Chivalry Characters

Killigrew

Killigrew

Magnificent Humanicorn
Feel free to format it to your liking -- make it pretty, make it ugly, make it legible. All I'm looking at is the information. The character must be approved before you start posting in the rp. :P Feel free to PM me if you have any questions!

Knightly Order:

(make it bold! be proud!)




Name:


Gender:


Age:


Appearance:


Social Class:

(see

http://www.lscacamp.org/portals/0/medieval people.pdfhttp://www.lscacamp.org/portals/0/medieval people.pdf

http://www.lscacamp.org/portals/0/medieval people.pdf)




Province:

(kinda like hometown/where they come from governmental-ly. Should be on the map, and lore-integrated, but besides that, you've free reign to construct it)




Weapon:

(note the Weapon of choice and mention all weapons carried)




Character:

(mental and moral qualities distinct to this individual as well as quirks, talents, and the like.)




Personal History:
 
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~ Lady Brien Fromm ~







  • The Eastern Fire




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    ​












    Order:


    Vinoviloc





    Name:


    Gabrienna Anleigh Fromm



    Gender: Female



    Age:


    Twenty-four




 
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Disgraced Vinoviloc

Name: Narathzul Arantheal


Sex: Male


Age: 43

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He stands six foot four,and many would say that he's built like a dragon; His shoulders are broad,and his limbs are bulked by corded muscles,gifted by birth,and honed through discipline. His hands are also noticeably larger than normal. His hair,although graying,is a light brown,and his eyes are a deep green,like a pine's needles.


His non-combat attire consists of dark blue trousers,tucked into knee-high reinforced and armoured boots,with a white shirt underneath a blue and gold belted jacket. He wears his dagger openly in this outfit,on his right hip. He also bears a curious ring,which bears the image of a curled,sleeping dragon.


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Due to Narathzul's service record in the Black War,and subsequent meteoric rise in station,his preferred equipment is known across the kingdoms.


-Zweihander: Narathzul's preferred weapon,a design that was new at the outbreak of the Black War. Well sharpened,well cared for,and a few inches longer than he is tall,pommel to point. It clocks in at three kilograms in weight,making it a heavy sword. However,he is very skilled in the use of the weapon,allowing him to swing it deftly and with agility. When not in use,it's either found in hand,on a wagon or horse,or in his quarters. He keeps a large sheet of vellum to wrap the weapon in while in storage.


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-Parrying Dagger: Narathzul's secondary weapon,a one and a half foot long,sturdily built dagger,designed to parry,slash tendons,and,most importantly,pierce armour with little effort. Like any proper knight,Narathzul knows how to use it well. Always kept in the scabbard on his belt,when not in use.


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-Longbow and quiver: Narathzul,as a knight,was expected to know how to use many weapons,the bow among the most important. Narathzul's personal bow is simple in design,and possesses a higher than average draw weight. His quiver,kept at the small of his back,is filled with broadhead and bodkin arrows. When not in use,the bow is either hitched on his shoulder,or in storage somewhere.


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-Gambeson and plate: Narathzul Arantheal prefers to be well protected and very slightly restricted in movement than unprotected. In his mind,armour is life. To that end,Narathzul wears two layers of armour; The bottom-most layer is a gambeson,a suit made of numerous connected layers of tough fabric to produce light,flexible armour that provides protection equal to mail,and a suit of armoured plated over top,which includes a gorget to protect his neck,a mail coif,and a helm to protect his head. This armour renders him nearly unassailable,unless his foes wield spears. It should be noted that this armour is lighter than it looks,and does little to restrict his movements,often catching his opponents unaware. Over top,he wears a tabard in Vinoviloc black and white,but instead of the sword-and-nail-cross,it bears the image of a bellowing dragon.


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Class: Marquess (Formerly),hedge knight (currently).


Character: Quick-witted and bullheaded,Narathzul is the portrait of an ideal Vinoviloc citizen,if it weren't for the rest of him. He is of the firm belief that the nobility and aristocracy is a decaying,pointless,and outright poisonous system,working only to keep the peasantry down. Valuing one's worth on their deeds and character,rather than their blood,Narathzul has made an enemy of nearly every noble family in the three kingdoms. He also holds a very dim view of the clergy,suspecting them to be corrupt and weak.


The quickest way to earn his ire is to demonstrate that you represent what he hates. The quickest way to gain his support is to support change for the better.


Background: Narathzul Arantheal was born as a lowly lord. However,as he and his family displayed an uncanny aptitude for combat,their status rose,eventually to the point of having their own Dukedom,such an ascension possible only in the Vinoviloc order,who value martial prowess above wealth or lineage. However,even still,such a meteoric rise in power is uncommon,and raised more than a few eyebrows.


Narathzul,in particular,was a fine specimen of Vinoviloc ideals. He was strong,disciplined,and clever. Favouring a relatively new sword design,known as a zweihander,Narathzul cut an imposing figure to his opponents in duels of honor,clad in half-plate and chain,wielding a sword as tall as himself with swiftness and deftness seemingly paradoxical to such a sight.


Making a name for himself as a peerless fighter,Narathzul,after earning his status as a knight,was given command of several detachments during the Black War,and was responsible for numerous important strategic victories in the tail end of the war. Up until this time,Narathzul was a devout follower of the gods,believing that they would bestow their favour upon those who showed their devotion.


However,as thousands of good men and women died to the godless enemy,he questioned this. Surely the gods would deign to grant their faithful the skill,strength,and fortune to overcome those that deny the gods...Right? When the dragons made themselves apparent to assist in the war,this question became an obsession. The dragons were demons - Nay,devils,and they assist the followers of the gods? It was too much for him to blindly accept as the grace of the divine.


After returning home,his people bruised,but victorious,Narathzul took it upon himself to investigate the "grace" of the gods. While the nobility of the Vinoviloc order grew fat on money earned by their bloodline and laborers,the commoners barely made end's meet - If they were lucky. And it was the bottom rungs of society that prayed to the gods the most fervently. It was as if they didn't exist. Either the gods didn't,or couldn't,do anything for the mortals who died in their name.


Ever since,Narathzul abandoned his religious habits. He refused to serve myths and legends. However,he never voiced his opinions nakedly. He knew what it would mean for him and his family if he did. While his opponents prayed as they prepared for their duels,he observed and stretched. While his family went to services,he walked among the peasantry,assisting whenever he could.


Eventually,unknown to Narathzul,the Leonharts taken notice to his skill,and his family as a whole. One of the youngest families in any of the three orders,and they were among the most powerful. It was an affront to them. The higher Vinoviloc,of which there were few,feared his family's skill and influence. They hatched a conspiracy,to tear apart the family,and discredit their star child.


One day on the markets,Narathzul came across a Leonhart noble striking a commoner. Upon askance for the noble's reason,he responded that the churl was in his way. Narathzul was disgusted by this Leonhart's overinflated sense of entitlement,and said,quite calmly,that he could have simply pushed past the commoner,or demanded they step aside. The Leonhart bristled,and demanded to know whose side he was taking,to which Narathzul replied,quite simply,the commoner's,for the noble was very much in the wrong.


For the insult to his honor,the Leonhart demanded a duel the next day,in Leonhart style,to blood. Narathzul accepted,stating that the better man will win,and be proven right.


The next day,they assembled at a neutral Lord's hall,to a small audience of Vinoviloc and Leonharts. After arming themselves,and bowing,the two men dueled. Narathzul's opponent,a Duke Faarquad,was a nimble opponent,and tough to get a hit in on,considering that he stood four feet tall,in what he deeply suspected were elevator boots.


Their bout lasted for fifteen minutes,a good thirteen minutes longer than it should have. The large man pressed any openings he could,but the epee favoured the small man,and thus the match was drawn out. The combatants lunged and feinted,parried,and riposted,but it all served to make a flashy flailing. Neither man was able to land a single blow,let alone a square one.


However,Faarquad made a mistake. He overswung on a sweep. Tiring of the show,Narathzul stepped forward,planting his boot on the little duke's blade,and plunging his own epee into the dwarf's shoulder,drawing blood. Narathzul stepped back from the defeated duke,and was surprised to see that the witnesses were shocked. He drew blood honorably. His opponent made a mistake,and he punished it. Such was combat.


Before anything could be said,however,Narathzul heard the rasping of a blade leaving a scabbard. He sprang forward and wheeled around,causing the duke to miss. Faarquad continued,going for the chest without breaking stride. Narathzul,with his extreme reach advantage,simply lunged,driving for the chest,the best opening. The weapon drove home in his heart,deflecting and bending off of ribs,brutalizing his organs. Narathzul stepped forward,using his momentum to boot the duke off the blade.


The tiny man floundered like a fish out of water,trying to get up,and failing. Narathzul was dismissed immediately,and within the week was visited my a magistrate,reading him his charges. Murder of a duke being at the top of the list. He was to appear for sentencing,as he was already judged on every witness' testimony. It went as well as he expected; Narathzul was stripped of title and station,and removed from his house. Effectively,he was made a commoner.


Narathzul left the city in disgrace. This was three years ago. During this time,he wandered the world,and eventually made contact with a man calling himself a priest,who has heard of Narathzul's story and deeds. The priest asked him to accompany him on a journey to the south,to meet with old friends. The priest was sickly,so Narathzul agreed,assuming the priest desired protection.


Narathzul was quite wrong.


The priest served the dragons,and he was sought out to be their agent. They knew of his misgivings of the church that commanded the kings and queens. They offered him a choice: The means to right what is wrong,or to proceed alone,and die in ignominy.


He chose the former.
 
Vinoviloc
​




Name: Ser Percival 'Percy' Jaeger


Gender: Male


Age: 37


Race: Human


Appearance:


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Percival has a solid build with prominent shoulders, broad arms and thick legs muscles as a result of years of fighting and training, weighing in at around 230 pounds. Though heavily built, he is of only marginally taller than average height, standing at around six feet while unarmored. His face is heavily scarred on the right as a result of his encounter with a ferocious feline, and he is partially blind in his right eye.

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Being a frontline fighter, Percival most commonly dons heavy cavalry armor consisting of two layers. A full set of Gothic Plate Armor on the exterior and an arming doublet underneath. At Percival's request, the doublet has has the Jaeger emblem emblazond on the back, though more often than not it is covered by his plate armor. The Plate armor itself comes with two different configurations, one meant for day-to-day combat and the other being much more ceremonial in nature. The figure in the middle is how the armor usually looks. It includes a Gorget and a Close Helm modeled after the likeness of a Lion's head.


The ceremonial configuration of Percival's armor is comprised of the same base plate armor, but with extra plating along the sides extending from his hip down to sides of his legs, as well as additional spiked shoulder platings and a much more ornate helmet. The helmet's likeness to that of a Lion is far more exaggerated and is significantly heavier than his regular helmet. It also has a red cloth running down the back of the helmet, meant to resemble the mane of a Lion, which serves no practical purpose whatsoever.


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Primary Weapons: Percival has several main weapons, due to the multiple roles pole weapons can fulfill


Winged Spear:


Percival's most commonly used weapon. A standard thrusting spear, with protruding 'wings' meant to assist with defensive maneuvers during skirmishes and to prevent the weapon from penetrating too deeply which can potentially damage the weapon. Vertically, it is about a foot taller than Percival himself and is a rather lightweight weapon, allowing for Percival to utilise it with ease and finesse.


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Cavalry Lance:


A heavy lance meant to be used while on horseback. Significantly longer and heavier than the standard infantry spear, it is meant for piercing the heaviest of armors, to unhorse opponents through sheer force and to kill enemy mounts. While usable on foot, it isn't exactly practical and is generally meant to be single-use.


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Pike:


A ludicrously long and heavy pole-arm meant solely for use in defensive and offensive formations. About 20 feet in length and weighing in at around seven kilos, it would be an understatement to call the pike an unwieldly weapon, and in single combat it is only marginally more effective than a dining fork. Its strength lies in the ability to completely halt the advance of infantry and cavalry when wielded by large groups and to skewer groups of hapless soldiers from a safe distance.


Secondary and situational equipment:


Flanged Mace:


Standard infantry mace, meant for use in close quarters, no noteworthy features at all. Mace meets skull, skull ruptures and splatters all over the place. Plain and simple.


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Throwing Javelins:


Shortened spears specifically made for hurling at enemies. Not quite as long ranged and as practical as a traditional bow, and not nearly as easy to use as an infantry crossbow but offers good piercing power and damage over a short period.


Heater Shield:


Small metallic shield easily used both on horseback and on foot. Doesn't offer a particularly large area of protection, but compensates by being light, easy to handle and very reliable.


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Social Class: House Jaeger Vassal, Military Lancer.


Province: Riverside lands near the border between Leonhart and Vinoviloc territories, near the Scinan River. Currently resides in the Gallace Academy as a trainer.






Hyperion

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Species: A grey Percheron, strong and large.


Height: 17.6 hands


Weight: 920 kilos


Personality: Hyperion is a very lax and easygoing stallion not unlike his very master. When not being ridden, he can often be found dozing away on a pile of hay, stuffing his face silly, or repeatedly attempting to mate with nearby mares, usually with far more success than his master ever has with the opposite gender. Hyperion's laziness causes a great deal of frustration to his master whom he disobeys on a regular basis. The only thing that can rouse Hyperion out of his usual stupor is the promise of battle, during which his personality does a complete 180. Despite his mischevousness, Hyperion's loyalty is unquestionable, and he will follow Percival to the ends of the earth if need be.


Family Description:


House Jaeger is a name well known amongst the Vinoviloc provinces as one of the best mercenary cavalry and pikemen in the business. Their rise to infamy came during the height of the wars, when casualties were astronomical and soldiers were dying by the second. Friedrich Jaeger, a disgraced Tempellar knight, started the organization with other outcasts and proclaimed his alleigance to the highest bidder. For years to come, the group fought countless battles for all three orders, whoever had the highest bid at the time, and the three groups learned to raise their bids fast, lest their troops hear the dreaded rumble of the hooves of the Jaegers' mounts. The group had fallen into service to the Vinoviloc order as the War Among Men came to a close. King Berlichingen, impressed by their mettle, offered the Jaegers a land of their own, a title amongst the nobility as well as a partial pardon from any previous crimes and asylum from the other orders, in exchange for alleigiance to the Vinoviloc order alone and homage to the Berlichingen line. Friedrich knew an offer he couldn't refuse when he saw one, and he immediately accepted, marking the formation of House Jaeger.


House Jaeger is more akin to an organization rather than an actual noble family, all those under the employ of them have to cast aside any previous titles and status and adopt the Jaeger name, Percival himself an example of a commoner bearing the Jaeger name. Every Jaeger undergoes the same rigorous training during their youth, and every single one is taught to ride and the ways of the lance. As they reach adulthood, they are granted a mount of their own after which, they are either cast out from the castle so that they may seek their own paths, or sent to serve the royal Berlichingen line. Most stay true to their origins, serving as sellswords and spreading the Jaeger name across the land, however all individiuals are not bound by duty and are free to forge a path of their own. The leader of House Jaeger, known as the Kaiser, is also decided through battle, like most things in the Vinoviloc provinces are. Every year a competition amongst all those who wish to join is held to determine the Kaiser for the year, and till this day, Friedrich Jaeger is the only person ever known to hold that position for more than a single year.


The average Jaeger mercenary is most commonly known for their weapon of choice, the humble lance or spear. While thought by many to be an overtly simple weapon only wieleded by the rank and file, in the hands of a Jaeger it is a force to be reckoned with. It is favored by the Jaegers for its sheer battlefield practicallity, low maintenance costs and the ease of which it can be used on horseback, yet another field the Jaegers are famed for.


In battle, the Jaeger serve as the frontline charge and the face of the army. An enemy will judge an entire force's strength by the way the frontlines fight, and the Jaegers ensure that they will never have the chance to underestimate them. They blitz right into enemy lines with the intend to crush the morale of enemy troops and send them into disarray in one swift blow. The Jaegers will not flee, the Jaegers will not falter, they will charge through the enemy lines, and will yield only to death, or the sight of a bare field.


Character:


Percival contrary to his position, is a slovenly and lazy individual and prefers to spend his off-hours dozing away in a spot of his choice. He assumes a rather calm and nonchalant attitude to the affairs of the world around him and is only concerned with tasks at hand. Despite this, his reputation as an exceptional fighter is unquestionable which has managed to keep him his knighthood, and he manages to display a modicum of enthusiasm when teaching new recruits, many of which vouch for his teachings. He possesses a strong sense of loyalty and honor, having being taught the importance of such values from young, and despite what his habits suggest, is constantly seeking for ways to improve himself, although actually putting in the required effort for such is a different matter altogether. He has a fondness for reading books, both for their educational value and for the fact that they help him fall asleep faster.


Best trait: His acceptance of failure and constant desire to strive to greater heights.


Worst trait:His lack of any actual drive to strive for the aforementioned greater heights.


Soft Spot: He can never turn his back on a good sob story.


Strengths:


- His skill with the lance is unerring, having trained with it from a very early age and his prowess is widely known throughout Vinoviloc lands.


- Respect for all opponents, no matter who they are. The Jaegers instill the values of respect amongst trainees during mock duels from an early age, and his many experiences on the battlefield have taught Percival to never undervalue an opponent under any circumstance.


-


Weaknesses:


- His laziness has lead to a large number of idiotic situations that could have easily been avoided had he been paying attention.


- His lack of noble blood, sketchy history, and the Jaeger's controversial status as a noble house has led to him being outcast by some in the Vinoviloc Order.


- His adherence to his old Jaeger traditions has led him to come into conflict with several laws, and is part of the cause for his stubborness.


Personal History:


(Subject to change)


Percival was born to a lowly pair of serfs in Vinoviloc lands, who slaved toiled endlessly under the opression of several cruel nobles. Unable to handle the responsiblities of bringing up a child in such a harsh environment, they sold the child to a local pitfighting ring at the early age of five in an attempt to procure enough money to cross the border and flee to Leonhart lands. From that moment on, Percival was forced to fight for his survival every passing day of the week. With literally nothing else to live for, he dedicated himself to training every minute of the day, using nothing but a crude lance and targe, the young boy would enter the arena and spill the blood of his opponents for the crowd's entertinment, and with each passing fight his reputation as the arena's youngest comabatant soon spread amongst audiences.


On the day of his fourteenth birthday, Percival after killing several other esteemed pitfighters during the previous weeks was wanted dead by several unhappy betters. Bribing the match officials, they had his would be opponent pulled from the fight, and in his place, was a lion. However, as the match was about to begin, a drunken man fell from the upper levels and into the pit, where Percival was about to square off against the lion. Unable to properly orientate himself, the man was helpless against the charging feline, and was only saved by Percival's timely dive. The ensuing skirmish was short but grim, and ended with Percival imapling the Lion through the neck, but not before sustaining grevious claw wounds all over himself, leaving him bleeding out next to the lion's still corpse.


Percival awoke lying on a makeshift bed in the middle of a large stone room, covered in bloodstained bandages, but otherwise very much alive. As he stirred he was greated by an elderly man, one bearing a striking resemblance to the one he had defended.


"Ah, you're awake, I was starting to think you had succumbed to death's embrace. It's not everyday one such as yourself faces of against an opponent so very ferocious."


"Where am I? This isn't the combatant quarters, it's far too.... clean."


"An astute observation, child. No this most certainly is not the pit from whence you have came, welcome to my humble abode."


"You brought me here?"


"Indeed, it was a move valiant thing you did, placing yourself between the path of the beast and my idiot son. It would be most... impolite of me to simply leave his saviour lying on the ground, choking on his own blood. So I took you here, and had your wounds tended to. I trust you find my services satisfactory?"


The man brandished a sheet of paper from his pocket at Percival.


"You didn't come cheap at all, the spectators at the arena seemed to have a fondness for little boys such as yourself. Starting today, you're family now, Master Percival Jaeger, I think you'll fit among us just fine."


The rest is as they say, history, Percival was brought up the Jaeger way and when he came of age, he faithfully served the Vinoviloc order. Nowadays, he resides in Gallace academy as a trainer. mostly likely fast asleep under a tree, as he waits for the next batch of recruits to whip into shape.
 
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Priestess of Glaeslin

Name: Areynia Schwartzenacht


Gender: Female


Age: 17


Race: Human





Appearance:


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At no more than 5'5" and 110 lbs. dripping wet, Areynia doesn't exactly look threatening. She has lackluster brown hair and brown eyes, with a slightly foreign look to her in the shape of her eyes, and would be quite lovely if she wasn't always... well, so her.


Social Class: Priestess of Glaeslin. As 3rd daughter to a noble house, she appears affluent but has given her life to be a servant of Glaselin rather than pursue knighthood or mastery of a fighting technique.


Province: Vinoviloc Province


Weapon:


Staff of the Stolen Frost (see below) can be used for combat. As a priestess, Areynia truly hopes she doesn't have to get up close and personal with anyone; she'd prefer to stay in the background with her spells at if all possible. A sword is also carried on her hip that has seen little to no use. It's dubious whether or not she's ever used or practiced with the thing, but she has been told she should carry two different means of protection.


Staff of the Stolen Frost


This tall staff was initially made out of wood, then covered in a strong metal of unknown origin, and finally encased with smaller fragments of dragon scales carefully pieced together near the top. At the apex is a crystalline orb tinted blue and partially covered by a larger fragment of a white dragon scale, that wraps from the base of the orb, up one size, and to the top.


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Mount Name: Enigma


Mount Personality:


Enigma appears to be a wild horse that is barely able to be ridden by Areynia. Given her inability to do much of anything well, this is somewhat disturbing on many accounts. Enigma is docile until ridden and then tries to challenge the authority of the rider, often resulting in mistreatment. For all her faults, Areynia is firm with Enigma and earned the stallion's respect.


Family Description:


As Areynia tells it, her father was a typical overbearing warrior and her mother was not much better. If her children had not shackled her to responsibilities of the home, the wild woman would have taken up arms with her husband and displayed their prowess in battle for all the world to see. Unfortunately for her mother, they were so fruitful that she was obligated to help in the raising of her many (seven) children. Areynia is the third eldest and has a horse, Enigma, that she inherited from her family and uses for travel.





Personality:


It is no small wonder that Areynia not only stumbled into the faith and following of Glaselin, but was accepted! She is wonderfully kind and friendly with all she meets, but comes across as nearly inept at many great feats she attempts. There are children with better use of a sword, she frequently trips over her own two feet, stares off into space in the middle of eating, and sometimes forgets what she is saying halfway through a sentence. The only time she shines is when she incites prayers and works with the temple to create new, more potent 'spells' for others to use. She has yet to reap the wild success she dreams of, but that doesn't appear to be slowing her down. At all.

  • Best trait: Courageous
  • Worst trait: Absent-minded & clumsy
  • Soft Spot: Areynia will do just about anything for a story or a book. She has a personal library in her quarters that can barely be carried on her horse and she is often found mulling over her tomes by herself time and time again.
  • Strengths: Steadfast determination & stamina (especially for such a small girl)
  • Weaknesses: Lacks any sort of physical strength, oblivious to many things that don't concern her, ignorant of some the finer points of culture (such as art, dancing, etc.)





Personal History:


Since Areynia was small, she knew she was not destined to be a great warrior like her parents and siblings. They possessed physical traits that seemed to have passed her over entirely and so she waited and sought for a way to prove her worth. The three deities had all appealed to her in their own different ways, but the intellectual angle of Glaselin pleased her the most. From a young age she began to walk by herself to the temple to study and pray and soon it became apparent that she would find a place there instead of in a set of armor. Her parents were (of course) disappointed but eager to 'off' themselves of a child that truly had no place in Teutonic culture. She was sent to the academy to practice her 'magic' and to help encourage students to find faith in Glaselin as their 'peer.' It's dubious she could inspire anyone, however! It seems that the lovely priestess can befriend just about anyone even if she fails in most other tasks.
 

~Corinna Oriel~

Priestess of Pyros

Those with true faith in Pyros need not fear death!
Corin
​









  • Gender

    Female

    Age

    19

    Race

    Human

    Social Class

    Pyros Priestess

    Family and Connections

    Corrin's lineage is a long line of priests and priestess devout to the great god of Pyros


    Mother:

    A devoted follower of the church.



    Father:

    A priest to the church of Pyros



    Kierstyn:

    (@AkuNoOkami) Younger sister by one year. They stuck together after the fall of their village until her sister ran away from the church that had taken them in. Corin hasn't seen her sister since.



    Father Alberus

    : a priest who took in orphaned children and raised them with in the church. Not only did he become a second father for Corin, he also became her mentor.




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    Province Vinoviloc, Mechthild


    – Destroyed

    Once a small mining town on the border of the Charred Mountains. Despite its size it was a prosperous town this was mostly attributed to the faith of the people in the god of Pyros. Tales passed down from generation to generation speak of the town once barren and poor. The mines had no more resources to give thus causing it to wither as the population fled to more promising towns. Only those who truly held out hope in the mine stayed toiling away night and day in search of resources.


    A Priest of Pyros from a town or two away a arrived to spread the word of the great god. While most were set in their faithless ways some were drawn by the priests promising words. A small church was formed as the faith spread. Despite the change the town still shrank. In an act of desperation a sacrifice was made to Pyros. Whether by coincidence or a true miracle a vein was struck a few days later. The mine was revived with a new source of gems and minerals which were more promising than before! Most believed it to be a miracle and the faith of Pyros took a strong hold on the village growing as the town grew and prospered once more.


    Unfortunately not even their faith could save them from the Forsworn. They fought back the with everything in them however they eventually fell and the whole town burnt to the ground.



 
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LEONHART

​






  • u8WUMHU.jpg


    Name:

    Countess (Heir) Colette Bourbon of Aveyron

    Age:

    14

    Sex:

    Female

    Weight:

    107 lbs

    Height:

    4‘ 7“

    Appearances:

    Deep Red hair, lightly tan skin, freckle dashed face with thin red lips, dark lashes and pale blue eyes. Everything from her mother except the darker skin tone. Her hair is long and wavy, often kept clean by her own grooming but when traveling she keeps it braided so it is not such a hassle.


    Her clothing is often made of generic cotton and she wears light leather armor, decorated, on her wrists, ankles and chest. It is often burgundy, the color of her mothers family, and draped in gold as required of nobles and on her right hand, her middle finger, is a

    http://i.imgur.com/bThXLMb.jpgRam's Head

    http://i.imgur.com/bThXLMb.jpg ring. This ring, to those in a few circles, will know it represents an assassin's apprentice. It is worn to be seen in battle so an enemy knows their foe.


    As her weapons follow, the sword is often strapped across her back, her knife is lodged vertically on her right side waist in the front and her skewers are hiding in different spots. One on each wrist in between her armor and her skin and a third is hidden in her left boot piece of armor.

    GWLfUgK.jpg



    Personality

    Different. While most are worried about costs, ruling and social appearances, Angel cares more about those around her. She is sweet, kind and caring. So much so she tends to be viewed as Naive and Innocent. Maybe she is? Maybe she isnt? Children can put on many facades. Her’s tends to be the overly nice little girl.


    For her age, she is skilled, but when comparing to an adult, not so much. She lacks strength but not agility, finesse but not motivation. Angel is not to be taken lightly though. she is as she was trained, cold, calculating and effective. When the time calls for a life to end, she can do it no questions asked.

    Personal History:

    From the day she was born, Colette’s life has been laid out. Even though her borthers is as well, she is always a little envious of him. Sabastien has much more freedom, at least from her point of view, than she does. While he trains to one day take over Aveyron and make it his own, her training is to always be at her brothers side and protect him.


    From the first day she could hold a knife, her father has been training her in the ways of fighting. While first learning of ways of nobles, the honors, gestures and politics of common fighting, she also has been taught the ways of the shadows. How to kill without being seen, how to make someone enter eternal slumber without ever touching them, and above all, how to move about without catching the attention of any one person.


    So much for a child, and now, even at the age of 12, she still undergoes much training. However with the onset of world troubles, her father feels this would be good real experience. A drone does as they’re told, a warrior thinks for themselves.

    Character:

    On the side everyone sees, that is her first and most trusted attribute. She strives to help others, to protect them and to do what is morally right. She would give food to the hungry, shelter to the homeless, and pity to the less fortunate. She does not really worship or believe in any god because if something can be done, it needs to be done with one's own hands.


    However this is where it turns dark. If a person wishes harm on another, then they should do so, but recognize the consequences of it. If you want to murder someone, so be it, but recognize that it will be your own end. She is much like a coin, on one side is is kind, on the other she is a demon. She will not hesitate to kill, if commanded to do such by her father, or someone he trusts. She has already killed her fair share of people and because of it has become desensitized to the act when needed. This does not mean it doesn't hurt. Very rarely has she ever needed to show this side, but it was created and exists in case the need should arise.
 
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KATRIN HANNELORE AUGÜSTIN


______________________________________________________________________________________
​




vikings_season2_lagertha.jpg



Knightly Order: Leonhart


Name: Katrin Hannelore Augüstin


Gender: Female


Age: 24


Appearance: Standing at a mere 5"6, Katrin isn't what you would call intimidating. She has a strong gaze to make up for it though. She has mastered the one-eyebrow lift and an icy-cold glare, but is mostly seen with a very neutral facial expression. Her hair, a golden blonde, is kept long despite inconvenience in battle as a sign of defiance (though she ties it up neatly most of the time). She walks with her back straight and her gaze high.





  • nU3rY.jpg





    "Someone once told me,


    'if you can't beat them, join them.'


    Perhaps a bit vague. So why do I use


    the quote,if I do not know what it


    means..? Hmm. Who knows.


    It has a nice ring to it."
    ​










 
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Kierstyn Agathe Oriel
20275f46a602aa9454d026f7b6805fdc.jpg









  • The Shadow of Vinoviloc
    ed636ab5b779f662386705ba198f1827.jpg


    ​






    Order:


    Vinoviloc





    Name:


    Kierstyn Agathe Oriel



    Gender: Female



    Age:


    Eighteen
 
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Argrave Stolkes

The Hawk of Aquila

HpOlqn8qqc3A0jrxunzVUUreRQhRp5zUDSvdhFwEJDEi_ezMZLk_WEoBimNB2P9zamk-YG4SgE9jeE7zmpwdnMqOiDB03Q0L8K0ImD0KOlt_uU6kDmMhF0lHoTJPDbJAsw





Gender: Male


Age: 28


Social Class: Gwentan Falconer


Province: The Bay of Seven Tides; a spreading community of fishing and sailing villages along the northern coast of the continent, some miles east of The Aquellican and far north of Mount Heofon. Destroyed in The Black War, it has since been rebuilt. (based loosely on the Irish coastal cultures.)








    • IqYM9ANOmc-r7dMwJpZ-XIbLYvPl4YOl3DihZJyasysPZFnBLamNpBXv_vVSkQLMKLuSJIvPP6IBfZrQMb90wEekCRerfay-dFMUADysPJUB2WkSUKoL3jHNTabMqHc_DA



      Argrave's more wild appearance.
      His complexion weather-beaten and tanned, the best word to describe Argrave would be rugged. Robust and sturdy, his body bears the results of his harsh lifestyle in the wilderness and hinterlands of the Canticlar provinces. The features of face are sharp and defined, his cheeks and chin covered in a thin coarse beard when it has been kept. The dark facial hair matches that on his head, a solid and ruddy black, cut to length about his shoulders. An air of a smile is always on the corner of his lips, alike to his eyes, a soft brown flecked with green and golden sparks.


      Strong legs carry his figure with some finesse, though none would describe his manner as elegant, more so that his muscular limbs are befitting of his stature. He has scores of marks from his training as a Gwentan, the range of sizes of scars trace his biceps and his back, and an intricate tattoo of Aquila's Golden Eagle is etched into his left shoulder and on the backs of both of his hands. As if to complement this array of physical milestones, the roughness of his hands implies the hardiness of the rest of himself, hard-working, adaptable, toughened by the his own feats, and the winds and the rocks and the trees.


 
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Eeonus Ignis



<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_01/9990709_892d888e.jpg.87c0b9f38b30d647b98f71e054cd64b2.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="40394" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_01/9990709_892d888e.jpg.87c0b9f38b30d647b98f71e054cd64b2.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>​



From the Realm Beyond rose the line of Ignis, forged in molten flame of the Elder World, scorching as the sun and unmovable as mountains, a force of nature in all of its glory. But as time passed and oceans churned, gods fell and skies shattered, so too the Ignis returned to the Great Mother's embrace, in ashes and bones. Until only one remained. The last Ignis, tained but pure, Elder flame trapped in festering blood of a half mortal, denied the oblivion its kind deserved. Awaiting the revolting Underworld of human for the crime of a long dead Lord. Injustice, it seemed, spared neither gods nor even Ignis.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________





I pity the Creator and his children, whose very life-force drained ceaselessly by these creatures they had once treasured in the guise of worship.
Eeonus Ignis

Dragon of Fire, Earth and Light || Name: Eeonus Ignis || Gender: Male || Age: 452
​




_______________________________________________________________________________________________


Origin
​



Eeonus lay in his egg for 1826 days, slowly growing to the steady hum of his Sire's low rumbling breath, to the comforting heat of flame that regularly bathed the cave in searing intensity, a flame that while seemed lifeless was in truth his Sire's murmured secrets and emotions, like human's bedtime story, whispering to the hatching drake the tales of centuries. The history of the Ignis itself, for the word is not simple a name but a title, older than this child of a world, as old perharps as the World Beyond for there lay the true home of dragons. In his Sire's tales there were indeed pride, but hidden in that pride could be found pain and shame, for instinctively Eeonus knew that his kind had been tainted, that the legacy so rightfully his is no more, lost to the meager undeserving souls of mortals sinfully woven into the Bonds. As it did his Sire's so too the truth broke the youngling's heart with its brutal injustice.


The tales came ever so rarely, weakness and desperation edged the whispers. And so the drake hatched into a scorched cavern with his Sire an unmoving carcass beside the shattered egg shells, leaving behind an umcompleted Ignis with a lost legacy already burdening its shoulders. What more, he wondered, did this devastating world have in store for this broken one?




_______________________________________________________________________________________________


Four Centuries
​






  • The young Drake struggled to survive in the absence of guidance. There were few game in the barren sierra, just barely enough to keep the dragon fed. Fortunately there seemed to be a lack of other dragons as much as lack of food, so Eeonus had the whole of Charred Mountains for himself. Hard rock and dry valleys quickly became his home and territory. The Drake adapted to the harsh life and so grew strong and tough, tough enough to sometimes invaded the Scorched Plane and raided the herd of the wretched creatures that dwelled there.


    He discovered another of his kind residing on the South peak of the sierra, but neither him nor the other ventured close, each's territory a silent agreement that was honored for centuries after.




<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_02/young_red_dragon_by_benwootten-d567ymh.jpg.da414e2d0b767b2c5b04de9e7841b4a7.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="42341" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_02/young_red_dragon_by_benwootten-d567ymh.jpg.da414e2d0b767b2c5b04de9e7841b4a7.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

​



Self




  • Hunter Senses: Smell, Hearing, Eye-sight, Heat sense


    Partial shifting combat form: Eeonus uses spikes grown out of his human form to fight. He has no skill with any human weapon.


    Night & Eagle Vision: Peeping Tom


    Heat & Cold Endurance: Ignis blood cared nothing for the weather.


    Ignis' Breath: Heat and Fire


    The Undoing


    Eeonus is extremely uncomfortable in his human form, he requires constant concentration to keep the shift, any slip of control causes draconic traits to appear.






 

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Minerva Purpurea




bbe6h.jpg


This new age where dragons and humans mingle shall provide boundless new opportunities... for experimentation.
Minerva

Element: Ice || Name: Minerva Purpurea || Gender: Female || Age: 152
​



Growing Up


Minerva hatched on the northernmost side of Heofon Mount. She was born to Juno and Jupiter, but as one of the first dragon offspring, the entire tribe participated heavily in her raising. She was given the best of everything, taught everything they could fit in her head - which, it turned out, was quite spacious. She knew history, science, combat techniques, lore, mastery of both her forms… Everything a dragon should know. She mastered all of these, but for two - though certainly a formidable threat, she has always been more cerebral than ferocious, more interested in experiments and research than battle. She is to be feared, but she is no master. Furthermore, she has never quite been able to get the transition into human form quite right, most notably maintaining draconic scales around her eyes. Those who know her well may suspect but never be certain that it’s more a matter of won’t than can’t.


Specialty

Fragile Strength: Minerva can form ice on her skin in limited amounts.

​






This can be done at any time in either form.+


She can control the shape - so, a barrier or a spike, for instance.+


These are easily maneuverable.+


This is especially helpful in her more nimble but less sturdy human form.+
​






-This does not serve as much use in her dragon form.


-She cannot withstand the cold for too long as a human.


-She can only conjure a limited amount of ice - no three feet spikes.


-This ability is only as strong as ice is - so, it depends.




Character





  • Exactly what it says on the tin. Minerva has a vast assortment of knowledge and she picks up on new things quite quickly.



Personal History





  • Minerva was hatched 21 years after Flavius - in draconic terms, a remarkably close birth, considering their lifespans, population sizes, and infrequent mating habits. In human proportions, a three year age difference - enough for him to clearly be her senior, but not enough for them to truly feel different. He doted on her as she grew, as she was the only other hatchling at the time.





fwkuuf.jpg

 
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VINOVILOC

, friend.



"To simply follow what others have set for you is not living at all, friend."



Name:

Syd Parque



Gender:

Female



Age:

54



Appearance:


Syd Parque is not an attractive woman. Her huge physique is devoid of the usual womanly charm present in most of the female cast, and is instead, filled to the brim with bulging muscles and pure, raw, unadulterated strength. Towering over most at 6'7", Syd is a freakishly tall giantess of a woman, and wields similarly freakishly gigantic weaponry and armor. Each of her swings with her halberd is said to be able to decapitate 11 men, and she boasts the strength of 10 regular men. She is NOT a body-builder, and is not 'ripped', as one will put it. Her body is more stoutly built than a body-builder's. She does not build muscle to look good or presentable to the public. She does so to be able to send her opponents wishing they never picked a fight with her.


Underneath her helmet, Syd Parque is no less unattractive. She bears scars throughout her face, one over her left eye, clouded with blindness since birth, and another across her left cheek as well, just beside the scar upon her eye. Her wispy, greying hazel-brown hair, cut short and boyish, and the wrinkles forming upon her face says that age has not caught up with her well. It is not a surprise that Syd refuses to leave her quarters without her armor. She is warmly complected, but her various scars and facial flaws often detract from that specific feature.



k8pEgatl.jpg


Speaking of her armor, it is only fitting that is larger than herself. Made for pure frontline combat, or defensive strategic placement, Syd's armor is heavy and suffocating to anyone who isn't her, bearing shoulders of massive proportions and hugely padded thigh armor. Her armor is detailed more clearly in the image shown.



Social Class:


Born as a child to a Baron.


After desertion and defection, earned the social standing of Knight, but serves no Lord. Only accepts direct instructions from King Lukas himself.



Province:

Originally from Leonhart. Deserted and defected to Vinoviloc, and currently acts a pseudo-nomad. Owns a relatively quiet shoreline at the south-easternmost coast of Vinoviloc territory. She is never around to provide any presence within it, however, and leaves it as is. Thankfully, her underlings are doing a great job of keeping things together.



Weapon:


A 7 feet halberd with an axehead twice as wide as she is, coupled with a ridiculously large greatshield that is able to cover 3/4ths of her entire body in height, and is as wide as she is. With a mobile impenetrable wall and a customized halberd, she needs no other weapon.



Character:



"A man who serves others first before himself is a man looking to die a fool. Pense, donc je suis, friend. Do you exist?"


Syd Parque prides herself as the 'knight who serves herself', although technically, she belongs to the Vinoviloc Order. Her fellow Order members, however, fear her enough to leave her to her own devices, and she appreciates them for it. True to her self-imposed title, Syd Parque shows no interest in following the Vinoviloc Order's orders, nor does she seem very intent on following whatever code of honor and chivalry knights are into nowadays. To her, she sees the words 'honor', 'bravery', 'chivalry', and 'loyalty' simply as excuses made by others to explain their actions. She believes that no one should have to act on any of these to perform good deeds, and must act, instead, on what they themselves believe is right. She has no care for any of the deities, and sees religion merely as well-intentioned beliefs that have been befouled by far too extreme establishments. That having been said, Syd respects the opinions and beliefs of others, but only if she can truly feel that it is genuine. She has a tendency to test the faith of others by bringing up controversial talk, challenging others in both words and actions, just to see how far they will go. She, herself, is approaching her death with every day, and will wholeheartedly defend her own beliefs with every last ounce of strength.



"Hah hah hah! Partez, friend! My respectable features, they are horrible! C’est une maladie contagieuse! You will be as ugly if you stay here! Hah hah! Je suis desole, I enjoy self-depreciation. I know I am ugly, appeler un chat, un chat, why bother with kind words?"


Syd is more or less, very lighthearted a woman, and takes everything in her stride. She cares not for her appearance or what others may say of how she looks. She has a healthy sense of humor and it is not rare to hear her hearty laughter once she gets talking with old friends or acquaintances. She is willing to listen to the problems and stories of others, and is more than likely to empathise with them. She is nothing short of the definition of Gentle Giant. Even if she is equipped with the encyclopaedic knowledge of how to entirely crush a human head, she is regarded by those who know her as a noble and kind soul who would rather prefer the pacifistic alternative. It doesn't always work out for her. As long as one does not intrude on her own personal code, she is more than willing to be a friend in need. Take note, for she is the type of friend that will be there, no matter come rain or shine, hell or heaven, and will bring down even armies just for one she truly sees as a friend, as long as she believes that they are in the right.


Syd Parque's contribution to any combat situation is to mow down enemy crowds by the dozens with a swing of her halberd, and provide an immovable wall to her comrades. Her strength lies in, well, her strength, and she capitalizes on it very well. She, unlike most knights, does not rely on skill or actual proficiency. If she can sweep through armies like a farmer does with a scythe in his field, with just one hand on her oversized halberd, why bother with trivialties? Her heavy armor makes it insanely hard to even wound her properly, and her shield has survived numerous flails and maces, and is still as resilient as ever. Her actual experience in several actual battles make her almost invaluable as an intimidating presence in whichever side she chooses to ally herself with in any skirmish, and is aptly known by most as the veteran of veterans.



"Ah, I cannot say much to that.

Chacun voit midi à sa porte. Men believe what they want to believe in the way they want, non? I let them."


Unlike what most will tack on to a hulking figure like her, Syd Parque is not dumb muscle. She is not placed at a high priority as a strategist in the Vinoviloc war room for just her presence, and is a strategy lecturer in Gallace Academy. She is well-versed in all three main languages in Gallace, and is able to communicate with locals of all lands and places with no difficulty, and shows the ability to quote various philosophies in all three languages. She admits she's not very good in chess, however, since she thinks it is foolish to think that some units can only move in certain ways. Claims the only good thing chessboards are for is to knock riders off their steeds when thrown properly, as well as home decor.



"La mort est personnifiée comme figure anthropomorphe dès le début de l'humanité. On this day, he is I. My name is Syd Parque, knight who serves herself, prepare to FEEL MY WRATH."


All in all, Syd is your best friend if you need one, but she is NOT dumb, and she is NOT tied down by whatever faux code of honor other knights claim to uphold. Her black books are clean, because no one lives through her rage long enough to be put in them.



Personal History:





  • Naturally unappealing to the eyes, and blind in one eye since birth, Syd Parque's life was not joyful when she was young.. Born in Leonhart territory to a noble family of some rank, she was not very popular, for you see, no one appreciates an eyesore, especially not a woman with not even looks to save her soul. Syd Parque grew up as a mostly ignored child in her family. On retrospect, had they actually devoted time to her, Syd Parque would never have become who she was today. During her free time, even as a young child, Syd could be found reading up the exploits of heroes past, and battles from long ago in her family's library. She later took to building her strength by lifting various fill-ins for weights while reading, all while her family continued on their own personal tasks, leaving her to her own devices. At a young age of 14, Syd Parque was already known for her unmatched strength at her school, and those who had unwisely thought they could provoke a girl who made a name for lifting entire persons with one hand found themselves utterly demolished with one blow from her. She dropped out of education at 15, and left her family's home to sign on as a militant in the Leonhart army.




Pense, donc je suis. :"Cogito, ergo sum.", "I think, therefore I am."


C’est une maladie contagieuse: This ailment is contagious.


Appeler un chat, un chat: To call a cat, a cat.


Chacun voit midi à sa porte: Every man sees noon at his own door.


La mort est personnifiée comme figure anthropomorphe dès le début de l'humanité.: Death has been personified as an anthropomorphic figure ever since the début of humanity.


Je m’en vais. Adieu.: I leave. Farewell.



Double posting because I'm a right douchebag.
 
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Sayne de Challant

~“Il n'y a qu' un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé.”~

Leonhart

​






  • kgqmCtx.jpg



    Gender: Male


    Age: 24


    Appearance: He's five foot eleven, and has all the dancer-like grace and carved muscles to make the lithe body of a trained fencer. An objectively, notably handsome face, and a playful expression are usually what a person would notice first. His demeanor works to put others at ease, and his voice, made strong by song, is smooth as butter.


    Relic: Aquila's blessing is caught around his thin rapier's hilt, a green, curling shine that calls out to the goddess of wind. The blade's name is 'Chaste'.


    Weapon List: Chaste, Curved Backsword with a wide blade, Battle Axe, Poignard, Buckler, Lance, and a Double-curved Long Bow.


    A beautiful white stallion
    Horse%20Stallion.gif
    Mount: Snowflake


    Mount Personality: Docile and calm even in the heat of battle, Snowflake obeys with no second-guessing even unto death. He follows specific commands vocally given, from rearing to snorting to stomping his hooves. The intelligence of a trained beast sparks in those dull brown eyes.




l0DPNbo.jpg
 
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Wind Dragon

Name: Vencorus

Gender: Male

Age: 120, appears 17 in human form

​






  • white_hair_blue_eyes_by_draakh-d4s4wee.jpg



    In human form he stands at 6’2. Decently built young man with cloudy (grey/white) eyes. Straight white hair that falls just below his eyeline. Little is known about what he does in human form, other than that he is usually found alone but can be rather joyful and sociable around the right people.

    At shoulder length he stands at 10 feet, but standing on his hind legs it is roughly around 27 or 28 feet. His scales are the same as his hair color, cloudy greyish white. They can be fairly reflective off of sunlight.


    dragon-4.jpg
 
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NPC Characters








  • The Soldiers from Gallace



    ​



    medieval_soldier_by_pictishscout-d4ufvwh.jpg



    ​


    Eirik of Kenbury, a blue-eyed, russet-haired, befreckled man in his 30s. He’s missing his middle and pinkie finger on his left hand, which he’s strapped tight to his shield. Hair is thick in every place it could naturally be -- his face, arms, chest, and legs. Even his back, if you’re exploring it. Eirik has a daughter and wife in Kenbury, Canticland. He guards the front of the caravan by night and is often light with wine spirits during the daytime.

    Bordeaux de Loire, a man that is dark of hair and face, and broody of expression. The years have weathered his face to a leathery finish, with creases and wrinkles to match. White and grey pepper his hair and beard. He doesn’t talk much and keeps to himself, and when he does talk, it’s in French -- but he doesn’t drink either. A trustworthy soldier and a vigilant lookout. He prays with the priests and seems devoted to the three gods.

    Vinzenz von Berthold, a talkative young man whose chatter is often met with “Shut your mouth, Vinz!” He is often found with the cooks, tasting their meals and adding spices -- often causing more harm than good in the process. Brown hair and the dust of peach fuzz clads round his head in tightly woven curls.
 
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Be ready to scroll. That is all I have to say.

Émillien
Meet-the-World-s-Most-Gorgeous-Hipster-Model-and-Viral-Star-Ben-Dahlhaus.jpg


Little boy... In the forest... Death awaits... Demons gone... And saved he become.

~ Voyada, The Fire

​





  • Social Class

    Oh, that's a hard question! Let me see... I am a Gutnicht, an honored Knight of Vinovilan, impressive eh? ... But Clarice would murder me if I described us as such. Crazy bitch thinks she's still a Noble. Sure, this body was born a bastard to a Margrave but we left years ago! Fucking father he was... Call us a Mercenary, but if you don't adress me by Gutnicht... Death is kind.
    Marwin

    Name

    Such a long time ago, that we were called by that name. S...Sa... Sauveterre! Aha! Émillien Gérald Sauveterre! God, I hate that name.
    René

    Age

    This body has yet to come to its end, after all these years. Forty-One summers we have lived through, by the mercy of Glaeslin.
    Aloís

    Gender

    Foul body this is. Constantly craving the touch of women. Despicable man
    Clarice

    Knightly Order

    ​



    We were born as Leonharts, however, not many of us truly wish to be from the lands of Leonharte. Some of us, wish to be from nothing.
    Akhenaton Kallistos











  • Friesian_Stallion.jpg


    Carrying around more than a few things, Émillien has both a horse and mule to carry all his belongings. The horse has been bred and trained by the whole system, and is quite the intelligent beast, so as it only comes when called but never strays away from its master. Kaylar, as it was named, is perhaps the easiest tool to know when a 'switch' between alters have occured, as the beast has grown accustomed to its master's different forms. Adjusting to him, like a belt. Loyal, like a knight.






    horse8722890-1.jpg



    doprava-mapa.jpg


    Waverly, however long he has been with Émillien, does not notice the shifts quite as much, accompanying most times Aloís and Akhenatom Kallistos. The two alters, close in personality and manners, keeps the mule from freaking out but considering Clarice has taken this bad boy around too... Well, perhaps, mayhaps, he know more than we care to care.


    Waverly, the lazy, observant mule. Waverly, the strong.


    9788dc3dc18390a32a21ab5732c99acf.jpg


    And let us not forget, Falcon, the squirrel. As many of the system are afraid of birds, Falcon acts instead as the messenger of Émillien. Trained to carry letters through harsh weather and long paths, at the least, you can rest assured it will get there. At one point, it must, right? And how does this squirrel find its Master? Why, it traces the red trail! Falcon has fourteen stations around the whole continent, all tied with one colour. Blue. The lucky red is where it leaves the message. These places are far and inbetween, and Émillien rarely gets the letters at time but who cares. At least he got 'em.


    Falcon still rocks.










  • Important, Must Read


    D.I.D. is a serious condition, and I, being someone who doesn't suffer from it, cannot and will not claim to be able to ever fully describe/act/roleplay it out correctly. Why? Because unless you are blind, you don't know how it is to be blind and while you can try to portray it as hard and realistically as you possibly can, you will never be able to portray it the way a blind person can.


    In the same sense, I cannot portray or describe the feelings, the actions and/or the abuse and/or trauma that a person with D.I.D. has gone through, neither can I claim that I ever will. This is merely my portrayal and idea of how it is to have this condition. Please also note that I am portraying this in an age and day where D.I.D. was considered to be... Less of a condition/disorder and more like witchcraft, as such I may/will adapt it so as to keep it relevant.


    If you feel like I am portraying it wrong and/or making the symptoms more strong than what is considered normal, please do inform me. I have and will continue to study and research about this disorder throughout the rp, and mistakes are bound to occur. Please forgive me beforehand.



    Note: Because I suck at describing conditions, and don't want to confuse you guys, I'll quote and edit in a fairly well description of the condition in the spoiler. Seriously long read, unneeded but for those that want to, go ahead! ^^


    D.I.D. is a coping mechanism, which is developed {usually} by infants/children to cope with intense physical, mental as well as sexual abuse and the trauma that comes with it. It is a rare disorder and a complex one at that. A person with D.I.D. usually has a 'System'. The system is merely another word for all their alters and their 'positions' and functions. Every system is unique and while most have one or two 'typical' alters, not all are the same neither can one claim that they are.


    Émillien has polyfragmented D.I.D. which, compared to 'The Standard' D.I.D. is more severe, caused by extremely violent, ritualistic trauma and in turn makes his 'System' that much more complicated, filled with alters that have D.I.D. themselves to cope with one certain trauma etc. {100+ alters/fragments are a requirement for Polyfragmented D.I.D.}





    What is D.I.D?


    Note: There are something called fragments, these fragments are like the smallest pieces of the personality and usually have just one function and/or feeling and/or repressed memory.


    Fragment


    A fragment is a dissociated part of the personality that may be too limited to see as an alter, yet it still usually is an alter in those with DID. A fragment usually holds one or two emotions or responds to a few specific situations


    Note: About the different alters having names, some do while others don't but as it is much easier to identify and describe an alter with a name, {as well as allowing the patient to easily accept the other alter's existence], they are usually asked if they would like to be called by a name they themselves have picked or be named by a Psychologist/Psychiatrist. That's why every alter I make will either have a name or a title/description, so as not to get confused.


    Note: Due to a former incident as well as the fact that Émillien getting burned at the stake every other day, the majority of the system are aware of each other, with the help of ISH etc.


    Previously known as multiple personality disorder, dissociative identity disorder (DID) is a condition in which a person has more than one distinct identity or personality state. At least two of these personalities repeatedly assert themselves to control the affected person's behavior. Each personality state has a distinct name, past, identity, and self-image.


    Dissociation" describes a state in which the integrated functioning of a person's identity, including consciousness, memory and awareness of surroundings, is disrupted or eliminated. Dissociation is a mechanism that allows the mind to separate or compartmentalize certain memories or thoughts from normal consciousness. These memories are not erased, but are buried and may resurface at a later time. Dissociation is related to hypnosis in that hypnotic trance also involves a temporarily altered state of consciousness. Dissociation occurs along a continuum or spectrum, and may be mild and part of the range of normal experience, or may be severe and pose a problem for the individual experiencing the dissociation. An example of everyday, mild dissociation is when a person is driving for a long period on the highway and takes several exits without remembering them. In severe, impairing dissociation, an individual experiences a lack of awareness of important aspects of his or her identity.


    The phrase "dissociative identity disorder" replaced "multiple personality disorder" because the new name emphasizes the disruption of a person's identity that characterizes the disorder. A person with the illness is consciously aware of one aspect of his or her personality or self while being totally unaware of, or dissociated from, other aspects of it. This is a key feature of the disorder. It only takes two distinct identities or personality states to qualify as DID but there have been cases in which 100 distinct alternate personalities, or alters, were reported. Fifty percent of DID patients harbor fewer than 11 identities.


    Because the alters alternate in controlling the patient's consciousness and behavior, the affected patient experiences long gaps in memory— gaps that far exceed typical episodes of forgetting that occur in those unaffected by DID.


    Despite the presence of distinct personalities, in many cases one primary identity exists. It uses the name the patient was born with and tends to be quiet, dependent, depressed and guilt-ridden. The alters have their own names and unique traits. They are distinguished by different temperaments, likes, dislikes, manners of expression and even physical characteristics such as posture and body language. It is not unusual for patients with DID to have alters of different genders, sexual orientations, ages, or nationalities. Typically, it takes just seconds for one personality to replace another but, in rarer instances, the shift can be gradual. In either case, the emergence of one personality, and the retreat of another, is often triggered by a stressful event.


    People with DID tend to have other severe disorders as well, such as depression, substance abuse, borderline personality disorder and eating disorders, among others. The degree of impairment ranges from mild to severe, and complications may include suicide attempts, self-mutilation, violence, or drug abuse.






    Causes


    The severe dissociation that characterizes patients with DID is currently understood to result from a set of causes:

    • an innate ability to dissociate easily
    • repeated episodes of severe physical or sexual abuse in childhood
    • lack of a supportive or comforting person to counteract abusive relative(s)
    • influence of other relatives with dissociative symptoms or disorders


    The primary cause of DID appears to be severe and prolonged trauma experienced during childhood. This trauma can be associated with emotional, physical or sexual abuse, or some combination. One theory is that young children, faced with a routine of torture, sexual abuse or neglect , dissociate themselves from their trauma by creating separate identities or personality states. A manufactured alter may suffer while the primary identity "escapes" the unbearable experience. Dissociation, which is easy for a young child to achieve, thus becomes a useful defense. This strategy displaces the suffering onto another identity. Over time, the child, who on average is around six years old at the time of the appearance of the first alter, may create many more.


    IDENTITY DISTURBANCES


    Persons suffering from DID usually have a main personality that psychiatrists refer to as the "host." This is generally not the person's original personality, but is rather one developed in response to childhood trauma. It is usually this personality that seeks psychiatric help. DID patients are often frightened by their dissociative experiences, which can include losing awareness of hours or even days, meeting people who claim to know them by another name, or feeling "out of body."


    Psychiatrists refer to the phase of transition between alters as the "switch." After a switch, people assume whole new physical postures, voices, and vocabularies. Specific circumstances or stressful situations may bring out particular identities. Some patients have histories of erratic performance in school or in their jobs caused by the emergence of alternate personalities during examinations or other stressful situations. Each alternate identity takes control one at a time, denying control to the others. Patients vary with regard to their alters' awareness of one another. One alter may not acknowledge the existence of others or it may criticize other alters. At times during therapy, one alter may allow another to take control.






    The DSM-IV-TR lists four diagnostic criteria for identifying DID and differentiating it from similar disorders:

    • Traumatic stressor: The patient has been exposed to a catastrophic event involving actual or threatened death or injury, or a serious physical threat to him- or herself or others. During exposure to the trauma, the person's emotional response was marked by intense fear, feelings of helplessness, or horror. In general, stressors caused intentionally by human beings (genocide, rape, torture, abuse, etc.) are experienced as more traumatic than accidents, natural disasters, or "acts of God."
    • The demonstration of two or more distinct identities or personality states in an individual. Each separate identity must have its own way of thinking about, perceiving, relating to and interacting with the environment and self.
    • Two of the identities assume control of the patient's behavior, one at a time and repeatedly.
    • Extended periods of forgetfulness lasting too long to be considered ordinary forgetfulness.
    • Determination that the above symptoms are not due to drugs, alcohol or other substances and that they can't be attributed to any other general medical condition. It is also necessary to rule out fantasy play or imaginary friends when considering a diagnosis of DID in a child.


    {Read more: http://www.minddisorders.com/Del-Fi/Dissociative-identity-disorder.html#ixzz3Rk5W0B4F}



    My research is primarily done in PsychForums, a site dedicated to physchological disorders and where I can get first-hand information from people with the actual disorder. There is alot more to this but I don't want this to become a wiki.


    For different types { of alters}, please note that every system is unique, as mentioned before.








  • The Virgin Whore, The Brothel and The Marquess of Leonharte.


    At the outskirts of the vast land of Marquess Andrion Sauveterre, in the city of Lévon, came a virgin to the brothel of Ser James. Cecilin Achterberg, once the daughter of the chief of Achterberg Village in northern Vinovilan, now but the orphaned soon-to-be whore. Lord must have loved her, bringing to her Marquess Andrion Sauveterre himself as her first {and soon only} 'customer'. Indeed as he spilled secret, after secret, about the Noble Household of Sauveterre, Lords of the land of Lévon, it was a charity. Yes indeed, even the day that he took her by force was a blessing hidden in the disguise of a child and a brother that does not exist. A brother who, as told by Cecilin, holds the story of the Household of Sauveterre.


    What else could have Marquess Andrion have done? The child was his, as she was virgin, and the secrets that she and the brother that does not exist, have are far more dangerous than her to be in his home, among his hated wife and legal children.


    The Torture, The Pain and The Knights


    The child, named Émillien, did not find peace in what he was to call home. Whipped, strangled, drowned and used he became as time passed and as time passed, so did his conscious. As it left, came others to save him. Others like the knights he once watched on his father's fields, ready to defend the borders of Leonharte. Like guards, keeping him locked in a cage. And so he ran, not from the home, but from himself and others came to be him instead. Mother neglecting, father spiteful and his sister, if he even can call her that, a betrayer


    The Escape


    And when Émillien left, came Jérome, holding The Body like a fort. Keeping the core of himself safe from the torture that came to be everyday life. Jérome, for a year, took care of them all, tending to their whims and needs. But nay, Akhenatom refused to stay, and so they left. With belongings in hand, his mother dead due to his father's anger and her ring with him, he left. They left. They survived.


    The Fire and The First Counsel


    Voyada. Hated is she. The foolish woman that set them all into danger, putting them in fires way, telling their secret to the world, albeit a small world at that. And fire licked their skin, burning them to hell and back but luck stood on their side, as Aloís had been fateful to his lord Glaeslin for years, earning The Blessed Pendant, freeing them and granting them a miracle in form of ice. The flames tamed, the body saved and Voyada locked deep, deep inside, The System finally gathered for The First Counsel. And as the counsel led, and as the rules were set, they became united.


    Somewhat.


    The Marriage, The Happily Never After and The Present


    Time is vast yet small and life is long yet too short, and so Christopher, beholder of the cires of everyday life and sorrows, the light of the system and the most beloved, set off for three moons cycle. Found a lass, Josephine, beautiful as day yet dark as night, his love and The Body's love. His wife. Married he became, and most likely The System turned their gaze while mad but allowed it breifly, for the sake of peace. And as time goes and time passes, The Dragons came and Aloís knew that his duty was clear. Protect them, bring forth the end and service his lord Glaeslin.





Because... Adelheid. DAAH!





Adelheid ~ The Barbarian




~Ich mag Frauen. Ich mag ihre Schnitzer. Und ich mag ihren Esel. Bekam ein Problem? Verpissen. ~

latest


​






  • 1805682_original.jpg


    Traits: Rowdy, Warmhearted, Crazed, Tomboy, Brute, Feminist, Spontenaous, Foul-Mouthed, Introspective, Optimistically Pessimistic. And like Adelheid likes to describe herself, Menschlich.


    Personality: Menschlich. Humane. Behind the large grin, and the booze, and the flirting lays Adelheid. Do not get me wrong, she is an alcohol-loving, women-crazed brute with the strangest ways of looking at life and its mysteries. But she also craves freedom. Craves the right to be what she wants to be without someone putting a leash on her, giving her a speech about who she is and what she is, and what she should be doing. She IS. SHE is.


    Her.


    Not you, not her grandmother, not some king or Grandmaster. Respect is something to be shared, not forced. And until you see her as she IS, as she will never be, you deserve nothing but spit on your face.





    Name: Adelheid Lillie Adler


    Gender: Female


    Age: Twenty-Four


    Knightly Order: Vinoviloc


    Province: Schlaraffeland, Vinovilan.


    Social Class: Knight {Gutnicht}




    Goals in life:     None. Adelheid is a free spirit, one that take things as they come and go. For her, life is meant to be experienced in the moment, craving something and being stuck at it for years upon years is but a sickness in her eyes. Like the wind, unstoppable in its path towards nowhere, she flows with time and fiollows her most innate whims.


 
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Lureana Rompth

Knightly Order:


Leonhart


Gender:


Female


Age:


Seventeen


Social Class:


Viscount


Occupation:


Student


Weapon:


In order of preference and experience: Rapier, Long Bow, Dagger



Character:


Lureana is a very strong-willed girl. She fights for what she believes in and doesn’t put in much effort if she doesn’t have to. She enjoys working in the stables and grooming the horses. It gives her a calm sense of mind, especially when she is upset. Even with her small size, she practices as hard as any of her peers and has been known to defeat men twice her size. She has no care for dragons, devils or not. She just wants to protect the weak and create a fair order for others.





atheia.jpg
Le Rompte Peninsula
​



The Rompth's rule over a small peninsula that juts into the sea. Their main city is made of the purest stone, and has marble statues or fountains on many of the main city's centers. Crystals dangle from many windows and buildings, making the city sparkle at high noon. The city is pristine and Lureana's father often brags about the cleanliness of his city, the lack of poverty. But outside the city where the farmers and non-city folk live, towns are in shambles. The wood that is used to build the homes rots and warps from the sea's wind and storms. The peninsula itself is never without wind outside the main city's walls. If a person were to reach the very highest point inside the city, they could feel remnants of the wind gently caress their skin, but nothing more.


Only the more privileged lived inside this city, and the rest of the citizens live outside it's tall walls. Lureana's father rules as Viscount over this region, and while he is fair and just in his treatments towards his citizens, he is also filled with vanity. This is the main cause for one city to be so well kept, while other towns wither in poverty.





Personal History:

Lureana was born at the height of the morning bell tolls on a soft summer day. Her mother was a woman of lower social class than her father, but she did reside inside the city, which meant she was wealthy enough to be of standard to the Viscount. While Lureana was the eldest of her siblings, five in total, she was originally not given heir to her family's wealth.


At the young age of four, she was kidnapped by her nanny (she claimed she could raise the child better than the rich pests that ran the city, accompanied by many mumbles whenever Lureana asked her why she took her), and raised for five years outside of the city on a farm. Her hair grew long, as her Nan didn't believe in cutting the hair of women, she was often covered in dirt, and her hands grew hard from labor. In her first year there, though she doesn't remember it much, she would often complain of the hard work she was given. Then, she eventually stopped. She was never hit for complaining, as it was seen as an attitude most children take when they haven't worked much, but her Nan's hard stare made her feel ashamed, and unladylike.


She was found by a city guard on his way back home by age 9, and the guard received a fat reward for the return of the city's eldest. Her Nan, on the other hand, received some form of punishment that Lureana was not privy to.


In the five years that she had been gone, two of her younger brothers had died from being weak in nature. Her other, younger siblings were girls. Her parents had tried again and again for another child, though it seemed that a dragon had cursed her mother so that she could not birth anymore children.


The Viscount then appointed Lureana as heir to his home and city, as he did not trust his cousins or brother to run the city to his liking. He was a vain man, and loved to keep the look of his "rich" city intact. He worried that his other relatives may tarnish his land with a hideousness that he preferred to never think of. Lureana, in turn, was then enrolled at the Academy by the age 10 so that she would learn good "lady" conduct, how to keep political appearances and how to move among the high society.


Since she wasn't at her home for long, she did not realize that her family had grown poor due to the debt created from her Father's unnecessary demands on their city's upkeep. Her father had been handling some political mingling in order to clear the debt, and from this he began to marry off his daughters. The last that he arranged a marriage for was Lureana, and he had it arranged while she was away at school. She later found out that it was one of the boys that attended the Academy, and that the marriage wouldn't affect her inheritance of the city. She knew of the boy's name, but never cared to find out what he looked like. She was much more interested in what she could achieve at the school.


Being an ambitious sort, Lureana practiced every chance she could while she attended the Academy in hopes of being knighted. Even though she was married off like one would sell cattle, she strived to at least make a Dame of herself and serve for the greater good of the people before she was tied down to the overly-decorated city that she referred to as her home. If she were to be knighted, it also offered her a sense of freedom that her arranged marriage and inheritance did not.


 
Leonhart



Name:

Jacques deCapre, alias Arthur Gottsheim



Gender:

Male



Age:

23



Appearance:



troubadour_by_tahra.jpg


Born an albino, Jacques' most notable trait is his snow-white hair and his pale complexion. Stand as he may in the sun, he never tans too much, and he might even catch fire if he did anyway. Albinism is not kind on the body, and it shows on Jacques. His naturally weak immune system has left him in a rather ghostly state. To add to matters, he is not exactly very tall either, measuring up to 167 cm, and is underweight, weighing in at 53.4 kg. To those who have yet to pick up on the cues, Jacques is not a combatant, and he can never be one.


Jacques, a rather simple man by nature, is usually seen in his fittingly simple habit, a grey hooded cloak thrown over himself, a rather dull white tunic and green trousers, and finishing the set with black boots. He is never seen without his bag of books and his lute.



Social Class:

Bard



Province:




Neunenberg, a Vinoviloc area populated by families that raise their children to be great knights or smiths. It is situated near the mountainous regions, and as such, they possess a highly defensive position.



Weapon:


His sharp wit, kept in shape with the whetstone of his encyclopaedic vocabulary.


His lute, which is wooden, and very fragile. He'd sooner use his own self as a weapon than sacrifice it.


His collection of books, which he hands out like pamphlets after every telling of an epic or story. Their spines make excellent blunt weapons, though, but knowing Jacques, he would never hurt any of his precious treasure trove of books.



Character:


Anyone’s first impression of the man known as Jacques deCapre is of a talented young man who could weave the most marvelous of stories without so much as an effort put into it. A highly imaginative and colourful bard, Jacques is often found wandering around the local area, thinking of new stories, or perched on odd places, such as trees or even rooftops, strumming idly on his lute as he murmurs new tales into existence under his breath. Despite his weak physique, it seems that Jacques retains some of his Vinoviloc blood by often putting himself in danger, even if he doesn’t know it. His flakiness, however, is seen as part of his odd charm that draws children, animals, and even adults to him. The true vastness of his mind is impenetrable by most, and many will never know how and what he actually thinks and sees the world.


It is simple, however, Jacques deCapre’s world. He wants to live in one where stories hold crowds in thrall, a world of peace and neutrality, where no swords, no fighting, no war exists. To this end, he only presses forwards by spreading his stories as a travelling bard, and spreading the love of stories through the world. Jacques is a peaceable man, in a nutshell, and would not wish ill on any living creature. He openly despises conflict, and believes the only wars that should be fought are those in the books. In the case of a fight occurring within his vicinity, he will quickly make himself scarce. While he does seem to enjoy pacifism, he is not below cursing those who criticise his tales without proper constructivity, and curse he will, running their names and their reputation to the ground by spreading rumors and foul tales of their lives, truths mixed with untruths. He is a popular user of the placebo and nocebo effects, and his stories, while not magic at all, seem to work a spell over those he tells them to, especially those he weaves his tales about.



Personal History:


While Jacques is a man to go to when one needs to be enthralled by tales of valor, bravery, dark horrors, love and revenge, drama and mystery. Alas, deCapre's past is nothing as close as his mystical tales.


Jacques deCapre, born Arthur Gottsheim, was the eldest child of a Vinoviloc family. This being Vinoviloc, the albino boy was expected to do great things...except that his frail physique made him unsuitable to be anything that would amount to greatness. His younger sisters, Annabelle and Isabelle, became accomplished fencers, while he was busy spending his time in a decrepit library reading stories, sometimes even writing them, or in his room plucking away at a lute he had bought from a travelling merchant. This distressed his parents to no end, for men of literary talent were valued no less than a beggar on the streets. Of course, the then-18-year old Arthur knew of this, and gathered his things, comprising of his lute, some clothes, and several books he had not had the opportunity to finish as of yet, and left his home.


As he went, he stopped at various bars, taverns, town squares, and told his stories to earn his keep, sometimes playing a little tune if the crowd demanded it. He was awful at the latter. With no sense of rhythm and no idea how to sing, Arthur was a horrible musician. However, there was one thing that the crowds began to pick up on. Arthur had the ability to charm anyone with his stories. Although it was obvious Arthur had a tongue that could flatter even the gods, many came to him anyways just to hear him speak wonders. Through his words alone, people have said to have their spirits lifted, and most gain a spring in their step. Others disapprove of his wit and his silver tongue, claiming him to be nothing more than a charlatan and an accomplished liar. They were right, of course, but the effects of his stories were undeniable.


And just like that, Jacques deCapre, the wandering weaver of tales, came into existence. Arthur Gottsheim changed his name, and lived his life as the wispy, white-haired wanderer, whose only purpose was to spread the love of stories. He now claims he is from Leonhart, but his lack of ability to speak in French tells much of his true origins. He spends most of his time and money buying books from different places and people, and then proceeding to distribute them to children, sometimes adults. As of right now, Jacques deCapre is attempting to write his own book, but, having no inspiration, no main character, no villain, nothing, to go on with, he continues his daily life, until he finds something...or someone, that sparks his muse.


Jacques has a rather strained relationship with his parents. His father, who had expected an heir that would carry the legacy worthy of a Vinoviloc family, was instead landed with a no-good weakling that spent his time

reading

and

writing

like some common entertainer. His mother, a subservient woman, could say nary a word to go against her husband, and supported the very angry man throughout. To Jacques' relief, however, his sisters, the twins Annabelle and Isabelle Gottsheim, were there. Not only did they offer shoulders that their father could now heap his hopes on, they also proved to be rather happy to have a brother like him. Jacques often spent his evenings and nights telling them of stories he read and wrote, and both of them were rather entranced by his then-budding 'magic'. Jacques often wondered where he would be now, were it not for them. When he left, only his sisters were there to bid him farewell. Both sisters have alluded to their brother as an inspiration to become knights worthy of the land, if only to hear stories about them spoken with the words he so delicately weaves with his own unique brand of wonder.



image and appearance to be filled in sometime later. I'm going to take a nap.
 
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Francesca Stenhardt

Leonhart

The Ransomed Daughter






  • tumblr_nkolvwGMta1rgyw5zo1_500.jpg


    Nickname: Fran


    Gender: Female


    Height: 167cm/5'6ft.


    Weight: 61kg/135lbs


    Age:     21


    Social Class:


    -Possible Steward


    -Possible Commoner


    -Possible Foot Soldier


    Weapons:


    -Stenhardt Family Katzbalger


    -Daggers


    -Short bows


    -Spears


    Notes:


    -Her chest is bound in this image.





*BACK FROM THE DEAD! Also did I do it right? Took me long enough to resurrect her.*
 
Aiyen Niximorys

  • 640x738_7210_Fenris_2d_fan_art_male_portrait_elf_fantasy_picture_image_digital_art.jpg






    Aiyen Niximorys    , a male drake hatched 247 winters past, belonging to an unknown ice brood.




    Adopted home     of La Pré de l'Alouette, a small village in Leonharte, located along the river between Couer d'Or and the Palvi Parish.
    ​




    ​


    Cool and collected on the outside, worried and overly cautious on the inside. The last ten years have softened him considerably, but he will never lose the constant tension wrought from the Dead Lands. He's still learning human expressions and figuring out how to relax, but he has worked out how to laugh - just not quietly. He enjoys working hard and seeing laughter, and trying to create smiles where they're lacking, but quietly and unseen if he can. Tends to be a bit impulsive about decisions unless reminded that there is plenty of time to think, something he is still far from used to. Above all else he possesses a desire to protect, not just those around him but primarily the tenuous peace between dragons and humans, and he will go to any lengths necessary for that goal - even if it means breaking his other oaths or betraying his own kin.


 
Silas Vetaari

Silas Dragon_zpsuz4vm3l5.jpg


Yes, I am the serpent who lit the town of Gallace aflame; I am the serpent that put the realm on the brink of war; and I will be the serpent that changes the world as we know it.
Silas

• Element: Fire • Name: Silas Vetaari • Gender: Male • Age: 163 •
​





  • 8DHlODp.jpg
    Silas’s human spectrum peaks at the height of six feet and three inches, donning a fair amount of muscle to coincide with his scaly, gray-blue flesh. While this may be true, Silas’s draconic skin tone and horns are only visible in his transient form, which takes concentration to uphold. If Silas must rest his mind after an exhausting event, his skin tone will become more tanned, and his horns will sink into his skull. However, as a dragon, his eyes always remain a bright orangish-yellow.



 
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