Fantasy The Outlands Character sheets

[Nogoodname]

Alright~! Let's crank out some exiles, maybe one of them will even survive!
It's probably a good idea to look at the lore first before making your char, just sayin'

Character sheet:

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Image/written depiction:
Height:
Weight:
Physical alterations: (Anything your face claim is missing, or other things of note like tattoos, piercings, scars):
Backstory:
Personality: (Optional)
Magic type: (Arcane, Divine, or Soul)
Spells: (There's no limit on how many spells you can have, but try to remember that magic within the kingdoms is strictly banned. This means you'll generally be starting out with weaker magic, if any at all!)
Talents:
Weaknesses:
(Talents and weaknesses are anything that your character will start out naturally skilled in, or a flaw that your character will have from the get go. You must have as many weaknesses as you have talents)

Divine character info:
Name of your god:
Concept they embody:

Important links:
IC: The Outlands
OOC: The Outlands OOC
Extra pages: The Outlands Extra Pages

 

[Fluffy-Kat]

WIP~ :333​

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Image/written depiction:
Height:
Weight:
Physical alterations: (Anything your face claim is missing, or other things of note like tattoos, piercings, scars):
Backstory:
Personality: (Optional)
Magic type: (Arcane, Divine, or Soul)
Spells: (There's no limit on how many spells you can have, but try to remember that magic within the kingdoms is strictly banned. This means you'll generally be starting out with weaker magic, if any at all!)
Talents:
Weaknesses:
(Talents and weaknesses are anything that your character will start out naturally skilled in, or a flaw that your character will have from the get go. You must have as many weaknesses as you have talents)

Divine character info:
Name of your god:
Concept they embody:

 

[Nogoodname]

Name: Fen Arkus
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Image/written depiction:

Armor:

Height: 6' 4

Weight: 215

Physical alterations: Numerous scars on the body.

Backstory: Fen's future was pretty much set from the moment of his conception. Most of his bloodline had fought and died on the front lines of the battlefield and his Mother and Father were no exception. There wasn't much to be said during his younger years other than the fact he met his closest friend and future wife during his time in his training to become a royal knight. A woman whose blue eyes were as fiery as the red hair beneath her dark hooded clothing. He had only met the woman in passing when she came into town to purchase some food. She told him he was a special kid and for some reason, those words stuck with him.


Not long after, Fen followed the calling of his bloodline, where he was thrown into battle not long after his training as a knight. He found himself favoring solid armor and longswords, becoming a one man vanguard to protect all of his fellow soldiers at his back. The man's incomparable will to survive was what kept him alive during those years. It was also what kept him alive when he fell under heavy archer fire. Friendly knights that saw him that day described it like watching a bloodied porcupine rise from a pile of corpses. Friendly fire within the fog of war.


Fen got into one battle where things didn't end very well. The one time that Steel couldn't rise from the valleys of dead that surrounded him. He lay there bleeding, helpless, and defeated. But as fate may have it, this was not the end of Fen Arkus. No, it could be said that this was his beginning. For Fen had been saved by a passing sorceress who remembered the feeling of his soul and had felt it ebbing away away in the sea of the fallen. Unsurprisingly, it had been the mage he met during his childhood.

Spending a considerable amount of time recovering, Fen eventually opted to stay with the woman and serve as he guard. She had no need of one for she herself was a considerable threat and centuries his elder but Fen was also stubborn. He refused to let the life debt go unrepaid. Eventually, she relented and the two spent some odd years together before the relationship between the sorceress and the swordsman became something more then just simple protection. Eventually leading to love and even bearing a child together.


Steel's life was looking well. It had difficulties and obstacles but who doesn't right? Well, obstacles came in the form of an army of pursuers. See, Vela, the sorceress was well known for being a practitioner of dark arts. Magic was already forbidden but dark arcane magic being the most detested of all. The family fled for a long time but could not outrun the wrath of kingdom that was so close. They had ran for years before they were captured. Fen desperately trying to teach his 5 year old daughter self defense techniques and Vela trying to teach her the basics of magic. Alas, thats all she got to learn before Vela, dark sorceress was executed without trial. She was powerful enough to possibly escape on her own but she couldn't abandon her lover and 5 year old child to their fates.

As it turns out, her sacrifice had bought her lover and child two more years on the run. These two years proved to be crucial as the kingdoms goal shifted over time from persecution to capture. Though, in those to years of running and selling his skills with a blade to earn money for him and his daughter, Fenrir became cold and unfeeling. Years on the battlefield had already shifted his moral compass askew but the loss of his lover pushed him beyond that. Now, the only person he had a soft heart for was his child.

Eventually, two years later, the father and daughter were caught and brough in.

Fen's previous outstanding service had earned him and his daughter mercy. He still had many allies that claimed Fen was simply bewitched by the sorceress and as much he wanted to cry out against it, he could not. Otherwise he would seal both of their fates. Instead, he and his daughter were exiled to the outlands. The only thing Steel managed to keep was by pulling every favor he had in the kingdom, he kept his weapons and armor for the journey, his personal journals, and a seperate bound book. It was supposedly the child's favorite storybook but in reality, it was one of Vela's spellbooks. The last remaining memento of Vela to her daughter.

Personality: Fen is a soldier who has been tried and tested many times in the fires of war and adversity. He tends to keep quiet and only speaks when spoken to or when the situation is getting desperate. Initially, he could seem very cold hearted and indifferent to the world and people who think that aren't wrong. Fen truly doesn't concern himself with the beliefs of others or moral obligations. He follows his orders to the point and doesn't let his conscious stand in the way of that. Not that he doesn't have one, mind you. But after so much combat, a man can only turn into steel or else he will lose his mind. Cold, hard, and efficient steel. It's no wonder how he got his nickname. Those that take the time to get to know the human that is buried underneath will find a man who does care about those around him but fails to express it through conventional means, instead opting to trying to keep them alive a little harder than he would others. The definition of a battle hardened veteran, Fen tries to keep himself occupied (and sane) during his downtime by recording the events he has gone through in his journal(s). He surprisingly doesn't mind sharing stories with the younger people or if someone gets curious and snoops through them. When he is dead and gone, SOMEONE is going to. Might as well they hear it from the real deal before he isn't around anymore to tell the story. One detail most people don't know is that a small smile will always makes its way onto his lips when he is faced with a situation that seems impossible.

Though, this man's personality makes a complete change when his daughter is involved. He becomes protective, gentle, loving, and incredibly patient. He's not afraid to be harsh to her but he has another side to him that is such of vast contrast to how he is normally people are usually taken aback by the fact he even has such a side.

Magic type: Soul
Spells: None
Talents: Master swordsman, Natural tactician, Will of steel, extraordinary potential for soul magic despite being unaware or it, survivor

Weaknesses: Quick to violence, anger impairs his judgement (unless his daughter is involved), not a very good study, stubborn, abrasive, cold hearted, ultimately selfish (his daughter and him come before everything)

​

(Gonna be a bit simpler due to age)

Name: Alyxandra Arkus

Age: 7

Gender: Female

Image/written depiction: View attachment 338747

Height: 4'3

Weight: 50 lbs

Physical alterations: Another scar down the right side of her lip.

Backstory: Alyx's earliest memories are of her playing with some toys at her mother's feet while she studied the arcane arts, the sounds of her dad's rigorous training somewhere outside. They sat near the fireplace and didn't do much. Momma Vela was quietly reading away and would occasionally glance down at Alyx, just to see some still growing teeth smiling back up at her. Very simple memory and yet, one of the most peaceful ones she can recall. As her most recent memories grip her life. Life on the run, of pain, cold, rugged, and hard life. Life living in constant fear of what tomorrow brings. Life of having her loving mother torn away from her and having to not only see what it did to her dad but having to see him cope with it every single day for the past two years. She's still very young but she can tell the look of pain that crosses his stone-like features whenever she reminds him of her.

Her father desperately taught her some minor defensive techniques during these hard times and her mother taught her the very beginnings of arcane magic. She didn't understand why at the time and is still flustered by the whole thing today. Why did this have to happen to them? They didn't hurt anybody. They didn't bother anyone. So why did these people continue to hurt her family? What did they do wrong?

Personality: Alyx, despite everything that has happened in her short life, usually maintains a very positive outlook. She is generally a very happy, caring, and kind hearted child to pretty much everyone. She's devilishly curious and likes causing mischief, much like her mother did. But like her father, she is capable of reading the mood and can turn quiet and deathly serious when the situation calls for it. Years on the run have taught her some basic strategies for survival andna lot of the time, it was remaining silent. Being diligent and focused when needed but very light hearted and carefree at all other times. (Warning: Is a jealous daughter)

Magic type: High potential for Soul and Arcane but knows neither yet beyond basics

Spells: Can create a small, open flame in her hands and make plants grow at a touch.

Talents: High potential for Arcane, high potential for Soul, Contagious positivity, very hard to break her spirits, strong willed

Weaknesses: Non-combatant/ defenseless, naive in many aspects, self- doubting, gullible, easily frightened, reliant on others (duh)​

Approved, and approved!

 

[shadowz1995]

Approved, and approved!

Told u Id come up with simething good

 

[Nogoodname]

Told u Id come up with simething good

I like! Gonna be lots of fun to crush his hopes and dreams play with. Also ayy, fluff is here!

 

[slim]

Name: Velina Koll
Age: 127
Gender: Female

Height: 5'6"
Weight: 132
Physical alterations: Yeah...she sure is missing something alright. Thankfully, she has no other injuries on her person.


Backstory: Velina was the child of a dark elf and a human and was wanted by neither. Her human father left after her mother announced she was pregnant and her mother was forced to return back to her clan, the Koll, since she had no one else to help her care for herself and the child. As soon as Velina was born her mother once again left the clan as she had tried to do before when she met Velina's father and this time she succeeded. Velina was left in the care of her grandmother who took pity on the girl and was the reason Velina wasn't left by the clan to fend for herself or most likely just die.

Velina learned quickly how to avoid her own clan members and not draw attention to herself. She was taunted mercilessly by children her age and looked down on by the adults for the human part of her when she couldn't hide from their gazes and hated the feeling. She left the clan when she was 16 and headed off, knowing anywhere was better than the clan.

She was caught up in the battle she didn't even know existed between the kingdoms she wasn't all too fond of either. Stil, she felt like she needed to join. She didn't know which side was actually correct in the reason why they were fighting but she ended up fighting on Albion's side. She was a scraggly thing that couldn't even hold up a sword or ride a horse but she was determined to be better. She trained twice as hard before being sent out to the front lines. She was scared of the death and the commotion and stayed behind her fellow soldiers as they rained down blows on the enemy. Years passed and the fights got more intense and frequent and Velina matured with it. She wasn't the best swordsman but she was determined to see it through the war.

She was injured two years before the war came to a halt and woke up in a medical tent with intense pain as healers assessed the wound. Velina remembered facing the opponent who had been a bear of a man with a club. She remembered dodging a blow and going in for the chest...It seemed something had gone wrong and he had gotten her arm. The bone had splintered in her arm and Velina endured the removal of it elbow-down with silent screams and thrashing.

She was full of anger and self-pity as she found herself extremely poor and felt useless. She struggled to do basic tasks and fend for herself but her anger eventually gave her the strength to continue on, regardless of her situation. She tried getting a job as a noble's guard and was laughed at until she challenged the noble's captain of his guard. Fighting with her left arm was entirely new to her as well as the weight difference but she decided it made her agiler. He was younger than her and not as experienced and her own trumped his and she won. The noble, Jolben, was impressed and she got the job. It wasn't as eventful as the war but she wasn't complaining. The noble's children took a liking to her and Velina returned the feelings right back tenfold. She became part of the family as the years stretched and Velina felt like it'd be a job she wouldn't mind having for many more years to come.

Everything was uneventful until Velina was with the children as they were heading back to the house after visiting the market and were surrounded by thieves. The small groups of bandits weren't common in the area so Velina was taken aback but quickly drew her weapon. Two of the bandits got off their horse and drew their weapons and Velina told the children to run back to the house. The remaining bandit was still on his horse and immediately started trying to follow them but Velina hurled her sword and it sank into the horse's neck. The animal went down and the rider fell as well and got stuck under the beast's bulk. Velina ran over quickly and retrieved her sword and finished off the man trapped under before facing the other two. They both rushed at her and she parried the man on the left before ducking under the other's blow and kicking him in his groin. Velina was going to stab the man who had crumpled but was parried in response and Velina struggled to keep the sword back with her own as it closed in on her neck. Anger surged through her as she realized how defenseless she was until she felt something indescribable sweep through her. She had always felt like her limb was there sometimes and would reach for things expecting the missing hand to grab it, but this feeling felt more than that. She reached out her right arm and saw an arm. It wasn't flesh and bone but was more of a shimmering outline. The man she was still locked with made a sound in his throat and Velina wasted no time punching him. He fell like a rag doll and Velina finished him and his partner off before taking the horses back to the house. The arm faded by the time she was there and Velina felt hope in her chest.
She practiced it again with no success until she invoked feeling into it and felt something red-hot in her chest. It was a nice feeling, one that let her know she wouldn't be fendless anymore.
She woke up one morning a while after to a spear to her neck. She was told she was being charged with treason against the royal family after papers had been found with information on the royal family. She was led away as she fired off questions about what was going on. She caught Jolben's guilty face as she was dragged off and understood. He had been the rebel and she had been the scapegoat if things ever got nasty.

She fought off the guards and took off with nothing but the clothes on her back and her sword. She eventually ran into Fen and his daughter and they found they were both fleeing the royals of Albion. She traveled with the group until they were eventually caught and exiled.


Personality: Velina used to be a quiet soul that blended in the background until the loss of her arm and exilement. It was an eye-opener that the world is truly a cruel place and toughening up is the only thing to be done if you want to make it. She makes use of the things around her to benefit her and is quiet if she wants information she'll use to stab you in the back later. Her moral system is sometimes lacking but she isn't heartless. She forms relationships with those she knows have the capability to get her what she wants but she never trusts anyone to any degree.
Despite her usual nature, she enjoys people who can joke and such easily and cause her to let loose from time to time. If she's feeling happy, she herself cracks jokes and enjoys being social, even if it does take a few drinks.
Magic type: Soul
Spells:
Phantom Limb: In battle, Velina occasionally requires the use of both hands so she uses her soul to shape one for a short period of time. She uses a simple gesture of her left arm and places it on the stump of her arm and focuses the magic and pulls away slowly and the arm starts forming.
Barrier: She's able to throw up barriers the size of herself that can receive a fair share of blows before collapsing that she creates with the movement of her left arm and focus of the magic.
Talents:
-You wouldn't think her fighting prowess would be anything to talk about in a positive note but the small woman spent nearly all waking hours on learning how to fight. Her main weapon is a straight-one handed sword that is very mobile in her hand.
-She favors the element of surprise and knows how to blend in different groups of people and sneak around under people's noses.
-Her tenacity is the only thing that has kept her alive all these years and it's next to unwavering.
Weaknesses:
-If you've wronged her in the past she will become hell-bent on getting you back. It clouds her judgment and sense of reason.
-Her sacrifice of strength for agility causes her to have a disadvantage against bigger opponents.
-She's sometimes stubborn and starts to shut down when others try to change her mind.​

 

[Nogoodname]

Name: Velina Koll
Age: 127
Gender: Female

Height: 5'6"
Weight: 132
Physical alterations: Yeah...she sure is missing something alright. Thankfully, she has no other injuries on her person.


Backstory: Velina was the child of a dark elf and a human and was wanted by neither. Her human father left after her mother announced she was pregnant and her mother was forced to return back to her clan, the Koll, since she had no one else to help her care for herself and the child. As soon as Velina was born her mother once again left the clan as she had tried to do before when she met Velina's father and this time she succeeded. Velina was left in the care of her grandmother who took pity on the girl and was the reason Velina wasn't left by the clan to fend for herself or most likely just die.

Velina learned quickly how to avoid her own clan members and not draw attention to herself. She was taunted mercilessly by children her age and looked down on by the adults for the human part of her when she couldn't hide from their gazes and hated the feeling. She left the clan when she was 16 and headed off, knowing anywhere was better than the clan.

She was caught up in the battle she didn't even know existed between the kingdoms she wasn't all too fond of either. Stil, she felt like she needed to join. She didn't know which side was actually correct in the reason why they were fighting but she ended up fighting on Albion's side. She was a scraggly thing that couldn't even hold up a sword or ride a horse but she was determined to be better. She trained twice as hard before being sent out to the front lines. She was scared of the death and the commotion and stayed behind her fellow soldiers as they rained down blows on the enemy. Years passed and the fights got more intense and frequent and Velina matured with it. She wasn't the best swordsman but she was determined to see it through the war.

She was injured two years before the war came to a halt and woke up in a medical tent with intense pain as healers assessed the wound. Velina remembered facing the opponent who had been a bear of a man with a club. She remembered dodging a blow and going in for the chest...It seemed something had gone wrong and he had gotten her arm. The bone had splintered in her arm and Velina endured the removal of it elbow-down with silent screams and thrashing.

She was full of anger and self-pity as she found herself extremely poor and felt useless. She struggled to do basic tasks and fend for herself but her anger eventually gave her the strength to continue on, regardless of her situation. She tried getting a job as a noble's guard and was laughed at until she challenged the noble's captain of his guard. Fighting with her left arm was entirely new to her as well as the weight difference but she decided it made her agiler. He was younger than her and not as experienced and her own trumped his and she won. The noble, Jolben, was impressed and she got the job. It wasn't as eventful as the war but she wasn't complaining. The noble's children took a liking to her and Velina returned the feelings right back tenfold. She became part of the family as the years stretched and Velina felt like it'd be a job she wouldn't mind having for many more years to come.

Everything was uneventful until Velina was with the children as they were heading back to the house after visiting the market and were surrounded by thieves. The small groups of bandits weren't common in the area so Velina was taken aback but quickly drew her weapon. Two of the bandits got off their horse and drew their weapons and Velina told the children to run back to the house. The remaining bandit was still on his horse and immediately started trying to follow them but Velina hurled her sword and it sank into the horse's neck. The animal went down and the rider fell as well and got stuck under the beast's bulk. Velina ran over quickly and retrieved her sword and finished off the man trapped under before facing the other two. They both rushed at her and she parried the man on the left before ducking under the other's blow and kicking him in his groin. Velina was going to stab the man who had crumpled but was parried in response and Velina struggled to keep the sword back with her own as it closed in on her neck. Anger surged through her as she realized how defenseless she was until she felt something indescribable sweep through her. She had always felt like her limb was there sometimes and would reach for things expecting the missing hand to grab it, but this feeling felt more than that. She reached out her right arm and saw an arm. It wasn't flesh and bone but was more of a shimmering outline. The man she was still locked with made a sound in his throat and Velina wasted no time punching him. He fell like a rag doll and Velina finished him and his partner off before taking the horses back to the house. The arm faded by the time she was there and Velina felt hope in her chest.
She practiced it again with no success until she invoked feeling into it and felt something red-hot in her chest. It was a nice feeling, one that let her know she wouldn't be fendless anymore.
She woke up one morning a while after to a spear to her neck. She was told she was being charged with treason against the royal family after papers had been found with information on the royal family. She was led away as she fired off questions about what was going on. She caught Jolben's guilty face as she was dragged off and understood. He had been the rebel and she had been the scapegoat if things ever got nasty.

She was put on trial that was more than unfair since she wasn't even allowed to speak and was sent off with only the clothes on her back and a sword. She'd find her way back and be more powerful. Jolben would get what was coming for him.

Personality: Velina used to be a quiet soul that blended in the background until the loss of her arm and exilement. It was an eye-opener that the world is truly a cruel place and toughening up is the only thing to be done if you want to make it. She makes use of the things around her to benefit her and is quiet if she wants information she'll use to stab you in the back later. Her moral system is sometimes lacking but she isn't heartless. She forms relationships with those she knows have the capability to get her what she wants but she never trusts anyone to any degree.
Despite her usual nature, she enjoys people who can joke and such easily and cause her to let loose from time to time. If she's feeling happy, she herself cracks jokes and enjoys being social, even if it does take a few drinks.
Magic type: Soul
Spells:
Regenerate: In battle, Velina occasionally requires the use of both hands so she uses her soul to shape one for a short period of time. She uses a simple gesture of her left arm and places it on the stump of her arm and focuses the magic and pulls away slowly and the arm starts forming.
Barrier: She's able to throw up barriers the size of herself that can receive a fair share of blows before collapsing that she creates with the movement of her left arm and focus of the magic.
Talents:
-You wouldn't think her fighting prowess would be anything to talk about in a positive note but the small woman spent nearly all waking hours on learning how to fight. Her main weapon is a straight-one handed sword that is very mobile in her hand.
-She favors the element of surprise and knows how to blend in different groups of people and sneak around under people's noses.
-Her tenacity is the only thing that has kept her alive all these years and it's next to unwavering.
Weaknesses:
-If you've wronged her in the past she will become hell-bent on getting you back. It clouds her judgment and sense of reason.
-Her sacrifice of strength for agility causes her to have a disadvantage against bigger opponents.
-She's sometimes stubborn and starts to shut down when others try to change her mind.​

Accepted!

 

[Nogoodname]

Oh, and just a note, your character will be allowed to bring one bag on the journey with anything they can carry.

 

[shadowz1995]

Name: Fen Arkus
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Image/written depiction:

Armor:

Height: 6' 4

Weight: 215

Physical alterations: Numerous scars on the body.

Backstory: Fen's future was pretty much set from the moment of his conception. Most of his bloodline had fought and died on the front lines of the battlefield and his Mother and Father were no exception. There wasn't much to be said during his younger years other than the fact he met his closest friend and future wife during his time in his training to become a royal knight. A woman whose blue eyes were as fiery as the red hair beneath her dark hooded clothing. He had only met the woman in passing when she came into town to purchase some food. She told him he was a special kid and for some reason, those words stuck with him.


Not long after, Fen followed the calling of his bloodline, where he was thrown into battle not long after his training as a knight. He found himself favoring solid armor and longswords, becoming a one man vanguard to protect all of his fellow soldiers at his back. The man's incomparable will to survive was what kept him alive during those years. It was also what kept him alive when he fell under heavy archer fire. Friendly knights that saw him that day described it like watching a bloodied porcupine rise from a pile of corpses. Friendly fire within the fog of war.


Fen got into one battle where things didn't end very well. The one time that Steel couldn't rise from the valleys of dead that surrounded him. He lay there bleeding, helpless, and defeated. But as fate may have it, this was not the end of Fen Arkus. No, it could be said that this was his beginning. For Fen had been saved by a passing sorceress who remembered the feeling of his soul and had felt it ebbing away away in the sea of the fallen. Unsurprisingly, it had been the mage he met during his childhood.

Spending a considerable amount of time recovering, Fen eventually opted to stay with the woman and serve as he guard. She had no need of one for she herself was a considerable threat and centuries his elder but Fen was also stubborn. He refused to let the life debt go unrepaid. Eventually, she relented and the two spent some odd years together before the relationship between the sorceress and the swordsman became something more then just simple protection. Eventually leading to love and even bearing a child together.


Steel's life was looking well. It had difficulties and obstacles but who doesn't right? Well, obstacles came in the form of an army of pursuers. See, Vela, the sorceress was well known for being a practitioner of dark arts. Magic was already forbidden but dark arcane magic being the most detested of all. The family fled for a long time but could not outrun the wrath of kingdom that was so close. They had ran for years before they were captured. Fen desperately trying to teach his 5 year old daughter self defense techniques and Vela trying to teach her the basics of magic. Alas, thats all she got to learn before Vela, dark sorceress was executed without trial. She was powerful enough to possibly escape on her own but she couldn't abandon her lover and 5 year old child to their fates.

As it turns out, her sacrifice had bought her lover and child two more years on the run. These two years proved to be crucial as the kingdoms goal shifted over time from persecution to capture. Though, in those to years of running and selling his skills with a blade to earn money for him and his daughter, Fenrir became cold and unfeeling. Years on the battlefield had already shifted his moral compass askew but the loss of his lover pushed him beyond that. Now, the only person he had a soft heart for was his child.

Eventually, two years later, the father and daughter were caught and brough in.

Fen's previous outstanding service had earned him and his daughter mercy. He still had many allies that claimed Fen was simply bewitched by the sorceress and as much he wanted to cry out against it, he could not. Otherwise he would seal both of their fates. Instead, he and his daughter were exiled to the outlands. The only thing Steel managed to keep was by pulling every favor he had in the kingdom, he kept his weapons and armor for the journey, his personal journals, and a seperate bound book. It was supposedly the child's favorite storybook but in reality, it was one of Vela's spellbooks. The last remaining memento of Vela to her daughter.

Personality: Fen is a soldier who has been tried and tested many times in the fires of war and adversity. He tends to keep quiet and only speaks when spoken to or when the situation is getting desperate. Initially, he could seem very cold hearted and indifferent to the world and people who think that aren't wrong. Fen truly doesn't concern himself with the beliefs of others or moral obligations. He follows his orders to the point and doesn't let his conscious stand in the way of that. Not that he doesn't have one, mind you. But after so much combat, a man can only turn into steel or else he will lose his mind. Cold, hard, and efficient steel. It's no wonder how he got his nickname. Those that take the time to get to know the human that is buried underneath will find a man who does care about those around him but fails to express it through conventional means, instead opting to trying to keep them alive a little harder than he would others. The definition of a battle hardened veteran, Fen tries to keep himself occupied (and sane) during his downtime by recording the events he has gone through in his journal(s). He surprisingly doesn't mind sharing stories with the younger people or if someone gets curious and snoops through them. When he is dead and gone, SOMEONE is going to. Might as well they hear it from the real deal before he isn't around anymore to tell the story. One detail most people don't know is that a small smile will always makes its way onto his lips when he is faced with a situation that seems impossible.

Though, this man's personality makes a complete change when his daughter is involved. He becomes protective, gentle, loving, and incredibly patient. He's not afraid to be harsh to her but he has another side to him that is such of vast contrast to how he is normally people are usually taken aback by the fact he even has such a side.

Magic type: Soul
Spells: None
Talents: Master swordsman, Natural tactician, Will of steel, extraordinary potential for soul magic despite being unaware or it, survivor

Weaknesses: Quick to violence, anger impairs his judgement (unless his daughter is involved), not a very good study, stubborn, abrasive, cold hearted, ultimately selfish (his daughter and him come before everything)
​

 

[shadowz1995]

Name: Alyxandra Arkus

Age: 7

Gender: Female

Image/written depiction: View attachment 338747

Height: 4'3

Weight: 50 lbs

Physical alterations: Another scar down the right side of her lip.

Backstory: Alyx's earliest memories are of her playing with some toys at her mother's feet while she studied the arcane arts, the sounds of her dad's rigorous training somewhere outside. They sat near the fireplace and didn't do much. Momma Vela was quietly reading away and would occasionally glance down at Alyx, just to see some still growing teeth smiling back up at her. Very simple memory and yet, one of the most peaceful ones she can recall. As her most recent memories grip her life. Life on the run, of pain, cold, rugged, and hard life. Life living in constant fear of what tomorrow brings. Life of having her loving mother torn away from her and having to not only see what it did to her dad but having to see him cope with it every single day for the past two years. She's still very young but she can tell the look of pain that crosses his stone-like features whenever she reminds him of her.

Her father desperately taught her some minor defensive techniques during these hard times and her mother taught her the very beginnings of arcane magic. She didn't understand why at the time and is still flustered by the whole thing today. Why did this have to happen to them? They didn't hurt anybody. They didn't bother anyone. So why did these people continue to hurt her family? What did they do wrong?

Personality: Alyx, despite everything that has happened in her short life, usually maintains a very positive outlook. She is generally a very happy, caring, and kind hearted child to pretty much everyone. She's devilishly curious and likes causing mischief, much like her mother did. But like her father, she is capable of reading the mood and can turn quiet and deathly serious when the situation calls for it. Years on the run have taught her some basic strategies for survival andna lot of the time, it was remaining silent. Being diligent and focused when needed but very light hearted and carefree at all other times. (Warning: Is a jealous daughter)

Magic type: High potential for Soul and Arcane but knows neither yet beyond basics

Spells: Can create a small, open flame in her hands and make plants grow at a touch.

Talents: High potential for Arcane, high potential for Soul, Contagious positivity, very hard to break her spirits, strong willed

Weaknesses: Non-combatant/ defenseless, naive in many aspects, self- doubting, gullible, easily frightened, reliant on others (duh)​

 

[Archie]

Name: Cyrus Telmarine
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Image/written depiction: Cyrus is gigantic, a holdover from the magic of his false God. His hair used to be brown, but has since changed to a shining blonde. Taukan figured it helped him sell slaves better in the market. His looks have not changed much since his youth, but Taukan adjusted his cheekbones. He refuses to change his looks, as his false God gave them to him as "blessings". His image is deliberately crafted to reflect that of an innocent and trustworthy youth, hiding the grim and ruthless reality of a fanatical follower of a God that demands "human harvest".

He's almost always dressed in his armor for two reasons. First, it serves as a symbol of religious pride. Second, his body due to imperfect alteration is actually quite sensitive to pain, and he needs armor even to survive a fistfight.

Height: 6'7"
Weight: 250 pounds
Physical alterations: He has a gash on his back left from once he excised one of his own organs to serve the eternal lord of the Harvest.
Backstory: It would have been a great honor to be born into the House of Telmarine, that is - if you weren't a bastard. Cyrus was born the son of a serving maid who raised him for some years on the castle grounds. The death of his father Alisdair Telmarine left the six year old in much danger, so his mother fled into the forest. She was starved, and so was he. Destitute, and with nowhere to go, she made a solemn vow to the Lord of Harvest, Taukan, whose shrine could be found in every peasant's village. "Save my son" she cried out.

"It is your fault for ever having him. You must atone. The harvest must continue" replied a voice, before the local tax farmer, the traditional "priest" of Taukan in rural areas, arrived to slit her throat.

That collector, Enquis Morgensten, was then ordered to take Cyrus as his own subject, but not before the demand of Taukan was fulfilled that the harvest continue - Cyrus's left kidney had to be removed, and, if he was strong enough to survive, then he could serve the Lord of the Harvest. Enquis obliged, and the boy recovered after surviving a coma.

Cyrus's young years were unhappy. He assisted his adoptive father in collecting taxes, the door slammed in his face many times. Bandit threats in the increasingly chaotic Kingdom of Albion also required that he train. When he wasn't moving his mouth trying to convince the impoverished peasants to pay the King's ever more crushing taxes, he was flexing his arms, swinging his sword, and pleading Taukan to let him reap the rewards of his hard work in the harvest.

"The harvest is a long process" was the reply he heard in the shrine

"But you are right. It must continue"

At the age of 16, Cyrus was ordered to make off to the war-torn land of Oria, and harvest his own adoptive father, which he did. "What must I do, lord?" asked Cyrus.

"Find crops to harvest" came the reply. "The other farmers will join you soon"

At a forest clearing on the border of Oria, Cyrus was ordered to wait. Four other men appeared, each of them brandishing a sword, and just as young. Each of them had survived the same trials and tribulations a Cyrus, and each of them had scars to prove it, and each had harvested his own father.

They found crops to harvest. Raiding by night, they arrived in the city by day to sell their slaves. That was Cyrus's job - being the son of a tax collector, a man who could even sell peasants on paying for the government, selling a real product such as slaves was easy. Every sixth slave was to be dissected while alive, the organs were to be left in the forest, and would be gone by daybreak. Taukan took care of "fertilizing the crops" - over the course of days of captivity without food, the slaves, by the Lord's magic, became stronger, bigger, and healthier.

Eventually, Cyrus, the best auctioneer and salesman of the group, clashed with Myar, the best fighter. Both consulted Taukan. "The harvest must continue", came the reply.

Myar was the better fighter. He challenged Cyrus in camp that night, and swung at him. But Cyrus had come prepared. He had convinced Jerulian, one of his fellow harvesters, to free the group, on Taukan's orders, of the ambition and selfishness of Myar! Just as Cyrus was on his last legs, blood covering his armor, Jerulian performed the deed.

"Good. You have proven yourself worthy to be the elect. A good farmer must hire slaves. The best farmer convinces them that they are free", Cyrus heard in a dream that night. When he awoke the next morning, he was a foot taller, his arms bulging.

"You reap what you sow. If you wish to keep serving me, you must continue the harvest"

Cyrus knew what he had to do. Venturing away from the group alone, he brought a fortune and his new stature back to his home village, where he took control by harvesting the last tax collector. He instituted a new policy: taxes were to be paid in blood, for he had the money to buy off the King!

His reign, however, was not to last over the village. Three months in, the makeshift two story house he had ordered the villagers to build for him was attacked by royal Knights. Slaying one, Cyrus sustained a blinding wound to his left eye. He would harvest it and replace it with one of glass after the battle. Finding out on the Kingsroad that the King had ordered a general crackdown on murderous cults of Taukan which posed a threat to his own power, Cyrus tried to contact his God. He prayed and prayed, but heard nothing.

Venturing into the countryside, he heard from an old tax collector who had served as a priest of Taukan the reality.

"He was a false God, his real name was Andronikos Katselas, a minor noble who used the sacrifices to prolong his life by five centuries" the old man explained.

"I knew him when he was young. He was just a soul mage, who exploited the idiocy of desperate young commoners like yourself to increase the number of soul sacrifices to himself"

Cyrus cried out in anger and cut the man down, riding off with his body into the forest. He sat there, crying and calling on Taukan to accept his sacrifice. Taukan was real, he knew it! All the liars would see their hearts carved out and sacrificed! Taukan had made him large and strong, and given him purpose.

Just then, it hit him. Still tearing and crying out in pain, he drew his dagger. He sliced open the man's body, and could feel his soul exiting, feeding into the palm of his hand.

"I am Taukan. I have returned. I am coming for the King" he shouted. He lifted his hand to his face, and felt his eye regenerate. He brought his hand to his muscles, still glowing with the fire of the man's soul, and felt them grow.

That message, according to the inkeep in the next town, could be heard across the province. That was all the confirmation Cyrus needed to dash into the Outlands, running from a warrant- and running from the truth.

Personality: Cyrus has spent his whole life worshipping a false God, and committing terrible atrocities for him, and in his moment of crisis, refuses to acknowledge that the God is false. Instead, he continues to have visions in his dreams, and cling to every hope that his God is real! In his mind, he is the Elect, who must bring his God back to the real world - his God lives within him. Cyrus denies all explanations for Taukan from the experts in their arcane towers, that he was merely a soul-stealer on a grand scale. What do those dimwits know without faith!?

Cyrus has had a hard life, and keeps himself busy to avoid breaking down. He clings to his faith and to his mission as the only things that give him courage and the strength to continue.

On the exterior, he is charming from his years.... selling slaves. He is driven, bold, and exudes a certainty that betrays his inner frailty. Viewing life as a cycle of constant and interlocking battles not to be harvested but to harvest, he has a Darwinian outlook on life and views everything as a fight, a clash. He refuses to accept any point of view if it's applied forcefully.

Underneath this brittle frame of certainty and strength is a weak youth who has never been truly cared for, and felt a sense of mission while serving his God, which he refuses to give up. He views it as his duty to continue the harvest, or he fears all the world's crops might die - no matter how incorrect that view is. He sees his years of service as good, providing a home for lost young men with no line of support, and hope for impoverished peasants.

He's a charmer because of his old profession, but guarded about meeting people in depth because of the trauma of harvesting some of the people closest to him, and because of his body's sensitivity from his alterations. For the same second reason, he never lets anyone touch him, and is awkward around attractive people.

Magic type: [strike]Divine[/strike] SOUL!
Spells: HARVEST - Taukan/Andronikos Katsilas had perfected the art of harvesting the dead organs of a human being to bring out the remnants of his soul, as long as the organs were harvested within an hour of death. Cyrus is still learning how to perfect this art and match their efficiency.

Flesh alteration - The main power of Taukan, harvests allow for the flesh of one being to be changed, healed, repaired, and grown. This magic is highly imperfect, and creates too many nerve endings, making the body more sensitive to pain and other stimulus.

Remote viewing/speaking - with a minor flesh sacrifice, Cyrus can speak to someone remotely, as if he were a ghost.

Talents: While never exiled to the Outlands before, Cyrus has survived in hostile environments before. He's a charming merchant and a mediocre warrior - assisted in the latter by his giant, harvest-aided size.
Weaknesses:
Cyrus has no combat magic, and does not know how to harvest his own soul - he cannot cast without a human sacrifice. Further, alterations to his body produce using Taukan's spells a disproportionate amount of nerve cells. This means that his body has become extremely sensitive to pain or any stimulus. Due to adrenaline, this generally cancels out in fiercer fights with mortal wounds, but it means he's much more vulnerable when he's unarmored.

Divine character info:
Name of your god: Tauk'an, God of the Harvest [FALSE GOD]

Taukan is known in high circles as the God of the desperate. Among royalty and merchants, he is usually not highly thought of. He forces peasants to make human sacrifices, or he curses them with starvation and poor harvests. His most devoted followers, his elects, contribute an organ to him, and are rewarded with physical enhancements and higher status in the ignorant and backward countryside. The God was actually a minor noble, who prolonged his life with his racket, which started in pre-war Oria, and spread quickly to Albion. He was killed by the Knights of Albion months ago, having taken the form of a centaur. In reality, he was nothing more than a soul mage who, effectively, managed to find a way to run a soul racket.

 

[Nogoodname]

Name: Cyrus Telmarine
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Image/written depiction: Cyrus is gigantic, a holdover from the magic of his false God. His hair used to be brown, but has since changed to a shining blonde. Taukan figured it helped him sell slaves better in the market. His looks have not changed much since his youth, but Taukan adjusted his cheekbones. He refuses to change his looks, as his false God gave them to him as "blessings". His image is deliberately crafted to reflect that of an innocent and trustworthy youth, hiding the grim and ruthless reality of a fanatical follower of a God that demands "human harvest".
Height: 6'7"
Weight: 250 pounds
Physical alterations: He has a gash on his back left from once he excised one of his own organs to serve the eternal lord of the Harvest.
Backstory: It would have been a great honor to be born into the House of Telmarine, that is - if you weren't a bastard. Cyrus was born the son of a serving maid who raised him for some years on the castle grounds. The death of his father Alisdair Telmarine left the six year old in much danger, so his mother fled into the forest. She was starved, and so was he. Destitute, and with nowhere to go, she made a solemn vow to the Lord of Harvest, Taukan, whose shrine could be found in every peasant's village. "Save my son" she cried out.

"It is your fault for ever having him. You must atone. The harvest must continue" replied a voice, before the local tax farmer, the traditional "priest" of Taukan in rural areas, arrived to slit her throat.

That collector, Enquis Morgensten, was then ordered to take Cyrus as his own subject, but not before the demand of Taukan was fulfilled that the harvest continue - Cyrus's left kidney had to be removed, and, if he was strong enough to survive, then he could serve the Lord of the Harvest. Enquis obliged, and the boy recovered after surviving a coma.

Cyrus's young years were unhappy. He assisted his adoptive father in collecting taxes, the door slammed in his face many times. Bandit threats in the increasingly chaotic Kingdom of Albion also required that he train. When he wasn't moving his mouth trying to convince the impoverished peasants to pay the King's ever more crushing taxes, he was flexing his arms, swinging his sword, and pleading Taukan to let him reap the rewards of his hard work in the harvest.

"The harvest is a long process" was the reply he heard in the shrine

"But you are right. It must continue"

At the age of 16, Cyrus was ordered to make off to the war-torn land of Oria, and harvest his own adoptive father, which he did. "What must I do, lord?" asked Cyrus.

"Find crops to harvest" came the reply. "The other farmers will join you soon"

At a forest clearing on the border of Oria, Cyrus was ordered to wait. Four other men appeared, each of them brandishing a sword, and just as young. Each of them had survived the same trials and tribulations a Cyrus, and each of them had scars to prove it, and each had harvested his own father.

They found crops to harvest. Raiding by night, they arrived in the city by day to sell their slaves. That was Cyrus's job - being the son of a tax collector, a man who could even sell peasants on paying for the government, selling a real product such as slaves was easy. Every sixth slave was to be dissected while alive, the organs were to be left in the forest, and would be gone by daybreak. Taukan took care of "fertilizing the crops" - over the course of days of captivity without food, the slaves, by the Lord's magic, became stronger, bigger, and healthier.

Eventually, Cyrus, the best auctioneer and salesman of the group, clashed with Myar, the best fighter. Both consulted Taukan. "The harvest must continue", came the reply.

Myar was the better fighter. He challenged Cyrus in camp that night, and swung at him. But Cyrus had come prepared. He had convinced Jerulian, one of his fellow harvesters, to free the group, on Taukan's orders, of the ambition and selfishness of Myar! Just as Cyrus was on his last legs, blood covering his armor, Jerulian performed the deed.

"Good. You have proven yourself worthy to be the elect. A good farmer must hire slaves. The best farmer convinces them that they are free", Cyrus heard in a dream that night. When he awoke the next morning, he was a foot taller, his arms bulging.

"You reap what you sow. If you wish to keep serving me, you must continue the harvest"

Cyrus, 21 at the time, knew what he had to do. Venturing away from the group alone, he brought a fortune and his new stature back to his home village, where he took control by harvesting the last tax collector. He instituted a new policy: taxes were to be paid in blood, for he had the money to buy off the King!

His reign, however, was not to last over the village. Three months in, the makeshift two story house he had ordered the villagers to build for him was attacked by royal Knights. Slaying one, Cyrus sustained a blinding wound to his left eye. He would harvest it and replace it with one of glass after the battle. Finding out on the Kingsroad that the King had ordered a general crackdown on murderous cults of Taukan which posed a threat to his own power, Cyrus tried to contact his God. He prayed and prayed, but heard nothing.

Venturing into the countryside, he heard from an old tax collector who had served as a priest of Taukan the reality.

"He was a false God, his real name was Andronikos Katselas, a minor noble who used the sacrifices to prolong his life by five centuries" the old man explained.

"I knew him when he was young. He was just a soul mage, who exploited the idiocy of desperate young commoners like yourself to increase the number of soul sacrifices to himself"

Cyrus cried out in anger and cut the man down, riding off with his body into the forest. He sat there, crying and calling on Taukan to accept his sacrifice. Taukan was real, he knew it! All the liars would see their hearts carved out and sacrificed! Taukan had made him large and strong, and given him purpose.

Just then, it hit him. Still tearing and crying out in pain, he drew his dagger. He sliced open the man's body, and could feel his soul exiting, feeding into the palm of his hand.

"I am Taukan. I have returned. I am coming for the King" he shouted. He lifted his hand to his face, and felt his eye regenerate. He brought his hand to his muscles, still glowing with the fire of the man's soul, and felt them grow.

That message, according to the inkeep in the next town, could be heard across the province. That was all the confirmation Cyrus needed to dash into the Outlands, running from a warrant- and running from the truth.

Personality: Cyrus has spent his whole life worshipping a false God, and committing terrible atrocities for him, and in his moment of crisis, refuses to acknowledge that the God is false. Instead, he continues to have visions in his dreams, and cling to every hope that his God is real! In his mind, he is the Elect, who must bring his God back to the real world - his God lives within him. Cyrus denies all explanations for Taukan from the experts in their arcane towers, that he was merely a soul-stealer on a grand scale. What do those dimwits know without faith!?

Cyrus has had a hard life, and keeps himself busy to avoid breaking down. He clings to his faith and to his mission as the only things that give him courage and the strength to continue.

On the exterior, he is charming from his years.... selling slaves. He is driven, bold, and exudes a certainty that betrays his inner frailty. Viewing life as a cycle of constant and interlocking battles not to be harvested but to harvest, he has a Darwinian outlook on life and views everything as a fight, a clash. He refuses to accept any point of view if it's applied forcefully.

Underneath this brittle frame of certainty and strength is a weak youth who has never been truly cared for, and felt a sense of mission while serving his God, which he refuses to give up. He views it as his duty to continue the harvest, or he fears all the world's crops might die - no matter how incorrect that view is. He sees his years of service as good, providing a home for lost young men with no line of support, and hope for impoverished peasants.

Magic type: [slash]Divine[/slash] SOUL!
Spells: HARVEST - Taukan/Andronikos Katsilas had perfected the art of harvesting the dead organs of a human being to bring out the remnants of his soul, as long as the organs were harvested within an hour of death. Cyrus is still learning how to perfect this art and match their efficiency.

Flesh alteration - The main power of Taukan, harvests allow for the flesh of one being to be changed, healed, repaired, and grown.

Remote viewing/speaking - with a minor flesh sacrifice, Cyrus can speak to someone remotely, as if he were a ghost.

Talents: While never exiled to the Outlands before, Cyrus has survived in hostile environments before. He's a charming merchant and a mediocre warrior - assisted in the latter by his giant, harvest-aided size.
Weaknesses:
Cyrus has no combat magic, and does not know how to harvest his own soul - he cannot cast without a human sacrifice.

Divine character info:
Name of your god: Tauk'an, God of the Harvest [FALSE GOD]
Concept they embody:

Taukan is known in high circles as the God of the desperate. Among royalty and merchants, he is usually not highly thought of. He forces peasants to make human sacrifices, or he curses them with starvation and poor harvests. His most devoted followers, his elects, contribute an organ to him, and are rewarded with physical enhancements and higher status in the ignorant and backward countryside. The God was actually a minor noble, who prolonged his life with his racket, which started in pre-war Oria, and spread quickly to Albion. He was killed by the Knights of Albion months ago, having taken the form of a centaur. In reality, he was nothing more than a soul mage who, effectively, managed to find a way to run a soul racket.

Accepted!

 

[shadowz1995]

Accepted!

Hey hot stuff. Where r ur characters

 

[Juju]

Tahira Najjar

Age: 24
Gender: female
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 120

Physical alterations

Spoiler: Tattoo

*If you were educated on the gods of Balthan's gypsy people, you would recognize the snakes as Haya and Almawt, the weavers of fate.

In Balthan, the design and frequency of tattoos are a symbol of one’s social caste. Being a well-to-do trader, Tahira has delicate tattoos on her hands, arms, legs, and stomach made from a traditional brown dye. However, she does have a more personal one that is on her upper back (though her long hair covers it up about 95% of the time). This marking is of two snakes, intertwined together, one black and the other white. If you were to look closely you could even make out raised ridges in the flesh beneath the ink, telltale signs of a whip’s bite.


Backstory

Back in her glory days, Tahira was quite the dancer. Not one of the lowly street performers who amused the passersby for a few coins nor a sensual Lady of Silk. No, Tahira sought grandeur, fame, adoration and she found those things once. She was a performer whose movements were not controlled by the music, but bewitched the very rhythm itself. Her watchers could only look in awe as she glided across the stage, tossing and twirling like the desert wind. She had even been accused of sorcery in her art, but all claims were proven false. This was nothing but pure talent.

In all of Balthan, she was hailed as the greatest performer of all. Lords bid on who would host her next, and those of the lesser caste crowded the city streets just to catch a glimpse of the only woman who had mastered the Devil’s Dance. It was her finest moment when she performed that dance for the first time before the ruler of Balthan. Fabled as impossible for any mortal to achieve, the Devil's Dance was an intricate performance that combined timing, speed, balance and… fire.

When done correctly, the dancer moved in sync with flaming bursts created by splashes of ceremonial oil, twisting or leaping gracefully away from danger as if the god of fire was their partner. When done wrongly a painful death would surely follow. The observers could hardly take their eyes away as Tahira defied the flame, awakening within their minds the old folktale of the god who first created this dance as response to a demon's challenge.

After the last drum rang silent, the observers filled the palace with a new roar. They praised Tahria as the only mortal to best the dance, and even went as far as to say she was equal to the [godess/godess] of dance. Word spread of the girl who defeated the flame, and soon the whole kingdom wanted to see her performances.

It was on her second performance of the dance that she noticed the pain.

And on the third that she could not finish the dance, or any other after that.

The fire, it seemed, had soaked into her limbs, making every movement agony. The burns had been healed by mages, but there was no ridding herself of this crippling bite in her bones. News of her failure spread like wildfire, sparking tales of her condition and how the gods had struck her down. How she could not dance again. Years of building up her renown crumbled to ash within a fortnight. Once showered with praise, she was now seen with a leery eye.

It was a curse, they said, the scorn of the gods for her disillusions of grandeur. A brilliant bird who flew too close to the sun. For those who feared the gods, it was a sign to never again think a mortal could achieve such divine grace. A lesson to be retold through the ages. For Tahira, it was losing everything.

Almost two years later, Tahira dances no more. She has since moved from her home in Balthan and has taken to mercantilism in Albion [trading rare reagents and materials if you are wondering] which has brought herself moderate success. The wealth she had earned from her dancing days (combined with her side income) has allowed for her to live in the comfort of luxury. That is… until she was set up. She was accused of smuggling weapons for rebels, the proof being weapons implanted into her caravans, and she was sent into exile. Tahira knows exactly who did it, but she is confused why. She and the antique dealer had been close business partners (friends even) for a long time before he suddenly had this change of heart. Wealth, home, citizenship, everything had been confiscated by the crown of Albion. The only thing she managed to keep was her lucky necklace, which she hid away in her bodice.


Personality
(Optional)

(*eyes sparkle with glee at the word [optional]*)(Juju feels guilty for skipping this when everyone else made one)(Juju is conflicted)

Tahira is more than a little jaded from her rise to and fall from grace. She sacrificed almost everything she had to get to the top and gave up everything else when she stood on the peak. Her greatest dream was finally achieved only to be crushed by the fall. In the aftermath, she was left with little fans and even less friends. The thing she loved most, what defined her, was stripped away.

Afterwards she lived alone, aside from her servants, and isolated herself in her manor when not carrying out business matters. Her fastest companion had become gold, but it gave her little comfort. Tahira grew bitter in her lonely life of shame to the point of being nigh insufferable towards others. She is mean-spirited and selfish at worst and snarky and annoying at best. On the bright side, her feisty attitude benefited her trade (as it made her bold and many people were loath to cross her) but it made her few allies outside of business purposes. Now it is the exiles who must deal with her.


Magic type
Arcane

Spells
None


Talents
+Knows how to identify/harvest most reagents and determine their quality. (perks of the trade)
+Can make basic poisons, poultices and painkiller out of said reagents. Pretty great at tending wounds with scarce materials… has definitely done this in the past.
+ Excellent balance and control of her movements... for a period of time. Quick to learn and mimic movements. (she was a great dancer, after all.)
+Gypsy knowledge: basic knowledge gained through living as a gypsy in Balthan. Star navigation, fire making, cooking + foodstuff preparation, basic camp management. Skills are, shall we say, a bit rusty.


Weaknesses
-Can’t fight…. well she can try.
-Butts heads with almost anyone who doesn’t listen to her. Even people who listen to her. All round bitchy attitude towards most situations. Snobbish, bossy… the list goes ever on.
-Running for long periods of time is painful, so is dancing or any other major stress on her body . She can push through the pain if she needs to, but her joints will swell up within 24 hours unless she makes something to counter it.
-Physically weak


Items and luckidoos

Inventory (Gypsy bag)
>Miscellaneous herbs (mostly for killing pain) [Note: she has at least 2 berries that are extremely poisonous to humans]
>Mortar and pestle (small)
>Food (jar of honey, spice bread loaf x2, 1 slice of goat cheese & a handful of fruit)
>Wineskin
>Thin blanket
>Change of clothes
>Deck of worn tarot cards
<Hidden> sack of rare gems

Equipped
*Travel cloak (smells like mildew)
*Head scarf
*Bejeweled dagger
<hidden> Lucky necklace​

 

[Nogoodname]

Tahira Najjar

Age: 24
Gender: female
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 120

Physical alterations

Spoiler: Tattoo

*If you were educated on the gods of Balthan's gypsy people, you would recognize the snakes as Haya and Almawt, the weavers of fate.

In Balthan, the design and frequency of tattoos are a symbol of one’s social caste. Being a well-to-do trader, Tahira has delicate tattoos on her hands, arms, legs, and stomach made from a traditional brown dye. However, she does have a more personal one that is on her upper back (though her long hair covers it up about 95% of the time). This marking is of two snakes, intertwined together, one black and the other white. If you were to look closely you could even make out raised ridges in the flesh beneath the ink, telltale signs of a whip’s bite.


Backstory

Back in her glory days, Tahira was quite the dancer. Not one of the lowly street performers who amused the passersby for a few coins nor a sensual Lady of Silk. No, Tahira sought grandeur, fame, adoration and she found those things once. She was a performer whose movements were not controlled by the music, but bewitched the very rhythm itself. Her watchers could only look in awe as she glided across the stage, tossing and twirling like the desert wind. She had even been accused of sorcery in her art, but all claims were proven false. This was nothing but pure talent.

In all of Balthan, she was hailed as the greatest performer of all. Lords bid on who would host her next, and those of the lesser caste crowded the city streets just to catch a glimpse of the only woman who had mastered the Devil’s Dance. It was her finest moment when she performed that dance for the first time before the ruler of Balthan. Fabled as impossible for any mortal to achieve, the Devil's Dance was an intricate performance that combined timing, speed, balance and… fire.

When done correctly, the dancer moved in sync with flaming bursts created by splashes of ceremonial oil, twisting or leaping gracefully away from danger as if the god of fire was their partner. When done wrongly a painful death would surely follow. The observers could hardly take their eyes away as Tahira defied the flame, awakening within their minds the old folktale of the god who first created this dance as response to a demon's challenge.

After the last drum rang silent, the observers filled the palace with a new roar. They praised Tahria as the only mortal to best the dance, and even went as far as to say she was equal to the [godess/godess] of dance. Word spread of the girl who defeated the flame, and soon the whole kingdom wanted to see her performances.

It was on her second performance of the dance that she noticed the pain.

And on the third that she could not finish the dance, or any other after that.

The fire, it seemed, had soaked into her limbs, making every movement agony. The burns had been healed by mages, but there was no ridding herself of this crippling bite in her bones. News of her failure spread like wildfire, sparking tales of her condition and how the gods had struck her down. How she could not dance again. Years of building up her renown crumbled to ash within a fortnight. Once showered with praise, she was now seen with a leery eye.

It was a curse, they said, the scorn of the gods for her disillusions of grandeur. A brilliant bird who flew too close to the sun. For those who feared the gods, it was a sign to never again think a mortal could achieve such divine grace. A lesson to be retold through the ages. For Tahira, it was losing everything.

Almost two years later, Tahira dances no more. She has since moved from her home in Balthan and has taken to mercantilism in Albion [trading rare reagents and materials if you are wondering] which has brought herself moderate success. The wealth she had earned from her dancing days (combined with her side income) has allowed for her to live in the comfort of luxury. That is… until she was set up. She was accused of smuggling weapons for rebels, the proof being weapons implanted into her caravans, and she was sent into exile. Tahira knows exactly who did it, but she is confused why. She and the antique dealer had been close business partners (friends even) for a long time before he suddenly had this change of heart. Wealth, home, citizenship, everything had been confiscated by the crown of Albion. The only thing she managed to keep was her lucky necklace, which she hid away in her bodice.


Personality
(Optional)

(*eyes sparkle with glee at the word [optional]*)(Juju feels guilty for skipping this when everyone else made one)(Juju is conflicted)

Tahira is more than a little jaded from her rise to and fall from grace. She sacrificed almost everything she had to get to the top and gave up everything else when she stood on the peak. Her greatest dream was finally achieved only to be crushed by the fall. In the aftermath, she was left with little fans and even less friends. The thing she loved most, what defined her, was stripped away.

Afterwards she lived alone, aside from her servants, and isolated herself in her manor when not carrying out business matters. Her fastest companion had become gold, but it gave her little comfort. Tahira grew bitter in her lonely life of shame to the point of being nigh insufferable towards others. She is mean-spirited and selfish at worst and snarky and annoying at best. On the bright side, her feisty attitude benefited her trade (as it made her bold and many people were loath to cross her) but it made her few allies outside of business purposes. Now it is the exiles who must deal with her.


Magic type
Arcane

Spells
None


Talents
+Knows how to identify/harvest most reagents and determine their quality. (perks of the trade)
+Can make basic poisons, poultices and painkiller out of said reagents. Pretty great at tending wounds with scarce materials… has definitely done this in the past.
+ Excellent balance and control of her movements... for a period of time. Quick to learn and mimic movements. (she was a great dancer, after all.)


Weaknesses
-Can’t fight…. well she can try.
-Butts heads with almost anyone who doesn’t listen to her. Even people who listen to her. All round bitchy attitude towards most situations. Snobbish, bossy… the list goes ever on.
-Running for long periods of time is painful, so is dancing or any other major stress on her body . She can push through the pain if she needs to, but her joints will swell up within 24 hours unless she makes something to counter it.​

Accepted!

 

[seasonedcat]

Name:
Aella
Age:
23
Gender:
Female
Image/written depiction:

Outfit:

Height:
5'5
Weight:
123lbs
Physical alterations:

Spoiler: Tattoos and Piercings

(On both ears)

​

Backstory:
Adella was born into the wealthy family of Blois, owners of a very famous company that supplied weapons for the guards of Albion. Due to this she lived a very prestigious life in the comforts most only dream of. To keep her family well respected Adella had to follow very strict rules and act very polite to everyone she met. She was not allowed to leave her mansion unless it was with family business. Her life could have still been fun even with the strict rules, however she was an only child and her parents were never around leaving it to the maids and butlers to raise her. When she was 15 she couldn't take it anymore and ran away, tired of always being miss perfect and her parents still finding something wrong with her facade, may it be that her back wasn't straight enough, or her smile wasn't bright enough. Making it seem that the only time they were around her was merely to tell her what she was doing wrong.

Due to her last name being so well known Adella never uses it anymore, playing it safe to stay away from the search parties that were most likely looking for the run away heir. Not to long into her runaway quest Adella stumbled upon a tattoo shop. One of her parents rules that were put into place was no tattoos or piercings for these taint the skin and are not suitable for ladies. With the spark of rebellion growing ever so bright inside of her, Adella got her first tattoo(right Shoulder), satisfaction filled the young girl once it was complete, she did it and there was no going back.

After a year of getting by on stolen bread or thrown out bakery goods she overheard guards discussing recent rebel movements. Of course the girl had heard of the rebels before, who hadn't, but this time brought a thought to her head. What if she broke the very last rule of her parents to never break the law? What if instead of just breaking her parents rules she broke the kingdom's? She liked these thoughts. After a while of searching she found a rebel-friendly bar where she met a group of rebels having a drink. After much convincing they agreed to recruit her if she was able to help them rob an incoming shipment of supplies to the kingdoms guards, Adella agreed.

Adella was able to easily infiltrate the ship, luckily for her it was from her parent's company. Herself and the group quickly took down the boat and continued with the plan. Once they reached the docks other rebels disguised as guards and workers helped successfully take the shipment, having the real guards fooled until the end when they set fire to the ship, destroying all evidence.From then on she was a member of the rebels for the mere fact that she was addicted to breaking rules and the adrenaline. From then on she was a part of the rebellion, getting the rest of her tattoos and piercing and completing many jobs, never regretting her decision to run away once.

A little while ago she heard the price for being caught with he rebellion was being sent out into the wastelands. This seemed like her next great adventure. If she could survive out there her name would be everywhere, telling the stupid king and queen that their so called "purging of rebels" was insufficient and that this girl was able to survive it. Adella then allowed herself to get caught, ready to do what citizens thought or maybe just hoped was impossible.
Personality:
Loud, energetic, cheerful, aimless, childish. (really bad but it just gives an outline since I suck at personality descriptions)
Magic type:
Soul
Spells:
Increase: Nothing like explodey power or anything, it merely can increase her strength, speed, or regeneration temporarily .
Talents:
+Flexibility/Gymnastics
+Hand-to-Hand combat
+Stealthy
+Parkour
+People reader (uses weaknesses she observes from them against them)
Weaknesses:
-Annoying
-Short attention span
-Acts on impulse
-Squishy (can't take much hits)
-Aimless​

Nogoodname

 

[Nogoodname]

Name:
Aella
Age:
23
Gender:
Female
Image/written depiction:

Outfit:

Height:
5'5
Weight:
123lbs
Physical alterations:

Spoiler: Tattoos and Piercings

(On both ears)

​

Backstory:
Adella was born into the wealthy family of Blois, owners of a very famous company that supplied weapons for the guards of Albion. Due to this she lived a very prestigious life in the comforts most only dream of. To keep her family well respected Adella had to follow very strict rules and act very polite to everyone she met. She was not allowed to leave her mansion unless it was with family business. Her life could have still been fun even with the strict rules, however she was an only child and her parents were never around leaving it to the maids and butlers to raise her. When she was 15 she couldn't take it anymore and ran away, tired of always being miss perfect and her parents still finding something wrong with her facade, may it be that her back wasn't straight enough, or her smile wasn't bright enough. Making it seem that the only time they were around her was merely to tell her what she was doing wrong.

Due to her last name being so well known Adella never uses it anymore, playing it safe to stay away from the search parties that were most likely looking for the run away heir. Not to long into her runaway quest Adella stumbled upon a tattoo shop. One of her parents rules that were put into place was no tattoos or piercings for these taint the skin and are not suitable for ladies. With the spark of rebellion growing ever so bright inside of her, Adella got her first tattoo(right Shoulder), satisfaction filled the young girl once it was complete, she did it and there was no going back.

After a year of getting by on stolen bread or thrown out bakery goods she overheard guards discussing recent rebel movements. Of course the girl had heard of the rebels before, who hadn't, but this time brought a thought to her head. What if she broke the very last rule of her parents to never break the law? What if instead of just breaking her parents rules she broke the kingdom's? She liked these thoughts. After a while of searching she found a rebel-friendly bar where she met a group of rebels having a drink. After much convincing they agreed to recruit her if she was able to help them rob an incoming shipment of supplies to the kingdoms guards, Adella agreed.

Adella was able to easily infiltrate the ship, luckily for her it was from her parent's company. Herself and the group quickly took down the boat and continued with the plan. Once they reached the docks other rebels disguised as guards and workers helped successfully take the shipment, having the real guards fooled until the end when they set fire to the ship, destroying all evidence.From then on she was a member of the rebels for the mere fact that she was addicted to breaking rules and the adrenaline. From then on she was a part of the rebellion, getting the rest of her tattoos and piercing and completing many jobs, never regretting her decision to run away once.

A little while ago she heard the price for being caught with he rebellion was being sent out into the wastelands. This seemed like her next great adventure. If she could survive out there her name would be everywhere, telling the stupid king and queen that their so called "purging of rebels" was insufficient and that this girl was able to survive it. Adella then allowed herself to get caught, ready to do what citizens thought or maybe just hoped was impossible.
Personality:
Loud, energetic, cheerful, aimless, childish. (really bad but it just gives an outline since I suck at personality descriptions)
Magic type:
Soul
Spells:
Increase: Nothing like explodey power or anything, it merely can increase her strength, speed, or regeneration temporarily .
Talents:
+Flexibility/Gymnastics
+Hand-to-Hand combat
+Stealthy
+Parkour
+People reader (uses weaknesses she observes from them against them)
Weaknesses:
-Annoying
-Short attention span
-Acts on impulse
-Squishy (can't take much hits)
-Aimless​

Nogoodname

Approved! Though your first image doesn't work for me.