Fantasy Aerial Distinction

Spazzycat101 · Nov 9, 2015

~List of Characters~

Spazzycat101 ~ Cora Grove

@Elvengarda ~ Delai Lloyd

@Dragongal ~ Elith McCoy

@BookWyrm ~ Ronan

@Anaxial ~ Rajab Habibi (Deceased)

@Unwavering Knight ~ Helbrecht

Characters! Yay!

Name:

Nickname:

Gender:

Species:

Age: Maturity:

Personality:

Miscellaneous (traits):

Appearance (pic and/or desc.):

Attire (pic and/or desc.):

Magic type*:

Magical equipment*:

Weaponry*:

Miscellaneous (items):

Backstory* (Please include place of origin at the bare minimum. Backstory may also be marked as ‘to be revealed’):

Writing Sample (This is unnecessary if one is already submitted):

(*=Optional)

Spazzycat101 · Nov 10, 2015

Name: Cora Grove

Nickname: N/a

Gender: F

Species: Elf

Age: 19 Maturity: Same
Personality: Cora has a mildly caring personality, going a bit out of her way for others, but she can be blunt and to the point when it is necessary. If she has to let someone down, she'll try to do it gently, but she will always do so in the end. She is someone who, in general, seems like a good person to task with truth or burden. Cora has a purposeful and strong demeanor, as if she takes no command from any besides herself. This would be only somewhat true. While she does walk along independently, she always seems as if she has a secret motivation beneath the surface. If Cora does have a greater intention, if may explain the fact that at a distance, she is calculating and perceptive. She does seem a small bit as if she tries to restrict deep connection despite a strong history of sentimentality, and always inevitably has a small shroud of mystery shrouding her.

Miscellaneous (traits): She is a complete foreigner to all four lands, Central, North, West and SouthEast. This grants her little knowledge of life and tradition in any of the lands. This makes her seem a bit awkward at first meeting. Not only is she a foreigner, however, but she also enjoys art-related things.

Appearance (pic and/or desc.):

The rightmost is both a depiction of her appearance (simplified) and her armor she often wears. She has long reddish-brown hair and fair freckled skin, accented by stunningly green eyes. She stands at 5' 11", a typical height for a female elf.

Her armor is a colored metal with strokes representing enchantments drawn upon it to lighten its weight and noise. Along the edges of some of the plates, there are elegant patterns impressed into the alloy such as those shown in the 'attire' image below.

Attire (pic and/or desc.):

It is quite obvious after a small amount of scrutiny that her clothing and armor are both of foreign but excellent make.

A blend between the both female outfits produces the clothes she wears when she is not dressed in her armor. The patterns, color and sleeves of the rightmost are paired with the style and fabric cut of the second. The cloth around her neck is drawn closer, making the neckline of her clothe smaller. She wears no necklace or gloves. This outfit is her choice for long, safe travel and for most public affairs, such as simply exploring the buildings and alleys of a town or city. She will use this garb even for some risky missions if they demand absolute stealth or swiftness.
Magic type*: Enchantment

Magical equipment*: She carries, in a(n) (enchanted) leather bag that can hold up to thrice its volume, a book of spells, bottles of ink, and a few elegant paintbrushes for applying runes in that ink. When she does not wear her armor, she will keep it neatly stored in the remaining space.

Weaponry*: Cora will use the weapon shown in the picture during combat, as well as a few possibly defensive or offensive enchantments upon random (or relevant) objects within her reach.

Miscellaneous (items): In a few ordinary pouches, she'll store reagents she finds interesting or potentially useful. She has very little remaining space for that use.
Backstory*:

Writing Sample:

Cora trampled through the forest with relative difficulty, startling birds above into crowing and chirping clouds. She cursed under her breath. She was dragging herself through an ocean of brambles and a mob of burrs, only mildly successful in slicing away or wrestling past branches and vines. As she emerged suddenly from the wood and onto a grass-coated ground, she made out a thin brown trail winding about. Ah, finally! A road. She gazed up at the sky, shielding her face with her gloved hand. It was just about noon. No deciphering North from South using that method. With a moaning sigh, she forged on through the dried brown grasses, intermingled with more lush green by her ankles.

Finally, upon reaching the road that could be called little more than a tail on which grass refused to grow, Cora severed several long golden strands of grass and matted them together, using it as a seat against the mud on the road. She would wait until the sun dragged itself across the sky a small bit more. It would sink towards the western side of the sky. She would be less helpless when it was possible to know the direction in which she traveled.

XxLuluxX · Nov 11, 2015

Name:

Unknown

Nickname:

The Raven

Gender:

Male

Species:

Human

Age:

Unknown

(Physical appearance suggests mid-late twenties)

Personality:

A grim, and bitter down to earth man. He hates everything, and everyone. If you think he believes in religion, or that strange reminiscent word 'Friendship' you're wrong. So very wrong. Raven believes in nothing but revenge; blood and steel is the only thing he can trust...The only thing he thinks he can trust... He can't remember what warmth he'd had at some point, or what he lost; only the mere ache of how he came to be. He’s one of those ‘Brooding silent types’ preferring action before words. Double crossing this shady character, is not advised in the slightest. He's quick on his feet, and quick to make decisions. The Raven has a blinding temper, yet overall he is usually quite passive. This temper is only really seen when someone touches upon a sensitive subject such as his origins or revealing his face. It's suggested that his features are scarred, or perhaps cursed by black magic. Although these are merely rumors, ones which he dislikes being spoken about in his presence. Raven could be considered anxious or jumpy around large groups of people, yet perfectly at ease with perhaps small groups- Mainly because he sees it as his own protection. Smaller the number, the easier they fall.

Miscellaneous (traits):

Despite being perceived as a bad tempered murderer for hire, he seems to have quite persuasive and charismatic behaviour when it comes to getting what he wants. This ranges from smooth talk to flirting.

Appearance (pic and/or desc.):

Unknown. Stands at 6’4 being a tall, and intimidating man, whom is well muscled with an ivory coloured mask hiding his features. He has intricate tattoo designs over both arms, hidden by his armour. The Raven has wide shoulders, and broad chest, making anyone think twice about crossing him.

Attire (pic and/or desc.):

(As dressed In the above picture)

Leather armoured for good manoeuvring, yet doesn’t impede protection when needed. A cloak is wrapped around his shoulders, with the hood brought up for secrecy; as well as his ivory coloured mask, which is intricately designed.

Magic type*:

None.

Magical equipment*:

None.

Weaponry*:

Two well forged steel swords, strong in strength and deadly in blade. He has around three other shorter daggers on his person, including the most noticeable sheathed on his arm.

Miscellaneous (items):

He keeps pouches of gold on his person, for payment purposes. Along with this he keeps a side bag along with him when travelling, filled with supplies and an alchemist's eye for poisonous herbs.

Backstory* (Please include place of origin at the bare minimum. Backstory may also be marked as ‘to be revealed’):

Not much is known. Hardly anything infact. Simply that he was brought up to kill, and the taste of blood became one of an addiction. The fact he rarely talks, leaves much to the imagination.

It is said he hails from The North.

Writing Sample (This is unnecessary if one is already submitted):

“They told me of a land. A land that would purify even the darkest of souls.” His low baritone voice admitted, filled with a woven silk of knowledge. The shadowed figure looked down at his rough, calloused palms, the worn fingers showing hard, laborious work once completed. “...But this is merely a tale, no?” A dry chuckle escaped hidden lips, leaving the room once more silent. He let his hand run over the wooden grooves of the dark oak table, the varnish tainting his fingertips with a light brown sap. “Not that there would be such a place. If there was, I suppose someone would’ve found it. Given up the evidence”

Exhaling heavily, he sat back into the chair with an uneasy creak of the wood structure. Hands limp on the table, before tightening into fists. The knuckles of his hands, pulling the skin taut with a white blemish. Such pressure was exerted, leaving his hands almost shaking from the force. “They say it's such a shame, how innocence is so easily destroyed. Then again, who is truly innocent? There is no such thing.” Brows furrowed intensely as he hissed with displeasure.

(Accepted)

TGrape · Nov 11, 2015

Name:

Matlias Lam

Nickname:

Vothas

Gender:

Male

Species:

Human-fox half-breed

Age:

20

Personality:

Vothas is a trickster. He loves to play jokes on anyone and everyone, almost never out of malice though. Vothas is reluctant to trust anyone he has not known for a long time. He is not very talkative, unless he wants information. When he really wants information he can turn a conversation into an interrogation.

Miscellaneous (traits):

Vothas lures men and women into a false sense of security with his boyish looks and by acting shy in order to gain information. Vothas is very fond of the "company" of all sorts of women. Interacting with a woman is one of the few times he is completely talkative.

Appearance (pic and/or desc.):

<a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_11/upload_2015-11-11_13-45-41.png.8eb37530d685499d51e924822a393a69.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="84936" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_11/upload_2015-11-11_13-45-41.png.8eb37530d685499d51e924822a393a69.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a>

Attire (pic and/or desc.):

(Casual look above)

When not dressed casually Vothas likes to wear the following in green to aid his already graceful movement.

<a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_11/upload_2015-11-11_13-50-24.png.ba821dee6698c617fa0d54fb589d3b2e.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="84938" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_11/upload_2015-11-11_13-50-24.png.ba821dee6698c617fa0d54fb589d3b2e.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a>

Magic type*:

Alchemy (Earth element specialization)

His magic is usually plant focused, he can help plants grow faster than usual and can create new species.

Magical equipment*:

Vothas keeps a small satchel full of vials filled with different ingredients as well as empty ones to hold new potions he creates.

Weaponry*:

(Ignore the sword pictured above)

Vothas prefers to use small darts dipped in specialized potions and poisons to suit his needs.

Miscellaneous (items):

Besides his satchel, nothing but a simple knapsack to hold his clothing and any food he may have.

Backstory* (Please include place of origin at the bare minimum. Backstory may also be marked as ‘to be revealed’):

Matlias Lam was born to Charla and Jamuel Lam from The North. The happy couple raised him for one week until, while picknicking near a local river, the family was attacked by a group of thieves who were looking for a male to sell to a wizard for magic experiments. The parents were beat within an inch of their life and Matlias was abducted. He was sold to a Wizard in the SouthEast who tried to turn the boy into a Were-Fox but only half succeeded. After failing his experiment the Wizard threw the boy into the wilderness to be devoured. A lone fox cub by the name of Xara found the baby. She quietly dragged the baby back to her grandmother, the Wolf Matriarch.

Wolf Matriarch declared him part of the pack and adopted him as one of her own, making Xara Vothas' den-sister. Before the Wolf Matriarch died she informed Vothas of what he truly was and told him he should venture into civilization. Vothas obeyed and was immediately ridiculed and feared by those around him. He taught himself how to read and soon after taught himself the magic of Alchemy so that he could defend himself and exact revenge on all wizards who did such experimentation on humans.

Writing Sample (This is unnecessary if one is already submitted):

Tucked inside the crook of a large tree in the SouthEast, Vothas yawned and stretched as the sun began to rise above the horizon. The sound of his growling stomach soon followed. Vothas grabbed his items and leapt deftly out of the tree. A nearby stream gurgled as he strode up to its bank. He sat his items on the grass and waded into the shallow water. There he waited, and waited, until a fish was curious enough to nuzzle up to his ankle. Vothas' hand quickly surrounded the fish and with that, breakfast had been found.

(Accepted)

<a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_11/upload_2015-11-11_13-49-58.png.2a10f169fab53b64e97031908fd4ea09.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="84937" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_11/upload_2015-11-11_13-49-58.png.2a10f169fab53b64e97031908fd4ea09.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a>

Spazzycat101 · Nov 11, 2015

XxLuluxX said:
Name:

Unknown

Nickname:

The Raven

Gender:

Male

Species:

Human

Age:

Unknown

(Physical appearance suggests mid-late twenties)

Personality:

A grim, and bitter down to earth man. He hates everything, and everyone. If you think he believes in religion, or that strange reminiscent word 'Friendship' you're wrong. So very wrong. Raven believes in nothing but revenge; blood and steel is the only thing he can trust...The only thing he thinks he can trust... He can't remember what warmth he'd had at some point, or what he lost; only the mere ache of how he came to be. He’s one of those ‘Brooding silent types’ preferring action before words. Double crossing this shady character, is not advised in the slightest. He's quick on his feet, and quick to make decisions. The Raven has a blinding temper, yet overall he is usually quite passive. This temper is only really seen when someone touches upon a sensitive subject such as his origins or revealing his face. It's suggested that his features are scarred, or perhaps cursed by black magic. Although these are merely rumors, ones which he dislikes being spoken about in his presence. Raven could be considered anxious or jumpy around large groups of people, yet perfectly at ease with perhaps small groups- Mainly because he sees it as his own protection. Smaller the number, the easier they fall.

Miscellaneous (traits):

Despite being perceived as a bad tempered murderer for hire, he seems to have quite persuasive and charismatic behaviour when it comes to getting what he wants. This ranges from smooth talk to flirting.

Appearance (pic and/or desc.):

Unknown. Stands at 6’4 being a tall, and intimidating man, whom is well muscled with an ivory coloured mask hiding his features. He has intricate tattoo designs over both arms, hidden by his armour. The Raven has wide shoulders, and broad chest, making anyone think twice about crossing him.

Attire (pic and/or desc.):

(As dressed In the above picture)

Leather armoured for good manoeuvring, yet doesn’t impede protection when needed. A cloak is wrapped around his shoulders, with the hood brought up for secrecy; as well as his ivory coloured mask, which is intricately designed.

Magic type*:

None.

Magical equipment*:

None.

Weaponry*:

Two well forged steel swords, strong in strength and deadly in blade. He has around three other shorter daggers on his person, including the most noticeable sheathed on his arm.

Miscellaneous (items):

He keeps pouches of gold on his person, for payment purposes. Along with this he keeps a side bag along with him when travelling, filled with supplies and an alchemist's eye for poisonous herbs.

Backstory* (Please include place of origin at the bare minimum. Backstory may also be marked as ‘to be revealed’):

Not much is known. Hardly anything infact. Simply that he was brought up to kill, and the taste of blood became one of an addiction. The fact he rarely talks, leaves much to the imagination.

It is said he hails from The North.

Writing Sample (This is unnecessary if one is already submitted):

“They told me of a land. A land that would purify even the darkest of souls.” His low baritone voice admitted, filled with a woven silk of knowledge. The shadowed figure looked down at his rough, calloused palms, the worn fingers showing hard, laborious work once completed. “...But this is merely a tale, no?” A dry chuckle escaped hidden lips, leaving the room once more silent. He let his hand run over the wooden grooves of the dark oak table, the varnish tainting his fingertips with a light brown sap. “Not that there would be such a place. If there was, I suppose someone would’ve found it. Given up the evidence”

Exhaling heavily, he sat back into the chair with an uneasy creak of the wood structure. Hands limp on the table, before tightening into fists. The knuckles of his hands, pulling the skin taut with a white blemish. Such pressure was exerted, leaving his hands almost shaking from the force. “They say it's such a shame, how innocence is so easily destroyed. Then again, who is truly innocent? There is no such thing.” Brows furrowed intensely as he hissed with displeasure.

TGrape said:
Name:

Matlias Lam

Nickname:

Vothas

Gender:

Male

Species:

Human-fox half-breed

Age:

20

Personality:

Vothas is a trickster. He loves to play jokes on anyone and everyone, almost never out of malice though. Vothas is reluctant to trust anyone he has not known for a long time. He is not very talkative, unless he wants information. When he really wants information he can turn a conversation into an interrogation.

Miscellaneous (traits):

Vothas lures men and women into a false sense of security with his boyish looks and by acting shy in order to gain information. Vothas is very fond of the "company" of all sorts of women. Interacting with a woman is one of the few times he is completely talkative.

Appearance (pic and/or desc.):

View attachment 190972

Attire (pic and/or desc.):

(Casual look above)

When not dressed casually Vothas likes to wear the following in green to aid his already graceful movement.

View attachment 190974

Magic type*:

Alchemy (Earth element specialization)

His magic is usually plant focused, he can help plants grow faster than usual and can create new species.

Magical equipment*:

Vothas keeps a small satchel full of vials filled with different ingredients as well as empty ones to hold new potions he creates.

Weaponry*:

(Ignore the sword pictured above)

Vothas prefers to use small darts dipped in specialized potions and poisons to suit his needs.

Miscellaneous (items):

Besides his satchel, nothing but a simple knapsack to hold his clothing and any food he may have.

Backstory* (Please include place of origin at the bare minimum. Backstory may also be marked as ‘to be revealed’):

Matlias Lam was born to Charla and Jamuel Lam from The North. The happy couple raised him for one week until, while picknicking near a local river, the family was attacked by a group of thieves who were looking for a male to sell to a wizard for magic experiments. The parents were beat within an inch of their life and Matlias was abducted. He was sold to a Wizard in the SouthEast who tried to turn the boy into a Were-Fox but only half succeeded. After failing his experiment the Wizard threw the boy into the wilderness to be devoured. A lone fox cub by the name of Xara found the baby. She quietly dragged the baby back to her grandmother, the Wolf Matriarch.

Wolf Matriarch declared him part of the pack and adopted him as one of her own, making Xara Vothas' den-sister. Before the Wolf Matriarch died she informed Vothas of what he truly was and told him he should venture into civilization. Vothas obeyed and was immediately ridiculed and feared by those around him. He taught himself how to read and soon after taught himself the magic of Alchemy so that he could defend himself and exact revenge on all wizards who did such experimentation on humans.

Writing Sample (This is unnecessary if one is already submitted):

Tucked inside the crook of a large tree in the SouthEast, Vothas yawned and stretched as the sun began to rise above the horizon. The sound of his growling stomach soon followed. Vothas grabbed his items and leapt deftly out of the tree. A nearby stream gurgled as he strode up to its bank. He sat his items on the grass and waded into the shallow water. There he waited, and waited, until a fish was curious enough to nuzzle up to his ankle. Vothas' hand quickly surrounded the fish and with that, breakfast had been found.

Both are accepted.

And while I hadn't considered it, while some of the mythical creatures have somewhat organized congregations, it would make sense that other species would as well. Thanks for introducing that idea, @TGrape

InsanEleven · Nov 11, 2015

Delai Lloyd

The human blood mage

"To prejudge other men's notions before we have looked into them is not to show their darkness but to put out our own eyes."- John Locke

age

: 21

weight

: 57kg (~125 pounds)

height

: 1m 76 (~5"8')

hair colour

: black

eye colour

: Blue normally when not using his magic, but this changes to red once he starts casting

His hair is a little bit longer, but the face is about right

going to credit the reddit account 'pixeldustnz' here
- Kind/friendly

- Smart/intelligent

- Determined

- Open minded

- Once he goes full blood mage he might lose it a bit

- Emotional

- Strange as it sounds he gets scared easily

- Careless about his own life/health

Delai has a very odd personality, especially not one you'd expect with his magic type. Usually he is calm, a bit introverted yet very friendly. The type of person you'd see sitting on the edge of a bridge daydreaming, somewhat lost in his own version of the world. People being mean to him easily make him upset, usually sad or scared. It isn't like he is a weak person though, or that he is naive, he just expects people to treat him equally as he treats them, which is generally really nice.

Don't you dare touch people he cares about though, or get in his way when he truly wants to accomplish something. Once he is mad, there are very few things that will stop him from utterly destroying you, not even caring about his own limbs or life.

Furthermore he is very curious, always writing about things he finds peculiar or odd in a separate notebook or journal. Sometimes he even likes to study things that don't really have much to do with magic or fighting, like geology or cartography. At first glance most would think he'd be forsaking his duties in magic and upholding peace, but the opposite is true as he thinks that knowledge about the world is equally important. Not all things can be solved by violence and it is easier to get a way into a court or guild if you actually know a thing or two about their business, traditions or even hobbies.

There are several darker parts to his nature though, parts that he nearly desperately tries not to ever show. The usual way his dark side shows is through sarcasm and snide in speech, and sadism and toying with his enemies in battle. It is a side not many people expect from him, and in stark contrast with his usual cheery, kind and carefree behaviour. Once you look deeper though, you can see that most of that carefree behaviour is because he honestly does not care about his own well being, putting his own life behind that of literally everyone else. The only way he can see to give purpose to his very useless and worthless existence (so he thinks) is to put it in function of doing the right thing, whether it be science, protecting people or just being kind.
Birthday: sixth of july

((I am going to have this double as my writing example))

Delai was born in a small human Western mountain settlement, to a working class family, and his life certainly would've been average and normal without his powers. His parents were simple people; his father a baker and his mother a tailor. Delai surely was on the path of becoming something similar, when at age six he started showing signs of magic. At first it were simple things, like stopping a bleed when tripping, so not many people picked up on it and did it off as fast healing. Over the next year though, Delai grew increasingly stronger and things really went downhill when a few bullies decided to pick on the small 'easy' target. One of them did not survive. It was then the destructive potency of his magic appeared. Now the reason his particular kind of magic is dead, can't really be said to be of a natural extinction, instead witches and warlocks were exterminated over centuries.

The whole town got in a fight over him, some wanted to ban this evil child out of the city, others opted to lock him up or exorcise instead to keep him safe, there were even people who wanted to hang him, including his parents. The debate went on for days, and when the decision was finally made to kill the child for the good of the town... there wasn't anyone there to hang. In the midst of the night an old, hooded man had gotten into the city, and without any guard noticing, took the child.

The old man was the Magistrate of a small group of black mages, or Ateromancers as they referred to themselves. A group dedicated to instead of wreaking havoc, seeking demise and vengeance, do good with the powers given to them and break the ignorance. Delai was taken in by these people and taught how to control his blood magic. After eight years he finally controlled it. On his fifteenth birthday a sacrificial dagger was made by the Magistrate, and it would be the last one he ever made.

Age finally had caught up, but not in a way one would think. His magical powers had been dwindling for a while, as his mind had gotten cloudier with the years. One day he was trying to rescue a shadow mage, a thirteen year old girl. Instead of accepting though, she turned onto him, and in the resulting rage destroyed both herself and the Magistrate. Soon after the group fell apart, some returned to their normal lives, but the most loyal and promising mages had been assigned other roles.

Delai switched apprenticeship to a court mage, becoming a scholar instead. While there he honed his skills in secrecy, and took up enchanting on the surface and learnt some combat skills from the knights. After a few years the court mage released him from his duties, instead telling him to do fieldwork. The manner in which he had to do said fieldwork, was entirely up to him though, so he set out for the city.
Delai is naturally proficient with black magic or Ateromancy as he likes to call it. Generally this holds things like destruction magic, shadow magic, illusions (including mind tricks) and demonology. Sometimes promising apprentices show talent in toxicology, life-draining and blood magic, but none is able to master all three (some influences from others is possible though, like draining blood magic). Delai falls under the last category.

There are some more spells, but those aren't used in battle and take long or a lot of reagents to cast. For example things like charms and symbolic spells, or magical crafting. Most spells listed below are also able to grow better once a higher level of mastery is reached (examples: blood pact allows for senses sharing, full control over the acidity of his blood, imbue more items, etc.)

-

State switch

: Delai can control the state of his blood between liquid and crystalline. Giving him the ability to create offensive things like retractable claws and blades, or shields and protective patches that can instantly turn offensive and restrain someone. Only works when he touches the blood, and allows him to maintain the state of his blood whichever temperature it has. It also instantly counteracts wounds, so cuts will crystallize and stop bleeding quick, but they will not heal, eventually he has to have them checked out.

-

Blood pact

: Linking his own blood to someone else's Delai can make a bond between him and that person. Only one at a time, and the bond slowly wears out, over several weeks if not strengthened. In the meanwhile he can trace this person, know whether they are in good health, and even use their blood from a distance to protect. In return the person will have his magic or physical prowess strengthened.

-

Caustic cruor

: Delai's blood has corrosive properties, but only when it is not a wound made by himself. When a blade slashes him, the first blood will corrode the weapon, and whichever it hits next. This property will not last beyond the first slash though.

(Friendly fire warning)

-

Blood imbue

: A spell that takes a long while to cast, and requires some runic knowledge. Delai can buff a weapon, shield or piece of armour with the user's blood, similar to his sacrificial dagger, but not as powerful a bond. It will wear off after a week and the runes will disappear. Weapons will feel lighter and easier to handle, shields become harder to break and quicker to move and finally armour will offer more protection against piercing, ripping and slashing. The only downside is that Delai can only keep up three of those rune-sets at a time with switching between them taking a while.

(more spell sets related to black magic might be added over the course of the RP)
A Sacrificial dagger is used for blood magic, and usually crafted beautifully and strong as it has to last an entire lifetime. There are only a few places where you can get one, and they are always bound by a first blood offer. If it doesn't belong to you, it rejects you, and you can never use it.

Daggers each have their different way of rejecting, some become too hot to hold, others make it so you can't find them, there are even daggers that become so heavy you can't possibly lift them. Delai's dagger doesn't reject you immediately, instead you can never cut anything with it, no matter how hard you try to stab or slash, the blade simply doesn't affect any physical thing.

The crystal on the handle turns red when the blade has Delai's blood on it. Only his makes it change though, the blood of other people has no effect.

A Grimoire is a book crafted by a master and given to an apprentice Ateromancer at age 10. It is bound to the apprentice by a tight bond, and protected by strong magic. Losing your Grimoire (note: this doesn't work if it is stolen) is an unforgivable sin, and it will revoke all your rights to magic instantly in the eyes of Ateromancers.

Besides this, it holds all the spells someone learns throughout their life, and it becomes increasingly intricate the more powerful the Ateromancer becomes. Every Grimoire has a secret way of showing what is written inside, so the contents are only viewable by the ones that know the way. In Delai case he has to let a droplet of blood run from his blade onto the first page, smearing or cutting it with anything else has no effect.

From a young age Delai was interested in tales and stories, but his parents disagreed with this, instead insisting he learn a trade skill. Trough being interested himself and family friends who were more liberal about this, he learnt the alphabet and several words before the incident.

Later on, the Magistrate was very pleased with his curiosity and intelligence, and personally thought him several languages and runic types. Of course every black mage requires to be able to read from his grimoire, but Delai knows a little beyond the necessary.

His armour looks something like this, except male, with red pants/sleeves and with only one full glove, the other is just a bracer so he can cut his hand for blood magic. The bracer also holds several vials of pre-stored blood that he keeps liquid, all he has to do is break them and he can cast without his dagger, though it has slightly less effect than fresh blood.

Furthermore he has a belt that holds his grimoire and dagger and a backpack for travel.

The cloth armour makes it easy for him to move and switch positions in battle, though defence is basically non-existent, it allows for him to be agile and swift. Dodging and close combat are very easy in this attire.

(Accepted)

Spazzycat101 · Nov 12, 2015

Elvengarda said:
Delai Lloyd

The human blood mage

"To prejudge other men's notions before we have looked into them is not to show their darkness but to put out our own eyes."- John Locke

appearance
personality
Background
magics
equipment

age

: 21

weight

: 57kg (~125 pounds)

height

: 1m 76 (~5"8')

hair colour

: black

eye colour

: Blue normally when not using his magic, but this changes to red once he starts casting

- Kind/friendly

- Smart/intelligent

- Determined

- Open minded

- Once he goes full blood mage he might lose it a bit

- Emotional

- Strange as it sounds he gets scared easily

- Careless about his own life/health

Delai has a very odd personality, especially not one you'd expect with his magic type. Usually he is calm, a bit introverted yet very friendly. The type of person you'd see sitting on the edge of a bridge daydreaming, somewhat lost in his own version of the world. People being mean to him easily make him upset, usually sad or scared. It isn't like he is a weak person though, or that he is naive, he just expects people to treat him equally as he treats them, which is generally really nice.

Don't you dare touch people he cares about though, or get in his way when he truly wants to accomplish something. Once he is mad, there are very few things that will stop him from utterly destroying you, not even caring about his own limbs or life.

Furthermore he is very curious, always writing about things he finds peculiar or odd in a separate notebook or journal. Sometimes he even likes to study things that don't really have much to do with magic or fighting, like geology or cartography. At first glance most would think he'd be forsaking his duties as a guardian, but the opposite is true as he thinks that knowledge about the world is equally important. Not all things can be solved by violence and it is easier to get a way into a court or guild if you actually know a thing or two about their business, traditions or even hobbies.

There are several darker parts to his nature though, parts that he nearly desperately tries not to ever show. The usual way his dark side shows is through sarcasm and snide in speech, and sadism and toying with his enemies in battle. It is a side not many people expect from him, and in stark contrast with his usual cheery, kind and carefree behaviour. Once you look deeper though, you can see that most of that carefree behaviour is because he honestly does not care about his own well being, putting his own life behind that of literally everyone else. The only way he can see to give purpose to his very useless and worthless existence (so he thinks) is to put it in function of doing the right thing, whether it be science, protecting people or just being kind.

Birthday: sixth of july

((I am going to have this double as my writing example))

Delai was born in a small human Western mountain settlement, to a working class family, and his life certainly would've been average and normal without his powers. His parents were simple people; his father a baker and his mother a tailor. Delai surely was on the path of becoming something similar, when at age six he started showing signs of magic. At first it were simple things, like stopping a bleed when tripping, so not many people picked up on it and did it off as fast healing. Over the next year though, Delai grew increasingly stronger and things really went downhill when a few bullies decided to pick on the small 'easy' target. One of them did not survive. It was then the destructive potency of his magic appeared. Now the reason his particular kind of magic is dead, can't really be said to be of a natural extinction, instead witches and warlocks were exterminated over centuries.

The whole town got in a fight over him, some wanted to ban this evil child out of the city, others opted to lock him up or exorcise instead to keep him safe, there were even people who wanted to hang him, including his parents. The debate went on for days, and when the decision was finally made to kill the child for the good of the town... there wasn't anyone there to hang. In the midst of the night an old, hooded man had gotten into the city, and without any guard noticing, took the child.

The old man was the Magistrate of a small group of black mages, or Ateromancers as they referred to themselves. A group dedicated to instead of wreaking havoc, seeking demise and vengeance, do good with the powers given to them and break the ignorance. Delai was taken in by these people and taught how to control his blood magic. After eight years he finally controlled it. On his fifteenth birthday a sacrificial dagger was made by the Magistrate, and it would be the last one he ever made.

Age finally had caught up, but not in a way one would think. His magical powers had been dwindling for a while, as his mind had gotten cloudier with the years. One day he was trying to rescue a shadow mage, a thirteen year old girl. Instead of accepting though, she turned onto him, and in the resulting rage destroyed both herself and the Magistrate. Soon after the group fell apart, some returned to their normal lives, but the most loyal and promising mages had been assigned other roles.

Delai switched apprenticeship to a court mage, becoming a scholar instead. While there he honed his skills in secrecy, and took up enchanting on the surface and learnt some combat skills from the knights. After a few years the court mage released him from his duties, instead telling him to do fieldwork. The manner in which he had to do said fieldwork, was entirely up to him though, so he set out for the city.

Delai is naturally proficient with black magic or Ateromancy as he likes to call it. Generally this holds things like destruction magic, shadow magic, illusions (including mind tricks) and demonology. Sometimes promising apprentices show talent in toxicology, life-draining and blood magic, but none is able to master all three (some influences from others is possible though, like draining blood magic). Delai falls under the last category.

There are some more spells, but those aren't used in battle and take long or a lot of reagents to cast. For example things like charms and symbolic spells, or magical crafting. Most spells listed below are also able to grow better once a higher level of mastery is reached (examples: blood pact allows for senses sharing, full control over the acidity of his blood, imbue more items, etc.)

-

State switch

: Delai can control the state of his blood between liquid and crystalline. Giving him the ability to create offensive things like retractable claws and blades, or shields and protective patches that can instantly turn offensive and restrain someone. Only works when he touches the blood, and allows him to maintain the state of his blood whichever temperature it has. It also instantly counteracts wounds, so cuts will crystallize and stop bleeding quick, but they will not heal, eventually he has to have them checked out.

-

Blood pact

: Linking his own blood to someone else's Delai can make a bond between him and that person. Only one at a time, and the bond slowly wears out, over several weeks if not strengthened. In the meanwhile he can trace this person, know whether they are in good health, and even use their blood from a distance to protect. In return the person will have his magic or physical prowess strengthened.

-

Caustic cruor

: Delai's blood has corrosive properties, but only when it is not a wound made by himself. When a blade slashes him, the first blood will corrode the weapon, and whichever it hits next. This property will not last beyond the first slash though.

(Friendly fire warning)

-

Blood imbue

: A spell that takes a long while to cast, and requires some runic knowledge. Delai can buff a weapon, shield or piece of armour with the user's blood, similar to his sacrificial dagger, but not as powerful a bond. It will wear off after a week and the runes will disappear. Weapons will feel lighter and easier to handle, shields become harder to break and quicker to move and finally armour will offer more protection against piercing, ripping and slashing. The only downside is that Delai can only keep up three of those rune-sets at a time with switching between them taking a while.

(more spell sets related to black magic might be added over the course of the RP)

A Sacrificial dagger is used for blood magic, and usually crafted beautifully and strong as it has to last an entire lifetime. There are only a few places where you can get one, and they are always bound by a first blood offer. If it doesn't belong to you, it rejects you, and you can never use it.

Daggers each have their different way of rejecting, some become too hot to hold, others make it so you can't find them, there are even daggers that become so heavy you can't possibly lift them. Delai's dagger doesn't reject you immediately, instead you can never cut anything with it, no matter how hard you try to stab or slash, the blade simply doesn't affect any physical thing.

The crystal on the handle turns red when the blade has Delai's blood on it. Only his makes it change though, the blood of other people has no effect.

A Grimoire is a book crafted by a master and given to an apprentice Ateromancer at age 10. It is bound to the apprentice by a tight bond, and protected by strong magic. Losing your Grimoire (note: this doesn't work if it is stolen) is an unforgivable sin, and it will revoke all your rights to magic instantly in the eyes of Ateromancers.

Besides this, it holds all the spells someone learns throughout their life, and it becomes increasingly intricate the more powerful the Ateromancer becomes. Every Grimoire has a secret way of showing what is written inside, so the contents are only viewable by the ones that know the way. In Delai case he has to let a droplet of blood run from his blade onto the first page, smearing or cutting it with anything else has no effect.

From a young age Delai was interested in tales and stories, but his parents disagreed with this, instead insisting he learn a trade skill. Trough being interested himself and family friends who were more liberal about this, he learnt the alphabet and several words before the incident.

Later on, the Magistrate was very pleased with his curiosity and intelligence, and personally thought him several languages and runic types. Of course every black mage requires to be able to read from his grimoire, but Delai knows a little beyond the necessary.

His armour looks something like this, except male, with red pants/sleeves and with only one full glove, the other is just a bracer so he can cut his hand for blood magic. The bracer also holds several vials of pre-stored blood that he keeps liquid, all he has to do is break them and he can cast without his dagger, though it has slightly less effect than fresh blood.

Furthermore he has a belt that holds his grimoire and dagger and a backpack for travel.

The cloth armour makes it easy for him to move and switch positions in battle, though defence is basically non-existent, it allows for him to be agile and swift. Dodging and close combat are very easy in this attire.

Accepted! That is just coool.

Dragongal · Nov 13, 2015

Name: Elith McCoy

Race: Human

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Occupation: Herbologist/jerry-rigger/medicine woman/tinkerer

Appearance: Elith usually wears men's clothing, due to her work tinkering, healing, and making potions. She always wears her long leather coat, shown above, and a leather bodice for armour. She always wear collared, full-length shirts. She has blue eyes, brown/red curly hair, usually kept in a bun, and pale skin. Overall, she's fairly pretty, but her attire, and oftentimes the streaks of dirt or oil on her face, tends to counteract that, not that she cares. She usually also carries her pack, and has an odd sword and shield holster system that allows her to carry either on her hip or back, even with her pack. Her height is about 5' 8". She has a scar running from behind her left ear to below her collarbone.

Personality: Elith is intensely curious, but also very kind. She keeps an open mind about everything, always wanting to learn more. She is generally very calm and laid-back on the outside, though a bit nervsy at times. She understands the value of solitude. Elith has the problem of caring very little about herself and fretting over others. Elith is a big fan of manners, and also is overall very polite and sweet. She is funny and can put anyone at ease in moments. However, she can be sharp-tongued when she wishes. She's very motherly, willing to protect at the risk of her own life. She always wants to help people. She tries to never kill, as she believes she is not judge of jury, but is willing to kill in defense of the third. When she cannot protect someone, or her friends or innocents are being hurt, she can snap; and when she's enraged as such, may the gods help her target.

She has a problem with keeping her mouth shut when she sees wrongdoings, no matter the rank or person. This can get her into trouble.
Skills

+ Elith can use the herbs she finds or carries to make medicines of many forms. She can heal people with or without magic, always carrying the equipment in her pack. Using her herbologist's knowledge, she can make many healing balms, teas and dressings, and can tamper with potions; however, she's not very good with potions, usually requiring a book to get the delicate art correct.

-/+ Having grown up reading many books and thirsty for knowledge, Elith has book knowledge on many subjects; This can sometimes be inaccurate or not up-to-date, occasionally leading to... bad results.

-/+ A skilled tinkerer, Elith can jury-rig almost anything with the barest scraps of materials. However, this also means that these things she creates don't usually last very long, and can have disastrous results.

+ Thanks to her minor training with the guard, she's learned a few defensive tricks, all of which use her enemy's strength and weight against them. Offensive, she only knows some kicks and punches, but if given a clear shot, she can do some damage. Barehanded fighting is not her strong suit.

+Acting: Elith is a very convincing actress, even able to manipulate her own emotions in order to get a job done, but she doesn't often act because she does not like lying, and if acting is not used for amusement, then it is a lie in her eyes.

Abilties

+ Nature manipulation - Elith is capable of stimulating plant growth. She cannot grow an oak from an acorn, though, and needs a seed or grown plant in order to grow them. Growing things takes mana, tiring her. If she wishes to put out more energy, she can even cross plant types, creating, per se, a bioluminescent dandelion, if she'd seen both a dandelion and a bioluminescent plant at some time in her life.

+Healing: Elith, if she has contact with the person, can heal the wounded. She cannot cure the sick (she can help with symptoms, and maybe speed healing, but not cure). She cannot heal a broken bone, only set it on the mend. She can heal cuts, scrapes, bruises, burns, however, within limits; she can heal someone who's near death, and bring them to a stable point, however, she cannot heal someone who is dead, and sometime the damage is too extensive. Tissue regeneration is especially hard for her. There's three branches of healing: Influential, Diagnostic, and Healing, all taking varying tolls on mana. She can kill herself healing another. Sometimes when the healing is very extensive, the person being healed would feel drained also, or experience "magic backlash", leaving them tired, aching, and recovering slower than before; she tries to avoid this, but sometimes it is unavoidable.
Broadsword

- A fine tempered steel broadsword passed down her family line, the edges have a silver coating. She normally uses it with one hand. She can wear it on her hip or back.

Shield

- A family heirloom, the large metal shield has saved her more times than she can count. She can wear it either on her hip or back. She never parts with it.

Medical Kit

- Filled with varying medical equipment from herbs to bandages, she refuses to go anywhere without it, rarely using it on herself in case someone else needs it.

Leather Jacket and Gloves

- The same as pictured, she always wears the gloves, and almost always wears her jacket.
Her family was a travelling troupe, performing music and acting shows across the lands, and included not only her parents and brother, but also two other small families. While they were poor, they were all very happy. She was trained in woodwinds, violin, minor acrobatics and acting, as well as how to defend the troupe on night guard, being taught minor swordplay by their bladesmaster, and how to use a sling. She was also interested in first-aid, and became the troupe's "little medic" reading books on it and learning where first-aid she could, learning how to use almost any plant for varying ailments. She soon discovered that she was a mage, and trained accordingly, her family buying her books and letting her train as much as needed.

Something happened travelling through the woods between two villages when she was sixteen. She left one village with her family and friends, all in perfect health, and arrived at the next injured, disoriented, and alone. After being healed, she refused to speak to anyone about it. The next few years she spent training her magic and fighting capabilities, as well as learning anything she could. Occasional "adventuring" was not excluded from her repertoire. She rented a small shop off a side-street, paying for it with the money she made from her tinkerings, healings, and for helping the Guard. Elith runs into problems that aren't concerning her, and can't help but get involved. She has some terrifying stories of raids she's been dragged on and the like, and their sometimes less than fantastic results, and she has the scars to prove it. This only has increased her protectiveness over innocents, especially children. She often tried to get away from the city and travel, but has never made it far, and this upsets her, especially as of late. So, she goes out looking for adventure

(Accepted)

Spazzycat101 · Nov 13, 2015

Dragongal said:
Profile
Skills and Abilities
Equipment
Backstory

Name: Elith McCoy

Race: Human

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Occupation: Herbologist/jerry-rigger/medicine woman/tinkerer

Appearance: Elith usually wears men's clothing, due to her work tinkering, healing, and making potions. She always wears her long leather coat, shown above, but isn't against wearing a dress. She has blue eyes, brown/red curly hair, usually kept in a bun, and pale skin. Overall, she's fairly pretty, but her attire, and oftentimes the streaks of dirt or oil on her face, tends to counteract that, not that she cares. She usually also carries her pack, and has an odd sword and shield holster system that allows her to carry either on her hip or back, even with her pack. Her height is about 5' 8".

Personality: Elith is intensely curious, but also very kind. She keeps an open mind about everything, always wanting to learn more. She is generally very calm and laid-back on the outside, though a bit nervsy at times. She understands the value of solitude. Elith has the problem of caring very little about herself and fretting over others. Elith is a big fan of manners, and also is overall very polite and sweet. She is funny and can put anyone at ease in moments. However, she can be sharp-tongued when she wishes. She's very motherly, willing to protect at the risk of her own life. She always wants to help people. She tries to never kill, as she believes she is not judge of jury, but is willing to kill in defense of the third. When she cannot protect someone, or her friends or innocents are being hurt, she can snap; and when she's enraged as such, may the gods help her target.

She has a problem with keeping her mouth shut when she sees wrongdoings, no matter the rank or person. This can get her into trouble.

Skills

+ Elith can use the herbs she finds or carries to make medicines of many forms. She can heal people with or without magic, always carrying the equipment in her pack. Using her herbologist's knowledge, she can make many healing balms, teas and dressings, and can tamper with potions; however, she's not very good with potions, usually requiring a book to get the delicate art correct.

-/+ Having grown up reading many books and thirsty for knowledge, Elith has book knowledge on many subjects; This can sometimes be inaccurate or not up-to-date, occasionally leading to... bad results.

-/+ A skilled tinkerer, Elith can jury-rig almost anything with the barest scraps of materials. However, this also means that these things she creates don't usually last very long, and can have disastrous results.

+ Thanks to her minor training with the guard, she's learned a few defensive tricks, all of which use her enemy's strength and weight against them. Offensive, she only knows some kicks and punches, but if given a clear shot, she can do some damage. Barehanded fighting is not her strong suit.

+Acting: Elith is a very convincing actress, even able to manipulate her own emotions in order to get a job done, but she doesn't often act because she does not like lying, and if acting is not used for amusement, then it is a lie in her eyes.

Abilties

+ Nature manipulation - Elith is capable of stimulating plant growth. She cannot grow an oak from an acorn, though, and needs a seed or grown plant in order to grow them. Growing things takes mana, tiring her. If she wishes to put out more energy, she can even cross plant types, creating, per se, a bioluminescent dandelion, if she'd seen both a dandelion and a bioluminescent plant at some time in her life.

+Healing: Elith, if she has contact with the person, can heal the wounded. She cannot cure the sick (she can help with symptoms, and maybe speed healing, but not cure). She cannot heal a broken bone, only set it on the mend. She can heal cuts, scrapes, bruises, burns, however, within limits; she can heal someone who's near death, and bring them to a stable point, however, she cannot heal someone who is dead, and sometime the damage is too extensive. Tissue regeneration is especially hard for her. There's three branches of healing: Influential, Diagnostic, and Healing, all taking varying tolls on mana. She can kill herself healing another. Sometimes when the healing is very extensive, the person being healed would feel drained also, or experience "magic backlash", leaving them tired, aching, and recovering slower than before; she tries to avoid this, but sometimes it is unavoidable.

Broadsword

- A fine tempered steel broadsword passed down her family line, the edges have a silver coating. She normally uses it with one hand. She can wear it on her hip or back.

Shield

- A family heirloom, the large metal shield has saved her more times than she can count. She can wear it either on her hip or back. She never parts with it.

Medical Kit

- Filled with varying medical equipment from herbs to bandages, she refuses to go anywhere without it, rarely using it on herself in case someone else needs it.

Leather Jacket and Gloves

- The same as pictured, she always wears the gloves, and almost always wears her jacket.

Her family was a travelling troupe, performing music and acting shows across the lands, and included not only her parents and brother, but also two other small families. While they were poor, they were all very happy. She was trained in woodwinds, violin, minor acrobatics and acting, as well as how to defend the troupe on night guard, being taught minor swordplay by their bladesmaster, and how to use a sling. She was also interested in first-aid, and became the troupe's "little medic" reading books on it and learning where first-aid she could, learning how to use almost any plant for varying ailments. She soon discovered that she was a mage, and trained accordingly, her family buying her books and letting her train as much as needed.

Something happened travelling through the woods between two villages when she was sixteen. She left one village with her family and friends, all in perfect health, and arrived at the next injured, disoriented, and alone. After being healed, she refused to speak to anyone about it. The next few years she spent training her magic and fighting capabilities, as well as learning anything she could. Occasional "adventuring" was not excluded from her repertoire. She rented a small shop off a side-street, paying for it with the money she made from her tinkerings, healings, and for helping the Guard. Elith runs into problems that aren't concerning her, and can't help but get involved. She has some terrifying stories of raids she's been dragged on and the like, and their sometimes less than fantastic results, and she has the scars to prove it. This only has increased her protectiveness over innocents, especially children. She often tried to get away from the city and travel, but has never made it far, and this upsets her, especially as of late. So, she goes out looking for adventure

ACEEPTED!

Anaxial · Nov 14, 2015

Name: Rajab Habibi

Race: Human

Age: Unknown (appears to be late twenties, early thirties)

Gender: Male

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Appearance: Rajab wears the dusty old robes of a travelling Scholar. Plagued by the hunger for knowledge and the search for further Rituals, Rajab finds little need in high fashion. He wears a Keffiyeh that has long seen it's fair share of the world. Faded patterns can still be seen in the fabric, though the original color was lost under the thick covering of dirt and mud that has stained the headpiece entirely. Over his shoulders, an equally decrepit pellegrina with a thin chainmail underlining protects his shoulders from the cut of blades. He wears a dark blouse that is baggy, torn, and stained like much of his garb. The blouse is long sleeved, though his hands are wrapped in sullied bandages, soaked in blood and mud, they too have been stained brown and black. Rajab's trousers are held up with an aged belt the leather for which is torn and cracked all over. The trousers themselves being a similar black to match the blouse, they are tucked into leg wrappings that reach up mid-shin and wears a bear of belted shoes.

Rajab's hair is a dark brown and he is very unkempt. His hair is tangled and coated in dirt, as is his beard. His teeth are yellowed and his face is covered in as much dirt as his exterior layer of clothes, nearly staining his skin black as well. Surprisingly however, Rajab doesn't smell half as bad as he looks. In fact, most would say he smells almost 'earthy' like the first wiff of a mountain trail after being cooped up behind walls. Rajab is by no means an imposing man, shorter than most men and thinner as well, he seems harmless enough.

Personality: Entirely obsessed with obtaining Rituals to further expand his tomes and scrolls, Rajab is generally focused on the pursuit of knowledge and will abandon all to accomplish that. Though his Ritual library is relatively small, he isn't hesitant to preform the Rituals in order to continue to expand this endless hunger for insight. Aside from his obsessions, Rajab seems distant and indifferent, he isn't outright rude to anyone, politely refusing questions and ignoring those who would antagonize him. Rajab is a peaceful man at heart, and when he can find the focus to do so will help others in need, he however has difficulty focusing on anything but the quest for insight. He is smart enough however to know that cooperation is the better of solidation. Their is strength in numbers and while numbers may not save you from the Void, it will save you from man or beast. Rajab is cooperative most times, until he smells the ichor of Ritual Magics.

Rajab has ventured the Void, he has stepped into the realm of nightmares and experienced true Hell. Many people say that they have experience hell, but to them; Hell is just a word. The reality is far more terrifying, far more damaging. Rajab is restless and paranoid at times due to his time spent in the void. He rarely sleeps unless he collapses from exhaustion and rarely eats or drinks until he is on the verge of death.
Talents-
- Incredibly Intelligent; Rajab's constant search for Rituals has led him to read many books and scrolls, giving him a vast expanse of knowledge that others may not possess.
- Travelled; Though he is certainly no rugged adventurer, Rajab's quest for Insight led him to many regions. Having traversed the void, the land below all waters, and having searched far and wide for Rituals he likely knows much more Lore than the posh 'adventurer'.
- Photographic memory; Everything Rajab reads, sees, hears, or experiences, is permanently embedded in his psyche, for his betterment or detriment. Be careful what you say, what you do around him. He will remember everything.
Magic-
- Abyssal Artillery; Inside the Void, creatures beyond your imagining exist. May lay in wait for portals to their world to be opened by one capable of doing so. Rajab has the ability to open several portals simultaneously if only for a moment so that the creature's of the void can reach out into our world and grab at the enemy with tentacles or claws, or teeth. This Ritual is relatively simple, it can be ushered by the simple utterings of Eldritch words and tossing a specially made powder at those who would be assailed by these abominations
- Wyrd Reconstruction; The Void is a realm of existence beyond the comprehension of man and magic, woe be the day that the Eldritch monsters just beyond the veil learn of a way to open portals of their own! The Void has a different concept of time all together, it is a mountain to climb, a valley to cross, those who have mastered the Ritual can do the same. Reversing fate and healing wounds that could be mortally fatal, however a man cannot comprehend what mountain he crosses, Wyrd Reconstruction runs the chance of harming a person further instead of healing them. The Ritual involves Candles and white paint, the candles are set up in a certain order and the paint connects the candles in an elaborate pattern. The simple drawing of this pattern is enough to cast Wyrd Reconstruction, the candles serve to control it.
- Hands from Below; Rajab wasn't the first to venture the void and many who enter such a realm never return. Their spirits are in constant agony and in search of a way out, this Ritual brings out these damned spirits, summoning decaying hands that erupt from the ground below and grab at enemies and pull them to the ground. The Spirits are desperate and try to climb out of the Void but usually only end up tearing the enemy apart. The Hands only last but a few seconds but the grip of one who is trying to escape hell is infallible. This Ritual is conducted by placing a candle inside the skull of one who has ventured into the Void, uttering an unnerving phrase brings the moans of the dead, and their desperate hands with them.
Knotted Walking Stick-

A walking stick used in his travels, the top of which has a small cap of Iron with hard flanges sprouting from the sides and a short spike on the top. The stick is strong and sturdy, it can be used for blocking, thwacking, or precise jabs to vital organs.

Messengers Pouch-

A Pouch fit for a messenger to carry scrolls between kingdoms, Rajab uses it to hold blank scrolls and tomes, or those with unnamable Ritual secrets contained within. The pouch holds roughly Six scrolls, only two of which contain Rituals (Abyssal Artillery and Hands from Below) as well as holding four tomes, one of which contains the methods needed to conduct the Wyrd Reconstruction Ritual.

Lawrence's Skull-

The skull of an old colleague. Once human, the void morphed Lawrence into a deformed monstrosity. The skull is misshapen and unsettling to look at and appears to have a hole cut on the top of the skull for a candle to be inserted.

Travellers Pack-

The wandering nomad must carry a reliable pack to hold all his possessions. Rajab's pack is a simple buckled pack with a bedroll tied on top of the pack. The pack is stocked with 12 candles(held inside special carrying cases to avoid damage), white paint (held in vials and pouches to avoid spillage), as well as roughly three days worth of food and water.
Coming from a land far beyond the Land Below all Waters, his life and childhood are mostly forgotten even by himself. The corruption of the void shifts his mind and slowly drives him mad, without the mercy to do it quickly the madness slowly envelops a person's mind and makes their lives a miserable existence. Driven only by his pursuit of knowledge, he remembers only what pertains to Rituals.

As such, Rajab remembers his trek into the Void. He was just learning the ways of the Rituals, a young Occultist surrounded by just as young, and just as foolish colleagues. Among them, Lawrence... A good friend once. They had been warned about the dangers of Rituals, they had been told not to attempt to enter the void by their teachers, but Lawrence was consumed by the need to see the other side. With Relic and Ritual, he summoned the damnable portal of antediluvian evil and against Rajab's wishes the small group of Occultists ventured into the black abyss. The world was dark on the other side, so dark that the light from the portal could not penetrate it, Lawrence sparked a torch and even fire itself could barely illuminate the bas-reliefs and strange architecture of whatever they were inside. Rajab insisted they return, the other Occultists insisted that they venture the stone halls of the Void.

Their every step unsettled the ancient Earth, the sounds of skittering creatures in the dark, the slither of tentacles, the reflection of the torchlight could be seen on the silhouetted bodies of the creatures inside the void. Their eyes could be seen as they stared into the torchlight but none of the beasts charged at the Occultists. That was the most unnerving part, these creatures were of a caliber they couldn't imagine and yet they merely watched them with hungry eyes. Soon, the Occultists learned they were in a realm of death and madness! Shifting amorphous blobs of quivering flesh and barbed tentacles lashed out at the young Ritualists, fangs and talons impaled them, flashes of horrible creatures and terrible pain where imbedded onto Rajab's mind until eventually only Lawrence and Rajab fled laughing and wailing into the blackened arcades of antiquity- until consciousness failed him.

When he awoke, Lawrence was no longer human, he was a fanged monster, his skin torn and flesh morphed into an abomination, his eyes black as death, his arms longer than Rajab's whole body. Waking in a panic, Rajab screamed and covered his body only to find that Lawrence was dead. Everything that happened after couldn't be explained, Rajab never had an interest beyond simplistic Rituals but since he had ventured into the void his mind was constantly hungering for more. He would never be quenched until he found a way to venture into the void once again.
When conducting Rituals, you run the risk of becoming Possessed by a creature of the Void. Rajab has fallen victim to such a possession, the creature calls itself Qurrel Cahresh and resides within Rajab himself. Whenever his life is in danger or he nears death, Rajab's body, mind, even his very clothing and equipment morph into these terrible beast of the dark. Staying only as long as he needs to in order to save Rajab's life, Qurrel has the ability to speak but his voice is unsettling and can cause nausea just from listening to his words. Few people have seen Qurrel, fewer still have survived him when he comes out, though he can distinguish friend from foe the creatures of the Void are malevolent and Qurrel is no exception. Most could say he is responsible for Rajab's need to search for Rituals, the fact that he protects Rajab's life could affirm such a theory.

Name: Calls itself Qurrel Cahresh

Race: Claims it is a; "Dark One"

Age: Unknown

Gender: None (Masculine)

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Appearance: Standing taller than Rajab, at almost 7ft this monster is imposing and can strike fear in hearts of the bravest warriors. Each arm being the size of a child, each claw as long as fingers. His skin is grey and his eyes are black as death, Qurrel has black hair that much longer than Rajab's however lacks a beard entirely. His mouth extends ear to ear and is lined with rows of dagger-like teeth, sinking all the way back into his throat.

Personality: Qurrel is an aggressive and bloodthirsty creature, he can and will shred anyone who would do Rajab harm into stringy sinews and piles of torn flesh on the floor. It's hard to pinpoint an exact personality as Qurrel is rarely seen and only stays as long as Rajab's life is in danger.

Writing Sample-

"Lawrence, I don't think we should stay here-" Rajab protested his friend's venture into the Void, but his voice fell on deaf ears. Lawrence was not himself, he had a crazed look in his eyes and had even drawn a dagger at Rajab when he suggested that they abandon their quest to search for such a means to open a portal to the Void. Their party was twelve in total, twelve students of the Occult that had gone astray, Rajab seeming to be the only one who regretted stepping foot in this odious stone hall. The only thing that drove Rajab to follow his companions was their torchlight, the only thing that made sense in this blackened mezzanine.

The bas-relief carved into the walls of these arcades were unsettling, depicting indecipherable hieroglyphs and creatures that made no sense to any sane person. Twisted blobs of tentacles and flesh, mouths and teeth dotting their amorphous bodies. Rajab had lost himself in the bas-relief he hadn't noticed the group was halted, all the students staring wide-eyed and pale at something just ahead. When Rajab followed their eyes, he saw what they stared at; a ghostly pale humanoid face, lacking a nose or lips it's eyes were blacker than the abyss around them. They could see the reflection of the torchlight in it's eyes as they rolled in it's head, gazing at the intruders from a shadowed corner. The face was almost 8ft off the ground and after what seemed like years it silently turned and disappeared into the darkness of the halls. A pitch black appendage dragged behind it, brushing against one of the Occultists legs.

They stood silently for a long while, all too afraid to move. Rajab found the courage to speak but his voice cracked and came out in a low whisper. "Y-you see Lawrence? We MUST leave there isn't anything here that isn't evil!" He pleaded with his friend who merely gazed down at the frightened young Rajab with disdain. The Other Occultists waited for Lawrence's response though they seemed just as terrified as Rajab.

"Then go." was all Lawrence said before he followed after the creature and continued down the blackened halls. The other Occultists scrambled to stay in the light while Rajab lagged behind, too afraid to retreat, to scared of his friend to get close. They wandered further into this realm of death... and madness.

(Aaaaaccepted!)

Spazzycat101 · Nov 14, 2015

Anaxial said:
The Man
The Talent, the Magic
The Earthly Possessions
The Origin
The Beast

Name: Rajab Habibi

Race: Human

Age: Unknown (appears to be late twenties, early thirties)

Gender: Male

View attachment 191908

Appearance: Rajab wears the dusty old robes of a travelling Scholar. Plagued by the hunger for knowledge and the search for further Rituals, Rajab finds little need in high fashion. He wears a Keffiyeh that has long seen it's fair share of the world. Faded patterns can still be seen in the fabric, though the original color was lost under the thick covering of dirt and mud that has stained the headpiece entirely. Over his shoulders, an equally decrepit pellegrina with a thin chainmail underlining protects his shoulders from the cut of blades. He wears a dark blouse that is baggy, torn, and stained like much of his garb. The blouse is long sleeved, though his hands are wrapped in sullied bandages, soaked in blood and mud, they too have been stained brown and black. Rajab's trousers are held up with an aged belt the leather for which is torn and cracked all over. The trousers themselves being a similar black to match the blouse, they are tucked into leg wrappings that reach up mid-shin and wears a bear of belted shoes.

Rajab's hair is a dark brown and he is very unkempt. His hair is tangled and coated in dirt, as is his beard. His teeth are yellowed and his face is covered in as much dirt as his exterior layer of clothes, nearly staining his skin black as well. Surprisingly however, Rajab doesn't smell half as bad as he looks. In fact, most would say he smells almost 'earthy' like the first wiff of a mountain trail after being cooped up behind walls. Rajab is by no means an imposing man, shorter than most men and thinner as well, he seems harmless enough.

Personality: Entirely obsessed with obtaining Rituals to further expand his tomes and scrolls, Rajab is generally focused on the pursuit of knowledge and will abandon all to accomplish that. Though his Ritual library is relatively small, he isn't hesitant to preform the Rituals in order to continue to expand this endless hunger for insight. Aside from his obsessions, Rajab seems distant and indifferent, he isn't outright rude to anyone, politely refusing questions and ignoring those who would antagonize him. Rajab is a peaceful man at heart, and when he can find the focus to do so will help others in need, he however has difficulty focusing on anything but the quest for insight. He is smart enough however to know that cooperation is the better of solidation. Their is strength in numbers and while numbers may not save you from the Void, it will save you from man or beast. Rajab is cooperative most times, until he smells the ichor of Ritual Magics.

Rajab has ventured the Void, he has stepped into the realm of nightmares and experienced true Hell. Many people say that they have experience hell, but to them; Hell is just a word. The reality is far more terrifying, far more damaging. Rajab is restless and paranoid at times due to his time spent in the void. He rarely sleeps unless he collapses from exhaustion and rarely eats or drinks until he is on the verge of death.

Talents-

Incredibly Intelligent; Rajab's constant search for Rituals has led him to read many books and scrolls, giving him a vast expanse of knowledge that others may not possess.

Travelled; Though he is certainly no rugged adventurer, Rajab's quest for Insight led him to many regions. Having traversed the void, the land below all waters, and having searched far and wide for Rituals he likely knows much more Lore than the posh 'adventurer'.

Photographic memory; Everything Rajab reads, sees, hears, or experiences, is permanently embedded in his psyche, for his betterment or detriment. Be careful what you say, what you do around him. He will remember everything.

Magic-

Abyssal Artillery; Inside the Void, creatures beyond your imagining exist. May lay in wait for portals to their world to be opened by one capable of doing so. Rajab has the ability to open several portals simultaneously if only for a moment so that the creature's of the void can reach out into our world and grab at the enemy with tentacles or claws, or teeth. This Ritual is relatively simple, it can be ushered by the simple utterings of Eldritch words and tossing a specially made powder at those who would be assailed by these abominations

Wyrd Reconstruction; The Void is a realm of existence beyond the comprehension of man and magic, woe be the day that the Eldritch monsters just beyond the veil learn of a way to open portals of their own! The Void has a different concept of time all together, it is a mountain to climb, a valley to cross, those who have mastered the Ritual can do the same. Reversing fate and healing wounds that could be mortally fatal, however a man cannot comprehend what mountain he crosses, Wyrd Reconstruction runs the chance of harming a person further instead of healing them. The Ritual involves Candles and white paint, the candles are set up in a certain order and the paint connects the candles in an elaborate pattern. The simple drawing of this pattern is enough to cast Wyrd Reconstruction, the candles serve to control it.

Hands from Below; Rajab wasn't the first to venture the void and many who enter such a realm never return. Their spirits are in constant agony and in search of a way out, this Ritual brings out these damned spirits, summoning decaying hands that erupt from the ground below and grab at enemies and pull them to the ground. The Spirits are desperate and try to climb out of the Void but usually only end up tearing the enemy apart. The Hands only last but a few seconds but the grip of one who is trying to escape hell is infallible. This Ritual is conducted by placing a candle inside the skull of one who has ventured into the Void, uttering an unnerving phrase brings the moans of the dead, and their desperate hands with them.

Knotted Walking Stick-

A walking stick used in his travels, the top of which has a small cap of Iron with hard flanges sprouting from the sides and a short spike on the top. The stick is strong and sturdy, it can be used for blocking, thwacking, or precise jabs to vital organs.

Messengers Pouch-

A Pouch fit for a messenger to carry scrolls between kingdoms, Rajab uses it to hold blank scrolls and tomes, or those with unnamable Ritual secrets contained within. The pouch holds roughly Six scrolls, only two of which contain Rituals (Abyssal Artillery and Hands from Below) as well as holding four tomes, one of which contains the methods needed to conduct the Wyrd Reconstruction Ritual.

Lawrence's Skull-

The skull of an old colleague. Once human, the void morphed Lawrence into a deformed monstrosity. The skull is misshapen and unsettling to look at and appears to have a hole cut on the top of the skull for a candle to be inserted.

Travellers Pack-

The wandering nomad must carry a reliable pack to hold all his possessions. Rajab's pack is a simple buckled pack with a bedroll tied on top of the pack. The pack is stocked with 12 candles(held inside special carrying cases to avoid damage), white paint (held in vials and pouches to avoid spillage), as well as roughly three days worth of food and water.

Coming from a land far beyond the Land Below all Waters, his life and childhood are mostly forgotten even by himself. The corruption of the void shifts his mind and slowly drives him mad, without the mercy to do it quickly the madness slowly envelops a person's mind and makes their lives a miserable existence. Driven only by his pursuit of knowledge, he remembers only what pertains to Rituals.

As such, Rajab remembers his trek into the Void. He was just learning the ways of the Rituals, a young Occultist surrounded by just as young, and just as foolish colleagues. Among them, Lawrence... A good friend once. They had been warned about the dangers of Rituals, they had been told not to attempt to enter the void by their teachers, but Lawrence was consumed by the need to see the other side. With Relic and Ritual, he summoned the damnable portal of antediluvian evil and against Rajab's wishes the small group of Occultists ventured into the black abyss. The world was dark on the other side, so dark that the light from the portal could not penetrate it, Lawrence sparked a torch and even fire itself could barely illuminate the bas-reliefs and strange architecture of whatever they were inside. Rajab insisted they return, the other Occultists insisted that they venture the stone halls of the Void.

Their every step unsettled the ancient Earth, the sounds of skittering creatures in the dark, the slither of tentacles, the reflection of the torchlight could be seen on the silhouetted bodies of the creatures inside the void. Their eyes could be seen as they stared into the torchlight but none of the beasts charged at the Occultists. That was the most unnerving part, these creatures were of a caliber they couldn't imagine and yet they merely watched them with hungry eyes. Soon, the Occultists learned they were in a realm of death and madness! Shifting amorphous blobs of quivering flesh and barbed tentacles lashed out at the young Ritualists, fangs and talons impaled them, flashes of horrible creatures and terrible pain where imbedded onto Rajab's mind until eventually only Lawrence and Rajab fled laughing and wailing into the blackened arcades of antiquity- until consciousness failed him.

When he awoke, Lawrence was no longer human, he was a fanged monster, his skin torn and flesh morphed into an abomination, his eyes black as death, his arms longer than Rajab's whole body. Waking in a panic, Rajab screamed and covered his body only to find that Lawrence was dead. Everything that happened after couldn't be explained, Rajab never had an interest beyond simplistic Rituals but since he had ventured into the void his mind was constantly hungering for more. He would never be quenched until he found a way to venture into the void once again.

When conducting Rituals, you run the risk of becoming Possessed by a creature of the Void. Rajab has fallen victim to such a possession, the creature calls itself Qurrel Cahresh and resides within Rajab himself. Whenever his life is in danger or he nears death, Rajab's body, mind, even his very clothing and equipment morph into these terrible beast of the dark. Staying only as long as he needs to in order to save Rajab's life, Qurrel has the ability to speak but his voice is unsettling and can cause nausea just from listening to his words. Few people have seen Qurrel, fewer still have survived him when he comes out, though he can distinguish friend from foe the creatures of the Void are malevolent and Qurrel is no exception. Most could say he is responsible for Rajab's need to search for Rituals, the fact that he protects Rajab's life could affirm such a theory.

Name: Calls itself Qurrel Cahresh

Race: Claims it is a; "Dark One"

Age: Unknown

Gender: None (Masculine)

View attachment 192023

Appearance: Standing taller than Rajab, at almost 7ft this monster is imposing and can strike fear in hearts of the bravest warriors. Each arm being the size of a child, each claw as long as fingers. His skin is grey and his eyes are black as death, Qurrel has black hair that much longer than Rajab's however lacks a beard entirely. His mouth extends ear to ear and is lined with rows of dagger-like teeth, sinking all the way back into his throat.

Personality: Qurrel is an aggressive and bloodthirsty creature, he can and will shred anyone who would do Rajab harm into stringy sinews and piles of torn flesh on the floor. It's hard to pinpoint an exact personality as Qurrel is rarely seen and only stays as long as Rajab's life is in danger.

Writing Sample-

"Lawrence, I don't think we should stay here-" Rajab protested his friend's venture into the Void, but his voice fell on deaf ears. Lawrence was not himself, he had a crazed look in his eyes and had even drawn a dagger at Rajab when he suggested that they abandon their quest to search for such a means to open a portal to the Void. Their party was twelve in total, twelve students of the Occult that had gone astray, Rajab seeming to be the only one who regretted stepping foot in this odious stone hall. The only thing that drove Rajab to follow his companions was their torchlight, the only thing that made sense in this blackened mezzanine.

The bas-relief carved into the walls of these arcades were unsettling, depicting indecipherable hieroglyphs and creatures that made no sense to any sane person. Twisted blobs of tentacles and flesh, mouths and teeth dotting their amorphous bodies. Rajab had lost himself in the bas-relief he hadn't noticed the group was halted, all the students staring wide-eyed and pale at something just ahead. When Rajab followed their eyes, he saw what they stared at; a ghostly pale humanoid face, lacking a nose or lips it's eyes were blacker than the abyss around them. They could see the reflection of the torchlight in it's eyes as they rolled in it's head, gazing at the intruders from a shadowed corner. The face was almost 8ft off the ground and after what seemed like years it silently turned and disappeared into the darkness of the halls. A pitch black appendage dragged behind it, brushing against one of the Occultists legs.

They stood silently for a long while, all too afraid to move. Rajab found the courage to speak but his voice cracked and came out in a low whisper. "Y-you see Lawrence? We MUST leave there isn't anything here that isn't evil!" He pleaded with his friend who merely gazed down at the frightened young Rajab with disdain. The Other Occultists waited for Lawrence's response though they seemed just as terrified as Rajab.

"Then go." was all Lawrence said before he followed after the creature and continued down the blackened halls. The other Occultists scrambled to stay in the light while Rajab lagged behind, too afraid to retreat, to scared of his friend to get close. They wandered further into this realm of death... and madness.

Quite detailed. Good.

And the ritual magic seems pretty limited in the OP department too. Similar to the Blood magic in that there are only a few known spells. I did PM you about having ventured to the Land Beneath Water, and when that's decided, accepted.

BookWyrm · Nov 15, 2015

Name: Ronan

Nickname: N/A

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Age: 25

Maturity: Same as age

Personality: Ronan has a complex personality. Reserved and quiet, Ronan prefers to remain in the background outside of the battlefield. His life has been spent fighting one battle or another from a young age, and the lack of constants in his life such as caring parents or a true home caused him to develop a slightly cold outlook. He is very straight forward and to the point in all things, preferring to be open with those he considers his friends instead of keeping secrets. Large social gatherings or crowds bother him simply from not knowing who is "wearing a mask" and who isn't. Ronan feels truly alive and at peace when he is fighting. It is one of the few times he is one hundred percent focused and relaxed. Because of previous events in his life Ronan, at times, has a short fuse, and when pushed to his limits he is one of the most deadly people around. Despite all of the negativity though, Ronan is not without his positive side. He is quick to laugh and has an easy smile when around friends. And once someone earns that title he will fight till the death to protect them

Miscellaneous (traits): Many years of hard life have honed his ability to read into peoples motives and body language, making it hard to lie to him. He is also sharp witted and observant, perhaps more so than he lets on at times.

Appearance (pic and/or desc.): 6'2, 200 pounds

Attire (pic and/or desc.):

Magic type*: N/A

Magical equipment*: N/A

Weaponry*: Ronan carries a great sword and great shield.

Miscellaneous (items): Besides his armor Ronan has a pouch for coins and other items that are used in day to day life.

Backstory* (Please include place of origin at the bare minimum. Backstory may also be marked as ‘to be revealed’): Ronan was born into a hard life. His mother died during child birth and his father was killed shortly there after. Ronan, for the better half of his young life, grew up in a Free Company under the care of a man named Mathias. Raised to fight and kill, Ronan learned the arts of combat and tactics alongside standard education. Because of his early introduction to strength training Ronan is able to wield his great sword one handed, freeing him up to use a shield in his off hand. Finally breaking out on his own after years of service with his company Ronan has found a quieter life as a Sellsword. He prefers this life to the other, darker life he once lived back in the North.

Writing Sample (This is unnecessary if one is already submitted): Ronan looked out across the field, his sword propped against his shoulder as he watched his opponent walk out to meet him. It had been three days of none stop fighting, and both sides had grown weary of continual blood shed. Ronan could care less in truth. He and his Company had been hired by one side of this two sided war to fight as an auxiliary to their national forces. When the sides called for a truce to talk over the situation, choosing two end it by a champions duel, Ronan had volunteered to fight. Hell, whats the worst that could happen?

Ronan watched as the other army, he didn't really know who they were(didn't care either), sent their champion out to face him. The rules were simple; the side whose champion remained alive won. Ronan eyed this new foe as he now stood in front of him. The man was at least 6'6 and probably outweighed him by another hundred pounds or so. What was odd though was this man didn't wear much armor. A steel breast plate, vambraces, greaves, and a helm, but no back plate, no pauldrins, no skirt, not even any mail. Maybe he thought that his size alone was enough to cause most men to run. Ronan cracked his neck before slamming his shield into the ground. He wouldn't need it for this fight.

His opponent grabbed his massive spear and lunged forward, intent on running the boar sticker through him. Ronan laughed. This is too easy. Stepping in and slightly to the left of the spear, Ronan used his free hand to guide the shaft away from his body before bringing the massive bulk of his great sword down at the man's neck. The sword passed through the man's body with ease, striking into the ground as Ronan followed through with the cut. He pulled his blade back up and onto his shoulder before turning around, grabbing his shield, and walking back towards his Company.

"Disappointing. He had potential....."

Spazzycat101 · Nov 15, 2015

BookWyrm said:
Name: Ronan
Nickname: N/A

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Age: 25

Maturity: Same as age

Personality: Ronan has a complex personality. Reserved and quiet, Ronan prefers to remain in the background outside of the battlefield. His life has been spent fighting one battle or another from a young age, and the lack of constants in his life such as caring parents or a true home caused him to develop a slightly cold outlook. He is very straight forward and to the point in all things, preferring to be open with those he considers his friends instead of keeping secrets. Large social gatherings or crowds bother him simply from not knowing who is "wearing a mask" and who isn't. Ronan feels truly alive and at peace when he is fighting. It is one of the few times he is one hundred percent focused and relaxed. Because of previous events in his life Ronan, at times, has a short fuse, and when pushed to his limits he is one of the most deadly people around. Despite all of the negativity though, Ronan is not without his positive side. He is quick to laugh and has an easy smile when around friends. And once someone earns that title he will fight till the death to protect them

Miscellaneous (traits): Many years of hard life have honed his ability to read into peoples motives and body language, making it hard to lie to him. He is also sharp witted and observant, perhaps more so than he lets on at times.

Appearance (pic and/or desc.): 6'2, 200 pounds

Attire (pic and/or desc.):

Magic type*: N/A

Magical equipment*: N/A

Weaponry*: Ronan carries a great sword and great shield.

Miscellaneous (items): Besides his armor Ronan has a pouch for coins and other items that are used in day to day life.

Backstory* (Please include place of origin at the bare minimum. Backstory may also be marked as ‘to be revealed’): Ronan was born into a hard life. His mother died during child birth and his father was killed shortly there after. Ronan, for the better half of his young life, grew up in a Free Company under the care of a man named Mathias. Raised to fight and kill, Ronan learned the arts of combat and tactics alongside standard education. Because of his early introduction to strength training Ronan is able to wield his great sword one handed, freeing him up to use a shield in his off hand. Finally breaking out on his own after years of service with his company Ronan has found a quieter life as a Sellsword. He prefers this life to the other, darker life he once lived back in the North.

Writing Sample (This is unnecessary if one is already submitted): Ronan looked out across the field, his sword propped against his shoulder as he watched his opponent walk out to meet him. It had been three days of none stop fighting, and both sides had grown weary of continual blood shed. Ronan could care less in truth. He and his Company had been hired by one side of this two sided war to fight as an auxiliary to their national forces. When the sides called for a truce to talk over the situation, choosing two end it by a champions duel, Ronan had volunteered to fight. Hell, whats the worst that could happen?

Ronan watched as the other army, he didn't really know who they were(didn't care either), sent their champion out to face him. The rules were simple; the side whose champion remained alive won. Ronan eyed this new foe as he now stood in front of him. The man was at least 6'6 and probably outweighed him by another hundred pounds or so. What was odd though was this man didn't wear much armor. A steel breast plate, vambraces, greaves, and a helm, but no back plate, no pauldrins, no skirt, not even any mail. Maybe he thought that his size alone was enough to cause most men to run. Ronan cracked his neck before slamming his shield into the ground. He wouldn't need it for this fight.

His opponent grabbed his massive spear and lunged forward, intent on running the boar sticker through him. Ronan laughed. This is too easy. Stepping in and slightly to the left of the spear, Ronan used his free hand to guide the shaft away from his body before bringing the massive bulk of his great sword down at the man's neck. The sword passed through the man's body with ease, striking into the ground as Ronan followed through with the cut. He pulled his blade back up and onto his shoulder before turning around, grabbing his shield, and walking back towards his Company.

"Disappointing. He had potential....."

Accepted! Very, very much accepted.

Unwavering Knight · Nov 22, 2015

Name: Helbrecht

Gender: presumably male

Age: First spotted 23 years ago

Personality: A bizarre being embodying several unfitting extremes. He will rush to the aid of the needy and the weak without request for reward, though he will do so in a manner more befitting a machine, voice cold and without emotion, actions precise and calculated, while preaching of idealism and "goodness" that is far beyond what any sane being could hope to achieve.

All in all, his mentality appears as detached at best, delusional at worst, while yet also giving sight to a secondary, far darker set of beliefs that comes frighteningly close to outright nihilism, referring to himself as a tool for use, a ploy for the "tale" to continue and reach its ultimate conclusion, making it possible to assume that all his actions are constrained by a strange understanding of the "common" laws of fairytales. Nonetheless, he seems to honestly believe in the worth of the selfless struggle, a knightly conduct steeped in the simple wish to aid the helpless and stand for those that can not stand for themselves.

The one who he refers to as the "Lady" would be the primary focal point of his striving, believing her to be the only one capable of granting him his deepest desire. Despite his usual conduct, he is not exempt from the simple emotion called "boredom", him citing it as the primary reason for why he took up playing the fiddle, a measure to kill time while on the endless march to help the needy, serve the weak and search for the Lady.

However, the years have not gone by without consequence.

Imagine you wander. You wander wide, you wander long, you never cease wandering.

You search, you always search, far and away. The ideal compels, the ideal demands.

Loneliness is on your mind, causing you to approach others.

You ask "Where?"

They shrug, point a way, and in thanks you fulfill their demands with a whole heart. They are happy to have you away.

You keep wandering.

Wandering.

Wandering.

Always wandering.

Simply setting one foot after another is insufficient. You take up a hobby, one that can be conducted while keeping up the march. You like the melody. It lightens your heart.

You wander with bliss in your heart. Your steps momentarily reminding of those of a dancer as you leave your tracks in the mud and snow, the passing of years flowing by with dim notice.

But then something goes wrong. Something goes horribly horribly wrong.

For the first time, a glimpse of luminosity. You look around yourself and you see only misery, a world upfilled with it and your own limited capacity to grasp the sheer amount of consequences, a surge of emotion resulting in enhanced perception of your surroundings.

The nasally tone of someone's voice as they whine for the sake of whining.

The hypocrisy of people hating themselves and doing absolutely nothing to change it.

Everything was so much more vivid than it once was. So with enhanced perceptions came realization: The realization of a simple universal constant.

Every single person in the world deserves death for some reason. The only variable was 'Over what?'

You resume wandering.

Wandering.

Wandering.

Always wandering.

Then, perhaps, you find something new. Something full of extremes, overwhelming sadness, polarizing joy, reverberating lust.

Wisdom is a terrible responsibility. Looking at this newness creates a demand, another realisation of the limitation. Wisdom demands for the only possible conclusion in realisation of the own limited state:

Terror. Fear. For one must hate oneself.

In all-out combat, he proves to be predominantly pragmatic, feeling no compulsion to restrain himself when "serving the weak", he has the mentality of a predator, testing his quarrel's weaknesses and strengths via diversion and terror, engaging openly only when all other options are exhausted and all cards are open.

Miscellaneous (traits): His voice perpetually lacks emotion, sounding ugly and harsh by nature.

Besides that, even his very movements appear unfitting, sometimes led with mechanical precision, at other times twitching with primal fluidity, both creating a bizarre contrast that makes the knight seem completely unpredictable.

Bearing a strange distaste for his innards, he appears to have gained a penchant for self-mutilation if emotional state is extremely compromised.

He is also a capable dancer and player with the violin.

Appearance: Standing at over seven feet tall and weighing over five hundred pounds , he is never seen without even a single dark plate covering every inch of his body, making for a towering, frightening figure, gaze unmoving, actions precise and calculated. If he didn't look so intimidating and his appearance was not so gloomy one might believe him to be the statuesque image of a truly shining knight.

Berserker.Fate.zero.full.1070185_zps5mcngarv.jpg

"...pallid, downright sickly-white tissue became visible in the lingering holes of the armor, a grotesque amount of muscles rippling beneath while the veins filled with blood struck a stark contrast with the ashen skin, obscenely swollen and visible."

Magic type*: None, however he appears to have an innate ability to sense magical energies, "sniffing" out the residue of spells cast a day's time ago.

Magical equipment*: None in the traditional sense, he has no magical weapons of any sort.

Weaponry*: He has an arsenal of conventional arms, ranging from simple swords to crossbows, axes, spears and more. He retrieves the weapons of slain opponents to use as his own and adapts per the situation.

Miscellaneous (items): He has a violin of worn rosewood, well-used with exchanged strings, but maintained with effort into usability.

Backstory* : Several years ago he simply seemed to appear, devoid of fame and tales. The armored giant would approach travellers, villages, cities, anyone that appeared in need of aid and - no matter the triviality of the task, the knight would serve, in return only asking if any of those he aided had seen his Lady.

When asked for a description of the one he sought, the knight would always be quick to praise his Lady's wit, beauty and compassion, but never would he actually give any sort of details. As a result, his inquiries were only ever met with puzzled shaking of heads, prompting his ever-unwavering continuation of the search for his Lady.

Her father was a good man. The villagers always said so, the serfs and the folk who came for his works. The tower was always cold but she did not want for much; her father was always away adventuring, and when Mother died he called her his little girl and mussed her hair.

He would take her into his laboratory, to see the things he had brought home. The shining daggers, the boxes of incense and twisted dead things, the circles he would draw while she played in the library.

Then one day he stopped giving her kisses on the forehead. He would come home and smell sour, and try to kiss her on the lips. When she turned away he hit her, and it was not long before the girl was barred from the library. She was not allowed to read the fancy tales her father brought home, of dragons and monsters. She feared the creatures there, though there was always a good knight, or a wily sorcerer, or just a young man to stop them.

Then came another winter, and Father returned with a team of horses and wagons filled with finery. Her guard told her that Father had brought back fantastic things, but that he had promised to show them to her when he was ready. As the first snow fell he came to find her, and they went out t the courtyard to play in the snow. Father was full of mirth, like he had not been since Mother died, and they played in the new snow. He smiled and gathered her in his arms, and then began to kiss her. As his tongue moved against her lips she tasted the sour and began to cough, spitting and vomiting, and he threw her hard against the wall. It was hard to breathe, but one of Father’s friends came to make her good as new. The kind old man asked her what had happened as she told him about falling down the stairs. His face questioned, but the old man spoke his prayers and set her arm and made sure her breath came back to her.

When she came back to her cot she heard the noises. As she breathed she heard It, breathing back, and the room filled with its deep hot breath. When she screamed the noise stopped, and the guard came and found her curled up, and told her to mind herself as her Father was sleeping and had had a hard night.

She wanted to tell the guard of her night, but she knew Father would be mad. Father came to her the next morning, explaining that he did not want to hurt her, that this was what fathers did with their daughters. He laughed and they played, and when she let Father kiss her again he gave her a book.

It was filled with monsters and knights, and she dreamed that night of the Knight, her Knight. He was massive, and he swung a great bending sword much bigger than herself or Father. She rode on his dark black horse and felt its silvery mane, and the warmth of the Knight’s black plate armor on her legs and she rode near the pommel. She felt his warm breath, and then heard that bellowing, the sounds from under her bed, and began to scream.

The Knight looked down at her, and then dissolved like all dreams do, the pounding of his charger’s hooves replaced by the guard pounding on her door, telling her to stop screaming.

She fell asleep with the deep breath, and when she awoke the frost on her window was gone. She tasted the melt, and it was salty and bitter. Her Knight would be there, to keep the dreams away, and Father would be nice again as she did what she was told. When Father began to kiss her in his chamber she felt the heat, and the bellows came as he hiked her shift above her head. As Father looked at her she began to cry, and then he began to hurt her. She could not speak as he threw her to the ground, and beat her with his hands and kicked her in the side. She hurt when Father took her back to her cell, but she fell asleep to the pain.

In her dreams it did not hurt though bruises remained, and the Knight was there. She picked flowers as he sat sharpening that great blade, and the Knight’s horse whickered in the meadow. The flowers were cold, in strange colors, but when the Knight saw the flowers he swept her up. Clutching her to his chest. She dropped the flowers and saw the charger come to nibble on them. Steam seemed to come from the horse’s nostrils, and the Knight took her on foot deeper in the clearing. The trees were strange twisted things there, and she could hear them rustling, sounding as if they were saying things. She saw what looked like faces then, twisted in sadness and pain, some bloated with ivy roping below them, others bleeding sap from limbs or foam from their gaping bark mouths. The Knight looked towards her, his helm dipping, as he took her to a small spring.

As he lifted her shift she shirked away, thinking of Father, but the Knight shook his head and motioned for her to go into the spring. She splashed, playing in the spring, and tasted the salt and bitterness of her window pane when the water went into her mouth. The Knight looked away, modest as a good Knight, and when she put her roughspun back on she saw no bruises. The Knight’s helm turned towards her, and he hugged her to his chest again… Then came the deep breathing, the bellows, and the monster took her away from the Knight and back to the morning.

Soon, she heard, soon.

That night her Father had a beautiful woman from the village come and dress her. The gown was beautiful, black velvet and little red garnets, and it was warm and soft. She said how she loved it and the woman smiled. She was taken to her father’s hall, and they ate such fine foods. Capon and hare and ham, a feast, and her father drank heavily from his cup. Once all of the food was brought Father had the servants go away, and asked her to sit down on his lap. He began to feed her from his plate, sweetly placing food on his fork, then on his fingers. He had her drink from his cup, and she began to feel warm and safe against him, knowing he would never hurt her. She was a good daughter, and that time was done… He even said so himself.

She began to become sleepy, and Father gathered her in his arms, taking her up the great stairs. Her head was spinning as he walked her through the library and laboratory, humming a cradle-song and telling her that Father loved her. She knew that, of course. As she looked she saw the Knight in a corner, hidden among the boxes of her father’s latest adventures, his dark plate gleaming.

She felt the soft pelts, the warm down bedding, and her father began to help her get ready for bed. She wondered where her shift was, or did Father get her a new one for their special night?

There was no shift, and she felt her father begin to kiss her. First on the forehead, then on her chin, her lips, her neck… She wanted to open her eyes wide, to cry, but she couldn’t. She was so tired, the wine was in her, warming her. Through her slit eyes she saw Father moving, huffing, down to his smallclothes and breathing onto her, into her face sour and sickly. Heavier, heavier breathing, hot, burning where it touched, wherewashepleasenostopnodonthurtingpainthemonsterbellowsscreamsheatonmenonotinme

STOP.

That voice, so loud, rasping, screeching against her skull. She felt Father leaving her, away from her and hearing, something. Wet, gristly, the feel of rain on her cheeks. The sound of metal scraping, whimpering, Father saying he would never, he was lonely.

YOU DO NOT KNOW SOLITUDE, WARLOCK. YOU TOOK MY LOVE, I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO TAKE HERS.

It was love, Father said, pure, true love.

The bellowing began to change, sounding like laughter. The sound of crunching, sucking hooves in mud.

Then the Knight touched her hand, and she felt less sleepy. She looked at him, towering, the smell of burning and salt and bitter. Pinpoints of light shone from his helm, and his armor dripped with red. She saw what he was, a knight who had fallen once, done bad, but came to protect her.

“Did, did you come to save me? Is the monster gone?”

YES.

She woke when the Knight touched her face. It was dawn, morning breaking through the glass of her father’s bedchamber. Her father must have gone to breakfast, as he was nowhere to be seen. How did she come to be here? Her father would not like her sneaking about like some thief. She stood and tripped on the gown she was in… It was odd, soft, and bore a coat of arms upon it. A great black steed with flames in its mouth, a scary thing, but Father must have played a trick.

She walked into the lab, past her father’s latest acquisitions. As she passed she heard a whisper, and turned to look. Just a suit of plate armor, shining bright, the armor of a true knight and hero.

@Spazzycat101

Spazzycat101 · Nov 22, 2015

Unwavering Knight] [B][I]Name: [/I][/B]Helbrecht [B][I]Gender: [/I][/B]presumably male [B][I]Age: [/I][/B]First spotted 23 years ago [B][I]Personality:[/I][/B] A bizarre being embodying several unfitting extremes. He will rush to the aid of the needy and the weak without request for reward said:
@Spazzycat101[/URL]

This is quite the interesting and awesome idea for a character, as I said Via PM, and I'd like to accept. I think it'd be an interesting thing to put a kind of 'emotionless' character in the midst of so many others.

[/SPOILER]

InsanEleven · Nov 22, 2015

Ambriel Ephemera

The Lady of light; Amy to 'friends'

"We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light."- Plato

age

: 27

weight

: 67kg (~145 pounds)

height

: 1m 81 (~6"1')

hair colour

: Black

eye colour

: Black, with perhaps a brown glint in bright light
- Compassionate

- Entrepreneurial

- Strong willed

- Charitable (if you are deemed worthy)

- Conservational/traditional

- Only decides on her own idea of 'good'

- Manipulative

- Unworthy/unfaithful = death.

The Lady of Light; the kindest inquisitor you'll ever meet. Unless you are her enemy of course. Most people simply adore this young, compassionate woman that seems to have no limits to the light in her heart... if you look at it from the right side. Let us suppose for now you are on her right side, what you see is someone who is capable of great gifts, who seemingly knows exactly to what purpose she must extend her wealth and power to save the beggars and orphans. Those who have hit a low, who are about to be pulled into darkness, they have a wonderful guardian angel in her. The problem rises once you are part of the darkness, and for someone who is deemed so light and bright... the dark is quickly reached.

Most forget that for someone to reach such levels of power and influence as her, one has to be able to be cold and calculating. Those who have worked closer with her, can tell you that the image of a glowing angel is suited perhaps least to her or her immediate family. Her reign is untwisted, and those who try to put a wedge in her empire... those she accuses of that, those wouldn't even have fingers left to wedge between anything. Many would doubt that her charitable work is little more than a ruse to keep her image bright and shiny, while in fact this is only a cover to hide her personal vendetta against those people... or as she likes to call them 'things' that have no place in her perfect world. Ateromancers are the most clear example, but one also has to think about people of other religions, minorities that try to maintain their own culture, or even people that ask too many questions.
Birthday: third of march

Ambriel descents from a noble family that has held power for a long long time. She was born to be a leader, to uphold traditions and culture... or force them through people's throats. Could one really be mad at her knowing that she is everything she was raised to be? And in a way her family has done a lot of good to a lot of people, it just became complicated once you fell out of their definition of people. Her lineage stems from a time when things were easier, when good and bad had a clear line, and it seems like it is impossible for her to conceive of a worldview that does not abide to that ancient divide her family set up for her.

At a young age she started learning the way of entrepreneurs, becoming proficient in both manipulation and manners. Once she was given her own rule of a part of the church, she quickly turned it into one of the more successful and well-known sects. Goodwill and charity on the outside, a cold, efficient machine inside. Those that will not do business with her on a kind, partnership level, shall be blackmailed and bend into obedience. It helps that her superficial innocent and young appearance makes people think she can't be that powerful, some even think that her husband is behind it all. This would be petty thinking though, her husband is merely for show and external appearances and probably even more like a mental slave than the businesses she forcefully obtained. If he hadn't been there, it would have made little difference, she simply does what she wants, when she wants it... and she always wants everything now.
Ambriel is a skilled summoner, though her family would call her a priestess. She has a peculiar list of magical companions, that share all of her values. They represent her desire to hunt down those that she wants gone, having a large portion of free will, and she trusts them completely. As all summoned creatures, they can not be killed, merely be delayed or banished, with her capable of recalling them immediately after they die, though this takes a while. Her followers regard these as holy, praying to them and there is even a superstition around them that those who see the creatures are blessed. Those who do not follow her... to them it is a death sentence.

The dearest treasure of The Lady, one not gifted with magic would never know that this creature is magic to begin with. Unlike the other two creatures, this one is regarded as evil often. The name is Midnight, and it's powers are related to scouting mostly. The Lady can take control of it's movements, targets and senses; either all senses, some senses, or halfway in the background. She knows it's position aswell, giving her a powerful tool to locate possible 'things'.

The falcon isn't usually seen, mostly because people never look up. This companion combines scouting with attacking, having the abilities of both. Though the Lady cannot share senses, the bird can share senses with the other two creatures, basically being the 'alpha' and tactical brain behind the hunt. Besides that, as a last resort, it can dive bomb the target if it is somehow about to get away, literally; the bird erupts in white fire, obliterating anything in a large area. It can decide to do so on it's own, but it siphons the magic of the Lady incredibly, dissolving the other companions and leaving her weakened for days.

The wolf is the ground force of the three, usually doing the dirty work. It has the ability to catch on fire, or set it's target on fire, basically destroying evidence in the progress. This fire can be controlled precise by the Lady if she wants, burning only the target and nothing else. Besides that it has the ability to be forgotten by people that aren't it's target and haven't seen it's flames, leaving none or very few witnesses to these crimes. This lends to it's mythical, blessed status, despite roaming in free daylight.
Though the Lady rarely ever interferes herself, she does have some gear for when she does. Her weapon of choice is a cane sword, which allows her to strike swift and unseen on people who do not expect it. Besides that she has beautifully crafted ceremonial armour passed down through her family, which is enchanted and has some magical properties of it's own. The armour allows her to channel her raw magic, casting white fire similar to how a wizard would, though this only works if she banishes all her companions and she does not have equal mana to a full wizard as there is a third element involved.

Sometimes she will lead excavations in such a manner, usually when it is about dark artefacts or history she does not approve of. Her family has a dark past, and some ruins contain books about atrocities they have tried to find and destroy for ages. Some works on black magic and Rajab's beloved rituals are also sought after and burnt the moment they are found. In a way she actually has a somewhat similar obsession, except it is to destroy them. Either way, she will ruin any archaeologist's day if it means she can have her control of the past.

Spazzycat101 · Nov 22, 2015

Elvengarda said:
Ambriel Ephemera

The Lady of light; Amy to friends

"We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light."- Plato

appearance
personality
Background
magics
equipment

age

: 27

weight

: 67kg (~145 pounds)

height

: 1m 81 (~6"1')

hair colour

: Black

eye colour

: Black, with perhaps a brown glint in bright light

- Compassionate

- Entrepreneurial

- Strong willed

- Charitable (if you are deemed worthy)

- Conservational/traditional

- Only decides on her own idea of 'good'

- Manipulative

- Unworthy/unfaithful = death.

The Lady of Light; the kindest inquisitor you'll ever meet. Unless you are her enemy of course. Most people simply adore this young, compassionate woman that seems to have no limits to the light in her heart... if you look at it from the right side. Let us suppose for now you are on her right side, what you see is someone who is capable of great gifts, who seemingly knows exactly to what purpose she must extend her wealth and power to save the beggars and orphans. Those who have hit a low, who are about to be pulled into darkness, they have a wonderful guardian angel in her. The problem rises once you are part of the darkness, and for someone who is deemed so light and bright... the dark is quickly reached.

Most forget that for someone to reach such levels of power and influence as her, one has to be able to be cold and calculating. Those who have worked closer with her, can tell you that the image of a glowing angel is suited perhaps least to her or her immediate family. Her reign is untwisted, and those who try to put a wedge in her empire... those she accuses of that, those wouldn't even have fingers left to wedge between anything. Many would doubt that her charitable work is little more than a ruse to keep her image bright and shiny, while in fact this is only a cover to hide her personal vendetta against those people... or as she likes to call them 'things' that have no place in her perfect world. Ateromancers are the most clear example, but one also has to think about people of other religions, minorities that try to maintain their own culture, or even people that ask too many questions.

Birthday: third of march

Ambriel descents from a noble family that has held power for a long long time. She was born to be a leader, to uphold traditions and culture... or force them through people's throats. Could one really be mad at her knowing that she is everything she was raised to be? And in a way her family has done a lot of good to a lot of people, it just became complicated once you fell out of their definition of people. Her lineage stems from a time when things were easier, when good and bad had a clear line, and it seems like it is impossible for her to conceive of a worldview that does not abide to that ancient divide her family set up for her.

At a young age she started learning the way of entrepreneurs, becoming proficient in both manipulation and manners. Once she was given her own rule of a part of the church, she quickly turned it into one of the more successful and well-known sects. Goodwill and charity on the outside, a cold, efficient machine inside. Those that will not do business with her on a kind, partnership level, shall be blackmailed and bend into obedience. It helps that her superficial innocent and young appearance makes people think she can't be that powerful, some even think that her husband is behind it all. This would be petty thinking though, her husband is merely for show and external appearances and probably even more like a mental slave than the businesses she forcefully obtained. If he hadn't been there, it would have made little difference, she simply does what she wants, when she wants it... and she always wants everything now.

Ambriel is a skilled summoner, though her family would call her a priestess. She has a peculiar list of magical companions, that share all of her values. They represent her desire to hunt down those that she wants gone, having a large portion of free will, and she trusts them completely. As all summoned creatures, they can not be killed, merely be delayed or banished, with her capable of recalling them immediately after they die, though this takes a while. Her followers regard these as holy, praying to them and there is even a superstition around them that those who see the creatures are blessed. Those who do not follow her... to them it is a death sentence.

The dearest treasure of The Lady, one not gifted with magic would never know that this creature is magic to begin with. Unlike the other two creatures, this one is regarded as evil often. The name is Midnight, and it's powers are related to scouting mostly. The Lady can take control of it's movements, targets and senses; either all senses, some senses, or halfway in the background. She knows it's position aswell, giving her a powerful tool to locate possible 'things'.

The eagle isn't usually seen, mostly because people never look up. This companion combines scouting with attacking, having the abilities of both. Though the Lady cannot share senses, the bird can share senses with the other two creatures, basically being the 'alpha' and tactical brain behind the hunt. Besides that, as a last resort, it can dive bomb the target if it is somehow about to get away, literally; the bird erupts in white fire, obliterating anything in a large area. It can decide to do so on it's own, but it siphons the magic of the Lady incredibly, dissolving the other companions and leaving her weakened for days.

The wolf is the ground force of the three, usually doing the dirty work. It has the ability to catch on fire, or set it's target on fire, basically destroying evidence in the progress. This fire can be controlled precise by the Lady if she wants, burning only the target and nothing else. Besides that it has the ability to be forgotten by people that aren't it's target and haven't seen it's flames, leaving none or very few witnesses to these crimes. This lends to it's mythical, blessed status, despite roaming in free daylight.

Though the Lady rarely ever interferes herself, she does have some gear for when she does. Her weapon of choice is a cane sword, which allows her to strike swift and unseen on people who do not expect it. Besides that she has beautifully crafted ceremonial armour passed down through her family, which is enchanted and has some magical properties of it's own. The armour allows her to channel her raw magic, casting white fire similar to how a wizard would, though this only works if she banishes all her companions and she does not have equal mana to a full wizard as there is a third element involved.

Sometimes she will lead excavations in such a manner, usually when it is about dark artefacts or history she does not approve of. Her family has a dark past, and some ruins contain books about atrocities they have tried to find and destroy for ages. Some works on black magic and Rajab's beloved rituals are also sought after and burnt the moment they are found. In a way she actually has a somewhat similar obsession, except it is to destroy them. Either way, she will ruin any archaeologist's day if it means she can have her control of the past.

So, may I inquire as to if her summoning magic is specialized it not? If it is, I'm assuming the element is fire. If so, then that would imply that she can summon various creatures relating to fire by using runes and the love element. Not only that, but it seems she also practices some form of light magic. A single mage would hardly be able to harness multiple magics in the same lifetime.

Otherwise, I do quite like this character.

BookWyrm · Nov 23, 2015

[image]

[/image]

Name: "Father" Valter Ludwig

Nickname: Nox

Race: Human(Corrupt)

Age: 30

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Occupation: Ex-Inquisitor

Appearance: Valter stands at 6'0, and weighs 165. His natural grey hair and pale complexion, on top of his red eyes, give him an eerie appearance. He is lithe and slender, though incredibly strong despite his lean appearnace.

Personality: Valter is a dark and cruel man, if not an overly practical and intelligent one as well. He has a cool intellect and a cunning and sharp mind, taking dark satisfaction in mentally crushing his enemies before finally killing them. In his mind the more excruciating the death the more he enjoys it. While he is quiet and reserved, even unsocial around others, Valter comes alive when hunting, taking great pleasure in fighting and hunting a challenging opponent, though he rarely find any who hold to his standards. He is incredibly loyal to his cause and will stop at nothing short of completing his task once he has set his mind to something.
Skills

Valter is an extremely intelligent individual. Having access to higher learning opportunities from a young age he excelled in his studies as well as in his ability to learn quickly.

Valter is an adept tracker and hunter, his many years serving as an inquisitor benefiting from his raw talent.

Valter possess a developed "sixth sense", or deduction intuition, giving him an edge when it comes to reading people and discerning lies.

Abilties

Valter is a skilled fighter and specializes in unorthodox weapons of his own design.

Valter has taught himself to read and harness the dark power of the forbidden Runes. The Eldritch words and inscriptions gave him power beyond most of his former comrades, but at the cost of his humanity.

Rune of the Night's Embrace

When the power in this Rune is tapped Valter reveals his true form, the corrupt facade of the Night Brood.

With the power of the Dark Runes Valter's natural abilities, such as his strength, stamina, speed, and reflexes, are enhanced, though it is directly dependent on the Rune of the Moon for how long Valter is able to sustain this form.

Rune of the Moon

This Rune is affected by the phases of the moon. It is at it's strongest during a full moon, especially a Blood Moon eclipse, and it's weakest during a new moon phase. The phases directly affect how much the moon amplifies Valter's abilities.

The cost of the use of these Runes, which have been branded into his soul, is that has been transformed into a Night Brood. This means that he is weakest during the day, especially in direct sunlight, and must sustain himself on blood to survive.
Chain Sword

A large sword made of interconnected blade-like sections that can separate and reconnect at the will of it's wielder. Infused with Valter's own blood, this cruel weapon is directly linked to him, giving him full control over when where it connects or separates.
Valter was raised in a well off Noble family with strong ties to the church. He grew up in a stable home, though he always seemed to be aloof or whimsical at times, having a dread fascination with the macabre and Eldritch stories from a young age. As he grew he developed a keen intellect and deadly skills in combat, outmatching opponents twice his size and age with ease and finesse. When he came of age Valter was approached by the head Inquisitor, they had taken notice of his talents and thought he could be an asset. The training honed his raw talents into a fierce enemy to behold, though he slowly began to accept the contracts more out of bloodlust than out of duty. When he was found mercilessly slaughtering his targets Valter was excommunicated.

Estranged by the churches' seemingly weak approach to his duty and enraged by his excommunication, Valter swore he would continue his duty to cleanse the impure on his own. He began to seek out knowledge of the Forbidden Runes, ancient and powerful tools forged in blood and darkness that were said to grant untold power. Valter found the knowledge, though he never expected the cost it would take to earn this power. Corrupt by the inhuman power, Valter continues to hunt those he deems "impure", no matter who they are.

Spazzycat101 · Nov 23, 2015

BookWyrm said:
Profile
Skills and Abilities
Equipment
Backstory

[image]

[/image]

Name: "Father" Valter Ludwig

Nickname: Nox

Race: Human(Corrupt)

Age: 30

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Occupation: Ex-Inquisitor

Appearance: Valter stands at 6'0, and weighs 165. His natural grey hair and pale complexion, on top of his red eyes, give him an eerie appearance. He is lithe and slender, though incredibly strong despite his lean appearnace.

Personality: Valter is a dark and cruel man, if not an overly practical and intelligent one as well. He has a cool intellect and a cunning and sharp mind, taking dark satisfaction in mentally crushing his enemies before finally killing them. In his mind the more excruciating the death the more he enjoys it. While he is quiet and reserved, even unsocial around others, Valter comes alive when hunting, taking great pleasure in fighting and hunting a challenging opponent, though he rarely find any who hold to his standards. He is incredibly loyal to his cause and will stop at nothing short of completing his task once he has set his mind to something.

Skills

Valter is an extremely intelligent individual. Having access to higher learning opportunities from a young age he excelled in his studies as well as in his ability to learn quickly.

Valter is an adept tracker and hunter, his many years serving as an inquisitor benefiting from his raw talent.

Valter possess a developed sixth sense and deduction intuition, giving him an edge when it comes to reading people and discerning lies.

Abilties

Valter is a skilled fighter and specializes in unorthodox weapons of his own design.

Valter has taught himself to read and harness the dark power of the forbidden Runes. The Eldritch words and inscriptions gave him power beyond most of his former comrades, but at the cost of his humanity.

Rune of the Night's Embrace

When the power in this Rune is tapped Valter reveals his true form, the corrupt facade of the Night Brood.

With the power of the Dark Runes Valter's natural abilities, such as his strength, stamina, speed, and reflexes, are enhanced, though it is directly dependent on the Rune of the Moon for how long Valter is able to sustain this form.

Rune of the Moon

This Rune is affected by the phases of the moon. It is at it's strongest during a full moon, especially a Blood Moon eclipse, and it's weakest during a new moon phase. The phases directly affect how much the moon amplifies Valter's abilities.

The cost of the use of these Runes, which have been branded into his soul, is that has been transformed into a Night Brood. This means that he is weakest during the day, especially in direct sunlight, and must sustain himself on blood to survive.

Chain Sword

A large sword made of interconnected blade-like sections that can separate and reconnect at the will of it's wielder. Infused with Valter's own blood, this cruel weapon is directly linked to him, giving him full control over when where it connects or separates.

Valter was raised in a well off Noble family with strong ties to the church. He grew up in a stable home, though he always seemed to be aloof or whimsical at times, having a dread fascination with the macabre and Eldritch stories from a young age. As he grew he developed a keen intellect and deadly skills in combat, outmatching opponents twice his size and age with ease and finesse. When he came of age Valter was approached by the head Inquisitor, they had taken notice of his talents and thought he could be an asset. The training honed his raw talents into a fierce enemy to behold, though he slowly began to accept the contracts more out of bloodlust than out of duty. When he was found mercilessly slaughtering his targets Valter was excommunicated.

Estranged by the churches' seemingly weak approach to his duty and enraged by his excommunication, Valter swore he would continue his duty to cleanse the impure on his own. He began to seek out knowledge of the Forbidden Runes, ancient and powerful tools forged in blood and darkness that were said to grant untold power. Valter found the knowledge, though he never expected the cost it would take to earn this power. Corrupt by the inhuman power, Valter continues to hunt those he deems "impure", no matter who they are.

I like this character, it's a clever introduction of the concept of a vampire or similar creature (<.<) into a world in which none exist. This is, however, quickly introducing another form of the Eldritch magics, and we've got two more lost-but-somewhat-related magics already. It would be cool if we could refrain from continuing to add to magics that weren't part of the original lore in the first place. Also, it would be appreciated if you could tone down the 'sixth sense' thing, possibly into what is simply a very practiced trait. That way, he can still be learned in detecting lies, but there is also still a level of uncertainty as to whether he is right or wrong.

Also, @Elvengarda and everyone else who intends to make a second character, I'd like to wait until we have at least two more users who've signed up before we start adding more of our own characters into the mix.

BookWyrm · Nov 23, 2015

I pretty much meant it as a practiced trait. When you spend your entire adult life hunting liars you learn how to tell when people are lying.

And more or less the Runes were simply the way of introducing vampirism, so not necessarily magic per say. Note the only thing it does is enhance his abilities instead of allowing him manipulation of "whatever" said energy.

Spazzycat101 · Nov 23, 2015

BookWyrm said:
I pretty much meant it as a practiced trait. When you spend your entire adult life hunting liars you learn how to tell when people are lying.
And more or less the Runes were simply the way of introducing vampirism, so not necessarily magic per say. Note the only thing it does is enhance his abilities instead of allowing him manipulation of "whatever" said energy.

Alrighty then, I just misunderstood.

And yes, I do realize that it's not very OP in that aspect, but its relation to the other magics is pushing the train of extra magics even faster downhill. I'll accept this one, but dark, hidden magics are supposed to be hidden. I did mention that I'd like people to suggest magics that they'd like to use if it didn't violate the pre-set magics here, but I did come up with all the original magics for a reason. I'm going to have to restrain he amount of dark wizards that can join at this rate. ^-^"

Dragongal · Nov 23, 2015

[image]

[/image]

Name: Hope Bennet

Nickname: Fate

Race: Human?

Age: Young, about eighteen

Maturity: Unknown

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Occupation: GM's puppet = Fate's Runner

Appearance: As pictured above, but her hair is a darker red and her ears are not pointed.

Personality: Hope is very kind, caring, and sweet, also rather quiet. She likes helping humans often, but is limited and cannot directly interfere without due reason. Very empathetic and sympathetic. Intrigued by people.

NOT MY SECOND CHARACTER, THIS IS GMING CHARACTER
Skills

Include all non-combat capabilities of your character here.

+ Disappearance: Hope can disappear and reappear when and where she wishes. However, she is not allowed to be seen too often.

+Selective Appearance: Only those she wants to see her can see her, though it's often easier to just allow anyone and everyone to see her. It is not as if a dog could smell her out, she is simply not there to others, there is no way to see her unless she permits it or she does not have her staff, in which case a spell could make her visible to all.

+Lucky Day: Hope can manipulate certain chance-based things like a rolling dice, if the situation calls for it.

+Foresight: Hope can see what will happen, and is therefore able to prevent it; at least, she would be if she weren't bound by rules.

+Honesty: You cannot lie to Hope. She will know.

All abilities are bound to her staff. She cannot disappear if she is in contact with another person.

Abilties

Include all combat credentials of your character here.

Pause: Hope can pause or slow the passage of time, affecting just herself, or a select few individuals.

Holy Lights: Shadows and spirits of darkness are banished from the area she is in.

Healing: If permitted, she can heal wounds, but she cannot bring someone back from death.

All abilities require her staff.
Fate's Staff

Hope's staff allows her to do her job as Fate's Runner. This involves telling individuals where certain things are, guiding people, adjusting chances, etc. However, she must be PERMITTED before she can affect anything. She is usually only permitted if it would help the world over, or is some form of recompense to an individual.
No.

Xyilver · Nov 24, 2015

Name: Erideus Cain

Nickname: Dei, Zeus, Shogun of Thunder

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Age: 35

Maturity: Same
Erideus on first glance comes across as a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky man on the verge of childishness. Possessing of a hearty laugh, he enjoys challenges, a good beer and the company of friends. The eternal center of attention, he makes up for a lack of charisma with a forceful friendliness that others cannot help but go along with. Alongside this is a seemingly endless source of energy from which he draws his cheery attitude.

That said, when encountering matters of little interest to him, he generally takes a lackadaisical approach and can be almost insufferable to deal with. Outside of his main enjoyments the man is relatively indifferent to his surroundings, preferring to laze around instead of making productive use of his time. However, he is a gentleman at heart, kind to children and women and a strong believer in moral justice; something that shakes him out of his usual indifference.

In battle though, Erideus takes on a wholly different attitude. His battle persona can only be described as battle hungry, taking on multiple challengers at a time in an effort to show off his strength. While still retaining his logic and senses, he becomes more brutal and excitable with great confidence in his abilities, especially against weak enemies. Even against those that are on par or are stronger than him, Erideus doesn't hesitate to go head on, being able to think and adapt strategies on the spot to fuel his hunger for a good fight.

This doesn't mean that he is a berserker without fear though. Faced with an overwhelmingly powerful enemy, even Erideus knows when a battle cannot be won and while not forfeiting the challenge, takes increased caution.

Belying all this is a darker and more mysterious personality that Erideus rarely shows others; in this persona he becomes increasingly serious and callous towards others, even friends. He grows ruthless against enemies and while not consumed by it, seems to irradiate with a dark blood lust and hatred. Not much is known about this, but it seems he reacts thusly against a certain group of individuals only, something that is linked to his equally enigmatic past.
At 7'2, Erideus easily towers above the average man with his immense stature and build. Rather than a human, a better description for him would be that of a hulking wall of muscle. Possessing of iron hard defined muscles that compose his huge body, it is not a stretch to say that his very presence is intimidating or at the very least daunting to look at.

As for his face, the mage sports a handsome look befitting of his age. Not that of a suave young man but a rugged image to whom time has been kind to. Instead of diluting his good looks, the effect of time has only left him with an even more dignified roughness in his middle age. This, alongside his unkempt shoulder length of black and unshaven appearance, has given him an aura of burly wisdom.

To further compliment this, his clothes are a traditional samurai garb, with the sleeves and most of the upper torso hanging loosely at his waist to show off his finely sculpted features. Paired with wooden clogs that only increase his already giant size and an odachi that is effectively a katana in his hands, Erideus is a magnificent spectacle to see in his own right.
Magic Type: Lightning

Erideus, rather than directly using offensive magic, specialises in augmenting his physical attacks by infusing both his weapon and body with an aura of electricity to increase the offensive potential and range of attacks.

Magical Equipment: Rosary Beads

By equipping special magic infused rosary beads on his person, Erideus can increase the vastness of his lightning aura to twice it's size, effectively forming an armor.

Weaponry: Shiroyukihime (Odachi)

Shiroyukihime is the name given by Erideus to his odachi; by itself it has no special function. It is merely a very well crafted sword, smithed by a master swordsmith with a special rare alloy that allows it not only to endure the forces that Erideus subjects it to but also be sharp enough to cut through flesh like butter. In fact, Erideus claims that it can slice the very air itself although that may just be him boasting outrageously.

Other Talents:

Outside of magic, Erideus is an extremely competent martial artist both in hand-to-hand combat and swordsmanship. Having undergone rigorous training under the tutelage of various masters, his skill is reflective of the years of training he underwent. While not a true prodigy at the martial arts, his battle senses have been honed to masterful levels and his talent is not to be laughed about, easily taking on beasts twice his size.

Not only so, but due to his massive build and size he possesses strength past that of a normal person, able to lift in excess of 400 kilos of weight where a single punch can cause severe internal damage to the average Joe. Due to his huge size however, he is not particularly agile and while not sluggish, his movement speed leaves much to be desired.

Perhaps his best asset however, is his refined intellect. While one would assume that an individual with his strength is all brawn and no brains, this is far from the truth; Erideus possesses a powerful battle intellect capable of adapting strategies on the spot according to his opponent. Out of battle he still retains much of that intelligence, being able to comprehend difficult concepts with relative ease.
Backstory: To Be Revealed. All that is known as of now is that he was raised an orphan and spent the last 32 years of his life since he became able to walk training in the martial arts, discovering magic only at the age of 18.
Boom.

A loud thud rang as the ground shook beneath their feet.

Boom.

There it was again. By now the entire wooden foundation of the inn was rocking, sending sawdust falling like golden snow. Within the inn customers started to panic. Was it an earthquake? But the ground didn't feel like it was trembling; it felt more like some huge weight had cause it to vibrate. And when the door flew open they got their answer.

Ducking through the doorframe and into the establishment was a giant of a man, his silhouette cast upon his own body because he was so large that the sun had been all but blocked out. Some of the inn sat there, in marvel or amazement or shock or just stunned at the sight of the man. Others fainted at the sight of the huge stranger. Still others watched speechless as the man sat himself down at the bar table, taking up two seats all by himself.

"W-what can I get for you today sir?" asked the barkeep. As the doors closed and the lighting readjusted, the latter could finally see the full profile of the giant before him. On close inspection, it was not merely that this man was huge. He was a hulk in all senses of the world, with firm bulging muscles. If he were merely big sized it would be impressive enough but his mere appearance commanded an aura of fear. It wouldn't be a good idea to mess with him.

A gruff voice answered him, "A mug, wait no, three mugs of your best." The barkeep nodded, smiling to himself as he walked towards the huge barrels of malted beverage. Three mugs straight off the bat. Regardless of his stature, this was a well-paying customer and either a foolhardy newbie or a seasoned drinker.

"Enjoy," came the response as the three mugs were delivered onto the table and, as the barkeep watched in amazement, were downed in a matter of seconds. It was insane thinking about how much beer that one man had just drunk in so little time. He hadn't once in his years of working seen someone drink that fast and for a moment the fear wrenched in his gut once again. What if the beer was foul? He could hardly bring himself to imagine this man in a rage.

"You."

A voice snapped him out of his train of thought to the rugged face of the man, mere inches from his face. "Y-yes??" He gulped.

"One mug for everyone. On me."

"What?"

"One mug," the man begun once again, this time loud enough for the entire inn to hear, "for everyone. ON ME!" It wasn't aggressive as much as it was forceful and as everyone in the inn begun to understand the words, a loud cheer replaced the tense silence that had previously filled the establishment.

Spazzycat101 · Nov 25, 2015

Xyilver said:
Basic Info
Personality
Appearance
Skills and Equipment
History
Writing Sample

Name: Erideus Cain

Nickname: Mage of Symphonies, Dei, Warmage, Sonic Fist

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Age: 35

Maturity: Same

Erideus on first glance comes across as a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky man on the verge of childishness. Possessing of a hearty laugh, he enjoys challenges, a good beer and the company of friends. The eternal center of attention, he makes up for a lack of charisma with a forceful friendliness that others cannot help but go along with. Alongside this is a seemingly endless source of energy from which he draws his cheery attitude.

That said, when encountering matters of little interest to him, he generally takes a lackadaisical approach and can be almost insufferable to deal with. Outside of his main enjoyments the man is relatively indifferent to his surroundings, preferring to laze around instead of making productive use of his time. However, he is a gentleman at heart, kind to children and women and a strong believer in moral justice; something that shakes him out of his usual indifference.

In battle though, Erideus takes on a wholly different attitude. His battle persona can only be described as battle hungry, taking on multiple challengers at a time in an effort to show off his strength. While still retaining his logic and senses, he becomes more brutal and excitable with great confidence in his abilities, especially against weak enemies. Even against those that are on par or are stronger than him, Erideus doesn't hesitate to go head on, being able to think and adapt strategies on the spot to fuel his hunger for a good fight.

This doesn't mean that he is a berserker without fear though. Faced with an overwhelmingly powerful enemy, even Erideus knows when a battle cannot be won and while not forfeiting the challenge, takes increased caution.

Belying all this is a darker and more mysterious personality that Erideus rarely shows others; in this persona he becomes increasingly serious and callous towards others, even friends. He grows ruthless against enemies and while not consumed by it, seems to irradiate with a dark blood lust and hatred. Not much is known about this, but it seems he reacts thusly against a certain group of individuals only, something that is linked to his equally enigmatic past.

At 7'2, Erideus easily towers above the average man with his immense stature and build. Rather than a human, a better description for him would be that of a hulking wall of muscle. Possessing of iron hard defined muscles that compose his huge body, it is not a stretch to say that his very presence is intimidating or at the very least daunting to look at.

As for his face, the mage sports a handsome look befitting of his age. Not that of a suave young man but a rugged image to whom time has been kind to. Instead of diluting his good looks, the effect of time has only left him with an even more dignified roughness in his middle age. This, alongside his unkempt shoulder length of black and unshaven appearance, has given him an aura of burly wisdom.

To further compliment this, his clothes are a traditional samurai garb, with the sleeves and most of the upper torso hanging loosely at his waist to show off his finely sculpted features. Paired with wooden clogs that only increase his already giant size and an odachi that is effectively a katana in his hands, Erideus is a magnificent spectacle to see in his own right.

Magic Type: Sound

Erideus, as his nickname and title might suggest, utilizes the 'dead' magic of sound. Specifically, he is able to manipulate the sound pressure of any sound he produces, thereby being able to create near silence where they should be loud sound and amplifying a shout into a concussive force. The limitation of this ability is that it's effects begin to weaken progressively out of hearing distance of the original sound.

Magical Equipment: Rosary Beads

By equipping special magic infused rosary beads on his person, Erideus can increase the maximum range of his magic in the same way that a speaker amplifies sound. Upping the magnitude of the sound, Erideus can tenfold the effective range of his magic.

Weaponry: Shiroyukihime (Odachi)

Shiroyukihime is the name given by Erideus to his odachi; by itself it has no special function. It is merely a very well crafted sword, smithed by a master swordsmith with a special rare alloy that allows it not only to endure the forces that Erideus subjects it to but also be sharp enough to cut through flesh like butter. In fact, Erideus claims that it can slice the very air itself although that may just be him boasting outrageously. In any case, the already dangerous weapon becomes even more dangerous in Erideus' hands, due to his immense strength and the sound generated from swings can be further amplified into concussive blasts using his magic.

Other Talents:

Outside of magic, Erideus is an extremely competent martial artist both in hand-to-hand combat and swordsmanship. Having undergone rigorous training under the tutelage of various masters, his skill is reflective of the years of training he underwent. While not a true prodigy at the martial arts, his battle senses have been honed to masterful levels and his talent is not to be laughed about, easily taking on beasts twice his size.

Not only so, but due to his massive build and size he possesses strength past that of a normal person, able to lift in excess of 800 kilos of weight where a single punch can cause severe internal damage to the average Joe. Perhaps the greatest testament to his nigh inhuman strength is that he can swing his sword, which an untrained man can hardly pick up, at such a speed that it cuts cleanly through the air without resistance, leaving a vacuum gap. Due to his huge size however, he is not particularly agile and while he is fast in comparison to his stature, a well trained individual would be able to dodge even his fastest physical attacks with only slight difficulty.

Perhaps his best asset however, is his refined intellect. While one would assume that an individual with his strength is all brawn and no brains, this is far from the truth; Erideus possesses a battle intellect that can easily outwit most men and form strategies on the spot by assessing his enemies' abilities and patterns. Out of battle he still retains much of that intelligence, being able to comprehend difficult concepts with relative ease.

Backstory: To Be Revealed. All that is known as of now is that he was raised an orphan and spent the last 32 years of his life since he became able to walk training in the martial arts, discovering magic only at the age of 18.

Boom.

A loud thud rang as the ground shook beneath their feet.

Boom.

There it was again. By now the entire wooden foundation of the inn was rocking, sending sawdust falling like golden snow. Within the inn customers started to panic. Was it an earthquake? But the ground didn't feel like it was trembling; it felt more like some huge weight had cause it to vibrate. And when the door flew open they got their answer.

Ducking through the doorframe and into the establishment was a giant of a man, his silhouette cast upon his own body because he was so large that the sun had been all but blocked out. Some of the inn sat there, in marvel or amazement or shock or just stunned at the sight of the man. Others fainted at the sight of the huge stranger. Still others watched speechless as the man sat himself down at the bar table, taking up two seats all by himself.

"W-what can I get for you today sir?" asked the barkeep. As the doors closed and the lighting readjusted, the latter could finally see the full profile of the giant before him. On close inspection, it was not merely that this man was huge. He was a hulk in all senses of the world, with firm bulging muscles. If he were merely big sized it would be impressive enough but his mere appearance commanded an aura of fear. It wouldn't be a good idea to mess with him.

A gruff voice answered him, "A mug, wait no, three mugs of your best." The barkeep nodded, smiling to himself as he walked towards the huge barrels of malted beverage. Three mugs straight off the bat. Regardless of his stature, this was a well-paying customer and either a foolhardy newbie or a seasoned drinker.

"Enjoy," came the response as the three mugs were delivered onto the table and, as the barkeep watched in amazement, were downed in a matter of seconds. It was insane thinking about how much beer that one man had just drunk in so little time. He hadn't once in his years of working seen someone drink that fast and for a moment the fear wrenched in his gut once again. What if the beer was foul? He could hardly bring himself to imagine this man in a rage.

"You."

A voice snapped him out of his train of thought to the rugged face of the man, mere inches from his face. "Y-yes??" He gulped.

"One mug for everyone. On me."

"What?"

"One mug," the man begun once again, this time loud enough for the entire inn to hear, "for everyone. ON ME!" It wasn't aggressive as much as it was forceful and as everyone in the inn begun to understand the words, a loud cheer replaced the tense silence that had previously filled the establishment.

This character... I just can't get around it. It's OP.

First of all, I'm not farmiliar with the metric system of measurement, but 800 kilograms is a lot. Not only is that unrealistic, but someone so massive as that would hardly be a very swift figure, as you state he is. Even without sound magic, this is unrealistic for a human.

Then, when you toss in that magic, it gets a whole lot more powerful. Sound magic alone has a great potential for power due to allowance of crazy science phenomenons, as long as they can be explained. Adding that to an already overdone character pushed it farther over the edge than it already is. Sorry but this one's rejected for now.

Xyilver · Nov 25, 2015

Well actually the heaviest weight lifted by a real human is 2000kg. But ok.

Edited.

Fantasy Aerial Distinction

GryphonABLaZ(E). Lawful chaotic good

GryphonABLaZ(E). Lawful chaotic good

Thar Be Dragons

Junior Member

Attachments

GryphonABLaZ(E). Lawful chaotic good

King Allyn the Autistic

GryphonABLaZ(E). Lawful chaotic good

Miss Medic

GryphonABLaZ(E). Lawful chaotic good

Making America Great Again.

Attachments

GryphonABLaZ(E). Lawful chaotic good

Carpe Librum

GryphonABLaZ(E). Lawful chaotic good

Fool's Errant

GryphonABLaZ(E). Lawful chaotic good

King Allyn the Autistic

GryphonABLaZ(E). Lawful chaotic good

Carpe Librum

GryphonABLaZ(E). Lawful chaotic good

Carpe Librum

GryphonABLaZ(E). Lawful chaotic good

Miss Medic

Incarnation of Insanity

GryphonABLaZ(E). Lawful chaotic good

Incarnation of Insanity

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