Fantasy DUNGEON DELVER: Secrets of Caedia [CS Thread]

Elenion Aura · Jun 28, 2024

DUNGEON DELVER

Secrets of Caedia

A Voice in the Dark

"My Chosen... You are almost ready. You are almost here...

Descend... Descend... Descend..."

	    			XXXXXX1

	    			「 CS 」
THE BARRACKS
This is where the approved Character Sheets will be stored. Please, don't post anything here. The code I am going to try and use for these CSes is a bit involved. I think I will go ahead and post the CSes for every approved character once I've reviewed them. For now, please see the sample I've posted below this post as an (incomplete) example of the CS itself and the information you should begin to think about as you craft your ideas.

「 CS 」

OST 1 — MAIN THEME

Elenion Aura · Jun 28, 2024

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Raphael
"Reformed" Bloodsucker
Alias
The Vampire
Age
200 years old
Gender
Male
Race
Elf (Vampire)
Height
180.34 cm
Weight
68 kg
Class
Rogue
Affiliation
Sable Serpents
Homeland
Vere
Backstory
Called from Distant Lands
Some two hundred years ago, a fresh-faced Elf Rogue washed up on the shores of the sea. A talented Rogue, the young Raphael quickly made a name for himself as a Delver, unfortunately drawing the wrong sort of attention. One night, Raphael simply vanished, as if into thin air, never to be heard from again. Until...
Lost then Found
Two hundred years later, a string of burglaries menaced the Delving Guilds of Closter until at last the villain was captured. Rather than slay the fiend, the Guild scholars freed the Vampiric Rogue's mind from the thrall of his master, and in exchange for this good turn, Raphael promised his services to the Dungeon Delving Guilds.
Their First Hunt
While obviously eternally grateful for the Guild's intercession on his behalf, Raphael occasionally finds it in himself to complain about some of the tasks he is bidden to undertake. Like, for example, shepherding fresh, unaffiliated Delvers through their first foray into the Dungeon...
Castle Valikor
Blood Mend
Sanguine Regeneration
Description
Consumes fresh blood to restore lost vitality. The amount of vitality restored corresponds to the amount of blood consumed. Too much blood consumption risks triggering a Blood Frenzy, potentially causing Raphael to attack the nearerst living creature, whether it be friend or foe.
Source
Innate Skill (Vampire)
Type
Self-Targeted; Self-Healing
Blood Frenzy
Feast for the Damned
Description
Gorged with blood, Raphael's strength, speed, and vitality recovery rate are greatly improved. Continually consuming blood extends the duration of the frenzy, but increases the risk of Raphael losing control and attacking his allies as well as his enemies. Once the effect ends, Raphael must recover for a short duration before he can frenzy again.
Source
Innate Skill (Vampire)
Type
Self-Targeted; Self-Buff
Reaping Slash
Cull the Weak
Description
Raphael dashes and slashes forward in a line, then quickly dashes back, slashing once more, dealing physical damage to all enemies hit. Enemies hit by both dashes Bleed, getting dealt additional damage over time.
Source
Weapon Art (Twin Blades)
Type
Single-Target; AoE; Weapon Attack
Raging Tempest
Heart of the Storm
Description
Embodies a raging lighttning storm. Dashing forward and stopping at the first enemy struck, rapidly bounces between enemies in a large area, dealing mixed physical and magical (lightning) damage, and possibly shocking those hit.
Source
Magic
Type
AoE; Magic-Infused Weapon Attack; Lightning Affinity
Miscellaneous
Misc. 1
As far as Vampires go, Raphael is something of an oddity compared to his fellow creatures of the night. Vampires, though they do Delve, tend to keep to their own, with the Coven maintaining a cordial, albeit at times strained, relationship with the Guilds and the Crown.
Misc. 2
As part of the terms of his employment, Raphael is strictly forbidden from drinking the blood of—unwilling—innocents. Lucky for him, the guilty of this world abound.
Misc. 3
He doesn't often offer much insight into his odd centuries spent with the Coven, or what life—rather, "un-life"—was like within the black walls of Castle Valikor. Only the brave, or foolhardy, would dare to ask..
Waste Not a Drop

Code by: Ambiloquous

Elenion Aura · Jun 30, 2024

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Morrwyn
(not) THE DRAGON SLAYER
Alias
Mor
Age
19 years old
Gender
Male
Race
Human
Height
223 cm
Weight
123 kg
Class
Barbarian
Affiliation
TBA
Homeland
Wyveria
Backstory
The Hunt

The far-off land of Wyveria, "The Land of Dragons". A bustling nest of hellfire breathing drakes and wyverns, an ashen duchy set upon grounds of "The great Archdrake", an inactive volcano said to be capable of covering the skies of in a black drought of smog in its waking moments. The sleeping Archdrake, and all of the land it engrossed, that is where it is said dragons crawl out of to terrorize the nations. Endless swathes of blighted, uninhabitable deadlands smoldered clean of any life by dragon's breath— believed incapable of hosting any life other than that of the dragons. Mistakenly, by all the other cowering neighbors, the Wyverian's proved them wrong. Madmen that have sought out refuge in the pits of the volcano, to build a city in the land where no other of the warring royalties dare set foot on.

An empire balanced on the knife’s edge; an ashen kingdom built upon by the late Duke H’errwyn Drakethorn.

Secluded from the outside world, behind the hellfire-proof walls of castle Drakethorn, at the coasts of the great Archdrake, the Wyverian's live an isolated life making dos with what the dragon gives, and what it takes. Their lives devoted to worship of the sleeping Archdrake, and to the hunt of the mighty dragon. The supply of dragon was never low, they came from below their very soil after all— they steeled and conditioned their entire lives to hunt down all of the wyverns and drakes for harvest. It was their only source of trade, the one material the other nations coveted; pure dragon blood and fresh scales. The Wyverians depended on the hunt.

For decades they thrived in the maw of the Archdrake. Frenzied savages, in the eyes of the neighboring nations. A fleeting castle of ash, at the whims of the volcano. A kingdom sure to crumble given time.

Still, the Wyverians hunted the dragons to their hearts content.

No, not even the awareness of impending doom would quell their frenzy. Their thirst for the hunt.
The Prodigal Son
And soon enough, their crown prince would take up the spear and join them.

As it was tradition of the Drakethorn's, the firstborn son of the Duke, heir to the crown, Morrwyn Drakethorn, was to prove himself worthy of the royal blood and the throne by joining the hunt and claiming not the heart of a mere drake, not a wyvern— but a true dragon. Lest he be thought a fat, indulgent canary kept to its gilded cage, gorging on seed. In the eyes of their people, this was their rite of passage before the new king was crowned.

The royal Wyverians of castle Drakethorn went mad over the pure, untapped well of blood that flowed within the hearts of dragons. Consuming it bolstered them with inhuman strength, speed, reflexes— drove them further away from logic and reason, from humanity. It wasn't a surprise when they started fitting their younger heirs with dragon blood running through their veins. Taking the heart of an elder drake, piercing it with his spear, and drinking straight from it would prove him worthy of the crown.

Then and only then, would the prince be reborn, from a mere protegee, a squire in the making, to one of the Burning Shields of Wyveria. Years down the road, the moment he took his eleventh dragon heart, he would be crowned King Morrwyn Drakethorn.

The weight of expectation sat upon the young prince's shoulders since he turned of age. But the Gods had other plans for him, the day his trials were to begin, he opened his eyes and saw...
The Calling
The sun, bright and gold. Clouds untouched by volcanic smog. Not a howling wind, not even the roar of a dragon; just seagulls. He breathed, not with the sensation of his own breath scalding him at the chin, and that of the air making a furnace of his lungs. But with clear air through his nostrils.

He hadn't a memory of his own name when he washed ashore at the beach, in the initial dazzle. Only the knowing that this wasn't natural, that it wasn't home. That something was off.

The one and only memory that burned within the young prince's mind was still that of his trials, his body yet ready to face dragon breath.

His first words at the shores of Closter were— "Dragon."
The Great Archdrake
Gae Bolg
Dragon Killer
Description
The Drakethorn Spear catches flame in the hands of a royal blood, allowing it to breathe a mockery of a dragon's flame. All of the inner flames that burn within the Drakethorn Spear can be let out all at once in one singular spear throw that condenses it all into one spot, a straight beam of dragonfire, meant to pierce through even the toughest scales of the mightiest dragon when wielded by the right royal blood. In their dreaded drake-tongue, this technique is known as Gae Bolg: 'The Kin Killer'. Upon performing the Gae Bolg, the flames within the spear must rest for 2 minutes before being kindled again.
Source
Weapon Art (Drakethorn Spear)
Type
Weapon Stance; Guard-Break; Magic Infused Weapon Attack
Archdrake's Blessing
Upon Gilded Wings
Description
It is said by neighboring nations that the Burning Shields of Mt. Archdrake did not chase after their spears upon throwing them. No, they soared the skies along side them, for the Archdrake had granted upon them wings to match the grace of a dragon. Every time Morrwyn throws his spear, his body flies with it as though they were both carried away by a strong upsurge of hot wind. The speed and distance both the spear and Morrwyn travel are dictated by the strength he puts behind his throwing arm. Anything caught in the blazing torrent of wind that envelops both the spear and Morrwyn will be dealt slight burn damage, unless directly hit by the spear itself.
Source
Magic
Type
Self-Targeted; Single-Target; Movement
Drakeblood Exultation
Thrill of the Hunt
Description
Dragon blood courses through the veins of every royal heir of Wyveria. All it takes is a forceful spike of magic to draw it out. Whenever Morrwyn spears his own body with a magic infused blade, it makes his blood boil with dragon fire. His strength, speed and reaction timing are greatly improved for a short duration, at the cost of his own vitality. Duration and potency scale with the level of sacrifice/self-harm. Deeper wounds = bigger buffs.
Source
Magic
Type
Self-Targeted; Self-Buff; Self-Harm
Ragnarok
Royal Flames of Calamity
Description
The firstborn son of Duke Alwyn Drakethorn, heir to the throne, his flame burned brighter and wilder than any of the shields of Wyveria. Even at his young age. Drawing upon the strength of the Drakeblood Exultation, Morwynn imbues his spear with frenzied dragon flame, hurling it up to the skies and coming back down with it to spear his target full-force. Upon landing, he enters a frenzied state that exudes all of his inner dragon fire from within his body, slamming his spear on the ground to create bursts of flame that both burn him and his target. Requires Drakeblood Exultation to be active in order to be used. The 'Frenzied' state upon landing pauses the duration of Drakeblood Exultation. The damage dealt and subsequent health loss scales with every slam of the spear.
Source
Magic
Type
Berserk; Self-Harm; AoE; Magic-Infused Weapon Attack
Miscellaneous
Misc.
1. Although Wyverian royalty, part of a select few of carefully bred individuals mutated by dragon blood, Morrwyn was still among the weakest squires of the Burning Shields in terms of raw physical strength, partially due to unlucky genetics, and mostly due to a life of lazy indulgence. Barely reaching the 30m mark when throwing his spear, often losing on physical bouts with his fellow mates. The one and only thing that separated the prince from every other soldier was the strength with which his flames burned when tapping into them. "The fire of a true king," or so the gossip went.

2. Much like horses, Morrwyn can nod off to sleep standing ten toes down on the ground. A neat trick to learn when your hunting grounds are set on molten stone with little to no even ground to set camp on. Even after being Called unto strange land, wiped of memoty, the instinct doesn't leave him. He is often standing at the foot of his bed, arms crossed, already long past REM. He dreams of dragons, one is to assume.

3. It is unknown whether the prince's crown and face mask is see through or not. It's up to speculation if Morrwyn has grown eyes somewhere else unseen. Perhaps his trick is peeking in from under the crown? No one knows.

4. Even after the Calling, the prince's one and only obsession lies with its people. His mind doesn't catch up to it, but his body remembers it still. He craves the heart of a dragon, senselessly, inexplicably. Morrwyn cannot stop going on mad ravings about dragons the moment the topic is brought up, nay, even at the mere mention of them. Almost as if on the flip of a switch. The prince's soul will never know fulfillment until his trials are completed. Somewhere deep within the dungeon, a dragon awaits him, he is sure of it.

5. Befitting royalty, the prince is extremely picky with his food. He abhors greens; olives, most of all. Somehow, however, Morrwyn is more than glad to chow down on the innards of a dragon. It is classic Wyverian cuisine, after all.

6. The prince is keen on missing social clues. Often misunderstanding people and taking their words to the most literal extent. Wyverian's spoke plain and blunt.

7. He has an irrational fear of bugs, ever so ingrained in his natural instincts from his past life as the insects of the scorching lands of Wyveria were often...adapted to the harsh conditions. Mutated, even. Seeing a giant centipede crawling on your castle's wall is enough to put the fear of Gods into a young prince's heart.
Heir to ash, prince of none

Character by:

Haze-
Code by: Ambiloquous

Elenion Aura · Jun 30, 2024

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Jasha Taniyn
Scholar & Gentleman
Alias
The Playboy
Age
24 years old
Gender
Male
Race
Human
Height
172.72 cm
Weight
69 kg
Class
Rogue
Affiliation
Unaffiliated
Homeland
The Road
Backstory
THE LONG AND SHORT OF IT...

Anything before the age of 13, Jasha says he can't remember --that's when he washed up on the shores of Enigma.

Not long after, he was picked up by a band of circus performers called Cirque du Lune; stayed with them for several years before moving on to other things.

As of late, he's been on his own for the past few years, just doing his own thing; never staying in any one place for too long.

His life was starting to get stale, so he finally decided to try his hand at delving, hoping that it will alleviate some of the boredom and possibly making himself rich beyond his wildest dreams.

The Road
Into the Abyss
Abyssal Jump
Description
A form of teleportation. At the moment, Jasha can only “jump” 25 feet at a time and only with what he can easily carry. While the jump can be quiet in the right circumstances it is by no means stealthy. If he were to jump right behind someone, the person would feel the aftermath of the jump: a moderately-strong current of air followed by a weak concussive force.
Source
Magic
Type
Movement
The Third Eye
Abyssal Reflexes
Description

This power makes it seem like time is slowing down for Jasha, but his brain is simply moving faster, so he can react faster if he's surprised/caught off guard, hopefully giving him enough time to “jump” away like the coward he is. Just to reiterate, it doesn't speed up his body, only his brain. It's a combination of an intuitive danger-sense and he can channel it to observe something particular e.g., card players using sleight of hand to cheat; or movement that human eyes normally wouldn't be able to catch without modern-day specialized equipment.

In addition, Abyssal Reflexes can override or provide resistance to mind-affecting abilities, e.g., people trying to read his mind will get an information overload of random useless garbage like the colour, length, width and average thickness of his last 1,000 bowel movements, or the BMI of all the women he's slept with, etc. Basically, it would make the mind reader's head feel like it's going to explode.

Source
Magic
Type
Passive; Self-Buff
Eye for an Eye
Abyssal Empathic Transfer
Description
Jasha can transfer his wounds, in the form of psychic damage, to a creature he touches or through an attack with a weapon that he wields. He can only deal this extra damage if he is wounded.
Source
Magic
Type
Single-Target; Magic-Infused; Self-Healing, Psychic Affinity
Miscellaneous
TRAITS, MERITS & FLAWS
Traits
Filthy Rotten Liar: Jasha is naturally deceitful and insincere with others. While he does have a talent for lying, it's off-set with a difficulty in convincing others when he speaks truthfully.

Armor? What's that?: Jasha is fast, faster than average members of his race, but any suit of armor (even light suits of armor) hampers his movement considerably.

Merits
Circus Monkey: Jasha can walk a tight-rope and is a skilled gymnast/parkourist. Palming a few coins or a coin purse without getting caught is also within his repertoire.

Master of the H'Whip: Jasha uses the whip as an extension of himself. The whip in his hands is like unto a live thing, obeying his every command.

Flaws
Chivalrous Courtesy: Jasha despises raising his hand against sentient creatures of the opposite gender; therefore, he suffers from self-inflicted penalties to his attacks against members of these finer folk.

Why is it always a cave?!: Jasha becomes “shaken” while in any space that is sufficiently enclosed and/or if it has a ceiling that is less than ten feet. In addition, he becomes “panicked” whenever he is entangled, pinned, or bound.
Misc. 2
Jasha's eyes are an amber colour.

Asides from the vest, the rest of Jasha’s upper body is bare…so disregard any semblance of armor on his arms as well as the white ornate looking armor over his black leather shorts.

His crimson, full-body tattoo is magical in nature. It provides the following benefits: existing comfortably in conditions between –50 and 140 degrees Fahrenheit; continually provides him with life-sustaining nourishment; refreshes his body and mind, so that he need only sleep 2 hours per day to gain the benefit of 8 hours of sleep.

The black tattoo around his neck does not emanate a magical aura.

He possess a whip which he call's Anway's Whip. It is twelve foot long and magically enchanted to move at the wielder’s command (mental command). Made from the hide of a resilient supernatural creature.
ALL THAT GLITTERS IS ALL THE MATTERS

Character by:

RaiAthar
Code by: Ambiloquous

Elenion Aura · Jun 30, 2024

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Eldrin Willowbark
The Wizard
Alias
The Wizard
Age
20 years old
Gender
Male
Race
Human
Height
175 cm
Weight
73 kg
Class
Wizard
Affiliation
N/A
Homeland
Vere
Backstory
Rough Start
Eldrin Willowbark, a young wizard with a heart as gentle as a summer breeze, grew up in the shadowy depths of an old forest, where the sunlight struggled to pierce through the dense canopy. His childhood was marred by the cruelty of his parents, whose harsh words and stinging reprimands shattered his self-esteem. They viewed his inherent magical talent as a curse rather than a gift, berating him for every spell he attempted and punishing him for his failures.
Thirst for Knowledge
In the solitude of his room, surrounded by ancient tomes and enchanted scrolls, Eldrin found solace. He immersed himself in the study of magic, escaping into the pages of books that spoke of arcane wonders and legendary sorcerers. His fascination with the mystical arts grew into an obsession, not just as a means to master the arcane, but as a refuge from the bleakness of his reality. Eldrin became a veritable encyclopedia of magical lore, his knowledge surpassing even that of some wizards twice his age.
Hunt for Adventure
Despite his profound understanding of magic, Eldrin remained painfully shy and insecure. His dorky demeanor, characterized by his stumbling words and awkward gestures, endeared him to those who saw beyond his timid exterior. In the world of Caedia, Eldrin’s passion for magic was his sanctuary, his means of overcoming the scars of his past and forging a path toward a brighter future.
Heart Tree
Fireball
Inferno Burst
Description
Channeling the raw power of the elements, Eldrin conjures a massive fireball that engulfs enemies in a blazing inferno. The fireball explodes upon impact, dealing devastating fire damage to all enemies within a wide radius. The intense heat causes lingering burns, inflicting additional damage over time.
Source
Magic
Type
AoE; DoT; Fire Affinity
Magical Disruptor
Arcane Nova
Description
With a surge of arcane energy, Eldrin releases a shockwave of pure magic that radiates from their body. This nova stuns all nearby enemies and causes a burst of magical damage. The sheer force of the explosion momentarily disrupts the magical defenses of those caught within the blast, making them more vulnerable to subsequent attacks.
Source
Magic
Type
Stun; Debuff
Blizzard
Frostbite Barrage
Description
Eldrin summons a storm of icy shards that rain down upon a targeted area, piercing through armor and chilling the blood of those caught within. The freezing assault slows the movement and attack speed of enemies, making them easy targets for follow-up attacks. The shards embed in the ground, creating a frozen terrain that continues to damage and slow foes.
Source
Magic
Type
AoE; Slow; Terrain Effect; Ice Affinity
Chain Lightning
Thunderous Wrath
Description
Calling upon the fury of the storm, Eldrin summons a massive lightning bolt to strike a single target with pinpoint accuracy. The bolt deals immense electrical damage, causing a chain reaction that arcs to nearby enemies. Each subsequent strike deals reduced damage but has a chance to stun or paralyze, leaving enemies incapacitated and vulnerable.
Source
Magic
Type
Single Target; Chain Lightning; Stun/Paralyze; Lightning Affinity
Miscellaneous
Misc. 1
Eldrin’s heart races whenever he speaks to females, his words tangle in his throat. He stammers and fidgets, his cheeks flush a deep crimson. Despite his vast knowledge of magic, he feels powerless, his self-doubt magnifies with each awkward encounter, leaving him flustered and yearning for confidence.
Misc. 2
Eldrin's social interactions are often marked by his clumsy attempts at conversation, his nervous laughter, and his tendency to misinterpret social cues. His intense focus on magical studies and neglect from his parents left him isolated, and in social settings, he sometimes feels like an outsider, his insecurities rendering him endearingly but undeniably awkward.

Misc. 3
Eldrin apologizes incessantly, his voice a constant whisper of "sorry" for even the smallest perceived misstep. Whether bumping into someone or speaking out of turn, his apologies flow freely, a reflex born of deep-seated insecurity. This habit underscores his profound self-doubt.
From Humble Seedlings

Character by:

Stretch
Code by: Ambiloquous

Elenion Aura · Jun 30, 2024

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Dakdak
The Grand Magus
Alias
The Gray
Age
80 years old
Gender
Male
Race
Kobold
Height
88.9 cm
Weight
17 kg
Class
Wizard
Affiliation
N/A
Homeland
Kalpurnia
Backstory
Wizard of Legend
Kalpurnia was a realm of great prosperity amidst a turbulent and chaotic world, fielding the greatest armies and building the grandest cities above all others. The capital of Jaquelles stood the tallest with its porcelain towers and marbled streets, signalling the strength of the realm to all that surveyed upon it. Its kings ruled with majesty and grace, and fielded armies that stood in defence of the realm against the turbulent and destructive forces beyond its borders. It also was home to the Magi of the Ivory Accord, an esoteric fraternity of the most brilliant sorcerers and arcane scholars united in the common pursuit of knowledge and defence of the realm. However, many of its members were humans and elves as they were the most attuned to the ley lines that traveled throughout the world though it was not uncommon for other races to have their own representatives within. But some were considered incapable of such feats for all time.

Kobolds were considered to be simple creatures, often keeping to themselves and delaing with the immediate and material in front of them. No Kobold had been recorded in history as being capable of weilding the tumultuous forces of magic. Dakdak proved to be a remarkable exception to that rule, having caught the attention of a wandering member of the Accord with his manipulation of candlefire for the amusement of his siblings. He was brought forward before the Elder Council and was determined to be fit to study and learn, as a Kobold having such capacity to learn the arcane arts would surely mean more would come forth in the future. And thus, Dakdak learned and did so with such excellence that surprised all others; he held such a grasp of the abstract that he was on par with some of the greatest Magi of the past. His skills grew, but so too did his thirst for knowledge as he devoured the contents of tomes.

Many Magi could weild a respectable arsenal of spells, given how difficult it was to learn and maintain in the first place. Yet, for a prodigy like Dakdak, he grew to maintain an arsenal within his mind for any situation should the need arise. This growth grew into an obsession, leading him further down paths that others in his position would have considered dangerous. Yet it did not dissuade the little wizard from his pursuits, which ended up serving him well.

A great war of light and darkness erupted in his lifetime, bringing about an evil god to the world that sought to destroy all that was good. Dakdak, alongside a group of champions, fought alongside one another against the darkness in a great war. It was near impossible to kill a god, but it certainly was possible to send him back to the void from whence he came. Dakdak was among those in the Ivory Accord who developed a ritual to banish the dark god, requiring the combined efforts of the greatest magi of today to carry through while he was distracted by the armies and champions of Light. The ritual worked in spectacular fashion, but it also held a feedback event that consumed many of the Magi.

Dakdak remembers nothing of this, nor of his old life, as he awoke upon a foreign and unknown shore near a great city a decade ago. There were others like him, Kobolds, who had set up a small community within who took him in. Although there was no memory of what he had been before, he still retained knoweldge and memory of all arcane abilities he had studied as if engraved into the deepest recesses of his mind much like how reflexes are ingrained into muscles. Within his repertoire of knowledge and intelligence, there was also a feeling that lingered and persisted like a gnawing worm at the back of his mind. It was the feeling of outcast, of being an outsider within this realm. But why? The Kobolds here seemed to be suited just fine...

It was something that required investigation, as after spending a decade in this world - researching what he could from the tomes and scriptures above ground - he now looks down to the depths for what knowledge is held in the darkness beneath.
The White Tower
Fulmination
Static Field
Description
Dakdak summons forth an area of electricity that blankets the air and ground. Enemies have a chance to both take damage and get stunned every time they do any action within it.
Source
Magic
Type
AoE; Magic Effect; Lightning Affinity
Frigor
Flast Freeze
Description
A torrent of ice erupts from the ground on Dakdak's command and entombs a single enemy within. The enemy takes no damage but is unable to act or move for a time.
Source
Magic
Type
Single Target; Magic Attack; Ice Affinity
Nuh-Uh
Counterspell
Description
Utilizing his extensive knowledge of magic, Dakdak is capable of countering other sorcerers and wizards at their own game. Dakdak is capable of blocking and deflecting any targeted spells back towards the enemy on activation.
Source
Single Target; Defensive; Arcane Affinity
Type
Single-Target; AoE; Weapon Attack
Walking Bomb
Mana Void
Description
Dakdak manipulates the exhausted magical energies of a single target, forcing a violent eruption from within their body. Deals bonus damage to spellcasters and mana-reliant enemies and additional damage with how many spells they have used prior. Ineffective against mana-deficient enemies.
Source
Magic
Type
AoE; Magic-Infused Weapon Attack; Lightning Affinity
Miscellaneous
Misc. 1
Dakdak enjoys candles, particularly scented ones, as he finds them calming and provide an air of tranquility whenever he is deep in studies. He is a regular customer of the local candlemaker.
Misc. 2
Dakdak is capable of learning new arcane information and spells with ease, being able to grasp concepts and techniques in a much shorter time frame than some of the most advanced wizards could.
Misc. 3
The Kobold Wizard is often times seen as abrasive or harsh, but that's due to his nature of wanting the truth and often does not flower his language as a result.
Liz'rd Wiz'rd

Character by:

joshuadim
Code by: Ambiloquous

Elenion Aura · Jun 30, 2024

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Rigidis Sammonicus
Poor Magician
Alias
The Gambler
Age
26 years old
Gender
Female
Race
Human
Height
165 cm
Weight
51 kg
Class
Wizard
Affiliation
N/A
Homeland
Closter
Backstory
Called from Distant Lands
Rigidis Sammonicus washed up on the white shores some fifteen years ago. Unlike the other Called, she never really got the sand out of her face. A metaphor, of course, since she's neither dead nor did the acolytes of the Tervetula fail in their sacred duties to the ankle-biter then. But when she was delivered to the city of Closter, she was found to have innate potential in the arcane arts. She was quickly sent to an academy with a pointy hat in hand. A big mistake.
Falling
It was there that Rigidis (her wizardry name) discovered just how in over her head she was. Teacher after teacher had different reasons why: she lacked imagination, self-control, an inclination to weave the mysteries of the cosmos, and more. Each derogatory remark stung and increased her resentment. She stayed in the field to prove them all wrong. It took extracurricular tutoring, which she paid for herself, to remain somewhat acceptable.
Fallen
The tutors were not cheap. A considerable debt accumulated. Rigidis went to the academy to help refinance it. The dean said no since it was a private matter. Desperate for coin, she gambled, legally and illegally. She found she liked it; she found she was bad at it. Her debt only grew. Threatened with both expulsion and prison, Rigidis requested a gap year and her application to descend into Caedia. In one year’s time, there will be enough gold in her to pay everyone back or she will die trying.
The Fool
Figura Ignis
Figure of Fire
Description
The nuts and bolts of transmutation. Take a wizard of questionable competence, her spell book to catalog the incantations, and a non-magical fire to control within fifty feet. Success will see the flame seized for an hour, contorting itself into simple shapes, dimming and brightening on command. Great for parties. Her going rate is five bronze coins an hour.
Source
Magic
Type
Single-Target
Sonitus Tonitrui
Sound of Thunder
Description
Evocation is the art of summoning a higher agent on behalf of the wizard. Those on the other side tend to drive a hard bargain. But they do offer select services for the right price. No, she doesn't have thunder to rend the heavens. But she can imitate that terrible sound twice a day. Cover your ears because it is loud.
Source
Magic
Type
AoE; Stun; Lightning Affinity
Inconstant
Disorient
Description
Enchantment is often referred to as healing magic. One gently enters the cracks of another's mind, soothes the points of pain, and gathers an understanding of them. She forgoes the gentle part. Hers is an intrusive spike into the psyche of her target with no other result than to inflict phantom pain. It’s dangerous since she’s using the consequences of a failed spell. Liable to backfire.
Source
Magic
Type
Single-Target; Stun; Psychic Affinity
Pacisci
Bargain
Description
Remember those "higher agents" in evocation? When she closes her eyes and focuses with the utmost practice on them, she has a "bond" with the one who gave her the thunderclap. You learn in Wizardry 101 never to cut cards so closely with them. But after three stiff beers and fifteen rolls of the dice, the line becomes blurred. The deal is simple: all her current wealth to become a human torch for as long as the money lasts. By the end, she will be destitute.
Source
Magic
Type
Self-Targeted; Fire Affinity
Miscellaneous
Misc. 1
Rigidis is an envious soul. The better the wizard, the more she hates them. It’s very much a case of “it should have been me, not you!”
Misc. 2
An opportunity for cards is an opportunity taken. Rigidis is not addicted. She can stop if she wants to. By the way, are you ready for another game?
Misc. 3
Buried inside the pit of Rigidis’ heart is a simple formula: a deal is a deal. While she might fiddle with a detail here or there for her own benefit, you can trust her to keep the spirit of the promise alive.
Spend Free

Character by: @Carolyn
Code by: Ambiloquous

Elenion Aura · Jul 1, 2024

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Gou
Ferocious Gourmand
Alias
Devourer
Age
48 years old
Gender
Male
Race
Oni
Height
177 cm
Weight
78 kg
Class
Barbarian
Affiliation
N/A
Homeland
Maeyama
Backstory
The Fall and Rise
In a distant land, its location unreachable through any method bound by logic or reason, the Oni race ruled over humanity with heartless tyranny, and dreadful voracity. Any men who dare oppose the horned demons would meet their fate by their superior strength, and amidst all Oni, it was Shuten-dōji that ruled over all living beings. His arrogance and near-sightedness proved to become his eventual demise, as his head rolled down the muddied battlefield, the blade of Minamoto no Yorimitsu dripping with the Oni king's blood. The veteran Oni were too deep into their murderous ways to listen to reason, but Shuten-dōji's children, with minds still malleable and capable of accepting peace with humanity, they were spared from the hero's execution.

The children of Shuten-dōji faced many adversities, as they began to live among men. Humanity was understandably resentful of the surviving members of the Oni tribe, scornful at best, bloodthirsty at worst. It was only due to Yorimitsu's intervention that their lives were never ended by human hands, but rather by the peaceful passage of time. The Oni grew and learned to coexist, the passing decades leading to a true understanding between the two species. In order to avoid in-breeding, the Oni requested for humanity's assistance to pass on their bloodline.
Little Ogre
Many generations passed, those beings bearing the label of Oni looked strikingly more diluted than those written in old folk tales, resembling something closer to the humans they chose to bond with centuries ago. Gou was but one of the many direct descendants of the deceased lord of the ogres, a child brimming with an Oni's vitality, but bearing a calm and quiet demeanor which belied his strong demonic instincts. Even among his keen, the young man possessed an outstanding appetite, a fresh bowl of rice in his hands only enjoying a few seconds of life, and not even the bones of fish were spared from his grinding teeth. Despite his unusual quirks, Gou was a child raised with love and care from both his parents and his community, and grew up into a fine young man that never hesitated to help out in return. It was an uplifting reminder that the days of blood dyeing the very land crimson was way behind them, Men and Oni were now united as one.

An Appetizing Journey
Despite the happiness that his peaceful life could provide, a new hunger welled from within the Oni, one of a different nature to the ever-present rumbling in his stomach. It was a craving that stemmed deeper than his primal instincts. It was the call of adventure, driving his steps towards unknown lands, the thirst for a challenge that could forge him into an indomitable being of legend, after all, what could possibly bring more honor to a benevolent Oni than to become someone capable of overshadowing Shuten-dōji's footprint? With a tender farewell, he stepped out of the land of the ogres, for the first time into uncharted territory.

Gou's travels took him all across the continent, his eyes laying upon sights alien to anyone from the village. He spent countless nights staring at the starry sky, the moon becoming his nightstand candle. He battled foes both weak and strong, etching stories into his inexperienced body, too young and tender to make them fade. But most importantly, his palate was pampered with so many new experiences, from the ingredients the land could yield, the creatures he could hunt, or the skills of the hands crafting his next meal. Peace and quiet were great, but this life suited Gou better, filling and fulfilling.

It was one stormy night when an impatient Oni disregarded the risks of ferrying across the turbulent waters. One errant wave was all it took for the vessel shatter and sink, leaving its passengers to a tragic fate. Moreso than death, Gou was bitter to the fact of never meeting his end in honorable battle, but under the merciless grasp of nature.

Curious that his next awakening was not by the lights of the afterlife, but the aggressive aftertaste of salt water coating his mouth. He was alive, and seemingly in one piece, but more importantly...

Who was he, again?
Kizunamura
Ogre Vitality
Death Takes me Not
Description
Evokes the dormant power of the Oni bloodline, enhancing and accelerating Gou's natural healing process to impossible levels, healing most minor injuries and diminishing major wounds. A single use of this ability burns through Gou's calories and renders him starved, cannot use it again until his hunger is sated.
Source
Innate Skill (Oni)
Type
Self-Targeted; Self-Healing
Devour
Primal Hunger
Description
Gou lunges at the enemy, brutally biting into their body and tearing away a sizeable chunk. The consumption of fresh, pulsating flesh enhances the Oni's barbaric rage, increasing his overall power, also slightly reduces his hunger. Unable to use on targets with inedible or extremely hard bodies, and Gou refrains from actually eating flesh if the target is an intelligent being.
Source
Martial Skill, Basic Arts
Type
Single-Target; Self-Buff
Tenderize
Overwhelm
Description
Tapping into his underused mana reserves, Gou's muscles tense to their limit, going in for an all-out, devastating strike. He can choose between swinging horizontally for a wide, sweeping strike, or a vertical crushing blow. Gou's body needs a few moments to recover before using it again.
Source
Magic; Weapon Art (Two-Handed Weapons)
Type
Single-Target; AoE; Magic-Infused Weapon Attack
Warrior Tribe
No Pain No Gain
Description
Drawing their might from their battleborn nature, hurting an Oni makes them stronger and more aggressive. During battle, Gou's strength increases the more damage he takes, slowly changing his fighting style to one that discards defense and self-preservation for the sake of destroying the enemy. As long as the damage doesn't border on incapacitating, his performance in battle will only increase.
Source
Innate Skill (Oni)
Type
Passive
Miscellaneous
Misc. 1
As an Oni, Gou's body has excellent regeneration, making it extremely unlikely for him to develop scars even from deep wounds, the prominent marks on his chest and arms come from a time before adulthood, when his body wasn't wasn't strong enough to make the injuries disappear. Part of him wishes he could sport more scars to add to the seasoned warrior look.
Misc. 2
Beneath his nonchalant expression and demeanor, Gou is surprisingly determined and competitive, wanting to surpass those he deem as impressive, although he usually never vocalizes these sentiments, leading to people finding his actions somewhat unpredictable at times. This behavior was most prominent in his desire to someday become stronger than the Ogre King, now only a vague whisper in the deepest halls of his mind.
Misc. 3
Whenever he's not eating, training or sleeping (in that order of priority), Gou enjoys spending time dipping his toes into the arts, from poetry to music, he finds it an enjoyable and relaxing outlet, where he can properly express himself beyond his lackluster vocal behavior. His skill are still pretty questionable, but he's slowly learning and improving.
Feast to Flourish

Character by:

Roda the Red
Code by: Ambiloquous
Faceclaim: 10R
Background: Tu Yu
Skill Icons: Slay the Spire

Elenion Aura · Jul 1, 2024

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Teàrlag ‘Charlotte’ Kerneunnos
The Huntress
Alias
Grave Hunter
Age
314 years old
Gender
Female
Race
Elf
Height
159 cm
Weight
52 kg
Class
Ranger
Affiliation
N/A
Homeland
Closter
Backstory
The Hunt
Three hundred years would take its toll on any mortal being’s memory, long-lived or not. All that Charlotte Kerneunnos knows is that she has no family except for the generations of merchants that she has traded with over the many ages, knows no more about herself outside her skill with the bow, fey magicks, and the carving knife. She was gifted with a preternatural talent for the Hunt, and that was all she needed.

And the Hunt, did she participate dutifully. Delvers upon the shallower depths of the Dungeon would rare miss the glimpse of the ash-haired bowman claiming her spoils from her most recent foe, merchants upon the surface of Closter would rare miss the chance to trade and barter their goods and coin for the furs and meat she brung in. To those who have laid eyes upon her, she would extol the virtues of hunting what one ‘needed’, and that one should take no more than that, and leave no more than that, so that all may benefit from the bounty.

As of late, however, the many faces that have begun washing up on the shores have started to flood the shallow depths with much too many Hunts. The ecology was beginning to suffer, and what she once hunted had become sparser and sparser. All change started with the first step, and Charlotte took it. She would start her journey deeper, further in, to see more, know more, and Hunt more. Her interest piqued, she has begun dreams of writing an Encyclopaedia of the many more creatures she would encounter. By charting her Prey, she would be able to usher in a new age of the Hunt, and for the future generations to follow.

Her movements and intents were discerned by the administration, however. For too long had this unsanctioned hunter plagued the depths, and now that she had moved to approach the deeper levels, it was only right they put their foot down. The Search would have to be postponed, for now she was made to tarry with newer delvers, until she earned the right to go further in.

Peerless Precision
Plague Shot
Creach a' Mharbhaidh
Description
A plaguing shot poisoning the heart and mind, instilling fear and weakness to a foe. Imbued upon blade or arrow, it renders Prey and Foes alike to crumble slowly as the Grave Hunter stalks from the shadows.
Source
Weapon Art (Bow & Arrow); Magic
Type
Single Target; Psychic Affinity
Peerless Arrow
Saighead Gun Choimeas
Description
A peerless arrow, delivered upon yon foe, with every prayer to strike true and strong.
Source
Weapon Art (Bow & Arrow)
Type
Single Target
Move Unseen
Ceum Ceo
Description
Into the mist, one moves, unseen, unheard, unknown. Fear, for the next strike may be the foe’s end.
Source
Magic
Type
Self-Targeted; Illusion Affinity
Goodberries
Dearcan Dha na H-uile
Description
Strange berries given form by fey magicks, treat thy wounds and recover thy strength, for there is more to see, and much to hunt.
Source
Magic
Type
Conjuration Healing; Nature Affinity
Miscellaneous
Misc. 1
Charlotte knows that her birth name is Teàrlag, but has adopted the appellation of Charlotte in light of understanding that not many tongues and minds are quite as capable to read and pronounce her true name.
Misc. 2
Charlotte favours the bow and some brands of magicks, but is capable of wielding twin swords in a melee.
Misc. 3
Charlotte has a pet squirrel. It occasionally disappears during Hunts, but will always make it back to her alive and well. She names it Diarmuid. A more temperamental beast, one would never find, for it enjoys only the company of its owner, and has a nasty penchant for biting.
Whistle upon the Wind

Character by:

simj26
Code by: Ambiloquous

Elenion Aura · Jul 2, 2024

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Cadris Cheska
THE GUN WITCH
Alias
Cade
Age
29 years old
Gender
Female
Race
Human
Height
177 cm
Weight
62 kg
Class
Sorcerer
Affiliation
N/A
Homeland
Closter
Backstory
I, VAGABOND
Cadris was washed to the shores and stumbled without purpose for a good while. It was not a great time. The magic that coursed through her blood was her only saving grace from absolute squalor. She got by with odd jobs and the occasional petty crime for a while. That was until she tried to steal a fortune teller's crystal ball.
JUST BLEW IN FROM STUPIDVILLE
That fortune teller was named Demeter. Demeter caught Cadris red-handed and turned her into a newt for a whole week. When Demeter finally reverted Cadris back into a human, Cadris begged Demeter to teach her the ways of witchcraft. Whether Demeter saw Cadris' potential or just pitied the poor girl isn't known. Demeter would go on to teach Cadris how to be a witch.
IT'S A TRADITION, SORT OF
Brooms weren't really Cadris' thing. She saved up (and maybe stole) all the coins she could muster to buy her first gun. It was a beautifully crafted wheellock arquebus which she affectionately named, "Belladonna." After all, if your casting implement is supposed to be dual purpose, it might as well do something useful. Unlike a broom.
CALL IT A HOBBY
Delving quickly became a hobby for Cadris. A need for a versatile spellcaster in the practice made it easy to find groups to tag along with. When she started Delving, she picked up the nickname "Cade" from the various groups she found herself in. She almost always backs out of the really dangerous Delves.
Firin' Brimstone
Cone of Fire
Evocation
Description
Cade controls a mote of fire at her fingertips like a lit candle. This flame can be magnified with mana to create a sustained cone of fire. Lasts for as long as Cade can hold her breath. Good for lighting things on fire, like bonfires.
Source
Magic
Type
AoE; Magic Attack; Fire Affinity; DoT
Potioncraft
Alchemy
Description
Cade can infuse an inert potion into a magical one with a stronger effect. With the right ingredients, she can make basic potions like healing, waterwalking, and strength potions.
Source
Magic
Type
Buff; Variable
Float Object
Telekinesis
Description
Cade can control small to medium objects with her mind. It is especially useful for riding her gun like a witch would ride a broom. It drains her mana while she does this.
Source
Magic
Type
Buff; Mobilily; Single-Target
Please Die
Aimed Shot
Description
Cade empowers the next shot of her arquebus to magically improve the velocity and penetration of the shot. Can deal tremendous damage to heavily armored targets.
Source
Magic
Type
Single-Target; Magic-Infused Weapon Attack
Miscellaneous
Misc. 1
Cade is not particularly good at saving money. She often finds herself spending most of her earned coins on alchemical ingredients, shiny jewelry, tea leaves, romance novels, and magic scrolls.
Misc. 2
In her witchling years, Cade was known to have a set of sticky fingers. She is self-proclaimed as reformed now that she is a Delver, but her morals get rather loose around those that flaunt their wealth in the form of opulence and excess.
Misc. 3
Despite the outwardly intimidating appearance, Cade is rather affable and polite. She provides pleasant company and is more than willing to sit down and share her tea with her fellow Delvers.

Power Word: Gun

Character by: @Coin
Code by: Ambiloquous

Elenion Aura · Jul 2, 2024

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Vi'judakar
𓂍
AKA
Dakar, Juda; the Blue Bandit, the Purple Prowler
Age
?
Gender
Male
Race
Vanmagari-jinn
Height
5'10 // 177.5 cm
Weight
70 kg
Class
Rogue
Affiliation
TBD
Homeland
Vanmaya
Backstory
Called from Distant Lands
Beneath the scorching gaze of twin suns lies the vast, undulating sea of bone-dry sand, Vanmaya. There, life clung precariously to a single, empire-sized spire piercing the heavens: the Tower of Van. For centuries, trade and traveler flowed through its cracks of alabaster, endlessly ascending and descending each ringdom in search of respite, of something real---a taste of truth in the mouth of swirling sand and mirage.

The Tower of Van is more than a place of commerce. It is home to the land's many-hued djinn and their rigid caste system.

At the pinnacle, residing in the Tower's uppermost ringdom are the Vanmakarna-jinn, or more commonly, the Jade djinn. Revered as the wisest and most powerful djinn, whispers claim they possess the ability to see the future, grant wishes fueled by the purest desires, and even guide lost souls towards enlightenment.

Then in second place, are the Vanmabashti-jinn, or the Azure djinn. Dwelling within the humming workshops of the second ringdom, they collaborate with scholars and inventors. These nurturers of knowledge and masters of the wind channel its unseen power to fuel forges, propel airships, and maintain the Tower's clockwork heart.

Third place belongs to the Vanmanuri-jinn, or the Crimson djinn. Known more for fiery debates and fiery tempers, these djinn might seem an odd fit for the Tower's bathhouse ringdom. Yet, beneath the steam and swirling illusions they conjure for relaxation, they possess the ability to manipulate heat, ensuring every soak is perfectly comfortable. One should not be fooled by their fondness for a good drink though; the Crimson djinn are known to send unruly djinns and patrons packing... right off the edge of the Tower.

Last and certainly least, are the Vanmagari-jinn, or the Purple Djinn. Residing in the bustling marketplace underbelly of the Tower, these ostracized djinn are the entertainers, the hustlers, the undisputed masters of the Tower's black market. Their survival hinges on their cunning and sleight-of-hand, renowned for ripping off travelers, orchestrating elaborate robbing or kidnapping schemes, which makes their ability to manipulate memory and camouflage their skin one of the great dangers about the Tower, ruining many a visit before it had even begun...

Lost then Found
When Dakar awoke on the beaches of Caedia, he felt as if he had emerged from the throes of a strange dream—one in which he couldn't discern if he was flying, falling, or floating. Nothing made sense except for the maxim carved deep into his core: you can take the jinn out of the Tower, but you can't take the Tower out of the jinn.

Food, board, and money were offered freely, but with one condition—become a Delver. Dakar's third eye opened and gave the Caedian official a knowing wink. "Forget the Delving," it seemed to say. "Just give me the food and coin."

It worked, for a little while at least. Dakar managed to travel the region for many moons, evading authorities and relishing his newfound freedom. During his travels, he confirmed that he was the only one of his color-kind in this vast land. Other djinn did reside in isolated pockets, often within imposing towers that dotted the landscape, but to describe them as merely hostile would be an understatement; fiercely territorial and wary of outsiders, his purple skin and multitude of eyes marked him as different, an anomaly even among their kind. Encounters with these isolated djinn were fraught with tension, and Dakar quickly learned to keep his distance.

Before long of course, Dakar's opportunistic little getaway scheme drew the attention of the authorities. The search for him was on, but it was a rather fruitless endeavor, given that the only testimony they had was from an official who, for the life of him, could not remember what the culprit looked like. With no progress to be made, the investigation efforts dwindled, becoming a mere footnote in the archives of Caedia's Called.

As for Dakar, he continued to do what he did best: blend in and manipulate the memories of those around him. The life of a thief fit him as smoothly as a foxglove; roaming from town to town, his purple skin and multiple eyes hidden behind an ever-changing façade of colors and appearances. Each new place offered fresh opportunities to exploit, new faces to trick, and more memories to erase.

His exploits ranged from simple muggings to elaborate schemes that showcased his cunning and resourcefulness. In bustling marketplaces, he deftly picked pockets, his four arms moving with practiced ease. When he needed more substantial rewards, he orchestrated daring carriage robberies, employing a band of equally opportunistic bandits.

Dakar's carriage robbery schemes were particularly ingenious. He would carefully cause a carriage to derail, knowing exactly where and when to strike. As the carriage came to a halt, his hired bandits would descend upon it, raiding it for valuables. Once the chaos subsided and the bandits took their cuts and their leave, Dakar would step in as the supposed savior. He would manipulate the victim's memories, making them believe he had rescued them from certain death. Grateful and indebted, they often rewarded him handsomely. Depending on the victim and the circumstances, Dakar could secure substantial sums of money, gainful long-term employment, or valuable favors.

Their First Hunt

During one fateful carriage robbery, Dakar encountered Dorian, a freshly initiated Delver en route to his inaugural mission. Grateful for Dakar's 'usual' intervention, Dorian offered him a ride, and as they traveled together, the conversation turned to the allure of Delving—the prestige, the thrill, and most importantly, the contracts that promised more money than Dakar could steal in a year.

Intrigued by the revelations and calculating the potential gains, Dakar subtly probed into the specifics of Dorian's mission and examined the contract. Confirming that neither Dorian nor anyone else knew his face, Dakar saw an opening he couldn't resist. As hard as Dorian resisted, nothing could match the strength in the bandit's fingers, wrapped around his windpipe. When the face of the young delver matched his own, Dakar found himself stepping into the world of Delving...

the Tower of Van
"No one can prove what no one can remember."
Mind's Eye
𓂍
Description
Piercing pupil of molten gold resting within a swirling pool of indigo, Dakar's third eye is capable of temporarily erasing and distorting any and all memory related to himself, leaving victims with hazy, or no recollections of their interactions. This allows him to subtly nudge conversations, deflect blame with ease, and even plant suggestive whispers that take root in the subconscious. He can't rewrite entire realities, but with careful manipulation, he can construct a narrative where the true nature of his involvement in their lives fades into the background, leaving him free to maneuver in any way he pleases.
Source
Innate
Type
Psychic
Five-Eyed Fury
𓂍
Description

When Dakar opens his normally closed lower eyelids at the same time as his upper eyelids, he gains an almost owl-like ability to see in the dark. Additionally, the dual activation of these lower eyes bolsters his depth perception; distances snap into focus, allowing him to judge spatial relationships with unmatched accuracy.

However, when Dakar opens his third eye in concert with the other four, he unleashes a powerful psychic shockwave; ripples of pure telekinetic force radiate from the indigo vortex swirling within his third eye, slamming into the target's mind, letting loose a chaotic storm of fragmented memories, overwhelming emotions, and an unescapable, suffocating sense of disorientation. Such a psychic assault leaves the opponent often reeling, their vision swimming, thoughts scattered, world spinning. Open and vulnerable long enough for Dakar to strike...
Source
Innate
Type
Psychic; Long-Range
Dance of the Four Fists
𓂍
Description
Less of a brutal brawl and more a mesmerizing display of controlled chaos, Dakar's fighting style is an odd whirlwind of dancing grace and purple-dyed ferocity. His four arms are a mesmerizing weave of strikes and blocks, two fists hammering out a relentless rhythm while the others deflect or disarm his opponent. He's a blur of motion, transitioning from acrobatic dodges to bone-crushing grapples, utilizing the environment like an extension of his own body. Imagine a capoeirista's agility combined with the unpredictable rhythm of a drunken brawler, all amplified by the sheer number of limbs at his disposal, and there you have it: the essence of Dakar's fighting style.
Weapons
Throwing knives of various sizes, which he keeps in a sash, wrapped around his waist.
Type
Close Combat; Short to Long-Range
Weaknesses
𓂍
MIND'S EYE
LIMITED SCOPE. Dakar can't erase entire realities or large chunks of time; his ability focuses on specific interactions or events related to himself.
THE USE OF PSYCHIC FORCE. Forcing complete memory erasure might leave his victim with a sense of unease or a feeling that something is missing, potentially raising suspicion.
TIME LIMIT. Most memories Dakar manipulates begin to resolidify over time. The longer the timeframe after said event, the harder it is for Dakar to maintain the erasure and/or distortion. Depending on the circumstance, vivid memories may resurface within days or weeks, while more mundane interactions could fade within hours.
However, permanent side effects still exist; those who fall victim to Dakar's Mind's Eye multiple times can suffer permanent memory loss and generally impaired ability to remember.
THE LONG CON. Constantly manipulating someone's memories can take its toll on Dakar. The longer he sustains the illusion, the harder it gets to keep details consistent and the risk of inconsistencies or forgotten details increases. It's like constantly holding back a wave – eventually, it might crash through.

FIVE-EYED FURY
LINE OF SIGHT. Crucially, Dakar's psychic blast only works if the target is looking directly at him when he activates it. Shielding their eyes, looking away, or wearing a blindfold completely negates the attack.
ENERGY DRAIN. The longer Dakar activates and stays in his psychic blast state, wherein all five eyes are open, the harder it is for him to maintain it. After all, no one can keep their eyes open forever.
Miscellaneous
𓂍
Misc. 1 | Limb Retraction
Dakar possesses the ability to retract his two lower arms seamlessly into his torso; a trait that allows him to blend in with other races and appear more 'normal' with just two arms. This ability is not just a simple concealment; the retraction is smooth and nearly flawless, save for an inseam along his flank. This state he can often maintain for days at a time, making it an invaluable skill for when he needs to disappear, or simply avoid drawing attention. The retraction mechanism operates through a complex system of self-shrinkage, internal musculature and joints. However, as easy as it is to sheathe them away, Dakar will nonetheless experience a dull, pounding ache that will only intensify and debilitate him the longer he maintains the state.

Misc. 2 | Lizard Man
Dakar's greatest camouflage is his skin itself. Unlike most, his epidermis isn't bound to a single hue. With a thought, a ripple of color washes over his body like a lizard or chameleon shifting on a sun-drenched branch. The vibrant purple that normally defines him fades, morphing into an uncanny approximation of Human skintones. It's not a perfect match, a hint of lavender lingering in the undertones, but enough to fool a casual glance. But his repertoire extends far beyond a simple human mimicry. He can become a canvas of vibrant yellows, verdant greens, or even stony grays, his entire body blending seamlessly into the surrounding environment. Even the intricate black henna-like birthmarks that adorn his skin aren't immune. They shift and swirl, mirroring the color changes, acting as a kind of internal compass, grounding his runaway melanin and ensuring a smooth return to his natural, regal purple whenever he wills it.
Misc. 3 | TBA if needed
....

CODE BY. Ambiloquous
CHARACTER BY. @Kovacs

Elenion Aura · Jul 3, 2024

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Ophelia Mai'ari
THE Druid
Alias
The Druid
Age
167 years old
Gender
Female
Race
Elf
Height
165 cm
Weight
?? kg
Class
Druid
Affiliation
N/A
Homeland
Closter
Backstory
Blood and Smoke
Memories of a fire buried deep in her mind, the feeling of her flesh burning, the smell- her screams; but then the memories become foggy. She wakes up a few years later and would have thought it was all a horrible dream if not for the scars that marred her arms, torso, and legs.

Ophelia's years have been rife with tragedy, much of which her brain does not allow her to remember, but her body does. The scars, the aches in her joints and muscles, they are all from the lifetimes of experiences she can hardly recall. Experiences she has constant nightmares about, but still wakes up with little knowledge of what she went through.

The things she does remember- growing up deep within a dense forest, in the coziest of cottages with her parents. An angel and an elf- at least, that's how she remembers them. Her mother, a seemingly ethereal being, and her father, the elf who was lucky enough to capture her heart. That is what her father always said, and so that is how they live on in her memories. She cannot remember their names.

Ophelia knows their faces, their warmth, and the love they gave her during the short time they were together. 16 years she can remember with them, until one day a woman trekked deep into the forest and stole her from her bed. She never saw her parents again.
Rise from the Ashes
The Beast Within
Wild Shape
Description
Ophelia can take the form of any creature she has seen, whether it be for exploration purposes or as a means of defending herself.
Source
Magic
Type
Self-Targeted; Buff; Nature Affinity
Yapper Supreme
Animal Speak
Description
Ophelia can comprehend and verbally communicate with other creatures.
Source
Magic
Type
Ritual Spell; Self-Targeted
Angelic Light
Sunbeam
Description
A beam of brilliant light sears and blinds all creatures in its path.
Source
Magic
Type
AoE; Damage; Debuff; Light Affinity
The Rose's Thorns
Wall of Thorns
Description
Ophelia creates a wall of tough, pliable, tangled vines bristling with needle-sharp thorns. While creatures can move through the wall if they so choose, they are slowed immensely and it is incredibly painful.
Source
Magic
Type
AoE; Damage; Crowd Control; Nature Affinity
Miscellaneous
Misc. 1
Ophelia is mostly friendly and polite, but she can be awkward and blunt due to her habit of accidentally blurting out the first thing on her mind without restraint or tact; many think her to be very rude and insensitive. She has never been the strongest communicator. As a result, she strongly prefers being in nature- She has a deep connection with it and, naturally, feels more comfortable and at home when surrounded by it.
Misc. 2
She’s a tinkerer and enjoys building/inventing things- This is a hobby she picked up during her early years in captivity. She has an affinity for magic and spellcasting and is a frighteningly quick study.
Misc. 3
Curiosity killed the cat, and Ophelia is that cat. She is too adventurous for her own good and once something catches her eye she has a hard time letting it go. She excels at finding things, especially things that others don't want to be found. Classified information included.

The Bear Necessities

Character by:

angel doe
Code by: Ambiloquous

Elenion Aura · Jul 3, 2024

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Aurevele (or-e-vel)
The Prince's Burden
Alias
~~Gambableena~~ The Protector
Age
57 years old
Gender
Female
Race
Elf
Height
5'4 / 162.5 cm
Weight
127 lbs / 57 kg
Class
Paladin
Affiliation
TBD
Homeland
Kroeth
Backstory
The Place We Wish We'd Never See Again
Kroeth rose from the ashes of Sanxia, a kingdom that tore itself from within via civil strife. Of the two dominant races, the elves and the seraphim, the former were convinced they could build and manage a better kingdom. One to stand the test of time—to home the one superior race of elves. The source of the internal conflict, they decided, was the presence of other races. With differing ideals and beliefs, it was only natural that they should part and never intermingle again. This was the society that Aurevele, who—by elven standards—was a child's age, grew under.

Inspired by propaganda and a patriotic family, she vowed to serve her kingdom and joined the army. It was there she learned of Kroeth's next target: the eastern Kingdom of Jinhai. They carried resources that could be put to much better use by the growing elven territory. And, as it were, the seraphims populated Jinhai. Perhaps that was the reason they waged war rather than bargained. As for Aurevele? She soon found herself undertaking a magnificent task.
She and a dozen others were sent to infiltrate Jinhai as spies. They all went separate ways, and Aurevele went to the kingdom's capital. Though she entered with disdainful views and only loyalty to Kroeth... months of living in Jinhai gave her different perspectives. The citizens weren't the dirty, uncivilized bunch she was taught about. They were happy. Making do with what they had, celebrating their own customs and traditions. These were the people that Kroeth declared a threat... Surely there was some dark secret?

Despite her species, Aurevele found herself welcomed by most. And though she integrated well, her patriotic side never surrendered her loyalty to the cause. And one day, armored officials kicked in her door. They bound and dragged her out. The charges? Spying on the kingdom. It turned out one of her colleagues was captured, and in exchange for safety, ratted out the ones he knew of.

Aurevele spent days wasting away in prison, the guards unwilling to believe that she knew nothing about the brass' plans or resources. She was just a number among the thousands of soldiers in Kroeth. In this time Aurevele wrestled with her thoughts. She believed in Kroeth and its future, but she loved and missed the life she created in Jinhai.

It was then that the Crown Prince of Jinhai, Hou Lian, made his appearance. To her astonishment, he ordered for her freedom. Apparently, he had gathered testimonies from the civilians who knew Aurevele. All had vouched for her—revealed how she gradually opened herself up to joy. He had hope she could change.

Aurevele couldn't bring herself to turn her back. In that moment, tears flowing, she vowed to follow Hou Lian.

Throughout the following weeks, she quickly rose the ranks. Her combat prowess from the Kroeth army proved masterful. Her defensive style made her best suited to protect others. And who better to be her host than Hou Lian? Though many protested, disbelieving of Aurevele's allegiance, Hou Lian insisted. And thus came the first of the royal family to have an elf bodyguard. Her loyalty was proved as she followed him into battle against her own people, an act that she never spoke of.

However, Kroeth was winning the war. Aurevele watched as the situation turned dire for Jinhai. She was there when the kingdom's own civilians turned on their royals out of desperation. It was she who accompanied Hou Lian through the secret exit, carrying him out of the palace to safety.

But within the realm of safety was another batch of Kroeth spies, ready to capture the Crown Prince. Aurevele nudged him forward to them. "I'm sorry," she uttered. "They promised not to hurt you... This is for the best."
I Forgive the Things I See
When Aurevele awoke on the beach, she awoke with an immense weight of guilt and shame. She wanted to tear herself apart. To crawl back into the sea and never resurface. But she did not understand why.

What she did know was that Hou Lian was someone familiar. Someone she liked, yet made her feel those very emotions of pain and regret. Needing to distract herself, Aurevele integrated into Caedia with passion. She readily accepted what she was meant to be as a Called. As long as she had her sword and armor, she will be the one to protect others...
The Might of Kroeth
Divine Intervention
Your Faith
Description
Casts a teleport that swaps the positions of Aurevele and her target, friend or foe. This is signaled by a bright flash of light from the two positions. However, Aurevele must have "connected" with the individual any time prior. This minute-long process requires her to be in physical contact with them while performing a chant. It is successful when the touched area glows yellow.
Source
Magic
Type
Displacement; Teleport
Barrier of Light
Your Shield
Description
A translucent barrier of yellow light forms around Aurevele, and if need be, can be expanded to fit more people at the cost of exhaustion. This barrier blocks anything from arrows, physical weapons, to people from crossing. Each impact's force is transferred somewhat to Aurevele, and if she loses composure, the shield will break.
Source
Magic
Type
Shield; Wall
Radiant Blade
Your Sword
Description
Aurevele's sword glows a beaming yellow, extending in size and enhancing its power. The sword is upgraded to become unbreakable, cutting through objects with ease and singing all it comes into contact with. This lasts until she deactivates it, or until an hour has passed. Afterwards, it has a cooldown time that mirrors the time it was active.
Source
Magic; Weapon Art (Knightly Sword)
Type
Self-Buff; Transformation
Healing Glow
Until the Very End
Description
"Quote." Allies fighting around Aurevele will at one point be shined in the light of her abilities. When this happens, they are buffed for 10 minutes after being shined on. Pain from received attacks is lessened, and bleeding is quickly cauterized. Wounds will glow golden and heal within three to five minutes. Massive wounds won't fully heal through this, but pain and chance of death is significantly lowered until the effect ends.
Source
Magic
Type
Passive; Heal; Buff
Miscellaneous
Misc. 1
Aurevele believes firmly in respecting the dead. This holds just as true for foes, monstrous or not. After their opponent is slain, she offers a short prayer, and if possible, will want to bury them. She does not feel one way or the other about the act of killing, only that it is a necessary part of life. She does not consider dungeon monsters to be the same as animals.
Misc. 2
She has a very rigorous armor maintenance routine, and she will try her hardest to make sure it's always spick and span. Her armor is the same as it has always been, but it still looks brand new. Underneath expensive welding jobs, though, are definite scars of history.
Misc. 3
Aurevele has a nickname pushed on by others: Gambableena. She hates it. She has no idea what it means, where it came from, how it came to be, or why. But it's stupid, and anyone who calls her that can go eat eggshells!
My Sworn Duty

Character by:

AriAriAbabwa
Code by: Ambiloquous

Elenion Aura · Jul 17, 2024

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Trinket
Trinket Keeper
Alias
Cursed
Age
13 years old
Gender
Demi~Girl
Race
Human
Height
133 cm
Weight
33 kg
Class
Artificer
Affiliation
Later™
Homeland
Vere
Backstory
A letter
To whom it may concern,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing you to request I be allowed to enter the dungeon. While I am young, I have prepared to do for the last few months. I foolishly let myself become cursed, making it impossible for those who knew my previous persona to not recognize me in the slightest. I have not been able to explain this situation to my parents as our personal guard refused to grant me an audience, and I have my doubts about whether they'd believe such a tale.

A Tale
I have gathered several magical weapons to aid me and compensate for my lack of physical strength. One which I acquired was a broken sword, which consequently fused with my blood. I used my knowledge from books and town rumors to track it down. It's proven useful in dealing with troublesome bandits while I travel to Closter. In addition, I've undergone training with a local folk hero known as 'The Harvest.' They've taught me several things and have prepared me to enter the dungeon.
A request

To circle back around to my curse, I need to be rid of it. However, all my leads up on the surface have dried up. The only hope I have left is to find something that could help me within the unknown, the dungeon. I want, no, I need to see my family again. So, with all my heart, I request that I be allowed to join the expeditions.

From,
The Trinket Keeper
A Journey
Trick Tiara
See No Evil
Description
The cursed blindfold that Trinket wears. It is unable to be removed from her person, bound to its victim till death. This cursed item enhances the wearer's mind and sight. Their mind cannot be altered or tampered with, such as mind control or attacks of psychic nature. When the blindfold is down, she is able to see through a variant of blindsight similar to echolocation but with magic instead of sound.
Curse
The wearer of this blindfold is unable to be recognized as their past self.
Type
Passive, Defense, Cursed
False Excalibur
Blood Blade
Description
The sword fuses with its users blood, invading their body and lying dormant until it's manifested. When manifested, the sword mixes arcane energy with the users altered blood to form a longsword. It's attacks can be empowered through more magic and blood use, though this of course drains the user.
Curse
~~The sword alters the mind of those who wield it to go on murderous rampages.~~ Theoretically, it can take any shape, however the thing always choses a longsword. The sword is living and has mind of its own, causing it to swing at it's targets without regards for the user.
Type
Magic Weapon, Cursed, Martial
Tassle Defense
Gem of Protection
Description
The cloak acts to protect the wearer. Its tassles expand to block, deflect, and weaken incoming damage to the body. Unfortunately, its defense isn't perfect, but it does a good enough job to keep most bones in tact.
Curse
None
Type
Defensive, Passive, Magic
Arcane Chains
Broken Shackle
Description
Purple chains made from arcane energy manifest from her broken shackle which she can control.
Curse
When she uses this ability, her body would gradually begin to take on bird like characteristics until POOF she becomes a bird, this resets at dawn.
Type
Ranged, Cursed, Magic
Miscellaneous
Etiquette
Trinket's skills at etiquette are instantly noticeable. She's polite to a tea and carefully thinks about her responses before speaking. They are the type who would be able to tell exactly what special type of fork you need to use at a fancy dinner.
Close to the Chest
Trinket is intensely secretive of her past, the further back you go, the less willing she is to talk about it. If she does share something, it's 50/50 that is a lie or the truth. Though, it could always be a mix of both, you rarely know when it comes to her.
A Collector of Sorts
At this point in her life, Trinket has thrown caution to the wind. To her, there's only two options, she dies or find a way to rid herself of all her curses. Though, Trinket still keeps caution when their action may affect someone near them. After all, she believes each person should be able to choose how to ruin their life.
Reflection

Background Artist: Tom Scholes

Character Artist 1: jiro (ninetysix)

Setting Artist 1: Tom Scholes

Character By: @AzaleaWonderland

CS Code By: Ambiloquous

Setting Artist 2: Tom Scholes

Elenion Aura · Jul 19, 2024

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Boltius
The Jewelsmith, Champion of Tìshôk
Alias
Blitz
Age
39 years old
Gender
Male
Race
Royal Imp
Height
170.18 cm
Weight
68 kg
Class
Sorcerer
Affiliation
N/A
Homeland
Tìshôk
Backstory
Another World
Tìshôk is a small world of molten lava, where there exists more boiling ocean than there does land, and the people, flora, and fauna are fire-attuned, capable of growing and thriving in the hottest climate imaginable.
On Tìshôk, the majority of the existing islands are bound by chain to the mainland, Môk’Shaa, a continent of mountainous terrain said to be anchored to Tìshôk’s core, which prevents it from floating adrift like the chainlands once did many years ago. At the center of Môk’Shaa resides the towering volcano of Nìnuk, a glorious geographical beacon what’s boiling pit is said to shine so bright it casts the largest star in the night sky, Nìnuk’s Eye.
For the natives of Môk’Shaa, every day is a day worth celebrating, and celebrate they do from dusk ‘til dawn—a harmonious collection of races, save for one: the Bastard Imps, not to be confused with the Royal Imps, which are a more evolved species with long lifespans (roughly 200 years), and serve to be the most balanced.
Bastard Imps are hated throughout Tìshôk as devilish little creatures that thieve, kill, and devour for pleasure, drawn by anything of beauty, or anything that glistens. They repopulate rapidly, the average gestation period lasting as short as three days, and develop at an even more alarming rate before plateauing. Their population is immense and constantly growing; their existence a danger to peace.
Every decade, a war is waged against the Bastard Imps by the natives of Tìshôk with the hope of driving them to extinction, but the Bastard Imps always find an escape. Following each war, they nurse their wounds in hiding and wait until their numbers scale before striking again, first in small numbers, preying on children and the weak, before laying waste to towns and cities.
The Final Stand
It was said that the last war would be the final. Therein the chainland Tssk’Aa, the son of the Head of the Firestorm Army had discovered the Bastard Imps’ nest, locating their Queen, and proposed a plan requiring a sacrifice, the role of which he had intended to assume against the knowledge of his father and his supporters.
Over the course of several months, the people of Tìshôk stored their most valuable belongings on Tssk’Aa, a tactical maneuver meant to attract the attention of the Bastard Imps for their love of shiny trinkets and beauties.
The son of the Head of the Firestorm Army gathered his troops and told them of his plan to sever the chain that linked Tssk’Aa to the mainland come Nìnuk’s anticipated eruption, an event that took place only once every century and lasted twelve days without pause. Surely, the great rush of Nìnuk’s essence would send Tssk’Aa under, taking the Bastard Imps and their Queen with it, whom the Imps would follow to utter demise.
When the troops were readied, the son of the Head of the Firestorm Army led them into the Bastard Imps’ nest and paved a bloody path of destruction, laying waste to their numbers as their ancestors had done before them. Only, this time, Nìnuk would play its role. As the eruption began, Tìshôk shook mightily, and the son urged his troops to evacuate Tssk’Aa and take refuge in their bunkers. However, little did the troops know that the son would not be joining them, for the unbreakable chain that linked Tssk’Aa to Môk’Shaa could only be detached directly from the chainland itself.
When Nìnuk’s essence bled forth in the form of blazing hot rivers and submerged Môk’Shaa in its entirety, Tssk’Aa was carried away by the rush as the son of the Head of the Firestorm Army engaged in battle with the Bastard Queen before the island was eventually swallowed by the sea.
Settling In
It makes one year ago that Boltius woke upon the shores of a beach unfamiliar, heart pounding in his chest for reasons he couldn’t remember, adrenaline coursing like that in the heat of battle.
His head and body ached, energy drained so that he could barely walk, vision fading as the silhouette of a person approached him, calling out to him with words he couldn’t discern in his state of waning consciousness. Then, as quickly as all went black, he woke again—this time, in the comfort of crackling coals—to find three others hovering over him with curious stares.
The three were made in his image, red-toned with horns, fangs, and tails, and they called themselves Imps.
There, within Closter, wherein the Imps had established themselves as Jewelers, the Imps took Boltius in and gave him work, showed him around, and taught him much of what they knew.
Newfound Purpose
Months into his new life in Closter, Boltius began diving in search of gems and trinkets with which to aid the growth of the Imps’ jewelry business.
Bastard Queen
Healing Flame
Nìnuk’s Blessing
Description
Absorbing flame, bathing in or consuming magma will heal Bolt’s wounds and grant him energy, greater wounds requiring longer periods of bathing or the absorption of greater quantities of flame. Too long without the consumption or absorption of direct flame/magma in general will cause Boltius to adopt a weakened and tired state that worsens over time.

Frigid environments drain Bolt’s energy reserves at high rates, capable of rendering him almost useless. He also takes increased damage from water/ice based attacks.
Source
Innate Skill (Royal Imp)
Type
Passive Ability; Self-Targeted; Self-Healing
Molten Skin
Flesh of Nìnuk
Description
Fading black and cracking with slivers of glowing magma, heat radiating, Bolt’s skin hardens where he so chooses, granting him protection against oncoming attacks and, in turn, increasing the damage of his own physical attacks.

Powerful water/ice based attacks are the most guaranteed to shatter his molten skin.
Source
Innate Skill (Royal Imp)
Type
Protection; Self-Targeted; Self-Buff
Magmatic Shards
Tears of Nìnuk
Description
Boltius conjures hot, jagged rocks of molten cores that serve as deadly projectiles, which then burst once their cores reach maximum temperature, spraying hot magma and dealing damage to surrounding enemies.
Source
Magic
Type
Single-Target; AoE; Conjuration
Shapeshifting
Child of Nìnuk
Description
Boltius assumes the form of a small, steaming salamander, quick on his feet. Said form allows him to execute evasive maneuvers, sneak around undetected, slip into hard-to-reach places, or even to hitch a ride on the nearest shoulder that’ll have him.

In this form, Boltius is rendered vulnerable to attacks, as he cannot readily defend himself without quickly and carefully shifting back into his original shape.
Source
Innate Skill (Royal Imp)
Type
Self-Targeted; Shapeshifting
Miscellaneous
Misc. 1
As with all species of Imp, Boltius possesses sharp fangs, claws on both his hands and feet, horns, and a long, semi-prehensile tail which he is capable of utilizing as a third arm. Hailing from a world of fire and magma, he possesses a natural immunity to heat.
Misc. 2
As an Imp, Boltius does not indulge in the typical nourishments of most other humanoids. He does not eat the meat of animals nor the vegetation of the earth, but rather the rocks, minerals, and coals, which come in abundance.
Misc. 3
It would be a rare sight to find Boltius, of his own volition, wearing anything more than just his signature black trousers, which are decorated in numerous chains and jewels. You'll not find him with even a pair of shoes on his feet.
Stay Golden

Code by: Ambiloquous
Character by:

Doctor Llamabean

Elenion Aura · Aug 1, 2024

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Sen Kurohara
The Black Fox
Alias
Black Fox
Age
32 years
Gender
Female
Race
Kitsune
Height
142 cm
Weight
35 kg
Class
Ranger
Affiliation
N/A
Homeland
Greenholm
Backstory
As everyone knows, south of the mountains lived a peaceful folk called halflings--quaint people of Greenholm with imagination the size of their petty quarrels and squeezable builds. Yet for all their simple lives and simple minds, these halflings have quite a fantastical legend they tell on quiet winter days where conversations of gardening and smoking leaves run dry.

Deep in the mountains, they say, past the skirt of hills and rocky mountain heels, where two brooks joined and made a strip of land, whereupon mountaineers grazed their sure-foot sheep, there was a hidden portal to a gorge that is not always accessible but by chance stumbling or a fairy’s mischief guidance. In that gorge lived a folk who on certain days of the year when the fog hung low would stalk the pass and kidnap those going unaware. Rare sightings, often from a half-brother-in-law of a cousin of a neighbor, told of mysterious creatures with ears fluffy atop their head and a wagging tail trailing behind their swift steps.

Children dared each other to that strip of land to find the gorge, but none had ever found it, for they were not even as adventurous as their less-than-brave parents.

And yet in spite of all the mysteriousness born and fostered for generations, one need not go far to learn the truth of this gorge and this people. In the archive of a certain guild in Vere there lay under thick dust the record from some hundred years ago of this people’s exodus.

Every one of them had been called, at first, washed ashore with their bright fur washed in seawater and a shivering cold their small bodies could not stand long. Kitsune they called themselves, their marked characteristics were the fox-like ears, though they did not lack normal human-like ears, and each had an expressive tail that wagged to their emotions. A close-knit folk, they prefer each other’s company in lieu of mingling with other folks. So that whenever one of them showed up on the shore, they would all end up in a small district in Vere with their brethren, shunning the attention of other races. At first they followed the customs of city life, struggling in an environment their kind were not used to, but due to their nature, they clung together instead of going off to somewhere more suitable. Then one day, one of the foxes, a particularly noisome and daring one, proposed the idea of moving together inland for a more peaceful way of living. This met with unanimous approval, the kitsune, some dozens all told, joined hands to build a village deep in the southern mountains. This they called Shizuhara, a village sheltered within a gorge from rough elements. And so ever there they dwelled.

In the years that followed, the foxes who showed up on the beach were instructed by hired human guides the way to the village. But then their number found on the shore trickled until no more came. Stories of them were eventually lost to the generations, these days only dimly recalled by the long-lived races. But so seldom did the members of their reclusive race travel from their village that even tales of them had become dubious.

But as with all races, there are still those rare black sheep who strayed from their people’s wont.

Kurohara Sen. Senhime as affectionately called by the old folk. Sensen by the youngsters. Or simply Sen the Hunter to her peers.

The kitsune hunted, of course, though at first glance they seemed better suited working on quaint farmlands, grazing cattle and picking yuzu fruits for food. Not prolific gourmands as the halflings, still, kitsune are a varied folk, and some like gamey meat just as much as they do sweets and fresh-picked fruits. To provide for such needs, hunters like Sen are required. They are by no means rare, though only a rare few take hunting as their main occupation and not just a side activity. Those like Sen have an affinity for the wilderness, for the deep forest whispering of lost mysteries and for lovely woodland creatures. They crave the presence of their people just as any other Kitsune, but to them the lonely times wandering far from civilization with only their hunting dogs for company were just as valuable.
That is to say, hunting is something a kitsune could participate in as a hobby or a profession. Though usually it was the former.

Something between working and hiking deep in the mountains, grinding pebbles under deerskin boots and perching on high branches with a bow tugged under your arms, alternating between listening to the songbirds and watching for prey passing underneath.

A laid-back way of life.

Even if it was a violent business.

Even though it meant killing.

Even when things could take a sharp turn for the worst in the unpredictable wild.

There was an instant when claws and fangs brandished between the crunch of snapped necks and the rank smell of spilling entrails that Sen saw death.
Before she knew it, her hound was dead. That dog which she had raised and trained and shared almost every meal with since he was a little pup. Besides the hound lay the last of his victims, two timber wolves with their necks gouged by powerful bites. The hound’s spike collar had protected his neck, but there was little he could do to ward off the pack from clawing and gnawing his flank. Sen’s immediate revenge was an arrow through the heart of another wolf, but in the following moment all she could think of was survival.

She was fleeing, running for a tree, in the hope of gaining a branch and from there shooting down the pack one by one with the rest of her arrows.

But then, fresh blood--her own--washed away these thoughts and drowned what hopes remained. The hot burning across her back, which had shorn the tip of her tail and rent apart her quiver, was all she was conscious of before everything went red.

When she came to the wolves were dead, strewing in pieces of guts, severed limbs and minced flesh, all merging into a misshapen mutilated mass.

One of them lay atop of her, jaws agape just over her face.

No timely savior had come to her rescue.

Only herself.

She pushed. The creature whose underbelly was caked with blood limped aside, sliding from her sword that had been blackened by blood and chipped by bones.
She had fought desperately, but by the end of it she could hardly believe it was her doing. Not just her steel but her nails and teeth had been tinted a deep red. Her wounded and torn body was covered in the rank blood of the wolves, which mingled with her own fox blood. And when she spat the metallic taste from her mouth, out came also scraps of flesh and tangled fur.

She buried her wolfhound under a great tree.

Then she bathed her wounds in a pond.

Then she carried one of the wolves back to the village on limping steps.

All this she did mechanically while not fully aware of her actions, only dim and vague recollections of the events, a growing uneasiness.

The danger was over and no more perils at hand, she knew. And yet an uneasiness grew into a lump in her chest. But what it was, she could not tell, not until later when she had arrived at the village.

As always she was warmly greeted by children and friends, even if there was a sullen and awkward mood over the death of her companion.

Only later would the changes fully take shape, but even then, even when curious stares and a flurry of questions were directed her way over the wolf on her back, she felt--distant.

As though these were not her people.

As though there the intimate connection all foxes shared, that intricate web of interlinked relationships, had been severed from her.

For the following weeks she lazed around in the village, feeling forlorn. This was no strange thing, as kitsune are sentimental creatures. The other foxes, and even herself, chalked it up to her sulking over the death of her dog. But soon it became obvious she could no longer integrate with the community.

The bloody images of death and danger did not haunt her so much as had become an arrowhead lodged deep in her heart. She had changed. A change that was at once so subtle and dramatic that while she appeared her usual self outwards, she could no longer live with her people and share in with their ways untainted by blackness.

It was almost an inevitability when she finally left her village one day, bringing with her the usual supplies for a hunt. But she would never return, not for a long, long time. It was a legend she was hunting now, a legend of people living outside the mountains, who delve great depths of danger for a living. For perhaps it is among those strange people that she would find a place to fit in.
Shizuhara
Pew, Pew, Pew!
Frenzied Firing
Description
With heightened concentration and reflexes, Sen fires projectiles from her bow in rapid succession with only a minimal decrease in accuracy. When using this ability her hands move so fast it may appear as though she were firing multiple arrows at once.
Source
Weapon Art (Bow and arrow)
Type
Single Target
Cat-Scratch Fever
Feral Flurry
Description
In the desperation of close melee, Sen unleashes a kitsune’s feral nature in full, attacking with her claws, fangs and anything she could get her hand on as a weapon.
Source
Basic Arts
Type
Single target; Unarmed attack; Weapon attack
Anime Ear Twitch
Sharp Senses
Description
As a kitsune, Sen’s five senses far exceed the capacity of the average human’s, to the point of being able to detect the body heat of creatures in a wide radius, in addition to the tiniest movements and softest breaths.
Source
Innate skill (Kitsune)
Type
Passive; Perception
Mozilla
Foxfire
Description
Each kitsune possesses a semi-unique foxfire ability with various effects depending on their individuality, lineage, sometimes even upbringing. Sen’s foxfire is one of her hunting tools, a floating flame that sticks to a living target upon command. Unlike normal fires, it can’t be extinguished and does not burn. Instead it sets a blinding light on the target it is attached to, marking it even from miles away, while at the same time dazzles and confuses the target’s mental state, hurts evasion, mobility, reflexes, and interferes with spell preparations or other skills requiring the user’s concentration to activate.
Source
Innate skill (Kitsune)
Type
Single target; Debuff
Miscellaneous
Misc. 1
Sen’s favorite tea is chamomile. When she’s alone and without an acquaintance around to ridicule her though, she would order matcha tea, because she likes its bright, vibrant green. But since she can’t stand the bitter taste, she never manages to finish her cup, merely sitting there looking at the delicious taste before secretly disposing of it somewhere.
Misc. 2
Sweets are a vital part of the kitsune’s diet. One could say that they can never get enough sweets. But it is actually a serious problem. Not so in this world since there’s always an ample supply of sweets, but in their original world, a shortage of sweets has caused many a large-scale war over the monopoly of sweet production. Without frequent sweet intake, a kitsune would soon exhibit withdrawal syndromes, including but not limited to shaking hands, watering mouth, unfocused eyes and sudden outbursts of violence. Sweet addiction has ruined lives, families and many young kitsune.

Fortunately, the kitsune of this world have no knowledge of their dark history and could have as many sweets as they want thanks to the abundance of sweet sources in their village known as the yuzu fruits.
Foxy Lady

Character by:

ATurei
Code by: Ambiloquous

Elenion Aura · Aug 12, 2024

Fantasy DUNGEON DELVER: Secrets of Caedia [CS Thread]

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club

Elenion Aura

Two Thousand Club