Fantasy Realms of Aldaan -CS Thread-

[Fred Colon]

Full Name:
Pollyanna Ziegler

Aliases:
Polly

Combat Class:
Mage

Magical Potential:
Magic potential: 7 (8 for shapeshifting)

Race:
Nebosi
Affinity with Genesis god(Des) of change

Magical Potential Modifier: +2



Age:
38

Sex:
Female

Height/Weight:
7'5'' 200lbs

Homeland:
Hend Baronlands

Location Start: Justicar


Inventory:
(Item Name - Description)
Frog hood - Polly’s frog hood. Hand made, with two big googly eyes on its head, it doubles as a protective gear. It won’t stop a blade, but if she pulls the frog hood around her face, quite aside from looking like she has a frog for a head, it will protect her from most acids, fumes and poisons. She can see out of the googly frog eyes when the hood is down, as they are goggles.

Protective Leather Gear - A leather smock, big boots and thick gloves. Bulky, and a bit better at resisting blows, but still mainly to protect Polly from the chemicals she enjoys working with.

Wooden Staff - Used for walking and poking things that are poisonous/might explode. Is also useful for hitting people with.

Alchemical Kit - A carefully packed fanny bag filled with vials and ingredients used to make all sorts of things, as well as tools such as magnifying glasses and tweezers that can be used to handle and investigate sensitive or dangerous substances.

Notebooks - A bunch of notebooks filled with the slightly insane scribbles of Pollyanna Ziegler. The subject matter is varied, but always related to either entropy, or change. Recently she’s begun writing down musings about how to kill or transmute things like ‘Ideas’.

Jeremiah the Bullfrog - Formerly a bandit, Jeremiah is now Polly’s lifelong companion. An enormous, slightly venomous Bullfrog, he really has no utility beyond keeping Polly company. She adores him. He tolerates her.

Jar of bugs - Polly has a taste for insects. Rich in protein, and available practically everywhere, they’re a delicious snack for her and Jeremiah. She keeps a jar filled with bugs, and adds to it when she comes across a likely specimen, if she doesn't just eat it then and there.

A few coins - Polly has a few coins. She’s pretty darn poor, though, and the money she has wont go far. She’s swiftly realizing that this may be a problem.



Skills:
Poisoner - Well versed in the use of flora and fauna in various types of concoctions, Polly knows what will kill a mortal, how fast and how likely. She uses this to her advantage, time to time.

Scholar - Self taught but brilliant, Polly has a love of experimentation that has both proven extremely dangerous but also invaluable to her intellectual advancement. Books upon books that she's bought, stolen, or traded for have supplemented this knowledge, and despite her library not being as extensive as other places, she has hands-on experience that more than makes up for it.

Divinity - Not quite as pious as most of her kin, Polly has still researched the gods as thoroughly, if not more so, than her most devout kin. Religious or not, there is power there, and ignoring it would be foolish.

Mana Pool:
28

Spoiler: Magic

Magicks:
Entropy/Shapeshifting

Level 1 Entropy
Concoct (Low/5s) - Generates a weak acid that while harmless to the human body, can help dissolve random tidbits, like bugs. Try not to drink any.

Minor Poison (Low/5s) - Conjure a small amount of common poison. Stomach aches and nausea for all your prank needs.

Minor Spore (Low/5s) - Conjure a tiny puff of spores that induce nausea when inhaled. Bleugh, what even was that?

Level 2 Entropy

Decay (Low/5s) - Touch an item of food or a tool, rotting or rusting it. Ruin is my passion.

Minor Malady (Moderate/15s) - Touch a target and curse them with sickness, enfeebling their body with weakness for a short duration.

Spore (Moderate/15s) - Conjure a puff of spores at a target location in a 5ft radius that can cause muscles to seize and cramp when inhaled. Ah, ah, ah- cramp!

Level 3 Entropy

Minor Crumble (Low/5s) - Place your hand on a surface and slowly crumble it away within a 5ft radius. It may take a minute, but turning things to dust is pretty cool.

Acidic Burst (Moderate/15s) - Generate a potent pool of acid at your feet and shoot a spike of acid at a target capable of melting through light armour and defensive spells up to Third Class. Haha, take this, and this!

Level 1 Change

Minor Adjust (Low/5s) - Alter an item or accessory to fit you comfortably. Ooh, it actually fits now!

Imbue (Low/5s) - Change the colour of a small object. Mmh, pretty colours…

Bestial Eyes (Low/5s) - Morph your eyes to appear like that of a beast of your choice. Look into my eyes and tell me what you see.

Level 2 Change


Minor Shift Step (Moderate/15s) - Morph the surface as you step to boost your feet, enhancing your speed. Nyooooom!

Minor Detect Change (Moderate/15s) - Place your hand over an object and detect if any change spells or enchantments are being used. Something’s… changed.

Silent Desire (Moderate/15s) - Curse a target and morph their mouth closed. Can’t incant if you can’t talk, eh?

Level 3 Change

Shift Wound (Low/5s) - Move a wound to a less vital part of your body. A cut down your arm is not nearly as bad as a cut across your stomach.

Bestial Tail (Low/5s) - Grow a 5ft tail and wield it as if you have the Dexterity Skill for a short duration. Monkey see, monkey pummel.

Aspiration:
Interested in the processes of change, Polly has spent years alone, studying it in miniature. A mouse dying and turning into mulch, mulch turning into mushrooms. So much can be learned from this microcosm of transformation. But recently she’s become interested in change on a macro scale. The birth and death of empires, of ways of thinking, of gods. She wants to put her thumb on the metaphorical scales and watch something, anything, massive upend and come crashing down. It’s her dream to kill or metamorphosize something impossible to pin down, like an idea. Her current objective is the genesis stone, an artifact that grows in power the more the world is changing, and grows weaker when things are stable. She means to use it as a tool to measure the over all entropy in the world at large, rather than as a weapon. Because once she has an accurate measurement tool, and the power behind it, the real tests can begin.

Personality:
Pollyanna Ziegler has grown eccentric from her long years essentially alone. She's extremely possessive of her things, possesses a slightly inflated ego, and has a host of bizarre habits, such as conversing with her pet frog as if it could respond back to her and having no problems living in filth. Pollyanna dislikes order of any kind, and while she understands that it's an important Ingredient in a functioning society, chafes when it applies to her in any way. She similarly understands that all other forces of nature are essential for the working of the universe, but considers herself an agent of entropy and chaos. She will do all she can to promote these things, knowing that she will be balanced by agents of the other forces of nature.

She believes firmly in change as ultimately a catalyst for good, and believes destruction and death can give rise to new and better things. Any organization or society that’s remained unchanged for more than a hundred years should be burned to the ground, is her opinion.

Suspicious of people in general and totally unconcerned with societal expectations except in how they can benefit her, Polly nevertheless has no problems socializing. But her lack of social graces and her natural suspicion can make her seem slightly mad, pushing people away even when she’s attempting to be friendly.

She also utterly and irrationally adores frogs and toads.


Backstory:
Polly never cared for the rituals and traditions that surrounded the Nebosi and their ties to their gods. Polly bore the mark of Genesis, the God(des) of change. What use would they have for dusty prayers and worthless traditions passed down for centuries? So it was that she quickly distanced herself not just from her Nebosi family, but the other races that surrounded her in their adopted Hend. Polly was a rebel in the most pure sense of the word. She didn’t defy authority simply to defy authority, or to cast it down. Wasn’t that just another form of predictability? Another form of order? She simply did what she wished to do, when she wished to do it, regardless of societal expectation. She dug deep into her goddess’ nature, trying to uncover it in the natural world, and she found it all around her. The easiest, most spectacular transformation was the one of death to life, life to death, but it wasn’t the only thing she was interested in. Chemicals, too. Poisons and balms, ingredients that could kill on their own coming together to make something that could save a life. A most glorious example of change.

When she was old enough, she left and retreated deep into the Swamp of Tongues, in Hend. Alone in her cottage, save for her familiar, a bullfrog named Jeremiah, Polly taught herself the intricacies of magic through the rigorous study of the natural world, aided by the natural affinity she possesses, granted to her by the god of change. When she wanted to relax, she tended to her frog pond that soon teemed with amphibious life, and carved frog related wooden figurines to place around her house. On the rare occasions she was threatened, Polly very much enjoyed using her shape shifting powers to turn her assailants into frogs, and having them join her frog colony. Jeremiah, her familiar, was in fact a human bandit that accosted her on her way to the Swamp of Hands the first time.

Eventually, though, she realized that there were crucial aspects missing to her research. She had never observed anything on the macroscale change. Weren’t ideas, nations, even gods themselves subject to entropy? She couldn’t observe any of those things in her little cabin. So when she heard rumblings of trouble in the world at large, Polly left her cabin and headed to Justicar, despite her intense dislike of the society. She heard about a quest heading to the outskirts of her peoples old capitol. She hopes she can go there and find clues as to where to find an artifact of her god, long since hidden away, ‘The Genesis Stone’. An artifact that grows in power the more the world is changing. When she gets her hands on this stone, she means to see something immaterial and huge die. She’ll place her thumb on the scales so that things upend, and when they do, she’ll be right there with her notebook to record what happens. The Genesis Stone will be a good instrument to measure how much change, say, the destruction of an empire creates.

Other:

 

[arthur morgan.]

Height: 5'9
Weight: underweight, their weight is under timed atm
Hair color: blue
Eye color: amber, gold
Distinguishing feature: their whole face is covered in a horrendous scar, concealed with a plague doctor style mask
Tattoo(s): lots of thick, black lines go across their body

• 01
• 02
• 03
• 04

• Name: Bazyli Peregrine Ambrose
  Nickname/Alias: Basil,
  Age: 25 years old
  Gender: dmab , nonbinary
  Pronouns: they/them
  Sexuality: asexual, greyromantic
  Race: human
  Combat Class: Mage
  Magical Potential: Third or Fourth class?
  Homeland: Hend Baronland
  Location Start: Hierophant's Magocracy or wherever people are needed in (aka lack of people)
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
• Inventory: TBA
  Item name - description
  Skills:
  Iron Stomach - You have trained your body to resist the effects of poison or other harmful food items, allowing you to survive otherwise lethal doses. Eating contests are a piece of cake… or maybe hotdogs?
  Scholar - You have learned to read and write in the languages you know, allowing you to translate ancient texts, write up documents and contracts, read magical scrolls, draw runes and much more. If knowledge is strength, your brain knows how to flex in Ork (free skill)
  Mana Pool: xxx
  Magicks:
  School of Nature
  
  First Class
  Growth - upon touching a plant or seed, it will rapidly grow until a certain threshold
  Wilt - Touch a living, non-sentient plant or fungus. Decay spreads outward from your hand, infecting the fungus, for five seconds.
  Tea- summons a small array of leaves which brew a delicious cup of tea
  Caffeine - summons the natural chemicals of plants that grant someone energy
  
  Second Class
  Minor herbal Growth - grow a small patch of basic medicinal plants
  Natures Voice- communicate with plants. Surely they know something of value
  Sleepy Spores - Blast someone in the face with spores that induces sleepiness
  
  Third
  Tree Bark Armor - Conjure tree bark to protect your body
  Follow the Path - Mentally picture a location or creature. A path of wildflowers up to one mile in length blossoms, leading you towards the location. If you picture a creature, the path will lead you to the creature’s location at the time that the spell is cast
  Cultivate - Touch a spot 10ft in diameter and cultivate the earth to grow fruit trees and various small flora
  Gentle Embrace - multiple vines grow from underneath the target, aiming to wrap it up as much as possible
  
  Fourth:
  Herbal Growth - Grow a small patch of medicinal plants
  
  
• Personality:
  while bazyli is a extremely humble individual, they have been known to have outrageous outbursts. dealing with violent hallucinations on an average of four times a day, it’s hard for them to consider what’s truly reality or not. although they've seen horrible visions, bazyli doesn’t allow themselves to act upon their crazy impulses that might harm another individual. They're extremely driven and will conduct themselves in a methodical manner (to the best of their abilities); when they are given a task they will stop to no end until they have completed their task. bazyli doesn’t hesitate for anything, they'll push themselves to get to their next goal no matter what; whether they gotta do something bad or not, it wouldn’t really matter to them. At first glance, bazyli can come off as cold and rash; the constant look of irritation & a dull look in their eyes seemed to throw people off right away.. if we don’t include their rash behavior. but they're actually a pretty good guy when conversation is had. either way, bazyli isn’t for everyone, they aren't what you call a “people person” and tends to steer clear of human interaction as much as possible (they 'talk' to those that need medical help, but they're extremely awkward about it and even then they doesn't say much), which has made their form of speech different compared to those around them. normally they're mute, bazyli doesn’t speak unless spoken too & even then, they doesn’t speak that much. using unique hand signals (that they created) & sign language, you won’t hear them say a word unless it is needed.
  

  • ⇻ seems to lack basic social skills, while they are formal in the sight of royalty & professional atmosphere; they are extremely awkward everywhere else. granted they will utter few words from time to time, depending on the situation; but rather they speak with unique hand signals they created as well as sign language. bazyli also is very bad with handling any form of emotions, tending to steer clear of their own or trample over other people’s feelings (when in reality they doe care, they just ain’t very good at handling them)
  • ⇻ many considered him to be borderline schizophrenic, but they actually got an illness called delirium. it’s basically a serious disturbance with their own mental abilities, which results in confused thinking & refusing awareness of their surroundings. hallucinations & voices are contributing factors to their mental illness, they waver between borderline horror to mild discomfort. since they had this condition since they were ten, they have been able to have a good handle on it and be able to figure out what’s a hallucination and what isn’t. (their condition isn’t as bad right now, seeing as they've made a herbal remedy that seems to be counteracting their symptoms)
  • ⇻ positive: charitable, friendly, extremely driven, methodical, determination, persuasive, educated
  • ⇻ negative: tunnel visioned, ill-tempered, hard headed, callous, ruthless

  ⇻ aspiration: wishes to become a herbal doctor in Hierophant's Magocracy, to prove to the people that told them they would be nothing more then scum to society-- they wanna do some good and rub in their faces that they were wrong.
  
  History: tba, but key points to know:
  — lived a extremely traumatic life, has no one they call family besides their cherished older brother
  — abused all of their life, body covered in scars that could tell hundreds of stories
  — older brother was locked away, forced to wear a dog muffle while basil was locked in a cage
  — infertile, has no biological sex organs that function trigger for torture, genitalia mutilation
  when Bazyli was born, they were not seen as normal children. For some reason the look in their eyes was off compared to the other children, but their parents just brushed it off and figured as Bazyli grew older the strange look in their eyes would disappear. Fast forward to when they are twelve years old, living a life with extreme abuse and mental trauma helped develop a condition known as delirium. Unable to know the difference between reality and make believe, Bazyli often has thoughts of hurting others or themselves (and for being 12 they were extremely strong) their parents believed that their beloved child was cursed, tainted by the wrath of the gods. a punishment brought upon them by their parents' bad doings. A tough decision but a choice that their parents just had to make, they didn’t want for their blood line to be tainted any more than it already was. The chance of Bazyli creating another version of him terrified them, more so than trying to figure out how to make their child better again. In further traumatizing their child, they strapped the then 18 year old child to a table. Stripping the kid of his pants and underwear, taking a red hot & rusted knife to their groin and began cutting.
  — as stated before their life isn't that great and their background is very hush hush, as no one close to them really knows about it.
  
  Headcanons:
  — stuffs dried herbs and flowers in the point of their mask, its to cover the smell of rotten fumes & protect themselves from illness
  — their vocal cords have been fused together when they drank an incredibly powerful chemical, at the time were so thirty/dehydrated that they simply wanted whatever fluid they could get their hands on
  — rarely takes off the mask, not many have seen what they look like bc the only time they will take it off is to sleep or if they are alone in their own personal space
  — if you come up behind them and touch them, it will trigger them to fight and kill you so I highly recommend that you do not touch them;
  — might not look like it, but Bazyli is extremely strong and could be compared to a tank.
  — they have been taking care of their mental disorder, having find a herbal remedy that works for them
  —however they still have intrusive thoughts of hurting other people or themselves
  —often mumbles to themselves, doesn’t realize they are doing it until other people around them mention it
  — since Bazyli doesn’t speak and works in a field that makes them interact with other people; they are soothing in touch (the only time they are ok with touching other people)
  — very protective of their older brother, childhood trauma left them glued to one another (toxic codependency?)
  — afraid of older woman, it was an older witch doctor that had mutilated them so they try and stay away from them (really they are afraid of all woman but older ones just terrify them)
  — smells like moth balls, lavender and rubbing alcohol
  — most people are very wary about Bazyli, most people don’t trust them and go out of their way to stay outta this persons line of fire or eye sight
  — has never had a real friendship before, the only relationship or bond that they have is with their brother
  — loves children, goes out of their way to make sure that they are okay and happy
  — but they often run away from Bazyli bc of they do look spooky and scary
  — extremely lonely but you wouldn’t know it, puts up a front that they are fine with the silence but really they are just going a little mad
  — do they cry themselves to sleep? Meh not often but some days are tougher then others
  — they have flashbacks of when they were mutilated, happens a lot when they are sleeping or deep in thought
  — trigger for talking about self harming & descriptions of scars
  lots of self harm scars on their arms and thighs, at a point they used to gnaw at their arms with their teeth and rip away at the skin and flesh. Very bumpy and ridged, their forearms are very abrasive and don’t look like a ‘normal’ arm. They also used to cut themselves on their shoulders, underarms and thighs; majority of the scars aren’t fresh and are whitish-pink. Sometimes will still hurt themselves if the voices in their head are being a lot louder than normal, will pick at their skin or poke themselves with needles.
  — many people assume that Bazyli is mentally handicapped, but they come to see that they truly aren’t
  — seen as a freak growing up, no one gave them a second glance and when they did it was always ill intent
  — afraid of their parents, never went to them about anything after they had them cut
  — tremors? shaking hands, but surprisingly when under pressure it stops
  — anxiety, overwhelmed mentally and often is always close to snapping
  — has a scar on their left eye from their mother who throw a dinner plate at their face
  — music seems to be one of the only things that puts them in a less bad mood and overall just keeping them tame
  — has no concept of what sex truly is, or what good touch is, doesn’t care to find out but is often curious about it
  — please do not touch them, they are very uncomfortable at the idea of being touched unless they truly need to.
  — they wear gloves all the time, rarely takes them off
  — wears a plague doctors mask all the time
  — growing up baz would use their healing magic to heal their brother whenever he would get hurt or after one of their parents was done beating him,
  — when they do speak, their voice is extremely low and deep; affected by the toxins that they accidentally consumed.
  — likes chocolate pudding the most, also likes flower flavored desserts and drinks
  — loves loves loves the flower shop, goes there to buy lavender and medicinal flowers (even though they can make their own with the snap of their fingers, they like to give money to the community)
  
  Other:
  There are five voices in Bazyli’s head that all have their own personalities and names. All of them are worse than the next, all of which want to see Bazyli suffer and cause suffering upon others. Bazyli is often conflicted on who is truly there for them or who wants to hurt them, unable to see the difference between. Leaving them an easy target of manipulation, taking advantage of the good nature that they can be and using Bazyli for what they truly want.
  All the voices in their head are women, as if feeding off the fear of women that they always had as a child. The development of each of them have been manufactured by all of Bazyli’s insecurities and fears alongside their own bitter feelings about the world and upbringing.
  
  HARRIET
  a young girl, probably between 18-20 years old who is the main source of Bazyli’s horrid insecurities. She often makes them second guess everything that they do, doubts their place in the world and makes them grow attached to people that show them a simple act of kindness. She is the one that mainly entices Bazyli into hurting themselves or tries her hardest to get them to do something harmful in general. Seeming to tag team with Harriet, Bazyli sometimes thinks that these two voices could be a granddaughter + grandma duo with how similar they are in nastiness.
  
  ROSE
  middle aged, 30ish and she is the main source for anger. Rose makes baz handle their anger in the most unhealthily of ways, bottling it up and exploding on themselves in an act of destroying their own belongings and trying to scream. she works baz up in order to get them to be more angry, anything that annoys them or irritates them she tries to make it seem as though it’s a bigger deal then it truly is. wanting to make this person snap, Rose is always on the search for things that trigger baz and try to bring it back up as much as she possibly can.
  
  BIRDIE
  a child, 8-10 and she is the main source of fear & wariness. she seems to always have a panicky tone of voice all while having voice cracks, as if she had just been done crying for ten minutes. Birdie often is the one that makes Bazyli earth of strangers or says things like “please don’t bazyli.. I think they’re gonna try and hurt me..” (Out of all the voices, Bazyli is attached to name as she is less harmful... which is shocking) she shows up when Bazyli is overwhelmed, over thinking or isn’t near their brother. will slip in words like “where is he?! is he okay?! oh gods baz he could be hurt and you can’t save him!! we’ll be alone!!”
  
  NANCY
  an older woman, 56 years old and she came out when their older brother had fallen in the vat or acid. she is a ma
  nifestation of fear of losing their only piece of light. Nancy is rather dormant, only poking her head out whenever their brother is in danger or they begin to feel a surge of over protectiveness. doesn’t talk much, seems to admit a mist of constant disappointment or disapproval at most of their actions; but will be that one little stick of confidence they need in order to help out their brother or stick up for him. She seems to give pats on the back very rarely but knows when they are needed, but again Nancy doesn’t speak and most of her emotions are sharp jabs in trying to get Baz out of their damn shell and rip people’s heads off for hurting their brother in any shape or form.
  
  AGNES
  elderly, 89 years old and she is just a raging bitch. often is the one that belittles Bazyli and tells them how worthless they truly are, how they aren’t good enough & will be the one to bring up the memory of when their older brother had taken a fall into a vat of acid. She also is the first to squash any sort of romantic feelings they ever developed as a child, running in their face that they were less of a man because of the genitalia mutilation they were forced to go through. Agnes is nothing but a bitter woman that sits on Bazyli’s shoulder, nit picking her way through anything and everything all while punching them in their soft parts.
  “If you hadn’t been such a whiny, pathetic brat maybe your brother wouldn’t be so fucked up”
  “You think your brother actually cares? he stays because he knows your useless on your own, he’s only here to make sure your worthless ass doesn’t kill yourself. How sad is that?”
  
  
• 

  I AM AN OUTSIDER
  I'm on the outside looking through, I know I'm not the same as you, I'd rather be faceless than ignored, Than be in the in-crowd desperate for, A way to fit in just a little more, I am an outsider, I don't care about the in-crowd, no. Better off on my own now, I am an outsider. I don't care about the in-crowd, no.
  
  

  

  Bloody Mary
  We are not just art for Michelangelo to carve, He can't rewrite the agro of my furied heart, I'll wait on mountain tops in Paris cold, Je ne veux pas mourir toute seule, I'll dance, dance, dance, With my hands, hands, hands, Above my head, head, head, Like Jesus said, I'm gonna dance, dance, dance, With my hands, hands, hands. Above my head, hands together, Forgive him before he's dead because
  
  

  

  Coming Undone
  Keep holding on when my brain's ticking like a bomb, Guess the black thoughts have come and came to get me, Sweet bitter words unlike nothing I have heard, Sing along, mockingbird, you don't affect me, That's right Deliver it to my heart, Please strike, Be deliberate.
  
  

  

  Transparent soul
  Transparent soul, I can see right through, just so you know, Transparent soul, I can see right through, just so you know, I don't fucking know if it's paradise or it's a trap. Yeah, they're treating me like royalty, but is it kissin' ass? No one's brave enough to take the fall right, But it's all your fault, Why you actin' like it's alright?
  

BASIC

COMBAT

PERSONA

MISC

..

code by RI.a

 

[Hanarei]

Full Name:
Chalia Silverharp

Aliases:
Chay
CHAY-20 ("Code" Name)

Race:
Elf (Half Human) - Artificial

Age:
19 (Appears ~47)

Sex:
Female

Height/Weight:
5'8 | 124 Ibs

Homeland:
Hierophant's Magocracy

Location Start:
Hierophant's Magocracy (Back "Home")

• Personal
• Backstory
• Abiities and Magic
• Other

• 
  Aspiration:
  Seeks to bring the end to this flawed era of the gods and help create a better more just world.
  
  Personality:
  Chalia is a rather difficult woman to read. Possessing a great fascination in knowledge always one to seek learning new things. She has a certain innate curiosity when it comes to the world around her, She has a rather natural charismatic air about her coming off rather mysterious coming off more as if she is staring through you rather then at you when she looks into your eyes. She has a way of speaking that can come off both calm and as well firm. Never one to raise her voice nor to allow herself to falter even in dire situations. For her a clear mind is the most important tool a mortal can posses. If one wishes to achieve their goal they need to be able to look past the present and be willing to to do what is necessary for the future. She knows how to practice restraint in order to avoid trouble that might get in her way of achieving what she wishes to do.
  
  Although Chalia can show empathy, it is a general emotional feeling that seems far more fueled by logic then emotion. While she is one to try and help and comfort one in need, on her other side those who she views of having done wrong she can be incredibly cruel and even malicious in her behavior. Even one who might commit a petty crime might expect to lose a finger should they be caught with only the smallest bit of sympathy only tending to be permitted for those too young to understand the full extent of wickedness they might of committed. Chalia can be rather manipulative attempting to shift things in just the right way to benefit herself the most she can. She holds a deep seated hated for the gods viewing their neglect to be the cause of the creation of such a twisted world.
  
• 
  Backstory:
  Born not of natural means but that of magical intervention. Chalia was but a result after many experiments and then of many further attempts to bring back to life the long deceased half elf Chalia Silverharp. Through the sacrifice of dozens, mayhaps hundreds of unfortunate souls of whom her creator Agron used in order to further his research and eventually managed to bring her to life nearly 34 years ago. Possessing living flesh and that of a soul, not of the original Chalia but that of a poor victim twisted and contorted to fit his needs. In order to restore his beloved Chalia Silverharp who had perished
  
  Despite being 'born' in an adult body and with the soul used being so modified she was left to learn many things required to that of a child. Fortunately such knowledge was able to be quickly passed on to her through a period just shy of three years. She learned how to read and write becoming proficient in both. She was taught about who the real Chalia was as he attempted to get her to act more like her 'original' self. Often getting her outfits similar to what the real Chalia wore while giving gifts she would of liked when she was alive. She received many different books, something she enjoyed much starting off with a bit simpler reads though eventually learning to read more advance materials over the years. Being pampered and kept safe by Agron gave her time to read so much and to become much more familiar with the world and the way it works.
  
  As time passed it appeared Agro was both please with her as well as seeming a bit anxious. He was quick to try and 'correct' her when she acted out of character or emphasize her needing to expression emotion, something she had found difficult properly displaying in their fullest. She learned how to fake a smile and put on a somewhat sweet demeanor but more often then not it was but staged as a way to please him so she might be left to her own devices. Her exploration into various books didn't stop just with what she was given. Chalia become much more bold diving into places she was told she should stay away from seeing much of his materials. Her fascination for knowledge driving her to learn more.
  
  It was through Agrons notes and research she learned about her creation. The many dead who were sacrificed for his experiments trying to cheat death and bring one back fully from the dead. Many lives were sacrificed to perfect an art that might not of been possible. It was then she learned of the nineteenth other versions of 'herself' all having failed at various stages. It told of the way he managed to smuggle people in or trick the vulnerable to come in which he would lock them up
  
  The first six developed from a similar methodology of which the life couldn't take proper hold. The next three a new method that had seemed to make some progress yet had failed. Then there were the further experiments life being created yet incomplete written of the 'cries of pain' before ultimately succumbing. It was only at the sixteenth specimen that it finally managed to last. Crying in pain though managing to sustain life. Living a day and four hours before upon the twenty ninth minute its life faded. The seventeenth managed to last nearly a full month having difficulty moving but still managing to survive. The eighteenth being seemingly a success managing to stand and walk around exhibiting traits of a normal mortal. It was a month and three days later it began to exibit signs of physically weakening before perishing away a few days later.
  
  It was her predecessor that stood the longest. She had stood much like her learning and advancing at a somewhat similar rate. Living beyond a month getting to be four years in age and still thriving. It was after those four years he had written of signs of her health deteriorating becoming sickly. Within a few months she could hardly stand and eventually died. A 'step forward' as he wrote it that he viewed showing he had gone in the right direction and he was confident the next one would work. Then it was her entry. Written as if she was but a test subject. Her very life written out very similar to the nineteenth very clinically. A sense of pride coming off in the paper as she had surpassed the others in what he viewed as 'the perfect vessel of her' yet lacking in what made her the real "Chalia".
  
  She had kept quiet about her discovery. It had given her a mixed feeling of intrigue but also disgust. The fact she was a creation had more so been a thought in the back of her mind though to see it written out in such a way and the horrible things done to give her 'birth'. There was no doubt in her mind how twisted Agron's mind was clearly stuck in the past and having lost track of the present. More in particular it meant that her own life wasn't likely to be all that long lived, for how long she might last at that point far beyond what previous versions of herself might of lived but to say what her time might be it would be difficult. She played along with the mad mage's game continuing to placate to him just enough. Learning more about the dark dealings he had to even give him the ability to do the work he did. A disgusting man of whom she had to call her creator. She felt restrained by being there no matter how much he gave her what she asked she knew he would only give so much. She couldn't allow it to continue.
  
  It was just a simple mixture of poisons that it took. Mixed in with his food unknowing of her intention. He had fallen sickly and weak to the floor the poisons manging to cripple him though not quite finish him off in a quick fashion. She had done so herself, the little mercy she might give a monster who gave her the chance to live. She stabbed him several times allowing his blood to pool on the floor as she coldly looked down upon him, the eyes so reflected of his previous lover showing not an ounce of emotion or care for him. Deep inside as twisted as it was she felt a strange sense of satisfaction. To have killed her creator... and knowing there were those far above him as well that allowed his existence.
  
  Chalia lived within Agron's manner for just short of two years. With her creator's death there was only a matter of time before it might be discovered. Fortunately mages seemed to be quite insular folk with her creator being particular secluded from the rest. Her own presence around the place allowed her to handle certain visits in his stead. She took the time further studying seeking to use the time to get a better grasp on the world and to better learn the use of magic, something Agron had attempted to teach her that the original Chalia possesed though she seemed to have no general inkling towards. Its through her reading through Agron's original works she found out more details about his experiments and more in particular about that of the Godkin.
  
  Through the text she quickly had learned of Chalia Silverharp the woman of which she was modeled after. She had been a godkin, one of seeming miraculous birth taking upon the traits of a particular deity. As he wrote "a golden child, blessed by the god's graces, kin of that which look upon the fleeting lives of mortals". So gifted in magic to outpace any typical mortal, having an innate connection able to perceive the very magic within the world. Gods among men, yet it was quite clear with Agron's words it was not as glamorous as it was made out to be. The godkin seeming to have a curse inflicted upon them coming to light eventually in their lives. Worst calamity seemed to follow them as if the world itself was rejecting their existence as bad things seemed to like to follow in their step.
  
  The revelation had given her pause. Originally her plan had to simply been to get as much as she could and to slip out of Hierophant Magocracy collecting whatever writings and tidbits of information should might be able to have access to and heading Jormun Maritime Thallassy seeing it as her best opportunity to avoid any potential trouble. With her new knowledge it had prompted her to look more into the Godkin getting a better understanding of them. Their very being holding the potential to alter the fabric of reality to some extent simple with their presence alone, there had to be more to it... and even more importantly a way to harness them for something bigger. Something she could do to 'fix the world'. As such, Chalia set off from the place she was created and called home for the wide world.
  
  Through her travels she managed to pick up many things experiencing the world for what it truly was. Seeing the good though her eyes though also witnessing the more insidious side lurking even below places known for their good nature. A type of rot that seemed to linger just beneath the seams on a façade of peace and tranquility. A veil that only continue to falter over time with some places only seeming to be far more willing to show the dark side much more openly then others. None the less she conitnued her travels studying up as much as she could utilizing her skills as a scholar to make money on the side transcribing texts and doing various odd jobs to help fund her travels.
  
  Over a decade had passed since she began her travels. Her body appearing stable though being uncertain just how long such an artificial body might last. With much of her studies and research having evolved over time it has left her to become more adamant about her original goal. She views now as the time of which she used her culmination of knowledge to act more directly. To gather what else she might need to learn and to work towards enacting to help to create a tomorrow free of the wickedness the gods have left before them.
  
• 
  Combat Class:
  Mage
  
  Magical Potential:
  7
  (Mage +2, Elf +2)
  
  Skills:
  Scholar - You have learned to read and write in the languages you know, allowing you to translate ancient texts, write up documents and contracts, read magical scrolls, draw runes and much more. If knowledge is strength, your brain knows how to flex in Ork. (Mage)
  
  Spiritual Bond - Your soul has connected to another, granting you a familiar that will follow you until your death. Who said pets couldn’t be your best friend? (Elf)
  
  Charisma - You have learned to persuade and convince others with a better degree of success. A silver tongue is not always forked.
  
  Mana Pool:
  (Finish the Magick Kloud)
  
  Magicks:
  School of Chaos
  
  1st
  Inner Turmoil (Low/5s) - Curse a target with mild nausea for a short duration. It’s all fun and games until they puke on you.
  
  Minor Oversight (Low/5s) - Curse a target easier to be more easily distractible for a short duration. So yeah, as I was say- huh, what was that over there?
  
  Minor Torture (Low/5s) - Curse a target and increase the pain they feel from a wound slightly for a short duration. Owww, I swear I only got scratched?
  
  Dream Mark (Low/5s) - Curse a target with drowsiness for a short duration. Feeling tired, are we?
  
  2nd
  Minor Savage Enslave (Moderate/15s) - Curse a willing or unconscious small beast to heed your command despite their own intent for a short duration. Yeah, yeah, chirp chirp or whatever.
  
  Nightmare (Moderate/15s) - Curse a sleeping target with nightmares of dread. No sleep for the good or the wicked.
  
  Minor Deafen (Low/5s) - Curse a target with distorted hearing, making it hard to listen to their surroundings for a short duration. WHAT, SAY IT AGAIN?
  
  Minor Blind (Low/5s) - Curse a target with reduced vision, applying a vignette effect. Peripherals are for nerds.
  
  3rd
  Infuse Thought (Low/5s) - Speak into a target’s mind using their own voice, making it appear like their thought. Influence takes many forms…
  
  Minor Geis (Moderate/15s) - Curse a willing target to follow the instruction of a short predetermined contract when the next opportunity presents itself. Once they agree, it’s a done deal.
  
  Savage Enslave (Moderate/15s) - Curse a willing or unconscious beast to heed your command despite their own intent for a short duration. Minions don’t necessarily need to be willing, of course.
  
  Blind (Moderate/15s) - Curse a target with blindness for a short duration. Kinda hard to fight when you can’t see.
  
  4th
  (Empty)
  
  (Empty)
  
• 
  Inventory:
  Dagger - A rather ornate masterfully crafted small dagger able to be more discretely carried for protection. Useful for particular rituals, opening things, or as a last ditch layer of defense.
  
  Blank Scrolls - A collection of blank scrolls for inscribing.
  
  Ink Pen and Ink - Used for writing .
  
  Notebook - A tome used by Chalia to write down prevalent information as notes.
  
  Familiar (Spirit Bond):
  Imui
  
  
  
  A cat like familiar existing almost like a wispy shadow with green glwoing eyes. Imui is completely silent seeming to hold an understanding of Chalia though not making much in terms of noises in itself. Imui often times will hide within Chalia's shadow entering into a more dormant state or when active often following behind in a more subdued appearance usually trailing her shadow.
  
  Other:
  Nothing yet... might add a bit soon.
  

 

[Coyote]

Full Name:
Raisha de Belle

Aliases:
There's no need. Raisha has nothing to hide.

Combat Class:
Fighter. Wits and cunning are nice if you like magic but twisting a blade under a ribcage is personal. Just her style.

Magical Potential:
Third Class, although Raisha has never received any instruction in magic. She never had the patience for it. The sword came easier to her.

Race:
Human. It didn't offer her much more in the way of magic but her parents loved and cared for her when she was a child. Her father even encouraged the development of her combat skills in the hopes of joining the knights of Justicar one day. She had their support and that was all that mattered for her. Now, she just has their memories.

Age:
23 years of age. She still wonders if she would've been different if she chose to join the Justicar knights instead. There was that farmer's boy that always believed she would come back a war hero. 'I'm sorry, Jonah,' she'd whisper.

Sex:
Female. But that doesn't stop her from showing the rest of the bar patrons who wears the pants.

Height/Weight:
5'7" with 140 lbs. Muscle weighs more than fat. She doesn't care how unbecoming it is, the only thing she's worried about is unbecoming that beast she's been tracking.

Homeland:
Justicar Knightdom. Her village was a small, sleepy little corner on the border with the Cryikk Wastes. Was.

Location Start:
Justicar Knightdom. Whoever was behind the attack on her village is still out there. Whoever it is, they know I'll be coming for them. She'll make sure of it.

Inventory:
Studded Leather Armor- Some protection that will cover her during a fight. She nabbed it off a bandit scavenging the remains of her village for any valuables. He was her first kill.

An Old Raggedy Cape- It was less of a cape and more of a blanket that her father used to put on whenever he was telling her bedtime stories as a child. If there are gods that care about her, Raisha is glad they've the mercy to allow her to salvage that from what was left of her home. Now, she just wears it because her father thought capes were cool.

A Rusty Blood-Stained Shoulder Pauldron- It doesn't really offer protection but Raisha picked it up because it came from the body of a fallen Justicar Knight. She spent some time scrubbing off the muck enough for her to carve the Justicar emblem onto it. She might not have become a knight like she always dreamed of but... this was a small way of living up to that.

A Pendant with Nothing In It- Well, Raisha knows there's nothing in it but it's a reminder that there's nothing left of her home or her past. Want to know what's really in it? Their memory. That's all she needs.

A Wineskin- As it turns out, being able to carry water with you is rather important.

A Flask- As it turns out, being able to carry hard whiskey with you is equally as important.

A Bedroll and Small Pack- A place to lay your head down and rations after a long day are priceless. Maybe it isn't the most comfortable and the food isn't the tastiest, but nothing feels better than waking up knowing you have yet another day to hunt down the enemy.

Leather Pants- Raisha scrapped together the money to buy a nice pair of leather pants. They're not protective but who needs protection if your feet move faster than theirs?

Winter Boots- If it is hot outside, she'll have sweaty feet but if it's cold, she'll have warm feet. Regardless, they need to carry her on her travels so their durability works in her favor.

Coin Purse- Close at hand and never out of her sight. She lost it once. Once was all she needed.

Fingerless gloves- Her mother never refused outdoor work. It was actually a gift from her to her younger sister as a bit of wisdom in the form of working gloves but they weren't any use for the dead. On one of them, scrawled on is an L, on the other, is an M.

Longsword- The one her father gifted her for her 16th birthday. The one that rests on her back in a sheathe that had some poorly carved Justicar motifs on it. He did his best.

Two Handaxes- You can't throw a sword and sometimes the enemy is cunning enough to keep its distance. This ought to fix that.

Ceremonial Knife- Her sister always liked decorative trinkets. The blade is terribly dull and was merely meant for decoration but she always believed it would protect her if she kept it close. It didn't.

Skills:
1- Sword Expertise- No, the sword wasn't for show. Yes, that is blood. She likes the smell it carries. It means she's doing it right.

2- Handaxe Expertise- No, the sword isn't her only weapon. Yes, she can throw them. Cowards who run deserve an axe to their back.

3- Aggressive Stance- Waiting is what the gods do. Waiting is what mages do. Waiting is for people who place their hopes in the chance that tomorrow will be better. Raisha doesn't wait for tomorrow. She won’t wait days. Neither for hours, or minutes, or seconds. Her target dies now.

4- Throwing- Sometimes, that target will decide it wise to run. If she sniffs cowardice out of her foes, she'll take up an axe in one hand and the sword in the other. Take that as an insult because it is. Raisha doesn't think you have the stones to die facing her.

5- Ambidextrous- If Raisha wanted to learn how to wield a weapon in one hand, she made sure she could do the same on the other. No better, no worse. Only perfect. Besides, having more ways to slay her foes means she'll never get bored.

6- Cunning Eye- She's spent far too long standing in a battlefield not to know that every foe has a weakness. She's spent far too long chasing those that must be felled not to know what they are. The moment she sees it is the moment they breathe their last.

7- Dexterity- Most of the time, her foes have a rather creative way to shore up that weakness she spies with her cunning eyes. It helps that she has rather creative methods to reach them.

Mana Pool:
See the above comment on magic potential. The only mana she needs is mana responsible for alcohol tolerance and the only pools she knows are for filling up her wineskin.

Magicks:
Riasha knows there's schools. One about fire. Another about water, wind, earth, uhhh, shadows? Maybe? Why did Raisha ever bother trying to learn? Again, she never had the patience. If she can see the whites of your eyes, it's too late.

Aspiration:
Revenge. No, that's the wrong word to use. Justice. Yes. A hero can slay a villain but if the villain's son kills the hero, he will call it revenge. This isn't merely revenge. Raisha is above that. This is justice. This is judgement and she is the judge, jury and executioner for all those responsible for the death and slaughter of her village. Who is responsible? Monsters. Creatures of the dark. Evil wherever she finds it. Every roaming bandit, every corrupted noble, those who drive their nails into the innocent, the helpless, the hungry and famished for their gain share the guilt of the evil that resulted in the destruction of her home. The forces of good in the world are great and powerful, but they are slow and certainly not omnipotent. Raisha isn't here to wait for them. Let them pass their judgement. She is here to pass hers.

Personality:
Raisha is stern and humorless. Nonsense is for bars and involves plenty of alcohol but when it comes to killing, she doesn't mince her words or her actions. Either you keep up or you're left behind. But that doesn't mean Raisha is entirely consumed by those notions. She can be fun (?). Her hobbies involve darts, humble bragging about her exploits at the bar, and drinking. Really, it's the dichotomy of work and play. There is a very fine line between those things for her and the difference is night and day. But, she is humorless. As in she doesn't get humor. Her idea of funny is, "And you're not gonna believe what happened next... It tripped onto my axe and split itself!! HAHAAAA." Then, she stumbles back to her room and passes out until sunrise the next morning.

Backstory:
Raisha was a happy girl. In a small village straddling the border to the Cryikk Wastes, was a young, excitable dreamer who was the pride of her village. They all loved and praised the Justicar Knights. After all, it was they who protected them from what lurked beyond their lonely village gates. Her mother was saved by one such knight. Her father. They fell in love and he elected to retire to start a family. First came Raisha, then Luisa, and they used to dance to tales of glorious battles and victory trumpets. As it turned out, Raisha had a talent for wielding the sword and her father, after much pestering from the over-eager young girl, decided to train her. She impressed him. Greatly, actually, and her passion for battle often meant training long after his aging knees were too tired for sparring or long before his sleepy eyes blinked open in the early morning. Raisha meant it when she said she was going to join the knights and everyone believed her. They believed in her. They…

She watched them. Well, she tried to rationalize it. She didn’t have her sword. Half the house collapsed over her and she was lucky nothing broke but… she was stuck. She was stuck and they were coming. She was stuck and she wanted to live. So, she played dead. She was stuck so she played dead and waited. Listened and waited and… no. What she did was nothing. Raisha played dead and did nothing. They believed in her and she did…. Nothing….

The alcohol was something her father partook in but her mother disliked. But the alcohol helped. The nightmares didn't come when she was so drunk she so drunk she started a bar fight, or stole an axe and chopped down a tree, or danced. She never dances. Not anymore. But she did when she was drunk. When she wasn’t, she was killing. Seeing blood was the liquor of battle and her list of foes to hunt only grew larger with each kill. Eventually, it got so long she couldn’t keep track and the longer it got, the more bloodthirsty she became. Before her eyes, the innocent became guilty. That was magic if she ever saw it. Many thought she was crazy and only the rowdiest of bars even bothered to let her in. The bars that didn’t mind fights so much. The bars that relished hearing about her latest hunt. Her latest kill. Her latest battle. Every gruesome detail. Some called her the Whiskey-Breather, others the Mad Axed Berserker and still others the Head Taker but Raisha always preferred to be called that, Raisha. That’s who she was. It’s who she’ll always be. The girl who played dead and did nothing.

Other:

Raisha loves battle. She loves killing... it's to punish them. To punish them all. To make them pay. To make them rot... to punish them all... anything to escape the punishment she's living in....

 

[Ghostiiys]

Full Name:

Janara Bylur Adolpha

Aliases:
Snow angel

Combat Class:
Mage

Magical Potential:
+7 for frost and +6 for Thunder

Race:
Frostfolk -
Cold-resistant, Affinity for the School of Frost or Wayfinding

(Magical Potential Modifier: +1)

Age:
23

Sex:
Female

Height/Weight:
5'10

Homeland:
Cryikk Wastes

Location Start:
Kingdom of Ironcrown

Inventory:
Dress- made of silk yarn and covered in Swarovski crystals/ice near the bottom.
Hand Bag - Full of frozen herbs and Spices and a small Sewing kit
Frosted Cloak - To help her keep cool. She must upkeep it, or else it'll just be a wet piece of cloth.
Jeweled Bracelet - Given to her by someone she considered a sister
Icicle dagger - not her favorite item, but just in case

Skills:
Scholar - You have learned to read and write in the languages you know, allowing you to translate ancient texts, write up documents and contracts, read magical scrolls, draw runes and much more. If knowledge is strength, your brain knows how to flex in Ork.
Perceptive - You have trained your senses to see with perfect vision and much farther than most, allowing you to make out details most others can’t. 2020 who?

Mana Pool:
30

Magicks:
School of Frost
C1
Cooling Palms (Low/3s/incant) - Touch a target and cool it down, reducing its temperature. Perfect on a hot summer’s day or if a drannid died on you.
Minor Conjure Ice (Low/3s/incant) - Create a small patch of snow and ice for you to hurl at whatever you like. Snowball fight!
Minor Icicle (Low/3s/incant) - Conjure a small shard of ice and launch it at a target. This is only a papercut until it goes in your eye
C2
Minor Freeze (Moderate/11s/incant) - Touch a small object or surface and freeze it, spreading frost across a 5ft surface.
Summon Frozen Dagger (Low/3s/incant) - Conjure forth a dagger of ice. Pretty *cold* of you to carry a weapon like this.
Minor Animate Snow (Low/3s/incant) - Move a small patch of snow or ice at will within a 5ft radius.
C3
Icicle (Moderate/11s/incant) - Generate a long, dense icicle and launch it at a target, piercing through light armour and defensive spells up to Third Class.
Frostcleave (Moderate/11s/incant) - Compress ice into a dense crescent blade and throw it at a group of targets, slicing through it.

School of Storms
C1
Stimulating Pads (Low/incant/5s) - Touch an area on the body, stimulating the muscles with a small charge. Relieves some stress and restores a little stamina
Minor Spark (Low/incant/5s) - Conjure a tiny sphere of electricity above your finger. It’d be pretty cute if you couldn’t use it to sting others.
Minor Arc (Low/incant/5s) - Generate a tiny arc of electricity between two of your fingers. Looks cool, but I wouldn’t touch it.
C2
Thunder Wire (Moderate/23s/rune) - Set a thin arc between two points within 5ft of each other, those that walk through it receive a painful shock. Annoying little traps, those bastards.
Minor Flash Step (Low/5s/incant) - Charge your body with lightning and accelerate your movement in short bursts for a limited duration.
Minor Stun (Low/5s/incantation) - Send a small streak of lightning from your fingertip at an enemy, lightly shocking them and disrupting their movements for a second.
C3
Thunderclap (Moderate/15s/incant) - Form a blade of lightning on your forearm or a bladed weapon and fly forward 10ft in a burst of speed, slicing through a target.
Minor Lightning Bolt (Moderate/15s/incant) - Shoot a thin streak of lightning from your fingertip at a target to strike it. May pierce through light armor and defensive spells up to Third Class. This is just lightning.
Aspiration:
Since she had never left her homeland and her tribe, Blanca was quite fascinated with the adjoining countries, Curious about the fauna, animals, and culture that was just around the corner Blanca strives to see the beauty of everything and find a home away from home.

Personality:
Chaotic Good. As look can be deceiving, this is no exception as Janara comes off as a warm and sweet woman. However, on the flip side, Janara is prissy, ignorant, and not a good team player as she does not like to do any heavy lifting or tedious tasks. As she claims she will "overheat". Being Very fussy and overly proper is just a part of her nature. "No one likes it when snow becomes sludge " Is her motto, whatever that means.

Backstory:
Janara was born into a nomadic tribe that traveled the wilds of the north. From a young age, she always had an affinity with the frigid cold in general like most frost folk who lived in the Wastes. Although many of her tribesmen knew frost magic the tribe's resident mage took her under his wing after he found her creating icicles in the shape of certain residents, and started teaching her what he knew.
Janara spent her years in the mountains of the Cryikk Wastes, living a more sedentary life, crafting clothes was often her duty but she would also help in skinning any prey that was caught. From having regular lessons with her tribe's wizard to having everyone come to her for fixing and making new wardrobes she created strong ties with her family and loved ones. Her life in her tribe was fairly easy-going, although not luxurious.

But this life could not last for long

Although Janara lived in a nomadic tribe, hers was not the only one that existed, and battles for resources could become hostile. It was not uncommon for a certain number of tribes to trade with one another, When seasons became rougher, the notion of sharing with one another seemed less viable. Tensions grew between tribes it soon became a realization that armed conflict may arise.
Although the conflict wasn't unheard of, it would be quickly dissuaded by the snow Duchess who ruled the lands. however, in recent times she had all but vanished, and those who relied on her for her wisdom were seemingly left on their own to fend for themselves. Such as Janara's tribe who was relatively peaceful and small compared to other tribes.

Janara had stood outside her home watching the icy woods that surrounded her tribe. What she was looking for? She was not sure herself, but she was just having a bad feeling. The night was quiet other than the light banter she and another frost folk of similar age, shared to pass the time. Suddenly out of nowhere a series of horrid blood-curdling screams came from inside the surrounding homes, the two turned to see a white blur tearing through buildings and rending flesh and bone from familiar forms. It was another tribe who used the cloak of night to shroud themselves. Janara's home was under attack and already, in an instant, so many had died. She and the other frost folk rushed into combat with and fought until the last of his people fell. Surrounded in the corpses of his loved ones she fled. While being chased by her own kind Janara kept on running, for some reason she remarked this event as being freezing, with the death of the people she knew somehow igniting the feeling of frigidness.

The night grew silent once more. Wounded, and crushed of spirit knowing all she had vanished. Janara left the husk that was once her home, never to return again. Her wounds would heal but her mind would be plagued with an endless amount of trauma. The Cryikk Wastes and her lack of power to stop her own people from dying give her an endless amount of nightmares, and all Janara knows is to keep on moving, the farther away she is from her home the better chance she has in forgetting everything.


Other:

Spoiler: Voice Claim

 

[Pandy88888]

Full Name:
Limon Aiton

Aliases:
Lemon: To friends, as it’s easier to remember.
Lime: Working name, far enough from his actual that customers don’t remember him, but close enough that friends do.

Combat Class:
Fighter

Magical Potential:
Third Class, but never properly used.

Race:
Human

Age:
26

Sex:
Male

Height/Weight:
5’9 / 160 lbs

Homeland:
Kingdom of Ironcrown

Location Start:
Kingdom of Ironcrown: Returning to visit his family, and he decided to get a side job as he’s a bit low on coin.

Inventory:
Castane, his sword: A standard arming sword, it’s been with him so long he’s grown attached to it. Named after a strong drink he got.
His coin purse: Nearly empty, but he’s got a job lined up, so he thinks he’ll be alright.
Decent Clothes: Fancy enough not to be a normal traveler, but not fancy enough to be important. Also not practical, and will absolutely break way too easily.
Water Flash: Roughly 4 days of water left, but rivers are everywhere.
A pot: I mean, cooking.
Military Rations: Bought it off a soldier, and won’t expire for the next 92 years. Tastes terrible, but it is food.
Seasoning: A bit of salt, a lemon and lime to season his food. Also can be thrown at people.
Leather Combat Clothes: Minor armor, but still light enough for his favored style of fighting.
Worn Cloak: An old cloak given to him by a mysterious bard, he still hasn’t checked all the pockets, but he uses it for mostly storage, and sometimes style and/or deception.
Kitchen Knife: A knife for cooking, it’s of very good quality. Not suited toward stabbing people.

Skills:
Sword Expertise: His past as a duelist lends him particular skill at the sword. Although admittedly, his skills have rusted, but his experience still stands strong.
Cooking: Experience at both a restaurant and an army cook let’s him cook both gourmet and practical.
Charisma: Interacted with so many people for so many years, he’s become good at it.
Willful: Years of various people yelling at him has hardened him to any commands and stress. His stubbornness helps, if you can consider it helping.
Throwing: Learned particularly through bar fights, and throwing mugs and plates around. He has gotten way too accurate throughout the years. Also threw around fruit as a kid.
Acrobatic: Being quick is a required skill for being a waiter, as well just being practiced through his busy environments.
Escapist: His fighting style revolves around being quick and controlling the fight. Although he hasn’t fought a true duel for some time, his feet still remember the finer points of dueling.

Mana Pool:
N/A

Magicks:
N/A

Aspiration:
Find a nice place to settle down, hopefully be rich as well.

Personality:
Lawful Neutral. Too talkative and friendly, at first glance. In actuality, he is an amazing actor, and just hiding his less enviable side. He is stubborn and easy to anger, but good at controlling how mad he is. Hates a great many people, but doesn’t show it. Tried to understand people as best as he can, although his reasons for doing so are multifaceted.

Backstory:
Born in the Kingdom of Ironcrown, he got caught up in the militaristic fervor and became an nimble-footed duelist, hoping to join the military someday. During that, he met his childhood rival, Red, who as her name suggested, has both red hair and a red cloak she stole. Much like him, she was quick and fierce, but much more clever. He also got his nickname Lemon, by winning a duel (in his eyes) with Red by throwing 20 lemons at her, and then stabbing her. She got her revenge by causing a well timed distraction during his combat test, and so he got an offer to join the academy, looking somewhat promising in all other aspects.

Finding the academy option boring, he took a second option, and joined a garrison as an assistant cook instead. Slowly, he made his way up the ladder, as he got better at both managing soldiers and the kitchen. Eventually, he managed to secure a spot in a patrol, and that patrol managed to get so lost they ended up in Dacht. It didn’t help they were all just fighters, with only Lemon being a cook, but not a forager or hunter.

Luckily for him, a bar owner took pity on him and offered him shelter, as well as a job. And thus, he began his career in Dacht. Taverns, Bars, Restaurants, Bakeries, he worked in it all. He learned much about people, and connected with a great amount of people. Now, he decided to check on his family again, especially his sister, and is traveling back home. He heard his sister is in Ironcrown’s army, and he’s coming home to congratulate her.

Other:
Hates bugs so much he’d learned fire magic in an instant, if he could.

 

[Soviet Panda]

Full Name:
Otrygg Brassknuckle

Aliases:
N/A

Combat Class:
Fighter

Magical Potential:
3

Race:
Dwarf- Affinity for the school of Wounds, Instincts

Age:
21

Sex:
Male

Height/Weight:
4'3", 228lb

Homeland:
Skirk Prospects

Location Start:
Jormun Maritime Thallassy

Inventory:
Due to the Prospect being what amounts to one large forge, smaller, more portable versions are aplenty. And with Otrygg's familial and traditional job as a monster hunter, he was able to acquire one for rather cheap. Of course, it isn't the best looking and perhaps some heat leaks out here and there, but it's come a long way from when he got it. He even built a front bit that acts like a little house for him. It's not perfect, but it keeps him dry when it rains and has a soft (enough) bed in it.

A monster hunter's weapon is their most prized possession. And while many would like to think the sword, axe, or spear are the weapons of choice, those people often end up dead. And while the average bow can potentially fling arrows much faster, to become good and reliably hit a target smaller than a barn at any range becomes more difficult. The crossbow, however, is easy to pick up and use, with a trained crossbowman able to match an expert bowman in speed and precision. This, is the Brassknuckle clan's favored weapon. Add in limbs reinforced with metal and a quick reel windlass and the range, accuracy, and stopping power far exceeds anything but a longbow can do.

Skills:
Crossbow Expertise - You have honed your skills with the crossbow and can wield it with a degree of finesse. Bow-lite
Instincts - You have attuned your mind to sense when something is wrong, allowing you to anticipate attacks easier and sense hostile intent. Who’s that, what’s that?
Smithing - You have learned to temper and forge metals into weaponry and armour, allowing you to also fix and maintain various equipment. DIY, except you’re the professional.
Fletching - You have learned to identify and craft wood into bows and arrows. It’s more cost-effective when your arrowheads keep breaking off in your enemies.
Tailoring - You have learned to fit and tailor various materials into fine clothing. Gone are the days of dressing like peasantry.
Scholar - You have learned to read and write in the languages you know, allowing you to translate ancient texts, write up documents and contracts, read magical scrolls, draw runes and much more. If knowledge is strength, your brain knows how to flex in Ork.
Construction - You have learned to build basic structures such as tents, houses, stables, etc. You hope nobody with a siege weapons comes by.

Mana Pool:
3

Magicks:
N/A

Aspiration:
Otrygg is the kind of dwarf that isn't afraid to dream big. Make the biggest wagon, make the biggest sword, make the biggest anything really. The supplies needed to achieve these goals, most of the time, are often non existent when you're stuck in one place.

Personality:
A surly, quick tempered man, Otrygg takes just about everything personally. You don't like how he goes about performing his services? He'll shove his boot so far up your arse you'll be tasting leather. That's not to say he'll threaten you with violence at the slightest provocation, he quite enjoys it when you compliment his handicraft. Perhaps this is because he takes great pride in his work. Though he is not as good of a hunter as other dwarfs, he's found something he's good at, and he won't stand for anyone insulting what he's good at.

Backstory:
Otrygg had a fairly box standard dwarven child hood. As soon as he could he was given a weapon to assist in the slaying of monsters. In the case of the Brassknuckle clan, that weapon was a crossbow, and more often than not a lantern due to the habit of the creatures found in the Prospect to live underground. And as he grew older, Otrygg realized something, he didn't enjoy hunting. Oh, he treated it with as much respect as it was due and held the act in a high, almost religious, regard like the rest of his clansmen, but he did not feel complete by just hunting. He needed to do more. And that more, was spotted by the clan smithy.

The old smith, blind in one eye as he was, had an eye for seeing things that others did not. After Otrygg took a leg injury during one of the hunts, the smith took that as an excuse to take the boy under his wing. Soon, Otrygg was shaping metal under the keen supervision of the smith, shaping metal into any shape required. That wasn't all, however, as Otrygg's thirst for the knowledge of craft had only just been wetted. Soon he picked up wood working, and leatherworking, both important skills if one wishes to supply the hunt. He absorbed it all like a sponge, and what he didn't absorb he wrote down in a small, leather bound notebook he keeps in an inside pocket of his jacket, over his heart.

Eventually, Otrygg could not sit still anymore. He loved his family, and his clan, but that did not stop him from bidding his farewells and leaving them for potentially greener pastures. Well, when compared to the Prospects, any pasture was greener.

Other:
The ox that pulls his mini home and forge is named Daisy. Daisy can fend for herself. If Daisy is ever hurt, the assailant will be hunted down by Otrygg and gutted and their innards used as a drawstring for perhaps a hand crossbow.

 

[Longhead]

​

• Basic
• Skills and Inventory
• Personal
• Other

• 
  Full Name:
  Averill
  
  Aliases
  "Ave"
  
  Combat Class:
  Fighter
  
  Magical Potential:
  5 (6 in School of Life)
  
  Race:
  Elf (Affinity for the School of Life or the School of Nature, Spiritual bond)
  
  Age:
  22
  
  Sex:
  Male
  
  Height/Weight:
  6'0/170lbs(~77kg)
  
  Homeland:
  Demastia
  
  Location Start:
  Dacht Theocratic Conglomerate
  
• 
  Inventory:
  Barbed Spear - A spear given to him by his Lord. In good condition. The barbs on the edges of the spear make cuts and stabs a lot more painful.
  
  Light armor - Leather armor over a chainmail dress. Easy to move in. May stop a dagger from hurting him at best.
  
  Flask - Carries water, or other liquids.
  
  Boot knife - Just in case...
  
  Steel vambrace - Armor on his right arm that's tough enough to stop blows from most blades. Psuedo-shield.
  
  Buckler - A small shield on his left forearm. Actual shield.
  
  Skills:
  Spear Expertise - You have honed your skills with the spear and can wield it with a degree of finesse. Gae Bolg! (also allows you to spearfish, fuck you Fishing skill)
  
  Aggressive - You have learned a stance to strike faster and harder than others, at the expense of leaving yourself open to attack. Offense is the best defence.
  
  Escapist - You have learned a stance for dodging attacks and putting distance between yourself and an opponent with a degree of finesse. Can’t touch this, doo do do doo~
  
  Opportunist - You have honed your skill in reacting to attacks, allowing you to anticipate and counter more easily. Of course, much to your opponents surprise and dismay.
  
  Cunning Eye - You have honed your skill for finding weakness in defenses, allowing you to more easily bypass blocks, parries and armour.
  
  Acrobatics - You have trained your body to move quickly and flexibly, allowing you to dodge easier and perform agile athletic feats. Can’t touch this, doo do do doo time two.~
  
  
  Mana Pool: --
  
  
  Magicks: --
  
• 
  Aspiration:
  “Demastia is a miserable place. No one deserves to be treated like property. If only there were legendary heroes lining up to find a way to return those that were captured their families. I'll have to do it myself...Though uh...I'm not entirely sure...how I'd...go about that.”
  
  
  Personality:
  Rude and quick to anger, Averill’s tongue is a spear in of itself. He’s a fighter in every sense of the word. He doesn’t take anything lying down, and if he can’t help it, he’s prone to violent outbursts (or tantrums, depending on how you look at it) until he gets it out of his system. He hardly shows people he calls “friends” any kindness. His time as a top pit fighter have led him to be extremely cocky, and at one point overconfident. A handful of humbling experiences taught him to underestimate no one, and that lesson translates into him getting things done as quickly as possible in the most efficient manner he can think of.
  
  Recently, he’s been trying to change his ways. He’s slowly growing more and more tired of being an angry person all the time. He’s working on softening up, and has a hard time bringing himself to apologize for his remarks. He’s still got a long way to go, though. Any evidence that he's trying is far and few between, and only observable if he trusts you, which he has a hard time doing. Ironically, the people who he trusts most easily are nobles.
  
  On nobles, his time with House Saracen, even if he was just a tool to collect money, has taught him to dislike other races, even other elves. He still holds firm to the belief that no one should be enslaved or killed just for existing as a non-human, but that's roughly as far as it goes. He's picked up somewhat of a spoiled "noble" attitude. While he doesn't entirely believe everyone owes him taxes or to put "Lord" before his name, he still acts like he's better than most people (granted they aren't a human).
  
  
  Backstory:
  Averill was born in Demastia. He'd never met his father, and he didn't find out why he was never around until he was already a man. His family in Demastia started with his grandmother, Lynel, who'd wandered too far out of the Tribal Expanse as a girl and was captured. At one point, Lynel might've been able to tell Averill about what it was like outside of Demastia, but as she grew older, constant work had taken its toll on her body. On top of the constant pain she faced, her memory began to fail her as well; there wasn't much conversation with her if you were ever in the same room.
  
  Averill could’ve asked his mother, Seraph, however, as a child, he wasn’t entirely interested in what there was outside of Demastia. He never even asked what his family name was. There was no point; no one around him had ever known anyone to escape, and a lot of them had given up hope of going home a long while before Averill was born. Averill had adopted the same hopeless behavior. He was stuck there, same as everyone else.
  
  Averill often had to steal to eat, and his growth was slightly stunted due to malnourishment. Most times he was never caught in the act, and the few times he did, he was able to escape. Averill, despite being underfed, was incredibly quick from a young age, and he took full advantage of it. However, the more he stole, the more he became recognized as a nuisance, and eventually some soldiers from Ironcrown began to prepare for him.
  
  They managed to get their hands on Averill around the time he was a teenager. Rather than cut his hands or a foot off (or kill him out right) as they normally did to thieves, they kidnapped him, putting a bag over his head. After his binds and the bag were removed, Averill found himself in a room full of weapons. Swords, maces, hammers, throwing knives, shields — everything. He was being used to fight in a pit against other kidnapped Demastians for entertainment.
  
  His first fight was only a mere five minutes after he was placed in the armory. He’d chosen a spear, a small shield, and a helmet as his weapon of choice. His opponent was an older elf, who upon seeing that he was fighting an elf you could barely call an adolescent, he refused to fight. Averill found out then that forfeiting wasn’t an option. His opponent was killed since he refused to fight; dying means losing, and losing means dying. Averill was handed his first victory on a cracked, rusty platter.
  
  The holding cells were underground, beneath a tavern. Groups of fighters were all lumped together in cells that just barely had enough room for all of them to be able to lie down without overlapping. No one was assigned to a cell, you were simply put wherever after a fight, and because of this, everyone knew everyone just about. They’d developed a community where everyone tried to be as friendly as they could manage to each other despite knowing they’d have to fight each other at some point.
  
  They were also very sensitive to the struggles that came with being taken from their family — for the second time for some — and being forced to fight. They exchanged fighting tips with each other so that they might have an easier time living. Averill, on his first day in the cells, was asked by an Ork what weapon he chose for his first fight.
  
  
  “...His name was Grisha. After I’d found a big enough space to sit, I didn’t realize I’d sat next to him. It’s hard to explain, but for a time, very little of anything felt real to me. I knew I had it rough before I was taken to the pits, but after I’d arrived — seeing my first opponent be killed for refusing to fight me — it made me feel like the only person that mattered was me; I was the only one who could look out for myself, and I just couldn’t see anyone else I’m not sure why I remember it so clearly, but this...random Ork, who smelled like sweat and shit, asked me what weapon I chose for my first fight.”
  
  “I wasn’t entirely sure why he cared. I told him it was a spear anyway. Fate would have it, he was a spearman as well. I didn’t know anything about fighting. I was scrawny, and I’d never killed anything in my life. He gave me a lot of tips on fighting with such a long weapon. In hindsight, it’s a stretch to say we were friends. Rather, he was more of a mentor or trainer to me than anything else.”
  
  “It’s kind of tough to apply information you just learned when every chance you get to apply it is a life or death situation. It’s a lot of stress, and I have to believe I had a talent for fighting to have lived this long. Grisha’d told me the first weapon people pick when they get to the pit is often the only one they ever use. I guess it makes sense why I never used anything but a spear in my fights. I remember in my second fight — if you could even call my first one a fight — I was up against someone who seemed close to my age. It’s kind of hard to tell with Nebosi, they all get so big.”
  
  “I wish I could remember my first fight. If I thought my sensitivity to being in the pits was dulled after my first match, my first kill showed me I was wrong. He used a sword that was almost the same size as me at the time, as well as a small buckler. I could tell he didn’t want to fight. Hardly anyone wanted to kill another for someone else’s entertainment, but in the pits, if your heart wasn’t in the fight, you died. I say it was better me than him. I’m not sure why it meant anything to me, but I kept his buckler. I’d fought some heavy hitters during my career though, sad to say that the buckler didn’t last me all the way through.”
  
  "Wonder how that old orc is holding up these days...I don't think there's too many that are tough enough to kill him. Anyone who is was too tough to be captured and thrown into the pits in the first place.​
  
  Averill turned out to be a really good fighter. Unfortunately, the more wins you got, the more fights you also had to participate in. At some point, Averill stopped fighting to win, and started fighting more to entertain. There were benefits to having a crowd that liked you. Unknown to most common fighters, popular fighters were given their own cell and were fed better meals. Averill was also advertised under the name “Ave,” which after hearing the crowd chant it so often, the other fighters started to pick up on the nickname as well.
  
  For years, he was the number one fighter of the pit. It wasn’t a place you could reach without being skilled, but oftentimes he fought against people who had never picked up a weapon in their life. Just when Averill was starting to get bored, he was offered a rare opportunity from a Lord.
  
  
  ”...Lord...what’s his name? I hardly remember. Ironic, since he gave me my last name. It’s supposed to mean something, but I don’t really care. Maybe if someone I actually liked gave it to me I’d actually bother to care about it. I’d call him a nobody if he wasn’t a rising noble. He’s hardly worthy of that title...or anything at all really. I wouldn’t call myself a good judge of character, but he’s the embodiment of what it feels like to be kicked in the teeth and spat on. He’s awful. He hired some...witch, or whatever, and didn’t seem to understand “whore” wasn’t in her job description. I’m certain she was relieved of her duties at some point, I stopped seeing her around the property.”
  
  “Anyway, this Lord was just using me to gain reputation. I served as a bodyguard, and what he called his “personal grim reaper,” which is just an elaborate way of saying sellsword. I took a lot of job opportunities where my skills could fit in. All of my rewards and earnings would go to him, and in turn, he hired someone to teach me to read and write. My life also became a bit more comfortable. I had an actual bed, and I was fed better than I’d ever been. I could’ve gotten used to it, even if learning noble mannerisms is hard to pick up if you’ve been a slave your whole life.”
  
  “On the property I also had a bit of authority. Felt nice. Lord No-Name said that I was to be treated with respect as his bodyguard even if I wasn’t within a thirty second walk of his estate. Of course, since I’m an elf that never happened unless he was around. Even then, any respect I got was fake.”
  
  “In hindsight, personal grim reaper wasn’t a title I deserved, but what the hell, it was praise. Now that I’m thinking of it though, praise from a guy like him doesn’t mean too much. Still, if he was going to advertise me as that, we both thought it would fit if I at least fought like the part. Apparently he had an elf slave-bodyguard-mercenary guy before me, but he’d gotten hurt out on the job and wasn’t all that effective anymore. He had way more experience than me. I didn’t think there was much to learn from a scarred fighter, but I’ve come to learn that was incredibly naive of me.”
  
  “Despite his injuries, whatever they were, he mopped the floor with me pretty consistently. I remember his evaluation too: “You have a bit of skill, but you’re just a child; nothing but a frog in a well.” It hurt, honestly. Would you believe that was the first interaction I had with my father? It turned out the apple didn’t fall very far from the tree; he was taken to the pits to fight as well. He excelled, and then was bought by Lord Ambiguous.”​
  
  His father had a trait that Averill would begin to adopt as well. Being taught to act as a noble also taught him to hate other races, despite being an elf himself. This, coupled with the fact that Averill and his father never had a relationship prior made him completely indifferent to the fact Averill was his son. Averill was also equally unbothered; he hadn’t been in his life up until then, and he’d learned that he didn’t really need a father figure.
  
  His Lorde actually granted Averill more agency than one would expect. He was allowed to try and do what he wanted, but being an elf in Ironcrown meant that he couldn’t stray too far from the property unless he wanted to put himself in danger. Influential on the property, but just a slave outside of it. It’s not hard to guess which treatment he preferred.
  
  Besides, Averill was enjoying an amount of luxury he’d never even dreamed of coming across. Though he wasn’t exactly rolling in gold with all the food and wine he could hope for, it was a long way from Demastia. If there was anything he missed from Demastia, it was his mother and nothing more. It made him angry he wouldn’t be allowed to see her easily, but he managed to suppress that anger for a couple more years until he finally made the decision to leave.
  
  
  ”As far as my breaking point goes...well, there wasn’t really an event that made me want to leave. I woke up one morning, and decided I was tired of working for someone else’s benefit. So I gathered my equipment one morning, said I was going out on a job, and simply never came back. Getting out of the actual city was easier than getting out of the territory. The further away I got away from the capital, the more hunting parties I came across. I nearly lost my life, but I managed to escape to the north, to the...ugh, I can't remember what it's called. ”
  
  “As for what I plan to do with my agency...well, I wouldn’t want any more children to be thrown into the pits; that’s a waste of life. As ugly as they are, I miss all the other rabble I grew up with in Demastia, including my mother. I’m not entirely convinced that Nebosi, Orks, or anything else you can find in Demastia has much worth, but I’ve been convinced for a long time that no one is born deserving of the kind of life you live in a slave state...I just have to figure out how to liberate a slave-state.”
  ​
• 
  Other:
  
  
  Spiritual Bond:
  
  Royal Thunderkite
  "Seraph"
  -
  "Lord Asshat used to collect all kinds of exotic animals just to show guests how much money he had. It was his way of throwing his wealth in people's face without throwing actual gold at them — pretty sure that'd be assault if he did it literally. Allegedly these guys are rare finds that live primarily near or on the peaks of mountains. I thought it was just a big bird at first, 'til I got too close to his cage. It was a short encounter...let's just say I had an interesting hair day."​
  
  
  Thunderkites are found in the highest mountains, typically in the Cryikk wastes. They live in solitude, and it's not uncommon for one to never mate in its entire life. Those who see them in flight would typically note how fast they fly, even outside of diving maneuvers. It's said that nothing can match their speed in the air. Thunderkites possess the ability to generate electricity with enough power to aid them in hunting. They aren't affected by electricity, and their bodies are extremely conductive. Their feathers alone can hold a charge for up to three days before it dissipates. While the feathers aren't lethal to teach while at full charge, holding a Thunderkite when it charges itself can incapacitate most organisms.
  
  Typical hunting behaviors consist of: dive bombing prey at great speeds before crushing them beneath their talons, firing charged feathers from their wings with enough charge to immobilize small creatures (should be noted that feathers are usually only enough to cause muscle spasms in humans and similar races), and stealing prey from other animals.
  
  As rare as Thunderkites are, there are an even rarer subspecies known as Royal Thunderkites. The differences between a Royal and normal Thunderkite isn't much besides size and appearance. Thunderkites are typically around 1-3 feet in height with a roughly 2.5-6ft wingspan. Royal Thunderkites are typically 4-5 feet tall with an 8-10ft wingspan. Royal Thunderkites are denoted by white/silver colors on the ends of their feathers, silver beaks as opposed to black ones found on normal Thunderkites, and three to five prong like extensions down the back of their necks. It's speculated that Royal Thunderkites are capable of a higher power output than normal kites, but it's hard to test.
  
  It's also seen that Thunderkites are capable of entering a "supercharged" state when struck by lightning. It's similar to a sugar-rush; they're a lot more hyper, and expend energy quickly and crash after the effect ends.
  
  Thunderkites are typically docile and only attack what they can eat unless agitated.
  
  
  "I thought it was a pretty cool bird though. Apparently it's not even full grown, and the bastard's already a bit over 4 feet tall. I decided to stop by and feed it, spend time with it whenever I had time to kill. Eventually we grew to like each other. I started letting him out of the cage when no one was around, and at some point it got really hard to put him back in the cage. Whenever he was perched on my arm and I tried to put him back or whatever, he just wouldn't let go! I've still got a couple of scars from him too — his talons are dangerously sharp."
  
  "Once I tried to put him back, and instead of getting in the cage he flew off. Haven't seen him around since, though sometimes I swear I can...feel him, somehow."
  ​

 

[Hairy_Cube]

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



Full Name:
Hawrase Tranaboradan Thailcran

Aliases:
HawThail (He does not like the name, but tolerates the shortening)

Combat Class:
Spellsword

Magical Potential:
5 flame magic
4 all else

Race:
Drannid supervisor - +affinity for fire magic, heat resistant, molten armour, minor telepathy

Age:
81

Sex:
Male

Height/Weight:
6 foot 4 in his usual hunched crouch
8 feet when showing off his full height
220 lbs

Homeland:
Drannid hive, but banishment means he is not welcome there, in fact he would be hunted in those territories if they knew he was near.

Location Start:
Jormun Maritime Thallassy
(Idola Port)

Inventory:
(Item Name - Description)
Rucksack - a simple sack he picked up during his travels, despite his dislike for material wealth he still collects trinkets and acknowledges when he needs to store currencies.
Coin pouch - he has this as a way to partition off his currencies from the rest of his belongings
Current coinage - 0
Trinkets - a bunch of small little things he has collected over his travels, including an absurd number of small flat stones he usually uses for various runes
Bandolier - he at some point acquired this bandolier where he stores one or two rune stones, usually jumpstart and maybe minor flash step.

(Use the above format and include everything in your possession, such as clothes, currency, equipment, food, etc.)

Skills:
(Skill Name - Description)
Unarmed Expertise - You have honed your skills with your body and can wield it with a degree of finesse. Can be applied when using gauntlets. You are the weapon.
Cunning Eye - You have honed your skill for finding weakness in defenses, allowing you to more easily bypass blocks, parries and armour.
Lightning Rod - You have trained your body to withstand lightning, allowing you to partially absorb its charge and energise you. Helpful, but it hurts every time.

Mana Pool: 10
(Low 1 moderate 3 high 10.)

Magicks:
School of Storms
(Spell Name (Cost/Time/Type) - Description.. "Type" only "Rune" due to lack of vocal cords.)
Class 1
Minor Arc (Low/7.5s/Rune) - Generate a tiny arc of electricity between two of your fingers. Looks cool, but I wouldn’t touch it.
Stimulating Pads (Low/7.5s/Rune) - Touch an area on the body, stimulating the muscles with a small charge. Relieves some stress and restores a little stamina.
Static Shock (Low/7.5s/Rune) - Generate a charge in your palms and lightly shock something at a touch. A neat little party trick.

Class 2
Minor Flash Step (Moderate/22.5s/Rune) - Charge your body with lightning and accelerate your movements in short bursts for a short duration.
Jumpstart (Moderate/22.5s/Rune) - Touch a target that has lost its heartbeat within the last five minutes and shock it. This might revive them, but it might not.
Summon Static Gauntlets (Low/7.5s/Rune) - Conjure forth gauntlets of lightning around your hands. Getting punched in the face by this will definitely hurt.

Aspiration:
He wishes to Demolish the hive that wronged him, despite how unrealistic for him that goal is he will fight to reduce the spread of the drannid hordes as a compromise.

Personality:
He is chaotic neutral as he only cares for the destruction of drannids under hive control and his own survival. No matter the alignment of those around him as long as it gets him his goal by the end of the day and he has his own freedom. Usually a rather efficiency oriented bug he can come off as grumpy when noticing all the little incompetencies, whether they are real or simply perceived. If someone wrongs him his attitude is similar to "eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, evil, for evil." At the end of the day this bug is all business and only selects a few individuals he will be nicer to occasionally.

Backstory:
He was born as a supervisor replacement for a hive but he was cast out and banished when it was found he had far too much potential for individuality. Outside of the hive he hunted for bare survival for a long time and slowly gained a sour personality and a hatred for the hive that had made his life so hard. Eventually he was taught some tactics to avoid being killed when hunted from a surprisingly friendly human female. He holds this human close as a dear friend, he does not know why this human trusted him, maybe they were insane after living in the woods alone for so long.

After some time he carefully moved eastward until he came to the region of knights, he does not remember their name, just their kill on sight attitude towards drannid which made him have to go northeast along their mountain range. Once he had gotten past those irritating knighs he borderline sprinted across the vast planes of the Hend Baron lands towards the Jormun Maritime Thallassy as he knew there would be ample opportunities for him to survive if done right, if things went wrong he could always retreat to the tribal lands after all. Eventually near the port of Idola he was able to get a mercenary that was full of himself but much less than he claimed to let HawThail do his jobs and get a cut of the pay with additional food as payment. he did this for many years until the mercenary retired on funds that were not earned with his own skill. This was quite recent so HawThail has been occasionally prodding at peoples minds to case out new puppets, occasionally convincing one to buy food in the markets and leave it outside and pick up the coin he would leave behind which would usually be slightly more than the price of the food as payment. Very recently he knew he would be running out of funds soon, and so he convinced a humanoid drannid to help find him a mercenary job he could fulfill, when it was an escort job he had groaned out in hatred, begrudgingly accepting the job due to his lacking funds.

Other:
(Anything not listed above goes here.)

 

[Cheesemick]

• BASICS
• COMBAT
• PERSONALITY
• BACKSTORY
• others

• 
  
  Son fear is the heart of love​
  
  Full Name: Baron Bartholt Von Bessemer
  
  Aliases: Red Raven
  
  Combat Class: Spellsword
  
  Magical Potential: 6 (7 Gale)
  
  Race: Nebosi (Divinity, Affinity for the Chosen God’s Magic) (Magical Potential Modifier: +2)
  
  Age: 24
  
  Sex: Male
  
  Height/Weight: 8'8'' 380lbs
  
  Homeland: Hend Arstcracy
  
  Location Start: Dacht Theoratic Conglomerat
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Character Completion
  
  
  
• 
  Inventory:
  
  Big Knuckle Dusters - A pair of knuckle dusters made from a strong heavy metal that the average human would have a hard time lifting up
  
  Raven Wing Lyre - A gift from his mother a beautiful lyre
  
  Gambeson with chain mail - a fairly light and manoeuvrable armour for jousting, boxing and battle. stronger armours are hard to come by in his size.
  
  
  Skills:
  
  Unarmed Expertise - You have honed your skills with your body and can wield it with a degree of finesse. Can be applied when using gauntlets. You are the weapon.
  
  Cunning Eye - You have honed your skill for finding weakness in defenses, allowing you to more easily bypass blocks, parries and armour.
  
  Bard - You have learned to play an instrument and sing like the heavens. Myths and legends are born from your voice.
  
  
  Magicks:
  
  Mana Pool: 10
  
  School Name: Gale (Tamban - Mischievous Goddess of Gales)
  
  First Class:
  
  Calming Breeze (/Low/5s/Incant) - Conjure a gentle breeze to tousle your clothes. Ahh, nice and cool...
  
  Deep Lungs (/Low/5s/Incant) - Draw wind deep into your lungs, allowing you to either hold your breath for three minutes or clear away a headache. You call yourself a breath user, but people keep glaring at you for some reason.
  
  Dancing Dust (/Low/5s/)Incant - Conjure a tiny figure made of wind-swept dust in your palm. You may move it at will, having it act in any way. Look, tiny dancer!
  
  Second Class:
  
  Assisted Gales (/Moderate/15s/)Incant - Summon winds to assist your movements, making items you wield lighter and easier to use. So this is what it would be like to not skip arm day.
  
  Searching Winds (/Low/5s/Incant) - Shift the winds in all directions towards you, drawing in the scents and smells of the surrounding area to you. Pretty good for identifying where all kinds of things are, really.
  
  Detect Gales (2Moderate/15s)/Incant - Place your hand over a target to detect if any gales spells or enchantments are present. Hmm, that was either the wind or a very powerful sorcerer...
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  Aspiration: To take get revenge on his brother Duncan ending his reign, to find his lost brother Brendan to be back at his side again to restore his place which he rightly deserves.
  
  Personality: If you were to ask Brendan he was say Bartholt is good at killing people. If you were to ask Duncan he would say Bartholt is nothing more than a big fool. But if you asked anyone who really knew Bartholt they would tell you he's a very kind and wise man who seems slow but is just thinking before he acts he does everything he can to avoid violence but the gods made him huge he can't help the way he looks.
  
  He's very quite and concerned for all things a gentle giant. He loves to play music on his lyre for anyone who would listen, there is always a sorrow to his songs a kind of longing for a more complete family. He would often go out of the palace when he could and sing as a common minstrel.
  
  Bartholt is also extremely courageous, not caring if his opponent is someone older, more highborn or more dangerous than him, only that the person he is protecting is protected by his actions. Even people who despise him admit that he has a sense of honour that is lacking in this regard quite considerably. Bartholt is revolted by dishonour, disgrace or hypocrisy, and appalled by acts of selfishness, but at the same time he can be very stubborn and judgemental about others. Bartholt does not consider himself especially bright, but he is by no means an idiot.
  
  
• 
  
  Backstory: Bartholt is the bastard son of Duchess Alyssa, she named him after her father, Bartholts Grandfather Bartholt. He was brought into the world with two other older half brothers, Duncan and Brenden. Duncan the oldest brother saw Bartholt as nothing more than a bastard and never even considered him his brother while Brendan being the middle child was very close to Bartholt and helped to surivie growing up in the thick polities of the Aristocracy if it wasn't for Brenden, Bartholt would of been assassinated before he was even a teenager.
  
  Bastards were not uncommon in the palaces but what was uncommon was Bertholt size even as a boy, he was growing and fast. Most nobles being humans his sight was a rare thing to behold. His brother Brendan quickly noticed this and always kept him around him while in council meetings, gatherings are balls and social events. He was a good two heads taller than most anyone. Bertholt was trained by some of the best master at arms money could afford he was starting to gain a reputation as a skilled fighter, his mother was a extremely well respected noble which helped with getting people to train him. Bartholt was very quite and kept to himself he didn't want to displease his brother so he did as he was asked. He helped him intimidate anyone who got in his brothers way the two of them gaining quite a reputation. Bartholt was challenged by many knights and nobles but he always just barely come out on top because of his size. Jousting, melees, boxing, Bartholt was winning them all at the age of 16, he wasn't the best but he was humbling many higher born than him. A lot of the other bastards started to look up to Bartholt. Because of a strange tattoo of a raven on Bartholts back, he was born with, and his red skin he started earning the nickname Red Raven.
  
  It wasn't enough for Brendan he wanted him to be stronger the greatest dualist in the palaces. Bartholt wasn't a fan of killing he ended up many of his joust in him killing the other knights out of pure strength behind his arm, the weaker and less trained ones. Brendan told him he should have an affinity for magic given his background telling him might magic would be best. This proved to be a grave mistake Bartholt tried his hardest to learn might magic but he never could find the affinity for it. He visited his mother in her grand chambers she had been bed ridden for many months stuck with a terminal illness. His mother handed him a brass lyre with a pattern of raven wings on one of the sides, the lyre she would use to sing to him at night. She told him it was the last thing she had left of his father, she never mentioned him once and this would tragically be the only time she did. She told him his father was a great wizard one of the strongest in gales in all the kingdoms so powerful Tamban met him personally once but it wasn't because of his magic it was for his music, Bartholts fathers voice was more powerful and magical, any spell would never match it. His mother told him, he's become so strong and to protect his brothers. His mother died the next day.
  
  Bartholt found his had a great nature affinity for gale magic with his new found power he become an even greater force to be reckoned with easily knocking out many knights. What he truly loved was sitting out of his window at night playing his lyre to the wind.
  
  One night Brendan, many years later bertholt being 20, came into Bertholts room he was going to stage a coup to take out Duncan and his supporters, their mother had died a few years back and Duncan was a member on the secret shadow court that controls things in the shadows, Brendan wanted his place. Bartholt, Brendan and their supporters organized a grand mask ball inviting Duncan and all his supporters. The day Bartholt side all wore raven masks while Duncans side wore dragon masks. The two factions danced most of the night till Duncan entered the fray, he had Brendan bound and gagged dragging him into the canter of the ball. huge stone shackled covered Brendan arms, Duncan was a powerful stone mage. Someone had ratted them out. Brendan looked up to Bartholt in the crowd telling him to run with his eyes just than shadows and fog burst out of the ball room floor dragging Brendan away into the floor disappearing, chaos ensued, find him! Duncan yelled out to the crowds. Bartholt fought off as many of the crowd as he could killing many lords and nobles. Just narrowly being able to escape with his life, he knew what he had to do. Being an outlaw with people looking for him, he left the Hend Aristocracy becoming a debt collector for a criminal gang under a new identity Red Raven. He will return one day to kill his brother Duncan and try to find Brendan if he is still alive.
  
  
  
• 
  Other:
  
  
  
  
  
  Theme songs~
  
  
  
  

 

[Mokoa16]

Full Name:
Conrad Mahcoco

Aliases:
Con/Conny/Coco- Childhood and family-related nicknames
The Blue Barbarian- Nickname from his military background

Combat Class:
Fighter

Magical Potential:
3

Race:
Human

Age:
25

Sex:
Male

Height/Weight:
6’1”, 210 pounds

Homeland:
Kingdom of Ironcrown

Location Start:
Kingdom of Ironcrown

Inventory:
-Conrad Jr.: A large double-sided great axe made by his own design in his father's forge.
-Steel armor: A set he had acquired while in the military, marked with his favorite shade of blue.
-Money pouch: A pouch for holding his coins. Mostly used for staying at inns and buying meals.
-Repair kit: A satchel containing items such as sharpening stones and other variables to ensure his gear is always in top condition.
-Journal: A small black book that he uses to write about his adventures and experiences in.
-Camping gear: For when an Inn is nowhere near.
-Undergarments: Casual clothing for sleeping when not in his armor.

Skills:
-Axe Expertise: You have honed your skills with the axe and can wield it with a degree of finesse. Shield? What shield?
-Unarmed Expertise: You have honed your skills with your body and can wield it with a degree of finesse. Can be applied when using gauntlets. You are the weapon.
-Aggressive: You have learned a stance to strike faster and harder than others, at the expense of leaving yourself open to attack. Offense is the best defense.
-Endurance - You have trained your body to take more punishment, improving your stamina and allowing you to resist more damage. Oh, were you attacking? I didn’t notice.
-Strength: You have trained your body to exert and carry more force than is usually capable of your race. Kolo would be proud.
-Tireless: You have trained your body to fatigue more slowly and function for longer, allowing you to outlast others when it comes to stamina more easily. Didn't even break a sweat.
-Smithing: You have learned to temper and forge metals into weaponry and armour, allowing you to also fix and maintain various equipment. DIY, except you’re the professional.

Mana Pool:
0

Magicks:
None

Aspiration:
Conrad wishes to see the world outside his beloved kingdom and partake in adventures that couldn’t be found in his homeland. To battle great beasts and men alike and to ensure a tale of his own could be passed down to future generations. His appetite, however, wishes to try the cuisine of different nations.

Personality:
Conrad is one who is adept at following orders rather than giving them, possessing a simple one-track mind that revolves around hitting things as hard as he can to solve the issue. His talent in following orders granted him a trustworthy and gullible nature, which has often more than not made him the target of silver-tongued merchants and con artists into potentially buying or doing whatever they pleased. What Conrad lacks in intelligence, he makes up for in determination, a headstrong, almost stubborn, sense of duty to complete what he sets his mind to. Conrad is generally always appreciative of those with might and skill that can overcome his own. To lose is to improve, so in defeat, he only finds joy. Defeat oddly brings more joy to Conrad than victory. The thought of improving against those superior to him and climbing to new heights brings nothing but sheer gratitude. His polite behavior is even enough to thank someone for beating him up.

He is almost always cheerful, possessing some sort of smile on his face no matter how harsh a situation might seem. His optimistic attitude essentially allows him to see even the brightest outcome during any grim occurrence. Despite his kingdom's roots of tyranny and slavery, Conrad has developed a sense of compassion towards those less privileged than himself due to the stories he has read countless times. Conrad always seeks to become a man of the people, offering his assistance towards those in need no matter how trivial a task might seem. When it comes to his support, obtaining his loyalty is not an overall difficult task, especially if you know how to cook. His ignorance of the real world has left little for him to be wary of. As long as he would deem you a good person, he would have no trouble following you into whatever dark cave and forest you might find yourself traveling into.

Backstory:
The youngest son to a renowned blacksmith in his home kingdom of Ironcrown, Conrad would often endure the teasing and slight bullying from his six older brothers throughout the day. The seven of them together, with bounds of mischief as their source of entertainment, had created quite the chaotic neighborhood. Conrad had already started showing signs of impeccable strength despite his young age when he began helping his father around the forge. Lifting heavy weapons and materials seemed like nothing to him, and he eventually began to overpower his elder brothers whenever they tried to wrestle with him. Conrad's strength often got him into trouble with the neighborhood boys whenever they roughhoused with one another—accidentally hurting them in some way or form without an accurate idea of how to control himself. He was too headstrong for his own good, and the thought of having the hold back never crossed his mind until his mother began to read him stories of old warriors. His eyes would always dazzle with these stories. Never harming the innocent, protecting nations from evil forces, slaying mighty beasts. Each story that was read to him had filled his head with wild fantasies and dreams of becoming like them. He wanted to be just like them. Though if one thing was for sure, they all had a positive outlook to have these stories written about them.

Conrad would soon take a new approach to his everyday life. Rather than causing mischief and accidentally causing pain to others, he would work on controlling himself and helping out those in need. Whenever help was needed, Conrad was there to do the heavy lifting. Whenever someone was getting picked on, Conrad was there to protect them. Everything he did, was meant to fulfill his desire to become great. He would still help around his father's forge, even smithing weapons of his own to give his father a break, but when someone needed help, he would arrive in a heartbeat. As the years went by, Conrad had finally reached the proper age to join his nation's great army. Smithing was in his blood and was something he thoroughly enjoyed, but his obsession with fairy tales and stories of legends overtook his fascination, and he would soon join their ranks.

He would bring honor to his family's name as he served with absolute obedience and loyalty to his nation. His headstrong fighting style and rugged body would allow him to charge with the frontline against anyone they had deemed an enemy. It was here that he didn't need to hold back and could freely use his strength as he had always wanted to. His battles, while few, were enough to earn him his nickname and a few bottles of ale after the fog of war had settled. While he took the greatest pride in serving in his beloved kingdom's military, his battles had slowly begun to feel empty. It had become more of a routine than an actual climb to legendary heights. He wanted to experience more, just like in the legends he had always read about. He wanted to create his own adventure rather than it being laid out for him. To experience the unknown and battle vicious beasts with nothing but his determination. After a heartfelt goodbye to the men he had served along with, he would retire from the military and soon leave to make his dreams a reality.

Theme:
​

 

[Dante Verren]

Full Name:
Asie Woolgrove

Aliases:
The Witch of the Dawn

Combat Class:
Mage

Magical Potential:
Seventh class

Race:
(Horned) Elf Magical: Potential Modifier: +2, Affinity for Life magic, and Spiritual Bond

Age:
31

Sex:
Female

Height/Weight:
6’1 (With horns) 5’8 (Excluding horns)/ 140 ibs

Homeland:
Tribal Expanse

Location Start:
Hierophant’s Magocracy

Inventory:
Druid Robes: Her normal outfit that she wears on her day to day basis
Bag of rocks: A bag full of rocks that she uses for runes
Runecrafting kit: A small kit used to help inscribe magic runes into objects
Rations: A week’s worth of rations
Mask: A mask made from the skull of her deceased family pet.
Coin purse: A near empty coin purse
Handaxe: A weapon for personal defense
Old journals: Three old journals that detail research notes covering several years worth of experiments. She found them left behind in the forest and has studied them ever since hoping to find who they belong to so she can return them.

Skills:
Keen Nose - You have trained your senses to smell with acute accuracy, allowing you to pick up smells over a greater distance and differentiate between them. Are you part beast?
Scholar - You have learned to read and write in the languages you know, allowing you to translate ancient texts, write up documents and contracts, read magical scrolls, draw runes and much more. If knowledge is strength, your brain knows how to flex in Ork.


Mana Pool:
26

Magicks:
School Name: School of Dawn
First Class
Sparkle (Low/5s/ Runes) - Conjure a flurry of sparkling lights around you. Pretty lights, look!

Conjure Minor Light (Low/5s/Runes) - Generate a small ball of light in your hand. Doesn’t do much beyond shining light.

Dancing Stars (Low/5s/Runes) - Conjure a tiny figure made of light in your palm. You may move it at will, having it act in any way. Look, tiny dancer!

Second Class
Conjure Light (Low/5s/Runes) - Generate a ball of light in your hand. Did you know that concentrated light can burn you?

Shimmering Step (Moderate/15s/Runes) - Interfere with the light as you run, causing your form to shimmer like a mirage and make you hard to see.

Minor Detect Dusk (Moderate/15s/Runes) - Put your hand over a target and detect if any dusk spells or enchantments are being used. People love to hide darkness in darkness.

Third Class:
Beam (Moderate/15s/Runes) - Generate a dense beam of light that delivers a hot and heavy impact, penetrating light armour and defensive spells up to Third Class. Pew pew!

Bright Lashings (Low/5s/Runes) - Whip two small beams of light around a target and restrain them to the ground. Time out for you, naughty one.

School of Name: School of Stone
Minor Sculpt (Low/5s/Runes) - Change a small stone into whatever shape you want. Amateur sculptors love this!

Minor Conjure Stone (Low/5s/Rune) - Create a fist-sized stone for you to hurl at whatever you like. Pretty mean thing to do, don’t you think?

Dust (Low/5s) - Send dust in a 5ft cone at your enemies to blind and distract them. More annoying than dangerous really.

Second Class:
Minor Rock Shot (Low/5s/Runes) - Shoot a pebble at a target. Hurts and is dangerous if it hits you in the eye.

Metal Bypass (Moderate/15s/Runes) - Touch a simple lock and unlock it. Pretty handy if you don’t have the time or skills.

Muddy (Low/5s/Runes) - Churn the earth to make a small puddle of mud at a target location. Perfect for pranking fools into slipping over.

Third Class
Summon Minor Elemental (Moderate/15s/Runes) - Conjure a stone golem animated by magic. It responds to verbal commands and can perform minor tasks. Can use Minor Conjure Stone, Minor Rock Shot, Metal Bypass and Crystallize. Your own pretend buddy.

Pillar (Low/5s/Runes) - Stomp or hit the ground and summon a pillar of stone to extend rapidly at a target.


Aspiration:
Asie want's to travel and study the world outside of the Tribal Expanse, encountering all types of people, monsters, etc. She also wants to try and return the research journals that were left behind by the man she freed seventeen years ago although it feels more like a pipe dream then anything

Personality:
If given an alignment Asie would be classified as Chaotic good. Growing up as a recluse even among the other elves she doesn’t possess the elvish hubris and hate to the same level as other elves. Instead of malice she holds curiosity towards the other races, curiosity about their personality, their cultures, their magics, and their reactions. To provoke reactions she will occasionally act erratically or randomly, pulling pranks on them. That being said she can still recognize when the time for these acts are appropriate and will refrain from doing anything out of line if the time isn’t right for it.

Backstory:
Aise was born to the Woolgrove family, a small family that was technically apart of one of the Elf clans who made their home in the Tribal Expanse In actuality the Woolgrove was a family of druids who stuck to their own little collective, interacting only with the other elves and never really seeing any other races. While Aise was growing up she had heard stories of the terrible humans and the brutish orcs. In her mind she crafted these elaborate stories about what these races were really like, but never developed the intense distaste or hate that the other elves seemed to have.

From a young age Asie was trained in the School of Stone, a magic that her mother had started to teach her. Asie raised the question one day as to why she was being taught stone and not life, the magic that their family had an affinity for. Studying the magic you have an affinity for is taking the easy route of magic, instead if you study something that you have advantage in the end result is much more rewarding. It was for that reason that she picked up working with runes, finding joy in the difficulties of managing the magical runes over simple incantations.

Asie would later stumble upon the teachings of the School of Dawn at the age of fifteen. As she was traveling through the outskirts of her clan’s territories doing chores for her parents she heard shouts and a series of loud noises. Investigating it she found a human suspended in the air by a net, the poor man had fallen for one of the many traps set around. It was her first time seeing a human so she stalked around the man, just generally investigating him. He shouted out questions, curses, and all of that fully believing that this elf was going to kill him, but instead Aise took her hand axe and cut the rope holding him up, dropping him to the ground. Full of curiosity as to what he would do, she waved her arms angrily and growed like a wild beast, sending the man running for his life. While this seemed like a very important encounter it would end up changing her life.

After the man had ran away she found a bag full of his stuff lying by the trap he had been caught in. Digging through it she found many notes, journals, and various other items. Instead of trying to catch up to him she decided to take the bag with her back to her home and dig through it there. While she was investigating it she found a few books detailing the school of Dawn. Fascinated by the magic she decided to learn it alongside the School of Stone, solidifying her choice of magic schools for the rest of her life.

Seventeen passed for Asie as she remained in her home. Family pets came and went as all animals do, she even made a mask out of the skull of one of the beasts she was particularly close with. The other Elves kept them at arm's length she kept away from them, only interacting with them when she had to. The bag she had brought back after her strange encounter with the man had been forgotten and tucked away, but one day she stumbled back on it and once more dug through its contents. After looking through it all she was struck by an adventurer’s spirit. She had achieved a new goal, to set out and study the world outside the Tribal expanse, as well as find and return the various journals she had taken from the man that day. While she wasn’t exactly sure as to where to start her journey, she had remembered hearing about a country full of mages to the south of the Expanse. This man had probably been a mage so that would be her first stop. That next morning she would bid her family farewell and set out for the Hierophant’s Magocracy

Other:
N/A

 

[nh1]

Spoiler: Other Images

w/o plate upgrades

Full Name:
Michael Bartram

Aliases:
none

Combat Class:
Spellsword
+1 magical potential

Magical Potential:
Class 4 potential (Class 5 School of Insight)
3 (starting) +1 (spellsword) +1 insight affinity (human)

Race:
Human (affinity)

Age:
55

Sex:
Male

Height/Weight:
6 ft 1 In, 180 lbs

Homeland:
Hend Baronlands

Location Start:
Jorum Maritime Thallassy

Inventory:
Sword - one handed sword, maintained and in good condition if basic, issued by Hend Baronlands

Shield -large one handed shield, maintained and in good condition if basic, issued by Hend Baronlands

Chainmail/leather armor -basic chainmail and leather armor issued to every soldier of the Hend Baronlands -decent protection but cheap and mass produced, holds up well to basic attacks

Slapdash plate armor -looted from surviving many battles where other knights fell, Michael has looted a large amount of plate armor to supplement the cheaper armor underneath adds a larger layer of protection against stronger attacks. Consists of a breastplate (chest and back), helmet (head), pauldron (shoulders), cuirass (upper arms), vambrace (lower arms), gauntlets (hands), cuisses (upper leg), poleyn (knee) and greaves (lower leg).

Sword sharpening kit: sharp stone used to sharpen and maintain sword

Military Rations: Won’t expire and lasts six weeks. Tastes terrible, but it is food. (salted meats, hardtack, pickled vegetables)

Salt: A small pouch of salt -used sparingly to season and preserve food given its cost

Cooking Pot: pot to cook food in

Water Flash: Roughly 4 days of water left, but rivers are everywhere.

Bear Flask: Extremely watered down and cheap, bear serves as a decent liquid when water is unclean or sparse. -also holds 4 days worth

Coin pouch: has some coin, but not a lot

Rucksack: sack on the back designed to hold equipment, durable and basic

Small saw: Useful for gathering kindling or for other basic chores, not used for stabbing

Fork and Knife: Cutlery for eating

lanolin treated wool cloak: Warm wool cloak treated with lanolin or wool wax making it waterproof

Lanolin treated sheet: Cotton sheet used for a tent - water proofed with lanolin

Multiple small rags: Used for cleaning gear, and toiletries.

Mouth Paste: paste made up of various plants and salt designed to clean teeth and improve breath, rubbed on teeth with a rag

Pipeweed and Pipe: Used for smoking occasionally

5 journals and quill: Believing in keeping a record of his various activities, Michael makes an effort to write a simple report of whatever crimes or cases he solves as he journeys.

Skills:
Farming - You have learned to sow crops at the right time and maintain them to get the best harvest for the location. Glorious kingdoms are built off the dirty backs of peasantry!

Tireless - You have trained your body to fatigue more slowly and function for longer, allowing you to outlast others when it comes to stamina more easily. Didn't even break a sweat.

Cunning Eye - You have honed your skill for finding weakness in defenses, allowing you to more easily bypass blocks, parries and armour.

Mana Pool:
12

Magicks:
School of Insight

First Class

Compass (Low/5s/Incant) - Bless yourself with the knowledge of direction, showing you where North is. Pretty handy actually.

First Unveil (Low/5s/Incant) - Place your hand over a target and reveal if any curse spells or enchantments up to First Class are being used. Huh? Did you hear that?

First Detect (Low/5s/Incant) - Place your hand over a target and reveal if any natural spells or enchantments up to First Class are being used. Huh? Did you see that?

Second Class

Intent Seeker (Moderate/15s/Incant) - Bless yourself with the Instincts skills for a short duration. You can’t fool me.

Discern Truth (Moderate/15s/Incant) - Bless yourself with the power to detect lies for a short duration. Of course, if the liar truly believes what they’re saying, you won’t be any the wiser.

Minor Seek (Moderate/15s/Incant) - Reveal within a 5ft radius if any living beings are nearby. Hey, there might be someone behind that door, you should check.

Aspiration:
Fundamentally, his worldview persists around the idea of virtue, the idea that every being should strive to be good. This means he constantly is striving to help others with his gifts seeing this as his ability to worship the divine truth, or virtue. Following the teachings of The Old Hermit he believes that the only way to worship divine truth is to live virtuously and seeks to do this daily.

Personality:
Weathered and experienced, Michael has seen countless battles and wars and has developed a tolerance for fighting and hardship. Despite seeing so many friends die or in one case, betray him, he tries to remain friendly and cordial to all who meet him, happy to asist any who need his help. This has meant that he remains fairly poor as those he helps with his gifts don't always pay well whether this means using magic or simply helping out around a farm.

Backstory:
Born a poor farmer in the Hend Baronlands the middle child of five brothers, he grew up working his family's wheat as soon as he could walk and hold a bucket. He grew to enjoy and love his life on the farm though having a skill and gift for farming, even from a young age. Soon, though, he was drafted at the age of 15 to the Baronlands army for use in the meatgrinder of the army they constantly assemble for their regular attacks against the Hend Trinity.

Fighting in the army for 30 years, Michael would see large amounts of wars and fighting and had an unnatural ability to walk away from fights where scores of men would perish. This eventually made him one of the oldest soldiers still fighting on the frontlines that the army had, due also to the low life expectancy of the forces given their poor equipment and training. During this time, he also began to develop skills in the magic class of insight which allowed him to best common foes and survive magical attacks more readily. The army, recognizing how much of an outlier the solider was decided to turn the man into a propoganda effort for their army. Deciding to appear generous to the public, they gifted him with a small amount of money, a medal for his service and sent him home in retirement as a propoganda effort to demonstrate that if you fight for the army and survive you will be rewarded for your service in the end.

Reliving his younger years, he returned to his home to till his family's farm once again extremely grateful and thankful to the gods for allowing him to return home to his farm. He toiled tirelessly to improve that farm and with the death of three of the brothers (through campaign or disease), he was in line to inherit the family farm from his aging father (his mother had died years ago). This state of life continued for three years until his younger brother hired a mage who worshipped the god of merrin to write a will or inheritance contract to be signed by the remaining members of the family to ensure that the inheritance of the small farm was not swept up by larger competitors underhandedly. Everyone agreed and the deed was signed. However, the younger brother with the help of the mage, wrote the contract such that the younger brother inherited the farm instead. Once the contract was signed, he had the father killed and took over the farm enriching himself banishing Michael from returning.

Seeing quickly what had happened with his magic abilities, he took his gear and went out into the world no longer able to own his family's farm. Deciding to make a living off of his abilities, he used his abilities to travel between towns and help solve criminal cases amongst the populace, serving as a kind of policeman to various towns, deducing the truth of disagreements and seeking out lost people and animals. Using his skills, he traveled greatly meeting many people solving crimes, burglaries, chasing bandits, hunting missing persons, resolving cases of disagreement through intent and truth seeking, in exchange for coin but more often than not food and lodging. He also has made a habit of doing odd jobs for supplies such as farm work.

One of the things he discovered were the writings of an old hermit who had spurned the worship of the various gods. Holding to a rational position, the hermit had extolled his primary belief that 'the unexamined life is not worth living' seeking to examine all life for its inherent virtue. However, the hermit spurned the worship of gods seeing them as mere empowered and enlivened mortals whose control, powers, and lives extended beyond the norm. The hermit argued that though these gods may have control over the various forces in the universe (death, etc.) they did not represent the fundamental nature of reality or divine truth. Fundamentally, all gods are subject to divine truth, or objective, unchanging virtue for the gods who have power may change the various laws of the world to shape their immediate desires but unchanging virtue in unchangable. All things are either good or evil. This makes ethical virtue the only thing that matters in life for all gods have power over changable things but no one can ever change or question true virtue.

This spoke to Michael who saw how the power of the gods could be used for nefarious ends, even truth in contracts could bind good people if used without mercy. His brother had appeared very virtuous to the barons who All gods were also subject to whims and changes they felt were necessary making their pronouncements merely the whims of empowered mortals. This spoke to Michael as he felt his decades in the army had been largely useless as the territory of the Baronlands had never truly expanded and the generals seemed content to throw mens lives away for nary a meter of land. His powers have also allowed him to see behind the honeyed words of people and see their underlying beliefs. To this day, Michael pursues true virtue above all as well as worshipping the divine truth.

Other:
-It should be noted that due to the heavy fighting and working from his youth, he has aged very rapidly compared to others.

-His extensive travels has made his kit extremely well-packed and diverse as he has spent years on the road and has experience travelling heavily.

 

[King Crimson]

• Basic Info
• Combat
• Bio
• Other

• 
  
  Spoiler: Cresshilda "Cressey" Zephirin

  
  Art and original OC by Porforever
  
  Full Name:
  Lady Cresshilda Artoria Zephirin, Third Daughter of the Zephirin Family
  
  Aliases: Cressey
  A pet name given to her by her youngest servant, and lifelong friend, Esmeralda.
  Now it serves as a an alias to hide her noble lineage.
  
  Race:
  Human
  (Affinity for Storm Magick)
  
  Age:
  18
  
  Sex:
  Female
  
  Height/Weight:
  5'0" ft. (60.6 in.)/105 lbs.
  
  Homeland:
  Hend Aristocracy
  
  Location Start:
  Hierophant's Magocracy
  
• 
  Inventory:
  
  • Rhongomyniad: An ancient lance, heirloom of the Zephirin family. Comes with a Griffalk-leather sheathe.
    • Once upon a time, in the midst of a war of calamitous proportions, it was said that the first Zephirin had made communion with Ba'an, and crystalized an iota of his terrible fury into a single sapphire tear.
    • He took the gleaming relic, and affixed it upon the pommel of his spear, creating a weapon that could unleash devastating bolts of lightning that could part the heavens, and split apart the very sky.
    • With spear in hand, he smote many a great and fearsome foe, battling valiantly alongside a number of legendary heroes of eld.
    • And at the battle's end, his mighty spear's power had been all but drained, the storm god's ancient gift cracked and broken beyond repair.
    • But through their efforts, the crisis was averted, and the realm once more knew peace.
    • And in the passing of time, their ancestors built glorious kingdoms upon the blood-soaked battlegrounds, their heroes' stories becoming ballads and songs, then fading into legends, then fading into memory, then fading into common folklore.
    • Affixed within the halls of castle Zephirin, the spear stood as one of many testaments of their heritage, a glorious weapon reduced to a mere decoration, untouched and unnoticed besides the occasional dusting by a passing maid.
    • Until one day, a young noble girl, who's age could be counted on a mere single hand and a thumb, gazed upon the relic with fresh-sparked curiosity, having just been read a grand tale of heroes and gods.
  • Traveler's bag: A satchel hastily packed with essentials before Cressey's departure, along with a few gifts given to her by her loyal servants.
    • Included in the bag:
      • A few spare changes of clothing
      • A few rolls of gauze, along with some medicinal herbs, grown in the castle gardens by the ever-jubilant Head of Landscaping, Carmella.
      • A small bag filled with some of Cressey's favorite preserves and treats, along with a few annotated pages of cooking recipes on how to recreate them. She'll dearly miss Flareze's expert cooking skills, but at the very least, the smell of the bag alone will bring back those warm memories of relaxing afternoon tea.
  • Blue cloak: A shawl with which to protect herself with, both from the harsh elements, and from the eyes of those who might recognize her true identity.
  • Red scarf: A warm, comfortable, woolen scarf, given to Cressey in the dead of night by Head Maid Beatrix, just before her hasty departure . Every thread was sewn with painstaking care over the course of a year, as if she knew that this day was coming.
  • Noble Regalia: A pair of priceless, sterling silver earrings, and matching choker, fashioned into an iron cross. Her mother gifted to them to her at a young age. Despite how their relationship has soured, for some reason, Cressey can't bring herself to get rid of them.
  
  
  Combat Class:
  Spellsword
  
  Magical Potential: Fourth class (Fifth class for Storm)
  
  
  Skills:
  
  • Spear Expertise - You have honed your skills with the spear and can wield it with a degree of finesse. Gae Bolg! Rhongomyniad!
  • Acrobatics - You have trained your body to move quickly and flexibly, allowing you to dodge easier and perform agile athletic feats. Can’t touch this, doo do do doo time two.~
  • Enrage - You have attuned your mind to enter a controlled rage upon taking a deep wound, enhancing your strength and endurance for a short duration. Don’t expect to be running a marathon after the work is done, young buck.
    • Less a product of some manner of primal fury, and more from Cressey's own prideful and headstrong nature.
    • Those villainous blackguards! They will pay a thousand-fold for this!
  
  Mana Pool:
  7
  
  Magicks:
  School Name: School of Storms
  
  • Class 1:
    • Static Shock (Low/5s/Incant) - Generate a charge in your palms and lightly shock something at a touch. A neat little party trick.
    • Minor Arc (Low/5s/Incant) - Generate a tiny arc of electricity between two of your fingers. Looks cool, but I wouldn’t touch it.
    • Minor Spark (Low/5s/Incant) - Conjure a tiny sphere of electricity above your finger. It’d be pretty cute if you couldn’t use it to sting others.
  • Class 2:
    • Minor Electrify (Low/5s/Incant) - Touch a target and pass an electrical current through it. Hurts like hell but that’s it really.
    • Minor Flash Step (Moderate/15s/Incant) - Charge your body with lightning and accelerate your movements in short bursts for a short duration.
    • Minor Stun (Low/5s/Incant) - Send a small streak of lightning from your fingertip at an enemy, lightly shocking them and disrupting their movements for a second.
  
  
• 
  Aspiration:
  To challenge her fate, and escape a life sealed within a gilded cage.
  To challenge the world, and see what wonders lie beyond the castle walls.
  To challenge herself, and find the answers to the questions she's always pondered.
  Personality:
  Alignment: Chaotic Good
  Cressey is an exceptionally willful and stubborn individual, determined to live her life by her own will, and do things her own way.
  Ideally, she would like to live like the many heroes of eld she'd read of; facing fearsome foes, going on epic journeys, and living off of the fat of the land.
  
  She despises the debaucherous, fraudulent world of nobility she has determined to leave behind, nothing disgusts her more than the idea of sitting around a table sitting tea, pretending to be friendly with a group of two-faced, gossiping harpies, discussing politics and fine arts.
  However, her hatred for falsehood does not extend merely to other nobles; liars, thieves and charlatans are just as worthy of her disdain. (Especially after an incident early on in her journey, when she nearly lost her possessions, and her life, to a group of cutthroats who had fooled her into believing that they were part of the Adventurers' Guild.)
  
  She has all of the pride one would typically expect of a noble; when met with a challenge, she's confident in her ability to overcome it, and has a tendency to get carried away when things are going well. If she succeeds in doing something, it was only a natural conclusion that she would.
  By the same coin, these same expectations of herself can also lead to her getting easily frustrated when met with a difficult situation, and being quite hard on herself in the face of failure.
  Despite her confidence, she is still sheltered, and ignorant of what life is like outside of her castle, which is a source of great trepidation for her, and had led to more than a few mishaps on her journey.
  After all, she has thrown herself into a world entirely unknown to her, and if her true identity were discovered, there are many who would wish to do her, and by extension, her family harm, or worse, they could try to bring her back.
  Still, she finds the company of adventurers and common people far more enjoyable than that of her noble contemporaries, and many, if they learned of her upbringing, would be surprised to find a noble so approachable.
  
  
  
  Backstory:
  Atop the grand wall of mountains separating the land of Hend from the Cryikk Wastes, sits the grand castle of House Zephirin, one of the oldest, and most powerful families in all of the Kingdom.
  Their ancestors were great warriors and mighty defenders, some of which instrumental in the foundation of the Justicar Knightdom, while many others became brilliant alumni within the Hierophant's Magocracy, ingenious merchants, and wonderous architects.
  
  Cresshilda Artoria, born in 211 A.E. was the third child born to the eighth generation of Zephirins, between Lord Ram Zephirin the III, and Lady Scath Dun Scaith the II. She would also be the last child born to Lord Ram, before his sudden passing, an event which sent rippling shocks throughout the household, and even throughout the kingdom. Suspicious whispers of the sudden, untimely nature of the lord's death began to spread, rumors of foul play at the Lady's hand, that she was an agent sent by some dark forces lurking within their ranks.
  However, none were so devastated, as young Cresshilda, who was only seven years old at the time.
  
  Her first sister, in training to become a church deaconess, would one day venture into the Dacht Conglomerate, and become a diplomatic envoy between the two nations. Her middle sister, a genius in the sciences, was expected to become a valuable asset within the Magocracy
  Young Cresshilda, being the last eligible heir, was expected to take over the family estate, marrying in another powerful noble family in order to expand, and preserve their power.
  However, even from an early age, she behaved far differently than her two elder sisters; she bored quickly of scripture and the ways of maths and sciences, instead she would read wonderous tales of ancient heroes, and sneak away with the old, family lance.
  Instead of the company of other nobles, she much preferred the company of her own servants, among them, Justicar Knights on patrolling near the Cryikk border, and Hierophant mages, were more than happy to teach their spirited young charge the ways of spears and spells.
  Her mother, for a time, at first, indulged such fantasies, until the time Cresshilda came to be of the age of seventeen.
  It was then that Lady Scath gave the order that the young heiress would give up her lance, devote herself to her studies, prepare herself for coronation, and, within a year's time, she would be married off to the most prospective noble heir available.
  The Lady's command was declared without warning, all staff were expected to follow,
  For her will would not be denied.
  
  Cresshilda, of course, sought to deny her anyways, and before an audience of her own kin, lobbied passionately for her own freedom.
  It was to no avail, however; neither Scath nor her daughter were willing to compromise, and their negotiation devolved quickly into bitter quarrelling.
  Many things were said, things unspeakable, unforgivable, words never to be spoken between a mother and her daughter, until, with one last hateful outburst that took even the stoic Lady aback, Cresshilda stomped out of the court.
  The next morning, she was gone, having disappeared from her bedchamber in the middle of the night, leaving only her crown of coronation, and a hastily scribed note behind.
  
• 
  Theme:
  
  

 

[Heterological]

• Basics
• Equipment & Abilities
• Background & Personality
• Miscellaneous

• 
  Full Name:
  Karav
  
  Aliases:
  N/A
  
  Combat Class:
  Spellsword (+1 potential, +3 skills)
  
  Race:
  Nebosi (Divinity skill, +2 potential, affinity for chosen god's magic (Storms))
  
  Age:
  24
  
  Sex:
  Male
  
  Height/Weight:
  7' 2" / 335 pounds
  
  Homeland:
  Tribal Expanse
  
  Location Start:
  Dacht Theoratic Conglomerat
  
  
• 
  Inventory:
  Weathered Bag: An old leather bag that holds clothing, a book on storm magic incants, some money, and quite a bit of dried jerky.
  
  Sturdy Canteen: Made of glass, leather, and metal. Holds a liter or so of water.
  
  Lower Body Leather Armor: Light armor capable of deflecting basic attacks. Covers legs, arms, torso, and neck.
  
  Upper Body Plate Armor: arms are fitted with welded spikes, just in case someone needs to be shoved.
  
  Steel Sword: One-handed sword, made with craftsmanship. Balanced and sharp.
  
  Round Shield: Light, made of wood with reinforced metal edges.
  
  Blade Equipment: Cloth for cleaning, stone for sharpening, sheath for sheathing.
  
  
  
  Skills:
  Sword Expertise - You have honed your skills with the sword and can wield it with a degree of finesse. Hack n’ slash!
  
  Escapist - You have learned a stance for dodging attacks and putting distance between yourself and an opponent with a degree of finesse. Can’t touch this, doo do do doo~
  
  Acrobatics - You have trained your body to move quickly and flexibly, allowing you to dodge easier and perform agile athletic feats. Can’t touch this, doo do do doo time two.~
  
  Divinity - You have learned the rites and rituals for communing with the divine and can now seek blessings and aid from the various gods of Aldaan.
  
  Mana Pool:
  10
  
  Magical Potential:
  6 (7 for Storm)
  
  Magicks:
  School of Storms (Ba'an, Wrathful God of Storms)
  
  FIRST CLASS:
  Stimulating Pads (Low/5s/Incant) - Touch an area on the body, stimulating the muscles with a small charge. Relieves some stress and restores a little stamina.
  
  Static Shock (Low/5s/Incant) - Generate a charge in your palms and lightly shock something at a touch. A neat little party trick.
  
  Minor Arc (Low/5s/Incant) - Generate a tiny arc of electricity between two of your fingers. Looks cool, but I wouldn’t touch it.
  
  SECOND CLASS:
  Minor Flash Step (Moderate/15s/Incant) - Charge your body with lightning and accelerate your movements in short bursts for a short duration.
  
  Minor Stun (Low/5s/Incant) - Send a small streak of lightning from your fingertip at an enemy, lightly shocking them and disrupting their movements for a second.
  
  Thunder Skin (Moderate/15s) - Bless yourself with lightning, protecting you from light blows and granting you the Lightning Rod skill. I’m not touching you, are you crazy?
  
  
• 
  Aspiration:
  Karav's wish is to commune with Ba'an. He wants more magic, more skills, more power. Anything to become better and crushing those who have done wrong. Thoroughly.
  
  Personality:
  Karav, following Ba'an his whole life, is a bit of a wild card. Anything in his way will be dealt with. Finding a way to destroy the sturdiest foundations, bringing it all crashing down, is quite satisfying for him. Karav loves the aftermath of a good disaster as much as the average man loves escaping it, but he isn't one to cause undeserved suffering. He has a moral code, one that makes sure that he brings suffering only to those that deserve it. Aside from his craving for destruction and his grasp on cause and effect, Karav enjoys the smallest things in life: tiny comforts, seconds spend reflecting on the world and the beauty surrounding it.
  
  
  
  Backstory:
  Born into one of the small southern tribes of Nebosi in the Tribal Expanse, Karav was raised with high expectations. His father, Quen, was a powerful mage subscribed to the School of Nature, and his mother, Ista, was a fierce warrior and leader. Together they ruled Quistean, and both wanted more out of their son than they had. His father, ever the pacifist, did not want his son to have a connection with Ba' an, the Bringer of Destruction. His mother wanted Karav to become a leader for their tribe, but he shrunk from the task as much as he could.
  
  Karav had only one magic mentor, the only other Nebosi in their village with storm magic. She, of course, was also a wrathful soul, pushing Karav beyond anything else he had done and punishing him with more work with even the slightest mistake. Despite his instructor, Karav found joy in learning thunder magic. He also liked chopping down trees or causing rockslides; the crash at the end was always satisfying.
  
  Through his teenage years, Karav continued his behavior, though he was now forced into more assignments, including arranging land agreements, becoming a foreign ambassador, etc. He found comfort in worship, studying storm magic. When he turned 17, Karav decided to run off, tired of his parents and the life that he held, stuck with leadership duties that he was both unwilling and unable to accomplish.
  
  He traveled north, up to the center of the Tribal Expanse, where he joined the small army of a powerful tribe, Ghea, under the name Vacren. Others kept away from him, but he didn't care. He was doing something he wanted to do, and nothing else mattered. Karav was trained to fight, and he incorporated the magic he had to boost his capabilities. Speed was his greatest advantage in sparring, so he leaned into it. He was dispatched, along with twenty others, to raid a bandit camp. His first assignment: an astounding success. Over the next three years or so, Karav was doing great, but he was beginning to feel the stress of army life.
  
  Karav had become close buddies with a few others: Liera, an elf with life magic, and Wyren, a human with stone magic. In a routine raid against a band of looters, a fatal accident was accidentally brought about by a fellow soldier, bringing about the death of both friends. He blamed that incompetent man, killing him. Three casualties were reported at the hand of the bandits, and later that week, Karav deserted. He passed the border to the Dacht Theocratic Conglomerate, seeking refuge from Ghea.
  
  
  
• 
  
  Other:
  nuthin
  
  

 

[Longhead]

​

• Basic
• Inventory and Abilities
• Personal
• Bartleby D. Arros: Journal Entries 224 - 225 A.E..
• Ais Sejuk: Journal Entries 225 - 226 A.E..
• Gillian Cox-Shreffler: Journal Entry "Gillian."

• 
  Full Name:
  Ais Sejuk
  
  Aliases: --
  
  
  Combat Class:
  Mage
  
  Magical Potential:
  7 (8 in School of Frost)
  
  Race:
  Nebosi (Subspecies)
  
  Age:
  ?
  
  Sex:
  Male
  
  Height/Weight:
  7'3/270lbs
  
  Homeland:
  Cryikk Wastes
  
  Location Start:
  Justicar Knightdom
  
  
• 
  Inventory:
  Cryohound Mask - An iron mask made to resemble the face of a Cryohound
  
  Hide Cuirass - Light armor.
  
  Cloak - A hooded cloak made and decorated by the Snowfolk in the Cryikk Wastes. Well insulated. Relatively weightless among things meant to keep people warm in the Cryikk Wastes.
  
  Lead - A lead stylus used to write.
  
  Journal - A book that Ais uses to record his thoughts in Common.
  
  Gillian's Journal - A journal gifted to Ais by Gillian. None of its contents are written in Common; practically unreadable.
  
  Ice Crystal - A crystal about the size of Ais' hand. Strangely does not melt.
  
  Skills:
  Scholar (Class Trait) - You have learned to read and write in the languages you know, allowing you to translate ancient texts, write up documents and contracts, read magical scrolls, draw runes and much more. If knowledge is strength, your brain knows how to flex in Ork.
  
  Cold Resistant - You have trained your body to withstand low temperatures, allowing you to resist the effects of ice and other cooling elements. So coldhearted...
  
  Divinity (Race Trait) - You have learned the rites and rituals for communing with the divine and can now seek blessings and aid from the various gods of Aldaan.
  Mana Pool:
  28
  
  Magicks:
  School of Frost:
  First Class:
  
  Snow (Low/5s/Incant) - Generate a small cloud above you that snows slightly. Lowers the temperature and looks very pretty.
  
  Minor Conjure Ice (Low/5s/Incant) - Create a small patch of snow and ice for you to hurl at whatever you like. Snowball fight!
  
  Cooling Palms (Low/5s/Incant) - Touch a target and cool it down, reducing its temperature. Perfect on a hot summer’s day or if a drannid died on you.
  
  Second Class:
  
  Minor Freeze (Moderate/15s/Rune) - Touch a small object or surface and freeze it, spreading frost across a 5ft surface.
  
  Snow Step (Moderate/15s/Rune) - Empower your feet with the swiftness of ice, allowing you to skate across a surface.
  
  Frost Skin (Moderate/15s/Incant) - Your body takes on a frosty sheen, protecting you from light blows and granting you the Cold Resistant skill. Looking cold bro.
  
  Third Class:
  
  Summon Frozen Shield (Low/5s/Incant) - Conjure forth a shield of ice that reforms slowly after taking hits, frosting objects it blocks each time. Even the Titanic couldn’t take me out!
  
  Frostcleave (Moderate/15s/Incant) - Compress ice into a dense crescent blade and throw it at a group of targets, slicing through it.
  
  School of Rain:
  First Class:
  
  Waterproof (Low/5s/Incant) - Prevent water from sticking to you and your things. Helpful when being wet is suddenly an inconvenience for you.
  
  Cloud (Low/5s/Incant) - Generate a small cloud above you that rains slightly. Cools you down and puts out small fires.
  
  Spout (Low/5s/Incant) - Conjure a small spout of water from your fingertip. A nice refreshing drink, or a deadly weapon for water-fights.
  
  Second Class:
  
  Water Walk (Low/5s/Incant) - Enchant your feet not to sink through the surface of water. Like stepping in a puddle, constantly.
  
  Fill (Low/5s/Incant) - Fill a container with water. Need a drink?
  
  Wet Skin (Moderate/15s/Incant) - Conjure a thin layer of water over your body. It won’t make your clothes wet, but it will absorb a small impact if you do end up getting hit.
  
  Third Class:
  
  Summon Pressure Blade (Low/5s/Incant) - Summon a flowing sword of water. Two fast-moving currents churn concurrently in opposite directions to form a rending blade. Rip and tear!
  
  Surf (Moderate/15s/Rune) - Conjure water beneath your feet that carries you across any surface, vertical or horizontal. Surf can now be up, if you’d like.
  
• 
  Aspiration: --
  
  
  Personality:
  Ais is reserved, cautious, and walks with a rational outlook on life. In the new world he finds himself in, he rarely ever makes assumptions, instead opting to analyze his surroundings, check his facts, and use those to arrive at a practical conclusion. Ais tolerates very little indecision within others, but absolutely refuses to be indecisive himself; if he can't help but be conflicted on a decision, he's prone to freezing while he takes a while to look at the facts more closely. Being a person who looks at the facts, he's incredibly patient, but his patience is lost easily if he's challenged by impractical theories that ignore key-details, and in time-consuming debates, he can become angry if a deadline is nearing.
  
  If Ais says he's going to do something, he's going to do it. This is because of his sharp and fact-based mind prefers self-sufficiency and reliability in himself over depending on others. People who don't meet their obligations no matter the personal cost baffle him; he can't fathom that people wouldn't hold their own word in the same respect he does. He views dependency on others as a weakness as mandated by passion for duty and impeccable personal integrity. His integrity is so great in fact that he cannot tell a lie, even if the consequences of telling the truth could be disastrous. He adheres to rules and guidelines regardless of cost, and is the type to report his own mistakes.
  
  To Ais, honesty is far more important than emotional considerations, which could lead some people to believe him to be cold in wake of his blunt approach. He has a hard time expressing his feelings, mostly. He acts and speaks very generously often. Outside of that, his words can be hurtful and that's because he's simply being honest and would prefer people don't take what he says to heart. The suggestion that he doesn't feel at all is actually very hurtful to Ais, and he'll even go as far to deny that, as it's factually incorrect.
  
  His strongest trait is his dedication, however his stubborn dedication to security and efficiency can lead to him failing to take care of himself, which can be detrimental to others in the long term if they decide to depend on him. The pressure of protecting his own health versus being as efficient as possible creates a great emotional and mental strain that doesn't manifest into anything, and if it ever does, it may be too late to fix. If Ais didn't find a stabilizing role so satisfying, the strain would resolve itself easily. Since he's not perfect but endlessly strives to be, he may unreasonably blame himself if things go wrong.
  
  Ais is not a spontaneous friend, nor is he a particularly playful one. He's not talkative, and he's hardly entertaining. In his friendship is loyalty and dependability. Even though his affection isn't one of Ais' stronger skills, he still finds a way to show it. To be is to do, and Ais' actions are a strong stand in for his words. Ais' may seem terribly serious on the outside, but that's only one side of him. In the company of joyful, talkative, or interesting people, he won't be so staid and is able to enjoy conversations about life and current events. This side of him is rarely seen though, as Ais is very selective of his friends.
  
  Ais' doesn't like conflict, and it's shown in the people he keeps company. He prefers people with similar opinions, but that's not to say he won't befriend substantially different types. While talking to people he's a lot different is poses a great challenge in bridging the communication gap, this can be overlooked if Ais appreciates the strengths and qualities the other person shows enough. Some of his friendships can be built on respect for mutual differences rather than similarities. Mostly, Ais can respect knowledge, or at least wide breadth of thought the most; knowledge is the greatest equalizer.
  
• 
  Backstory:
  
  
  Mid-Winter, 224 A.E.
  
  “I’ve arrived at the Waste’s testing facility where we’ll be unlocking the secrets of a certain artifact. It’s very cold, even by the Cryikk Waste’s standards, and there are leylines everywhere. There are roughly ten people to staff the project. I would’ve assumed there’d be more for such an important undertaking, but I must assume everyone here is a top individual in their field — that makes me feel like an imposter among them, but I will do my best.”
  --
  “It’s been three days since I’ve arrived. It seems there’s a bit of disdain for me as a newcomer. I’m often given menial tasks like relaying messages and fetching items at the request of others. I have not dedicated my life to the study of magic just to be treated like this! I’ll be putting in a complaint with the head of this operation shortly.”
  --
  “It seems my concerns have gone ignored. Outrageous! If I can’t ask them to treat me as an equal then I’ll just have to show them I’m worth the respect. One of the clumsier mages, Alftand, leaves his work out in the open. In his defense, he probably doesn’t expect for it to be stolen. When everyone heads to bed, I’ll do what I can and see if I can’t expedite this little venture we’re on.”
  --
  “I can sense I’m on to something. Alftand was in the process of figuring out what the artifact does, but it appears he’s hit a wall. I’m fortunate that I’m apparently a better thinker than Alftand, because I’m certain I’ve done the necessary work to finish the spell. His notes mentioned that the conditions need to be as cold as possible, so I may have to take the experiment outside.”
  --
  “The test was successful...in a way. Alftand was so ridiculously close to understanding the artifact's conditions. I'm still not entirely sure what happened — it seems that the surrounding area was sucked into a space in the air and disappeared before everything affected was violently expelled. Fortunately it was just snow and ice and I was far enough away to remain unaffected. After it had practically created a crater, it blasted everything out in a violent manner. I had thought the experiment a failure until I noticed a pair of horns protruding from the snow!”
  
  “I dug to the bottom of the pile and I found a horned human figure of blue skin. He’s comparable in size to most current Nebosi. I cast Lantern to get a better look at his features. His eyes are completely pale, and his face is covered in what appear to be tattoos. I’m unaware if it’s dead or unconscious, however, I must bring his body back to my peers regardless.”
  --
  “I was nearly kicked off of the project for conducting work unsupervised and in secrecy. Had I nothing to bring back, I’m certain I would’ve been waiting on an escort back to the Hierophant’s Scepter. The subject hasn’t woken up yet, so there’s very little to report on aside from its physique. It’s easy to assume that this is a race we’ve never encountered before, and because of that, that’s the only assumption we’re making.”
  --
  “Subject awoke rather calmly and analyzed its surroundings. It completely ignored us for 10 minutes while it walked around the room it was contained in, thereafter going on to inspect Alftand with both his eyes and hands; he seems just as curious as we are. It was immediately clear that whatever we’re dealing with is intelligent, and it was further proven after it was shown to be capable of speech. As expected, it was nothing anyone here spoke, and we couldn’t recognize any of the speech patterns as something that exists in Aldaan."
  
  "Trying to bridge the communication gap would’ve been a lot harder if one party weren’t as smart as they were. We exchanged knowledge of simple concepts: pictures, body language, various noises with different connotations, and used that as a basis to figure out a more effective way to communicate. As far as what we can tell, his name is [Ice]. That’s what he responds to, at least.”
  
  “Before we can learn much about him we need to do more to bridge the communication gap. Either we learn his language or he learns ours, whichever comes first, but it looks like he’ll be learning our language. Hilsby proposed that we attempt to teach him to read by using the books we have on hand to teach him Common. Hilsby proposed that I attempt to teach him to read by using the books we have on hand and thus teach him Common. I’ll have to do what I can.”
  --
  “Trying to teach simple concepts like reading is far more difficult than I imagined. Things at their basic level cannot be broken down any further, and that makes it difficult to explain. Still, it seems [Ice] is an incredibly quick learner. While he didn’t quite blow through the literature we had lying around, he managed to develop his own sentences in a matter of a few days. I’d like to see how well he fares with spellbooks.”
  --
  “Since [Ice] didn’t completely grasp common yet, trying to teach him incantations was a bit difficult. We’ve made little progress and decided to move on to something relatively more simple: drawing runes. His handwriting is already quite fine, and copying a rune from the page was trivial for him. He’s been oddly cooperative, but no one here is complaining.”
  
  “He carries around a simple spell tome that’ll verse him in the School of Frost. It seems that he’s taken study into his own hands; we won’t take it from him.”
  --
  
  Late-Winter, 224 A.E.
  
  “[Ice] has begun to take his study more seriously. He prefers to figure things out on his own rather than have me teach him at this stage. His speech is quite developed though it’s hard to gauge since he rarely speaks. He’s not quite at a scholarly level, but if we released him into a market with a list of things to buy and some silvers, we gather that he’d be successful.”
  
  “He’s started to read and write more complex subjects without any aid. We are eager to see what may come of this.”
  --
  “Ais, as he spells his name, seems to be more interested in what’s beyond the research facilities. We’re not confident enough to let him out quite yet, however we let him know that we’ll grant this wish soon so long as he continues to learn.”
  --
  
  Late-Winter, 225 A.E.
  
  “It’s been three months since Ais was brought back to the facility. There’s a large gap in my notes because I misplaced my journal, regrettably. Parts of his personality are starting to show. He talks a bit more frequently. He’s generous, though he’s clearly not well-socialized. It doesn’t seem that he understands basic nuances of speech. Now that he’s able to hold prolonged conversations, we will begin to advance his knowledge of speech.”
  --
  “Ais has suddenly started showing a great deal of autonomy. He seeks out food on his own, he finds books on his own, and he starts conversation without being prompted, seeking out Gillian (Mage) quite frequently. Gillian has gifted Ais a journal of his own to write in, as long as her own personal stylus. Gillian has her own notes on her relationship with Ais, though she refuses to share with us. She says it’ll be included in her final report back to the Scepter, which is due at the end of the year.
  --
  
  Early-Spring, 225 A.E.
  
  “Ais is incredibly protective of the journal he’s been given. I respect him as another man, so I’ll value his privacy as much as I do my own. We’ve decided to let him outside. We offered him some protective equipment, even a spellbook from the School of Flame to keep him warm, but he insisted he was fine and walked out barefoot into the snow. The garb he wore when we found him is relatively thin as well. It seems the cold doesn’t bother him in the slightest. Perhaps he has an affinity for all things cold?”
  --
  “His space is practically filled with books at this point. He’s hit a wall in learning Frost spells and instead began to learn from the School of Rain. His grasp of magic is insanely adept. I’m curious to see how far he can go.”
  --
  “Ais prefers to spend a lot of his time just outside of the facility throughout the night and day, only coming back inside to eat or fetch another book. He occasionally speaks with Gillian, and he’s been seen speaking with Alftand as well. I feel like I must remind everyone that he’s the subject of our research before he is our friend.”
  --
  
  Late-Spring, 225 A.E.
  
  “We’ve refocused on the matter at hand. Gillian agrees that we’ve explored our relationship with Ais too much and that it was time to get back to work. We’ve started to ask him more about himself, where he comes from, what he is. We’re beginning to keep a record of his answers. We’re preparing to learn about his language soon.”
  --
  A lot of concepts that we’re well accustomed to are lost on Aiis. His people don’t keep track of time, and thus the idea of age or a calendar doesn’t exist. He doesn’t know how old he is. We asked him to elaborate on his culture, and from what we’ve gathered, their society functions like a machine. There are those who grow food, and those who hunt for it. It’s then distributed to the people, free of charge.
  
  There are those who teach the young, those who defend society, and those who lead. Currency doesn’t exist. Everyone does everything out of not obligation, but desire to support their community. They don’t even have a word for “war.” The scope of the size of Aiis’ community is currently unknown because Aiis quote “does not care to know such things.” Interesting.”
  —
  Early-Autumn, 225 A.E.
  “We’re racking our brains trying to figure out what else to include in the final report. Ais is no longer interested in reading. All he does is write in his journal and stare out at the snowscape we’re in. Since he seems so complacent, we may just send him to the Scepter along with the report.”
  —
  “It seems Ais and Gillian (Fauna) have made contact with each other. Gillian is still incredibly timid, it seems. When I came across the two interacting, they were on opposite ends of Gillian’s chamber. They remained far apart for hours before Ais decided to leave. I’m not sure if I can call that an interaction.”
  —
  “We found Ais with Gillian again today in a similar position. They aren’t interacting more than they are existing in the same space. Ais wrote for a few hours and then left once again. He tells us he just enjoys Gillian’s company. He apparently tried to get close, but Gillian attacks when there is nowhere else to go. He suggested freeing Gillian, however we cannot do that.”
  —
  “Ais sat a little bit closer to Gillian this time. Based on its body language it was uncomfortable, but tolerant of this change. It appears Ais is attempting to develop a relationship with Gillian. We’re watching eagerly.”
  —
  Mid-Autumn, 225 A.E.
  “Ais has made leaps and bounds into socializing Gillian, though it appears it’s only comfortable being touched by Ais. We tried a similar method ages ago when we first got out here and weren’t even close to touching Gillian. It was always consistent in not wanting us in the chamber at all.”
  —
  Early-Winter, 225 A.E.
  “Attempts to replicate the events that led to Ais being brought into this world have been unsuccessful; it seems the artifact is drained of its mana. Alftand resents me for stealing the work he’s been cultivating for years, however, I can’t bring myself to care. What I did was an incredible step forward for magic. Alftand can resent me all he wants, but it won’t change my stance.”
  
  “I can only hope no harm is brought to him, however. I’m not sure what the magisters would do to him once he arrives at the Scepter.”
  —
  Mid-Winter, 225 A.E.
  
  “We’ve made a massive blunder, and so close to the end of the year when our report was due! We’d grown so comfortable with Ais’ company that we took it for granted. Now we can’t find him at all! And to make things worse, Gillian has been let out of her chamber as well. We’ve lost everything. No one is quite sure how to proceed. Hilsby suggested we search, but they could be anywhere at this point, and there are only 10 of us. No way we find Ais and Gillian.”
  
  “I suggested we submit our report early so that the magisters are aware of the current situation. We do not have the resources to mount an effective search. Gillian is too afraid of the consequences, but dammit what else are we supposed to do? We were careless and we paid dearly for it.”
  
  From the journal of Bartleby D. Arros, scholar and mage.
  —​
• 
  
  
  
  Mid-Winter, 225 A.E.
  “I've decided to begin writing in Common to practice further. I'm keeping the original journal gifted to me by Gillian, however I will seldom write in it for the time being. The mages have grown comfortable with me leaving. I think I’ll take Gillian out for a walk.”
  --
  “I fear I’ve gotten lost, and I cannot say that’s regrettable. The mages treated me well. I was fed, bedded, and even had a unique opportunity to learn. However, I feel as if being confined to an encampment is a gross misallocation of myself as a resource. Given how they believed they had total jurisdiction over me, I believe it’s safe to say they would not have let me walk voluntarily. I wish them well.”
  
  “I’ve very little knowledge, and I’ve come to realize that traveling this snowscape alone is perilous. Fortunately the magic that I’ve come to learn is incredibly useful. To think, the power to create a rending blade of water just from the utterance of a few words! Incredible. Gillian has also proven instrumental in survival. Often whenever I stop to sleep, I come back to find Gillian’s brought back food. I’m unaware of the word for meat that has not been held over a fire, but nonetheless, it is hard for me to eat. I often throw up.”
  
  I still try to keep it down. I don’t want to seem unappreciative of Gillian’s efforts.”
  --
  “Gillian and I are approaching a mass of swirling white. I’m not sure what it is, however, Gillian’s hairs stand on end whenever we head in its direction. It seems distressed. I’ve decided to walk in the opposite direction because of this.”
  --
  “The white mass has caught up with us. The winds threaten to knock me over, but Gillian keeps me standing. At some point Gillian knelt over in front of me, keeping me from progressing any further. I tried to walk around it, but in the last instance I tripped over Gillian, onto its back. Once I was on its back, Gillian took off and I was soon out of that situation.”
  
  “Had I been aware Gillian would let me ride, I daresay I could’ve covered a lot more ground by now.”
  --
  Late-Winter, 225 A.E.
  “Lately I’ve been seeing shifting patches of snow recently. I want to believe my eyes are playing tricks on me, however I can’t assume I know everything about this world. Maybe the snow moves on its own? I’d conduct an experiment if I wasn’t too occupied with seeing something other than snow.”
  --
  “The snow is certainly moving. They take the form of men and walk around as such. Fascinating. I try to approach, but they either flee or brandish weapons made of ice and assume a threatening stance. They’re incredibly hard to approach. Maybe they’re afraid of Gillian? Maybe it’s me that is scaring them.”
  --
  Early-Autumn, 226 A.E.
  
  “I’ve saved one of the snow people from a creature that resembled Gillian. They call it a Cryohound. After Gillian and I chased it off, they offered me their name. Silva, they call themselves. They gave me directions. Apparently in the direction I was headed, I would’ve reached the ocean rather than the rest of the land. I should’ve considered walking aimlessly might be dangerous. I thought the snowscape was massive!”
  
  “I originally ran out of things to write about. Nothing to note besides changing the pace of our walking. So there was a lapse in my writings. Now that I’ve changed course, I can hopefully reach a new scene. I may become bored.”
  
  “I forgot to mention, but Silva was kind enough to give me some of her wares! She was a merchant. I was granted a piece of clothing meant to keep me warm, armor to protect me from things that I may encounter, and after cycling through different sizes we were able to find a mask that fit my face. It's a little too cold to wear something of this material, but it would've been disrespectful of me to reject her good will, so I kept it anyway."
  --
  
  Early-Winter, 226 A.E.
  
  “I can feel the air getting warmer. I think I may be close to...something. I'm not quite sure what. I think it'll be good for Gillian to rest her feet for a long while. I need to figure out a way to thank her."
  --
  
  Translated from the journal of Ais Sejuk
  ​
• 
  Other:
  
  "Gillian"
  
  
  Mid-Autumn, 224 A.E.
  "It was found in the southernmost mountains of the Cryikk Wastes alone. It's still not certain what it is, or what its capabilities are as it's hard to force it to comply. It's body is made up of incredibly dense muscles that are nearly as hard as rock. The top of its body is covered in thick fur that sticks straight up and resembles icicles. This fur not only aids in keeping a portion of its body warm, but it also aids in allowing it to be nearly impossible from a distance if it's in a field of snow. It's neck and head are covered in what is presumed to be bone, which is a strange mutation undocumented in Ravagers."
  
  "Subject slightly larger than the average horse at the shoulders from a glance. Body seems to be mostly muscle. Full examination is difficult, as the subject is incredibly timid and unfortunately a fast sprinter. Found burying itself in the snow to camouflage itself; very elusive. Attempts to put it to sleep have been largely unsuccessful. It seems to resist magic that affects the mind to a degree. Becomes aggressive when backed into a corner. Name pending. Likely a young Cryikk Ravager?"
  
  "Colleagues named subject "Gillian," after me. Reference to my inability to sleep. Gillian seen playing with Cryohound pup. Fled upon spotting our group. Need to explore relationship between Gillian and Cryohounds."
  
  "Subject capable of tool use. Threw a chunk of ice at us rather than running, and later that day attempted to attack us with a chunk of ice wrapped in its toes. Seems to be becoming frustrated with being followed for so long. This may be an opportunity to explore its capabilities more."
  
  "Gillian ambushed us this morning by hiding in the snow. Purposefully waited for us to pass before approaching. It caught Alftand off guard and maimed him. Had we no healers, we would've lost him for sure. Not only did the force of Gillian's bite break multiple of Alftand's ribs and crush one of his lungs, but the area affected seemed to be frozen. This leads me to believe it's capable of secreting a substance that freezes rapidly when released. Hard to test without knowing Gillian's diet or risking our lives again. Unfortunately, next time we encounter it we'll have to capture it and bring it back to the research center, as study in the wild is far too difficult."
  
  From the journal of Gillian Cox-Shreffler, scholar and mage.​

 

[sheesh]

Clearly Compensating for Something

• Basics
• Ability & Equipment
• Personal
• Extra

• Basics
  Full Name:
  Holden Fel-Houndir
  
  Aliases:
  "Hound"
  
  Combat Class:
  Fighter
  
  Magical Potential:
  3
  
  Race:
  Human (Extra Skill)
  
  Age:
  19
  
  Sex:
  Male
  
  Height/Weight:
  6'10/285lbs
  
  Homeland:
  Kingdom of Ironcrown
  
  Location Start:
  Dacht Theocratic Conglomerate
  
  
• Equipment & Ability
  Inventory:
  Hunk of Iron (~40lbs) - A massive sword that's only a little shorter than Holden that shouldn't be possible to swing with even two hands. Its blade is about a foot wide, and six feet long. The blade is not tapered at all, being the same thickness all the way from hilt to point. After years of abuse, the edge is dull and the blade looks like it may break. Despite it's appearance, it's still plenty durable and remains a viable weapon; if swung with enough force, coupled with its weight, it’ll tear through most armored targets and send them flying. Really too large to be called a sword. Too big, too thick, too heavy, and too rough. It's more like a hunk of iron. Surprisingly well balanced. There's a hole in the blade near the hilt that hooks onto a special harness Holden wears to hang the sword on his back.
  
  Trousers - Trousers.
  
  Greaves (~15lbs) - Heavy iron greaves. Used as a weight to keep Holden from being thrown around by the weight of his blade.
  
  Hide Cloak (~30lbs) - A thick cloak that's made primarily of bear hide. Could probably stop most slashing attacks and lessen the effectiveness of stabs. Unwashed, really heavy, and a little too hot. Also adds extra weight to his body.
  
  Thin Hide Cuirass - Light armor, worn as a shirt, and a little too thin to offer much protection.
  
  Gloves - Said to protect Holden's hands whenever he's fighting. Definitely does not protect Holden's hands whenever he's fighting.
  
  Terrorgeist Talon - A talon taken from a Terrorgeist that hangs from a necklace. Said to bring good luck.
  
  (Total Weight: ~390lbs)
  
  
  Skills:
  Sword Expertise - You have honed your skills with the sword and can wield it with a degree of finesse. Hack n’ slash!
  
  Unarmed Expertise - You have honed your skills with your body and can wield it with a degree of finesse. Can be applied when using gauntlets. You are the weapon.
  
  Strength - You have trained your body to exert and carry more force than is usually capable of your race. Kolo would be proud.
  
  Endurance - You have trained your body to take more punishment, improving your stamina and allowing you to resist more damage. Oh, were you attacking? I didn’t notice.
  
  Enrage - You have attuned your mind to enter a controlled rage upon taking a deep wound, enhancing your strength and endurance for a short duration. Don’t expect to be running a marathon after the work is done, young buck.
  
  Instincts - You have attuned your mind to sense when something is wrong, allowing you to anticipate attacks easier and sense hostile intent. Who’s that, what’s that?
  
  Keen Nose - You have trained your senses to smell with acute accuracy, allowing you to pick up smells over a greater distance and differentiate between them. Are you part beast?
  
  Mana Pool: --
  
  Magicks: --
  
• Personal
  Aspiration: --
  
  
  Personality:
  Holden is constantly surrounded by an air of austerity, reservation, and a hint of cynicism. He doesn't enjoy talking about himself because he considers all of his life's highlights to be unimpressive, and he doesn't think very much of himself. Holden realizes he's better off not talking to people due to not being well socialized, so he prefers to be alone when he can help it. In spite of this, he still does plenty of talking, instead opting to think out loud and have full blown conversations with himself. Around people he trusts, he can show a more compassionate side of himself, allowing himself to be marginally more sociable and less distant without sacrificing his usual dry candidness.
  
  Holden is all around not good at thinking for himself, always being told what to do up until very recently. His will never being his own, he’s left without much of his own personality, dreams, or goals, which is something that isn’t complimented by his anti-social nature. As someone who has servitude practically seared into his brain, he looks up to people who'll even just look his way; his standard for kindness is extremely low. Since he's practically done nothing but live to impress, he's subconsciously always looking for someone to impress, but due to his anti social tendencies, getting someone to look his way is pretty difficult.
  
  His main weakness is how easily it is for him to become angry. Very rarely can he only become a little angry. It's usually either he's completely unbothered, or he flies into a berserk rage that immediately puts everyone around him in danger. Fortunately, his main strength is having a high tolerance for stress. Outside of outright harming him, it can take quite a lot to make Holden act out of pocket. It's the aftermath of these beast-like rampages that Holden is his most repentant, often sulking for a few days afterwards. The only scenario where Holden is fine with throwing a tantrum is if he can channel and control the anger himself, which is a feat that he's wildly inconsistent in pulling off.
  
  
  Backstory:
  Holden was a giant, even when he was just a newborn, weighing almost twenty pounds. In this regard, he was just like his father, who was also unnaturally large for most humans. Also in line with his father’s characteristics, he possessed incredible strength, fitness and constitution. While his family weren’t technically nobles in Ironcrown, they commanded great respect on part of the men being great fighters that often went on to succeed massively in the military. Arcsys Fel-Houndir was an outstanding example of this trend, and as he was Holden’s father, Holden was expected to be just as great.
  
  Arcsys was a captain typically stationed at Siberus. Whenever he was in Fel-Houndir's hometown of Shenn, he spent his time telling Holden stories of things that would happen whenever he was on duty. It didn’t take long for Holden to beg to come to Siberus with his father whenever he was home, and it also didn’t take as long for Arcsys to fold — something his mother did not appreciate at all.
  
  At the time, Siberus was being harassed by bandits out of the Tribal Expanse for months. Patrols sent out came back with half as many soldiers than they had when they were sent out, and skirmishes often broke out. Arcsys thought it to be a good idea to expose Holden to life as a soldier while he was young, so he could learn to close his heart to the struggle. His first trip to Siberus was his last, and it was when his entire life changed.
  
  Arcsys himself led a patrol along the stream separating the Tribal Expanse and Ironcrown and brought Holden along, promising that as long as he didn’t stray too far from his side, everything would be fine. The patrol managed to come across a group of bandits building an encampment close to the treeline. Arcsys was wildly outnumbered, but in a bout of arrogance decided he wanted to show off to impress his son. Things went as most would expect in a scenario such as this; the patrol was wiped out, and Arcsys, despite being very strong, was still just a man and was slain as well. Holden was six.
  
  The bandits had a strict code against killing children, even human ones. Their reluctance to adhere to the code was easily visible, being elves from the Tribal Expanse; they weren’t fans of Ironcrown in the slightest. Still, Holden’s strength was incredible, and he seemed promising. As an insult to Ironcrown, the bandits decided to abduct Holden and use him as an asset, but only after they’d broken him to be completely loyal to their outfit. Couldn’t have him running off before they got any use out of him.
  
  Their group called themselves the Crimson Raiders. For years, Holden was kept in the Tribal Expanse doing nothing besides training, eating, and sleeping. Any deviation resulted in a beating that sometimes left him near death. Even doing what he was told was a guarantee he’d get through the day peacefully. Simply being a human was enough for everyone to hate him. Even the ones who weren’t present when Arcsys’ patrol was wiped out. In an almost funny twist, even the ones who didn’t hate him just for being a human hated him for how much he ate; he was extremely high maintenance in that regard as a growing child.
  
  
  

  "They likened me to a beast, the way I ate. I don't think many kids that aren't nobles know much in the ways of table manners, but my lack of manners and the amount of meat I could eat didn't pair well together. They tried to cut my portions plenty of times, but if I didn't eat enough, I couldn't do much of anything. If it were them, I'dve just killed me rather than strain the food supply. I'm just a slave. I didn't contribute much way back then, and I hardly think I contributed much even as a man."
  ​

  
  It also didn’t help that he was nearly insatiable when it came to finding out the right way to approach turning him into a fighter. Most weapons were far too light for him, even if they were made to be heavy for an average child. Most of the time he opted to fight with his hands, which became more and more successful over the years. When he was twelve, he still longed to return home, which prompted the Raiders to introduce a practice of giving Holden fake opportunities of escape, allowing him to get very close to reaching freedom, and then shutting him down at the home stretch. It proved to be incredibly effective, as within a dozen escape “attempts,” Holden had completely given up.
  
  The Raiders decided that Holden was ready to be used by the time he was sixteen, and so they decided to put more effort into properly equipping him for fights. Keeping in mind his strength, they knew that ordinary weapons wouldn’t be as effective in his hands. In an unimaginative effort, they gave him a massive sword which only he could use. As added security, they used magic to keep him from disobeying during his first test run, drawing Totemic Blaze runes on multiple parts of his body and always assigning two mages to follow Holden so they could be activated easily.
  
  Holden was scarily effective. He found fighting to be a good way to release his frustration and anger since he wasn’t allowed to bring harm to his captors without being vaporized. During his first skirmish with a patrol, he fought recklessly, and flew into a rage early into the fight and practically carried the Raider’s group to victory. Despite being a slave, practically, he still earned both fear and respect during his display.
  
  As he got older, his nose for food became increasingly potent. Holden was under the impression that this was part of the reason that people began to call him “Hound,” the other part of course being his last name. The real reason was because of his position in the Raiders: a servant. That coupled with his beastial fighting style were the real constituents of his nickname, but no one ever told him, even after he began to call himself that. Taking it as a joke on part of his nose led him to believe his group were starting to become friendlier towards him after
  
  He was wrong. For the most part.
  
  Despite being the Raiders’ personal weapon, he did at least earn acknowledgement from their leader, Nirya. By no stretch were they friends, but she did show Holden some kindness in the form of words of affirmation. She personally decided to train Holden so that he could be of more use. It was from her that he learned the proverb “Don’t hunt a rabbit with a greatsword.” This was in reference to how reckless he fought; he was strong, but wildly swinging a massive sword around would get him killed if he fought someone with enough experience to handle him.
  
  
  

  "I'd been getting by just swinging my sword as hard and as fast as I could. I reckon most have never seen anyone swinging a sword as big mine around. Lookin' back, if I wasn't backed up by other Raiders, I would've died...maybe that has less to do with me being unskilled and more to do with the fact that I'd just be one man, but still! I found fighting to be a lot less tiring when I fought as I was instructed to. Nirya always told me that with strength like mine, my body alone was a weapon even if I didn't know how to use it. I might not have been able to throw a punch properly, but I think my punches hurt regardless."​

  
  
  He combined fighting with his hands, or rather, his body, with swinging his sword as a way of conserving energy and approaching combat more methodically. Nirya herself started accompanying him when he fought, and that alone was enough to make some of the hatred for Holden subside. If Nirya liked him, everyone else felt they had to as well. For the most part.
  
  If there was anyone to pity in the Raiders, it was Holden. He was hardly shown any, but Nirya, in her own way, showed him some. She was beginning to grow tired of being a bandit, and was fixing to retire and dismantle the group. She offered to set him free if he was able to defeat her in a duel. Surprisingly, Holden wasn’t entirely thrilled to be offered another chance. It wasn’t because he liked being with the Raiders, but at this point, be free for what? He’d killed plenty of Ironcrown’s soldiers, and he hated himself for it. Being from a family that was known to produce high quality soldiers, he wouldn’t be able to face his family after what he’d done even if they had no clue what he’d been doing in the decade that he’d been assumed dead.
  
  Still, he took the opportunity. At least he was given a meaningful choice to make for the first time in a very long time. It would’ve been a waste to turn it down. He did as best as he could against Nirya, but mostly because his heart wasn’t entirely in the battle, he was defeated handily. Nirya still intended on disbanding the Raiders, however, Holden would only be freed on the condition he beat Nirya, which was something that didn’t happen. He would remain in service to Nirya, but without the Raiders.
  
  Nirya decided to pursue other things after the Raiders had been dismantled, spending a lot of time in the Magocracy and moving there and bringing Holden along.
  
  

  “I didn’t have to stay. There were no more runes drawn on me. She never kept me closely monitored. I could’ve just...left. But...for what? I’m starting to realize why the elves back home called me Hound.”
  ​

  
  Holden primarily accompanied Nirya whenever she did work for the magisters, hunting artifacts as a way of making money. He typically did most of the heavy lifting and fighting for Nirya, while Nirya was the only one who made any actual money. She made enough to take care of the two of them. They went on like this for two years, not quite friends, but hardly in a servant-master relationship. Still, Holden had to press the question. Were they friends?
  
  

  “I’m not sure what I expected, or why it hurt so much, but I was far from what Nirya could call a friend. She described it as “someone who wouldn’t depend on another’s dream; someone who wouldn’t be compelled by anyone and pursued their own reason to live, and would oppose her if she threatened that reason, body and soul.” It was everything I wasn’t; she wanted an equal. I had no reason to live. All I ever did was follow Nirya around like the dog I was. It changed my perspective on what it was I was doing, what I was committing myself to.”
  ​

  
  Two days after the question was posed, Holden began to display far more autonomy than he did before. He started taking jobs on his own, making his own money and spending it on what he wanted. It didn’t take long for Nirya, and within the same week, Holden was given the opportunity to duel for his freedom once again. Nirya was interested to see just how strong Holden’s unsaid conviction was.
  
  The duel was quick. They drew their blades, and when they clashed, Holden broke Nirya's sword in a single swing, leaving her kneeling in defeat. Holden declared he wanted to obtain a dream of his own, so that one day he could come back to Nirya as her equal. As her friend. As a parting gift, Nirya gave him a necklace with a Terrorgeist’s talon on it so that Holden wouldn’t forget what his goal was, and that was it.
  
• Extra
  Other:
  Holden's faster than what most people would think when he's not wearing an extra 85lbs of equipment. Nothing close to what the Acrobatics skill would offer, though.
  
  Some other pictures:
  Link
  Link, but probably with a different picture
  
  Man I wish Guts had two eyes. Made it really hard to find pictures of guys with a big sword.
  

Artist: Who the heck knows

 

[mito]

Full Name: Jacob gerber

Aliases: graff
Class: mage
Magic potential: 5, and 6 for the school of dusk
Race: human
Age: 29
Sex: male
Height/Weight: 6ft and 190lbs

Homeland: hend aristocracy
Location Start: dacht theocratic conglomerate

Appearance:
With sleek swept back hair and an apparent high class travel attire.

Jacob looks well build and lean, with an angular yet wide face, he has dull light brown hair, and vibrant light brown eyes. (A bit yellowish)

He's often smiling and appears like he always has his eyes fixated on something, or otherwise looking straight ahead.
Like he is never in thought.
Always carrying with him a subtle feeling of sincerity.

Because jacob is a mage he keeps runes with readymade spells with him.
instead of on paper he paints the inscriptions and circles directly on his body as tatoos, covering most of the front of his upper body.
They are not permanent however and fade away after a several days.

Afterall, instead of having runes on hand, why not have them litterally on your hand.
(Ps:He doesnt actually have them on his hands, only just a bit higher under his sleeves.)

Inventory:
A sturdy navy colored rain coat with gold colored cords, a durable crème-grey colored 4 piece suit and white undergarments together with vibrant colored traveling boots.
The pieces are part of an expendable outfit meant for long travel and occasionally used by merchants.
Allthough they are made of low cost materials, the makeup and design still gave away their origin and intended users.

A medium sized leather shoulder bag , containing rations and essential survival equipment.
Its contents include, a compass, a knife, some general maps, and a journal with some pre researched survival related guides.

A large flask with potent ink used for runes.

A neatly decorated watch tied to his suit by a metal chain


mana pool: 19


Skills:
Strength
Scholar


Magics:
School of dusk:

First class:
- Displace Shadow
- Suppress Light
- Minor Dark Wrap
- Dancing Shadows

Second class:
- Nocturnal Vision
- Summon Minor Shade
- Minor Shadow Step
- Summon Dark Dagger

Third class:
- Blackened Grasp
- Shaded Betrayal
- Shadow Bolt
- Unearthly Stake

Fourth class:

(all of the spells are learned as runes.)


Aspiration:
At the young age of around 25, jacob realized he couldnt keep living of his family's wealth and achievements for much longer, or he would risk losing credibility.
even his younger siblings started pass him on renown and academics. Subtle remarks started to become increasingly agitating.
Eventually, his fellow brothers and sisters dared him to fend for himself, accusing him of being lazy and helpless as a child, if not for his family name.
Jacob was infuriated by their remarks.
On a whim he packed his bag and left the estate as his siblings saw to it he did'nt stuff his pouches with riches from the mansion.
Boarding the first ship scheduled to leave port, he traveled to the dacht theocratic conglomerate.
confidant and without hesitation, he felt like showing his siblings what he was made of.
returning home, he would be a famed prestigious figure, all made to be of his own volition.

Personality:
Despite failing to shape jacob into a humble son, some of his strict upbringing did come trough. He not only knows well how to behave in hierachies but he's also skilled in small talk and the bussinesrelations of nobles which for a large part consisted of requests and favors.
Specific traits he inherited were loyalty to his close ones, cheerfulness and he could occasionally be considered a friendly person, allbeit selectively.


Beside that, jacob has several less desirable personality traits.

Whenever there’s something Jacob cant get he might become obsessive. he'll go trough a lot of effort to make sure he gets it. And if he does, he will display large satisfaction.

He's often hard to be discouraged from a thing, once he has set his mind to it.
He is overall stubborn. When prompted he does not accept second opinions and commonly thinks that he knows best.

Beside this,
Whenever someone bests him whom he isn’t friendly with, he’ll get extremely sour.
He'll take it as an offense and tends to reminiscence.
He cant take defeat. And has little regard for fairplay.
He'll either deny that he lost or starts playing nasty until he wins.

When he finds himself competing he can get incredibly intense. so much so that hell take the fun out of it regardless of the opinioms of others. He,ll straight up get offensive or physical.

When in company of others jacob tends to brag and takes no shame in overshadowing others, if he'll come out on top, he'll let you know.

Despite calling himself friendly, he still tends to act and speak inconsiderate and rash, having trouble understanding others and finding it difficult to empathize with them.
Using stereotypes and prominently his own experiences, he makes quick judgements.

Aversed toward unremarkable tasks he sometimes outright refuses to work together or to make any effort when asked to perform chores.
The jobs and sometimes the "the people that lower themselfs enough for it" are disgustable to Jacob.


Backstory:
Jacob comes from a high standing household located in the hend aristocracy, with its members having succesfully protected its prestige, during the collapse of the hend kingdom.
Jacob immersed himself in the high class lifestyle and opportunities he was provided. He led a luxurious life and took over the sense that most physical labor was below him, leading toward dis-contempt when having to perform simple jobs.

His parents insisted on him following in their footsteps, but despite much effort and invaluable opportunities Jacob picked up practically nothing. (except for a certain flashy type magic) He would much rather spent his time in leisure, with pool parties dominating his time spending, until well after adulthood.
It was only until recently that he started taking his career seriously and started to put effort into it.


Excluding normal labor the young man could still direct his attention to it when the challenge on hand was worthwhile and significant to him.

at some point he picked up an interest in magic and selected it as one of his few studies. Opposed to using physicall effort for an occupation, jacob couldn’t resist the thought of being able to lay waste to soldiers and enemies by only uttering a few words.

For now he settled for the flashy looking school of dusk and made quite some progress.

 

[Pai Chan]

• BASICS
• COMBAT
• PERSONALITY
• BACKGROUND
• OTHERs

• 
  Name: Bai Ling
  
  Aliases: Bloodsport
  
  Class: Fighter
  
  Age: 26
  
  Sex: Female
  
  Height/Weight: 5' 4" | 114 lbs
  
  Race: Human (+1 skill)
  
  Homeland: Jormun Maritime Thallassy
  
  Location Start: Hierophant's Magocracy
  
• 
  Inventory:
  Alcohol of varying kinds - "Sometimes booze is the best medicine for injuries"
  
  Chain with ball at the end - "Not every enemy likes to fight fair. Ole' faithful is my backup plan."
  
  Light Clothes
  
  Brass knuckles - "Not everything I punch is soft."
  
  Skills:
  
  Unarmed Expertise - You have honed your skills with your body and can wield it with a degree of finesse. Can be applied when using gauntlets. You are the weapon.
  
  Flail Expertise - You have honed your skills with the flail and can wield it with a degree of finesse. Tricky to use, trickier to dodge.
  
  Defensive - You have learned a stance to resist and recover from strikes with more skill than most, at the expense of giving yourself less room to launch your own. Defence is the best offense.
  (Cannot start with Aggressive)
  
  Opportunist - You have honed your skill in reacting to attacks, allowing you to anticipate and counter more easily. Of course, much to your opponents surprise and dismay.
  
  Acrobatics - You have trained your body to move quickly and flexibly, allowing you to dodge easier and perform agile athletic feats. Can’t touch this, doo do do doo time two.~
  
  Strength - You have trained your body to exert and carry more force than is usually capable of your race. Kolo would be proud.
  
  Tireless - You have trained your body to fatigue more slowly and function for longer, allowing you to outlast others when it comes to stamina more easily. Didn't even break a sweat.
  
  Opportunist - You have honed your skill in reacting to attacks, allowing you to anticipate and counter more easily. Of course, much to your opponents surprise and dismay.
  
• 
  Aspiration: --
  
  Personality: People that, personally, know Bai Ling have often been described as either a psychopath or sociopath. Her lack of empathy, disregard for right and wrong, impulsivity, manipulation, and bad relations with others is what she is known for. But even with the negatives she still has some sense of honor. When hired on a job, she hasn't double crossed her employer. At least not that anyone knows about who is still living.
  
  Her eyes seem that of someone who's soul has long since departed and her face rarely gives away to any emotion. Bai's eyes only light up when a fight is happening. The only thing to make her feel alive is when her life is in danger. But as her skill progresses it became more and more rare to get that feeling. Even taking on lesser risky jobs started not fulfilling that internal itch she had.
  
  Because of her unreadable face, yet unpredictable behavior, she is somewhat feared in the underground world. When she snaps she lashes out, but it's often hard to know when. And because she constantly gets into fights and is one of the few champions of her fight club, her scraps are often quick and one sided.
  
  But what people often don't know is her job at Hend Baronlands. There she seems to be a different person entirely. Although, her job is just a server at a well established restaurant, Bai's personality is a complete 180 of what it is at her homeland. Whatever the pay is, it's worth her acting like an actual civilized person. But for how long?
  
  
• 
  Backstory: Bai Ling was born into a family that was well into the mercenary trade. Some, honest jobs. But most of them were bad. Her father was quick to teach her how to fight and stand up for herself.
  
  "It's the only way she'll survive in this land." He would say. And he was right. They weren't wealthy and anyone could be a criminal. Their grandparents had traveled to these lands by sea and no one in the Ling family was eager to set back out on waters for the navy or sea jobs that existed. Bai's parents were robbed of everything they tried to setup their lives with and now they were left with only their family and the clothes on their back.
  
  So mercenary work it was. But as the years went on Bai's brothers would turn up dead. Her sisters gone missing, assuming sold into slavery by marauders or killed. By the time Bai was eighteen it was just her and her parents left. Her father was a constant drunk and her mother had lost any light in her soul long ago. To Bai there was only one solution left. One night she drugged both of her parents and set the house ablaze. They died in their sleep and she blamed the incident on loan sharks. While some people doubted the story, no one could prove it. No one talked to her before hand and the only things she did was make money through mercenary work and the fight club. She didn't even flee or have anything packed that would suggest she had planned for her parents death.
  
  So without any solid evidence Bai was free. She soon set out to find a more honest living. Bai had officially put her old life behind her. She wasn't going anywhere and that had to change. Soon, Bai Ling came across the Hend Baronlands and managed to find a job as a hostess in a restaurant. A certain patron was overheard talking about a curious person in a place called Hierophant's Magocracy. Bai Ling's pursuit of getting stronger no longer seemed at a dead end. For the first time in years she took interest in something. Perhaps it was a sign? Someone from a far land coming to the restaurant she worked and and was overhead about something that would peak her interest? Bai didn't believe, much, in the gods but surely this had to be the work of some greater power.
  
  The next day, Bai had gathered, what few belongings she had, and set out for Magocracy. She didn't bother letting her boss know. He was behind her, now. Bai was looking ahead. Something about lore? Lore person? Loreguard? She'd figure it out when she got there. It wasn't a far journey. And soon she'd, either, be rich or powerful. Bai didn't care which, at the moment.
  
  
  
  
• 
  Other:
  
  -Chaotic Neutral
  
  -Interactions with people often go south
  
  -An impeccable martial artist
  
  -Is not known for showing mercy to anyone
  
  -Socially awkward. Could definitely learn a thing or two. Especially, when interacting in higher society
  
  -Rarely hesitates in doing what she deems to be the best course of action to move forward. Morals be damned
  
  -Despite her hate for alcohol (the taste is disgusting not to mention it reminds her of her father) she will drink it to momentarily forget the horrible things she's experienced throughout her life.
  
  -Heavily believes in quid pro quo
  ​

 

[Coyote Hart]

• General
• Personality
• Abilities and Equipments
• Backstory

• Name: Tiernan Lazarus
  
  Alias: "Tofu," a slur that the other squires called him due to how soft his body was when people punched him. Tiernan has since reclaimed it and uses it as his street name. So he's literally street tofu.
  
  Age: 23
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Race: Human (+1 skill)
  
  Class: Mage
  
  Magical Potential: 5
  
  Mana Pool: 26
  
  Homeland: Justicar Knightdom, Ironcrown
  
  Starting Location: Justicar Knightdom
  
  Theme: Dance Till We Die by Patent Pending (ver Trywing), Blood on Fire by Go2 and Christine (ver Coyote)
  
  
  
• 
  Personality Type: INFP
  
  Alignment: Chaotic Good
  
  Aspiration: Take down the Justicar knightdom.
  
  Personality: Tiernan is an awkward and cheery individual. He's not particularly smart and he doesn't like learning. This lack of intelligence often brings out some accidentally offensive words that Tiernan learned from the people of Ironcrown. Despite being a dumbass, Tiernan has a set of morals that while he can't describe, he knows by heart. He's quite gung-ho and loves fighting. Since his spells were learned in an extremely unorthodox way, Tiernan has an incredibly dramatic way of casting them.
  
  Because all of our characters have a bit of a villain in them, Tiernan is the same. Although he appreciates his friends, he hates the Justicar Knightdom and would love to see its demise. He's also incredibly stubborn.
  
  Although he seems to be dumb as bricks, Tiernan is actually pretty smart, and he's incredibly proficient at body kinesthetic learning.
  
  
• 
  Spells:
  
  • School of Earth
    • First class
      • Minor Conjure Stone (Incant)
      • Minor Sculpt (Incant)
      • Dancing Statue (Incant)
    • Second Class
      • Metal bypass (Incant)
      • Anchor Stance (Runic) [Anchor Feet]
      • Summon Savage Boots (Runic) [Sumon Savage Gauntlets]
    • Third Class
      • Crystallize (Runic)
      • Stalactite (Incant)
  • School of Strength
    • First Class
      • Minor Leap (Incant)
      • Minor Agile Twist (Runic)
      • Minor Reinvigorate (Incant)
    • Second Class
      • Nimble Feet (Runic) [Fast Hands]
      • Reinforce (Runic)
      • Minor Strong Step (Runic)
    • Third Class
      • Minor Regenerate (Incant)
      • Air Kick (Incant) [Air Fist]
  Skills:
  
  • Scholar: Ironically, Tiernan is illiterate. He however has a knack for knowing what a document is about with just one look (he doesn't even need to look at the words), and while he can't write up a document, he can instruct someone how to write one up. With these "vibes" that come with a document, Tiernan will do his best to imitate those vibes with his body in an attempt to learn things. His runes as a result look like kiddy drawings.
  • Strength: Originates from an odd tattoo on the back of Tiernan's left hand
  • Unarmed Expertise (Kicks): Tiernan's solution to problems from when he was young was to kick them in the face.
  Equipment:
  
  • Tattered, patched up, and gaudy clothes. Obtained through a lot of bartering and the use of fake coins.
  • Faux jewelry. A gift from the Justicar streets. It's not the gifter's fault that they're poor.
  • Fanny pack. Tiernan learned to keep his money close to him when in the seedier parts of Justicar
  • A bag full of oddly shaped rocks. Each rock represents a debt someone owes to him, something that Tiernan wishes to remember, or some other sort of important information. It acts like a book. There is a yellow gemstone to remember Eldin by.
  • Body paint. Tiernan covers his arms and neck with his runes, and when he needs to use them, he either uses the body paint to complete the rune, or if he's in the midst of battle, uses his own blood.
  • A cloak and jester mask for anonymity
• Tiernan was born in Ironcrown. At a young age, he was enamored by the valor of the Ironcrown knights. But without the physical prowess to make him worthy, Tiernan was left just dreaming. He had a childhood friend who also had similar aspirations, but who had superior strength and abilities. Tiernan had friendly training bouts with this childhood friend, but despite that, it was his childhood friend who was taken in to become a Justicar knight, not him.
  
  But after a heroic act that involved a horde of stolen cattle, a grandmother's unused urn, and a half-centaur half-horse (AKA a horse) thief, a Justicar knight named Falton took notice of him, and took him in as a squire. Once more he was reunited with his childhood friend, and the two of them trained together. The closeness of their friendship was what allowed Tiernan to forget about the bullying that the other squires did towards him due to his weak constitution as well as his lackluster performance. Tiernan was able to learn Stone magic, but was hopeless when it came to academics and the art of the sword.
  
  But as the days of his training went by, as he learned that his mentor was a fucking drunkard, he quickly realized that he didn’t believe in the Justicar creed. In fact, he quickly came to believe a different creed, one of morals and independence.
  
  This tension between Tiernan’s personal creed and the Justicar creed imploded one day when he helped a captured deimforged flee Ironheart. Tiernan did this willingly, and he knew that he would have to cast off his aspirations of being a knight in order to do so. And so in the dead of night, the bullied Justicar squire vanished without a word, even to his beloved childhood friend.
  
  That deimforged, a boy named Finnley who coincidentally was Falton's son, escaped successfully to the Hend Baronlands. Tiernan received a letter a few weeks later which told him that Finnley was safe.
  
  Tiernan was unable to escape Ironheart, so instead he enveloped himself in its streets, staying alive only through sheer luck and magic. He made a living through his scholarly abilities, made some sparse underground connections, and it is during this time that Tiernan learned his might magic as well as acquired the mysterious tattoo that granted him strength.
  
  Oh, who is this childhood friend you ask? Well, it's Eldin of course!
  

 

[EliMay]

Spoiler

Full Name:
Airmed Rullmal

Aliases:
Aira (Air-ea)

Combat Class:
Mage

Magical Potential:
7 ( 8 in school of life)

Race:
Elven (affinity for school of life) - Natural affinity for healing-related magic and nature

Age:
23

Sex:
Female

Height/Weight:
5'5" and 120lbs

Homeland:
Hend Republic

Location Start:
Magocracy ( or anywhere open)

Inventory:

Armor-

Spoiler: Armor

Armor as black as the night which allows the quick flow of movement,

Rapier Of Ice Heart-

Spoiler: Rapier

Slim and agile to help with quick attacks at a safe distance.

Small rune - A safekeeping from her mother before she passed on. the rune states "Tears of Health"

Sack - Typical travelers sack which holds food, parchment, and other items in which help adventurers survive.

Small notebook - At first glance, this could pass off as a journal or diary but inside holds a list of names that Aira felt she couldn't save. At the top of her list is her parents' names.

Small pieces of paper - Something she can write her runes on.

Money - Nothing in life is free

Skills:
Scholar - You have learned to read and write in the languages you know, allowing you to translate ancient texts, write up documents and contracts, read magical scrolls, draw runes, and much more.

Surgery - You have learned to assess injuries and carefully operate to make them less life-threatening through a range of medical implements.

Mana Pool:
28

Magicks:
School of Life

Class 1

Ease Pain (Low/5s/Runes) - Soothe the mind of a target and lessen their pain.

Minor Revitalise (Low/5s/Incantation) - Bless a target to recover a small amount of stamina.

Minor Cure (Low/5s/Runes) - Heal a small wound or scratch

Stem Bleeding (Low/5s/Incantation) - Slow the bleeding of a wound, giving the afflicted more time to survive.

Class 2

Major Ease Pain (Low/5s/Rune) - Soothe the mind of a target and majorly lessen their pain

Minor Preemptive Healing (Low/5s/Rune) - Place your hand on a target and bless them with recovery magic, causing them to have one small wound or scratch cured when needed.

Second Clean Slate (Moderate/15s/Incantation) - Cancel the effects of a curse spell of Second Class or lower

Rejuvenate (Low/5s/Incantation) - Bless a group within a 5ft radius of a target location to slowly recover a small amount of stamina.

Class 3

Cure (Low/5s/Rune) - Reach out and heal a flesh wound

Major Stem Bleeding (Moderate/15s/Rune) - Slow the bleeding of a deep wound, giving the afflicted more time to survive.

Death’s Bane (Low/5s/Incantation) - Coat your hands or a weapon in healing magic and strike an undead target, damaging its body greatly.

Seek Evil (Moderate/15s/Incantation) - Enhance your eyes to see through the rotting flesh and find a mana crystal inside an undead target.

Class 4

Save (High/50s/Rune) - Heal all the wounds of a single humanoid target.

Aspiration:
To help save those who can't help themselves.

Personality:
Aira is a quiet woman with a lot of secrets. She tends to keep to herself unless she finds someone who needs help. Aira constantly fights with her ability to want to be heroic or untrustful. From previous issues in her past, Aira feels responsible for everyone she can't save. You'll typically find Aira by the fire and staring into its depths while her mind races with every situation she can't control. She might not be the best person to ask for advice as she doesn't find herself too sympathetic towards others. If she finds a reason to dislike you, she will let you know.

Aira despises humans and will refuse to help or be anywhere near a human. In Aira's notebook, there is not a single human name listed as she feels they have not paid her back for her loss. Aira will attack any human that gets too close, as long as they pose a threat to her and the group she is in.

Aira does feel the need to study more and eventually get into the higher classes at the school of life. Her drive is to be the best medicinal help there could be. She feeds off her drive in every day to help her group as she will do anything for them.

Backstory:
Past
Aira was born in the Aristocracy where her mom passed in childbirth. Both her parents are slaves to a cruel human family and after she was born her father did everything he could to get her out of the kingdom. So the day after she was born, Aira's father gave her away to an underground revolution where they took her to Hend Republic. Along the journey, the revolutionaries passed her from group to group so her identity would never be found out. Once the group made it to Hend Republic, she was given to a herbologist and his wife.

The herbologist and his family accepted her like she was their own child. She grew up learning all about herbs and what medicinal properties they held. Once she was age, she went as an apprenticeship of a surgeon who taught her how to perform minor surgeries to help. During this time, she had learned about her real parents and set into motion that she would learn all about medicine to help others out. Months later, the family she was staying with received a letter from her father that stated he was gravely ill and feared he would pass. This is where her journey starts.

Other:
Let me know if the history is too straightforward with the revolution or if it is not correct. I was just thinking of a game I have played where that kind of happened. I can change it if need be.