Fantasy The Plague (CS)

[Soviet Panda]

Basic CS must include,
Name:
Age:
Race: (Human, Elf, and Dwarf.)
Appearance:
Personality:
Background:
Contract: (what kind of creature is bound to them)
Knight Order: (where they are from. Feel free to come up with your own. I do have a couple you could join if anyone wants.)

 

[Pilgrim59]

NAME: Dimitrius the Lost
AGE: 25
RACE: Human
APPEARANCE:
Sporting a jaded pair of amber optics, Dimitrius melancholic eyes often dissuades many from engaging directly with him. Despite this, the young crusader possesses a certain acknowledging look that attends to the needs of those around him. His dark hair is imbued with the ashes of his grim past, while his lean frame is a testament of his grievous training and tested will. Donning an amalgamation of metal, padded cloth and leather, Dimitrius distinguishes himself with his faded red Danuvian cloak. He would come to be known as "the Lost" for his rare Tutan accent and indiscernable attire. Dimitrius's primary arms is a claymore, often seen sheathed upon his back.

PERSONALITY:
Dimitrius is a calm and reserved person, whose personal interests never exceeded his obligations and sense of duty. He chooses to interact with others only when it benefits their shared endeavors rather than offering empty promises. A pragmatic knight and an ardent man of faith, Dimitrius chooses not to engage in rowdy circumstances, but would never berate his acquaintances for their preferences. Courteous and polite to a fault, Dimitrius often addresses others by their title and seniority.

BACKGROUND:
A crusader of an eastern knightly order, Dimitrius was given up as an offering by his order to represent the Danuvian Knights in their bid to contribute to the Diviner's cause. Prior to such circumstances, Dimitrius had recently returned from his exile at the behest of his dying Master. Yet, he remained a victim of the Order's political games. Seeing little choice in regards to his circumspect position, neither truly wanted nor vaguely despised, Dimitrius answered the call to honor his Master's mercy. During his journey to meet the Diviner, accompanied by a small band of his Danuvian brethren, Dimitrius became gravely wounded in a skirmish. With his fellow crusaders slain, and his strength failing, Dimitrius sought refuge within an abandoned church. There, he made a contract with a local demon at the behest of his desperation to fulfill his mission. Renewed by his contract with the demon, Dimitrius continued his journey west, uncertain of the dangers that awaited him - driven purely by his faith and code of honor.

CONTRACT:

Spoiler: Rysia the empusa

A beguiling empusa whose crimson eyes can bewitch those unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse. Their long, marvelous golden hair, while elegant to complement their alluring features, possesses a foul stench that reeked of blood and burnt metal. Bound to Dimitrius in the form of a blood tattoo, Rysia draws her strength from the young crusader's essence. Dimitrius and Rysia's contract permits the prior to utilize mundane magic more efficiently, albeit at the greater cost of their vitality should the spell exceeds Dimitrius's threshold. While he is wary of Rysia's interests, Dimitrius often led her siphon his energy to sustain her physical form, albeit reluctantly out of necessities.

KNIGHT ORDER: Order of Danuvia
A renowned knightly order situated in the old mideastern realm of Tuta, the Danuvian crusaders worship the serpent-slaying Saint Istvan and abides by their creeds to protect the people from monsters and beasts. Danuvian crusaders are taught unit cohesion to form effective battle ranks, survival techniques and are well-versed with forest tactics and maneuvers. The Order is known for their prized Thurisaz runes that can imbue one's weapons to combat certain beasts more effectively.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Name: Voitsekh Vlahovic;

Age: Twenty-two;

Race: Human;

Appearance:
A tall and well-built man, others are caught agape at his agility. Voitsekh's black hair is as sharp as his swords. The hooded orbs that he calls eyes betray a sense of disappointment with a side of pity as well. His angular chin is kept clean by the careful blade of a small knife. Often will he wear a combination of leathers, cloth, or plates. On his left breast, he wears the sigil of a winged sceptre or an avian in flight. His long sword dangles off his right hip, while the signature bastard sword of his order is sheathed in a back holster. A lot of dark blues are also incorporated into his attire.

Spoiler: Battle Gear

Art by HaDong Song on Artstation;

Personality:
Although his face portrays sorrow, his demeanour is positively different. Whereas the roar of the end times has disgruntled others, Voitsekh remains uplifted. A mind that is perpetually calm paired with an unequivocal thirst for carnage. How can he not be happy when the shambling horrors have brought him nothing but joy. Though his own joy does not cloud reality or perception. A sense of understanding can be seen within him, even if he himself does not fully grasp why his fellow knights feel that way. A man that is neither pious nor a doubter. He abstains from alcoholic beverages, mind-altering substances, or monetary greed as a matter of principle and discipline instilled by the Order.

Background:
Born to ignoble parentage, Voitsekh was freely given up to an orphanage by his parents who merely wanted him to have a life greater than they could provide. Unfortunately, such light never shined upon Voitsekh who stewed in the orphanage for years. The belief that his parents did not love him burned his heart into a dried-up husk of an organ. Bitter, the young man consistently fought with his peers. There were many talks of transferring him to another orphanage, but that never came. What instead arrived was the Order. The Order of Saint Holden had frequently supported orphanages or constructed their own as another means of recruitment. Voitsekh was of adequate recruiting age thus sealed his fate. They were warned that this boy is more violent than the others, but they did not listen. Figuring that their training regiment would straighten him out, Voitsekh was whisked away to one of their encampments.

Voitsekh took well to the training. Too well. The ravenous bloodthirst had finally been given an outlet and he had been brutal. The same worry that hung over the nuns now reared its' ugly head over the instructors. Spotting this occurrence, Voitsekh had suppressed his cravings for destruction long enough for him to complete his training. When his tuition finished, the newly minted assassin knight eagerly awaited his orders. They came as expected. And as expected Voitsekh no longer concealed his butcherings. Many innocents were killed in his missions, some simply because they got in his way. A pattern quickly emerged. One that quickly caught the attention of the superiors. But another knight, one who went to the same orphanage as Voitsekh, intervened. He asked the council to withhold judgement so that he may straighten out this demented man.

It was on a mission that they were both assigned. They travelled together, ate together, drank together, and planned together. The ally-knight observed Voitsekh intently. The blood-starved knight thought they were plotting another target's downfall, but instead, this whole task was a ruse. The location had been a derelict storehouse that was said to hold a smuggling ring. It was empty. Before Voitsekh realised, he was struck from behind! Quickly losing consciousness. When he awoke, he had found himself bound to a chair. His tormentor stood over him, ready to deliver pain, ready to correct. Two gruelling days of beatings later, Voitsekh in his torture found enlightenment. A normal man needn't go through physical maltreatment just to understand his wrong-doings. With his homicidal tendencies dampened, Voitsekh sought to put them to better use than needlessly slaughtering innocents.


Contract:
A fiendish pair of demons posing to mortal beings as tan and black felines. With hexad eyes that beam a disturbing shade of yellow; globes hide secrets that could poison a man's soul. In their role, they present themselves as a demon that speaks the truth and a demon that lies. In truth, they are both deceivers. However, the method to their deception is different from the similar demons. Khamul The Tanned conceives of the lie while Nathanael The Black upholds it by espousing a lie that leads to the same conclusion as the first. Their trickery is not solely confined to mental confusion, but material acts as well. They have bonded with Voitsekh in large part because of his association with the Order. The bond between the trio is what ensures that Voitsekh could never be misled by them. They like to cling off Voitsekh or follow him around like needy dogs. Yapping in his ear. Khamul and Nathanael both draw upon their own energies to aid Vlahovic: Khamul imbues blazing attributes to the assassin knight, while Nathanael blesses him with the presence of winter and chill.

Spoiler: Khamul and Nathanael, The Twin Tricksters

Art By Lenka Simeckova

Knight Order: The Order of Saint Holden;
The Order of Saint Holden is not your typical collection of knights who have pledged their lives to civil, magnanimous, and unostentatious virtues. Before the birth of Saint Holden, the Order was hitherto known as the Crow, an organisation whose foundations were set by men of greed, murderous obsession, and espionage. They took any job that involved these three notions then executed them with a titanic degree of professionalism. This mysterious group hid their origins well, nobody even knew where they were based. Needless to say that many were frightened, angered, or abused by these thugs. But unlike many who sought their destruction, one man saw their potential. Saint Mikhail Holden had the patience, determination, and will to not only subvert the Crow but become its' defacto leader. The experience robbed seven years of the saint's life. The reward was his own following of spies, assassins, and faithful men. There still remains remnants of their discarded ways: the avian symbology, their famous black-guarded bastard sword, furtive training, and the application of wetwork. Along with new iconographies such as the winged staff of Holden, their charity donations, and orphanage duties (any unloved child is recruited into the Order at the age of 13).

 

[Remembrance]

Name: Erlandur of the Windy Hills
Age: 193
Race: Elf
Appearance:
Erlandur, being of pure Elven blood, is what many from outside of his custom can consider a perfect image of an Elf. Lanky and tall, his skin is glossy and beset with a milky white complexion. His eyes sneer and always appear as though they are peering beyond the horizon; his ears pointed out like leaves from a recreational medicinal herb. Erlandur is most commonly seen sporting his military attire, consisting of cloth pants stained in dirt and grime; vambraces of dark Elven metal, and a chest piece of similar make. He carries with him two ceremonial daggers, one from his position as Grand Arbiter and the other from his former position of Lesser Arbiter.
Personality:
Raised from unknown lands and origins, Erlandur had not the comfort of nor privilege royalty and nobility had. He grew to be resourceful and distant, bearing a strength in will and determination not seen amongst those of his young, if not adolescent, age. Erlandur is a highly zealous man, oftentimes attempting convention with the Gods and divining a purpose given to him. Without purpose, he would be nothing but a malleable creature inhabiting the body of an Elf. Near recent times, he has gained new vigor and carries it with him as he moves toward the goal that the Gods have offered him. However, since his contract, an inhibitor has been placed upon his heart as he doubts the deities which he follows dearly would allow him to pact with a creature who rightfully opposes the pantheon.

When with others, most especially those younger than him, Erlandur portrays a fatherly mentor sort of man, offering wisdom and counsel to those who require it. He gives purpose to those without and leads them up on a path that will benefit them. Erlandur was foremost a Lesser Arbiter and thus had many to take care of and command; thus he is most blessed with an instructing voice and leadership beyond compare within The Invoked Yeolanders. As Lesser Arbiter, he was second most to having required a graceful demeanor as both his role was as ceremonial as it was militant. However, when in private or behind closed doors, Erlandur is a prideful and arrogant man who abhors those of what he calls 'lesser races' i.e. Humans and Dwarves.
Background:
Born outside of the Rikshire realm, Erlandur is without blood or family, with connections only to the Ovfnir family. He was enlisted into The Invoked Yeolanders after a series of trials set in place by Einar Ebbson Ovfnir, Erlandur was then placed as one of the Lesser Arbiters of the holy order. Despite his origins as a nobody coming from beyond the mountainous regions and not being from any high blood lineage, he was still treated with the respect his position deserved and was still their peer.

As the plague descended from unknown magic, The Invoked Yeolanders and the royal court of Rikshire shut the gates and held themselves within the cavities of their grand castle. They sought after sacrifices, purging the nearby surroundings of farm animals and even going so far as to remove the court of unnecessary courtiers to appease the Gods. This progressed further until only those who had a formal role within the court remained, yet no fruit bore from their countless pledges and offerings.

The High Arbiter Kalyan divined that the plague had to have started from the primordial entity residing in the Rikshire forests. The Ancient Arbor had been a metaphorical plague to the kingdom long before the order, nothing could quite bring the monster down. Both to gain favor and sway in the court of Ovfnir; the High Arbiter called together the entire Invoked Yeolanders to fell the creature that stalked their lands.

The Gods had viewed not upon the men who act under the Avatar Yeoland. They soon all fell to the wicked terror of the Ancient Arbor, tangled in vines and roots that cut into their skin and pierced the armor they valued so highly. To turn the tides of battle in the order’s favor, Erlandur hastily attempted a contract with beings far beyond his grasp. The Gods did not listen, they could not for something else had glanced and heard upon the pleas of Erlandur. The demon, who had slaughtered the order and his brethren, answered the cries of the Lesser Arbiter. The Gods had not entirely abandoned Erlandur, but whether it was his willpower or the intervention of the deities, the contract had been made under the most favorable and fair terms possible.

Erlandur returned to the court of the Ovfnir’s, saddened by the loss of his brethren but strengthened by the surge of power he had been granted. The Ovfnir blood could not deny they were disappointed by the outcome of their mission but delighted at the prospect of controlling the Ancient Arbor. When the diviner accompanied by his Phoenix arrived at the court, the Ovfnir blood patriarch tasked Erlandur with joining the other order’s members to vanquish the virulent plague maker. However, under the cover of silence and privacy, the patriarch ordered Erlandur to determine the strength of each order and, if necessary, remove any threats to the sovereignty and rule of the Ovfnir blood.
Contract:

Spoiler: Ancient Arbor

Ancient Arbor
A primordial creature believed to have been born out of contradiction to the divine laws surrounding the sanctity of nature. Due to the beliefs of warlocks and witches within Rikshire, the Ancient Arbor cannot exist as it does without directly opposing the laws set in place by the gods. This unholy creature resides primarily in the forests bordering Rikshire, only occasionally departing from its territory for reasons left unknown. The Ancient Arbor’s magic resides in its ability to conjure phantasmal creatures and manipulate the very nature around it. In spite of this, Erlandur desires nothing to do with the abhorrent magic of the Ancient Arbor instead, utilizing the mundane magic he already possesses.
Knight Order:
The Invoked Yeolanders
A holy order sanctioned and directly funded by the Ovfnir bloodline; a royal family whose branch has held divine ownership of the Kingdom of Rikshire. The order derives its history from the conflicts between neighboring realms and a lack of spiritual guidance. The name originates from an ancient tale surrounding the deity Yeoland, the avatar of war and catastrophe, following their pursuit for justice and vengeance. The Invoked Yeolanders, in the past, had attempted the art of demonic and fey contracting, most efforts ended in vain and some in the deaths of loyal members and warlocks. What the order could not fathom or ever realize was that desperation was, if not the most, crucial component missing from their grand rituals.

Since the plague and the now successful contracting, only one member of the order remains. Despite this, the surviving kin of the Ovfnir high blood still controls the actions of that singular member: Erlandur of unknown blood. Now Grand Arbiter, Erlandur is tasked with ridding their forests and plains of this virulent plague and restoring the Ovfnir blood as the rightful sovereigns of their de jure lands.

 

[slim]

• an elf
• and his demon

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  Vruth, Shadow/Guardian of the Forest
  

  
  
  
  Age: 60 (approximately)
  
  Race: Elf
  
  Appearance: Vruth is a hulking beast of a brute, standing at 6’5 with the musculature akin to a worshiped God of war. He is covered from head to toe in scars of various depths and origins. His hair is wild and unkempt but not unclean, having a range of monochrome colors to decorate its pigment. His clothing is kept to a bare minimum. He sports a variety of pelts covering his nether regions, his shoulders, forearms, feet and shins that offer surprising protection from bites and scratches but mainly serve as trophies. Vruth’s eyes are gray, similar to his hair and carry a weight to them that is not unlike looking at a very dangerous animal in the eyes as it stalks you.
  
  Personality: Vruth is an elf of simplicity and few words. This is not due to being reserved. Quite the opposite, Vruth has no formal education and is completely illiterate. Oftentimes, he is more beast than man, relying almost entirely on instinct to guide his actions. Academically and socially, the elf can only be described as a brute. A savage. These words are not insults to him. Mere facts of life such as things live and die.
  
  Where Vruth’s intellect truly shines is in the subtleties of the life and death tango. During battle is where the barbarian is truly a force to be reckoned with. His instincts and reflexes guide him effortlessly through off-the-cuff brilliant strategies to take down opponents much larger and stronger than he is.
  
  He is solitary in nature, never having known the warmth of family or comradery. The closest thing to it being the voice of the demon that now resides within his mind. As such, his trust is only given to those that can keep him alive in a fight. Anything less than that is considered lesser. He has no patience for the “intellectual” types that have no power and can only fiddle around with books, writing, and scrolls. Politics, societal norms, and “common sense” are things to be spat on. The only common sense in this world is having the strength to survive whatever the world can throw at you. Everything else is just noise.
  
  Background: No one is certain what the origin of Vruth, the Guardian of the Forest is. Not even Vruth himself. As far as he can recall, he has always lived within the forest. He does not know how he came to be here or why. He does not know his parents whether they were humans, elves, dwarves, or beasts. He is only familiar with the Hunt and survival. The forest he found himself in from early childhood was always bountiful. It had everything one could ask for. Animals for meat and challenge were plenty as well as various fruits, roots, and herbs. The forest was Vruth’s caretaker and it was ultimately the reason he decided to take care of it in return. He suffered no logging or mining within its borders. All who sought to take the forest’s bounty without replacing what they took met a brutal death at his calloused hands.
  
  It went on for decades and he eventually became something of a mythological creature to the common folk. The guardian of the forest. The shadow of the glades. The demon of the woods. He was given many titles but they all seemed to coincide with the name, Vruth. So, he accepted that as his name and moniker. It was through these rumors and myths that people came to stop felling trees in the forest without replanting a seedling. They did not come to harvest herbs by uprooting the entire plant, but rather taking only what was needed. Many even lift offerings or gifts in the forest’s center whenever they did need to take more than they could give back. No animal was hunted for sport and proper respect was always given to the kill.
  
  This did not stop people of various races trying to exterminate this, “Monster”. Many tried and all met their untimely demise for their transgressions. It was only when this plague of the undead started to reach Vruth’s territory that he began to struggle with its protection. The creatures were ceaseless and spread disease, curses, and decay wherever they went. Vruth always managed to fell them with some measure of difficulty until something came along that he couldn’t defeat.
  
  A massive bear, horribly mutated and disfigured by whatever magic affected the others. Time and time again, Vruth challenged this beast only to be defeated by it and retreating before things got too close. Never had the warrior met his match before in such a world. It was the first time that he felt weak. Vulnerable. He hated it. He hated it more than the interlopers who decided the forest’s bounty was theirs for the taking. More than the men in shiny armor that kept sending in expeditions to kill him. There was nothing he hated more than feeling like prey.
  
  That was when the demon came to him. It used sweet, honeyed words. Many of which the brute did not understand. But there was one phrase he did understand perfectly well.
  
  “Do you want power?”
  
  The elf agreed without hesitation, much to the creature’s surprise. There was nothing else he cared about. Whatever plans this creature had, he was confident he could struggle through any deceptions. He didn’t care about all that. Had no time for it. He wanted power. He NEEDED power. The forest was rotting away with every step that abomination took within its borders and it needed to die.
  
  And so, the contract was established. The plagued creature was quickly dispatched with his newfound power. And for the first time, it felt as if maybe Vruth had made a friend.
  
  
  Contract:
  Mokaath resides within the elf for the most part where they usually telepathically communicate to their host. In battle, Mokaath buffs the warrior by morphing Vruth via the demon’s own abilities. Vruth gains increased speed and strength, heightened senses, and physical aspects such as claws and fangs, toxic saliva,and toxic blood. Vruth is conscious for battle, but if he were to fall unconscious or was too weakened for battle, Mokaath has full access to possess the elf entirely. The demon morphs the host's body into their true form to unleash the full extent of their magic. Sometimes the demon will possess the body fully for minor things as well, and Vruth never complains.
  Mokaath rarely makes a physical appearance since they rather enjoy the spacious confines of their host’s mind and body, but occasionally the demon will leech off their host’s energy to take a form outside of the body for recon or any other situation that requires it.
  
  
  Knight Order: Order of the Maple
  
  The Order of the Maple had no end to the troubles that Vruth put them through. They were constantly bombarded with requests by loggers and merchants to take care of the creature that dwelled within the forest nearby. Time and time again they sent hunting parties after it only to be never seen again. It was only when they sent a small detachment of scouts, masters of stealth in their own right, did they realize it was no monster that dwelled within those woods but an elf. A brutish, savage thing that left people alone as long as they did not bring the woods harm. The commoners had turned out to be right. So, they figured they could potentially reason with the beast.
  
  The undead had been pushing into their territory for some time and the corpses discovered within the woods were increasing in number every day. The elf, Vruth, had been taking care of them whenever they crossed into the forest’s threshold. So, they approached Vruth, peacefully, with some “information”. That there was a massive horde coming his way and their aim was to destroy all life in the world. His forest included. Turns out, that was all that was needed. Now, whenever there was a threat that needed to be handled quickly and viciously, they just pointed Vruth in the right direction. He didn’t ask for payment or favors. Just stay away from his forest. That was something they could get behind. An official law was passed down forbidding illegal logging and harvesting within the forest and rules were put in place based on the villagers who went into the forest to gather plants and food regularly of the do’s and dont’s within Vruth’s forest.
  
  
  

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  Mokaath the Virulent
  
  

  
  Age: 657
  
  Race: Greater Demon
  
  Appearance: The demon’s once everchanging shape over the centuries eventually has settled into a four-legged, wolfish creature that oozes noxious chemicals from its weepy eyes and mouth. The creature stands at six feet and is about 10 feet from head to tail. A bite or scratch from its fangs or claws will result in rotting flesh from the wound that spreads and typically results in death if the demon doesn’t just finish you off in the moment. The demon is able to launch these chemicals from its mouth in precise attacks that usually dissolve flesh and armor alike.
  
  Personality: Despite the demon’s horrific appearance, their many years in both the realm of man and magic has given the demon some wisdom and communicative abilities that have formed, mainly in order to persuade and trick. Mokaath like any other demon is unable to feel empathy or love and is simply called to earth to spill blood—their favorite activity and one true calling. Anyone with an unquenchable thirst for destruction and low or no morals draw the demon in like a moth to flame, and those who Mokaath has puppeteered have been regulars in historical accounts, burning their names into the books as they wreak havoc. The demon never truly feels anything for their hosts, who are all doomed to wither away regardless of whether it is on the battlefield or of old age. However, much like the wolf form they personify, there is a degree of loyalty the demon upholds regardless of the contract. If you are a rather competent and efficient killing machine, there will be a place for you in Mokaath’s fond recounts of their bloody adventures they love to constantly share with their current hosts and strangers alike—their version of showing they cared. Mokaath will do everything in their power to keep their host safe, but at the end of the day they are nothing more than a demon. No matter how long they’ve been intwined with a host, shared memories, or fought together, the host’s blood sings to Mokaath and they would do anything to get a drop.
  
  Background: There are no true births or childhoods for demons that they can look back on and remember early moments, only their first victims and the insatiable hunger they came into the world with. Mokaath knew their purpose was to destroy from the first moment of active consciousness and so they did. The anger their dark hearts pumped with were melodies only Mokaath could hear, and the demon answered them with glee. Many of them were simply rageful thugs, but in the demon’s younger years little mind was paid to their hosts’ station or achievement, only their potential in the demon’s toxic embrace. Soon it became a game for them, avoiding powerful human mages summons (or heeding the call just to rampage) for those of vengeful peasants whose only weapons were shovels and torches. The demon’s favorite saying soon was Give me a worm, and I will deliver unto you a snake.
  Hundreds of contracts and years later, the demon found their most recent host. This was no worm, but instead a powerful hulk of an elf with a sort of noble rage to him. It was an entirely new melody to the demon, but just as powerful. They could sense this stranger’s anger at his own weakness and knew they would be a perfect match. Mokaath was even more pleased when he learned how simple-minded his new host was as well, although it was annoying in the beginning when the demon had to walk the elf through the contract process. With Mokaath as the brains and Vruth the elf as their muscle, the two make quite a force to be reckoned with.
  
  Contract: Contracted to Vruth, Shadow of the Forest.
  
  
  Knight Order: Order of the Maple
  The demon doesn’t give a shit about orders of any kind, but unfortunately his host has been roped into the Order of the Maple and so Mokaath must comply for now. Eventually, perhaps the demon could convince Vruth that the order should be razed to the ground. Who knows?

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[Fluffy-Kat]

Enriël tuulo' i' Earsira
(Enriël from the Tides)

Name: Enriël -- En-ree-el (Enri for short)

Age: 264

Race: Elf

Appearance: Enri's physical description fits most other Elves. Thin, fair, an unmistakable pair of pointed ears, and an ethereal beauty that stands unmatched across all other races. However, she does seem to have missed out on the tallness that genetically passes down the Elf bloodline. This she-elf stands at about 5'4, no more than 5'5 at best. Although she's no where near the stature of a dwarf, her measurements are rather small for an Elf. Her eyes are a dazzling sapphire that seem to give off a judgmental gaze to who so ever looks upon them. Her hair, which dangles past the small of her back, just tickling the tops of her hips, is an eye catching silver, a trademark of her people. Usually seen in light, leather armor, Enri shrouds herself in a dark, navy blue cloak with a silver brooch that resembles an heirloom pinning it closed.

​

Personality: A warrior at heart, Enriël is strong-willed, determined and resourceful. She carries herself with dignity and a hint of pride like most of her kin, but is capable of mercy even amidst moments of blind fury. Enri is slow to making friends and doesn't trust easily, but after pushing past her initial lack of social skills, she finds a great comfort around the individuals that have earned said trust and bares steadfast loyalty. If asked, the she-elf will honestly state that she holds honor to a high regard and has no patience for cowardice or delinquency. It takes one rash and thoughtless decision to release the wrath she is capable of displaying, which appears very out of character and quite frightening coming from the otherwise very level-headed woman. To most she seems dry and uncomfortably serious to be around, but even the most prickly of cactuses can bloom beautiful flowers, and Enri is known to crack a rare smile or a laugh now and again. With an undeniable fear of failure, she will not allow anything or anyone stand in her path once she's decided to follow it. She is a strong and reliable ally to have in your corner, who sticks to her morals and traditions shamelessly, and even though she may seem selfish at times, she truly has a heart of gold, you just need to look hard enough to catch a glimpse of it.

Background: Enriël no longer utters a word about her origins. What is known is that she was born from an ancient and once thriving civilization. They worshipped the very stars that danced over their sky, the moon that watched over them, the constellations that navigated them. What was most cherished, however, was the light that was given to them. All light is sacred, but Silmé, Starlight, is the purest and most trustworthy. Her people were peaceful and just, not only did they use their gifts to help others who called upon them, but were sworn protectors and guardians of every living creature that lacked a voice, all in the name of the Stars. But mysteriously, her people vanished, and the world quickly forgot about them, their name leaving their lips and escaping the scribes. All their works, their deeds, their efforts, gone, forgotten. What was once a part of history now circulates as a common myth.

How or why Enri joined the Order of the Maple is unknown. When asked she replies, "Because its the right thing to do," and gives not another word. Years later and she still follows the traditions and beliefs of her long lost past, allowing it to live on through her, or perhaps haunting her. To this day no one knows what really happened to this lost kingdom, and only was is known to be the sole survivor. Some speculate that she escaped the doom that fell upon her people, others say shes an ambassador working in secret, said to have joined the Order of the Maple as a guise to keep out others from venturing near her birth place and seeking out answers: did they perish, or are they very much alive, in hiding? Though her intentions remain a mystery, her heart is still true in her work, she is there as a protector, just as her ancestors once were.

Contract: Aí Elen (aka Ailé for short)
Most commonly seen in the form of an eclipse of moths fluttering not far from the Elf it is bound to, Ailé is a mysterious being with an equally mysterious origin. A strange chimera of a creature, with the tail-end of a scorpion, a head that resembles that of an owl, and hooks at the end of it's wings to help climb when not flying. It speaks telepathically, its voicing sound like many in unison. Why it has a hundred voices is unknown, and the creature changes the reason every time, sometimes its the voices from previous reincarnations, other times its due to the many souls that have been devoured by the petite beast. No bigger than a large house-cat (in its true form), Ailé has a playful and snarky personality, which (more than) often gets on the last nerves of Enri.

Magically, Alié lends itself as a source of power for Enri's abilities with light. The creature is composed of light, it's midnight blue scales glitter in light, and appear silver under the cool, white light of the moon. The reflection of light help itself and the she-elf turn 'invisible', bending light around and through their physical bodies to appear invisible. In everything else Ailé enhances Enri's strength in magic and casting....and provides companionship, all tho Enri would argue that fact is one-sided.

Spoiler: Moth appearence

Spoiler: True appearence

Knight Order: Order of the Maple

 

[Soviet Panda]

Name: Otrygg Maeslingbeard
Age: 657
Race: Dwarf
Appearance:

Personality: Otrygg, before the onset of the Plague, was hellbent on the pursuit of knowledge. Those that he had hired to help him in that search say that he is a very stern dwarf, even by dwarven standards, and brooks no nonsense. And though the world has changed drastically, Otrygg has not.
Background:
Contract: The phoenix Illumine has bound themselves to this dwarf.
Knight Order: The Seer's Accord