Fantasy Realms of Nymserine: Characters [[CLOSED]]

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Character Sheets

Main Thread
History & Lore
OOC

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Character Sheet Outline:

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Character Name​

Name: Your character's name
Age: (human year time scale please)
Gender:
Race:
Details of Appearance:

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor: Please note that there are no guns or explosives in this RP
  Skills & Abilities: Description of Character's skill and abilities. Can they do magic? Do they have any specific trades or skills? Can they do a backflip? (Becasue that would be cool).
  
• 
  Minimum of 2 paragraphs. What is your character like? Describe them and their flaws. (Please Note: All characters must have some sort of flaw or quirk. No one is perfect. If you have a very powerful character, they need to have something that counter-balances or limits them in a certain way, like a weakness of some sort.
• 
  A brief overview of your character's life and background. Where are they from? Do they have family? What brings them to where they are now?

[FONT=Book Antiqua]
[center][size=7]Character Name[/size][/center]
[SIZE=5][b]Name:[/b] Your character's name
[b]Age:[/b] (human year time scale please)
[b]Gender:
Race:
Details of Appearance:[/b]
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[tabs][tab=Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style][FONT=Book Antiqua]
[b]Weapons & Armor:[/b] Please note that there are no guns or explosives in this RP
[b]Skills & Abilities:[/b] Description of Character's skill and abilities. Can they do magic? Do they have any specific trades or skills? Can they do a backflip? (Becasue that would be cool).
[/font][/tab]
[tab=Personality & Character flaws][FONT=Book Antiqua]
Minimum of 2 paragraphs. What is your character like? Describe them and their flaws. (Please Note: All characters must have some sort of flaw or quirk. No one is perfect. If you have a very powerful character, they need to have something that counter-balances or limits them in a certain way, like a weakness of some sort.[/font][/tab][tab=Bio][FONT=Book Antiqua]
A brief overview of your character's life and background. Where are they from? Do they have family? What brings them to where they are now?[/font][/tab][/tabs]

Please Note

Utilizing the given code is not a requirement, it just makes everything look nicer and more organized. If you would rather keep it simple, then please use the normal outline format provided below.

Name:
Age: (Normal human-year scale)
Gender:
Race:
Details of Appearance:

(Hair color, eye color, height, weight and other details and characteristics of appearance.)​

Weapons & Armor:

Please note that there are no guns or explosives in this RP​

Skills & Abilities:

Description of Character's skill and abilities. Can they do magic? Do they have any specific trades or skills? Can they do a backflip? (Because that would be cool).​

Personality & Character flaws:

Minimum of 2 paragraphs. What is your character like? Describe them and their flaws. (Please Note: All characters must have some sort of flaw or quirk. No one is perfect. If you have a very powerful character, they need to have something that counter-balances or limits them in a certain way, like a weakness of some sort.​

Biography:

A brief overview of your character's life and background. Where are they from? Do they have family? What brings them to where they are now?
​

There are a few restrictions of what species or race your character can be. They playable races are the following: Human, Elf, Dwarf, Fairy, Satyr, Centaur, Merfolk and Demi-God. There are only nine Gods in Nymserine lore and there can only be one child per god living at any given time. (For example, there cannot be two Children of Thasia alive at the same time.) Additionally, there are some demi-gods that are not playable as they are essential to the plot of the RP. Banned Demi-God characters include: Demi-God of Balance, Demi-God of Magic, Demi-God of Time, and Demi-God of the Void. Also, it's first come, first serve. So, if someone before you posts a character sheet as the Demi-God of Water, then that character is already taken and no longer playable by others. (It is recommended that you are an experienced writer and longtime member of RPN to take on a Demi-God character.) It would be best if you glimpsed at the lore of each race and creature to see where certain species come from and what their culture is like. The information on the History & Lore page for this RP will be invaluable for certain aspects of your character. Also visit the Rules and Guidelines tab on the Main Thread. Otherwise, have fun and get creative with your characters! There are limited slots for people we will accept into this RP, so the selections will be competitive. May the odds be ever in your favor!!! (You get brownie points if you make your character sheet look nice~ Feel free to use pictures)

Purize BugDozer73

 

[Purize]

Verity Ophelia

Name: Verity Ophelia
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Race: Elf
Details of Appearance: Verity has clear blue eyes and long silver hair. Her ears are distinctly Elven with pointed tips. She has small circular marks underneath each eye and a soft, fair complexion. Verity stands at about 5' 3" and weights just under 115 ibs. She can often be found wearing a light cloak with the hood pulled up to cover her ears. A chain pendant with a luminous blue crystal hangs from her neck. She also has a long scar on her left side.

Spoiler: Additional Pictures

• Weapons, Armor, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor: She utilizes light armor during combat and carries an ancient Elven sword that has been passed through her family through generations. It is charmed with mysterious magical properties.
  Skills & Abilities: Verity is a spellsword, thus she uses a combination of magic and swordsmanship in battle. Her magic manifests itself into a wisp-like entity of crystallized mana, called a Focus, which she can manipulate and bend to her will. Her Focus demonstrates sentient behaviors, but cannot communicate and ultimately obeys the will of Verity. She has a limited store of magic energy, or mana, which is linked to her life force energy. Using massive amounts of magical energy will wear her out and make her tired, or simply faint. He mana regenerates gradually over time. The stone on her necklace acts as a conduit for storing extra mana that she produces, but only by a small amount.
  
  Spoiler: Spells

  She can use a variety of spells which mainly concentrate on manipulating her mana in different ways. This includes, but is not limited to the following spells:
  Crystal Burst: Blasts Focus through an enemy to cause damage and/or knock down the target. Focus can then be summoned back to it's original position, knocking through the target a second time.
  Diffusion Shift: To avoid an attack, Verity can shift, in quick bursts, in any direction.
  Ether Zone: Focus can be deployed and detonated to create an area of damaging mana that lasts for roughly five seconds.
  Ruin Blade: This is an especially powerful attack that combines the spellsword and mana. It Requires a moment of charge up time and then releases a huge burst of energy when the blade makes contact with the target.
  Arcane Flurry: Allows for repetitive attacks with spellsword. The Focus is deployed somewhere in between attacks and then uses it to strike the enemy from behind for the final blow.
  Resonance: Forms a huge mana storm with a massive explosion at it's center.
  
  Please note that there are no incantations or words that enact these spells, they are simply actions that she is able to achieve with her fighting style.
• Verity is naturally a very kind and gentle person with a passion for learning and reading. But don't let her delicate appearance fool you, she has tough skin and is very strong and solid in her beliefs. She loves adventure and exploring Nymserine, even though she does so out of necessity. She tends to be quiet and keep to herself, but can be very bold about her thoughts and opinions to those she dislikes. She detests rude and evil people, and often finds herself helping the poor and the lost. While Verity is wise beyond her years, she has a fault for trusting too easily. Her wariness and caution is easily swayed by a kind face as she has a weakness for good and sweet people.
  
  Verity is also very secretive about her history and finds it hard to talk about herself. She is trusting, but it is hard for her to open up to others. She is often shy when people point out her magical abilities. She doesn't hide it in battle, but talks little about it in conversation and worries about being feared and hated by others for her gifts. After using up a lot of mana, she needs to recover and is usually left exhausted and vulnerable.
• 
  
  

  ​
  
  In the lushest regions of Nymserine, where rolling green mountains thrive and teem with life, is the Elven Kingdom of Shylanora. It was an ancient monarchy that dated back to the first settlements of elves. The Ophelia bloodline had reigned over the realm since the beginning of the millennia, they bore a timeworn heritage to the throne. Twenty-One years ago Argos Ophelia and his wife, Elvira Ophelia, gave birth to a baby girl by the name of Verity. She would be the Princess to the kingdom, and the Heir to the Kingdom’s heritage.
  
  Verity’s Mother died when she was 12 and her father fell into grief into despair, locking himself in his room and talking to no one for weeks until it was discovered that he was very ill. He fell into a deep sleep and could not be awoken. With the king out of commision, Verity’s wicked Uncle, Prince Gerard and his son moved into the palace to assume command.
  
  Verity began to notice changes within her at the loss of her parents. She felt a well of power growing within her that got stronger and stronger over the years. This eventually lead to the realization that she had arcane blood and had the ability to use magic. Most Elven people are terrified of magic, and those around her shunned her in hate and fear.
  
  
  

  
  [Verity and Sylas]​
  
  One day a man dressed in gauze visited the palace and asked to speak to the princess Verity Ophelia. He got an audience with her and asked her to demonstrate her magical ability. When she did so, he offered to teach her how to use it. Over the next several years, the man became known as Sylas and taught Verity how to fight with a sword and wield her magic as one. Her Uncle became furious as she grew stronger and began to plot a way to get rid of Verity’s powers for good. When Verity learned of his plans, she tried to escape that night. She was to meet Sylas in the Western courtyard and escape together, but when she got there, she found her uncle waiting instead.
  
  
  

  ​
  
  Her uncle claimed that he was the one responsible for the death of her mother and the illness of her father and said that she would be the next to die, to finally end the Ophelia line. They drew their swords and fought, his taunting only making Verity fight stronger and harder. When she was just about to best him, he called the guards to seize her, who held her down. Her uncle approached her with a knife and raised it in his hand to strike her when she released a burst of energy that sent everyone flying backward away from her. The guards tumbled into the gardens, but her uncle... he fell backward onto a statue, a marble spear piercing through his middle. She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, she only wanted to escape, but now her uncle was dead.
  
  When Verity was 16 she fled from the palace in Shylanora with Sylas and for the next few years they traveled together. Sylas would leave for long periods of time and as she learned to take care of herself and train by herself, his visits became less frequent. She got used to her new life as a traveler and went from city to city doing guild jobs, making some money from time to time for shelter and supplies. The Kingdom of Shylanora has since declared her a fugitive for the murder of a royal family member and offers a sizable bounty for her capture, dead or alive. She hopes to one day return home to clear her name, but it's a distant fantasy that grows dimmer with each passing day. Her main goal is to become the best spellsword and join the Circle in Aeredale, hoping that she can find refuge and purpose within their walls.
  
  Spoiler: Long and detailed version of my Chara Bio... You've been warned.

  ​

  In the lushest regions of Nymserine, where rolling green mountains thrive and teem with life, is the Elven Kingdom of Shylanora. It was an ancient monarchy that dated back to the first settlements of elves. The Ophelia bloodline had reigned over the realm since the beginning of the millennia, they bore a timeworn heritage to the throne. Twenty-One years ago Argos Ophelia and his wife, Elvira Ophelia, gave birth to a baby girl by the name of Verity. She would be the Princess to the kingdom, and the Heir to the Kingdom’s heritage.
  
  Verity grew up in the palace of Shylanora, never allowed to leave the boundaries of its walls. Though, for the most part, she was content. Her mother would read to her and accompany her most places. She could roam the North, South, West and Eastern courtyards and gardens of the castle, which became an actively favorite pastime. She could view her vast kingdom from the balcony of her room, and gaze out the opened windows of the ballroom. Next to the gardens, Verity’s favorite place was the grand Library. She would read all of the books she could get her hands on, but what she loved most was reading about the world outside her stronghold.
  
  

  ​

  
  Although, the happiness was notwithstanding. When Verity was Twelve, her mother suddenly passed away. No one knew the exact cause of death, and the whole ordeal was shrouded in a dark mystery. Something shifted in Verity that day... she began to feel things differently, see the world differently. She could feel something inside of her, like a flame burning in a lantern. Confused and sad, she shut it all out as she grieved for her mother.
  
  Her father also became consumed by misery and grief of the death of his wife and locked himself away in his chambers. For days he ate and drank nothing and speaking to no one. Verity felt more alone inside those castle walls than she had in her entire life. She tried to speak to her father many times, but he wouldn't see her. Maidservants and guards would whisper, a sound like hissing that echoed off the empty corridors.
  
  

  ​

  
  Later it was discovered that the King was very sick. He fell into a deep sleep, and nothing would wake him. At night, Verity would sneak into his chambers and watch him as he slept, still as death, and hold his hand. With her father ill and not waking, her Uncle, Prince Gerard, assumed command over the kingdom. He moved back into the palace with his wife and son, Amaury. Amaury was Verity's cousin and childhood friend, and while he was older than Verity by a few years, they got along well. But her uncle treated her poorly, always snapping at her or ignoring her all together.
  
  A year passed and Verity's father was still in terrible condition, withering away slowly while his younger brother ruled the kingdom. She still felt the strange sense of power growing within her, sometimes stronger than others. It scared her and so she tried to ignore it, but it was always there. It ebbed and flowed like the tide and rose and fell like night and day. She wanted more than anything to know what was wrong with her, and feared she would end up sick like her father. Perhaps her family was cursed, and she was next.... but still she spoke to no one of it.
  
  

  

  
  
  One night, Verity had snuck out of her bedroom and into her father's chamber's again, as she often did when she couldn't sleep. His bedroom was dark, lit by nothing except for dying embers in the fireplace that cast long, flickering shadows across his bed. She went to go stoke the fire and add some wood when the door to his bedroom began to open. Quickly, she ran behind the heavy curtains over the balcony window, and hid, knowing she wasn't supposed to be in there.
  
  Through the curtain, she could faintly see her uncle step into the room and stride over to her father's bedside. He pulled something small out of his pocket, like a vile, it's glassy surface reflecting in the firelight. Verity strained forward, shifting to get a better view when she tripped over the fabric of the curtain, ripping it from the window and sending the metal pole it hung on clattering down to the floor. She fell to her knees over the mess and saw her very startled uncle start to seethe in rage. He began yelling profanities as he crossed over the room the where she knelt, apologizing profusely.
  
  He grabbed the front of her nightdress and lifted her up off the ground. "What are you doing in here!? You know this room is off limits," he demanded. She quivered and try to get loose of his grasp "Nothing! I just wanted to visit..." she replied, her eyes drifting over to her father, still as death. Her uncle shook her, "You're not allowed in here, do you hear me?" Her fear mixed with anger. She scowled defiantly at him and said, "What were you doing in here? What are you doing to him?" The veins on her uncle's neck bulged and his face turned red. "Are you accusing me of something, girl? You need to taught to watch you tongue before someone cuts it off!" he yelled as he raised his hand to strike her.
  
  Verity put her hands up to defend herself and felt that strange burning power surge up within her. It flowed into her palms and shot out, sending her uncle careening across the room, his back thudding against the thick double doors. Verity trembled as she looked down at her hands, still glowing blue and humming with energy. Her uncle stumbled to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at her. "You're a monster... an arcane horror, just like your damned mother." He brushed himself off and opened the door to the room to leave. "The only place for creatures like you, is the Void."
  
  

  

  
  
  
  Over the next few weeks, life in the palace got more complicated. Rumors of Verity being able to use magic spread like wildfire, and many feared her for it. Since ancient times, magic has been in the blood of the Elves. Before the kingdom of Shylanora was built, the Order of the Aurid was created, a group of strong magic users that sought to use there powers for good... but one of the members disagreed and wished to use magic in darker ways. That man created a war that almost wiped out every race in the lands of Nymserine. The war was long and bloody, and spared no one. It was only when the Circle was created that the tide of the war began to turn, and eventually won. Verity had read about this legend countless times, and it was ingrained in the minds of all elves as one of the single most important moments in history.... and it left a vile namesake for magic. A century ago there was a culling of Elves with arcane blood in Shylanora. They were sent to concentration camps and fear of magic was like fear of plague, if you had it, then you were shunned and hated.
  
  Verity had a hard time coping with the thought that she had arcane blood, and apparently so did her mother. She had so many questions and felt so abandoned by the world... hated for something she couldn't control. One day, there was a visitor to the palace, a man wrapped in dark gauze and had chains on his wrists. No one knew where he came from or how he got in, but he wouldn't leave until he had an audience with Verity Ophelia. More out of curiosity than anything else they let him see her.
  
  

  

  
  The man never said his name, where he came from or what he wanted. He simply walked up to Verity as she was presented before him. Verity stared back at him, watching him move as quietly as a soft breeze. His eyes glowed purple under the shroud of gauze, flickering as they looked over her. Where she knew she should have been scared, or intimidated by the man, she found a strange comfort in his foreign demeanor. "You are gifted with the blood of Magnus," he said. It wasn't a question, but a simple fact. Verity only nodded. "Show me," his voice rasped, like dead leaves falling from a tree in the fall.
  
  Verity hesitated, taking a deep breath before she lifted her wrists. Her palms began to glow with soft blue light that flickered and danced like smoke. It licked at the air and as she moved her arms outward the energy swirled around her, causing gasps of awe and shock from the crowd along the side isles of the hall. "You are young," he said. "But powerful. I will teach you the ancient ways of the arcane arts... if you allow me to," He bent down, getting on one knee and bowed his head, "Princess Verity, daughter of Elvira Ophelia."
  
  In the following days the palace was in chaos, her uncle beside himself in fury at the whole thing, but no one seemed to be able to get rid of the man, nor keep him from teaching Verity. They would meet in the attic in the tower over the library, and in the beginning they didn't even learn magic. She was taught to hold a sword and move with it like it was an extension of her own being. It wasn't only a weapon, but a defense and a source of security. She learned to fight like she were dancing, stepping in a flow of movements to a rhythm only she could feel. It was only when she mastered that, that he began to teach her magic. Over time she learned that his name was Sylas. She didn't know much else about him other than that he wasn't completely human. He shifted in and out of reality like he wasn't really there. He was like smoke that could dissipate at any moment.
  
  

  

  
  Verity combined her magic energy and sword skills to become a Spellsword prodigy. With the guidance of Sylas, she soon became very powerful and more confident in her inherited magical ability. Sometimes she would ask Sylas about her mother, and he would say that he knew her long ago and that she was a member of the Order of the Aurid, but he never said much else. Everything he did say only left her with more questions.
  
  Verity's uncle despised the fact that she was learning to hone her powers and began plotting a way to get rid of her, or at least block her ability to use magic. He learns of a legend that says a severe traumatic experience will cripple a young mage's ability to use magic, and in some cases, can completely block it out forever... So her uncle devises a plan to break Verity's spirit to use magic.
  
  One night when Verity is in her chambers sleeping, a dark figure silently slips into her room. The shadow slowly approaches her bedside and leans over her. Verity is only awoken when a hand clasps over her mouth and she is pinned down, unable to mouth. She tries to scream in her dazed confusion until she realizes what's happening. It was Amaury, looming over her with a scared look on his face. For a moment, they only stare at each other, hearts beating rapidly, before Amaury finally speaks. "I can't do it.... Verity I'm so sorry." With that, he gets up, and steps back, allowing Verity to scramble upright in her bed, pulling her sheets over herself protectively. "Amaury..." She began, her voice shaking.
  
  He looked down, ashamed. "My father... he wanted me to.." He squeezed his eyes shut, not being able to say the words out loud. "I'm so sorry," he repeated. "Why..?" She whispered. He opened his eyes, looking at her once more. "It's father, he wants to stop you from being able to use magic... I'm afraid he may try to kill you." Verity shook her head in disgust. "Why should I believe anything you say?" He shook his head and backed towards the door. "I don't blame you... hate me all you want, but please, you need to get out of here as soon as possible. Go with Sylas.... and Verity... I really am sorry." He closed the door behind him, making the room go dark once more. She shot out of bed and locked it before sliding to the floor and bursting into tears.
  
  Early the next morning she ran up to the top of the tower to meet Sylas and told him of her uncles plans, not mentioning how she got the information. Sylas only nodded and told her to meet him in the Western courtyard at sundown. She waited the rest of the day in her room with the door locked, pacing back and forth. Her mother's sword was strapped to her back and a pack of clothing and other essentials rested on her bed. When the sun began to sink in the sky, she left her room and ran through the halls to the western courtyard. Just in front of the entrance there were guards and beyond them waited her uncle.
  
  

  

  
  "Going somewhere...?" he asked. Verity only glared at him, raising her chin defiantly. "I know what you tried to do, and it won't work. I am leaving and you cannot stop me." He raised an eyebrow and smirked, pulling a sword from his belt. "Oh can't I?" Verity drew her own sword, making him laugh. "Oh, don't be a fool, girl. I'm a lot stronger than you and have been fighting with a sword my whole life. You're just a princess with an old dagger." She stepped towards him and the guards tensed, moving to stop her, but her uncle waved them off. She started forward again and the two began to move in a slow circle, swords drawn.
  
  "Such a silly little thing you are, just as peculiar and arrogant as your mother was." He sneered. "Don't talk about her that way," she hissed back, but he continued, happy to get a rise out of her. "She always so fond of you, so proud of her little darkspawn. If I had known she would breed more demons, I would have killed her sooner." Verity stopped in her tracks, stunned. Her uncle took the chance to lunge, cutting her deep across her left side. She gasped in pain and jumped back, holding up her sword. "You're lying!" She screamed at him, striking forward. Their blades collided and he leaned forwards with an evil grin. "She was a blight on this land and I ended her, and now it's your turn to join her in the Great Abyss."
  
  They fought, blades flying and clashing. The pain in her side seared with every move, but she barely noticed. "Soon I'll have taken care of your father too! Curious that he simply fell ill out of nowhere, unable to wake. I suppose we could say he died of grief." Verity yelled, charging in again and slashing her blade, her anger fueling her forward to swing harder and move faster. Energy began to glow around her, her eyes burning bright blue as she spun and struck her sword against his.
  
  Soon, he began to tire, not being able to keep up with her furious attacks. He called the guards and they rushed over, joining the fight, Verity tried to shrug them off, not wanting to hurt anyone else, but the detained her. They held her while another took her sword, and her Uncle approached her, looking triumphant. "You fight well, such a waste of royal Elven blood. You are tainted, not just by arcane blood, but by the whole Ophelia line." He sheathed his sword and pulled out a smaller blade, holding it up to her throat. "Any last words, girl?"
  
  "I'm not a girl," she spat. "I'm a storm with skin." The world around her went white and energy burst from her body, creating a whirlwind of mana and light that everything flying backward away from her. The guards tumbled away, crashing into the gardens and her uncle fell back onto a statue, it's marble spear stained red with his blood. Verity fell to her knees in shock and exhaustion, blinking at the side of her uncle's body impaled on the statue. The edged of her vision began to fade to blackness and the last thing she saw was Sylas picking her up and carrying her away.
  
  

  

  
  When Verity was 16 she fled from the palace in Shylanora with Sylas and for the next few years they traveled together. Sylas would leave for long periods of time and as she learned to take care of herself and train by herself, his visits became less frequent. She got used to her new life as a traveler and went from city to city doing guild jobs, making some money from time to time for shelter and supplies. The Kingdom of Shylanora has since declared her a fugitive for the murder of a royal family member and offers a sizable bounty for her capture, dead or alive. She hopes to one day return home to clear her name, but it's a distant fantasy that grows dimmer with each passing day. Her main goal is to become the best spellsword and join the Circle in Aeredale, hoping that she can find refuge and purpose within their walls.

 

[BugDozer73]

Roland Stormblade
​

Name: Roland Stormblade
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Race: Demi god (Child of Thasia)
Details of Appearance: Roland stands at 5'11. He is slender, only weighing a mere 154 lbs, but muscular from years of manual labor aboard his ship. His skin has bronzed under the gaze of the suns ever watchful eye, making for a stark contrast to his vibrant green iris's. Roland's hair is very light brown, and long, and braided in the back. He has a light beard running over his face and a long weathered scar discoloring a line from the tip of his hair line down over his right eye and through to his lower cheek, stopping slightly above his facial hair. Roland had several tattoos on his arms and torso from the Merfolk people, including a band of glowing blue runes in an intricate band over his right bicep.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor: Roland is a master of the cutlasses, the dual wielding swords. He was gifted a pair from his mother, made from an unknown material that glows blue when wet and can cut through nearly anything. Roland also carries a leather belt with small vials of various substances he has collected from his travels, including Frost hydra blood, basilisk venom, dragon scale dust, unicorn horn flakes, pixie flower, Magma-men slop, and a tear from a Phoenix.
  Skills & Abilities: Roland has the ability to manipulate any water around him, altering its shape, density, temperature and can move it around with his mind. Roland is able to control and manipulate storms, as well as generate darkness. He also has super human strength, speed, and healing when in the water. Roland spent years also learning to harness Merfolk magic spells and incantations, giving him an even deeper connection to the sea. Roland tries to only use Merfolk spells in front of people instead of hsi water powers, in an attempt to conceal his true identity as the son of Thasia herself.
• 
  Roland is incredibly smart, adventurous and outgoing. He spends his days in his dreams, and his dreams come from his heart. He values personal freedom higher than anything, but is also bound to a hopeless sense of romanticism that the crew has held no punches over. Roland has a deep distaste for being contained or trapped, much like the sea, but still feels bound to a sense of honor and loyalty to his dear friends. Roland lives by the pirates code, unless it directly conflicts with his own freedoms or an overwhelming moral constraint.
• 
  Roland was simply found as a baby by the most ruthless pirate on the Sea, Greuwn the Flayer. Greuwn had a reputation for being ruthless and savage, but with the arrival of Roland, his entire demeanor changed. He became more fatherly, and spent more time reading and exploring than plundering and pillaging. Greuwn spent time showing Roland the world and all it had to offer, teaching him about the sanctity of the values of honor and courage. At age three, Roland began training with blades. When Roland was 6, Greuwn began visiting the Northern Merfolk to train Roland in the art of Merfolk Magic. Now at the age of 20, Roland is a well grown man, talented and free as the sea bird: Greuwn has grown older and wise, and not quite ready to let the tide slip back into the clutches of the sea.

 

[MegaGoatBabe]

Vel​

Name: Vel
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Details of Appearance: Vel has dark red hair that appears brown, most of it is in dreads or wrapped up with leather cords to keep it out of her face. Her face is round with haunting dark brown eyes. She has a three inch long thin scar on her right cheek. She is 5'5 and weighs 140lbs, mostly of muscle. Her thick thighs are toned from long runs in forests, and her arms are muscled from the battleaxe she wields. She wears earthy tones that keep her from receiving attention, and light leather armor at all times.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor: Vel has opted to use a bronze battleaxe that she bought with all of the money she had at the time. It is one of the few possessions she has and always has it near.
  
  Spoiler

  
  Skills & Abilities: Vel is very skilled with her battleaxe she has had it with her for years and has become very accustomed with its weight allowing her to act quickly with it. She is pretty good at most melee battling, but when it comes to ranged fighting, she is not the best. Nor is she very good at conflict resolution or really anything involving people. Also due to her history, she is pretty good at farming, though this is not a detail she likes others to know - in fact when asked about her past she usually makes up a preposterous lie and says nothing more on the subject.
  
• 
  Vel is a hit first, never ask questions kind of woman.She is not good with feelings or with others in general. She often comes across as cold and uncaring, but in reality its just because she is too afraid of letting herself care again. She cannot bare the idea of losing someone she cares about, so she refuses to care. Vel is also a fan of ale, meat and men.
  Her abrasiveness is one of her biggest flaws, it gets her into a lot of fights, so does her willingness to fight. She also has a short fuse which if you set of, you guessed it, she fights. It has become a way to keep anyone from getting close to her, she pushes others away.
  
• 
  Vel lived in Akron during her childhood on a small farm just outside of the city walls. She was raised by her parents who were both older than most when they had her, so it was no surprised that they passed when she was seventeen. After they passed the farm became Vel's and she kept it going.
  
  When she was eighteen she married a young man from Akron named Timothy who helped her with the farm. After a year she gave birth to a baby girl named Eliza. Vel loved her family dearly. One day when she returned from within Akron's walls she found her husband and infant daughter slaughtered and her farm on fire. After weeks of mourning in the burnt rubble, Vel took every possession she had and sold them to get enough money for a bronze battleaxe. She left Akron and went searching for those that murdered her family. After she came up with nothing, and needed a way to survive Vel turned to a life off doing others dirty work. Whether it was hunting or killing a wolf that was eating someones sheep, to collecting money for a loan shark, if it needed intimidation to get done, Vel became the person for the job. She grew cold and uncaring to protect herself from the pain that almost killed her, sure that if something like that ever happened again, she would not survive.
  Now Vel travels, city to city doing odd jobs all while keeping an eye out for a clue as to who was responsible for her ruin.

 

[Raider dog]

Luther Yamir

Name: Luther Yamir​

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Age: 22​

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Gender:Male​

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Race: Human​

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Details of Appearance: Luther stands at a height of 6'1 and is built with a balanced body made for battle. Under his armor is a some what tanned colored skin that holds many of his past battle scars. Several nasty looking scars cover his back while a symbol his branded on the right side of his chest. He has dull grey eyes, short brown hair and a somewhat smooth face. He keeps it shaved since it's a pain under his helmet.​

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[/font]

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• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  
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  Weapons & Armor: He wears a light, yet strong set of armor that has been with him for awhile now. His weapon of choice is a easy to wield spear that also channels magic energy. Though he mostly uses it to stab and beat the crap out of stuff.​
  ​
  Skills & Abilities: Luther is very agile man who mostly relies on his physical abilities and skills to get him through battles. Though he has managed to use fire magic to his advantage and channels it through his spear. When it comes to raw combat however he can throw a punch. Oh, he can also cook a mean meal from scratch. Truly a natural.​
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• 
  
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  Luther can easily be labeled as a cocky, brash and reckless man that always seems to find himself into trouble or any other crazy adventures. When danger rears it's ugly mug, Luther is the first to curse it's mother and leap head first into a fight. Battle is somewhat a lifestyle for him and it helps him with his job as a traveling adventurer for hire. Though most simply give him the title of a mercenary, he prefers adventurer for hire. Anyway, he can be a very sarcastic guy, yet he has a good heart. He just has a bad way of saying things at times so that sort of causes him to get into a bit of trouble... like a HUGE amount of trouble. Though as you get past his laid back and cocky self he is a decent man to hang around. He makes sure to help those in need, including those he considers friends. One last thing to add would be that he is very evasive when it comes to his past, it actually puts him into a sour mood, which is rare.​
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• 
  
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  The rattling of chains, the crack of a whip and the howls of sorrow. These were the first sounds he remembers hearing as he came into the world. Born a slave and sold to the fighting pits Luther was given a sword at the young age of six. He was pitted against others his age and is honest when he says those early memories of his are a bit blurry. All he sees is crimson red. He spilled the blood of others all his childhood and suffered from many harsh abuses from his owners. Weekly lashings to keep him in line, days without meals if he didn't do good enough in a fight, he was even rented out to other owners for... well, he rather not go into those details. By the age of 11 he was a soulless shell of a human that was similar to a dog. He lacked any sympathy for life and lost any spark of emotions. He only followed his instincts, like an animal. ​
  ​
  Though at the age of 12 his owners estate was raided by a group of mercenaries that were hired to rescue a certain boy that was stolen from a village. A boy who had been hung a few days before the raid. As the estate was taken and the survivors were gathered the leader, a man named Hector, made his judgment to free the slaves. He allowed them all to run from the estate, but Luther found himself staying. His body wouldn't budge and his eyes were stuck on his owner. At that moment as he looked at his owner on his knees he felt an emotion that had died a few years back. Anger. In a flash he was at his throat with broken glass and at that point everything went black. As he returned to his right mind he was wailing into the sky, covered in blood and blinded by his warm tears. Hector, the leader of the mercenary band decided to take the young and broken Luther in.​
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  Slowly, but surely Luther began his long journey to healing. His smile returned to his face, one that had only graced his face as an infant and he was able to actually laugh with others. His emotions of sympathy and love for life returned as he grew up within the band of mercenaries. Though his mind set of battle never left him and always feels himself being pulled towards it. Now though he makes sure that if blood is to be spilled it should be for a good reason. As he reached the age of 19 he felt his thirst for adventure peek and set out on his own to see the lands. He's been making his way from place to place for the past three years and has made a bit of a name for himself.​
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[Grammatic]

Rycherd Alistair

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Name: Rycherd Alistair
Age: 28 (human year time scale please)
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Details of Appearance: Rycherd stands roughly at six feet two, though he has very broad chest making up for his slightly shorter size, something his family always got on to him for. He has blonde hair he keeps cut generally short, and bright green eyes. He has a scar touching just under his left eye to his nose, an old wound he received in his youth from his father.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor: Rycherd is armed with an ancient blade, engraved with the names of each previous wielder, claimed from Necropolis.The cross guard is angled upwards to help catch blades coming towards the wielder. He also carries with him an assortment of enchanted knives and blades to use at a moments notice. His armor is dominantly a mix of leather and thin steel, lending him mobility when he needs it, and protection if absoluteness required. He also wears a heavy cloak whenever he is not im combat, no matter what the weather. He also has a crossbow he can fold down in size he has on his back at all times, though carries few bolts for it.
  Skills & Abilities: Rycherd has a general understanding of magic, largely learned from his elder sister, though only in the field of enchantment. He is an outstanding duelist in close quarters, having learned several different techniques from across the world during his travels. He is also a crack shot, able to snap off bolts from his crossbow at a moments notice with startling accuracy.
  
• 
  Rycherd is a very withdrawn and solitary person. Rarely will he go out of the way to speak with others, and even rarer will he work with people. Trust is something Rycherd gives to almost no one, due in large part to his past. He will sacrifice anything to achieve his goals, and get rid of anyone who gets in his way without hesitation. He displays few outward emotions, and appears to be totally indifferent to what is happening around him at all times. When he starts a task, he devotes all his attention and abilities to it until the job is done, and won't stop until it is.
  
  Due to all his issues with trust, and the events of his past, Rycherd is prone to anxiety attacks. They can strike at a moments notice if he is getting pushed to his limits, and he will become erratic in his actions. His cool demeanor shatters, and he loses all ability to concentrate on what is happening. It takes some time for him to come back to normal.
• 
  Rycherd was born the second child of the Alistair household, a poor family living on the very edge of Meletus. His father was a dock worker, spending all day unloading the countless ships that made their way into the harbors of their home city, and all night complaining about it and drinking. Rycherd's mother was a simple servant, working at one of the noble mansions further into the city. Between them, they barely had enough income to regularly put food on the table for Rycherd and his older sister, Lana, but life was not terrible. However, one day their father came home drunker than usual, and decided to take out his frustration about his station in life on his family. Rycherd tried to stop him, but he was too young, and broke several bones in the ensuing scuffle. It was his sister, tapping latent magical powers that protected them. Their father fled, cutting off all ties to the family. Scared herself, Lana fled to the school of magic, leaving Rycherd alone to take care of their mother.
  
  Alone, Rycherd looked after his mother, who had become traumatized from what had happened that night. Without any help from his father, and his mother no longer able to work, Rycherd turned to stealing to keep them alive. Numerous close calls and broken bombs into it, he had become a rather successful thief, able to provide for his mother better than the family had ever been able to together. Occasionally, his sister would return home, and when finding out Rycherd also had magical powers, tried to get him to come to the school with her. He refused, stating someone had to watch their mother. Reluctantly, Lana decided to teach him a few things to help him survive, in the few visits she made. He never became a master, though he knew which end of a spell to start with. Just as things were starting to look good, and his mother was almost fully recovered, Rycherd's father returned. Now the leader of a small gang, he caught wind of the small wealth his son was accumulating. He waited until Rycherd was off on another job, and struck. By the time Rycherd returned, there was nothing left in the house, and his mother was dead. One of the gang members was still there, and Rycherd tortured and interrogated the man. Learning who had done it, he killed the gang member, slowly, and set off to track down his father.
  
  Over the next few weeks, the bodies of each member of the gang began to appear across the city, each having been viciously killed. When Rycherd finally killed his father, he took what he could and left the city, just as the authorities were closing in on him. He joined up with a travelling merchant convoy, and presented himself as a new mercenary. He stayed with them for a few years, learning numerous skills and talents from the varied bunch there, from haggling to the finer points of musicianship. He came to view this group as his family slowly over time. When they were passing close to Necropolis, Rycherd heard a voice in the back of his mind calling him. He departed the convoy, saying he would return shortly as they made camp. He went to Necropolis, and was taken inside by the Gatekeeper. What happened to him inside, no one knows. He refuses to speak of it to anyone. All that is known is that he emerged two days later, with a new cloak and a sword taken from within the depths of Necropolis. He returned to the convoy, paying his dues, and left them without answering any questions.
  
  Since then, Rycherd has traveled across the length and breadth of Nymserine. Wherever he appears, reports of a vicious killing are soon to follow. Trackers frequently find him returning to Necropolis, though he does not live there. His motives and goals are not known, to all except the few people he calls friends, scattered across the entirety of the known world.

 

[Darkraven]

Character Name​

Name: Jezebeth (Paladin of the Guardian Order, Crimson Martyr Chapter. Ruby of the Knightly Orders, Bane of Demons, Banisher of Poverty & Famine, Daughter of None)

Spoiler: ...

Ushael (Mistress of the Circle of Lust, Despoiler and Corrupter of Kings and Men, Caress of the Dreadlords, Slayer of Knights, Fire's Shadow of the Forests, Eyes of Azarath)

Age: 31 (Estimated by a certain farmer's reckoning)

Spoiler: ...

651

Gender: Female

Spoiler: ...

Female, but could appear as either

Race: Human

Spoiler: ...

Demon, of the Succubus type

Details of Appearance:

Spoiler: Do not see if thou values your sanity. I beg of thee.

While not tall at 5 feet 10, her beauty has been the talk of Andred ever since her entrance into the Guardian Order of Knights and minor fame. Blonde hair like gold or sunshine frames her face, falling to just below her shoulders, with curls left and right of her face. When on a mission or in battle, this is tied into a tight bun. High cheeks like royalty. Straight, diagonal brows. Supple, healthy lips. Pale skin, blue eyes. Enough curves on her body that even her armour could make a man blush - This, of course, she covers with a cloak and the colours of her Guardian Order. She is easily mistaken for a lady in her mid-twenties. In fact, even Jezebeth herself knows not exactly her age.

That said, she is frequently found in her platemail armour of steel like silver and gold-gilding and linings. Otherwise, when at official events, she would often wear the white tunic of the Order with an abstract tower on the torso, or dresses of pleasant colours in parties.

She moves with a grace seen on ethereals, something which comes naturally to her. Her voice is said to be angelic, but her knightly preoccupation involving ordering men on the battlefield and taunting creatures in combat hides some of its supposed quality. She sings on rare occasions, usually to lift the spirits of both demoralised warriors and the downtrodden poor alike, but those who had heard her voice at its peak are few and they count themselves lucky.

It is as if sculpted by the Gods themselves... Though jealous whispers suggest that her beauty is unnatural and the product of a deal with a devil. Indeed, some feel that she possesses a kind of 'inner beauty' that seems to radiate from within, complementing an already flawless exterior. Some find themselves blessed to be in her presence while others are intimidated, envious or suspicious of her.

Spoiler: ...

Rising up to 6 feet tall (not counting the horns) if standing straight on her hooves, her baldness is nothing ugly, only emphasizing her tempting face of dark-pupil and pointed eyes, thin brows, supple lips, and Elvish ears that would make even the most disciplined of Elvish priests blush. Just above her forehead are a pair of horns curling backwards like that of goats - grooved and hard and deadly-pretty.

She has pale, grey flesh, blurring the lines between life and death. A body too perfect, frequently bared to all such that an army of swordsmen would not cut it, unless she'd summoned clothes that could only emphasize her seductive powers, or when practical - like in cold weather that even demons cannot stand. Whenever she uses her fire spells, she will grow red, and fire will burst out of her scalp like hair.

Her muscles are toned to perfection, there but not too obvious. Her lower legs are hairy like that of horses or ponies, ending in hooves. Vestigial wings hung on her back, resembling that of giant bats with serrated talons on each bony protrusion. However, it could only be used to break falls, not to fly nor even glide. And lastly, she has a long, slender tail ending in a 3-pronged hook, which isn't sharp and could not be used to maim or kill.

A Note on Jezebeth's Faction: Jezebeth is part of a knightly organisation known as the Guardian Order, which has factions scattered throughout the world. While similar to the Circle, the Guardian Order is located just below it in the hierarchy, answering to the Circle whenever it needs to. Where the Circle lacks in manpower, the Guardian Order provides it, as they are a veritable army, if only spread thin because of the geography. Common soldiers, knights and paladins work together to make the world a safer place, unlike the corrupted guilds that surround it.

Much of the Guardian Order is devoted to hunting down demons, but some of their members are charged with destroying any number of dark creatures and unsavoury characters.

The headquarters of the Guardian Order is located north of Aeredale, in the city of Northgard, a military city in itself, where part of the High King's army garrison is located. Surrounded by high walls and thousands of city guards, it is a safe place to nestle the most important members of the Order in. It is also the best recruitment ground for soldiers deemed worthy to ascend in responsibility, purpose and morality. It also happens to be the place with the highest number of Guardian Order chapters.

The city is surrounded by farmland and cottage industries to supply the castle-city with food and rations in the event of a siege. Regular patrols keep the rural countryside around Northgard relatively safe: just the mere presence of the Guardian Order deters a good number of threats, including foreign invasions, as the Guardian Order is obliged to take part in the defense of the realm.

One of the chapters located there is the Crimson Martyr chapter, so named because its founder was killed by Azarath himself during the Age of Ruin. It was the paladins of this chapter who found Jezebeth, who was in a forest under the jurisdiction of Northgard and the Guardian Order.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor:
  
  Armour​
  Jezebeth wears platemail armour of the lighter variety, simply because she is not strong enough to carry the heaviest plates that knights are known for. But it is a full armour suit trimmed with gold, complemented by a shield, cloak, a shawl and loincloths, all in the colours of the Guardian Order.
  
  Her armour is crowned by a proud short-tailed Sallet helmet. Her neck is covered by a gorget. This leaves the lower half of her face exposed from just between the nostrils and upper lips to her lower jaw. She prefers it that way, as it is easier to breathe. Secretly, she wants to leave a little part of herself exposed for vanity reasons.
  
  
  Weapons​
  Kasdeya's Deathstroke: An 300-years-old Elvish long sword reputedly used to kill Kasdeya, a notorious Succubus fond of poisons and potions. Causes great pain to demons if they touch it. Deadly against demon-flesh, otherwise mundane, if only extremely sharp and near-impossible to destroy. Found again in Jezebeth's travels.
  Guy Vengeance: A mundane knightly sword forged when she was knighted. It had been by her side for a decade, longer than Kasdeya's Deathstroke. It had slain many demons for her, broken and fixed many times.
  Guardian Order Kite Shield: A shield bearing the seal of the Crimson Martyr chapter of the Guardian Order, a bloodied crown. Well made, but mundane.
  Knightly Dagger: A dagger with white guard and handle, used as a last resort or a tool. Of no special properties.
  Light Crossbow: A weak crossbow that can be loaded quickly, but releases bolts with a reduced force, something in between bows and crossbows.
  
  
  Fighting Style​
  Jezebeth fights not like the stereotypical hard-headed and brute strength of a Knight, but with agility, lithe grace and a little roguish misdirection and guile. This, combined with her shield and lightened full platemail armour, gives her a great degree of flexibility and versatility. However, she is surprisingly weak if she is forced to fight like a dismounted knight, with sword and shield in a static, defensive position. She is at her best while on the move.
  
  Before melee is joined, she has her crossbow. If given time, she could shoot off a few bolts. At the start of combat, she will usually begin as a typical knight, with sword and shield and defensive posture. This, she reasons, is so that the enemy would not be alerted since it does not give away her more lethal techniques. Should the enemy persist, she will switch to her true self: a sword dancer who utilises speed and nimbleness, skill and precision to gain the upper hand rather than raw defensive power.
  
  She shows great skill in most weapons, a product of her character and the tough training that the Guardian Knights are known for. However, she favours her sword most of all, and swords of many kinds, be they single-handed or two-handed.
  
  She is especially good at fighting demons, having found some kind of a natural flair for it to the point that it seems uncanny. She is able to predict their moves in and out of battle. With the training of the Guardian Order bestowed upon her and the experiences she has gained in serving with them in ridding the world of demons, she has developed a reputation in Aeredale, to a lesser extent in other cities, and even amongst demons.
  
  
  Spoiler: ...

  While Ushael is better known for her abilities to influence, manipulate and have her way in the bedroom, she is no pushover when she has to fight. Just by being a demon, she is guaranteed to be stronger, tougher, faster and more agile than the average man. Those muscles, while toned and nothing extreme, aren't just for show. This is in addition to the fact that she is resistant to the heat of fire.
  
  In combat, Ushael prizes grace, agility, speed and skill above the mere application of brutish force. Every move she makes has a purpose, and is executed with precision and skill. Despite her preference for elegance, Ushael does not lack in strength and toughness. Her moves are best described as serpentine and somewhat theatrical: fast and confusing. Deadly.
  
  As a demon, she can take hits like the best of humanity, and still keep going. Many a challengers had called her names and mocked her lady-like grace and frame and not lived to tell the tale.
  
  Every part of her body is a weapon, from her hooves at the end of her powerful horse-like legs to her spiny wings, her whip-like tail (which has its uses), to her sharp claws and ornate and many-pointed gauntlets, to even her horns and teeth. She has little need for weapons like swords and spears and daggers, preferring to get up close and personal just as she enjoys doing so in another sort of tussle. However, she will lay her hands on any weapons if she anticipates enough difficulty.
  
  Skills & Abilities:
  
  Magic​
  Heal Disability: Strangely, Jezebeth is unable to master the ability to heal, as is required of paladins. However, she is allowed to ascend to the position of paladin due to her abilities and achievements. Her rivals whisper that she is tainted by some contract with a demon, which also explains her incredible beauty.
  
  Flare: Even more strangely, Jezebeth is capable of conjuring fire. However, this is in a limited fashion, but enough to startle enemies and send them rolling, or to quick-start a campfire or sabotage by arson. However, it tires her easily. The order's mages explained it away as a latent magical gift.
  
  Demon-Sense: Mages are unable to explain this, but Jezebeth is able to sense demons from a fair distance. Demons find it hard to ambush her, or hide from her while on the chase.
  
  Scarless: Somehow, scars on her body seem to disappear after months. Mages thought it to be linked to her latent magical talent, but her more daring opponents cry that it is indisputable evidence that she is a witch!
  
  
  Spoiler: ...

  As a demon, Ushael is 'blessed' with magic twice over, having in her grasp both demonic powers which she is borned with and honed over the millenia, and aptitude in the arcane, though the latter will never reach the same heights as what Elves could achieve.
  
  Unnatural Beauty: Her unnatural beauty could turn aside a hundred spears and swords that only a champion of chastity could even attempt to overcome. In whatever forms she take, this unnatural beauty would emanate. While diminished in a deep disguise, it is by no means dissipated - such is the power of her beauty.
  
  Empath: Ushael is able to directly read faint glimmers of a person's emotions, aiding her in innumerable tasks.
  
  Seduction & Corruption: Ushael could control men, and sometimes even women, by turning their brilliant (or not so brilliant) mind against them or exposing their greatest weaknesses like open wounds. She could turn them inside out, psychologically, twist them into a shadow of their former selves to better serve her needs. She achieves this not just with cunning and intelligence, but with her unnatural demonic allure and corrupting demonic essence.
  
  Mind Manipulation: Ushael knows a handful of arcane spells to affect the mind of her victims, allowing her to stricken them with lethargy, confusion, even amnesia, insanity and paralysis, but the greater the effect, the more arcane power is required.
  
  Drain Magic/Will: A common ability that Ushael shares with other Succubus is her ability to drain energy and magic from those with who she fornicates. Even a caress or a kiss, or other more intimate gestures could do this - though the amount drained would not be much. It is in the actual act of intercourse that would leave her unwitting victim nearly dried out, exhausted or in the case of the likes of mages, nearly powerless.
  
  Ushael is unable to help but to drain magic and strength, and could only 'hold back' and leech less form her victim.
  
  However, taking on a deep disguise of actual flesh and blood would diminish this ability drastically, such that the sensations of her kiss or caresses would only feel as if much more electric and disarming, taking away nearly nothing, and maintaining the disguise. Even sexual intercourse would leave her partner mostly fine - a little tired but satisfied.
  
  Dread Fire: The Manipulation of fire. Not Ushael's main power, but like all demons, she could command it up to a certain level of adeptness. Firing jets or orbs of fire, spreading existing fire, but nothing too destructive.
  
  Detect Magic: Ushael is able to see things on the magical plane - from magical energy to traps and spells.
  
  Shapeshift: As for her other abilities, what characterises her best is her ability to shapeshift, take on the appearance of someone other than herself. This has limits, however, as she couldn't be too much smaller or bigger than her original size. Powerful magic or divine intervention could force her to return to her original form.
  
  Rebirth: Unlike most Succubus, however, Ushael has mastered this ability to such a degree that she could, if she wants, manifest her disguise to be far more than skin-deep, squeezing her real form into a higher dimension and layering real flesh and blood over. The cost is enormous, however: It will always result in amnesia, and her demonic powers would be gone. Again, this has limits. Some demonic energies or essence will still leak out, and some of the better mages and priests could still detect her. If it isn't for her amulet, she would have been found out a long time ago.
  
  It is only upon the death of her deep disguise that the Rebirth will be undone. Ushael will return to the physical plane in a shower of blood and gore as she discards the skin and flesh of her former shell. In this state, she is most vulnerable as she will be very disoriented, as it will take time for her memories, her abilities and original personality to return. Even walking will be difficult as she would have likely not moved on hooves for a long time.
  
  
  Mundane​
  First-Aid: What Jezebeth lacked in healing magic, she tries to make up for with triage, bandages and medicine. As a paladin, she is trained in the latest of medicine, and she has gotten very competent through battles and humanitarian missions.
  
  Horse-Riding: As a knight and paladin, Jezebeth knows how to ride a horse and take care of it.
  
  Charisma: Her origin is most interesting and her heroic exploits, rise to fame and station, and morality hasn't gone unnoticed, so she is usually able to get things done her way. That said, people do say that she has a silver tongue, and some of the more daring of gents reported that she has certain... feminine wiles. Her detractors concur most vehemently.
  
  Demon Slayer: While fighting demons, Jezebeth often finds that she is able to predict their moves and anticipate their tactics better than anyone else. Most people puts it down to talent and experience.
  
  Knightly Conduct: Jezebeth knows how to conduct herself in high society.
  
  Torturer: As a Paladin of the Guardian Order, Jezebeth has some... prior experiences in the field of torture. While she wasn't the chief torturer and interrogator and didn't last long in the position, she has gained some insights into how to make someone talk.
  
  
  Spoiler: ...

  Regeneration: As an icon of sinful beauty, Ushael is able to regenerate herself until not even a tiny spot of scar remains. Even lost limbs and appendages could be grown back, though it will take weeks.
  
  Persuasive: Ushael knows how to talk her way out, and sway people to her will, combined with her less mundane ability to attract people to her side.
  
  Courtesan: Before Azarath brought her into this world, Ushael had served as a courtesan and concubine to an overlord. She has centuries of experience in overwhelming the senses of a person in lustre and delight and... carnal pleasures.
  
  Infiltration: Ushael knows the head and tail of going to places where she is absolutely unwanted, becoming people she absolutely isn't, and destroying or taking things that shouldn't be destroyed or displaced.
  
  Assassin: And to make things worst, her abilities make her a natural at killing people who should absolutely still be breathing.
  
  Torturer: When one knows pleasure, one knows pain. Before and after Azarath had put his mark on the world, Ushael is well-versed in the art of pain and making one scream... Sometimes to worm some sliver of information out of a person, and sometimes for fun.
• 
  Jezebeth is outwardly kind and thoughtful, a creative soul who channels her imagination into helping others, telling anecdotes and uplifting people. Her solution to problems tend to be rooted in eloquence, skill and intellect, not brutality, cruelty and unneeded cunning. She is a known philanthropist, if she isn't on her missions to slay demons or any foul creatures, humanoid or otherwise, that the Order wants dead.
  
  But deep down, she is conflicted and swaying from one extreme or another - something which she has to get used to ever since waking up in the middle of an open field with no recollection of who she is. Her missions as a demon-slaying knight demands discipline and focus in all aspects of her life. It demands wisdom, self-sacrifice. But deep down, she wants, no, craves a break from this. Celibacy feels like a fool's concept in the face of her deeply-nestled need for companionship and bodily pleasures. She wants to throw caution to the wind, and embrace a wilder side. She wants to indulge for her own ends, just because.
  
  Terrible thoughts ripple through her once in a while. This happens most unpleasant in battle, or whenever she is in any heated situation. While she is able to control herself most of the time, sometimes she just couldn't. In battle, she find herself becoming bloodthirsty at times, fighting not just for a good cause, but for the enjoyment of it, for the taste of blood and the screams of her fallen enemies. She has found herself executing prisoners and enemy wounded with glee. She is appointed as a chapter torturer once, and she find herself enjoying the job far too much, and eventually requested a change in responsibility.
  
  But day by day, she wills herself to stop this madness before it begins, praying to one God or another that many say would listen, only to feel empty and ignored. Nevertheless, she has been successful (most of the time) in living the life as expected of the ideal, moral knight, as a defender of mankind and a role model to all. Because deep down, she also know that she wants to be something more.
  
  Spoiler: ...

  Ushael is manipulative, deceptive, dealing in lies within lies, and only truth when expressed in pleasure and sense, nakedness - to her benefit, or the benefit of the cause she serves. She has no qualms about sacrificing the welfare of others or causing the consequences of her actions as she seduces, cheat, lie, manipulate and straight-out puppeteers men and women in her machination of one conspiracy or another. She takes pride in her work, not calling it as such - business and pleasure are one. And even as she seduces for her goals or the goals of an overseer, she seduces just as much for her own enjoyment, taking in how she would break down the will of her enemies and forcing them with their own mind to do things they would hate or renounce previously at a glance. And of course, the sex from a position of power.
  
  But eventually, she came to understand herself even more, and what she truly desires. The world is a playground to her, and its people, toys. While her kin wants to bathe the world in eternal fire, she likes it the way it is, just so she could have fun with it for all eternity. But it is not all about her destructive selfishness. She truly sees goodness as another form of pleasure to be pursued. Love being an alternative form of lust. Justice, a form of vengeance. Hatred has a counterpart in goodness. Where humans have their outcasts who practice the dark arts and relish in destruction and murders, demons have their own outcasts.
  
  Ushael wants more. Ever since being forced into hiding amongst the mortal races, she has understood what 'goodness' is, what love means. It isn't unknown to her that hers is a race of pure evil, but she has stumbled on something that seems to transcends that. Perhaps to be good is enjoyment of another kind? Perhaps love is another form of lust? Even after so many years of meditation, her understanding of goodness still sits uneasily between the abyss of mystery and the light of enlightenment, wavering so often and interrupted by the many lifetimes of mortal life she has decided to live through.
  
  Manipulation, deception, lies, indomitable seduction and selfishness - can it be used for good?
  
  
• 
  
  
  • 
    
    
    • Jezebeth wakes up on the open plains, with no memories of who she is or where she came from. All she knows is the name 'Jezebeth', and all she has is an amulet sitting on her breast. Not even clothes on her back did she have.
    • She stumbles upon a kindly old farmer and his family, who took her in as one of his own. She has learnt much from him as she toiled on his farm to repay his kindness. She knows not her age, but they say she looks 16. Jezebeth takes this as fact ever since.
    • A demon terrorises the countryside, eventually reaching the farm and killing most of the family, including the old farmer. Enraged, she slays the beast with nothing but a pitchfork and a rusty sword, finding surprising aptitude in herself on the task.
    • She was witnessed by a few Guardian Knights, who took her in as an initiate and squire.
    • Jezebeth gets married to one of the surviving farmers, a lucky man who finds opportunity in employment in Aeredale as a warehouse master.
    • She ascends to the status of Paladin after slaying a particularly troublesome Succubus loose in the city. Somehow or other, she is able to instinctively predict her moves and anticipate her, eventually catching up and slaying her.
    • She bore a child whom she names Elizabeth.
    • There are times when there is little threat of demons or the more usual dangers. She spends this time on her family or equally heroic acts of philanthropy, feeding and taking care of the poor.
    • She has since become known as the Ruby of the Knightly Orders, a lady of immense beauty, and just as infinite of intelligence, courage, grace and strength. A subject of minor fame is that she is even invited to dine with the High King of Aeredale.
    • Years passed with many obstacles met and overcome. A stray Incubus kills her husband and nearly her daughter when it attempts to corrupt her. She grieves.
    • She has been on considerably minor duties ever since, for the past year. She yearns to return to her days of glory. The minor duties given to her is to allow her to grieve and recover, but she found herself slipping into the bottle, growing depressed day after day. She believes that slaying demons will help her more. Revenge will surely help. Blood will surely help. Only the screams of dying demons will help her...
  Spoiler: ...

  And that is my story, love. There's nothing more, honest as the heavens. Come, let me snuggle in close to you, and we may talk further... With more than just words.
  
  *Sigh* If you insist... Here is a story near and dear to my heart. Lie down, and I'll whisper it into your ear...

  Spoiler: The Demon & The Boy

  Once upon a dark day of ages past, in the wintry days of year-end, a boy and his four brothers and sisters were playing thief-and-watchman in the bushes near half a league from their home. They had been searching for Snowbloom for their parents - they had fallen on such hard times - and found it fitting to play a little after a hard day's work.
  
  Jerome, the boy was called, in hiding from his siblings, had wandered into a forest at twilight. As the sun went down, he found his surroundings changed owing to his inexperience. He had seen but nine winters, and only remembered a few.
  
  Jerome blundered and hurried, called out and cried, but all he had achieved was to dig his grave further, and invite wakening carnivores to his flesh. As night descended and the air grew colder, as snow fell and was kicked up by wind such that the boy could see no more, Jerome fell by a tree, having resigned to a lonely, regretful death.
  
  The tears that fell from his eyes froze the instant they dripped onto his cheeks.
  
  Then, he saw light, dark red light. But he could move no more, and he thought that surely, death was near and whatever creature that would lay claim to his soul had come. Sure enough, as the light came close enough, something none other than a demon came to his view.
  
  But it was not just any kind of demon. Slender and curved in limb and body, muscled enough as to not appear starved, with pony-like legs, the horns of goats and bony wings with membranes. But most striking of all, it had the face and upper body of a woman unparalleled in beauty, albeit surfaced with ashen demon skin.
  
  It was a Succubus, a demon of lust.
  
  It walked up to the boy, naked and baring it all but not freezing. It watched not with demented interest but with curiosity. Despite his impending doom, Jerome, in a seemingly last display of courage, was able to work up the strength to speak to what seemed to be his taker: "Have you come to take me, O demon, to swallow my soul?"
  
  The Succubus bent down on her hoofed legs to regard the boy on his level. It smiled mischievously, as if death was but a game.
  
  "No, silly boy," it said. "I take only those of a... mischievous, playful tendency - even then, I grow weary of matchmaking them with their nasty end. Besides, I walk in these woods only to enjoy the fresh air that it affords." The Demon surprised the boy with its words. The boy was young, but no fool. He knew that a demon was nothing but darkness, and decided that it was mocking, teasing him.
  
  "What are you doing here anyway, young little pricker?" It turned the odd conversation on the boy, itself playful and mischievous. A reminder of his doom had all but made the boy cry some more.
  
  "I- I'm lost," Jerome sobbed. "And I shall die a foolish boy that no one will miss. Taken by a demon and never to be seen again!"
  
  "Yes. That would be unfortunate," the demon teased further, but surprised the boy some more: "Or, you shall see your kin again, and live to age and mature into a handsome young man- A really handsome young man."
  
  "H-how?" Jerome's voice cracked at the impossible notion. The Succubus answered by picking him up with her arms in the crook of his knees and around his back. It was strong, and the boy's weight was nothing. It pressed him close to itself, and it was warm and good, unlike the cold and darkness he thought it - her to be.
  
  "You will not freeze, young pricker," the Succubus said. Where there was once pretty baldness and ashen-grey skin, yellowish fire and a reddish hue took over. Jerome could feel the cold leaving him, as if the Succubus was a thick blanket. Despite his initial misgivings, the boy wrapped his arms around her, his tears unfreezing, free-flowing. Her hugged her, chest to chest.
  
  Through the night, the Succubus transported Jerome. The journey was slow and tough despite her demonic strength and resilience, but they made it to the bushy field where he was playing thief-and-watchman with his siblings.
  
  The siblings were gone. They had to abandon the search as the day turned into night, and became treacherous.
  
  So the Succubus brought the boy to the outskirts of his family's farm, and finally set him down on his feet, which had regained their strength.
  
  "Thank you," Jerome mumbled, and held the Succubus' hand tighter. "Please, my savior, come inside to my home. My parents would want to meet the woman who rescued me from certain death. Room and food are the least I can offer in exchange."
  
  The Succubus bent down again, seeing the boy eye-to-eye, her gaze and demeanor loving for a demon.
  
  "Oh, you silly little plaything," she said. "You can't - shouldn't let anyone see us together. And I do not need room and food even during such times."
  
  "I understand," the boy said, but would not let go of her hand, that tender, loving hand. "But please, please don't leave. I- I-" Tears flowed anew. Good friends were far and few, and he'd just met a new friend who would soon leave.
  
  "Shhh... Darling boy," the Succubus leaned in, and planted a kiss on his forehead. Her final gift. "Go, live your life. As many more winters come and go, you shall find another lady to befriend. And perhaps - love and marry."
  
  "At least tell me your name, O demon," Jerome asked, his heart swimming with impossible feelings for the horned lady.
  
  "I am Ushael," the Succubus obliged, "but you may call me Shae. Goodbye, love. Perhaps we may meet again."
  
  And with that, the Succubus turned and leave, and eventually faded into the dark.
  
  But that wasn't the end of this tale, no. For a few days later, on another wintry night, Jerome opened the door to some knockings and rappings, only to find a pile of gold and gemstones of various colours on the floor before him. Thus, his family was saved from severe suffering at best and slow death by starvation at worse.
  
  They lived happily ever after.
  
  The End.
  
  - The Demon & The Boy, A Children's Story Retold, based on a fairy tale of an earlier time. which was banned from circulation and the author executed for heretical crimes against King and Kingdom and Humanity. The few known copies to exist were put under heavy restrictions in the highest libraries of the human kingdoms.

 

[Melon Bomb]

Atlas's Big Ole Character Emporium

​

Spoiler: Charlotte Ayanodel

Name: Charlotte Ayanodel

Age: 26

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Details of Appearance: Charlotte is a fiery redhead, maintaining sturdy posture at any given moment with her head held high. In contrast, her eyes are a soft blue, offering a sense of warmth and ease in her presence. Her build is muscular, trained over years with hard experience, though she goes through great efforts to keep her face looking young and charming - out of no sense of vanity, but to better turn the tide of conversation in her favor as it suits her. Charlotte stands at 5'5", weighing somewhere around 130 pounds.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor:
  
  • [Weapon] Broadsword: A brand new blade of high quality. Charlotte has learned not to rely on one weapon for too long, especially fragile weapons like swords that could lose durability in invisible ways.
  • [Weapon] Hatchet: A smaller sidearm for combat at closer quarters, and bashing armor. Handed down to her by Adrian as a parting gift, it bears ornate glyphs symbolic of the civilization that produced it - simple weapon that it is, its quality is mastercraft and would surely last long after she was gone.
  • [Armor] Half Plate: Charlotte has found a partial suit of armor to be the best fit for her. While she could still move comfortably enough in heavier gear, it proved too exhausting for extended use. Underneath, she would wear padded armor to further cushion blows.
  • [Armor] Heater Shield: A shield often means the difference between life and death, so she readily carries one whenever she is able.
  Skills & Abilities:
  
  • [Skill] Misdirection: If there is one thing Charlotte is good at, it's fast-talking her way out of a situation. She is no stranger to bluffs and lies and can do it all without a hint of hesitation. Some people have naturally good poker faces, but her emotional distance makes acting practically second nature to her.
  • [Skill] Home Economics: To self-sustain, you must learn the basics of how to take care of yourself. Charlotte has taken it a step further and made it an essential to her daily regimen - she is an excellent cook, navigator, and planner. Anything below the top of her game is all but unacceptable.
  • [Skill] Self-Defense: Everyone's heard some story or other about warriors who charge into battle, slaying foes left and right leaving a mountain of corpses in their wake. Charlotte has become wise to the ways of survival, understanding that a good defense will wear out even the most experienced fighters. They will make a mistake.
• 
  In the rose-tinted world of Charlotte Ayanodel, Nymserine is one big game. A game that, according to her, can be beaten. As a woman of great ambition - and perhaps even greater delusion - her wanton pursuit for glory knows no barrier. Money, time, and even life itself are mere means to a larger whole. In her mind is a perpetual battle for supremacy: A human conscience fighting for her friends, for family, and for the realm - and a force of nature, hellbent on changing the world through sheer determination no matter the cost.
  
  Engaging with Charlotte, people will find that she is casual but upfront, flexible but unmoving. Beneath a modest and lively exterior was something strange, maybe even sinister. Behind the scenes are calculated moves and a distinct distrust of society - in spite of perceived closeness, she only ever held people at arm's length. The more attached she got to her pieces, the harder it would be to move them, after all.
  
  But there was an indistinguishable will inside of her, a magneticism to camaraderie and genuine happiness that just couldn't be shaken off - things she thought she was ready to sacrifice, but has yet to come to terms with. Even ambition would move for the heart, and in her mind, this was her greatest flaw.
  
• 
  Somewhere on the furthest outskirts of Akron, a miracle occurred. A child born, presumed to be dead on delivery opened her eyes just as plans for a funeral had gone underway. This child was Charlotte, born to a family of rogue slave traders moving to and fro, a cargo of impoverished to-be workers hauled behind them. Her earliest memories were that of a starving man, the prominence of his bones and the beggarly tatters of what used to be his clothes vivid in her mind.
  
  From the other side of the cage, she could see the grief in his eyes - but he did not mourn for himself. He mourned for the girl, who would be raised with the language of violence for years to come, who may never have the chance to lead a normal life. She didn't understand at the time, but deep inside something sparked. A feeling that felt alien to her, but lingered like a persistent thought - when she was much older, every so often she would look back and recognize that feeling as...
  
  ...Disgust. No matter what path she took in life, she would never become like this pathetic man, who had so readily given up on himself. She knew, this realm was in need of a hero, but a hero's job is not to save the world. No, a hero's job is to inspire people to save themselves. And to that end, she would use any means necessary.
  
  At the age of thirteen, such heroes appeared before her. Her family - mother, father, and brothers - they were all slain, and in the process their enslaved merchandise was freed halfway to Aeredale. Charlotte was taken in by a man who called himself Adrian Blank, a seasoned marksman who served as a veteran of the adventuring group that had raided their camp. It was strange, he was under the assumption that she had been abused, or perhaps brainwashed to become numb to the tragedy around her but that was not the case. She loved her family, just as they had loved her, but she held her tongue.
  
  And she came to love them, too. In the company of rowdy, fun-loving adventurers, she could still remember the highlights of her life. Adrian taught her not only how to survive in the wild, but also in the big cities. He was stunned by how quickly she learned the ropes and by the time she turned nineteen, she was a full-fledged member of their party. By the time she turned twenty-four, she had begun to develop her own agenda.
  
  With grace and gratitude, she parted with Adrian and the rest of the crew. As much as she loved the thrill of fighting together as a team, she was held down by their leadership and the flow of their group. She had other, bigger plans - putting lowlife scum six feet under was a pittance to her greatest ideals: Charlotte was going to change the world.

​

Spoiler: Nezma Brumont

Name: Nezma Brumont (Elrune Tahla)

Age: 39

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Details of Appearance: No one is really sure what Nezma looks like. Even the man himself is clueless to his true guise, as he cannot even recall the last time he has gazed upon his reflection. He keeps his mask on. . . even when he sleeps, only lifting it slightly to eat and drink. Or change masks. They don't stay clean forever, after all. He is 5'1", weighing approximately 100 pounds. He vaguely remembers sporting black hair - or was it dark brown? And blue eyes - or were they green? Nezma is quite active but remains slim in overall build, as he is not much of an eater. He dresses himself dramatically and with flair, like a performer, though he's rarely ever performed. All of it is genuine, or so he would say.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor:
  
  • [Weapon] Short Blades: On his person are always at least five or six blades that rest somewhere between a dagger and a short sword in size, though of course even that may vary if he has chosen to alter them with magecraft.
  • [Weapon] Chain Darts: Nezma carries two heavy chain darts and four light chain darts - though he is naturally proficient with them, their level of threat leaps exponentially with a little magical assistance. He typically only fights with his heavy darts until he is pressured, each chain with a range of a few yards.
  • [Armor] Chain Mail: Nezma wears mail armor less for general protection and more to buy split-seconds for his contact ability. As soon as the steel tip of an arrow or the flanged head of a mace strikes the mail, he can then begin to magically deflect the attack.
  • [Armor] Padded Cotton: Nezma is keenly aware of his vulnerability to electric currents and, ever saving for the rainy day, he fashions padded armor out of cotton to resist conducting electricity through his weapons or armor. It will do virtually nothing to protect from the heat discharge of a lightning bolt but at least he won't be paralyzed.
  • [Item] Neurotoxin: Nezma's arsenal isn't complete without a dash of poison! He takes great joy in tipping his weapons with lethal compounds, paralyzing and even outright killing some of the poor souls with only a scratch.
  Skills & Abilities:
  
  • [Magic] Metal Shape: Nezma is the iron maiden to heavy armor - as long as there is contact, he is able to move, bend, and compress metals of any type. His chain darts will shear through plate armor like paper, and shields will melt away from the handles leaving even the most confidently armored knight utterly defenseless. Enchanted objects can resist this transformation, but not completely - repeated strikes can and will wear them down.
  • [Skill] Four-Blade Combat: When in close quarters, Nezma utilizes a highly-aggressive counter style with two blades in his hands and two blades protruding from his elbows that can curve and change directions at will. He fights offensively and defensively simultaneously, alternating between catching and parrying weapons with his free blades and striking his opponent at the same time.
  • [Skill] Inhuman Dexterity: Some people are good at performing certain tasks, and some people are good. Nezma has an uncanny knack for scaling buildings and balancing on precarious ledges. He especially has a talent for disguising his motions with mundane actions - and being able to tell when others are doing it, too.
  • [Skill] Non-Visual Detection: Nezma's eyesight has always been quite poor, so to compensate, he has become excellent at picking up on his environment through scents and sound cues alone. Combined with his reaction speed, sneaking up on him or hiding from him immediately becomes a very difficult task. He has claimed that he could hear a person by their pounding heart, though it is unknown if the threat is legitimate. However, his claim that he could smell your fear is almost certainly a joke. Probably.
• 
  Nezma is a troublemaker at heart, and the kind of trouble he makes. . . tends to leave a body count. He treats the mundane with fascination, finding a way to enjoy even the simplest things in life - patient only to the degree to which he can sate his boredom, he bides his time until opportunity strikes. There is no joy in murder - or the sole act of such - but rather, the destruction of something more immaterial; pride, wealth, society, values - the action must be meaningful, for there is no purpose in a movement without feeling. Alas, he is only one man, running a one man show, so the burden of dirty work falls to him nonetheless. Nezma has no true 'goal' that he aspires to, every decision he makes is a product of his expression of free will. A state of being, so to speak - and he does not plan on losing it, for he will no longer be himself.
  
• 
  Boredom.
  
  The first waking emotion Nezma recalls experiencing in this world. As a young boy, he did not know any better so he simply did as he was told; wake up, eat, work, and sleep. . . and repeat, and repeat, and repeat, and repeat, and repeat. Fervently, he tried to alleviate this feeling - he played sports, but he found that he did not care about winning or losing. He picked up a pen and drew, but to draw is to capture feeling, not create it. He fiddled with the viola, but the music did not move him. He socialized with children his age, and. . . no, there was something here. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he could tell it was there. A feeling, buried somewhere. What was he missing? Was it camaraderie? Was it love?
  
  No. It was none of those things.
  
  It was fear.
  
  He came to realize, even the most rational of minds were a slave to emotion, and there was nothing more that he enjoyed than to watch them succumb to those base, animalistic instincts. The destruction of a 'person' - as they were reduced to nothing more than a mere beast with a tongue. And in the destruction of others, he found the creation. . . of himself. The Nezma he knew and identified was a reflection of that feeling, the feeling of being alive vicariously through another's undoing.
  
  Now, he has changed. Somewhat. Though it is a sensation that never fails to amuse him, he has learned to enjoy the little things. After all, one could go mad waiting so long between fragments of happiness, so few and far between. He wove it into his speech, his mannerisms, his everyday choices, so that waiting would not be waiting, but simply living. And he would continue to live, and to wait, until eventually he remembers that somewhere, he has prey to break.
  

​

Spoiler: Vie Telarosa

Name: Vie Telarosa

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Race: Fairy

Details of Appearance:

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor:
  
  • [Weapon] Dracaris: Dracaris is a powerful enchanted sword, passed down to her through the generations. Residing within its bindings nests a serpent-like guardian spirit, of which the weapon is aptly named after. Though he responds unerringly to commands, he tends to act autonomously in protection of his naive master. While its home lie in the blade's steel, Dracaris can inhabit other objects as well, temporarily enchanting them with great power. Supposedly, Dracaris can flourish to terrifying sizes but Vie isn't quite sure how to make that happen yet.
  • [Armor] Modified Plate: Vie dons specialized plate mail that gives breathing space for her wings.
  • [Tool] Grappling Hook: Never hurts to have one! Even though she can fly.
  Skills & Abilities:
  
  • [Skill] Swordplay: Vie might be incredibly bad at everything else, but she knows her way around a sword! Her technique and form training are impeccable, even if her speed and strength scores teeter more on the failing end of the spectrum. While familiar with popularized military and even street styles, she prefers something a little more homebrewed.
    • [Style] The Half-Drawn Blade: A unique fighting style she learned through her mentor, Dagne. Vie fights almost explicitly with her sheath, hilt, and the blunt end of her sword. While it has next to no use against large beasts, most people are unused to fighting against such an unorthodox style and are usually caught off guard by her movements. With this style, Dracaris serves a support role, namely distracting, toppling, and grappling the enemy with a higher focus on Vie's defense.
    • [Style] The Full-Moon Blade: When Vie is forced to fight seriously, she utilizes the blade edge and begins to use Dracaris for direct and lethal attacks along with her own strikes. She sets her sheath aside and grips the weapon with both hands, engaging gracefully and tactically with Dracaris for an efficient takedown.
    • [Style] The Hidden-Eclipse Blade: Despite the name, this style does not use a blade at all. Instead, Vie uses an experimental technique wherein she allows Dracaris to inhabit her body to empower her, becoming a human weapon with keen sense, strong blows, and blinding reflex.
  • [Ability] Flight: Vie is a fairy. She can fly. Not terribly well, but she can.
• 
  Vie is a sensitive soul, a bleeding heart to the unjust suffering of the world. She raises her blade for the sake of peace, and for second chances. These ideals are perhaps not masked, but instead representative of her lively demeanor. In the presence of strangers - aka friends - she is a ball of pure energy, introducing herself with bold, outrageous claims or otherwise being a silly and overconfident nuisance. She tries not to let her failures get the best of her, but when they start to pile up it isn't a pretty sight. Nevertheless, she always bounces back at full force each time, even if it means she has to wipe away a few tears along the way.
  
• 
  Vie's earliest memories are that of her time in the Lakeshire Orphanage, named after a small hamlet somewhere between Aeredale and the Cobalt River. Being a quaint, rural village on the countryside, the people prided themselves in their peace and detachment from the affairs and politics of the big cities. Vie was found as a child, with nothing to her name but a strange weapon of elven origin - a weapon which was, of course, withheld from her until she was of proper age. What she knew of the outside world she heard through word of mouth; so, mostly the other children of the orphanage, or from the plays they would sneak out at night to see. Vie was especially enraptured by the theatrics, envisioning herself on a stage and playing heroics to a crowd of ooh-ing and aah-ing onlookers. As a child, she didn't exactly make a connection between the performance and the supposed real life stories that were being enacted, but she absorbed it all regardless. With her friends, they would fabricate their own plays, acting out scenes and play fights with gusto - if they were feeling particularly venturous, her friend Elaan would flaunt her magic to truly bring their performances to life. Elaan was the daughter to the owner of the orphanage, an elder woman by the name of Trinda.
  
  As a lineage of mages, a select few of their fellow villagers would gradually conspire against them, fearful that their mere existence would threaten the tranquility of their village. And on one fateful night, a violent beast was let loose within their halls as an act of preemptive sabotage - the same night Vie and her friends had planned on sneaking out to catch another play. They scattered in every direction, every door closed and despairingly silent to their cries for help. Even Trinda, in fear for her own life, hid in her chambers as the snarling and scratching echoed beyond her door. One by one, they were hunted down and killed by the beast. Elaan was one of the two left remaining, fending off the creature with what meager spells were at her disposal. She bought time for Vie, who scoured the storage room for a weapon she had been meaning to seize for a long, long time. Mountains of junk toppled to the hardwood floors and through the dust screen, she finally prized the sword, holding it in her small hands for the first time in her life. Heart racing, she ran and stumbled back into the halls - but she was too late. Slathered in blood, the pitch black beast growled and snapped as it advanced toward Vie, the last one standing among them.
  
  Frozen in fear, the blade would draw halfway out of its sheath as the beast pounced upon her - just enough for Dracaris to arise from dormancy. The ethereal dragon cast itself from the sword and tackled the monster to the ground, tearing through its flesh with tooth and nail. Vie sat almost lifelessly on the floor, helplessly watching the carnage through teary eyes. The night would forever be burned into her memory, a memory that would eventually push her to follow her dreams.
  
  Years later, she left under the tutelage of Dagne, a skilled warrior - someone who knew her father, and the sword which housed the draconic spirit. It was then that she understood the roads that lie before her - she decided, above all else, that she would become a member of the Circle.
  

 

[Spacing Out]

ACCEPTED:​

Sadira Nallvir

• Basic Information
• Armor/Weapons

• 
  
  Name:
  Sadira Nallvir
  
  Age:
  23 years old
  
  Gender:
  Female
  
  Race:
  Fairy
  
  Details of Appearance:
  Sadira has long, brown, curly hair and Violet colored hues. Her skin tone is the shade of peach, which is very common among fair folks. She is the average height for a fairy being around 5 ft tall and weighing 110 pounds. What is the most notably about her is her wings. Almost as tall as she is being 4 feet in height; her wings are filled with various colors and seems to sparkle in the sunlight. She is no preference when it comes to clothing but a trademark of hers is walking/flying about barefoot. She claims that it keeps her close to the earth.
  
• 
  Armor:
  Sadira currently doesn't own any armor since she has no intention of rushing into battle any time soon.
  
  Weapon:
  
  Quarter-staff:
  a shaft of hardwood that is 6 feet long.it tends to be the weapon of choice among those who, for moral, religious and/or ethical reasons, refuse to take a life, but for various reasons find themselves requiring a method of defense.
  
  

• Skills/Abilities
• Personality
• Biography

• 
  
  
  Flight:
  Her wings grant her the ability to fly whenever she chooses.
  
  Nature magic:
  Fairies have the ability to call upon the force of nature through magic. This is only to the extent of plants, animals, and air.
  
  • Plants: Able to manipulate plant life, Sadira often uses the ability for defense.
  
  • ‎Animals: Sadira has the ability to talk to animals and understand their reactions. She also has the ability to influence animal behavior, However, she discourages the practice unless it is necessary.
  
  • ‎Air: the ability to control air/wind related magic. However, this doesn't mean that she is able to create and control the weather.
  
  Empathy:
  Sadira has a psychic bond between herself and the primal life force of Earth's biosphere. This bond with the Earth gives her spiritual and material sustenance with an empathic sense towards living things. She can fully interpreting and replication the emotions of others without reading apparent symptoms. Highly skilled fairies can manipulate emotions but she isn't to that point yet.
  
  Supernatural condition:
  fairies have capabilities that are pushed beyond the natural level of humans. Sadira most notable feature is her Agility. She is able to defend herself without needing to resort to magic by simply dodging and avoiding attacks. She was also limber; able to twist, bend, and contort herself into positions nearly impossible for an ordinary person to achieve.
  
  Weaknesses:
  
  When using Empathy, Sadira is only able to receive emotions.
  
  If she uses her empathic abilities on a person with strong emotions for a long amount of time, there is a chance she might get taken over by it and act on those emotions.
  
  Because she has empathic abilities, She is more vulnerable of be easily possessed by Spirits and Ghosts, as they are beings bound by emotions.
  
  Flora magic is powerless in areas without plants or at least the potential for plants to grow.
  
  Attacks from Fire Manipulation and/or Ice Manipulation can pose an issue on plant magic. It is also Susceptible to lightning strikes.
  
  Sadira can't use her wings if they are wet.
  
  Healing abilities drains the Mana out of her. If she uses too much, she can risk passing out or even death.
  ​
• 
  Easygoing, open-minded, comforting, generous, advising, kind, and humorous;
  Sadira is optimistic and masters the resilience to overcome many setbacks. However, beneath her easygoing attitude lays a passionate and fierce woman with experience in the ways of the world. Although she appeared hedonistic, Sadira's life philosophies are living life to the fullest and choosing your own destiny. She possesses a deep respect for life and freedom, leading her to pursue the life of a conditional pacifist and becoming a vegetarian.
  
  Sadira rarely hold grudges and does not seem to care much about her own welfare. She is also emotional and vulnerable. When hurt, she withdraws into a cloud of silence, eventually emerging from her reticence either with jokes and laughter that cover up her true feelings or becomes moody and cynical. Despite the fact that she can be frank and occasionally blunt, she usually means well, and her engaging demeanor usually allows others to forgive her any faux pas.
  
  Sadira also have very unusual habits and quirks. Sadira prefers to walk around barefoot since she claims that it bring her closer to nature, She looks up at the sky every once in a while, and has a soft spot for tea.
  Sadira prefers to solve problems non-violently. Even when forced into combat, she typically holds back, fighting defensively and trying to subdue opponents without seriously hurting them, even if they were not human. Sometimes her ideals on this are violated in certain circumstances. During battle, she also has a tendency to act on intuition rather than seriously analyzing a situation.
  
• 
  A brief overview of your character's life and background. Where are they from? Do they have family? What brings them to where they are now?
  
  ​

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

WiP

Lily​

Name: Lily
Age: 11
Gender: Female
Race: Demigod, Flower child of Adamine
Details of Appearance: Lily appears as a young girl with ivory pale skin, unusual green hair, and shining violet eyes. In most situations she'll be wearing an odd kind of metal mask that covers the lower half of her face.

​

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor: None
  
  Skills & Abilities: While there is an overflowing well of nature magic within Lily, she has very little control over it. It constantly leaks out and causes flowers to grow all around her and brings peace to the body and mind of those close. Her mask actually serves to help her keep some of her power contained, but without it she can breathe life into the pained and dying and cause incredible growth. Of course there is a reason she doesn't just run about without her mask, healing and bringing life to everything around her. If she gives away too much of her power she won't have enough for herself, to keep herself from falling apart. If she doesn't keep enough of her magic inside for herself her body will literally fade away and break apart into countless flower petals. She will eventually reform again after a time, but that time of nonexistence is scary enough that Lily is careful about keeping her magic bottled up inside as much as she's able. She has been forced to use this disappearing act as a way to escape from danger in the past, and each time it's unpleasant.
  
  
  
• 
  Lily is a kind and loving girl, and though you can't see the smile on her face, it's always there in her eyes. She is selfless in a way that she doesn't put others before herself, more that she doesn't ever stop to think of herself at all. So long as she's helping someone else that's enough for her. She's still a child though, even more so than her appearance lets on, and her innocence and naivety shine through whenever she encounters something new.
  
  Despite her usual cheerfulness, Lily's emotions can swing quite quickly, especially if she finds that she's no longer needed or wanted. Loneliness comes for her quickly and hits hard. She can't deal with feeling alone or isolated, she needs to be needed. Even worse than emotional isolation is physical isolation. Lily is absolutely terrified of being trapped or locked away from others. This manifests most commonly in claustrophobia and a fear of the dark (she can deal with this pretty okay by keeping in contact with something alive, either a person or some plant is enough). She'd rather risk using up all of her power and disappearing than being locked away again.
  
  
  

  ​
• 
  
  

  
  ​
  • Magus Bouquet
  • Flower Child
  • Act 3

  • 
    Aesen was breathing heavy by the time he finally found the place he was looking for. He'd wanted to get there many hours ago, but now the sun was already starting to make its way back down from the sky. That trader who'd told him of the place had given terribly unreliable directions to find it. But... now that he'd found it, everything that elf had said about the place seemed like it might be true. There in the depths of the forest was a small lake. Its crystal clear waters were so perfectly still looking into it he could believe that he was staring up into another version of the world. He shook himself from its trance. The reason he was here was the many closed pink flower buds covering the surface of the lake. "Magnus bouquet," he whispered, letting a wide grin spread across his face.
    
    The flowers had many names. Magnus bouquet, Magnus flowers, Magnus lilies, and by those who preferred not to mix theology with botany: night lilies. The old tale went that Adamine once gave a bouquet of the flowers to Magnus, though what for Aesen didn't remember. Theology had never been of much use to him. What couldn't be denied was the flowers' magical properties. They stayed closed all day only to open up and glow softly throughout the dark hours. But they also bloomed whenever they were exposed to magic, shining brightly in its presence. For this reason the flower was always valued highly by those who could afford to keep one nearby, a ward and a forewarning against magic. The added beauty of the flowers only added to their appeal.
    
    They were a flower Aesen had only seen a handful of times in his life, once in an old elf woman's garden and the rest on the possession of some noble or another, or rather, in the possession of some noble's wife or daughter and kept close at hand. If he could manage to grow night lilies to sell to the rich he'd be able to pay back everything he owed and then some. He was good with plants, he thought could be the person to finally crack the secret to making this flower grow outside of its few secluded natural sources.
    
    He didn't have much time to spare if he intended on making it back to shelter before nightfall, so Aesen got right to work wading into the shallow waters of the lake. He gathered a few of the smaller plants near the edge of the lake, but he also wanted some of the larger plants as well. He made his way deeper in, but the lake proved to be shallow throughout. "This one seems pretty old but still full of life. Probably good enough. Can always find my back now that I know where this place is if it isn't enough. Hmm?"
    
    A singular ripple that wasn't from his own movement spread across the surface of the lake. As it passed by the flowers held in his hand suddenly burst to life, unfurling its many pink petals and releasing a bright white light. One by one every flower across the lake was overtaken by the same transformation. The sudden light and its reflection off the mirror-like water was almost blinding.
    
    Even if the flowers hadn't told him, Aesen would have been able to tell. He could feel it in his bones. He was in the presence of powerful magic. Should he run away? He'd spent enough time around elves to be able to list off hundreds of reasons why magic wasn't something he should mess around with. But he wasn't an elf, and instead of fear he found himself simply staring at the scene that surrounded him and thinking only of how beautiful it was. Back towards the lake's edge the light was dimmer, he could even make out individual flowers shining. Towards the center the light was stronger. He pushed towards that light.
    
    
  • WiP
  • WiP

 

[Zazz]

ACCEPTED: Azaria​

Name: Azaria Eldrvarya
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Race: Halfling - Elf & Human
Details of Appearance:

Spoiler: Photo

Azaria is short for an elf, standing at about 5'5", and weighs roughly 120lbs. Her piercing green eyes are intimidating, accented by sharp, dark eyebrows. Her hair is long and dark, like ink, and hides her pointed ears. While not nearly as exaggerated as a full elf's, her ears are, indeed, pointed, and she sometimes darkens the tips to blend them in with her hair to seem less conspicuous. She wears all black, save for the jewels in her weapons. All of the subtle muscle. All of it. She is lithe and elegant like her elven ancestors, especially in combat, and moves almost silently. On her face is a black tattoo, as shown in the photo, by her right eye.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor:
  Bow, arrows, and quiver; a belt holds throwing knives of varying lengths and a pair of jeweled daggers. Along her thigh are three throwing spikes.
  Skills & Abilities: Hella accurate with ranged weaponry. Azaria is stealthy and quiet; she makes an excellent thief, hunter, and assassin, if the need arises. She quite often sleeps up in the trees, so she's an excellent climber. Also good with her two daggers when it comes to close combat, but not so great with a sword or axe. Quick and agile.
  
• 
  Azaria is not generally in a good mood. She hates social hierarchies. Her gaze is intense and intimidating, and she likes it that way. At first meeting, she will 100% hate your guts. That will turn into annoyance, if you stick around. Which may or may not morph into fondness. She will sooner have a blade to your throat than shake your hand.
  
  While she does despise the hierarchy, she knows her place as a halfling and will bow her head to royalty, however much it kills her to do so. She is proud, and hasty. Her father's human blood often boils with anger, ready to burst.
  
  That being said, she does feel lonely, sometimes, and while she dislikes people, she longs for a companion or two. A family not of blood.
  
• 
  Hailing from Shylanora, Azaria has always been treated as the lowliest of the elves because of her half-human blood. Her mother fell in love with a human man, but when questioned, she denounced him and he was killed. Azaria trained alongside the other elven children, having to always work harder to be seen as an equal, if that. She grew to loathe her mother, and the society she chose over her father. She left after a heated argument and never once looked back.
  

 

[Best Trekkie.]

Name: Margoth Athrenian
Race: Human
Age: 3,000
Gender: Male


Appearance:

Margoth is average sized for a human of the Athrenian culture. He has no age limit but he isn't immortal; quite the contrary in fact. He stands at 5'7" and weighs just under 135lbs. He wears an ancient athrenian cloak and weilds an Athrenian offensive mage staff. Athrenians were trained in the art of Frost magic in such a way that it is considered unnatural by most other races. Because of his nonexistent age limit Athrenians can even out live ancient elves. Athrenians reach maturity at their 6,000th birthday.

Fighting style:


WIP (Will be done soon)

 

[SilverFlight]

ACCEPTED: Pyrrhus Elantus ​

Name: Pyrrhus [peer-rus]
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Centaur
Details of Appearance:

Pyrrhus stands 5ft at his equine back with a total height of 8ft. Lean and well-muscled his skin is a dark olive and his hair is black and wiry, with a slight reddish tint when it catches light. A brittle mane of hair is cut short down his back, with pieces left long and braided to end in glimmering copper rings. His face is angular, with a down-turned nose and long, fur-covered ears. He wears sideburns that stop just shy of his cheekbones, and trace the line of his jaw to disappear into the wiry hair about his ears. His eyes are startlingly blue, round, and contain a gentle inquisitiveness that is comically at-odds with the rest of him. His coat is ash-grey with a red sheen the same as his hair. Short and glossy fur coats thick limbs that end in feathered hooves. His tail is like that of a bull, thick as a sapling and tapers to end in a tuft of wiry hair. Pyrrhus' clothing is minimal: a leather harness tied about his equine body to hold the sheaths for his knives at the shoulder. Leather straps across his bare chest to hold a quiver of arrows. His forearms are wrapped in leather bracers that are studded with brass. His ankles are guarded in steel bracers, to allow him to deflect blades without injury.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor: A pair of Arathean steel knives, the blades of each about 2 ft long. They are simple pieces, unadorned, though they are hard as dragon scales and do not dull. Pyrrhus also carries a bow of yew wood and arrows he makes himself, fletched in red. Unbeknownst to Pyrrhus the leather armour plate on his back is charmed with a resistance to dark magics. The damage depends on the nature and strength of the spell but the piece does its work to reduce the effects of most magics of evil intent. Pyrrhus won it in a game of cards.
  Skills & Abilities: Pyrrhus has trained with his blades since he was old enough to use them. Many centaurs prefer the reach of a spear or staff as it protects their flanks and back. Pyrrhus is a daring fighter and has learned to be quick with blade and hoof. He is a fine archer, though prefers combat face to face rather than using his bow in a straight battle. Pyrrhus is also a very accomplished healer, dedicating himself to magics that restore and revive and dabbles in earth magic, enough to help the farmers of his homeland with the growth of their meager crops.
  
• 
  At first glance, you would peg Pyrrhus as a rough, intimidating and hardened warrior, but to dispel this illusion Pyrrhus need only open his mouth. He is eloquent despite the thick accent of the Western deserts, and charming, though...not terribly bright.
  He is a fan of poetry and theater and song and knows many pieces by heart. He has a child-like playfulness that sometimes seems downright strange for a full-grown warrior: he is always ready to pull pranks or to cause laughter wherever he can. Needs had him learn his blades inside and out, but he much prefers conversation to combat, being good at both.
  Pyrrhus is an honorable centaur, trusting and honest, even when sometimes he oughtn't to be. He is loyal, and kind and jovial in all but the direst of circumstances. He makes light of pride and arrogance and values sincerity and integrity. Making him angry is a very difficult task, but if you manage he will not show it right away, instead his joking might grow barbed and cold. Only if you do something truly despicable will you summon his wrath.
  
• 
  His family was part of a small tribe living on the edge of the Kali-Sharri desert. Many of the fighters hired themselves out as bodyguards to the trading caravans that drifted in and out of the area. Learning to fight was essential and so, when Pyrrhus was old enough to run by himself, his mother began to teach him combat. Pyrrhus learned that one did not argue with Alyan Elantus, she was chief of their tribe for a reason. He learned to fight, but also, he learned of the arts. Night after night he would sneak out to the human settlements to watch a play or hear a ballad. Spending more time with humans taught him to read and as soon as he was trained in combat, and his mother said she had no more to teach Pyrrhus left his clan and traveled East. He found it a much more unforgiving place than he had heard of in the stories and songs, but centaurs are born warriors and he survived well, even after a few hard-earned lessons. He learned to fight creatures of darkness, enemies that were larger than he was, that spit venom or used dark spells. Eventually it earned him a role as a body guard to a noble. Fortune would not be with him on one particular night, when he stumbled upon a half-formed enchantment and blundered the spell. He did not wait until the dust cleared before he quietly resigned his post and struck out to find other work.
  

 

[Lekiel]

ACCEPTED:​

Fernwe's Theme:

Spoiler

Fernwe & Finwinne​

Name: Fernwe Ann Finwinne I'm telling you! It was a mistake! It's 'AND' you DIMWIT! Not ANN! This PUP here is FINWINNE!!
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Race: Halfling Human... and fairy... what?! dont look at me like that! Pa must've loved sniffing flowers.
Details of Appearance: Are you seriously going to ask me this? Fine. I stand at a staggering height of 4 and half foot lengths- THAT'S TALL BY FAIRY STANDARDS! STOP LAUGHING!.I have soft brown hair, it goes past my shoulders and halfway down my back. They match my eyes... Lysand says they're the colour of sun-bleached acorns...I don't know how I feel about that comparison I also have two tiny horns sticking from the sides of my head, like yay photo over there

... Except that the artist drawing my portrait was a little over enthusiastic with the horns, they aren't that big!. Let's see, what else? What? Body built? Light as a feather with some lady bits- stop-! Go bother someone else please, urgh!

Now this pup here... this is the ONE AND ONLY... FINWINNE! She's named after me, you see... Lysand says she's a Tikitooth. A stunted Tikitooth. Poor thing, forever the size of a cat. What's a TIKITOOTH?! tiktik... HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW? tiktik... tiktik You hear that? That's the sound they make when they're explori- FINWINNE COME BACK HERE! Stoopid fuzzlepuff!

They have no sense of direction... or maybe its just Finwinne. Lysand says they don't stay this size. Apparently, depending on what they eat and where they live, the can grow to the size of a lion. If they live near rivers, lakes or seas, eat fish all day long... they might grow webbed feet and even gills! But alas, poor Finwinne will never reach her sea lion potential.tiktik... But Finwinne's very special though... you'll see late- STOP SNIFFING THAT MUSHROOM YOU BRAINLESS CAT!

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor:
  
  Fernwe carries a modest backpack of various travelling supplies. She dons a simple tunic and breeches. The tunic is reinforced with Whitewood plating and a leather bodice. Over it all, she wears a deep blue cloak, for protection against the environment.
  
  A couple pouches of various seeds, herbs and poultices are secured to her belt. A slim, finely crafted but otherwise unremarkable Whitewood dagger is sheathed on a garter around her left thigh.
  
  Skills & Abilities:
  
  In terms of melee, Fernwe is very deft at using her dagger to cut potatoes. yep.
  
  In terms of range, Fernwe has no idea how to shoot a bow, let alone hit a scampering Finwinne. I WASN"T AIMING FOR HER-!
  
  Despite her stunning physical prowess, Fernwe is extremely nimble. You want to fight her? Yeah sure... oh wait, she's gone! While lacking in physical combat, Fernwe moves and dodges as swift as a coursing riverrr!! She can be very slippery to pin down and can creep as silently as Finwinne on the prowl. Minus the tiktiks
  
  Fernwe is also adept at herbology and naturopathic healing.
  
  My Spellbook :
  
  

  1

  
  Triggerseed The main source of Fernwe's magic. Triggerseeds are used especially when there are no other flora nearby. Fernwe can also coax any plant to bequeath to her more triggerseeds. As the name suggests, triggerseeds when used by one adept at nature magic, can burst into a small mound of bushy plants when thrown on the ground. With altering incantations, Fernwe can prod the seeds into forming various other flora. Examples include grasping thorn vines, snapping gardenjaws, putrid sapslingers and various other not-so-harmless vegetables.
  
  Tikinoms A tiny nibble pellet, made with several herb poultices and crushed triggerseeds which Fernwe can feed to Finwinne. By default, Tikinoms will cause Finwinne to grow extremely rapidly to the size of a large bear wherein her tiktiks will become BOOMBOOMS! The effect can last for several minutes up to an hour, but will leave Finwinne extremely weak at the end of it depending on the length of the morphing. Other herbs can be added to Tikinoms with varying effects. Adding mountain moss will cause Finwinne to grow hooves akin to that of mountain goats. Adding various forms of aquatic plants will result in Finwinne having webbed feet and being able to breathe underwater. Adding the rare Caeli Spores, a mountainous herb will cause Finwinne to spout wings.
  
  Glimmershroom After carefully sifting through the forest floors, one may come across a purple coloured mushroom. These glimmershrooms can be harvested and carefully prepared by Fernwe. Ingesting bits of it will grant the person extreme clarity of thought, such that their focus cannot be distracted by any means possible. They will also feel a rush in their spirit, leaving warriors invigorated, mages fountaining with mana and Finwinne intoxicatedly bumping into trees. Glimmershrooms are rare and hard to come by, as such, Fernwe uses them sparingly.
  
  Vigorflow The first form of magic which Fernwe learned on her own and also the reason why her Spriggan mentor believes the girl from nowhere would one day, achieve much. With a touch, Fernwe can sacrifice a portion of her lifeforce to heal and restore another being. Not much is known about how this works exactly, and even Fernwe will admit that she does it intuitively rather than knowingly. Presumably, Fernwe can regain what she lost with enough rest, but performing vigorflow could cost her dearly if she isn't careful.
  

  
  
• 
  Fernwe is spirited, bright and an unusually optimistic individual especially when it comes to the caring of the natural flora and animals around her. When among friends, which is most of the fairfolk, she will not hesitate to joke, insult and in the case of Finwinne, playfully abuse those she cares for.
  
  She is more guarded when it comes to her dealings with the other races, espcially those of the elfkin.
  
  Fernwe is more of a careful planner, often running thought experiments in her mind about how she would react in different situations. This allows her to pull extraordinary feats out of her derriere, whilst simultaneously making it look spontaneous. However, this trait may not be ideal in unfamiliar situations or if she is faced with an enigmatic foe.
• 
  Fernwe is vegetarian. Just thought I'd put this out there first
  
  Fernwe's memories of her biological parents are sketchy. She remembers that her father was a traveling merchant of sorts. Merchanting his wares from Aeredale and Akron down to Shylanora in the south west. He had fallen in love with a Fairy Maiden during one of his many stops in Selenia, on route to the elven city. Fernwe also remembers bundling up in large hooded cloaks where she and her mother would sit in the shadows, as far away from prying eyes especially when they entered Shylanora.
  
  She did not fully understand why they had to do it back then and loathed not being able to get out of the stuffy land caravels for days on end. One fateful day, she sneaked out of the caravan in an attempt to watch her father at his work. Regretably, she was discovered and shouts of a filthy halfling rang out through the elven tradeport. Her father retrieved her and left the town at great haste, for fear of what the elves might do if they found out that Fernwe was not only a halfling, but had showed the Markings of Magnus. In his rush, he took their convoy down a different route through the darker reaches of the Carpathian Forest.
  
  Fernwe only remembers screams, and the hushed whisper of her mother as she layed herself over her daughter protectively. Be still and be quiet, her mother had said, even as her back was ripped out by a snarling creature of darkness. Fernwe lay quiet obediently, not moving for days. Only when the carrion creatures began feeding off her mother's corpse, did she dare move. Her mother's lifeless eyes staring unseeingly, Fernwe crawled out from the scene of carnage, mind too numb and shocked to think of anything else other than her gnawing hunger and thirst. She walked for days, her small form very much alone and vulnerable in the deepening gloom of the depths of the Carpathian.
  
  Too weak to carry on, a young Fernwe settled herself down for what would be her last night. She lay against a giant mushroom, its fluorescent purple cap gleaming softly in the deepening night. As she was about to close her eyes, a soft tiktik followed by a pained mew sounded by her side. Fernwe painstakingly dragged herself up, and saw a little cat-like creature staring at her just at the edge of the mushroom light. If she had any breath left to spare, Fernwe would've gasped at the deep crimson slash marks across the Tikitooth's back. Perhaps the feline saw that she was too weak to be a threat, or perhaps it had found a kindred spirit in the girl. Whatever it was, the cat tentatively stepped within reach of Fernwe. Reaching up, the little halfing carressed the soft fur of the tikitooth, the soft warmth lulling her mind and for the first time in weeks, she felt a calmness spread throughout her small aching battered frame.
  
  "Adamine... grant this, my last wish. Whatever little I have left, let me trade it for this one's life..."
  
  Just as she began to slip into oblivion, a loud groaning voice drifted through the night.
  
  "What manner of mushroom are ye? Thee doth not has't roots! Art thou here to disturb mine grove little fungus?"
  
  
  . . | . . ​
  Lysander Briarbark the Aged rarely spoke of the day he saved the young halfling from certain death. Even when Fernwe pestered him for details. Suffice to say, the old Spriggan brought the child and her new friend back to the City of Selenia. It was here, where Fernwe finally had a place to call a home. Though somewhat of a grumpy old fart, Lysander and the fairfolk of Selenia eventually become family to the young halfling. On the old spriggan's part, he treated Fernwe as if she were his own sapling. Giving her plenty of care, sunlight, and even teaching her the ways of the forest and the magic of life.
  
  Much as Selenia and Lysander's Grove was now home, perhaps it was her father's blood in her that itched to see the rest of what the land of Nymserine had to offer. And so, with the old Spriggan's grudging blessing, Fernwe set out to see where her adventures would take her.

 

[Abendrot]

Thydric Colbeir
[COMPLETE]
OCCUPATION: Thief || ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good || VOICE CLAIM: Domhnall Gleeson ​

Name: Thydric Colbeir
Age: 94 human years
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Details of Appearance: Tall with stereotypical elven features, Thydric sports a lean, willowy physique with a few scars smattered here and there. One on his upper right shoulder and another on his chin, both earned by sharp edges during particularly 'exciting' heists. There is a large patch of burn scars on the left side of his abdomen. His dark hair hangs well past his shoulders, though he usually wears it up with a leather tie when on the job. Narrow green eyes stare out at the world, which deepen to the color of moss near the pupils.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor: Two long daggers, lovingly made, and a number of throwing knives concealed in his sleeves and his belt (max 12). He wears an elegant, yet functional suit of leather armor with green and blue hues. Pauldrons sit on his shoulders, fastened tightly. A belt holds his knives as well as tools of the trade. He wears a pair of studded bracers, engraved with leaf-like patterns.
  Skills & Abilities: Thieving, lockpicking, impersonations, disguises, sneaking, sleight of hand, knife-throwing, knife fighting, a bit of gymnastics, speaks Elvish as his first language, is surprisingly well-learned in mathematics, and has minor knowledge of first aid.
  
• 
  Thydric is a consummate professional, though not nearly as crude as others in the trade. Graciously mannered and eloquently tongued, he tries his best to treat those around him with respect. He carries himself with a calm, confident air, listens with care, and responds to all with enthusiasm. Strong business and personal relations have developed from these courtesies. Thydric delights in thievery. Every heist is a relishing challenge, the coin a way of keeping score, and at the end of the day, he's likely to spend his money filling beggars' cups or buying rounds for an entire tavern.
  
  While he keeps little secret of his blithe, laissez-faire approach to life, he does feel a need to keep some distance between him and his clients. As such, he may come off as withdrawn and slow to trust. He strives to be self-sufficient whenever possible, and loathes the idea of relying on others for help. Thydric avoids dealing in matters of murder and refuses to partake in slavery, though he realizes that this is not a realistic point of view in his line of work. Should he be wronged, however, he'll reveal a shade of cruelty that is otherwise kept hidden, always with the purpose of getting even . . . and then some.
• Thydric wasn't sure where exactly he and his sister Gwynefor were born, only that it was among a copse of trees deep in the Carpathian Forest. Their parents were both well-to-do traders who were an exception to the notion that elves were sedentary creatures. The twins spent their childhood travelling between their parents' business enterprises in Carpathia and beyond, learning to love the road and causing no small amount in mischief in the towns they came across. They were not mean-spirited children, but their antics often drove their parents to exasperation. Father once tried to capture his interest by showing him some sleight of hand tricks, though he would've regretted that decision later, considering how well his aptitude translated to pickpocketing and theft. He made a game of turning his pockets out at the end of the day, showing off to his sister all the neat trinkets he had managed to steal, though she always insisted he return them the next day.
  
  On their ninth birthday, Gwyn received a doll from Mother, who had woven it herself out of unsold cotton and fabrics. Gwyn cherished that doll with every fiber of her heart, and so it became her new best friend and constant companion. Thydric, of course, came to see the opportunity to torment her with it, as brothers always did with their sisters. One day, he snatched the doll out of her fingers and ran, cackling impishly. Enraged, Gwyn gave chase, yet when she reached out to grab it back, flames leapt forth from her fingers, injuring Thydric and catching the house afire. Stricken with dread, Mother and Father realized their daughter was a mage. Thus, the family made a hasty departure, leaving Carpathia for good.
  
  Deciding that the Academy at Waldorf would be the safest place for Gwynofor, they made off in that direction. They travelled from village to village for over a month, staying for no longer than necessary. Gwyn was to stay indoors as much as possible as her mother tried her best to help control her powers. Thydric convinced his father to teach him how to fight, pointing out that witch-hunters would be hot on their tail soon enough, and his natural agility translated will into fighting with knives. Just days before they were set to reach Waldorf, however, things took a turn for the worst. A group of witchhunters was waiting for them at the next village, swords brandished and torches aflame. The family was separated, with Thydric and Mother making a dash down the north-eastern road, and Gwyn and father vanishing in the wilderness.
  
  Thydric never saw Gwynofor or their father again.
  
  Their loss left a profound hollowness in Thydric's heart, but he did not take it nearly as hard as Mother did. For the rest of her life she would remain a broken woman, never speaking out of grief for her family. Without any other place to settle, Thydric and his mother made the long trek to Aeredale, far to the north. With the rest of their money gone, they were force to sleep beneath hedges on the roadside, and once in Aeredale, a hovel in the slums, scraping together what they could to get by. Starving with a helpless mother and no other way to make ends meet, Thydric turned to his old mischievous ways to gain profit. Picking pockets gained a fair amount of coin, but it would take more than that to keep himself and Mother fed. Sneaking about town, he heard news of a dwarven caravan entering the city from the southeastern road in late evening. By some miracle, he was able to steal a small box of rubies from them. That was his first heist, and he loved every second of it.
  
  Using some of the rubies, the two were able to buy a modest home for themselves on the outskirts of the city. Thieving, as Thydric had discovered, was something he was good at, and his little five-finger discount had not gone unnoticed in the criminal underground. At sixteen years of age, he was discovered by a human crewleader named Corvus, who offered the young elf a tentative place in his gang. Corvus was a well-respected thief, a man of discipline, who insisted that his crewmates be flexible in both body and mind. Working for him, Thydric was able to look after his mother and slowly ply his way up Aeredale's underground. Soon enough, his temporary position became permanent, and Thydric became sort of a protege to Corvus. He took pride in what they were doing to help others through illicit means. Corvus took on plenty of young street urchins as a way to give them opportunities.
  
  Yet even as Thydric reined in coin, his mother's health continued to deteriorate, until she finally passed away. As Corvus grew old, he too decided to retire. After he spirited himself away to Selenia, Corvus's gang, by mutual agreement, split up. These days, Thydric continues to meander around, still lending his services to those willing to fork over enough cash.
  

 

[C.C.]

ACCEPTED:
Morrigan Melinda

​

Name: Morrigan Melinda
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Race: Demi-God
Details of Appearance:Morrigan has ghostly white skin and skin. She is often slouching, but when she stands straight Morrigan is 5'11" and weights 120 lbs. She often wears a pitch black cloak of darkness instead of physical clothes.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor: Morrigan has never touched a physical weapon in her life, knowing all well the damage they can cause. She drapes herself is a long flowing cloak of pure darkness, a gift from Erebus, which protects her against her enemies. The cloak can take all different manners of forms and is Morrigan's greatest asset in a conflict.
  
  Skills & Abilities:
  Morrigan can sense when death is near, as well as see all manner of ghost and spirit even if they try and hide from her. Morrigan often prefers to stay out of fights, and can travel through shadows at a moments notice, provided she is near one. She can call upon fallen warriors to rise and aid her in battle. Morrigan can attack her enemies very soul with spears of phantom energy.
  
• 
  Morrigan is a kind and weary lady. She hates death and conflict but understands its necessity in the world. She enjoys guiding lost souls to their resting place and calming restless spirits. Morrigan is often mistaking for depressed or sad, but the truth is that she just enjoys her space, especially when it's peaceful and quiet.
  
• 
  As a child, Morrigan didn't have many friends or at least living friends. She would often talk to ghost when she was young, which didn't do well for her reputation. However, Morrigan was always content with ghost friends. They would tell her about their lives before death and Morrigan would always listen intently. Morrigan's mother never saw her daughters gift as a child's delusion and in fact, helped her daughter channel her ability into something positive.
  
  Morrigan and her mother would travel from city to city helping grieving families get closure with their deceased loved ones and in exchange, the families would give them a place to sleep. All seemed well, however, there were some who grew fear the pair, calling them witches. One bleak night a group of scoundrels gathered in front of a cottage that Morrigan and her mother was staying in. Morrigan felt that death was near and tried to warn her mother, but it was in vain. The group of witch hunters burned down the cottage, and in the burning inferno, Morrigan lost her mother.
  
  While Morrigan mourned her mother the pair were soon reunited. The ghost of Morrigan's mother soothed her daughter and taught her that everyone has to go eventually. Strengthen by her mother's words, Morrigan continued to travel the lands of Nymserine aiding all who needed healing.
  

 

[Brendanfp]

ACCEPTED: Ali Zahara

​

Name: Ali Zahara
Age: 198
Gender: Male
Race: "Cursed" Human
Details of Appearance: Ali has not aged a day since Zod took control of his body. Ali looks like a 13-year-old Kali child. From his sun-kissed skin to his baggy traditional Kali clothing. Ali stands at an unimposing 4'11" and weights 112 lbs. His body is covered his customary Kali tattoos and his hair is curly brown hair is dreaded. Ali uses powerful illusions in order to hide his demonic appearance.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor: Ali hates armor as it restricts his movements and weighs him down. He instead relies on his supernatural senses and reflexes to defend against danger. Ali poses two dwarven daggers that he was gifted during his travels. Their names are Höger & Vänster. Ali also wears a cursed amulet that contains the powerful archdemon Zod.
  
  
  Spoiler: Höger & Vänster

  Ali's blades were crafted and enchanted by a skill dwarven blacksmith. The pair of blades is enchanted so that they return to Ali's hands whenever he calls on them by name.
  Spoiler: Amulet of Zod

  

  
  ​

  The Amulet of Zod is a powerful cursed amulet that contains the soul of the archdemon Zod himself, as well the former magic stores of the Zarian Magi Ali. Cursed with Zod's power the amulet is impossible to take off of the wearers body unless Zod wills it. The wearer can tap into the power of Zod, at a price.
  
  Skills & Abilities: Ali's greatest weapon is his two hundred years of experience and immense knowledge of the magic of Nymserine, however, due to the loss of his ability to use his own magic he must rely on other means to defend himself. When the archdemon Zod took control of Ali's body he tainted Ali with demonic magic. Because of this Ali has great demonic powers and abilities. The cursed boy is also in possession of two powerful spirits of fire, an Ifrit, and a Djinn.
  
  
  Spoiler: Cursed Body

  While Ali is a human he has a body tainted by demonic magic. Because of this Ali has white hair, crimson eyes, feral teeth, and wicked claws. The child has supernatural senses, strength, and stamina. His body is highly resistant to dark magic but susceptible to light magic. Ali's body is also ageless.
  Spoiler: Demonic Magic

  

  
  ​

  When Ali sealed the archdemon Zod within his own amulet along with his own magic, he lost all his former magical abilities. However, what he got instead was a demonic body and the lingering demonic magic of Zod. Ali applied his knowledge of magic towards this new power and mastered his new demonic abilities. Ali is a master of powerful and complex illusions that can fool even the most well-trained eye. He can also use Hypnos to take control of the weak-willed.
  Spoiler: Shala the Ifrit

  

  
  ​

  Shala is an immensely powerful Ifrit that roamed the Kali Desert. She often took the form of a giant serpent when she was free. One day she found herself surrounded by a gang of desert poachers. Shala fought for an entire day and an entire night, but she was eventually captured by the hunters. When Ali saw this he stepped in and freed Shala from the men, earning her as a faithful servant.
  
  Shala is a master pyromancer with a hot temper. She can shapeshift with ease but prefer the form of a desert boa. She sees herself as a mother or big sister to Ali advising him whenever he is making difficult decisions.
  Spoiler: Bajir the Djinn

  

  
  ​

  Bajir is an ancient Djinn of the sand, known as the sand runner. Throughout all of Ali's travels, he is constantly pursued by Djinn who wish to bind with him. Usually, Ali is able to refuse or escape the Djinn, however, Bajir was the only Djinn who Ali could not get away from.
  
  Bajir is a master of sand magic and protective runes. The Djinn is also extremely fast in all his forms. He is calm and tempered and contains immense knowledge. He often takes the form of a desert scarab and hangs around in Ali's clothes.
  Spoiler: Archdemon Zod

  

  
  ​

  The Archdemon Zod was instrumental during the Hallowed Exodus and was a key pawn of Azarath. In order to escape death, he bound his soul to a golden amulet in hopes that one day a mage with exceptional magical abilities would find it so he could destroy their mind and steal their body.
  
  Ali the Magi currently wears the amulet and has trapped Zod within it, however, Zod is not defeated. He is only biding his time till the Magi needs his power. Zod can speak to Ali telepathically and often tries to corrupt the boy. Zod can also communicate to his demon brethren and occasionally sends demons to test Ali's strength.
  
  
• 
  Ali is a child at heart no matter how old he becomes. Above all, he values knowledge and saw it as the most powerful weapon. The cursed child can be moody at times, however, he loves nothing more than giving aid to those who need it. Ali is a genius when it comes to the matter of magic, however, since he no longer has the ability to use magic he frequently tells others how to better their abilities. Ali also harbors a powerful grudge against demons.
  
  Ali loves to travel, however, he has low inhibition and can be vulgar at times. When he isn't working to better the land of Nymserine. He can be found indulging the world's luxuries. Ali is a glutton and could eat a meal meant for three grown men. He also loves women, wine, and entertainment using these things to fill the hole left in his heart.
  
• 
  Ali was born nearly two centuries ago during the infancy of the Kali-Sharri Desert in the fourth era of Nymserine. During this time the largest desert city was known a Zaria and this is where Ali would come to grow up. The city's chief, Solomon Zari was a student of the first child of Magnus and his disciples were know as the Zarian Magi. While Zaria was still relatively small. Solomon and his Magi were world renown.
  
  From a young age, Ali had shown a powerful affinity for magic. He mastered several forms of magic, surpassed his elders and became a Zarian Magi all before the age of twelve. Solomon quickly noticed the potential of the young Magi and made Ali his apprentice. However, while Ali trained day and night honing his magical abilities he was still a child. He often played desert games with his friends, studied for the mundane subjects, and even spent time with his young love, Jazmine. However, Ali's favorite hobby was exploring the ruins which often held trinkets and treasure from the Hallowed Exodus.
  
  One faithful day Ali was exploring the deepest levels of what seemed to be an ancient tomb. He descended further down into the depths of the catacomb until he came across a fascinating sight. A massive door sealed by the first son of Magnus. The magic seal was extremely powerful but had weakened with time. It took everything Ali had, but he was finally able to undo the seal and see what lied behind doors.
  
  Within the depths of the tomb lied the massive corpse of an archdemon, and within in claws an amulet. Ali's curiosity got the best of him. He took the amulet and put it around his neck. Instantly he realized his mistake as the powerful archdemon, Zod took control of his body. The demon had waited for several centuries for a mage powerful enough to unlock his tomb. Zod had stored his soul within the amulet in an effort to cheat death, and now he had a new body.
  
  Zod left the tomb and went to test the abilities of his new body. He set off towards Zaria where he unleashed the full potential of Ali's magic. There was no one who could stand in his way. However, as Ali watched from inside his own mind he was horrified by his own power. Using all his willpower he was able to momentarily regain control of his body and seal all of his magic potential within the amulet, along with Zod.
  
  When Ali came to his senses he was surrounded by the ruins of Zaria. The city was not a total loss, however, it had taken heavy casualties. Solomon, the Zarian Magi, Jazmine they were all lost in the chaos Ali had caused. Ashamed Ali fled his home but quickly realized that he was physically changed. His hair was white as ash, his eyes were crimson, his teeth were feral, and he now had claws. All marks of a demon. Ali also could no longer use his powerful magic as he had sealed it away with Zod, and the cursed amulet was unable to be removed from his neck. While Zaria rebuilt Ali dedicated his ageless life to traveling the world and paying for his sins by helping others, and hopefully one day he would find a way to remove Zod's amulet before the demon took his mind and body once again.
  

 

[Purize]

Sylas
​

Name: Sylas
Age: unknown
Gender: Male
Race: Shadow-walker
Details of Appearance: Sylas is covered from head to toe in a thick, dark grey gauze. His eyes blaze with a bright purple color that seems to almost glow under the depths of his wrappings. Strips of gauze hang down all over his tall and broad frame, like bits of a tattered, battle-worn tapestry blowing in the wind. He stands at 6' 3" and weighs about 247 ibs. Heavy chains hang from shackles that cling to his wrists and ankles, the metal making no sound when he moves. Around his waist he wears more dark, time-worn fabric. The extra cloth he wears can be pulled up into a makeshift hood.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  
  ​
  Armor: He wears no armor but his drapery of gauze and ribbons.
  Weapons: Sylas carries a curved broad sword and a heavy, two-handed great sword, both of which he carries in sheathes across his back.
  Skills & Abilities: Above all else, Sylas is a master of stealth. He makes no sound when he moves and the world almost seems quieter near him, like he absorbs sound itself. Sylas is the sound of silence.
  
  He is a master swordsman, specializing in the two-handed great sword. Despite it being "two-handed" Sylas often uses his great sword along side his shorter broad sword for a strange dual-wield combination.
  
  Sylas's most unique trait would be the ability to shift in and out of dimensions to appear in any location he chooses. He can only travel to the next closest dimension at a time, but as time and space is vastly different across separate dimensions, he is able to fade away only to reappear anywhere in Nymserine within seconds. He can also travel in between dimensions; this is similar to how ghosts and spirits can be on the plane of Nymserine, but also not quite be there at the same time. This allows Sylas to melt and blend into shadows and travel quickly within them, thus granting him the name "Shadow-walker." The only other creatures that can travel inter-dimensionally are demons, angels and spirits. While Shadow-walkers are technically human, they aren't necessarily magical or combined with any other race. As legend goes, the "shadow-walker race" is actually more of a condition, or curse, than it is an actual species.
  
  Sylas cannot feel any sensations of any kind (Such as pain, pleasure, texture etc.) Shadow-walkers cannot procreate, nor are they immortal, but since they travel among dimensions of different measurements of time, they tend to live longer and age slower than typical humans.
  
  
• 
  
  ​
  Sylas spends most of his time doing two things: Following his own agenda and constantly looking out for Verity Ophelia. He likes to think he's wiser than the world, and has a very pessimistic understanding of life. He believes that everyone is out for themselves and all races and people are petty and lowly creatures; they will all perish from their own stupid selfishness and bigotry. He often looks at all of the pain and suffering in the world, watching the strong oppress the weak, and refuses to step in to help. Thousands of people go through pain everyday, saving one life wouldn't make a difference and one may as well save the whole world...
  
  Sylas isn't one to show emotion, not for the sake of secrecy, but more because he forgot how. Internally, he often think of himself as an empty husk, capable of nothing else but death and destruction. Despite this, he has a weakness for the Ophelia's, particularly Verity and her late mother, Elvira. He was charged with the protection of Verity when her magic awakened. Since then, he taught her everything he knew about the art of swordplay and magic. Now, while he may not show it, he's grown rather fond and protective of his little elven prodigy over the years and tends to be less rational when it comes to making decisions concerning her.
• 
  
  ​
  When the order of the Aurid was created, only elves of high stature and powerful magical ability were allowed to join. Over the years following the war with Azarath, they continued their meetings is secret, being much more selective of their members and careful with their practices. Three decades ago, Elvira Ophelia was accepted into the Order as an exceptionally gifted mage. Before she was married, she met Sylas, who was still dark and mysterious. He learned of the Order and requested for them to teach him about magic, despite him not having arcane blood. At first they wouldn't agree to it until Elvira persuaded them. Sylas studied with them for several years. Elvira eventually got into an arranged marriage and Verity was born shortly after.
  
  When Verity turned 12, Elvira came to Sylas, distraught and upset. She told him that she was in danger and to watch out for Verity. Should anything ever happen, he should be the one to protect her and teach her when her magic awakened. Sylas promised Elvira that he would protect Verity, and tried to help Elvira with whatever trouble she was in, but she wouldn't say more. The next day, Elvira died, her death covered in darkness and mystery. Grieving for the loss of his only friend, Sylas kept his promise in watching Verity grow over the years... he always kept to the shadows, but he watched... and waited.
  ​
  ​

​

 

[Melon Bomb]

Kezine Nadale​

Name: Kezine Nadale

Age: 33

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Details of Appearance: Kezine towers over most folks at a staggering 6'4" - it only adds to the intimidation factor, because if there is one thing she loves, it's airing out her superiority. She sports a strong jawline and a thin, narrow nose. The contours of her face suggest early signs of aging, which she surprisingly takes more as a compliment than an insult. In this way, scars both physical and mental marred her features, proof of her perpetual struggle against overwhelming odds. Her hair is short and disheveled - the platinum blonde sheen of her hair, and the once vivid cerul of her eyes have dulled into a more muted grey, partially masking their old colors as part of the invisible wear and tear on her body.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor:
  
  • [Weapon] Polypheme: A single-edged blade of incredible size. Its sheathed height, lack of crossguard, and visually consistent texture across its length give the impression that it is a staff rather than a sword - both serve their respective roles but she prefers to keep the steel hidden until deemed necessary.
  Skills & Abilities:
  
  • [Magic] Impact Range: Anything Kezine touches transforms into a lethal weapon - a cup, a branch, even a pebble. The name is self-explanatory: She is able to greatly amplify the impact and the range of her weapon. Its biggest drawback is that the recoil makes using the spell unwieldy. With every use she is left vulnerable in some way as a result of the forced overswing and the downtime in between as she recovers the energy for another shot.
  • [Skill] Two-Handed Weapons: Kezine has been training with heavy weapons to get the most mileage out of her magecraft. Great swords, staves, polearms, and longbows are all weapons she has become very acquainted with - even without magic, she is no slouch and will deliver a fatal lesson to anyone who thinks to test her.
• 
  Kezine is self-indulgent and unrepentant, fearing no man and no god. Her values and motivations are questionable at best, and downright malevolent at worst. Though deep inside there exists someone who used to be softer and kinder to the world, her aloof, rebellious nature is no facade. Drives like heroism and justice have been lost in years past, now she fights for an unsatable sense of fulfillment: To kick the ass of anyone who gets in her way, and to look cool doing it.
  
  It was not the ideals of heroes that she had idolized, she learned, but the sense of awe and power they demanded.
  
• 
  When Kezine was a child, she wanted to be a hero. The stories she read, the legends of old repeated time and time again - it resonated powerfully in her soul. To stand up for what was right in the world, to protect the weak and the defenseless, arm-in-arm with loyal companions whose blood bond could be severed by no worldly force. Her childhood friend, Mikael, shared this dream with an equally fierce conviction - together, they made a lifelong bet to see who could become the more famous hero.
  
  Of course, saving the world was an automatic win.
  
  When the two were together, they were unstoppable - no foe was too great, no number was too high. They fought in tandem through thick and thin, trusting one another unconditionally. But for all they were and for all they fought for, they would come to realize that they were not the same. Mikael became the face of the duo, earning the majority of the credit wherever they traveled. At first, Kezine wasn't bothered. She would have her own day in the limelight - besides, heroes fought for justice, not glory.
  
  But she did not share his drive. Feelings like pride. . . like jealousy, and anger. . . they were much stronger than her instinct to be a symbol of the just. Every feat robbed of her, every hard choice she had to make, every admonishment for failure, they were all spiderweb cracks in a fragile shell.
  
  And one day, that shell broke.
  
  She broke their trust, by hiding these feelings from Mikael. She made the fateful decision to part ways, claiming that they've become strong enough on their own - that they could do more good by covering greater ground. His faith in her was blinding, and he agreed with her decision in a heartbeat - though he loathed to be apart, he was sure she was right. They could only do so much, slowly traveling from one place to the next.
  
  That was a mistake. Mikael was the only thing keeping her on the right path, and once he was gone, her bottled emotions came rushing out.
  
  Years later, when they reunited, Kezine was a different woman. Mikael on the other hand was very much the same, now known as the Knight of Clover - the captain to an honorable guild of heroes. When their eyes met, they were on opposite sides of an armed conflict.
  
  Mikael fought for justice.
  
  Kezine fought for revenge.
  
  And the rest. . .
  

 

[Zazz]

Kaeli​

Name: Kaeli
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Race: Fairy
Details of Appearance:

Spoiler: Appearance

Kaeli sports red-orange hair like licks of fire and silver eyes. She wears little clothing, and is often barefoot and indoors. She prefers silver over gold. She once had wings, but they were brutally clipped when she was captured as a slave. She now has two parallel ridges down her upper back. Slim and standing at about 5'2", before her horns, she is supple and sultry, and she knows how to play her body to her advantage. Her two horns curve back slightly, like an antelope's, and are a pale grey. The one on her left has a slight gauge near her head, as if someone had tried to saw it off.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor: Erm.. her horns?
  Skills & Abilities: Working in a glorified brothel, The Sultry Pearl, has bestowed upon Kaeli the art of seduction. As well, she chances upon leaked information from all walks of life. Kaeli has some magic, but it is not combative; she has the ability to lull one into a doze, which is sometimes more of an altered state of mind where one is a lot looser with one's tongue. Alcohol helps with the latter situation. Her gift does require skin-to-skin contact. Unrelated, Kaeli can cook.
  
• 
  Growing up a slave, Kaeli was tamed to be submissive. Playful, but obedient. She is comfortable in her own skin, but still feels like something is missing in regards to her wings. She's very self-conscious about the small gauge in her horn. Flirtacious, friendly, and affectionate, Kaeli will welcome you into her space, but guard her soul. Azaria is the only one she feels truly comfortable with. Easily overpowered, she will cower in fear before defending herself. She likes the comfort of a home, and so she stays at the brothel despite her freedom.
• 
  The fairy was stolen as a young child from the Carpathian Forest and sold into slavery. Her wings were cut off as a way to keep her captive. She wouldn't know her family if she saw them, so as far as anyone knows, she has none. The brothel is her home, its inhabitants, her family. At The Sultry Pearl, the owner, a plump old woman, bought Kaeli from a slaver and housed her, raised her as one of the entertainers, and cared for her like the others. Azaria helped pay her debt and interest, and now Kaeli is technically free, but continues to work at the brothel for room and board. The owner gets a cut from her earnings.

 

[BugDozer73]

Nadia Amara​

Name: Nadia Amara (Mirage)
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Race: Human, from the Kali Shari desert.
Details of Appearance:

Spoiler: Character picture

Nadia is tiny, standing only 5'3, but has more muscle than most women. She had shoulder length jet black hair and brown eyes so dark they look like their own silhouettes. Despite her line of work, she remains for the majority in tact, with no large scars to show off. The ones she does has she tries her hardest to cover. Nadia believes in natural beauty, and wears nothing to alter her appearance: she looks down on anyone who does willingly.
Though her portions are petite, she is dangerous. Though not immediately apparent to everyone, those who know how to fight can pick up on the subtle shapes of her body and identify her ruthless training routines. An Ironic twist, as her name means the Delicate water flower.

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  Weapons & Armor: Nadia wears mostly light armor: Specially tailored white silk clothing, adorned with a colorful array of sashes and drapes. She does have some heavier armor: A paldrin on her left shoulder, knee high greaves and two gauntlets with metal plates and leather straps and fittings. Most of the metal on her body is Tempered Dwarven Iron, which is tough like a dragons hide.
  For weapons, Nadia carries her Kopesh sword, normally sheathed on her back gently above her hips. Her right hand Gauntlet has a retractable blade for more discrete killings, and her left has a long silver rope, enchanted to never break and move exactly how she wills it. At any other time on her person she might also be carrying several throwing knives, a bow and quiver, or hunting knives, though these are only in addition to the rope, wrist blade and sword. Nadia also carries an enchanted charm, a feather necklace. This charm gives her the ability to move and react much more quickly, as well as allow her to fall from great heights without harm and cross things like clothes lines and perch on pole tips.
  
  Skills & Abilities: Nadia is a trained bounty hunter, and has an armory of skills dedicated to her craft. Nadia is an expert in multiple forms of hand to hand combat, her skills ranging from killing blows to pins and chi blocks, in case her bounty says "wanted alive" Nadia has made a fool of more than a few drunken men relaxed by her smaller size. Her martial arts also transfers into her blade expertise as well. Though she has her sword, she is not a master of it. While useful on bigger enemies, she prefers to keep things quiet, and relies more heavily on implementing her rope and wrist blade in her combat. Nadia is an expert tracker, and has the talent to follow trails most people would be blind to. She also is a good barterer, and has on many occasions walked away with more gold than on the bounty contract. Nadia has a natural skill of free running, enhanced by her artifact. She can scale most anything, can run fast and leap far, and is incredibly flexible: This is rather useful when fleeing, as uncommon as it might be for her, or more likely in pursuing a fleeing contract.
  
  Nadia also practices small amounts of desert magic. Nadia has a few mastered abilities to aid her in her collecting of gold
  
  Mirage: The ability to make illusions of her self constructed out of sand. Much like a slight of hand, she can make one rapidly and without the target knowing, only discovering they were fighting a mirage the moment they hit her and she melts into a pile of sand. This can also be used to make copies of herself to disguise which one is the real one.
  
  Sand-step: Nadia can dash short distances as a stream of sand, only ever able to move up to about 15 feet. This can not be preformed through solid objects, but a more talented mage can slip through cracks as the sand.
  
  Arid Heat: Nadia can create a small area that heats up, creating the appearance of desert sun. This leaves an area dry, and the people in it exhausted and dehydrated.
  
  Sandstorm: Nadia can conjure a small AOE sandstorm in an area to blind and slow people affected by it. This requires a larger amount of mana and take a moment to summon. This ability only lasts up to 20 seconds.
  
  
  
  
• 
  Nadia is very forward, and loves to party. When she isn't off collecting her gold, she is living it up in the tavern's. While she is never afraid to talk to people, she is cocky, arrogant, and drunk on her own talent. Her own Hubris and life style choices have pushed her into a life of solitude, numbed only by her companion, *INSERT DWARF NAME HERE* who has been her bounty partner for 4 years. Nadia loves to fight, and won't look for a way out of one should it show up. She has a heart of gold, deep beneath the muck of her own insecurities which she hides incredibly well with her playful pride. It's rather attractive to most men and women, but as much of a trap as she is.
  Nadia hates to lose, at anything at all, and never backs down from a challenge, be it a fight to a drinking game to a race. If anyone manages to beat her at something, she will get very angry, and most likely end up holding a grudge forever. Women, right? Speaking of which, Nadia is also upset by men abusing women, or animals. If she ever saw something like that, even during a bounty, she would intervene.
  
  Underneath all of her arrogance, her bluster and drunken brawls, Nadia is still a women, who has spent her life training. Her dedication to her work is unmatched by most, and she has more of a right than anyone to be proud of it. Beyond her love for catching criminals and bar contests, she has spent her time alone on her travels learning how to paint, as well as how to brew some of the best tea around.
  
  
• 
  Nadia was orphaned as a child. Born in Akron to a farmers family, she spent her first two weeks in comfort and security. When her parents left to visit a village on the outskirts of Akronian territory, they ran into a roaming band of ghouls, farther than normal away from Briar glenn. They were slaughtered, and Nadia was left with no one to care for her. As fortunate (and cliché) as could be, a roaming group of traders from the Kali Sharri desert happened on the house, now deserted save for Nadia. They found the child, and they wrapped her in silk, and brought her across the land, back home to Kurahi Abar, the Desert star. The city was marvelous, large and great. It was built around a large oasis, with canals to distribute the water all throughout the city. Lush vegetation grew around the Red and browns of the desert clay homes, and filled the air with freshness, the scent of Adamine. Here resided Kali Akna, the seer. Kali was a member of the Circle, and one of the most renowned warriors in all the land, fabled for his deeds and service to the people. Kali took the babe from the merchants, and He named her Nadia, which mean Delicate water flower.
  
  Kali Raised her as his own, and taught her the ways of combat. From infancy she excelled in all aspects of combat, training, meditation, and study. She became the pride of the city of Kurahi Abar, and the people gave her the name, Mirage. When Nadia was 17, her mentor and father figure died of old age, and left her the responsibility of looking after the city in the wake of his death. For two years she stood as the defender of the people of Kurahi, until she met a traveling dwarf, name *insert dwarf name here* visiting the city. Nadia grew fond of him quickly, and in the coming weeks, she grew to see in him the same love for the world as she had seen in Kali. *Insert dwarf name here* told her of the world beyond the desert, and the life of freedom he lived. When it was time for him to leave, she decided in secret to leave with him, and together, under the cover of darkness, she snuck out of the city with him.
  
  For the next two years, Nadia relished her life of freedom and adventure, packing no worries. She began to use the skills Kali taught her to hunt people with bounties on her head, and her quick success led to her fame being spread across the land. After 76 successful contracts, she met Roland, a man of the sea. He was handsome and strong, and he charmed her into a state of adoration. Not long after there time together, she found out that Roland was a wanted man, with a large bounty on his head. When she confronted him, they fought, but Roland was able to escape. *Insert dwarf name here* would say that her feelings for Roland stayed her blade. With the disgrace of her perfect record now shattered, Nadia redoubled her efforts, trying to atone for the one that got away.

 

[Sludgemouth]

~Let's call them "The Second Stringers"​

Name: Nero, Rex, Bauldra
Age: unknown, appears 33
Gender: Male
Race: Human (kind of)
Details of Appearance:

Spoiler: pictoral

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Bio
• Personality & Character flaws

• 
  Weapons, Armor, and Abilities:
  GEAR: Due to his physiology, and aberrant countenance, Nero's weaponry and firmament are of his own being rather than items carried. It can be understood that magic he possesses that manifest a physical object are what fulfill the descriptor of "equipment". Specifically, Nero may only call three things into existence which will be expounded upon below.
  
  Spoiler: arms and armor

  Concertina: Nero may spew forthwith from his body lengths of wire, lined with sharpened serrations similar to that of a saw. This is realistically his most dangerous method of offense as it strikes quickly and is lethal to unarmored victims. Fortunately for his enemies, Nero cannot extend these wires beyond a few feet.
  "...and they grew into ribbons..."
  
  Valor's Grasp: An out sized gauntlet that is imbued to multiply kinetic energy. The gauntlet does nothing to increase Nero's physical prowess it simply amplifies the felt impact force that it delivers.
  "Suffer not the impediment of barriers...or anything else for that matter."
  
  Entropic Carapace: Nero secretes an ichor that hardens into a dense crystalline material. It functions as armor, providing a reasonable level of defense against most types of physical harm.
  "May the wrath of angels stop me, but that pig sticker is another story."
  
  Despite sporting slight chemical deviance from the nominal human strain, Nero is not gifted with physical prowess, agility, or endurance exceeding that which is attainable by any other, he wields his weapons a normal human would.
  
  POWERS: Nero's magic is subtle, but potent. He manipulates entropy (in both the narrative and scientific sense) to distract, avoid, or in dire enough straits destroy with absolute completion.
  
  
  Spoiler: spells

  Planck's Corruption: Nero disrupts the interaction of forces within matter causing, the affected object to become unstable and its component particles to begin evaporating into their bare constituents. This condition may be undone with time or by Nero's own will, and requires physical contact with the object in question in either case. This is not something Nero, or any other Magos administers lightly (if at all), it is taxing and can obliterate the user.
  "I give unto you, oblivion. May you find comfort there."
  
  Photonic Defect: Nero diverts all ambient light away from the area. This spell is channeled and cyclic creating a strobe affect, that disrupts the vision of others while Nero himself is unaffected.
  "Now you see me..."
  
  Swarm: Straying onto the narrative side of entropy, Nero may conjure and manipulate a horde of biting and stinging arthropods. He may exude them from his body, or even de-constitute into them, becoming the horde itself, however doing so does not make him invulnerable to attack and makes him especially susceptible to fire.
  "True, dragons may breathe fire, but can they breathe hornets?"
  
  Mortal Tribute: Nero may transfer wounds, injuries, and pain to another. Conversely he may take such maladies from those stricken, their damage becomes his and vice versa.
  "I want to give you a present."
  
  FIGHTING STYLE: Nero fights to win, and with maximum efficacy, and lethality in mind. To him, no blow is too low, and honor has no place in combat. Nero is deceitful, opportunistic, and ruthless in a fight, so as to minimize the risk to his own life.
  
  MISC. LEARNED TRAITS: Nero has learned to be self sufficient, and tends to keep away from civilization whenever possible. This means he's quite adept at roughing it; hunting, building shelter, and making his own clothes.
  
  
• 
  The sell-sword:
  Nero's upbringing is not well known, for no tales exist of the Bauldra family name. However there are records from the expansion era that of a soldier of fortune with the name Nero. In his day he was known for being methodical, efficient, and fatalistic. He felt that success got him paid and regret would get him killed. With that mentality he did indeed have a lucrative career, though he was by no means valued for his company. Those who worked along side him thought he was savage and untrustworthy, those who faced him saw him as cold-blooded, and human in name only. Regardless, Nero pursued gold through violence, unrepentant, and directionless beyond that.
  
  The Ghost of Visitation:
  Eventually, Nero's luck and success would run short, as was the fate of any mercenary too stupid to retire early. So in the street he lay, betrayed by his employer, for he was thought to be little more than a rabid dog. Too dangerous to be left alive, and as Nero's life ebbed from him he felt no regrets, he had done as he'd wished, and would be remembered as being untamed. He welcomed the idea of death, for he'd secretly resented this world and it's barely concealed corruption. However death would not be Nero's fate that day. For as he waited patiently to bleed out, a specter came unto him. It to him from the shadows, the thing itself was not more than shadow. It rose before Nero, its many tendrils wound and writhed their way to him, and eventually it spoke. The specter spoke if Nero's greed, but it also spoke of his commitment to his directives. The specter told him of the afterlife that lie beyond the mortal coil, and then it hold him that he would be denied entry for his dues remained unpaid.
  
  The Magos:
  The name "Magos" means absolutely nothing, it's little more than a moniker. As Nero would discover that specter was a projection of the god Progenitis, and it's reason for visiting was to put him to task. It can be assumed that many are the agents of the gods, and varied are their purpose. The Magos, as they were known are the fewest in number by far, but those who wear that title are agents of the God of the Void. They serve one function; to maintain stability and separation between dimensions, preventing the realms from spilling into one another entirely. They are provided the means to carry out their purpose regardless of resistance or danger, and should one die, another will simply take their place.
  
  Through the centuries the now ageless Nero served his master from the shadows, sealing off interdimensional gates, and sabotaging those who pushed a little too far past the edge of reality. He lived in poverty, a nameless urchin. Less a being of his own identity as a structure of the universe itself. After some time Nero disappeared altogether, though this went unnoticed by society at large. In the last ten years or so, the unseen strings of fate begin to pull, and they disturb the hidden and forgotten parts of the world first. Somewhere in the northwestern section of Tephir's plane lies a small cave, naught but a rock formation when viewed at any distance. Within said cave is an unmarked tomb, from which Nero rises to again preserve the stability of the realm, with nothing but his intuition to guide him.
  
  The Magos also have three tenants they are mandated to follows:
  -First and foremost, ensure stability is maintained.
  -Never attempt to strengthen, or acquire more power.
  -Do not gain wealth, or otherwise handle money.
  
  
• 
  In present day, Nero's biggest personality flaw... is his personality There is the blunt, and profane nature of Nero's manner of speaking, enough so to make the saltiest sailor blush. His pathological inability to trust others; allies are indeed helpful in the pursuit of success, they are liable to betray or fail one another. He would rather see to it that the task is complete himself vice trust in the reliability of others.
  
  While gone is the directionless thug, the the older, wiser Nero is no less apt to back-stab and subvert others to ensure his directive is carried out. This makes Nero's quest to preserve the quintessence of reality a solitary one. These days he keeps himself on the fringes of society, hiding his existence away from others, lest they endanger themselves by being caught up in Nero's affairs. Strangely enough, Nero is pointedly adverse to unnecessary violence, seeing it as only being good for ending life.
  
  

 

[Best Trekkie.]

Name: Jar' Migana
Age: Around 30
Race: Human (Has gigantism)
Gender: Male


Weapons, Armor:

Jar' Migana carries a sword that is unique to his culture only. Instead of the usual single blade, the sword has its hilt at the base between two separate blades (Almost like a HALO energy sword). His armor is comprised of a titanium gold composite which gives it a high strength yet without sacrificing looks for intense weight. The armor is only given to VERY high ranking soldiers.

Personality: Jar' Migana is honorable above all else. He once said that he would rather suffer from taken wounds than have them healed.

WIP

 

[MightBeASithLord]

Character Name​

Name: Karn Kraghammer

Age: 132

Gender:Male

Race: Dwarf

Details of Appearance:

• Weapons, Armour, & Fighting Style
• Personality & Character flaws
• Bio

• 
  
  Weapons & Armor: Karn prefers to cast spells while singing with his lute, but isn't afraid to crack some skulls with it either. Karn's lute is a special lute made of a tough steel, with strings made of magic, the lute is always in tune (though his voice might not be)!
  
  Skills & Abilities: Karn's spells are mostly supportive, usually providing buffs or healing. His songsnusually enhance one of three properties: Attack, Defense, or Speed. However, Karn can also cast offensive spells, such as a lightning bolt, or magic missiles. However, Karn doesn't fair too well in the arts of necromancy and abjuration (defensive magic), however. Furthermore, Karn has picked up a few smithing tricks from his parents.
  
  
• 
  
  Karn is like many a dwarf, in most regards: Stout, firey, and in possession of a tendency to drink stonepiss to an unearthly extent. Karn lives to for the thrill of being able to tell a story, and can be quite the loudmouth. Some may consider Karn a gragarious person, some may call him obnoxious, but all remember him as eloquent. The lovely Dwarf has a heart for the extravegant, and an even bigger heart for performing.
  
  Karn prides himself on being a jack of all trades, maybe a little too much. Karn is quaralsome, with a tendency to raise his fist at the nearest snob who disrespects him or whoever is in his party. Awfully impulsive for a dwarf, Karn is here for a good time, not a long time. Karn dosn't open up to many people, but when he does, he'll be your compainion for a lifetime. However, Karn has a small fear of insects.
  
  
• 
  
  Karn Kraghammer was an only child of of a smithing family Kramahndell. Father Volendrug ran the forge, while Karliah ran the shop, but she also helped around the forge too. Karn's job was to fight with his father to see if the weapons made were usable, and getting fighting lessons in the process. However, one day at age 100, Karn came across Dr. Dranzel and his Magnificent Musical troupe, and Karn's burning love for music was ignited. Karn, after many attempts, convinced his parents to let him train in the arts (along with working the forge, of course). Karn trained for 30 years until his parents convinced a local inn keeper to let Karn perform.
  
  This was it, Karn's big day! A big day it was, as Karn, durring the performance, learned of his arcane affinity. How? Well, Karn accidentally summoned a demon after feeling an arcane influence overcome him while playing his magic steel lute that his father made for him. THe demon, with much difficulty and a tad of structural damage, was defeated and banished, but Karn was ashamed. While his parents tried their best to persuade him that it happens to even the best of bars, Karn's guilt continued. Although, the incident sparked a new interest in Karn. Karn told his parents that he felt called to study the world's secrets and become a master of arcane performance. Volendrug and Karliah gave Karn their full support, helped him pack, and sent him on his way to fulfill his dream.
  

I tried

 

[Skyward Sword]

Griffith Krigsang

Name: Griffith
Age: 67
Gender: Male
Race: Dwarven Demigod
​

• Armory
• Personality
• Biography

• 
  Weapons:
  
  
  Spoiler: Misery

  

  
  The bloody blade, Misery is Griffith's artifact from Ontario. This is a sword of legends. Misery has been passed down to each and everyone one of Ontario's children. The blade was forged from the highest grade of Nymserine Steel and quenched in the blood of Ontario himself. Misery is an instrument of war. Its blade is unbreakable, and no other can match its sharpness. Ontario empowered the sword a divine ability. Every time Misery takes a life it increases in power. Every slash is made stronger, Every hit is made harder, and Misery will grow hungrier.
  
  Misery's divine blade cannot be enchanted by mere mortals. Griffith has tried.
  Spoiler: Dragon Scale Shield

  

  
  This is Griffith's shield of choice when riding into battle. The dwarf crafted the blade when he was a strapping young man. The scales of the shield come from a dragon he slew single-handedly. The shield is extremely heavy, but boast incredible durability against both physical and magical attacks. Griffith wears the shield on his back when he is not in combat.
  
  Griffith has enchanted this shield with the rune of concussion. When he performs a shield bash a wave of concussive force is unleashed often stunning or toppling his enemies.
  
  Armor:
  
  
  Spoiler: Royal Kramahndell Armor

  

  
  Kramahndell Armor:
  
  Griffith wears a hand-crafted suit of Kramahndell armor to signify his rank. The plate armor is crafted from the rare mineral dark iron mined only in the Eastern Arc Mountains. The armor is incredibly durable and resistant.
  
  Griffith has enchanted his armor with the rune of dampening. Blows struck to his body are weakened by this enchantment.
  Spoiler: Demon Hide Gauntlets

  

  
  Demon Hide Gauntlets:
  
  Years of protecting his homeland from the demons of Briar Glenn inspired a master blacksmith to craft these fearsome gauntlets. The gauntlets are made from dark iron platelets held together by the leathery hide of a greater demon. The claws on the Gauntlets allow Griffith to grapple better as well as climb near vertical cliff faces.
  
  Griffith has enchanted these gauntlets with the rune of insulation. This allows the demigod to lay his hands on almost anything without facing repercussions, so long as he is wearing his gauntlets. This includes substances such as magma and acid.
  
  Abilities:
  Battle Trance ~ When Griffith enters a battle or duel his sense of the combat becomes warped and he enters a trance like battle state where he is able to more clearly understand the movements and attacks of his opponents. While in this state Griffith literally feels the weapons and violence around him. Time almost seems to slow down while he's in this state.
  
  Herculean Strength ~ Unable to use magic, the godly mana within has strengthen his body many time more than usual as he has no other outlet to expel it. Griffith can lift many time more than his weight enabling him to achieve supernatural feats of strength. He can shatter massive boulders with a mere headbutt.
  
  Endless Endurance ~ If Griffith ever lost a fight it wouldn't be because he got tired. As a child of war and combat, Griffith can fight for days non-stop. He almost never tires from physical exertion.
  
  Master Blacksmith ~ In Dwarfven culture it is commonplace for warriors to also learn how to forge their own blade. Griffith however was taught by the best of the best, courtesy of the King. He is well versed in mending, fixing, forging, smelting, and all other processes associated with crafting weapons.
  
  Master Enchanter ~ Griffith has been taught almost everything there is to know about enchantments and runes. He could recognize a specific rune on a blade a yard away with accuracy.
  
  
• 
  Griffith Krigsang is a simple man. Fiercely loyal. Indomitable Will of Iron, Pride of a Lion. Griffith was raised in a warrior culture were strength is everything. He holds deep respect in his heart for anyone who displays that they are a person of great strength. Griffith backs downs from no fight and doesn't take kindly to disrespect. This warrior would do anything for his race, kingdom, and king to which he is most loyal. On the battlefield Griffith is always on the front lines. He is a unstoppable tank of pure destructive potential. He drinks like a dog and fights like a mad god. He doesn't do well in positions of leadership and isn't the sharpest sword in the shed, but he always gets the job done. If you make an ally of this demigod he will stand by you for life.
  
• 
  Born during the fifth age of Nymserine when demigods were either detested or praised, Griffith was lucky that he was the latter. While some feared Griffith's power growing up King Nodrak Wyvernjaw saw a diamond in the rough. Nodrak wasted no time grooming Griffith into a fearsome warrior and symbol of power among the people of Kramahndell. While the king saw Griffith as a fearsome weapon, Griffith saw the king as a father. Soon the demigod became the king's loyal right-hand man, chief enforcer, and general.
  
  At the age of eighteen, Griffith had already partaken in several war conflicts with the Grell scourge. While he holds the title "General" it is in name alone. Griffith detested being put in positions of leadership, being out on the front line excited him too much. During these conflicts, he grew to love war. He loved everything about the concept of war and held a deep respect for any warriors he deemed worthy on the battlefield. Griffith loved war so much that when King Nodrak told him that he was the son of Ontario he wasn't shocked in the least.
  
  Now Griffith is a seasoned warrior. While powerful in his youth, experience has served him far better. He has lived through countless battles and has laughed in the face of death on numerous occasions. Despite his age Griffith has not been slowed down by his age. The demigod has just returned from reclaiming another Dwarven city in the Eastern Arc Mountains. Now the king has a new mission for Griffith.
  

Spoiler: Alternative Character Design