Fantasy Haelorin Characters - The Bronze Aeon

[StormWolf]

“The Lion strode through the Halls of Hell;

Across his path grim shadows fell

Of many a mowing, nameless shape

Monsters with dripping jaws agape.

The darkness shuddered with scream and yell

When the Lion stalked through the Halls of Hell."
​

— The Scarlet Citadel​

Now tell me… Who are you?

Answer me this: what is best in life?​

Name: By what are you called? Are you a woman of many names and titles, or a man deprived even of his name? Keep in mind the race and culture of your character. No “Tom the Thief” or “Coldsteel the Barbarian”.

Race: Which of the races are you, or are you a Mongrel?

Gender: What is your gender?

Age: How many winters have you seen?

Visage: Describe your appearance through pictures, words, or a marriage of the two. No anime images or aesthetics.

Temperament: Whether through words, body language, or actions alone, people will be able to get a feeling of who you are. Will you be the chivalrous champion, fallen from grace? The reaver with the answer to the Riddle of Steel? Stoic, raging, mirthful, or melancholy?

Skills, Talents, and Virtues: What is your character most skilled at? Are they a rogue who can sneak their way past a great serpent, or perhaps a barbarian of insurmountable strength? Perhaps they are a jack of all trades?

Weaknesses, Blunders, and Shortcomings: The guru’s of the Zadjian say that balance is the nature of the world. For every two skills you have, you must also have a weakness to balance them. Perhaps your temper is as short as it is violent, or you have an unerring fear of sorcerous powers and the unnatural?

Faith: What gods or demons do you call out to in your darkest hours?

Origin: Who were you before taking the Ivory Road? With whom have you forged Bonds with during your journey

Bonds: You must choose at least one other player-character and form a bond (or bonds) with them. Describing the bond can be as simple as a sentence or two. These should flow with your Origins, and be kept in mind during play.

EX: -Tyrgon believes that Yasmina is weak and pathetic, but will protect her so long as he continues to be paid by her father.

-Yasmina believes the Tyrgon, the mighty barbarian, is protecting her because he cares for her. Could she ever convince her father to permit such scandalous romance with a savage?[/i]

Purpose: What brings you to the Ivory Road?

Spoiler: Dramatis Personae

Name: Sai'yidha tal'Balkesh

Race: Nkosi

Gender: Female

Age: 40

Visage:

Spoiler: Visual Aid

A picture of Nkosi womanhood with a sandy gold pelt, a mother's curvaceous figure, and a voice of sultry, smokey silk. Sai'yidha is on the shorter side of moderate stature, bedecked with bangles and bracelets of gold and swathed in fine silks and linens. By her appearance alone, she is a successful tradeswoman of the Ivory Road. Often at her side are at least one of her many children, whether it be the youngest at her breast, and intermediate clutching her skirts, or one of her eldest working the family business.

Bonds:
-Iya Mamela, my dear! You just need love! You want a husband? Wife? Both? My son is like bull, my daughter a dancer and a poet. Just be sure to pay dowry up front, yes?


Name: Rhajvar al'Maahes t'Balkesh

Race: Nkosi

Gender: Male

Age: 26

Visage:

Spoiler: Visual Aid

Merciful Mother, how did something like that come out of Sai'yida?
Rhajvar is as separate from his mother as one could be. He is utterly gargantuan in stature and build, a scarred Adonis of steely sinew beneath a pelt of golden brown with eyes that burn like the baleful desert sun. His braided mane is decorated with beads of bone and stone, his ear notched from past conflicts. Clad in a scarlet herringbone shendyt, armored girdle, and herculean cuiriass, he carries himself as a veteran of mercenary bands and arena brawls.


Name: Vinthor Ysgrimsson

Race: Human - Njorn

Gender: Male

Age: 28

Visage:

Spoiler: Visual Aid

Tall, hirsute, and broad, Vinthor is a Njorn that has spent much of his life at sea. One can see this in his Halcyon attire and love for vibrant colors, and his sun-bronzed complexion. A wicked Halcyeon kopis is belted at one hip, a Njorn battle axe on the other, a curved Azimban knife in his girdle. He's a man of many cultures, whose speech and posture belies a former life of reaving.

Bonds:
-Yu Cheng proved to be quite handy at sea... for a worm-eye. He might be worth keeping on.


Name: Samad el-Fasiel

Race: Human - Zakharanian

Gender: Male

Age: 56

Visage:

Spoiler: Visual Aid

Samad is a man swollen with the kush comfort of his station as a caravanserai. Though he may not have crown or throne, he is the self-proclaimed king of the Ivory Road, and dresses himself as such. Linen and silks flow from his pleasantly supple figure, jewels twinkling on every sausagey finger, his salt-and-pepper beard glistening with scented oils. About his neck hang passports of lands near and far, his broad sash packed with scrolls of writ and deed, kept company by a jewel-hilted long-knife.

 

[Aloha Loha]

Name: Yu Cheng, Master of the Hot Winds, (Successor to the Family Yu Fortune and Bearer of Family Burdens)
Race: Taikangian
Gender: Male
Age: 27

Visage: Yu Cheng is a distinctive looking individual of the land, mostly due to his choice of attire as he in fact has attire. Cheng wears a light blue silken robe, with pink silk gloves dons a pair of wooden sandals, and has a large satchel which is slung over his back. His black hair is long, but is carefully braided into a long tail which goes down the back of his neck and tapers off around just the end of his back. With a lighter complexion of yellow, as opposed to those who must toil harder with more burdensome tasks, Cheng further stands out among his peers. His face however bears a distinctively bent nose which leans right. He stands at 1.7 meters and possesses a wiry frame of lean muscle alongside fairly calloused fingers and toes.

Temperament: Yu Cheng is a flighty man, which is easily shown through his bouncy foot-work. He is an easy going man with a cheerful demeanor. He is quick to a joke and quick to amuse, but he is never bound to just one thing. He hates truly long commitments and will scoff at the notion of things that are beyond pleasure. Though he is not a man who simply enjoys his own pleasure, he takes pleasure in providing pleasure for others.

Skills, Talents, and Virtues:
Philosophy of the Hot Winds: To some fighting is an honorable activity, to Yu Cheng it is not as much as it is a matter of winning. As such he has become the Master of the Hot Winds; a tactician who frequently employs techniques such as throwing dried chili flakes and other spices down wind and in the eyes of the opponent, or utilizing his braided hair as a whip. He recognizes and applies cheap tactics in order to best gain an advantage and win.

Noble Path of the Lizard: Yu Cheng is a martial artist, one who relies heavily on out-speeding the opponent and making great use of agility and mastery of breathing to control the flow of the fight. Yu Cheng can use this style to manuever on walls as the lizard would, and relies on quick, rapid strikes of the fist and leg to unleash many blows to defeat the target.

The Alchemic Teachings of House Yu: Yu Cheng, as a man of noble standing, was taught many skills such as reading, writing and so forth – but the most important skill was that his family was known for and achieved fame with. Alchemy; the practice of knowing the body and how to achieve balance in it through pressure at particular points alongside various herbs, ingredients of flesh and so forth. Yu Cheng is a skilled alchemist and can take care of what ails you by folk practices.

The Hosting Teachings of House Yu: Yu Cheng also learned the importance of crafting a meal for those invited over. After all to reach your fellow man you must go through their stomach; Cheng is skilled at cooking a variety of dishes and beverages in many ways and knows how to do so in a fancy manner if this is a courtly affair.


Weaknesses, Blunders, and Shortcomings:
Ignoble Path of the Lizard: Of course all martial styles have weaknesses, no one form of fighting is enough to carry on completely unimpeded. The Path of the Lizard relies so much on its footwork and in particular the bounciness and speed that ironically despite its mastery of breathing, it tires out much more quickly than other styles due to its flashy ways.

The Burdensome Teachings of House Yu: Yu Cheng, as the oldest of the new generation of Yu, is destined to take over his family’s traditions and is tasked with bearing them down and repeating the cycle. The problem is however, Yu Cheng does not want to do so. As such the lessons imparted to him had an unfortunate side-effect of causing Yu to completely forsake any and all long term commitments and abandoning them for seeking simple pleasures.

Faith: Like most of his kin he worships Wa-Ying; however he prays to particular ancestral spirits for good luck and smaller favors – though a good portion of this is mostly so they won’t rat him out.

Origin:
Unlike the majority of individuals in Taikang, Yu Cheng was born to a life of privilege and power. His father, Yu Min was a very respected alchemist who had amassed quite a bit of fame and fortune for his various ‘miraculous’ cures and as such added onto the family lineage of merchants and other noble civil servants. However what he achieved in the field of folk medicine was nothing compared to his thoughts on producing his son, Yu Cheng, a boy he knew would lead the family into even more glory than he did.

As such Yu Cheng was treated to the best that life could offer; he had nothing to worry about except for the fact that he was being handled the reigns to a family lineage that was in good standings and had much to lose. Despite taking to his subjects well, Yu Cheng did not care for the pressure being bestowed upon him; why did he have to run the family? Why could his father produce another heir?

Eventually the pressure became too much and an adolescent Yu Cheng fled into the night with a satchel full of material goods he treasured. Of course traveling in Taikang can be dangerous, especially when your neighbors hardly have a loin-cloth to their name and they see a young man clad in silk. So it went without saying that fleeing at night, with many worldly possessions, did not go well for Yu Cheng as he properly got the shit kicked out of him and was left battered near a road.

However there is good in this world as a man, a hardened field worker known as Fan, felt bad for the youth and took him in and allowed him to recover. Yu Cheng was grateful for this and explained his situation to the man. Fan was bemused that such a youth would recklessly leave his own family but he accepted it knowing that all men had to forge their destiny. He explained that this area was lorded over by a foul bandit lord known as Liao Ping, and he threatened the area and was left largely unopposed due to him providing kick-backs to nearby nobles. Fan then lamented the fact he was too old and could not move as he used to or else he would’ve deposed of this man long ago.

Yu Cheng knowing he needed to repay this man’s kindness, as well as get back his stuff, pleaded with the man to teach him. And so Fan taught the man in the styles he learned long ago the Path of the Lizard. After much hardship and training, Yu Cheng finally felt he was ready to defeat the bandit lord and so, he did. While Yu was not able to get much of his original worldly possessions back, after all training takes quite some time, he did manage to keep a few that Liao Ping kept. But it was here Cheng learned a new and great lesson; he liked to beat up other people.

Motivated with a new path in life Yu Cheng ventured out into the world – ready to kick ass on the Ivory Road.

Bonds:
Yu Cheng has riden the high seas with Vinthor Ysgrimsson.

Purpose: To seek amusement, hone his particular set of talents and avoid responsibilities that await him back in Taikang.

 

[Archon]

Name: Jarl Alseif "Bearsbane" Ullrdottir

Race: Human - West Njorn

Gender: Female

Age: 23

Visage: Describe your appearance through pictures, words, or a marriage of the two. No anime images or aesthetics.

Alseif is a frost-kissed woman with a vibrant flaming red mane who stands at a respectable 6'1. Her outward appearance carries the burden of battle-hardened duress, scars and cuts adorn her winter skin, her form strong and well-muscled from an arduous life.

Temperament: An explosive spirit possessed of great energy, Alseif is confident, hot-tempered and wears her expression like a mirthless mask. A walking paradox, as she flares at the smallest obstacles yet remains simultaneously stoic and still. She is ambitious and brave, but her moral code is grey and blurred, self-preservation and selfishness push out heroic folly. However, she is neither isolated nor dishonest, and has no qualms with working with others - provided they understand her limitations.

Skills, Talents, and Virtues:

Order of the Wolf: Trained dutifully by Nornheim's famed shieldbearers to hunt, sail and most imprtantly, fight, Alseif is a skilled combatant who's specialty lies in the Order of the Wolf. A style that diverges from traditional warfare, it focuses on using the spear and shield not defensively, but with calculated and relentless aggression, wearing the opponent down with many small cuts and extreme speed and mobility. This style see's greatest effect against those of great size and strength, or those who bare themselves down in encumbering armour.

Fyreblade: An enchanted relic of brilliant worth, this sword glitters with intricate Njornheim runes, the hilt forged in the guise of a dragon. A cruel irony, that the magic inherent in the blade falls outside of Alseif's expertise. Whilst she's not as proficient or capable with sword-in-hand, this blade can light aflame with dazzling display.

Forged by Struggle: Having mastered the frozen mountains of the North, Alseif's natural athlecism has bloomed greatly. The thinner air and long days of hunting have forged her stamina, the bitter cold and threats from wildlife and raiders has built her durability. Rigorous labouring and combat training has improved her strength. For these reasons, Alseif is a very capable climber, swimmer and runner, helpful talents for overcoming earthly obstacles such as mountains, walls and rivers.

Survival: When forced to inhabit the destitute edges of the very world, you become an expert on survival or you die. Alseif has mastered many arts of staying alive in the deadly duo with the wilderness. She is adept at hunting, fishing, creating shelter, unprofessional healing and - in the mountains - navigation.

Weaknesses, Blunders, and Shortcomings:

Claimed by the Cold: What gifts immunity to the iced ridges of Njornheim also curses with a deep affliction for the sun and heat. Alseif's athleticism is nothing to the beating assault of the sun, she will struggle immensely in hot or humid environments with weakness, sickness and burning.

The Unnatural: Alseif has a deep fear of the unnatural, undeath, ghosts, walking corpses, it's a defacement of her religious learning and the very concept of "magic" barely exists outside runes in the North. If faced with her fears, she's likely to freeze up and become a liability.



Faith: The Great Wolf

Origin: Born as one of two twins, to Jarl Ullr Ironhand, Alseif's early life at the top of the hierarchy in the most miserable hell-stained place on the earth was assured. Early childhood was a mindless existence, she was taught to read and write by her mother, Sigfry, and engaged in basic training alongside the townsfolk of the tribe. Alseif and her brother, Hrolfdan were inseparable, the best friends and twins were an accursed menace for much of the village, a constant cycle of fighting and playing. Small tornadoes of energy. A promising sign for Njornheimer's, as a respected and feared chieftain with sturdy connections Ullr was able to attain three of the finest shieldbearers and warriors across the land to teach his children how to fight beyond mortal means.

As they aged, so to did their responsibilities grow. Basic training became advanced training, they were taught to survive - given trials - to fish, to hunt, to fight, and to lead. They were educated on responsibility and life, the unfairness of it all; rival clans, marauding wildlife, pirates and reavers, the land itself. Both brother and sister were quickly becoming skilled warriors, having fought in two bloody skirmishes with rival clans at just 16 years of age.

Eventually, at 20 years of age, both twins were deemed worthy of the Trial of Frost. Over the course of 30 days, they would need to survive in the wilderness, separated and alone. When the days were finished, to fulfil the trial they would need to bring back the pelt of a dangerous predator. Usually a wolf. The test was grueling, a teetering dance with death on the edge of mortality, Alseif suffered multiple close calls with the afterlife, from the slippery slopes of mountains to the numbing cold. Stalking her pray after the days ended was no easy task, wolves hunted in packs - the howling unnerving and chilling - but the trial's success depended on it. Prey she was hunting, but it was prey she became. Her tracks stalled at the sight of her bloody prey mauled and twisted, the bone chilling roar of the great white bear - disturbed at her presence - as it charged. The great mass pinned and mauled Alseif, her survival owing to the padded leather she wore, and the knife she thrust in the beast's eye over and over.

The bears pelt served as a blanket for Alseif as she spent a further week recovering from her wounds. Then, when able, she fashioned the pelt into a cloak, and took the bears claws as a necklace. She returned, eager for the warmth of hearth and home, to exchange tails with her brother. Vanquishing the bear would earn her a formal title.

She arrived to a nightmare, the village wreathed in flames. The pale snow painted red with death, the villagers cries' echoing in the moonlit glow. The Frostfang Clan had invaded the village, somehow bypassing notice. This was no organized battle, but a massacre. Panic took heart and she fled through to the Mead Hall. Her father was bleeding on the ground profusely, her mother already a corpse. before she could utter a sound strong hands seized her and held her, closing her mouth to force an eery silence. Her instructor, Bjoren Frosthand, still lived. As her family's rival taunted Ullr, Bjoren kept Alseif calm and outlined a plan; the Hall was undermanned, with only 5 unprepared warriors. Bjoren would kill 2 fast, Alseif would need to kill one.

Bjoren moved like lightning; a savage and unrelenting assault before the enemy could react. In his warrior rage he felled 3, and as Alseif slunk her own spear from her mark's throat she hefted it high and launched it - without thought - at the surprised figure before her father. The spear impaled the man in the chest, his sword erupting in a display of flame as he bled onto the ground. Asleif was awarded a heartfelt but rushed farewell with her father, her brother never made it back from the Trial. As Bjoren prepared to buy Alseif time to escape, Ullr named his daughter the Jarl of the Icewind Clan and, after asking her what prey she felled, gave a last laugh as he dubbed her "Bearsbane" and passed on the treasured family helmet, to become the last reminder of her home. In flight, she seized the enchanted sword from the man she killed. The original intent was to sell the mystical blade, but despite the horror tied to it's memory she came to grow immensely fond of the glittering runes and the majesty it inherits; coupled with her family helmet the sword allows her to feel and look like a Jarl, an identity she maintains,

The years since have been hard, but exciting. Despite the immensity of her tragedy, the vast open shell of the south has awarded fascination and distraction. Living is easier, food and work is easily gained and plentiful, Alseif's time is spent travelling and working as a mercenary, bodyguard or caravan escort. A path that has led her to the Ivory Road.

Bonds: N/A at current time.

Purpose: Wanderlust? Escape? Her purpose is unknown, even to her. Though, one day, she hopes to restore her clan.

 

[Zerohex]

Name: Ajax Diagorides
Race: Halcyonian human
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Visage:
Ajax cuts an undeniably imposing figure, a well tanned olive-skinned man standing at an impressive 6ft4 and weighing a more than considerable 280 pounds of muscle, with fierce hazel eyes, a prominent jaw and chin and curled dark copper hair including a thick beard. Built like a hirsute brick, his enviable physique cannot be understated: an "inverted triangle" upper body with a slim core and waist leading to a broad chest and shoulders, arms like pythons with an outstanding 80 inches of reach, powerful bull-like legs and a log for a neck holding up a head that would seem out of place atop a smaller body, he is as though a sculpture wrought of stone or metal had been made flesh.

The man is not perfect, however, and for all his undoubtable masculinity he's in fact quite the mess to look at. Sporting scars of all sorts from head to toe, sunken eyes, a squashed and deviated nose and cauliflower ears, what takes the cake is his taut, leathery skin and the thick, rough callousing on his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet left by brutal conditioning. Ajax's usual choice of clothing of a chiton, a white piece of fabric draped around the body like a loose tunic, strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and ending just above the knees, does not do much to hide his body.

Aside from this and the mandatory loincloth of decency he wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae that go all the way up to just below his knees, which are themselves covered in matching knee braces, and wraps around his hands up to his forearms not unusual in warrior sorts. The final detail is the belt perpetually around his waist, a large leather piece with slight fur trims for comfort, decorated with effigies of rampaging bulls and wreathes of olive and laurel, with a golden circular buckle reminiscent of a shield with an engraving of an eagle at the center.

Temperament:
Ajax is in many ways a creature of contradictions. On the one hand he is quite the merry man, an adventurer marching to the beat of his own drum fond of the many pleasures of life, not a big friend of responsibilities but fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. On the other hand, he is quick to turn confrontational and competitive without a second thought. Tremendously self-assured, he can be brutally honest to a fault, rarely backs away from a challenge and greatly enjoys displaying his tremendous physical gifts and skill for violence.

The warrior holds a particular world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He believes that the strong come to rule the weak, with that strength not limited to any one particular form, but he holds that the weak should never let themselves be crushed underfoot, always striving to grow strong in turn and reach greater heights in life. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it just as long as they actually put in effort themselves, a sort of sense of responsibility for his gifts, but conversely he is especially harsh to those who could stand for themselves but don't do so.

Connected to his gifts, mentality and the environment in which he operates, Ajax has a general distaste for sorcery, thinks very little of relying on "higher powers" for whatever reason and is very proud of his status as a human in a world of monsters. Though not really bigoted he especially dislikes those who try to lord their magic, status or origins over others, strongly believing in the worth of personal achievements attained through one's own efforts rather than any assigned station, and would rather people seek to grow and overcome than worship and credit vague forces for their success.

Skills, Talents, and Virtues:
-Herculean: Ajax has known naught but the call of combat all his life and it has marked him, turned him into something more than human. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren’t much to speak of he is freakishly, impossibly strong and gifted with tremendous stamina. His entire body is tough enough that he requires no armor, and it eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with shocking ease. What makes this unique is that he wasn't simply born powerful, but rather his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than others.

It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, and so many mortals have achieved displays bordering on the superhuman. Ajax has simply gone further beyond normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, it would have gone by unnoticed.

His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his might has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. Though not immune to sorcery as a whole he can physically contend with magic effects, doing things such as breaking hold spells through muscle, and he's resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if he were actually physically fighting the invader.

-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed combatant, having trained to fight all his life and having survived a large number of ordeals through the strength of his body alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more martial arts skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a well rounded fighter adept at using his physicality to his advantage and particularly proficient in the two original parts of the system, an overpowering grappler who can level opponents with precise power punches or use other techniques to lead into his preferred methods.

-General adventuring knowledge: Truth be told Ajax is not particularly keen on subtleties and complexities and survives almost entirely due to his tremendous physical gifts, but one does not live as he has without picking some things up and he did come from a fairly educated background. Not exactly a mindless brute, aside from a grasp of general athletics he can be expected to at least sort of be able to ride a horse, avoid obviously poisonous food in the wild and the like.

Weaknesses, Blunders, and Shortcomings:
-Fists only: A matter of personal pride turned into a self-imposed taboo, Ajax will not employ weapons, armor or magic of any sort. Ever. This all but hamstrings his versatility, locking him into the role of a very particular specialist in a melee and nothing else in a land where experts of all manner of armaments abound and magic allows others to smite their enemies with a wide variety of arcane powers. It should go without saying that there's a distinct disadvantage in battling armed men unarmed, that such a sort would specialize in individual encounters rather than any sort of organized form of group combat, and that as tough as it is his body will ultimately remain more sensitive and prone to hurting than a piece of armor of equal durability.

-Troublemaker: A natural braggart and godless provocateur who will only show respect where he finds it convenient and will bend the knee for no one and nothing, an overconfident brute secure in the knowledge of his own invulnerability who greatly enjoys solving problems through the application of force, Ajax often means well and will go out of his way to help those he befriends but he isn't necessarily the easiest man to have in a group.

Faith: None, Ajax resents the gods.

Origin:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes from the city state of Erimai in Halcyon. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his own father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras met with a sudden, violent end and the boy's life took a dramatic turn.

Magistrate Cleon, the family's supposed benefactor, claimed responsibility for the death as self defense, and accused Diagoras of engaging in match fixing and wanting him dead after he had learned of this dark secret. A great shame befell Ajax's house, but his incredulity and sorrow turned to rage when he discovered the truth. It was Cleon who was involved in betting circles, and his father had been murdered for refusing to participate. Ajax sought the magistrate out for revenge, consequences be damned, but found himself quickly subdued by Cleon's use of sorceries and handed over to the law.

Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding the youth be handed over to him as a servant for reparations. The demand was seen as just and even merciful, an attempt to reform the scion of a disgraced dynasty, and so it was granted and set Ajax on his current path. Turned into a slave in all but name, the youth was carefully reared in a brutally demanding environment for the sole purpose of triumphing for the benefit of his captor, who greatly enjoyed using the boy in the role his father had refused to accept.

Only one thought kept Ajax from despair: revenge. And with this fueling him he grew strong and untamed, displaying talents that shocked his handlers and delighted Cleon who stood to benefit and sought to see him break. At first it was only wrestling contests, his natural environment, then came the boxing matches which he adjusted to after some initial difficulty, and finally Ajax was entered into the brutal pankration fights of the Halcyon islands and the neighboring Cairon Empire. And each successive challenge spurred further growth and brought new triumphs to the embattled athlete.

Ajax triumphed to the point that he began to gain fame despite his disgraced status, so Cleon sought to put an end to it by throwing him into the famed gladiatorial contests of Cairon, less sporting events and more a show of bloody carnage for the entertainment of the masses. Fighting for survival with no rules against experienced warriors and savage beasts alike, given no weapons or armor as a sarcastic nod to his family's traditions, Ajax overcame the odds time and time again. And despite his plight and his continued desire for revenge, he came to feel at home in the chaotic spectacle of the arena.

And eventually there came a time where his achievements could no longer be overlooked despite Cleon's best efforts, when word of his deeds reached the Imperial Court of Cairon, where one last victory granted him the freedom to request a boon as was custom in the land. Before imperial authorities and dignataries of his own home, Ajax accused his captor of all he knew to be true, and demanded a trial by combat to settle the score. The request was outrageous but the accusations most severe, and the great amusement of the local court and maneuvering by Cleon's enemies ensured the battle took place.

The long sought vengeance was swift and almost, almost unsatisfyingly easy. Cleon revealed himself a sorcerer and was granted the boon of a guardian in the arena as well, but neither his power nor his position could hold back the beast of his own creation any longer. Before countless witnesses, through the strength of his arm Ajax proved himself innocent and set himself free. But then came the aftermath. He would be more of a pariah than ever in Halcyon after murdering a magistrate, all he knew of Cairon was the arena, and Cleon's allies in both lands would surely not take his death lightly.

Willing exile was Ajax's choice, a chance to move away from the trials he had endured for so long and enjoy his newfound freedom. But it did not take long for him to realize that a man of peace he could never be, and so began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, the warrior faces life one day at a time, taking on new adventures as they come for the challenge and the joy of it all.

Bonds: (To be filled as we get more characters)

Purpose:
Ajax is driven to walk down the boundless path of the warrior and see just how far he may come. Always seeking greater heights, always looking to leave an even greater mark through his actions and prove his own strength as a man in a world of myth, were he to come to a point where the only test left would be to fight gods he would gladly embark on such a battle no matter what may come.

 

[Nomad_Queen]

Name: "Ikta'ucl-Ga Crilhoacucl The Deserted, Son of Mentor-Ce'a Crilhoacucl The Forsaken, Son of Qratl-Haqek Crilhoacucl The Destroyer and the Rightful Dragon of The Black Jungle...Ikta'ucl-Ga's Birthright!"

Race: "Ikta'ucl-Ga is Unthlatu-Mbanta! Pure Unthlatu-Mbanta! Dragon Blood pours through Ikta'ucl-Ga's veins!"

Gender: "No Need for Gender! Gender will not give Ikta'ucl-Ga back his Birthright!"

Age: "Ikta'ucl-Ga knows not the snap of the true cold, however, thirty-three winters have passed since Ikta'ucl-Ga hatched."

Visage: "The body of a Dragon! Big! Strong! Unstoppable Power! Sapphire Skin likes Ikta'ucl-Ga's hatching nest! Taller than any Man-Folk! Ikta'ucl-Ga Have no need for wings! Nor Fire! Only strength crushes Ikta'ucl-Ga's enemies! Only Strength win war!"


Temperament: "Ikta'ucl-Ga has no need for anything, Ikta'ucl-Ga's Warhammer carries burdens. When Ikta'ucl-Ga hungry Smash! and Ikta'ucl-Ga has food, no longer hungry. When Ikta'ucl-Ga tired Smash! and Ikta'ucl-Ga has bed to sleep. Without Warhammer Ikta'ucl-Ga less strong. Ikta'ucl-Ga carries Warhammer always no matter what. Ikta'ucl-Ga cares not what others see Ikta'ucl-Ga only admires strength! Admires Power! Ikta'ucl-Ga Carry himself with Pride! for Ikta'ucl-Ga is the Rightful Dragon of the Black Jungle! Ikta'ucl-Ga knows not of honor, only victory but Ikta'ucl-Ga won't fight weakness. Children grow to fight Ikta'ucl-Ga with full power Ikta'ucl-Ga not kill child instead let them grow for Ikta'ucl-Ga will only grow stronger by strong combat!"

Skills, Talents, and Virtues: "Ikta'ucl-Ga skilled at combat! Only Combat! Warhammer crushes! Ikta'ucl-Ga wield Warhammer! Ikta'ucl-Ga Crushes! Ikta'ucl-Ga needs nothing else! Only Warhammer! And War! Ikta'ucl-Ga Enraged by weakness! And Archers! Archers are cowards! Cowards are crushed!"

Weaknesses, Blunders, and Shortcomings: "Ikta'ucl-Ga Suffers to his Feral Instincts! Combat Causes blood rage! Ikta'ucl-Ga Loose control! Fight to death! Ikta'ucl-Ga has no Fear! Ikta'ucl-Ga just has things he does not like! Unnatural Magics! Ikta'ucl-Ga cant not stand Magics! Ikta'ucl-Ga weeps at the pain Magics brings! In the weeping Ikta'ucl-Ga finds Rage! Ikta'ucl-Ga refuses to go on water! Ikta'ucl-Ga cannot swim in deep water! Ikta'ucl-Ga gets seasick! Ikta'ucl-Ga Hates The Sea!"

Faith: "Ikta'ucl-Ga sees many Gods in travel! however, Ikta'ucl-Ga see many men pray to their gods and Ikta'ucl-Ga watched as the men died. Ikta'ucl-Ga only believes in one God in the realm. The God of Death! Ikta'ucl-Ga offer many Sacrifices to Death! And Death always responds to Ikta'ucl-Ga by sending more sacrifices! Death loves Ikta'ucl-Ga! And Ikta'ucl-Ga loves Death!"

Origin: "Ikta'ucl-Ga was hatched in the Black Jungle! Destined for Greatness! Ikta'ucl-Ga, however, was stolen by Pirates! Ikta'ucl-Ga Sail with the Pirates until they sell him! Ikta'ucl-Ga Sold as Slave to Man-Folk! Man-Folk teaches Ikta'ucl-Ga combat. Ikta'ucl-Ga Grow big, Grow Strong! Ikta'ucl-Ga serve Man-folk for many winters! Ikta'ucl-Ga Rewarded but not with freedom...Ikta'ucl-Ga Rewarded with wife...Moon of My Life was female Unthlatu-Mbanta...Moon was strong...Powerful...Ikta'ucl-Ga and Moon had hatchlings...Man-folk took away Ikta'ucl-Ga's Hatchlings! Sold them! Ikta'ucl-Ga Mad! Take Revenge! Man-folk Kill Moon of my Life! Ikta'ucl-Ga Slaughter! Ikta'ucl-Ga Kill! Ikta'ucl-Ga...Ikta'ucl-Ga...Sad...Ikta'ucl-Ga ran away from Man-folk. Ikta'ucl-Ga was Slave, now free. Ikta'ucl-Ga knows only war no knowledge of anything else. Ikta'ucl-Ga know he is destined by the gods to be king Ikta'ucl-Ga will rule over all! Ikta'ucl-Ga will Conquer and take back Hatchlings!"

Bonds: You must choose at least one other player-character and form a bond (or bonds) with them. Describing the bond can be as simple as a sentence or two. These should flow with your Origins, and be kept in mind during play. (Will work with others in ooc may take while )

EX: -Tyrgon believes that Yasmina is weak and pathetic, but will protect her so long as he continues to be paid by her father.

-Yasmina believes the Tyrgon, the mighty barbarian, is protecting her because he cares for her. Could she ever convince her father to permit such scandalous romance with a savage?
[/I]
Purpose: "Ikta'ucl-Ga Strong! Ikta'ucl-Ga Powerful! Ikta'ucl-Ga...Broke. Ikta'ucl-Ga need Money before Ikta'ucl-Ga can raise army to retake the Black Jungle!"

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

Name: Prince Pasha Abu Bakur

Race: Taraamite

Gender: Male

Age: 29

Visage:



Without his helmet, Pasha is a rather pale individual due to the fact that he typically is in the palace, dealing with internal politics and intrigue, or always wearing a helmet/turban to cover his face.



Temperament: Practicality and temperance are what Pasha values. Both the sword and the pen have their uses as they are different tools needed to accomplish the goals of the Kingdom and of his own ambition. A relatively amiable person, Pasha attempts to keep friendly relations with all, but not necessarily at the same time. There are many times where an enemy today can be an ally tomorrow after all. But, he isn't naive enough to be friends with everyone at the same time. As they say "A friend to all is a friend to no one." Thus, Pasha is one who values and tries to maintain peace and stability. When one faction becomes too strong for comfort, then it is time to bring balance to the fragile system.

Skills, Talents, and Virtues:

A Silver Tongue - Pasha is a charismatic and well spoken individual. Perhaps he was born with this ability, but even if he wasn't he would have had to learn quickly in order to survive the intrigue of the palace.

Born in the Gold - As a nephew of the King, he has been expected since his birth to serve the family. Thus, his education in politics and warfare started from a young age.

Weaknesses, Blunders, and Shortcomings:

Hedonist - A life of comfort is all that Pasha knows. He has to sleep on the ground with only a blanket? He'll barely be able to sleep since it's uncomfortable. The lack of material comforts will be... difficult for him to adjust to.

Faith: Ahyada

Origin: Pasha is the eldest son of the Taraam King's younger brother. Thus, being related to royalty, he is given the title of Prince although... his claim to the throne is subordinate to those of his Uncle's and current King's son. Much of Pasha's youth and early years were spent in the palace as a "ward" of the King who provided him the best education and most splendid of riches in the known world. Course, this was just a polite way to call Pasha a political hostage. The King did not have any children at that point, and was threatened by the idea that Pasha's father might attempt to assassinate him or launch a coup. Thus, Pasha was kept in the royal palace as insurance and to deter any thoughts of usurping the throne. It was in those years that Pasha learned of the courtly intrigue and how to gently talk with others to learn of various rumors and plots.

There were strange accidents that occurred once in a while in the Palace, but Pasha did his best to seem unimportant and incapable of being a threat to anyone. That way, he avoided being the target of a plot, and was eventually freed once the King had a few children. Given that his line of succession would continue, the King sent Pasha far away to a remote region of the Kingdom to govern. This province was the border region of Nabastis where it became the responsibility of Pasha to ensure that the tribute continues to pour in to the King. In the five years he governed there, he had turned relations with Nabastis to be more cordial and made sure that the tribute flowed smoothly. So smoothly, that often merchants began to escort the tribute to conduct trade on the way to the King. This success made him the target of envy and jealousy.

It didn't take long for the rumor mill to start stirring and Pasha heard word that some people were spreading rumors that Pasha was secretly cooperating with the Nabatis to overthrow the King, which is why Pasha was so friendly with them. He was soon after summoned back to the palace where the King threatened to have Pasha executed for treason. It took a lot of talking, but Pasha managed to assuage the King's anger partially. Instead of execution, Pasha was to resign as governor, take the role of "diplomat" and never step foot in the Kingdom unless called upon by the Royal Family. Thus, Pasha was in effect, exiled from the Kingdom. It was from this that event Pasha began his journey.

Bonds: TBA

Purpose: Redemption

 

[Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Name
Pfeth Haiandest

Race
Tarin

Gender
Female

Age
37

Visage

The first thing anyone who isn't blind notices about Pfeth is her superlative beauty, with a face more like the magnum opus of a master sculptor than a creature of flesh and blood. Even in a room of the gorgeous would she stand out as a cut apart from the rest, especially with the snowy skin and silver hair that marks her. This is a cold and distant beauty, largely disinterested in the people around it, rather than the warm radiance of a loving princess of folktales. For all the trouble it has caused for her, she takes pride in her appearance and makes efforts to maintain it. Standing at 5'8 and of a lithe build, Pfeth is not particularly large, though a little taller than most women. Counter to this, she has all the muscle of a career blacksmith, albeit hidden under the conservative, black clothing she favours. Many do not expect someone so outwardly feminine as Pfeth to be a brawny metalworker, or to be able to handle herself at all, but she is regardless. When dressed for work, however, her chosen profession is much more evident. When the image and text conflict, the image is subordinate to the text.

Temperament
Pfeth is a quiet woman who enjoys keeping her own company, feeling accomplished, and not a whole lot else. Her emotions are greatly dimmed, what little she feels being closed off, and she has difficulty forming connections with other people. Because of this, she has learned a self-sufficient set of habits and a lonesome way of life. She's not afraid of asking for help, but she's unused to having anyone to ask, and so doesn't think of it as an option. In conversation she is eloquent and well-mannered, but charmless and easily distracted. While patient and rational, Pfeth is also a wilful, headstrong woman who is driven by her all-consuming obsession with shaping metals. For her, life revolves around self-improvement and discovery. Contentedness is almost alien to her, while ambition is the natural path that she believes all should walk. Her struggles with comprehending other mindsets than this one have further isolated her socially all through her life, as she can be quite scornful of the unambitious.

Pfeth is one for favouring the long term over the short term. Following from this, she is a meticulous planner with an excellent eye for detail and nigh-limitless patience. She holds herself to high standards, though most of the time is wise enough to not unduly punish herself for failing to meet them. While she is very much a collector of knowledge, she is also a hoarder of it. She keeps secrets, especially related to her work, and tells nobody about the processes involved. This is rooted in a subconscious fear of being outdone at her prized skill, as while her self-esteem is resilient to outside influence, it is conversely very vulnerable to her own moods and thoughts. This particular knot in her character has proven difficult for her to unravel. Her understanding of herself only goes so far.

Skills, Talents, and Virtues
Smith of the Aeon: Pfeth is a first-rate smith, with decades of training and hands-on experience supplemented by a deep understanding of metallurgy, an extraordinary natural talent, and that rarest of things: a genuine passion for her work. Already counted among the finest Tarinei blacksmiths, Pfeth has the potential to become the finest smith Haelorin has yet seen. Crucially, she understands this fact, and is excited by the prospect of reaching the top and still having more to learn. Smithing is one of the few things that can break her icy wall of indifference.

As Sharp as the Swords I Make: Pfeth is quick-witted and naturally inquisitive. She's no genius, but she is a highly intelligent woman with an interest in the unknown. Her research and planning is always methodical, never allowing her curiosity to lead her by the nose into danger. But on the flipside, she takes pains to never allow herself to stagnate through excessive caution, as she naturally would were she not aware of the tendency. This is her greatest character strength. Self-awareness.

The Shimmering Moon, the Glittering Seas, All the Rarest Flowers: Cannot compare to the face of thee. The near-constant attention drawn by Pfeth's frankly otherworldly looks can be most unwelcome, but Pfeth has learned to deal with it. Pfeth takes pains to look her best whenever practical, though in keeping with her internal nature it is more for her own benefit that to attract anyone else. She enjoys her status as a near-unmatched beauty, like a brilliant opal in a bed of pebbles. Mostly for esteem and confidence reasons, but also because it can actually be useful to get preferential treatment from it.

Steel Quenched in Robes: Many would not pick it without her dressing (or undressing) to show it, but Pfeth has lean but powerful muscles from both smithing and exercising to aid in smithing. She has exceptional endurance and is much stronger than she appears. She is in remarkable all-round physical condition. In addition to this, she knows how to wield the weapons she forges. Though far from a truly great fighter in the manner of her traveling companions, she is fairly well-practised and has killed before. All in all, a surprise for someone who pegs her as just a delicate flower.

Weaknesses, Blunders, and Shortcomings
Mountain Climbing is A Lonely Thing: For all Pfeth's brilliance, she isn't much for people. A natural introvert who shuns the company of others, Pfeth has always felt detached from her fellows. She assumes it's good that she's comfortable with that, as she reasons that being comfortable with who you already are is better than having to change yourself for your own happiness. Regardless of introspection, she's never really understood other people, nor felt the desire to interact with any of them. If anything, she prefers to be on her own, both to focus on her work and for the calm of solitude and quiet introspection. She so misses her own thoughts when in conversation that it is not uncommon for her to 'tune out' and stop listening to what people are saying, lending to the disinterested air she has about her.

Everything is What the Past Made It: A smith of the highest calibre, Pfeth most certainly is. Particularly good at any skills outside the role of a career smith? Not so much. She is a product of her past, and her past has her born into the Artisanal caste of the Tarinei. She never cultivated many other skills because she simply never needed them. While her banishment has forced her to learn, there are still many gaps.

Faith
Nominally she still worships the Elderking, but in reality she's lost faith with the Tarinei Empire and their god.

Origin
Pfeth was born for being a blacksmith in a very literal sense. Her father was a jeweler, her mother was a blacksmith, and her uncle made horse shoes. They were a part of the Artisanal caste in the Tarin Empire, as was Pfeth on her birth. Pfeth means "Listen" in the Tarinei language; the name was given on her second birthday, for she was a quiet child, and her mother thought it was because she was 'smart enough to listen'. Haiandest, a name given later in life, of course means "Blacksmith". Born and raised in the castes, Pfeth never thought there was anything wrong with it, instead seeing others as strange for letting their peoples be so inefficient. It was just the way of things, wasn't it?

As she developed into an adult, Pfeth's hair turned into that prized colour: silver. This, combined with her burgeoning talent and rapidly maturing looks, brought her forward towards the public eye. In selling wares, she often became the front, carefully told how to haggle with customers and get the best deals. In this time, she had far more than her fair share of suitors, but she turned them all down, entirely uninterested. Physical exhaustion from a day of hard work was soon the preference over mental exhaustion from a day of talking to strangers, but she knew it was better for her family.

Years passed uneventfully until, in her thirty-fourth year of life, she was uprooted and cast into the world. A young nobleman, by the name of Tarentanel Kestril, became enamoured with her. The Kestril family was one of the dominant forces in the politics of the city, not to mention of a caste higher than her own. This meant that Tarentanel's dogged pursuit of her was against both law and tradition, only passed over due to the power of his grandmother. Promises of wealth were made, of status, of lifting herself up to the top rung of society and damn the rules. She turned him down on each of his visits, more interested in the secrets of the forge than the contents of the Kestril coffers. His advances became less cunning and more direct as his patience wore out. Still she refused. Angered, he declared that she had tried to defy all that was right and seduce him, obviously aiming for his money. The lie was concocted, and with the Kestrils leveraging their resources to etch the lie into truth, Pfeth stood no chance. Her position on the castes was revoked, her status was stripped, and she was banished from the Tarin Empire forever.

In the three years since then, Pfeth has struggled to make a new place for herself in the world. Previously, she had been sheltered in the castes, never needing to do anything other than make and sell metal objects of use and beauty. Life on the road had none of this, offering few opportunities to use her hard-earned skills and knowledge. She signed on with a merchant caravan, being given tools and pay in exchange for goods to sell. After the first attack by bandits saw her forced to struggle over a dagger with one of the raiders, Pfeth asked one of the guards of the caravan to teach her to fight. He was unconvinced, instead taking the chance to try his luck. She socked him in the jaw, at which point he admitted that there was 'more to work with' than he thought. Once he woke up on the snow with a stern warning to not flirt with her, anyway. More than once was she forced to put these lessons to use.

Most recently, she has split from the merchant master, buying the tools she used from him, and joined a convoy through the Ivory Road.

Bonds
Pfeth is interested in the runes on Alseif's sword, and wants to win the woman's trust so that she may borrow the blade and study them. She doesn't want to try and steal it, however, since she places a premium on her life.

Purpose
To create weapons and armour fit for a hero of the age. To surpass the works of gods and men and become the greatest worker of metal the world has yet seen, whether others know it or not.​

 

[Darth]

Name
Sefu

Race
Human

Ethnicity
Ankhemite

Gender
Male

Age
22

Visage

Sefu is of a tall, lean build, and covered from head to toe in deep caramel skin. Topped with a head of curly, black hair. With hazel colored eyes and a full set of yellow-white teeth. His bushy eyebrows underline his mildly angular facial features. Sefu’s rather thin yet sturdy body is highlighted by a toned musculature and bears the scars of a seasoned warrior. Deep gashes line his arms and chest. Upon his back, a multitude of deep, dark lashes cross his spine. Sefu stands at about 1.8 meters tall and weighs around 86 kilograms.

Temperament
Sefu’s defining trait might be his unwavering resolve. One might call it stubbornness, however the word doesn’t quite do him justice. Sefu prides himself on seeing a job done right. Once a goal is set, almost nothing can keep him from reaching it. Even in the face of danger, Sefu steers true, and his courage is admired among those who know him. Sefu also enjoys his time around his peers, and wants nothing more than to spend his idle time laughing heartily with his comrades. One’s virtues are not without their sins however, for Sefu is known to be quick to anger. Sefu’s short temper has thrown him in a multitude of rather precarious situations.

Skills, Talents, and Virtues
Seasoned Soldier
Though lacking in experience, Sefu still has the prowess and strength of a warrior. He has seen the horrors of battle and was trained well. Those who underestimate his talent with a sword may find an unwelcome surprise.

Resilient Spirit
Sefu has an iron resolve that is not easily broken, and can take a beating. Even in the face of danger Sefu will see a task through. Often times the only thing that might stop Sefu would be death itself.

Talented Artisan
Sefu, while not necessarily enjoying the art, is a talented potter and can make items of reasonable worth. He is skilled in making pots, bowls, and other trinkets out of clay.

Weaknesses, Blunders, and Shortcomings
Turbulent Wrath
Sefu’s anger will sometimes et the better of him, resorting to the dance of the blade rather than to use his words. He will also often raise his voice when agitated, and many small nuisances will set him off. Running from a fight, even if he is outmatched, is something Sefu will likely never do.

Essence of Pride
Sefu is sometimes too proud to admit his own faults. He will also look down upon others, seeing his own prowess as more important or superior.

Faith
Sefu pays homage to his ancestors and the ancient celestial Gods of Yar-Ankhem.

Origin​

Sefu was born on the banks of river Nuria amid the sands and marshes of Yar-Ankhem. His father was a craftsman, a skilled potter. Sefu’s hometown was the Nome capital: Nekhtu. Sefu spent his youth running through the streets of the town, swimming along the banks of the Nuria, or exploring the extent of the marshy wilds. Sefu’s future as an adult became more apparent the more he grew. Since his father was an artisan, Sefu was expected to be so as well. His father taught Sefu his trade, the art of pottery. While Sefu did seem to have a natural talent for the art, he never quite enjoyed the activity. Sefu most definitely did not see a future in making pots and bowls. He quite often evaded his teachings to enjoy the other pleasures in life. Sefu’s favorite pastime was watching the soldiers go about their duties at the local fort. He envied their prowess and strength as a child. Every other day, he and his friends would scale the fort’s low walls to quietly watch the infantry practice their group formations and fighting skills. Sefu became particularly fond of the bronze sickle-sword that was common among the infantry; the Khopesh. Their field trips were often short lived as the soldiers would become aware of their uninvited guests. If one couldn’t find Sefu gawking soldiers, they’d find him playing soldier in the streets of Nekhtu. Often times Sefu would find himself taking on the role of the inspiring leader of the troop whenever Sefu and his band put on the facade. Sefu believed he finally discovered his destiny, to live and die by the sword. When Sefu became old enough, he wasted no time in volunteering for the army.

Sefu never believed the journey would be easy, nor did he think to prepare for a cruel commander. The overseer of the fort was the Nomark himself, a man known as Zoser. He was notorious for his ruthlessly harsh methodology. Sefu rarely caught his breath as Zoser kept his troops busy with drills, running, and back breaking labor. Gods save the one who didn’t do the work the “correct” way. For failing to comply with order was punishable by lashing and, at worst, even death. Despite the conditions, Sefu was determined to see his training through. Soon, Sefu slowly began to stand out amongst the other recruits. Sefu was quicker and stronger than most. Sefu’s progress caught the eye of Zoser, and even earned mild praise from the commander himself. Within a few months, Sefu became among the five best warriors in the barracks. Zoser tasked thes chosen with leading a troop of 50 soldiers. Sefu took pride, and care, with his newfound status, and intended to continue rising through the ranks. But Sefu wanted to test his mettle; he wanted to temper his blade in blood. Soon enough, the Gods granted his wish, as Zoser called upon his men for war.

The threat came from the north. Another petty Nomark desired to expand his sphere of influence. He also had a score to settle with Zoser. The Nomark was known as Omari, and he intended to bring low Zoser’s disciples. The battle commenced on a flat, inland marsh. Sefu was given the task of leading his troop in the center alongside Zoser himself. The battle lasted little over a day but the fighting was brutal. On that battlefield, Sefu got his first taste of battle. He fought like a lion and cut down many of Omari’s soldiers. In the center of the battle, Sefu bore witness to a duel between Zoser and Omari. It was a fantastic spectacle. Zoser’s movements were so quick and agile. It soon became apparent that Omari was no match for Zoser’s skills. With a quick flick of the wrist, Omari’s head was removed from his shoulders and was seen rolling at the feet of the enemy. With their leader gone, Omari’s soldiers quickly lost hope and began to route. Zoser’s army had won the day.

Upon return to the fort, Zoser expressed his admiration for Sefu’s skills. He then whispered into Sefu’s a message ear. Sefu was to meet him at Zoser’s hall later that night. Zoser told Sefu that it was a matter of divine importance. Though Sefu was left mostly in the dark about the details, he assumed this was his chance to rise through the ranks even higher. So, that night, Sefu snuck out of his barracks. He was met by the others Zoser’s chosen, and they led him into Zoser’s quarters. To Sefu’s surprise, he found Zoser looming over a dismayed old woman. He said that this woman was a condemned soul, forsaken by the Gods. He ordered Sefu to execute the woman. Zoser believed he was doing her a service by granting her a quick death. There was some hesitation at first, but, he slowly approached the one destined for death. The prisoner was aunt and broken. Her eyes welled with tears, yet no sound escaped her lips. She stared into Sefu’s eyes as if to grant him permission. Sefu stood motionless as Zoser demanded action. His commander increased his volume, and Sefu suddenly jerked his sword above his head. Still, Sefu hesitated, and the blade hung painfully in the air. Zoser screamed, Kill her! Sefu’s sword came rushing down. Only, instead of cutting flesh and bone, the blade found only sand. Sefu looked at the old woman with pity and over to his commander who was now stomping towards him. Sefu had no desire to kill one who lacked the ability to defend themselves, even if the Gods willed it. He was no executioner. Zoser lurched forward, grabbing the woman by the hair. He lifted her up and opened her throat with his dagger. The woman’s blood spattering onto Sefu’s face. Zoser then grabbed Sefu by the neck, proclaiming him a coward for disobeying his order. He said he should’ve known he could not trust Sefu with such a task.

Under normal circumstances, many would’ve expected Zoser to sentence Sefu to death. However, being the cruel man that he is, Zoser believed that was too easy, and wanted to make Sefu suffer. Instead, Zoser made Sefu an offer. Sefu was to endure 50 lashes if he wished to live. However, Sefu was to remain silent throughout the whole affair. If Sefu made even the slightest whimper, the count would start over.

Sefu was imprisoned for a week before his sentence was to be carried out. For the duration of that time, he was given little food or water, leaving him nearly too weak to even stand. Eventually, the day came for Sefu to receive his punishment, and he was taken to the center of town. Zoser was to deliver the punishment himself, and ordered Sefu to remove his cloth robe and to stand totally upright. Sefu complied, shedding his soiled robes to reveal his gaunt body. Then came the first lash. The whip struck Sefu’s back with such power that he nearly fainted from the pain. Sefu fell to his knees. Zoser screamed at him, ordering him stand. He proclaimed that the coward must stand in order to be cleansed of his crime, and that the count would start over. Sefu shakingly returned to his feet. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. One by one the lashes came down like lightning. The whip shredded the flesh of his back, turning it into a mess of gore and blood. Yet, Sefu made no sound, save for his irregular breathing. He even stood practically motionless. The townsfolk who came to witness the event were in utter awe, amazed that a man could withstand such a beating. Those among the crowd included his family friends, and comrades. All bit their tongues as they were forced to watch their good friend suffer. Even the town priestess bore witness to the lashing. At this point Zoser was furious, he couldn’t stand the fact that a coward would defy his order and make him look like a fool. The last three lashes were to be given, and Zoser would make sure that these would be the ones to break Sefu’s stubbornness. First, he turned the whip downward, slashing it against the back of Sefu’s legs. Sefu staggered, and the crowd gasped. A voice could be heard from the crowd, exclaiming that Zoser couldn’t cheat the tradition. The punisher was to strike the back and nowhere else. Zoser screamed and ordered silence. He turned to give another lash to his legs. Sefu clenched his jaw but remained steadfast. Zoser let out another furious cry before bring down the whip one last time. The final lash struck the hardest, flaying his already shredded backside. But Sefu, remained standing. The final lash was given, the sentence had been served. After a brief moment of silent awe, Sefu fell to the ground, slipping in and out of consciousness. Zoser was brimming with fury and prepared to bring the whip down again. The crowd began the fluster in anger, but Zoser still proclaimed Sefu a coward and a condemned man in the eyes of the Gods. But, before Zoser could lash Sefu’s broken body once more, the priestess stood up from his seat. He stated that the sentence was served, and Sefu’s crimes are to be forgiven. Zoser need not punish further. Unable to defy the wishes of the priestess, Zoser reluctantly backed down. He threw the whip in the sand before storming back to the fort. Even though Sefu survived the lashing, his wounds would surely kill him. As the square began to empty, the priestess ordered his servants to take Sefu back their their temple.

The priestess and her servants nursed Sefu’s wounds. Weeks went by and Sefu slowly regained his strength. When Sefu was finally able to remain conscious, the priestess asked of Sefu’s crime; why he deserved such a punishment. Sefu then told the priestess his story, and the woman’s gaze turned from curiosity to confusion. The priestess knew not of any condemned souls. The priestess’ expression then turned to horror and anger as she released the reality. It was Zoser that committed a crime, not Sefu.

Soon, the priestess confronted Zoser about his executions, and ordered the truth in the face of the Gods. Fearing the wrath of the Gods, Zoser told his truths. He and his officers had been sacrificing innocents to Zoser’s patron God. When asked of the God’s name, Zoser refused to speak it. The priestess then proceeded to condemn Zoser for his crime, and that a trial would be put into order. However, Zoser demanded a trial by combat. Zoser was renowned for his fighting skills and no one stepped forward. No one except Sefu, stating that he would fight in witness of the Gods. Sefu was still weak from recovery, but was determined to fight.

But, the day of reckoning never came. During the night, unknown assailants made a daring night time raid on the temple. Sefu was there that night, when he awoke to the sounds of murderous treachery. He left his room sword in hand ready to defend himself. Two assassins approached him. They were quick, but they couldn’t match Sefu’s strength and they were soon cut down. Sefu intended to protect the priestess, however, when found her, she told Sefu to flee. Zoser was committing an eternal crime and that Sefu would die if he stayed here. Sefu was reluctant, but he obeyed the priestess’ wishes. The priestess told him that Zoser won’t stop until all who knows of his crimes are dead. Sefu must flee Yar-Ankhem. Sefu must find the Ivory Road.

As Sefu fled, the temple was sacked and set alight. The fate of those within, the priestess, the servants, all remained unknown. Sefu assumed the worst and kept moving. Wherever the Ivory Road was he would find it. What began as a journey to become a renowned soldier became a tale of a fugitive. Sefu stopped at the edge of the marshes and looked back at his home one last time. And, with an uncertain fate, Sefu disappeared into the night.

Bonds
To be Determined

Purpose
“I run from a past that continues to pursue me. I know that my enemy will hunt me to the ends of the world. This road may as well be my only chance for survival. I take no pleasure in running from an enemy, but, it seems I have nowhere else to go. If I stay, I’ll die. If I try to tell the truth, no one will believe me. All I can do now is run.”

​

 

[Kiroshiven]

Name: Vala'Tahl, The Dirtied Shaman

Race: A mongrel Nkosi mixed with Wakayambi

Gender: Female

Age: 26

Visage: Vala'Tahl is a slender woman standing in at 1.7 meters or 5'7. A nomadic lifestyle has left her body lean with little to no excessive fat. Her fur a glossy black with slightly longer pointed ears than her Nkosi brethren due to her father's influence. She also lacks the cat-like facial structure of her mother, but retained primarily the rest of the Nkosi physique. She weighs in at about 133 pounds or 60 kilograms.


Temperament: Vala is a rather ambitious woman, seeking out her goals with all of her passion. And once she has decided on something, it is nigh impossible to change her mind. And despite being shunned by many of the people of the world, she still offers aide to those in need. She is a bit guarded when it comes to people though, having erected many barriers around herself to protect those around her. She is knowledgeable about things that she shouldn't be due to an exchange she made when young. And despite her young age she has a formidable willpower and charisma about her that can pull people to her cause.

Skills, Talents, and Virtues:
Vala'Tahl is a very powerful mage and wielder of ancient arts. Ranging from healing to destructive magics Vala is well versed in the arcane arts as well as several forbidden dark arts. All stemming from the demon that resides within her.

Like many of Nkosi, Vala is nimble and light on her feet able to freely move about without much regards to crowded spaces. Her flexibility and awareness of what's around her make her able to easily get herself lost in a crowd, or escape through alleyways that many would find incapable of traversing.

Vala'Tahl is fairly cunning and manipulative. Her charisma and charm are something that she combines with her exotic looks to bend people to her will, though she doesn't like to use these particular skills as they feel shameful and disgrace her proud heritage.

Despite being a powerful shaman, Vala has also learned several odd abilities as a gypsy in order to make money that doesn't reveal her magical abilities or run the risk of unleashing Balgaroth. She has learned how to dance, play a flute as well as lesser fortune-telling and palm reading.

Weaknesses, Blunders, and Shortcomings:

Vala'Tahl is a daemon-host and must regularly perform an hour's worth of meditation to maintain control over the daemon residing within her soul. And even with that, too much excessive use of magic could lead to an outburst of the daemon which Vala will then have to spend time regaining control over while the daemon does as it wills with her body.

Despite her vast magical prowess, Vala is sub-par when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, lacking any real training and an average level of strength that puts her on par with a human-folk. She can be easily overpowered by someone with more combat experience than her.

Faith:
Vala'Tahl worships two beings. One of which is dead and she aims to resurrect the other resides within her very soul. In her heart, Vala worships Sekhraksha the fallen Goddess-Queen and aims to restore her to glory by whatever means necessary. That includes selling her body to a demon in exchange for the power to rearrange the cosmos. (Note: she didn't get that much power, obviously.) The demon in question, Balgoroth, is an ancient entity that watched from the sidelines as life both rose and fell wanting nothing more than to burn the world to the ground and rebuild it in his image. Vala will seek his council, should he be willing to give it, whenever she feels a bit lost or unprepared for a situation. As well as for greater understanding of the world.

Spoiler: Balgoroth

Origin:
Vala'Tahl was born the first and only child of Raltael Pfathin and Sora'Vel. Her father a Wakayambi elf who fell in love with a wandering Nkosi at first sight. She was born amongst a trade caravan as her parents were looked down upon for their mixing of bloodlines, despite the shared fate of their people. Vala grew up listening to the tales of Sekhraksha and the proud nations of the desert that were swallowed whole by jealous fools. These tales became much of her childhood as she never could call any one place home.

Growing up in a gypsy caravan, Vala was taught many of the tricks of the trade form her mother while her father instilled a love and respect for magic within her. Whatever city they would end up, she'd follow around her parents learning and absorbing the knowledge like a sponge. With every day becoming a discovery of something new, whether that be something about her heritage, a spell to lessen the effects of an illness or a little bit of slight of hand to make a little more money than what one would expect in a normal day.

However, as time grew and the discrimination as a mongrel became more apparent, Vala became displeased with her lifestyle. She wanted more than to be a gypsy or shaman. She wanted to garner the respect of the Nkosi and Wakayambi that treated her as some kind disease. So she set out in search of a way to restore the great nations that had fallen. Her ideology focused on returning the fallen goddess-queen and maybe bringing about a new home for mongrels such as herself in the process. Years of scrounging the world for texts eventually led Vala to discovering a very dark truth that people turned away from, demons existed and their powers were along the lines of the gods.

Determined to restore her mother and father's homeland, Vala gathered the materials and knowledge to perform the summoning ritual for one such demon. The demon referred to himself as Balgaroth. He claimed to be an ancient demon that could shape the very cosmos if he could find a way into the world and offered his power to the twenty year old Nkosi. Alarmed by what she being offered, Vala held some reservations. If a demon held that much power, what would he want in exchange? And, could she herself handle that level of magical ability? She stood silently before the demon, contemplating whether or not to take his deal. But after coming that far, she couldn't just turn away the chance. The materials had been hard to gather without someone getting suspicious of her. So she agreed and allowed Balgaroth to enter into her.

The battle for control between her and the demon lasted for several hours before Vala finally managed to garner the hold that she needed to restrain him. However, doing this also restricted the vasts amount of magic she could have access to. Balgaroth was amused by the child's resistance and accepted her control, for the time being, understanding that she would eventually need to gather more access to his magic in order to achieve her wishes. So he watches, listens, and VERY OCCASIONALLY advises the young daemon-host on the best course of action. He'd already waited centuries to enter into the world, what was a few more decades?

Bonds: You must choose at least one other player-character and form a bond (or bonds) with them. Describing the bond can be as simple as a sentence or two. These should flow with your Origins, and be kept in mind during play.


EX: -Tyrgon believes that Yasmina is weak and pathetic, but will protect her so long as he continues to be paid by her father.

-Yasmina believes the Tyrgon, the mighty barbarian, is protecting her because he cares for her. Could she ever convince her father to permit such scandalous romance with a savage?[/i]

Purpose: Vala'Tahl has come to the Ivory Road to both expand her knowledge of the ancient cities that were lost to the desert, learn to harness Balgaroth's vast power, and gather funds to establish a city for mongrels.

 

[Equusheart]

Name: Felar'ian Ri'azha (Fell)

Race: Nkosi

Gender: Male

Age: 35

Visage: (Picture to come) Fell has the physique of a seasoned warrior. His body is lithe and well muscled from years spent as a hunter. His fur, while it looks black, is actually a really dark brown. Under a certain light you can just make out the various stripes and spots that make up his coat pattern. He has sideburns and thick shoulder length hair that are the same color as his pelt. His hair is done up in various war braids.

Fell's armor is made of dark leather with bits of steel on the chest and shoulders. It is uniquely fitted so to allow him to move about with being hindered. The weapons he carries total in a large bow (complete with arrows), a dagger, two war axes, and one large steel battle axe.


Temperament: Upon first meeting him, Fell comes off as a grumpy sour puss (no pun intended). Fell doesn't care about your problems so take them somewhere else. If hired for a certain task, Fell won't go out of his way anymore than is necessary to get the job done. He is sometimes impatient and can be quick to temper if someone decided to push him too far.

Fell has a deep and profound hatred for slavers and poachers. If pitted against them, he most certainly WILL kill them. But their deaths will be slow, torturous, and without a single ounce of mercy.

Despite his rough exterior, however, Fell is and always has been a warrior of honor and has a good heart. If his honor or conscience are pricked, Fell will ultimately choose to do what is right to whatever end. Fell will not easily trust someone, but should they be able to earn it they will find they have a shield brother for life.

Fell's soft spot is for the young ones. If no one is looking, Fell will readily drop his guard and play with them. It might be one of the rare occasions that you truly see him smile.

Skills, Talents, and Virtues:

Hunting - Being one of the best hunters of his clan, Fell is very skilled at tracking.

Blades - Not only a seasoned hunter, but a warrior. Fell knows how to fight and fights well. Fell takes a certain pride in how he welds his axes, but sometimes this can border on cocky.

Weaknesses, Blunders, and Shortcomings:

Temper - Has a very short temper and will often become violent if pushed passed his tolerance level. This so far has only lead to bar fights. Nothing too serious as of yet.

Ale - Some memories are best drowned in a cup ale, while others need a whole keg. Fell's fondness for ale goes well beyond the enjenjoyment of a favorite beverage.


Faith: Fell has turned his back on the gods, for they have turned their backs on him.


Origin: WIP


Bonds: To be written.


Purpose: To seek revenge against those who betrayed him and murdered his family and enslaved his pride. After that? Only gods know.

 

[Noisy]

Name: Vel'kain, Seeker of Truths

Race: Lamu Man-Folk

Gender: Male
Age: 26

Visage:"Well, as you can see, I wear a dark blue robe, something much different from what most of my country, and my magical white scarf which never leaves my presence. Being inside most of my life has left my skin lighter than most as well, though i expect it to change with our adventures. I don't usually wear headgear, as they usually just get in the way. While my boots do seem out of place in a sandy land, they provide excellent grip so I don't trip in the moving sands. All my clothing has been sewn with the "talent" meaning it rarely tears.


Temperament: "Petty Emotion means nothing in comparison to fact and truth" "I say that, because my entire life, I have been on my own almost my entire life. The only thing that has always been with me is my knowledge. This doesn't mean I won't help people, and this also doesn't mean I don't laugh or smile. I just refuse to let emotion alone gauge my actions. Just don't expect me to suddenly jump to do good or do something evil for no reason."

Skills, Talents, and Virtues: "I am a researcher with heavy knowledge of the "talent" and how it . As such I have immense knowledge of most things known to man. Concerning alchemy, I know how to heal... but also how to kill with my creations." (Basically, Skills are Mid Level Healing Knowledge, High Level Poison Knowledge, High Level Talent Knowledge and High Level Scientific Knowledge) My cloak has been infused with magic, as such it provides excellent protection from the environment. It also augments my "talent""

Weaknesses, Blunders, and Shortcomings: "Unfortunately, this then means I really haven't left my hometown much, if at all. I have also never truly wielded a weapon and never fought. (Basically, Weaknesses are never having been out in the real world, doesn't know how to use weapons, and has never have been in combat.) (You may also count my non-caring for metaphorical borders that would hamper my research as a shortcoming)

Faith: "I have no time for the wild delusions you people call "Gods, the only thing that matters to me is my knowledge. Gods weren't there when I needed help, all I've ever had is my knowledge and my science."

Origin: "Being born with the talent, as you may call it, I ignore my people, the Lamu, for they always attempted to use me for their gain. Due to being from Lamu outsiders generally disliked me, so I generally was on my own, even my own parents disowned me in favor of my older sister. To get by, I operated a small clinic to those who actually believed I would help them. Overtime, I began studying all I could about the world, the "talent" and alchemy, regardless if it was forbidden or not. If you're curious about the scarf I wear, despite the heat, It is my focus. It was specially made for me from one of my patients who also had the "talent." Despite it being very thick in material, the magic within keeps it from causing issue.
One day, a patient came into my clinic who had gone to close to the cataclysm and had been heavily burned and scarred by the energy around it. No traditional cures seemed to work, and I resorted to using my "talent" to augment a dealing drought i had created from the plants around there. That seemed to do the trick. This fully caught my interest and I embarked to the location, staying far away from the energy, and investigated some of the flora and fauna. My research concluded that the energy was spreading, while not fast, it was still a frightening discovery. I took this with me, as I finally decided to leave my city behind, to inform the masses that something must be done, else the world may end. As I was leaving, the same lady who gave me my scarf gave me my traveling gear, which I am wearing now, which she infused with magic."
(Will fill in more information when bonds are acquired)




Bonds: TBD

Purpose: I seek to uncover the magical mysteries the Sekhraksha Desert, and to quench my thirst for knowledge, no matter the cost.


"Now, off you go, and leave me to my research."

 

[ThisUsernameIsALie]

Name: "Weaver. Or at least, that is what I desire to be called."

Race: "I am... Wakayambi, in spirit. In birth, I am Tarin."

Gender: "I would hope it's sufficiently obvious, but Male. Then again, you humans do often make jokes about we elves..."

Age: "I've witnessed 362 moons - or 29 winters, as you put it."

Visage: [Workin' on findin a good image]

Temperament:

"Hmm. That is difficult, but I suppose I can give a rough summation. I'm usually quite congenial and perhaps even exuberant - I try to emphasize the happy aspects, in these difficult times. I'd consider myself usually likeable, and I will gladly befriend nearly anyone. People of my order are taught not to perceive things quite as the rest of my kind do... all stories are equal, to us, even the newer ones.

I have been told, however, that I can become pensive, and even dour, at certain points. This is due to the burden I bear as one of my order - not all stories are positive, but all must be remembered. Also, occasionally, when I weave certain tales - such as, say, the recollection or a hero driven by justified wrath as he sought revenge - I might become suitably wrathful to match. Usually though, in these sorts of scenarios, they deserve it.

I'm most happy when I'm telling a story - or hearing someone else share their own. Curiosity is one of my defining characteristics... which, I confess, can occasionally be grating to certain individuals. "

Skills, Talents, and Virtues:

Weaving (Spellcasting): "Weaving is a manner of what you call 'magic' - it revolves around the plucking of the aetherial strands in unique fashions. I summon the memories of stories - I create magical effects based on recollection of grand myths and tales. It can be hard to visualize, so think of it like this: every little thing that has ever existed leaves an impression within the universe, a sort of shadow that is left with the aetherial fiber of the world. Through the power of stories, I, and others of my training, can recreate call forth these shades and recreate them in temporary, and often less powerful, form. For instance, should I want to heal a comrade, I would recollect the tale of Aisha and her healing of the Traveller. Be wary, however - tales are not willing to be used in fashions that do not suit them. Weaving is a way of honoring the stories of the world - they will not be disserviced by using them for ill, or else using a tale of dread for good...there are many nuances of my craft, but I've rambled long enough. Should you wish to know more, simply ask."

Lore: "My deep dedication to stories renders me two great benefits: for one, I bear a great deal of knowledge about topics of every variety: history, geography, cultures, and customs. There is always more to learn, of course - but I know quite a lot already."

At Home Among Any: "I'm comfortable around pretty much anyone, anywhere. My fondness for storytelling serves me well - few people disdain a good tale. I'm also, consequently, quite a good listener, as I am honor-bound to collect as many tales and stories from anyone I can... but it helps that I enjoy it as well!"

Weaknesses, Blunders, and Shortcomings:

Night Terrors and Anxiety: "I... have trouble acquiring rest. Somethings were not meant to be remembered, but it is my burden to bear stories - no matter their cost. Moreover, the use of more... questionable, or terrifying tales might render me rather...less useful than usual."

Curiosity killed the Nkosi: "I perhaps am over enthusiastic in my pursuit of knowledge and tales. This occasionally means I can overwhelm or annoy people with my... enthusiasm that they might dub as 'nosy' or 'infuriating.' More unfortunately, when I pursue a story too far, this can occasionally lead to risk of life and limb..."

Faith: "I am a loyal servant of the Traveller. Aeoun receives my homage as well."

Origin:

"I, hmm... there's only a few stories I'm not fond of telling. This is one of them. Well, I... I come from a family of tailors, you see. Lowest caste, out on the relative fringes of that society. My father...my father was ambitious, discontent with our lot in life. He wanted more for our family - he didn't like to see us eaking out an existence we didn't enjoy. He tried to pull some strings, convince people, thinking that, so far from the Capital, perhaps . He...he couldn't. I was four years old when the men came - people from the Capital. They bore the insignia... they killed my father in the center of the village. There had been some unruliness apparently, in some parts of the nation, I learned later... so this was their way of quelling discontent. I can...well, let's just say my memories are vivid.

After that, my mother ran. I was the only child, and she took me to the Wakayambi... she thought I'd be safe there, that I could make it my home. I don't remember that, that's just what I was told she said later. I don't really remember anything from that time, other than the...execution. I suppose it does rather leave an impression, huh?" *weak chuckle*

"Well, after that, in the eyes of the Wakayambi, I became one of their own - and I consider myself Wakayambi through and through. It turned out I had the knack for seeing the aether - so I was caught up by the sorcerers and priests of our tribe. I cannot tell you the process that led to what I was to become, but it took many years. Five years ago though, I emerged a member of the Order of Weavers - well, that's not quite what it's called, but it's the closest analogy I can think of in your language. We "weave" tales and stories - and do our best to remember and spread them throughout the world. There is more to it that that, but to reveal more would be improper. Anyway, I set out, determined to gather stories and share my own as I explored the world. That's why I'm here now, and why I have taken the name "Weaver" among those outside my tribes - it describes me well, no?"

Bonds:

"Despite my questionable past regarding my birth people - the Tarin - I find myself wondering what life is like among those people who... well. I'm just curious, but I'm also rather nervous to learn... so I'd like to talk to Pfeth. Maybe she could tell me more about where I'm from?"

Purpose:
"That very purpose that drives all my actions - the search for more tales and stories, to bring back home to my people! Just as importantly, I seek to share and disseminate tales as well, to ensure the honor and reverence those that came before us deserve. I hope to expand my skills as well, of course... perhaps carve out a story for people to tell of me one day?"

Spoiler

There is also the fact that he is on a mission from his Order... (more to be revealed in-RP)