Fantasy Partheon's Rebellion Characters

[McMajestic]

The Main Thread
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Name

Age

Species

Gender

Appearance
(Picture and a little description would be appreciated!)

Personality

Bio

Magic* (Footnote at the bottom)

Weapons

Strengths

Weaknesses

Other

* Wizards (boy or girl) usually have one strong area of magic and one weaker area of magic
All other creatures need some type of spellbook/ritual to cast
An ordinary human can not use magic at all.​

 

[Aio]

Asta Vonner

Appearance
Standing at only 4'11 and weighing in at 100 lbs Asta is very petiet. Often found wearing a wrap over her chest and loose fitting pants. Noramlly found with a brightly colored shaw or kimono hanging loosly off her person. Her once beautiful brown locks, turning grey after her transition into becoming a wizard. Always hated having her hair in her face, Asta normally has it in one or two braids with brightly colored beading and thread sewn into it. It is said Asta should be heard from a mile away due to her love of big jewlery, always found with a necklace and bracelet.

Her eyes are a pale grey which matches her pale skin. If it wasn't for Asta's clothing choice she would be found to be a rather dull person to look at. Although her lips seem to stand out as they are cherry red in color from Asta constantly bitting them subconciously. When Asta speaks she often attempts to hide the right side of her face as she has a rather nasty scar, extending from the corner of her lip and going into a point near her the highest point of her cheek. There are also scars around her ankles and wrists from the shackles she was forced to wear before her escape.

Personality: Asta has a very tell it as it is personality, never one to sugar coat anything.Never one to sugar coat anything, thinking it's better to just put it all out there than to lead someone on. That's not to say she'll never get a joke, though she not really the joking type. She is unpredictable. And independent. She doesn't take kindly to people telling her what to do. Asta isn't one for loyalty though there are a select few who she would help no matter what. Unseen to the public eye she can be quiet loving and silly but only to a select few she deems as worthy. A side most do not get to see to often is that Asta is a bit of a control freak. She can not stand not knowing, and something that is out of her control can and will drive her crazy. Asta doesn't have much tolerance for silliness or others ignorance. Extremely thorough, responsible, and dependable. Well-developed powers of concentration. She wants nothing to do with "drama" among the others. Asta doesn't stand for any silliness and will strict with an iron fist if things get out of hand. She is seen as an almost 'peace keeper' in the sense that she deals with problems head on and quickly ends them.

Bio: All Asta ever wanted was a family, someone to call her own. The story Asta has always been told was she was left at the steps of a church with only a card giving what the nuns assumed was her name. Ever since then Asta lived in an orphanage never knowing of her past. Not knowing of her past often drew Asta mad as she felt if one did not know of their past then how were they to mold their future. Asta was a known pain amoung the orphanage, workers often sending her out on errans rather than allowing her to work in the orphanage.

On one of her trips out Asta learned of the wizards that walked among them, and soon there after she became obssessed. Not because they were beings of power but because of the reasons behind her power. Believing that if they were given powers then why couldn't she be given a family. Therefore at the age of 13 Asta went on her journey to become a wizard.

The journey took days but because of Asta's hard head she persevered, finally arriving at the nearest temple. The wizard of the temple was skeptical of Asta's reasoning for being here, as she was only here in hopes to have a family, but he believed her intentions to be much deeper than simply having a family so he gave her his blessing. Asta was given the vial of unicorn blood. At first it was unsure if she would survive but against the odds Asta prevailed, the only sign of the pain she went through was the greying of her hair. She was soon told there would be no possible way for a wizard to give her a family but he told her he could make sure she would never be alone again, thus blessing her with the magic to create beings. Promising her that her creatures would always keep her company.

Fast foreward to the rule of the New King, Asta attempted to go into hidding although was found by the new kings soilders. The new king forced her to create faceless soilders out of stone to fight in his wars. Although he often grew angry with her because the soilders would never last and she would always have to create more.

When Asta believed all hope as lost she was one of few wizards that were freed by the rebellion, from a small attack they had planned. The attack sadly did not end well as many were recaptured or captured. Luckily Asta was one of the few who escaped. Ever since then Asta has followed the rebellion, thankful for them saving her.

Magic: Asta is known for her creation magic, and no she can not create a living being, she can create matter into a human looking form and pursuade it to do her bidding. Before she escaped she used to create faceless knights for the king out of stone from the ground.

What is harder than creating something that isn't there is creating something that is there, confusing right? While Asta is well versed in transmutation she is not perfect. Creating something into another thing all together takes great strenght. While she can follow through with transmutation she is never able to make it last.

Weapons
She holds no weapon, as she believes she only needs her hands to fight.

Strengths
She is good with her words, almost able to talk herself out of any situation.
While she is terrible at hand to hand combat she has great endurance.
Asta is very knowledgable of magic and various magical creatures.
She is confident in her skills as a wizard.

Weaknesses
She is terrible at hand to hand combat, it's like sending a toddler into war.
Asta is extreamly hard headed, onces she puts her mind to something she will not stop.
Has a hard time reading social ques.
She can never let something go. Arguing with someone even if there is nothing left to argue about.

Other

Name: Asta Vonner

Age: 20

Species: Human - Wizard

Gender: Female from the looks of things.

​

code by pasta

 

[FlameintheRoses]

.Keanore "Draki-6".



Description: Has slick skin with a faded gold tone. Variations of green fade across the scales on her body. The scales are plated on her torso, shoulders, and back of her hands. Autumn shades adorn her hair and tail to blend in with falling leaves. Wing-like appendages sprout from her hips and underneath her ears. As for her ears, they extend out with feathers gathered at the tips They stand at 6 inches tall. Her tail extends out to approximately one foot long.

Height: 4'3

Weight: 89 lbs.

Age: 23

Gender: Agender (Pronouns are She/Her)


Species: Drakilian - Dragon-chameleon-humanoid, they've been created by dark wizards 40 years ago, so they're a highly new and endangered species. Only 14 of them exist currently, evenly measured out as females and males. They cannot reproduce, since they have no reproductive organs. They are made purely by dark magic, though the process of making them has been put to a halt since the end of the war. It takes 10 years to fragment their existence together(they are born when they are 10 years old practically). They are all gifted with human brains, structures, and skins, as well as reptilian outer skins, diets, and abilities. Every so often the drakilians gain a power that their creators are familiar with. Drakilians are able to live for at least 200 years, or at least that is the estimated life span. No one is for sure how long they are able to live a healthy life yet.

Since drakilians were made from wizards, they have a weak connections with magic, but still a connection nonetheless, which makes their powers harder to master and difficult to use.



Natural Ability:
Camouflage: Her skin can change to match the color of any natural surface. The process takes approximately 1 minute to perform.


Magic:
Ventus Flexuram: This ability can change the currents of the wind to high velocities in order to sweep enemies off their feet. This may also be used as a shield from smoke and other sorts of dangerous gases. This ability takes 5 minutes to charge up in focus, and can only be used once a day. If used more than once in one day, it drains the user's consciousness until they pass out for an hour if continuously used on said day.

Strengths: Evasive, Adaptable, Fast Runner, Agile, Heightened Reaction Time (not perfected though!)

Weaknesses: Small (doesn't cover much ground when running), Easily Manipulated, Naive, Hand-to-Hand Combat, Impulsive during Battle (tends to make moves before thinking ahead of time), Ignorant of Human Technology and Culture


Weapon:

Personality: Keanore is a very curious creature, naïve to the human world around her. She is very quiet in terms of speaking, since she lacks the full range of the English language. Mostly she makes clicking and growling noises. Unknown animal noises are used, as well as mimicked sounds of other existing animals . Without language she usually breaks the personal boundaries, unknowing of any boundaries. Emotionally she is unstable in difficult situations, and mostly reacts out of anger or panic against her enemy. Since she is naive, she may be manipulated easily by whomever, since she hasn't learned the meaning of doubt and mistrust. At heart she is dearly childish and loves to explore things she doesn't quite understand, which is about everything.


Bio: Since the 5th year of her creation process, Keanore has been able to see the world around her with the fragment of her body created, which was first her head. She has been taught the precious life of the world such as the ecosystems, diets, emotions, and all of the sort. She hasn't been the smartest of the drakilians, so learning languages for her was difficult and still is. Throughout her creation span she was taught the beautiful and wonderful things of the world, including peace and love.

Though when the process was finished, the mages began to train her how to fight. It still confuses her as to why they taught her these, but at the time the war was nearing to an end, frightening the dark wizards for what would come next if she was left defenseless. When she was 18 she grew to be an excellent warrior, and beat every drakilian that was born the same time she was. This made her the best of the species and made the wizards proud. Killing was soon taught to her nearing the year that she would be able to leave the cave, which frightened and confused her.

At the age of 20, the war neared the end. The king began to round up, kill, or banish anyone caught in his grasp. Immediately the wizards had to pause their progress in the creations and spread out their work into the Broken Wilderness of the North, where they could live in hiding for the rest of their days.Seeing that Keanore could handle herself well enough in the earthly world, they decided to release her days earlier than she was supposed to be released. This saddened her, but she pushed forward to live on for the sake of her creators It is unclear as to how many are still living in the wilderness. Few to none have seen their kind around, and most don't know of their existence. Tales and rumors are told that they are extinct or nonexistent creatures, though truth be told that a handful of them still roam the forests, living from tree to tree, away from threatening predators.


Extra:
-She is a neutral creature and doesn't take a side to good or evil.

-The mages who created the drakilian kept their projects hidden until the drakilian comes of age, which is 20, to enter into the world. Fourteen drakilians exist in the world currently, though none have been spotted easily. They are extremely rare and currently endangered.

-Wears a brown cloak in order to cover her body out of modesty and protection from the human race.

(Art & Design- FlameintheRoses )​

 

[AmLov]

(WIP and big picture. Sorrynotsorry)




Name:
Amelie Lovette


Age:
24


Species:
Human Mage



Gender:
Female



Appearance:
Amelie was always just off centre. Her left eye was always just a little bit lighter than the right, one side of her mouth would pull up just a little more than the other every time she smiled, even her nose seemed to skew just ever so slightly in one direction. She was never one of the symmetrical beauties that seemed to litter the halls of the castle. Adding to her oddity, she would always find a reason to smile, even in a room full of wizened old mages who had long since discarded their sense of humour, the Amelie before the Imprisonment could count her smile as a part of her standard appearance. Those that interacted with her would remark about how brightly her eyes shone, even if they were just off-colour, and how quickly her face would fill with excitement at the mere mention of new knowledge. To see Amelie was to see curiosity personified, it was to witness humour and joy dance across her features with every quip.

She often wished she could be that person again.

Five long years spent down below in the dungeons with the others who refused to cooperate have drained her of the life that once defined her. Whereas before her smile would brighten her entire face, her eyes now stared blankly ahead, lips forced into a flat line. The tight gauntness of her cheeks was offset only by the few weeks granted to her by her former teacher shortly before he took his own life, though the hollows underneath her eyes seemed to remain regardless of any efforts to remove them. She moves slowly at times, as though even the smallest of movements pain her. Exhaustion comes easily for her anymore. Even the barest of physical feats have the capacity to drain her utterly.

If anything had protected her during her time in prison, it was her ability to conceal her true feelings, as such she hides behind a carefully constructed mask. The picture of impassive observation. Everything relied on her ability to hold herself together.



Personality:
The Amelie of Old was always an idealist. She was known to give others a second, then a third, and even a fourth chance. She took great joy in helping others, finding meaning in their happiness. Even still, she believes the people of the world are, on the whole, good – she just can't risk the future betting on the good nature of others. Not unless she has to.

She had always been intelligent, but now Amelie knows that is the one thing that could keep her alive. The only thing that could give them all a chance. Some might call her calculating, even cold, the Amelie of the present would sacrifice her most loyal companion in a moment if it meant she might be able to end this war in a way that would bring everything back into balance – grant freedom to those imprisoned, bring back equality, and justice.

Being the only person who can link the resistance the world over, Amelie knows that she will have to, at times, face difficult decisions. Some will have to be sacrificed, others sent on missions they may never return from. Not only will she have to send them, she will hear their last moments – she would be in their most private of places as they lose their grip on Life itself. As such, she holds people at arm's length. It's easier to let go of people you never really held close, to begin with.


Bio
Amelie's childhood was, altogether, rather unimpressive. She grew up the youngest daughter to the village healer. Most of her younger years were spent sitting in the small hut with her mother learning how to blend together all sorts of herbs and flowers together to create teas to cure upset stomachs, wraps to soothe burns, and other natural remedies. It wasn't much. If anybody in the village ever became seriously ill – like the boy from down the hill, he had gotten so sick with something that turned his fingers blue and his eyes bright red. The poor child had coughed up tar for weeks before finally expiring – the most she was ever able to do was ease the pain until they passed.

It was difficult for her to watch so many suffer.

Her village wasn't large, not by any standard. At most, there were forty villagers from only five or six families. People would pass through often enough, however, as this village was the last place one could purchase supplies before trekking to the top of the mountain where children hoped to gain magical powers. Most who made the trip never returned. The ones who came alone never made it back, at least more often than not they presumably perished. Amelie never saw them again. It was the ones that came with mentors – older, wiser wizards who would introduce the children to magic, those were the kids who made it back. Maybe it was because the wizard could sense something in the child, something that made it easier for them to pass whatever test it was they had to face. Perhaps it was the instruction that gave them some sort of an edge. Amelie didn't know.

When one of the wizards approached her, however, she knew that she had no choice. From the moment he laid eyes on her she knew that her life could go no other way, that there was no other route in this world that would make her happy other than to accept this man as her mentor and climb to the top of that mountain.

Her parents were completely against it.

Too many had died they argued, she barely knew the old man her mother pleaded. It was frustrating that they couldn't understand, refused to even try to comprehend that some things in life transcended what was typical and moved so far beyond normalcy. Some things, she knew, were just meant to be and she was meant to climb that mountain.

It late, later than she had ever been out on her own, when she climbed out of her window and met the Wizard just behind her small house. She remembered her hands shook violently at first, then her whole body trembled. It was something she hadn't experienced before. For the first time in her young life, Amelie was afraid. If she were on her own, she didn't know how she would have ever overcome that feeling. If if she had ever worked up the courage to climb that mountain by herself, she would have almost certainly perished.

At least now she knew why those with mentors succeeded more often than their peers who made the climb on her own.

Blake, she learned was the Wizard's name, offered her few words of comfort. Instead, he reminded her that she had a destiny to fulfil. He told her she had a purpose. If she failed, she would be better off dead. Without this, she would be forever stuck in this small village just outside of the middle of nowhere.

Amelie didn't fail.

A hastily written note was the only explanation left for her parents. That particular decision was one that would torment her in the years to follow, but the young child held too much contempt for her parents who had tried to hold her back. It was strange how your perspective changed as you grew older.

When the new King installed himself and began to ship away all those he declared sub-human, Blake had offered Amelie to the King as a conduit. She could connect his armies from across the land and ensure that no rebellion would ever have the opportunity to rise. What hope would they have against an army that could relay information instantly across an entire nation?

It was that moment, standing before the King and the entirety of the Court that Amelie remembered the time spent in her mother's kitchen learning how to make medicine out of herbs. She recalled how her father would gently instruct her about the differences in anatomy between species so that she would be well-equipped to mend any that might need her help. She remembered the note she had left. She recalled the nights spent awake, regretting the decision to leave like she did, wanting more than anything to reach back out to them – it would have been so easy for her, but she never could work up the courage. She remembered the minds she had touched. It was impossible to form a connection with someone as intimate as sharing a thought and not feel them on some level.

“I refuse.”
​

Magic:

Link - This is Amelie's main power. She has the ability to form a connection with the consciousness of another being. This connection allows her to experience another person. If channelled properly, she can get a sense of who they are as a person -- past the person that they pretend to be. This link is required for her other powers to operate properly.

Link - Communication: Amelie can make herself a conduit to allow for communication between all of those she has linked with. If not moderated carefully, the voices can overwhelm Amelie and she can be pulled into the consciousness of individuals. The trek back to her own body is not always a simple one.

Link - Protect: Amelie can bolster the strength of someone she is already connected to. Their wounds will stitch together mid-battle, not instantaneously, however. Their speed and strength will also receive a boost proportional to the amount of herself Amelie sacrifices to empower them.

Link - Restore: Amelie can give up her own energy to instantly heal one person, or a group of people at a higher cost. The more intensive the injury, the more energy it would require. If the cost of healing an injury exceeds the amount of energy available, the person will be healed at the cost of Amelie's life.


Weapons:
None.


Strengths

+++++ Tactics
++++ Healing
+++ Supress Emotions
+++++ Fast Thinker
+++++++++ Communication
+++++ Team Support
++++++++ Intelligence
++ Stealth

Weaknesses

- - - - - - Slow
- - - - - - - - - - Physically weak
- - - - - Powers require others to be nearby
- - - - Magic requires self sacrifice
- - - - - - - - - - - - No defence against isolation


Other
"This isn't a story, stop calling me mastermind." ​

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

</Silas Nero/>

Age
Twenty-Eight

Species
Dark Elf

Gender
Male

Appearance
6'3'' in height, 225lbs in weight, yet such a slender frame that you'd never guess it. Monochromatic like nothing you've ever seen, Silas' only break from the black and white fixture is his piercing red eyes. His bandaged fists tell of his pugilistic ways, his high posture of his confidence and his seamless movements of his clandestine past. Though rarely seen, there's a tattoo on the back of his right hand; a red handprint in a black, smeared circle.

Like many of the dark elves his skin is very pale, borderline gray, and his eyes glow with the fires of their ancient heritage. Or well, so the legends say. He is handsome, though free from all blemishes and facial hair, almost feminine in that sense, but the air of authority that follows him anywhere is undeniable. The lack of scars are not a proof of his expertise though, but simply the regenerative powers of dark elves.

Personality
Though born with a natural flair for curiosity and exploration, Silas didn't take long to learn bitterness. His family could be described as tough and fair, but when worse came to worst they proved ultimately dysfunctional. The frustrations made him unsympathetic and angry, and so he took his first kill at 17. His uncle, no less.

Things got better only to get worse too. Now he's a hollow person, too afraid to get better and too stubborn to change. To the outside world he's a quiet, disciplined and harsh man. Ends-to-justify-the-means, and not always fair. Inside he's aimless, without motivation or any reason to live other than that he was told to by someone dear to him before she died.

But that's not the end of it. You don't go through that manner of suffering without physical and emotional damage. Silas is dysfunctional and has a noteable case of PTSD that's lead to several other issues over time. He can get by on a day to day basis, but chooses not to speak much to avoid giving it away.

Bio

Second generation kids were often less alienated than the immediate offspring of immigrants, but the Nero family had been destinied with a more beautiful fate than that. Silas grandfather, Agaso, was running from a war he didn't want a part in, and brought with him a fighting trade that would put most in awe. Due to his expertise, he was able to safetly settle down much nearer the northern wilderness than most.

Free to pick the most fertile spot of land he managed to easily get along simply by farming and protecting his small patch from the monsters; of which the latter proved to be quite a profitable business. His example and the money he was combing in lead other to follow, and within ten years a small settlement had formed. Agaso married a farmer's daughter, and soon had a big family living with him.

His eldest son was named Laslo, and was a much more peaceful man than Agaso could've ever dreamed to be. Under Laslo's close watch the land yielded far better crops and attracted even more settlers, and with his unnatural charm he was married by the young age of 16. Silas came soon after, born to be a farmer boy but hardly compliant with that destiny. He was only 5 when he'd already grown closer with his Agaso than his own father.

Hunting and fighting was far more appealing to him than digging and planting crops all year, and so his kind-hearted father allowed the fiery child to be just what he wanted to be. By age 11 he'd already slew his first beast, as well as excelled in the hunting of regular critters. Combat practice and hunting was daily routines for him; after all, somebody would have to take over after Agaso in protecting the now sprawling community.

But very few were in favor of Laslo taking over the head farm. People claimed that they needed a more powerful leader, one able to protect them in the same way that Agaso always had. And Agaso, well, Agaso was getting old.

So like all things must come to an end, so did the prosperity here. Agaso died a peaceful death after being diagnosed with some exotic disease, most likely from fighting the monsters of the north. Only a few days later Laslo was banished from the village by the iron fist of the second oldest brother, Kaiden. Though thoroughly split by the event, Silas decided that he would stay and protect the village to the best of his abilites. After the rigorous tutoring of his grandfather, he turned out to be the most qualified in doing so.

Still, it wasn't enough.

The burden Agaso must've kept to keep the monsters from the village was beyond what the other hunters understood. It worked for a few months, but eventually a stray monster let loose inside the village and murder dozens before it was stopped. Following this, many left the village. Kaiden, the new head of the village, became enraged and far more unfair than he'd been before. Blackmailing and threatening wherever he could to force the villagers to stay, which unfortunately proved to work.

Further monster incidents occured now that the town guard had weakened, and Silas was eventually fed up and decided to leave. Shortly after his seventeenth birthday he left, only to be intercepted by his uncle and the remaining hunters. It turned into a rather unpleasant discusstion, and ended in Silas besting and beheading his uncle. Something that the hunters, unsurprisingly, didn't mind all that much.

--------------------

Silas headed south and came upon a town where the mercenary business was rife. Convenient for him, seeing as it'd be one of the few fields he'd be knowledgeable in after all this time. It was a troubled district and the kingdom had stepped in with subsidies for the local law enforcement, leading to massive increase in bounties and freelance contracting. At the start he picked out smaller contracts, loose fugitives, small time crooks. Simple, barely rewarding. Slowly stepping up to higher bounties, and soon realizing that he was very capable.

A couple of close calls and bigger bounties under his belt later, the local mercenary circles finally started taking him seriously. "Exodus", a fairly new - yet respected - band of first generation immigrant warriors, approached him and offered him a seat thinking he'd get along better with his own foreign heritage. After some consideration Silas agreed and joined the group.

Originally he was reluctant to work in a group, his only prior experiences with it was with disgruntled hunters in his home village, but after witnessing the teamwork and coordination that his comrades possed he couldn't help but see it in a different light. Not to mention that a larger group meant larger contract, leading to better money both from some barely-legal post beatdown scavenging and bigger bounties. Silas proved to keep his head calm in stressful situations, and was soon promoted to a captain within the group. A role that was represented by a tattoo on the back of his hand.

Time passed, and Silas came to grow a closer bond to his fellow mercenaries than he ever had even to his own family. They travelled far and wide across the continent, countless times saving each other and together experiencing the best that each city had to offer countless times more. There was even another two dark elves, a woman named Amity Wylde and a former sailor referred to only as Wolf. She was the daughter of a nobleman who'd moved to Partheon on political business, a daughter that abhored the dull and repeditive life of monarchs and aristocrats. A thrill seeker, much like what he'd become himself. Wolf was... silent, odd, violent when he was drunk, but the loyalty he'd shown Exodus was to be rewarded, everyone agreed. Things were simple then, for a while.

Exodus had grown large and attracted enemies. Some of their larger operations disturbed crime syndicates. They played it safe though, but eventually a seam burst in the group that lead to their downfall. Wolf, who Silas had finally started appreciating and respecting like a true friend despite his uncharming personality, turned sour. Since day one Silas and Amity had been in a relationship all but officially, and this didn't ring well with him. Wolf had been the original dark elven member of Exodus, but he had neither become as respected nor as high-ranking as Silas. It was unfair, and it had bothered him for years.

During a smaller contract with only a handful of members working, lead by Silas, the group was ambushed and destroyed by a group of less ethical sellswords. They fought valiantly, but was utterly crushed by the sheer amount of preparation and numbers that the enemy had on their side. Silas was identified by the tattoo on his hand, so whilst his comrades were executed one by one he himself was violently beaten and kidnapped.

The plot was revelead to him a few days later when he finally woke up again. He was met with Wolf's bitter smile, and was revealed to that similar ambushes had been set up for each of the other teams in Exodus. Meaning that Silas was the only living member aside from Wolf. He was kept alive out of spite, and would be tortured vigorously before finally being put to death; of course depending on the fickle mood of his captors.

--------------------

What was supposed to be days turned into months. Wolf rejected his original plan of retreating far away with the fortune he recieved from selling them out, and instead chose to join the criminals and simply keep Silas around as a toy for letting out his rage whenever something went wrong. Surprisingly, the food wasn't awful. One of Wolf's servants was an aspiring chef and didn't have a real reason to dislike Silas nor much of a social life of his own. He'd sometimes sneak him warm meals out of kindness, but Silas was slowly getting emaciated nonetheless.

But he wasn't without ambition. The depression and indifference he felt while chained up half beaten to death in Wolf's impromptu torture chamber slowly turned to rage. The ray of hope that shined through was when Wolf finally decided he'd want him around longer, and threw him in the Syndicate's prison cells.

"What have you gotten yourself into, stranger?" A hoarse voice sounded when the cell was locked and the guard had left. Silas hadn't registered anyone else in the cells when he was brought in, and flinched in surprise. In the darkest corner of the cage adjacent to his, a grey figure sat. Clad in tattered gray cloth with a shining white pearl forced against his throat by a restraining collar. "Equus..." Silas mumbled. "Haha-" The laugh was interrupted by a coughing fit from the elderly figure. Perhaps not so surprising, it didn't seem like he'd have many people to speak with down here. "Astute observation, young one."

The Wizard asked if Silas was perhaps something other than human, and free from the constraints of an Equus Gem. The lighting was low, so Silas hadn't even noticed that where the man's eyes used to be there were only singed-shut holes. Blinded by the syndicate he'd been, the elder explained, after having betrayed them. Now he just waited for his end to come here in the dungeon. However, Silas' elven blood could become his salvation, if he only played his cards right and was lucky.

The fires of hope returned to him. The following months were spent practicing his spiritual abilities between beatings and public humiliations. Through the thick walls of the dungeon nobody ever heard his low murmurs, repeating incantations and practicing to learn a spell that the Wizard said could become his salvation.

Until finally, one day a guard walked in to the dungeon and stood before his cell. "Lord Wolf no longer has need of you, prepare yourself." In his eyes, Silas was no longer a threat. Fresh wounds littered his body, his limbs were no longer the trained arms of a mercenary captain. He simply stepped into the cell and dragged him to his feet, then pointed his sword to Silas' chest. "Any last words?" "... Aye." He mumbled, then looked the guard straight in the eye. It was now or never.

He started mumbling the incantation, and guard raised an eyebrow. The unintelligable mumbling was rythmic and suspicious, and as Silas started the final verse the guard finally realized what was happening and thrusted his sword forward. "For fear serves the name, I call upon thee, Ghost." He finished, and a sudden gust of wind forced both weapon and hand from his body. A cloud of darkness enveloped him and before he'd regained his vision a familiar weight was resting in his right hand. Much like a sword.

Silas swung it forward, parting the cloud of fog and revealing that his body had become enveloped in a dark armor, detailed with skulls and seemingly worn pieces of cloth. The bladed arm of it had cleaved through the guard without an issue, and his torso now slammed into the ground with it's guts spilling out. Silas turned and exclaimed "I managed it!" To the old man's cage, but was confused to see it standing empty. "You were here just a second ago-" His line of thought was caught off by the distant shouting of guards.

The origins of the man and the armor remains a mystery, but thanks to him he managed to escape the syndicate.

--------------------

Once he'd returned to the outside world, Silas found that all traces of his old contacts seemed to have been wiped. He couldn't find any close acquaintances and those that he'd known through Exodus avoided him like the plague, murmuring things about him being a death sentence. Banished all the way back to square one, and all alone. The next step was simple, he only had revenge left.

The darker sides of towns still accepted him. Illegal assassinations, drug trade... He delved into anything to keep himself on his feet. Once he'd gathered his strength again he'd start picking out targets from the syndicate, no doubt Wolf had already gone into hiding. Silas was going to find him, no matter where he ran.

The process took over a year. Several important officials gave him nothing, piecing together enough clues to get closer to Wolf. There wasn't much of the original Silas left, at this point he was a wanted criminal. Sought after by many a bounty hunters, whose daring interventions always lead to more murder charges on his record. But it'd be worth it, or so he thought.

Finally he'd located him, and just in time for his 24th birthday! Perfect, really. Everything went according to plan, too. Wolf lived near the coast in a fairly grand mansion. Thanks to all the other work he'd done for the syndicate they now placed guards around him at all times. Silas just picked off all the guards one at a time, and before he confronted Wolf they'd all be dead. Yeah, he had to feel helplessness before he died.

And he must've, only there were still things that Silas couldn't ever have considered. Wolf shouted for Guards but his blood visibly fell to to his toes when Silas appeared, slick with blood. Wolf attempted to choke something out and draw his blade, but before either happened he was laid out across the floor, picked up, beaten half to death, then tossed against a wall. He tried his best to crawl away, only his arms and hands didn't work very well anymore.

Silas smiled. It felt great, as a matter of fact. So much of a build up to this moment, and nothing could bring him down now! Only... something actually could. As he stepped towards his fallen nemesis, blade in hand and ready to savor the culmination of his life, Wolf grabbed hold of a curtain and pulled. Any sense of achievement dropped into Silas' gut and formed a heavy clump. It felt like it was going to tear right through his body and kill him, and numbed him to the point where slicing Wolf's neck open in passing was enough.

Inside the small space behind the drapes, barely larger than a closet, sat Amity. "Sat" was a generous description too, more like forced to stay on her knees by the shackles the kept her arms upright. Silas fell to his knees and whispered her name. His voice was shaking, sounding almost like he was hyperventilating while he was talking. The arm he reached out to raise her chin was trembling in sympathy with his voice, and for the first time in over a decade he could feel something warm filling up his left eye.

And how uncontrolled his tears were. He didn't grimace, he didn't speak. He simply fell to his knees with his face as neutral as on any other day, but the tears ran out of his eyes in streams. A low sigh was heard from Amity, and she slowly raised her head to look back at him. "... Silas?"

That's when he broke into a million pieces. "Y-yes, it's me, don't worry I'm going to get you o-out of here!" His voice wavered and his breath shook terribly, and Amity's blank stare made his heart pound out of his chest. "N... no... it's enough... just... get out..." Silas drew a breath, producing a sound similar to two rusty blades sliding over each other. "W- what are you saying? No.. No... No way! No no we can't let you... can't..." He frantically started clawing at her shackles, trying to pull them apart with brute force.

Nearly to his surprise one broke open, releasing a cloud of rust that sent him into a coughing fit. Amity groaned, but didn't say much about it. Once it had cleared, he could see her wrist. He didn't know how he missed it before, but she must've tried everything to get loose. The skin was complete chafed off, the flesh beneath had a sickly yellow and rotten colour to it. The smell was unbearable, and dried blood and pus had dried to the skin along her arm.

Terrible, terrible blood poisoning. This was far too late.

She'd fallen further forward, and Silas inched forward to let her head rest on his lap. He pulled his shaky hands through her thin hair and tried to choke something out, but managed nothing more than a stuttering sound at first. "Yyyy-yy-you.... Iiiii-ii-it will be fff-ff-fine, Amity? A-a-aaa-alright?" He stuttered, whilst his voice became hoarser by the second. "N... no... it won't. S... Silas..." She whispered, her voice was so weak that he could barely hear her but there was never anything else in the world he'd concentrated more on.

"Live on for me."

She went silent. Limp.

...

...

...

"U-uuh."

...

"D-don't-"

...

Silas threw his head back and screamed. He screamed and screamed until his chest felt like it was imploding, until his vocal cords were on the verge of breaking, until his jaw nearly popped out of it's socket. He raised his hands towards his face and nearly clawed his eyes before something just snapped. What happened after that he does not remember, and his next memory is sitting on a cell bed, being told he'd spend the rest of his life in jail.

--------------------
> I don't have the time to finish this
>Silas lucked out and got caught by legit watchmen (instead of murderous mercs) and got sentenced to several lifetimes in jail
> Life in jail improved when the new queen was appointed
> Like it was his new quest in life, he continued to live just because he was told to
> Keeps in shape
> War breaks out
> Gets approached because of his combat ability
> Offered to join a special unit named "The Black Knights" that serve as vanguard
> Will be absolved of his crimes if he survives
>Accepts
>Does a badass job of kicking ass
>Gets a sense of loyalty to the crown
>The Partheon army's ass is kicked
>All the other Black Knights get killed one by one
>Silas goes into hiding and waits for the perfect moment to make a move


Magic
Summoning
Silas is hardly a mage, but he once learned the technique to summon a very particular set of armour. It's design makes it impossible to wear through any other method, and where it returns to after being dispersed is but a mystery. Still, someone must be taking care of it, for it always has returned repaired.


Weapons
Besides his fist and the summoned suit of armour, Silas wields a dagger and a sword of black metal. Both have chain ends as a part of their hilts' designs, allowing them to be attached to Silas by way of a long chain. This both allows him to very rarely lose them, but also to use them as impromptu ranged weapons.
​

Silas also has a few armor plates under his clothes, most noteably over his knuckles, but mostly as a defensive measure.

Strengths
Tactics
Combat
Acrobatics
Perception
Fearless
Agriculture/Hunting
Stealth
Interrogation

Weaknesses
Dysfunctional
Tact
Social aptitude
Investigation
Sleepless
Unsympathetic
Teamwork

Other
​

 

[McMajestic]

​

​

• The Queen
• Will Be
• Beheaded

• 
  

  Name: Teletra Hart
  
  Age: 28
  
  Species: Human
  
  Gender: Female
  
  Description: Teletra has golden blonde waves that trail down to mid-back. She usually keeps it up in a braid to avoid the slightly frizzy mess though since her imprisonment she has been able to do little for her hair and the waves have become tangles. Her skin has grown pale since she has no access to the sunlight and her blue eyes, which once shone brightly, have become quite the dull sight.
  
  She lives in the same outfit she was captured in, a dress that has been tattered and torn beyond recognition, and often finds herself with a quilt around her shoulders to keep warm in the frigid air of the tower. She has grown thin, refusing to eat the meals the new king offers her but when she absolutely has to, and tends to have dirt smudged over her skin at any given time. Along with the dirt, scars riddle her body from the countless amounts of torture she has had to endure as King Daleus’s prisoner.​

  
  
  
  
  ​
• 
  

  Personality: Teletra has always been fearless, though some mistake it as naivety. From the time she was little she has always desired adventure and wandered through the castle walls searching for new sights and people. Not being able to leave the confines of the castle’s perimeter had made her stubborn with age, as well as hotheaded. As she grew she began demanding what she wanted and when it was not given to her she would throw somewhat of a tantrum. Although she grew out of the tantrums, she never grew out of the anger, especially not during her preparations for queen. It was during this time she was under the most security and it wasn’t until after her coronation she gained freedom. In this freedom she became somewhat of a gentler, though still quite rough around the edges, she was happier since she could leave the castle and visit the people she ruled over. Since the kingdom has been overtaken though, she has become quite a spiteful person and has built up walls of stone. Her hatred for the new king is made quite clear and so the only thing the new king’s servants see from her is a vengeful girl.
  
  Weapons: An enchanted sword that can repel magic back on its opponent.
  Teletra does not currently have any weapons on her, though once the rebellion begins she will be able to find the sword as well as a dagger and a bow with 12 arrows.
  
  Strengths: Being raised within royalty in a political scene, Teletra knows how to talk circles around people. From the age she could walk, she was trained in combat, both hand-to-hand and sword fighting She has one of the strongest will powers anyone has ever seen and will persevere through it all
  
  Weaknesses: She tends to jump to conclusions or get angry much faster than she should, which impairs her judgement. Because of her training, she tends to think things out more, making her slow to make important decisions. Despite her spiteful attitude, Teletra grows to care for people quite quickly which makes her easily manipulatable when they are involved. ​

  ​

  
  ​
  
  ​
• 
  

  Bio: Teletra was born into the royal family. While her mother died during childbirth, she always had her father around to take care of her. This created a rather close relationship with her dad despite how often she would defy his rules. While publicly he would scold her for exploring beyond boundaries or getting into fights with the guards, privately he tended to joke with her about her mischief and even encourages it to some extent. They both knew how boring it could become within the walls of the castle, and he admired Teletra’s desires to leave and explore. This was not something that was proper to entertain, though, and so she was kept inside most days, not even allowed in the gardens
  
  On her seventeenth birthday, Teletra was introduced to many suitors in hopes she would meet the man that would soon become king of Partheon. During her search, she happened to find a courageous prince that she fell in love with and on her eighteenth birthday they were married. Normally, a prince and princess wouldn’t marry until their coronation day, but the king at the time time demanded an early wedding because he was growing sick. Most kings and queen are not coronated until their twenty-first birthday, but Teletra and her prince, Jameson, ended up becoming king and queen when Teletra was only nineteen. Her father had died from his illness, and while it was a devastating blow to Teletra, she knew she couldn’t lay down and let the kingdom attempt to run itself.
  
  For four years, King Jameson and Queen Teletra ruled Partheon with a kind heart, and they were truly as generous as they possibly could be to their citizens, working hard to put festivals into place to show everyone in the kingdom how much they cared. Special days were given just for an elf celebration, or a faerie celebration, and acceptance was encouraged far more than it had ever been. Everyone was getting along just fine.
  
  And then the European king, Daleus, attacked. He had sent word that he was coming over to discuss diplomatic concerns in trade, and both Teletra and Jameson wholeheartedly believed him. They had never had a problem with the European kingdoms before, and new trade deals tended to be discussed every ten years or so. It was coming up on the time. No one in the kingdom could have predicted the fleet of ships that would show up a few hours after negotiations began in a private room in the castle. No one could have predicted the ultimate destruction of the once prosperous Partheon.
  
  Jameson’s first line of defense was to protect his wife. He handed her one of his two enchanted swords and told her to run. Completely shocked by the attack, Teletra could do nothing else but listen. Out of the corner of her eye she watched her husband get stabbed through the chest. She had no time to mourn. She could only run, hoping to find her guards at their stations. None of them were there. They had all rushed to the front of the castle to defend it, not realizing Daleus had brought five lethal guards in tow to the negotiation room.
  
  Teletra made it to the bottom floor of the castle, where a secret exit had been created in the case of such events, before Daleus threw a dagger that lodged in the back of her thigh. She tried to keep going, but her limp of a run was no match for his sprint, and he soon had his sword aimed at her throat. He didn’t kill her, but instead took her as a royal prisoner, as the prize for taking a whole kingdom.
  
  Teletra was locked in a tower, where she was given a bed and two meals a day, though she rarely ate. Often, Daleus would come to speak to her and brag about how he was winning. She would often yell obscenities until he left, which only made his visits more frequent to annoy her. When the war was officially won and everyone had surrendered, Daleus made a promise to Teletra, that on the one year anniversary of his taking over the kingdom, she could either become his queen or be executed in front of her kingdom. Teletra, being the hateful human being that she was, told Daleus she would rather die a thousand times over than marry him, and he took this a little too literally. The queen has been facing excruciating torture in hopes to break her spirit and make her agree to marry Daleus. Her will power, though, has kept her from submitting to him, and now there are only days left before the anniversary of the destruction of Partheon. Only days before she will be executed in an event even the elves and orcs and faeries are invited to see; the beheading of their broken queen.​

  
  
  
  

 

[PenguinFox]

[WIP]​

Name: Triven “Triv” Thaelen-Asarn

Age: 26

Species: Elf

Gender: Male

Appearance: Triv has short brown hair oft spiked at one end. His defining characteristics are usually said to be his facial structure and his dark brown eyes. Like most Elves he is smaller and thinner than the average human, but he knows how to make himself look bigger and more intimidating than he really is.

Personality: Triv is slow to trust others, especially humans. If you’ve managed to earn his trust however he will die for you. He’s a bit reckless since he has nothing left to lose. Triv will always let you know how he feels about a situation and is not afraid to add his opinion. Those he is close with know how laid back and friendly he can truly be but that side of him is almost always hidden away.

Bio: When Triv was quite young a powerful mage who hated Elves came to his village and scorched it down, killing his parents and most everyone he knew. He managed to escape with his little sister and fled to the heart of the kingdom. He picked up survival tricks on the journey and made several animal companions.

With their young age and being Elves the siblings resorted to begging and scavenging in the markets. Triv trained a couple of rats to help them steal food. In addition to the rats the siblings came up with many scams and ways of cheating people of small amounts of money. One day when Triv was 15 he and his sister were doing their ‘helpless girl while Triv snags the coinpurse’ act. One potential target just so happened to be Princess Teletra. While trying to talk her out of some coins they became fast friends instead.


At the time the princess was looking for a suitor and needed a break from all that and Triven was happy to help his new friend, he was also happy to help find someone that would be “good enough for her”. To this day Triv still believes it was primarily because of him that Teletra got married. Several years went by and Teletra became queen and being friends with royalty had benefits for the orphaned Elves. The king and queen took them into the castle in exchange for a small amount of work. Triv became a bodyguard and confidant to the queen and his sister would help tend to the royal gardens and make them more beautiful than anyone could imagine.


About a month before the invasion Triv received word from an anonymous source that more of his clan may have survived. He knew he had to investigate the rumor, though it pained him to leave. The queen was understanding and even offered to keep an eye on the younger sibling while he was away. Triv promised to return home soon and set off. Unfortunately, he wasn’t gone for long before hearing about the invasion. It is currently believed that Triv is living off the land in the western deserts, if he lives at all. He exact whereabouts and activities are unknown.

Magic: While not necessarily magic Triv has a strong connection with nature which he can use to his advantage

Weapons: Triv always has his bow and dual Elven blades, and is quite adept at both

Strengths: Triv is an excellent tactician and guerilla fighter. Hit and runs and stealth are what he does best. Due to his lithe body type he is also fairly quick and agile.

Weaknesses: Because of his nature and stature Triv cannot last in a sustained fight. If he is fighting for too long he will lose. Has a fear of fire and magic.

Other

 

[Xanto]

• Basic Info
• The Surface
• Deep Stuff
• Other

• 
  
  
  
  

  Name

  
  
  
  Ryan Ethaniel Decarlo​
  
  
  

  
  ​
  
  
  Age

  
  
  
  23
  
  
  

  Species

  
  
  
  Half Human and Half Phoenix
  
  
  

  Gender

  
  
  
  Male​
• 
  
  
  
  Appearance
  
  
  
  

  
  
  Ryan for the most part is an average male villager standing at 6’0”. He has an athletic build and unconsciously walks with a grand air of confidence amongst other commoners. His short brownish-blond hair softens light naturally when it comes in contact with the darkness. His do is a bit longer above his head than around it, in addition to a thin tail of hair braided down behind the right side of his head. Ryan’s deep blue eyes tend to be unnoticeable especially when their hue shifts to that of golden base with a red rim. This of course only happens when his fiery abilities are triggered.
  
  While his skin is not roasted, Ryan generally has a lighter shade than what others claim to be “golden or olive skin”. However, not so much so as to make him seem pale to any kind of creatures’ eyes.
  ​
  
  
  
  Personality

  
  
  
  

  

  
  
  
  The young man is determined, intelligent, practical, and resourceful. A few qualities of which are especially useful for a person leading two seemingly completely different lives. In general Ryan is adventurous, daring, athletic, and courageous. Typically, he tops his personality off with stubbornness and curiosity. A couple of components almost perfectly blended with his other qualities to create the ideal cunning, thieving assassin. However usually during broad daylight, Ryan takes on his more public natural identity.
  
  Contrary to the images you have already seen, Ryan is actually a fun-loving and understanding fellow. He is protective of the few people he actually enjoys being around with and wants nothing but the best for them. He is not too shabby in front of authoritative figures, and keeps a playful demeanor whether there are children with him or not. Ryan understands that his naturally good-hearted self clashes horribly with the mischievous objectives being assigned to him by the local leader, thus forcing him to keep both identities apart.
  
  Aside from all the seriousness, Ryan is a pretty humorous citizen. Well, he at least tries to be. With all this to say, beyond the reckless man’s shell lies a heartwarming guy who somehow manages to still be oblivious to “all the fluffy love stuff.”
  ​
• 
  
  
  
  Bio
  
  
  
  

  
  Ryan Ethaniel Decarlo, son of a blacksmith and apothecary. He only really remembers learning how to fight from the former royal General, his Uncle Jax (family calls him Jack). He also remembers something about messing around in the forest and feeling a strong force blow him to the ground.
  
  Ryan was ten years old when he traumatically experienced his father’s death. Ryan’s older brother was too young to carry on the family blacksmith so his uncle had to step into the family picture. The kid knew he was blessed to still have some family and be able to afford some food, but that did not stop him from exploring all the other possibilities the world had to offer.
  
  It all started with a flimsy poisoned dart stuck in the right side of his deceased father’s neck. Most of the local townsfolk immediately heard the news especially since the blacksmith was the most popular one around. The public knew that his father had a heart attack; however, close family and friends knew that it was a poisoned dart. Instead of allowing the older people to simply discard the dart after momentarily analyzing it, Ryan requested to hold onto it.
  
  He kept turning the dart around before breaking down the materials that constructed it. The flimsy material turned out to be malleable wood that carried a message inside. All the message held was a symbol.
  
  There was only one area around the land that held such a piece of wood and Ryan knew it. The perimeter that held the specific wooden component was “forbidden.” No villager really knew why. Anyway, the boy nonchalantly trespassed the location and started examining its surroundings. There had to be some clue as to who killed his father. However while trespassing generally unexplored territory, Ryan found a wooden house in the midst of all the trees. Two dark wizards exited the house casting spells back and forth challenging each other to a battle of spell casting strength. The intrigued ten-year-old boy hid behind a sturdy rock and continued to observe the magical sparring. All was well until the very last attack that both wizards had casted. They attacked at the same time causing a huge ball of energy to build up between them. The accumulated magic was so strong that they just casually tossed it to the side to end their friendly spar before heading in for some tea.
  
  There was blood, pain, and fire. A bucket of water aggressively awoke the young boy snapping him back to reality as he found himself under his mother’s care in the apothecary. She was scolding the boy, but also admitting how happy she was to have found him alive. One thing seemed off though . . . his temperature was oddly high. Little did any villager know, that the direct black magic explosion had altered Ryan’s genetics. His DNA was half human and half phoenix.
  
  The following year, Ryan’s Uncle Jack sold a supply of daggers and crossbows to an unfamiliar elderly man. Jack told his nephew to help the fellow out, but the man refused placing the weapons into his wooden wagon. Once the man left, Ryan stubbornly followed him out the door and into the forest thinking that he would eventually need some help. He shadowed the man in a clandestine manner of course. A tarp had been placed over the supply to hide the materials the elderly man was rolling down a dirt path.
  
  Everything seemed to happen so suddenly. Five forest bandits dropped down from the trees aiming their bows and arrows at the old man. They attempted to steal the valuable load. All Ryan could remember was one swift movement of him lashing out a whip at two of the bandits just before the old man . . . turned young? The victim stood up straight ripping a mask away from his face and professionally threw three daggers into the chests of the three other bandits. He soon took care of the other two men as well.
  
  Let’s just say that from there the stranger adopted Ryan into a new family. It turned out that he was one of the leaders of an assassins guild and saw potential in Ryan’s character. A whole new world of excitement, engagement, and belonging was opened up to Ryan. Aside from regularly blacksmithing and training with the shop’s equipment, Ryan would study his mother’s medicinal materials and get combat training from his uncle. In addition to that, everyday he would drill with and help the assassins until he eventually became one himself. However, there was one condition that Ryan had to follow specifically for his own safety . . . wear a hood.
  
  
  

  Magic

  
  
  
  Fire Manipulation: Ryan has the ability to create, shape and manipulate fire. This involves having a physical body made up of fire or fusing fire with physical combat. Engulfing his body in flames however causes him to pass out a few moments directly after, become lightheaded, or have a drunken demeanor as recoil. Depending on the level of fire infused fighting, Ryan may quickly become fatigued as well.
  
  
  

  Weapons

  
  
  
  Ryan carries a chain whip wrapped around its handle end. It is a portable and efficient weapon that he had modified for his own needs throughout the years. He also carries double sabers that can attach at the handle ends to create a dual ended bladed short staff.
  
  
  

  Strengths

  
  
  
  Physical: Parkour, Knight training, Assassin combat, and frequent blacksmith consumer fighting techniques
  Phoenix boosts: Enhanced agility, endurance, senses, reflexes, and strength
  Skills: Blacksmithing, medicine, poisons, and handy with most tools
  Other: Connections with blacksmith consumers, villagers, and the Assassins Guild
  
  
  

  Weaknesses

  
  
  
  Physical: Energy drainage from power usage, oblivious to new genetic composition, does not know how to control magical abilities, and probable lack of clothing
  Phoenix: Fire’s natural element of destruction, magic
  Skills: Reckless
  Other: Loved ones’ safety and increasing struggle of keeping his two identities separate
  
  
  

  
• 
  
  
  
  Other

  
  
  
  
  Ryan currently resides with his Uncle Jax, cousin Reynard (17), cousin Lizette (16), mother Helena, older brother Yousef (25), sister-in-law Margaux (24), nephew Jess (5), niece Ryna (5), and younger sister Hazel (13). Yes, he has a rather large family to keep his two eyes on. Depending on certain factors he may or may not sometimes stay over at the Assassins Guild quarters.​

 

[JokerValentine]

Name Ethan B. Grey

Age 28

Species Lycan Hybrid

Gender Male

Appearance
(Picture and a little description would be appreciated!) Below are Ethan's human and lycan forms. As he a shifter, he has both forms. Equally of importance to note is unusual markings he may have. He has a scar across his right foot where he stepped onto a rake point as a child. He didn't lose the foot, thank goodness, as usually that would happen. He does not have a limp from this injury.

Personality Ethan can be a bit caustic at times, taking matters that pertain to him very seriously. He has a thick skin, er, fur, but those close to him he has undying loyalty and devotion to. He, thus, can come across as overprotective. He tends to try to force his way into situations his friends get into, and tries his best to get them out of it on his accord. This, alas, can cause some stress. Ethan also has a soft spot in his heart as well. He takes pity on people who suffer, but he doesn't fully trust anyone until they prove their worthiness.

Bio Ethan used to be on the right side of the wall. He was human, untainted, having been blessed to be normal and not be thrown into exile. That all changed when he was taken from his home when he was 9. Ethan was one of nine children in a small farm house. He was the middle child, usually the one that was the least important in the family. But, one night, he was snatched from his very bed. he doesn't remember much, but regardless, he was no longer himself after that day. He was changed into a horrid beast through dark magic, probably by either a disgruntled wizard or desperate lycan, and has been by no means the same ever since.

At first it was hard to comprehend his situation, how different he was, but from there it only got worse. When he turned 23, the creatures like him were forced into exile. he had to give up everything he might still have had grasp of. His family slipped between his paws.. or fingers. Even then, he still failed to find a permanent place in his new life. He had a few friends here and there, but they were never there for them. He began to realize he could no longer trust everybody so easily. The only person who he could guarantee to be there for him in times of need was himself.

Magic* (Footnote at the bottom) As he is a hybrid, he has some sort of dark magic in him. He has a relatively pronounced ability to utilize feral instincts (smell, sound, sight) in both human and lycan form. However, he wishes he could turn these senses off. They are difficult for him to harness.

Weapons He does not typically use human weapons. He usually relies on his lycan form in times of combat.

Strengths Ethan is literally strong in his lycan form, but that is not all. His character traits make him a good judge of character, for the most part. Additionally, he is no stranger to making difficult decisions.

Weaknesses Ethan can sometimes come across as nosy and intrusive. Also, because he seems loyal and somewhat servile, he can come across as idiotic. With his character traits, he is certainly privy to failing to understand situations as they unfold.

Other:

Soundtrack (if music was invented yet, which is hasn't been but just roll with it):
Portugal. The Man- Noise Pollution
Drake- Forever
Kendrick Lamar- Backseat Freestyle

 

[McMajestic]

Name: Shiva

Age: 20

Species: Dark Faerie

Gender: Male

Description: Shiva disguises himself as best he can, constantly wrapped up in dark clothing though it is quite bothersome for his wings. He also wears a hood of sorts, to cover the horns that protrude from his head. They are short and curled, similar to that of a ram, though they are more of an ebony color than the traditional tan. Aside from this, though, he also wears a diagonal strap that carries a katana across his back. When he is able to take off his cloak and reveal his wings, he can adjust the strap around his waist instead.

Shiva has piercing blue eyes that contrasts sharply with his incredibly pale skin. Being stuck in the Wilderness has left little time for sunlight and so his skin is unusually white, almost holding a gray tint to it. And without the sun to lighten his hair, it has stayed a midnight black that hangs low. The back of it reaches to the nape of his neck while his bangs are haphazardly cut when they get too long, and are usually shoved to the side with tree sap to keep them out of his face.

Personality: Despite Shiva’s stoic appearance he has always been one of the most generous and kindhearted faeries in the wilderness. While most have grown isolated and constantly living in fear, he refuses to fall into that stereotype and instead ventures out, taking care of whatever he can. He is every faerie’s big brother in a sense, because he takes care of them all, whether he knows them well or not. In any case, he is willing to sacrifice his time and strength to protect anyone in the wilderness, and often pushes past his own fears and instead treats everything as if it has its own spirit. Unlike most faeries, he actually communicates with the nature around him, as well as the hideous beasts most won’t go near. Some call him stupid, but he is naturally gentle with every creature unless given a reason not to be. Most animals in the wilderness, even the ones deemed to be evil, are actually quite kind to Shiva seeing as he is so kind and trusting of them in the first place. And just as he trusts animals instinctually, he is quick to trust people as well and care for them all the same.

Magic: Shiva has a nature connection that comes from magical ability. It allows him to speak to all creatures and has a very calming effect. While he could use this on people as well to create somewhat of a opium effect on them, he doesn’t know it yet and it would only last about five minutes on a person.


He can also control nature to a point, though it takes several incantations and causes more of a headache than he would like to admit which makes this piece of his magic hardly practiced at all. If he were to use it he could pull roots up out of the ground and use them as ropes almost, though he has almost no strength build up when it comes to this ability and it surely would make him pass out for hours if not days if he tried.

Weapons: Shiva wields a katana that has been in his family for generations. It was passed down to him when he was only a child and he’s had it ever since. This is his only weapon, though, and is used mostly for defense since he’s not a big fan of fighting when he doesn’t have to.

Strengths: Shiva’s strong ties to nature are a significant strength. He also can wield a sword quite well. His speeds are enhanced thanks to his faerie blood and he can fly faster than anyone can run.

Weaknesses: He cares too quickly which makes it easy for him to be betrayed. He isn’t very strong, and so hand to hand combat doesn’t bode well for him. Shiva has poor hand-eye coordination, and aim is not his thing.

Bio: Shiva spent the first fifteen years of his life in a village just on the edge of the main city that surrounded the castle. He was born to two of the royal gardeners and so he was no stranger to the royal home, though he rarely interacted with anyone of royalty. He only ever saw Teletra on her escape missions, and he would often laugh to himself and admire the princess for her haphazard attempts at adventure.

Growing up working with nature, though, is where his magic truly began to manifest. Often times small rodents would threaten the fresh fruits and vegetables being grown, sometimes birds as well. Most faeries set traps, but Shiva would always walk around and kindly talk to the animals, calming them from their fears of bigger creatures and helping guide them to a safe area out of the garden where they could eat. Before he knew it, this had become a daily job for Shiva, and all the other faeries were a bit amazed by the boy’s talent. All faeries had a special connection to nature, but Shiva’s was particularly strong.

In his quest to keep all animals safe, he befriended a red cardinal who tended to sit perched on his shoulder when he did his daily walk through the gardens. They chatted quite a bit and came to have a bond as only two friends could. It was odd. Many faeries in the area didn’t want their children hanging around Shiva, believing him to be too strange because of his unusually strong connection to animals. This isolated feeling made him quite sad for a time, but he got over it as he befriended more and more creatures, though his cardinal would always be his favorite.

He came to find out her name was Keanore, and she came to learn how to Shiva in her native bird tongue. Whenever Shiva spoke to her, all anyone could understand was the gentle cry of a red cardinal even though he believed he was speaking English. This made it almost frightening for the village, and the more he did this with more and more animals, the more determined they were to move Shiva elsewhere.

That’s when the truth came out.

He had always known he didn’t look like his parents. Neither had blue eyes, neither had his ebony wings. But it wasn’t until his fourteenth year of life he was told he was found abandoned on the edge of the desert, a baby faerie near-death, and his parents had taken him in. He wasn’t truly part of the village, just an orphan that was taken pity on. And now they wished to pity him no longer, and a whole council meeting was put in place to exile him and his oddities.

The fight between his parents and the rest of the village went on for three months before finally the ruling was made. Shiva was to be exiled. Having heard this from Keanore, who has been eavesdropping on all the meanings, Shiva packed his things before his parents could return, and left. He didn’t plan on ever looking back. If nobody wanted him there then how could he stay? And yet his parents had fought so hard for him and with Keanore perched on his shoulder, who they had always approved of his friendship with, he couldn’t help but look back one last time. Only it wasn’t the last.

He did a double take, noticing the cougar prowling into his village, and the little girl who was sat with her back turned to the stalking creature. He didn’t think twice. Shiva ran back into the heart of the village just as the meeting was getting out, and while everyone was shocked to find him, they were even more shocked to find what he was running towards. The parents of the little girl screamed, which only spooked the cougar and caused it to stop stalking and start sprinting.

Shiva ran as fast as he could, skidding to a halt in front of the little girl who had frozen in fear once she turned around. He yelled for the cougar to stop, demanded that it submit, and to everyone’s surprise, the cougar listened. It laid down and looked up at Shiva, who glared at the creature. “How dare you threaten my village,” he said, that it only came as growls and roars to the villagers who all watched in confusion. He first demanded an apology, and then a promise that the cougar never harm a villager again. It agreed, calmly getting to his feet. The entire village gasped, but Shiva only smiled, petting the cougar once before beginning to lead him out of the village. He spoke with the cougar as they walked, realized that the creature hadn’t had a meal in days, and asked the cougar to come back the next night for some food.

For awhile, Shiva was the village hero. The exile was all but forgotten and he was lifted onto shoulders, cheered for, a true saint in their rankings. He became a protector of sorts to the village, quietly talking animals out of hurting them and also keeping the younger faeries safe. He became appreciated, no longer isolated. This allowed him to befriend many other faeries, though Keanore would always be his best friend.

Not even a year later, though, the european king invaded. Shiva was asleep when his precious bird awoke him, whispering of guards about to ambush the village. He woke his parents, who didn’t believe a word he said, and so he ran outside to warn others. No one believed him. No one wanted to. Jameson and Teletra were an amazing king and queen, they would never let such a thing happen. Not even minutes after he got done trying to reason with a fifth family, five houses erupted in flames. All hell broke loose.

Shiva cried out for animal help, and the cougar he had saved and fed months ago came with many more, and in a sense an army of animals had been created. Shiva went back inside to pull his katana out of his room and fought a knight who tried to infiltrate his home while everyone else got to battle stations, flying around, getting children to safety, trying to save the village.

It was too late for that though, and soon the entire village was destroyed, and half of it was wiped out. Shiva lost his parents that day, though he didn’t realize it until he was running for his life, trying to catch up with the rest of the faeries who were retreating into a woodsy area behind the village. He called out to them, and one man slowed enough to allow Shiva to catch up and tell him the bad news. They had died as warriors. Though he was saddened by this, he would not allow himself to cry. Not until the most tragic loss came.

Keanore landed on his shoulder as he ran, nuzzling him slightly to comfort him. He was at least grateful for her presence, for it calmed him as they all began to slow down in a clearing. They hadn’t heard anyone coming for them. They thought they were safe. So safe, in fact, they had started to make camp with what little they had and could grab from around them. As they did so the arrows fell out of the sky. Hundreds rained down on them, and before anyone could react another ten faeries were dead, but Shiva didn’t care about any of them in that moment because also on the ground was a bright red bird with an arrow through her body.

Keanore, who he had been friends with since he was six years old, was dead. He fell to his knees, carefully pulling the arrow out, pressing down on the wound. He insisted she live, that she be okay. The little bird was gone, though. His best friend was gone. He sat there, cradling the bird in his arms, sobbing loudly as he held her, pleading for her to wake up. Those that still lived watched the boy’s affection for his companion, watched his suffering, and let him mourn for a minute or two before asking him to come with them. He couldn’t move, too overcome with the agony of losing Keanore. So they left him.

The knights were on their way, were so close, and in his pain, his desire to keep her safe, in his own fit of rage, the second piece of magic came into play. He didn’t understand what he was mumbling, or why he was mumbling it, but as if second-nature he spoke a language he had never spoken before, and the roots built up into a cocoon around them. Shiva fell into a coma from the effort he hadn’t even known he had used to cause the protective barrier, but no knight could break it away and so they left him.

He woke up in the Broken Wilderness, in a tent made of leaves that had become an infirmary of sorts. In his hand was a red feather, and he held it close as he looked around. There was a girl there, who smiled when she saw him awake. She was glad to see him alive, it seemed, and when he asked how long he’d been out she responded that it’d been two months. And in that two months Daleus had taken control over the kingdom and while a war was being fought, everyone seemed to know the winner was Daleus.

Shiva was far too weak to do much, and he spent another month in the infirmary, building up his strength and becoming friends with the faerie who took care of them. When he was finally back to full health he was allowed out into the village. This one was built within the trees instead of in a clearing, and over the span of a weak Shiva learned that people didn’t come out very often. Only for food and water, for emergencies, only to immediately travel into another building. He found it odd, and ended up spending plenty of time outside against many warnings not to.

While he did have a small hut he built for himself, he preferred to sleep in a hammock he had made and look up through the trees as best he could at the stars at night. It wasn’t until his third month in that he realized why no one went outside. The beasts. They were vicious mutations that thrived on a carnivorous nature. They sometimes attacked, and this one was doing just that. Shiva, not forgetting his calming ability with animals, was able to subdue the beast, to pet it, to befriend it in a sense. The entire village was shocked. They hadn’t seen someone with Shiva’s ability in hundreds of years, but they cherished it and soon his role at his village became the same in this new one. He protected everyone, he befriended and took care of the younger faeries, he kept the village save and the animals friendly.

Slowly he grew into the routine. For five years he did this. He made a cord around his neck with a little black locket, and in that locket he carefully folded Keanore’s bright red feather so she would always be with him. He thought of her on most days as he protected everyone, and told many of the animals about her. He never thought he’d find a friend like her again.

And then he found a drakilian. Well, he wasn’t sure what she was at first but soon found out that was her species. He had seen her out of the corner of his eye when carrying a basket of fruit back to his hut, and paused. She was a beautiful creature, one he had never seen before, and out of pure curiosity he sat down, setting the fruit in front of him and offering some to her. He clucked his tongue gently, and spoke with soft, coaxing words. It was a reptilian language, though not exactly hers since she still didn’t seem to understand very well.

They ate, and Shiva learned quickly he couldn’t move fast with this creature or she would be quick to attack. He had already had to use the fruit to keep her from stabbing him once. It didn’t take long though, for a bond to begin. He would try to teach his language while simultaneously trying to understand hers. He always kept her close, and became quite fearful when she fell out of sight. She was so naive to the world, and he didn’t want her to get hurt. Though he knew she could handle herself it still worried him.

He took great care of her, and when they could finally understand each other well enough he asked her name. When she told him Draki-6 he knew not only she was a product of black magic, but that a number was no such name. After much thought, Shiva finally named her ‘Keanore’, because he believed the beautiful creatures resembled his bird friend in many ways. The village was quite skeptical of the little reptile he brought in as a member of his own family, but nobody questioned Shiva because he always ensured their protection.

Because she was a reptile, she needed constant warmth at night and often Shiva would light a fire by the hammock and allow her to curl up against him from warmth. She was like a daughter, or a sister, in a way, even if they still had small communication barriers. He loved her like family even as their first month of friendship zipped by. It wasn’t long after this month, though, that they both got the messages to be part of the rebellion. At first Shiva thought about ignoring them, but then he remembered that red feather he always carried around his neck and knew he couldn’t. That evil king had killed his best friend, and he was determined to get revenge.

 

[Dominaiscna]

Abraxos​

• For
• Our
• Freedom

• 
  
  Age : 25
  
  Species - Avian
  
  Avians were created over a three hundred years before when the grounded man wanted to conquer the heavens. They sought help from a powerful wizard and thus was birthed a fusion of bird and human. They became the rulers of the sky and dominated the great expanse of blue as powerful warriors till the arrival of the King.
  Visually they look perfectly human save for large pairs of wings on their backs and claws for feet. The sizes, shapes and color schemes of their wings can vary incredibly depending on which type of bird they originally took after. Their current habitat is in the Broken Wilderness of the North where they co-exist with other creatures of the air and somehow find a way to scrape by, though Abraxos' flock in particular has migrated further into the mountains and hills. They currently live for an average of 120 years and the population currently lies within the 200s with many of their kin clipped, grounded and trapped in slavery in order to diminish the threat they pose as a powerful airborne race. They are warmblooded and reproduce the same way other ground animals do, despite having bird genes.
  
  Gender - male
  
  Appearance - Abraxos is modeled after the bird of prey - the white goshawk. He has steel grey eyes that bear a certain gentle warmth to them and long white hair that he tends to keep tied up when flying so as to not get in his face. He bears a matching pair of large, white wings that when stretched to their full length, can reach 3 meters. His skin is pale and smooth over a lean body that stands at 6'1 with large, gold talons for feet. One could say that he is quite handsome.
  Yes he does actually have clothing. He wears a variation of the outfit most male Avians wear (below) that was designed to account for their large wings.
  
  
  
  
• 
  Personality - Abraxos is a gentle and graceful protector of his flock and those who have earned his trust and loyalty.
  
  The Avian is calm and collected and though he is not one who strives for authority and power, he is a natural leader and will step up to the position should his people need one. He tends to be a rather quiet and unassuming young man with a comforting and fortifying presence. He is patient and caring, though there is an underlying sense of danger and caution in the sharpness of his eyes. Besides his generally well-spoken and good natured demeanor, he is quite serious, preferring to not waste time and get straight down to business. There is a time for work and a time for play.
  
  Abraxos is kind. Regardless of whether he likes or dislikes another, if they truly need his help or have good intentions, he will assist to the best of his abilities without hesitation. Though one should not be so foolish as to take advantage of his kindness to try and deceive him for he has been taught to trust none but his flock. He grew up careful and perceptive, overcoming his innocense and naivety at an early age.
  
  He can be also quite affectionate, loving and protective of those whom he hods close to his heart though few such individuals hold positions outside of his flock.
  He believes that when the time comes, one must not be afraid to act, no matter what.
  
  Bio - Avians though one and united as a species tend to live in separate flocks due to the different lifestyles they all had. The population was split according to the types of birds they took after. Abraxos is a member of a flock of birds of prey.
  
  He never knew his parents. Ever since he was a fledgling, Anbraxos was brought up in a family of Northern Goshawk alongside their own young'uns and treated like family. Apparently, his foster father was good friends with and in the same legiong as his late father who had been shot down. With regards to his mother who went on a hunt and never returned, people could only speculate that she had either been captured for slavery or was dead.
  
  From an early age, Abraxos began training in the art of fighting and hunting. As many birds of prey around his age, he was a natural and training passed easily and effortlessly. Their generation of Avians were incredibly gifted as the race was finally properly setting in. The amount of fledglings were increasing as the creatures of the sky established a safe home closer to the mountains and highlands further north. Though hunting grew more difficult, they were out of the reach of the human population and generally all other races.
  
  Every young Avian grows up with a wish and, for most of them, it is to fight and fly for their flock. After the establishment of the New Law, the Avians were one of the races that had a revolution in mind. War would descend upon the lands soon enough and the revolution would need all the fighters it could get. So they stayed patient and waiting, building up their numbers and organizing a proper military system of units and squads.
  
  After his 19th birthday, Abraxox joined the 1st unit and rose to the position of lieutenant/second-in-command.
  
  
• 
  Magic
  Dual Ancestry - Avians are able to briefly take on the form of one of their ancestors. They can become either completely human or completely bird for a short period of time though this ability has become rarer as the race got older, straying farther from their ancestors and developing fully into an independent specie.
  Avians naturally have an affinity with nature and the kingdom of birds, often keeping feathered companions.
  
  Weapons
  A slender long sword and his talons.
  
  Strengths
  An incredibly powerful warrior and hunter due to his bird of prey ancestry, Abraxos is a formidable force on the battlefield as well as up in the air where the Avians rule as their domain. Due to the fusion, he is naturally faster and stronger than a human with exceptional eyesight for tracking prey though not at night. He is naturally good at fast and lethal abductions and kills and long distance hunts.
  Due to the lifestyle they were forced into when the species were all assigned areas to migrate to, young Avians are always adept at survival and have grown up living on the bare minimum. Fledglings are quickly taught to be independent and how to look after themselves completely.
  
  Weaknesses
  Abraxos is not the best for stealth missions due to his rather large and noticeable white wings in a crowd of humans. He is not able to maintain full human form for long either.
  Tending to feathers can be quite tedious.
  Water is their worst enemy. If an Avian hits water and is not of a waterbird descent, then unless they can get themselves out and back into the air or lose the wings for their full human form, chances are that they will drown.
  
  Other: Abraxos keeps a raven companion by the name of Sable. Some speculate that Sable was once an Avian who transformed into his full bird form for too long and could not change back.
  

 

[Dominaiscna]

Estel Amaranthan

(coz I couldn't find her original fc ;-; so this is gonna be alternate Estel)​

• Take
• Me
• Instead

• 
  Age: 25
  Species: Elf
  Gender: female
  Appearance: Standing at 5'6 with a lithe body, Estel generally does not look any different from the common wood elf. Her skin is pale despite often being out in the plains where the sun dominates the sky. Her platinum blonde hair reaches the middle of her back when let down but is often kept tied back away from her face which bears very delicate and graceful features. Her most striking features are her silver eyes that are not common in her villager nor in her family. Due to such, many people often question her ancestry.
  
• 
  Personality:
  Initially, Estel comes off reserved and quiet, and though she is well-mannered and good-natured, she keeps a professional distance between herself and most people she doesn't know which causes her to become rather unapproachable for some individuals. Though she can seem slow to trust and generally not the incredibly friendly type, one can always go to her if they require help or assistance because she would stop at nothing to lend a hand if it is fighting for the greater good of their nation.
  
  If one were to gain her trust and truly earn a place in her 'family', they are exposed to a more warm and loving female who just does not want to lose anyone. Despite her calm and collected exterior, the elf is generally a worrywart who does not like taking risks and often worries over the good of others. Estel is very observant and easily seeks out the cracks and fissures in plans. She has no problem with giving out her opinions on battle strategies and critic on the situations at hand. It is just when it comes to her more personal feelings and relationships that she finds it harder to express in words. Her affections and concern are shown through her caring and kind actions towards those she holds close. She may go to great lengths in order to make a person happy and well. After all, in Estel's case, actions speak louder than words.
  
  Her loyalties lie with her family which have been the Rebels ever since she lost her mother and father.
  
  Bio: Estel was born into a loving family of wood elves from the village of Thiamiel. Her parents were overjoyed at their newborn daughter as they had been unsuccessful in giving life to a child till then. She was named Estel which translated to 'Hope'.
  
  At a young age, the elfling was set apart from others due the strange color of her eyes. Though she was no different to any of them otherwise, Estel was always treated differently, like she didn't quite belong. Even though the villagers tried to be nice and let her be at ease, they were always wary around the strange girl. Often she heard the village elders discussing over the phenomenon of the "silver eyes" and whether her special features meant anything. However, nothing would be revealed until she grew older.
  
  It was only around her 16th birthday that her father made mention of her great great grandmother who too had silver eyes. In the hopes of finding some reason for this daughter's strange features, Estel did research on her great great grandmother, going back to her roots with the help of her mother and talking to the elders who were alive at the time of her ancestor. Through this, she would learn of her black blood magic that she had until then never heard about. With this began the awakening of her magic that, unlike many other types of magic, could lay dormant for life unless drawn upon by the user. Following the guidance of elders and older relatives, she began to train in her magic.
  
  In the years that Daleus had come to power, their village had to be moved to the area designated for the land races. There they lived, barely able to get by. It was only when word got out of the silver eyed elf that their lives really turned for the worst. In his quest to control magic, he sought to destroy black blood magic for good since it could only be passed down through families. The easiest way of finding one of such a lineage was through their silver eyes and despite her family trying to hide her after the conquering of their nation, word got out.
  
  In the darkness of night, a legion of human soldiers attacked their home village. Despite wanting to stay and fight for her village and her family, Estel was forced to leave by her parents who knew that they would die regardless and did not want to let their daughter sacrifice herself. With the flames of her burning village at her back, the young elf mounted her beloved steed and road into the night. Though a pain pierced her heart like a dagger as they fled, Estel never looked back.
  
  Days on end, she rode in the hopes of finding help somewhere, but there was no place she could go where she would feel safe, not anymore. On the 4th day, sleep deprived and starving, she collapsed against her horse only to wake up a few days later in an unfamiliar place. A young woman seemed to have been taking care of her and, once she was recovered, Estel was told that the Rebels had found her half dead and brought her back to one of their bases where she was nursed back to good health.
  
  With no where to go, the young female decided to stay with the group and there she found a place where she could belong and feel safe. The Rebellion was her home and her ticket to avenging her family and her village.
  
  
• 
  Magic :
  Mild healing magic - something the village elders taught all of the elflings. For light wounds, scrapes and scratches. To do so, she would require spring water.
  Black blood magic - inherited magic that may only reveal itself in one child every three generations, paused down through the female line. The magic can vary between users but in Estel's case, she is able to infused her arrows, and other weaponry, with BB magic which causes them to pierce through armor and target the soul. However, this comes at the cost of her own health.
  
  Weapons : Long Bow, Daggers
  Strengths : Elves are naturally agile and gifted with being able to wield weaponry while also using magic. Estel is a skilled marksman with her strengths lying in speed, accuracy and agility. Her training as an elfling in the forest has given her incredible tracking, scouting and hunting abilities.
  Weaknesses : Close quarters combat is not her forte and she is definitely not the strongest nor the beefiest fighter.
  Other : She plays the pan flute and has a horse named Simin.
  

 

[The DoomyFish]

(Wip I might not be able to post anymore until Tuesday or Wednesday next week.)​

Name: Virgil Entreayas
Age: 126yrs
Species: Wizard
Gender: Male
standing 6ft 2in and weighing in at 165lb.
Personality: Virgil is an odd being to say the least. He more often than Not is very hard to guess the motives of As he rarely if ever makes his intentions known. If anything he seems to have no motivation, seemingly wandering through life only ever reacting to things.
Bio
Wip
Magic:
Illusionary magic (Major)
Alteration magic (Minor)

Weapons: N/A (Virgil abhors violence instead using a combination of his two schools of magic to make violence unnecessary.)

Strengths:
Deceptive
Intelligent
Cunning
Strategist
Planning
Foresight

Weaknesses
Passive
Non violent
Physically inferior
Very old
Unpredictable foes

Other:
Virgil's true face is a mystery to all. He keeps himself hidden under powerful illusion, and if that fails he has a mask on that has been altered into a mirror like glass substance.