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Fantasy The Guild Stone ((Old Character Sheets))


Broom Shroom

Apple (Human Ranger)
Regis (Catman Rogue)
Leolin (Human Bard)
Ivar (Beastman Bandit)
Kira (Human Duelist)
Minma (Human Hunter)
Themisto (Precursor Scripter)
Kioshi (Kitsune Warrior)
Mazus (Sphinx Healer)
Phaedra (Precursor Bard)
Kathlyn (Half-Elf Medic)
Ashotop (Human Hunter)
Tuur (Magmur Brawler)
Tyron (Human Commander)
Leonidis (Human Poet)

Osgar (Human Paladin)
Ymir (Human Mapmaker)
Jennie (Seafolk Bard)
Zion (Undead Battlemage)
Ducci (Barbavian Paladin)
Cinder (Kitsune Mage)
Titus (Fire Cleric)
Zeno (Magic Assassin)
Eiru (Witch Enchantress)
Sapphire (Human Archer)
Cerus (Human Noble)
Klein (Human Marionettist
Guild Roles
Azalea (Guild Scribe)
Pri (Guild Master)
Elias (Guild Cook)
Faygo (Guild Handler)

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Template Appearance: ( Art or Description )
Rank: ( Copper | Iron | Silver | Gold )
Affinity: ( Water | Fire | Air | Earth | Body | Spirit | Light | Dark | Other )
Other (optional):
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The 4th Espada
Infinite Human (Sonic Forces).jpeg(Ignore the fact that this is infinite from sonic forces in human form)
Name: Zane Infinity
Race: Human
Class: Wizard
Rank: gold (if it is ok)
Affinity: Dark-Summoning (can summon illusions)
He's quiet, strict and impartial. But this is all just a facade, a mechanism to deal with his shocking past.

He was born and grew up in a decent family in a large capital, he lived free of trouble until he was about 11 years old, but at that point life changed.

He lost his brothers in a natural disaster and was becoming an outcast. Alone, lost and forgotten he had to survive in a insane world. But with his vigor and talents, he managed to overcome all odds and start a new life. This has turned him into the man he is today.

Powerless to change the past, he now is a wizard who can create illusions. By doing so, he hopes to support a new, honest life and finally find peace of mind he has never had.
Other (optional):
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Pri (Guildmaster)


Broom Shroom
Name: Pri
Race: ???
Class: Guardian
Rank: Guildmaster
Affinity: Spirit | Arcane
Bio: Pri is an ancient being that originated in the spirit realm. Her true form is a mystery, but in the physical world she takes the form of an owl. Her 'name' is simply a reference to the strange sound she often makes, but she doesn't seem to care what she'd called either way. She is the guardian of the guildstone, and the effective guildmaster until the next one is chosen.

Other: She often wears little articles of human clothing that she takes a fancy to, most commonly hats, petticoats or ornate jewelry. She thinks they make her look distinguished.
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Risoria De Columba.jpg

Name: Risoria Ducci De Columba
Race: Barbavian
Class: Paladin
Rank: Gold
Affinity: Body | Light
Bio: Ducci was born into the noble family Risoria, of the Barbavian people; a race of 10-12 foot tall intelligent avians. Once a roaming clan of fierce warriors that dominated the coastal cliffs to the south, the large Risoria family has since situated itself in the city of Lantana as a high-class family of nobles, famous for their strength and elegance. Ducci was trained in the arts of both body and light from an early age, blessed with great physical strength and vigor which allowed him to utilize holy magic to smite his foes or heal his allies. As part of an effort to spread their positive influence across the land, the family held a gathering in Lantana to showcase their brightest young talents, before sending them off to journey across the kingdom, with the hope that each one would go on to become a legend in their own right. Eventually, Ducci found his calling in the halls of the Waystone Guild, quickly setting his sights on one day acquiring the esteemed title of Guildmaster, an achievement he deemed acceptable enough so as not to bring shame to his family.
Reed the Matchless


(Bladechanter/Muscle Magus)

| Copper |

| Body | Blade |

For years the Fauxstone Tribe lived in relative peace with the neighboring villages. The orc tribe was satisfied with mining pyrite in the mountains, and only occasionally pillaged during harsh winters. One day, an elven magus, a distinguished wizard from the Academy, challenged the tribe's collective intelligence and dared them to learn true magic (as opposed to shamanism). Fauxstone's chieftain and shaman bristled for a bit at the magus, but did not deign to participate, however the shaman's apprentice did. Reed was brilliant for an orc, and found the elf's magic (left the orcs an apprentice's tome) complimentary to his background in shamanism. Studying and practicing magic became an obsession for Reed, and unfortunately for him, the elven magus was turned away by arrowfire upon returning. Stuck between leaving to uncover more of the arcane, and continuing his life within the tribe, Reed challenged his father for position as chieftain, and lost. All sons of the Fauxstone chiefs could challenge their father in a deathmatch, but should they lose they forfeit their lives within the tribe, and only if the chieftain gave them mercy. Path now decided for him Reed the Matchless set off to pioneer a branch of magic that marries both brawn and arcane together.

Reed the Matchless is a wizard first, and warrior second. I see the orc in the role of the wildcard, he is good for shoring up any position, whether as an extra defender, offensive blaster, or in buffing/debuffing targets. However his versatility does come with the caveat that he will likely not be as skilled as someone in a dedicated party role.​
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Aelia Aeldyne

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here
Name : Taylor Akhneyan

Race : Dragon-blooded (Ironsand Wastes)

Age : 22

Class : Sage

Rank : Silver

Affinity : Earth | Holy (Constructs and warding)

Bio :

A quill dipped in ink scratches the paper of a blank page, leaving a trail of spidery-formed letters on the fabric. There is no other sound, save for the occasional crackling of a log in the fireplace.

Far to the east, beyond a tall mountain range, lie the Ironsand Wastes. Ages ago, this region was blighted to the core by a long-forgotten cataclysm, that the local inhabitants only remember under the name of "Crownfall", without any further knowledge of the event itself. The Wastes are a desert of salt, rust and iron dust pierced here and there by tall peaks of hematite - which does make for a striking sight, tides of grey and red and white ebbing and flowing under the hand of the harsh, uncaring winds. During the day, the sun's light reflects on the mountains, spreading a pale grey sheen over the whole area and heating up the air so much that the sands can spontaneously catch fire and erupt in aurora-like waves in the air. The nights are somehow worse. Without the sun, the air is freezing cold, and the moonlight reflecting on the blighted land stirs the corrupted energy permeating the whole area, causing malevolent elementals of rust and salt to form and roam the land.

In spite of this, there is life in this area. Not on the surface, that is, but underground. The roots of the Ironsand Wastes are made of the fossilized titanic skeletons of ancient dragons who died in ancient ages, forming a natural network of caves and tunnels permeated with the power of the dragons' graveyard. A few cities exist, carved out of stone and dragonbone and sometimes even in the metal of the peaks. Survival, though, remains a tenuous matter. Monsters prowl the underdark, water and food are hard to get and often inedible or outright toxic, requiring great effort to purify, and raids between cities are not uncommon, whether it be for resources or weapons, sometimes even for people. After all, to the people of the Wastes, lives are just another resource to barter for survival, and better sacrifice a few so that the many can live a bit longer.

The Sages, the people whose task is to keep records of the Wastes' folks' history, have noted a sharp degenerescence in culture throughout centuries. A thousand years ago, the people were a noble - if austere - united nation, striving and struggling as one for survival and ownership of the Iron Sands. Nowadays, they are more fractious than ever, unable to even think of - let alone accept - united leadership, resorting to slavery and sacrifices to try keeping away the taint of the land - and they are failing. Most of the inhabitants have, generation after generation, developed a few peculiarities, both mental and physical, that the Sages attribute to the madness of the land and the decomposed blood of the dead dragons permeating the whole region. First and most notable is the presence of draconic traits - sometimes eyes, sometimes claws, sometimes scales, name it. Second is an extreme mercuriality; violent and sudden moodswings, from intense apathy to utter rage to paralyzing sadness or extatic joy, without rhyme or reason.

Yet, for all their flaws, the people of the Iron Sands have undeniable qualities. Pride and courage hand in hand, strength and valor, an innate talent for magic and the belief seared in their very souls that nothing worth having can be had without effort, driving them to extreme lengths to achieve even the most basic goals, for every task completed must be an endeavor worth remembering.

From those, however, stems the greatest shortcoming of this stark folk; no matter how valuable you might be to the community, a whim of fortune may see you thrown under the wheels of the cart if doing so allows others to survive a tad longer. Only the Sages, dwelling in Ubar, the First City, are exempt from this unspoken rules, and even the most brutal and ruthless of chieftains tread lightly around them to avoid incurring their ire. That does not stop them from plotting and manipulating events to acquire valuable assets from Ubar and retain plausible deniability in the process.

The scrawling abruptly stops. The quill is laid aside by a trembling, pale-skinned thin hand. Fear, remembrance, pain - the fingers grip the edge of the table and clench. A few seconds pass, and the hand stops shivering. The quill is picked up again when the fingers let go of the table, revealing deep gouges in the wood left by the seemingly frail nails. The writing resumes, though now a heaving breath is audible.

This is where this story of mine begins. I was - still am - an orphan, born of parents without a name during an outbreak of bloodrot pox on the outskirts of Ubar. There were many nameless there, mendicants, beggars and whores, cripples, escaped slaves, dishonored warriors. All had come because the Sages would offer them a new chance at life. The First City was always in need of hands. Of the maybe seven thousand that were there when the plague erupted, less than five hundred survived. Mostly children, and babies like me. The elders were taken first, unable to resist the disease. Then the women, and then the men. There were even a few cases in people under twenty, but most made it out thanks to the Sages.

We children of the dead were taken in. My first sight of this world is one I could never forget, being carried away in a woman's arms as piles of corpses burned in the background, devoured by flames black and blood-red, courtesy of the Sages' magic. There was no heat nor scent of searing flesh, but there was a weight, a tension in the air as the bodies went up in smoke.

We grew up somewhat sheltered, as much as can be in this environment at least. The Sages taught us history, magic, writing and many other things. Most of all they taught us their famous poise and how to control our emotions. It was easy for me; I did not have much to control. All that I had was an irrational fear of fire. Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw dancing streaks of red and black; whenever I dreamt, I saw walking corpses clad in fire, grasping hands writhing and wreathed in toxic smoke, seizing me by the throat. I never slept well.

When we turned fifteen, we were initiated and became Sages proper. Oh, we didn't have the clout or the gravitas of our elders, but we would have the same duties, and years passing by we would become the elders and train the future generations. Or so it should have happened. Upon being initiated, we received two things. A title, most of the time tied to our magic, sometimes to our personality, and an assignation. My teacher was called the Sage of Hellflame - he was the one responsible for the service to the dead (and for the pyres), and an impressive warlock aside from that. I would be called the Sage of Pure Light, for my specialization in purification and defensive magic. Due to the weaknesses of my body, I got assigned to the protection of Ubar, as I was unable to travel for extended periods of times on my lonesome.

It was nothing very exciting, but it was an important duty, and I fulfilled it to the best of my ability. The taint had to be kept away from the seat of my people's memories. And so I went on like this for four years. At the time it mattered not to me how much of a toll it would take on me, how much time I would spend doing this. Day and night for weeks on end, barely eating, barely sleeping, to keep the madness at bay. In hindsight, it was a madness in itself, consuming my body and my mind, leaving naught but responsibilities. Failure was obviously inbound.

Some day, three years ago, I collapsed. I couldn't feel my legs anymore, barely my arms, and everything felt numb. My head was throbbing with pain and my vision was blurred. I had a distinct taste of iron and salt on the tongue - blood, tinged with bile. I passed out after gods know how much time. When I woke up, I felt as if I had been encased in lead. Even thinking felt sluggish, and everything around me looked inert, dead, empty. I couldn't even make out the colour of my hair. A few days later, as I had recovered the slightest, I learned that I had been found on the edge of the city, half-dead and dying. Another Sage passing by had hurriedly brought me to the infirmary. According to the healer Sage, my body had been on the verge of breaking down entirely; I'd been on a magic drag for several weeks at least, and I was at risk of definitively losing my magic. I was to stay in bed for two months if I wanted to make it out not too crippled.

Days went by one after the other in this dulled world of mine. I was not recovering, but my state was not worsening either. A strange slowness had taken hold of me, so much that even my ailment was stricken by apathy. I was falling apart, slowly but steadily becoming locked inside myself, unresponsive. During my brief flashes of lucidity, I could barely talk. Thinking and understanding what people were telling me took most of my ability. I lost my will to live, and I started to dwindle like a candle out of wick. Not even my teacher's hellflame could warm me, as my last days approached.

As I ran out of time, the whim took me and I asked him to bring me to the surface, so that I could die under the sun. He indulged me.

Until that day, I had never seen the outside, or the surface. All I knew were stories. And so I beheld, and I knew that even the greatest tales paled in comparison of the truth. The winds were like the hand of a titan, and the sun's heat and light like divine wrath. I stared into the sun, even though it would not blink first. Somehow, it felt like the sun stared back at me. I felt my hair bleach and turn white, I felt my eyes die and go blind. I felt my skin sear and pale under the withering gleam. As I could no longer see, something shone down from the sun. That I could see. It was falling down towards me, as I stood in apathetic silence. As it approached, I saw that it looked like magic and sunlight melded together, like a shard of the sun.

It pierced me, scattering across my body and merging with my bones and blood.

When the pain faded away, I could perceive magic again. I could feel sunlight washing over me like freshwater, warmly wrapping around me like a blanket. I was healed entirely, save for my eyes; blindness was the price I had to pay for the arrogance of staring into a blazing star. And yet. I heard the voice of the sun whispering in the back of my head, telling me that I had been given a second chance under auspicious light. Somehow I knew that I could no longer return home, because the sun did not shine under the earth.

I bade farewell to my teacher and went a-wander to the west, crossing the mountains into a more hospitable world. Someday I happened to reach Lantana, and since then I have been an adventurer. It will soon have been two years.

The scribbling ends as the bottom of the page is reached. This... sounds like a proper conclusion and closure for this story. Now another story begins, and so another page is turned.

Other : Taylor is unable to use magic at night or in environments without light. She is also blind, which is why she keeps a permanent perceptive ward around her to know where things are. She is frail and sickly but otherwise has an impressive reserve of magical energy. She is deathly afraid of fire, with the exception of candles and fireplaces. If the shard of sunlight lodged in her heart is removed, she will die within the hour, and the shard may explode as it will become unstable.

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True Black Rose Beauty

Name: Celia Farneti
Race: Human
Class: Witch
Rank: Copper
Affinity: Air | Space
There once was a poor girl, who was born in a poor family. Their family runs a farm in the kingdom of Zusha, and nobody in their family has magic.
Their parents believed that Celia has no magic like the rest of her family. However, that sneaky kid had a dirty little secret. They have been hiding the fact that they have magic, and would sneak out of their room by using the window during the night. She did that, so they can secretly train their weird magic. It turns out that Celia has both air and space magic, and they would train their magic by throwing the rats into her weird space storage by using their air magic.
As for how Celia found out about their magic. Their air magic suddenly appeared, and killed one of the chickens that they had on the farm. This freaked out Celia so much that a small space portal appeared. They slowly managed to make the portal bigger, throw the dead chicken into it, slowly close it, and covered up the blood like nothing happened. Nobody was around to see the mess either, so Celia got away with that.
It took her family a few weeks to find out about the missing chicken problem, since their dog was barking so much around the blood spot. Upon finding out why the dog was freaking out over that spot, the parents asked Celia and her siblings about the mysterious blood spot. All of them said that they don't know what happened.
The parents then give up on the search, because their kids didn't know what happened.
Years had passed, since that incident had happened. We have a 17 year old Celia, who has secretly controlled her magic, because of their patience and perseverance to learn it. In fact, Celia got so great with her magic. They would throw random stuff into their portals like it was nothing. This got the attention of one of Celia's siblings, because Celia would sometimes forget to return the farm tools that were in their portal storage. That sibling would ask their parents and their other siblings about the missing tools, but they had no clue where it was. That sibling was going to give up on the search until they saw Celia returning the missing tools by using their space magic in the tool shed. When they saw that, Celia's big brother was extremely angry about that. He yelled at Celia, because they believed that they stole the farm tools for an evil purpose. They also remember the chicken incident, and he yelled at her for doing that as well. Celia cried so badly from that situation, and because she wanted to run away from this. They used their space magic to teleport them out of the tool shed. However, because Celia wasn't thinking about a location during that time. They ended up crashing into the Waystone Guild in an unknown place. Poor Celia was knocked out by the impact, and the guild's staff members had to take care of her until they were better.
Celia got their magic when she was three years old, and they knew that her siblings would have been jealous towards her about that. In order to prevent that, they went out of their room during the night for their training.
Her siblings did notice how tired Celia was, but they thought it was from the work they do.
Yes. Celia can do the flying broomstick thing.

Ace Cream

Frozen Pooppy

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Apple db85732308e0209b3ca0ffadc8b3ad2.jpg
Name: Apple
Race: human
Class: ranger
Rank: Copper
Affinity: fire/plant
Bio: Far in the south east, a dragon named Deldora lives alone in a ruin, sleeping peacefully amidst her hoarded treasures. However her slumber was soon disturbed by the appearance of a battered woman with her child. The woman was running away from bandits and knowing the reputation of the dragon. She took a risk by hiding in the ruin just so the bandits stopped chasing her.

The dragon was mad and spent hours blabbering towards the woman about breaking into personal property and all that, by the time she finished her speech the woman already bleed to death. Leaving the child crying on top of her mother's corpse. The dragon didn't care about the death, anyone who dare to enter her palace must be punished! If the mother can't take the responsibility, then the child will!

With the help of some faes, the dragon raised the child harshly. She planned to train the child so she could polish all the treasures in the ruin forever, but the child was growing on her. Deldora found that she was happy watching the child grows and learns about the world. Sometimes she would kidnapask a passerby so they could teach the child some knowledge or survival skills. After the child was strong enough the dragon even let her hunt and forage in the forest around the ruins.

As the time passes, Deldora's eyes became heavier. She needs to continue her hibernation, and old dragon like her can spend years or even decades to sleep. She didn't want the child to be lonely so she ordered her to go out and experience the world for herself.

  • Apple refers to herself in third person
  • Apple is accompanied by a creature named Pipi. She's a mandrake, a walking plant fae and can only speaks 'piii'. Her affinity is body/plant
  • Despite her general upbeat demeanor, Apple is ruthless when it comes to survival.
  • Has sharp senses, especially smelling.
  • Obsessed with shiny things
  • Illiterate, but knowledgeable about numbers and at least know how to spell her name.
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Wood Pulp Connoisseur
Winona Sera NitoWinona Sera Nito.jpg
Race: Human
Class: Necromancer
Rank: Copper
Affinity: Spirit | Summon

When asked by a concerned passerby, Winona will eagerly tell of the land to the west, Aepia, and her quest that would end a civil conflict tearing said land apart. In truth, she has been traveling for so long, she has no idea what cardinal direction home is located, nor does she understand that her quest will never be the deciding factor that would end the conflict. However, both the land and the quest are real. Even if the truth is diluted by an overactive imagination.

To understand why Winona cannot accurately recall the conflict she was part of, we must go back to a time when the House of Nito still stood proud. An esteemed cornerstone of Aepian nobility. The scholars and mages belonging to this House followed strict family values and strived to uphold a rich heritage dating back centuries. Believing the origin of their house dated back to the time gods and goddesses still walked amongst those of mortal birth.

If one believes such tales, then the object of their devotion, Grandmaster Nito, was the first to have an audience with Death themselves and convinced them to bestow the art of Necromancy upon mortals. In exchange, Nito would become an Agent of Death, striving to uphold the balance of the world by bringing back those who passed before their time. With this belief, the House of Nito believed that the living and the dead alike should make an effort to uphold the balance Nito once maintained. Thus, for those of the House of Nito, there is no greater honor than being brought back from the dead through Necromancy to assist the living that called upon their aid.

When Aepia was thrown into the fires of civil war, the House of Nito chose not to interfere, at first. However, when the ruling queen’s actions during the peace negotiations challenged the beliefs of House Nito, they severed their ancient ties to the Aepian Royalty in favor of joining the rebels. Once again, taking no side between the anarchists and statists, but aiding them both in their endeavors to overthrow the overstepping royal family. The House of Nito vowed, for as long as the bloodshed would last, they would ensure every willing rebel body would have two chances to strike down enemy forces. Once in life, and once more in death. Greatly aiding the rebels’ numbers advantage.

At the back end of the 9th year of civil war, Winona Sera of the House of Nito was born amidst the death and violence of warfare. Her birth came at the cost of her stillborn twin brother. A birth that signified both life and death. An occasion deserving of both mourning and reverence. Within the House of Nito, it was as if a prophecy had come true; a child whose life was tied to death the moment she came into the world. For many, Winona was their reassurance that death begets life, strengthening their resolve to continue the fight for, in their eyes, a balanced world.

When the House of Nito severed the ties with the Aepian royalty all those years ago, it made the art of Necromancy an illegal practice within the land. Despite this, Winona was home taught for years to master the art regardless of the law. Making the child a criminal without even knowing about it. She was never told to use her art sparingly nor shielded from the horrors of civil war. After all, the young girl’s growing talent would best be nourished by applying her art to fallen rebels.

Even as a child, Winona had already witnessed more death and despair than the average person would in a lifetime. Childlike wonder and delusional fantasies sprouted forth from the bleak reality to protect the child’s fragile mind. Forever cursing her to live in a fantasy world. A delusion that compelled her to head out on her own quest to find Death – as Grandmaster Nito had supposedly done before her – and become the next Agent of Death that would restore balance to the world she loved so much.

Her play-pretend quest took her across Aepia, meeting a variety of interesting characters, but never brought her face-to-face with Death. Yet, the teachings that dictate her entire life couldn’t be wrong. That would shatter her understanding of the world. As such, Death must be elsewhere. Far from Aepia, in lands unknown…

  • The staff Winona carries around is effectively worthless apart from the sentimental value. In fact, it is made to assist children when they are learning to control their magic output. Despite only being a teen, Winona has far surpassed that stage and it’s something she will have to part with if she wishes to outgrow her living fantasy.
  • On her backpack, Winona carries a crudely carved depiction of a human-like shape serving a purpose unknown to anyone but her.
  • The large traveling backpack she carries around is lovingly called ‘Pouchy’ and contains everything one might need on the road and then some. In fact, she might simply be a hoarder.
  • Winona has a favorite reanimated thrall, named Red, whom she calls upon more often than any other. She considers him a close friend, even if she controls every aspect of him. Effectively speaking to herself if she chooses to have a conversation with Red.
  • 7c006d2b38f400b9f9d984118dd70052.jpg

Zef The Owl

Senior Member
Appearance: Regil is relatively similiar to a human. Short light brown hair and sharp amber eyes, though cat-like pupils betray his inhumanity. He has a pair of red cat ears with black stripes, and a tail not unlike that of a Tiger. He's a lithe man, and not particularly tall standing about 5'4" in height. He's most often in brown leather overalls with various pockets, along with a brown vest over a simple white tunic. He has two daggers on him typically in hidden compartments on either side of his thighs, and a trusty crossbow strapped to his back. A shortsword is often in its scabbard at his hip. He typically also wears large worn boots.
Name: Regil Everson
Race: Catman (Sometimes called Nekos, depends on locale)
Class: Rogue
Rank: Copper
Affinity: Light , Illusion
Regil is and always has been downtrodden. Someone forgotten in the cities, a prolific thief resident in the squalor of the slums. He started life as a mere extra hand at a seedy tavern, having been abandoned by parents he never knew and taken in by the tavern family as extra hands. Even at this young age, he was trouble, but his upbringing demanded as such. He lived in a tough part of the city, and any pay he got from his work hardly even covered the costs of food let alone important things like lodgings. He eventually managed to make his own shanty shack out of scraps of wood, but ultimately had to find other ways to make coin. This, led him to thievery something he was remarkably talented at. He started small, food, simple necessities, however he quickly learned that gold glimmered brighter and would get him more.

So, he stole, the master of the slight of hand and pick pocketing. While it took some trial and error, a few times nearly being caught by the local guard he did manage to get rather good at what he was doing. Of course, stealing got him attention from other, bigger people who could push him around to get his ill gotten gains from him. Mugging the young catman was easy, after-all. He scarcely knew how to fight and preferred to run. This was his drive to learn to defend himself, defend his spoils and hard work. His frustration had him turn to one of the local dangerous gangs, The Skull Splitters. They were a bandit and crime group most preferred to avoid who lived within the same slums he did. However, desperate, Regil approached them. He wanted to know how to fight, and if no one messed with the Skull Splitters surely no one would mess with him.

At first they scoffed at the idea, but their leader was intrigued. The boy was sneaky, and the Skull Splitters had connections to pay off. So a deal was struck, Regil would smuggle some things for the gang and ask no questions, in turn, they'd teach him how to use a dagger and how to fight. He agreed, back to the wall knowing if the guard didn't hate him yet they'd certainly have it out for him after this stunt, but having little other recourse. "Fine, I'll do it. What do you need me to smuggle?"

The next few years helped shaped the Regil known today. The brutal training with the Skull Splitters made him hard to hit as he learned to dodge (Or he got a black eye for his troubles) rather quickly, and became skilled in using daggers, shortswords and crossbows, and soon could defend his own riches. However, he was bound by the deal he made, having to steal and, more importantly cajole his way with various people the Skull Splitters had him deal with; Drug lords, corrupt aristocrats, all sorts that they had contacts with. While he'd been a defensive and untrusting person up until this point, he'd leaned on some skills from his earlier profession as a tavern server; A bit of charisma.

He found he had a silver tongue, an approachable demeanor and a way of talking himself out of (And consiquentially into) quite a bit of trouble! This was one last skill he perfected, a bright smile, some quick witty words, and a way to woo anyone.

So, now that he was a proper rogue, how on earth did this criminal end up in the Waystone Guild?

The answer to that is simple; Dumb luck and dumb bravery.

Regil one day was untangling one of his---Messes. A minor one involving an aristocrat's daughter, at least three goats, a stolen ring and a handful of winded guards. After helping the aristocrat's daughter escape to a party she wanted to attend and making off with a very valuable ring as payment that she was in dubious authority to give him at best given it belonged to her rather materalistic father; Regil ran into a spot of trouble. That is to say the fates were in a fae mood that day, and while on the run riding a blasted goat, it was the exact time that the city had a break in. A giant ogre had burst through the gate and was wreaking havoc on the city. The Waystone Guild had already deployed some copper tier adventurers to help, but they were getting beaten back, with most of their more experienced adventurers away defenses against this outbreak were scarce.

Regil would have well shrugged and trusted the guild to have things in hand, had he not heard the scream of the aristocrat's daughter he just helped.


A spark of bravery, the spark of heroics he'd never known in a coward's life flared in him. He hopped off his getaway goat, and rushed in. His nimble movements were too quick for the ogre to hit even when swinging a giant cart around. While Regil's nimble daggers were able to cut Achilles tendons in the giant, causing it to buckle. It was enough to incapacitate it, and get the woman away. Even then, though, the Ogre in its fury turned to them looking to pursue, or throw something. It was only then, in a moment Regil thought he may die that he threw out his hand without thinking and a flare of light burst from it, blinding the Ogre. His affinity to light, something he'd never realized he had or used in his life had revealed itself in his moment of need, and properly incapacitated the ogre who was now blind and hamstrung. The adventurer's, stunned by the sudden heroics but not letting the moment get away from them-- Restrained the ogre. It was later found out it was an escapee from a circus, and if Regil hadn't been there the destruction could have been catastrophic. Sure, the Ogre had been weakened by the adventurers, but his act had still saved the city more in property damage then he'd stolen in his entire career.

After all was said and done, he was approached by the guild's representatives, for his help and for his obvious skill, they offered him a place in the guild. They'd already talked with the city guard and king about his crimes, and he'd been cleared of them if he turned his life around, here and now. He had a choice, turn away from the only life he ever knew to try something new, or continue down the path of a criminal.

"Isn't your boss an owl?" He asked.

"Y...Yes?" A confused, taken aback adventurer responded.

"Well! I better make like a bird and--" As he turned, to return to his life of crime, his hand flared with a burst of light again. It made him recoil, it was as though his affinity was objecting to his choice. He paused, sighed, and turned back, holding up his glowing palm,

"Fine, if you can help me figure this out, I'm in."

Thus, Regil was made into a copper rank adventurer, and for the firs time in his life he'd see what's beyond those city walls.
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Azalea (Guild Scribe)


Broom Shroom
Name: Azalea Gibraltar
Race: Former Human
Class: Mage
Rank: Guild Scribe
Affinity: WIP | Plant
Azalea came from humble beginnings, working in her youth as a scribe for a merchant's guild. However a number of years ago she disappeared into the forest. What happened remains unknown, and she rarely talks about it. After she returned she changed professions to the guild, where presumably she has access to a great deal more information on magic.

Other: Her appearance grows more and more plant-like by the day. When asked about it she won't respond with much, but her expression becomes very grave.
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Name: Leolin Laris ( Lin )
Race: Human
Class: Shape Shifter / Bard
Rank: Copper
Affinity: Body | Transform
Lin is an eccentric guy, with a love for the wild, and the ability to transform his body to that of a lion's ( or house cat, if he wants ) either wholly or partially; depending on the occasion and how much energy he has. Though his transformation is useful in combat; Leolin finds it much more fun to use his wits, luck, stupid jokes and charisma to wiggle his way out of tight spots. Which he gets himself into like, all of the time.
( Also because if he accidentally transforms 100%; he will just be a normal lion or cat with no human intelligence until he runs out of energy and transforms back, usually taking about 24 hours if he was well rested. )

Weather it be a trip to try a new food, or fight some monsters- Lin has a deep love for all sorts of adventure. Sadly, as an adult person he is required to make money and contribute to society somewhat- On the upside he has recently learned that he can make money through adventuring. He would have realized this earlier if his brain was not made of a single hairball half of the time.
Upon having this revelation, he immediately quit his old job as a black smith's assistant and went to join a guild.

Other: Despite seemingly having a bright and open nature; he is very secretive when it comes to his past- that why you must be a level 10 friend to unlock what happened to his face.


Different timezone, who dis
Name: Hashi The Charged
Race: Red Oni
Class: Monk
Rank: Copper
Affinity: Body | Lightning
Born in the wilds far east of any civilization Hashi's tribe was well respected and feared in the East among the other tribes. While she couldn't access it, like all Oni within the tribe the elder would perform a ritual to find out a child's Affinity before they started training, while her regular Affinity of body wasn't that much of a shock considering she was a Red Oni but what surprised everyone that knew about it was her special affinity for lightning. This was a rarity among the tribes, despite this both Hashi's mother and Aunt were ready to start training her.

The training was brutal, Hashi was up before dawn and went to sleep long after the moon was up, half her day was with her mother learning how to fight with just her body, how to throw a punch, kicks, headbutts, etc. Hashi didn't mind it at all, as to her she was just training with her mother and having fun with her, she was even using trees, rocks and branches as weights to increase her strength as well. The other half of the day was spent with her Aunt, a blue oni this was to help with controlling and learning how to use her magic, this was a bit more difficult because she was constantly zapping herself and generally hurting herself as she wasn't as a natural with magic as she is with straight fighting.

This, like all Oni children's training went on for 11 years, from 5 to 16 and just like all others on her 16th birthday she would be in a coming of age fight with her own trainer. Hashi was intensely nervous as the entire tribe and some other guests from other tribes would be watching the fight. She had to win or wait another year before getting another chance at earning her adulthood. The fight started when the elder banged the gong, the fight was not a quick one it was absolutely brutal both of them went all out with each other not wanting to hold back and not to disrespect their opponents. By the end both were nearly done bruises all over, broken ribs, black eyes and Hashi was missing one of her horns, they went in for one last punch and as their fists collided with heads Hashi won out just barely because she was younger.

It took nearly over a week for both of them to be fully healed and the ceremony for Hashi's well earned adulthood was celebrated after they both woke up everything was absolutely grand. Hashi decided to travel the world in search of more trainers and more interesting fights to do, she enjoyed beating the various monsters that came across her path and learning more and more on how to implement her special combination of Affinities. A little over a year later she had decided to try and do a favor for a small mountain town, a demon holed up in a cave had been causing lightning to strike constantly against and around the town, She decided to have fun and attempt to kill the demon...unfortunately though Hashi was over confident in her abilities and was nearly fried if it wasn't for her speed, she had pissed it off by entering it's lair and not dying immediately. For a more even fight so that she wasn't blasted when she stopped, she imagined to get it out of the cave and threw it into the forest, before following after it. That was her second big mistake, absolutely enraging it before it blasted her into a neighboring city, she landed in the Waystone Guild slamming into the roof and absolutely wrecking it. The demon came in through the hole Hashi was unconscious and only was saved when some of the more powerful guild members put it down. While grateful for the save she decided to stay with the guild both for the fact that it gave her an opportunity to face more creatures and fight them as well as to pay for the damages she caused

- Hashi stands in at an impressive 8'8"....she has trouble going through doors
- She lost one horn in her coming of age fight with her own mother
- Hashi's very open about her past and all the scars she gained over the years


Bin Wizard
Tuur for the most part appears human save for the dark, rocky plating covering his arms, back and jawline. What armour he wears is light, relying on the stone plates moreso than protective clothing.
He is quite tall, above a human's average height and standing at around 7'.
Name: Tuur
Race: Magmur
Class: Brawler
Rank: Iron
Affinity: Fire | Transform
The magmur are nomadic groups of people from the volcanic region of Elair. Their most notable trait is their ability to transform into animals consisting of magma, this is called the 'fireform'. Dark rock as jagged, protective plates with lava and fire coursing like blood between them, and considerably larger than their organic counterparts.
A visual example of a fireform is as follows:

Fireforms are most commonly in the shape of bears, wolves, or large cats but can vary greatly depending on the individual.

Aelia Aeldyne

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here
Name : Yugurin Shor

Race : Ghoul

Age : 48

Class : Diabolist

Rank : Gold

Affinity : Dark | Summon

Bio :

Aside from the inherent risk posed by adventurers, some monsters have really unfortunate origins. Ghouls are such monsters, babies born and abandoned on sites of mass slaughter - be it battlefields, religious sacrifices, plague mass graves - their entire bodies permeated by the lingering energy of death to the point of being twisted into gaunt and ravenous undeath, but also crippled as a cruel jest. A newborn ghoul is feeble and weak, barely able to move itself and deprived of all senses except touch. Still, fate is not so much of a stone-cold bitch to not grant ghouls a chance at survival. Usually this manifests by an instinct, that hunger strengthens, an instinct that directs the newborn towards the nearest corpse to feed.

Most of the time, the first act of a young ghoul in the world is to devour its own mother.

Of course, if the ghoul happens to be an animal instead of a human, chances are it will go and take a bite off the closest dead human instead. Interestingly enough, while ghoul ground animals are a regular occurrence, never have ghoul birds been encountered; it has been theorized that the birds that would come to places of slaughter at all are already carrion-feeders in the first place, and as such immune or in symbiosis with the emanations of death.

Once a ghoul has started to feed, it experiences sensations for the first time, and it is extatic. Eating the muscles strengthens their own limbs; eating the eyes or the ears grant them sight or hearing; eating the heart makes their own beat and makes the ghoul feel warm. Most importantly, eating the brain allows the ghoul to gain the knowledge and part of the power of the dead person. However, as this is all borrowed from the dead, it is impermanent and fades in time, forcing the ghoul to keep finding - or making - corpses to feed on in order to retain their awareness. Coupled with the fact that a ghoul's hunger is unquenchable, most individuals choose to revel in consumption.

However, there is indeed a way for ghouls to permanently retain the attributes of what they consume. That is, assuming a ghoul wants to have permanent sight, it must eat the eyes of someone alive. Whether the person lives or dies afterwards is irrelevant, so long as the consumption is done while alive. In addition, going with the example of the eyes again, even if the person survives and gets their eyes healed by magic, the eyes will remain nonfunctional so long as the ghoul is alive. Attempting this is obviously far more dangerous for a ghoul than to simply feed of corpses, but most ghouls who try and achieve permanency consider the reward well worth the risks.

Most ghouls who achieve permanency then choose to blend in society, passing as pale but perfectly alive-looking people, slaking their hunger on more conventional food (though this is far less satiating than eating flesh, even if the sensations are better). Some others choose to retire as hermits to master or embrace the hunger, to no longer fight against it but instead use it as a weapon; those who follow this path are called Ghalaks, and although they are very few and far between, they are rightly terrifying opponents even to Gold-rank parties. All ghouls are born with Dark as their first affinity, and a Ghalak's second affinity is always Hunger, making for some devastating magical attacks.

Physiologically, ghouls grow by feeding until they reach maturity at around 20 years old. Past this point, aging only happens if the ghoul does not feed - otherwise the ghoul remains in its prime so long as it has nourishment. Ghouls do not have bodily fluids nor any needs besides food, and although they do not feel the need to sleep, they do need to rest in order to regain their stamina. Ghouls who have not achieved permanency have dull dark hair in hues of brown, black and grey, turning to black when they die. On the other hand, ghouls who have achieved permanency have bright, vibrant hair, that turns to white if they die.

There are many places in the world, and many more beyond it. The Abyss belongs to the latter category; it is an endless realm of bleakness and primal chaos, filled with inert blackstone and rivers of dark, pulsating ooze. The air, scarce and thin, is vitiated and toxic, clouded by the fumes of hellflame and fires stranger still. Water is an even greater rarity in itself, easy to find in a corrupted or tainted state, amidst rivers of blood or clouds of poisonous vapour, but never pure and pristine. The skies, ever so rarely visible, are devoid of beneficial light; all that hangs up there are black suns pulsing with malevolence, spreading their evil gleam across the land. Dawn and dusk are heralded by deep crimson through the clouds, and the nightly heaven is an ancient thing, black and blue and entirely barren of any star, for it came to be in times before there even were stars.

Yet somehow there is thriving life, and even society in the Abyss. Perhaps it should not be surprising, given the density and potence of the magic there, that life found a way. Perhaps it is only natural, given the harshness of the environment, that its denizens would harden up and brace to conquer the hostile world through the skin of their teeth, inch after inch, painstakingly. There is perhaps just as many different species in the World Beneath than there is in our own. Urhans, Brannari, Azzahaks, Seithar, Tindalligs, Niiroteans, the list goes on and on... Each Abyssal species is unique and very different from all others - and to each its own brand of madness and aberration. But today, only two are of interest - Urhans and Seithar.

There is a place at the heart of the Abyss, that many among Abyssals believe to be its center, called the Unspeakable Shell. It is for all intents and purposes a gigantic egg the size of a mountain, lodged deep in a chasm at the heart of a blasted wasteland. The Shell is made of what seems like stone but isn't, black and grey and perfectly smooth all over. It thrums with a slow pulse that hurts the soul of anyone who hears it save for Urhans, and anyone who touches the shell and isn't an Urhan either instantly dies or goes stark raving mad.

The Unspeakable Shell is where Urhans come from. Every once in a while, it cracks, letting out a dim, blueish light, and a shapeless thing emerges from the fissure, growing and distorting until it fixates into a specific form unique to itself. That thing is an Urhan. Once the Urhan is shaped, the Shell coalesces and becomes whole again. It is believed that individual Urhans are merely parts of a greater being, Urhan itself, that has yet to hatch. Although Urhans are generally apathetic and peaceful, the other powers of the Abyss watch the Shell closely, and do not hesitate to take preemptive measures to seal or repair it should the cracks grow too wide for their comfort.

Urhans do not grow in power with age, but have a higher power baseline to compensate. They do not have personal affinities, instead a bleak and twisted mockery of the material world's affinities called "Abyss". For example, an Urhan capable of creating hellflame would have Abyss Fire as its affinity, but would be unable to create or wield natural fire. Urhans can grow in power by eating souls, but the gains are ever so minimal, and besides most Urhans do not have any particular inclinations towards the act, which makes it extremely rare. Alternatively, two or more Urhans can merge together to become a greater specimen with power slightly higher than the sum of the two originals, and with both of their Abyssal affinities.

Physiologically, Urhans come in all shapes, sizes and colour - it all depends on the individual and none of those parameters are linked to the Urhan's power. All creatures of the Abyss possess one or more spiritual spark called Identity, but the Urhans' own is very weak and consumed upon birth, which is why their appearances are so varied - it is what defines them as individuals, as mentally and spiritually they are very impersonal. While in the Abyss, they have a physical body which is made of the same matter as the Unspeakable Shell and wreathed in their Abyssal affinity. When summoned to the material world, Urhans are "unkeyed" from their physical shell in the Abyss and become purely spiritual beings until they return to the Abyss to inhabit their bodies again.

In Diabolism (the portmanteau term for Abyss-related magical arts), as Urhans do not have an active Identity spark, they are what Diabolists call a "Zero-key" summon, requiring no binding beyond the summoning itself, as an Urhan will automatically tie itself to its summoner, and over time grow to mimic the mannerisms and mentality of the one who summoned it. Urhans can be summoned by permeating soil soaked in blood and vinegar with Dark-affinity power. While summoned, Urhans have no faces. Urhans are invisible and unable to interact with the world unless their summoner forces them to assume a physical form by feeding them power, which allows them to become visible and interact with the world. In any case, people who can use Spirit can always see Urhans. If the summoner's affinity is opposite to that of the Urhan (Water/Fire, Air/Earth, Light/Dark, Spirit/Body, etc), the summoning will be very painful for both sides and the power of both the summoner and the Urhan will be reduced. On the contrary, if they are matching affinities the summoning will be very easy and the Urhan will be stronger while the summoner will have to spend less power to manifest the Urhan.

"Killing" a manifested Urhan merely shunts it into the summoner's body, which can cause backlash as the body has to accomodate two spirits until the Urhan has recovered; killing the summoner of a manifested Urhan forces the Urhan into the empty body. If the body isn't killed again, the Urhan is free to roam the world in its new body; however, if the body is killed again (or if the summoner is killed while the Urhan is inside the body as well), the Urhan will be thrown back into the Abyss, while the summoner's soul will be absorbed by the Unspeakable Shell to in turn become a new Urhan.

Urhans do not have names and cannot be magically given names. Instead, they have titles which are granted to them upon maturation. For example an Urhan choosing the shape of an array of cubes could have a title like "Floating Spire of the Acute Squared Edge" (which can be shortened to FSotASE, which is the closest thing to a name this particular Urhan would accept). It is possible - but very difficult - to change an Urhan's title and thus the shape of its body, but it is a very painful process for the Urhan and it might resent whoever changed it if it liked its previous form.

Seithar (an untranslatable word in Abyssal that roughly means "Sin-children", singular Seith) are not a species native to the Abyss. Rather, the word designates a certain "ethnicity" of damned souls, those who fell to the Abyss for crimes so horrible that the punishment has been branded into their very soul, condemning them to spend the rest of eternity wandering aimlessly the vast murderous stretches of the World Beneath.

The growth of the Seithar is a strange thing. Their potential never stops increasing, but their actual power does not grow unless they are wounded and the extra power can flow into the wound - for both physical and spiritual wounds. This makes their lives in the Abyss very difficult - beyond the usual hostility of the Abyss - because it requires of them to suffer in order to be able to survive what the Abyss throws at them.

In addition, while they know of their condition, their memories of their past lives are erased, not allowing them to know what was the act so heinous that condemned their soul to the Abyss. This means that Seithar have two Identity sparks, one being the "Sin" and the other being the "Self". As their memories are missing, their first instinct upon entering the Abyss is to name themselves again given that they don't know who they are. They follow their instinct, which often results in an ironic name reflecting their sin. Being cast into the Abyss is not a gentle process, and upon entering, they also lose a body part related to their crime - often eyes for the envious or the ambitious, hands for the greedy, the heart for those who killed their lovers, etc. All that is lost is stored in a fabled fortress in the Abyss known as the Repository, so there is a chance for a Seith to be absolved of their crime. However, neither Seithar nor other residents of the Abyss can open the gates of the Repository, meaning that the sinners can only contemplate their failures as they are unable to enter.

Due to having two Identities, Seithar are 2-key summons, requiring two bindings for a successful summon. First of all, the spirit needs an empty body to inhabit; the state of the body doesn't matter, as the confiscated body part of the Seith's Self will also disappear on the offered body - although further wounds will not be regenerated. The first key is a body part. As the Seith is not "whole", the body it is given must have an additional part to make the right count. Most diabolists, themselves fond of cruel irony, choose to give their Seithar body parts that they deliberately know the Seith will be unable to use because of their already missing part. This binds the Self. For the Sin, a metallic "pin" is required - "pin" being a generic term for a small metallic object marked with the Seith's name and placed either in the heart or the spine of the body.

Once a Seith is bound, it requires power to keep existing, or it will start withering at the same rate a human without food would. The summoner can cut off the flux of power at will. Killing the possessed body forces the entirety of the Seith into the pin, allowing the summoner to place the pin into another body if able. However, if the pin is destroyed, the Seith must be bound again within six days or it will weaken past the point of being able to be bound and will fade into nonexistence after a month. A Seith can be bound anew in this manner three times (meaning four bindings in total); afterwards binding it once more will see the Seith's soul consumed by the pin and snuffed out, turning the pin into a cursed item.

It is impossible to bind a Seith to a living body. Placing a pin within a living body will snuff out the Seith and forcefully bind the living person's soul to the pin, turning them into a Wraith. Similarly, trying to force a pin into an undead will result in a contest of will between the controller of the undead and the summoner of the Seith. If the necromancer fails, the power controlling the undead is snuffed out and the Seith can inhabit the corpse as normal; if the summoner fails, the Seith becomes just another spirit bound to the necromancer. If both fail, then the undead power and the Seith's power will start decomposing each other, creating the undead monstrosity known as a Yhaol, the Seith being slowly subsumed by the undeath. Once the Seith is erased, the undead becomes an Abyss Carrion, a powerful undead with a direct connection to the Abyss.

Summoning a Seith can be done by creating a summoning circle with oxydated copper and brimstone dust, and spraying it with the blood of an innocent. Suffice to say, most diabolists like renewable resources and kill the innocent to make room for the Seith inside the body.

The only known method to relieve a Seith of their curse is for the Seith and its summoner to fall in love with one another. True love dispels the Seith's curse, turning them into a living person again; upon transformation, the pin is subsumed by the Seith's body and becomes completely harmless.

In short, being a Seith is suffering.

When I was young, all there was for me was hunger. I was weak, I was nothing. I had nothing but the skin on my bones and the gnawing hunger inside me. I was blind and deaf, and everything tasted like ash. I did not eat much, because I was weak, so maybe it really was all ash. Except blood. Blood tasted good. But I couldn't eat much. Sometimes I found good bodies, bodies with a lot of parts, and for a time after eating I felt things. I could see. I could hunt better. I could feel the wind against my skin, I could hear it blowing past my ears. Really, there was no greater sensation in the world.

Soon after I found a pack, a group of people like me, who hunted together. I joined the pack, and it made life much easier. To each their part of the food, and no one was missing anything. But we didn't take risks. On the odd chance that we would manage to eat someone alive, the gains weren't worth being most likely hunted down and killed. Not that there were no dangers. We weren't alone at night. There were many other monsters, hunters, and people of less than shining repute prowling around. A simple hunt for corpses could turn into a bloody battle against another pack or a greater necrophage. When I joined the pack at around 15, there were around sixty members. Ten years later, there were less than thirty left.

One night, we stumbled upon the entrance of a hidden network of tunnels. We were not really hungry, so we decided we could take time to explore it. Depending on what we would find inside, it would possibly make for a perfect home. And thus into the depths we went. Years later, as I think back on this time of my life, the only word I can find fitting is "harrowing." The tunnels were filled with traps and undead and latent magic, and we lost many of our own trying to reach the main room. Inside the room was a man, going through a ritual of some sort. I was the weakest left of the pack, and so I hid while the others went in. The man casting the ritual snarled, and they all became stuck mid-jump as if the air had become solid around them.

He finished his ritual, three dark shapes appearing in each corner of the room. Then he turned around and killed the rest of my pack with a spell, before laughing and crouching to examinate the corpses. Behind him, in the room, the three things he had summoned were still coalescing. Needless to say, at this moment hunger had withdrawn. Wrath was all I felt. This man, hiding in his hole to practice some dark magic, had killed my family and laughed. I would devour him. I took my chance, and jumped out of hiding, sidling through the shadows to reach him before he could react. I seized him by the throat and bit his face off. Then I kept eating, chomping down bit after bit of flesh until only the limbs were left. It did not feel satisfying, but for once I felt like I had eaten enough.

And there were thoughts not mine flowing into my head, which prompted me to enter the summoning room. And as I entered, I beheld all the books spread about, the magic circles and the three summoned beings kneeling in the spots they had been called forth on, and I waited for them to speak. "We cannot go without a master", they said. Rather, one of them said, and the others nodded. "Bind us or send us back, but we cannot stay in this world as we are right now." And the thoughts spun, urging me to bind them. There was a tinge of "Dominate" to those, but I put it aside. It was not what I wanted. My family was dead, so I'd make another one. And... I would need summons, if I was to be a diabolist.

I spoke back to them.

"I will be your master, then."

Afterwards, I erred from town to town, from land to land. There were always people who needed a diabolist, even if they weren't willing to admit it outright. After maybe three years of errance, I arrived to Lantana. After rather tense talks with a few adventurers, I joined the guild and worked there since. Few respect me because of what I am, but I must admit that I couldn't care less. I have a home and a family, I can eat as much as I need, and I have a stable occupation. There are always quests no one wants to take, but
someone has to do the dirty job.

Other : Yugurin got his name from the leader of the pack he was a member of.

His summons :

Baphomet Hunter.png
Cliff "Butcher Boy" Ratchett is a Seith missing a head and who was given a goat's skull upon summoning. In his previous life he was a serial killer who cut off the head of his victims with an axe and a large cleaver. Ever merry and slightly mad, Cliff is purely muscle and enjoys bloodshed. His affinity is Body.
Kylie is a Seith missing her eyes and who was given butterfly wings upon summoning. In her previous life, she was a widow who got cheated on by her second husband with her sister and publicly shamed for it, resulting in her murdering him in cold blood as well as the two children they'd had together. She talks very little and is prone to depression. Her affinities are Air|Insects.
His full title is He Who Slithers in a Mantle Of Shade, aka HWSiaMOS (prounounced "Hew-zia-moss"), and he is an Urhan with the Abyssal Dark affinity. He is rather weak for an Urhan, but compensates in cunning and stealth.

Appearance :
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Not Sure

New Member
Name: Akina Okamori

Race: Wolfkin

Class: Fighter

Rank: Silver

Affinity: Body | Enchant

Bio: As the eldest daughter of pair of merchants, Aki spent most of her early life on the road, mingling with the ever-changing group of traders, craftsmen, and various other travelers who made up their caravan. In some ways, it was an ideal childhood - seeing new places, meeting new people, and never stuck in any one place. When she could sneak away from her chores and her lessons, she would spend her time bothering the caravan guards and adventurers, demanding they teach her swordplay and magic, or at least share a story or three. Most would humor her, trading a bit of tutoring for whatever small errands they could give her. These informal lessons built the foundation of her fighting style, and the tales they regaled filled her with the desire to explore the world for herself.

Unfortunately, at age twelve Aki's traveling life came to an end, as her mother's failing health forced them to leave the road behind and settle in Lantana. Despite her parents' high hopes for their new trading post, business failed to boom, and with eight siblings to care for Aki found herself taking on more and more responsibility at home - cooking meals, cleaning, and watching over her siblings while her parents toiled day in and out at their work. Still, it wasn't enough - savings slowly dried up, meals shrank, and clothes became more and more threadbare.

With poverty looming, Aki resolved to take matters into her own hands. The life of an adventurer had always been her dream, but now its allure came from the promise of coin, lurking in dungeons and the purses of guild clients, just waiting for someone to claim it. Every night she would slip away to practice with an old, bent sword she'd spent her meager savings on, honing her scraps of training as best she could.
At fifteen, she lied about her age to join the Waystone Guild, netting her a copper plate with her name on it and the title of Adventurer. The work was hard, and more often than not, bloody. Danger was never far from a novice, lurking and waiting for the slightest slip, the moment's weakness. But each brush with death left her a little tougher, and a little wiser.

Now, ten years on, the future's looking bright again. As a silver-ranked adventurer, Aki has established a solid reputation at the Guild, and the coin earned from her exploits has allowed her younger siblings to grow up well-fed and educated. With the eldest of them leaving home to pursue their own destinies, she's finally been able to begin saving for herself, and her dream of traveling the world is almost in sight. Just a little longer...

Other: Aki specializes in Body Enhancement magic, the art of using one's mana to directly enhance one's physical attributes - sharpening senses, performing feats of superhuman strength and agility, or reinforcing one's body to shrug off otherwise mortal blows. Because of this, she generally forgoes bulky armor to focus on speed and sheer offensive power.
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Kitsune of the North
Name: Cinder Radcliff
Age: 26yo
Race: Demi-Human (Human/Kitsune hybrid)
Class: Sorcerer/Lumberjack
Rank: Gold
Affinity: Fire + Body
-Despite his power types being common as far as adventurers go, he's got a solid grasp of how his powers work and to what extent he can use them. He's so far found five different uses for his affinity to Fire, and a few passive powers from his body type affinity as well. It takes roughly 24 hours to refill his magic reserves, though eating and sleeping both help refill it faster.
By condensing fire magic to a single point and propelling it like water though a hole in a glass cup, he can propel himself with relatively little use of his magic; allowing him to fly though the skies if used correctly. Like most of his other powers from his Fire affinity, Roaring Jets is manifested in the twelve Tungsten rods he carries with him; and are cast from said rods when the ability is in use. To fly, he requires 4 rods with the cast active, in which the 4 rods in use cannot be used to cast other abilities without deactivating the cast on them. He can use all 12 rods to fly from place to place quickly, though it's better suited to increase his mobility during fights or during emergency situations. The major drawback aside from less rods for other casts is the duration of time he can continually cast before tiring out, being able to fly for 3 hours with all 12 rods in use; covering a maximum distance of 2,750 miles. Rods in use also levitate around him and must be within a meter of him, the heat from which is enough to melt normal armor; making Tungsten alloy armor a requirement in fights.
Similar to how Roaring Jets works, though meant for offensive use on magic resistant enemies. Each rod is sent flying like an arrow, redirecting their trajectory constantly and swarming their target like angry wasps. Unlike the other Fire affinity abilities, this use drains magic at a rate equal to his regeneration. This attack also heats up the rods to burn the target in question, thus dealing both physical and fire attacks at the same time. The result is either the complete destruction to an inanimate object, or a monster/criminal left riddled with holes about 1/24th of a meter thick. This power also is not magically tethered to his body like Roaring Jets is, and as such can attack from pretty much any distance. Targets must be within sight to attack.
Primarily used to indiscriminately attack monsters in forests, this ability unleashes a flurry of small but fast fireballs; hot enough to ignite wood on contact. Each rod shoots about 6-8 fireballs a second within a 4 degree cone from the source, and each additional rod makes the likelihood of one hitting its target increase. These fireballs also pack a punch, knocking those who get hit off of their balance. Though he can certainly use all 12 rods at once, usually 2 rods are enough to provide a solid offense and defense. All 12 rods being used for this cast can drain his magic reserve in around 1 hour, with only one rod in use boosting that time to 12 hours
Unlike all of the other casts, this one can be used on objects other than his rods, and thus does not require the rods to be effective. Upon touching an object with the intent to cast, a magic trap is set on the object in question; which when triggered causes a pillar of fire to erupt out from the object. The primary trigger for this trap is proximity, but can also be set to activate either on touch or on manual cast activation. Can only be cast 4 times without canceling out casts, and he only has enough magic to activate 5 casts in a row. The area that's set ablaze upon activation is a 2 meter diameter pillar that's 15 meters high, growing less harmful the higher up the pillar the target is. Cast lasts for 10 seconds.
The most deadly and magic exhausting of all of the casts, requires 4 rods to activate. Creates a massive cone of fire that comes out directionally, with a range of 45 meters and a 12 degree angle to either side from the center. Additional rods increase the temperature of the flames, 4 rods being able to melt lower temperature metals; with all 12 rods being able to melt Tungsten alongside setting concrete and stone on fire. Can be used for 5 minutes with all 12 rods in play, with only 4 rods increasing that time to 15 minutes.
Being that his entire life was brought up around fire, his body gradually became immune to the affects that fire has. Molten metal and lava don't phase him either which makes it easier to handle the rods he uses too, though toxic gases produced from said sources is another issue entirely.
As a lumberjack, he naturally has strong muscles that help him chop down and carry trees, but it also means he has some stores of fatty tissue to help fill the void when hunting doesn't go too well. As such, his body can convert some of his fat into magic and vise versa, allowing him to either replenish his magic more quickly or keep his body alive for longer periods of time. Every pound of fat converts to 72 hours of raw magic capacity, and so it takes little fat to keep his magic full. This power typically occurs when a surge of adrenalin and shortage of magic occur at the same time, but it can be used on demand.

Bio: -Cinder's family heritage originates in a forested area far to the north, where the locals referred to the woods as the 'Forest of Stagnant Mists'. As the son of a lumberjack who lived and died in the forest like their long line of ancestors, he inherited the family heirloom as the eldest of his siblings; twelve Tungsten rods engraved with magic symbols. An enchant that made them invincible to heat, alongside giving them increased strength to protect them from damage. By the time he had turned 12 his powers had awakened, and much like his ancestors before him he had Fire affinity as his strongest asset. Despite his human heritage, the blood of Kitsunes also flowed through his veins, as his ancestors had unknowingly married and had children with them multiple times over the many hundreds of years. Each time it has happened, a new rod had appeared upon the separation of the Kitsune and Human; whether it was from marriage issues or from death striking early.
-Around the age of 19 was when a knock on his door arrived, and as Cinder opened the door metal armor and a towering figure loomed over him. As it would be, one of the villagers of the village close by had mentioned the family of lumberjacks, alongside of the exile of their ancestors due to breaking taboo and protecting the children of a Kitsune. As he and the knight talked it became clear that the knight wasn't planning anything suspicious, primarily curious about the rumors they heard from the tavern. Talk about the guild popped up somewhere along the way, and as he was the only surviving member of the family didn't feel like continuing his life of isolation from society.
-Over the course of several years working at the guild, he had made his way up to Gold Rank alongside of meeting the love of his life. Being well known around the kingdom as one of the best Fire Sorcerers available, he's referred to as the 'Kitsune of the North' due to his Tungsten rods hovering around him like the tails of a Kitsune. He currently lives a few miles away from the guild in a small forest near a pond, where he and his wife live within a large log cabin decorated like a small noblemen's mansion; his hand-carved furniture being the main focus one can expect to admire. Now 26 years old, he's also a father of two boys and a girl, the boys being twins and the girl being a year younger than them. He still does jobs at the Guild, though he doesn't plan to go higher than Gold Rank as he's content with where he is in life; especially with raising his kids and running the shop alongside them and his wife.
Other (optional): N/A
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Frozen Thyme

There’s a little witch in all of us.
Name: Osgar Press
Race: Human
Class: Paladin
Rank: Silver
Affinity: Spirit, Body

Originally an acolyte from a small village, Osgar saw those around him succumb to a vampire. Naturally, the fearful villagers flocked to the temple. This was a fatal mistake, as the priest had been corrupted and was attempting to turn his whole congregation into vampire spawn. Osgar exposed the priest, barricaded homes, and hired vampire hunters to help dispatch the undead. Inspired by their skill and courage, he asked to join them when the job was finished. They assured him he shouldn’t follow them, though he suspects it was because he was unskilled at the time. Still, he felt a sense of duty, so he improved his own skills while cleansing and rebuilding parts of his village, then departed for six more years of training once the new clergymen were situated.

Things have a way of never quite going as expected. The Waystone Guild, with its expansive job board, was the best way for the new paladin to both sustain himself and ensure the world is in order. Getting over past events has taken some time and caused a few headaches. His white moral compass has come into conflict with that of many "darker" types, though he has loosened up enough to let those on his team function normally. That aside, he has proven himself a boon in several scenarios over his two years of service. With a cool demeanor, stringent standards, and a good old-fashioned bludgeon, Osgar is likely among the guild’s go-to members when facing unholy abominations and reanimated creatures.

• Blessed warhammer
• Silvered anelace
• Kite shield
• Brigandine armor
• Holy water vials (3/3)
• Holy symbol
• Sacred text

• His affinities center around resisting and treating many effects that would debilitate or dominate him and others, such as diseases, poisons, control spells, and possession.
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The answer is Fireball

Titus Blaze

  • 1611784774790.png

Church of Seraphina

  • 1611786083124.png1614504848534.pngThe church of Seraphina is eons old, and some say as old as the world itself as the first followers were Seraphina's first creations: The fire dragons and fire titans of old. It was they who constructed the first temple of Seraphina. As time went on many went into a deep slumber or died after creating the many races of fire. While few and far between, some of the first creations of Seraphina still live in the world, the most well known being the eldest fire dragon living at the summit of the temple serving as it's guardian and as a teacher for those who visit the temple and live there. Still as time grew on the temple expanded beyond the first floor that was made for the titans and dragons, and above and below smaller layers were made for the various races that came to worship Seraphina.

    Seraphina's followers tend to be in positions where they are somehow related to fighting or the after affects, either as a craftsman of weapons, a soldier, a judge, a guard, or any other such role where they preside over, or within, conflict. She is described as "not a goddess of battle lust or celebration as much as excellence and passionate discipline". However, followers believe trials of adversity, such as warfare, is a challenge that can elevate a person. Seraphina represents the duality of the cleansing and healing properties present in fire, and the destructive capabilities held within, as destruction can also lead to rejuvenation and regrowth. She is ever impartial and always seeing through lies and deceit to properly judge those who find themselves in her court. Her divine domain's include: Fire, destruction, healing, law, crafts, and war.

    Seraphina shows herself to her believers in one of two forms, the form of wrath, or the form of benevolence. The form of wrath is blindlingly bright and the only things visible are the rough outline of a human figure with six wings protruding from her back. This form appears when followers have broken an important promise they made with her, or broken the core tenets of the faith in an unforgivable way. The form of benevolence is the one that Seraphina shows herself the most. She appears as a young women with a single pair of wings protruding from her back, her entire body is a shade of light yellow and gold as a gentle flame that has come to encourage those who follow her. Those in the church to become known for their great power and skills recieve the title of Archon in the wake of their alignment with the six portfolios of Seraphina.

    The Core Tenets:
    The law is paramount. It is the mortar that holds the stones of civilization together, and it must be respected. Be responsible for your actions and their consequences, protect those entrusted to your care, and obey those who have just authority over you.
    War: Do not seek war without cause, instead fight for justice, for the people, and for Seraphina. Use war as a chance to better yourself and glorify Seraphina.
    Destruction: If the laws are unjust and cause undue harm, then the law is no longer law but a tool used by those in power to harm the weak. Without destruction how can healing be done?
    Healing: Rouse the flames of hope amongst the downtrodden, raise the spirits of the oppressed. A blade can end a life. Fear can end an empire.
    Craft: Where there is good, beauty, love, and laughter in the world, stand against the wickedness that would swallow it. Where life flourishes, stand against the forces that would render it barren.
    Fire: Delight in your passions, delight in song and laughter, in beauty and art. If you allow the light to die in your own heart, you can't preserve it in the world. A fire used for justice is a holy flame, a fire used for an unjust cause is an evil flame. Do not let your flame or passions be used for evil.

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Ymir (Mapmaker)


Broom Shroom
Appearance: She has light, ivory hair she pulls back into a messy tie, and a pair of goggles usually perched on her forehead. The bandana around her neck covers her mouth and nose in flight.
Name: Ymir
Race: Human
Class: Mapmaker
Rank: Silver
Affinities: Air| Geometry
Bio: Ymir is an explorer who focuses expanding the guild map. She came from a village high in the mountains to study at the Lantana academy, however she ran into trouble with the guard in her final years of study and ended up with the guild instead. Her favourite person was her late grandmother, who was part of the founding expeditions of the guard.

Other: Her second affinity allows her to see the world is if a grid had been laid over it. Secret tunnels, traps, hidden alcoves--all are revealed--as long as it exists in the physical realm. The reach is quite extensive, but the further it is the less details she sees. Her ability will not pick up magic or any non-physical entities. Her weapon consists of a wooden staff with foldable, wing-like attachments to help her travel distances where the waystone won't reach.
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Funnier President

Muncher of Randomness
Appearance: ( Art or Description )
Name: Zeno Ori
Race: Magical Human
Class: Assassins
Rank: ( Copper | Iron | Silver | Gold ) Gold
Affinity: ( Water | Fire | Air | Earth | Body | Spirit | Light | Dark | Other ) Lightning | Body
Bio: Zeno as a kid was bright eyed, and curious, and was always fast, even by magic standards. He was raised by his parents, in a small house in the wood. His dad was a former Guildsman, and he taught Zeno how to use Daggers, which became him main weapon later on. However, when Zeno was 14, a large group of Orcs, stamped on his house, killing his mom and dad. A terrified Zeno managed to awaked his Speedier powers, and blasted one of the Orcs to bits before running away... Nothing was heard of him for 5 years, but he suddenly remerged, having control of his powers, as well as a pair of strange daggers that seemed to channel his powers. He climbed up the ranks of the Guild quickly, and lived by himself.
Other (optional): He basically is extremely fast, and his lighting powers increase this, allowing him to run fast as lighting... he can also use a few thunder abilities.


Dead Gun
Name: Ezekial Halo
Race: Human
Class: Summoner
Rank: Copper
Affinity: Fire & Summon
Bio: Ezekial was born the eldest of a farming homestead. Growing up he learned to work the land and eventually he found a affinity with fire magic. Training the magic he learned quickly to control the flames and could even find spirits that would reside in the flame. While training his magic Ezekial was responcible for protecting the homestead. After years of defending the homestead from various threats he decided he wanted to become a adventuer to help others. Leaving his homestead he left in the direction of the nearest town intent on looking for somewhere to become one.
Other (optional): n/a


Kitsune of the North
Name: Jennie
Race: Sea folk
Class: Pirate Bard
Rank: Silver
Affinity: Water & Music

As she sings out a classic sea shanty with help from her Harp, thin swords made of water float around herself and 4 of her party members; alongside musical notes and wavy lines that keep beat to the song. All party members with this affect have their Body affinity increased by 20%, with sword users also having their attacks become faster. Additionally, the water swords around herself attack enemies, and their strength scales with the party member with the highest Body affinity. This spell will continue so long as she keeps playing on her Harp, and requires very little magic power to use.
Using a Flute to fill the air with songs of hope, flower pedals forming from water float around a max of 2 party members; imbuing their weapons with water magic and healing them a small amount for every attack they land. This spell will also heal those it's casted on when she can keep a clear head, whether during the heat of battle or after the fight has ended. Those who are fully healed gain a temporary boost to their mobility, becoming harder to hit as they can more easily dodge attacks.
Playing on the drums with the voice and rhythm to inspire fear, a max of 3 party members have thorns of water wrapped around their armor and shields. Enemies that attack will take damage, alongside giving the part member attacked 2x the attack power they had before being attacked. Additionally, this magic will bind an enemy that attacks with watery thorns as well, reducing their defenses against Ice magic; with which also temporarily freezes the enemy in place.
Bio: -She was born and raised with the Sea Folk off the coast of a prominent trading port, living among the fish of the coral reefs. Without a care in the world, she would sing to her hearts content while looking at the ships sailing with awe. How she wished she could sail the high seas and explore more of the world, with fate granting her desire in a somewhat twisted way. Abducted by Pirates and taken away from her home, she was forced to submit to their wishes in ways that still traumatize her; though as her magic became more useful during a fight other pirates sought her help. Some were kind enough to accept her as part of the crew, others merely used her as a means to become stronger. She eventually was found by a crew of Pirates that to this day she holds dear to her heart, who treated her not only as a member of their crew, but also as a part of their family on the high seas. She even had become captain of the ship and represented their goal of leading a happy and fulfilling life.
-One night, while docked in the port where she was first abducted, she and her crew were at one of the nearby taverns when some knights had come in. They were looking for the crew that she was a part of, with the intent to arrest and put them all in nooses. She was their primary target, and it didn't take long before both parties noticed each other; with she and her crew fleeing and dispersing across the city. With the help of her spells, she managed to escape with a few of her crew, though the rest were apprehended and killed over the next few days. With the crew she had left, they decided to leave the ship in the port and head further inland, having practically abandoned the thought of starting anew as pirates again. It didn't take long before they all reached the city where the Guild was located, with the four of them going their separate ways; her longing for more adventure driving her to become a part of the Guild and it's many adventurers.
Other (optional): While her Harp is used to play music, it can also be used as a bow to shoot arrows. Though she isn't as skilled with a bow as she is with her instruments of support, she can still land a few hits of her own with it while playing a melody to keep supporting her party.
Skyward Harp.jpg
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Nibler in the dark

Name: Ivar Barghest
Race: Beastmen
Class: Bandit Swashbuckler
Rank: Copper
Affinity: Earth | Plague
Bio: Ivar heralds from the plague lands, a vast putrid wasteland of death and disease. A land infested with the undead, feral beasts, and other unholy beings.
The plague lands are governed by three powerful liches. The blight king, The lady of red and the lord of bones. Legend tells they were the ones who in ancient times set off a deadly miasma over a once fertile land turning it into what nowadays is called the deadlands. The three liches are worshipped/feared by any scum that decides to make those lands their home. Necromancers, bandits, monsters, and many other things.

Ivar is from the Barghest clan. a clan of beastmen devoted to the Blight king. The clan was merciless bandits that would go around pillage villages or attack unlucky travelers that they happened to have gotten their eyes on leaving behind a trail of death and ruin wherever they went. Ivar also was one of these bandits, being trained ever since he could hold a knife to fight and take. How he decided to become an adventurer is quite simple. Ivar and some of his clanmates encountered a group of adventurers one day who were on their way to kill some big evil monster thingy or something. A battle ensued and Ivar and his clanmates won. while searching through the spoils Ivar found documentation of this “job” these adventurers were on. He was intrigued by the fact that if you're part of a guild you can be paid mad money for killing things. so that was why he decided he wanted to become an adventurer… money and the prospect of legally being able to fight things.

Other (optional):
- His earth affinity gives him the ability of tunneling, the ability to quickly dig into and move underground for short distances. He also can scale up any earthen wall without any problems or need of solid footing.
- Attack from his claws and teeth may infect the victim with a plague that will fester the wound and sap its victim’s strength until it eventually succumbs to it and dies (poison dot effect). He can also apply this infectious effect to his weapons by spitting on them. The plague, although potentially lethal, can easily be cured by common cures for diseases though.

Aelia Aeldyne

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Name : Maharna Zaai

Race : Genie (Djinn)

Class : Merchant

Rank : Iron

Affinity : Spirit | Balance

Bio :

There is, far to the south-east of Lantana, a land of lush rainforest and deserts of smooth sands; this land is called Nirhat Aum, the kingdom of the genies. No one know when it came to be and some say that the magnificent cities built amidst the trees, beneath the dunes or hanging in the sky, all things containing impossible geometries, had always existed since the dawn of time. Some, judging by the peculiar nature of genies, thought that Nirhaut Aum had been merely a dream that had become real when a dreamer wandered upon it and talked about it. No one knows the truth and it is unlikely that it will ever be known, for even though the sorcerer-lords of geniekind are not stingy with knowledge and secrets, this is the one truth they steadfastly refuse to reveal.

Nirhat Aum can be divided into five great regions. The Skyworld, the Ancient Rainforest, the Star Dunes, the Burrowrealms and the Kingpeaks. Each region is governed by a specific kind of genie and has its own wonders, secrets and traditions, while the Kingpeaks is the area where lies the Nightglass Citadel, the palace of the supreme king of all genies, the only one of all geniekind to have transcended the limitations of ordinary genies and become the absolute ruler of them all. He is the god-emperor of genies and his name is Asharnazahal. Under him are the Genielords, a group of "demigod" genies with superior power who act as relays of authority; however, how they choose to express this authority varies wildly from Lord to Lord. How do genies become Genielords is unknown - though speculation has it that the process is unique to each Lord - and has been ascertained to have nothing to do with Asharnazahal. It is only after one's ascension to Lordship that the connection is forged.

All genies possess innate magical power, though their rumored ability to grant wishes is often only a tale. Only Genielords and Asharnazahal can truly enact their will upon the world to grant a request, and even then it is said that only the god-emperor can do so without limitations. Not that he has ever granted a wish.

Common genies simply do not have the power to do so, and must instead use contracts to grant people's requests, by using the magical power created by the contract itself to grant the wish, with a few restrictions. They cannot manipulate someone's emotions, they cannot make contracts related to contracts, they cannot truly bring back the dead (although they can create undead), they cannot create things out of nothing and they cannot call on beings from other dimensions such as Fae or Abyssals. But for example, if someone asked a genie "please grant me the strength to defeat my enemies", then by signing the contract and absorbing the power that it created, the genie would shape the power into a spell that would reinforce the buyer's body until they have vanquished their foe.

Of course, nothing prevents the genie for asking an unfair price for their services. But then again, using their power in such a way is very dangerous for the genie as if they make even a single minor mistake in shaping the power, the backlash on themselves will be enormous as it would be considered a breach of contract and this is one thing that cannot be sidestepped by a contract clause. Genies theorize that this limitation was set up by Asharnazahal himself to prevent them from overusing their power or using it in reckless or wicked ways, but only the Genielords know, and they do not tell.

Similarly to how Nirhat Aum is divided in five regions, geniekind itself is divided in five different kind of genies.
The first kind of genie is called Zhid (plural Zhidi). Zhidi are the dominant race in the Star Dunes, living in cities of multicolored sandstone built on the back of gigantic pillbug-like creatures roaming the desert. The dunes themselves are made of sand of all colors, but it is dull and dark-looking at day. Only at night, when the light of the stars shines upon the sand, does it take vibrant colors and shine like a sea of fireflies. The behemoths on which Zhidi build their cities have a symbiotic relationship with the genies. They provide a place to live on their massive back, and in exchange the Zhidi help the behemoths find their food; they eat a plant that only grows under the sand, but it is very hard for them to dig the plant themselves, so they rely on the genies to do it for them. Like all genies, the primary affinity of Zhidi is spirit, and there is no particular trend to their second affinity, which makes them a very diverse people in terms of powers and temperament. Their architectural style tends to be small, stocky square buildings, as they do not need much more impressiveness due to living on top of gigantic pillbugs, and the winds up there blow wildly so strong buildings are preferable to grandiose constructions.

Zhidi are nicknamed "Stern Watchers" because their duty is to keep the borders of Nirhat Aum. For this, some warriors ride great centipedes that are roughly five to six times the size of a horse and wield weapons and wear armor forged from the molted chitin of the centipedes. For this reason, those warriors appear to be clad in black carapace and thus are called the Dark Shell Knights. The mages on war duty prefer riding flying scarabs rather than land-bound centipedes, in order to be able to cast from superior heights. Some very few madmen chose to eschew most armor, wearing only basic leather or scale, and order their centipedes to curl up into wheel-like shapes to ride them into battle and perform acrobatics with them; those are called Sirocco Harlequins and are the most elite army of the Zhidi - if only by virtue of being able to withstand riding and performing acrobatics with ten-ton giant centipedes. There also is an order of female monastic warriors called the Mantis Shanaa, who have a strong relationship with the so-called Shredder Mantises living in the rare rocky dunes here and there. The Shanaa do not live on the behemoths, instead inhabiting fortresses carved out of the stone and training in reclusion to be able to mimic the effect of the serrated claws of Shredder Mantises with their bare hands. All Shanaa can resist blows from steel weapon and cut steel after two years of training, and the eldest and strongest of them are able to break stone, air, or even magic. On order of the Genielords, the Shanaa are also the keepers of the sacred grounds where previous Genielords are buried, along with another order from each other region of Nirhat Aum.

The Zhidi who do not belong to a knightly order or a monastic society are nonetheless trained into martial arts, and each conscript has a special set of clothes indistinguishable from their standard clothing but woven out of Shard Spider silk that they use as very strong light armor. The Zhid militia is called the Dancer Host as their combat art resembles an irregular dance. They mostly use spears and shields, but some also use twin daggers or whips. Shard Spiders are a sort of spider that eats stone and the shell of dead desert insects and produces a rough, crystalline silk that can be processed into a material that is the equivalent of centipede shell armor but for chainmail. However, as Shard Spiders do not often weave webs, each Zhid's individual suit is considered to be a family relic to be treated with great care. The one advantage of shard spider silk is that it can be regenerated by dipping it in sandstone mud for a few weeks, which allows for minor repairs.

Due to their harsh environment, hospitality is sacred to the Zhidi, and their guest laws are very strict. Depending on what a guest is offered by the host, they are guaranteed safety on the host's honor for a certain period of time. Offering the salt lasts for one hour, offering the bread means safety until next dawn, offering the hearth means safety for one week; of course, those are only minimal durations and hosts may feel entitled to a longer period - though in exchange it is expected from the guest to behave politely and amicably and not sully the host's honor. Much rarer and somber is the offering of silence, to the sick, the wounded of the elderly. One who is offered silence is granted care by the host until their last breath, with the assurance that the host will also take care of the funeral rites. For obvious reasons, this is mostly only offered to close friends or lovers, or those who are so close to death that their deeds become irrelevant in front of the impending silence. Not even the Genielords can overturn an offering of silence, and even though Asharnazahal was once petitioned to overturn such an offering due to the dying person being a vicious criminal, he refused on the basis that doing so would break the spirit of the law.

Zhidi tend to wear dull-coloured clothes as they inevitably get stained with sand and tattered by the wind and as such see no reason to waste money on dyes when the clothes will be damaged. The average Zhid appearance is a tawny leaning bronze skin, golden eyes with black sclerae and several variances of dark hair. As a whole, Zhidi tend to not really adorn their bodies with jewellery and prefer having tattoos - although never on the face.

There are currently two Genielords in the Star Dunes. This number has varied through the ages, with a peak at eight and a low at zero, but in the current day there are only two.

The first of them is Hawadi Thule, the Multifaceted Eye of God; before ascending he was a mere clockwork artisan, but his desire for more perfect instruments and more perfect creations led him to dwell into the secrets of other species' eyes so he could create lenses that could see better than he did. After two centuries of research and unsuccessful craftsmanship, Hawadi succeeded in crafting a perfect lens that could concentrate the light from every direction into a single point. However, the tension was so high on the lens that it broke when Hawadi inserted it in his telescope. Refusing to be discouraged, Hawadi ripped out his own eyes and put one half of the lens into each socket, thus triggering his ascension.

His skin became a mosaic of bronze-coloured hexagonal tiles that reflect light in a pleasant manner, and his eyes now shine with divine light as they reveal the structure behind all craftsmanship. As a Lord, Hawadi is surrounded by a sphere of transparent tiles of glass, some squared, some triangular, some hexagonal, etc. And anyone who prays to Hawadi in front of a mirror has a chance to talk with him. Hawadi is a patron of craftsmen, researchers and astronomers. He favors people with the Earth or Light affinities and he dislikes the destruction of objects created with passion. Hawadi does not involves himself with matters of rule, preferring to spread knowledge and teach craftsmen instead.

The second is Aisha ibn-Sawaneth, the Divine Ant Warrior; before her ascension, she was a guard in one of the Zhidi holy sites - the empty shells of dead behemoths, covered with sculptures and graffiti through the years, the hollow insides turned into cemeteries and places for the culture of the sacred flowers that glow in the dark - although she was only in charge of one of the small pilgrim villages on the top of the shell. One day the village was attacked by a group of harpies and she failed to repel the attack, so she went in exile out of shame and trained herself until her body withered and she had nothing but hardened mummified skin around her bones, and very dense and thin muscle and sinew. Her limbs looked like twigs but had the strength of battering rams. And she kept training. Then one day a messenger came into her abode begging for help, because the whole holy site was under attack.

She returned in great haste, running faster than sound, and saw that there was a great black dragon trying to pierce the shell to get inside. Aisha rushed to attack it, but despite its massive size the dragon proved to be just as skilled a brawler as she was. Their fight went on for six days and seven nights, and she could not repel all of the dragon's attacks. If only she had been a little bit faster, if only she had been stronger, if only she had been more capable... And her self-hatred burned her, calcinated her through dark flame that left her skin black and polished like an ant's carapace. She felt something in her shoulders... She had six arms now. And she went on the offensive, finally killing the dragon after one more day of combat.

As a Lord, Aisha speaks in unintelligible chirping and screeching sounds that can only be understood by those of great physical and mental mastery. Her magical power is one of the reason insects and related animals are thriving in the dunes, as it permeated the dragon's blood that sank into the earth and was drunk by the beasts. Aisha heeds no prayers nor seats of power, instead wandering the land as a cloaked stranger, taking disciples from time to time in order to train them so they can achieve mastery of themselves. She is a patroness of guardians and soldiers and the founder of the Shanaa. She favors those with the Body and Spirit affinities and she likes people who acknowledge their flaws and try to overcome them.

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