Fantasy Wuldir Character Cast

[QuestingBeast]

The Character Sheets are posed interview-style, but if you would prefer to present your app as a narrative or a bullet-point list, both are well and good. I'm looking for players eager to make use of their creativity, to challenge as well as support the roleplay. In layman's terms, let's have fun and hopefully butt heads along the way.


Questions for me? Please, tag me in the OOC and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

Wuldir Applications

• Soldier
• Keeper
• Raiser

• 
  
  
  

  Positions (Click me!)

  Lionsguard: the last line of defense, a handful of elite soldiers, veterans that have seen more blood than most could stand, that guard Peregrine's inner chamber, where the ruling council sits. They maneuver footsoldiers and decide the position of ballista and catapults, prepare and store inventory. The unenvied weight of the castle's survival is on their shoulders. From the war council to the war front, their commands light up the night from the high towers, flashing and flaring in military code.
  
  
  Patrol:Marching along the wall walkways, their sentry eyes spy out across the distance for any sign of trouble. These are Peregrine's eyes and ears, and the ballista operators, the engineers and guardsmen. They are given a variety of tasks to perform, but because they are the most numerous division of the military, they often have a lot of downtime, which has gleaned them the reputation of being drunks and gamblers.
  
  
  Scout: Intrepid or foolish, these are the light of foot, the stealthy and careful. They go out into the forests and the caves, scale the mountain cliffs in search of harpy nests. In finding them, they poison, burn, or, if it is too dangerous to approach, they mark its place on their map for later destruction. The fatality rate of these brave scouts is extremely high. They have a reputation of being agile climbers on the brink insanity.

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Description
  
  Oh excuse me, sir... my eyes are but empty holes now... pray tell this old woman how you appear. Have any nervous habits, do you? I've always been fascinated by those.
  
  
  Tell me... do they treat you well for your looks? Or do they pity your ugliness, your malformities as they do me?
  
  Military Background
  
  Oh, so you are a soldier. Fine job, that. They send you out and you come back in a casket, eeheehee...
  
  
  You must get this a lot, but I have to ask: did you volunteer or were you drafted?
  
  
  Will you be working your way up the ranks, then? How far along are you, dearie? I know very well they don't award anything until you've seen action, so don't pull me any fast ones about being born into it, pah.
  
  
  Have you bled yet, hm? Ever get sick to your stomach? Wake up screaming with the sweats and the tears all cold, all burning? Do you regret what you are? Hate what you've become? Or are you some unnatural force of purity that still sees man with a soul?
  
  Equipment
  
  Ooohoohoo, what's this on your belt? And in your hand? My, you are prepared.
  
  Goals, Dreams, Opinions
  
  We haven't got long now. So sad, yes, yes, very sad... Before we part, please, please humor me once more...
  
  
  Thrown at the harpies like rocks, some hit the mark, some shatter. But why you? Why do it? Such a bloody, thankless job, you'd think you'd have some misgivings about how the council treats you. No? No thoughts of your own hiding behind the tough boy face? Pah.
  
  
  Oh dearie, do give it some thought would you? Now this blind old bat has to rest her old bones. Bye, honeypot. Come see me if you're still breathing tomorrow.
  
  
• Description
  
  Oh excuse me, sir... my eyes are but empty holes now... pray tell this old woman how you appear. Have any nervous habits, do you? I've always been fascinated by those.
  
  
  Tell me... do they treat you well for your looks? Or do they pity your ugliness, your malformities as they do me?
  
  Career Background
  
  A Keeper? My, are you a coward-- excuse me, cowherder, mayhaps? I've nothing against you, no. But surely you've heard the murmuring. The hidden hate for you and your kind. The ones that hide behind the walls with the women, when they could fight with the rest. They don't let you fight, I know. You're too valuable, they say. Not until you've trained a youngling your trade, mhm.
  
  
  How did you come to be a keeper? Worry not, I'll seal my lips of any secrets. Hee hee, and who would listen to a mad old woman, hmm? They say you must have managed some great and complex invention. Did you amend the Ballista design, perhaps? Or is it in the grainhouses that your skills have been sent?
  
  Goals, Dreams, Opinions
  
  Well, you've a future for now. A life, a costly life paid by the corpses of all your kin. Tell me, what more do you want? What more can you do to your conscience? Step up, and take up the spear, will you? Ech, pah, pooh.
  
  
• Description
  
  Oh pardon me, madam... my eyes are but empty holes now... pray tell this old woman how you appear. Have any nervous habits, do you? I've always been fascinated by those.
  
  
  Tell me... do they treat you well for your looks? Or do they pity your ugliness, your malformities as they do me?
  
  Family Background
  
  If you are a woman, then you are a Raiser. But have you gotten to the raising yet, eh lass? Those maidens cling to their fathers just waiting to be sent out, to have a courtship. Their time'll come. Did yours?
  
  Hee hee, have you latched to a man, have you?
  
  
  
  
  
  Hmm, I hope you value where you are. The women are honored here, when they are not blind or when they are not hideous. Scarred women like me, even, have their place remembering the old stories.
  
  
  Goals, Dreams, Opinions
  
  I gather you plan to have a hundred children. I'll not ask where you plan to go, but where do you plan for your child to go? Surely no woman would aspire to rise the ranks, now would she? That would not be proper, hee hee.
  
  

Altia Applications

• Princess
• Handmaiden

• The wrinkled hand beckoned. After her, you follow, checking behind for pursuers as you go.
  
  
  The fog, which was a soft, silvery mist, thickens as the trees pass you by. It is a wall to the senses, filling the nose with musky scent, the eyes with clouded wetness, and even the ears feel as though they are stuffed with cotton.
  
  
  And yet, when the old women ahead speaks, you hear her crackled voice clear as a bell.
  
  
  "Lay thyself down."
  
  
  A bed of feathers.
  
  
  "Yes, just like that. Sleep, child, sleep. Let the old mist take you away..."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Background
  
  Dreaming, speak, spin the tale. Utter the secrets of your birth, the causes of your circumstance, and the manner of your position. The princess is not chosen idly out of a pack of souls. Did the queen snatch you out, letting chance be her guide? Or were you taken, fully grown, from a crowd of workers, because you shone the brighter?
  
  
  Comfort is the burden of royalty, is it not? Yet it is not in Altia, because you were in closest to view the madness take the Queen. Now, say what it was like before. What it was like after. Did you love her yet? Did you ever?
  
  
  
  
  And... When the last flower of winter fell, did you smile as she commanded? Or did you have some speck of pity enough to weep as the fairies did, because their homes were lost in the queen's cold heart?
  
  
  
  
  Appearance
  
  Simple, isn't it, how the face spreads out under the fog. Beauty, yes, you must have had it. They called you beautiful. They were lying, weren't they? Or was it glamour that formed their mind?
  
  
  
  Hopes and Dreams
  
  Now step you into a land unknown, a land fierce and feral. Survival, yes, survival without the old tongue will be on your mind. And what else? Your kingdom, I presume. You want it back. You will bide your time until the century runs its course. Isn't that the way of it?
  
  
  Do not forget. You swore the binding promise on the Sky Haul; if you are to live among them, you will live like them.
  
  
• 
  
  
  Background
  
  There must be something in your past to carry you on between worlds, chasing the fool of a princess you serve. Tell me the why, and the how, and what brought you here. Where did you begin?
  
  
  
  
  Appearance
  
  Surely an arm of the princess must have some striking appearance. Awe, fear, jealousy. You must make an impression, but not too much, of course. Not so much that you overshadow the one you serve.
  
  
  
  
  Hopes and Dreams
  
  I care not, if you'd really like to know. If you must, tell. What from the inside out makes you waltz to the tune the princess sets?
  
  
  Or... Ooh, do you hide betrayal in your traitorous heart? Will you take her face, her title, and the throne? Oohoo hoo...
  
  
  
  
  

 

[KingsPlague]

Rupert Shil-Keeper





Description


My name is Rupert Shil, I am 41 years of age, I have a rather muscular build and stand 6 foot and 4 inches, I have short black hair and a goatee with tints of grey coming through, a pair of icey blue eyes and a rather tanned face, proly all those years in the forge. I smell of the forge, of charcoal and metal, more often than not i have charcoal dust smeared across my face, but if your hands are constantly dirty there is really no way around it.


Career Background


I am a Smith, I work the forges, make and repair weapons and armor and when absolutely needed I help create siege weapons, or in this case anti-Harpy weapons


I’ve had more cuts and bruises than anyone else in this god forsaken city about this god damn law, I get heat from everyone that I’m not up on that wall “Serving the people” well what can I do about that, every time I have an apprentice almost ready to take over the harpies get him, either through falling rubble or being grabbed from the streets, I even lost my only son that way. And now it’s only getting worse, people are calling me cursed and I’m banned from my favourite tavern. Sure I create the occasional ideas for weapons to fend off those flying monsters but I never get praised for it. All anyone sees is my failures towards my own people.


Goals, Dreams, Opinions


All I wish to do is to have an apprentice take over and take up the fight, and perhaps survive until the harpies are delt with. I’d like to find out what caused all of this, is this a curse of the gods, have we angered some higher power and this is our punishment, or will this be our end, our demise.

 

[Dominaiscna]

Ash Durant ~ Soldier


"What am I but a tool in the hands of my Father, a weapon in the hands of my Commander and a mould in the hands of my Goddess "


~ Description ~


I am Ash Durant, fifth daughter of Averill Durant, heir to my father's fortunes, dreams and legacy from the night I was born 18 years, 3 months and 10 days ago. I stand at 5'6 with a slender-lean body and bear the white hair and the red eyes common to the blood line of Durants. My hair, no matter what is done to it, will never lose it's soft waves and my skin is pale compared to that of my comrades even though I live under the sun ; it would seem that I do not burn easily. A scar that traces up the length of my left arm is the only blemish on my skin and was that result of my first duel. Sometimes, I find myself tracing my fingers over it...in times of doubt, nervousness... Or just ...Reminiscing...


~Military Background~


I try to not think of what awaits me out there and when my time comes. I have only the future to look for...that was what I was born for after all... To answer your question, I was niether drafted nor did I volunteer...in my case, it is easier to say that I was born into it. My father, sick of the endless snide remarks and comments of his comrades who protected the walls, wanted to fight for his country...but I believe, more for his pride... They wouldn't let him...so he needed some sort of redemption...a heir...to fight for him where he could not, so that he could redeem himself even if he was the only one who acknowledged or paid heed to it. My mother died after 5 years of trying to give him a son and I.. I am his last. So, he raised me as the son he never had. When my sisters were given dolls, I was given a blade. Where they were given the skill of raising, I was taught the art of killing. My father brought me as his son to be enrolled and trained, but when the trainers found out my sex, they withdrew their support, justifying themselves by saying that it was improper. After threatening to remove his trade and skills from the Wuldir's Craftsmanship, they agreed to accept and keep my gender a secret. And here I am, a newly appointed soldier after almost 10 years of training, with a secret only a handful know of.


~Equipment~


My weapon of choice is an ornate rapier forged of Wuldiran steel bearing my family crest atop the guard. I like to keep things clean and quick, but depending on the situation, I may prefer my single-edged long sword, made of Wuldiran steel and also bears my family crest, but his much more suited for slicing and butchering many at once. I keep a sleek dagger under my clothing at all times for some range or just in case my larger blades are not at hand.


~Goals, Dreams and Opinions~


My life is not mine to explore with and fulfill the dreams I have, but for my father, whose dreams can never be fulfilled by him himself. "Why?" Many might wonder, why do I let myself get bound and be burdened with another's wishes? The mother, who I never knew and who loved him so very much, was prepared to risk her life so that she could give him a son and witness a day where he would truly smile again... But what if I were not me, but a different person? Someone who could follow their own dreams? Then I would not be here. I would be faraway in an isolated place where who I am does not matter and where I can be alone with the stars to discover what they hide in their ancient glow and uncover the secrets of our world and the magic that is around us. To sate my hunger for knowledge and magic. But then there is the small problem of the harpies, the hive wolves, mammoth worms and such. Oh well, a person can dream. Maybe I could make it a reality.


"A world lies out there, beyond the horizon and farther than the eye can see. "

 

[Anaxileah]

Description

Description:


Oh excuse me, sir... my eyes are but empty holes now... pray tell this old woman how you appear. Have any nervous habits, do you? I've always been fascinated by those.


Tell me... do they treat you well for your looks? Or do they pity your ugliness, your deformities as they do me?


"I-I'm sorry? I'm actually a woman, ma'am. My name is Ayola, and I'm quite a simple woman. I don't believe I'm extraordinary in any way. My hair is a reddish orange color, and it goes down to my shoulders - don't want it to get in the way of my work, you know? Let's see...my eyes are light green, I'm pale, so I burn easily in the sunlight. That's why I always wear cloaks to cover my skin and protect it from the sun. Usually that prevents people from knowing I'm a woman, but that doesn't bother me. I'm sort of invisible, I guess. People mainly come to me for help, and that's all. Oh, you wanted to know about nervous habits, right? Well, I tap my finger on my thigh when I think, and I chew my lower lip when I'm nervous...does that count?"

Career Background

Career Background


A Keeper? My, are you a coward-- excuse me, cowherder, mayhaps? I've nothing against you, no. But surely you've heard the murmuring. The hidden hate for you and your kind. The ones that hide behind the walls with the women, when they could fight with the rest. They don't let you fight, I know. You're too valuable, they say. Not until you've trained a youngling your trade, mhm.


How did you come to be a keeper? Worry not, I'll seal my lips of any secrets. Hee hee, and who would listen to a mad old woman, hmm? They say you must have managed some great and complex invention. Did you amend the Ballista design, perhaps? Or is it in the grainhouses that your skills have been sent?


"I'm not a coward! I simply am not valuable to the soldiers of our home. No, I'm not a cow herder, ma'am. I'm an alchemist - I make tonics, potions, poisons, anything of the sort, as long as I have the materials. How did I come to be an alchemist, a keeper? Well...


My mother used to be obsessed with plants. She grew all types of flowers, herbs, and roots, in a small garden we used to have behind our home. We lived with my grandfather, since she was a Raiser. Grandfather was always out and about, serving time as a soldier. He found a soldier for my mother to marry, and they had been together ever since. When the two of them had me, my father was disappointed, as he had wanted a son to succeed him as the family soldier. It's not popular for females to be soldiers, so I chose to start my own profession using my mother's passion for plants. She told me of their properties, and I mixed them, experimenting with them a bit. I have a couple scars from burning myself during these experiments, but otherwise I'm fine. That's how it came to be a profession - I learned how to create poisons, how to create tonics that help treat wounds. I sell these little vials of aid to soldiers in need, and I help my father...even though he's not too happy that he has a daughter rather than a son. The money I earn helps my mother and I stay afloat as father works, since my mother doesn't support herself. Oh my...I've said a bit too much, haven't I?"

Goals, Dreams, Opinions

Goals, Dreams, Opinions


Well, you've a future for now. A life, a costly life paid by the corpses of all your kin. Tell me, what more do you want? What more can you do to your conscience? Step up, and take up the spear, will you? Ech, pah, pooh.


"I...I understand that others have died...but I am determined to continue helping in the way that I can. I can use a crossbow or a bow and arrow with some skill, since my father's a soldier, but I want to gather more plants, more herbs. I want to find new ways to help the soldiers in their fights against the harpies and the other creatures. Perhaps even find out a weakness...?"

 

[QuestingBeast]

General Gavin Loch

Lionsguard

​

Description

Oh excuse me, sir... my eyes are but empty holes now... pray tell this old woman how you appear.

You can feel well enough, can’t you? A hand to my jaw tells you the strength of my face, and your fingers scan the rough fabric of the scars across my neck. Though you cannot tell colour with touch, there are other things you need only think to find. Surely you perceive how I must bend to meet you; the length of my body necessitates it.

That does not tell all… I must know in full. What hue is your face? What paint your hair?

Persistent, aren’t you? I warn you, don't try my patience. Black for the eyes and yellow for the hair. Skin’s brown enough. Anything else?

Have any nervous habits, do you? I've always been fascinated by those.

None. I do not clench my teeth because I am nervous; it is because I take the time to think.

Tell me... do they treat you well for your looks? Or do they pity your ugliness, your malformities as they do me?

Never have I been told in word, deed, or expression that I am ugly. The women take interest easily enough, likely because I have yet to cleave and they prefer a mate that can survive long. Yet it’s not as though the world is falling at my feet. Most keep their distance, and well they should. My position demands respect.

Military Background

Oh, so you are a soldier. Fine job, that. They send you out and you come back in a casket, eeheehee...

A soldier, yes. I’ve fought there on the bloody line. Unlike the rest, I survived, and showed enough of a mind to be selected. Ever heard of the Battle Under Red Moon? It was my strategy to flame the battlements that sent those harpies running back. For that, the council nominated me to join the Lionsguard seven years hence.

Most impressive, hehe. You must get this a lot, but I have to ask: did you volunteer or were you drafted?

On my own terms. I volunteered.

Have you bled yet, hm? Ever get sick to your stomach? Wake up screaming with the sweats and the tears all cold, all burning? Do you regret what you are? Hate what you've become? Or are you some unnatural force of purity that still sees man with a soul?

That is no man’s business but my own.


Unless you mean to wonder if my conscience is plagued by what harpies do to those I command. No, we Lionsguard minimize casualties. You ought thank us for the longevity of man, not despise us for his mortality.

Equipment

Ooohoohoo, what's this on your belt? And in your hand? My, you are prepared.

Keep your hands to yourself, will you? It’s only the requisites for my rank. A steel sword, the three javelins, the round buckler shield, the pike. They’re branded with my name, with the Lionsguard emblem. The ringing you hear, that makes you -- ech -- that scraping with your teeth, desist -- makes you twitch, it’s the plates of my shoulders grazing against the breastplate. You need not act as though you’ve never heard it before. Every soldier has the set, though mine’s better tailored to fit.

Goals, Dreams, Opinions

We haven't got long now. So sad, yes, yes, very sad... Before we part, please, please humor me once more...

Yes, yes. Get on with it.

Thrown at the harpies like rocks, some hit the mark, some shatter. But why you? Why do it? Such a bloody, thankless job, you'd think you'd have some misgivings about how the council treats you. No? No thoughts of your own hiding behind the tough boy face? Pah.

That is quite enough. You tread toward treason with that foul-smelling mouth. Fates take you now! What else would you have us do? Not fight? Bend over and let the harpies lay on us? Fools and the idle think cowering and surviving will usher in an era of victory. Come off your foolish imaginings and look at the reality of this world. No soldier dies for nothing.

Oh dearie, do give it some thought would you? Now this blind old bat has to rest her old bones. Bye, honeypot. Come see me if you're still breathing tomorrow.

Never was I happier to say farewell. I bid you good riddance. May you slumber deeply and never wake.

 

[General Deth Glitch]

Verret Explorat


Description


My hair is a deep brown and I have a rugged beard with thick hairs, knotted and matted all over. It all hides a face that some have once called handsome, before the scars and marrings, pits that cover my skin and the burn that encompasses this left cheek and a scar that causes blindness in the same eye.

Military Background


Aye, I know the value of life. I know the horrors I have done in the name of honour and glory and I cant deny I have committed atrocities in the name of the greater good and I cant deny it once made me sick to my stomach but I also cant say I wouldn't do it all again if I had the chance. Yeah I am a monster but I wasn't given a real choice. Before I was old enough to talk I saw things that would make any man sick on the spot, I can't even remember them but they shaped me. They molded me into something unnatural and I forged goodness from this ghastly beast I had become. I wish all this scars you see were from wars but I don't know some of them, others are hidden in memories I have buried. From my bigginings I was destined to cause harm but I chose to harm those that were deserving of it. I MADE THAT CHOICE. You look at me and see a killer, I won't deny you that truth. But if you think me a mere soldier, a follower? *chuckles* I turned my horror into a shining example. I made what little I was into something larger then myself. My name is larger then one man for it means hope. To so many they look to me for hope. They no only see the man that can and has saved them many times before but also the man who raised himself from the gutter. The man who started out as a warped beast of death and became a servant of a higher cause. A man who has been rewarded for his service and is humble enough to know why. A man with his head on right and his feet on the ground. I risked my neck many a time for this place. Before these... things came. I worked my way to where I am and now I sit atop of a throne of BONES. So many died and so many will before my fight is over... I chose to not to fight when I can but so often that choice wasn't open to me. Now, you have any more pointless queries?


Equipment


Here, run your hands over this. I carved this bow myself. Feel those grooves? They are for every Scout that died on my watch. If I still shod tears there would be a river for each of those grooves. Oh, yeah you seem to like my cloak. Its the closest you can get to weather proof and the colour of it is deep greens and blacks, to help hide me when I want to be hidden. I hope your not cold, I really don't want to give you this blood stained rag that is my cloak.


Goals, Dreams, Opinions


I just want to end this. I want to stop the evils of the world or, far more likely, die trying. I did once thirst for blood but that is sated. Now I just seek to save this world from itself. I doubt that battle will end with me, or even centuries after my death but hopefully, when its eventually won, I will have made a difference. Surely that is all we can ask of this life?

 

[Dusky]

Dove Juniper

The old woman appears suddenly; Dove looks up from her hands one moment to contemplate the wall before returning to what she was doing, then looks up from her hands again a moment later to be startled by the figure who had entered so quietly. She unfurls a finger and beckons. "Come, child. I must show you something of great importance."


Dove is ruled by her impulses but she is not so dull-minded as to follow a perfect stranger because she is told to. It is not the words that convince her, but some underlying sense of urgency. She feels at once intrigued and lulled, and she nods, rising.


Her handmaiden rises with haste, protesting, but Dove shoots a glare her way. "I may, and I will." After a beat of silence, the handmaiden acquiesces, but insists she accompany her charge. The old woman inclines her head in agreement.


The wrinkled hand beckons again. After her, they follows, checking behind for pursuers at the woman's behest. Dove can remember a fraction of it at best. It seems to her to pass in a series of flashes, images - amidst the cloying fog and progressively duller senses the woman stands beneath a gnarled old tree, one dying leaf still clinging to the branches - then atop a large hill in a clearing of trees, almost a black silhouette against a dusty grey sky - and then barely visible, standing in a patch of woods so dense as to almost be lightless.


Though she hears so little else, Dove feels as though the old woman whispers right in her ear, gentle encouragement to continue - just a little further - ah, here we are...


"Lay thyself down."


A bed of feathers.


"Yes, just like that. Sleep, child, sleep. Let the old mist take you away..."


Dove's head feels heavy. "No," she mumbles. "You said you had to show me something..."


"Soon enough," whispers the woman, stroking Dove's hair.

-Background-

​

They are back under the gnarled tree. Dove looks around, but cannot find Cypress - only the old woman, who smiles and seems to speak.


Dreaming, speak, spin the tale. Utter the secrets of your birth, the causes of your circumstance, and the manner of your position. The princess is not chosen idly out of a pack of souls. Did the queen snatch you out, letting chance be her guide? Or were you taken, fully grown, from a crowd of workers, because you shone the brighter?


"What? I... I don't understand." Everything seems disjointed.


What do you know of your life, child?


"I... I had parents," she starts hesitantly.


Good. Just like that.


"They were so in love," Dove continues in something of a daze. "I was told their families hated each other, but they fell in love anyway, like the story of Pike and Dove, where they both died - but with a happy ending. That's why they named me Dove, when they took me from the shores."


"They were attendants to the Queen. When she began to lose her sanity, she played them towards each other, determined that they were perfect for each other. The burdens of the power of prophecy must have been what drove her mad..." One might believe that the matchmaking was a product of the addled mind, but Dove would not. Her voice is filled with sympathy. "She has said she created me. This version of me, at least. I was very young, when she Named me. I don't know why, but my parents wept that day..."


Comfort is the burden of royalty, is it not? Yet it is not in Altia, because you were in closest to view the madness take the Queen. Now, say what it was like before. What it was like after. Did you love her yet?


"Of course I love her!" Dove's voice is shrill, but it fades into uncertainty. "With all she has given me, of course I love her. But... sometimes she isn't... she isn't herself. And I can't... No, no. She's still there, under it all." She quavers. "She still lets me kiss her cheeks."


Dove doesn't know what has loosened her lips, to speak so honestly. Distance from the castle, perhaps? The old woman stares at her, but does not decide to push for clarification.


And... When the last flower of winter fell, did you smile as she commanded? Or did you have some speck of pity enough to weep as the fairies did, because their homes were lost in the queen's cold heart?


Dove weeps now, too, shaking her head.

-Appearance-

​

Back at the hill. Back in the clearing. The shift is so sudden. Did she walk this far? She tries to walk up the hill toward the old woman, but the ground gives under her feet and she tumbles onto the ground. She looks up. The woman stares passively for a moment, then seems to speak.


Simple, isn't it, how the face spreads out under the fog. Beauty, yes, you must have had it. They called you beautiful. They were lying, weren't they? Or was it glamour that formed their mind?


That almost brings some clarity to Dove's muddled mind. Her lips curve into a pout, and she flounces the loose curls of her hair. "Of course I'm beautiful. Only the basest need a glamourie. There have been songs written of my bright hair, of my pale eyes, of my fair skin, the way I walk tall among all other girls."


The woman's form shudders in what looks like laughter.

-Hopes and Dreams-

​

Dove tries to get up, but falls over again, feeling as though the world was pulled from under her feet. She huffs and looks up, only to find that she may well have been right. She is in the thickest part of the woods once more, but it seems so much darker - she looks wildly around for the woman, but cannot distinguish her from any of the nearby silhouettes. Rather than seeing her, she hears her.


Now step you into a land unknown, a land fierce and feral. Survival, yes, survival without the old tongue will be on your mind. And what else? Your kingdom, I presume. You want it back. You will bide your time until the century runs its course. Isn't that the way of it?


Dove screams in surprise, then clamps her own hand over her mouth, listening attentively. Her jaw clenches, marring her pretty face with anger. "What are you saying? No, no, no. I am not going to bide my time or want my kingdom back because I am not going to leave my kingdom in the first place. And what's that about being without the old tongue? There's just no way. Look, you hag, I've had about enough of your tri-"


Do not forget. You swore the binding promise on the Sky Haul; if you are to live among them, you will live like them.


Dove scrambles to her feet - successfully, finally - specifically so she may stomp her foot. Frustrated, she yells, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT."


And then she wakes up.

 

[Hell Diver]

Scout Commander.


"Didean Cionaodh Cath"
​

Gender: Male


Age: 55


Height: 6'5"


Weight: 210 pounds.


Race: Human

no slide

no slide

Appearance

"A Gentle Giant"

​

Soft hazel eyes and long red hair that matches a red beard, they belong to an older man named Didean. A scout who has seen much in the ways of harpy onslaught. Scars line his back and upper shoulders from the harsh talons of a skyborn fiend. Hes a tall man, broad at the shoulders, build like an ox. But Didean didn't mind, for his kids found comfort in the size of their father. How easily his large hands could stoke the fire, or secure the doors of their small home within the castle.

Mentality

"Under Protections Wing."

​

Didean is a calm man, generally well collected. His protective instincts only rivaled by the mans passion towards those who might lie under the wing of a broken man. While on the surface his upbeat attitude with his children, and the men that fall under his command in the small unit of scouts he subsides in; He nurtures a harsh grief for the love he lost during the childbirth of his beautiful children. But that same love that he lost gives him the motivation to go outside the castle whenever need be, to try and hunt down harpy nests so that maybe one day... His children will the see world through the same beauty he does.

Backstory.

"Man Vs Beast"

​

"Leave a candle in the window for me." The infamous words his children heard every time their father set out past the safety of the castle walls. The two daughters Edana, and Aifean, never had a doubt in their mind their father would return. And every night a candle sat everglowing through the window. Just as they had faith in their father, Didean had faith in them, ever week he returned he knew without a doubt that the faint glow of the candle would flood his soul with hope.


It was the small comforts that made his job easier, the voice of his children, the confidence from his men. It made every leap into the fray of battle that much easier. Every time the harpies circled above head and they were forced to hide within the trees, he could fall onto those memories. But some battles are worse than any man can bare, and some reasons to fight are too strong to turn away from the fray. For Didean his reason would always over take any battle, the idea that maybe one day his kids could see a world beautiful, ridden of evil. That maybe they could feel the fresh air as it floods between the trees.


But the battle that truly tests a man resolve is never the one he expects. An ambush among the titanic trees, harpies swarming too and fro. No man could be prepared, and neither was Didean. The lacerations that marked his body weren't a sign of loss, but a victory. The twisting cascades of scars that climb his shoulders are not something to bring shame, a bragging right from a time when his unit survived insurmountable odds. For when a harpy swarms, she calls to her kinship, and where one might fly, four will join. And on that day, when their camp may burn, and their brows lay with sweat, the odds were truly against them.


However they survived but not through some breath of fury from your average man. When the harpies turn their charred wings and returned to their nest, only Didean knew the true reason they left. And it'd haunt him for the rest of his days as he got closer to his men, and those children he loved so much. The tantalizing memories of a woman with scarlet hair who once called him love, how he feared her spirit might mourn for the loss of the man he once was. And the same heart he gave to that woman ached for the loss of a love he never felt.

Combat

• Combat Credentials
• General Skills/Equipment

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Cath generally keeps his axe taunt, stretched across his back for times of need. But generally he'll try to keep it out of the combat, needing his hands to grapple and climb in times of dire need. Hes well versed in terms of hand to hand combat, and using the environment to his advantage for camouflage.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Didean is a decently skilled man, his knowledge of combat and general strategy leads him well on the battlefield. And his ability to survive and lead his men is something he takes great pride in. Making fires and helping secure trip lines around the camp in order to give the men and himself some comfort in the night air.
  
  
  Equipment
  
  
  - Sleeping Roll
  
  
  - Leather back-satchel (Contains:Two days food and water, three feet of cord, Torch.)
  
  
  - Axe
  
  
  

 

[Ryuuko Shin]

Cypress Gale

She does not see her Princess. ‘Her’. It almost seemed as if the princess belonged to her. Truly, to the youngest of the Gale initiates, the Princess, Dove Juniper, was akin to a precious porcelain doll. And now, she has lost sight of her. Anger rises within the handmaiden’s small body, her hand clutching at her knife hilt as she creeps forwards, watching the spiraling trails that the mist left behind. She was not enraged at the Princess’ decision to follow the old woman, nor was she at the obsolete octogenarian who fooled her Princess into following her. She was more angry at herself for letting this happen. She murmurs to the wind, instructing it to aid her in finding the Princess, the one that would soon bring their world to glory and splendour once again, to dust away this infernal mist. At first, the wind ignores her, then it begins to blow, a breeze at first, then it slowly builds.


A branch snaps under a foot. Cypress whirls around, her knife at the ready. There, just merely five steps away from her, stood the old woman, smiling a cryptic smile that Cypress did not trust. The wind whistled around her, but the mist did not lift. If anything, it only got thicker. The old woman then speaks. Cypress does not lower her guard.

Background

​

There must be something in your past to carry you on between worlds, chasing the fool of a princess you serve. Tell me the why, and the how, and what brought you here. Where did you begin?


Cypress bristles, and takes yet another step forwards, retorting.


-Hush, old hag. If your words were tangible, I would have forced them back down your wrinkly throat. She is no fool, and I, no hunter. My name is Cypress Gale, child of the Altian Gales, protector and servant of the Princess, loyal soldier of the Queen, and the mother of your death should you not return my quarry to me this instant.

Appearance

​

Grey-silver hair, unbounded, save for a maid’s head-dress seated atop her head, whipped about her form wildly, the gale of that she was named for howling in her ears around her. If one weren't any wiser, they would have claimed that she had instructed the wind to bay at the old woman like faithful hounds. Steel-blue eyes glare forwards, watching the old woman as a wolf would a trespasser in its home. A sliver of light speared through the winds and the mist, glinting against steel in her dainty hands. The wind howled again, this time louder, as she stepped forwards again. The hem of her maid’s dress billowed in the tempest, revealing laced boots that were more reminiscent of ones of a specific division of the Altian military. Her diminutive figure, not much taller than five feet and a half, in Wuldian scale, and teenaged looks beheld much more than was apparent.

Hopes and Dreams

​

I care not, if you'd really like to know. If you must, tell. What from the inside out makes you waltz to the tune the princess sets?


Or... Ooh, do you hide betrayal in your traitorous heart? Will you take her face, her title, and the throne? Oohoo hoo...





-Take care of where you tread, witch, for ‘tis thin ice that you stand upon, and it has begun to crack. If you care so little about the circumstances of my ‘dreams’, then perhaps it would be but wasted breath that I share even a single word. Where the Queen has fallen, my Princess will continue. There is and will be no treachery in my heart.


The old woman does not budge, and instead regards Cypress with a querious look. Cypress felt an unfathomable fury rise within her at this response. If the hag was not going to return her Princess, then by all means, she should die with the secret.





-I’ve spoken my part, and to a witch with one foot in her grave, so allow me to return this hospitality by helping you put the other foot down!


The handmaiden dives forwards, her steel flashing, akin to lightning across to sky. The wind only serves to drive her forwards. She nears the old woman, her knife poised to strike. The blade nears her throat, and--


--


Cypress shoots upwards, her hand already at the sheathed dagger at her side. ‘Twas a dream, she tells herself, searching around her, but her hand, unmoving from the knife, betrayed her true thoughts. Gripping the hilt, she looks around, her bewilderment stemmed through sheer willpower. Almost at once, when she spots her Princess, she scrambles towards her, shrouding her knife behind her, worry already spreading across her face. No harm shall come to her precious Princess. Until the day Dove Juniper takes the Queen's place, Cypress Gale will serve her, even if it meant her bitter end.

Spoiler

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[Coin]

General Calvin Haveron


LIONSGUARD


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​

​

My dearest Leah, you'd have surely enjoy'd the company of someone I met today. An ancient hag she was, eyes as hollow as pits and a curiosity unbidden.

​

"Oh excuse me, sir... my eyes are but empty holes now... pray tell this old woman how you appear."


"Frightfully sorry, m'dam, were you speaking to me?" Calvin stopped in his tracks, pressing a gloved hand to his own chest, only to realize the wizened hag was indeed blind and that he was indeed the only person she could have been speaking to. "M'self? Well, I would liken myself to the norm for our countryfolk -- albeit perhaps a stone or two taller."


That does not tell all… I must know in full. What hue is your face? What paint your hair?"


"If you insist... M'skin does happen to darken just a shade of sand more, on account of m'time under the shadeless days. I never let m'hair too long, the helms and cowls are too troublesome with a mop on m'head."


"Tell me... do they treat you well for your looks? Or do they pity your ugliness, your malformities as they do me?"


"They treat me well enough to earn m'fair share of lustrous gazes from tavern wenches, I gather."


"Have any nervous habits, do you? I've always been fascinated by those."


"What does that have t'do with anythin'? I figure I grit m'teeth like a vice when the steel starts a'clashin'."

Were I less the wiser, I'd garner she were preparing to make a mimickry of me. Her inquisitive spirit did remind me of you.

​

"Oh, so you are a soldier. Fine job, that. They send you out and you come back in a casket, eeheehee..."


"I've to see the inside of m'own casket yet, I prefer to sustain this."


"You must get this a lot, but I have to ask: did you volunteer or were you drafted?"


"You insult me, of course I volunteered. Every good'n capable man should volunteer in times likened to now."


"Will you be working your way up the ranks, then? How far along are you, dearie? I know very well they don't award anything until you've seen action, so don't pull me any fast ones about being born into it, pah."


"You're speaking to a Lionsguard, m'dam. I'm lucky to have all my fingers to count the battles I've sallied forth to."


"Have you bled yet, hm? Ever get sick to your stomach? Wake up screaming with the sweats and the tears all cold, all burning? Do you regret what you are? Hate what you've become? Or are you some unnatural force of purity that still sees man with a soul?"


"Now, I wouldn't be a very good soldier were the blood and viscera made me sick, eh? M'lord entrusts us Lionsguard blood t'hold at all costs. I find it shameful should something as vile as regret spawn from our duty."


"Ooohoohoo, what's this on your belt? And in your hand? My, you are prepared."


"This here is m'only sweetheart now," Calvin pats the scabbard of his falchion hanging off his belt. "'er name's Marcene. Loyal'st dame in the country, with an edge of steel. T'match, I've also made acquaintance with a small shield here, bathed in the brightest moonlight."

My dearest Leah, how I miss you terribly so. No dawn nor dusk passes without you gracing my thoughts. I shall join you once again in due time, I imagine.

​

"We haven't got long now. So sad, yes, yes, very sad... Before we part, please, please humor me once more..."


"I'm listening..."


"Thrown at the harpies like rocks, some hit the mark, some shatter. But why you? Why do it? Such a bloody, thankless job, you'd think you'd have some misgivings about how the council treats you. No? No thoughts of your own hiding behind the tough boy face? Pah."


"Iff'en I could answer the question of 'why' as confidently as you ask, I could not guarantee that I may'nt flee as cowards do. Perhaps I am a vengeant spirit -- but I guess we'll all find out when I succumb to death and if my spirit carries on fighting."


"Oh dearie, do give it some thought would you? Now this blind old bat has to rest her old bones. Bye, honeypot. Come see me if you're still breathing tomorrow."


"Come what may, m'dam... come what may."[/font]

 

[mkuchiha]

Description


Oh excuse me, sir... my eyes are but empty holes now... pray tell this old woman how you appear. Have any nervous habits, do you? I've always been fascinated by those.


Eldwin's gaze dropped to the ground, avoiding the elder woman's unsightly appearance, "M'dam?" He questioned, he had no idea who she was speaking to, due to her not having eyeballs. He whipped around searching for anyone else that the old hag would've been speaking to, but not a soul was in sight. "I'm Eldwin Fross," He cleared his throat and continued, "And I guess, ma'am, I am of average appearance. I am nothing special."


He flicked a ball of lint off his uniform, and waited for the old cow to speak again.


Tell me... do they treat you well for your looks? Or do they pity your ugliness?


"They treat me, fair enough, ma'am." He politely answered, now playing with the sleeve of his tunic, "I've 'ad a fair sum of madams ask for my hand, but I think it unfair to accept when I'm currently in a situation such as I am."


Military Background


Oh, so you are a soldier. Fine job, that. They send you out and you come back in a casket, eeheehee...


Eldwin stared at the hag, before shrugging dismissively, "I've not perished yet, and it pays." He coughed a bit, and played with the scabbard strapped to his belt.


You must get this a lot, but I have to ask: did you volunteer or were you drafted?


"I volunteered, ma'dam." He looked up at her, his face filled to the brink with emotion, "I volunteered, y'know? My ma' was ailin' in health. We had but a few coins, and..." He glanced down, "And I volunteered." He stopped talking.


Will you be working your way up the ranks, then? How far along are you, dearie? I know very well they don't award anything until you've seen action, so don't pull me any fast ones about being born into it, pah.


The change of subject was relieving, "I've been for three summers now. I'm a scout, and I find it pretty pleasant. I'm light on my feet, and careful, my squad Captain say's I'm competent, and he isn't much for compliments."


Have you bled yet, hm? Ever get sick to your stomach? Wake up screaming with the sweats and the tears all cold, all burning? Do you regret what you are? Hate what you've become? Or are you some unnatural force of purity that still sees man with a soul?


Eldwin's stomach churned, "A few times, 'am. But I'm getting over it. My squad Captain say's it's normal, so I don't think much of it."


Equipment


Ooohoohoo, what's this on your belt? And in your hand? My, you are prepared.


Eldwin grinned and unsheathed the blade that leaned against his high, "Tis' 'ere my sword. I'ont use it much, but it's a beauty, don't you think?" He held it up to her to see, but remembered that she had no eyeballs.


Goals, Dreams, Opinions


We haven't got long now. So sad, yes, yes, very sad... Before we part, please, please humor me once more...


(WIP)


Oh dearie, do give it some thought would you? Now this blind old bat has to rest her old bones. Bye, honeypot. Come see me if you're still breathing tomorrow.

 

[Ryuuko Shin]

Captain Julius Marche


The Human Bastion of Peregrine Castle

A 28-year old Captain of the patrolmen. Known as the Human Bastion of Peregrine Castle, many would expect him to tower over others, but instead, he stands at a, comparatively, paltry 6 feet. He is said to have earned both his rank and his epithet by his apparent unwillingness to die during an invasion of the harpies, hurling himself into the fray. Impressed that he had returned, not only alive, but visibly having carved his way through the monsters with naught but his spear and the swords of his dead comrades, they issued him a promotion and subsequently the command of the squad that his previous, deceased, Captain had left behind. He seems to be at loggerheads with the Lionguard members, and oft advises his fellow patrolmen to not follow THEIR example.


Description


Oh excuse me, sir... my eyes are but empty holes now... pray tell this old woman how you appear. Have any nervous habits, do you? I've always been fascinated by those.





Tell me... do they treat you well for your looks? Or do they pity your ugliness, your malformities as they do me?


Pity my ugliness! No, woman, quite the opposite: they treat me well for my ugliness! It is through my grimacing smile, my narrow eyes, and my dashing good looks that they, whomever they may be, quake, as if the castle were under attack again! And if it truly were under attack again, they should, and will, put me in the front lines, for if the enemy lays his eyes upon me, he shall make haste home to cry into his mother’s bosom, claiming that Peregrine has monsters under his employ!


Military Background


Oh, so you are a soldier. Fine job, that. They send you out and you come back in a casket, eeheehee...





You must get this a lot, but I have to ask: did you volunteer or were you drafted?





Aye, I signed myself up to be thrown out into the wars, and to come back, either alive and triumphant or dead, but triumphant! Upon my life, I swear, even on my death, I shall not let this castle fall! To be a soldier of Peregrine, that is an honour no self-respecting man should avoid! A plague on the cowards that do so! May their craven habits give them the rot!


Will you be working your way up the ranks, then? How far along are you, dearie? I know very well they don't award anything until you've seen action, so don't pull me any fast ones about being born into it, pah.


I don’t believe in ranks! I believe in my duty! They gave me my medals for my work, but what use are medals but to weigh one down? They gave me a title- a Captain, they called me! But what use is a title if I cannot hurl it at our foes and slay them?


Have you bled yet, hm? Ever get sick to your stomach? Wake up screaming with the sweats and the tears all cold, all burning? Do you regret what you are? Hate what you've become? Or are you some unnatural force of purity that still sees man with a soul?


Bled, I have! I’ve lost count of how much! And the rest of those questions are quite existential. I’m afraid I haven’t the mental capacity to think these questions through! But I know, that there has been nothing that I’ve done in the name of Peregrine that I regret! I’ve not come to hate who I am, or who I have become! This is in the glory of Peregrine!


...oh my. I apologise. I must have gotten quite emotional there.


Equipment


Ooohoohoo, what's this in your hand?


Hah! You like it? ‘Tis a beauty, a lady most wonderful and faithful to me for all these years! This spear was specially made by my father, the blacksmith at the corner of the square! Look! See here, the crimson spikes at the sides! Made from the scales of dragons, or so I’m told. It matters not where my opponent stands, either my spear point or these red teeth will catch them!


Goals, Dreams, Opinions


We haven't got long now. So sad, yes, yes, very sad... Before we part, please, please humor me once more...





Thrown at the harpies like rocks, some hit the mark, some shatter. But why you? Why do it? Such a bloody, thankless job, you'd think you'd have some misgivings about how the council treats you. No? No thoughts of your own hiding behind the tough boy face? Pah.


It may be bloody, it may be thankless, I may have had thoughts of it all being just immature bluster, but I’ve since known that, all that I do, I do out of love. For the people within the walls of Peregrine Castle, we, the soldiers, are their protectors. If we cannot truly look into our hearts and say “I do this not for myself but for them.”, then we must be a sad, sorry lot, do you not think so? So long as my arm is strong, my mind willing, and my body unfailing, I live to love, and the only way I know to love, is to protect.


Oh dearie, do give it some thought would you? Now this blind old bat has to rest her old bones. Bye, honeypot. Come see me if you're still breathing tomorrow.


Aye, and to you as well! May your breath not still while I am gone, old one. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for aiding me in finding yet another foothold to my faith.

 

[Jays]

I could do naught but pray,


For lives lost, for blood spilt.


Coward, hero, fearful and brave,


My courage is not that of steel.

Arus Vandryan


The TalesWeaver
​

"You look unwell."


He chuckled, not unkindly, in answer.


"And you, my friend, have developed a tendency of stating the obvious."


"Under-stating, that is. Lords above, man, I can hardly recognize you under those wrinkles and that old robe. You look a decade older than last I saw you."


"I do, don't I?"


He threw himself wearily down opposite the frowning Lord, exhaling a long sigh.


"Considering when last we met I was groveling in silk and riches, I ought to thank you for the compliment."


"Where have you been? Neither I nor any of my contacts could find you."


The Lord's voice echoed strangely in the elaborately decorated chamber, as sound often does reflecting off gold. Familiar, that echo. A life he escaped.


"Not for the lack of trying, I heard. If I could, I would have suggested against such wasting of valuable resources."


Removing his spectacles, the Lord fixed him with a penetrating gaze.


"I gather this is not a social call. Tell me what you came for, quickly, before others get word of your presence. I am busy as it is."


His return gaze was no less severe than the Lord's own.


"I only came for what is mine. Return it and I shall be gone before sunrise."


The two men marched stares for several moments, before the Lord's eyes softened. A servant entered the chamber at the beckoning bell and was given instructions to make haste.


"Will you be visiting the Lady Erinda now that you have returned?"


The Lord's voice was hesitant, almost tender.


A pained laugh was his answer.


"Unlikely. I dread the very thought of it. She remembers a Royal Scholar, young, romantic, confident. What is she to do with a bitter old man?"


The Lord looked at him with pity in his eyes.


"Perhaps not, Arus. She is not the woman she was before you left. I..."


Abruptly, the warning bell screamed terror into the night, shattering the fragile silence of the unease fortress. A cold hand tightened around his heart and squeezed. Both man ran to the closed windows, throwing them open and looked toward the North Wall, where the alarm came from.


"Heaven above..." The Lord breathed breathlessly.


Flying shapes blocked the Northern sky, darker shadows against the night's backdrop.


Age: 57


Poet, Storyteller, Musician, Royal Scholar, Historian, Spy


Saint's Eve


Mid-Winter


1 year previously


Weariness permeates my every bones, buries itself deep into the marrow, like a parasite. Sapping my strength every moment of every day, whispering in my mind to simply, let go. History is a thing of the past. Mysteries can wait just another day. You must rest, it murmurs, rest before it kills me, before I kill myself. None are interested in your stories any longer, Arus Talesweaver, you old insignificant fool. None wishes to hear their heroes ripped to shreds by beasts, their women ravaged and children devoured. None cares for the truth, your truth. They would rather be blind.


Deceptive, my weariness. Or perhaps the blind one had been me, all this time. My prime is long past, my stubborn mind accepts that much. Gone is the time of the Court and fame, gone also is my tolerance for such false grandeur. My reflection hardly resembles a Talesweaver any longer, the deeply-lined features in a well-worn robes staring back at me is of a hard man, scarred rough by the years, a man more frequented by tragedies than poetic brilliance.


Deceptive, my appearance. My wounds had never healed, not truly. The young poet is long dead, the Royal Scholar buried deep under layers of betrayals and broken dreams.


Am I cruel to say, as terrifying as the monsters outside the Walls are, our killers are our greed and hubris?


Am I cynical to say, our days are numbered?


Perhaps.


But I can glimpse the end, drawing ever closer.


My stories are murdered, each moment I attempted the quill.


I, as any child of Wuldir, once believed the tale of the Savior Queen. As years passed, I learned much, enough to know she exists. She must be, for all the horror of this world to have meaning. But she would not come, not as the tales told it. There will be no salvation for our sins.


For she had looked upon this land, and found us unworthy.

 

[Audo]

Oh excuse me, sir... my eyes are but empty holes now... pray tell this old woman how you appear. Have any nervous habits, do you? I've always been fascinated by those.

"Empty holes she says. Fine then, I'll regale you of my 'appearance.'" The young man could barely hold back a smirk as he was simply stopped by a deformed old woman. Then again, to him, deformed was probably a flattering term. He couldn't stop himself from almost recoiling from revulsion. An annoyed furrow formed his brow. "And before you forget the name's Marcus, Marcus Rook. And what I look like, well I look like all the other people here on the wall. Although I'm a touch more delicious if I do say so myself. My habits are my own."

Tell me... do they treat you well for your looks? Or do they pity your ugliness, your malformities as they do me?

"Daft or deaf I wonder." He sighed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. He spared a glance over the horizon, lit by the setting sun. Braziers began to light along the perimeter of the castle walls. "I have no malformities, neither am I strikingly handsome nor am I ugly enough to have those damned harpies turn tail and run. In fact, the latter would surely be useful." Marc couldn't help but drip with sarcasm.

Oh, so you are a soldier. Fine job, that. They send you out and you come back in a casket, eeheehee...

He grunted and sighed again. He was tired of this but he wasn't just going to up and leave while the old lady mocked him. "Yes. I AM a soldier. But I'm not one of the fools who get sent out to do who knows what. I can't go back in a casket."

You must get this a lot, but I have to ask: did you volunteer or were you drafted?

"Volunteered. Drafted. A bit of both. Let's just say complications with the family. I've got siblings to return to you know." He shrugged and leaned against the wall, wondering if this old lady would eventually leave him alone.

Will you be working your way up the ranks, then? How far along are you, dearie? I know very well they don't award anything until you've seen action, so don't pull me any fast ones about being born into it, pah.

"Who gets born into this life? No. Better yet what kind of sadistic parent would bear a child into the life of a soldier, high ranking or no." He shook his head, trying not to let any more venom drip from his tongue. "And yeah, I'll be working my way up the ranks. Maybe not hit Lionsguard, but hey, maybe they'll give me and my siblings a taste of better food rations if get up there eventually."

Have you bled yet, hm? Ever get sick to your stomach? Wake up screaming with the sweats and the tears all cold, all burning? Do you regret what you are? Hate what you've become? Or are you some unnatural force of purity that still sees man with a soul?

"I've bled a lot of times. Came this close to being carted off by harpies to be saved by the man next to me. I never get sick to my stomach and like death will I ever wake up screaming. I can't even sleep thanks to this shift." He spat. "Regret? Oh yes, a lot of times. You never know when you're not coming back down the wall. Do I hate it? No. No if anything, I'll tolerate it for the sake of my siblings and my ailing parents. You've never been an older sibling have you?"

Ooohoohoo, what's this on your belt? And in your hand? My, you are prepared.

A scoff came from him. "See, your being 'blind' is a load of bullshite. Someone with holes for eyes wouldn't know what's on my belt or my hand. And don't you give me that short blade shite, I've got mine strapped elsewhere." He pat the pommel sticking out of his lower back. A spear in his hand, a round shield on his back. "You can see. So you already know what I'm sporting up on the wall."

We haven't got long now. So sad, yes, yes, very sad... Before we part, please, please humor me once more...

Thrown at the harpies like rocks, some hit the mark, some shatter. But why you? Why do it? Such a bloody, thankless job, you'd think you'd have some misgivings about how the council treats you. No? No thoughts of your own hiding behind the tough boy face? Pah.

"The only time I'll give a flying shite about the council is when they decide to not give me what's due. I don't fight for them. I fight for the men beside me on this damned wall. They're content to see good men die, pulled, fly off to wherever. Not I. No, I'll fight tooth and claw for the men beside me thank you very much. And my thoughts are my own. Though I will share that you're more deaf than blind, because I thought I already told you I was also doing this for my family."

Oh dearie, do give it some thought would you? Now this blind old bat has to rest her old bones. Bye, honeypot. Come see me if you're still breathing tomorrow.

"Give what some.." He clicked his tongue and then groaned, peering up the stairs, the sun was just about ready to disappear, the orange glow would then be replaced by lit braziers. "I've got little and less to think about. And don't you worry, I'll be alive by tomorrow and the day after and the days after."


Despite all he had said, the way he treated and responded to her, he was still a little late to his shift, opting to guide the crone down the steps back to the foot of the wall before making the journey once more to the top. He'd hear the screeching from the horizon and tightened his grip on his spear, both hands on the shaft.


It would be a long night.
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[Emiya Shin]

Sybil Reinhardt

Raiser

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- I N T R O -


A young woman leaned on a comfortable wooden chair. She wore a dark grey knee length pinafore dress and a white colored, long sleeved cotton sweater, along with a pair of black leggings and dark brown laced boots. An oil lantern placed on a table beside her illuminated her physical features. The lady seems to be deep in thought, her expression displaying a mixture of disappointment and anger. Perhaps she was waiting for someone?


Then, a mysterious figure with a cloak that covered its face appeared in front of the perplexed woman from the dark. Unlike most young maidens who fear of the ghosts and other paranormal entities, the eyepatch lady merely changed her sitting posture into a proper one. The figure soon uncovered her cloak, revealing it is an elderly woman. Both of them exchanged smiles, before the old woman started to question her...
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Description

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"Oh pardon me, madam... my eyes are but empty holes now... pray tell this old woman how you appear.


The young woman merely smiled at her, before giving out her response in a polite tone to the elderly.


"I'm just only an average maiden in Wuldir, dear Elder."


"Are you? Your appealing voice says otherwise... Hehehehe..."


A brief silence between them, before Sybil exhaled and began a description about her physical features.


"I... have a neck length straight hair, adorned with the color of raven black. However, one of my crimson colored eyes is covered with a white eyepatch... Although most consider me a short lady compared to the other maidens, but that does not prevent me from getting numerous requests for courtship..."


"An eyepatch on a young maiden? Interesting... Anyway, have any nervous habits, do you? I've always been fascinated by those."


"No. But some considered me too indifferent towards the matters of life and death."


"Another unusual trait within a young would-be Raiser... Tell me... do they treat you well for your looks? Or do they pity your ugliness, your malformities as they do me?"


Another exhale of breath can be heard from Sybil.


"My... physical features akin to a double edged sword. Brave and reckless men are attracted to my unusual looks, while the maidens feared and even criticized on my eyepatch. It all started when one of the women started spreading rumors about my right eye is cursed and dooms those who has seen it. I know there is this one soldier who begged me to reveal my right eye when tending to his minor wounds, and the woman had witnessed the incident. Unfortunately, he died on the next day of duty..."


"About your right eye my dear... Can you tell me more about it? Is it after that maiden's rumor that you hide it from view with an eyepatch?"


Sybil was hesitant to speak more about her right eye. Yet, she decided to tell the old woman what she knew.


"My right eye is actually green in color, as opposed to my left eye. All I can remember is that, I woke up in a morning and my right eye's color was changed. I told my mother about it. She replied that I have a gaze of a witch, and quickly covered up that odd colored eye with a white cotton eyepatch. I have been living with it since then."


"The green-colored right eye... Does it glow in the dark?"


"I..." Sybil paused a while. "I don't know. I didn't take a careful look at it."

Family Background

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"If you are a woman, then you are a Raiser. But have you gotten to the raising yet, eh lass?"


"Hmmm... Since when I was merely a child, my mother taught me everything that a proper woman in Wuldir has to know. She was particularly emphasized on tending to the wounded and the sick. At first, I was baffled by her decisions. But when she brought me to one of those triage tents after an invasion from the harpies, I truly understood why, in a very shocked manner."


Sybil explained, displaying a disturbed expression when she reached about her medical history.


"Mother also taught some other things too. Cooking, some basic sewing and trade. As for my father, well..."


The maiden with an eyepatch clasped her hands together, changing her speaking tone into a solemn one.


"He... went missing during a scouting mission. He was considered to be one of the more experienced scouters in his rank. Mother did not took the news very well, and she keeps thinking that he will return home one day..."


"Hmm... Those maidens cling to their fathers just waiting to be sent out, to have a courtship. Their time'll come. Did yours? Hee hee, have you latched to a man, have you?


"No."

Goals, Dreams, Opinions

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I gather you plan to have a hundred children. I'll not ask where you plan to go, but where do you plan for your child to go? Surely no woman would aspire to rise the ranks, now would she? That would not be proper, hee hee.


"For now, I do not have any major plans. I'm just waiting for the winds of fate to carry me. Perhaps things might change as time passes on..."

 

[XxLuluxX]

KASCH HARTMANN

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Description:


Oh excuse me, sir... my eyes are but empty holes now... pray tell this old woman how you appear. Have any nervous habits, do you? I've always been fascinated by those.


Tell me... do they treat you well for your looks? Or do they pity your ugliness, your malformities as they do me?


“Well, if you are to be so blatant! To help you with that image, I’m tall, dark and handsome. Throw a little mystery in there. Intrigue. Face of an angel.” Kasch snickered, palm resting upon the hilt of his blade. “But between you and me, I wear a mask for a reason. I ain’t a pretty birdy. If youse' lookin' for specifics, I'm around 6'4 last time I checked. Never been too good with countin' but we'll go with it. Quite a big guy- have to say. Mam told me she did a engineer, that was before he did a runner on us. Not that you need to know anythin' 'bout my Ma's love life. As for nervous habits, I suppose you might say I sing. Like whistle- youse know? Can't help a catchy tune."


Military Background:


Oh, so you are a soldier. Fine job, that. They send you out and you come back in a casket, eeheehee...


You must get this a lot, but I have to ask: did you volunteer or were you drafted?


Will you be working your way up the ranks, then? How far along are you, dearie? I know very well they don't award anything until you've seen action, so don't pull me any fast ones about being born into it, pah.


Have you bled yet, hm? Ever get sick to your stomach? Wake up screaming with the sweats and the tears all cold, all burning? Do you regret what you are? Hate what you've become? Or are you some unnatural force of purity that still sees man with a soul?


Itching under his chin, where the only skin had been revealed; Kasch paused. "Gettin' a little personal. Ain't youse? I'm a Scout, do them bedlam jobs. I volunteered, I mean, them bloody harpies fucked me over once, might as well return the favour. Now I ain't no hero, or knight in shinin' armour- but I do the same thing. 'Course, a few of the lads cry it out. Ain't no shame in it. Me? I like sittin' in a bar, distractin' myself you know? Don't give it too much thought. I wouldn't regret nothin', I'm gonna die anyway, why live it praying to the high and mighty or sittin' around watchin' as your son goes off gets 'imself killed? And I won't get a casket, I'll get a swift snap 'o the neck if I'm lucky mate. Ma'am. Lady."


Equipment:


Ooohoohoo, what's this on your belt? And in your hand? My, you are prepared.


"I thought youse said you was blind! But, ain't no backin' up on it now. Got a few shorter swords for up close an' personal, a few daggers- never been good with them lumberin' great broadswords. Don't know how they do it, them big guys. I mean, I admire them really. Gotta have some good trainin' to wield such a weapon. Not sure that I'd be accepted though" Kasch rolled his eyes, leaning into the cold embrace of stonework. A sword twisted within his hands, whilst sniffing.


Goals, Dreams, Opinions:


We haven't got long now. So sad, yes, yes, very sad... Before we part, please, please humor me once more...


Thrown at the harpies like rocks, some hit the mark, some shatter. But why you? Why do it? Such a bloody, thankless job, you'd think you'd have some misgivings about how the council treats you. No? No thoughts of your own hiding behind the tough boy face? Pah.


Oh dearie, do give it some thought would you? Now this blind old bat has to rest her old bones. Bye, honeypot. Come see me if you're still breathing tomorrow.


"Eh, I follow orders. I ain't dead yet, still got some life in me. Youse really think I'd give up this job? Heh, Lady, I like the work! Beatin' the shit out of flyin' monstrosities (Learnt that word the other day), and not to mention bein' called the craziest bastard of them all. It's my goddamn title, wouldn't give it up for nothin'! I tell youse, once spent a day hidin' in a harpies nest- barely got out alive. When I got back, covered head to toe in blood, no joke! Even had a nice scarf. Made one of the newbies faint! Good times. Glad you think I'm a tough boy, 'cause apparently I'm just nutty. Said they should find me a looney bin, but I say different. I say we need a little insanity to win. Since you're goin' off, I say look after yerself. Cruel place this."

"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity."

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