Fantasy ~Journey~ Character Page

[SilverFlight]

Characters
​

Art by Chaoyuanxu

Interest Check

Character building chat

Rules


- All RPN rules apply. In the thread and in the OOC.

- All character sheets must follow the guidelines I have set. You can add more, you cannot do less.

- I must accept your character before you can start posting. I reserve the right to refuse your character if I do not believe you have followed the guidelines or if I believe you will not be a good fit for the team.

- Respect all other players, their ideas and their right to a safe space.

- You can use coding, but if I can’t read the CS I won’t accept it.

- Please state your character’s abilities clearly and in good detail, and remember that they cannot be too powerful at the start of the game.

- I am looking for engagement and character interaction, so characters described as “antisocial” or “not good in a team” will be automatically rejected. The demon characters in this thread are expected to follow the direction of the gods and of the humans they travel with, they can’t opt out.



- This is a detailed thread so one good paragraph at the very least per post.

- Write in full sentences in the thread and in your CS. I will not be accepting point form.

- IC writing is third person past tense for all IC posts please.

• Character sheet guidelines
• Active players

• 
  Name:
  
  Race: (human, or a specific kind of demon or spirit)
  
  Age:
  
  Appearance: (description or picture), if a demon, state what the ornament is and where it is worn.
  
  Skills and abilities: (This is both combat skills, magic and general talents and hobbies)
  
  Weapons and items:
  
  Personality: (minimum 2 paragraphs, likes, dislikes, motivations, how to make them happy, angry etc.)
  
  Backstory: (minimum 2 paragraphs, if playing a human, include how you were recruited for this quest, and if playing a demon, you must include the story of how the god queen bested you and trapped you in the power-restricting ornament).
  
  Personal goals: What does your character want?
  
  (optional) Three rumours: Make up three rumours people have heard about your character, two are true, and one is a complete fabrication, it can be as ridiculous as you like.
  
• 
  
  Korro - Silverflight
  Falarion - Lioness075
  Koralia - Arai
  Zero - Top11
  Roshan - Vulpes lagopus
  Yue - Shadylady
  Fin - Goonfire
  Xe'lik - Merciless Medic
  Sovann - Aquarin
  Alitheia - DirtyBirdyAK
  
  

 

[SilverFlight]

Art by Tapfic

Name: O’Korro, but most know him as just “Wolf”.

Race: Demon (winter demon)

Age: 253

Appearance: Korro looks human enough; about 24, he is of average height, but it is difficult to tell because he rarely stands straight, and crouches when at rest. His frame is sturdy but lean and wiry, betraying hardships in the recent past. His hair begins white at the roots, and quickly deepens to ash-grey and then black at the tips. It is long, but because it is so course and thick, he has trouble keeping it tied back, and pointed pieces of it are always playing about his cheeks and neck. His face is regal, if often a little dirty, and there is a cluster of freckles flecked across the bridge of his nose. His eyebrows are thick and also white-grey and his eyes are a deep, imposing yellow. His pointed canine teeth are revealed when he smiles and he walks with the air of something dangerous, the coiled, calculating energy of a predator. Korro’s clothes are made of fur and leather mostly, he has a dark, boar-hide vest, covered with a short cloak of black wolf fur. His trousers are wool, and tied off at the knee with leather bracers. He generally does not wear shoes, but prefers the ground on his feet, and the cold does not seem to bother him at all. Korro carries a hunting bow and a weighted blade, made to break the bones of large animals. The gold torc is around his neck, and is the most flamboyant thing on his person. He tries to hide it beneath the fur of his cloak whenever he can.

• Skills, abilities and weapons
• Personality
• Backstory

• 
  
  
  Korro’s powers are much diminished since being trapped by the God queen: he cannot transform into his full monster form, his keen smell and hearing are now simply mediocre, and he only retains a fraction of his former strength. That said, he still has the strength of four human men, and this can be deadly when put behind his weapons. His bow is so strong a regular human could not even draw it. Korro can jump fairly large distances too, and run tirelessly for a day.
  
  His only alternate form for now is a lanky, white-grey wolf with deep yellow eyes. There is a very fine blue sheen to his fur in a certain light, the only thing giving him away as a demon, and not a regular wolf.
  
  Korro is an accomplished hunter, even after losing his keen senses. He is good with knots, and cleaning game.
  
  Korro is not a bad hand at weaving, and if he has the thread, can weave anything from ropes to baskets, decorative bracelets and small works of art.
  
  2 retained abilities:
  
  Korro can summon and speak to wolves. They make excellent scouts, when they can be found.
  
  Korro is a demon of winter and cold. He can imbue his blade or wolf bite with a freezing power for extra damage, especially against nature demons or spirits. This also prevents him from taking cold-related damage. He is quite comfortable living in snow for days with little else but the clothing on his back. In contrast however, he does not do well in heat, and is vulnerable to fire magic.
  
  Weapons and items:
  
  Korro carries a strong wooden hunting bow, carved with an inscription down the side. It isn’t in any common language, but may be one used by demons.
  
  Korro also carries a single-edged blade that is weighted on the dull side to lend strength to the blow. It is wide, and as good for defending as attacking. The blade is made of a strange blue crystal material, but the hilt is plain hardwood bound in leather.
  
  A small pendant of the same blue crystal is tied about his neck, kept hidden under his vest. It is rough-hewn and sharp, and is always cold to the touch.
• Art by ShadyLady
  
  
  
  O’Korro used to be boisterous, proud and arrogant, anyone who knew him might say he was absolutely insufferable, but the events that happened not long ago changed him. Korro is now quiet, stoic and tends to keep his head down until he feels comfortable around the people he is with. He punishes himself internally for moments of pride. At times he seems lost, staring out into the landscape, as if he was looking for something. Being forlorn is not something the human team will catch him at often however, as he still resents being imprisoned. He moves with the air of a being that once held power. He is used to having it, and now that he does not, he must adjust.
  
  Korro isn’t all doom and gloom however, he can be distracted from the heavy things in his heart. He appreciates loud people, even if he is no longer one himself, and he also loves good food and a good story. It is easy to make friends with him if you offer him something to eat. Korro respects talent, in every category, whether it is combat, crafting or deception. At first, Korro will always be far more open with demons, his resentment of being imprisoned is projected onto the humans he has been ordered to protect and he is slow to trust them. Once he is more at ease, he can be witty and teasing, and carries a protective warmth about him that is not really something one would expect from a demon like him.
  
  Once Korro has made a bond with someone, he tends to treat them like family, helping them, fighting for them and happy to spend time with them. Korro does not often act like he had much control over his choices, and is willing to make decisions only if it involves the protection of those he is entrusted with.
• 
  O’korro The Demon Wolf of Frostbreak, that was what he was called. A hundred years ago the gods left the world of humans and the era of demons rose from fire and blood. Korro was the right hand of one of the fiercest demon warlords. They had been like brothers, fighting side by side, amasing followers, soldiers, armies. It soon became apparent though that Korro was happier taking orders from his brother, than leading beside him. Korro became well-known for his ruthless efficiency, and his ability to carry out his brother’s plans, no matter how unreasonable or ill-concieved. Korro took the title of general, while his brother took leadership, and the title of “Sunset King”.
  
  Korro was respected by his soldiers and feared by his enemies. Korro was revered so much, rumours began to spread that his warriors were more loyal to him, than the lord they all served. Where his brother was hot-tempered and impulsive, Korro was level-headed and critical, where the Sunset King was rash and violent, Korro was cunning and creative. It did not take long for discontent to begin, and for some to say that Korro should be the lord, and his brother the second. Hearing the rumours fed doubt and fear in the mind of the warlord, and he resolved to end the rumours…once and for all.
  
  Korro did not suspect a thing. One day his brother in arms, his lord, invited him out to hunt in the Stone Forest, a deep valley tucked between two mountains, filled with giant, petrified trees. The mist was thick that day, and they soon strayed far beyond the camp.
  
  Korro lost sight of his brother in the thick fog, and while he was busy searching, the warlord came up behind him, weapon drawn. The fight that followed was earth-shattering: both demons abandoned their weapons and human forms to battle as great beasts, felling trees and breaking boulders in their fury. The first blow had wounded Korro however, and he was fighting at a disadvantage, which both soon realized would eventually be fatal.
  
  Before the warlord could strike the final blow, there was a burst of dazzling light. The God queen appeared between them. Korro withdrew immediately, knowing he could not defeat such an enemy. His brother lunged. In a blinding flash, the Sunset King was reduced to nothing but ash. It happened so quickly Korro could barely believe it.
  
  Wounded and enraged, Korro abandoned his caution and charged the goddess, but he was easily overpowered. She pinned him to the ground and put the torc around his neck, then dropped his sword before him and gave him the ultimatum. Korro could feel the power of the torc stealing his strength. Weak, wounded and in shock, he knew if he returned to his warriors like this, they would kill him. So, he vanished into the mist. The story told by the demons that day was Korro had killed his brother and fled in shame. No one saw him since that day, until the call of the God Queen came, and he answered to win his freedom.
  
  Personal goals: Korro has a lot to reflect on in the recent past, but his personal goal has always been to find a place he belongs. A pack...a family.
  
  Three rumours:
  1. Korro once tricked a demon warlord into defeating his own garrison of fighters.
  2. Korro once spared the life of a human who had disrespected him because the human offered him a custard tart in repentance.
  3. Korro's absolute favourite food is human children.

 

[Lioness075]

• Basics
• Skills, Abilities, & Powers
• Personality
• Biography

• 
  Name: Falarion
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Race: Shapeshifting Demon
  
  Age: Appears to be in his young 20s
  
  Appearance: While mostly appearing human, he also sports a lion's tail. He has to be mindful of his tail, as he sometimes forgets he has one and can be rather clumsy. You'd think he'd be more aware after being around for a long time, but no. He isn't.
  His usual attire sticks very closely to what is pictured above. He is not afraid to show off his body and makes that a point with how he dresses. His ornament is a gold chain that he wears along his belt loop in his human form and it appears around his neck in his beast forms, changing size according to which form he takes.
  
• 
  
  Combat Skills:
  1. Falarion excels in hand-to-hand combat, preferring to get up close and personal with combatants. He typically wields a sturdy quarterstaff that he enjoys using to vault over obstacles or trip his opponents to his own bemusement.
  
  2. He also specializes in using an opponent's momentum against themselves. This can typically be seen with him dodging close attacks and then forcing the combatant to go too far with their momentum, causing them to trip or stumble.
  
  3. He's not above using the classic sand attack in a fight, or similar cheap shots.
  
  4. His tail is actually stronger than it looks and he can use it to trip opponents or even stop them mid-swing with a weapon.
  
  Abilities:
  1. His tail also excels at knocking over random items in his vicinity, as he sometimes forgets he has a tail to begin with.
  
  2. He would argue his good looks are one of his strongest abilities. He has a pretty good smolder, but one may disagree with this opinion.
  
  3. He can 'disappear' into shadows fairly well, but not literally. More so, he excels at being sneaky and quiet when he wants to be. His eyes naturally aid him in seeing a bit easier in darker settings, allowing him to move more fluidly and quietly.
  
  Powers:
  Shapeshifting: His lion's tail tends to give away his powers, as his primary form of choice in a fight is his griffin form. Due to the constraints of the golden chain along his belt loops, his griffin form is the only one he can shift into at this time.
  
  
  Spoiler: Gryphon Form

  
  
  

  
  This is his primary form and go-to in most scenarios. He feels most agile in it and is also proud to be fairly recognizable by locals if in this form.
  
  
  Spoiler: Hummingbird Form

  
  
  

  
  He cannot use the flames on his tails for anything beyond...lighting a candle. But he will do so menacingly.
  
  
  Spoiler: Salamander Form

  
  
  

  
  He is a personal fan of climbing onto someone's shoulder and then sticking his tongue into their ear before scurrying off. This may be a Salamander form, but his tongue is more akin to that of an iguana's.
  
  
  Spoiler: Snapping Turtle Form

  
  
  

  
  In this form, he is guaranteed to be rolling around and taking out people by their ankles.
  
  
  Spoiler: Bat Form

  
  
  

  
  He's a bat.
  
  
  Spoiler: Domestic Cat Form

  
  
  

  
  Despite the glowing eyes, he is basically just a grumpy domestic cat. He will happily pretend to be a normal cat just to incite chaos.
  
  
  Spoiler: Big Beak Form

  
  
  

  
  You will be pecked. Why? Because.
  
  
  Spoiler: Female Human Form

  
  
  

  
  Just imagine the chaos one can bestow when they are the other gender and look completely human. He dresses as is pictured and will wield his quarterstaff as his weapon of choice.
  
  
  Spoiler: Telescope Form

  
  
  

  
  So he can show people how many fucks he gives (the answer is always none).
  
  
  Spoiler: Cloak Form

  
  
  

  
  One of his rarest forms to see him in, but he absolutely loves being someone's cloak for a while and then suddenly scaring the daylights out of them by revealing he is not, in fact, a cloak.
  
  
  Spoiler: Monster Forms

  Spoiler: Manticore Form

  
  
  

  
  This comes across as a more regal appearance of his, until humans see his demon horns, wings, and tail. When in the shadows, he can sometimes trick people into coming closer with the false appearance of being only a lion.

  
  

  Spoiler: Dread Raven Form

  
  
  

  
  His ideal form for creeping on someone or simply watching his villagers go about their days.

  
  

  Spoiler: Dread Stag Form

  
  
  

  
  He enjoys taking this form when he just wants to go for a run through the forest and not be bothered. Few approach him since his appearance is unsettling despite it not being obviously wrong.

  
  

  Spoiler: Hellhound Form

  
  
  

  
  This is one of his forms that fed into the skeletal beast rumors.

  
  

  Spoiler: Hydrarchos Form

  
  
  

  
  He can only shift into this form when he is submerged in water and thus, rarely uses it.

  
  

  Spoiler: Kargos Form

  
  
  

  
  By far, this is his most durable form, the scales and leather protecting him from most weaponry to a degree.

  
  

  Spoiler: Horned Monkey Form

  
  
  

  
  To this day, Falarion has no idea why this is one of his forms. He is rarely taken seriously in it, but finds it can be fun to use this form and steal things from children to make them cry.

  
  

  Spoiler: Wendigo Form

  
  
  

  
  Between this form and his hellhound form, it is easy for one to surmise that the rumors are true, to a degree. He typically is on all fours in this form, but will stand up if he feels the need to be taller or intimidating. As if he is not already intimidating just being in this form (at least that is what he likes to think).

  
  

  Spoiler: Wyvern Form

  
  
  

  
  His only draconic form and one that he is not entirely keen on using. The lack of arms or upper limbs since they are replaced with his wings can make this form a bit annoying overall. But he does enjoy the damage he can wreck on buildings or simply fly through things and break them when in this form. He can breathe fire, but only in small streams up close. It tends to be more of a defensive mechanism for this form than anything else. He has happily started some wildfires with it, though.
  
  
• 
  Falarion is very extroverted and thus, eager to talk to, and harass, anyone he meets. He enjoys a good laugh, though it oftentimes comes at the expense of some human he is tormenting. Not that he has much leeway to do such things these days, unfortunately. He has found flirting and flustering humans to be the next best thing that he can do without having to face any pain over the interactions.
  
  No matter the occasion or how dire the situation may be, Falarion always fights to the end. Not that he's going out of his way to protect anyone, so much as he'd rather limit his own frustrating pain that is induced by that damned gold chain. He also gets bored very easily, having what humans would refer to as ADHD, though he just saw it as having limitless energy. His never-ending need for more stimulation very often leads him to pestering others for attention or just trying for the classic scare for a laugh.
  
  He will also try to flirt with just about anyone, but can be dissuaded from continuing when the flirting is not returned or he can tell he's making the person uncomfortable. The flirting tends to be less fun at that point. He only really enjoys it when the person gets visibly flustered or even better, returns the banter.
  
  Likes:
  - A good sense of humor
  - Tormenting humans
  - Chaos
  - Witnessing death
  - Fire
  - Flirting
  - Being booped in his animal forms (he will adamantly deny this)
  - Having his hair ruffled in his human form
  
  Dislikes:
  - Kindness
  - Being soaked in water in any of his forms besides his amphibious one
  - Crowds
  - Bright lights
  - Being told what to do (he will end up doing it, but he makes a point to grumble and complain about it)
  
  Character Flaw
  Falarion could care less when it comes to protecting humans beyond when he is forced to, but he will willingly aid any beast in distress.
  
  Physical Weakness
  Being soaked from head to toe with water or submerged can make it difficult for Falarion to maneuver in most of his forms. Drenched fur and feathers tend to not be a fun combination. His water form is exclusively for when he is submerged in water, so unless he wants to asphyxiate on land for fun, he will not use it until he is in water.
  
  
• 
  Falarion has no memories of his origins and happily makes up something chaotic and ridiculous whenever anyone inquires. He does not trust other demons to be honest with him, so he is uncertain of where exactly all demons come from. Early on, he was far more curious and inquisitive about this topic, but he became increasingly apathetic about it in recent times. After all, hypotheticals and philosophical inquiries did not make passing his time very fun.
  
  Instead, Falarion spends most of his time harassing the local humans. He enjoys entering their village disguised and then terrifying them into fleeing into their homes, or even better is when he scares them into the forest. He becomes giddy when he gets to enjoy a proper chase, even if humans are terribly slow compared to him. He takes joy in eventually tripping the humans and getting up in their terrified faces. Depending on the day and his mood, he may injure the human before leaving them be or simply terrify them until they faint. Killing the humans would not be very fun considering they were his source of entertainment.
  
  One day when he was performing his duties to scare the locals, he flew in his gryphon form over the fleeing human only for a sturdy net to come flying towards him and force him to the ground behind the human. Amazed that they were putting up a fight for once, he nonchalantly tore through the net and turned to face the human, but a bright and annoyingly holy-looking being stood there instead.
  Scowling, Falarion prowled around the being, eyeing them for potential weaknesses. He refused to give up these humans as his play food and would not be bested by one of these...beings. Gods, whatever. With a snarl, Falarion lunged forward and the being sidestepped him, as if it were the simplest thing to do. Skidding to a halt and turning to face her once more, Falarion roared and began pacing again.
  
  As they went back and forth with her dodging and him attempting to land a strike, Falarion began to grow weary and bored of the activity. The being did not seem intent on fighting with him, so he was becoming more confused about what was happening here. One of his moments of hesitation and confusion was his downfall, though. He chose to glance around the clearing to perhaps see if anyone else was around for this and then she struck. Though, not in a way he had anticipated. In a flash, a golden chain was around his neck and he roared before she sidestepped his attack once more.
  
  Frustration boiled over Falarion, even more so when he did not understand what this chain was supposed to do to him. He quickly figured out that it was impossible to remove, only infuriating him further. Not wanting to allow any more upper hands, Falarion turned away and darted into the forest, seeking an escape.
  When he found himself back at the edge of the village, Falarion roared again to see the humans scatter in satisfaction. He charged the nearest and tackled them to the ground, preparing to bit their jugular out of spite, but promptly felt intense volts of agony throughout his limbs and collapsed to the side while he seized. His vision blacked for a moment and then he opened his eyes to see that being near him once more.
  
  All he could think in the moment was, 'Why me?'
  
  Personal Goals:
  Falarion primarily just wants to be freed from his golden chain. Though, he still harbors his curiosity about the origins of demons in the back of his mind.
  
  Rumors:
  1. The locals tell stories of the skeletal demon beast that haunts their village, eating children who wander out at night or too far away from the village.
  2. Rumors referring to Falarion typically refer to only one of his forms, thus none seem to realize he holds various forms instead of just one.
  3. He is known as a chaos demon to most humans, tormenting and taunting them. Many stories are shared throughout the generations of how he has snuck into the village many times and managed to scare some children into the forest only for them to never be found again.
  

 

[Arai]

Too high? Ha! If you look up and there's nothing but sky above and mountain below, then congratulations, you're just high enough.

Koralia Stormcaller

25 / Asexual Female / Human

Appearance

Lithe and scrappy, Koralia's hair is a dirty brown and cut short to crop just above her shoulders, an attempt to keep it out of the way when fighting. Her eyes are a stormy grey hue, and her skin a tan colour, a harsh consequence from her time outside on the mountains in the snow-reflected sunlight. She has a few scars on her arms and face from various previous scraps and attacks, as well as a birthmark on her neck. Her outfit is one of cold weather preparedness, with fur around every opening and the only exposed skin being that of her neck. Her leather cloak is padded and lightly armouered for her defense, but is primarily for weather protection rather than combat protection.

Personality

Koralia is a monk of gales, a relgious group that can control and manipulate wind and lighting to great effect. She revels in the abilities her worship has granted her, and treats it more as a reward for her service than a gift for her worship. She trusts the gods implicitly, and for her being asked to carry out a task for them is a point of pride, one she takes very seriously. She isn't above reprimanding others who may not take it as such an important task, and tries very hard to appeal to the Gods for any mistakes or wavers in their journey.

That said, outside of things that directly affect this God given quest, she is more relaxed, willing to joke and tease. Her younger age is very apparent and she is eager to learn and experience things that she hasn't heard of or seen before, especially things in the realm of demons. She also recognises the need to enjoy life, and will happily steer towards fun distractions: natural springs, waterfalls, beautiful views, all things that she finds inspiring and morale raising, and hopefully others would to! Her major downfall is her overconfidence in her abilities and her habit of bragging about her own talents. It would be charming if she knew when to stop, and she often annouces her beliefs that anything they can do, she can do better.

History

From a relativley young age, Koralia grew up with the Gale Monks, a nomadic group that travel across mountain ranges, following the wind currents and storms wherever they occur, taking them as divine signs (and often finding signs upon reaching such a storm) and working with nature. As she travelled, her kin trained her to be a Stormcaller, a warrior capable of heralding and redirecting storms. These abilities were not offered to everyone within the tribe, only those that had shown excellent tenacity at withstanding the environments associated with storms, blistering winds, cold stinging rain and the booms of thunder.

The training process was difficult, but at the end of it she was also introduced to Maeldon, a minor god of the wilds. Maeldon and Koralia took a shining to one another, and she followed what signs he left dilligently, something she says as a debt the God would repay for her years of service as a stormcaller. And, foolishly, she took a shining to him. When the God Queen sundered the demons of the world and forced them to flee or restore light, Koralia saw in it an opportunity to meet her idol in person, to know him in person. Willing to go on this quest, she was directed towards a group attempting to do the same under the request of the God Queen, and is all but too happy to join the quest.

Skills and Abilities

General Skills
Navigation and Travel: Having travelled most of her life around the world, it can certainly benefit ones athletic ability.
Endurance: Koralia can travel for longer than most humans when hiking, and her lungs are naturally acclimitised to higher altitudes, which means she doesn't struggle when climbing larger heights and can travel for longer.
All Terrain: Koralia is a capalbe Rock Climber and Stream Fjorder, more than willing to forge ahead without ropes in order to place pitons or safety lines for others.
Foraging: Koralia knows how and where to find food in the wilds if neccesary.

Combat Skills
Long Range Combat: Training with a weapon is mandatory for the monks, and Koralia's weapon of chioce is a set of simple throwing knives, preferring to strike at a distance quickly and impair rather than outright kill an opponent. Once they are slowed, she will take the time to strike in melee with her more magical means.

Magical Skills:
Lightning Manipulation: Koralia can add lighting to her knives, shocking opponents that she hits, as well as throwing lighting itself without a knife, though this process takes a lot out of her.

Rumours

- Stormcallers can manifest themselves into a bolt of lightning to travel quickly across the land (false, though Koralia did once throw one across a room)
- Koralia can't manipulate water (True, she can only directly control wind and lightning)
- Koralia can change the weather (True in theory, in practice it may require more than 1 monk)

Personal Goals

- Koralia seeks to complete the duty granted by the Gods to her
- Koralia wants to meet and learn from other world beings, Demons and the like.

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[Top11]

Name: Zero

Race:Human

Age: 24 years old

Spoiler: Skills and abilities:

Skills:

- Close quarters combat: Zero being trained by many Notorious Warriors and Fightersin his family gave him a knack for up close and personal combat. He is an extremely talented striker but an even better defensive fighter excelling at capitalizing on counterattacks and taking advantage of nearly any opportunity presented to him.

- Tracking/Hunting : Zero memorizes characteristics, preferences, and habits of whatever he puts his mind too after a while making it fairly easy to piece together the direction something is headed or it’s probable location.

- Strategizing: A power thinker to say in short, Zero is one to put his brain to work before his brawn only to try and insure he is victorious due to the fact it could mean life or death in these times, so in his mind there’s no room for half baked ideas.

Abilities

- physical Enhancement: an ability granted to him by the God of Strength and courage that allows him a great physical boost to his strength, speed, and dexterity. Though it’s a great tool it is a double edge sword Zero can only use Physical Enhancement in moments of heroism and the ability is tethered to his life source so the the more power he exerts the closer to death he is drawn in a soul pact with his god.

Spoiler: Weapons and items:

Weapons:
he has a great sword forged completely out of silver that is about 10 inches wide and 5 feet in length not including the hilt.

He also Carries 2 short swords also forged in silver, Zero preferably uses these when attempting to refrain from using a lot of power.

items
Zero keeps a series of journals that he writes in with a wide variety of notes he’s taken from what he saw one day to a characteristic he’s seen in deer in certain areas.

A Silver Totem ring he wears in worship of his god. Symbolizing his soul pact that would be what his soul will be sealed in the moment he walks astray from his god’s alignment.

Spoiler: personality

Zero is a very strong minded, stoic, and persistent man. He is driven by one thing,being heroic and forever living to protect the peace. Just because he’s big on protecting the peace doesn’t mean he’s not a sarcastic sharp-tongued individual either. He has no remorse for the foul and wicked but will fight until his last breath to protect the good and unfortunate.



Although Zero has a brittle and cold exterior, he’s just been alone and hasn’t had many attached relationships in a while , so he isn’t the best at sparing feelings. That being said once he learns you, and lets his wall down, you’ll see he’s a big softy and will do anything for someone he considers a companion. Being so socially awkward he isn’t the best at expressing his feelings and often tries suppress them with writing, studying the best way to be the greatest vessel of his god, and working out (he is a human and you know has to stay in shape.)

Ironically Zero also has a fairly dark sense of humor, considering his upbringing jokes and humor was a rarity, that he enjoys very much. Being so wrapped up in his work he also hides the fact that he’s a certified lover boy who is longing deep down for someone to understand him and support his lifestyle, someone who would be able to make him not feel alone. Even though he hates those who do wrong he believes in repentance and redemption that all who exist is a vessel that can be used for good one day and evil the next depending on their guidance.

Spoiler: Backstory

Zero was born under his original name Daemon Stone, the prodigal son of the Stone family, A family wealthy family of notorious fighters, and warriors, that was highly regarded by the human world. From the moment Zero could run he was involved in some type of training, learning from over four generations of his family’s patriarchs, becoming proficient and efficient with bladed weapons and studying books of many fighting styles. Zero was taught early in his childhood of Hercule the god of strength and heroism, a god who he thought his family were complete believers in, and were protected by, so he thought.



After 14 years of studying different books and codex on the god, it was finally time Daemons (Zero) faith was put to the test. The Stone family had a fairly large Estate in a southern Grassland near the ocean, that throughout the disappearance of the gods was left alone by Demons, that was until the night of his 17th birthday. On that night a group of lesser demons had attacked, Daemon rushed to the defense sounding an alarm that was short lived as before he knew it a demon had his throat clutched in its powerful hand before slamming him to the ground. Paralyzed with fear, and pain Daemon couldn’t move all he could do was scream, that was until the Stone family heard one of their own in peril the first face he had seen was his father standing with his great sword and a dozen of his relatives armed and ready. The battle was short lived, the Demons had cut through them in a flash as he laid there in disbelief, had Hercule forsaken, had he wasted years of his young life in belief that some god would protect his family that followed all of his beliefs and and pledged themselves to him. The Demons had moved on past the Estate leaving a massacre behind with only one survivor that was left mentally broken, and distraught.



After a few days he had finally dug enough holes to bury his family members, leaving Zero completely alone. After burying his family he spent a years time going through the Stone manuscripts of their history, battles they had won, hardships they overcame, and logs of moments of strength. It was in that instant when he had realized why it felt as if his family were abandoned by their god, they had not been walking in his light, they were strong yes, but there were no heroic moments in their history, all of the strength that the Stone family had was used to better themselves, not once did they use their power to protect the next person, they had forsaken Hercule in false worship. Shocked to his core, Zero realized that he would Drop his original name and was a Stone no more, taking his fathers silver sword, a carriage, along with whatever he could take of their capitol, and made off abandoning his families land.



Along his voyage Zero seen a small farm engulfed in flames blood curdling screams ringing out from it, standing there the hair on his arms began to raise on end, this was his chance to embrace the new belief in Hercule and actually save someone. Charging towards the burning building The screams got louder and louder until he stood just outside of the home they came from, kicking in the door he seen a man laying in a pool of blood the air reeking of iron and smoke. Clutching his fathers great sword he froze the shock of seeing a dead body sent waves of fear down to his bones, flashbacks of that dreadful night captivating his mind until a woman’s scream snapped him back to reality. “ This is what you have been training for, act accordingly to the will of Hercule and everything will be okay!” He whispered to himself in attempt to calm down his restless mind. Pressing forward Zero made it to the end of the hallway to a room where two men, a woman, and two small children were inside.



“Please leave! “ the woman screamed at the two men.



“ I wish we could but you’re family owes a great debt. Now we could take a child and let you live, or we can kill you and take both children .” One of the men said clutching a dagger.



Hearing that Zero could wait no more, heaving the great sword over his shoulder he swung it at the first man completely cutting through the man closest to him dismembering his arm at the shoulder, screaming and alarming the second man who turned around taking aim at Zero with his dagger, left Zero no choice but to plunge the great sword deep into his chest. Both men lay bleeding out on the wooden floors. Escorting the helpless trio outside of the now smoke filled house. Zero’s body was filled with a feeling he has never experienced but could only be one thing, his god was with hi., Making it outside the woman thanked him and begged him to stay, informing him of a Demon who had subjugated the town and demands a sacrifice of a child a night. Hearing the word Demon Zero was all but inclined to to stay but with Hercule on his side he feared death less than what may come about if he were to walk away knowing that not only this gang but this village needed a hero.



“I will kill this Demon or die in place of an innocent child! “ Zero said before he could even contemplate how or why he would even say that. As the sun began to set and the moon rose to replace it Zero awaited the Demon at the entrance to the town his blood boiling, heart throbbing and mind racing and full of thoughts of the unknown. But of all the thoughts in his head one thought was certain he’s saving one child at least one more day of survival and that was enough.



“ Where’s my human child ! “ a deep voice echoed out in the pure silence from a tall slender figure. The moment was upon him there no where to turn now and his mind cleared snatching his great sword of of his back it felt as if Jesse picked up a hollow toy. This sword has alway been necessary for him to wield with both hands. Now was not the time to question it with what’s in front of him and chalked it up to it being the adrenaline of his soon to come death just 30 feet away.



“There will be no child today demon, only me!” Zero called back to the monster pointing the blades towards him in a ready stance. And as the battle began the demon charged zero with outreached talon like claws, Zero knew he would have to play the defense lacking the attack power this demon displays, thrusting off of the ground zero spun away from the demon using the Silver greatsword nearly as a shield deflecting the claws. Letting out a deep roar the demon charged again this time sloppier out of anger, seeing a window of opportunity and spun again to the left,this time with his sword outstretched upward and to the right, with momentum doing a lot of the work, he had dismembered the demons right arm at the elbow. Hearing the demon scream it launched again with a lower strike, Zero couldn’t contain himself at this point his blood felt hot, as if his bones were in a stew. “ You will die for Hercule!” He said slashing toward the demons Head severing it but not at a cost feeling the demons claws pierce his hip near his kidney, passing out as he felt extremely cold his heart rate dropping as everything fade to black.



Out of the darkness came a Silver silhouette approaching calling to him “do you pledge your soul to protecting all thing’s good?” Over and over ringing out along with this burningly bright silhouette. “ Yes!” Zero said and with that being said the silhouette extended a silver ray of light to his left hand. Waking up in a small wooden room zero felt a excruciating burning sensation on his left hand looking down he seen a silver totem ring with the symbol of Hercule engraved in the side of it.



That started Zeros own personal journey of traveling the world doing what he can, learning, making acquaintances, and fighting for all things good. Zero had been traveling for the next six years until the God Queen came to him along with Hercule informing him of a new journey, a journey to save the world.

Personal goals:He wants to create peace amongst the world, for starters without conflict there will be no need for heroics so he would have a peaceful life. A second personal goal would be to start a family a selfless family at that , one who could spread the word of Hercule.

(optional) Three rumours: Make up three rumours people have heard about your character, two are true, and one is a complete fabrication, it can be as ridiculous as you like.

 

[Monday]

Roshan

Uncrowned King of the Desert​

Name: Roshan

Age: 30

Race: Human

Appearance: Wherever he goes, Roshan cuts a striking, recognizable figure, dressing in rich- some might say gaudy- robes of blue, scarlet and white, ornamented with various golden baubles acquired throughout his exploits. For all this finery, his tanned complexion, wild mane of sun bleached dark brown hair, calloused hands and lean build bear witness to a life lived outdoors. Standing taller than most average men, he has a voice and a presence to match, carrying himself with natural confidence and authority. His gaze is forthright and friendly, and when not immediately occupied, his vivid green eyes always seem to be looking straight ahead, seeking something just beyond the horizon.

• Skills & Abilities
• Weapons & Inventory
• Personality
• Backstory

• 
  
  Skills:
  After many years wandering the Keshkarthan wilderness, Roshan is adept at all the skills needed to survive in this harsh environment, including hunting, foraging, finding water, and familiarity with the local flora and fauna. While he possesses rudimentary cooking skills, his repertoire only extends to what can be prepared in the wild, and not to more "civilized" fare. Utilizing his keen eyesight and sharp memory, he always makes note of landmarks in unfamiliar territory, picks out potential hiding places, and assesses the suitability of the terrain for battle. Be they the fruits of foraging, spoils of war, or legitimate purchases, he has a knack for conserving resources, and is thrifty with his coin when need be.
  
  Strong and agile, with sound instincts, Roshan was quick to acquire the arts of blade and bow, but his understanding also extends to tactics. Though unlettered, having received no formal education, he is quite clever when he decides to be. "Work smarter, not harder" is an adage he has taken to heart, though in practice, "Why take the straightforward approach when you can make a game of it?" is more accurate. Not one for theorizing, he prefers to learn through experience, tackle problems head-on, and plan on the go. This hands-on approach extends to the training of his troops. Those under his command have grown accustomed to his unorthodox ideas and quick changes of plan.
  
  As he sees it, Roshan never set out to become a leader- he pursues his own ambitions, and along the way, he tends to collect people who want to come along for the ride. Controlling others' destinies is the last thing he'd ever want. He'd rather everyone be free to pursue their own path. Nonetheless, it can't be denied that his charisma draws others in, and he has proved capable of rallying them under a shared vision. Rather than dictating to his followers, he draws out their talents and gives them the guidance they need to find their own way. Everyone can become strong, he believes, and if everyone also supports each other with their unique gifts, their strength is multiplied, and they become more than the sum of their parts.
  
  No matter what he's doing, Roshan gives it his all, whether that be battle or leisure. Contrary to his rough manners, he has a rather nice singing voice, and, while he is by no means a master musician, he can play several instruments, his favorites being tambourines and drums. He also dances very well. When it comes to drinking games, no one in the Brotherhood has been able to best him yet.
  
  Abilities:
  When Roshan wields his spear, water will coalesce around the blade and follow his movements, increasing the area of his attacks and amplifying the damage done, especially to demons. The longer he keeps up an uninterrupted flow of movement, the more this effect will increase. This water is no ordinary water, but is lit from within by an ethereal glow, and has a purifying influence.
  
  
• 
  
  Weapons:
  Though Roshan is adept with a variety of weapons, his weapon of choice is a long bladed polearm. No matter where he goes, his trusted spear is never far from his side, for it has served him through many battles and now bears the blessing of his patron goddess, increasing its durability and enabling him to channel her power through it. The single edged blade is also plated with silver.
  
  In addition to his spear, he also carries a warbow and quiver, a silver dagger and a hunting knife in his belt.
  
  Other Items:
  On one occasion, Roshan found an injured hawk in the desert and nursed it back to health. Once it was healed, he tried to set it free, but it refused to leave his side. No matter how many times he shooed it away, it would always return. Thus the bird became the latest addition to the Brotherhood and earned himself a name- Kian. Since then, Kian has accompanied Roshan on his adventures and assists him with hunting, combat, and collecting curiosities.
  
  Among Roshan's most prized possessions is an ornately carved drinking horn which carries the blessing of Bahareh Anahita. Any liquid placed in it will be purified and rendered safe to drink. In practice, this neutralizes poisons and diseases found in wild water.
  
  Roshan also carries a war trumpet with him, which he used to coordinate his troops in battle. What use it will be on this adventure is unclear, but he does enjoy making a dramatic entrance whenever he can get away with it.
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  Playful, boisterous and easygoing, Roshan has a gift for setting others at ease, getting along well with almost anyone. Naturally frank, he dislikes formality and pretense, and prefers straightforward communication. Even with his subordinates, he adopts a friendly, teasing manner more like that of an elder brother than a commander. Unbound by law and unimpressed by authority and rank, he answers to no one but his own conscience. "Never let the rules get in the way of doing the right thing" is his guiding principle.
  
  With great compassion for the struggles of the weak, he comes to the aid of the endangered and oppressed wherever he can. Nothing disgusts him more than the abuse of power. Strength is meant to protect and shelter those in need. It is a truly weak and cowardly spirit that lords its power over others. Conversely, true competence directed toward a worthy cause will always win his respect.
  
  In hard times as well as in good times, his confident, cheerful spirit remains unshaken. He fully enjoys the finer things of life when they are available, but is more than capable of doing without. When he has money, he spends freely, without concern for the future, and is lavish in dispensing rewards to his followers. He is also generous with the poor, and will often drop a bracelet or an earring in a beggar's bowl when he has no coins on hand.
  
  Fundamentally, Roshan is someone with an immense appetite for life. This trait underpins everything else. Life is meant to be lived to the full. Happiness is a choice, he believes, and if men can be masters of their own fates, there is no reason not to be happy. No matter their circumstances, a person still has a power of choice that no one and nothing can take away from them. How to live, and how to die... there is always a choice. So, he endeavors to choose well, to take life by the horns, to seize every opportunity that comes his way.
  
  Early on, Roshan made three rules for himself, and has abided by them ever since:
  
  Always hold your head high.
  Never cry when you can laugh.
  Never accept defeat.
  
  To bow to tyranny, whether it be that of an overlord, or of fear, or of circumstance, is to lose a piece of one's soul. To live without fear, with head unbowed- this is the best way to live without regrets.
  
  
  
• 
  
  In the southern portion of the human realm lies Keshkartha, a vast land of rugged cliffs, rolling deserts and windswept plains. Once a powerful, united empire, since the departure of the gods it has fractured into many isolated tribes and city states, solitary islands of civilization amid the lawless wastes. Those who would survive here must be as fierce and unyielding as the desert itself- or bow to those who are.
  
  To preserve its culture amid such chaos, the fortified city of Dinah, one of the last strongholds of human authority, governs itself by an elaborate body of laws and imposes a rigid class system on its citizens, putting everyone to use. Those who cannot contribute are exiled to the wastes. Born to poor parents in the lowest district of Dinah, Roshan nonetheless enjoyed his childhood, spending his days exploring with playmates or performing tricks in the marketplace, hoping to earn a coin from passersby.
  
  When he was eight years old, sickness took his parents' lives, and he was sold into slavery in the silver mines to pay off their debts. This life did not agree with him. Undeterred by beatings, he shirked his duties whenever he could, and since his rations were meager, he fell in with a group of young thieves and mischief makers. For a while, they skillfully evaded capture, thumbing their noses at the authorities, but their luck would run out. When they were captured, Roshan claimed to be their leader and took responsibility for their misdeeds, earning a lighter sentence for his companions.
  
  For him, the penalty would have been death, but the judge, not without pity for his tender age and impressed by his sacrifice, granted him the option of exile. Many would have preferred a swift execution to being mauled by beasts or dying of thirst, but not he. He would brave the desert for a chance at life, however slim. At high noon on the following day, he was brought outside the front gate, where the sentries turned their backs to him, symbolizing his rejection. He could choose any direction in which to walk, but once he turned around he could never look back.
  
  Standing at the edge of everything he had ever known, Roshan strangely did not despair, neither did he fear. For the first time, he could see straight to the horizon, with no walls blocking his way. All he could think was, I'm free. Looking up at the great fortified walls and the terraced streets and high towers of Dinah, he began to laugh. Long and loudly he laughed. He laughed at the sentries' backs. He laughed at all the people living their safe, regulated lives. He laughed at the cruel taskmasters and the wealthy nobles, and he especially laughed at the king. "HA! HA! HA!" he bellowed, his voice carrying over the walls, perhaps even to the palace itself. Then he turned and walked in a straight line, unwavering. So it was that from the age of ten he was subject to no master but himself.
  
  On the first day, he walked until sunset, then huddled in a hollow in the sand when night fell. Strange howls and murmurings carried on the wind. Several times a foul presence passed close to his hiding place, so he hardly dared to breathe, and did not sleep at all. On the second day he killed a lizard and ate it raw, then kept walking. Soon a pack of wild dogs began to follow him from a distance, growing bolder as he grew weaker. He kept them at bay with stones, but they always stayed within sight. Vultures began to circle overhead. On account of the beasts following him, he was forced to walk all through the night. On the third day, strange whisperings filled his mind, urging him to lie down and rest, while shapes danced in the corner of his eyes, only to disappear when he looked at him. He could not tell whether they were hallucinations or evil spirits waiting to devour him.
  
  He was thirsty, so thirsty. Though he could hardly see straight, and putting one foot in front of the other was a battle, he continued to walk in what he thought was a straight line. It would appear that some god smiled upon him, for that evening he came within sight of a merchant's caravan, and was saved. Among their company was a sword-for-hire acting as a guard, an old veteran who took a liking to him, and decided to teach him everything he knew, for he had no son. Thenceforward, they traveled together and Roshan learned the tools of the trade.
  
  Among other things, he learned to survive in the wastes, and how to fight. It was a hard and dangerous life, but it was a life of freedom. The desert was deadly, but those who could master its secrets and conquer it need bow to no one, man or demon. Throughout their travels they encountered others of like mind, and their adopted family continued to grow. After his mentor's death, Roshan, then a young man, was elected leader of the band. Under his care, the collection of misfits grew into a disciplined army, and gained a proper name: "The Brotherhood of the Scarlet Saber". Meanwhile, their ranks continued to grow, as word of them spread throughout Keshkartha. From criminals, outlaws and runaway slaves to those who would rather face exile than bow to a demon, they accepted misfits and outcasts of all kinds.
  
  Strictly speaking, they were mercenaries, making their living by the sword. However, they were not of the usual riffraff. More precious to them than coin was their freedom. Guided by the principles of their leader, they wouldn't lend their services to just anyone. Roshan negotiated their pay based on their clients' means. A good meal and a night's lodging would serve just as well as gold. Their bitterest enemies were bandits and demons who would prey on the vulnerable. Many a bandit leader was forced to submit, willingly or unwillingly, to Roshan's leadership, and many a demon was felled by his blade. Gradually, a semblance of order returned to the wastes.
  
  Soon, their little army grew to resemble nothing so much as a nomadic nation, as displaced people of all kinds were accepted, even noncombatants. There was always a place for good workers. As Roshan's fame spread, his followers and sympathizers declared him the "Uncrowned King of the Desert", while the less sympathetic referred to him as "The Bandit King". All of Keshkartha now knew his name. Kings and warlords sought his allegiance, promising extravagant rewards, but he always declined, preferring his independence.
  
  At one point, rumors reached him of a sacred spring from which only the worthy might drink, said to grant healing and other powers. It was guarded by a ferocious demon who had devoured every warrior who challenged him. Naturally, he went to investigate. He found a miserable little town that had been plagued by the demon for several generations. A creature of filth and decay, it dwelt in a cave from which a river flowed, polluting the water supply and spreading sickness among the people. The inhabitants had been forced to dig wells for water, but these too became poisoned in time. The strong and noble among them had all challenged the demon and been slain, while those who could travel had all fled. Only the weakest among them remained, and these were slowly dying off.
  
  Word of the cave of magic waters and its guardian had drawn strong warriors from all directions, seeking glory, but none had prevailed. Having learned from the locals that the monster's favorite tactic was to drag his opponents into the water and drown them, Roshan challenged him to a fair fight, in the open. Because of his pride, the demon could not refuse. A tremendous battle ensued which dragged on for hours, neither side giving way. Finally, Roshan appeared to falter. As the demon lunged forward recklessly, he struck a blow which clove the creature's neck in two. Even so, the wounds inflicted by the demon were poisoned, and he could feel his life ebbing away. His only hope now was to seek the legendary spring inside the mountain.
  
  At the back of the cave, he found an ancient staircase that wound up through the inside of the mountain. Leaning on his spear, he made the torturous climb to the top and finally emerged in a ruined temple. At the center of the temple was a great golden basin with water welling up within it, spilling over the sides, and flowing down a golden channel in the floor. He tried to drag himself over to the spring, but at the last moment his strength failed and he collapsed. Then, a pair of cupped hands full of water appeared before him, and a voice said, "Drink, brave warrior, and regain your strength." He did so, and when he looked up, he saw a fair young maiden in a jeweled white gown, with silver hair reaching to her ankles.
  
  "I am Bahareh Anahita, maiden of the pure springs. You have done me a great service. Tell me, what is your name?"
  
  "Roshan," he replied.
  
  "Roshan. I see by your eyes that your heart is pure, and your dream is noble." Roshan was amazed, for his most cherished ambition was known only to those closest to him. "If you would be my champion, I would aid you with my power in return for your service, and grant you gifts to help you on your way."
  
  Roshan agreed, and the goddess dipped her fingers in the golden basin, then traced a mysterious symbol on his forehead, and on the blade of his spear, which she then submerged in the spring. A moment later, Roshan awoke on the floor of the ruined temple, and the maiden was nowhere in sight. He wondered if it had been a dream, but his injuries were healed, and after that he could command the power of water with his spear. As he descended the mountain, he saw the taint leave the waters, and pure water began to flow from the mouth of the cave, healing the land. When he reached the town he told everyone what he had seen, and advised them to repair the temple of Bahareh Anahita, so that they might receive her blessings once more. He even stayed to oversee this work, and he and his men assisted.
  
  Not long after this adventure, word came of a quest ordered by the Queen of the Gods to restore peace to the human realm. For him, the decision was simple. He entrusted the Brotherhood to his second in command, and set out. A world at peace was one in which he might realize his most cherished ambition: to build a kingdom of true peace, freedom, and plenty, where all might find a home.
  
  Three Rumors:
  It's only to be expected that rumors would abound concerning someone with such a well-known and divisive reputation. In fact, a favorite activity of his own followers is to regale new recruits with tall tales of their leaders exploits, whenever Roshan himself isn't around to modestly offer corrections. An old favorite recounts the time he supposedly defeated a many headed snake demon by tricking it into tying itself in knots.
  
  According to another tale, the Brotherhood was once stationed as security in a city while two rival factions forged an agreement. Acting as security for the opposing faction was a rival mercenary group, whose leader decided to pick a fight with Roshan. Since shedding blood would break the peace, Roshan proposed they settle their differences in a duel... by dancing. The dancing contest lasted all night, drawing an enormous crowd that began betting on the competitors. At dawn, Roshan's rival collapsed from exhaustion, leaving him the victor.
  
  Another rumor holds that Roshan stashes away ten percent of their spoils of war in a secret cave whose location is known only to himself, and by this time, has amassed an enormous collection of treasure. If anyone has the key, it's probably the bird.
  

 

[Kibaa]

Khatiy - Heiress of Usaama

Human
18​

Rumours

Personal goals:
Above all else, Khatiy wishes to rule Usaama her own way, distanced from the political wants and needs of her father, who Khatiy feels has puppeteered her and her upbringing. It is her wish to disband the ruling council established by her father, and bring forth onto Usaama a different era, one of peace and further spiritual harmony with the animals of Keshkartha.
In doing so, Khatiy also wishes to find and unite the Great Lion Spirits, who have become splintered and lost, displeased by the growing greed of humans.

Rumours:

1. It is said that Khatiy can tame even the fiercest of lions of Keshkartha. Some say she can even turn into a lion herself. Many Usaamans refer to her as the Lion Princess.
2. Rumor has it that Khatiy shares a close bond with Raiko, King of the Savannah, one of the Great Lion Dieties.

Backstory & Personality

Backstory:
Within the expansive Realm of Humans, there exists a distant and beautiful place known by its locals as Usaama. Secluded deep within the volatile wastes of Keshkartha, it is said that one will only find Usaama by travelling as south as the very word implies. To the very edge of the grand desert, a land where sand finally meets water at the Golden Shore. A nation as old as the ancient empire of Keshkartha itself, Usaama and its people have long withstood the trials and tribulations of time and everything it has brought. From origin, to the peak of the Keshkarthan empire, to the very present. For Usaama is so much greater than the mere humans that inhabit it. It is... So much more. A sacred place. The Land of Beasts.

Born to the Sultan of Usaama, Lugulbunda, Khatiy's life was one of utmost importance and responsibility from the very beginning. Destined to inherit the Sultanate, the expectations placed upon her would range from demanding to outright excessive. Drilled arduously in many varying arts ranging from politics and statecraft to beastmastery and geology, the Heiress's upbringing was difficult to bear. As many would say, with great power also comes great responsibility-- But Khatiy remains young, and such power beckons many more years of education and understanding to properly harness.

It is said that the Land of Beasts is an incredibly spiritual locality. The Usaamans have always shared loving bonds with all creatures, and were tasked by the spirits to forever safekeep the animals of Keshkartha. As legend goes, Usaama is home to not just its humans, but to the guardian spirits that share their mission of keeping the fauna of Keshkartha safe. Of particular veneration in Usaama are the Great Lion Dieties, who prowl the wild savannahs in eternal pursuit of any of would bring harm to the desert. The Sultans of Usaama have always shared a connection to the Lion Spirits, but some folks doubt their existence. Legends are simply legends after all.

Never one to allow herself to be pinned down by menial political responsibilities, Khatiy spent most of her later adolescence away from the palace, in pursuit of something greater.
One fateful day, a dreadful storm broke over the wastelands near Usaama. Rain here was rare, in fact, sometimes it could be years at a time ever struck the land. This particular storm seemed out of the ordinary, bringing unprecedented rainfall and dangerous winds. As Khatiy trekked through the cold winds to return home, what sounded like a dire call for aid took her attention away. Her ears flickered beneath the cover of her cloak.. The roar of lions. Why? The animals always take shelter during storms, whether rainstorms or sandstorms. Had one become injured? In pursuit of their cries, Khatiy scaled over the stiff dune of sand before her, and what she saw on the other side brought a frown of fury over her features.

The men below wieldes spears and nets as they encircled a small pride of frightened lions-- Poachers. They had taken the opportunity of rainfall to set out on a hunt, knowing the rangers of Usaama would hide from the rain too. The lions did their best to form a protective circle around their cubs, their defensive efforts headed by one particularly large and brave lion. He was so much bigger than any other lion, radiating with bravery and a strange spiritual energy. And yet, his valiant aura was not enough, as one spear and then another found itself rammed through his torso. It was at this moment that Khatiy found herself descending down the watery slope of sand with crimson wrath, khopesh in hand.

Red was the only thing the heiress saw. The affair did not last more than a handful of minutes, as when it all ended, only scattered corpses and bloody sand remained, sunlight beginning to pierce through the grey clouds. Khatiy strugged to control her breath-- for some reason, she had no recollection of anything that had just unfolded moments ago. As she looked down upon her hands, she saw that they had grown large, like paws, her claws stained with blood.. And as she gazed down at her reflection in a puddle at her feat, she saw not the features of the woman she was, but a different monster entirely. The features of a lion... She turned, however, to the cry of the wounded lion, rushing to his side to remove the spears from his body. Thankfully, the rest of the pride remained safe... But at what cost?

A divine light came bearing down from the heavens, carrying with it the radiance of the Goddess Queen, who's light began to enshroud the body of the lion. With awe, Khatiy watched as this light withdrew from the body the divine apparition of a beautiful, gallant lion. A remarkable beast, gilded with gold and bronze, his maw sharp like that of a shark. The Lion God introduced itself to Khatiy, yet she already knew who she was looking at. Her dearest and oldest friend-- Raiko, King of the Savannah. At his side, the apparition of the God Queen also made itself known, her presence restoring Khatiy's features back to normal. Together, they commended the Heiress for her bravery, making it known how her love for the animals of this world has always been appreciated. She is subsequently told, however, of the greater dangers that reside in this world, and how humans such as herself are what is needed to bring balance and peace. It did not take any convincing at all for Khatiy to agree to what was asked of her next, and so, from one day to the next, the Heiress of Usaama had vanished. Embarked away, on a greater quest, never having even informed her father or the Sultanate of this journey. The rangers of Usaama search the deserts every day for her.

Personality:
The Heiress has always had a love for creatures, and has built close bonds across the animal kingdom from a young age. She has been raised as any heir would be, trained and tutored in magics, combat, intrigue, politics, as well as the ins and outs of what it means to lead Usaama. Nobody is perfect, but Khatiy has shown promise and potential in her youth, a potential which some began to question after a gradual development of a most rebellious attitude towards her father and his ruling council. Due to this resentment, which has been growing over the years, Khatiy has always been a solitary individual. She has little to no friends, preferring to spend her time with animals and away from her responsibilities. On the outside, she is cold, quiet, and unforgiving, keeping grudges towards those she does not like. This does not mean, however, that she is the 'antisocial' sort of person, rather, her attitude is a consequence of her circumstances. In truth, Khatiy always tries to see the best in people, and would likely have more friends if she didn't dread how her life has already been written for her by her father. She finds happiness in freedom, and freedom in happiness. In the simplest of terms, anybody that gets along with her animals is someone Khatiy herself can also get along with.

Khatiy is extremely emotionally driven, perhaps to her detriment, as she often allows emotions to prevail over logic and reasoning. A particular weakness of hers is her undying love for animals and nature, which anyone can easily exploit by posing any sort of harm towards an animal. Her temper is short, and there are a great deal of things that annoy her. Nevertheless, she has never been happier now that she is away from home, and has had a lot of room to grow as a human with her newfound responsibility, a quest from the God Queen herself.

Skills and Inventory

Skills and Abilities:
Khatiy can be classified as what some would call a Summoner. A more primitive and outdated practice, she relies on Summoning Scrolls to bring forth animals that have been previously tamed. Khatiy's secondary proficiency when it comes to magic is that of Beastmastery, which goes hand in hand with her use of summoning scrolls. A native Usaaman, Khatiy shares a special connection with animals of the Realm of Humans, and can employ magic to attempt to influence animals, calling for their aid when needed and granting her the ability to form a summoning pact with animals that have been succesfully tamed.

Raised to be a warrior and a leader, Khatiy can hold her own with many different weapons, but has always preferred two-handed swords and clubs as her main form of combat. She is particularly gifted at hand-to-hand combat as well.

Khatiy's Patron Diety is Raiko, King of the Savannah. A powerful Lion God, his connection with Khatiy allows her to inherit feline features in times of need. When this occurs, Khatiy is provided with increased agility, mobility, strength, while also partially inheriting the physical features of a lion, granting her claws, teeth, a mane of hair, increased hearing and increased scent.


Weapons and Items:
In battle, Khatiy wields the Khopesh of Amanirenas. It is a large, two-handed sword forged from copper and ancient minerals. A nimble weapon, yet hefty enough to split its foes asunder. According to legend, the sword once belonged to an ancient queen of Keshkartha, from a time before this place was even considered an empire.

Khatiy also carries with her many supplies-- rations, ropes, waterskins, knives, flints, and other knick-knacks necessarry for survival in the desert.

Thirdly, Khatiy carries with her a medium-sized summoning scroll that contains the summoning script of 1 basic animal.

 

[ShadyLady]

​

Name: Ying Yue.

Nickname: Yue.

Race: Benevolent Lunar Spirit.

Age: Appears to be in her early 20s.

Appearance: At first glance, Yue appears to be a slight, rather unimposing woman, donned in her black and white robes and a veiled bamboo hat fit for any wanderer. Her unnaturally pale face and white hair may start to flag that there is something unnatural about her to the common person, but it is Yue’s striking eyes, her jewels of iris the colour of blooming crimson the first sign that something isn’t entirely human about her.

Despite her strange eyes, Yue exudes a peculiar sense of comfort, and an odd sense that she’s put together. Her face is one of kindness and neutrality, it is rare for a harsh emotion to mar Yue’s sweet face. The long hair she wears half up and down never seems to never get tangled no matter the weather, always falling in delicate rivers down her back. Lips equally rouged as her eyes always seem to be curving into an inviting smile.

Dreamlike and whimsical, Yue’s mannerisms are soft and floaty. Her way of walking makes it so that it looks like she isn’t even taking steps at all as she strangely glides alongside whoever she happens to be with at the time.

→ Height: 5’1” | Body type: Ectomorph, lithe.

• Skills, abilities and weapons
• Personality
• Backstory

• 
  
  SKILLS
  
  SWORDSMANSHIP
  Yue has a surprising amount of speed and skill with a sword, and an even more surprising amount of force she can get behind her strikes for being built so seemingly small.
  
  HORSETAIL WHISK
  Despite most thinking her Fuchen is for decoration, Yue is well-versed with the weapon, favouring it more than her sword. Using it opens her to a multitude of options in combat. It enables her to aim for opponents' pressure points, strike and deflect attacks, and perhaps the most important of all, snatch a foe’s weapon and counter attack.
  
  BAKING
  Sweet treats are a favourite of Yue’s. Whilst it’s rare she gets the opportunity to bake, her creations are always divine and decorated with an experienced hand. They have earned her a pretty penny in the past.
  
  ABILITIES
  
  JADE RABBIT
  Yue can transform into a small, white rabbit. Whilst it has no value in combat, its unthreatening form can act as a quiet, unassuming scout or as a quick way to escape a tricky situation.
  
  LUNAR BLESSING
  Yue can bless herself or an ally and give whoever it is a temporary boost of sorts. Boosts can range from enhanced speed and strength to higher perception. The blessed will shimmer with a cold but not unpleasant aura of pale blue. Those who receive it should feel pleased for it is a token of her favour.
  
  NEW MOON
  All things must come to an end. Recently gained wounds and statuses can be returned to what they once were prior to their infliction, restarting the natural cycle. Broken skin can be mended under the delicate sweep of a hand. Infection and poison leached from those unlucky enough to be afflicted. The cost is it can only be used on a minor scale once a day, and on a major scale once a full moon has passed and a new moon begins, or another significant event occurs with the lunar cycle.
  
  MOON-EYED
  Due to her natural affinity with the night, Yue has keen vision in the dark and a subtle glow to her under moonlight.
  
  WEAPONS AND ITEMS
  
  SWORD
  Yue’s trusty sword that is strapped to her side. The blade is thin, but reliable, well crafted and engraved with lilies. Its sheath matches the design on the blade, white leather adorned with the same design that’s sprawled on the blade.
  
  HORSETAIL WHISK | FUCHEN
  Her favoured Fuchen is rarely seen out of her hands. The hilt is carved from deep mahogany, the hair the same white as her own, although she claims it’s not from her head.
  
  POUCH OF SNACKS
  Forever favouring sweet treats, Yue has a habit of stashing away treats for herself when she gets bored or hungry. In the past, some of her stash has gone mouldy, so she needs to frequently check and replace what she is eating or even worse, sharing with others.
• 
  Yue is someone who is easily pleased. Sunny weather? How dandy, best make the most of the day! A passerby smiled at her? Smile returned and her mood brightened! There is little that actively displeases her, the most criminal thing that comes to mind is wasted food. Of course, there are those with mean spirited words and actions, but the most common in her life so far has been food that’s gone off.
  
  Those who find themselves around her may note her soothing presence. Little phases her outwardly, enabling her to be a solid rock for others who may be going through the dealings of high emotions. She is an excellent listener, loving to listen in and, accidentally, eavesdrop. Despite this Yue means little harm, she simply likes to know things and wants to better understand others. As far as advice goes, it’s a mixed bag receiving help from Yue. Some days people will receive earnest words of support and comfort, other days the rambles of a daydreaming spirit.
  
  There is a dreamlike quality to Yue, something ethereal and difficult to grasp. Maybe it’s the way her emotions are hard to read other than the seemingly permanent lilt of a smile upon her lips. Perhaps it’s how she doesn’t like staying in one place for too long, never leaving a mark and leaving only hazy memories for those who glimpsed her. Whatever it is, it’s both a blessing and a curse to leave nothing behind but crumbs from little treats and snacks.
  
• 
  
  ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ Once a wanderer, always a wanderer. ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆​
  
  In her early life Yue always flitted from one place to another. Sure, there was a brief time she settled, but like all things must, that too came to an end and so the cycle of change started once again. Villages, towns, and cities blurred into a mess of colours and memories. Each had a unique flair, contributing a different flavour to make up the sweet thoughts in her airy head. She hoped the people she had met along the way, whether they be human, demon, or spirit, looked back on her as fondly as she did them… well, some more fondly than others.
  
  Some people bearing gifts of gratitude. Gifts that came in the form of a polished blade for healing a wound and saving a life, a delicious mooncake for helping with the preparation for a festival, and a bamboo hat for the meagre task of keeping someone company. There was not a singular part of Yue that hadn’t been gifted to her by others, both her belongings and her very being had been constructed from the kind tokens of others.
  
  Staying in one place forever would be nice, but the promise of new things awaiting her and experiences to be shared forever keeps her on her toes. After all, who knows what exactly is out there?
  
  Yue had just set off on a new journey, hills waiting to be traversed sprawled out ahead of her. Clouds darkening the sky, rain accompanying them. The pitter patter of it bouncing off her hat kept her company as she walked alone, but this didn’t last for long for she was no longer alone, granted real company in gilded form. The God Queen with a request, how surprising, who was she to refuse a world in need?
  
  
  ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆​
  
  PERSONAL GOALS
  
  Explore the wonders of the world and to help as many people as possible.
  
  THREE RUMOURS
  
  :･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡ ･ﾟ✧:･.: The horse hair on Yue’s Fuchen is actually her own.
  
  She was once a pet rabbit. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎
  
  ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Yue once stole a shortbread from a desserts stall, only to come back a few minutes later in tears because she’d committed a heinous crime and didn’t know how the shop keeper could ever forgive her.
  
  ​

​

​

 

[Goonfire]

​

Name: Finyagur (FIN•yah•gər) (Also Finjagur or Hvitjagur, depending on region and dialect)
Race: Lesser Deity of the Hunt
Age: 730

Appearance:
Finyagur (or Fin as gods may call him) cuts an imposing silhouette at 6'6. He boasts an obviously powerful build, dark eyes, and silvery white hair with a beard. He doesn't appear to be old, maybe thirty-something. His clothing is best described as "respectfully minimalist"; it is not really provocative, but with mostly hides, a bare chest, and no luxurious fabrics or jewelry, it paints a slightly barbaric picture. His most characteristic garment is a giant wolf pelt that matches his hair in its normal state (more on the pelt below). His loincloth is decorated with small trophies like horns, feathers, and teeth.

Skills and abilities:

• Physical Prowess - Even among others of his kind, Finyagur possesses excellent speed, strength, endurance, flexibility, and accuracy. He can run and climb quickly, but swimming is a weak point for him. His magical aptitude is also relatively low for a spirit; though he is strong against natural cold, manipulation of the deadly elements (especially fire and/or lightning) may best him.
• Divine Inspiration - As a reward for one's piety, Fin may lace his words with magic. The spell woven breaks down the essence of each word, making it easier to absorb the knowledge of his teachings. It only works once per week, never twice on the same person, and the knowledge must be of a subject within his domain, such as survival skills, leather tanning, hunting and trapping, or archery.
• Stealth - Fin's footprints fade in mere seconds, making him difficult to track. His footsteps also make reduced noise. His vision is superior at night, mitigating his need for a lantern or a torch.
• Summon Roul - What hunter is complete without their dog? Roul, a lesser canine spirit who has not achieved sapience, serves as a loyal and intelligent companion. The phantom hound can only be summoned once per day, but is somewhat more powerful than an ordinary dog.
• Arrow Conjuration - His most obvious magic gives him the ability to summon an ethereal bow and arrow that does piercing damage. Its power is comparable to that of a human longbow, currently—more suited for hunting ordinary beasts. It may need a power upgrade to handle demons efficiently. (Limit 5 arrows/day)
• Leather tanning - Nothing goes to waste, and if Fin can't find some use for animal hide in its most basic form, he will once he tans it. While not a master craftsman, he can cobble together the essentials.
• Cooking - He is an extremely thrifty cook, capable of making a soup or stew from just about anything. It probably won't be a five-star dish, but it will keep one nourished.
• Rationing - As a survivalist deity, he is a master of budgeting his resources, be it for a season or a year-long journey.

Weapons and items:

• Hrok - A beautifully made and seemingly indestructible spear with a broad, silvered blade decorated with etchings of crows, bears, and wolves. It returns to its wielder after being thrown (limit 3x/day). A gift from the gods as he ascended from a neutral spirit to one of them.
• Seax - A single-edged dagger. Incredibly sturdy, but otherwise boasting no great properties.
• Pelt of Mikylva - The pelt of a giant, savage wolf creature who preyed upon humans. Finyagur defeated the beast at a young age, starting his legend. Mikylva's pelt retains her power and changes color to camouflage the wearer, but is white when inactive. (Limit 1x/day)

Personality:
Finyagur is an overall benevolent god (as he should be) who embodies many Northern traditions. He is a firm believer in teamwork, adventure, and abundance. He also advocates the carrying of weapons by all people; better to have a spear and not need it, than to need it and not have it. He is typically bold in both word and deed, often addressing matters with an up-front approach and not mincing words or pulling strings. Nothing goes to waste; he is resourceful and thrifty. Potential friends will challenge and engage him, and reciprocate any courtesies he extends to them. Few see his gentler, loving side, as his gruff and tough exterior, coupled with his intimidating physical stature, could make him difficult to approach. All for the best, because he is most comfortable with making the first move to initiate any sort of relationship or friendship. He is idealistic, holding other gods and himself to a high standard. Instead of gifting his followers magic, he offers insight and inspiration to help them overcome those problems that fall within his domain; simple cunning and ingenuity are a type of magic anyone can wield, in his opinion.

Fin is highly competitive and a chronic thrill-seeker. Anything he makes or repairs looks flagrantly "utilitarian"—not pretty, but functional. He doesn't take time to appreciate art beyond cave drawings that served some purpose like record keeping or a calendar. Though knowledgeable, he possesses practical wisdom instead of book smarts. He hasn't been known to possess a great sense of humor—it's dry and a touch morbid at best, though a few gallons of mead can remedy this. One of the few luxuries he thoroughly enjoys is alcohol; that may be one of the few "good" things he doesn't take in moderation. His pride often gets in the way of a proper apology in most cases, making the act of apologizing awkward.

Backstory:
700 years ago, when nomads first started settling in the North, a terrible famine struck them. The fall had brought a poor harvest to these tribes. Foraged berries and root vegetables only went so far, precious livestock was killed by disease, and the hunts grew increasingly perilous as a spectacularly cruel winter set in. One young tribe suffered greatly as they fought to stave off hunger. While many sat on the verge of cannibalism, an intrepid, inspiring hunting party set out in search of a mighty beast to feed their people.

The famine had left the Northerners weak, and these hunters were no exception. They were sure to face great adversity, as they barely had the strength to thrust their spears or draw their bowstrings. Worse yet, they had caught he attention of Mikylva, an enormous demon wolf said to prey upon men. However, the unfaltering prayers of those at home were with the hunters, and the phenomenon attracted a spirit of nature. As Mikylva revealed herself and leapt at the humans, an arrow of phasing light pierced her heart, killing her instantly. The hunters looked up, only to glimpse a naked, white-haired boy disappearing into the deep woods.

Having recognized this encounter was a miracle, the hunters dragged the carcass back home, where they skinned and butchered it. Nothing went to waste, as the great wolf sated the tribesmen's hunger, the bounty pulling them back from the brink of that ages-old taboo. The pelt was left upon an altar, from which it disappeared the next evening. The hunters made several more trips, gradually regaining their strength and tackling larger prey. Every now and then, they caught sight of that same boy, draped in the pelt of Mikylva and smiling upon them. Each encounter proved to be a positive omen, preceding a large catch.

Time wore on, and the boy grew into a powerful man and a deity of the hunt, nourished by the offerings of more tribes who came to believe in him as word of his generosity spread. Soon, those isolated tribes and their primitive villages grew into civilizations that traded and talked. The Northerners settled on a name for their god of the hunt, derived from multiple dialects to symbolize their shared reverence: Finyagur.

Over the centuries, a rich culture blossomed in the North. Though many refined the agricultural practices and domesticated a wider array of hardy vegetables, the fur trade became the most lucrative business. Salt came from the mines of mountain villages, unlocking new ways to help preserve and season their venison. The discovery of iron also made hunting easier because of the sturdier spear heads. Fierce thanes paid homage to their lords and defended their homes in exchange for silver, food, and drink.

It was Finyagur who helped plant the seeds of the famous Northern hunting tradition, visiting his most devout and teaching them what he knew. He found many had excellent ideas, but simply needed that extra inspiration to bring their concepts to fruition. They began to build snares and traps and refine their bow designs. Soon, communities held grand ceremonial hunts. Ladies would often hunt fowl with their bows, while lords and their thanes released their hounds and rode on horseback, tracking larger game with spears. The less capable started fires to prepare feasts before and after the hunt, with small offerings made to the gods and spirits for letting them have this bounty.

When the God King gave His decree, Fin was dragged away and practically imprisoned in the god realm, barred from intervening in mortal affairs. He felt castrated, having to comply with something he felt was wrong. The rich traditions he helped found became more difficult and dangerous to uphold, and offerings that would normally strengthen him have gone to appease demons. The lords were dethroned, many slaughtered for refusing to act as proxies and mouthpieces to spread new, hate-filled messages. Thanes became slave-warriors of their new overlords. Furious with this new status quo, he took the side of the Queen, awaiting the day her plans would come to fruition and he and other gods could return to the human realm.

That day came... for Fin, at least. Using his best stealth tactics in conjunction with the fleeting blessings of a circle of trickster gods, he managed to bypass security and reach the human realm once more. He is well aware that one poor choice could result in his immediate destruction, but he'll have died standing up for his beliefs.

Personal goals:

• Carry on ancient traditions and gradually strengthen them once more.
• Find ways to avoid the God King's wrath... at least until he finishes his journey.
• Partake in the greatest hunt of all and drive the demons from their seat of power in the human realm. He wants trophies.

Three rumours:

• Finyagur defied the God King and has actively been hunting demons.
• Fin is a fantastic hunter, but an incompetent and impatient fisherman.
• Fin has competed with other spirits and gods during hunts in both the human and god realms.

 

[Merciless Medic]

Xe'likXe or Lik for short

• Bandaged
• Normal
• Linnorm Form

• 
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  I can't add it in, but he's got psoriasis spots and rocks forming out of his skin.
  
• 
  
  

• General Information
• Combat & Skill Aptitude
• Personality
• History & Goals

• 
  Race: Cave Dragon Demon (Essentially a Crag Linnorm from Pathfinder)
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Age: 285 years
  
  Appearance: Short, white hair and light grey eyes, Xe'lik looks so devoid of melanin that one may think he spent too much time away from the light. They are correct. Living in the caves has kept him from feeling any kind of burn, his more boyish features deceptive of his age, until you see the crows feet at the corner of his eyes and his farmer's build. He's 5'8" (172.72 cm), weighing in at 145 lbs (65.78 kg) of mostly a mix of lean and powerful muscle, his frame hiding the power of the bulk under his marred skin. While he may have pearly white skin, he also has patches of inflamed, red, peeling, cracking skin from a condition he received as a byproduct of the God Queen suppressing his powers, a bracelet around his right wrist to show his subservience. His body wasn't able to withstand the power of his magic that was caked onto his skin via soil, and it seeped through, causing a near-constant regenerative process that burns upon being hit by or submerged in water. In addition, another side effect appeared due to the birthing process of spirits-turned-demons within this cave: sharp rocks formed over his skin in random areas as he's unable to control their growth currently. It hurts to move...
  
  Clothes & Armor: His kind wore white robes with accented colors that were commonly a pastel green or blue, but they held other colors based on status or job, as well. Rarely did others of their kind wear primarily dark robes, as it was not as easy to spot in the depths of a cave if they were to fall. However, such bright robes wouldn’t work outside of caves. For this reason, he has two sets of clothes. His normal white, cotton shirt under a white robe with pastel green trim held together with a black band around his waist. He has red strings that are wrapped around his forearms much like that of bandages for fighters, and he wore light grey pants that weren’t too baggy, and black stone shoes with some cotton padding inside. Most of his clothes are for ease of comfort with not too much pressure put on his skin, the only exception being the black band around his waist. Because of his aching skin, he tends to have bandages wrapped around his body, spots of them bloodied.
  
  As for outside wear, he had a utility belt that held most of his weapons, belts to hold holsters for his other weapons, a harness to aid in carrying his backpack and to help put comfort on his aching skin by keeping it from moving. For armor, he had a deep brown gambison, a buckler, and thick padded armor around his thighs and shins. Each padded armor and the gambison has some iron plates to give it more durability while not completely restricting his movements. He even had shaded goggles to deal with his light sensitivity.
  
  Weapons & Items: Having a variety of weapons due to the nature of both tight tunnels and sprawling caverns, Xe'lik has quite a few weapons, though they are small and light as he focused on the use of his magic. He has a buckler strapped to his left wrist, and he can move the buckler to other key parts of his body with the leather straps. He also has four daggers - three hidden under his robes with one against his left side, and then one each on his thighs - with the last one strapped in his buckler, its hilt jutting out.
  
  Wearing a utility belt, he has a rapier attached to his left hip. The other side of his hip has his canteen, a chisel set for wood and rock, a small pickaxe with a sharper end than the other, a small and heavy iron mallet that can smash medium-sized rocks with ease, a bag of porous and soft rocks, and a slightly magical powder that the demonic mages in Xe’lik’s cult-like society have crushed rock and flower with, creating a very irritating, sneeze-inducing powder when blown in their face and can cover a five-foot area (enough to block a tunnel and allow ample time to flee).
  
  He also has a light crossbow with a quiver of bolts on his back, the light crossbow being so small he can mount it on his buckler or right wrist with attachments and it’s easier to set up for a home defense system than a regular crossbow. However, it doesn’t have a long enough range, and due to Xe’lik’s eyesight, he’s not accurate if they’re beyond twenty feet (~6m). It would honestly be better to give to someone else who can get more use out of it.
  
  In his backpack, he has survival equipment: compass, flint, fifty feet (~15 m) of rope, blanket, a spare change of clothes, bandages, and iron utensils. Attached to his backpack is a lute with strokes of paint seemingly haphazardly painted on but it all comes together as some chaotic mixture of colored wind. He also has a book on stonemasonry, and a journal he has written in since he was a hundred years old. However, the script is in their specific language due to their isolationist society. It has its roots in the original demonic script, but not even other demons outside of their society can read it without learning it, and many of the written words in both scripts may mean different things despite pronouncing it in similar ways.
  
• 
  Skills and abilities: Due to having lived in caves for most of his life, most of his skills and abilities center around this biome. He has traveled around the immediate vicinity of his home and in large bands that traveled to a singular location before coming back, but it’s something he has really only done with others as he can tend to get lost. When they’re formed into the Human Realm, they were tested for particular aptitudes based on skills that came naturally to them. Due to this, their kind generally don’t branch out unless needed, but this has kept those who have gained another ability due to a spiritual mutation to lose out on much needed guidance to use their skills to their fullest.
  
  
  • Heightened Hearing & Smell: Instead of gaining darkvision, it was actually more advantageous to attain a greater sense of hearing and smell, which can also lead to a sensory overload if it’s too loud or too potent of a smell. Some were trained on having superior sight, darkvision, and being able to see details from even a few miles. Most others, like Xe’lik and those who stay in the caves the most, had training to increase their sense of smell and hearing (as well as touch, but this wasn’t as useful to determine anything ahead of them). They had to wrap cloth around their eyes and navigate using only their nose and ears. Their bodies adapted quickly. However, because of how they were trained, most tended to have worse eyesight. Either they lose sight completely or they become nearsighted - being unable to see several feet or a few meters ahead. For Xe’lik, he can’t see past twenty feet or about six meters and his eyes burn when there’s a flash of light. Aside from his lacking ability to see and his light sensitivity, he has an amazing sense of smell, able to determine how long a scent has lingered in the area and where it leads, and usually what kind of species they are. Blood has a far stronger scent. His kind of spirit also has more obvious pheromones to aid in determining emotion if they’re communicating with their blind kin, and he may try to determine others’ emotional state by smell - regardless of how weird that is or how different other spirits and races' emotional scents are.
    
    • Echolocation: With a series of clicks not dissimilar to a bat’s echolocation, he can determine the distance of a tunnel far greater than users of darkvision (as sounds bounce off walls). However, sound doesn’t bounce very well against material that absorbs such, so echolocation becomes somewhat useless in larger areas or places filled with wood. He can, however, determine what and where is nearest to him (like a few feet or a meter outside of his arm span) when having lost his sight, which has happened before.
  • Scavenger: Due to living in caves, finding sustenance was hard. While these Spirits didn’t need to eat very often, they were similar to cold-blooded creatures: in that they needed a lot of food to keep using their powers to their fullest (the more power they use, the less time they have between meals). The first few spirits, who started creating a cult-like order after those born before them nearly destroyed the caves they were birthing in, created farms for their food. Some even have to go outside for the plant material that they need to weave into cloth. Those who would be staying inside the caves the most would learn how to scavenge and tend to the creatures - even while blind. While Xe’lik didn’t care much for the tending of animals, he did go scavenging a lot and found things that were edible, it just took some time working with them. While he may not be a great cook, he can at least make some inedible things edible with some prep. However, due to not being able to see properly, he finds it hard to hunt properly, and he’d rather not spend more energy trying to kill something, even if he can track very well.
    
    • Iron Stomach: Considering he has eaten rock and other such undesirables because he couldn’t see how rancid they were (before his smelling got really good) with nothing bad happening to his digestive system, it’s safe to say he can eat most find inedible relatively safely with only a minor upset stomach. However, he still can get sick if it’s particularly bad. After becoming a demon, he can’t touch anything that has been purified by a deity (purification is different from empowerment, it only matters if the blessing in question was made to hurt demons or just grant strength) and would almost always take his chances eating a rotting corpse than eat or drink anything that has been touched by a god.
  • Proficient in Small Arms: Due to tunnels being naturally tight, close quarters combat, daggers, and short swords made for thrusting and stabbing were a mainstay for those who couldn’t or refused to use their magic for safety reasons. While most of his kind with good eyes were proficient in crossbows, he preferred being up close and personal and feeling their blood run down his hands. For this, he’s good at close combat, daggerwork, and swordsmanship with a rapier in particular.
  • Proficient in Traps: After being raided by either humans or demons consistently, they began getting smart and dabbling in alchemy and a home defense system. Of which, they made tripwire traps, snares, pressure sensing stones, blowdart and arrow hell from walls, your average bear trap and pitfalls, poisons, powders, mountable light crossbows, and even utilized their earthen magic to close off or open passages to lead intruders to the wrong area or trap them until they perished. Xe’lik was taught how to make light crossbow attachments and how to make the more simple traps you can make with string and some jerry-rigging. The more complex stuff requires magic he can’t tap into at the moment.
  • Sneaky… Kind of: He used to be rather stealthy before the magical suppression. However, he didn’t normally need to be quiet unless looking for invaders, and they almost always were heard before they were able to see him. However, after the suppression and gaining cracking skin, he can no longer be stealthy. He always bleeds (especially when bending his joints), and he softly grunts or groans in pain when it becomes too unbearable. He can attempt to hold still and not alert his party to the enemies, but he won’t want to move once he crouches.
  • Artistic Mind: What comes with living in a treacherous area is only to be naturally creative. Xe’lik’s creativity has only been stunted in what he cannot see or sense. While home defense wasn’t his job, he was still taught how to apply its fundamentals. While this is stunted in open areas or anywhere outside of his biome, he can still have strokes of genius. While he struggles with alchemy, he makes beautiful yet chaotic and abstract art pieces. In fact, it’s the only thing he really likes to do and one that calms him that doesn’t completely emasculate him (unlike plants).
  • Linguist: He usually can pick up on languages pretty easily. His kind have their own language, and he can find the gist of a meaning through context and root words meaning something similar in other languages he knows (which is only a few). However, this ends here as it mostly just starts misunderstandings.
  • Musically Proficient: While he can’t read sheet music, he can sing beautifully. He can also play the lute and tends to do so when feeling down.
  • Apathy: While this may seem like a negative trait (and it is), he also uses it as a positive trait. Due to his magic instilling emotion when he uses it or needing emotion to be used at its strongest, the training he underwent and culture he was brought up in to be apathetic helps him keep his emotions in check to not cause a chaotic outburst of magic.
  
  Speaking of magic:
  
  • Plant Magic: Most of his kind had some sort of flavor or variation of earth magic. Maybe even fire magic or a greater understanding of alchemy to utilize the gems and metals (aside from Silver) they found. However, the first magic Xe’lik had manifested was plant magic. Before suppression, he was almost a master of it. If he used this magic while being apathetic, it instilled emotion within him. If he used this magic while feeling emotion to achieve a certain goal, it would empower his magic and make it last longer and be even stronger. Different effects would happen based on the emotions and he was able to weave his emotions like a tapestry in order to satisfy himself. However, in doing so, he felt hollow. He can also use this ability to give himself emotional insight and therapy to an extent - just as long as he worked on understanding himself lest he just get confused. When he does this and learns to understand himself, he doesn’t feel hollow with faux emotions, but full and relieved. He hates it, but can’t live without it.
    
    • As he regains more and more of his magical control, I’ll update this:
      • Fear = Thorns; Either sprouting painfully from his skin with or without soil or from the ground he’s directly standing near.
      • Sorrow = Vines; Either sprouts from the soil from the ground he’s directly standing near or from soil caked on his body.
      • Joy = Flowers; Creates petals that float idly in the wind. Once one of the many layers of suppression is gone, he can manifest a field of flowers under him that creates a large cloud of irritant, cloudy pollen.
  • Earth Magic: He gained his ability to utilize earth magic later, and as soon as he did, he was made into a scholar-warrior. He was able to shift earth, creating pillars and obelisks that his people used as cover or walls to jump off of. His earth magic mirrored the forms his plant magic took, but he didn’t have a greater control in using it, and while it was emotionally taxing to use the plant magic despite its greater strength, it was magically taxing using earth magic. However, he was a scholar-warrior - their version of battle mages - and he tended to have a greater magical endurance before reaching magical exhaustion. However, after the suppression, he lost the ability to use this.
  
  
  • Form Shift: While Xe’lik can shift his human form subtly (ie: his eye color and hair color) to not be so recognizable, he has two complete forms. While he can adopt features of his other form into his more human form, it’s generally more painful to do so and the new features are almost proportional to his body (minus his tail, which is only a couple feet in length). When he transforms, he becomes a cavernous cousin of the dragon - a Linnorm or Lindworm. Or, that’s what others would call the monsters they transform into or just ‘cavern serpent’. His ilk - calling the Linnorm the collective Tai’cza - tend to transform into cavern-living lizardfolk or dragons, or even variations of this Tai’cza species, and some even still have variations among the same kinds of Tai’cza they can transform into. He has one such variation of what they dubbed the Krii Tai’cza: Krii meaning Rugged and Tai’cza meaning Cave Lizard.
    
    • Krii Tai’cza: The Krii Tai’cza has many variations, and Xe’lik’s is one of many. Yellow or purple eyes are set deep into a thick draconian skull, gnarly sharp teeth peeking out of his maw. Small horns jut out from the back of his skull and curl forwards. His scaly, craggy skin a pale green, he has darker green and pointy spikes that go from his snout to the ends of his three-tipped tail. Two rows of blunt fin-like spines run alongside the spikes down to his tail as well. With a powerful serpentine body coupled with two arms with three black claws, he’s a formidable beast. If he were his original size. Considering his suppressed form, he can’t go beyond ten feet long (including tail) and he’s only a couple feet wide. He used to be able to carry a few people on his back, but now he’s down to the size of a glorified house pet. Woe is him.
  
  
• 
  Personality: Not having much of a childhood has stunted his emotional experience. What compounded it was the training to not take attachments, to not allow your emotions to override your logic. The complete opposite of what was the natural order for these spirits, as these spirits were born with a natural curiosity and impulsiveness a human child had, and Xe’lik’s own want to form attachments - no matter how long its been - still is something he secretly craves. He’s scared of making attachments, only due to what his family may think of him and if they’ll truly exile him after all this was said and done. He was deprived of such, so when the nerves or fear catches up to him, he acts impulsively silly - whether to talk or be flamboyantly extra to soothe himself. To put this sudden flair into something with his hands, he focused on art - either painting or playing music with his lute.
  
  Being raised into a cult, Xe’lik barely has concepts that fit the general mold others take for granted. Words such as redemption, individuality, family, hierarchy, comrades, and homes were taken differently. For family, he was born amongst many brothers and sisters, and those he would consider aunts and uncles or big cousins. Being a part of the family meant becoming a well-oiled cog in the machine of said family - working alongside them and gaining skills that would benefit the family. In a sense, a less fluid hierarchy didn’t exist and does not compute. If someone was above another, they had to bring those others up and not use them as stepping stones, as that would just destroy the strength of the family. The only sense of individuality he had were his practices in art and his plant magic. Family and comrades were all in the sense of an obligatory agreement to help one another and avoid attachments, seeing each other more as distant equals instead of having an actual family structure, which makes forming attachments and showing he cares difficult without using his nervousness. Having ‘parents’ and needing children of their own is confusing to him, as the rock provided all. While he knows what a home is - where one lives - he deems it as more of a place of living and a place of work. There’s no sentimental value behind being home or missing home, as he wasn’t supposed to be attached to it. It’s just a set of tunnels that expanded through the mountain that gave him sanctuary, nothing more, nothing less. Finally, redemption was barely heard of. Either you do something you shouldn’t and must work twice as hard to right the wrong, move to another station that may suit you better, or be exiled depending on the severity of the “crime”. Afterwards, there were no incentives to keep others from falling back developmentally. Just as long as they got out of trouble and did the work, they can go back to all their bad habits and ideas. When told that he must help escort some humans by the God Queen, he took it as either “behave and you may get something” or the "she's selfish and wants you to do work". However, his confusion and lack of understanding may cause him to go take a different path that may take him from those he's with... Granted, if they take him in as something more than a monster.
  
  Due to being in a cult-like way of life, he doesn’t understand basic nuances of the world beyond a black-and-white lens. An action’s attribute is that action’s attribute, no matter the context or intention. It’s a very extreme viewpoint that’s definitely utilized against his enemies to support his destructive sadism. It’s not uncommon for him to say he’s evil in this regard. He’s done many destructive and murderous actions, used others, manipulated the emotions of others and used their attachments against them. He’s energetic and irreverent while being so, talking with no regards to formality as there was no such hierarchy back home besides the loose “teachers” and “caretakers”. Apathetic due to being trained, he doesn’t care what he does, just as long as he does it right. While passionate and blunt about many things and sounding obnoxiously assertive sometimes about his views (or going blank when he doesn’t understand others, blowing them off) and being stubborn in arguments against things he thinks he knows (though he isn’t opposed to learning what he doesn’t know), he prefers to give melee support, going the route of “death by a thousand cuts” rather than brute force his way through a fight. When not in a fight, he’ll even be friendly and silly despite his attempts at keeping his emotions out of it, making for a war inside of him between expressing sympathy - which he can feel - or being stoic.
  
  To him, emotion is just a tool, and he uses emotion as a creative or artistic tool to either express himself in art and music or to utilize his magic and use others. However, after the suppression, he’ll be more susceptible to his emotions due to fear, and will be overly explicit about his pain and make comments such as water with no minerals tasting very “sad” and very much expressing his pleasure and happiness. Soft and cute things tend to break him down to the point of being sweet and bubbly, and too much as such may make him tear up. As such, he becomes a bit more sympathetic to the struggles of others and will be remorseful for what he’s done. Will he do it again though? Possibly if his sadism returns with a vengeance, unless told not to. He’s a follower, not a leader.
  
  He made a code to help against his more emotion-based magic. Xe’lik still has a conscience which lingered throughout most of his first hundred years of life and came to the forefront after the God Queen made him a deal. They were a set of rules that he set for himself: 1) Family comes first; 2) If you fight someone, the end result must be proportionate or greater than the journey and resources it took getting there. Only two, very simple. However, it allowed him to keep his loyalties to keep goals centered around his family and not branch out while giving him a psychological barrier to use, and to pick and choose his fights without getting lost in the sadistic pleasure that he may or may not get lost in. As a part of a collective, Xe’lik always wanted to seek new ways of using his power and to obtain glory - more so for others he’s with than for himself. However this code isn’t permanent.
  
  After becoming suppressed by the God Queen, she put the fear of god in him. He’s anxious about his actions and if the God Queen is watching him, making him rather paranoid. Due to this constant nervousness, he talks a lot more than he normally does and becomes a bit extra to keep himself entertained from his own anxiety. He’ll be abnormally fussy, impulsive, and over reactive, focusing on his own survival and only helping those who are tied to him (that will change soon), and would feel remorseful for his past actions and what he was and overcompensate for this feeling. He will soon start to get better and become more like himself - friendly and silly. After learning more about the people he’s with, he starts to put more thought and care into being considerate, but he doesn’t do it too much unless extremely nervous and becoming a fussing mess. He rarely gets angry even then, however any danger to the people he’s supposed to be working with brings out his want to hurt them in very cruel ways.
  
• 
  History: For the cavernous spirits that live within the northeast mountain range of ____ that these spirits later called the range Ka’xezi (Family Rocks), most within this area of the God Queen’s protected portion of the realm do not know of such advancing creatures lurking within. They were mischievous spirits at first with a destructive streak, living in caves and only coming out to enjoy the splendors that humankind wrought to achieve. These beings, born from a glowing rock at the heart of one of these mountains, didn’t plan for the future, but upon seeing how industrious the humans were, they began working on their own. While destructive at first, they fought against these urges to build and create something for their future kin. Eventually, they became an isolated group as they worked to build their culture as a sort of path for their future people. Hundreds of years went by, and the culture they managed to build and maintain had been rather fruitful. Their plans to build themselves up and create an environment for their newborns were successful, but that was only the first few stages of their plan. The next stage?
  
  Build an army.
  
  They had the building blocks already achieved at this point. They had set up a study in alchemy, a study in magic, and they had set up caretakers and teachers that would care for the draconic rock babies birthed by this rock - which they took to naming Te’xe meaning ‘Mother Rock’ with their mountain home that they call Be’xe meaning ‘Father Rock’ - until they got older and achieved their more human forms. Once they achieved human forms, they put them through aptitude tests. Instead of letting them continue to grow and learn naturally, thus stunting them emotionally, they learn what abilities come naturally to them, and what roles they would be able to fit. For the roles who are popular, they have them learn something that is adjacent to their natural abilities. This was so that they all had a purpose for their family. It taught work ethic and loyalty for the family, and they frowned upon self expression. If it wasn’t for the betterment of their family, then they should seldom do it, and only do so in their private rooms.
  
  Essentially, this was a cult.
  
  Their conditioning had caused an emotional decline, and instead of taking this issue and having their kin learn of emotions besides the obvious descriptors and general idea, they saw emotions as too dangerous. They had already lost some of their own due to falling in love or becoming tied with others outside of their growing family, so they had to excommunicate them. To prevent them from feeling anything, they started apathy training - shutting down emotions before they had a chance to crop up, preventing the feeling of anger, sadness, and happiness. Of course, emotions would always have a way, and while this worked short term, it would have consequences later.
  
  This was when Xe’lik was born. Being named after the term “Rock Root” due to his budding plant abilities even as a baby Linnorm (despite not remembering that time), he was the most emotional and impulsive out of all of his siblings that generation. But also the friendliest and sweetest. Others like him proved trouble. They were almost always the ones they had to be careful of as they defected easier. They started to feel remorseful for their actions the most, so they had to train him where he couldn’t go back. Once he achieved his more human form, they checked his aptitude and saw he was great with plant magic, sneaking, and hearing. They trained him in these facets - sacrificing his vision in the process - and then taught him how to defend the home, either with a dagger, a rapier, or a defensible position with a light crossbow. Once he was taught how to fight, he was sent to tend to their gardens.
  
  What they didn’t realize was that their training they’ve been doing for generations had caused some of the first few newer generations to grow resentful and despise the “chores” they were set to do. While most stuck with what they knew and even denied themselves the knowledge of what they were destroying when they went on war bands to the deep south, a handful of others - Xe’lik included - began to wonder what it was like out there, and what people were there? If there were others like them or if they were different? These curious ideas were staunchly suppressed or eradicated once it was found out, but Xe’lik always held out hope he’d see the outside world.
  
  When he was a hundred years old, he was able to see for himself the world in which he inhabited alongside with the rest of the different species and landscapes. He was tasked to come along on an excursion to the deep south. Their natural cold-blooded bodies allowed them to not worry about food, just as long as it wasn’t too hot nor too cold out. They passed through a few biomes before reaching a settlement. It had beings that looked similar to them, but spoke a funny language.
  
  Xe’lik watched in confusion as they were told to attack. Not knowing anything else, he did as he was told, ransacking the village and stealing their items. But not for his clan - for himself. He was too curious.
  
  When no one was the wiser, he brought his spoils to his room, learned the overall language of the world, that settlement’s customs, and had decorated his room with a painting he stole. It was a marvelous piece, showcasing a pristine lake encircled by beautifully orange trees. He even grabbed a lute while he was there. Within a few decades, he had grabbed paint for himself, more books, learned the language, and realized what they were doing to these people was both warranted and unwarranted. It was confusing for him.
  
  For as mean as these humans were, they were also rather ingenious. Much of their culture and structure was very similar to his family’s “tribal-like” ways of living, and he wondered which culture arrived first. However, his curiosity caused a higher resentment towards his own ilk for this reason, and they were beginning to suspect something. He was tasked with only tending to the farms they had, and told him to work on his plant magic. What they didn’t realize was his plant magic made him emotional, and he was terrified what they’d do to him if he embraced his emotions and fought back against the apathy training they worked so hard on making him complete. He didn’t want to lose what he had known for all of his life, and he didn’t think he would be able to feel comfortable living out here by himself if he were to be exiled. He’d likely die.
  
  Xe’lik, reluctantly, began to play around with the different aspects of his magic anyway. He realized that if he felt the emotion first, the effects lasted longer and/or it was stronger. He played around with it, and realized it was much like painting. A splash of sorrowful blues here, a brushstroke of joyful yellows there. If he played with his emotions in a controlled fashion, he wouldn’t be hurting the training of apathy, and he’d be able to control his magic. But he had to keep this a secret.
  
  A secret he did keep as he reclaimed his family’s trust. He felt like he sinned, but that was what made his transformation into a demon all the more sooner than anyone realized. Only after going onto two war bands, they thought he must have done something in secret. They asked him questions about this secret he had been keeping, only for Xe’lik to lie. The first time he lied to his family, and they bought it. He lied that he had tortured and killed those pesky humans they were fighting against in private, where no one could hear their screams or pleads for help. His usual apathetic response to the whole questioning helped seal his story as true in their eyes, and they put him on more warbands, even going so far as to teach him how to fight and gave him books in their language.
  
  After becoming a demon at the age of 150, the dormant earthen abilities that the rest of his kin had came to light, and he was made into a scholar-warrior. He completed his training and he had gone through dozens and dozens of excursions. He began to like the destruction he wrought, and he continued to destroy for the name of his family, forgetting all the reservations he had against them. He killed, he tortured, he manipulated, all because it was fun. It wasn't the control he was after, but life at the Be’xe was so boring and there was nothing to destroy. The impulsive urges were coming back, but not as mischief or curiosity like a spirit, but as what a demon had.
  
  He found himself not minding anymore. He didn’t feel remorse for his actions. But anytime he played with his plants or helped grow crops at home, he felt empty. A seedling of doubt was planted, but he refused to acknowledge its existence. This was for his cult and for himself. He couldn’t have second thoughts now, he couldn’t be attached to anything else, being who he was at that time was his purpose and he was going to see it through until he died. It not only complicated what he was taught and his worldview, but it also angered him. It frustrated him that he couldn’t understand why he felt so empty. Was it the magic doing this to him? He stopped using the plant magic except for the use of growing crops, hoping that the feeling would go away.
  
  On his next mission of destruction, he went with a smaller group this time to raid another settlement away from the God Queen’s kingdom. Xe’lik only used his earth magic, but upon doing what he normally did, he felt awful. Was it because he didn’t use the plant magic? What was going on? He felt so conflicted, and the first time his emotions surged. He lashed out at everyone, including his bandmates. They had to subdue him and take him back. He managed to run and get away from his bandmates, not wanting to show how unstable he was to them for fear he’d hurt them. He continued onward, until he found a quaint village. His trained urges were to destroy, but his curiosity took over and won.
  
  He found himself - looking human - walking through this village like some lost traveler. These humans weren’t so hostile or scared. Considering he was in the God Queen’s territory now, he couldn’t hurt them for fear it would kill his entire family, but he watched the children play among them, the women work, and the men coming back from their hunting parties and skinning animals to be set for their meals.
  
  Seeing as he was famished from using his earth magic, he asked to stay for the night in their language. They agreed, allowing him to eat and rest among them. It was honestly nice. Really nice. He noticed one of the women there giggling with her friends, casting glances his way before hiding amongst her group of friends like a shy bird. He noticed the faces of the men were quite wary, all except for one. In fact, he didn’t stare at him at all. Barely noticed he was there.
  
  Xe’lik felt compelled to stay, just for a little while longer. He left the village first to send a message to his bandmates that he’ll come back soon, he just needed to gather resources and bring them back. Seeing as this wasn’t too uncommon from him, they soon stopped searching for him and left him behind, allowing him to enjoy the comforts of humanity for a brief moment.
  
  Eventually, not only was the woman trying to woo him, but so was the man in a far more subtle manner. In fact, if it wasn’ for Xe’lik’s reading of customs, he wouldn’t have guessed the man was into him at all. In fact, it felt like they had some commonality, something that made both of them hide and lie to their families.
  
  But he couldn’t take either of them.
  
  After a few weeks, he had to leave. He had spent way too much time with them, and his family would surely be asking where he ran off to. He came back home as fast as he could, and sure enough they were disappointed in him. They did an impromptu test. They had seen the people he was spending time with, but due to being within the God Queen’s territory, they couldn’t kill them for tempting him. What they did instead was use illusion magic to make him see the man and woman he seemed interested in. They both begged him to come back, but his original family told him that these were the desperations of man, and they were spirit-turned-demons. They would never be on the same level as them, so love with them was impossible.
  
  Then and there, he was forced to choose between those humans or his own family. Like so many others before him who was brought to this test, he went in line with his family, casting his back to the illusions he thought were his dear friends he made outside. They didn’t exile him, but he was now on a thin leash. To cope, he painted more often, read more often, and used his plant magic for therapy for the first time in a long time. He started to understand his emotions more, but the more he understood, the more awful he felt.
  
  He decided to talk to one of his teachers he had as a young one, telling him of the emotional issues he had and that he’d like to go through a stronger form of apathy training. Unsure how to make it even harsher, they practically emotionally tortured him until he was desensitized to the pain and sorrow. It was now difficult for him to be angry or sad, but he certainly still felt confusion, like this wasn’t the right way to go about this.
  
  When the gods left the humans, the demons thought they had free reign. Many of them left home on different excursions to kill and destroy the villages that were freed from the gods’ protection. They had free reign and they were tempted to take over the entire mountain range. However, they feared the God Queen and traveled elsewhere, finding other caverns within mountains to reside in and quickly turning them into outposts. It was during this time - when he was 230 - that Xe’lik found the humans he had been friends with. They had moved away as per their nomadic nature, but it was out of the God Queen’s reach.
  
  He was tasked to kill them.
  
  Steeling himself, he made the man that liked him submit to him - scaring and emotionally manipulating him into killing his own people. The man instead gave him a coil of red binding string, and told Xe’lik to remember him, but he respectfully wasn’t going to become a demon’s pawn. With a self-inflicted stab into his chest, Xe’lik watched in strangled horror the man he was willing to be with, if he hadn’t had to go back to his family, die before him.
  
  It sent him into a suffering rage.
  
  He was so upset, his magic surged and he destroyed the very ground they were fighting on, creating a thorny palace of thick vines covered in tree bark and imposing spikes.
  
  He had lost what could have been his, but he chose his family instead.
  
  Killing his own as well as everyone who lived in the village, he came back home with nothing but the clothes he left home with and the red cord around his forearm.
  
  Then on, he was an angry, spiteful demon. Not even his own kind wanted to be near him for fear he’d kill them. They thought about sending him out, but he already did that on his own: tending to the plants or raiding a village by himself. He soon calmed down though, going back to his stoic, apathetic ways. They talked about removing him from the family if he didn’t get himself under control, to which he understood their issues with him. He had fallen to emotion again.
  
  He was tasked with home defense for a while, mainly moving the earthen structure of the tunnels to either close them off safely or to open them up. He did this for years, liking the monotony and the drain it put on him. It numbed him, but kept him feeling like he was alive.
  
  Then a few months before present day, he was caught.
  
  The God Queen found him as he was tending to the crops up on a mountainous ledge, and he stared at her. Unwavering. They hold this staring contest for a short while. Instead of using weapons, she spoke. She spoke of the village he destroyed, the people he killed, the man who died before him. His family would - for the most part - be intact, but that didn’t mean they were going to suffer. She made him choose between family or a duty she would assign him. Either lose his powers (essentially becoming useless to his family so they’d kill him anyway) or do a quest and regain them.
  
  However, Xe’lik knew he wouldn’t come back to his family in either case. Those who were useless were sent as fodder in the front lines. A bout of anger surged through him, but before he had a chance to utilize the soil on his skin to attack her, she had disappeared.
  
  No, it was an illusion. She was behind him the whole time.
  
  A hand was placed on his back, and he felt his magic drain from him. The magic within the soil seeped into his skin and caused open sores, his body trying to heal himself at a rapid rate but only made crusty, dry, flaky skin atop the sores that’d painfully crack open. He lost his ability to utilize earth magic, and the God Queen whispered in his ear.
  
  “No family would want you.”
  
  That scared him more than he let on, as he was always useful to someone. Being alone was horrible.
  
  “You know how you felt from what you did.”
  
  The worries and anxieties came back. With each phrase, he felt like he was being broken down bit by bit; the dam was breaking.
  
  Eventually, the quiet voice of the God Queen stopped. Her tone, oddly soothing, felt as if he had just been scolded. He whimpered in pain - both physical and emotional - as he curled up. He looked at the sores now dotting his skin, his panic-stricken eyes looking up at the God Queen behind him, as if she were some demon to scare all demons.
  
  Just like that, she vanished.
  
  A simple word flew into his head. “Keimara.”
  
  He had to go to Keimara.
  
  But he looked like a leper…
  
  He lost most of his magic, but the fear of being caught caused thorns to jut out of his skin painfully. Crying out, he sneaked into his room, grabbed his things, and left without a word. His family was confused, unsure of what he did or what was wrong with him. Some of them tried to stop him, but he moved on regardless, leaving his home despite how painful it felt to move his legs anymore.
  
  Finally, he made out of Be’xe…
  
  Now, he needed to go to Keimara.
  
  Personal goals: He wants to find himself, find someone who wouldn’t mind taking him in as a friend, lover, or a part of the family, and figure out the mysteries of his emotion-based plant magic.
  
  Three rumours:
  1) A moving forest that destroyed three settlements was the work of Xe’lik.
  2) Seeing Xe’lik bathe in the mountain springs caused those to see to suddenly have thorns where their eyes would be.
  3) Xe’lik made a man kill and eat his family because “it was funny”.
  

 

[Eteri]

Name: Sovann

Race: Treasure Demon

Age: 93

Appearance: Regardless of how Sovann alters his appearance, there is always a certain gleam to his being. His eyes resemble molten gold, and his warm blonde hair reflects the light of the sun as if there is metal imbued with each strand. It is lustrous and long, almost reaching his waist when not tied together. Sovann's skin is unnaturally clear, invoking the feeling of porcelain with his rounded features and no visible blemishes. He stands tall, taller than most, with a lean build to support it.

His mannerisms and gait seem to be both perfect and horrendous at the same time. They feel like movements that were studied for too long and practised to such a degree that they don't feel natural anymore. It is as if he has no personal understanding of human behaviour but was taught by someone else. The same way a born blind person could never truly see colour, even when told what it looks like.

Sovann only owns one set of clothes, and those are the robes he woke up in. They are soft to the touch and don't seem to get dirty easily. His footwear is rather simple compared to the otherwise regal look, consisting of brown sandals that were not only worn by him. He wears various golden accessories, like the ornament attached to his belt or his one earring, which makes it hard to see the original one forced onto him by the God Queen. Most don't assume that it is the japamala loosely hanging around his neck, as it looks like it could fall off with the slightest shake of his head.

Believe him, he did try removing them, and it certainly didn't appreciate that.

To avoid too much attention—especially in regards to his hair—Sovann tends to throw a dark robe over his whole attire with a heavy hood to cover his head in the company of strangers. Apparently, he missed the memo that a veiled person usually attracts more eyes than a freely walking one. Though it still generally fulfils its purpose to some degree.

• Skills, abilities and inventory
• Personality
• Backstory

• 
  
  
  
  
  Skills
  
  Although Sovann didn't have much time or opportunity to hone the craft, he is still able to wield his staff like an extension of his body. His strikes are precise and swift, with no wasted breath in between. What he lacks in experience, he compensates with his sheer observational ability and adaptability. Many tend to underestimate the force behind his hits based on the bluntness of his preferred weapon, which he gladly abuses. Sovann's endurance seems to be higher than seen in other demons, and he has an easier time enduring pain without it restricting his physical performance excessively.
  
  Sovann has a natural talent when it comes to the restoration and refinement of metal gear. A keen eye for detail and steady hands to follow through. His magic can certainly be of aid in that task, but normally he prefers to do it without its help. One could also call this his hobby.
  
  Despite his oblivion regarding human culture in most other aspects, Sovann is an excellent haggler. He always seems to know the exact worth of an object and manages to get it for a much lower price.
  
  Like most of his kind, Sovann is able to shapeshift into a second skin, representing the more inhumane nature of his being. However, since the suppression, the monster resembling a basilisk has been reduced to nothing more than a simple house snake with not even venom to defend himself. The only thing differentiating him from other black snakes is the warm molten gold spilling out from under his scales and out of his mouth.
  
  Eating from various questionable sources without any type of preparation for the first few years of his life, proved that his stomach is more durable than others. At the same time, Sovann is able to get most of his needed nutrients from raw ores and certain stones but has a general harder time digesting processed ones.
  
  Abilities
  
  Molten Shine - Sovann is able to bend metal (with the exception of silver) to his will. Closer proximity and directly touching it are mostly required for him to change it with finer control, but line of sight works just as fine if significantly cruder and random at worst. He is slightly able to sense all existing metal in a 5-metre radius around him, which makes any sort of ambush armed with metal gear rather fruitless against him.
  
  Suppressed Abilities: (More to be added when necessary)
  
  Equivalent Exchange - Sacrificing something of certain monetary or personal worth to Sovann allows him to temporarily strengthen his abilities and enhance his regeneration. The more valuable an object or creature is to him, the stronger the effect. He needs to directly be in contact with whatever he chooses as an offering. Shortly after selecting his sacrifice, it petrifies before crumbling into fine dust with the slightest touch.
  
  [Partially restrained]
  
  
  • Even when this ability gets unlocked, Sovann is no longer able to use any living sentient beings as an offering. This will result in him mostly sacrificing money, which is a rather expensive process.
  
  Midas' Touch - As the tale told in ancient times, Sovann is seemingly capable of turning whatever he touches into gold. However, in reality, all he does is cast a thin but sturdy layer of gold around the desired subject. Although it's rather durable, it isn't impossible to escape from, and it acts more as a temporary hindrance in combat than a permanent binding. Technically, this works on everything tangible, but it has a fairly diminishing effect on any liquid. Gold produced this way can not be controlled by Molten Shine.
  
  
  • When properly strengthened by Equivalent Exchange (this requires the sacrifice of a willing, sentient being that has a significant emotional bond with Sovann), he's able to turn everything in a small radius around him into pure gold. No direct contact is required and death is fairly certain. There was only one time in his life that all of these requirements were fulfilled, and it's very unlikely that the same situation will ever arrive again—especially with the restrictions.
  
  Weapons and Items
  
  An iron staff adorned in various copper patterns, most depicting coiled snakes, and a golden orb firmly attached to its top. The decorations are not necessarily meant to serve a visual effect, as they are more there to provide him with easy access to more metal to freely transmute in battle.
  
  Sovann wears an old string bracelet on his right wrist. It's already fraying at the ends and most of its vibrant color faded to a muted tone.
  
  His belt holds a small pouch filled with gold coins left from his birth place. They don't seem to hold any carvings nor initials and are basically just pure chips out of gold.
• 
  
  Art by 不扁饼
  
  Sovann walks through the world with eyes struggling to comprehend everything they see and hands wandering to touch every reachable surface. There's a question behind each of his actions, and even if it isn't answered, he seems to be satisfied with merely taking a step towards its truth. He's easy to entertain, easy to distract, and has the curiosity of a newborn, eager to try everything out regardless of the consequences.
  
  Blunt by default, he doesn't seem to completely grasp the effects his words can have on others and easily misses subtle social cues directed at himself. He's painfully honest, as he doesn't see a reason to lie about his intention and has a rather positive mindset.
  
  At the same time, there's also a certain cruelty and morbidity in his otherwise innocent and pure thoughts. In his eyes, other people—disregarding any prejudice based on race—are usually nothing more than means to attain something quicker than usual without much effort. There's no malicious intent behind that stance; it's much more a fact he observed and gathered through his limited interaction with other beings. Paired with his ability, which puts a worth on everything, it wasn't a hard thought to solidify.
  
  Sovann feels no need to justify his action with any more than him simply desiring to obtain more knowledge about something or someone. Arguably, it can be very exhausting to work around him when it comes to actions he doesn't agree with. Reasoning with him can be harder than convincing a dragon to go vegetarian, and most of the time, it's more efficient to bribe him with goods.
  
  It is easy to see that Sovann is a very selfish person, born out of not knowing otherwise and being unable to fully understand the notion of sharing. What is his is his, and what belongs to you is actually his as well. He takes without asking and keeps it before carelessly throwing it away when it loses its shine or use. Innocently possessive, Sovann sees no issues in this behaviour and can get very petty when others don't comply. Obviously, this attracts trouble like nothing else, but he judges it as other people merely envying him for what they can't attain and defends 'his' possessions accordingly.
  
  Looking past his many flaws, Sovann is an attentive listener. Always ready for tales weaved on experience and heroism with an addicting laugh. He is highly protective of friends and ready to jump in for their cause. Although he may be hard on others, he's truly trying to understand them more and be more selfless for their needs. It simply takes a bit longer for him.
  
  In regards to the God Queen and the bindings, he's more subdued than most would assume. He took no real issue with the suppression of his abilities or her haughty behaviour, the latter more because he didn't really realise it than anything else. Sovann is more of a fan of the free ornament he received, with redemption not much on the forefront of his thoughts. Unnecessary pain is something he rather avoids, so that's mainly his motivation, next to simple curiosity and the promise of an adventure.
• Opening his eyes, Sovann was born on the abandoned sites of an underground city. Ransacked by demons and humans alike, there was nothing left in the godforsaken place but him and a carefully hidden treasure chest in the depths of a temple. With no one around to guide him or tell him his purpose, there was nothing more he could do for the first few years than follow his instinctual desires. It wasn't a hard task to find the exit that would lead to the surface amongst the remains of a glorious fortress, but there was never a wish for the young demon to leave his birthplace. The pull of his treasure kept him in the debris and dampened whatever curiosity he had over what lingered beyond the gates of the destroyed marble pillars.
  
  Which, on the other hand, didn't mean that other beings would not intrude on his territory. Multiple times, Sovann had to drive away or outright kill trespassers. However bothersome it sometimes was, he never went out of his way to completely block the passage. Those strangers always carried possessions with them he wasn't familiar with or were generally a nice change of food compared to the few animals or ore he was able to attain.
  
  One day, a group of humans noticed his presence in the cave, and whatever desperation fueled their action, they decided that taking their chance with him was more agreeable than the dangers lurking outside.
  
  At first, Sovann ignored them as they stayed a proper distance away from his treasure while avoiding being in his sight for too long. It went so far that at one point it became a habit for him to forget their presence, only to be reminded of it when he heard the occasional whisper or turned stone echoe through the city. This ignorance seemed to earn the goodwill of the humans, as they started to leave gifts out for him. Little trinkets or dried fruits he hasn't had the pleasure to experience before. It was a silent mutual agreement to leave each other alone until it wasn't anymore.
  
  To his surprise, when Sovann was making his usual rounds to gather the tributes, he slithered across a girl sleeping next to one of them. The peaceful time seemed to have washed away her weariness and caution, as she didn't stir awake even when he started to open his jaws to gulp her down in one bite. In contradiction, she started to reach out towards him in her drowsiness, slurring words in comfort. Scared of the unknown emotions bubbling in his veins, he retreated swiftly.
  
  Curiosity won in the end, and he approached her a second time as she played alone in the backyard of the once-proud castle. Instead of the usual fear he receives when approaching strangers, excitement vibrated in her body, and she asked him to stay. Promising him games and tales from the outside. Weak to the stars that sparkled in her eyes and the wonder in her voice, he couldn't do much but stay and listen.
  
  When the calls of her parents rang in the streets and yawns escaped her mouth, it was time for them to part, but he wasn't willing to let that be their last interaction. Visits became a regularity for them, and slowly, without true realisation, something akin to a friendship started between them—even if Sovann had no words to describe it. She vowed to show him the miracles on the surface and lent him her bracelet so he could return it once she fulfilled her promise.
  
  But peace was never a constant variable, and the local demonic warlord of the region noticed the defiant spot in his territory that housed them. He sent an envoy warning Sovann of the consequences of his actions if he didn't submit to him, but the lord would never receive an answer responding to his threat. The messenger swallowed before she could finish her first sentences and digested mere hours later.
  
  The army stood in front of the entrance days later, and however powerful Sovann believed himself to be, there was no shame in admitting that this was a losing battle. In a fit of desperation, he turned against the humans he housed and the treasure he had protected for years. Sacrificing most of it aided him significantly, but that was no means to the end as the soldiers kept coming without hesitation.
  
  Only the girl was left from the original group of thirty humans, and instead of turning against Sovann in her last moments, accusing him of killing her beloveds, she merely smiled in defeat. "See the world for both of us, will you?"
  
  She turned to dust moments later; the soldiers and their warlord followed her swiftly. Golden statues adorned the city, their petrified faces twisted in fear and anger. Sovann smashed all of them, leaving none of them whole.
  
  Tired of the battles and far more exhausted than just from the fighting, he laid down next to the fragments of the golden statues, resting his eyes for a moment.
  
  Her arrival was silent and almost unnoticeable. The shine of her presence and the overwhelming pressure were the only indicators. He glanced at the God Queen, a nagging feeling at the back of his head reprimanding him to keep shut, and for the first time in his life, he listened to it. No words were interchanged between the two entities; the slow drain of his strength and the new ornament adorning his neck were the only true exchanges. She vanished as swiftly as she appeared, and he was left to continue what some may call mourning.
  
  Fading into oblivion would have been an interesting end, but as Sovann recalled their shared promises and the bracelet that symbolised them, he knew what to do when the quest arrived. He stood up from where he rested and sealed the entrance for the first and last time before turning his back towards the place that made up his whole life. Now, a grave dedicated to her.
  
  Personal goals:
  
  
  • Sovann wants to experience the world through his own senses without having to rely on mere tales.
  • He wishes to experience the same bond he had with the boy again. These were some of the most authentic emotions Sovann ever felt, and they intrigued him immensely.
  
  Three rumours:
  
  
  • Sovann was kicked out of a smithery after he accidentally blunted all of the displayed weapons because of an unpredicted sneeze.
  • His original monster form is able to turn anything into a gold statue with a mere glance of his eyes. Their screams can be heard miles away as he slowly turns them from the feet upward.
  • He was temporarily seen as a god by a small village as they witnessed his abilities and appearance. This sentiment quickly changed when he did nothing to prevent their demise.
  
  

 

[DirtyBirdyAK]

Name: Alitheia Realyn Sera'lios

Age: Twenty-Nine

Race: Human

Appearance: Alitheia is not all that immediately impressive, but to a more detailed observer her experience becomes clear. She stands at 5'6" and her body is well honed. She moves purposefully and without waste. She has spent years handling spears, bows, and various other weaponry and her flesh reflects that, both in build and in marking. Scars criss-cross her back, arms, and legs, but the worst is the damage done to the left side of her face and neck.

Personality: Alitheia is by default calm and thoughtful. Most of the time she navigates the world around her with quiet confidence. Most of the time. There are few things that test her patience but among them are boastful attitudes, taking risks at the expense of others, and blatant disrespect. Once brought to anger she is ruthless.

As far as people are concerned, she prefers to keep to herself. She is often skeptical of leaders that are too self assured, and distrusts any strategy not formed under her watch. Her business is her own but once some level of trust is earned there is no part of herself she has reason to hide, save perhaps her nameless god or the events that lead to her servitude. She speaks frankly of most things and has a sharp tongue, prone to banter with those she's familiar with. Once relaxed she tends to warm, but those moments are farther between than they once were.

LIKES
◈ the scent of overturned earth, fresh rain
◈ high places/mountain environs
◈ windy days
◈ singing
◈ new knowledge

DISLIKES
◈ traveling in large groups
◈ hubris
◈ promises - simply do, or do not
◈ unnecessary violence
◈ deep water
◈ caves

• Skills & Abilities
• Weapons & Inventory
• Backstory

• 
  Skills:
  Alitheia has ranged the human world at great length, and both through specific training and experience she is well versed in survival. Hunting, tracking and healing are all within her reach. She has specific strengths in herbalism and the body, often serving as a healer. Though she can handle a sword sufficiently, her preferred weapons are the spear and the bow. Despite her distaste for unnecessary bloodshed, she does not shy from violence and in a fight she is ruthless, her aim always falling back to survival.
  
  Alie is at her heart, a naturalist. She frequently documents the flora and fauna she encounters, to include their known properties or behaviors. The practice has made her a wealth of wild knowledge, and it has saved her more than once. She is well read, tactically intelligent, and irrevocably tied to the natural world.
  
  Abilities:
  Shadow is drawn to her, and while it doesn't necessarily move according to her will, it does bend to her. When sitting in darkness, the shade seems to hug her a little more closely. A useful phenomenon if hiding.
  
  Whispers come to her in her sleep; terrible visions, but they are often laced with truth. Those threads of reality are often impossible to disentangle, but when she is able to the information can be helpful.
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  Weapons:
  Alitheia routinely carries a spear dubbed Lyst. It is long shafted with a simple seamless double-edged blade at its end. It is well-balanced and has been with her for many years.
  
  Her most prized possession is Lyana, a living great bow nearly the same height as her, found on her travels and restored under her hand. The bow is a living thing, and though it cannot speak, Alitheia does sometimes get the sense of its desires or intent. In recent years it has become clear that the quality of the bow's spirit is in conflict with her patron deity, an unsettling development. It is particularly damaging to demons, as its arrows are charmed with the life that dwells within it.
  
  Other Items:
  Alitheia carries a complete healers kit, built over years of experience. She is never without herbs, salves, or tinctures, and is well prepared to combat injury or sickness.
  
  A determined scribe of the world, she has a well-loved leather journal, and is never without a quill and ink. In addition to her observations of the world, she sometimes notes her dreams or uncanny experiences.

  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  The City of High Certare was once a small mountain-bound kingdom in the north, human ruled and isolationist by nature. Its peoples were deeply, if hopelessly, devoted to Ero'Vorah, a god of the peaks that surrounded them. The city-state was characterized by high walls made in part by the mountains themselves and its reputation as a difficult to access human haven. It had been several years since the walls had been breached by demons or their ilk, thanks in part to old blessings and the work of the Watchmen, a small group of hunters and guardsmen dedicated to the protection of High Certare’s walls. The Lord of High Certare at the time of its fall was Commandant Varent Sera’lios.
  
  Their end began with a birth, though some would argue it had been decades in the making. The noble house of Sera’lios welcomed their first daughter into the world, much to the delight of Varent and Aralas Sera’lios who had already brought two boys into the fold. In a small kingdom, daughters were a boon for trade and marriage unlike any other. Their hopes were high for their girl whom they named Alitheia.
  
  Alie was fiery, whip smart, and had a penchant for trouble unmatched by either of her brothers, and where they both adored her, she adored her little sister who came along four years after her. The pleasant summer days of youth faded, and with them so did the siblings relationships. The girls entered their teens and Calliste was set on marrying some handsome noble boy, but Alitheia had other interests. Her brothers, destined for leadership, trained with her regularly while her parents hired tutors to school both she and her sister in writing, etiquette, herbs, and womanly duties (the last of which she rarely appeared for). It was becoming apparent how unlikely it was that she would appeal to the caliber of noble house her parents had hoped for, so her father resigned himself to the idea that Alie would serve alongside her brothers. She was endlessly preached to about honor, courage, others before yourself, making what was to come all that more painful.
  
  This only became more apparent when Alitheia's mother grew ill. No doctor could promise a cure, only an easing of her pain. It was hard on the family, and the more sick Lady Sera’lios became, the further Verant drifted from his children. Alitheia threw herself into studies, searching for something the clerics before her had missed. She ventured into the city to question healers, to study under surgeons, and when that didn't work, into the mountains to search for any herb that could help. It was to no avail. It took months but eventually Aralas Seralios passed away.
  
  With no woman to run the house, Verant saw to the arrangement of Calliste's marriage, much to Alitheia's dismay. Calliste was barely twelve, how could she marry? It was an extended engagement, but regardless, it seemed early. Any warmth that was left between she and her father left her.
  
  The final straw came when at nineteen she made to join Council chambers with the support of her brothers. Despite years of training, preparation, sweat, and blood, her father denied her, not as her father, but as Commandant of High Certare. The tension between father and daughter came to a boil in a public in an unsightly fight that ended with Alitheia storming into the city seeking out the Watchmen, and to Verant's absolute horror, she joined on the spot. The action sealed her disownment, and for some time she was whispered about as the 'shamed Sera’lios'. The same year Calliste was shipped off to be married, the perfect daughter she was, and her older brother Raelin was given a seat of power at their father’s side.
  
  Alitheia settled in well with the Watchmen. She liked the rough and tumble group. She liked the disarray and violence and purpose even if sometimes that purpose was hard to find. They patrolled the walls, mountains and caves that surrounded Certare, searching for any sign of a demon or monster attempting to breach the wards of Ero’Vorah. Attacks were rare, the city having built a reputation that had effectively kept the humans from slaving demon’s hands. In her free time she poked through the Watchmen's records, finding them mildly interesting and largely neglected as not all hunters were as literate as she. She gained a reputation as being an acceptable healer in addition to a respected fighter. Occasionally her brothers would join her on whatever job within the city she was on, if only to visit and remind her that they hadn't forgotten her despite her father's wishes.
  
  It was on one such excursion, a usually uneventful patrol into the beginnings of the caves that riddled the mountains, that Aittios accompanied her. He was the middle brother, a kind and handsome man, who knew his sister's heart. He had spent his younger years protecting her from their father's rage. When he joined her on such patrols it was usually to speak quietly of life and sometimes to mourn a life Alitheia could not live with him. The caves posed little threat, and were often patrolled by only one Watchman.
  
  In the gloom the pair came under attack. The festering creatures that attacked them were warg-like, but… changed… tainted. When the monsters withdrew, her brother was dead and she, viciously mauled. She sat against the rock, waiting to bleed out or worse, for the changed wargs to return to end her. She could hear their wet chattering, the pack-like communication marking her as prey. Silently she prayed to her mountain god, Ero’Vorah, of whom she had been a constant follower, but as always he was silent.
  
  Yet the creatures did not come. Something moved in the dying mage-light of Aittios’ fallen torch. A dark smear on the world, shapeless, spoke to her. Greetings. The word was not spoken aloud, so much as felt. The creature made a wry observation. You are unwell. The being noted rightly. The creatures had raked her side and face, tearing open her shoulder and neck too. Crimson coated her and pooled where she sat. Her limbs were already heavy and cold, her breath bubbling with red at her lips.
  
  "Who… are… you?" The words had to be forced around a torn throat.
  
  Alitheia got the snese that the spirit - or demon perhaps - smiled. Do you wish to live? Alie didn't have to reply. Whatever this creature was, it could feel her desire. I can make it so. An implication hung between them, the dying girl and the spirit. Worship. Alitheia soundlessly questioned it, and she was answered with the feeling of deep longing, an ancient loneliness scented by moss and ink. Whatever it was, it had been alone for a long time. In exchange for her following, she would be saved.
  
  "How?" The word was barely there. The returning sensation of a smile was borderline predatory.
  
  You will know… Do you agree? The tip of her head was her only reply. And like that, Alitheia Sera’lios, child of the Great Mountain, became the follower of a nameless god trapped in shadow.
  
  The god saved her, but she was slow to heal. Bed-bound, her father blamed her for Aittios’ death and if she were honest, so did she. The guilt threatened to destroy her and amidst it all the Watchmen and her family both dismissed her report of the creatures they had encountered. Their city was safe, they insisted. Even so the Watchmen sealed the caves. She did not mention the thing she had bargained with.
  
  While still recovering from her injuries Alitheia shut herself in the Watchmen’s archives, determined to find some evidence of the shadow-god she had met in the belly of the mountain. The dreams came soon after. Twisted images of their city aflame. Of corpses ravaged and scattered. She dismissed it as an effect of the guilt. Her mind was unwell, and her body was still healing. Yet some part of her rejected the notion. Some deeply nestled fire told her to pay attention.
  
  Then the attack came, months after her ordeal in the caves.
  
  Her report had been refused and in mere hours she was proven right. The longest guarded stronghold of free humans in the north fell almost overnight. She and a handful of others survived, escaping a city of ashes and monsters where High Certare had once stood.
  
  Over a decade has passed since she departed her ground risen home. To the humans of the realm, High Certare is nothing more than a whispered memory now, a dream of what once was, of what could have been. It's survivors are scattered and few. Her time on the road has been filled with trials and tribulations to mold her. She is no longer the naive fool who went down into those caves. She has lost trust in strangers. She has gained valuable knowledge in all sorts of flora and fauna, surpassing the information gleaned from books at her mother's sick bed. The outside world has taught her more about strategy than her kind ever could have and she has proven ruthless when needed. She travels town to town, occasionally joining up with more reputable parties and acts as a hunter for coin when it's needed, though prefers to pursue her own means of calming her guilt-ridden heart. She is still searching for knowledge, still seeking the thing that whispers in her dreams and comforts her with shadow.
  
  And then Alitheia Seralios, Once-Watcher of the Walled City, received her summons. When had she, a wanderer, drawn the attention of the God Queen? In the end it mattered little, though it did serve to make her chest tighten. Still, she journeyed to Keimara as instructed, with only her wits and the few blessings of a nameless god to shield her.
  
  Perhaps there is redemption to be had here.
  
  Three Rumors:
  People speak of the pale-eyed ranger, and among humans, her legend is mostly a kind one. They say she often appears in a village during a time of need. She solves problems, like protecting crops from ill-tempered beasts, delivering the kind girl's baby in a raging storm, or hunting down the demon hell-bent on burning down all they've built.
  
  Despite this idyllic representation of her, there are still less-generous rumors - questions of which god she follows. She must have blessings upon her to travel so freely and fight back the monsters of nature so effectively. Some say they have caught her praying under her breath, the confused and wordless mutterings of the worrisome sort. Others that she lingers in shadow just a little too long or a little too often for their tastes. They say that, perhaps, something happened during the fall of her city... Perhaps she, the rejected child of it's ruler, brought the demons down upon them...
  
  In one story, she ventured across the desert after being ship-wrecked upon its broken shore. On her journey back to civilization, she found a bow of legendary, but long since lost, origin. It was the Great-Bow Lyana, though it did not seem it when she found it, nothing more than a withered shaft of ewe in desert ruins. She took it with her on her journey, and when she made it to safety, she herself restored it, bringing life back to the living bow.
  

 

[Damafaud]

The Flower of Northern Plain

Name: Xie Dongmei [ 解 冬梅 ]

Race: Human

Age: 22

Appearance:
Xie Dongmei held the appearance of a saintess. Her hair was black and smooth, her skin was fair and light. Her lips held a permanent upward curl that held the warmth of the first peek of spring.

Xie Dongmei had a gaze as firm as steel above her dainty figure. She often dressed light, often white, and travel inevitably showed their mark for every step she took in her journey. Red and brown that stained her clothes always failed to affect her. In her path of righteousness, Xie Dongmei held her head high and her back straight and proud.

• Skills and Equipment
• Personality
• Bio

• 
  
  
  Cold Wind Magic​
  The signature magic of Zima, along with her divine abilities that pertained life and healing. Xie could create cold gale that hinder sight, threaten balance, deviate projectiles, or if concentrated to a line, cut like a blade. Her swordsmanship has close ties to her magic.
  
  
  Purification​
  An art to cleanse corruption and curses. Useful in recovery from demons.
  
  
  Swordsmanship​
  Xie Dongmei had enough proficiency to protect herself and fought some lesser demons. She was not someone who hadn't drawn blood.
  
  
  Medicine​
  Without divine abilities, medical knowledge was the best tool to save life. Common ailments from hunting, women's troubles, or common sickness were familiar to Dongmei. In the same vein, Xie Dongmei was familiar with makeups and skincare. While not crucial for life-saving, they helped to uphold the reputation of the temple.
  
  
  Agriculture, Foraging, and Animal Processing​
  When it came to farming and living off the forest, Dongmei was not lacking. Of course, as a priestess of Zima, her proficiency skewed toward winter and the environment of the cold north. She was not a good hunter, but she could skin and treat fur, preserve meats, and dispose them properly.
  
  
  Cooking​
  For a long time, she was in charge of cooking and processing what the other acolytes caught and gathered. Cooking was something a senior taught her. An asset that could help her marriage in the future, she jokingly said.
  
  
  Horse Riding and Handling​
  After the establishment of the temple, the need for fast travel became apparent as messages were often urgent in the cold land. The urgency only grew once she knew magic.
  
  Weapons and Items:
  
  Sword​
  A double-edged sword with a blue sheath. The most expensive object in Dongmei's possession.
  
  
  Medicinal pouch​
  The leather pouch is filled with herbs to treat open wounds, lower fever, and other common ailments. It also holds several precious antidote for poisons.
  
  
  Tassel​
  A tassel that held the symbol of Zima. Dongmei wore it on her waist.
  
• 
  
  
  Dongmei holds noble qualities befitting her status as a priestess. She is charitable and kind to those in need and warm and accepting to those astray. She accepts her limits as a human and paid respect, though not overly, to those with more power and responsibilities. She is not one to shy from discomfort and difficulties. She is a priestess and a human, someone who is not free of trials and judgements.
  
  Outside matters of the temple, Dongmei has a liking toward sweets and beauty. To maintain the good of the temple, she says, but there is no hiding that gleam in her eyes at pleasant faces and beautiful clothes or the highly coveted honey in the cold. She holds pride on her appearance and thinks herself smart. She is virtuous, she is kind, she is open-minded. Her reputation is not only one she achieves, but one she maintains with care. Her skin is pretty thin when her eagerness to look good is exposed.
  
  And so, Dongmei lies in a firm certainty on the correctness of her path. She smiles and nods, yet her eyes betrays the pity that stems from her judgement. Hers is the right path. Some may take another path, but ultimately, they can't compare to her in clarity and righteousness. She is a young soul prideful and simple in her belief: that she, despite her inexperience, already knows the best.
  
  Personal goals:
  
  1. Spread the holy name of Zima across the land
  2. Personally usher the Temples of Zima into a golden age of prosperity
• 
  
  
  By the age of six, Xie Dongmei accepted her fate as a sacrificed for the Tree Demon. So, when an acolyte killed the demon, she was at a loss. The Tree Demon ate a young child every year, but it protected the village and provided an arable land. So, to the self-righteous acolyte, she was upset. The village was upset, too, and the Priestess was upset as well.
  
  The Priestess of Zima, the Goddess of Winter Bounties, helped many survived winter. To make up for her acolyte's mistake, the Priestess stayed in the village for three years. In those three years, she spread the faith on Zima and extinguished the enmity born from the mistake. As they packed and left, Xie Dongmei followed them. The Priestess said they were fated. Dongmei had never let go of the desire to do things larger than her life, so she bid her parents a tearful goodbye.
  
  The small group traveled far, avoiding danger and helping people they met. On some occasions, they helped to kill beasts and lesser demons. Xie Dongmei saw the world. She saw that sometimes, people could be worse than demons. She witnessed a warrior sacrificing himself to save her fellow acolyte. She saw too, in that moment, the Priestess killing the demon with magic.
  
  The world was filled with danger and evil, but it was not devoid of heart and good.
  
  As the Priestess aged, she looked to settle. When Xie Dongmei reached the age of 17, the little group reached the Northern Plain. Winter was long in this place and crops were difficult. They were exactly why the plain had no demons. There, the Priestess built a temple. The following years were that of tranquility and peace. Xie Dongmei achieved magic at the youthful age of 19. Dongmei and the other acolytes reached out to nearby villages to help them with crops and hunting. Occasionally, a lesser demon appeared only to be vanquished by Aaron and the Priestess.
  
  When Xie Dongmei was 21, Aaron, the eldest acolyte, accomplished magic. The next year, news spread of the descend the Queen of Gods. Then, the Priestess died with a wide smile. She left behind her troubles.
  
  The initial nine acolytes had long became 40 and the end of demons raised that number to over a hundred. Came with it the matter of succession. Half of the temple supported Aaron, the eldest priest. Another half supported Dongmei, the disciple with the most talent. Both too, felt that they were the right person to lead the temple.
  
  When the Queen of Gods declared the need of a quest, the same talent Dongmei relied on in the competition became the very one that drove her out. Even so, her spirit did not die. If she returned successful from the quest, who could say that she was unfit to lead the Zima Temple?
  
  She, Xie Dongmei, will return.
  
  Rumours:
  - Xie Dongmei had killed many lesser demons with her sword
  - It is said that plants turn lush wherever she goes, no matter the time and season
  - Xie Dongmei has a particular liking to the color white