though rich as the Li family may be, so it was an incredible honor to have been invited to a royal banquet. That was Li An's first interaction with Josephine Dezantaro. To many, it was not memorable. He had paid his respects to her by greeting her and she had congratulated him on his latest work and he had thanked her and that was it.
  
  To many, that was where it ended. To Li An, that was when it started. He would not see the queen-in-waiting again for a year; until he was commissioned to paint her. It was a quick and mundane job, but it was what happened after that was important. His status as a commoner typically put him under the radar from political issues, yet his fame and skill as an artist put him close to nobles with loose tongues. To whom would he lay his loyalty to than the current reigning monarchy? And so, Li An continued on with his life after that meeting with a new agenda. It was not a job that he had to do strictly; he was no trained spy nor was he some noble that could infiltrate the inner circle of the opposition. No, he was merely there to hear what he could hear, collect whatever information he could get, and then pass it on to his handler.
  
  And for years, Li An did it. The fact that, to the public, he had been commissioned multiple times by the queen-in-waiting and she had apparently been satisfied with all of them had only boosted his popularity.
  
  
• 
  Li An had recently undertaken a new theme, realizing that he hadn't tackled it over the years that he had been creating. The theme around interpersonal relationships. Yes, he had works depicting people together— perhaps even a commission of a singular moment in a ball during a celebration at the behest of nobility. He had painted families together. However, those were commissions. They were works that people had told him to do in exchange for money. It didn't necessarily count in his list. As such, he sat down and started to paint. He sketched. And then painted. And... something didn't feel right. So he put down the canvas, got a new one, and started anew. It wasn't right. It didn't feel right. He decided to use other mediums as, perhaps, it would solve the problem. It did not.
  
  It didn't take long for him to accumulate many failed paintings discarded to the side of a room and the build-up of frustration. He went to his father and mother and asked for their critique. They spotted the same problem as he saw— that, technique-wise, it was beautiful and nearly perfect, but it lacked essence and emotion. Well, the solution was simple, wasn't it? Li An knew that if he lacked something, he would just look for a way to gain a better understanding of it. With that, he bid farewell to his mother and father again and left home to travel. Interpersonal relationships were not difficult to find— in his months of travel, he could say he had witnessed a lot of it; from the families he observed while sitting on a bench to the two friends who drank themselves silly in the nearby tavern, it was there and present.
  
  Yet he still struggled to put it onto the canvas. And so, Li An continued his travels to seek a remedy for his slump.
  
  During his travels, however, Li An had come across rumors among the Triveilan nobility once more. As such, he figured that it would be for the best if he could manage to get another commission from one of the upper nobility. It was extremely difficult to get them into a position where they would speak freely when he was around, but it would be doable. He would be due a meeting eventually so that he could pass his findings and the more he could gather, the better it would be for everyone involved.
  

 

[Wayne]

ARES LANCELOT LINNARD​

• Basic Info
• Personality
• Biography
• Current Events

• 
  
  
  Name: Ares Lancelot Linnard
  
  Age: 26
  
  DOB: November 17, 548CE
  
  Eyes: bright red bloodshot eyes
  Hair: Shoulder-lenght, straight black hair
  
  Height: 194cm || 6'4"
  Weight: 95 Kg || 209 Lbs
  
  Nationality: Veilbrand
  Notable features: Always seen wearing a simple metal mask with no details, keeping his face hidden.
  
  Occupation: Wanderer || Vagabond || Mercenary
  
  Voice: Troy Baker
  
  Outfit: Can be usually seen with simple metal armor, although most of it is hidden away by the red cloth, it's hard to see any skin showing, Ares does not like to be exposed to the outside and does his best to remain a mystery. One could argue that he hates his appearance, but Ares had been the victim of fire, having most of his body burned, the cold feel of the metal brings comfort to his skin.
  
  
• 
  

  You surround me as if men stood a chance against me, so know this, you have not felt true fear until this very moment. Ares

  
  Ares cannot remember his past, but the violence and cruelty of his past life linger. He works for only himself, or at least that's what he says, Ares tends to help the weak, having a particular distrust against royalty and any kind of leader figure and will cause a fight if he is ordered around. Despite the violent nature that he had grown so accustomed to, Ares was and still is an animal lover, taking great care of them throughout his journey around the land. For some who knew about the criminal before his supposed death, they favored his kind side, saying he was nothing but "misunderstood," yet that was not true.
  
  Perhaps losing his memory gave Ares another chance to redeem himself, while he was a criminal, killing and robbing people was just a regular occurrence, he had no problem and no guilt in doing so, but after losing his memory, his hate seemed to be redirected towards the leadership figures of the continent, although he slowly learns more about his past and himself, his violent behavior towards innocent citizens seems to be long gone.
  
  Aside from battle, Ares is a man of art, taking great pride in studying history and art itself. While he never had proper teachings, he learned things after stealing priceless pieces of art and so on, every successful robbery was a glimpse into the past, a document he could read or a letter he could keep. He had to learn many things to be the thief he was, learning proper etiquette, learning the right way to talk, with the right clothes Ares could pass by as just another noble, that is how much he was devoted to his work, although most of it was forgotten after losing his memory, he still has great affection to art.
  
• 
  Born in one of the poorest areas of Veilbrand, with no parents to raise him and no legal guardian, Ares found himself part of the criminal underworld from a young age. He started light, joining a group of kids in simple robberies, most of them were done so they could eat another day. Then during his adolescence, Ares broke off with the group to pursure bigger treasure, stealing from the high society of the time, however he was caught, and not only once but twice, he was reeducated through force and it did not work, his behavior only grew more and more concerning to the people of Veilbrand.
  
  In his young adulthood, things derailed after his first murder, a noble who was at the wrong place in the wrong time, his bag that screamed with the sound of riches called Ares who tried to take it away, but the man resisted, he was drunk and Ares could not see a single drop of fear in his eyes, so after a brief fight, the thieve decided it was enough and stabbed the man, he didn't feel guilt for it, taking the money and running away from the scene, after that things worsened, it was one after the other, it was easier to kill than ask and so an investigation was launched.
  
  It didn't take long before they learned about Ares, his wrongdoings reached the higherups of Veilbrand who placed a bounty on his head as well as sending troops to find him. It all ended up in a windy night where soldiers of Veilbrand confronted him after a month long pursuit, he had stolen a horse to get away from them, but the creature was hit by arrows and he fled on foot, the fight ended up happening on top of a mountain where he fought valiantly over a dozen men while making his way to the top, there he was surrounded and in a last effort for freedom he tried his best to fight the hundred men, he took some of them out, it was actually quite a feat, some of them even tell the story today, but alas he was defeated and to avenge the fallen, the remaining soldiers poured alcohol on him, then set him on fire, as if it had not been enough, the burning man was pushed from the mountain, they were certain he would fall to his death, or burn to it.
  
  Yet the man never died.
  
• 
  After surviving the fall, his body was found by a couple of wanderers, he had been disfigured to the point where his face was unrecognizable, they tried their best to treat his wounds and protect them from the environment, when they asked him for any information, they jumped at the fact he could not remember a thing. While in recovery, the wanderers who were an old couple, took care of him as best they could, with time he was able to stand and walk again.
  
  They provided him with clothes from which he specifically asked for something to hide himself, the sun burned too much, and he could barely get out without feeling pain. They gave him the red clothes he wears and with many thanks, he left their house. He upgraded his suit later, with armor and a mask, completely hiding himself away from the world. To learn more about himself he started going on a journey through Veilbrand, but even after visiting so many places he could not remember his past.
  

 

[Fletchawk]

• Basic Info
• Biography
• Personality
• Recent Events

• 
  
  Birth Name: Thalia "Verda" Dyros
  
  Age: 30
  
  Birth Date: February 18th, 544 CE
  
  Height: 5'10"
  
  Weight: ~180lbs
  
  Hair Color: Charcoal Black
  
  Eye Color: Green
  
  Nickname/Aliases: Verda (Main Alias), Shadow of the Green, Lady of the Forest
  
  Profession: Vagabond
  
  Voice: Ellen Thomas
  
  Image: AI Generated Placeholder
  
• 
  You wish to hear the tale of Verda, the Lady of the Forest, little ones? Well, we'll have to start from the beginning. Before she was known as she is now. Before she was known as the Shadow of the Green. Before she was even named Thalia Dyros. Her story begins the same as anyone else's, a twinkle in her father's eye. This father was a Shaharan man by the name of Samar, and he was an assassin of the infamous Te'i Sai. However, he was an agent before they started their bloody reign, and deserted when he found his lover was with child. However, their escape cost Heryci, a Veilbrandian apothecary and Thalia's mother, her life. The Te'i Sai hunted Samar and his newborn Thalia, and he knew there was only way to hide from his former brothers and sisters of shadow would be to abandon civilization. So into the vast wilds Samar fled, and eventually nestled himself in a remote forest. It would be here that Verda was raised as Thalia Dyros, a shadow among the green.
  
  In this wild sanctum, tucked away from civilization, is where Thalia would learn her father's arts from the moment he was able to walk. Samar, scarred by fear and grief, tutored his child with a single goal in mind: to survive, not only the wilds they now called home, but the assassins of Te'i Sai if they ever found them. To Thalia, they were games and fun activities she did with her father as they wandered an everlasting green. It was her seventh summer when she came across the first person other than her father. It was a young man, hunting small game, stumbled upon their camp while her father slept. Never seeing another person before, in a panic, Thalia reacted as she was taught to address large predators. Which consisted of grabbing anything handy and making oneself as big as possible while being as loud as possible. The man bolted, soon to be followed by an awakened Samar. Fortunately for the man, Samar could tell the difference between a poacher and an assassin, and the first whispers of a shadow in the green began. When Thalia recounted what happened to her Samar, it was one of the few times her father laughed.
  
  The burning questions that resulted from this event would convince Samar it was time to inform his daughter of the cause of their way of life. When Thalia asked if the Te'i Sai would ever give up, her father answered without hesitation, "Never." This was when Samar began to realize what needed to be done. He would show her how to deal with people, whether they weary travelers, silver-tongued traders, or opportunistic highwaymen. For the first few years, Thalia could only watch from the forest as her father would interact with these varied groups. However, curiosity would get the better of her and she find ways to edge ever closer with each encounter. By her eleventh spring, Thalia would be nearly her father's height, and marked her first venture into a settlement under the cover of night, and the first time she fell through a roof. Many lessons were learned that night.
  
  Thalia's fourteenth autumn taught a hard lesson. When a group of travelers she'd befriended was attacked by highwaymen shortly after parting ways, it enraged her. Against her better judgment, Talia confronted the murderers. It didn't go nearly as she'd hoped, ending in more bloodshed. The following winter was difficult as she dealt with the moral consequences of killing a person. The act haunted her sleep despite her father's attempts to convince her it was justified. From here on, Thalia began to keep her distance from travelers, only engaging when absolutely necessary or if they began to prey on others. Despite her father's protests, Thalia refused to kill them, but would pursue and pelt them from the shadows with a sling until they left the boundaries of her forest. So the stories of the Shadow of the Green began, and eventually fell upon the ears of the Te'i Sai as vengeful souls of the criminal underworld would pin the unseen figure for the blame of their misfortunes.
  
  While it took several years, an embedded Te'i Sai agent crossed paths with her father, seeking to confirm the suspicion that the deserter Samar might be the Shadow of the Green. The agent attacked without warning, catching him off-guard. While Samar was able to defeat his attacker, the encounter left him maimed from losing a hand to the initial blow. The realization that her brutal expulsions of bandits and their ilk from her forest home had attracted the attention of the Te'i Sai left Thalia racked with regret. During her father's long recovery, they retreated deep into the wilds. It was here her father revealed to Thalia that the Te'i Sai would now be hunting the Shadow of the Green, and what his solution was to save his daughter; Samar would assume the mantle of the Shadow of the Green and settle old debts with the Te'i Sai. Thalia naturally refuted this course of action, as it would most likely end in her father's death. Her father responded with a simple ultimatum, "Then stop me."
  
  While Samar recovered, Thalia would debate, threaten, and beg him to accept any other solution. To each, Samar explained why he would not accept them. The day that her father announced he was leaving had arrived not long after Thalia turned twenty. Finally steeling herself to fight her father's conviction, she found that even while missing an appendage, her father was still her better by a far margin. Beaten and bruised, Thalia slumped to her knees exhausted from the sheer amount of blows she'd received. Every breath haggard and uneven as pain racked her body with the smallest of movements, her vision began to blur as tears began to fall. Not once did her father strike Thalia's vitals, but the unbridled velocity and power of his blows caught her almost completely unaware. Despite the duel dragging on and being pushed to her absolute physical limits, Thalia couldn't land a solid strike.
  

  "P-Please..." ,the word escaping Thalia as a pained wheeze.
  
  "Thalia, I love you," Samar said, his voice steady and soothing as he wipes the tears away from his daughter's exhausted face, "But I will not waver."
  
  "Why.. ..didn't you.. ..stop me..?" she gasps between her strained sobs, locking eyes with her father.
  
  Samar leans forward and kisses Thalia's forehead, "Because your actions were just. You just aren't strong enough yet to fight my demons."
  
  It takes the last bit of Thalia's strength to wrap her arms around and hold her father in one last desperate attempt to stop him from leaving.
  
  Samar smiles at his daughter's willfulness, embracing Thalia's battered body and guiding it to rest on the ground. Laying Thalia's head in his lap, "I am proud of you, my daughter," Samar says as he begins to caress his daughter's head like he did when Thalia suffered from nightmares long ago.
  
  Despite the pain and her futile attempts at fighting it, Thalia's battered body succumbs to the exhaustion under her father's final comforting touch.

  When Thalia awoke, she wasn't sure how long she'd been unconscious, but her father had disappeared without trace. For the last time, Samar had proved to be his daughter's better. For the first time in her life, Thalia was completely alone. The soreness of her body would give way to loneliness and grief. Thalia would stay in the depths of the forest for many seasons in a vain attempt to wait for her father's return, but after the twelfth turn of the season, she could no longer deny the apparent truth. It was time to move on.
  
  Driven by the loneliness left untreated, Thalia would find herself traveling alongside the roads and beaten paths once again, watching the people who walked them, as she had done for so many years. The lack of companionship would lead her to eventually make contact, although she would use a deviation of her father's old alias, Verdan. After a few years, the whispers of a strange Shaharan woman named Verda, who'd join groups of travelers in wooded areas, only to disappear shortly before they reach their destination would begin to form.
  
• 
  Thalia is a primal force of nature trying to find her place in a world about beyond her forest home that she knows very little about.
  
  In her territory, she is the apex predator, even among her own species; and is acutely aware of it. The skills that her father ingrained in her translated well to their forested domain, and combined with the lessons she's learned from observing the other natural denizens of her environment, has instilled a feral confidence whilst in her natural habitat. Like any good hunter, she is observant, clever, and adapts well to environments that play by the same rules as her home. Her comfort in the natural realm doesn't translate well to vast open spaces or enclosed spaces, and bustling crowds and dense urban areas tend to overwhelm her, as Thalia's finely-tuned senses overstimulate her, leaving her feeling overwhelmed and vulnerable.
  
  Traced to her Shaharan father's teachings and her survival-of-the-fittest habitat, strength is everything to Thalia. She's aware that physical prowess isn't the only form of it, it's the kind that Thalia excels at. While she has no issue using her strength to exert her will, she will go to great lengths to avoid needless maiming or killing. After a traveling companion was murdered in cold blood by highwaymen, she found the act of such things monstrous, and even more so after being forced to kill them in self-defense. And so growing stronger became vital to Thalia, not only to project her own will, but to subdue the carnage she abhors. This ideal was enforced by what she considers a failure of being unable to at least help her father against the Te'i Sai.
  
  Her value for human life stems from the unique experiences an individual can hold. To Thalia, each person's tale is a story to be heard, a lesson to be learned. While her long history of vigilance against the Te'i Sai makes her innately suspect of strangers, captivation quickly supersedes her caution once the narratives start spilling forth. Her father's departure had awakened a newfound sense of loneliness in Thalia, leaving her to seek companionship from people who live by societal rules largely alien to her. Tied with her forceful presence, this often leads to Thalia unintentionally stepping on cultural sensitivities and crossing personal boundaries.
  
  The ability to read body language has been Thalia's only saving grace when navigating the odd intricacies of social and cultural. Developed not only by her years of observing creatures and people from afar, but from the time spent with her father. The decades spent with a singular individual and the need to remain hidden has led to Thalia and her father requiring an unspoken language between them. While this personal language doesn't translate well to others, it allows Thalia to be keenly aware of the tension of one's stance and the slight shifts in their posture to the flicker of their eyes. While at times this provides Thalia with an uncanny insight into someone's intentions, it's when people tell their stories that allow Thalia to truly get a read on another.
  
  Given her ascetic upbringing, Thalia doesn't place much valve in the material other than it's utility to her survival. This even extends to her personal appearance. Her hair is often chopped short or shaven for the warmer weather, only letting it grow out when the chill of winter sets in.
  
• 
  Over the course of the last decade, Thalia would begin to interact with the small communities that bordered her forest domain more readily, especially during the extended winter months of the northern borderlands of Triveila and Valkyom. She found the rural life of these communities to be somewhat similar to Thalia's own, and valued the skills she honed and the goods harvested from her home. Even these small dots of civilization could be overwhelming, so as the snow thawed and the people became busier, it signaled Thalia it was time to move on. With each village visited, "Verda" would learn the customs and stories of the inhabitants, taking them as lessons learned and adapting them for her own.
  
  As Verda slowly made her way west, the snow would start to give way to water, and the people more pacific. The varied arts of each individual became akin to a unique spice for their life stories. While not every art was not to her taste, it helped her gravitate towards the people, even during the warmer months. The different flora and fauna of this wet landscape also fascinated Verda as she would often stop and take note of the new additions to her forested home, although she was finding it easier to travel by the roads that provided most of the dry footholds of the land.
  
  

 

[Goonfire]

VOLUND HA'KON​

---

• About
• Personality
• History
• Recent Past

• Birth Name: Volund Zhu Ha'kon
  Birthdate: August 21, 553 CE (Age 21)
  Parents: Sigurd and Mei Ya Ha'kon
  Citizenship: Valkyom; formerly Veilbrand
  Ethnicity: Triveilan + Veilbrandian
  Profession: Bladesmith
  
  Appearance:
  Volund exhibits features of both his parents equally—thick black hair, dark brown eyes, and softer facial features like his mother, but the strong jaw, thick eyebrows, and stocky build of his father. At only 5'9, he isn't very imposing, but carries himself with a gentle confidence that more than makes up for his stature. His hands bear mild calluses and a few light scars from cuts with various blades.
• Personality:
  Volund moves and acts with purpose and conviction, something immediately noticeable in his day-to-day actions. He always seems sure of his opinions on a matter, honest, and warm-hearted. He is incredibly hardworking, sometimes allowing himself fewer hours to rest than the average person. Though he may come off as selfish for wanting to improve himself first, his philosophy dictates that he must be better in order to help improve others' lives. Generous to a fault, he believes in the fundamental goodness of people, though there are two exceptions...
  
  The first is the Te'i Sai, the feared clan of assassins who made a spectacle of brutal, bloody murder. Like so many among the masses, Volund thinks of them as bogeymen. The second and somehow more repulsive monster is Eagon T'housen, a name that will earn one the gravest of Veilbrandian warnings—"Be silent as death"—if uttered with anything but pure venom. Behind Volund's kind smile is a tinge of sadness—the sadness of someone who has lost something dear to him and has not the power to get it back or to even settle the score. Further buried behind that is a deep-seated ambition and a steadfast desire, bordering need, to fulfill it... but how? "How" is the question he has asked himself every single day for twelve years.
  
  Volund's worst trait is his tenacity when trying to prove himself right. Though he doesn't do it maliciously, he often clings to his notions stubbornly when he believes he is correct—a trait he inherited from his father. He also lacks confidence in his ability to fight and force change, but is resolute to change that. Trouble is, his gung-ho attitude paired with his lack of information make him seem a bit daft.
• History:
  Sigurd Ha'kon was a Veilbrandian man who went to school in Valkyom. With the state of the borders in the late 540s, the mathematics students were able to travel back and forth frequently. It was in Valkyom that he met Mei, a young woman from Triveila. At first, they merely studied together, but their feelings toward one another deepened over time. After graduation, they returned to Sigurd's hometown of Ortusk, married, and had a son and a daughter, the former of whom was Volund. Both children were raised to be outspoken, courageous, and honest.
  
  At age 9, Volund had volunteered to gather stones for a new fire pit. He returned to a village in flames. Instinctively, he hid from those men who bore the banners of his country, but laughed like hyenas at the destruction wrought. By the time it was safe to go home, there was no home and no family left. Volund collapsed behind his house, crying into his tunic all night.
  
  The next day, Govannon "Gov" Ironside and his wife Charlotte returned from a delivery to find the village razed and Volund its lone survivor. Gov, a blacksmith and long-time friend of Sigurd, was devastated upon hearing what happened. Gov was impotent and Charlotte wanted children, so they quickly agreed to adopt Volund and raise him as their own. They ditched their wagon and made a daring escape across the border with nothing but the clothes on their backs. The three became citizens of Valkyom.
  
  For one year, Volund couldn't find the will to smile; he often shifted between bouts of depression and anger as he processed his grief and acclimated himself to his new surroundings. He wanted revenge against Eagon, the despot king of Veilbrand.
  
  As Volund entered his teen years, his old effervescent demeanor came back, but his ambitions remained. Though his soft nature seemingly made him unfit to fight, he wanted to make a difference. He became Ironside's apprentice, learning to forge steel tools and weapons. He took particular interest in swords, dedicating a nigh-unhealthy amount of time learning to temper each blade perfectly and hone it to razor sharpness. The way he saw it, the sword was a tool for protection and liberation, so it had to be of the highest quality possible.
• Recent Past:
  Four years ago, a resourceful refugee carried word about a Veilbrandian resistance group across the heavily guarded border. It was the first time anyone in Valkyom had heard about any resistance. When Volund heard of all the crimes Eagon committed, he reproached himself for not taking action. Any mercenaries Volund approached for help were unwilling to challenge a man behind the continent's largest army, and he had no clue where to start looking for an assassin. He simply had no connections to leverage for some grand revenge plot. That was the stuff of poems and legends, and this clearly wasn't one of those stories...
  
  ... Or was it? In 573, the world breathed a collective sigh of relief as soldiers from Valkyom eliminated the feared Te'i Sai. No one knew how to defeat them or where to even find them until one man offered his aid. The news inspired the young man to epitomize the change he wanted to see. When he wasn't working, Volund trained to maximize his stamina.
  
  Of course, it wasn't long before Gov and Charlotte realized what Volund was doing. They had known it was only a matter of time before their boy attempted to become something he wasn't. They argued with Volund for hours, tried to persuade him not to return to Veilbrand, yet he didn't budge on the issue. Gov finally acquiesced and, despite being old and not as spry as he once was, taught Volund the basics of combat. As expected, Volund wasn't very good, and Gov didn't have much to teach beyond basic swordplay and discipline.
  
  That didn't mean Gov couldn't do anything else to help though. He packed Volund's bags, gave him a pouch full of gold and a broadsword, and advised he take his search for a mentor to Triveila. Though a peaceful nation, Triveila was home to very unorthodox and effective martial artists. He reasoned:
  
  "If the Veilbrandians are stone, then the Triveilans are water. Water can take any form and has the might to shape anything—even stone. At least, I think that's how the ol' proverb went... Bah! Ye get my point, lad. Challenge the bastards with a technique different from theirs!"​
  
  Before departing for his mother's homeland, Volund swore he would return home after his tutelage, so that he could craft the perfect weapon for his mission and carry it into Veilbrand.
  

 

[Ambiloquous]

Haiyin Gexing

• Basics
• Personality
• History
• Miscellaneous
• Gallery

• 
  

  “I shall play until the nightingale stops singing and death sits upon my chest.”

  
  

  Basics

  

  Artist

  ❧

  白岫

  
  

  Name

  ❧

  Haiyin Gexing
  

  • She doesn’t technically have a surname or middle name — her father was an orphan picked off the streets and he casually named her as the troupe leader (of the time) had named him, so while it may look like she has a hereditary name, it’s really all just one name

  
  

  Nicknames

  ❧

  Haiyin, Haihai, Xingxing, Gexing
  
  

  Age

  ❧

  23
  
  

  Date of Birth

  ❧

  March 12, 551 CE
  
  

  Profession

  ❧

  Musician (Pipa Player)
  
  

  Voice

  ❧

  (ur mom)

  Suzie Yeung

  ||

  张雨曦 (Zhang Yuxi)

  
  
  

  Appearance

  
  

  • Has a resting bitch face
  • Attire-wise, she subconsciously chooses whatever her former lover thought looked good on her, which usually ends up being robes with some sort of pattern derived from nature and floral ornaments if she’s feeling in the mood for accessorizing

  
  

  Height

  ❧

  167 cm || 5’6”

  Weight

  ❧

  52 kg || 115 lb

  Hair Colour

  ❧

  Black

  Eye Colour

  ❧

  Blue

  
  
• 
  

  Personality

  
  For someone who can keep up a fairly aloof pretense when viewed from afar, her actual personality generally comes as a shock when the facade crumbles under the slightest of pressures. Emotional and easily agitated, with a propensity for crying on the drop of a bucket, her feelings control her more than she controls her feelings — not that she will ever admit as such. Ridiculous excuses will spew out of her mouth in hopes of salvaging a superficial dignity when she bursts into tears, no matter how low her chances of being believed. Weak to tragic backstories and trusting of scams which involve a sick family, debt or dying grandmother, she’s brought numerous useless items for the sake of reversing someone’s nonexistent misfortune, whether she realizes or not. (She probably doesn’t.)
  
  On the other hand, just because she’s swayed by sob stories, doesn’t mean she’s weak-willed. Ask her about anything and she’ll have an opinion about it, one that she’s willing to fight for. Being treated as a genius seen only in a thousand years has given her the expectation that everyone should think the same way as her. This is especially true of matters regarding her moral compass, so when people close to her go against its direction, she will openly rebuke them for their perceived transgression.
  
  That doesn’t mean her principles are particularly well-defined or thought-out though. Due to her own background, she assumes by default that everyone is supremely talented at some aspect of life and is always surprised to find when someone isn’t an expert of a field. Although she doesn’t mean to, she tends to treat those proven to be “unskilled” with more disregard than those who aren’t, and that disregard can transform into condescension during exchanges.
  
  Close as she may be to a mass of flaws, there are positive qualities in her character. She never falters in front of a challenge, and doesn’t delay taking action that would be scary or uncomfortable for others. When she has one, Haiyin runs straight to her goal without paying attention to distractions or taking side paths, hyper-focused on her objective until it’s achieved. And instead of simply cruising on her talent, she works hard to advance further — there is no peak for her, just an endless path of improvement.
  
  When she apologizes to someone (which she rarely does), she means it. She’ll do whatever they request for amends — or if they don’t request anything, what she thinks should be done — to the best of her abilities, and even break her own vague moral inclinations for them, so long as it doesn’t hurt another too badly.
  
  
• 
  

  History

  
  

  TL;DR

  ❧

  Talented musician falls in love, gets heartbroken, gets into (another) fight and runs away from home.
  
  [Note that this is heavily biased towards Haiyin’s view. And she’s a drama queen.]
  
  Born with a heartrending wail that awoke a city from slumber and shook the ocean so violently that it caused a tsunami on the coast of Treveila (allegedly), it was later made clear that the demonstration of lung capacity was a sign twofold: one of her future musical genius and the other of a temperament that would conflict with her country’s reserved nature. Looking back on her childhood, she wondered if She and her Children had taken from her character what they gave her in overwhelming talent — and if so, a small part of her was glad that They had. She’d rather live flawed than be one of the pitiful few who could not shine like the pearls they mentioned so often in passing.
  
  In the environment she was raised, it was difficult not to be at the very least artistically inclined. Surrounded by a father that mastered ceremonial dance and a performance collective that stood head and shoulders above most in a nation where all were artists, excellence in an art was the closest it could be to guaranteed. But even in a group where every child could sing before they could speak, Haiyin stood out. Reaching intermediate level in not one, not two, but eight different instruments and mastering three of those eight within seven years meant that she was a legend among the performers of the troupe. People from all over would invite the young prodigy to their mansions and businesses to play some new, hyper-complicated piece that she had fixated on for the past month.
  
  But fame didn’t bring all good tidings. Critics had appeared, writing away her ability by comparing complexity and true musicality — as if it was not just a subjective preference. She had also noticed envious murmurs in the company about the benefits she was gaining from her solo performances, so in a fit of righteous pride, she narrowed her focus to a single instrument to prove her worth. Her individual calls lessened once the novelty of multiple instruments disappeared, and as she focused more on integrating her music with the troupe, slowly, the name of the young genius faded. Inside the group, however, it was still obvious that she was leagues above the rest of the youth in technique alone. The tension among them was a powder keg primed to explode, and one day, it did.
  
  The spark, the argument and the resulting scuffle were clear at the time, but now Haiyin can barely recall what they were all about. Somehow, during the quarrel, she smashed her own guzheng in a fit of anger which then started a physical fight with another musician who found such an act sacreligious. Her father had been dragged into the mess in the middle of the dispute as a passerby, and the entire situation resulted in a blanket ban on performing for everyone involved. The resentment leftover prompted another instrument change, and she finally settled on the pipa.
  
  Forced to be in the same place with her adversaries for long periods of time, it was difficult to hold onto hostility. While their relationship never quite went back to the way it used to be, it healed enough that they no longer mentioned such matters. This tranquility in her life was temporary though.
  
  It didn’t come as much of a surprise when her father collapsed and wasted away on a bed. His illness had already caused performances to pause multiple times, and at that point, he barely made appearances on the stage at all. It was a terrible, awful, miserable feeling to feel the life of a loved one slipping away from her hands. For weeks before and after his death, Haiyin simply didn’t — couldn’t — play at all.
  
  By the time she pulled herself together, there was a new principal dancer to fill his place. Comparing the two was easy, even though she knew it was unpleasant for both of them, and her attitude was disagreeable no matter how hard she tried to control it. But the newcomer persisted in interacting with her, and eventually, the walls shielding her heart broke down. Friendship came and went, slipping effortlessly into the mould of lovers without being labelled any differently. Sŏa was so dazzling as a person and a dancer that it was impossible for Haiyin not to fall for her, especially when she was still vulnerable from her father’s passing. And their partnership didn’t end at just their personal lives. Together, they were more than the sum of their parts, rising above each of their respective domains and unifying into one beautiful, cohesive whole under the spotlight.
  
  Their time as lovers was the reflection of the moon on water, so real and perfect and wonderful… until you touched the surface and it shattered. There was no warning. One day, Sŏa was laughing with her among the red-bannered tents, and the next, she was gone. Where had she gone? To the Queen’s court, her accompanying dancers said. Why had she left? For her ambition of reaching the peak of all stages, the leader said. Why didn’t she tell her? Nobody could answer that, but her nightmares tried.
  
  The memories of her father came back to haunt her, along with a vision of Sŏa who told her she wasn’t enough, wouldn’t ever be enough. Love only led to pain, and her father had been right to stay away. Repeating the past that she had never quite come to terms with, just ignored using a fantasy called love, she stopped playing her pipa once again. Without another Sŏa to bear the burden of her wretchedness, her lull dragged out long enough that talks behind her back started. It wasn’t obvious, of course. Nothing in Triveila was ever obvious. But even in her self-imposed fugue, she registered the thinly veiled looks coming her way.
  
  It was the last straw to break the net. She ran away from the only place she knew, overcome with the feeling that she no longer belonged at the company, whether through others’ judgements or her own actions. Haiyin blamed the troupe, the court and the world itself for wronging her. Why me? she asked Her and received no answer.
  
  Wandering around as a miserable, lovelorn wreck of a woman, it was more than a miracle she did not die by the hands of bandits or her own stupidity. Her small fortune from performing with the group paid her way into inns and homestays, and she played for shelter when she had no other recourse. Perhaps it was inevitable, as no matter how she tried, renown found her. By the time her funds ran out, she was again a minor celebrity among those who had hosted her, and she had not fallen into the dire straits she had predicted. There was no tragic descent to the end to soothe her quieting ache, and she eventually accepted that the players of fate desired her continuance.
  
  
• 
  

  Miscellaneous

  
  

  • Her mother is unknown, her father had many flings, and she was dropped off at the steps of the troupe’s temporary lodgings by a (very talkative) midwife
    • Nobody doubted her blood relations since she looked way too similar to the man
  • Some quotes from critics, 561 CE:
    • “More like a music box that plays upon request than a musician with their own interpretation of the piece.”
    • “An ensemble of instruments played by a single talent is fresh and unconventional, but will it stand the test of time?”
    • “Perhaps a more well-rounded musical education at the esteemed Academy of the Arts would have done the young performer some good.”
  • She read a political romance novel that highlighted the guzheng in the main couple’s relationship, which resulted in her ditching her other instruments for it
  • She read another fantasy martial arts novel that highlighted the pipa as the weapon of the protagonist’s senior sister, so she ditched her guzheng for it

  
  

  
  
• 
  

  Timeline

  
  

  555 CE

  ❧

  Trying on stage makeup
  

  

  Artist

  ❧

  伊吹鸡腿子

  556 CE

  ❧

  Night of her first performance
  

  

  Artist

  ❧

  伊吹鸡腿子

  564 CE

  ❧

  On the way to pipa practice
  

  

  Artist

  ❧

  伊吹鸡腿子