Fandom 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖌𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓𝖘 | Character Sheets

[Marlowe]

 

[Marlowe]

Spoiler: Kyou Baatar

In the name of the Inheritors, you shall feel the sting of ice and snow!
​

• Overview
• General
• Backstory
• Other

• 
  Name: Baatar, Kyou
  Age: 22
  Gender: Female
  Class: Myrmidon
  Origin: Lonkaa, Glaise
  
  Summary: A disgraced swordswoman that desperately wanders the continent in a grandiose search for renewed purpose.
• 
  Appearance:
  Kyou is a tall woman, toeing 6 feet in height. Her legs are long and toned from her countless treks through the snow, and she is rather broad shouldered. Her skin is rough, weathered by almost a hundred blizzards, but her face is round and gently tapered at the chin. Thick black locks spill over her shoulders and become wavy near the edges, though she keeps her hair in check by tying it in a haphazard braid. Her eyes are warm and bear a honey-brown hue that often sparkle with intensity, curiosity, and a near boundless hunger.
  
  She is often seen in common Glaisian furs and armor, which she seems to be loathe to remove even in the southern nations' wet heat. If one knows where to look, they can glimpse a hint of mangled, ragged scars slithering beneath her pelts. Kyou is never seen without her blades, which are ever kept in the ornate black-and-gold sheathes that dangle from her left hip.
  
  Personality:
  Kyou often comes off as a taciturn, aloof young woman who keeps away from the spotlight. When dealing with strangers, she is a woman of few words-- whether this is out of disinterest or shyness, one cannot say. Nevertheless, many have regarded her as a fierce and intense woman who has a knack for keeping down hard liquor. She knows how to protect herself and diffuse rising tensions with a simple glare, a scowl, and a furrow of the brow, which has intimidated a large amount of people she has come across so far. This has led to many either avoiding her or pestering her with offers to pick her up as a sellsword, which has guided her away from any attempts at forging worthwhile relationships.
  
  In reality, Kyou is the opposite of what she lets on. Her stubborness borders on childish and she is prone to get in petty arguments with those that push her buttons. She is passionate and hot-blooded; it's hard to get her to stay still, having become used to being on the road. She bears the same haughtiness as the others of her kind, which drives her to be a rather boastful, proud, and cocky individual who is eager to impress. Kyou is prone to being a bit too loud and her outbursts border on the comical and deranged; her flamboyant personality is highlighted by the fact that she talks to herself under her breath, and such strings of words are far from the eloquent speech that is befitting of a maiden.
• 
  Backstory:
  Born an only child in the depths of Glaise, Kyou was a disappointment to her parents the moment she took her first breath. Her father had wanted a son, and every time he looked at his newborn daughter he would scowl and sigh and curse her mother for not doing anything right. Her own mother was disdainful of the fact that Kyou's birth had earned her more beatings. Every time the babe cried or wailed for milk, her father would physically assault her mother when she couldn't find a way to soothe her. When she reached adolescence, parents' disappointment became as icy as the deepest, darkest Glaisian blizzard. Kyou's mother was dismayed at the fact that she had become somewhat of a tomboy that wrestled with the local boys in the snow and gave them a bloody nose or two; she often went days without speaking to her, especially after one of her father's beatings. Her father, on the other hand, became interested in Kyou's robustness. He turned to teaching her the ways of the sword and their training lessons often spanned for hours. At the end of the day, Kyou would return home hungry, bruised, and exhausted to a spiteful mother who would make her help prepare dinner or scrub the wooden floors clean.
  
  By the time Kyou came of age, she was an adept swordswoman that had made a name for herself in her hometown. Her father and her worked together as sellswords, and together they created a mercenary group that garnered quite a bit of gold coin. Their expeditions led to the most dangerous of places-- into the depths of a poisonous wyvern's lair, stalking into the heart of a pack of sabretooth cats-- but they always emerged victorious. Stories of their squadron's achievements reached far into the wintry depths of the northern frontier, drifting all of the way to the capital of Karai. The Khan wanted them -- specifically her -- to assist in the swapping of prisoners with Yelm. Despite her complaints, her father demanded that she attend to her duties. The trip to Karai was cruel, and soon after she arrived to meet with the rest of their unit and the imprisoned Yelmians, they had to set out for the village of Yaeda. The whole expedition took just over a week... and when they arrived to swap prisoners with the awaiting Yelmians, their exchange was disrupted by an ambush of assassins. No matter how hard Kyou fought, their numbers were picked off one by one-- and at the end of the battle, only she and a few of the Glaisians from Karai were left standing. The court official that she was tasked to protect and the Yelmians laid in puddles of thick blood. They were dead; the living had no other choice than to return home to face their punishments.
  
  Kyou's fierce tenacity had vanished by the time she returned to Lonkaa. Her father waited there for her there, whip in hand. He delivered one hundred lashes unto the tender skin of her back, left her bleeding like the corpse of the court official that laid there on the Yelmian soil only a few days prior. The last thing he told her was to leave and never return. And as soon as her wounds crusted over with dried blood, that was exactly what she did. For the first time in her life, Kyou was on her own. Her life is to become what she makes of it, even if she decides to allow her eyes to cloud over with the dense fog of her past.
  
  Equipment:
  - Wo Dao
  - Steel Sword
  - Elixir x3
  
  
• 
  Likes:
  - the snow
  - the night
  - being around others, large cities
  - spicy food
  - music and dancing
  - stories
  - practicing with her sword
  - animals, such as dogs, reptiles, and wyverns
  
  Dislikes:
  - the heat and bright skies
  - isolation, silence
  - people who don't like admitting they're wrong
  - loud, disruptive people
  - people who think they're smarter than they actually are
  - stubborn, egotistical individuals
  - cats-- she's allergic to them
  
  Quirk:
  - Talks to herself a lot, even in her sleep.
  
  Other:
  
  Color Code: #C6BEFF

 

[Raiden]

Spoiler: Rogier

Character Theme(s): Ochette, the Hunter / In Pursuit of Legends (Octopath Traveler 2)

"In this armor of duty, my heart calls for journey... to trade chivalry for freedom and a chance to truly live."
​

• Overview
• General
• Background
• Other

• Name: Rogier Moulinet
  Age: Twenty-one years old
  Gender: Male
  Class: Axe Knight (Cavalier)
  Origin: The Kingdom of Solans
  
  Summary: A discontented knight of Solans from the wilds whose feet yearn to trailblaze the unknown.
• Appearance: Rogier stands at a modest height of 5'9, weighing about 170 lbs with a robust stature. He has medium-length shaggy chestnut brown hair that falls to his shoulders, typically styled to the sides of his sharp face. His light purple eyes often carry a somber expression when idly observed. Rogier's constitution often betrays the first glance-- his body cuts a graceful frame, but long years on the range and clashing blades have honed his strong physique. He has a pair of long claw scars that travel down his right shoulderblade. His nails are usually painted black. When carrying out his knightly duties and/or riding into battle, he wears a set of plate armor trimmed in gold that denotes him as a Solan knight. In contrast to his usual attire (see picture), Rogier actually prefers simpler clothing which would fall more in line with commoners as a matter of comfort.
  
  Personality: Often brooding and pensive, Rogier comes off as a bored knight with half a heart to his knightly responsibilities. He is not lazy by any means-- he is actually quite the hard worker in what he does, but one can see that his passions lie elsewhere. In truth, his flame resides within the soul of a wanderer, where his dreams to sail forbidden seas and blaze the trail through unknown frontiers are his most vivid fantasies. He dislikes life in the bustling city, preferring the calmness of nature and placing great appreciation in its beauty. Nevertheless, the young man knows to take advantage of the available amenities, and graciously indulges in urban vices such as hard drink.
  
  Rogier's stalwart and fearless demeanor stand to show that he is not impressionable upon first encounters. He can have a temper at times, but is generally even-minded and quiet when not roused. He is known not to back down from a challenge, and will take that opportunity to not be seen as lesser than someone else. Though not necessarily out of impoliteness, he almost always has the same neutral perception of others, regardless of their own perceived status or importance. He treats almost everyone as equals more often than not, and cannot stand to be ordered around. He does, however, have a clear-cut vitriol against Laguz of all kind, and refers to their people as cutthroat, diabolical opportunists.
• Rogier Moulinet hails from the wilds of the Kingdom of Solans, born into a modest upbringing on his family's ranch near the town of Deepwallow Run that is situated to the eastern reaches of the Windless Range. A descendant of the Moulinet family name, his long line of predecessors are known as explorers and frontiersmen, renowned for their trailblazing efforts into Zefir's unknown since the ascension of Naga-- Rogier was named after one such ancestor. His father, Horace, was a famous equestrian who helped to rebuild Deepwallow Run many decades after it was devastated during the Thysk-Solan blood feud over fifty years ago, and was elected to serve as its mayor. He met Rogier's mother, Milana, after losing a transcontinental horse race in second place to her. They eventually married and had twin children, Rogier and his sister Carsi. Four years after, the couple would have another son named Horace II after his father, and a daughter named Wanda would soon follow three years afterward.
  
  Being a shy child, Rogier spent much of his early life on the family ranch, helping his father and twin sister tend to the animals and farmland. He was particularly close with his father, whom regaled his children with the legends and stories of adventure tied to their family name. This shaped Rogier's early desires to embark on a journey of his own when he would come of age one day, which slowly brought the boy out of his shell. Life as a farmhand brought him happiness as he and his siblings steadily learned the tricks of the trade, and were taught how to ride a horse at a young age. As he got older, the boy's interests soon piqued into the realm of self-sustenance, something that all of his ancestors excelled in-- his parents, cut from the same cloth, obliged to their son's request, and Horace began teaching him in their ways just as his own father had done.
  
  Rogier was learning how to hunt by the age of twelve, and on one particular day, Horace took both of his sons out into the grand evergreens along the Windless Range for one of their many lessons. Tragedy would bite the Moulinet family on this day when Horace and the boys stumbled upon an injured doe, and saw an opportunity to teach them about ending nature's suffering. In reality, the injured doe had been set as a lure with malicious intent-- the trio was ambushed by a group of Laguz fugitives who had drifted into the country across the Windless Range from Tornebreaux. Too young to protect himself in the ensuing chaos, Rogier and his father failed to protect the youngest child from their attackers, and nearly lost their own lives in the ensuing chaos. Rogier was left with deep wounds both physically and mentally, and the long claw scar on his shoulder would come to remind him of his deep-rooted hatred for the Laguz for the years to come. Though Horace had at least managed to keep Rogier alive, his injuries were grave enough to require amputating his left arm just above the elbow, and he would never take up arms ever again.
  
  This incident deeply traumatized the Moulinet family, who struggled to recover afterwards even with support from the people of Deepwallow Run and even the crown. Though it brought the entire family closer, the tragedy had struck such a chord with Horace that his father no longer preached the ways of their ancestors in fear of his children's safety. This drew ire from Rogier, who had seemingly moved on from the incident rather quickly, as he threw himself completely into the labor and toils of the ranch. For the next year, he had become a workaholic of sorts, but such a rift had formed between father and son that even his sisters could not mediate. Under the guise of acting in his son's best interest, Horace would enlist the thirteen-year old Rogier into the Knights of Solans without the boy's knowing, insisting that he would be safest in servitude to King Artreides.
  
  Without a choice but to comply with the crown's summons, Rogier exchanged farewells with his mother and sisters as he quietly rode alongside his father for Sunfall, which would be his new home for the years to come. He, alongside the batch of other enlisted youth, would swear by the kingdom's oath, beginning their training and servitude to the crown as squires. He was a capable warrior and exceptional rider, the latter of which brought him substantial favor from the established knights. Rogier served as a squire for five years before ascending to knighthood at the age of eighteen. He took his oath to serve the crown until the end of his days, and has done so for three years since-- yet it is not the oath with which his heart is claimed till the end, but rather, the dream of freedom.
  
  Family:
  Click names for face claims. Bold indicates alive. Italics indicate deceased.
  • Horace Moulinet (50 – Warrior) – Rogier's father. Patriarch of the Moulinet family, and mayor of Deepwallow Run. Retired equestrian and hunter turned rancher. Lost much of his left arm during an ambush from Laguz fugitives.
  • Milana Moulinet (née Tale) (44 – Ranger) – Rogier's mother. Matriarch of the Moulinet family. An accomplished huntress and renowned performer in archery. Operates the village's arrow-munitions shop.
  • Carsi Moulinet (21 – Soldier) – Rogier's twin sister. Farmhand and volunteer of the village militia.
  • Wanda Moulinet (14 – Villager) – Rogier's younger sister. Blacksmith's apprentice and farmhand.
  • Horace Moulinet II (8) – Rogier's late younger brother. Killed during an ambush from Laguz fugitives.
  • Rogier the Intrepid – Ancestor and namesake. A frontiersman of legend who was instrumental to the Kingdom of Solans' early formation.
• Equipment:
  
  • Iron Poleax
  • Beastcleaver (Laguz Axe)
  • Two pouches of Herbs
  • Torch
  
  Likes:
  
  • Thrill of the unknown, wanderlust and adventure
  • Legends and fables
  • Nature
  • Horses
  • Alcohol (excluding wine)
  • Woodcutting
  
  Dislikes:
  
  • Laguz
  • Being stuck in the same place
  • Candy
  • Wordy conversations
  • Prim-and-proper people
  • Cowardice
  
  Quirks:
  
  • Has a mild countryside accent; used to be much more prominent, but has become somewhat diluted since his residence in the capital
  • Rogier is a juggling expert-- whether it's mundane items or hand axes, he can juggle multiple items at a time with ease (he doesn't know why, it just seems to come naturally)
  • He almost always prefers to eat with his hands, even when utensils are offered/present
  
  Other Information:
  
  • Rogier's mount is a female horse from Thysk named Maya that he's tended to and ridden since his early age
  • Rogier's Playlist (YouTube)

 

[Bloody_Death]

Spoiler: Kouki Chibana

Credit to @/saichi_380 on Twitter​

"All that matters is that we won and came out alive. Who cares about what we did to achieve that."​

• Overview
• General
• Backstory
• Other

• 
  Name: Kouki, Chibana
  Nickname: Kou
  Age: 25
  Gender: Male
  Class: Mercenary
  Origin: Hifuka, Yelm
  
  Summary: A young man from the nation of Yelm. A skilled sword user who strives to grow stronger so that he may one day protect those closest to him.
• 
  Appearance: Kouki stands at 6'1 (186 cm) and weighs 170 lbs. (77 kgs.) He has a muscular but lean body that is covered with old scars from training and work. He doesn't enjoy wearing his full armor and would much prefer wearing casual clothes. Always the first one to change after getting set up at camp. Even outside of his armor he always has a sword attached to his hip. He keeps his hair messy and casual, not seeing the point in putting effort into something that's only going to get messed up later. He also has piercings in his ears.
  
  Spoiler: Casual clothes

  
  Credit to @/timukai on Twitter
  
  Personality: Kouki is a go-with-the-wind type of person. Often described as laid-back and lazy. He doesn't like thinking too hard and doesn't like working too hard either. Enjoys living an easy life he can have fun in and complains when he has to work harder than he wants to. But this casual lazy front isn't who he is. Kou is a loyal man who honestly might care about those around him more than he cares about himself. But he finds this part of him to be a weakness. He becomes too unfocused and frantic if he gets too emotional. Which in turn leads to reckless movements and irrational thinking. A worrywart. And in his line of work, any sort of mistake can lead to the death of himself or others. So, he often tries to brush worries and serious things aside and opts for staying casual and level-headed.
  
  Following this mindset, Kouki enjoys being a follower rather than a leader. It's easier to do as told rather than being the one telling others what to do and he doesn't have to worry about feeling responsible for those who may have died while out on their mission. But in the long run, he prefers working alone or in a small group. He doesn't have to worry about so many people and he's always been a bit of a lone wolf so it's what he's used to doing anyway. Survival and enjoyment are the two most important things to him. He doesn't care much about honor and is more than willing to use cheap tricks and schemes if they bring a better chance of survival to those involved and just make everything in their lives easier.
  
  Kouki is truly passionate about the sword and wielding it, however. It is one of the greatest joys in his life. If he isn't facing an enemy in battle he loves to invite comrades to spar with him if he needs to let out some energy. But outside of anything involving the swords or worries, Kou is very reserved. He keeps to himself and loves wandering around. This isn't to say he hates social interaction, he just isn't one to take the initiative a lot. Unless he wants to spend time with someone they're going to need to ask him to join in casual activities. Because he surely won't be asking to join himself.
• 
  Backstory: Kouki was born in a family of four in Hifuka, Yelm. His Ma, Pop, and older sister. And for as long as he can remember, he's always been an outlier. Born and raised in a small fishing village, yet completely despises the art of fishing and the majority of fish dishes. Ever since he was a little kid he was never good at fishing and never wanted to be good at it. The thought of sitting on a boat for hours with nothing but a rod and smelly bait? It was a worse punishment than being grounded and sent to his room. If he was going to be forced to fish he would rather jump into the water and just use his hands. It was harder and less efficient, but it was fun.
  
  For the longest time he never actually had an ambition to do anything. He helped with non-fish-related aspects of his family's shop and then wandered around aimlessly till it was time to turn in for the night. He was fine with living this type of life. But that changed when a small group of bandits attacked the small fishing village. Much like many of the other able-bodied people in the town, it was up to them to protect their homes and each other. Kou was only twelve when he was a part of his first battle. For the first time in his life, he felt a thrill. A spark. This was fun. He fought with a smile on his face. Clashing swords with bandits as their small community successfully chased them off. It was the first time in a long time that this small fishing village got raided. While others thought it was a terrible and frightening thing, Kouki thought it was the most exhilarating thing he'd ever done in his life.
  
  From that day on Kouki had something he actually wanted to do. A goal he wanted to accomplish. To become a strong swordsman who could challenge the toughest of opponents and have a thrilling battle! He began training in his free time over the next few years. No longer did he wander in his free time. Evenings after his work were spent with swords and makeshift dummies. Eventually, his family and village noticed his quickly improving skills and they suggested he get formal training to make proper use of his potential. At the age of 17, he was finally old enough to be able to enlist and did so, ready to set off for the next part of his life.
  
  The next few months were spent doing extensive training in the military before finally graduating and becoming one of the many samurai in their ranks. He served for about six years. He faced and succeded in many tough missions. Loving every second of it! It was hard to find someone as excited as him when it was time to face battle. In his fifth year, he was promoted to lieutenant. Thinking that a higher rank means tougher missions! Which was true...but he also had to lead people. That part wasn't as fun. He wanted to be in the fight. Not the one telling people to enter fights. He only stayed in this position for a year before retiring. His fun job had become stressful. It wasn't what he wanted. So, he returned home for the first time. Excited to tell his folks all he did and was able to do! Only to learn he had no family waiting for him. Bandit attacks have become more frequent here over the years and his family were some of the many victims of these attacks.
  
  Nothing over the last six years hurt more than this. It was a feeling he couldn't describe. They had died in an attack a year ago. It's been that long and he had no idea. The neighbors tried to comfort him. Saying that his parents died honorable, protecting their home. But what good is honor when they're dead? He'd much prefer shameful alive parents than honorable dead ones. The house was still intact but pretty much empty. There were some old things the bandits left behind. Old fishing rods and some pictures. That night he set off to raid this nearby bandit camp pestering his hometown. But this fight hadn't been fun. Vengence, rage, sadness. None of this made him feel good. This was less of a fight and more like a bloody temper tantrum. But even cutting down the very group that took his family away wasn't helping.
  
  He didn't want to spend any more time here. He visited his family's graves, left them some nice flowers, visited the house one last time, and then left for good. Leaving Yelm to travel all of Zefir. With nothing left to tie him down, he wanted to explore the world as a traveling mercenary. Still striving to be stronger but not just for thrilling battles anymore. He wants to be strong enough to never feel the pain of losing someone again.
  
  Equipment:
  • Dual Katana
  • Steel Katana
  • Vulnerary
  • Mini Fishing Rod
  
• 
  Likes:
  • Thunder Storms
  • Fantasy Novels
  • Steak
  • Sparring
  • Mochi Ice Cream
  • Sushi
  
  Dislikes:
  • All Fish Dishes except Sushi
  • Fishing
  • The Heat
  • Mornings
  • Spending Money
  • Stuffy Clothes
  
  Quirk:
  • Has a habit of singing catchy songs to himself while he's fighting. He claims it helps him stay focused.
  • Often flips coins when he can't make up his mind about something.
  • Always tries to haggle while shopping.
  
  Other:
  • He still absolutely hates fishing with a passion, but he's trying to become better so he can be just as good as his late family.
  • He came from a lower class family so he's always been stingy with money. Even when he made a decent wage while serving.
  • He hates all fish dishes because that's the only thing his family made when he was a kid.
  • He only likes sushi because there are enough flavors to mask the taste of the fish.
  • Despises waking up before 11 am.
  
  Color Code: #9c53a6
  
  

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Spoiler: Freya Lowell

- By Sword and Shield, I shall not yield! -​

​

• Overview
• General
• Backstory
• Other

• 
  Name: Freya Lowell
  Age: 22
  Gender: Female
  Class: Armored Knight
  Origin: Solans, Mistreach
  
  Summary: A brave and bold young knight that fights for the people of Solans, with convictions of steel she wields her blade.
• 
  Appearance: Standing 5'6" (167.6cm) and weighing it at 140lbs (63.5kg), the brown eyed, redhead is rarely seen out of armor, and when she is, it's often in a thick woolen tunic, beige in color, with a green plaid sash and green pleated skirt, with some form of tights and boots and her sword or a dagger being a constant companion. She is noted to be rather fit and tone with a modest bust, though because of her upbringing, she has a rather unkempt appearance in most regards, rather than that of a refined lady.
  
  Personality: Freya is very much a tomboy, raised to be a Knight in the Lowell Family in a long line dating back several generations, if not centuries, with much of these expectations leaking into her personality, the fiery redhead is given to honorable conduct and prefers a straight up fight, invoking the ethos of chivalry in her actions and expectations of the enemy. Should an enemy stoop low, betray these expectations, it tends to anger Freya to a great extent, and said enemy becomes a source of her ire. While she can tolerate such actions out of an ally, her engagement with them tends to become only as needed, developing a distaste for them, yet fortunately not enough to fight them.
  
  Direct in her dealings with others, Freya is welcoming to most people till given reason to the contrary, typically welcoming enough she is known to drink ale that she purchases from surrounding areas, sharing it with others to have conversations and jokes. Spirit of comradery as she calls it, a bit of ale and a stew or roasted meat, maybe a fistfight or two.
  
  Respectable to the Elderly and Children, Freya will respond to threats originating from these in enemy ranks with force, or conversation, even if reluctantly and with heavy heart she knows to do her duty. For foes that she hates or have earned her ire it becomes a very much personal affair. Her temperament is somewhat tempered by her training, and though powerful, she still requires some seasoning or real-world experience, past the 5 years in the Woods and farmlands of the Kingdom. Stays optimistic even in the direst of circumstances. Rather loves the woodland's of her homeland. Was raised in the care and use of horses, though she is not of station to have her own just yet.
  
  The only overly lady like qualities she's been seen to have, is the care in which she braids her long hair.
• 
  Backstory: A native of Solans and its city of Mistreach, Freya was born to the Lowell family, a knighted family with minor holdings and of modest rank, the Lowell's have served the Kingdom for many years, patrolling with other Knights or as the family unit alone. Typically soldiering was limited to male family members with exceptions noted as families within the family dictated, or through the efforts of the individual. It was always family policy that every firstborn male born into the main house or branch family, would be raised and inducted into the Knights, unless found to be of flawed character, with females being taken if proven of worth. Provided a family had a male to give. In the case of Freya's branch family of Konrad Lowell and Lafina Lowell, Freya was the first born. After complications with the third daughter, and Freya's own interest with blades and the armor the family had on display, it was decided she would fulfill the family obligations.
  
  And fulfill them she did. Showing great promise in instruction, she seemed to grow into the role and took after her father Konrad a great Deal, taking up sword and armor, she rose up with her own merits to be considered a fine, if not boisterous knight, by time of her induction at 17. For the next 5 years she would serve alongside other forces in the Kingdom, particularly on Anti-Bandit operations, with scant time for anything else. She hasn't seemed to mind it, rather enjoying the lifestyle, and the occasional brawl that may result from it. Currently she does much as she always has, looking to move up the ranks with an ale tankard in hand.
  
  Equipment:
  Weapon: Steel Arming Sword
  Vulnerary x3
  Steel Plate armor, heater shield and Helm
  
  Traveling bag (ditched in combat, contains the following,)
  Travellers rations
  Ale cask
  Waterskin
  Bedroll and tent roll
  drinking tankard
  spoon, culinary knife
  flint and steel
  Oil and cleaning rag
  Repair Hammer
• 
  Likes:
  Ale
  A friendly fight or spar
  Drunken brawls
  Battles against an enemy
  Forests
  Roasted Meat
  A just cause
  Horses
  
  Dislikes:
  Snooty/Prissy Nobles or Knights
  Dishonest people
  Child Soldiers
  "The quiet ones."
  Underhanded tactics
  
  Quirk:
  Freya is prone to calling out enemies that have earned her ire or attention, with a pointing of her sword and a battle-cry or calling of name.
  Freya, while a heavy drinker is regarded as a well-behaved drunk that keeps good self-control and has not overly sullied her reputation. Strong Alcohol tolerance.
  For a knight she fights in a very brutal fashion, making use of her arms and armor to obtain every advantage, rather than fighting in duelist fashion.
  As noted, she has a respect for the elderly, unless given cause to lose that, even an enemy of old age will be given some respect, as would any honorable warrior.
  Known to have conversations mid battle where there is cause.
  
  Other: Freya is more interested in eating food than hunting it, but she has attended enough hunts to do her part, and normally pays off when she doesn't by cleaning and prepping a kill.
  
  Likes dealing with fellow soldiers, knights, and perhaps oddly, the commoners of the realm, rather extroverted in her actions and antics.
  
  Knows the names of a surprising amount of people along the roadways and villages, as well as her hometown and is rather personal in her interactions with them.
  Worryingly, depending on one's viewpoint, she knows which towns, villages and Inns have the best Ale, being a fan of Black Ale's in particular.
  
  Color Code: #B21807

 

[Serei2477]

Spoiler: Volo Valcroise

"Behold the grace of a thousand years of dancing!"​

• Overview
• General
• Backstory
• Other

• 
  Name: Volo Valcroise
  Age: 24 [18-30]
  Gender: Male
  Class: Soldier
  Origin: Thysk
  
  Summary: An eccentric soul whose strange fighting style makes him well-known for the right and wrong reasons.
• 
  Appearance: Volo is a tall man standing at an even 6'0 with long platinum blond hair, yellow eyes, and pale skin. When not in his standard issued Thysk armor (which he altered to allow for freer movement), he can usually be found in loose fitting garments that shows quite a bit of skin. "Bold" and "Stylish" would be best fitting for the type of clothing Volo likes to wear, and he will often accessorize his hair and body with anything he thinks will add to the outfit.
  
  Personality: Volo is a man who many often wonder why he didn't choose to go into theatrics. With an eccentric personality and a grace that belonged to a veteran performer, one would think he would naturally gravitate towards the stage. But Volo's heart chose the battlefield, and whatever Volo's heart chooses to do, he will do!
  
  He, being a man from Thysk, retains the joviality/charisma that the country is known for and is extremely open to helping others in their time of need. He loves watching performances and sees battle and training as another type of dance to master. Volo might come across as strange to others or acting a fool just for attention, but those who have known him awhile now will know that this eccentricity is a common trait among his family. A firm believer of the phrase "if you can fight, you can dance" as well as a neat freak. Even if the object does not belong to him, he will try to clean it.
  
  Volo's biggest flaws are that he's very competitive with others and does not take failure very well. Since he is born from a lineage of successful dancers, the idea of failing or him becoming a no-named failure is worse than death. He recognizes his competitiveness as something he needs to work on and is actively doing so.
  
• 
  Backstory: Volo Valcroise was born in Wolfwater to an incredibly long line of dancers. His father was a dancer, his father's mother was a dancer, his father's mother's mother was a dancer. His father's mother's mother's father was a dancer, etcetera. This lineage extends back to around a thousand years; a thousand years of the Valcroise's spreading the art of song and dance across Thysk and anywhere else who would welcome them. Though some chose a different path, such as traveling as mercenaries and dedicating themselves to the military, there was always at least one Valcroise who wanted to share the love of an art that was inherited generation after generation.
  
  However, just because they all shared a common goal, it did not mean they all got along.
  
  Alongside the many dancers within the Valcroise birthed a massive problem of competitiveness. They wanted to one up each other, become more famous than the previous generation, and very few actively discouraged those with talent from dancing out of jealousy. Achievements were scarcely shared amongst one another 'less they wanted to turn it into a competition of "well I did this which is better than what you did". Those who chose different career paths were safe from all the family drama, but the dancers were often pitted against one another or, rarely, joined hands and performed together.
  
  Because of this upbringing, Volo has a very complicated relationship with his sister. Velora, his older sister, saw talent in Volo's dancing and thus viewed him as an obstacle in her path to glory. Volo, on the other hand, couldn't give a damn about her dreams and thought her rivalry towards him was nothing but a nuisance. Though the two love one another and sometimes show to care for each other, they can more often than not be seen bickering or having a full on fist fight.
  
  He'd only been a child when he saw the soldiers on the streets of Wolfwater patrolling the city. Volo thought their gear "boxy and clunky" and inconvenient of a dancer. But when he saw them training, it made him curious. He picked up a long stick of his own and practiced twirling it around. He often whacked his head or his friends with it, which led to lots of play fighting, but Volo became more and more curious of weapons in general.
  
  That's when he got the idea of dancing while fighting. Though he pursued it for a bit and excitedly written down all his ideas, he'd forget about it until he was around 18. Volo had been going through his old belongings to toss out when he'd discovered his idea of adding some *flourish* to combat. The idea intrigued him again and he decided to flesh it out further. He'd been a recruit in the military at the time and barely got a hold of a training lance, but it wasn't long before he started practicing more... unique ways of handling a weapon. Of course, his Commander was none too pleased that Volo was treating his weapon like it was a performance prop. All of his comrades, in one way or another, said the same thing; that their established method of combat was established for a reason, and that they didn't want to see him die a preventable death.
  
  The teasing only stopped when the other soldiers started realizing that Volo's Battledance technique was actually not the worst. Yes, there was a lot of flourish in Volo's movement. Yes, a simple strike turned into some sort of jumping acrobatics trick, but in the end it resulted in a fatal blow as it should. Volo's strange techniques eventually garnered some respect, and though not many agree with it, they are at least confident that their friend's blood won't soak the soils.
  
  As of now, Volo's gotten a good grip on the Lancer's Battledance technique; one that his comrades-in-arms call "pole dancing".
  
  Equipment:
  - Steel Lance
  - 3 x Vulneraries
  
• 
  Likes:
  
  - Dancing/Battledance alone and with others
  - Art/Theater
  - Training
  - Wyverns and Snakes (He thinks reptiles in general are cute)
  - Socializing
  - Being flashy
  - Swampy Landscape
  
  Dislikes:
  
  - Horses (He's afraid of them)
  - Monotony
  - Messes
  - Alcohol (Doesn't see the appeal)
  - Humidity
  - His sister
  
  
  
  Quirk: Aside from the eccentricity, Volo likes to name his moves. (Battledance Ballet, Volo's Vanquisher, the Scorching Samba, etcetera)
  
  Other:
  
  -When Volo is bored he can usually be found dancing somewhere. If there is a body of water nearby, he will practice his dancing near it since he will feel most at home there
  -His fear of horses developed when he saw a horse attack and kill a snake. Volo had been bit by a snake before and it took him out for a week, but when he saw the snake bite the horse and it continue unimpeded, Volo knew horses were not something to befriend.
  
  Color Code: Yellow
  

 

[Serei2477]

Spoiler: Hati

"No more... Free Laguz, once and for all."
​

• Overview
• General
• Backstory
• Other

• 
  Name: Hati
  Age: 19
  Gender: Female
  Class: Laguz (Raven)
  Origin: Tornebreaux
  
  Summary: An escaped handmaid who aims to free her brethren from their chains.
• 
  Appearance: A raven Laguz woman. She stands at around 5'3 with long, jet black hair, pale skin, and ruby red eyes. Hati holds a slim figure and an above average size bust with scars that mark her body from years of punishment and servitude. Before she ran away, she was always found in a typical black and white maid's uniform. Now that she's escaped, she is most commonly found in an oversized white shirt, tattered brown pants, an old and worn cloak, and a small bag that seems to be hanging onto its last seams. She wears no shoes, for she sold those in order to obtain enough money to eat that day.
  
  Personality: Hati, given her upbringing, is a very attentive young woman who does not question orders that are given to her. Though she does her best to try and say no, she finds her body immediately doing it anyway before she can even think to say the word. She is very much naïve to the world around her, and thus, distrusting of others. Especially those in fancy suits. She also speaks very little of the English language since her owners did not bother to teach her anything beyond "yes master", "no master", "just a moment" and "you have a guest". Though Hati knows more words now, she can barely muster a complete sentence and struggles with words beyond child comprehension.
  
  Now that she is on the run, Hati has grown extremely cautious of who she talks to and where she goes. She tries to avoid nobles at any cost and is quick to fight or disappear at the first sign of trouble. She is kind and courteous among friends and will give them a pebble or trinket (usually trash) she picks around as a sign of friendship. Those she chooses to care for, she is incredibly loyal to and will protect them whenever she can.
  
  
  
• 
  Backstory: Hati was doomed to never once taste freedom when she was birthed. She was not the fruit of a loving couple's labor, nor was she even a mistake from a spontaneous rendezvous. No, she was a product in a breeding mill meant to birth stronger, better, and loyal slaves for a family that feared nothing more than betrayal.
  
  Born to Laguz servants, who had not even known each other's names prior to copulation, Hati was meant to become a completely loyal slave to a noble family of high importance at the heart of Tornebreaux. She would only know work, her masters, and to obey. Should she prove herself worthy, the family would select her to birth a son or daughter to share the same fate. Her parents did not even get the honor of naming her. That "honor" was bestowed to the nobleman's daughter Emilia, who named the raven baby after her late dog.
  
  Growing up, the noble family made good of their promise. They taught Hati nothing but common maid duties. Washing, cleaning, serving; she learned her duties well and even excelled at them alongside the other children. She was also taught the bare minimum of etiquette and speaking so as to not embarrass the noble family. Hati had been spurring to be a rebellious child, but after many years and punishments, she was put into her place. Though there were some human maids and butlers that felt pity for her, none did anything about it... Save for one.
  
  As Hati entered her teen years, she was appointed the honor of becoming Emilia's servant. She would serve the girl directly and wait on her hand and foot. All other matters became second as Emilia had now become her top priority. Hati was over the moon when she'd first learned this. She'd reached a "status" of importance among the Laguz that spurred jealousy amongst them. It did not matter that Emilia was an insufferable brat who was physically abusive, Hati was to serve a family member directly!
  
  Hati would be subject to Emilia's abuse up until the Laguz turned 19 years old. She had come to wake Emilia up per the usual when she walked into the girl's room and found a dead body, and a maid named Gertrude standing over her.
  
  Suddenly, everything moved in a blur. The maid called for the guards to apprehend Hati, for she had murdered the noble daughter. With no other choice, Hati broke the window, fought off Gertrude who tried to prevent her from leaving, and flew out of the room and into a world she'd never truly gotten to experience.
  
  What followed was hiding, meeting other Laguz who knew of her predicament, learning necessary skills to survive as well as how to use her wings/animal form, watching the Laguz camp thrive, then returning to what remained of the camp; her friends all but vanished.
  
  Revitalized with hope and a thirst for rebellion. She learned that while some humans were kind, others were not, and she needed to be extremely careful not to be caught 'less she wanted to be put to death. After all, she was wanted for murder.
  
  
  Equipment:
  -3 x Vulneraries
  -Short Knife (uses her claws as main weapon)
  -Pouch of coins
  -Pouch of pretty rocks
  -Bag for food
  -Bottle of water
  
• 
  Likes:
  
  -Pretty rocks
  -Trinkets
  -Nature
  -Stories
  -Flying when possible
  -Gifts (giving or receiving)
  
  Dislikes:
  
  -Nobles (Very much afraid of them)
  -Messes
  -Being bossed around
  -Being seen as lesser
  
  Quirk: Hati, when she meets someone she trusts, will give them a rock or a trinket (usually trash) as a show of good faith.
  
  Other:
  
  Color Code: Red

 

[Landsharks]

Spoiler: Valeria Almiran

"Yes, yes, I'll be with you shortly. The scriptures never said anything about Naga's grace being swift, you know."

​

• Overview
• General
• Backstory
• Other

• 
  
  Name: Valeria Almiran
  Age: 25
  Gender: Female
  Class: Nun (Monk)
  Origin: Reine
  
  
  Summary: A wandering, whimsical cleric bearing secrets not her own.
  
• 
  
  Appearance:
  Stands at about 5'4" in height. Thin build, moderate bust. She's almost never found in any other clothing besides besides a nun's habit.
  
  
  Personality:
  Valeria is a walking dichotomy. When performing services as a sister of the church, she's as solemn and dutiful as any nun of Naga was trained to be. Be it preaching, taking confession, or performing rites, she carries out the Motherwyrm's grace with utmost seriousness and gravity. If nothing else, she's a genuinely pious sister, devoted to the Goddess Naga and performing good works in her name.
  
  However, outside of performing her actual duties, Sister Valeria's entire personality warps into a smug, careless layabout whose only goals in life seem to be needling people and finding amusement for herself. When pressed about this apparent contradiction, all she says in her defense is that no part of her attitude goes against holy scripture.
  
  Surprisingly for a Reinan, Valeria bears little to no trace of any xenophobia. She seems largely fine when dealing with people of any nationality on the continent, though militant Glasians draw a wary eye from her.
  
  
• 
  
  Backstory:
  On the surface, Valeria would be the first to admit that her personal story isn't really all that remarkable. She was an orphan raised by the church, who continued to stay on in its service out of both genuine faith and in gratitude for giving her safe harbor. Her instruction revealed her talent for light magics, and she excelled in her training thereafter. Of course, her general attitude was a constant headache for the nuns teaching her, but her magical strength and her being able to at least perform her duties with gravitas allowed them to write Valeria's whimsy as an unfortunate blemish on an otherwise stellar record.
  
  Valeria will admit any of the above mentioned freely to those who take enough of an interest to ask. All of it even has the benefit of being completely truthful. What she will refuse to discuss under any circumstance, however, is that while she is indeed a traveling cleric, she is also a spy for the royal house of Reine. As befits a kingdom whose ruler bears the title of Holy King, church and crown are closely intertwined in Reine. Thus, when Valeria's direct superiors in the church saw that she had little problem with foreigners while still being entirely loyal to the kingdom, they recommended her to the holy crown's spymasters for assignment.
  
  Her role is to walk the rest of the continent and report back to the kingdom with information about the goings-on of other nations, especially at the lower levels of society. Valeria herself has no issues with being a spy, as she still continues to work in the Motherwyrm's name while providing vital information for her home's defense.
  
  
  Equipment:
  - Light Tome
  - Nosferatu Tome
  - Iron Dagger
  - Vulneraries
  
  
• 
  
  Likes:
  - Beer
  - Banter
  - Melted Cheese
  
  Dislikes:
  - Unwarranted self importance
  - Sweets
  - The unfaithful
  
  Quirk:
  Valeria has an unfathomably high alcohol tolerance for someone of her size and weight, able to easily outdrink burly men that stand heads above her.
  
  
  Other:
  Voice claim: Kate Higgins (C.C.)
  
  Color Code: #9365B8

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Spoiler: Raina Faerberg

"Whatcha need? I got swords, staves, shields, and axes of legendary quality! ...No, you can't buy the cat."
​

• Overview
• General
• Backstory
• Other

• 
  Name: Raina Faerberg
  Age: 19
  Gender: Female
  Class: Fighter
  Origin: Sunfall, Solans
  Summary: An ambitious apprentice seeking to restore her family’s reputation by crafting a weapon of legend.
• 
  Appearance: A Solan woman with bright crimson hair that is usually done up in a ponytail, upbeat blue eyes, and fair skin standing at approximately 5’6” and weighing near 150 lbs due to the surprising amount of muscle on her otherwise small frame. Her figure lies between more of a square and hourglass body shape with a slightly below average bust size, both of which are typically concealed with her apparel.
  
  Spoiler: Combat

  
  Personality: An extroverted and rambunctious young woman. Raina seems to have little issue approaching people, perhaps too little of an issue as if something sparks her interest, personal space appears to be the last of her concerns. She does appear to carry with her a bit of a merchant’s tongue, capable of bartering and negotiating with others due to her work. Despite her eccentricities, she is rather laidback and easy to get along with, seemingly capable of getting frustrated but never losing her temper or taking it out on the wrong person. That is, save for when it comes to her craft, which she takes to heart and gravely seriously.
  
• 
  Backstory: Raina is a local of Sunfall, having spent her entire life in the bustling capital. She is of ordinary birth and a commoner, with no real eccentricities particular to her family except her own ambitions. Her mother passed away shortly after her birth and her father was a blacksmith of which she took after.
  
  She was always a bit of a tomboy and, while not necessarily interested in fighting, she had taken an interest in weapons early on due to her exposure to them via her family work. This attraction was deeper than that of a kid finding the sharp object “cool” and fun to swing around. She admired the sheen, the craftsmanship, the design. As her father had told her, a reliable weapon and undaunted shield or armor was a soldier’s most trustworthy allies. Raina took this to heart, believing that, through their work, they were aiding more people than they ever could by fighting themselves.
  
  Raina took on apprenticeship with her father, learning the trade and crafting equipment for adventurers or mercenaries that passed through, as well as helping fill requisition and repair orders for the army, working on bettering her own techniques and designs in the meantime. While never traveling outside the city, she eagerly learned from stories of combat from travelers and soldiers alike, which she used to further her own knowledge in the betterment of her craft.
  
  Unfortunately, tragedy would soon befall the father and daughter. While passionate about their work, they were no less familiar to complaints or criticisms, as was the nature of any business. However, the latest complaint came from a lord’s family claiming the blade that was sold to him was of shoddy quality and shattered upon first use, resulting in the lord being injured when he was attacked by bandits in his travels. The blade was of no poor quality or craft and likely broke due to improper use. Regardless, his slander carried weight and Raina’s family’s reputation suffered for it. Business slowed, with some scorning their name or having lost trust in it otherwise, and with it Raina’s father lost motivation as well. He worked less, lacked that spark he had before, and even took to drinking more than a simple pint to relax after work.
  
  On the other hand, this event lit a fire under Raina. Furious with their defamation and determined to prove them wrong, it only spurred her to craft a weapon of such quality, that none could ever suspect the craft of a Faerberg. She would smith a legendary weapon!
  
  …Of course, she hasn’t gotten to that point yet. While skilled in her craft for her age, she still lacks much experience and her father is no longer in a state to advance her education. Raina now works herself to keep the smithery afloat, seeking to advance her skills in her freetime.
  
  Equipment:
  
  • Steel Axe
  • Blacksmiths Tools
  • Vulnerary
  • Gold Purse
• 
  Likes:
  
  • Blacksmithing and crafts
  • Learning
  • Stories and storytelling
  • Steak
  • Company
  Dislikes:
  
  • Failure
  • Quiet
  • Unconstructive criticism
  • Spoiled nobility
  • Dresses
  • Heavy alcohol
  Quirk: Regarding her craft, either when working and examining something can be prone to tunnel-visioned mutterings to herself despite who or how many are present.
  Color Code: #ED2939
  

 

[Colorless Spectrum]

Spoiler: Sacha Evelle De'Ark

"I am a De'Ark. I am worthy."​

• Overview
• General
• Backstory
• Other

• 
  Name: Sacha Evelle De'Ark
  Age: 23
  Gender: Female
  Class: Pegasus Knight
  Origin: Reine
  
  Summary: A young pegasus knight with a great wonder for magic en route to Solan to deliver a package that decides if she is worthy of the De'Ark name.
  
• 
  Appearance: Evelle stands with a height of a hundred and sixty-seven centimeters and a weight of a hundred and twenty-five pounds. She may have the air of a delicate individual, her body akin to an athletic one with her slender figure and taut muscles from years of training. Her hair is often compared to the moonlight, while her eyes are the color of twilight. A distinct physical feature of the De'Ark bloodline.
  
  She has a few scars here and there from the intense training, all healed but scars nonetheless- hidden by her clothes. She wears the light armor that all Pegasus knights wear accompanied by simpler clothes and padding underneath, any heavier would be a strain for her companion.
  
  Personality: Being taught that their family motto was everything they should strive for did not allow Evelle to grow into her own person. Lonely, and embittered by life at such an early age, she had created a facet that distanced herself away from others. She is stoic and logical, never letting her emotions get the better of her to the point that she is almost unfeeling towards others.
  
  As much as she hates her family, they are also the only human connection she has. The embers of her anger beg to explode but she kept pouring water over it. She is afraid of losing what little she has and if it means that she becomes their perfect daughter then so be it. A blind loyalty to her family that surpasses even that of her beliefs.
  
  Like most Reinan, Evelle has a touch of xenophobism instilled in her. Especially towards Glaisians. Not that she acts on it every hour of every day. It can be seen through her actions how judgemental she can be to other races, but if the need arises she will keep her mouth shut and work together but she makes it a point that being with them is not something she enjoys.
  
  Despite all this, deep down Evelle yearns for an honest and wholesome human connection. What coldness she gives to others is as warm as her fondness for animals. She just doesn’t know how to express it in any way.
  
• 
  Backstory: Born in the Capital of Naga's Cradle, Sacha Evelle De'Ark comes from a long line of Crownsguards. Their family motto are, "Our blood is bound to our duty, our lives is for the greater purpose." Her life was not filled with the joys of being a child, nor was she treated like one. At an early age, she figured out that the only way to obtain praise was to act the way her parents wanted her to be, and that she should dream of becoming a Crownsguard like everyone in her family.
  
  It was a struggle for Evelle to grow up to become just like her family who donned heavy armor and wielded swords and axes. She preferred the lance, it's long and graceful to wield just like dancing, compared to its other bladed siblings. At the age of ten, she found her calling after finding a wounded pegasus, its wing broken from falling from the sky. She named him Xander, like the great hero from books of old.
  
  Unlike her siblings, Evelle was criticized a lot for not being as prodigious as the others. Her hard work always fell flat to the shining talent of the others but that didn't stop her, her hunger for her parent's love and attention kept her going. She had come to grow bitter of her siblings, their talents, the attention they receive, and how they give her little to nothing. Perhaps it was for the best, their family was not well-liked either, being thought of as pompous jerks who see themselves as the elite in the line of Crownsguards. An organization she became a part of by her 19th year of age, watching over the land from the skies.
  
  The isolation was enough for Evelle to get used to seeking her own time alone in the library if she wasn't tending to Xander, coming across books of magic every now and then. That was where her interest truly lies but alas, her parents would never approve of such a thing and the last thing she wanted was to become an outcast... or maybe that was what she needed?
  
  Not too long ago, Evelle was called by her father for a mission. Her task was to deliver a gem to Solan. Disobedience comes out of her lips but her father was having none of it. She was to arrive at the Festival and complete her mission or never come home again, should she fail, she would become a disgrace to their bloodline and an outcast to their family.
  
  Equipment:
  
  • Steel Lance
  • Vulnerary (3)
  • De'Ark Family Crest
  • Small Package
  • Antitoxin (1)
• 
  Likes:
  
  • Animals, most especially the Equidae species
  • Books
  • Organization
  • Flying
  • Traveling, surprisingly
  • Training
  
  Dislikes:
  
  • Mess
  • Getting lost
  • Her siblings
  • Her parents
  • Getting dirty
  • Uselessness (Her own)
  
  Quirk: Walking through mud is a big no for Evelle, she also doesn't let Alexander gallow through it. She brushes Alexander every day, if she doesn't her day is ruined as is Alexander's glorious coat. She doesn't eat fish, only because fish smell the way they do.
  
  Other: Her Pegasus' full name is Alexander Maximus Fiyer. She brought her favorite book, The Tales of Alexander, with her. She's ambidextrous.
  
  Color Code: 643FDC
  

 

[Aura Of Twilight]

Spoiler: Yurick

- A specter I may be, I will nonetheless keep persisting until I've found what I seek. For those who died to give me life, I owe them at least that and more. Your sacrifices will not be in vain friends, this I swear. -​

• Overview
• General
• Backstory
• Other

• 
  Name: Yurick
  Age: 26
  Gender: Male
  Class: Dark Mage
  Origin: Karai, Glaise
  
  Summary: Saved from the brink of death, this young prince wields the shadows themselves to bring agony down upon his enemies.
• 
  Appearance: Yurick stands at a rather impressive stature of 6'3 wearing garb quite different from that of his homeland. His clothing is that of a otherworldly knight or perhaps a mage, black and brilliant blue from head to toe. Though he looks like it'd only take a swing of a sword to end him there are pieces of armor beneath his cloak. His body is well built but thin enough for speed, a testament to his years of training with a sword over the years. Scars cover his person as a result of his brush with death and when he runs fast enough there is a noticeable limp in his gait. While he does his best to hide the pain, his old wounds still ache bother him from time to time. The gloves Yurick wears hide the proof of his mixed heritage and are rarely taken off. Lastly, although it's difficult to tell just by looking at him his aging has slowed considerably. It is likely he will remain looking youthful for many years to come.
  
  Personality: Although his appearance can be rather intimidating to some, Yurick has inherited many of his mother's traits like her gentle, calm, nature and distaste for bloodshed. Any competitiveness he once possessed is now near nonexistent and for the most part he'll try to avoid conflict if at all possible. Humbled by the past, he's a usually quiet, logical young man, observant as much as he is thoughtful. Like others from Glaise however, he can come across particularly harsh when being honest, especially if he's angry with someone. He tries not to come across as rude but such habits are hard to break. He's generally more patient and open than his fellow countrymen but he wont make any bones about letting others know if he feels like they're wasting his time or prodding too much, even if he feels guilty afterwards. When in a particularly foul mood he has a bad tendency to subconsciously make the earth around him temporarily tremble with magic.
  
  Friendly to a point, Yurick will generally try to engage with others in conversation or provide advice as to not appear as a loner. Due to almost dying however, he can come across as overly sarcastic and having a nihilistic view of the world. While he holds no prejudice towards any particular country or race, he believes that for all their sentience, humans and laguz are nothing more than wild beasts with the ability to speak. Unsurprisingly he doesn't place much faith on the future of civilization in all honesty. He wonders about the purpose of it all, his belief in deities of any kind having soured considerably. In other words, the poor fellow is secretly having his own midlife crisis and remains quite the skeptic that things will get better. Having had no proper closure of what occurred, he's taking everyday as it comes, often zoning out as he stumbles onwards. The only things keeping Yurick from giving up completely is the shame of not being able to protect his friends and the slimmer of hope he holds that his younger sibling is still breathing somewhere. To end it all now would be a disgrace to the departed.
  
  Terrible depression aside, Yurick is nonetheless loyal and will devote himself to a greater cause when the need arises. Though he may act like a jerk sometimes he will work tirelessly to help others even at the cost of his own health. The acts of kindness he performs reveal a kindhearted soul that has managed to survive despite everything. He's a total softie and hopelessly awkward underneath all the layers of a hardened warrior and pretended confidence, one just has to have the determination to find it.
  
  
• 
  Backstory:
  Spoiler

  Yurick was born into the Glaisian royal family as the son of the Jaa’s second wife, a young cleric named Asta all the way from the lands of Reine. The spitting image of his mother, he looked almost nothing like his elder siblings and father, his golden locks and bright blue eyes undeniable evidence of the foreign blood flowing in his veins. To further emphasize the oddity of his existence a brand appeared on his left hand mere months after his birth. While his parents considered it to be a blessing from the inheritors, others in the nobility saw it as an omen, creating a rift in the court through no fault of the boy’s own. His gentle, timid demeanor, somewhat sickly disposition, and distaste for battle did little to inspire confidence about his ability to be of future use to the realm either.
  
  Weak, soft, a boy who would never become a man but a coward. Such comments were prevalent even in his earliest memories. Yet despite the pressure placed upon his young shoulders Yurick thrived in no small part thanks to his parents’ stern, yet gentle guidance and his own tenacity. Sick in bed or not, he wanted to be useful. Like his older siblings before him he studied under the best teachers of the realm, learning tactics, royal etiquette, and how to wield various weapons. He was particularly efficient in sword and light magic like his parents as well. Between his kind, hard working attitude and potential he slowly began to win over some of his harshest critics.
  
  With that being said, not everyone was impressed by his growth, especially his eldest brother Kazuki who looked upon him with scorn. Seemingly jealous of their father’s apparent favoritism and disgust for foreigners, he wanted nothing to do with the boy. To him Yurick was a soft hearted fool tainting the royal bloodline. The large age gap didn’t help either. Earnest as Yurick was to make himself worthy of his brother’s affection he soon found any attempts towards impressing Kazuki meaningless. As a result the two never grew close, only exchanging polite pleasantries whenever they came across each other over the years. Spending anymore time in each other’s company than necessary led to conflict.
  
  Eventually his little sister Midori was born. She was the perfect blend of their mother and father with her dark hair and big blue eyes, no brand ever appearing to blemish her pale skin. Since the two were much closer in age than the rest of their siblings, the two easily grew close. When Yurick became of age he began to patrol the border much like the fellow warriors before him. Between the hunts and battles he and his retainers endured they seemed destined for greatness, pride of the empire emboldened in their hearts. It was enough that even the prince himself starting to get overconfident, leading to a kind of reckless arrogance that caused more discontent in the court.
  
  It was during one such campaign that crap hit the proverbial fan. Midori had decided to accompany him as part of her warrior training, the weather seeming even more frigid than usual as they moved alongside the border. Soon a blizzard was upon them and they had no choice but to seek shelter in one of the nearby forts. They had just barely begun to remove equipment and settle in to wait the storm out when they were suddenly ambushed by a group of brigands and their unwilling laguz slaves. A terrible fight ensued as the fort fell into ruin, men falling left and right as they breathed their last. Bloody but still able to fight Yurick and his remaining men were able to push the enemy outside in the eternal freeze. Before they could land the final blows however mages and archers fired down from above. More men fell until only a few were left. In desperation Yurick was able to land a powerful spell to send the enemy fleeing for their lives, collapsing soon after. He prayed his sister was safe and fell unconscious in snow now painted red, never expecting he would ever wake again.
  
  Surprisingly he opened his eyes much later in a place he had never been, a doctor at his side. When asked where he was, the young prince discovered that he was in a village far beyond the borders of Glaise. Apparently one of his men had managed to carry him there and begged for the villagers to save his liege before succumbing to his own wounds. Awful as that was, it was nothing compared to the devastation Yurick felt upon learning that his sister was no where to be seen. The shock on it all plus the pain from his wounds caused him to scream and cry in despair until he lost consciousness once more.
  
  When he woke again it was many days later. The doctor told him that his wounds had finally begun to heal but that he would have nasty scars and that it was unlikely he’d ever be able to wield a sword again. But that meant nothing to Yurick . All he wanted was his sister and retainers–no, life long friends–back. It was to no one’s shock he became depressed. Even when he learned how to walk again, he felt little else than numb. Perhaps in an effort to console him, one of the villagers gave him belongings that the retainer who had carried him all this way owned. Among them was a medal that was only given to royal knights, a badly burnt piece of parchment, and a familiar looking ribbon with a bell attached at the end. Upon studying the ladder two closer, Yurick realized that both belonged in some form to the royal family. The parchment had a sigil only the elite in Glaise possessed and the ribbon…it was his none other than Midori’s.
  
  Anger consumed him. Questions swelled in Yurick’s mind. Someone high up had sent a group of assassins his way, but who and why? How did his retainer come to possess his sister’s hair ribbon? Was his sister still alive? His desire to find answers gave him renewed vigor to keep on living. Once his wounds had fully healed, he helped the villagers as thanks while trying to figure out how he’d get back to Glaise’s capital alive.
  
  Months had passed when the village caught wind of rumors circulating from Glaise that a tragedy had befallen the royal family. A hotblooded prince and his retainers had been violently murdered by assassins with no known survivors. The young princess was missing and had yet to return to the capital, perhaps having been kidnapped by the same group of villains who had slain her dear brother. Gossip quickly consumed the town as the villagers grew uneasy, wondering if the assassins were among them. They became suspicious of any and all visitors and soon their gazes landed on Yurick , a stranger with odd clothing and an even odder mark on his hand…
  
  Yurick wisely left the village with all haste. Knowing he had no chance to go to Glaise in his current condition or even alone for the matter, he began to travel as mercenary in a company, attempting to gain intel for his sister’s whereabouts assuming she was still alive.
  
  Not many years had passed when he learned that his birth country was now on the warpath. With his pride as Glaisian on the line he had to find a way home, but how could he when he was the slain prince?
  
  Equipment:
  
  • Flux tome
  • Iron sword
  • Herbs (x3)
  • Light tome (unusable)
• 
  Likes:
  
  • Reading
  • Training
  • Coffee
  • Sweets (has a bad sweetooth)
  • Nature
  • Taking walks
  • Quiet
  • Chilly days
  Dislikes:
  
  • Sleeping
  • Talking about the past
  • Hot weather (he feels like he's melting, he can only appear composed for so long)
  • Noise
  • Needless violence
  • Any kind of alcohol (had a bad experience once, plus he's seen more drunks than he can count)
  • Wasting time
  • Hamsters (childhood incident, don't ask)
  
  Quirk: Due to the trauma he's experienced Yurick no longer possesses a pure heart and thus can no longer cast light magic. Nonetheless, he carries one on his person as a reminder of what he once was. The sword meanwhile represents his desire to regain some of the strength he once had.
  
  Other:
  
  Color Code: Dark Green

 

[AI10100]

Spoiler: Suvi Balcht

"Harm me and I will return it twofold. Harm my wyvern and I will make sure you will regret it for the rest of your short and miserable life."​

• Overview
• General
• Backstory
• Other

• 
  Name: Suviyana Balcht
  Age: 21
  Gender: Female
  Class: Dracoknight
  Origin: Sekai, Glaise
  
  Summary: A dracoknight whose purpose had been shattered by betrayal and now wanders to obtain new experiences and grow stronger.
  
• 
  Appearance: Suvi stands at a decent height of 5'8 and is often found in dracoknight armor. Her armor is as dark as her wyvern's scales, often mentioned that she seemed to blend in rather well with her mount. She often has a silver axe strapped on her as a form of protection. She wears an amulet around her neck with the symbol of her family on it. This once served as a symbol of pride and prestige but now is the brand of a traitor.
  
  Personality: Suvi is Glaisian-born and, as such, mimics much of the typical personalities of her people— her words are often blunt and lack restraint unless they are a person of authority. She does not fear speaking her mind and would challenge decisions made if she deems them to be unwise. While Suvi can be described as harsh most of the time, she is also incredibly honest. She would not hesitate to tear into someone for doing something stupid but, in the same vein, she would also not hesitate to praise someone for quick decision-making. Suvi does not hold grudges and understands that people can grow from their mistakes and, as such, would have no problem with admitting that someone she didn't like before had done something good.
  
  A harsh critic is often the harshest to themselves and Suvi is exactly that. She tirelessly trains and challenges herself to make herself better— doing her best to live up to the expectations of her deceased family placed upon her. She is a hard worker— determined in her own right to right the wrongs that her family was put through. However, Suvi's stubborness and hardheadedness when it comes to training can come back to bite her in the ass if there isn't anyone to keep tabs on her as she will work herself to the bone if no one is to stop her. While outwardly confident, Suvi has convinced herself to be inadequate compared to her mother— let alone her ancestors.
  
  If there is anything that Suvi is especially soft on, it would be her wyvern, Antonio. This often extends to most other animals but wyverns especially. She practically grew up with Antonio and practically considers him family. At this point, she is convinced he is the only family she has left. She takes meticulous care of her wyvern and is overprotective of him. She can forgive a slight against herself, but becomes vindictive when he's involved.
  
• 
  Backstory:
  The Bacht family had always prided themselves as a family of dracoknights— ever brave, ever loyal. Many dracoknights in history had come from the family and they are renowned for both their skill as soldiers and their skill as wyvern riders. To ensure the quality of both a soldier and their mount, the Bacht family had taken it upon themselves to breed their own wyverns. Every Bacht child undergoes a rite of passage wherein, when they are of proper age, they are presented with a clutch of wyvernlings and they have to do their best to tame it or be chosen by one. Those who are unable to do so would be given other priorities; those who do, however, are subjected to intense training to become a dracoknight. It is these children's responsibility to take care of, bond, and train their wyverns, often under the tutelage of a mentor.
  
  Suvi was one such child. The child of a prodigy, she had a lot to live up to— and she was more than happy to take on those challenges. She looked up to her mother who became a renowned dracoknight who led her troop bravely against arctic beasts time and time again and came back in victory time and time again. She would slay bandits like they were nothing. This was the person Suvi was trying to become. When she had been chosen by her wyvern, she named him Antonio after her favorite character in a fantasy novel, and trained relentlessly. For most people, a description of a typical Bacht training would be horrifying— perhaps even abusive, but that much was necessary to ensure that they would survive being in the army. After all, the wilderness in Glaise is unforgiving.
  
  It had been all too sudden. Suvi had just been returning from her routine flight when she returned to smoke and fire, to red on white, to faces twisted in horror, and the symbol of the khan flying on the flags planted around the Bacht ancestral home. She flew low to avoid detection as the slaughter continued. Horrified, Suvi was frozen in her seat and was snapped at by something— Tavia, her mother's wyvern. Tavia was injured and close to death but it nuzzled against Antonio, her own child, and Antonio flew off with his rider. Suvi couldn't convince Antonio to let her land and find out what had happened or somehow help. They were spotted by the troop but they were too far and had a headstart for the dracoknights to catch up.
  
  After escaping Glaise and knowing it would be too dangerous to ever return, Suvi had resigned to a life of traveling. She had taken on mercenary work to earn coin. It had been a year since then and Suvi relentlessly continued to train, wanting to be strong enough to survive whatever the world threw at her. Suvi still doesn't know why her family was slaughtered by the khan but she is determined to avenge them once she finds out the truth.
  
  Equipment:
  
  • Steel Axe
  • Handaxe
  • Vulnerary (2x)
  • Bacht Amulet
• 
  Likes:
  
  • Animals
  • Wyverns
  • Flying
  • Colder climates
  • Beef stew
  • Nature
  • Training
  Dislikes:
  
  • Betrayal
  • Lack of conviction
  • Idleness
  • Helplessness
  • Unresolved arguments
  
  Quirk: Suvi has a thick Glaisian accent and speaks plainly. She walks with a limp on her right leg but she doesn't seem to be in pain despite this and has been seen to be perfectly capable of standing on it for elongated amounts of time; Suvi isn't sure where she picked up this habit. She leans more onto the side where Antonio is.
  
  Other:
  
  • Her wyvern's name is Antonio.
  • Suvi primarily works as a mercenary and has been making quite a name for herself as an independent sellsword.
  • She carries a sword but doesn't know how to wield it; it is from her mother that she had picked up from Tavia before they fled.
  
  Color Code: "I dare you to strike me down."

  [COLOR=rgb(71, 85, 119)][/COLOR]

 

[Castello]

"I'm going to pay for this in the morning, aren't I?"
​

• Overview
• General
• Backstory
• Backstory
• Other

• 
  Name: Vinicius "Vini" Fitzroy
  Age: 19
  Gender: Male
  Class: Thief
  Origin: Tornebreaux
  
  Summary: A quiet thief turned mercenary, marred by ingrained superstitions.
• 
  Appearance:
  
  • Weight: 115 lbs
  • Height: 5'3"
  • Hair: Silver
  • Eyes: Blue
  Vini is a diminutive and lithe individual, a perfect match for his thief-like approach to combat. While his physique may not lend itself well to direct confrontations, his movements are exceptionally discreet and noiseless, especially when the perilous presence of banana peels is absent. He boasts an unconventional array of inexpensive trinkets, including earrings and bracelets, which he cherishes for the good fortune he believes they bring him.
  
  Personality:
  Vini's eccentricity is quite remarkable. His innate suspicion of unfamiliar environments and people frequently leads him to adopt an aloof or, at times, even rude demeanor when encountering strangers. He tends to reserve his trust cautiously, extending it sparingly to those who have earned it through significant acts of kindness or assistance. Vini possesses a unique perspective on those around him; he harbors minimal admiration for individuals, irrespective of their social standing or prestige, unless he is genuinely indebted to them. To win his respect is no easy task, but once achieved, it's a bond that he values deeply.
  
• 
  
  Backstory:
• 
  Born into a family of thieves, Vini was introduced to the art of theft at a young age. His parents, both skilled burglars, believed that teaching their son the family trade was the surest way to ensure her survival in the tough, unforgiving streets of Llyne.
  
  Vini had a heart that yearned for a different path, but fate seemed to conspire against him. On his very first solo heist, an ill-tempered guard caught him trying to pilfer a shiny pendant from a local jeweler's shop. Instead of reporting him to the authorities, the guard laughed and let him go with a stern warning. Little did Vini know that he was no ordinary guard but a retired thief himself who had decided to protect the city's aspiring young rogues.
  
  Despite his close call, Vini continued to struggle as a thief. His attempts were often foiled by comically improbable accidents. Once, as he was about to snatch a purse from a wealthy merchant, a sudden gust of wind blew it away, and the purse landed in a puddle, soaking both the money and Vini. Another time, while trying to pick a lock, the lock itself fell apart into pieces.
  
  The nail in the coffin was when Vini was contracted by a group of mercenaries to steal a key to wealth merchant's chest. As his nose was against the dresser where the key was hidden, almost out of nowhere, he slipped on a banana peel and barely escaped without the bounty. When he explained what happened to the mercenaries, they refused to believe it until they spotted a piece of the peel still ironed to his sole. When the leader, Mira the leader of the Silver Cat Mercenaries, she could not stop laughing. She reassured that Vini reminded her of her old self and offered to take him under her wing, stating that a thief's life had brought nothing but bad karma.
  
  Under the guidance of Mira, Vini's karma began to improve as he begun taking missions where he felt virtuous. While his life as a thief was over, Vini still stuck by his skills, lockpicking, stealing, stealth and using daggers. He served as an important asset to the Silver Cats, offering adept reconnaissance and espionage.
  
  When Mira retired from being a mercenary, she gifted him a silver cat's ring, said to bring good luck to those who wear it. While the Silver Cat Mercenaries disbanded, Vini continued his life as a mercenary, taking odd jobs.
  
• 
  Equipment:
  
  • Iron Knife (x5)
  • Iron Dagger
  • Lockpicking set (x20)
  • Vulnerary
  Likes:
  
  • Fashion
  • Personal Space
  • Honesty
  • Not-Black Cats
  Dislikes:
  
  • Bananas
  • Black Cats
  • Loud Noises
  
  Quirk:
  
  • Wears a ring depicting a silver cat, said to give him good karma and luck
  • But yeah he believes in karma
  Other:
  
  Color Code: #82E0AA (light green)