Fantasy Divinity Unbound: The Dragon Goddess (Characters Page!)

[GojiBean]

Welcome one and all to the Divinity Unbound: The Dragon Goddess Characters Page!!

Here, you can post your new characters for the RP down below!

As always I've included my own Character first as an example of what I expect from ya'll!

Have fun!

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Age: 1,434
Date of Birth: 860 BSE (Before Selicene Era) (** Time and Calendar will be fully and formally explained if the RP idea gets off the ground)
Height: 5' 6"
Weight: 120 lbs

Voice:

Magical Affinity: Healing
Magical Education Establishment: Sothalin Academy Of Healing
Years Practicing: 1,414
Magical Ranking: Master
Presiding Councilman For Ranking: Elven Councilman Hrathu Miil'engard
Date Of Ranking: 800 BSE

Personal Strengths:

* Powerful Connection To The Flow Of Mana
* Powerful Connection To Nature
* Level Headedness
* Compassion
* Empathy

Personal Weaknesses:

* Compassion - (can often be too trusting or forgiving)
* Gullible
* Naïve
* Sheltered
* Injury Prone
* Memory Loss - (explained in bio)

• personality
• Family History
• -Biography

• The personification of "Benevolence," Elena hasn't a single negative or aggressive bone in her body. Nor has she since birth. As a High Elf with a powerful connection to the planet, nature, and the flow of Mana in the world around her, she holds each to be sacred not just at a cultural level, but a spiritual one as well. At birth, as with all High Elves, she was exposed to a high concentration of mana to test her Magical Affinity which was revealed to be Healing Magic which perfectly suited her personality. Given her powerful connection to nature it's no surprise she easily befriends the creatures of the forest, and she holds them all very near and dear to her heart going so far as to name every single one of them and talking to them as if they were her own people and capable of speaking back. Many a times she wished she were a Nymph who had the ability to actually communicate with them as she believes they'd be far better company than the politically minded and motivated people she's usually forced into contact with.
• Elena's father, Drathmiito Klefinger, is a former member of the High Elven Royal Guard stationed in the High Elven capital city of Erithia. Serving for over 10 years with nothing of significant interest taking place he began to use any and all of his spare time to wander from the palace and into the city proper where he enjoyed casually strolling around and simply watching his people going about their lives. One late Fall day he happened to pass by a newly opened flower shop and spied what he believed to be a young man working in the back, so he stopped in to inquire about the ownership of the establishment and ask whether or not Royal Guards were forbidden from entering as they were in most other establishments. When the "young man" turned around, it was not a young man at all. It was a beautiful young woman with short-cut hair, and she hadn't taken kindly at all to his "young man" call out. Having been raised with manners, he bowed fully in apology and was forgiven for the mistake. Announcing her name to be Rufia Sehlmer, the two enjoyed a rather cordial conversation thereafter before the owner finally appeared to discuss business with Drathmiito.
  
  Weeks passed, and Drathmiito found himself seldom able to take his conversation with Rufia off his mind. When asking a friend and fellow Royal Guard about it, he was waved off and told he should have arrested her for speaking with such hostility after a simple slip of the tongue in calling her "young man." Asking a different friend and colleague the next day he was informed that the chances were high that he fancied this young lady if she was truly on his mind so frequently. The only way to know for sure would be to go back and speak to her. But Royal Guards were forbidden from entering the building, like so many other places. Even so, he took his chance and stood outside the establishment until Rufia left for the day. Upon seeing him again she gave him a cordial bow of the head and intended to walk past, but he called to her and requested a moment of her time. Reluctantly, she agreed to speak. And after some word stumbling Drathmiito relayed that he'd had a hard time not thinking of her and asked if she would do him the honor of spending more time together. However, Rufia refused the request and informed him that she did not have any such eyes for him, nor did she ever expect to. With that, she went home and requested that Drathmiito not return to bother her again.
  
  Years passed, and Drathmiito committed himself to work above romance or any such thoughts thereto. It wasn't long before an invasion of Erithia by a neighboring faction of Dark Elves ensued, drawing the Royal Guards into the conflict when they breached the city limits and began attacking the people. Drathmiito, along with his comrades, rushed to the city's defense fighting valiantly and viciously to protect their people. Drathmiito reached the main square where the enemies had gathered in the greatest numbers and fought like a demon striking them down one by one and managed to keep a number of innocent bystanders who hadn't managed to escape the area safe during the attack. Eventually he was overwhelmed and left for dead with several deep lacerations on his back. A combination of shock and blood loss caused him to black out, and when he awoke he heard the distinct comfort of silence. But he also felt something else that was comforting. A hand on his forehead. It was small and delicate. It must have been female. And sure enough, it was. When his eyes opened three days following the assault, he was on his stomach with his head turned sideways and he could feel the bandages wrapping his body. But that hand. He looked up and his eyes fell upon the most beautiful gleaming golden eyes he'd ever seen in his life. With long flowing hair tied back in a ponytail, those signature High Elf ears pointed slightly downwards, and an aura of benevolence he'd never encountered before, he was left speechless.
  
  The young High Elf maiden's name was Ophamia Thurlee, and she worked as a member of the local clinic and was his nurse for most of his recovery. Not wishing to undergo the same pain as he had with Rufia he attempted to emotionally distance himself from the sudden upsurge of feelings he was experiencing. But with her kindness, gentleness, and her fondness for conversation with him he found it increasingly difficult to do so. Upon recovering and returning to duty, several weeks passed before he received a letter by carrier pigeon. It was from Ophamia. In the letter she thanked him for his bravery and service, as well as the "lovely" conversations she claimed to have enjoyed and that she would remember fondly for the rest of her life. It sounded final, as if she never expected to see him again. But those words "I will remember our chats fondly for the rest of my life," struck a nerve in Drathmiito which, against his desire to remain emotionally distanced, cracked his foundation and he found himself wandering to the clinic when his shift for the day was over. And when Ophamia emerged from the facility both of them froze momentarily before smiling and engaging in another lively conversation.
  
  With the years passing, and the relationship between Drathmiito and Ophamia developing slowly but surely, the bumps in the road to their union after a near ten year courtship were quite strong. The biggest obstacle along the way and at nearly every turn was Ophamia's parents who held an innate distrust of the Royal Guards as they believed them to be lazy, irresponsible, and disconnected from the problems facing the commonwealth. Even with Ophamia's insistence that Drathmiito was an exception and that he'd fought valiantly to protect not only her life, but the lives of many others, and with Drathmiito showing the scars on his back from the encounter which Ophamia confirmed she'd been personally responsible for tending, it wasn't enough for Ophamia's parents. More than once it seemed that their union would be forever cut short by Ophamia's parents. But her conviction outweighed her fear in a display which caught Drathmiito off guard, to say nothing of her parents. Ophamia cut ties with her parents by renouncing her kinship with them formally through a letter signed by the local courts confirming her abandonment of the Thurlee name leaving her with only her given name of Ophamia as her identifier. Now free to pursue her heart, she and Drathmiito were married almost immediately. And within the next year their love bore their first child, a boy named Vahniir. A second child, a daughter named Mauya, was born two years later. And finally, three years after Mauya's birth, Elena was given life and brought into a happy, healthy household.
• Elena was born in the year 860 to Drathmiito and Ophamia Klefinger. Tested almost immediately after birth for any Magical Affinity it was discovered that she did in fact have Magical potential, and her affinity was Healing. Given Ophamia's profession and Drathmiito's fascination with the subject, it seemed the Gods had smiled upon them in every way possible. However, nothing is ever so simple or straightforward whether the Gods intervene or not as the family would soon find out. And find out... They did... In arguably the most horrific and heartbreaking ways possible.
  
  Elena was blessed with tremendous beauty from birth. Flowing auburn brown hair, light chocolate brown eyes, bow-shaped lips, gracefully arched eyebrows, a slender figure and an angelic facial structure with a subtle heart shape to it, she was the envy of the world for young Elven girls at the time she began attending her first educational system. But it was this beauty combined with her natural intellect which made her a target for one of the most nefarious types of people in existence, regardless of race...
  
  When Elena came home after her first day at school, Ophamia noticed instantly from a distance before Elena set foot anywhere near the front door that something was wrong. Elena was walking with a limp and bore a thousand yard stare as she ambled up to the house. Ophamia took her inside and examined her, and the tiny smears of blood between Elena's legs were everything Ophamia needed to go to the authorities and have her teacher arrested on sight for this beyond wicked assault.
  
  Understandably, Elena was never the same following this tragic event. With her innocence tarnished and her virtue forever stolen by a predator, she withdrew from public attention and sought home schooling for the remainder of her basic educational experience. Her mother worked tirelessly with her over the next decade and a half to help mend the scars to a point where Elena felt comfortable going outside again, and was largely successful. By age 20 Elena opted to leave home and study the art of Healing Magic at one of the most prestigious schools for the Healing Arts in the world. However, her application was denied. She attempted her second choice, and was again denied. But as they say the third time's the charm. Applying for her third choice she was finally accepted into the Sothalin Academy Of Healing where her studies in the Healing Arts began in earnest. During her time at the Academy she made many friends in her classes and even some who would become lifelong friends in the staff and teacher's ranks. Among them would be the man who would become her first husband, a human named Norman Rockwell.
  
  Norman and Elena's relationship after marriage, however, did not last. After failing to pass the Master's Exam Norman fell into depression and became prone to alcoholic spouts of abuse, both physical and emotional. Their marriage was officially dissolved via a rather messy divorce which required Elena to file for a restraining order against her now ex-husband who refused to accept the divorce as legally binding and still considered Elena to be his wife. He was eventually arrested and placed in prison for life after attempting to murder a local security guard helping enforce the restraining order. The next year Elena passed her Master's Exam for Magic under the observation of the Global Magician's Council member, Councilman Hrathu Miil'engard. Now officially a Master Healing Mage, Elena was granted all rights and authority thereto, as well as her Master's Robes and insignia which she bore with pride on her upper left chest region.
  
  Life as a Master Healing Mage came with a price, however, as Elena soon found out. She would regularly be contacted for her Healing abilities by multiple nations and peoples across the racial divides for requests to hire her services permanently which she had done her best to make clear was not going to happen. She would swear no allegiance to any single nation or people. She was a nomadic healer who would travel the world searching for those most in dire need of her assistance and provide the aid they sought to the best of her abilities. And for almost 300 years this worked out well for her until one fateful encounter with forbidden magic changed everything.
  
  By this time in her life Elena had once again married, this time to a charming Miithi of the Eagle tribes named Taron. Their love bore two children, a son named Jerras and a daughter named Aalia. The couple would raise their children together for approximately 14 years before Elena's dreaded encounter. The mage she ran into was one of the Memory Magic cults who promptly erased Elena's memories as far back as he could before disappearing. By the time Elena recovered from the attack itself she remembered only her name. She didn't remember that she was a High Elf and has since referred to herself simply as an "Elf." She didn't remember her parents. She didn't remember first husband. She didn't remember her magical training or any of the skills she'd mastered. And she didn't remember her family. The faces of her loving husband and two children were complete strangers to her. Despite taking her to every Healer they could find no magical touch would undo the damage that was done. Only another Memory mage would be able to reverse it.
  
  Out of grief and an inability to cope with the loss of her mother's memories and love, Aalia tragically committed suicide shortly before what would have been her 15th birthday. The loss of his sister and the stress of Elena's lost memories eventually drove their son to run away from home and turn to a life of crime. And even Taron himself eventually quietly filed for divorce and left Elena in the care of a local Healer in the hopes that somehow, some way, they'd find a way to return her to her former self. And he let them know that if they were successful he would be waiting for her at their old home which was now a foreign place to her.
  
  The years passed... So many in fact that Taron and Jerras had both passed away from old age. And Elena never knew. Nor was she ever informed.
  
  Eventually, preferring the company of animals to people, she settled into a small hut in the woods just outside of Erithia and lives a quiet life of solitude while she waits for something. She doesn't know what that something is. But she knows that it will someday find her. And when it does she has promised herself that she will be ready.

 

[EldridSmith]

Randir Elrohir​

• Randir
• Sigil
• Disguised
• Mother
• School
• Sylvari
• Transport Business Serviced Area

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• General
• Childhood
• Adult
• Krauxose
• Recovery
• Time

• Name Meaning: Wandering Elf Knight
  Birthplace: Elven Territories in Hyenta
  Birthday: Ninth day of the ninth month
  Gender: Straight Male
  Height: 6'2"
  School: Krauxose Academy
  Magic: Transportation
  Rank: Master
  Race: Half high elf half dark elf
  Age: 331
  
  Personal Strengths:
  Extensive knowledge of transportation's applications
  Powerful Connection To The Flow Of Mana
  Spearmaster & thrown weapon expert
  Calculative
  Patient
  Calm
  
  Personal Weaknesses:
  Has trouble bothering to make real friendships with short lived races
  Thinks in terms of decades, and centuries instead of hours and days
  Desperately trying to stay in touch with his emotions
  Fear of loss
  
• Dear Umani,
  I have received your invitation for your granddaughter's coming of age ball and I will gladly join you for such a joyous occasion. I know you ever dote on her, and I will be sure to bring a proper gift. Now that the formalities that ever bore you are out of the way, I feel it's time I told you something important. I recall you once inquired of my younger years during our stay at the college. Having not known you well I declined to share, as it has been many years and I now count you among my list of dear friends I feel it's time I tell you the rest. I recall at our last meeting you mentioned your memory has begun to fail you due to aging, as such I shall reiterate the story in it's entirety.
  
  To start, I hardly posses any recollection of my father aside blurry mental images, as I saw him as a child but he passed away while I was still too young to process the event nor understand it. My mother, Sharina, hardly told me anything about him while I was a child other than he was a good man. As a child I didn't think much of it, in fact I felt rather proud as I compared my mother to the other children's parents, she did a job which normally took two people by herself, and in my childish logic she was therefore better. I will quickly remark I had several childhood friends and I got along well with most children, however being absent for most if not all of their self establishment during their young adult years, we have drifted.
  
  I was raised in the elven lands in Hyenta, the dark elves there left most if not all of the politics to the elves as we focused on training martial prowess. The reason for this was due to our settlement being dangerously close to orcs, errit, which my people consider a nuisance, and humans who are ever so unpredictable with their changing cultures and chaotic natures. As such the adults had us assess our aptitudes for using different types of weapons. Much to the adults surprise unlike my mother who was good with any weapon she picked up, I only had talent with thrown weaponry, and various spears. I shan't bore you with the details, in the end time passed and everyone neared adulthood and learned how to use their weapons properly.
  
  A year before my coming of age ceremony my mother decided to tell me about my father. That's when things made sense, as I always felt I was different from the other dark elves as my skin was lighter, but I never thought much of it before then. She proceeded to tell me about how she found him injured and passed out in their forest, as a fellow elf she was quick to take him back to her home and she nursed him back to health. He told her he was being hunted by creatures and agents of the darkness, but refused to elaborate further at first. He tried leaving many times but in the end my mother forced him to stay until he was nursed back to health, he finally agreed after his fifth attempt... well he healed within a few months.
  
  He was about to set out again when my mother stopped him once more... she refused to elaborate further than saying it was how I came to be and how he ended up staying. She had a strange look in her eyes so I didn't inquire further for my own mental health. She then explained that he left when he got a letter from a friend and he left the forest to go help them, my mother, being pregnant at the time was unable to join him. When she next saw him he seemed like centuries had passed, he tried explaining what happened but for some reason he couldn't. She told me he was already old when they first met, but it was clear he would not live much longer after his recent outing. Still she explained he was there long enough to take delight in my birth and to help watch me grow up some. She seemed to have something on her mind and I asked her if there was anything else she desired to share, but she shook her head and declared she would only tell me after I was able to beat her in combat at my coming of age ceremony.
  
  Sincerely,
  Randir Elrohir
  P.S. I know it's not quite as exciting as you expected, but that was my childhood. I will tell you of what happened at my coming of age ceremony in person at the party.
  
• Dear Astara,
  During our little reunion of close friends at Umani's party for his grandaughter, I remembered you wanted to hear what happened at my coming of age ceremony and the events following, but you were unfortunately unable to stay long due to your meeting with a duke the next kingdom over.
  
  I had a year to ponder what my mother told me about my father, and it drove me nearly mad with curisoity, I dared not enter her room for it was law in our house that I not enter it. It drove me to train harder than I had ever trained before, as something inside me was stirred and knew there was something more, that my life's path did not entail staying in my home forest, it felt as if the spirit of my father was beside me and guiding me towards his legacy.
  
  Eventually my coming of age ceremony came, and I was as nervous as I was excited. My mother was respected in the village for being an excellent fighter, though a jack of all weapons she was still a master of combat. My mother knew I couldn't best her yet while she was at her best, as such she picked weapons most disadvantageous for her: dual daggers. While she was handicapping herself, this by no means was an insult to me, nor was it going easy on me. The fight itself was long and brutal, much navigating through the clearing was done to avoid moving into the forest where my long reach would put me at a disadvantage as I would try to swap out for a short spear, but I had to be careful in the clearing to make sure she was a safe distance away.
  
  In the end I managed to snake in a strike to her back as she made a risky attempt to close the gap, however she was soon at my throat. Though my win in the bout, it would have been a major but not life threatening wound for her compared to my life if it was real combat. Still I passed, and my mother pulled me aside and went into her room and brought out a book which she handed to me. She then told me it was my father's journal, and she explained he was a powerful master transportation wizard, and that I too had been born with the same powers of magic that he had.
  
  At this point I was left to my own thoughts and the journal. I soon began to read through the journal, it was in high elven which my mother taught me how to read, write, and speak when I was younger. The journal was very cryptic and mysterious as it went on about something called the awakening, theories on the events, discussing of ancient lore, talk of bloodlines, and the gods, to me at the time it seemed my father was either crazy, indoctrinated into some cult, or being chased by something that drove him to think as such. To be honest I still don't understand much of his theories, as he has many of them in his journal, but if this is an event that will occur instead of some folk legend perhaps my father was on to something.
  
  Eventualy I got to the end of my father's journal, and a letter fell out which was stuck between the last pages. My father had written it to me, he said he wished he could see me as I was that day, but he knew if I was reading this he had already passed. He told me to go to the mages college where we met (location in pictures), and informed me I would find the power for a task that either I or a descendant of mine would have to undertake. Again I thought it was hogwash, however I still wished to develop my magical powers as such I sought out the school, and the rest is history.
  
  Sincerely,
  Randir Elrohir
  
• The following are a series of letters writtin to Randir's Mother during his time of becoming a mage, years unwritten are letters of little importance to the story (except in the master years):
  Day 1:
  I arrived at the Academy safely, and I will be sure to write you every so often to keep you updated on how things go. So far I've become acquaintences with an interesting group of people, a male Uranus named Umani, a male aerolian named Zephyr, and a female human named Kylee, a female elf named Astara, and another elf named Sylvari who I admit I've already formed a bit of a crush on. So far everything is going smoothly, we've been sorted into groups of ten, but the four others in our group we've yet to meet.
  
  Year 1: The first year so far has been going smoothly for me, thanks to the tips dad left for me most of the bumps in the road other people are facing I'm only facing a tenth of the issues others are. So far amongst the group Kylee has formed a crush on Zephyr, as for Zephyr he has had trouble with mana but Kylee has been helping him. I for one have been trying to get closer to Sylvari, and Astara bless her is trying to help out in small ways. Umani has a crush on Astara and I know she's aware of this... but she doesn't want to enter a relationship with someone so short lived. Wanting the best for both of them I advised her to tell him how she really feels to avoid him continuing to foster feelings for her that grow into great sorrow. As for the other four I hadn't met before, they are decent friends but are so busy studying they don't have much time to spend with us, they all appear to be human, a pair of men and women, but I'm not sure as I've not had the time to fully discern.
  
  Year 2: One of the humans I didn't know quite so well ended up dropping out, a shame but father explained I would lose most if not all of my friends to dropping out or death in the masters program so I've come to expect as much, but I'm surprised on dropped out so soon. Zephyr and Kylee are getting along well, they've officially moved to being a couple, though we don't see them as much anymore. Sometime early in the year Astara finally broke the news to Umani, poor man had the look of an injured pet, but I think he expceted as much, thankfully by the end of the year he fully rebounded and news has it he's now seeing another Uranus girl in another group, I've not asked as I know he'll share when he's ready. I'm getting along well with Sylvari, if all goes well we'll probably be a couple by graduation. Astara is doing well, but she spends much of her time tutoring the three humans that we don't see much of.
  
  Year 6: Not much has changed, aside from the group seeing less and less of each other, though I still see Sylvari the most due to her magic being rather similar to mine as she has shadowfare affinity, at times I envy her talent, as it would be such a good affinity to have for combat seeing as she's learning how to partially transform into shadow, but I do enjoy the greater utility that mine comes with.
  
  Year 11: I've been greatly struggling with making my own unique spell, most transportation mages opt out for a thesis but I want to do something unique. So far my thoughts have been regarding chain teleporting, a common technique we use but it often requires so much setup. I've started developing a method to do so for short range and close combat through the use of thrown needles with scrolls inside them which are prepped beforehand, though I hope to get it onto the needles themselves with enough practice.
  
  Year 12: The process ended up working and I'm now officially on track to graduate once the final tests are performed, other than that the year is rather uneventful. Sylvari and I are getting closer and we've gotten to holding hands recently as we take midnight walks to relax under the stars.
  
  Year 15: I've finally managed to graduate along with the others. Zephyr and Kylee got married right after graduating as expected, Astara says she'll wait to find another elf after we finish the masters program... optimistic on her part but I can't blame her, Umani's wife is now pregnant and has decided against going into the masters program and now works as one of the many medical mages on staff to try and save students who run into accidents during experiments, though we're surprised they didn't get pregnant sooner, I expect it was due to Umani's great self control and patience. I will admit my timing was off on getting together with Sylvari, but I know for sure by the end of the masters program, provided we both graduate, we'll be married.
  
  Masters year 1: Umani seems to be thriving under the high stress enviorment thanks to his wife at his side keeping him healed when he burns himself, and Astara is still as calm and collected as ever, but Zepyr ended up dropping out due to the stress, Kylee is barely holding up but she's likely going to drop out within the next year or so as well... as Zephyr's stress relief was... well my point being that we think Kylee may be with child, or at best she will be soon. As for myself and Sylvari, I have great news, the stress has pushed us closer together and we are now dating officially, I hope to bring you more good news in the future in that regard.
  
  Masters year 2: Kylee did end up dropping out, as she was in fact pregnant, she moved to live with Zephyr and they've seem to cut themselves off from the rest of us due to shame or some other reason, hopefully they open up in time. Umani's excitedly showing off his son, which thankfully has him doing his experiments in a much safer way as he has a wife and child to go home to. Nothing has changed regarding Astara, though she seems to be a little more aloof than normal but it's probably due to the stress. I'm getting along well with Sylvari, and I'm excited to bring her home to meet you when this whole program is over. So far things are going smoothly on all fronts other than the constant stress, but everyone's getting used to it at this point. Still there is an somber tone to campus as some people are realizing how deadly magic can be, still everyone in the group is trying to be safe so we're feeling optimistic, though Umani is quick to remind us that the three humans who used to be in our group who went into the masters program have all either died or dropped out. I hope for our sake he's wrong.
  
  Masters year 10: I apologize for not having written in eight years, I assure you I'm alive mother and I have been reading your letters, I haven't had the time nor energy to reply to them... I won't suger coat things, so far the masters program of the mage academy has been brutal, but the good news it's almost over. Now that I finally have a moment to stop and catch my breath I'll tell you what has happened since my last letter. Magic training has occupied most of my time, that which it hasn't I've either spent with Umani, Astara, and Slvari, or just with Sylvari. However with independant schedules I've mostly spent my time with Sylvari... now I fondly recall my memories of her but her death last year still stings bitterly. She was my shelter from the stress from school, and we had plans for marriage once everything was over, the more stress we faced the more we relied on each other and the stronger our bond became... it pushed so close together I now understand the look you had in your eyes when talking about dad a year before my coming of age ceremony.
  
  Thanks to Astara and Umani things have been bearable even with the loss of my beloved Sylvari. She was talented and amazing as I wrote to you in the past but unfortunately during a routine experiment things went wrong... the school wouldn't tell us how it happened but we had a nice funeral for her in our own rite before she was sent back to her own family... I wanted to go to the wedding her family had for her but I was not invited, aside even though I know she wrote to her family about me it would be weird for a mysterious boyfriend they never knew to show up for a family funeral. It happened during the ninth of the master program and it was a sobering reminder even though we wield the power of magic that we too are simply mortal. At this point I just wish to leave the academy and set out in the wide world to put this all behind me, or at the very least to dull the pain. Regardless I look forward to seeing you soon, as I'm almost done with it all and I yearn for home.
  
  Sincerely,
  Your Son Randir
  
• Dear Astara,
  I'm still glad you were by my side when things went to infernus and back during the academy, I feel it's time I update you on what's happened since then as it's been ten years since we've seen one another.
  
  After I left Krauxose, I made my way to my homeland and to see my mother, at the time I had nowhere else to go, as I feared I would do something stupid like look to you for romance when it was ill appropriate, we've both seen it many times at the college during our time there, rebound I believe it was called, and crashing Umani's happy family life would be a grave sin against a dear friend. Thankfully home was the best place to go, as my mother was an excellent source of comfort and she was able to councel me for she too know the pain of losing a loved on as she lost my father. Still it took a year for my mental health to recover from the stress built up over 25 year and Sylvari's passing.
  
  She let me have my year of slow recovery, but when the year was done she dragged me out of the house and smacked me with a training spear. She said I had enough time to heal, it was time to get back into action, and it was time to toughen up and deal with life. She beat the mana out of me, I was too mentally dishevelled to properly cast and I was out of practice from my time at Krauxose. She beat me back into shape, and by the end of the year I was finally back to normal... well the new normal at least. I could then boast I was a better fighter than my mother through the use of magic, but I still had a ways to go in purely martial combat on even footing at the time.
  
  Though healed at the time, I was without purpose and I lacked drive. I always had a clear goal growing up and during my time at Krauxose, but I was now dealing with complete personal freedom, something I was unused to at the time. I lacked direction, and so I packed my bags and left... also without a direction. I don't know what I expected to find, but the first thin I found was a merchant being raided by bandits in human territory. I stepped in to help the merchant, he was quick to thank me and enlist my aid. In the end I stay with the merchant for a while until he retired a wealthy man, unsure what to do. I eventually started up my own transportation and protection business with his help and have been on my own ever since, and as a good friend you're free to see me or make use of my services without charge any time.
  
  Sincerely,
  Your Friend Randir Elrohir
  
• Dear Astara,
  I write you this day knowing a new chapter of my life is about to unfold. As such I feel it best to close a chapter of my life with reflection on life after recovery. To start It turns out my father wasn't crazy, or perhaps I have been afflicted with the same madness that overtook him, regardless it seems to me the events in his journal are unfolding similarly to some of his predictions, but that's a more recent affair.
  
  The first century of life seemed oh so slow, the coming of age ceremony made it feel so far away until I became an adult. The 99th year felt even longer due to what my mother revealed to me. The second century started off oh so slow during the time we spent in Krauxose, and my slow but eventual recovery from that didn't help matters either... but after that time seemed to fly by in seconds. The ten years I spent helping the merchant felt like mere seconds. I didn't even notice the time fly by as I was always at various events due to work or from the occasional invitations from Umani.
  
  I hardly noticed that it had been a hundred years until I heard news of Zephyr and Kylee having passed away from you thanks to one of their descendants informing you. It was a sad moment but since I had lost touch with them I didn't truly notice, that was until Umani's funeral fourty years ago. It was so strange to realize how he aged so quickly as we visited him, I never thought much of it until the realization he was gone.
  
  I now fully understand why one would not find a suitable partner in the short lived races, however bright they shine they are still but a shooting star on our horizons, as I am sure we too are but shooting stars on the horizons of the treants and other ancient beings of this world. It's such a sad prospect, at the same time I may find my life ever so short due to what events are about to unfold. Regardless of my fate I send you well wishes and let it be known I have always seen you as a most valuable friend... no, more than a friend after all we've been through together. Anyways I must bid you farewell, I must put my affairs in order for this journey.
  With love,
  Randir Elrohir
  

 

[Chordling]

• 1
• 2
• 3
• Stats
• Sp. Abilities
• Items
• Notes

• 
• 
  
  
  Nora hails from a warrior mountain clan who prides itself for its protection and preservation of the Ursuline Cliffside.​
• 
  
  
  Wild bears have inhabited the area’s caves for centuries.​
• LEVEL 4
  HP: 58 (37, 30, 15)
  AC: 16 (+2)
  
  Strength*: 16 (+3)
  Dexterity: 14 (+2)
  Constitution*: 18 (+4)
  Intelligence: 10 (+0)
  Wisdom: 11 (+0)
  Charisma: 10 (+0)

  +2 - Acrobatics
  +2 - Animal Handling*
  +0 - Arcana
  +5 - Athletics*
  +0 - Deception
  +0 - History
  +0 - Insight
  +0 - Intimidation
  +0 - Investigation
  +0 - Medicine
  +2 - Nature*
  +0 - Perception
  +0 - Performance
  +0 - Persuasion
  +0 - Religion
  +2 - Sleight of Hand
  +2 - Stealth
  +2 - Survival*
  Weapons and Armor
  Shield (+2 AC)
  
  Handaxe 1d6 Slashing Damage Ranged 20/60
  Mace 1d6 Bludgeoning Damage Mee
  
  *This tab is intended for DnD settings only.
  
• Feature: Wanderer
  You have an excellent memory for maps and geography, and you can always recall the general layout of terrain, settlements, and other features around you. In addition, you can find food and fresh water for yourself and up to five other people each day, provided that the land offers berries, small game, water, and so forth.
  
  Rage 3/3
  In battle, you fight with primal ferocity. On your turn, you can enter a rage as a bonus action.While raging, you gain the following benefits if you aren't wearing heavy armor:
  
  ▶ You have advantage on Strength checks and Strength saving throws.
  ▶ When you make a melee weapon attack using Strength, you gain a +2 bonus to the damage roll. This bonus increases as you level.
  ▶ You have resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage.
  
  Your rage lasts for 1 minute. It ends early if you are knocked unconscious or if your turn ends and you haven't attacked a hostile creature since your last turn or taken damage since then. You can also end your rage on your turn as a bonus action. Once you have raged the maximum number of times for your barbarian level, you must finish a long rest before you can rage again. You may rage 2 times at 1st level, 3 at 3rd, 4 at 6th, 5 at 12th, and 6 at 17th.
  
  Unarmored Defense
  While you are not wearing any armor, your Armor Class equals 10 + your Dexterity modifier + your Constitution modifier. You can use a shield and still gain this benefit.
  
  Danger Sense
  You have advantage on Dexterity saving throws against effects that you can see, such as traps and spells. To gain this benefit, you can't be blinded, deafened, or incapacitated.
  
  Reckless Attack
  When you make your first attack on your turn, you can decide to attack recklessly. Doing so gives you advantage on melee weapon attack rolls using Strength during this turn, but attack rolls against you have advantage until your next turn.
  
  Berserker
  Frenzy
  You can go into a frenzy when you rage. If you do so, for the duration of your rage you can make a single melee weapon attack as a bonus action on each of your turns after this one. When your rage ends, you suffer one level of exhaustion.
  
  Tough
  Your hit point maximum increases by an amount equal to twice your level when you gain this feat. Whenever you gain a level thereafter, your hit point maximum increases by an additional 2 hit points.
  
  *This tab is intended for DnD settings only.
• Gold: 10
  
  Staff
  Hunting trap
  a trophy from an animal you killed (bear)
  Set of traveler's clothes
  
  Armor Proficiency: Light armor, medium armor, shields
  Weapons Proficiency: Simple weapons, martial weapons
  Tool Proficiencies: Drums
  
  *This tab is intended for DnD settings only.
• TBD

NORAHuman, Female, born 557 SE, age 17, Barbarian, Outlander, Hunter-Gatherer, Chaotic Good
- Playlist -

Child of the Shield
Daughter of Ivor
Niece of Torbjorn and Ingrid
Cousin of Frode and Geir

Nora hails from a warrior mountain clan who prides itself for its protection and preservation of the Ursuline Cliffside. Wild bears have inhabited the area’s caves for centuries and the clan considers the animal a sacred source for food, clothing, ferocity, and the most important spiritual connection to all Gods. Each year, the clan honors the Divine Ursa Spirit during a time simply known as “The Cleansing”. It begins when the mountain timber turns red and ends when the morning woodland floor is covered in frost. Clan members are encouraged to restore their spiritual balance through sacrifice and competition. This is also the time when hunters are permitted to search beyond clan marked territory for bears. But consequences for severing the divine connection by harming a bear unobserved by The Cleansing can hold many forms. Clan members often discuss and decide appropriate consequences for most cultural misconducts. Killing a cub, however, is always punishable by death.

-x- Praised are the warriors who demonstrate the ability to befriend ursa. -x-​

Nora’s family is recognized and respected as one of the clan’s three Shield Karls, who report the clan’s conditions to the clan leader. From birth, Nora’s life purpose has been to maintain the good image of her family. But Nora has always felt restricted because of her status and expectations. So, she’s made lots of mild misdemeanors to circumvent them, including skipping Shield gatherings, pestering clan members, and scaring livestock. She stepped too far out of line once for provoking the clan master’s bear, Oki. Her father managed to convince the clan leader to let her injuries be a lesson and that it would seem unreasonable for the clan to hold judicial punishments against a child. Nora’s aunt, however, finds herself scolding Nora’s rebellious behaior most often and believes her father to be incompetent at proper parenting. He’s just too soft with her (and Ingrid never understood why her sister married him in the first place). Many other clan members notice Nora’s relationship with her father from a more admirable perspective. It’s clear that their bond is strong.

-x- Remembered are the warriors who die valiant in battle. -x-​

The clan has been preparing for Nora’s Ursa Ascension Ritual, which initiates a child’s adulthood responsibilities. It is traditional for the child’s mother to give them their first bear cloak. Ingrid has agreed to complete this role in place of Nora’s deceased mother despite her niece’s wishes. But before the ceremony can begin, Nora must endure her trial, which will send her to survive on the peak of the mountain for three days. In total, it’s a two week long solo survival trip. To some, its an intimidating task, but for Nora, it’s just the adventure she’s been waiting for.

 

[LuckyDubs]

WIP~

Krag
A Summary of Krag
Scribed under duress by Ellias Sinsarion​

Forewords from the Scribe: It appears Krag is within one of his Controlled states now, giving off an unnerving sense as this social persona dances along the edges of the Uncanny Valley. He speaks slowly, gruffly, and attempts to enunciate to the best of his ability, though some words seem to get muddled regardless. Restrained growls resonate from deeper within, betraying this ability to otherwise converse with society at large without fear or concern. I believe his manner of speaking should be lauded, for a creature such as himself rarely lends its unique perspective to a scholarly mind or any with the courage to stay within its presence.

Along with his special experiences and capabilities is his trained etiquette, notably so that one would go as far as to say the creature has been rehabilitated into civility, even if it never sets paw into the court's halls. This manner of speech is always pre-empted with the type of dialogue to next leave its maw, as inflections and tonality would be lost upon our more gentle ears. For example, young Krag has said to me, "Question. Are you the writer of this [fine establishment]." To be fair to him, I almost would have missed that it was a query to my profession and simply assumed a beast was just stating what it saw. After a brief, yet enlightening, discussion with Krag, I am delighted to say that he is as capable to higher thought as the rest of us!

Well, were it be that he could speak any faster. However, his body language simply gave off the aura of an ambush predator, prepared to strike in an instant should he so choose. But thankfully, here I still am. All to say, that this beast of a soul has complexity that I would endeavor to explore, should I have the time and he the patience.

Regards, Scribe Ellias Sinsarion​

• What Ya Lookin' At?
• Gore, Lore, 'N More.
• Stickers 'N Blocks.
• Unmentionables.
• Strengths 'N Unstrengths

• 
  

  Biology​

  This striped hyena-esque brute is an enigma. While biologically similar to that of the sylthii race, Krag has taken on a more devilish appearance than those of his kind. One quality not the least being his reflective eyes, similar to that of a feline's photosensitivity and granting him functional low-light vision. Another such mutation includes bat-like ears, presumably giving the predator enhanced noise reception and quite possibly echolocation. One may only speculate as to how Krag acquired the physiological deviations, but he has taken every unique strength and pursued them with an intense focus to terrifying results. Sylthii, and by extension most canids, are inclined to be day pack hunters and using their brute strength and numbers to overwhelm their targets. Krag has, despite his bulk, proven to be effective at stealth and ambush tactics.
  
  On top of the frightening physical alterations are what one may expect from the common sylthii. A powerful build, as Krag stands at 6'5" when he is not hunched over. Canines strong enough to tear hide, yet not as powerful as some renowned creatures, with powerful molars that allow them to crunch and consume bones. Their digitigrade legs that, as long as they aren't encumbered with inflexible armor, can serve as powerful hind legs to a quadrupedal form and improve their running speed nearly two-fold. Tough claws that can rival a falcon's hooked talons, with Krag's being more so wicked. His torso is lean, strong enough to support such a bestial neck and head. His limbs are lithe, and with the right posture (such as the one he is always in) Krag could comfortably swipe the ground without losing momentum or going prone.
  
  There is one more fascinating feature of this frightening creature. An invisible affliction. Even as the accepted members of his kind have a macabre sense of justice, none have the outright sense of slaughter and inherent need to consume their hewn foes. As described by Krag, this bloodlust, this cannibalism, is a dark mark on his mental state of which has no inner respite. Being Krag's thus-far only confidant, general physician, and acquaintance willing to lend more than the metaphorical ear, I can only determine this state of being as a part of his physiology rather than a cultural upbringing. In matters of warfare and hunt, Krag is officially a threat. Give a wide berth to he who struggles to not eat the viscera from his crooked weapons.
  
  

  First Impressions​

  As iterated above, Krag has a clear relation to the striped species of the sylthii race. Standing at 6'5" and weighing in at 225lbs, this cream-colored beast has dark brown stripes all along his back, upper arms, and thighs. The spots around his eyes share the same dark brown as the stripes, sporting a few splotches of brown on the left of his muzzle and none on the right. His brown mane, shaped as a mohawk like most other sylthii, is haphazardly cut to not cover the eyes and leads down his spine, immediately meeting with the overly fluffy haunches of his shoulders. The overall image that Krag attempts to portray, and successfully most would say, is that of an intimidating and feral warrior.
  
  In social circumstances, whether he is visiting the open market or drinking you under the table at the lowliest pub, Krag is a methodical actor. Every point of action and trail of thought is the result of manual effort, causing his speech and mannerisms to look as though they are broached by one of lesser mental faculties. Although this is far from reality. If that were not enough cause for concern, there is also some question into his actual age. By his own account, he was birthed no more than four years ago. Which, of course, seems implausible as he easily towers most humanoids and has the experience of a veteran skirmisher, ignoring the fact that sylthii mature at approximately the same rate as humans. For now, I will list both his apparent and known ages, as 32 and 4, respectively. The truth may come to fruition one day, if not for me, for Krag.
  
  Conveniently, Krag's Uncontrolled tendencies, wild and frantic, align with his true manner of speaking and acting that is typically repressed. A series of cackles, barks, and growls will butcher his language, more in line to the chaotic yelps that the sylthii are known for. I have only had the opportunity to witness this behavior once before, when I accepted a bounty hunting trip with our esteemed hero. . . as an observer, of course. Spectating from the safety of our carriage, I noted there was a distinct line at which Krag must cross that will grant him the excitement confined within, and the boundary is as simple as any physical confrontation. His approach began with a bounty hunter's presumed spiels of taking in the target dead or alive in a rather reserved tone, and a knife to the shoulder in response prompted a primal rage which only lasted until the bounty's last breath; a brief affair, altogether, moments really.
  
• 
  

  Rowdy Rager​

  "Bastards, the lot of them." Lieutenant Estwin produces a dirty cloth and wipes down her bloodied longsword, her troops vaguely listening after their pyrrhic victory. All around the standing humans are an even greater number of dead humans and sylthii alike. "We caught them off-guard, and still they rallied. It was like watching a swarm of devil wasps change target with a single mind."
  
  A man about her age, salt-and-peppered beard nearly cloaking his mouth, approaches with equally dirtied armor and weapon nowhere to be found. He kneels to match her eyeline, but mostly taking a knee to finally catch his breath. "The ambush was effective. 'Ad we not taken them by surprise, we would have 'ad to retreat with even greater losses. If they would 'ave let us go at all. Persistent dogs." He spits at one of the nearby sylthii corpses more than actually saying the last words aloud.
  
  "Maybe. They knew we would do the same to them," Estwin sniffs as she begins to inspect her sword, apparently pleased with its condition before returning it to its scabbard.
  
  "An' I'd do it again."
  
  "Settle, Penbrook. It's done now," the woman states plainly as she stands, observing the carnage and ensuing body retrieval. None of her soldiers were celebrating, as the dozen or so remaining souls were left to the demoralizing job of gathering their mates and possessions. "Grab the carts and horses. Make sure we bring them all back home. Burn the rest."
  
  "Right away, lieutenant," Penbrook stands with some effort and claps his hands together. "Alright, lads 'n lasses, wrap 'em up 'n torch the others." He does a circular gesture with his armored hand, rounding everyone up to their duties. Meanwhile, Estwin steps away from the scene and through the busted doorframe of a small home. Inside is a mess reminiscent of that outside, with an axed table in splinters around the middle of the room and splatters of red across the floor and walls. She ignores the strangers' bodies lying in heaps and takes the one solid chair pressed against a window to drag it back outside. That's when she hears it.
  
  The gnawing. Wet crunches and ragged breathing. The hair on Estwin's neck stand on end as she freezes in place, listening for the source of the noises. Quietly, she lets go of the wooden chair and grasps the hilt of her weapon, slowly drawing it from its sheath as she sneaks into the bedroom. The floorboards don't give away her presence as she determines the sounds to come from a wardrobe, with bloody evidence leading to its doors. She edges closer to the source, hand stretching out to take the wooden handle. Once firmly in grasp, she takes a deep, silent breath and poises her weapon for immediate strike. She tears the door open she gives out her best battle yell, hoping to catch whatever is inside unawares and take it out without dragging it out.
  
  A flurry of blood-soaked fur, excited yelps, and glowing eyes impacts her breastplate instantly, knocking Estwin prone. A surge of panic runs through her, but the mass is off of her instantly and she hears the quick footsteps of the creature retreating to the front door. With a frustrated grunt, she turns to her side and goes to stand to the fastest of her ability as she hears Penbrook's voice. "Get down, mutt!" A soft bark and a thud happens out of her eyeline and she moves to check out the scene, sword in hand.
  
  Rounding the corner from the bedroom and looking to the torn doorframe, she spots Penbrook, sword drawn on a small sylthii firmly lodged under his boot. It is only about half of their size now, but besides its diminutive size it has a plethora of unique features, not the least of which this one has cream colored fur and stripes whereas the ones slaughtered outside are all brown and black with spots. Its muzzle and paws are inundated with viscera, and it frantically tries to remove the plated sabaton to no avail. "An odd one, this is. Would you like to do the honors?" Penbrook presses the tip of his blade into the creature's neck, yet it hardly seems to notice. "Would make for a nice trophy."
  
  
  
  
• 
  Stuff for Bleeding, Bone-Breaking, and Blocking Thereof.
  
• 
  Yet here we are, mentioning. The image(s) used may be considered placeholders until a better image can be produced to match their actual descriptions.
  
• 
  Goods and Not Goods.
  

 

[Laszalet]

Source of the FC

• Personal Information
• Personality
• Biography

• Name: Kasumir
  Race: Human
  Gender: Male
  Age: 41
  Date of Birth: 533 SE
  Height: 1.73 cm
  Weight: 70 Kg
  Magical Affinity: Wind
  Magical Education Establishment: Maruzunian Academy of the Magical Arts
  Years Practicing: 25
  Magical Ranking: Master
  Date of Ranking: 574 SE
  Currency on Hand: 10 Gold
  
  Personal Strengths:
  - Loyal
  - Open Minded
  - Friend of Nature
  - Bookworm
  - Extensive theoretical Knowledge of Magical Arts
  
  Personal Weaknesses:
  - Strong Self Doubt
  - In the Middle of an existential Crisis / Low self esteem
  - Impulsive
  - Extremely distrustful
  - Lack of Determination / Direction
  - Despises Moral Reasoning
  
• A never ending journey of seeking that which is missing.
  There is no better way to describe Kasumir's Personality, than to understand that his very Being has been shaped with the underlying motive of constantly seeking something. Something to fill a Void, which Kasumir can not remember, to ever had been but completely and utterly devoid of anything constant. And yet, the greatest hurdle to fill said Void, is made of his own personality conflicting.
  
  Kasumir's constant Conflict of his belief to be open minded, while constantly fearing because of his past, that said open mindedness leads him to trust others to much, to be gullible, or even worse, for his emotions to be manipulated, results in him to distrust anyone and view them with an irrational amount of suspicion. Having made it impossible so far for him, to form any kind of lasting attachment or bond with others. Therefore, in an attempt to fill his crave for attachments, even if it may only be temporary, he seeked out the comfort of books and any other kind of written word. Because of this, one may come rightfully to the conclusion or notice, that his Personality has been strongly shaped by the dozens and dozens of books he had read during his life.
  Adding to that Kasumir greatly enjoys the company of Nature and its fellow inhabitants since he was forced to live in the wild. For no matter how gullible he may act, said inhabitants never had tried to actively deceive him.
  
• 
  
  • Early Life
  • Journey to the Academy
  • Becoming a Proper Mage

  • Kasumir had been born in a small village whose name he neither remembers nor wishes to remember for the early part of his life was by no means a pleasant experience. For his Life had been plagued with a constant loss of connections. One of the earlier iterations of said loss, is especially evident through his lack of knowledge about the ones who gave life to him. He neither knows their names nor their faces, all that remains is second hand knowledge he received and even that only consists of how they assumedly passed away. Adding to that, he only ever formed shortlasting attachments to and with others, for all who had taken care of him or approached him either passed away within a short period of time, like his parents, or left the village in which he was born. Because of this bad luck that seemingly enveloped the young boy, any attempts from him to interact with others were usually harshly rejected.
    
    Despite that, the villagers still provided him with food, water and shelter, all for the sake of being morally good or at least that is what they claimed. But his ostracization did not stop in any way, rather it got worse and went even to such lengths that he had to quietly observe from outside the schooling room if he wished to be not harmed. For Kasumir learned quickly that the children of the Villagers where less kind than their parents and that said parents only felt obligated to provide Kasumir with the basic necessities for survival. Therefore it is by no means a surprise that he found these strange symbols, which were called letters, especially interesting. For they seemed to possess the magical power to create worlds of their own. Worlds in which Kasumir could find rest, in which he was not unwelcomed, in which he could watch the most unimaginable of things unfold. All without the fear of being hurt. And all he had to do to dive into these worlds, to dive into even more worlds, was for him to learn even more of these magical "letters".
    
    Yet there was a requirement to visit these worlds, that he could not possibly fulfill: To possess books.
    But how could he possibly acquire them? The villagers couldn't care less to help him visit these magical worlds, as much as he knew, they would probably actively hinder him. The only option for him left, seemed to be to "borrow" these books temporarily and copy whatever magical "letters" they held onto the wooden floor of his shelter. He was well aware of the consequences should anyone ever find out, and yet he could not resist. And so he did what he thought he had to do, however unsurprisingly his actions had been uncovered by the village, albeit in a frame of time one may declare to be years. But for however long it took, and however many books he borrowed, his punishment was given out in kind.
    
    And so these hypocrites threw him out of the village, banned him from entering it. All based on their so called "morals". Their hypocrisy was incredibly apparent, after all, they did force him out with nothing more than the clothes he wore and but enough food and water to survive a few days, nowhere near enough when the closest village would at best take several weeks of marching to reach. Not that he would willingly visit said village, after all who was to say that they would treat him any better? Ultimately, he was forced to live in the woods yet unexpectedly, for the most part, he enjoyed it. There were none that could lie to him nor any that would hurt him without reason.
    
    But, this peaceful state could not last, would not last. It was by no means an external force that disrupted his peace but rather he himself got tired of it. Kasumir just felt... empty. Despite being enjoying his stay fully, he could not help but feel that he missed something intangible. Without the books to divert his thoughts, he was free to think about all kinds of different things and yet he constantly drifted to a single Question. Why?
    He could not answer it. Why did he continue? Hell, why did he even question himself? Just, why? He certainly enjoyed his current situtation and yet it felt like he needed something more, something else. He just could feel it, he had to seek it, to find it. To find that something else. Whatever it was, he felt like he could not find it if he were to just stay in the woods and remain. He had to leave. But to where?
    
    Kasumir faintly remembered something. Magic. He had read about it. About it and the endless amount of changes it could make. But learning how to wield it took time. A lot of time. Was he truly willing to spend almost more than half of his life trying to learn Magic just for the hope of finding that something else he seeks? How could he even know whether he would succeed in learning Magic? Such thoughts were meaningless, for at least in the moment it felt like the right thing to do. Yet to ease his consciousness fully, he decided on a simple gamble: If the first academy he reached would not or could not teach him, he would abandon his path to becoming a mage.
    With his newfound conviction his journey was just about to start.
    
  • By the gods! If he had only known before. Known how difficult it would be to find anyone that would even have the furthest clue of where his goal was. But No, anyone he asked, who did not run away or tried to chase him away at first sight, thanks to him only wearing clothes which were completely in tatters, a bad aftereffect of living in the wild, had not the slightest idea what he was talking about. Would he really have to wander to a city? With his appearance, there was no way they would hesitate to chase him away. Kasumir simply couldn't deny, that his appearance had seen better days, but what was he supposed to do? The last time he "borrowed" something, he was thrown out, so if he borrowed something permanently, oh my. He could only guess what would happen.
    
    And buying was certainly even more out of the question, he didn't even knew whether the coins that were familiar to him even existed outside of his village, even less, what value they held. Out of options he resolved himself to his fate. That was until he noticed someone. A certain someone who may very well know the way. A mage. There was a real mage in this village. Kasumir couldn't believe his luck, after all he had spent hours and hours asking, or at least trying to, the inhabitants for any kind of direction. And yet none knew. But here was one that should be able to help him with his journey. That was if the person that presented themself as one, was truly a mage. However much distrust he held, even if the traveler would lie to him and point him into the wrong direction, at least he would have a goal to walk towards, clearly better than just standing around.
    
    Damn. Truly how Kasumir began to disdain fate at that moment, for it seemed to have played him very well. While the apparent mage, knew the way to the academy, said mage was clearly either unwillingly or incapable of giving proper directions. But fate had to tease Kasumir even more, for the mage, whose name was apparently Larkun, offered Kasumir to join him in his travel to the nearest academy. Yet Kasumir couldn't just travel together with someone else. As irrational as it was, and he was well aware of it himself, he just couldn't trust the mage. Even if he knew or at least was certain that the mage meant no ill will, his feelings got the better of him. It just didn't feel right to trust the mage nor his words.
    
    While truly trusting the mage was impossible, Kasumir could not let this chance slip past him, he would not let it slip past. He would not allow his feelings to overhelm him. So, despite his feelings being of a different opinion he followed the mage. From a safe distance that is. Whether the mage didn't notice him or didn't care that he was being followed, Kasumir was thankful that he had finally once more a tangible goal to follow.
    
    
  • After the many weeks of constant traveling, Kasumir had finally reached his destination. And lost his gamble? Or was it a win? Only time could tell. He was still surprised that of all things which could have been his affinity, Wind would be the one he truly had. After all, in Kasumir's eyes, said affinity could not be more conflicting, for his demeanor was certainly calm, yet his true inner self had more in common with a storm at most times, rather than with a warm spring breeze. But however much or less Wind suited his Personality, it mattered barely. And at least he was finally provided with some non-tattered clothing. Something which didn't feel as if it would fall apart at any second.
    
    His greatest joy during his studies or to be more exact, during his freetime, that is if his stuides did not involved it, was still the reading of books. Ah, how he had craved at moments during his journey to finally be able to read a book again, yet it had been necessary to keep going and not stop. For that is certain, had he stopped, he would have not prevailed. Be it as it is, Kasumir did truly enjoy throwing himself in the necessary work which was required of him, for still any passing second he did not, he once more came so ever closer to be overcome with despair. Any second of free thought truly tended to just force him into thinking about his actions, about his mistakes, about the things that he had wrong, could have wrong, and may be wrong about in the future. And lastly the feeling of emptiness still remained within Kasumir.
    And yet said feeling motivated him immensely to walk forward without hesitation. To work tirelessy in reaching the title of a Master. Maybe then, he would have gained enough insight to understand what it truly was that he is seeking? Whatever he would gain, it would certainly help him.
    
    And yet he would way sooner find the first hurdle to his goals. Never would he have expected it to be so difficult to create a unique spell. And unlike some of his colleagues whose magical art did not really allow for a unique spell, the applications of Wind had certainly yet to be fully explored. But how was he expected to possibly come up with a completely new spell? He just simply wasn't creative enough. And even after he had finally succeeded in creating and presenting his new spell, Kasumir was dissatisfied for the practical application of the spell felt to obvious for nobody to have created a spell which would do the same and yet his instructor guaranteed that his spell passed the requirements.
    
    After finally graduating and being bestowed the title of a mage, Kasumir almost impulsively decided against taking the Master's Trial. If he had already struggled with creating his so-called unique spell, then how was he supposed to make it through something even harder? But then again, what else was he supposed to do? He knew better than anyone else that he lacked any kind of goal. Anything that could give him a direction to walk towards to. So he had no choice, would he decide to not take the Master's Trial, he would have to find something different. Which would inevitably force him to once more have thoughts he tried to dismiss in the past. For he knew, those thoughts would tear him mentally apart sooner or later. He could not possible endure all these subtle thoughts driving him to but a singular thought:
    That the actions he had done were wrong, that the once he does are going to be wrong or meaningless and that his future is bleak at best and meaningless at normal.
    
    So there clearly was no other choice than to try and prevail through it. To make it till the end. And hope. Hope that by the end these thoughts would lessen. And once he had finally survived the Trial he could finally feel it. Soon the opportunity to find that which he sought was going to show itself, but until then he would have to still wait for but a bit longer. Wait until the time had come. Wait, until his long journey may finally end.
    
  
  

 

[Lekiel]

Why should our fates be written in the stars, when we can grasp it in the palm of our hands?​

GENERAL INFORMATION
NAME: Nuelehtil Lur`Aranal (Nu-leh-till Yur-ar-ranal) an`Oai - an`Oai basically indicates that she is of the ruling lineage of clan Oai. Contrary to fal`Oai, which indicates that the person is from clan Oai, but not of direct lineage from the ruling family. This surname is usually omitted unless giving an introduction under formal settings.

TITLES:
Drifts As The Wind - All Hinokian tribesmen and women are given a title to go along with their namesakes at birth by the Hinokian Starsages; this may change if something noteworthy happens to them during and after their lifetime. These titles are also used as nicknames among the Hinokian tribes.
11th Candlemaiden - A title granted to the night watcher charged with lighting the outermost Glimmershroom in case of an attack on the clan. Children of the clan chiefs by tradition, are not permitted to be the 11th Candlemaiden as they are the first line of defence against the sworn enemies of the Hinokian people; the sand trolls. As such, many 11th Candlemaidens barely last a single yearly Cycle. The title is irrelevant outside of the Hinokian tribes and to those uninformed of the Hinokian ways.

AGE: 27
D.O.B.: 547 SE
RACE: Human

APPEARANCE: Slate grey almond shaped eyes, dark cocoa brown long hair. Small busted and athletic, though still in possession of a relatively feminine build... ..

"Why? You interested?"​

Height: 5 ft 4... shutup!

MAGICAL AFFINITY: Spellweaving - The spellweavers are deft and agile dancers of the Hinokian Tribes, using magic in the form of spellthreads to puppet constructed Marionettes of varying sizes, including that of dismembered body parts. When they come out of the Hinokian Highlands to trade with the settlers, they often perform theatrical plays of macabre humour known only to the Hinokians.
MAGICAL TUTELEGE: Spellweaving is a cultural magical art form unique to the Hinokian Tribes, a skill passed on from one generation to the next. Drifts As The Wind learned the art from Master Weaves Fine As Silk.
YEARS PRACTICING: 14 Years
MAGICAL RANKING: The Hinokians do not have any established ranking system.

REGION: Baelroth, Wastes Of Katal

SONG: Nuelehtil's Theme

• PERSONALITY
• THE HINOKIANS
• Biography
• COMBAT INFORMATION

• 
  

  "A typical psychotic woman who will maim you in your sleep to expand my horde of dismembered limbs..." The grey-eyed woman answers in an almost freakish offhanded way. "I'm just kidding." She adds after a moment with unblinking eyes. Despite her assurances, you can't help but feel a little conscious of your exposed arms; more so as you catch her unnerving stare.​

  
  Nuelehtil Drifts As The Wind, as is her namesake, has a rather short attention span and even shorterheight patience. While she is quick-witted, often excelling and remaining cool-headed in unpredictable circumstances where others might break under duress, she has a tendency to rush things where a more methodical approach would be of greater benefit. There are only a few things wherein Nuelehtil would spend extra care on, such as tinkering on her marionette, Kalla. Nonetheless, she grew up with an endearing precociousness, a trait that carried into adulthood enabling her to learn new things quicker than most, assuming she put her mind to the task.
  
  Talkative to a fault, she has an insatiable curiosity to turn over every stone, squint into every horizon, pick through people's thoughts, spy in between closed windows... no, seriously!
  
  Raised amongst theatrical thespians (and artisans), she has developed a subconscious flair to embellish her words for more dramatic effect, making her just a tad bit less reliable when it comes to relaying information. *cough*
  
  Strengths
  Calm under duress
  Adaptable
  Nerves of steel
  Talkative
  
  Weaknesses
  Poor risk management
  Impetuous
  Prying
  Talkative
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• 
  
  
  
  The great city of Oesil`Alanure, robed in resplendent wealth,
  with streets of stardust and towering monuments of exotic ivory,
  its rivers flowing with gold and trades of purple pelts and show,
  brave men armour agleaming fighting all and any foe,
  through the lands of dust and dirt,
  a Jewel an Oasis,
  a respite of Pride rising dauntless against the cloudless sky,
  from this they are emerged,
  a perfected image they stir,
  shows of nay they purge,
  under the sun's glorious rays they raise,
  golden flags with their words of dust and ancient old,
  
  Woe to those who stand in our way,
  jade wyverns terrorize you,
  our armor will deflect you,
  your shields our swords will sunder,
  for behold the might of One who leads us,
  Lye hini`Hinokah, hini en`malanar,
  gorga lye naara aure!
  (We who are the children of Hinokah, children of the Eastern Star,
  fear our purifying might!)
  Please my friend I beseech thee,
  join our ranks in glory,
  and hear thee our Stories of ancient old!
  ​
  
  
  
  ~Prologue: Wanderers of the Old Path​
  
  
  Hinokians. Wanderers of the Old Path. Children of Hinokah the Glorious Light, He Who Dwells Within The Eastern Star, Saviour Of All. It is difficult to distinguish what is history and what is legend. But ask any Hinokian and they will have you know they are a people descended from a time before Time. For their repute no one could dispute, for no being, no book, no ancient tree nor etched story, could tell of the time when the Hinokians never wandered the southern wastelands. A race of nomads who call one of the harshest places on Earth home, they claim the Wastes of Katal once hallowed ground, now accursed until such time their God returns from among the stars. Where had they truly come from and do their stories of olden Kingdoms hold true? Suffice to say that you need not know more, of their past and dust. Tis enough to know strange folk they may be, with humour both dark and gold, they are all that stands, between us and the wretched trolls!
  
  
  
  -Excerpt from The Histories of the Southern Lands, as chronicled by Fleming Wintersworth, chief librarian of Harrowdown, Rorush-​
  
  
• 
  Nuelehtil Drifts As The Wind was born as the only daughter and younger of two children to the chief of the Oai Clan, the largest of the eleven Hinokian Tribes that called the foothills of the Hinokian Highlands their home. The Hinokian Highlands is situated in the northern part of the Wastes of Katal. Though they have always been known as nomads, a consensus from the leaders of all the Hinokian tribes was struck, resulting in the Oai Clan giving up their nomadic lifestyle to better act as a diplomatic and trading intermediary between the Hinokians and the outermost villages of Rorush and Lituta. Far from their citystate lieges, these villagers often have trouble receiving aid against the various beasts that roam the southern wastelands, especially the hordes of Sand Trolls that roam the Highlands. As such, a bargain was struck with the Hinokians, protection in exchange for tributes and gifts of goods from the northern lands. This suited the Hinokians just fine as they considered the trolls pests who defile their roaming lands.
  
  Other than just hunter-gatherers, the Hinokians are also famed for their travelling theatrical plays, artisanal crafts of exotic fabric, dyes, woodworks and ivory equipment. Their peoples were of varied trade, carpenters, boneshapers, weavers, tailors, toymakers, puppeteers, bards, thespians, shamans, and deadly masked warriors wielding scythes, known as Macabres.
  
  Nuelehtil grew up under her father's careful guidance, learning his trade of craftmaking and the responsibilities of a benevolent leader's daughter. The skill came easily to her, like almost all things, and she quickly learned to experiment on different woodworking contraptions on her own. And when she was not tinkering, she helped to maintain and construct more marionettes for the puppeteer warriors of the Hinokians, the Spellweavers. Sooner than her father had hoped, Nuelehtil exhausted the varied list of things she could do within the confines of the tribe mostly because nothing seemed to be able to arrest her attention. And when she asked to either follow one of the many theatrical caravans or train with the Macabres, her father quickly released her to the less dangerous of the two.
  
  So it was, that at the age of thirteen, she left to join Master Weaves Fine As Silk on his caravan. For five years, she travelled all over the Rorush, even as far north as Crie'tan and as far east as the forests of Kolra, training in the art of Spellweaving and entertainment. Sheltered within her tribe during her early years, the experiences and sights she saw blew her mind. Stories of fabled kingdoms, legendary knights, terrifying beasts and heroes entranced her. Though her heart still lay with her family and homeland, there wasn't a week where she would not beg Master Weaves FIne As Silk to take the caravan further but always, she was met with the same answer. A simple smile and the shake of a head. Disheartened, but no less eager to see more, she vowed to become a great Spellweaver and lead her own caravan out into the horizon's horizon. All that changed when she returned home just shy of her 18th birthday to find that her beloved brother had been severely wounded during a troll raid on the clan. Though alive, he was half paralyzed. To say that the once-proud chieftain-in-making was merely broken was an understatement. Anguished and seething with rage, she retreated from the sorry sight to deal with her emotions.
  
  It was then that she stumbled upon a dusty gilded chest abandoned in one of her father's storing tents. Wanting something to distract herself, she dragged the casket out under the moonlight and opened it. Inside, was a marionette of smoothest ivory and milk-white wood. Under its collar and carved into its back, was the name 'Kalla'. And when she wove her spellthreads upon it, Nuelehtil immediately knew Kalla was no ordinary marionette. Armed with her newest discovery, she marched up to her father and demanded an explanation. He told her of her great grandmother, the greatest of all the 11th Candlemaidens. And who went mad because of the accursed doll, disappearing into the misty highlands without a trace.
  
  Undeterred, Nuelehtil disregarded her father's warnings, callowly threatening to rush off into the wilds to kill as many trolls as she could if she was not allowed to use it to avenge her brother and those that had fallen. This was obviously a bad idea for the young adolescent, especially in her current emotional state. Short of locking her up, Chief Wise As An Owl relented and made a deal with his daughter. She could keep Kalla and be given a chance to serve as a warrior, but first, she'd have to train in the art of battle. Nuelehtil relished the opportunity, thrusting herself wholly into the training sessions until her inevitable anointing by the elders as a Candlemaiden.
  
  It was said that the sand trolls could smell a man from miles away, but had difficulty detecting girls. Thus, the Hinokians entrusted a group of highly trained female spellweavers to be their tribe's eyes and ears during the more vulnerable time of night. They split their group into two shifts of five and six girls, covering all possible attack routes. The second shift ended just before dawn, with the Candlemaiden furthest out from the tribe's clan watching over the most likely route of attack. This would be the 11th Candlemaiden, the infamous position wherein many lives were lost to defend the tribe. And it was this position that Nuelehtil stubbornly sought out, much to her father's chagrin. And hold it Drifts As The Wind did, together with the accursed marionette Kalla. For many long cycles, until one fated day, a vision came to the clan's Starsages, foretelling of things to come for the girl, now a woman.
  
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• 
  SKILLS & ABILITIES:[/B]
  Puppetry - Those who have heard of the fabled Hinokian Theatrical Caravans would be well aware of their enrapturing marionette performances. Despite that, the Hinokian Spellweavers and their marionettes have a darker and more deadly side to their craft. Using spellthreads, Spellweavers can animate armed and armoured marionettes to cut through their foes in swathes of crimson from a safer (stone's throw) distance. Spellthreading is not limited to just control over marionettes but can also animate other, more gruesome, objects such as the severed limbs of their foes. It is not unusual to see a Hinokian Spellweaver purposefully dismember an opponent just to smash its head in with its own leg. The strength of a severed limb depends on the power of the Spellweaver. It is not uncommon for an adept Spellweaver to achieve similar reflexive action from a severed limb as if it were attached to the original body. However, the size or total mass of the controlled objects is highly dependent on the skill of the Spellweaver.
  
  In Nuelehtil's case, she can control a handful of severed limbs or three marionettes of roughly humanoid size or a single 'hulker' (large body such as that of a fourteen-foot dire bear). Spellthreading can even work to constrict 'unwilling' subjects, however, the magical and physical effort required to bind another creature that would struggle is often too exhausting that most Spellweavers do not attempt it unless they had no other choice.
  
  Salka Gurtha - Translates to Dance of Death. Salka Gurtha is a special martial art unique to the Spellweavers. With it, Nuelehtil is able to control various types of marionettes with deadly poise whilst still remaining aware of her surroundings. During the carnage of Salka Gurtha, the Spellweaver can be seen as if performing some sort of macabre twisted dance, coaxing their marionettes into soulless automatons of death. However, proficiency in Salka Gurtha does not translate to a person's own martial prowess minus a marionette. Practitioners of Salka Gurtha are as harmless/harmful as an ordinary peasant. In fact, Spellweavers are discouraged from practising complex martial combat as it is said to interfere with the ability. Nonetheless, it does not stop them from studying the theory behind other fighting styles to incorporate into their marionette fights.
  
  Nimble Prancer - Though lacking in strength and martial prowess, Nueleltil has excellent spatial awareness both from being an accomplished performer and the longest lasting 11th Candlemaiden in three decades. Able to contort her body in an instant as well as perform acrobatic feats with practised ease, she is more than willing and capable at getting the fuck out of dodge when she cannot beat you.
  
  Exceptional Needlework - Cause pretty dresses are so.... PRETTY!!! O.O
  
  Toy Tinkerer - A trade she picked up from her father as it does help with the upkeep of marionettes. She is also fond of wood carving.
  
  Stomach Disturber - Drifts As The Wind thinks she can cook. Please don't let her.
  
  ARTIFACT/HEIRLOOM:
  
  
  Kalla. A humanoid marionette made of blasted Harghaast wood and Ancient Orrok Wyrm ivory, incredibly rare and strong materials. Kalla once belonged to Nenil Of The Red Mist, Nuelehtil's great grandmother whom she never met. It was said that in her prime, Nenil the 11th Candlemaiden would often refuse to light the Glimmershroom during a troll attack, preferring instead to engage the brutes in combat. Oftentimes alone against multiple adversaries, she would set about slaughtering the trolls until their agonized howls would alert the other Candlemaidens to the attack. Arriving on the scene, they would behold a bloodbath. Many would claim that the very air misted with troll blood as Nenil danced gracefully alongside Kalla, a wicked smile painted across her face as the trolls succumbed to their wounds only to be choked by their very own hands. Thus Nenil became the maiden Of The Red Mist. The scene of carnage was so severe that the frequency of attacks against the Oai clan dropped drastically, and never quite recovered to the present time. Despite the countless lives undoubtedly saved by Nenil and Kalla, it was said that the marionette became cursed; having drunk the blood of a thousand trolls. Nenil's mind steadily deteriorated, and she became more and more bloodthirsty. The clansmen even noticed that Nenil had begun speaking to Kalla as if the marionette were alive, and though it was not unusual for Spellweavers, the things she said and the maniacal look in her eyes did nothing to dispel the eerieness of the situation. Then on one fated dawn, Nenil the 11th Candlemaiden did not return from her watch. Search parties found nothing, except the accursed marionette resting against a blasted oak. Some said that Nenil had finally fallen to the trolls, though many doubted that was true. Nenil had simply vanished.
  
  And so, Kalla remained with the Aoi clan; untouched for years. For it was not that nobody wanted to put the marionette to use, but rather the very nature of its construct made it incredibly difficult to control, let alone master. It reacted far too sensitively for even the most talented Master Spellweavers to control, especially with its use of multiple concealed blades within the marionette's voluminous sleeves. And those that tried, claimed they heard the voice of a young girl screaming for blood every night in their sleep; even after putting it away for weeks. The day a young Nuelehtil chanced upon an old casket in her family's troves, was the day cursed Kalla's bloodstained ivory blades glinted once more under the light of a full moon in decades.
  
  Kalla stands at exactly the same height as Nuelehtil when fully assembled. Her array of up to a dozen Orrok Ivory blades lay hidden throughout its puffed velvet sleeves. Despite a large part of it being made of wood, its core frame is no less susceptible to fire than steel.
  
  WEAPON(s):
  
  Bonemuncher - An exceptionally well crafted, sharp but otherwise ordinary ivory sickle. Gifted to Nuelehtil from her brother. Ideal for quickly sawing through bone.... yum!
  
  SPELLWEAVER - Class Traits:
  Specialty: Bruteslayer - Nuelehtil is best at fighting larger albeit, relatively quick foes. As they are the sworn enemies of the Hinokians, she has vast experience fighting trolls and similar ilk. The wilds of the Hinokian Highlands are also home to various large beasts adding to the variety of hulking monsters the Spellweaver would have to deal with on a common basis. Additionally, marionettes are either exceptionally durable or easily replaceable, allowing them to bear the brunt of an attack or keep the beasts occupied for others to sneak in a fatal blow.
  
  Specialty: Entrenched Awareness - Given reasonable time, Candlemaidens can spread a web of spellthreads over their immediate vicinity, allowing them to utilize their finely tuned senses and magical threads to alert them to incoming danger. Thus, the longer Nuelehtil remains in a particular area, the less likely she is to be taken by a sneak attack or ambush.
  
  Weakness: Too Close For Comfort - Nuelehtil can deal with swarms of relatively unintelligent foes with ease by controlling up to three small humanoid sized marionettes to form a defensive/offensive perimeter around her. Nonetheless, should significant numbers overwhelm the perimeter or a proficient fighter get past her defences, Nuelehtil would have trouble keeping them at bay short of retreating.
  유 유 유

Spoiler: Spellweaving Lore

In essence, spellweaving is a kind of puppetry magic. Centred around dance and marionetting, spellweaving is a cultural art of the human Hinokian Tribes taught from one generation to the next. Magic users of this tribe of humans would be capable of casting magical webs simply known as spellthreads; this is the core foundation of spellweaving. Spellweaving is divided into two branches. Control over the willing and control over the unwilling, with the latter being way way way more energy-intensive albeit less complex while the former requires more finesse and complexity. Control often does not extend beyond the close range, with established maximums of around 20 - 25 feet depending on the spellweaver's capabilities.

Control over the unwilling is simply casting your spellthreads to encumber, constrict, or compel another object or being. The more 'unwilling' a subject is (e.g. another human who would obviously be struggling compared to a simple object like a rock) the harder it is to affect it, and this difficulty increases in physical and magical effort exponentially, so much so that Spellweavers rarely ever try to use it on another living being (even if they had the prowess to do so in the first place). At best, adept Spellweavers could likely constrict a troll ten times their strength for a little over five seconds before the effort leaves them completely drained.

This brings us to the other part (and more commonly used form) of spellweaving that requires less raw physical and magical prowess, but more practice and experience. Control over the 'willing'. The 'willing' in this case are inanimate objects which have been 'prepped' by the spellweaver beforehand using magical runes, allowing for more delicate and precise control. In this tribe of human's case, they use magic to control specially constructed marionettes into a weapon that is an extension of themselves (think puppets with swords and daggers); or simply as a means of entertainment to earn coin to trade with the 'outside world' (outside world, in this case, refers to the rest of standard civilization that is not of the nomadic tribe).