Fantasy CAINHURST - Character Sheets

[Avari]

CHARACTER SHEETS​

Also please note that some roles are limited in number, if we hit the cap - these won't be first come first serve, but best ideas and characters. I know this might be frustrating but I hope you understand!
No characters will be accepted for at least a week as we nail down lore details and make sure everything fits nicely together!

Character Sheet
BASIC INFORMATION
Name: (The full name of the Character)
Age:
Gender: (Male/Female/Other)
Role: (Cainhurst/Dark Maiden/Bloodguard/Noble/Servant or anything else you'd like do do)
Race: (Species. If you're going for someone not Human, please check lore first thankie )

PERSONAL
Sexuality: (Self explanatory)
High Concept: (A single sentence summary of who your character is)
Personality: (Describe your characters attitude and general demeanor along with likes and dislikes. Detail good!)
Backstory: (Try to make 3-4 paragraphs if you can, but it varies character to character. Feel to chat to me for ideas and brainstorming!)
Hometown: (The Aether map is available with brief location names, your character does not NEED to be from Hollowvale but probably is)

PHYSICAL
Appearance: (A picture is preferable, but a good description is also fine. Aim for fantasy/anime. No real face claims thanks!)
Items & Personal Belongings: (Any unique notes)
Abilities: (Not looking for a DnD style skill list, more an idea of your characters specialty and what they're good at as well as any unique abilities)
Weaknesses: (Be realistic - what are your characters blind spots? What do they struggle with? Fear?)

Theme: (Musical theme)

Please make sure sheets are mobile friendly thanks. No fancy code pleeeeaseeee

 

[Avari]

SEVERA CAINHURST
THE SPIDER LILY



Age
29

Gender
Female

Role
Child of Cainhurst

Race
Human

PERSONAL

Sexuality
Bisexual

High Concept
The oldest of Ulfric's surviving children and Crown Princess of Blackrock, Severa rules as the kingdom's second in command.

Personality
"Oh, my sweet darling baby brother. If anything were to happen to you I would drown this whole castle in blood."

Beautiful, cunning and deadly - Severa encompasses everything a Cainhurst should be. Ruthless and bloodthirsty, Severa is widely known for murdering those who threaten her family or her position without a second thought, and has earned her feared moniker "The Spider Lily" for her brutal enforcement of Cainhurst supremacy. Indeed, many of the nobles of the Black Court fear her almost as much as they do Ulfric himself which is... quite the achievement. There are even whispers and rumors circulated in trusted circles that Severa may have been responsible for the "disappearance" of her older (and far madder) brother - Lucien. Her use of dark magic over the decades has rendered her susceptible to mood swings and paranoia.

While feared for her bloodthirsty reputation, many newcomers to Blackrock are surprised by Severa's rather motherly and elegant persona. She is charismatic and charming, and is as generous to her allies as she is deadly to her foes. She is loved by her servants, who she treats with respect and fondness and is a very capable politician and tactician.

Severa's true nature comes to light when she is in the company of her younger siblings. Incredibly motherly and doting, Severa's love for them is so excessive it borders on being uncomfortable for even the most hardy of onlookers. She treats them all as children, regardless of their age and gets anxious if she doesn't know where they all are at all times. While somewhat suffocating, Severa is the best Big sister one could hope for - protecting and nurturing them in a deadly environment. Only the bravest (or foolhardy) of Blackrock's enemies even contemplate bringing harm to the Cainhurst children for fear of Severa's insurmountable wrath. Her doting attitude comes from Severa's own lack of a motherly figure through her own lonely childhood, and she works tirelessly to ensure her darling younger siblings do not suffer as she did.

Backstory
Born to one of Ulfric's many faceless mistresses, Severa was the second child born to Ulfric and his very first daughter. Severa endured a lonely and isolated childhood, with most attention focused on her older brother Lucien, who was to inherit the throne upon Ulfric's passing. Regardless, Severa excelled in her studies, showing a great affinity for Dark Magic even by Cainhurst standards.
{Will finish when rest of Cainhurst siblings are created}

Hometown
Severa was born in Blackrock to one of Ulfric's many mistresses.

PHYSICAL

Items & Personal Belongings
Severa wields the twin daggers Rise and Fall, both Dwarven relics of a bygone era gifted to her on her 16th birthday that reflect Severa's elegant fighting techniques. They can cut through even the strongest armor and magical defense.

Abilities
An expert of the darker magicks, Severa has a particular talent for the schools of Illusion and conjuration.

Weaknesses
Putting her siblings in peril causes Severa to lose all sense of composure and logic.

Theme
​

 

[Avari]

LADY LUCREZIA
THE BLACK RAVEN



Age
110

Gender
Female

Role
The Dark Lord's trusted servant

Race
Elf

PERSONAL

Sexuality
No ones been brave enough to find out

High Concept
The commander of the Bloodguard and Ulfric's oldest, most trusted servant.

Personality
"Try to pretend like you understand what's important."

Beautiful and Brilliant, Lucrezia is a popular figure among the influential of the Black Court. She's charming, with a mean streak of humor suited to the twists and turns of Hollowvale's political system. To those she has no interest in she tends to be cold, apathetic and dismissive. To prove oneself of interest to the Black Raven is to show rare uniqueness and strength. She believes herself to be the strongest in Hollowvale - excluding her Master of course - which is possibly true, and can sometimes be slow to take threats to her own safety seriously. Usually because she's too busy laughing. She does however take insults towards her Master incredibly seriously and considers it a personal affront that any inferior creature would dare even contemplate such an act - crushing them with extreme prejudice.

Lucrezia has served Ulfric so long that she is not afraid to voice her true opinion to him if she feels it is required. The pair have even argued on occasion, which is not something one usually dares to even conceive of doing with the Dark Lord. Like her master, Lucrezia values strength above all else - believing she has the right to lead and guide the weak who are incapable of doing it themselves. She works hard, often to the point of falling asleep at her desk in her office during rare quiet moments. Focused and thoughtful, Lucrezia approaches problems with a calm and level head - a useful trait amongst the more hot-headed members of Ulfric's council.

A accomplished Sorceress and Scientist, Lucrezia is fascinated by the nature of dark magic and spends much of her time researching the limits of Magika and the budding sciences. Morality is of no concern, and some of Lucrezia's experiments have been extreme in both scope and cruelty. She is driven by her hunger for knowledge, seemingly searching for answers to a question only she seems to know.

Lucrezia has several hobbies outside of what one would expect from such a individual including a rather surprising love for cooking. She even developed a rather surprisingly fond friendship with the head chef of Blackrock, the the pair have created several dishes together. She fondly recalls the time she arrived in the Castle kitchen for the first time and the Head Chef immediately believed he had displeased his lords, quickly grabbing one of the larger carving knifes and attempting to slit his own throat before Lucrezia stopped him. He never finds the story particularly funny.

Backstory
Lucrezia, also known as the Black Raven is Ulfric's right hand and Commander of the Bloodguard. The Dark Lord's oldest and strongest servant, Lucrezia is renowned for her incredible magical strength and brilliance. Shrouded by countless rumors that are absurd, but hard to refute.

Standing by Ulfric's side since the end of the Vampire Wars, Lucrezia played an instrumental role in the unification of Hollowvale and the creation of an independent government. Hailing from an Elvish village far to the West, Lucrezia was only a child when she was saved from the burning wreckage of her family home by Ulfric himself. Sensing her innate magical ability, he took Lucrezia under his wing and was quickly impressed by his new student's hunger for knowledge.

The Dark Lord's most trusted Agent, Lucrezia is adept at many roles. She has spent years as a competent and respected dignitary to other tribes, cities and the Dwarves of Magruhdul - but has also served as Ulfric's chief enforcer and Inquisitor - rooting out those who would dare trifle with her Master; Though she sometimes mourns she doesn't really get to "cut loose" like she used to like in the "good old days."

Lucrezia's main role - and a cherished one at that - is one of a Sorceress and scientist. She values knowledge above all else and is willing to sacrifice anyone and everyone in the need of pursuit of it. Well informed prisoners of the Cainhurst's fear becoming part of Lucrezia's experiments most of all, with nightmarish tales whispered of the terrible things that happen within her laboratories deep inside the castle's catacombs. None ever return. Her experiments have enjoyed great success - discovering new forms of Undead, weaponry and more ethereal secrets of the Arcane.

Her greatest work however, is perhaps the formation of the Bloodguard. The elite Mage cadre was born through a concept she had presented to the Dark Lord - the need for a group that show the world what dark magic can achieve: A fearsome fist with which Ulfric might strike at his enemies and protect his interests. Lucrezia began by experimenting on magically gifted children - and though many died in her refining process, those that survive training and join the ranks of the Bloodguard are both fearsome and completely loyal.

A somewhat rare sight in the halls of Blackrock due to her demanding schedule, Lucrezia spends as much time in her laboratory as she can - though she always makes time to oversee Bloodguard duties and sometimes acts as a advisor when requested.

Hometown
Blackrock, though she was born to the far west.

PHYSICAL
Items & Personal Belongings
Lucrezia tends to travel light, but is rarely seen outside of her ornate black armor and robes - unlike many other Mages, Lucrezia's armor does not possess any magical abilities - her incredible personal ability rendering such "trifle nonsense" as unnecessary.

Sachi


An exceptionally rare breed of serpent from the distant West known as the Death Hood Cobra, the dangerous creature addressed as "Sachi" is Lucrezia's Familiar and something of a pet.

Still in his adolescence, Sachi remains an incredibly dangerous creature - capable of invisibility and a potent toxin flows from his bites. Lucrezia uses the serpent to spy on others on occasion, but also seems to enjoy his company.

Abilities
The strongest of the Ulfric's servants and his Chief enforcer, the raw magical strength of Lucrezia is quite extraordinary - exceeded only by the Dark Lord himself.
While a master of several schools of magic and a formidable opponent from any possible range or direction, her true strength lies in her tactical prowess, intellect and resources.
She often laments she is unable to find a worthy adversary to use her true power against - her Loyal Bloodguard always more than enough to deal with any pressing matters and she hasn't had a need to use her full strength since the Unification war.

Weaknesses
Prideful and sadistic, Lucrezia tends to underestimate those who she has dismissed as unworthy of her time - and in Ulfric's own words "Tends to play with her food too much."

Theme
​

 

[Pilgrim59]

THE DUCHESS OF DREADMOOR​

• I. General Info
• II. Personal Profile
• III. Abilities & Equipment
• IV. Extras

• 
  Name: Sepulcher XI of Dreadmoor
  
  Epithet: Lady Sepulcher, Duchess of Dreadmoor; Mistress of The Necropolis; The Eleventh Sepulcher; Sepul.
  
  Height: 5 ft. 7 in. (170 cm)
  
  Age: 32
  
  Gender: Female
  
  Role: Black Court Noble
  
  Race: Hybrid (Human / Dark Elf)
  
  Sexuality: Heterosexual
  
  Hometown: Dreadmoor
  
  High Concept:
  The eleventh successor of the Sepulcher lineage and an influential noble of the Black Court, Sepulcher is responsible for a fraction of the kingdom's skeletal army production and agricultural pursuits.
  
  
• 
  Appearance:
  Silvery white hair, ornate horns, fashionable attires, accompanied by a pair of glowing crimson eyes, and a distinctive pair of red gloves. These are the trademarks of the Eleventh Sepulcher.
  
  Personality:
  Unlike her father before her, Sepul sports a vastly contrasting look on life in Hollowvale. Rather than trying to keep the tradition, Sepul has always been adventurous in her own rights, albeit counterproductive due to being confined to her family's estate as a child. Sep is a researcher, akin her predecessors. She judges the pros and cons, tactful of where to insert herself, but can be sporadic at times. She has a knack for cynical statements, while keeping a down-to-earth attitude towards others - viewing everyone as equals.
  
  Sepul dislikes bureaucratic and political intrigues within the court, preferring to defer from the talks and rather return to her work. Manipulative individuals tend to find themselves running in circles of her nonsensical counter-queries and distracting social games. A little method she picked up in Blackrock, one that she abuses to keep others from asking her favors. While a hypocrite and a teasing individual to a certain degree, Sepul takes her work and the welfare of her Hollowvale residents seriously, especially the Cainhurst family's will. Rather than submitting in fear, Sepul sees the Cainhurst's employment of her family's service as an opportunity to continue and redeem her family's legacy, and to continue practicing her necromancy - a strictly transactional relationship for survival. Though a part of her wishes to unravel the mystery behind her father's sudden betrayal and shameful demise.
  
  Behind her false facades and lethal elegance the woman actually enjoy botany and walking her undead dog on the cold northern shore. Sepul is first and foremost a seeker of knowledge, so anything that can be studied will peak her interests. The woman is also very talkative when one unfortunately stumbles upon her favorite subjects.
  
  Backstory:
  The Sepulcher family has always been the sole supplier of weaker, but mass-produced undead army for Hollowvale since the Vampire Invasion two hundred years past. Their specialty? Mass-produced skeleton soldiers and beasts. Swift to conjure and mass-produced, albeit mostly serving as fodders, they serve their purposes well for two whole centuries. The Sepulcher lineage has a distinct naming of their next of kin by numbers rather than names. Forsaking their individual identities, the Sepulchers' tradition stem from their family's oath, sworn in blood, to the ruler of Hollowvale. As such, the eleventh successor of the Sepulcher lineage now holds an "XI" mark on her back. No matter who they served in the past, by what methods they derive, or to whomever their blades may descend, they would be known and seen simply as the "Sepulcher". Such was also the customs of the Sepulchers, an ode to their profound symbolic beliefs that all men are the same, it is actions that speaks for them, rather than deceitful expressions. Despite her lethal charms and powerful magic, the current Sepul is very much tame in nature. Like her father Sepulcher X and her forefathers before her, Sepul now carries the burden of her family's responsibilities.
  
  Sepul had to learn of her family's work, particularly the mastery of basic and advanced necromancy as she came of age. But rather than extending their research to other fields, the Sepulchers were keen on their traditions with skeletal undeads rather than those that retains their flesh. And like that of their unorthodox practice of necromancy, Sepul became increasingly at odds with her father when she turned came of age. Sepul despised the intrigues of the court, despite her father's wishes to put her there. In a turn of tumultuous events, her father would eventually be marked as a traitor to the Dark Lord, tainting the family's name while turning Eleven into a hostage of Blackrock. Eventually, she learnt to take on a façade to smile, but never bend. Even when her father passed, Sepul still held onto her own look on things since, bitter at her father's legacy. Rather than dancing to the minuets given unto them at court, Sepul just wanted to retire from the Black Court and immerse in her studies, perhaps travel even. But even an influential or distinguished noble in the Black Court must abide by their sworn fealty and oath to the Cainhurst family.
  
  Where she found himself a prisoner of the court, Sepul turned to her research. Hopefully, something worthwhile of her meticulous work with necromancy will earn her a furlough for the rest of her life. Or something worth her intrigues. Make no mistakes, Sepul still owe her allegiances to the Cainhursts, and will carry out her duties to the letter. While she is loyal to the Cainhursts, Sepul's conflicted nature keeps her awake at night. Where she hopes to unravel the mystery of her father's turning, she is also wary of Ulfric's ever-growing paranoia.
  
• 
  Abilities:
  [Children of the Unholy Sepulcher] - Sepulcher particularly excels in skeletal studies and advanced reanimation of corpses. Alteration and modification of an undead's body gives her a creative array of offensive and defensive choices to utilize on the field. The Sepulcher clan's deep understanding of skeletal creations emphasizes on simplicity over complexity, allowing them to overwhelm their opponents by sheer numbers in the field of necromancy. Generations developed tactics against the vampires have enabled the Sepulchers to express their profound liberties with lethal efficiency when constructing and augmenting skeletal beasts.
  
  [Legacy of the Flowerless Affair] - Born from an affair between her father and a Black Court servant, Sepulcher XI possesses her mother's sultry red eyes that can intoxicate and bewitch those that fails to avert their gaze. While lethal by outward appearance, Sepul's hybrid blood, an amalgamation of the Elves and the Sepulcher's natural gift for magic, allows her to quickly adapt to complex forms of dark magic. Though she only ever uses her magic extensively for botanical and agricultural endeavors.
  
  [The Red Curse] - A disease of unknown origin, the Red Curse has inflicted every Sepulcher upon the completion of their rites of passage. While this curse enables their descendants' gift with manipulating the undead, it also made them more vulnerable to Light magic, as well as shortening their lifespan in some cases. Some notable examples include Lady Sepulcher V's lost of vision at a young age, and Lord Sepulcher X's infected arm upon exerting himself in a duel.
  
  
  Weaknesses:
  Despite her studious ways, Sepulcher suffers from overclocking herself with different trains of thoughts. As such, she can be absent-minded at times and very vulnerable to even the slightest distraction - especially when she is commanding legions of skeleton soldiers.
  Sepulcher can't swim, in addition to a certain fear of being eaten by a giant sea monster.
  Reliant on her magic and swiftness, the Duchess is susceptible to several disadvantages in close-quarter engagements.
  
  Items & Personal Belongings:
  + [Valpurgeisa]
  Sepulcher's ornate cane, of which is used as both a weapon and a catalyst to expedite her spellcasting process. Crafted from the finest of alloys and augmented with the blood of the ancients, the Valpurgeisa is a swift and elegant weapon. It can harness an incredible amount of mana to charge an attack or spell.
  
  + [The Salient Watch]
  Bound by the flesh of the slain Midnight Basilisk, the grimoire contains complex permutations and ancient writings that pertain to the dark arts of necromancy and clairvoyance. Crafted by the Fifth Sepulcher, it is considered one of the few artifacts of the Sepulchers. The Salient Watch can also be used to reflect visions of Sepul's undeads, allowing her to see what they see.
  
  
• 
  Character Theme:
  
  
  Others:
  - Sepulcher loves flowers and silviculture. Anything related will pique her interests.
  - Abhors seafood.
  - Has an amazing voice like her mother. A gifted songstress.
  
  

 

[Malphaestus]

Spoiler: Supporting Character (Read After) - Ashiaga Hino'o, Shadow of the Seventh Midnight

Ashiaga Hino'o,
Shadow of the Seventh Midnight.

Age:
Twenty-three.

Gender:
Female.

Sexuality:
Inexperienced and thusly unaware.

Race:
Human.

Role:
The martial disciple of the Seventh Master and his personal attendant during their visitage to the Blackrock, she serves as both a student to his craft, and as a supporter of his elaborate needs. Though unknown to all, she seeks to displace the Seventh Master from his seat of Martial Mastery and sought the aid of the North Eye in accomplishing it. She is thus their lackey, and the monitor through which his actions, and their reactions, facilitate secretly.

Martial Disciple,
Political Aide,
Cultist of Midnight.​

High Concept:
An orphan kidnapped and stripped of her dreams and prospects, she was brought to the North Eye and put under the Seventh's care early in her life, making her indoctrination a simple matter to accomplish; having known no better life than the one in which she now inhabits. Her fortunes great, a capturer of many opportunities few would gleam, she went under the Seventh's tutelage and grew into a mighty Swordstress. Though finding her prospects lacking under the Old Way, quickly in life she aligned herself in secret to the First Master and her varying magicks in pursuits of all-encompassing mastery. Her quest now to complete her Rite and usurp the Seventh in an act of slaying, thus inheriting his knowledge and hierarchy. Though in truth, she serves as little more than the Midnight Masters' watchdog over the Seventh's actions, lacking the grand expectations placed upon her which the Seventh did. Nonetheless, in order to accomplish her goals, she acts as attendant and aide for now.

---​

Personality:
Carrying a gravely ambitious mind, and an adaptability to which many aspire, she is capable enough- and supremely driven- to aspire to the advancements in which she envisions herself in future. And unlike most of the seniority within the doctrines of Midnight, she remains largely unaffected by Midnight's influence, due to her relatively short visitage and unimportance, resulting in a stark comparison between herself and her master(s). Her outward mundanities serve to cloak her in bright and brilliance when compared to the strange which she associates, her cold disposition nonetheless serving stark reminder to others of the nature which the people who inhabit the Lonely Cape shoulder. Withdrawn and seldom prevailing in public, her actions performed solely in reaction to the Seventh's, she makes no notable impact among the people which she oft participates in public.

Though her unimportant front belies her ferocous cognition: a shrewd operator of people and therefore experienced manipulator, she is quick to see the unseen and prod the unproddable. Competitive beyond comprehension, with a heart seeking only perfection, she stands as an amalgamated entity of both the Old Way, as well as the New of Midnight; adaptable enough to cloak herself in the circumstances in which she inhabits, but never one to submerge into the beliefs of others, seeking to dominate with her own ideas of martial artistry and the arcane: resulting in a scholarly disposition, if subdued.

Hard of trusting, as she was raised by the world of the manipulant, her actions seldom align with what she perceives her wishes to be; easily made subservient, and reliant on the strengths of her betters, though not aware enough of the hypocrisies which she displays, perceiving her path through life to be one which benefits from the wealth and knowledge of others, but seldom making strides of her own. Making her lost and uncertain when there stands no guide nor mentor to force her hand. Though much of this is the fault of a lack of experience, she suffers difficulty in changing. And whilst she seeks to replace the Seventh, she is equally reliant on his relatively paternal presence in truth. Though this seldom hinders her from plotting, but as her plots progress, she fears for their resolution.

Having overcome this set-back of recent, as thanks to her aligning with those that remain of the Masters within the North Eye, she still remains unconsciously conflicted. As a person of instincts, serving as a boon to her during pursuits of knowledge and martial prowess, it nonetheless complicates her mentality during times of personal crisis, such as the loss of important figures within her life. Not dissimilar from the distress experienced from destroying the painting oneself had crafted.

And she cherishes, unbeknownst to herself, the peculiarities of her interactions with the Seventh; her master taking fascination in the potential of her fashionability. Defiantly, she refrains from utilizing the vast assortment of clothes which he intermittently bombards her, though affords him, at least, the opportunity to finnick with her cape. She is, in truth, quite caring. But such natures are seldom made relevant by the self-trickery which pervades within her mind.

Backstory:
Though her life until her future had been stole was one of meaninglessness, the village of Uonomura- and Hinokah at large- no longer relevant to her, the village had been one of joyous atmosphere and festive spirits until the looming disaster which would rid them of their simplistically chipper spirits. It had been a stormy night at sea, the voyagers journeyed farther and farther in pursuit of ever-grander fortunes. And though they had found their catch, one which rarely comes once in centuries to the meagre inhabitants, it had been plagued with sickness. As they feasted in jubilation, ignorance doomed them and the gloom which future deigned them stung all the more once it came: the sickness spread within them, and would proliferate across nigh-all who inhabited the humble village. Orphaning Hino'o, and many others. Uonomura became the Village of Children, all their parents deceased by the sickness, whilst the young were left alone and untouched. The news of such strangeness quickly reached neighbouring settlements, though due to reasonable fear, aid never appeared: the prospect deemed too dangerous. Uonomura would become quarantined, and when at last those brave had arrived, it was deserted.

During the intermittence, a black barge of shadowed oak had loomed to harbour along its shores during twilight hours, and with swiftnesses unperceived, they had stole the orphaned. Though none would know, the whole event an elaborate piece in a villainous machination; the North Eye never one to refrain from heinous means to pursue their aspirations. Hino'o was not old enough to recognize the evil to which she had been submitted, and was far too afraid to oppose them. Unlike some. It would be to her betterment that she only began to bloom, and become her own, once placed within the mentorship of the Seventh Master, to study martial artistry and the implications which Midnight demands. She would hardly have survived if her circumstances had led her into the tutelage- so early in life- of another Master.

Though her life was not an easy one, made to witness the heinousnesses which prosper within the twisted halls of the North Eye, and the dark and covenous rituals which make up the cult of Midnight and it's worship, she was lucky in that she was free to explore her craft under the advisement of an exceptional teacher. Never to be disturbed by the games of the masters and their disciples beyond, secluded from it by the nature of Alwyntyraeos' non-alignment to the way in which the Masters of Midnight had developed. Her competitive nature instead focused upon him solely, never to compete with other disciples for the mentoring of her Master.

Due to the aforementioned, her prospects grew explosively, her innate qualities affording her great ambitions, and the occasional veiled accolade. Brewing within her a desire for recognition, and the dreams to stand upon those at the peak. An excellent perspective, in Alwyntyraeos' own image, doubtlessly fostered by his hand. Her Master knew he could not remain unperturbed forever, walking amongst Masters as he did within the North Eye, and therefore molded Hino'o, so that when she inevitably is forced to compete with other disciples in ritual and rites, she could uphold his reputation. An accomplishment which she exceeded, for during her Rite of Naming, in effect a combat ritual veiled in coming-of-age symbolisms, she ranked fifth amongst the disciples of her generation, her luck having provided for her exceptional fortune and circumstance.

Though she began to ever-hunger for greater acclaim, and accomplishment, the unwillingness of her Master to pursue the newer paradigm standing as a deterrent to her growth during her era of excellence. Amongst the Disciples, she was the envy of most, and stood comparable before the foremost within the nightmare-tinged halls of the North Eye, resulting in an earned perception of self-worth. Though within the influence of Midnight, what is reasonable takes a different shape, and her sense of worth would shift into neverending manipulation and pursuit of moralless growth. Due to her accomplishments, and the nature of the Rite of Naming, she could no longer be sheltered from the others, and instead was forced into the deadly intrigue of the confined. As her horizons grew, from the hallowed halls of the Astral Observatory under her Master's command, and outward to the whole of the North Eye, she grew better acquainted with her master's accomplishments in turn. Sparking her competitive nature, though seldom living up to the accomplishments of her mentor. Inferiority drove her maddened and desperate, seeking any advantage to which she could ascend above him from anyone who could hold the truthes, resulting in her arrival to the Library under the First Master's purview and the nature of the new-old Masters of Midnight.

Her beliefs were validated, the nature of the Old Way too confining to prosper in an age where Vampyres no longer existed, serving more deterrence than it's worth. But she fell into the manipulation of her superior, and the First would gradually build her a bond so that she could benefit from the future which she envisioned for her son. Nonetheless, the opportunity played a crucial part in the development of Hino'o, and her conceptualization of Midnight, and how it ought be best pursued: placing her, ironically, both under the grip of an established paradigm, within a fallen one, and a alterator of the ways of Midnight.

She developed exceptionally, covertly traversing the halls of the North Eye to receive teachings from two Masters, her nature shining in brilliance, and her fortune personified in the process. Though manipulated, it was for her best in ultimate. For when the time for a trial between herself and the first disciple among her generation came, behind the barred doors of the Library, she drew the duel and acquired exceptional reward. Her usefulness proven, though merely as a pawn: deigned a secret task to accomplish in the future which would thereafter follow.

The North Eye was in chaos as Alwyntyraeos was forced away, Hino'o in accompanyment. But she saw the possibilities in her action, the truthes of the Midnight Masters' rituals and rites demanding competition and eternal ascendancy into higher strata of expertise and mastery. She was tasked to usurp her Master's place within the hierarchy, thus earning her his accomplishments, and all which made him what he was within the North Eye. Her ambitions were grander than ever, and her faith in her future solidified. As Alwyntyraeos was forced from the Gathering Hall by the congregated whole of all who lived within the North Eye, she stood at his back, plotting her opportunities.

She journeyed with him to Blackrock, both brave and frightful, a sense of wrong ever-present in her throat, but never bored. It was a new world, and she journeyed it alongside the man who had, in large part, made her what she became. But one cannot be forever a master, for what opportunity does other have to rise then?

Hometown:
Born to Uonomura, a village of northeastern Hinokah, which orphaned her early in life. She was stolen through the North Eye's 'human resources program' and thus brought to the Lonely Cape aboard barge.

---​

Appearance:
A fair-skinned Hinokahn, her face retains the features thus associated. Skin bleached by her confinement within the North Eye. Her body well-kept, the nature of her attending demanding utmost cleanliness, her appearance stands stark contrast before the absurdities of her master, though short in stature with musculature fitted for endurance as opposed to power, retaining the agility which is required to perform well within such circumstance. Though her hair is an estranged blanc, her eyes carry the same radiance which jewelry inhabit, though distinctly different. Though brown in colour, they retain a sparkle; rarely seen beneath her disciple's veil.

And though one could consider her beautful, she does not rank amongst the splendidly aesthetic; her master believes she could shine brightly, should she simply choose to dress better. But she refuses to enter any cloth beyond the umbral vestments, leather, and capes which were granted her as a result of her apprenticeship. Across her attire are subdued embroideries of matching colour, though different material, revealing themselves upon inspection: depictions of the night's sky and two stars which lord over all lessers upon the cosmic tapestry. With Midnight's many symbols etched into the leather which binds her outfit together.

Across her lip lies a subdued scar, the result of practicing swordsmanship with Alwyntyraeos, she is quite conscious of it whenever the man in question wields his sword.

Items & Personal Belongings:
+ Night's Gale (Katana) - A weapon of Hinokahn descent, acquired through pennies expended during her travels to Blackrock. Though by no means a weapon of legend, it is an exceptionally crafted one, and when taken care of well, presents its finesse through results. It's lengthened blade and firm handle serves her martial artistry well, the Seventh specializing in long-bladed weapons and the ways in which one may utilize them. Though a youthful sword, it has been bloodied in highwaymen, and so far remains undefeated. Though not an exceptional accomplishment, Hino'o views the weapon's future highly.

Abilities:
A competent necromancer and dark arts spellweaver, with martial artistry sufficient enough to defeat most in a duel, she fits well within the ideas of a spellsword. Favoring the arcane above the physical.

Weaknesses:
Hindered by her scheming nature, and the fact that she has fallen into the influence of mutually opposing dichotomies, unless she breaks away, she will forever hinder her own prospects. In battle, as well as anywhere else. Whilst a competent manipulator and knower of people, she does not know how best to capitalize on her prospects, having fortune- for the most part- standing as the greatest reason for her present standing. Whilst she was capable of drawing with the First's premier disciple, within her own generation, she is incapable of performing to such capabilities under the gaze of her Master.

Theme:

Alwyntyraeos Valdicarion,
Seventh Master of the Midnight.

Age:
Thirty-six.

Gender:
Male.

Sexuality:
Uninterested and difficultly convinced.

Race:
Human (modified).

Role:
Serving as one of the foremost authorities available on the necromantic arts, Alwyntyraeos stands as the Midnight Masters' representative in the Black Court, and operates functionally as a lobbyist for their purposes. Whilst dabbling in curiosities which may even bring statesmen of fabled Horrowvale to cold sweat.

Black Court Member,
Necromanctic Research Authority,
Cultist of Midnight.​

High Concept:
The least dysfunctional of the estranged and occult Midnight Masters who lord over the Lonely Cape, martial legends turned to eldritch sorceries and the most wicked of witchcraft 'cause injured pride; unbowing in their curiosities and limitless in their pursuits, aligned with other loyalties than the crown in ultimate. Shrewd enough to navigate the courtly world of which he now inhabits, as caused by circumstances beyond his wanting, it is nonetheless clear he does not fit seemlessly within the Black Court: of a different breed, living in one's own time, embodying "a master's mind is an odd one." The son of the First Master of the Midnight and her martial disciple. An accomplished necromancer, formerly the Assistant of the First before paranoia broke their bond and left it to the void. But due to their seclusion, mystery veils the man in unknowability, bearing the full weight of their reputation, as their representative at Court, and the fascination and the wanted or undesired attention which it may bring. Aligned in absolute to those who had created him, his actions will be decided by the effort the curious would expend in pursuit of the secrets of the Midnight Masters of the Lonely Cape.

---​

Personality:
The Midnight Masters herald their reputation from the Vampiric War, famed for their brute and their vile martial artistry: accomplished vampire slayers, and rumoured disciples of an unknowable influence. Though they faced grave defeat at the hands of Ulfric Cainhurst during the era of unification, forcing them to pursue a different paradigm of the Ways of Midnight, to which end they have succeeded greatly through their necromantic accomplishments. As an upholder of such repute, Alwyntyraeos was taught the importance of their lineage before all else, as a manner of indoctrination, before being granted his own Right of Naming. To pursue his own path of the masteries of midnight. His close bond with the First of the Masters, his mother as she was, warped his moralities far beyond the norms of even the shadowed lands of Hollowvale, due to the eccentricities, and frank madness which prevails behind the closed gates of the North Eye. The unutterable influence that lie within tainting his mind, exerting it's influence during his upbringing. But due to youth, and the innate characteristics of his person, he stands as the only among them who could be considered functionally lucid. The other Masters approaching ages comparable to that of their begrudging Sovereign.

Though his questionable train of thought may, at times, make him appear a simpleton, he is an exceptionally quick study. His competence making him a notable member of Court, and a respectable authority on the artistries of Necromancy. His only fault lies with the other figures of which he number, for though he slew his way into their ranks- through Rite of Mastery- he holds none of the experience, the sorcerous wisdom, and the age of those with whom he shares title. And whilst few would know such fact, it can become clear, at times, that he struggles with a complex of inferiority. For within the halls of the North Eye, all masters compete among themselves, as each Master's entirety of purpose is to retain hierarchies amongst equals. As the last among the remaining masters, his mother chased him out of the Sorcerous Halls of the North Eye, citing 'uselessness' and 'stagnancy.' Instead putting him to the only usefulness which he could serve: to appease the crown, and it's influence, and to allow the North Eye, and the lands of the Lonely Cape, to remain undisturbed and free to pursue their nightmarish crafts.

Prone to sudden bouts of "possession," impulsivity, and extreme emotions, one would think his standing among the Court would be forfeited due to his unmanagable nature. But the reputation of the Masters of the Midnight, or more importantly the whole of North Eye, is strong enough to afford him forgivenesses few could ever dream to receive. Their secret necromantic techniques being the jewel which all would desire worn, though only the utmost few wield the influence necessary to trade. Even so, with his departure as the Representative of the Masters of Midnight, such exchanges have risen from once a generation, to proportionately larger amounts; though the scholars' greed places him at great risk within the sphere of necromancers. An issue to which he has managed to adapt quickly, having not attended the Black Court for more than a handful of years, but fails to amount to the political mastery of the greatest of the nobility and the greatest amongst those aligned to the Crown. But he remains, in some part, protected by his backing: the Masters of Midnight bear terrifying accomplishments, and their artistries of death, even if not wholly known by the world beyond, are clearly exceptionally advanced, a fact which Alwyntyraeos' body itself can attest.

Though he experiened the vastness of the new ways of the midnight, his ill relation to his mother exacerbated the rebelliousness of youngest years, the effects to which remain great, as he personally upholds the Old Ways. Beyond the doctrinal implications, the most obvious effect of such an action, is the refusal to mix sorceries or witchcrafts with the artistries of the blade. Ironically, this makes him the most skilled of the Masters in the Martial Arts, but it weakens him before the prospects which the Masters once lost to during the Unification. He is not incapable of wielding spell and sword, but he is inexperienced, as resulted by his beliefs. Though, an exceptional ritualist, as the old ways demand. As such stalwart of nature, stubborn to excess, yet a meticulous planner and precise in execution.

Though, as caused by his frequently pendular mood, he swiftly moves inbetween extremes of all manners, and mellowed cool: from jokes to threats, and from reasonable discourse to mumbled chants.

A fervent and devout believer of the Midnight, though what it is none but the Masters can attest. Nonetheless, the faith, even if exclusive beyond measure, is an intricate one: knightly conduct interwoven with witching traditions and covenous commons. A highly ritualistic one, and one which occupies much time to appease.

Backstory:
His story originates in the legacy of the Old Way of Midnight: as a result of their great successes as martial champions and slayers of powerful vampires, the Midnight Masters accrued their fame, and as the vampiric wars concluded, they stood as one of the mightiest factions aligned to Darkness. But whispers and rumours ran rampant, for their power surpassed that which mortality could offer, perceptibly extraordinary individuals capable of standing alone against vast enemy formations with little but a weapon in hand. Jealousy brewed, for without a common foe, hatred spread amongst rivals: rumours emerged, unfounded yet strangely accurate. Covenance with an unknown force, supposedly, afforded the dissimilar Masters of Midnight their strength, and stood as the only reason conceived as to how those greatly different could ever co-exist amongst one another. However, as a result to the Midnight Masters' reclusive tendencies, few knew the truthes of their internal strife, but even so, they were united by the Midnight all the same: an unknowable force, barely felt, yet present all the same. A giver of strength, and an entity to which loyalty is rewarded in exotic power.

To appease Midnight, the Masters journeyed, after the culmination of the Vampire War, to the site which beckoned them across Aether, and afforded them the strength to transcend their craft. Thus the Lonely Cape was uncovered, and the desolate landscape would become their home. Eon-tainted by the salt of the windy northern seas, vast cliffs looming against the shore through the whole of the penninsula. The North Eye began as a simple barrack, filled with strife and arguments amongst equals of might and strangeness; accomplished legends, vanished from the worldly plane where most people dwell, to pursue their calling. Unified in purpose, but driven to conflict, they became ritualistic as a means to stave their schism, so that they could uncover what they had been driven there for. For the ten of them had journeyed seperately, yet Midnight had gathered them upon the same spot. Whilst strange, they were never fools: they collaborated, yet competed, a martial urge driving them towards proving their mettle against equal legends. Thus the North Eye was established, thus named to peek the strength which lies beyond the perceptible world. It began as a mere barrack, but in time, a castle would take it's place, constructed through the wealth which their slaying had earned them.

Once the castle gate was in place, the keep would be barred, and none would leave until they were found. And found they were, no manner of backdoor dealings capable of forever concealing a solitary castle from Ulfric's ambitions for unification. They suffered greatly, his undead hordes overwhelming their unequaled martial might; and for masters whose craft had afforded them unparralelled fame and skill, to lose before mere undead shattered their pride to cinders. At least that is how they perceived the event.

Whilst they protected their castle gate, three legends would fall during the conflict before the First amongst the Masters would submit to Ulfric's reign, the de facto sovereign having solidified the base for diplomacy with the Shadowbark wolves before his march across the Lonely Cape. Having bore witness to the might which death provided, those who had only delivered death, were made servants of it, and their dark rituals grew evermore gruesome, and they fell further and further to Midnight and it's influence. Stealing plebians from remote fishing villages, and contracting smugglers to navigate the harsh northern shores in hopes of grand wealth to accumulate menials for the basest of tasks throughout the penninsula. As time passed, systems were established, and smugglers perished. Rumours of adventures to be had spurring the heroic, and where adventurers gather coin would flow: thus merchants too would make voyage... All would perish before the stormy shore and mangle before the looming cliffs. Bodies to be gathered, by the indoctrinated who the Masters'd stole from their place of home. Death accumulated, and it's blighted influence made nightmares of what lie within the Castle as it grew and grew endless.

Vast complexes, and great facilities developed, as a result of the Midnight Masters' influence tendriled throughout the underworld. With the force beneath the North Eye excavated, the Masters grew evermore estranged from the world, and their influence over the common world would wither quickly. Sponsorships of gangs evaporated, and all but the most essential tasks were left anulled; now only kidnappers and skilled smugglers, who prey the whole of the northern sea and it's villages for people, remain beneath their grasp, and that grasp is a mighty one. Their secrets and accrued wealth the envy of all the curious. Yet, they never gathered Ulfric's eye, those of his servants, nor that of the nobility for simplest reason: their advancements in the dark arts, and necromancy, were unequalled, and none could truly tell for what reason. Whilst suspicions mounted, and investigations would enter planning, the Masters of Midnight would send their envoy: the youngest Master, the Seventh amongst their number, to the Blackrock. For the first time, exercising their granted right of nobility, and partaking in the Black Court.

Unease doubtlessly mounted at the action, and many nobles anticipated the singular Master for many months as he made his long journey across the territories. When once he arrived, he shared the basis for a new method of necromanctic amassment and generational advancement: the recycling of the dead, through means of inter-undead cannibalism under the influence of an elaborate, if not alien dark art which the Fourth Master had supposedly called the 'Slayer's Rite of Strength.' But it's most frightening effect was, that over the passing of generations, the undead under it's prolonged influence would even improve in grade, though rarely. Through the displaying of such a sorcery, appeasing the disgruntled nobility and the increasingly maddened ire of Ulfric Cainhurst proved possible. And the envoy's place within the Black Court became cemented, the nobility of the Midnight Masters actually recognized.

Since, the Seventh Master of Midnight has accrued an increasing report with those coveting the secrets of the North Eye, fear as well as greed making him a pivotal, if admittedly subdued authority within the Court. Occasionally verbal, and occasionally reclusive, to those who pursue the artistries of death with much regard, he presents an opportunity for others to grow, and to those who are inquisitive, he stands as both a threat and an opportunity to interact with those legends whom once dominated battles during the Vampiric Wars, and the secrets they hold.

Whilst the Seventh Master, Alwyntyraeos, may not necessarily be the foremost authority on undeath, it is clear to those who know that he is a product of those who are, and stands as the only means to potentially uncover what they seclude themselves to over the decades. As such, he wields the worth of a whole faction within the Court, yet remans but one man. Whilst by no means a crucial political force on his own, the reclusive nature of the Masters of Midnight well-known, he has the ability to sway decisions withing the Black Court on topics which may affect the Lonely Cape.

Whilst peculiar, he is quite popular due to circumstance. His personality, whilst seldom celebrated, is nonetheless a key influence amongst the nobility. A polarizing entity, and an inexperienced political entity, he nonetheless has managed surprisingly well for someone perceived as under the influences of the "madness."

Hometown:
Born to the Midnight in the North Eye of the Lonely Cape, the penninsula northwest of the Shadowbark; the result of a post-terminal union, as accomplished via blasphemous rites, performed by the First and what once remained of the Tenth.

---​

Appearance:
Whilst the First were of Hinokahn descent, with accompanying features long since rotted by advanced age and unwellnesses of the mind, supposedly Alwyntyraeos appears more like the Tenth, influenced by his terminal condition. The Tenth heralded descent from the Great Alcamoth, as a member of it's order, but was disgraced like many others; finding solace in Ulfric's cause, he was amongst the first to align, agreeing to Ulfric's message. But as the war against the Vampires ended, circumstances changed his alliegances, and he eventually perished at the Crown's hand during the Infringement of the Lonely Cape: the subjugation of the Masters of Midnight. Regardless, his features are describably caucasian, and his body of sickly pale complexion: long days in the sun a danger to his health. His build of a lithe nature and above average height, agile, yet what lies beneath his flesh describably twisted, as if different from common humanity. As caused by the rite of his conception: his muscles move, occasionally, in such a fashion as to simulate writhing serpents beneath. And his flesh is prone to necrotize, resulting in a demand for extensive purification rituals; an abomination to some, but his strength is peerless so long as he is capable of maintaining his condition, which needless to say, is a peculiar thing. The cause for this, whilst none but the First can truly attest, likely lies in the occult experiments which he underwent throughout his life: a blend between life and death, in accordance with the new ways of midnight.

Over his years, parts of his flesh has been forcefully removed, lest it would compromise his condition. And in their place were fitted finely shaped and expertly molded obsidian; though much of such features are obstructed by the vestiges he fits across his form, they reveal themselves through his hands. He is aware that his body may disturb, and takes fascination in dressing in accordance with his perceived needs. The patchwork of obsidian and flesh which his face accumulates into, veiled behind a skin-tight leathered mask covered by half-tinted glass shards, retaining his eyesight and protecting his irises from the sun. Much of his clothing choices serve a similar functional purpose, though frankly, he enjoys dressing stylishly, in accordance with his own aesthetic senses.

His eyes, whilst seldom seen lest one had the privilege or misfortune to venture his chambers, are of paled grey, bloodshot and gravely stressed: an appearance of distanced calm, yet unbridled aggression. Though he bears an unpleasant appearance, and lest cleansed, an excruciating stench, he carries himself well and with grace; orderly movements of smooth connectivity, as if trained to move with umbral nobility. The Midnight is a proud thing, yet it is easily disturbed, much alike Alwyntyraeos.

Items & Personal Belongings:
+ Triumphant Dusk / "Dark Whisp" (Greatsword) - A perfectly balanced, long-hilted greatsword with slimmed blade of extended length and a hardy edge. Of dwarven make, it was the blade which the Tenth had crafted after his prior weapon had shattered after successful vampire slaying, and what he used during his death. Alwyntyraeos had it taken from the First's storage during his departure from the North Eye. Save for the fact that it had lost a battle, it is a storied sword known of in tales of the Masters in the Vampiric War. Though, he doubts anyone could recognize it now. Instead calling it the "Dark Whisp." Seldom known, the Triumphant Dusk is an arcane instrument, though only as a catalyst for Midnight.

+ Strange Book (Occult) - Written in strange letters, and retaining peculiar yet nonsensical symbols, he keeps it close, yet remains unafraid of showing it to others. None could possibly know of what worth it is; the language nowhere to be taught. It contains rituals of midnight, and less secretive necromantic processes which he perceives he could exchange given enough incentive. In addition to the basest explanations of personal dark arts theory, and ruminations of Midnight.

Abilities:
An exceptional necromancer, by the metrics of the ordinary, though paling in comparison to those who he supposedly equals. His strength lies in the immense power imbued throughout his flesh, both innate and in magick: a conduit of sorcery. Within, he holds grave mysteries and frightful secrets he, himself, remains unaware of. As a Master of Midnight, he is required to be a master of martial artistry, and his focus relies upon the greatsword, with which he is a frightening force. Through the occult, and Midnight rites, he can empower and release the temptations and the madness whose secrets lie hidden beneath the North Eye upon the world. As such, he is well-versed in martial artistry, witchcraft, and sorcery: in general, a very powerful force, but gravely situational.

Weaknesses:
Whilst theoretically, Alwyntyraeos is a fearsome adversary, he is easily hindered, resulting in being incapable of performing to the expectations which he surpasses at his peaks. And as all Midnight Masters, his peculiarities go beyond his processes of preparation: though he is more comprehensible than his better equals, he is prone to strange acts, to either boon or curse. His magic, whilst quite powerful, is based in the Rites of Midnight, requiring extensive chants at best, and extensive preparation at their worst. And to further reinforce his flaws, he intentionally limits himself in battle so as to appease the 'Old Way' and rebel, in part, against the other Masters. Though that one, in particular, can change.

Theme:

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Richard Cainhurst, The Whistling Rapier

• The Basics of the Lesson
• The Matters of Man
• A network of flesh, bone, spirit, and steel
• A song for thee

• 
  
  Age: 26;
  Gender: Male;
  Role: Spawn Of Ulfric Cainhurst, The Dark Lord;
  Race: Human;
  Sexuality: Heterosexual;
  High Concept: A fledgling son who strives to prove his worth, despite the frailties incurred by his lithe form, who has a penchant for history, administrative work, and a heart for his people.
  
  I seek not to rehash the white ashes of the past caste, my people will be covered in a fantast calash of their own making. But many chic cliques of nobles seek to frustrate these methods. They believe I am their sworn enemy. In ignorance, they think that I do not understand why they move against me, but I do and if pretenses were dropped then they'd see I am only on the side of my nation.
  
• Personality: A meek-looking man with a starkly opposite heart, Richard is not to be underestimated. The fragility of his body gave him his first lesson at a tender age: that nobody, family or stranger, would treat him kindly because of his body. But with a blazing determination, the Cainhurst fledgling gathered whatever physical strength he possessed and honed it finer than the signature rapier besides his hip. In fact, he strikes with such ability and style that his rapier whistles. On the other foot, the academic tutoring came as easy to him as breathing. It is no wonder then that he, while not being Ulfric's second in command like his sister, does give advice of the nature of running things such as: plotting out annual expenditures for the nation's projects, leading certain scientific experiments, and other minute yet still valuable facets of life. But what he loves more than his kingdom is perhaps history. Frequently the scholar would go to great lengths to record Hollowvale's history, from minor accountings of grain yields to major events-battles, noble marriages, et cetera. No morsel of knowledge is deemed nugatory in the eyes of a man who believes that all must know their kingdom's history.
  
  Despite being hard-hearted, Richard does not resort to immediate killings of his foes. He faces their insults, taunts, and attacks since he firmly believes usage may be squeezed out of them while all of their faculties are in order. That does not mean he will hesitate to bathe his rapier in their blood. An optimist to a fault which results in a beaming aura of positivity around him in contraire to the grimy, gloomy, and darkened atmosphere of Blackrock and the Black Court. His heart harbors a level of disgust towards a plentitude of the nobility in the Black Court however; he sees their oh-so-clever machinations, conniving schemes, and political gamesmanship and is appalled by it. Many of them are too self-interested in their own affairs rather than truly be devoted to the kingdom, merely paying hollow fealties to it. But as much as it pains him, he understands that more than a few are necessary.
  
  He is also very much appreciates the dialogue between the peasantry of Hollowvale and he, they are not as educated as himself but Richard is patient and a good-listener to their pleas. He hopes one day to expand their knowledge, even if some protest this notion. His heart cherishes his family and always willing to embrace them with a hug, even if it results in a dagger behind his back. His heart's fondness for avians is also well known, owls are a particular favourite of his since childhood. Like many Cainhursts before him, Richard also possesses the unique affinity for Necromancy.
  
  Backstory: Born of the lowest stock, Richard Cainhurst, Son of Ulfric and Spawn of Butchers was born a weak babe. His skin nearly translucent, bones tiny, and lungs failing. The apothecaries and midwives believed that the young Cainhurst would not survive the night, let alone prosper. But the young Richard had already claimed his first blood. The life of his mother who died during delivery. By a miracle, Richard survived the first night then the next, the one after that, and so on and so forth. The short, timid, yet eagle-eyed boy began his tutelage earlier than expected, not because of his intelligence, however it had been assumed that he would be no use to the Cainhurst as anything other than an advisor.
  
  The young boy did not mind this as a life of scrolls, books, parchments and pens suited him just fine. Until foolishly he spieled ideas that were troubling to the Black Court. Just knowledgeable enough to converse with conviction, but naïve to not perceive what his words entailed. One day during an intense period of learning in his study along with his tutor, a knock happened on the door. The tutor told him to continue while he finds out who would disturb them. Once the door was opened, the tutor stepped away while a diseased looking man entered. Of course, Richard had been absorbed in the bearers of knowledge for him to notice. This sickly cretin barely managed to contain his snicker as he came up from behind Richard. Out of his peripheral, the boy saw the deception and swung around in a panic. Too late, the ghoulish fiend had already been upon him. Pushing the boy to the table, he battered the innocent's tiny left arm with a knee concurrently pinning it. His fingers coiled around neck, the boy struggled. Right hand still free, flailed to grasp anything. And it did! An ornate letter opener with a skull embroidery on the hilt was within his reach! Intensely gripping the hilt, his would-be assassin was unaware. He leaned to let the boy feel his breath on his face, but that was the final mistake. With a last gasp, Richard stabbed into his throat! The killer's eyes grew wide with shock before another! Then eight more into his head.
  
  An anguished scream left the study as Richard cried in pain. The failure of the assassin caused security around the young royal to bolster. A lesson had been taken to heart. He can no longer remain this weakling who could not even defend himself. To have a sharp mind, he must also have a sharp body. Through the years, the process to hone his mortal coil went on and on and his martial talents were also expanded. He found particularly intrigue with the rapier, a sword that fit his combat style.
  
  Since then Richard has become a force to be reckoned with and he ensures that he won't be easily killed or let anyone get that close.
  
  Hometown: Blackrock, though he traces his lineage to a family of butchers just outside Crowhaven in a tiny, tiny village.
  
• Appearance: Svelte as a feather, pale as death. These innate characteristics have been with Richard since he was but a wee babe. Though nowadays, his form is refined through physical exercise and scars obtained from experiments gone awry, or the odd duel. His hair is slick, mahogany (it grew darker concurrently with age). Nose is V-shaped with a thin bridge. One of his eyebrows is marked by the aforementioned scars-a diagonal cross that goes from eye corner to forehead. His clothes are either black jade in colour or snow white with gold trimmings and an corvax skull amulet around his neck. Downturned eyes, darker than his hair, but projecting an aurora of understanding.
  
  Items & Personal Belongings:
  Sabled Nekronate - All rapiers are beautiful to the eye, but the Nekronate possesses an arresting quality that cannot be explained. A dish-styled hilt that is blacker than soul who wields it, this blackness even extends to the spine of the weapon before melting away into a silver blade. It is known for two things: Being Richard's favoured weapon amongst them all and the unique modification that when thrusted creates a harmonic tune akin to whistling. This is not the blade creasing the air for that is still present. It is exceptionally durable due to its dwarven origins and has claimed dozens of lives that stood before its bearer.
  
  Armour of the Duelist - A unique armour crafted to Richard's specifications. A stark combination of cloths, gambeson, fur, feathers and metals. It is exceptionally light and provides great defence against piercing attacks and cushioning blunt ones. Though it is quite weak to slashes. Richard has also altered the shoulder cloak to be readily detachable so that he may use it in battle against his adversaries.
  
  Abilities: An odd hybrid between long-range caster and close-quarters duelist, Richard's signature attunement towards frost magic makes him an ideal lance slinger to foes afar. The preferred distance for him, but many a foe are surprised when the enfeebled swordsman attacks with the ferocity of a lion and the gracefulness of a swan. The necromantic spells that he weaves mainly cause the resuscitated cadavers to act as rotting shields that catch the weapon of the enemy. A lot of Richard's attacks also hinge on his intelligence and utilisation of his environs, such as that one time where he dropped a stone (of considerable heft) onto an opponent's head with a thrust of his rapier.
  Weaknesses:
  
  insubstantial permanence - Though his body is honed, it is quite susceptible damage. Whereas one could withstand a blow or two, minor injuries can prove to be fatal. Especially of the dull variety.
  
  Lame Leftie - Though an unexplained injury or condition, Richard's left arm is laggard and weaker than his right.
  
• 
  Theme:
  

 

[Archie]

BASIC INFORMATION
Name: Zhalgasbek Tural
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Role: Batyr of the Kul tribe, Chosen of the Mutagenic Cult
Race: Human

PERSONAL
Sexuality: Does it move?
High Concept: Warrior champion of a dark tribe whose mutagenic magic modern weaponry is quickly rendering obsolete.
Personality: While no people can be painted with a broad brush, there are qualities universal to Zhalgas's nomadic, mutation-loving people. From a young age, they fight and devour the corpses of their enemies - preferably somewhat rotten so as to acquire diseases to destroy the body, allowing it to be rebuilt ever better and stronger. Self-destruction is the goal - like a weightlifter works out, a follower of the Mutagenic Cult works out his body by injuring it so it can be rebuilt. The end product is usually ugly and imperfect, but is strong. Zhalgas, like his tribesmen, does not only accept behaviors that the wider world - including most of Hollowdale - find disgusting, such as cannibalism, but is filled with contempt for those who shy away. The nomads see their dark religion as nothing more than the obvious truth. The Blue Sky put his people on this earth with the ability to mutate, the ability to kill, the ability to feast upon each other. He gave mankind no evidence of Gods, only war. Those who walk the way of the blue sky will survive his storms - those who reject it are delusional. They invent false morals and false Gods to paint a pretty picture of a world. They reject reality, and because of that can never enjoy it.

That is not to say the tribes have no morals - rather they are different. Their morality prohibits nothing that one can do, but encourages him or her towards growth and glory - the two true joys of a "realistic" life. The shamans have sang since time immemorial that every person is born weak and unskilled, and every life ends in failure through death. There is no point putting off the end, nor giving up because it's inevitable. Rather, a life of valor is worthy in itself. It's against this cultural backdrop that Zhalgas judges his new, urban surroundings. There are things in Blackrock he likes - taverns, parties, and drugs - but he despises its overall feel. Like rats, its people scurry about trying to please each other, unaware that the harder they try to survive, the harder it becomes. They are obsessed with beauty but put no premium on strength. Worst of all are the elite, whom Zhalgas owes allegiance to, but who try to prolong their lives with necromantic magic. As far as the batyr is concerned, anyone who isn't on a clock has no incentive to live a life worth remembering. As far as customs are concerned, Zhalgas is tolerant but takes huge objection with civilized peoples' gender roles (since everyone can mutate, nomads see no difference between men and women).

As for where Zhalgas differs from his kin, he's rather progressive for a nomad. Due to his lack of deformities, he mixed freely with "the stunted ones" during his military service. Unlike the other chosen, he learned to read long before he was sent on his quest. He is fascinated with epic fantasy, Southern religion (which, in his mind, is just another genre of fantasy), and electricity - in particularly how the latter can enhance shamanic dreams, or power mechanized suits of armor. If born to a different people, he may have been a scientist. His lack of education however leaves him prone to amateurish "hot takes" on history and science alike, namely that the city of Blackrock could be powered by mutated lightning bugs (lightning is in the name, so they must be electrically powered, after all).

Zhalgas is drawn to the few urban people who are like him - aware that their inevitable death means they have nothing to lose, loving ability, power, and contest. He's adjusted well to civilized life, wearing "normal people clothes" and playing into his image as a mysterious savage to make an entry into Blackrock high society.

Backstory: Zhalgas was born to Khas, son of Nusunbek, both warrior-champions of the Kul tribe. One of many dark tribes that once freely roamed the Eastern grasslands, the Kul like their rivals were among the first to fight the vampiric incursion, leaving them weakened and unable to crush the treacherous Church in the aftermath of their betrayal. Fleeing to Hollowdale, they settled in the grasslands between the Dread Wastes and Dawnfall before siding with Ulric in his war for domination. Like all Kul youth, Zhas learned to ride the Gryphon before he could speak and spend his childhood between raiding expeditions to the Dread wastes, with the objective of hunting animals, undead, mutated creatures, and bandits, all of which would be consumed raw when the party returned to the herding camp to increase the progress of mutation. He spent his camp life wrestling, breeding captives (being a rather precocious young man) and smoking poison roots to increase mutagenic activity in the brain.

Since time immemorial, the tribes of the wastes had practiced a special breed of magic which civilized people called autonecromancy, but which they referred to as the great mutation. In the same way muscles are torn and regrow stronger, practitioners of mutagenic magic consumed parts of fallen creatures in a stew mixed by their shamans to grow those appendanges. Of course, this was hardly an exact science, usually performed with the help of a permanently drug-delirious shaman until a mutant came of age, and the resulting product could be downright hideous and defective. And this is where Zhalgas, soon to be known as Aksek Zhalgas (flawless Zhalgas), stood out. No matter how ambitious the shaman's mutation, Zhalgas always grew without defects. The tribe could care less about looks, but his enabled more and more ambitious mutations, increasing the warrior's strength.

When he reached military age at 13, Zhalgas joined his tribal warband against Hinokah. The first expeditions went well. The dark tribes formed the anvil to Hollowdale's "anvil" - its hordes of undead, conducting mobile, decisive strikes to smash the enemy when immobilized. Spiderskin armor and spiderskin mutations, as applied to man and mount alike, combined to make the nomads resilient to shrapnel and gunfire from most angles, and in his teens the nomads still formed an effective shock troop against Hinokah. In the past years, however, all that has started to change. The nomads' traditional tactic - charging on Gryphon back after the enemy was distracted by swarms of undead - is becoming difficult with advances in Hinokah technology. At the 37th battle of Shingenseikura, Hinokah's new "defense in depth" killed thousands of tribesmen and uncounted legions of undead.

Following this catastrophe, the plains tribes abandoned their eons-long feuds, small wars, and disagreements and called a Qurultai to resolve the issue, knowing full well that their dominion over the plains was predicated on Ulric's perception of their military effectiveness. The tribal beys decided that four chosen were to be dispatched to increase mutagenic power:

Turdakun Nizal, Batyr of the Khos Tribe, shall go to the Dead Wastes and treat with the Octopus, a semi-mythical creature allegedly responsible for the contamination of the wastes. The Octopus would then be convinced to become the God of the dark tribes, and, failing that, be slain, its remnants transported back to the Qurultai's meeting point, and its corpse feasted upon by each tribe in proportion to its population.

Khamzat Ruslanzhamet, Batyr of the Nur Tribe, shall infiltrate Hinokah, to treat with dissident elements of the military so as to improve magical armors. Failing that, he was to "acquire" a dragon for experimentation and potential domestication.

Koblandy Zhyrau, Batyr of the Zhas Tribe, shall venture to the far East, and acquire live vampyrs for experimentation and mutation.

Zhalgasbek Tural, Batyr of the Kul Tribe, the man of no visible deformities, shall go to Blackrock and convince the necromantic overlords to fund research into a mutated "insect cloud" to mask the movements of the gryphon cavalry, and to open the Forest to reaving so that werewolves can be captured and experimented on.

Knowing full well the affection Ulric has for the wolfkin, Zhalgas has not made his mission clear. Instead, he has set up shop as a shaman of the Mutagenic cult, offering its enhancements and drugs to commoners and nobles alike. He awaits an entry into high society, then needs to survey it for the best opening to accomplish his people's conspiracy.

Hometown: A tent, usually roaming between the Wastes and Dawnfall.

PHYSICAL Appearance: After 26 years of mutations, which have progressed at an advanced speed due to Zhalgas' apparent immunity to defects, the batyr stands at almost eight feet tall with artificial muscles. His face is perhaps the least disfigured of his people, subject to only intermittent scarring (see right), and often fully healed. He is tall, with an unruly black beard and a low voice. His arms are almost as wide as his torso, so he can still pull his lower body up. His armor - see right - is lightweight, made mostly of spidersilk plates and clothing produced from horses mutated to produce it.
Items & Personal Belongings: Owing to his nomadic upbringing, he travels light. However, he always brings with him Ilumdar, a magical heated dagger he found in the wastes, his armor, Rhun, his flaming sword whose sheath is a mutated living organism that infuses it with toxic microorganisms. His mount, which never enters the city and is always flying or hunting around it, is a Manticore named Khasar.
Abilities: Zhalgas' main advantage in combat is he's large and absurdly strong, capable of throwing hundreds of pounds across a room. His brain has been reconstructed through the destructive-regenerate process of fume inhallation and mutation. It's weak in certain areas, but strong in combat instincts and timing - Zhalgas often feels like the world is moving in slow motion. Finally, his skin has been lined with spider silk which makes it resilient. He is quite a skilled mutagenic shaman at this point, and no non-fatal wound is permanent - though the process of healing takes days and cannot be used in the same battle.
Weaknesses: While Zhalgas is unique among mutants for having no obvious defects (as in, unintended mutations), there are still "design flaws" he overlooked while building himself. He has two hearts in his enormous rib cage, designed to sustain his huge and active frame, but his arteries have not always kept pace so he has an acute case of high blood pressure. To prevent blood from gushing out in response to battle wounds, he uses the dagger Ilumdar to sear his wounds. High blood pressure also makes him prone to repeated, random strokes, which he's not incredibly worried about since his brain has mutated to the point where they're rarely fatal - they only damage his brain, which is advantageous because his black magic can regrow it "better". However, since they run the risk of causing him to "fall asleep" as he calls it in combat, he has glands in the back of his ears that can outpour large amounts of blood from his cranium. In the past, he also had issues with knee, ankle, and lower back problems from supporting his huge bodyweight, but those were more easily overcome with mutant reinforcement.

Lastly, Zhalgas has gone through cycles of destroying and reconstructing parts of his brain to emphasize "important" points, at the detriment of all others. Zhalgas has an almost nonexistent senses of touch, smell, and taste. He is emotionally stunted - by design, his black shaman stunted his amygdala to reduce his sense of fear, but did not know how to disable other negative emotions, which have become more severe as brain mutations have destroyed Zhalgas's ability to regulate himself. He cycles between exhileration brought about by his over-reactive adrenal glands, followed by "crashes" of anger and sadness.

Theme

 

[Remembrance]

Bloodguard Ephraim​

• I. General Info
• II. Personal Profile
• III. Abilities & Equipment
• IV. Extras

• 
  Name: Ephraim
  
  Epithet: Bloodguard Ephraim [Formal], Eph [Informal], Little Eph [Informal]
  
  Height: 5 ft. 11 in. (180 cm)
  
  Age: Unknown
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Role: Bloodguard
  
  Race: Hybrid (Human/Vampire]
  
  Sexuality: Heterosexual
  
  Hometown: Rising Sun, Hinokah
  
  
• 
  Appearance:
  With muted white hair and ghostly pale skin, one could mistake Ephraim as a man who has seen little of the outside world. In many aspects, that assumption can be found to be true. His body tells a young man's story of hardship and endurance but his face has aged far beyond what can be considered normal. Ephraim's demeanor and facial structure can be construed as disinterested, even lacking. However, for Ephraim, it is a look he has seen over decades, one that has not changed even with the changing of the Aether. His eyes lack the gleam and shimmer they once had, now reduced to a slight shine seldom seen.
  
  Personality:
  "I burnt the limits of my flesh, the limits of want, and although all may die, I will remain."
  
  Ephraim had once been a young and impetuous man who sought the world for adventure. His newfound lack of aging and enriched physicality afforded him opportunities none would ever hope to see in their lifetime. It would be considered a curse to some, but for Ephraim, his supposed curse meant one thing. Adventure. All things, however, die. For Ephraim, immortality came with the cost of seeing those around him fall ill and die. The world was changing but he could not. He was a constant in a world filled with variables, a mistake in the scheme of nature, an absolute in the continent. With the mainland known, his mind fell into discord and disharmony. Ephraim reached the finish line, he had seen everything he wanted to and not much else could satisfy his hunger for exploration.
  
  His mind could not keep up with his age and as such, he lost much of his earlier and more adventurous memories. Ephraim now is all but a gregarious man, he instinctually forsakes the effort and commitment needed to form any valued kinship with any man or woman. He has a primal fear of attachment, bringing him to be a quiet and reserved person, changed from what he surmises to be his previously bashful and loud self. Ephraim comprehends the weight of his infinite life, knowing that with limitless time, he can achieve anything he puts his mind to. This has caused him to seem largely sluggish but decisive and purposeful. Akin to a slow-moving reptilian, Ephraim will reach his destination in due time.
  
  He is, decidedly, disinterested in the politics of Aether, only realizing that with each new leader, one will fall. Ephraim sees politics and such as derivative; short-term solutions to what is long-term. It is then that he could not understand why many are concerned over the Cainhurst lineage. Becoming of his origin from the Hinokah, Ephraim had put much of his time and mental strength into studying armed combat rather than focusing his mind on the gathering of knowledge and science. He is when compared to the one he has sworn fealty to, lacking in general sciences and knowledge.
  
  Backstory:
  Much of Ephraim's memories remain lost, fragmented, or blurry. Age has caused his inner mind to forsake earlier memories in favor of newer ones, with the exception of notable memories and other necessities. What he surmises to be long since his curse and even further since his birth. Through limited information gathering and light reading, he theorizes his origin to be from a coastal city off the western coast of Hinokah called Rising Sun. The city was destroyed at the start of the Vampyric War, with many of its refugees fleeing inward. At present, he knows roughly what has transpired over the last 20 years.
  
  At some point, in his egregiously long lifetime, he had, fearfully, entered the realm of Hollowvale. The realm, as he knew it, was ruled by a warlord named Ulfric Cainhurst, the greatest of all necromancers. He had beaten the other warlords into submission, becoming the leader of the now-sovereign nation. Although Ephraim was not one for history, he suspects he was aware of Hollowvale before the Unification War, considering his innate knowledge.
  
  Ephraim waded through thick waters, pushed past swamps, and snuck past the many undead. His arrival to the nearest point to Crowhaven was met with rough terrain and even rougher citizens. It was, with many days afforded, that he trekked past the natural defenses and made his way into the city. He knew it well, a surprising fact that arose when he breezed past the main gates. Though the darkened night obscured much of Crowhaven, the layout seemed as though he knew it like the back of his hand. That is to say, he got the general scheme of it all but intricate details were utterly lost to him.
  
  With buckling legs and an exhausted body, Ephraim collapsed midway into the central capital, losing his body to fatigue and his mind to pain.
  
  He awoke in a dark, dreary place. Muddled with blood and dirt. Ephraim was met with a, seemingly, young woman named Lucrezia. The woman spoke in complex words and phrases, marveling over the utter specimen she had found. Though she remarked on how it would be a waste to kill the young man. After short consideration, the mad scientist offered Ephraim respite. Safety from the outer world and all that it contained as well as protection from the most feared man on the continent. Ulfric Cainhurst. All this for access to Ephraim's innate abilities as well as being able to freely experiment - and admire - as much as she would like. The only other options would be death or forceful imprisonment. Ephraim really hadn't a choice in the matter so a pact was formed.
  
  Ephraim has been kept in Lady Lucrezia's safety for the better part of 15 years, kept hidden from both the ruler of the realm and all of the insidious Black Court. He looks to his caretaker much like a son would to a mother and although he may be older by many leagues, it is right to say that his heart is held solely by her. While Ephraim yearns for the world and all that he may discover anew, he cannot deny that the safety he is afforded is more than enough to keep him there for another century or so.
  
  
• 
  Abilities:
  [Blood of the Queen] - Ephraim was cursed with the blood of the all-powerful and all-reaching mind of the principle Vampire. However, like all contagions, it festers and adapts to its surroundings. For Ephraim, it did not transform nor contaminate him, it stayed dormant. It is a controllable substance, capable of being shaped into various armaments and tools as well as mending his own wounds. With his blood, and by extension his unique physiology, he is still granted the unique powers of full-blooded Vampires, at a weaker level though. In spite of Ephraim's incapability in the way of magick, his blood can be used as a catalyst for various rituals and spells. However, due to it being his blood, overuse can leave him drained and weak.
  
  [Bloodkin to the Ancients] - Due to his unique physiology, Ephraim is at the peak of human capability. It was not a gift granted to him but rather a feat he had worked towards over his lifetime. It is simply that his body can withstand the training and hardships required and develop considerably more efficiently than it would be for others. Compared to the average human, one would find Ephraim to be roughly 5 times more capable in strength, endurance, agility, and others.
  
  [Swordmaster Incumbent] - With endless time comes great pastimes and as such, Ephraim is remarkably talented in the way of swordsmanship. With countless battles and duels under his belt, he can be considered one of the best within Hollowvale. It is commonly described as formless, lacking in any proper stances, and instead melding as many different techniques and styles as possible. It does, however, have its flaws.
  
  
  Weaknesses:
  When in considerable blood loss, Ephraim is noticeably weaker and dejected. Due to his blood being his second form of combat, he finds himself in these states regularly.
  While his ability with the sword is unpredictable and wide in its range of movements, it can appear incoherent or messy to those of a better skill than him.
  Due to his unfortunate position as a 'unique specimen', Ephraim is almost consistently tested and experimented on by Lady Lucrezia, holder of his secret and his loyalty. Whenever Lucrezia is out, Ephraim is likely to follow, and when in the laboratory, there is oft little a break. Ephraim is pushed to his mental and physical limitations to see what can happen, it is there he is more typically worn out or utterly lethargic.
  Ephraim has a distaste for the sun, not finding it enough to completely eviscerate him but enough to leave him uncomfortable and weary.
  
  Items & Personal Belongings:
  + [Mournhunters]
  A pair of weapons once used to slay Ephraim, now claimed as a victory trophy. They are slim swords resembling that of a cross. Their handle is uncomfortable at best but its appearance greatly makes up for the absence of comfort. According to the intricate markings etched onto the blade, they have both slain approximately 43 Vampires.
  
  + [Locket of the Damned]
  An ornate locket forged from pure metal, painted in such a way that it shines even with the dimmest of lights. He may not truly understand where it comes from or from whom he has obtained it but it bears something he truly holds dear. The locket, unsurprisingly, is faceted in such a way that it is impossible for Ephraim to open. Whether by magic or sheer forging, the locket is shut tight with little room to wrench it clear. Ephraim wears it with dignity in spite of his thinking of it as merely an ornament.
  
  
• 
  Character Theme:
  
  
  Others:
  - Ephraim is a horticulturist at heart, taking great pleasure in the care of plants.
  - Even though Ephraim's age is unknown, it is possible to tell and infer that he has lived long enough to have participated in the Vampiric War.
  
  

 

[Spoiled Bread]

Rose Cainhurst

Age: 15
Gender: Female
Role: Cainhurst
Race: Human

PERSONAL
Sexuality:  heterosexual
High Concept: A Cainhurst teenager struggling to find her self worth

Personality: A pessimistic and curious girl who doesn't want anything to do with the court, yet her being a Cainhurst make it unavoidable. A snarky, spoiled brat who become a total meek in front of her father.

Backstory: Born to one of the sly noblewoman who managed to get into Ulfric's good side, Rose was also born frail. Just like Ulfric's children before her, or the ones after her. She grew up to became a really energetic child however, she would spent a day playing for the entire day and then spent the next two day bedridden from fever. Her overly doting mother would shower her with books, toys and gifts so she won't get bored on the bed. Rose's favorite gift was a cute black kitten she eventually named Eeriel. After that Rose's interest in animals seems to be drastically increased as she spent her days catching bugs and little critters instead of playing aimlessly like before.

Age 6 was the first time she entered the court, and also the first time she met with her father eye to eye. She caught a beautiful golden beetle for him and with sparkly eyes she innocently gave it to him as a gift. She expected a wide smile and a warm hug, maybe also a heartfelt thank you, but none of that came. Her father only gaze at her disapprovingly, as if disappointed at her existence. Feeling a sudden unbearable pressure, Rose fled the presence of her father and cried on her mother's lap. That was the last day of Rose's peaceful life.

Now that the king had noticed her presence, he sent her mentors. Loads of them. Swordsmanship, court manner, academy, military, accounting, arts and many more. Though she usually collapsed during any of the physical lessons so her mother convinced the king to let her handle Rose's education. As expected, her mother's schedule was much more lenient. Too lenient, even, that Rose started to push herself harder instead. Although she did cut short a lot of the physical lesson. She kept remembering her father's gaze and felts like she's unworthy of her life.

Under her resolve and the countless top grade mentors provided, her talents started to bloom. She is proven to excels at raising undead animals. She even went beyond raising flesh and fur, to raising chitin and stinger, skeletal drake and many more. As one of the more vulnerable of the Cainhurst family there's attempts to assassinate her but everytime that happens those assassins never came back, not even a trace of them remains.

Hometown: Blackrock

PHYSICAL
Items & Personal Belongings:
- Walking Staff (A crimson walking stick that she carries to prop herself in case she suddenly lose her strength. It has hidden blade inside and the grip part housed a special concoction that can mark anyone sprayed with a special scent.)
- Crimson coat (A coat with lots of pockets inside it.)
- Eeriel (Eeriel is dead, but he's still here 'accompanying' Rose and following her everywhere.)

Abilities:
Rose excels at necromancy, alchemy and shadow magic. Though her necromancy is specialized into the creation of undead animals in particular. She uses this in tandem with shadow magic to conjure her beasts out of her shadow.

Weaknesses:
Rose has a frail body that won't let her perform excessive activities for long. In fact, running for 10 seconds is enough to make her out of breath. This also lead to her inferiority complex and shameful feeling whenever she faces her father.

Theme: (Musical theme)
​

 

[IG42]

BASIC INFORMATION
Name: Khi'mura Tsin
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Role: Bloodguard
Race: Neko'sha

PERSONAL
Sexuality: Pansexual
High Concept: Played the son role in a spy family for Hollowvale in Hinokah and learned to wield katana. Raised to nobility once back in Hollowvale and joined the Bloodguard.

Personality: Having spent the latter half of his childhood living a false life Khi'mura is able to present a false impression of himself as easily as breathing and adjust his behaviour to suit his purposes with whoever he happens to interacting with at the time. Leveraging this skill he insulates himself from particularly messy court manoeuvring while engaging in occasional mischief with those less likely to take his head in response.

Unwavering loyalty is naturally considered essential for any Bloodguard and Khi'mura has that in spades...sort of, like many a Neko'sha he's loyal to coin but in his experience the Ulfric Cainhurst has been very good at keeping it coming, that and there is the very long and painful death or worse reserved for traitors.

Despite his less than lofty principles Khi'mura does take a lot of pride in his abilities and to himself in general, some might call him unbearably full of himself but he'll tell you he's just learned to love himself.

Backstory: As the game of shadows between Hollowvale and Hinokah intensified both sides turned to less conventional means to conceal their spies leading to a family unit of Neko'sha being hired and deployed to the Hinokah capital under the guise of settling down to run their merchant business from a central location while raising their children, Khi'mura among them playing the elder child.

As part of the intelligence gathering Khi'mura was enrolled into a sword school taught by a retired leader of the local secret police and ingratiate himself on the still influential figure, proving an able and popular if cocky student the spy family were able to use the teacher as a connection to high society of Cloudtop allowing them to gather important information for several years.

When the operation was finally ended and the family stole their way back into Hollowvale they we elevated to nobility in recognition of their service, thrust into court while his parents focused on carving out a role as spymasters Khi'mura was left to mostly fend for himself using his experience at subterfuge to survive political machinations and his exotic swordsmanship eventually earned him a place on the Bloodguard.

Hometown: Dawnfall

PHYSICAL
Items & Personal Belongings: Tetsunagi: a masterfully crafted katana given to Khi'mura by his teacher
Abilities: Trained by one of the most experienced swordsmen in Hinokah Khi'mura is considered a swordmaster in his own right, rather than wielding the sorcery common in Hollowvale he prefers to focus what magicks he has on augmenting his bladework and preventing instantly fatal or immobilising enemy spells affecting him, also to shoot swordbeams because swordbeams are cool. In addition to his swordsmanship Khi'mura can leverage his martial training barehanded in necessary.
Weaknesses: While his skill with the katana is unparalleled within Hollowvale Khi'mura is rather overspecialised in that area leaving him lacking in the use of spellcasting and other weaponry.

Theme:

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Character Sheet
BASIC INFORMATION
Name: Elron Parkard Tolbarm the 3rd
Age: 235
Gender: male
Role: court brewmaster and advisor
Race: elf (dark)

PERSONAL
Sexuality: heterosexual
High Concept: a simple old man who's skills go far beyond brewing beers, amd into the more arcane but useful areas
Personality: a odd somewhat senile and eccentric old elf is the best way to describe Elron, but for those that make use of his particular services regularly find the senileness is a facade to keep himself safe form anyone who might assume the old brewmaster perhaps knows too much, the eccentric-ness entirely true though, leaving Elron somewhat paranoid if overly cautious when he really doesn’t need to be scheming only so far as to maintain his personal status quo old enough to recall the vampyre the brewmaster remains wary of them… even if unnecessary

Backstory: much of Elron early life has been lost to history or prehaps intentional obscured by the brewmaster himself due to his personal paranoia is up for debate. form what is understood Elron for a long time made his living as he’d always had selling remedies be It for the physical condition or to drown the soul in drink. what he was most well known for was his ability to see portent of the future and observe thing far away without needing to be their, this is what got him his spot as an advisor or so it’s said. to this day Elron does as he always has admitted services to far more important people but none the less it’s remained the same.
Hometown: crowhaven

PHYSICAL
Appearance:

Items & Personal Belongings:
tome of ages: a book containing Elron collected understanding alchemy and brewing

“blitz wood“ staff: blitz wood doesn’t exist this is a fact indeed Elron had made up the tree as it is part of some convoluted story explaining his staffs existence. In truth it’s simply oak wood saturated with reagents over decades of usages good for stirring whiskey adds a special flavour

satchels: main satchel contain verious mundane but useful items for the old brewmaster

purple cloak: often wears this hooded cloak as it hides his ears.. of course it’s just paranoia that he does it every knows he’s a elf..

Abilities: a capable brewmaster and alchemist Elron finds these two fields overlap rather often potions and wine can be somewhat similar. In regards to magic the dark elf in well versed in the Field of scrying this skill is mainly what keeps his position where it is sight beyond the bounds of mortal eyes, but besides this Elron is capable of producing gouts and bursts of flame, usually to help with his other jobs but can be used in self defence

Weaknesses: years of working with alchemical agents and peering beyond the vail has left Elron vision somewhat clouded requiring glasses most of the time to see, in terms of combat aside form a fireball or two Elron is basically defenceless lacking the training or skill to match with anyone whom hasn’t just picked up a sword and started swinging

Theme: (Musical theme)

 

[Athanas]

BASIC INFORMATION
Name: Arkoth Von Urastar
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Role: Bloodguard
Race: Human

PERSONAL
Sexuality: Heterosexual
High Concept: Ambitious Gloryhound
Personality:
"Oh, please, is that all? You’re as predictable as the damn sunrise!"

Brash, reckless, and with a somewhat childish sense of humor, Arkoth comes off as puzzling to many who encounter him. He is rather diligent, and works hard to achieve his goals, but that, coupled with his intelligence and foresight, are pretty much all the positives one can list about him. He is utterly heedless of any perceived dangers, and "fear" doesn't seem to be word in his vocabulary, which is more often than not a detriment rather than an advantage. That being said, he is fairly friendly to those he encounters, and he's not particularly picky when it comes to making friends. Lastly, he is theatrical and over-the-top, and while he can be serious if he absolutely needs to be, it is something he avoids like the plague. He delights watching those not close to him confused, puzzled, and alarmed-it makes him feel less self-conscious about his own lackluster social skills.

His moral values, too, are fickle, and nearly non-existent. There's very few things he won't do-In fact, he has an additional incentive to do the things he's not supposed to.

Backstory: It is often said that some men are born and fate smiles on them. They are born rich, powerful, amidst a family that can provide them with the best tutors they could ever hope to have. That they are born with an eye-catching visage, or a talent for sciences, magic, or social interaction. That they are born as a fulfillment of a great prophecy, they are chosen as the hero to defeat the dark lord.

Such stories always amused Arkoth. Born a noble bastard himself to a rather corrupt noble, it seems that fate had the exact opposite approach to him. Though legitimate, his siblings treated him no better than a commoner, oftentimes even worse. His biological mother had been killed in a mysterious "accident", and to his new one, he was but a constant reminder of the husband's infidelity. His early childhood was nothing but continuous strife and abuse from all sides. Still, he persevered. It was not stoicism that allowed him to triumph, however, no. He simply learned to laugh at the absurdity of the world, at how needlessly...cruel it was. The comments of his siblings about how jarring it was for him to respond in such a manner only gave him more incentive to do it. It was a rebellion of sorts, At least, that was what his ever-worsening mental health thought of it as. To have a smile on your face no matter what adversities where thrown at you.

Despite this, he had not given up, unlike what it seemed-far from it. He trained as often as he could, hoping to one day be able to escape Vinistead and his suffocating home. He slowly but surely grew. Although his raw power was nowhere near what some of his siblings possessed, he realized that his talent was for foresight, for prediction, for trickery-for even the most powerful of blows mean nothing if they strike air, even the most potent of bolts deal no damage if their casting is interrupted, and the biggest of undead hordes mean nothing if their master is dead. To this end he honed his fighting style to be able to predict and outwit his opponent as effectively as possible.

His talents were noticed, and he was chosen to hold some small rank in the army. Now with access to proper training grounds and free from the constant abuse, he truly thrived, quickly growing in power and reputation, facets that he used to exploit Vinistead’s materialistic focus. There was no shortage of…questionable work to undertake in service of some nobleman or merchant. It was always a risk, but it was through that risk that he had gained notable wealth, which he used to commission a custom enchanted item of considerable power. A deck of magical cards, exhibiting wondrous properties. No matter what, though, his bizarre mannerisms were never gone, and this caused comrades and superiors alike to treat him with some contempt.

His break finally arrived years later, when he played a critical role in dismantling an uprising against Ulfric before it had gained much traction. Of course, Arkoth could only play such a key role because he actually had been in the employ of at least three of the conspirators, a fact that he made sure none who still drew breath were aware of. For this, he caught the court's attention, and chosen as a bloodguard of Blackrock. Eager to ascend further, Arkoth now seeks another opportunity to improve his station...And finding some mates and distractions along the way doesn't hurt, either. With that being said, however, he does frequently worry that maybe he has flown too close to the proverbial sun-the politics of Blackrock go very well beyond the petty mercantilism of Vinistead, and even the tiniest misstep could see a man reduced to a mindless undead before he could blink.

Surely, it can't be that bad being a Bloodguard?


Hometown: Vinistead

PHYSICAL
Appearance:

Spoiler: He has modified his red robes slightly, sporting a hood and a mask.

Spoiler: Unmasked appearance

Items & Personal Belongings: He possesses a considerable amount of alcohol and other such substances amongst his possessions-they help him maintain his good mood.

Ignoble Ending: A beautiful, mastercrafted scimitar pried from the dead hands of a betrayed nobleman. The Dwarven steel and craftsmanship would have placed such a weapon completely out of his reach, had he not chosen to simply ignore such limitations.

Leering Doom: His mask, enchanted with some very minor powers of illusion, mostly for the glowing eyes. What started as a spur of the moment visual gag evolved into something much more after a nobleman became convinced that it was an object of power. Ever since, Arkoth has taken a habit of carving "runes" faintly into it, and pretending like it is his most powerful artifact, a thing of legendary power that only can be unlocked by his blood. The inability of listeners to discern any actual magic frequently makes them actually even more convinced of it's potency, something which he finds completely hilarious.

Tonight's Special: A deck of cards which is the main source of his magic, and fighting style. The regular cards created by it double as throwing weapons akin to enchanted throwing knives, but some empowered cards have different effects depending on their engraved runes. This power does have one remarkable downside-his control over what particular cards are active at any given time is loose at best. Thus, though the item is incredibly potent, it is also equally unpredictable-much like the man wielding it.

The deck also has the capacity to “copy” as it were, the magic of others that linger in it’s vicinity for a certain amount of time. This takes the form of a new card, initially blank(he affectionately calls those jokers), being slowly inscribed with sigils indicative of the magic. This is limited by his own power-if he were to attempt to copy an ability from a more powerful spellcaster, he would retain the theme, but not the power level. In addition, only one such “Joker” may be used in any one combat

Abilities: Physically, he is a well trained hybrid fighter. He does possess some strength and endurance, and so doesn't need to constantly rely on agility unlike many combatants of similar bulk. That being said, he is still rather agile, and uses that effectively by changing up his fighting style to confuse the opponent. His intuition and foresight have been honed extensively, and he is able to predict most opponent's moves to some degree, which allows him to counter effectively or quickly press even the slightest advantage presented by a foe.

Magically, his true power comes from his deck, and it is a rather intriguing one at that-he uses his cards as vessels for channeling several different abilities and powers. The deck also has the capacity to “copy” as it were, the magic of others that linger in it’s vicinity for a certain amount of time. This takes the form of a new card, initially blank(he affectionately calls those jokers), being slowly inscribed with sigils indicative of the magic. This is limited by his own power-if he were to attempt to copy an ability from a more powerful spellcaster, he would retain the theme, but not the power level. In addition, only one such “Joker” may be used in any one combat.

Apart from that, he does possess some basic knowledge of combat magic-physical enhancements and the like. Nothing too impressive, but nonetheless useful in some small degree


Amongst non-combat related things, he seems to possess considerable pain tolerance, a constitution that allows him to much more easily shake drink or drug, and an absolutely stunning sleight of hand, which out of combat is used for party tricks(and occasionally pickpocketing). He is also quite good at sneaking about.

Weaknesses: How unreliable his magic is cannot be overstated-and frequently this renders him vulnerable, as he has to "make do" with whatever cards are on hand rather than the cards he would want

His fighting style largely revolves around planning ahead or exploiting vulnerabilities of his opponent, and so, forcing him to react to something unpredictable or maintaining constant pressure on him is a good way to make him lose.

He is politically inept, and socially average-his odd mannerisms make him stand out and render him unlikely to have many allies that are not of a similar mindset.

He is reckless and extremely impulsive, to the point where many wonder if he even cares about his own wellbeing. He is also surprisingly cocky, or at least acts cocky, which, when surrounded by people stronger than you, is nothing if not a detriment.

His love of theatricality extends to combat, too.


Theme:

 

[Dalamus Ulom]

Auberon Cainhurst
The Ebon Bow​

Name: Auberon Cainhurst
Age: 28
Gender:  Male
Role: Cainhurst
Race: Human

PERSONAL
Sexuality: Bisexual
High Concept: The Eldest surviving brother, strongest of arm among all the Cainhurst children, yet almost completely impotent in the field of magic.
Personality: Many residents of Blackrock would describe Auberon as a haughty, cruel bastard, who seems to delight in the misfortune of others, always with that disdainful smirk of his. But, in truth the man is an anxious man, filled with doubts about everything from himself to even his own father, not that he would ever voice any of these dark thoughts aloud. Yet despite his haughty appearance and anxious core, the man still finds it within him to care for his younger siblings, working in concert with Severa to act as parental figures for their siblings and help guide them on the proper course.

Backstory: Born from one of the many mistresses that surround Ulfric, Auberon has always been considered a disappointment in comparison to his siblings, and was in retrospect one of the first signs that the blood of Cainhurst was corrupted, as the boy seemed to have no affinity for magic whatsoever.

Despite this lack, as Auberon grew it was quickly discovered that though he had no magic, he was supernaturally strong, capable of crushing bones even as a small child. So, the boy spent a majority of his youth and young adulthood being taught by a wide variety of warriors that would teach him all he needed to know to put his strength to best use in service to Ulfric.

Though the boy took to almost every weapon like a fish to water, learning them with ease, it never seemed to lessen the disappointment he could feel from the various followers and advisors of his fathers, in addition to Ulfric himself. That disappointment that seemed to surround Auberon caused the boy to grow to doubt himself. After all, what sort of Cainhurst couldn't even use magic? So, he kept trying, constantly attempting to draw upon any form of magic, but he never succeeded. Auberon didn't want to accept it, but it seemed that it was simply the truth, and the pain from that realization never left the boy as he grew, causing him to put on a mask of arrogance to hide his pain from the world around him.

So Auberon poured himself into his studies, until one day during his daily archery lessons, after snapping yet another bow, he realized something. With his incredible strength, he could use a bow that no other could, one with such power as to rip a man in twain. Realizing this, he spoke to his teacher, an elven woman named Blodwedd, and realizing with horror and awe what the young princling could do with such a weapon, set herself to the task of procuring it for her student.

Though no one is entirely sure how Blodwedd convinced the dwarves to create the weapon, what is known is that the piece, named "Star-Piercer" by the dwarves who made it, was eventually brought before the princling, and with that bow, eventually obtained for himself the epithet of "Ebon Bow".
Hometown: Blackrock

PHYSICAL
Items & Personal Belongings: Auberon wields a heavily reinforced dwarven made blade named Foe-Breaker, able to resist the forces he exerts and slice clean through even the toughest of armors.

However, Auberon's weapon of choice is none other than his bow, which was dubbed "Star-Piercer" by it's creator. A horrifyingly powerful bow made by the dwarves through unknown means, it seems almost as if it is carved from pure obsidian, it's surface glittering with a hundred thousand razor sharp edges. No one else save perhaps for Ulfric himself are capable of pulling back the string more than a millimeter. Wielding this bow, Auberon has been known to be able to shoot a man wearing a complete set of plate armor clean in half, along with killing at least another four men behind the first.
Abilities: Supernatural Strength and Endurance, Skilled in a variety of weapons and combat styles, and considered one of the best archers in Hollowvale.
Weaknesses: Auberon has absolutely no magical ability, and tends to have trouble fighting mages unless at an extreme distance or in close quarters. Besides this weakness in combat, He is filled with crippling self doubt due to his lack of magical ability, which he masks with a false front of narcissism and arrogance, though he never acts as such with his siblings.

Theme: (Musical theme)
​

 

[Arnalia]

Amelia Cainhurst
The White Butterfly​

art by Pilyeon

High Concept
Ulfric youngest surviving child who was hidden away before being brought back to Blackrock. A fledgling necromancer and socialite who often does as she please, regardless of danger.​

• Basic
• Personal Story
• Skills and Items
• Extras

• 
  
  Name:  
  Amelia Cainhurst
  
  Formely known as "Charlotte" now only her siblings or those she allow (which is nearly everyone) call her that or "Lottie" for short.
  
  Age:
  15
  
  Gender:  
  Female
  
  Role:
  child of Cainhurst
  
  Race:
  Human
  
  Sexuality:
   pansexual, somewhere on the ace spectrum
  
  (she only know that she seem to like all kind of people but have not really been attracted to someone yet and haven't put further thought on the matter)
  
  Hometown:
  Born in Blackrock she also consider Dead Harbor as much her hometown as the former.
  
  Appearance:
  A young girl with a delicate build, currently standing at 4'11 (153 cm) and don't look likely to grow past a mere 5'2 (158 cm) if she is lucky. Very fond of "frou-frous" she usually wears a lot of frills, laces, bows, and precious jewels. A true fashionista she dress as luxuriously as she is allowed, and her style could only be described as cute, with a charming touch of eccentricity and girliness. Charlotte overall complexion is very pale to the point that when sick she look beyond ghastly. She inherited most of her mother features, light pink hair as well as her pale and seemingly white eyes, which are in fact pink as well if one where to look deep into them. She love to dye her hair or changes her appearance on a whims and is often seen sporting dark brown hair to mimic her father. Yet few would think there is any resemblance between the soft looking girl and Ulfric, save for those about to die, when her piercing gaze look upon them, not with concern nor compassion, but a chilling calmness.
  
  
• 
  
  Personality:
  Bubbly, welcoming, kind, caring, and as easygoing as she is sweet, Amelia or Lottie as she like to be call, often stick out like a sore thumb amongst Blackrock residents and most of Hollowvale. A naturally enthusiastic person, she is a relentless optimist with an insatiable curiosity. Always eager to make friends and put a smile on people faces.
  A gregarious and social butterfly, she is also famous for her flamboyance and generosity. Liking to shower anyone around her with attention, kind words or witty and funny remarks.
  
  Alas, despite being as talented as her siblings, the young girl is famous for shirking away any duties and chores whenever she can. Disliking any kind of responsibilities or works and preferring to play or throw parties. Easily bored she is known to be impulsive as well as whiny, especially when questioned about her irresponsible behaviors. She has a tendency for sulking and being petulant when not given what she want or forced to do anything she doesn't want to.
  
  All that coupled with her very apparent lack of ambitions quickly gave her the reputation of being just a frivolous and spoiled, but loving and carefree little princess. Oh so innocent and harmless, well almost.
  
  The savviest court nobles and any courtisans worth their salt know well what she is capable of, and to stay on her good side. As Lottie has a passion for political and social game and schemes. Adaptable and patient, she is highly perceptive and observant of people, as well as being much more proactive and resourceful than she first appear. Many imprudents seeking to exploit or trap her made the mistake of underestimating the young girl. Which often ended up with their reputation in tatters, a major loss of status or a "mysterious" dead.
  
  For although her morals are less questionable than most nobles or what would be expected of a good Cainhurst. They are rarely white, if ever. She have a complete lack of empathy or mercy for her enemies and is extremely cruel, sadistic, and persistent in her hatred for them.
  
  She's often painted as one of the least "Cainhurst-like" sibling, however Lottie took the family motto to heart, even if she interpreted it in her own way. For her being strong is something internal, a deep and utter disregard for death and dangers. Something she believe anyone can strive toward but never truly reach as long as they wish to live. As such she believe that the small and defenseless child, who stick their tongue at their attacker before jumping off the cliff they cornered them in, is stronger than any powerful warrior fearing death.
  
  She possess an utter lack of care about self-preservation, dying and is nonchalant about anything gruesome and violent that would traumatized average people. This made her beyond reckless and chaotic, often being the first sign that shatter any perception of her being the most "normal" of the bunch.
  
  If this isn't this then it's her sometimes jarring mood swing, optimism that can border on delusions or flight of fancy that sometimes make her look insane.
  
  Backstory:
  Despite being one of Ulfric countless mistress, her mother would prove to be special, among the majority only caring for the generous rewards afforded for bearing a Cainhurst to term, her mother was not among them.
  
  Mélodie was from a small branch of the Abadie noble family. An old house with deep roots in Vinistead but that had long since lost power as their renowned magical abilities had grew weaker and poorer with each generations, they accumulated debts with many of their attempts at trading or politics failing short. A humble woman, she was not saddened by her condition, but unfortunately was talented. The most gifted magician of the family since decades and decades of nearly magicless children, they had long decided of her future. Now too poor to marry her off to someone befitting their position, it was arranged for her to bear a child for Ulfric, gain a handsome reward, then marry a noble and restore the family prestige.
  
  The Abadie used every remaining connections they had as well as all but ruining themselves with bribes to get Mélodie to become Ulfric mistress, talking extensively about her resilient and obedient nature as well as her "extraordinary" magical abilities. Assuring that any child born from her would inherit their bloodline strong resistance as well as a hefty magical reserve.
  
  And they were right. During her pregnancy, Mélodie could feel that her baby would be powerful, the child taking a toll on her health despite her strong constitution. But life in Blackrock was hell and Ulfric it tyrannical king. Which spurred the young woman to disobey her family for the first time in her life. Already deeply in love with the life growing in her stomach, she carefully planned her escape. Fooling the midwifes with a highly intricate glamor of her newborn, she took the reward and flew as far as she could.
  
  Thank to her Charlotte life was mostly peaceful, her mother love and affection, largely compensating the constant need to hide their names and appearances for the young girl. Mélodie taught her daughter all she knew, being very skilled at healing magic and glamor, coupled with being an adept herbalist and knowing plethoras of practical skills any common girl would know, such as cooking, sewing and even haggling.
  
  Life was good and Charlotte flourished under her mother guidance. The little girl was a quick learner and so great was her affinity for magic that she quickly reached her mother level, showing a particular affinity for healing magic, as was usually the case for the Abadie. A fact they had try to downplay and hide since the Cainhurst ascended to power. As what wasn't further than raising the dead then stopping them from dying in the first place ?
  
  Unlike her family, Mélodie was proud of her gift and adamant about her daughter avoiding necromancy, wishing for Charlotte to distance herself from her father legacy. But it was not too be. The young Lottie was born with a rather whimsical streak, but soon she started to show worrying signs and behaviors. Delusions, manic phases, strong but shifting emotions and unstable magic. All clear signs that Charlotte blood was corrupt. It was with sorrow that Mélodie faced the realization that despite all her efforts, her daughter inherited the Cainhurst tainted blood, and if she did nothing, soon, their personality.
  
  In her erratic quest to save her daughter from succumbing to the familial perversion that ran through Ulfric blood, Mélodie haste made her less cautious. It was only a matter of time until she and her daughter were found. Charlotte was taken to Blackrock when she was 6 and about to turn 7 in a few months.
  
  Of this period she remember little except the first time she was poisoned. The young girl was miraculously saved by a servant with a soft spot for her. Utterly unprepared for this unforgiving and often deadly environment, Charlotte, now Amelia, instinctively sought comfort and warm from anyone able to protect her.
  Many servants were endeared by her innocence and bright personality, one in contrast with most Cainhurst children. As long as she made them happy, as long as she made them laugh or lighten up their day, Amelia knew they would shield her from the worst of Blackrock.
  
  As her hope to get her old life back vanished days after days and the assassinations attempts piled one after another, Amelia developed a philosophy, living only in the here and now, basking in beauty and joy whenever she could find them. Uncaring of consequences, danger, the future, and most of all death. As she grew stronger so too did her darker tendencies. Slowly she became bolder and bolder as well as morbid in her antics or punishment to those she disliked.
  
  Profundly attached to her siblings, they are the only thing keeping Amelia from trying to outright kill herself just for her amusement. Showering them with affection, she is notoriously clingy and needy toward them. Protective and a little possessive she like to have their attention and never miss an opportunity to try and cheer them up.
  She swing between delusional love and hatred toward Ulfric. Convincing herself he is nothing but her loving and kind father half the time, and a tyrant who murdered her mother which she is eager to kill the other half.
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  Abilities:
  - A prodigy at healing magic, she is capable of incredible feats for her age. She is also skilled in glamor and magic meant to charm the person or make them amenable to her requests.
  
  - She is skilled in herbalism and if her specialty is medicinal she is also very gifted with poison.
  
  - Entering the court as soon as she could, she is socially and politically competent. Adept at court intrigues and schemes as well as gleaming information from people.
  
  - She know many practical skills such as cooking, sewing, doing the laundry but also making fire or forage.
  
  - The only weapon she isn't half bad at is the bow and she can do a decent job defending herself with it.
  
  Weaknesses:
  - She rein in her tendencies but fundamentally has no self-preservation and the risk of her injuring herself after doing something dangerous is very real.
  
  - She isn't a good physical fighter and is lost without her magic.
  
  - If any of the people she loved die, most above all her siblings, she will lose control, and if ALL of them die. She will lose all logic and sense in her quest to avenge them before ending her life.
  
  - Is not really skilled in necromancy or any black magic commonly praticed by the Cainhurst. Moreover she has no real desire to learn or improve at it.
  
  - Suffer from many negative effects due to the corruption running through her blood. She is stable now but could get worse if she lean into it.
  
  Items & Personal Belongings:
  - She is never seen without her mother earring.
  
  - She always has pockets hidden in her dress in which she put anything she find pretty as well as a small dagger.
  
  
• 
  
  Theme:
  
  
  - She is only 5 month younger than Rose but abuse this fact to pose as the "youngest" and avoid getting work done or scolded for her shenanigans.
  
  - She love singing and is very talented at it as well as playing the violin and the flute.
  
  - In her period where she love her father she tend to dye her hair dark brown with magic as well as wear similar clothes just to look like him.
  
  - She remember every of her siblings birthday as well as their tastes.
  
  - She love colorful clothes but resigned herself to tone it down a little because brighter colors are uncommon in Hollowvale and thus difficult to obtain. (Which mean those clothes made her budget explode quicker !)
  
  - An animal lover she constantly pick up strays.
  
  - She inherited the Abadie higher resistance and constitution. And thus is rarely sick as well as having some small protection against poison.
  
  - Despite not being gifted with physical combat or weaponries she is a very fast runner and can easily climb or do some simple acrobatics. Which is often not a good thing as she mainly learned those during or for her numerous antics and pranks.
  
  - Has broke her arms, twist her ankles or got injured multiple time due to her recklessness. Each time she got away with it only because of her healing magic. Which is why she has no visible scars as those aren't "fashionable" according to her.
  
  

 

[Soviet Panda]

Name: Otrygg Margold
Age: 75
Gender: Male
Role: Merchant of Magruhdul
Race: Dwarf

PERSONAL
Sexuality: Heterosexual
High Concept: A merchant willing to get his hands dirty in order to grow his wealth.
Personality: Otrygg likes to dawn the mask of a cheerful fellow that's friends with everyone, while concealing his greedy nature. Need to borrow money? Sure, as long as you pay it back later, with interest of course. What's a drink between friends? And now that you are so deep in the bottle you probably won't remember the rest of the night, might as well sign on this dotted line, nothing important, it just needs your signature.
Backstory: The history of Otrygg is not one well known, simply because it is not one worth knowing. He, like many other dwarves, was born on Magruhdul, with it's raging furnaces and streets flowing with gold. And like many dwarves of Magruhdul, he wished to own his own ship. Unlike many dwarves, however, he managed to achieve his wish. The Illustrious was by no means a small ship, though compared to some of the more grand steam constructs it was of middling size. It's sheer bulk alone was usually enough to deter opportunistic pirates. And should they prove to be fool hardy, it came equipped with two main cannons that pivoted about the bow and stern. And from all appearances, Otrygg was living the dwarven dream.

It was well known that Otrygg was a mighty gambler, never one to back down from a wager. One night he and another mysterious dwarf were duking it out. Golden trinkets from the Church, dwarven steel, Hinokan silks, rights to Hollowvale medicinal cargos, deeds to entire estates, all were being pushed about the table as the bet became ever greater. Thinking his opponent would back down, Otrygg placed the deed of the Illustrious upon the table, and to his great surprise the stranger matched it. Otrygg had seen the vessel that was described on the proof of ownership, and he could not resist the temptation of adding a second ship to his soon to be burgeoning fleet. However, he did not expect the stranger to be holding the Crown or Spirit of Wealth. And in a blink, he dream was dashed.

Now stranded in Hollowvale, Otrygg is attempting to seek a way to not only return to Magruhdul, but to retrieve his ship. And with what few trading rights and export he had to his name, he would claw his way back and further than ever. For he heard whisperings of how truly deep the pockets of certain members of the Black Court can be. And should he be able to cater to their exotic tastes and secure their patronage, he will most certainly be able to return home, not in disgrace but as a paragon of what all of dwarvendom should be.

Hometown: Magruhdul

PHYSICAL
Appearance:

Items & Personal Belongings:
Otrygg has many trinkets to show of his great wealth. A sash made from the finest Hinokah silks, a short sword made from dwarven steel. If he still had his ship, it would have been his most pride possession. But, seeing as he is no where near the water, and it is far to big for any river, he is left without.
Abilities:

• Otrygg is a savvy businessman. Knowing which way the trade winds blow come in handy. Especially when you have the potential and know how to exploit those winds for all their worth.
• Before he lost his ship, he was a pretty darn good captain. At least he didn't have any mutinies.

Weaknesses: Ever on the look out for opportunities to increase his wealth, whether in the short term or long term, Otrygg can be easily baited by a fat enough purse full of gold. The more satisfying the thunk it makes when set on the table, the better.

Theme: (Musical theme)