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Fantasy The Roaring Sky - CS

T

The Roaring Sky

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The Roaring Sky knows no mercy. Its wrath honors no code, bringing death and ruin to anything that lays before its path - and the entirety of Valheim is left under its looming shadow.

The Stormchasers are a glimmering light of hope that journeys forth into the unknown, seeking a future reminiscent of Valheim's old glory. However, they must face trials and tribulations - will they be able to overcome them, or will they be taken by the Roaring Sky as well?
Linked contents
The Roaring Sky The Roaring Sky - OOC The Roaring Sky - CS The Roaring Sky - Lore
Reinhardt

Reinhardt

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This is the CS thread, which houses all submitted character sheets along with the template. Keep the chatter in the OOC (or discord if you prefer it), including CS reviews and feedback.

Participants have a one (1) character limit. This restriction may change in the foreseeable future.

When creating your character, keep in mind that the RP will be taking the "zero to hero" approach with regards to character progression. It is recommended to start with a character on a lower "power" scaling, but it is, technically, not a requirement - of course, it goes without saying that should a character be "too powerful", they will have to changed or otherwise face disapproval.

Approved characters will receive a like, and will be notified at the OOC thread. You may send your drafts to me via PM before posting them here as well.
 
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Character Sheet TemplateAs long as the necessary information is kept, it does not matter if you use BBcode or not. Of course, you may add more details if you so wish to. And on the occasion that you are an avid user of BBcode, if you can, please make it easy to read and mobile-friendly.

PROFILEName: Your character's full name.
Nickname: Any nickname/moniker of your character. Leave blank or N/A if unapplicable.
Age: For a race with an extended lifespan, the max is 150 years. The rest is capped at 100 years.
Gender: Self-explanatory.
Race: If you would like to create a new/custom race, contact me in the OOC so we can discuss it. Half-breeds will take more traits of the parent who has dominant genes, and less of the non-dominant one. Unless you are a beastfolk then you just either lose or gain more beast-like traits depending on which parent's genes are dominant.

Drive: For what reason did they join the Stormchasers?

Height: In both metric and imperial measurements please, so people can have an image regardless of which system they utilize.
Weight: In both metric and imperial measurements please, so people can have an image regardless of which system they utilize.

PERSONAL DETAILSAppearance: Describe how your character looks. If you prefer to use an image as a reference instead, you may forfeit the written part.
Backstory: Describe how your character's life has gone until the present time.
Relation/s: Another optional section. Remove this section if you don't feel the need to fill it up.

CREDENTIALSDescribe your character's capabilities, both in and out of combat - magical and non-magical. Go into as much detail as within your comfort.

INVENTORYList any items that your character carries with them.

EXTRACharacter quotes, theme songs, etc. Pretty much anything else about your character that isn't really necessary.
 
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PROFILEName: Baerrik Silver-veins
Nickname: Wraith-hand, Baer
Age: 28
Gender: Male.
Race: Human

Drive: Baerrik seeks to harness the power of the storms to better aid the peoples of his home and the Empire.

Height: 5'9", 179.88 cm
Weight: 168 lbs, 76.2 kg .

PERSONAL DETAILSAppearance:
dwarf raised human 2 Copy screenshot.png
Backstory: Baerrik never knew his birth parents, having been adapoted by what many humans would consider an odd couple. His father Snarri Silver-veins of the Dwarven Clan Silver-veins, and his mother Remila Silver-veins, Gnomish Wife to Snarri. Since the time he could hold a hammer, Baerrik was fascinated with the work his parents did. The myriad of metals and gems, the unique and ever enticing gizmos and doodads his mother would create with the parts his father forged. For most of his childhood and teenage years he learned from the two, becoming an avid tinkerer and inventor himself. By the time he had turned 18, he decided it would be best if he worked the mines to bring in additional income and materials for his loving parents. Never before had he seen something so beautiful than veins of precious metals and gems. It was during one of the delves into the deep caverns of the mountain did tragedy strike. While extracting a vein of cobalt ore, he opened up a thermal vent cooking the flesh from his left hand. Luckily for the young man, a gnomish geomancer was nearby and managed to save the hand. or what remained of it. Thinking quick, the gnome began to infuse the now skeletal hand with the raw cobalt metal, crystallizing it. Surprisingly, with the help of a healer once returned to the main mining camp, the geomancer and life mage managed to restore functionality, but were unable to regrow the flesh. Given time off to recuperate and get used to his newly remade appendage, Baerrik took a trip to the surface. It was here while watching the destructive power of the storm did he meet with his companion and best friend. It was after a rather nasty strike upon the mountain did he hear the pained chirping of a young badger. Scurrying from his own shelter, Baerrik followed the high pitched cries to it's source. What he found, made the man weep. Crushed beneath a rock slide caused by the storm, a war badger female and her cubs. Yet, one still lived. Prying away the stones, he found the cub crying out for his deceased mother and siblings. Carefully taking the cub, Baerrik raised him as his own, and over the next couple of years, the two would form an unbreakable bond with the aid of the very same life mage that helped save his hand.

Relation/s: Snarri Silver-veins (Father), Remila Silver-veins (Mother), Stanley (War-Badger companion).

CREDENTIALSDescribe your character's capabilities, both in and out of combat - magical and non-magical.
Non-combat
    • Metallurgy (Adept): Baerrik is adept in the science of metallurgy. he can Identify, and create metallurgical alloys with a higher degree of success an utilize their proper uses.
    • Smithing (Adept): Baerrik can smith like the best of them, his works while not masterwork or legendary, is still of a quality hard to come by.
    • Chemistry (Novice): Stilling learning the atomic and makeup of elements and how to mix them to create new compounds and mixtures.
    • Tinkering (Adept): Is adept in modifying/improving items.
    • inventing (Adept): Has made many successful new items and machines to improve life in his home and the Empire.
    • Piloting air vehicles (Novice): Before the storm, Baerrik took classes on aeronautics
    • Piloting Ground Craft (Apprentice): He is competent at driving ground based vehicles.
    • Engineering (Apprentice): He knows his way around a wrench and ball peen hammer, and knows how to create engines and heavy equipment
    • Barter (Apprentice): He knows how to get a better deal, and how to not get swindled too badly
    • Drinking (Master): He was raised by Dwarves, he had better know how to drink with the best of them, and still hold his ale.​
    • Mining/prospecting (Adept): He can both identify and extract minerals from the rocks around him

      Combat​
    • Swordsmanship (Novice): he knows basic combat and how to properly hold a sword​
    • Brawling (Adept): Sometimes it's best to improvise a weapon and beat the ever loving shit out of the drunken prick who insulted your mother with a tankard.​
    • Combat magic (Basic): He only can use basic combat spells such as Shock, Frost dart, and firebolt

      Magic​
    • Create fire: he can create a flame from mana​
    • heat/melt metal: Focusing on the metal, he can use mana to excite the atoms of the metal to heat rapidly or even liquify​
    • Geomancy (Apprentice): He can utilize mana to shape and manipulate the earth, creating simple structures and such​
    • Locate mineral (Metal, gem, etc.): A spell all miners learn, he can send out a magical ping and locate the desired mineral​
    • Dark vision: Can see in the dark up to 60ft for 2 hours before needing to recast​
    • Beast bond (Stanley. Can communicate with one another telepathically)

      Stanley​
    • Burrow: Rock, clay, dirt, he'll tear it up and create structurally sound tunnels and burrows.
    • Badger Rage: Why did you have to piss him off?! Rip and Tear till there's nothing left.
    • Iron belly: He can eat just about anything, poison has no effect on him. scratch that, clear the room, he gets deadly gas.
    • War Form: Stanley grows to twice his size and his strength matches it.
    • Badger healing: Overtime, he can regenerate so long as he isn't killed. Minor cuts and bruises are gone in minutes, serious wounds are healed in weeks.



INVENTORYPack and sleeping roll, smithing supplies, Tinkerer's tools, Mining gear, Forge hammer, pouches of metal and minerals, coins, and moonstone sword.

EXTRAQuotes: "It's the hand isn't it? Don't worry, it's not contagious", "Touch my tools again, and i'll be showing you what my hammer looks like upside yer head!", "Drinking! Drinking! Drinking! Drinking!", "Me mum's a gnome, me father a dwarf. We're an odd bunch, but love each other all the same. Why? you some sort of biggot?!".
 
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NPCs / PERSONS OF NOTE
  • Dzi-X0uv-UYAEy-HWW.jpg
    PROFILEName: Tasha Zeldem Duthram
    Alias/es: Steward of Valheim
    Age: 38
    Gender: Female
    Race: Human

    Height: 172 cm / 5'6"
    Weight: 56 kg / 124 lbs

    The Steward of Valheim, she had taken up the burden of leadership in hopes of keeping the Empire alive, or what's left of it. So far she has been successful in turning The Citadel into a safe haven, as well as restoring temporary stability to the remnants of the Empire. Currently, she has launched the creation of a group called "The Stormchasers" - which would bear Valheim's hope for an end to the storm.

 
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  • Name: Band'lur Wallbreaker
    Applicable Titles: Band. Banda. Banny. Rockhead.
    Species: Beastfolk. Lizard/Reptilian Phenotype
    Gender: The Manliest Man to ever Man.
    Age: 36
    Height: 7'2"/ 2.1 Meters
    Weight: 320 lbs/145 Kg
    Relations: A Mother and Father. Band'lur takes after his mother in appearance, both looking much close to their beast heritage than his Father.

    Drive: In his Tribe's particular dialect, Band'lur incidentally, means 'Big Friend'. Band'lur is an energetic and chaotic man. But he holds a soul overflowing with kindness and goodwill. With life already being as harsh as it is, the Lizardman joined the Stormchasers under the simple premise of helping others . And so he strives each day to lessen the burden of others, even if all that he has to give is a smile and a few kind words.


Credentials


Unarmed Combat: Band'lur forgoes the use of weapons altogether and prefers unarmed combat. He usually resorts to delivering crushing blows with hands, feet, and even the bony crest adorning his head. A long tail provides Band'lur with another option to assault foes with, and he puts it to use by stunning and tripping up his enemies.

Enhanced Strength: Band'lur is capable of lifting and moving large weights, and often does so to keep himself fit. It's also not uncommon for him to pick up and toss people that he doesn't like, much to the chagrin of everyone around him. Most often, however, Band'lur takes the role of pack mule, carrying items for others though he doesn't seem to mind.

Iron Scales: A thick hide and hardened scales keeps Band'lur safe from most blows, much in the way a decent of armor would.

Mountain Man: A life among steep cliffs and hills has granted Band'lur excellent climbing ability. Clawed hands and feet, along with a thick tail allow him to keep his balance on the steepest of inclines. Naturally, Band'lur is less effected by the thinner air of high altitudes as much as any other person that make high places their home. A survivalist to the core, Band'lur has a nose for sniffing out food and water where most wouldn't. A boon when one finds themselves in a relatively unforgiving environment.

Gourmet: Of a sort. A life in the Peaks doesn't afford one the opportunity to try new and exciting Cuisine and so Band'lur makes an effort to sample all that he can. This has extended to his own cooking as well, and the Lizardman will spice up his own meals with ingredients gathered from the wilds during his travels. The downside to this is that Band'lur will eat anything that seems remotely edible and isn't particularly strict about what goes into his stomach.
Inventory


Band'lur often forgoes any kind of protective covering in battle, much to the confusion and appallment of everyone around him. Band'lur normally wears simple cloth pants and a belt. He also goes barefoot to facilitate climbing with his claws. The Lizardman finds shirts to be an affront to his physique, and getting him to put one on is a hard-fought battle. A simple hunting knife, bedroll and journal are all that Band'lur prefers to carry when he is out in the wilderness. The Beastfolk live harsh lives and he is simply used to going without many of the trappings of civilization.
Extra


-Band'lur is very fond of cats and can often be found surrounded by the small fuzzy creatures.

-He doesn't look it, but Band'lur likes to draw. He carries around a leather-bound sketchbook along with his other personal effects.

-Band'lur is a very poor swimmer and grows increasingly nervous the larger a body of water is.

-Likes stargazing and sleeping in high places.

-Dreams of getting into a fistfight with a Dragon to prove his dominance. He's positive that he'll win despite the fact that Dragons don't even exist in the first place.
 
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PROFILE

Name: Sennen Heydari
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Drive: The Stormchasers represented for Sennen an opportunity to take control of his own fate once again. His pride and his faith would not allow him to wait around and leave his wellbeing in other people's hands, especially when he had so little to lose.

Height: 6'3", 191cm
Weight: 205lbs, 93kg


PERSONAL DETAILS

Appearance:
1612751067144.png
Backstory:
Sennen left his home in his early teens, and started going by the last name "Heydari", meaning Lion. His stubbornness is what drove him out; he cannot stand being told what to do, especially when it comes to his personal life or his behavior. The only thing he kept from his childhood was his religious education; like many people of Valheim, Sennen believes in Aesthirian Theology, although he keeps his beliefs on a personal level and rarely interacts with the clergy. He's lived the rest of his life bouncing from town to town, taking up jobs whenever he felt like it, usually barely making ends meet. He's done a myriad of small jobs, such as mining or cutting down lumber, but mainly worked as a mercenary or hired muscle. His confrontational and abrasive personality has landed him in some trouble in the past, sometimes even having to move to a different town because of his antics. Nevertheless, Sennen has sacrificed comfort and stability to maintain his dignity and, most importantly, his pride.
The Storm made his lifestyle (like many others) unsustainable. Although, he has always found a way to fend for himself, it became more and more evident that surviving would require sucking up to the local lords or turn to a life of crime. His ego would not let him do the former, while he did not even consider the latter due to his faith. The Stormchasers offered a third option.


CREDENTIAL

Stubborn: Moderate resistance to intimidation, charm and most forms of psychological effects and magics. Becomes very high resistance while in combat. Additionally, high resistance to pain.
Traveler: Basic first aid. Ability to find or build shelter (basic). Ability to make and use tools (basic). High stamina.
Trained fighter: Proficient at wielding swords, shields, spears, axes, maces, blunt weapons and halberds. Can also fight unarmed. Basically, he's stronger than your average soldier and can beat most knights, but high ranking knights or other skilled fighters would get the best of him.
Strong body: High strength and high vitality (for a human).

Spells:
Flash: A strong light is cast from his hand, strong enough to temporarily (a few seconds) impair the vision of enemies looking in its direction (range: 4-5m / ~15ft). Short incantation.
Lil' Fire: A small flame appears. At Sennen's level it cannot be used in combat, but can be used to start a bonfire and the such. Short incantation, but requires some concentration to keep the fire going.
Warm body: A spell that warms the body of the user. Makes it easier to travel and sleep in cold areas and gives a small resistance to ice attacks. Can also be casted on others, but requires that they lower their natural defenses, so they have to be either willing or unconscious. Medium-length incantation. More mana can be used to extend its effect, and its effect can be shaken off by the target. Usually lasts around two to five hours.



INVENTORY

He carries on his belt a gourd of water and a pouch containing some bandages, a small dagger and a couple small coins, enough for a few meals at best. He has two main weapons: a one handed halberd that offers a combination of range, power and flexibility, and a iron shield.
 
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Cecie P Fallenmire​
Nickname: N/A
Age: 32
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Drive: She just wants things to be normal again. She wants to put an end to her family's worries and fears.

{Appearance}​
Height: 5' 3", 160 cm
Weight: 170 lb, 77 kg
Picture: (Art by Katya Gukina)
katya-gudkina-yors-gitanna-med.jpg
{Backstory}​
Cecie Fallenmire grew up in a town between cities. Many passed through, but very few stayed. She lived in a modest home with her sister and father. As their father grew older, it fell to Cecie to support the family. She started work with a local guild as extra protection for caravans and merchants that passed through. Utilizing archery and some sword skills, she managed to keep food on the table. Even when she would nearly lose everything by gambling. It wasn't a fancy life, but it was good. Until the storm rolled in.

It didn't affect much at first. Such is life in a small town. But it wasn't long before things started to change. People were wary of the distant thunder and even the jolliest of festivals were tainted by fear. As far as Cecie was concerned, however, there was bound to be a band of mighty heroes who would go out and put a stop to it all. She just had to wait until it happened. And so she waited...and waited...and waited. Months went by with no end in sight. Cecie would have kept waiting, if it hadn't been for the effect on her family. She hated how the warmth in the house grew cold and the laughter became quiet. What were once bright people seemed to wilt in the endless barrage of clouds and gloom. And then a bolt of lighting struck right outside of town. The fear in her sister's eyes...it was the last straw. When Cecie caught wind of the Stormchasers, she decided that she would join and make sure things were done right. She would make sure her family could laugh again. Whatever band of "heroes" she was stuck with, she'd make sure they put an end to the storm. Preferably with only one or two deaths--at most.

Relations:
Riri Fallenmire (younger sister)
Lawsen Fallenmire (father)
The Datura Guild (a small band of mercenaries who mainly work along the outskirts of the Geirskul Empire)
{Credentials}​
Non-magical skills:
*Archery (main weapon of choice)
*longsword (when melee becomes the best option)
*Cool under pressure
*knows (1) card trick which seems to impress toddlers
*horse riding (moderate)
*Group tactics: years of working with the Datura Guild have enabled her to avoid shooting allies when in combat. Mostly.
*Foraging: She can spot some edible mushrooms if it comes down to it. Or she can determine which members of the group should be eaten first. Probably won't be necessary. Probably.
*Improvised Arrows: If the material is around, she can craft her own arrows, though they won't be as effective.

Magical skills:
Spark: Produces a small spark that can light a candle or prepared torch.

True Aim: When cast on an arrow, it makes it unaffected by rain or adverse winds. She hasn't mastered quick casting this in the midst of combat, but it's useful in preparation. (Cannot be cast on multiple arrows at the same time, but can be used on objects of similar size. The spell can be maintained for half a minute if need be.)

Booming voice: it's a fun party trick, but leaves the throat soar.

{Inventory}​
[longsword] [longbow] [roll of bandages] [water bottle] [quiver of arrows] [bedroll] [set of dice and deck of cards] [coin purse] [a small notebook with a pencil strapped to the side] [a few dried pieces of meat] [small pouch of resin attached to her belt]

{Extra}
Not every job goes perfectly. Not every job goes good. Not every job doesn't end up destroying half your client's goods and hitting you in the head with a rogue spell that permanently damages your memories. Such is life. You just have to adapt. Which is what Cecie had to do. With her short-term memory a little hazier than normal, she now keeps a small notebook on hand, in which she writes a few important memos and names she might not want to forget.​
 

  • 5ae5272e84fcaad23943c3cac4914dfe.jpg
    Lupa​

    Former Title: Field Officer of the 5th Northern Division (Very Minor Position)

    Age: 26

    Gender: Female

    Race: Beastfolk (Wolf)

    Drive: To Help People and Be Knighted

    Height: Roughly 5'8'' or 173 cm

    Weight: 154 lb or 69.8 kg

Reinhardt Reinhardt Booples.
 
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― THE ROARING SKY ―
Alentiar Zelthorn
THE STEELBORNE MERCENARY





  • Name: Alentiar Zelthorn
    Nickname: Invictus (Monster Hunter Epithet)
    Age: 34
    Gender: Male
    Race: Human

    Drive: In search for redemption and self-forgiveness. Joined the Stormchasers in hopes of one day being able to be in terms with his survivor's guilt.

    Height: 189 cm ( 6'2" )
    Weight: 85 kg ( 187 lbs. )


 
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PROFILE

Name: Byakuren Hijiri
Nickname: The White Lotus
Age: Unknown, at least 50.
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Height: 173cm/5.7ft
Weight: 64kg/141lb

Drive: To clear her name and discover the true cause of the cataclysmic event. She wishes to bring people together, regardless of their past, and bring about true peace.


PERSONAL DETAILS

Appearance: Byakuren is a fair, pale woman with long, curly hair. Originally a bright brown hue, it has gradually begun to take on a shade of purple. This is most likely a side effect of the age-altering magics she has performed on herself. Her eyes are hazel-brown and exude a sense of warmth. She dons a long white dress, wrapped in a robe of black. Strips of black and white cloth run intersecting across her chest, arms and legs.

__hijiri_byakuren_touhou_drawn_by_sam_ashton__sample-a46719401bce2f7b32cc91da9d84b60e.jpg






Backstory: Hailing from a far-east island, remote and isolated from the rest of Verattia, Byakuren was raised by her elder brother as they had been orphaned during a clash between neighboring clans. The siblings were taken in by a nearby shrine and in order to make ends meet they worked diligently both day and night. Before long they began to climb through the ranks, and Byakuren's elder brother ended up becoming High Priest of the temple. However, fate was cruel and fickle. Just as things had started to look up, tragedy struck once more and the High Priest succumbed to an unknown illness. Alone and without a sense of direction, Byakuren was forced to take up her brother's role and serve as High Priestess. Her duties were many, and many more were those who came to her for guidance, but her mind was lost to an incredible sense of dread. Unnatural was her fear of death, so grave did it become; that she began looking for ways to cheat death itself.

Mankind are often seen as welcoming and without much prejudice. This is likely because of their vast colonization and integration of other races. However, even the smallest seed of doubt can grow into an ugly monster. Since the island was largely homogenous any non-human visitors would stick out like a sore thumb and as fate would have it, that is precisely what occurred when a tribe of beast-folk arrived seeking refuge. They had fled the mainland and scarcely made it ashore in one piece when they were confronted by the village elder and his closest advisors. The townsfolk were unsure of what to do. On one hand the holy scriptures forbade them from turning away visitors, on the other hand these weren't any normal visitors; they were... different. Could the holy prophets of old truly have foreseen that such creatures would one day emerge? Yet to question their faith and oppose the holy words would be to commit sacrilege. The beast-folk showed no signs of aggression, they bore no arms and they approached slowly and carefully while trying to communicate in foreign tongue. Though they were conflicted and torn, the council decided to reluctantly welcome the strangers onto their lands.

It was made clear that there were stark differences between the children of man and their new guests. What began as an uneasy friendship turned ever more sour as misunderstandings and cultural clashes tore them further apart. Before long the council decided they would need to enforce a harsh set of rules to keep control over the beast-folk. A sort of hierarchy was established and the refugees were stripped of many of the human rights that the island's other inhabitants were blessed with. Yet they did not complain, for what little they were allowed was far better than the certain death that awaited them should they try to return to the main continent. However strained, peace was upheld for a short time before misfortune struck once more. A dark storm was brewing across the horizon, a bad omen of worse things to come. It was the reason the beast-folk had fled in the first place, they had tried to outrun it yet even this remote island was not safe from the havoc it would cause.

The first to feel the storm's foul effects were the fish. Hoards of them were found surfacing by the shore, spoiled and tainted. The birds stopped coming, their ability to navigate the skies affected by the new currents. As the island was self-sufficient it relied exclusively on the fresh supply of nearby flora and fauna, and as the island's wildlife began to suffer, so too did its people. Having just arrived, shortly before the chaos began, suspicion was cast on the beast-folk. They did have a shaman amongst them, an old and wise creature who knew of strange magic. Naturally they had been forbidden to utter these unknown spells, and their scrolls and runes had been confiscated in the temple to be carefully examined by the High Priestess. Most of what she found was illegible, scripts written in foreign languages, ancient and mysterious symbols. Yet there were one tome that caught her interest in particular. It was illustrated, easy to decipher, and centered around the unending cycle of life and death. One of the pages depicted a transcended being, one who had conquered death itself and become immortal.

Byakuren decided it was time she met with the shaman. Death was sacred to the island-folk, a natural law designed by the gods and the final destination of all beings. But to Byakuren it was a curse, it had taken her family from her, and she would fight it with all that she had. If the beast-folk knew of a way to defy death then she had to meet with them. But to her dismay, being the High Priestess meant that she couldn't just wander of as she felt like it. She was bound to the temple through invisible chains, imprisoned against her will to serve the gods and to meditate upon their teachings. It was this isolation that had given her the time and privacy to study the forbidden texts, but now it was keeping her from moving forward. It was then that the commotion outside caught her attention. Townsfolk had gathered in an angry mob; fishermen, farmers, housewives, with pitchforks and spears they marched towards the encampment where the beast-folk had settled. With fear and anger in their hearts, they had decided to round up the newcomers and put them to death.

But Byakuren could not let that happen. If they held the secrets to immortality, then killing them would seal her fate too. She emerged from the temple and rang the bell used to call morning prayers. Stunned and confused, the villagers stopped dead in their tracks and turned towards the sound. It was late in the evening and the time for prayers had long since passed. They had already made up their minds on what to do with the beast-folk, yet their hearts were still uneasy with worry and Byakuren could see this. During her many years serving at the temple she had met with countless folks, all expressing their worries or concerns, and as such she had become rather skilled at reading people. The beast-folk were larger and stronger than humans, and although unarmed they would likely still pose a threat when cornered. The villagers had superior numbers, yet they were just that; simple untrained villagers. There was not a single soldier amongst them, and going into battle for the first time they were expecting casualties, but they were convinced that this was the only way. So Byakuren decided to show them another way, an option they had not considered. Having caught their attention, she began to speak. She told them of her plan, no, the gods' plan. The beast-folk had sinned, their sorceries corrupting the gods' creation and leaving misery in their wake. As High Priestess she had been chosen to carry out the will of the gods and banish the sinners from this mortal plane.

She set out alone on this holy mission, although she of course had other plans in mind. With the villagers send-off, she felt reassured that none would follow her and thus her meeting could be carried out in secret. Upon arriving to the questioning glances of the beast-folk, she did her best to explain the situation back at the village and warn them of what may come. Very little seemed to make it across the language barrier, but she was asked to sit down and wait for the shaman elder to meet her. Thankfully, the elder was much quicker to understand what had happened, though she could not tell if he was listening to her words or reading her thoughts. He looked at her through old, wrinkly eyes as he listened in silence and she felt as if he gazed right through her. Once she had finished he remained seated, lost in deep thought. He then slowly reached out his hand, and grasped hers in a gesture of acceptance. They would cooperate to gain whatever safety she could provide, and in return he would teach her the ancient ways of his people; their knowledge and their magic. An agreement that would have taken an immense amount of trust, yet he agreed all the same. Perhaps he outweighed odds of her betraying them, versus the inevitable wrath of the villagers. Perhaps he saw no other way out, as their boats had sunk upon their landing, and there would not be enough time to build new ones. He had valued their lives more than keeping their magics secret, but did he know who he had agreed to teach? Could he tell that she had ulterior motives for helping them? Did he perhaps pity her enough in her struggle to survive, a struggle he knew well, to such an extent that he would give up his wisdom to one acting out of self-interest? Maybe he did not care what her reason for helping them was, as long as they got to live another day. Or perhaps, he saw something in her, something more than an empty shell damned to eternal servitude. She would never know exactly what he was thinking when he agreed, but the deal had been done.

With beast-folk in tow, Byakuren made her way back to a small fishing boat that she had borrowed from the village. It was nowhere near big enough to carry them all, but it had to suffice. She would ferry them back a few at a time, and in the cover of the night they could make their way to the temple unseen. The temple would provide plenty of room for them, and since it was largely empty most of the time they should be able to live there in peace, provided they stay out of the main hall and remain quiet. And so she rescued the beast-folk, a few at a time, under the pretense of banishing them. It was an operation that carried on for several weeks, and the villagers were none-the-wiser as fewer and fewer beast-folk sightings were made, and one day they stopped entirely. Byakuren was hailed as a saint who had saved the island, although of course the wild-life still did not return and the people were forced to adapt an entirely vegan diet.

Tales of the beast-folk's demise, and the deeds of Byakuren took the island by storm. As a result people from all around came to visit the shrine and pray to the gods who had smote their former enemies. At day Byakuren would be approached by many such visitors, and she had to wear a mask concealing her true self. Her words were lies and deceit, and it pained her to carry on this façade. Still, she had long since learned to play a role. For as long as she could remember she had been forced to preach things that she did not understand, things that she did not agree with. This was no different, just another lie in a life full of them. Only this time, the stakes were greater than ever before. She had promised to help the beast-folk, and their lives were hanging in the balance. She had to lie with all that she had, their lives depended on it, her life depended on it. Only at night could she truly be herself. She stayed up long into the dark hours, hunched over a desk with scrolls and tomes spread out before her. And at her side, the shaman, with an intensive look watched over her. Through his guidance, she quickly grasped the basics of enhancement magic. With incantations she was able to draw out her body's full potential, strengthening the muscle tissue, improving the breathing, regulating the blood flow. She felt young again, like the magic had breathed new life in her. Her skin began to smoothen, her hair regained lost vibrancy, and for the first time in years she felt a sense of calm. Through vigorous study she might truly be able to master these incredible powers; to defy the flow of time, to stay young forever.

But it was not to be. A few weeks later, Byakuren's world would be turned upside down once again and it would all come crashing down. The catalyst was a little boy, no older than ten. A tiny, scrawny thing, yet the ramifications of his actions would ripple far and wide. It was on a morning like any other, while the townsfolk were gathered in the temple's main hall for prayer. The boy who lacked interest and concentration quickly tired of the endless chanting and decided to sneak away for a spell. But the village was all but empty, with most people taking part in the gathering. It was also pouring down outside and far too cold for his tastes. Opting instead to explore the temple, he made his way down one of the corridors with eager steps and curious eyes. It was his first time setting foot in this part of the temple, as it was usually closed for outsiders, but there was no one around now; no one to stop him. His mother would surely turn blind with rage if she found out, but she didn't have to. He'd just take a quick look around and make it back before anyone noticed he was even gone. That's when he heard something curious. Almost like a whisper, it was barely audible. He couldn't quite tell what it was, but it had caught his interest. Following his sense of curiosity, the boy pursued the strange noise to a room at the far back of the temple. As he got closer it became sharper, his ears finally able to pick it up clearly. A faint croaking came from the other side of the wall. Was someone snoring? Here in the forbidden part of the shrine? With bated breath he slid open the door and looked inside.

The scream echoed throughout the temple, piercing the monotonous calm and silencing the prayers. With shock and horror people hurried to their feet. The brief quiet soon turned into murmuring as dozens of voices filled the room. A mother, realizing her son was missing quickly put two and two together, shouting out a desperate plea. Unsure of what to do, but having to take action, Byakuren did her best to calm the crowd and reclaim order. The village elder demanded someone investigate, and a group of able men made their way out into the hallway, Byakuren hurrying alongside them. They had to find out what had happened, and prepared themselves as best they could for what they might witness. The High Priestess had a sense of foreboding, the sound had come from deeper in the temple, in one of the secluded sections where the beast-folk had been hiding. Whatever had happened, she knew it couldn't be good.

What they found surpassed could only be described as a tragic scene. On the floor laid a young child, his body limp and devoid of life. Towering above him stood a scaly creature with a look of despair on his face. The killing had been an accident, there was no ill-will intended, yet a life had been extinguished all the same. A crowd had now amassed behind Byakuren, the poor boy's mother and father among them. The crushed woman gave of a shriek and rushed to his side, grasping his still warm hand. Time seemed to have crawled to a halt, as the heart-breaking scene unfolded before Byakuren's eyes. For a while she stood there motionless in awe of the horror that had transcribed. Yet it was not entirely surprising to her, in fact she knew it was only a matter of time before the beast-folk were found. She had only hoped it wouldn't be so soon. The silence was broken by a hoarse voice, screaming out in anguish. "Monster," it yelled, "you will pay!" The father lunged forward, brandishing a knife, and struck towards the beast-man but his arm was stopped half-way. Byakuren had sprung into action, her mind made up.

Originally she had only helped the beast-folk for selfish needs. Securing their safety and gaining their trust was vital to learn their secrets. However, as time had passed and she had lived alongside them, she had started to change. She had begun to feel something strong, something she had long since forgotten all those years ago when the world took her brother away from her. A real sense of compassion, a kin-ship. These were no beasts; they were people just like her, with their own hopes, dreams and worries. To condemn them for the island's downfall without solid proof would be barbaric. Perhaps some of them were cruel or violent, but others were not and they should be treated as individuals. Those who meant no harm posed no threat, and those who would do wrong deserved a fair trial.

"Wait," Byakuren exclaimed, "do not hurt him! He deserves a fair trial. We must not judge them prematurely, instead let us integrate them into our society. Let us teach them right from wrong where needed, and we can all coexist in harmony." The townsfolk stared on in disbelief. Their own High Priestess had sided with the monsters. Had she been corrupted and laid astray, or was she a devil in disguise from the beginning? The father wrestled his arm from her grasp and with disdain he looked her dead in the eyes. Suddenly he realized something strange, the Priestess should have been in her fifties, yet she had stopped his blow with swift movements and a steady grip. In the many years that he had visited the shrine, she hadn't aged a day. In fact, she seemed to have gotten younger. "You're a witch! A traitorous witch!", he shouted. Another man echoed his sentiment; "She has turned against us! A demon sympathizer, she is!" The angry mob's attention turned from the beast-folk and onto Byakuren. She took a step back, still standing between the humans and the lizard-men. Adrenaline was pumping throughout her body, and sweat poured down her cheek. Was this how it would end? "Please stop! Take a moment to think!" she pleaded, but her words fell on deaf ears. "Burn the witch!", someone yelled. "Kill them all!", screamed another. Realizing the hopelessness of the situation, Byakuren slumped down on the ground. They were right in a way, she had betrayed them. Perhaps if she had acted differently this could have been avoided. But there was no changing what had happened. She had hoped to unite the people, to help them live in peace. Regardless of her original intentions she had tried to protect the weak, but she had failed. Now they would all meet their end, and perhaps she would finally reunite with her elder brother. As much as she had fought against death, there truly was no escaping it. But at least now she wouldn't suffer alone. If the beast-folk were to fall today, then she would die alongside them.

Suddenly Byakuren felt a large hand on her shoulder, it was the old shaman. "Hopeless...", he sighed. "You give up hope..." His deep voice growled as he spoke. "Do not despair, this is not your end." The old man helped Byakuren back on her feet as his fellow lizard-men stood beside him. His silvery scales were old and worn, no longer gleaming with light like those of the young. He was well past his prime, but still possessing surprising strength. "We tire of running. Now, we stand and fight." He looked down on Byakuren with a gentle smile, it was the first time she had seen him express happiness. "We are old. Our time is up. But you still have more to give." With a loud noise, and the shaking of the ground, thick smoke filled the room. The elder must have prepared some sort of magic spell for the occasion. The beast-folk were still outnumbered ten to one, but their superior senses would help guide them through the ensuing chaos. It would also serve as a distraction so that Byakuren could make her escape. Had he foreseen all this, and was he truly telling her to flee and leave them to die? She tried to ask him a hundred questions, but couldn't find the words. The look on his face gave her all the answer she needed. "Now go!" he roared, motioning towards a back-door.

What happened next she can't quite recall. She ran, and she ran, as fast as she could. She stumbled and fell, but got right back up and carried on. She ran for her life, the life he had spared. She had to live, or their sacrifice would have been in vain. And so she found herself onboard the old fishing boat, the same one she had smuggled the shaman and his people with. It was a long way to the main-land, and she had never been at sea, but it was the only way forward. With nary a thing to her name but the clothes on her back, and the shaman's scroll, she embarked on a journey. Behind her ravaged a bloody battle, the terrible screams could be heard far and wide. She could do nothing but pray for them now, as she looked back at her old home. Their deaths were all but guaranteed, but she hoped they would be quick and merciful. And she hoped that they might finally find peace.

A few days later a large vessel happened upon Byakuren's boat. They found her unconscious, starved and dehydrated. It was a group of fishermen who had travelled further out to sea in hope of finding unspoiled fish. Luckily their prayers were answered and the deep sea offered plenty of riches. It seemed that whatever effect the storm had on aquatic life dissipated on lower altitudes. The fish that lived in shallow waters were took the brunt of the damage, whereas the deep-sea life was largely unharmed. It was a pleasant surprise, something they had hoped for but not expected. Nor did they expect to find a woman lost at sea. She was near-death, but still alive, so they brought her on-board and tended to her. Within a day or two she regained consciousness, pale and confused. It didn't help that she couldn't understand a word the men were saying, and they couldn't understand her. After having accustomed to her new surroundings, Byakuren did her best to express her gratitude by working alongside the fishermen. In return they began teaching her their language and offered her passage back to the mainland. It would take at least a month before they sat foot on land again, but that would give her time to re-adjust, to learn, and to think.

She knew she wanted to clear her name and that of the beast-folk on the island, but she had no idea how or where to start. The fishermen spoke of the dead fish, from what she could understand the fish on the main-land suffered the same fate as the fish near the island. All the while the great storm was looming overhead, the same storm she had seen in the distance right when things had started to turn sour back home. If she was right, the storm was the real catalyst for the suffering they had endured. In a way it had robbed her not just of her home, but also her friends. It was no regular phenomena, that much was certain, but what could possibly have caused such a catastrophic thing? Byakuren set out towards Valheim, looking for answers.






TLDR: Byakuren lived on a small island in the far east. She grew up with her elder brother at a shrine but he tragically passed away. She eventually became the High Priestess at the temple. One day beast-folk arrived on the island, around the time that the storm emerged. A series of bad things happened, and the beast-folk took the blame. Eventually the islanders decided to rid themselves of the beast-folk, but Byakuren stopped them. She rescued them from certain death under the guile of banishing them through divine powers. Originally she had planned to save them for her own gains, as they knew powerful magics which she desired, but as time went she grew to like them and changed as a person. She learned sorceries from the beast-folk shaman and used it to stop her aging and regain her youth. Finally it all came crashing down as a young boy found the beast-folk hiding in the temple and lost his life in the process. Byakuren tried to stop the townsfolk from attacking, doing her best to keep the peace, but she couldn't. Branded a traitor and a witch, she was caught in the crossfire. In the end she had to flee her home, leaving everything behind, and the fate of her new-found friends unknown. Now she seeks to clear her name and discover the truth behind the storm, the catalyst for so much suffering.




Relations:

Brother: Myouren (Deceased), Old Shaman (Unknown)

CREDENTIALS

Combat: No real combat training, only basic knowledge of hand-to-hand combat.

Magic: Novice level spells in the enhancement/buff category. She can alter the flow of time's effect on one's body, modifying its properties and unlocking one's true potential. She mostly uses this to preserve her youth.

Personality: Byakuren is generally soft-spoken and not great with small-talk. She generally only speaks when she feels it is necessary and prefers to listen quietly to others than to engage in conversation. Despite this she is quite skilled with words, or was in her native tongue back on her island. In Valheim she struggles a bit with the language, and her attempts at conversation suffer as a result. She is accepting and gentle, some may say motherly in nature, but she wasn't always this way. In the past she used others for her own gain and until recently she was forced to lie to such an extent that the truth itself became muddled. She is a lot older than she appears, and as such possesses a decent amount of wisdom. However, her secluded island life and isolated upbringing at a shrine limit the breath of her knowledge. Despite being brought up at a shrine, she is not entirely religious and has gone against the sacred scriptures of her island on multiple occasions. Still, she believes in much of the good it has taught her and the parts that suit her needs. Due to her spiritual vows she does not eat meat, nor does she drink alcohol, but she carries no ill-will towards those who do. It is her belief that there is good in all things, and she wishes that one day the world may be united in peace. But the world is a large and dangerous place, and it may be naïve to think that way. Even so, she will work towards that goal in whatever way she can.

Inventory: Sutra Scroll containing incantations for enhancing/buffing magic.

Theme Song:
 
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~~ Vivienne Yvarra ~~​


  • Personal Details:
    Nicknames: "Viv," "Vivi," or "V"

    Age: 39

    Gender: female

    Race: beastfolk (centaur)

    Occupation: Transporter, Courier, Escort

    Drive: Wanderlust and a desire to prove heroism isn't dead. She still has many places she wants to go and things she wants to see.​

    Personality:
    Charismatic. Vivienne is very friendly and outgoing, but never boisterous. Her mannerisms and demeanor give the impression of someone who is of good upbringing, but still free-spirited and lighthearted. Not afraid to spontaneously hug a stranger if she feels they need one. She's not the life of the party, but exudes the positive energy of one who wants to see others happy and genuinely derives pleasure from that alone, with no ulterior motives. The downside to this is she sometimes feels it is her duty to keep her friends in good spirits, as if any misfortunes they face are her fault or require her intervention.

    Viv is honest, to a fault. She wears her emotions on her sleeve. As much as she tries to give off positive vibes, she doesn't like to "fake it" and would rather leave than let friends see she is hurting. She doesn't like to pretend to be something she's not and doesn't like others who do this, either. Although she respects cleverness and a well-laid plan, she detests liars, cheaters, and scammers, and can even be brutally honest when she feels someone is being an ass. Viv can go from "warm and fuzzy" to "tough love" surprisingly quick. Although she's not known for violence, she can be quite stubborn and sharp-tongued when her temper flares.

    Viv has traveled a lot, met a lot of people, and has developed an ability to read them, using her gut feelings, rather than logic or cold clinical observation. She has also been self-employed and self-motivated for most of her adult life, roaming from town to town, picking up gigs, talking with clients, and negotiating deals. Her business sense is quite shrewd. She knows an opportunity when she sees one and isn't afraid to pounce on it, but this is also tempered by her conscience. Fairness and building lasting relationships is more important than profit.​
 
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  • PROFILEName: Aelfweard "Coriolanus" Māragas
    Nickname: The Ashcloak Butcher, "Coriolanus Novakrion"
    Age: 30
    Gender: Male
    Race: Human

    Drive: To go free

    Height: 182cm // 6'1"
    Weight: 60kg // 132lbs


Reinhardt Reinhardt
 
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PROFILEName: Aksinia, or Deirdre
Nickname: N/A
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Race: Beastfolk (Spider)

Drive: To see the world. Deirdre considers the Stormchasers to be an excellent device by which she might visit foreign vistas, ancient ruins, and all the like in order to further her studies. When asked about it, however, she'll only answer with some form of "I just wanted to help people", for fear of what people may think of her less than altruistic motivations.

Height: 162cm, 5'4"
Weight: 72kg, 158lbs

PERSONAL DETAILSIMG_20200903_000937.jpgAppearance: The kind of person who constantly looks either uncomfortable, or distracted. Deirdre poses a striking image, sporting four arms, each coated in a thick layer of glossy, black exoskeleton, strongly contrasting her pale skin. At her shoulders, her exoskeleton turns rough as a forest of tough, and equally black fur sprouts up out of it, it creeps over her cheeks to frame her face. Her teeth are jagged, clearly made with much more concern for ripping and tearing meat, than nibbling at vegetables, and a pair of long fangs extend down where her canines should be. These are however, useless.

A modest young woman, Deirdre prefers to dress conservatively, most often electing to cover up as much of her human skin as society would deem appropriate and wearing either long dresses or heavy coats. This works out to her advantage, providing an extra level of insulation to warm her cold-blooded body.

Backstory: In the dusty, forgotten corners of the typical home, a good cobweb can be made. It's warm, sheltered, and the chances of a stray animal eating you whole tend to be a lot lower. Following this line of logic, the same sort of conclusion can reached about the cities of Man and the other major races.

Deirdre's tribe is not one of the traditional sort. Rather than living a nomadic life, venturing between forested valleys and windy highlands, or dwelling in ancestral territories as their forefathers did, they instead took to the sprawling cities of the Empire. In every city, there are decrepit crags. Abandoned neighbourhoods, alleyway networks, redundant sewers and forgotten ruins, and those are what Deirdre's tribe, the Hearthweavers, decided to call their home. The Hearthweavers are essentially a group of very ambitious squatters. They move into existing cities, retrofit some forgotten hole into a livable condition, and then attempt to integrate into their society.

That integration was perhaps the most influential single thing in Deirdre's upbringing. Her people do not believe in the traditional roles of parenthood, and obscure any one child's heritage in favour of raising them as a community. Deirdre and her nest-siblings were, as such, raised by a collective of uncles and aunts, specifically with the goal of being able to smoothly operate within their host-city and become an upstanding member of the tribe when they come of age.

For Deirdre, this meant learning the ways of the Gnomic natives of their host-city of Holhold, and training as the assistant to her tribe's chief Wisewoman, one of the few practitioners of magic within the small community.

During her youth, she served as a decent enough student in her studies of both magic and culture. She found herself being able to nicely associate herself with the residents of the greater city, and by the time she was a teen she was spending more time outside of her nest commune than inside of it. The gnomic people, with their frequent technological advances and scientific breakthroughs, awed her enough in her youth to the point where when she was starting to come of age, she'd already begun to question the ways of her elders.

For all their talk of integration and education through experiences with the other races, beyond their locale of choice, the Hearthmaker people were as reclusive as they came. They barely ventured out of their nests, and when they did it was only to collect the essentials, or broker some sort of deal or another. Of all her elders, she was fairly sure that she could count the number of them with friends from outside of the commune on only one of her hands, and she only has four fingers on each.

This all came to a head when instead of choosing to go through her coming of age ceremony at the age of eighteen as tradition called for, she instead chose to enrol in a gnomic university on the other side of the county. The resulting affair the occurred was, to put it plainly, absolutely sordid, and even involved an act of borderline heresy when one of her parents revealed themself just to curse her out as a "nestbreaking, good for nothing bitch" and to "go marry one of those waist-height wastes of space if she loved them so much". Deirdre left not long after that, cried a lot, and then hopped on the first transport she could to her new home.

Deirdre spent the next few years studying history and archaeology with the intent of... Well, she frankly wasn't sure anymore. Initially, she'd applied with the intent of one day returning home with her newfound skills and knowledge and using them to help her people, but after getting called many, many mean names, she's not really sure anymore. As such, when she eventually graduated she elected to find herself an apprenticeship under an established archaeologist, and study the ancient cultures of Valheim.

During those times she found herself nursing a growing desire to go out and see the world. With each discovery Deirdre and her senior made, her thirst for more rose. Hunger begot hunger, and before long she found herself experiencing that ever-so-illusive emotion known as passion.

Then, the storms hit.

When the long storm rolled in, it meant the end of safe expeditions and saying goodbye to the rush of discovery. She was quickly confined to a dusty old study, where all she could do was go over old findings again, and again, and again. It was while she was within the deepest depths of that mire of boredom that news of the Stormchasers reached her ears, and within a few days Deirdre had hatched a plan to join up with their expedition.

With her knowledge of history and magical lore, she was confident she could prove herself as an asset in solving the mystery of the long storm. Even if she couldn't help on that front, she figured she had at least picked up enough skills and tricks in her expeditions to, at least, pull her own weight around the boat if she proved too dumb to actually do anything useful.

Relations:
  • Zinzin Craggytooth - A gnomish archaeologist, palaeontologist, explorer, and general brilliant-woman, Zinzin was up until very recently Deirdre's Master, under whom she studied archaeology and history. They're currently not on the best terms on account of Deirdre's enrollment into the Stormchasers, but Deirdre is really hoping that she's only mad because she cares.
  • The Hearthweavers of Holhold - Deirdre's, or rather, Aksinia's family who she is also on bad terms with, and is very sure that it is because the do not care. Deirdre still has a place in her heart for them, but can't see herself stopping by to visit anytime soon.

CREDENTIALS
Mundane Skills:
  • Webslinger - Deirdre's people are either born with the ability to produce a paralytic venom from their fangs, or webs from their fingertips. For Deirdre, it was the latter. It's only as strong as a normal spider's web, so she needs to reinforce it with magic for it to be useful in small quantities.
  • Archaeologist - On the mundane front, Deirdre is a trained and somewhat experienced archaeologist. She's plenty used to crawling through ruins and translating ancient languages, so she's really hoping that the storm is because of some ancient super-magic so she can justify her presence in the Stormchaser crew.
  • Historian - Deirdre is, naturally, also well studied in the common history of Valheim. This is definitely the field of study she's less passionate about however, as she much prefers digging up new knowledge to learning stuff that's already well-catalogued.
  • Weaving - Deirdre, like every single one of her brothers and sisters, learned how to weave from a very young age. It's one of the most stable forms of income for their people, as their silk makes for very comfortable clothes when properly treated.
Magical Skills:
  • Stringcrafte - A combination of her natural abilities as a Beastfolk, and basic reinforcement magic. It is one of the traditional magics of her tribe, and something that they are definitely not happy that she is using willy-nilly. It involves forming spools of web between her fingertips and then charging them with magic to harden them. Usually, this is a fairly involved process, as it is supposed to do this permanently, but Deirdre managed to put together an abridged version that only lasts so long as she is touching it. This is also where Deidre's relationship with Incantation Magic starts and ends.
  • String Theory - What Deirdre calls, "New School" Rune magic, String Theory is basically just a catchy name she gave to something completely unrelated. In her archaeological studies, Deirdre managed to foster herself a basic knowledge in Rune Magic, and eventually started trying to weave runes out of her own webs rather than carving them into something, and shockingly it worked. It's a very cheap way to make a rune, but it also takes quite a while, the rune itself is fragile, and the rune will always be consumed upon use. She is, however, very proud of her inventiveness regardless.
Spells:
  • Stopweb - A runic spell that activates when stuck to the victim's body. It pumps the victim full of a spell that alters the nature of their muscles, hardening them to be as tough as stone, and equally stiff. It lasts for about a minute.
  • Puppetstring - A runic, telekinetic spell. Activates when the rune is stuck to an object, and allows the caster to telekinetically manipulate it for a short time. It is usually used to disarm or distract foes, as telekinesis does not allow for a fine enough degree of control to swing a sword, axe, or utilize most other weapons.
  • Nestbomb - A basic runic spell that simply expels an explosion of force, paired with Deirdre's natural ability to produce web. Deirdre wraps the rune in a large bundle of her web, and then detonates it after throwing it at an enemy to coat them in it.
  • Nestwrecker - Not actually a spell. Nestwreck is a variant of Nestbomb where she drenches her Nestbomb in oil first, and then lights it on fire after detonation. The result is something like coating the victim in napalm. She's not actually very fond of hurting people so she's only ever done this once when she got mugged, but it's been stuck in the back of her head ever since.

INVENTORYArchelogy tools, a small series of notebooks on ancient languages, a specialized pouch for carrying her web-runes, a lantern kit, a hair comb, and a heavier duty comb for her mane.

EXTRA
The Hearthweavers have a native language of their own, but they use it very sparingly outside of their homesteads. This is to the point where they usually bear two names, one given at birth, and one adapted to the sensibilities of Imperial culture. This can also be observed in their tribal name, which is usually a different translation of the original Porogtkach taken by their earliest ancestors, dependent on where they're currently taking residence.

Deirdre doesn't have a last name. Traditionally, as her people do not believe in traditional parenthood, children are only given first names as to reinforce the idea that they are all one great big happy family, or something, so the formality of last names isn't needed between them. When she needs to use a last name for papers, or something similar, she just uses her Master's.
 
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  • [Image in progress]



    » MYVYRYIUM VYRYBYRYIUM
    (Mih-ver-ree-um Vee-ree-beer-ree-um)

    Age: 24
    Race: Human
    Height: 5'6" / 170.7 cm
    Weight: Light
    Drive: Pure curiosity.
    Name Used by Those Who Give Up Attempting To Memorize His Real One: Myv

    Most of Myv's appearance is hidden behind his baggy, billowy traveling clothes. What can be seen from behind his large collar and beneath his wide-brimmed hat, however, is a small button nose, wide eyes, and lightly-textured hair that seems to arc lazily when nothing has been done with it. Though seemingly the spitting image of youthful naivete, the young magician is, in fact, surprisingly maturely-natured, patient, well-mannered, and perhaps even wise; were it not for the inherent sense of strangeness that comes with being a journeyman wizard, one might even find him to be a little boring. He aids his fellows without complaint, and is remarkably tolerant of the antics of others despite his seemingly humorless disposition; indeed, he has been known to partake in such things himself, albeit always with an incredibly straight face--based on what little can be seen of it, anyway.



    » ADVANTAGEOUS ASPECTS

    » Intelligent.
    » Fast-learning.
    » Quick thinking.
    » Level-headed.

    » SKILLS

    » Gear repair.
    » Spellcasting.
    » Diplomacy and haggling.
    » Business matters.


    Theme: Wandering Sophie, Joe Hisaishi

 
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  • ulSQCWt.jpg

    Character Name: Virion Ravaren

    Nickname: Raven

    Age: 25

    Gender: Male

    Race: Caskarieth

    Drive: To either cease, or find a way for Valheim to harness, the storm so as to protect his family and give the Aesthirian church a potential position of authority in the land.
 
Steingrimr Shatterarmour
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Seeker of Honor​

PROFILE
Name:
Steingrimr Shatterarmour

Nickname:
Stein

Age:
26

Gender:
Female

Race:
Dwarf

Drive:
Joining the Stormchasers is a matter of personal achievement for her. There's a big fuckin' storm abrewin' above her head, and there might be a big fuckin' thing to kill up there. If there is a chance to claim her honor as a dwarf, it's joining up with the beanpoles on their adventure. She has sworn it, and if she passed up the chance to gut a stinkin' big one, she'd never live it down. Even if there isn’t anything up there, she would have participated in a grand adventure and would have a story to pass on to generations after her.

Height:
4'7" / 140 cm

Weight:
80 kg / 176 lbs


PERSONAL DETAILSAppearance:
How else would a dwarf appear? Tall and skinny and fragile like the limp, fluttering banners that are humans? She is short and stocky, and her armor both accentuates and complements her appearance. In fact, she is considered leaner than most dwarfs, which might be related to the next point. Unlike most dwarfs, however, Steingrimr doesn't have much in way of facial hair. She, and her peers, joke that her mother might have had relations with one of the hairless beanpoles or, Aestera forbid, a gnome. Her lack of facial hair is the reason Steingrimr has left her people and their mountains, in search for an adventure, and it kind of defines her as not a person, but a proud dwarf. She has bright, red hair, and hazel-brown eyes. She has a notably husky voice, despite of her appearance, and speaks with a distinct accent.

Backstory:
Steingrimr is a Dwarf of The Red Mountain, and anyone who knows a smidgen about smithing, knows that she is of an exalted pedigree, for those particular Dwarfs are known for their smithing, and many an adventurer have come to them to procure rare weapons. Steingrimr herself, is the daughter of Gunnar Shatterarmour, meaning that she is a direct descendant of one of the most capable smiths of the land. To compound matters, she is also the daughter to Faragrim Shatterarmour, a Slayer, one who has taken the responsibilities to slay great beasts, of no small renown amongst Dwarfs. The Red Mountain Dwarfs themselves are a strange lot, choosing to remain within their mountain, with the exception of sending out expedition teams to find more mountains to reside in or seeing the odd Slayer or three out into the world, and they hold fast to their old traditions. As such, they pride themselves over their beards, and are one of the Dwarfen communities that still celebrate the occasion with a holiday when a Dwarf has grown out his beard without ever shaving it, and has it turn grey naturally. Of course, the Dwarflings of The Red Mountain wait for the day when they too, start to sprout beardhairs, and Steingrimr is no different.

Years passed, and she watched as her peers began to grow their first beards, as every other family celebrated with joy that their child was coming of age. She found herself throwing herself into the craft of slaying, finding some peace in outperforming her peers with her shieldwork. She was just as much of a Dwarf as they were, even without a beard, and when she got hers, she’d be better than them. No one questioned her skill, certainly. Even as a smith, though her work was average at best, she was still as Dwarfy as everyone else her age. The one thing that was missing, however, was her beard. More time passed, and even those that came after her began to sprout their beards. Infuriated, Steingrimr cursed herself. The elders blamed neither her parents nor her, and simply admitted that there was a possibility that she was just...born wrong. Though everyone else accepted this, she couldn’t. A Dwarf does not simply go through their lives without coming of age. She questioned the elders, asking how does a Dwarf claim honor if they cannot do so naturally, either because of a crime or otherwise. Though reluctant to tell her the method at first, after some pressing by both her parents who understood what their daughter wanted, they relented.

Fell a great beast, find a mountain, or bring back a story to tell. Those were the requisites. To anyone other than a Dwarf, these two things may seem exceedingly easy. To a Dwarf, this is the same as being told they must swear the oath of a Slayer for the former. No ordinary great beast will suffice. It MUST be a beast that shakes the world itself. To find a mountain is exceedingly difficult as well. Not just any mountain would suffice. It must be empty, undiscovered by the world, untouched by Dwarfen hands or otherwise. It was the equivalent of finding a new land to live in. To tell a story is no small feat either. The Dwarf must tell a story that will be passed on for centuries and generations to come. A simple ‘Once upon a time’ will not do. It must be an epic, a saga, a true poem for the ages. In short, Steingrimr must become a legend. This was, perhaps, enough to stir, if not shake, most Dwarfs, as such an act was unheard of. Steingrimr, however, stood her ground. She will become a real Dwarf, even if it means inviting death itself. She could not live with being a Dwarf who was not a Dwarf. It was either honor or death for her.

Her departure was an occasion to be held as well, and her people gave their well wishes and their good lucks. The word of a real Dwarf was not one to be trifled with, and those warm wishes meant more to her than anything else in the world. Her father presented her with his own gift, a crimson shield forged by his own hand, its name and make to remind her of who she was, even in the darkest of times. Her mother had wanted to offer her own gift, but her teachings, Steingrimr admitted, were the only gifts she needed from her. So, with tearful goodbyes on their cheeks and beards, her people sent Steingrimr off into the world.

Year after year, Steingrimr wandered the land, taking the odd job here and there, striking it up with some strange bedfellows once in a while. Yet, she found no inspiration, no great beast to tell of, and no mountain that hadn’t been explored by Dwarfen Seekers prior. Still, she had about many more decades left on her belt to become a real Dwarf, or literally die trying. That was when The Storm came about. Something was afoot, and she could feel it in her Dwarfy bones. This was an opportunity. Something big must be up there in that there troublesome storm, and if it was a Great Big Beast, she will slay it, and take home the honor. If it was no Great Big Beast, then the adventure to the skies itself might be a story to bring back home to be immortalised. This was her time.

Relation/s:
Virion Ravaren: An actual knife-ear who isn’t a complete waste of space. He appreciates good steel, has a good swordhand, and isn’t wholly built like a stick you’d beat a bush with, and that makes him a compliment to his own race. She finds herself quite attached, platonically, mind you, to him, and, with disgust, regards him as a friend. She will defend his honor if it comes to it. He’s still an elf though, and she wastes no time in making jabs his way when possible.

Myvyryium Vyrybyryium: A beanpole with a knack for magicks, and a traveling companion. Steingrimr isn’t sure how they came together as a group. Steingrimr thinks he has a weird name and weird magicks, and she doesn’t trust magickers as far as she can throw them. Like the case with Ravaren, she is quite attached to his existence, and, albeit less disgustedly, regards him as a friend. She treats him with less disdain than she does Ravaren.

Gunnar and Faragrim Shatterarmour: Steingrimr’s parents. A blacksmith of some renown, crafting the most sterling of weapons made of Dwarfen steel, who married his best customer, a Slayer of no small popularity herself, they are what most call a ‘power couple’. Both of them love Steingrimr dearly, and wish her only the best in her quest to be a real dwarf. Despite Steingrimr never ever growing a beard, Gunnar is proud of what Steingrimr has achieved, and is the one who fashioned Red Mountain for her. Faragrim’s gift to Steingrimr is the knowledge of battle, and has always been since she was but a wee lass. With both of their blessings, Steingrimr promises to return to their mountain once she has accomplished her quest.



CREDENTIALS

Shieldbearer: Steingrimr is trained in shield combat, being able to wield her weapons proficiently alongside a shield, and once she has her shield up, she can stand her ground for as long as her shield holds up, and since it's perfect Dwarf smithing, it's going to last a while. Her naturally short and stocky build, arguably, makes her much more stable when holding her ground.

Thick Skin: Natural superior Dwarfy genetics at work. She might not have the facial hair, but at least her blood is still that of a Dwarf. Steingrimr physically resists the effects of magic, and can brush off intermediate spells, albeit with some flinching.

Slayer: As a daughter to one who has taken the oath to slay great beasties, it shouldn't come as a surprise that she's proficient in the use of weapons, but is much more familiar with axes, maces, and hammers. She prefers, in no particular order, a mace and shield combination, dual-wielding axes, or a warhammer. Obviously, the weapons must be scaled to her height and size, and she will NEVER deign to use shoddy craftsmanship, unless absolutely necessary. By ‘necessary’, it refers to a situation where she can't reasonably punch the everloving lights out of whatever she needs to kill.

Smithing: Having been practically raised next to the fires of her pa's forge, she has some innate talent for smithing. She prefers to swing weapons than to make them, and for good reason. She is a neurotic perfectionist (like all REAL dwarfs are SUPPOSED to be) when it comes to smithing, and she avoids it purely because it brings out her bad side. To make matters worse, she's not half as good as she wants to be. By human standards, she's perfectly fine. By Dwarfen standards, however, her craftsmanship is average at best, and it maddens her to no end.

Rune Magic: Her mother taught her some of those fancy rune magicks that everyone's clamouring about, and her mother before her taught her that, and so did her mother before her. She isn't a particularly gifted runic mage, however, but she can use fairly basic Runes, like setting fire on something, or creating a temporary water supply. She makes particular use of the latter by etching a rune on a stone or a marble, and tossing it into a bottle to fill it with clean water for consumption. Due to how runes function, she finds it a complete waste of time and extremely situational. Can't even put an axe on fire without the axe exploding after time, for shame. As far as Dwarfen engineering has come, magic still finds a way to ruin it.

Insults: Comes naturally to a dwarf. A dwarf who cannot cuss out another in traditional combat is not a REAL dwarf, and should go back to living with the pasty-faced stick figures outside of the mountains, where they rightfully belong, the treacherous cowards.



INVENTORY

A ‘Beinn Dhearg: A shield forged by one of the best smiths in the world. It is a strong and sturdy shield, to remind its wielder of who she is, and its name is to remind its wielder of home. Colored a distinctive red, it stands out from most shields, even without examining its exclusive make. It is Steingrimr’s most prized possession, and to honor it, she does not shy away from using it. To let a weapon go to waste is to insult its make, which is why she absolutely despises using shoddy weapons.

Mace: A mace made of Dwarfen steel. Like most Dwarfen weapons, it is strong and reliable. It’s nothing to write home about, by Dwarfen standards, but that’s a very high standard than most humans can attain.

Travelling Equipment: She has a bedroll and a couple of preserved meats to stave off hunger. She also has a bottle and a couple of marbles to use her water supply runes on when there aren't any rocks to do so.


EXTRA
 
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