Fantasy Sinful Knights

Sullivanity · May 5, 2016

If you wanna make a character, copy and past whats below and fill in things marked {like this}. I will accept your character by giving it a like. Remember: a member of the Sancti Ordo Pecatores isn't necessarily a total villain, but what they do should be something the church can't condone.

Be creative, and have fun!or else I will find and kill you

Code:

[Tabs]
[Tab={insert name here}]
[imageFloat=right]{insert image here, optional}[/imageFloat]
[divide=dotted-thick]Appearance:[/divide]
Name: {insert name}
Title: {insert the name you've earned for your infamy}
Gender: {insert what gender you prefer, make sure to specify if that differs from your biological sex}
Orientation: {insert whichever way you roll}
Subspecies: {if this applies to you. think vampire, werewolf, etc.}
[divide=dotted-thick]Appearance:[/divide]
General: {insert brief visual description}
Eye color: {self explanatory}
Hair: {self explanatory}
Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: {self explanatory}
Anything else: {self explanatory}
[divide=dotted-thick]Personality:[/divide]
General:{insert brief description of you personality here, should only be a short paragraph long}
Vices:{insert why people may dislike you}
Virtues:{insert why people may like you}
[/Tab]

[Tab=Past]
[divide=dotted-thick]History:[/divide]
{insert a brief history of your character here, it should be about 1-3 paragraphs long}
[divide=dotted-thick]Crimes:[/divide]
{insert a list of at least 3 reasons why the church has you on a short leash}
[/Tab]

[Tab=Abilities]
[divide=dotted-thick]Fighting Style:[/divide]
{insert a description of why I wouldn't want to meet you in a dark alleyway. 1 sinful knight should be as powerful as about 15-25 mooks. remember kids: don't be OP}
Specializations: {insert what you excel at due to your abilities}
Equipment: {insert stuff like armor, weapons, stuffed animals, occult tomes, poisons, etc.}
Weaknesses: {insert what makes you go "oh shit" on a battle field. the stronger you are, add more weaknesses}
Other talents: {insert non-battlefield skills, from master torturer to being able to tie a cherry stem with your tongue}
[/Tab]

[Tab=Writing Sample]
{insert a short telling of a critical moment of your character's life, or something else along those lines, from their perspective. should be as long as you feel it needs to be}
[/Tab]
[/Tabs]

Spinoceratopsrex · May 6, 2016

Finished, Awaiting approval

Appearance:

Name: Simon Cross

Title: Dr Crow

Gender: Male

Orientation: Asexual

Subspecies: Human (none)

Appearance:

General: Simon usually wears a plague doctor's costume, as shown in the photo. He is about 5 foot 8/ 1.76 meters tall, and has a rather slim build, not being muscular or athletic in anyway. Under his mask he has a poorly trimmed beard

Eye color: Green

Hair: Black

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: None

Anything else: {self explanatory}

Personality:

General: Simon has a very spontaneous personality. He doesn't usually plan ahead, instead improvising on the spot. He is also quite humorous, and loves to laugh, he also likes to sing songs, usually very violent in nature, he also has a love of apples, pancakes and fire.

Vices: Dark humour: Simon loves jokes, particularly ones that people may find offensive or disturbing, from slavery to orphaned children to drowned babies, no subject matter is off limits

Sadistic: Simon takes pleasure in causing pain to others, rather ironic considering his abilities. He will often burst out laughing at people with serious injuries or physical afflictions, and has no empathy for these people

Reckless: Simon usually doesn't plan ahead, often recklessly charging in with no regard towards anyone's safety.

Virtues:Improviser: Simon is able to react very quickly to his current situation and environment, and can think pretty quickly when called for.

Helpful: Simon is a very helpful person to have on your side, as he is able to keep you from dying with his abilities, and he will support his allies in a conflict, even if only to ensure his continued existence.

Bravery: Recklessness and Bravery are two sides of the same coin, Simon will face any enemy, no matter how powerful looking they may be.
History:

Simon Cross was once a respected physician, known throughout the land as a curer of disease and helper of the sick. However he was locked in a rivalry with another doctor, Dr Cornelius Sighter, for every cure or breakthrough one made, the other made a greater one, the rivalry escalated to the doctors stealing potions from one another and vandalizing their workplaces.

One day, Simon heard of an amazing discovery, a crystal known as "Vitazite", which was theorized to be able to cure illness and wounds on being ingested as a powder. Eager to test it, Simon took a sample, cut himself, and then swallowed the powder. The wound healed. But something else happened to Simon, wether be was actually driven insane or not is debatable, but he certainly underwent a huge personality change, the once kindly doctor replaced by a man who was cruel, who loved to laugh at the sick. Soon after this event, Simon raided a wizard's house, stole two magical crossbows he had been making, and shot him through the heart with them. He donned a plague doctor's costume and went to Dr Sighter's village and razed it to the ground, all it took were some exploding crossbow bolts. After this, Simon earned the nickname of Doctor Crow, owing to his costume's resemblance to that particular bird.

Crimes:

Arson: Burned down a village

Murder: Killed many people, notably his old rival, Dr Sighter

Heresy: Simon desecrated a church in the village, and does not have any faith

Robbery: Simon has robbed many places for his favourite foods, apples and pancakes.
Fighting Style:

{Simon has the ability to heal people from even the most severe injuries, and with time and energy, resurrect them from the dead, however they are mindless zombies, he is able to command them, but they usually wither to dust within an hour, Simon can raise a few without feeling to many adverse effects, but any more than 4 at once can be exhausting, and may cause Simon to pass out. The Zombies are unable to think for themself or use wrapons. Simon is also able to use his healing powers to heal himself, and can stay conscious for around 1 minute after receiving a seemingly fatal wound.}

Specializations: Simon is an excellent field medic, and excels at keeping his allies alive

Equipment: Simon's main weapons are two magical, one handed crossbows, which he duel wields. These crossbows are automatically filled with different bolts depending on what Simon wants, they come in standard, explosive, poisonous and even healing varieties. The bows generate 15 bolts each, when these are all fired, Simon must wait half an hour before he can use the bows again.

If things ever get up close and personal, Simon has a surgeon's scalpel and a bonesaw, crude tools, but they are mostly effective.

Weaknesses: If Simon decides to resurrect someone from the dead, it takes a large amount of energy, the process makes Simon very tired, perhaps even making him pass out of he is too exhausted.

Simon must physically touch a person to heal them

Simon's self healing requires him to be able to focus, while this isn't so bad on its own, healing himself makes Simon feel excruciating pain in the area in which he healed, which lasts from 2 to 5 minutes, during which he can't heal himself again. Simon is also not very good at hand to hand combat, preferring to attack at range, or let others deal with the threat

Other talents: Detailed knowledge of diseases and their cures
Simon strolled up to the town, cross bows in hand, looking through his mask.

"Oh doctor Sighterrr!" Simon yelled madly. "I'm here to make a house call!" Simon raised his bows and fired them. The bolts exploded, just as Simon had hoped. That wizard really wasn't that big a wackjob. The building caught fire, panic everywhere. A little girl, unaware that Simon was responsible for the destruction, approached him.

"P-Please help me, my parents, they-they're.." She looked like she was about to cry

"Dead." She finished

"Why don't I cheer you up." Said Simon slyly. "How about a joke? Knock Knock."

"Who- who's there?"

"Parents."

"Parents who?"

"Definitely not yours!" Simon cackled maliciously.

The little girl ran away crying.

Simon walked towards his rival's practice. Slowly and deliberately, firing the occasional explosive crossbow bolt at the buildings as he went. When he got to the hospital, he went past the beds of patients, killing a few of them.

"Should have gone to a different hospital! Mine preferably." He finally found his old rival at the side of a bed, speaking to a patient.

"Now remember, just rub on some ointment three times a day and..."

Dr Sighter was cut short by Simon putting a bolt into the patient's stomach.

"Hello again, old friend."

Who- Dr Cross? Is that you?"

"Indeed it is."

"What are you doing?" Sighter asked nervously.

"Oh that's really very simple. Killing you!"

Simon took a few steps back, pointed his bow, and shot an explosive bolt into Sighter's skull.

His head exploded, his brains spurting all over the room, decorating the walls a violent crimson.

"Heheh" Simon giggled

"Ahahhahahahahahaha!" He broke into manic laughter, his old rival was finally dead. And Simon couldn't be happier

meowemmacat · May 6, 2016

Work in progress, tired tonight will finish tomorrow

{insert image here, optional}

Appearance:

Name: Esara Jaken

Title: The Enchantress

Gender: Female

Orientation: Straight

Subspecies: Witch

Appearance:

General: She wears a flowing v neck black dress with a red amulet around her neck. She is slender and femine looking. She is about 5 foot 6

Eye color: green

Hair: Brown wavy long hair

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: none

Anything else: She can warg into animals also

Personality:

General: She latches on to people that she trusts and becomes obsessed with them. When people leave her she becomes obsessed with vengeance and will stop at nothing to get it. She gets this attachment from her family abandoning her as a young child. But if she trusts you she will defend you with her life.

Vices: Trusting, protective, caring, loving.

Virtues:crazy, smothering, deadly.
History:

{insert a brief history of your character here, it should be about 1-3 paragraphs long}

Crimes:

{insert a list of at least 3 reasons why the church has you on a short leash}
Fighting Style:

{insert a description of why I wouldn't want to meet you in a dark alleyway. 1 sinful knight should be as powerful as about 15-25 mooks. remember kids: don't be OP}

Specializations: {insert what you excel at due to your abilities}

Equipment: {insert stuff like armor, weapons, stuffed animals, occult tomes, poisons, etc.}

Weaknesses: {insert what makes you go "oh shit" on a battle field. the stronger you are, add more weaknesses}

Other talents: {insert non-battlefield skills, from master torturer to being able to tie a cherry stem with your tongue}
{insert a short telling of a critical moment of your character's life, or something else along those lines, from their perspective. should be as long as you feel it needs to be}

_SweetCandy_ · May 6, 2016

Appearance:

Name: Mara Adelard

Title: Pythoness

Gender: Female

Orientation: Bisexual

Subspecies: Witch(Don't know if this counts as subspecies)

Appearance:

General: Mara wears a cropped shirt and jacket along with tight pants. Daggers line the pants waist. She's around 5'7" and is average weight. She has a slim build with slight athletic features.

Eye color: Blue

Hair: Red

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: A small scar at the base of her neck in the shape of a circle, and a scar going down her eye

Anything else: N/a

Personality:

General:Mara has what most people would call borderline personality disorder. She acts on impulse and can become volatile easily. Though she always has some guilt afterwards. She's not a very nurturing person except to animals. Mara is a very flirty person though it is to cover up her overwelming loneliness.

Vices:Envy, Loneliness, Manic

Virtues:Beauty, Humor, knowledge
History:
Mara had a very happy childhood though as she began to grow older she found herself also growing different. This resulted in mockery from others. She had been able to ignore it somewhat until

it

happened. She had been walking around the market when a group of older kids started to deride her. Having had enough something triggered within her. It all happened so fast she hardly can remember it. She just remembers the fear on the kids faces when they realized their mouth was missing.

Her mother told her it was a gift that ran in the family. Something that only you could only have if you were destined for great things. For sometime Mara believed that, but as she grew older and stronger she found she was destined for something, but it wasn't great like her mother had described.

Mara soon found comfort in the practice of necromancy, but when it was revealed what she practiced the town turned against her, and her family. Not wanting harm to come to her family or to give up necromancy she decided leaving would be best.

Crimes:
1. Practice of necromancy
2. Use of black magic
3. The use of hexes on others
Fighting Style:

Mara is a very violent when she fights. Sometimes to the point of it blinding her to certain things.

Specializations: Mara is good with sharp objects. She'll also use the power of spirits.

Equipment: Twin Daggers. Along with other small sharp objects that attach to her pants.

Weaknesses: Mara isn't good at hand to hand. It isn't that she isn't strong it's more so that she can only take so many hits.

Other talents: Mara can turn into a black cat which is mostly used for fleeing.
Time seemed to be going slow, but fast at the same time. I watched in horror as the group of children tried to scream. Their hands scrapped at there face where their mouths used to be. I resisted the urge to vomit as I backed away. A crowd had formed around the group unsure of what happened. No one seemed to put together that it was me. Though I was still trying to figure it out myself. I didn't know what to do or where to go. Home? What would my mother think. I'm a freak?

Ceros · May 6, 2016

General:

Name: Iris Luca

Title: Girl Robin Hood

Gender: Female

Orientation: Pansexual

Subspecies: N/A

Appearance:

General: Her hair is usually messy and her face usually a smirk.

Eye color: Grey

Hair: Light brown

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: She has a few scars on her legs and midsection from some close-scrapes with guards.

Personality:

General: She is boastful, egotistical, sarcastic, and confident in her abilities. She is also kind-hearted, caring, and hospitable towards her friends and people who are less-fortunate. She also has an accent. (The equivalent of an Australian accent in this world.)

Vices: She steals money from high-ranking officials and people in the upper-class. This has landed her in jail multiple times, but thieving has also made her excellent at picking locks, a skill which she often uses to escape.

Virtues: She doesn't kill anyone unless she deems it necessary. She also may sometimes give out some of the cash that she's pilfered to her friends or people in need.
History:

Iris grew up in a poverty-stricken home in the slums with her mother and two other children. In their house, food was often in short supply. Eventually, the youngest child died of starvation. This caused Iris's mother, Amanda, much grief, and one day she left without ever coming back, leaving Iris to take care of her sister, Judy, by herself.

In Iris's eyes, the youngest child died because her and her siblings had been born peasants. They hadn't even been given a chance to live normally, nobody would hire Iris and nobody would help Iris raise her sister, so she took to thievery in order to survive. Despite these odds, Iris and Judy lived on. Judy had very different views from Iris: She wanted nothing more than to rise to the top herself rather than help the needy. So, she grew up and eventually joined the church.

This enraged Iris, and she vowed to help other people who were going through what she did. She knew how terrible poverty was and didn't want anyone else to have to experience it the way that she did. In the end, she felt that it was society that took her family away from her, and it was this society that made her the way she was.

Crimes:

-She took a prized artifact from the church and pawned it off for cash.

-She has assassinated a high-ranking church official, who caught her stealing said artifact. The man was standing in her way, so she did what she felt she had to.

-She has stolen large amounts of food from the church's food reserves and handed them out to the lower-class.
Fighting Style:

She uses precise strikes to hit pressure points on her enemies, paralyzing them. She is also proficient at using knives as weapons, able to throw them at high speeds and slice up her enemies with them. She uses her agility to move around opponents and confuse them.

Specializations: Lockpicking, stealth, agility.

Equipment: Iris is lightly armored and has many straps attached to her main outfit which hold various knives. She also wears a red scarf, which she bought from a fancy clothes shop with some of the money she stole. She keeps money and other supplies in her backpack. The backpack is also equipped with basic first-aid supplies.

Weaknesses: A little-known secret about her is that she has an irrational fear of being burned. If she thinks she's going to be burned, or an enemy uses fire magic, she will be frozen in fear or have a panic attack and/or a fit of rage. Despite this, she is content sitting around a bonfire, telling stories, or cooking meals over fires.

Other talents: Since she is a wanted thief, she often has to use the rooftops to get around. She is very good at jumping from building to building, climbing them, and can run at a considerable speed.
Iris's heart pounded in her chest as she heard the footsteps nearing the corner. They grew louder, and louder until they were so close that she could feel their vibrations in the ground...

The man never knew what hit him; a quick strike to his neck and he was down, on the floor, completely immobile. Quickly, she took out a thin piece of metal and began fiddling with the lock on a nearby safe. It opened, and she sighed, relieved.

She swiped the gleaming emerald which was in the safe and threw it in her backpack. Then, she opened the window and stepped out onto the roof. She looked back one last time at the man, who was slowly getting back to his feet.

"Back from your trip to blackout land, eh?" She asked playfully.

When he spotted her figure in the moonlight, he was confused. Then, he quickly realized who it was. The same girl who had been giving him and his friends trouble the last couple months. He called out to her, "Hey!" She winked at him and dashed out of sight. He ran to the window and looked around. Nobody was there.

Iris chuckled to herself as she sprinted across the rooftop of a building behind the one she was fleeing. What a sucker!

northguy · May 6, 2016

Custom art by Sicarius8 on DeviantArt.

Appearance:

Name: Ealdwine Kaiser

Title: Aldwin (Not to be confused with Skyrim's, Alduin)

Gender: Male

Orientation: Heterosexual

Subspecies: N/A

Appearance:

General: Aldwin has dulling black hair that covers the top of his head, cut short and leading down to a full beard with small grey hairs at the front. Aldwin's body from a glance is unimpressive, standing at a rather average height of 5'10 and a seemingly unimposing build. While not giant in build, Aldwin makes up with swiftness, well-trained balance, and a quick mind. Aldwin's features have grown rougher over the years, his eyes a cloudy blue-grey and his skin newly tanned. Aldwin is overall not a clean person, his clothes dirtied from use and constant wandering.

Eye color: Blue grey. Cloudy

Hair: Dull black

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: Multiple scars across his body, especially his arms, however, little around the face.

Anything else: Aldwin's left hand is entirely rotted down to the bone, a disgusting sight to see though has regained maintenance.

Personality:

General: Aldwin comes off as the least inviting type of person. Usually accompanied by his liquor and pipe, Aldwin's constant unhealthy behaviors lead him to be a rather brash person, his Scot accent not nearly helping his case. Aldwin does mostly as he wants to do, considering he has very little to lose, he becomes the type of man to throw himself into not so safe situations. Though his age does give him a bit of help, having experienced rough years from small youth, Aldwin knows how to live and adapt to most any environment. He is an overall rough person, while often trying to come off friendly in greeting, he is a hard person to simply befriend, especially with his odd mentalities and actions. While imposing in act and rough in look, Aldwin is not necessarily a violent man, usually trying to speak his way through what could become a bloodbath. Overall he is a man with simple interests, no sense of particular duty or long term goals for him to follow up, simply living as fast as time.

Vices: Severe alcoholism, seeming uncare for others, and overall poor demeanor.

Virtues: Efficient at what he does, keeps a group on task, and a surprising sense of humor.
History:

Wrote this a long time ago, not exactly proud of it. xD

Aldwin was born in an alleyway in a busy a bustling city, on a rather average cloudy day, one might describe it as pretty. Despite, it was not long after birth he was whisked with the family of caravanners that he was born to, spending his youngest years exploring different lands from west to east, his family making decent trade along the way. After a good nine years of this constant travel, Aldwin and his family were travelling a deep eastern route, before they were stopped by a group of lowland living barbarians. The family, however, had done poor in trade for the past few months, and could pay a demanded toll. So, the men simply made use of the lot, abducting the group and taking their caravan. It was not long until they ended up in chains of slavery, the entire family sent off to different buyers. Aldwin's work began lucky, working as a kitchen slave and getting a natural adaptation to the art of cooking. He began preparing meals himself at the age of twelve, treated relativity well for these years of slavery, par anytime his master fell ill. Three years into his days as a slave, now turning to the age of fifteen, Aldwin made a small mistake in his cooking. With the simple adding of the wrong root, Aldwin managed to hit a deep allergy. After a number of forced beatings from field workers, Aldwin was eventually sold off to a different master. This one was a woman, seemingly kind. Aldwin worked as a basic bodyguard for her caravan as the travelled through deserts, leading from the mid-summer to the early winter. Though however, the destination was not what was expected, a popular slave fighting ring with cells to stay in. Aldwin, with little resistance, was put into the slave rings.

The next five years of his life would be agony, cell after cell, fight after fight, Aldwin continued to receive brutal wounds for these next few years. Now in the spring of his twenty-first year, Aldwin had been punished for disobeying a clear order. His wrist was chained up high on a post for an entire night, making him have to nearly hang. A few screams rang within the manor near, the guards running from their position inside the gate as the sound of clashing steel sounding within, likely some of the other pit slaves. With an unguarded gate off in the distance, Aldwin's temptations overtook him. He eventually managed to cut himself free, knowing he would be hanged the next day for his participation in the plan. Though, this was at a high cost, his left hand. With a profusely bleeding Aldwin and nothing but cloth and a torch, he made a slow but sure escape with the distraction from within the manor.

Aldwin's next year was wandering, looting, and moving. He would come through towns and steal whatever he could, before moving onto the next. He began to adapt to his missing hand, soon gathering enough to feed himself and receive further treatment for his arm.

Though not long after he had come up to full recovery, Aldwin began to take a more violent action. Quickly taking up allies with other former slaves to begin staging attacks. They worked back through the east and picked out targets, mercilessly torturing any current or former slave owners they could get their hands on. Aldwin, however only doing it for a year, created more blood on his hands than any normal person would. He gave up on it and made quick to abandon his group, going off to find the next thing to do.

After a while he landed with a group of bandits, following along the violent ride to loot and begin gathering up a small mass of wealth. Once a few years had past, Aldwin's life was becoming more of an adventure, travelling through different towns and cities and picking up all different kinds of work and acquiring acquaintances far and wide. He spent a small few years caught up with a group of city criminals, learning how to better traverse allies, cities, and better quick action. Eventually through this and some large mercenary jobs, Aldwin acquired himself a small fortune. Spending some years in relaxation and self-training, along with a lot of drinking. It wasn't until he was thirty-five until he managed to drink up the fortune he had stopped working for, fitting in little adventures within the year before luck turned against him. Now he's been forced out back out of his shell on a new journey, with the apparent 'Sinful Knights'. Though all he cares about is living.

Crimes:

Aldwin is an escaped slave. Aldwin has committed multiple heathen crimes and follows no faith. Aldwin has lived a life mostly criminal duty.
Fighting Style:

Custom art by AstriSjursen on DeviantArt.

Swordsmanship. Aldwin is both skilled holding a greatsword, though with his rotten hand, he now outdoes himself with a pata and dagger, the long foreign blade being strapped to his weaker handed arm. However he uses large blades, Aldwin relies almost entirely on speed to win his battles, trying to make a swift cut or thrust on enemies, and often tricking them into traps.

Specializations: General fighting and whit, though has simple skill in many different professions.

Equipment: Aldwin carries a broad bladed greatsword along with him, along with three separate daggers hanging from his armor. These knives being made in a rondel, bowie, and hunting style. A pata as well rests at his hip, the gauntlet portion of the blade well adjusted for his left arm, the blade roughly the length of a longsword's. Nothing about his weaponry is particularly interesting, his blades are not the best of steel though suffice well with sharpness.

Weaknesses: (I don't consider Aldwin very strong)

Severe Alcoholism: While this is a constant theme in Aldwin's character, it should be noted that it is a heavy disabler. While in an intoxicated state, he loses the same reaction he may have kept sober. Although he is well adjusted and is high functioning, this still becomes a heavy issue and hazard to his life.

Aging: Aldwin has already lived through his youth and as years pass his once nearly instant reaction speed has decreased a good deal, though while his mind is still well in tact, his body is not the same youth as it used to be.

Unlearned: When it comes to actual education, Aldwin lacks entirely I'm the field, his writing still poor as a child's at some times. Most of all Aldwin knows is through raw experience, basing his life on his own means.

Other talents: Aldwin is rather skilled at overall on the spot whit and adapting, making him an experienced Jack of all Trades. Having worked many different jobs in many different environments, Aldwin knows very little bits on many things about the world. He is able to comprehend several different languages to some degree and is great with communication.
Aldwin walked down the same desert road he had been following for days, carrying his empty canteen by his side as he followed the seemingly endless path, his throat parched to the fullest. The sky, although bright and blue, had only seemed gloomy and teasing, the sand around him beginning to feel like needles to his skin. He was tired alright, about ready to fall at any moment. Though he prevailed, continuing his slow way down the endless road, pulling his canteen over his shoulder and walking.

It wasn't long before Aldwin felt as if he had been stepping in something damp below him, the sand much softened in that spot. He looked around himself for a moment, before his eyes landed on something. Random. A dirty puddle presided under the shade of a nearby tree, a small oasis in the center of the eastern desert. Aldwin wandered his way toward it, his throat dragging and his heart pounding from cold sweat. Upon making it, Aldwin fell to his knees and began drinking. Releasing breath after breath, the sandy, filthy water splashing against his face before he let himself fall aside. He heaved breaths, and it was not many before he lost his consciousness, his head by the small pool.

northguy · May 6, 2016

northguy said:
snip

Edit: Finished

NekoQueen49 · May 6, 2016

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Appearance:

Name: Gary Niheilm

Title: The Smoke

Gender: Male

Orientation: Hetrosexual

Subspecies: N/A

Appearance:

General: Likes to dress in a dress shirt and pants with a black vest. Usually seen with a cigarette. Stands at a height of 6'1.

Eye color: Gold

Hair: Black

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: A scar large across his chest and several on his back.

Personality:

General: Gary typically comes off as quiet and thoughtful when people first meet him. However, nothing could be farther from the truth. He likes to tease people by pointing out their flaws and making them twist into an emotional mess. He thoroughly enjoys it too.

Vices:He points out your flaws and makes you feel terrible for them. Also a huge pyromaniac and like to blow things up as much as possible.

Virtues:He's very honest and blunt. He'll tell you what he thinks and won't shy away from critism. Instead he accepts it and will maybe try to fix it if he thinks it worth fixing.
History:

Gary grew up an orphan on the streets. Nothing was handed to him so he learned to just take it. On the streets, he would pick pocket from everyone and anyone could. One day he stole from the wrong person: a somewhat vengeful but kind priest that took him in as a six year old and forced him to do anything the priest desired (cleaning and cooking, keep your head out of the gutter). This taught him to keep him how to act like someone he wasn't and to treat people by their class. It was also there that he was able to research his specialty.

It lasted until he was fourteen when he ran away, tired of pretending to like people when in reality he hated them. He taught himself how to fight, how to properly get into himself into trouble until the church found use for his skills as a Sinful Knight.

Crimes:

1.) Stole a lot as a child

2.) Blew up one of their churches with one of his homemade explosives; mostly because he wanted to and he was bored. Also hates them, so why not? It was the church where the priest raised him lived, but he already died before Gary could kill him.

3.) Insulted many, many of the priests

4.) Generally caused mayhem
Fighting Style:

Gary utilizes two different styles depending on whether it close-combat or long-range combat: In short range, he mostly uses hand-to-hand combat. However, the thing he's known most for are his explosives. He uses them in long range, setting them up so that he doesn't have to directly get involved in a fight. But another thing worth mentioning his use of psychological torture in middle of fight to demoralize an opponent.

Specializations: Bomb making, handling chemicals, marital arts

Equipment: He carries a pack of homemade explosives and other chemicals that, used in the right way, can be combined to make a quick but small explosion. Some can also be used to poison people but he finds that just isn't his style so he would only use it in emergencies.

Weaknesses: Avoids doing the 'smart' thing in favor of explosives. Is susceptible to many forms of attacks, such as knives, poison, etc, and it is possible to overwhelm him in physical combat if a person has had more experience than him.

Other talents: Capable of psychological torture
It was raining again. How he hated the rain. It always got in the way of things and represented all the things he loathed. Living on the streets, the old man taking him away from the life he loved. It was raining then too. Why was it always raining?

Deciding to not focus on it too much, he got up from his place on the steps leading up to fancy looking church. A Sinful Knight, eh? It sounded like fun to him, even if he would be put in prison if he choose not to join. Well, it was his fault anyway for being caught. With a grin he thought, Well, it was fun at least. And if Gary joined, he could blow up all the things he wanted, excluding the church. As fun as it sounded, working for the church still put a bad taste in his mouth. However, being in prison... Yes, it was best just to think of it as fun.

Gary took a slow drag from the cigarette hanging from his mouth before exhaling the smoke. He remembered the old man saying that smoking was a slow death. He grew annoyed at his voice in his head. It was because of him that he took up the practice. Besides, they were all dying anyway. Why be so concerned at how you chose to live your life while you had it?

Moddy · May 6, 2016

Appearance:

Name: Merek Tobya

Title: The Battle Lord

Gender: Male

Orientation: Straight

Subspecies: N/A

Appearance:

General: Merek doesn't look like the type of person to be such a scary knight. He has a rather gentle smile, which he is always seen with, and has a bit of a skinny face. His nose is pointed and skinny. When in battle he develops a blank stare that can make it look like he's not paying attention to the battle he's in.

Eye color: Brown

Hair: His hair is brown and laid down. It's not completely matted down however and tends to have a couple pieces of hair sticking up.

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: He has one scar going up his forearm.

Anything else:

Personality:

General: Merek is most likely the least expected person to be a cold hearted killer. He's a joker and has a good sense of humor. He doesn't take to man things seriously outside of battle and usually looks down on people who are to serious. However, during battle Merek can be a completely different person. He doesn't talk at all and ignores all outside forces, it's only him and his target (more like victim). Merek tends to end battles quickly, not caring about how "flashy" the fight looked, each strike he makes is aimed either to kill or cripple.

Vices: Since Merek ignores all outside forces during battle, it is possible for someone who is trying to interfere, or simply to close to the battle, to end up dead. Merek has no sympathy for this person, they should've been careful and stayed out of harms way, it was their own fault.

Virtues: Merek ends his fight quickly, fortunately this means that the chance of outside forces dying is quite rare, as long as they keep their distance. He also avoids property damage, so even after battles houses and shops remain untouched, by him at least.
History:

Merek's childhood was a rather easy one, he got just about everything he wanted and never got into a lot of trouble. Fights were rare but the ones that did happen were always won by Merek himself. He's was an honorable kid, obedient, respectful, had manners, basically a perfect child. This caused him to be a target for other people, as he grew up the fights he got in grew increasingly and it didn't go unnoticed. His parents began keeping him inside and away from other children to avoid fights. This only made things worse, people began coming to his house deciding to push him around. Merek was a good fighter, but he's only human, he can't handle a whole crowd. The damage was always minimum, a few bruises, scrapes, scratches, but never something major. It was probably because Merek never fought back, it was a 10 on 1 battle, and Merek wasn't stupid. But one day he kind of snapped and decided he had enough. This time he was prepared and fought back hard. He lost, beaten within an inch of his life. One of the kids that jumped him even went as far as pulling a knife and trying to slit Merek's wrist, but was interrupted by another child, leaving only a deep wound on Merek's forearm. His parents came to try and stop the beating, only finding themselves at the end of the knife that was meant for Merek. Dying in front of their own son, by a bunch of young chumps.

Fast forward about 13 years later, Merek put himself through intense body training, toughening up and went through combat training with various masters. Unfortunately, this was not put to good use, and Merek pretty got whatever he wanted through either intimidation or plainly beating people for what they have. He learned soon that this wasn't exactly the best way to earn respect and switched his focus to criminals. Merek now works as a vigilante of the sorts, finding known criminals and delivering justice... in his own twisted way.

Crimes:

1) Used to mug innocent people.

2) Anyone who fought back suffered death.
Fighting Style:

As stated, Merek narrows in on his opponent during battle. This can cause a heavy burden on them. He is not easily distracted and will kill his target at all cost. His armor is rather light, so he is very fast on his feet and attacks with ease. He unleashes a flurry of rapid strikes, backing off, then charging in again. It is rather difficult to run from him as well, if you want to stop this battle you're gonna have to kill him... or die, either way works.

Specializations: Merek is great at dodging attacks. His attacks are swift and precise, difficult to dodge but rather easy to block.

Equipment: Merek does not wear heavy armor, this makes it easy to move fast. His weapon of choice is 2 small, double bladed axes. He also carries a jar of liquid poison that he will cover the blade with if bad comes to worse and he finds himself losing the fight.

Weaknesses: Due to the fact that he narrows in on only his target, it is extremely easy for an outsider to get a cheap shot on him while he is fighting. He also carries no shield so his only defense is dodging and occasionally his axes.

Other talents: He's a great cook!
"Come surrender yourself to me, murderer! And I will be sure to give you an honorable death!" Merek shouted at the brick hut, currently harboring a family of three. However, the father of that house had murdered an innocent merchant just days ago.

A thin, black haired man, who couldn't have been any older than 30, stepped out of the house. In his hand was a small dagger which he held proudly, showing no fear of Merek. "I did what I had to do. The merchant had something my family needed. I had to make sure they survived. We are poor and--"

"And how do you know that merchant did not have a family." Merek suddenly cut in. "The money he brought in was the only thing keeping his wife and four kids alive. He sold his own belongings to make sure his family survived. And now you have ruined that for petty reason."

Silence.

Merek sighed and reached for one of his axes that was clipped to his waist. "I promised his wife that I would bring you to justice. Now you will accept your fate with open arms."

The man grunted and raised his dagger. "If you think I'm going to let you kill me without fight back then you wi--" The man suddenly stopped talking, probably because his decapitated head was now resting in Merek's hand.

Merek looked down at the man's headless body and groaned as he noticed the other body. It seemed that his wife tried to interfere with the battle, causing a rather large chunk to be taken out of her abdomen. Merek wiped the blood off his axes, "You have yourself to blame for this incident, you shouldn't interfere with a duel." Merek turned his head and noticed a small boy whimpering in the doorway. Merek chuckled and began walking towards the small child, raising his axe. "Child, both your parent are dead and you have no one else to care for you. You will die a painful and lonesome death because your father was a murderer and your mother felt that it was more important to protect him than making sure you didn't have to witness such a gruesome death." Despite his sinister intention, Merek smiled sweetly. "I promise you, this is the best thing for you at this point."

And with that, Merek brought the ax down on the child.

Aughto von realname · May 6, 2016

FRANKEN-KNIGHT IS COMPLETE MUAHAHAHA

Appearance:

Name: Wilhelm pickens

Title: The Dread Knight

Gender: Male

Orientation: His genitalia was lost due to injury

Subspecies: Undead

Appearance:

General: Wilhelm is tall gaunt figure clad in rusted armor barely fit for combat covered by tattered rags which bore the sigil of a forgotten order he had once served in though it has faded and thus it is no longer recognizable. The Dread Knight carries an unremarkable longsword that, despite long years of travel, had remained in pristine condition though sadly the same cannot be said to it's user. The Skin off his face had grown pale, his nose fallen off due, and one of his eyes while the other glows emerald in the darkness while it is devoid of colour under the light.

Eye color: Green in the dark, black in the light

Hair: rotted off

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: an open stomach

Anything else: He always smells of death and decay

Personality:

General: Wilhelm is a bitter man though without reason, every drink he takes spills out of his stomach which was disemboweled long ago, he can no longer enjoy the company of women as his genitalia had been lost during his travels leaving him devoid of any pleasure aside of the flesh which as a mortal man took for granted. Bitter as he is Wilhelm often offers sage advice to those that can stand his demeanor and the stench of dead bodies which constantly permeates from him. Wilhelm, despite his bitter demeanor and his outward appearance, has a soft spot for the down trodden and the less fortunate though for the sake of his image which has allowed him to live a life of solitude outside the angry mobs.

Vices: To proud to ask for help and He will hunt you to the ends of the earth should you do him wrong

Virtues: He is charitable and loyal to a fault
History:

Before Wilhelm became undead and a vagabond he had a life, a life filled with hardships as he forsook his vows of chastity to his order and married his beautiful and loving wife and for a time the two were happy living out their days on small farm outside of civilization sadly this was not to last. The years went by though Wilhelm aged however his wife did not this troubled Wilhelm's wife and thus she began her quest to find eternal life for her beloved and unfortunately she succeeded. The woman of his dreams took his life from him in the dark of the night and replaced it with Undeath which technically gave Wilhelm immortality however this was temporary as Wilhelm's undeath took a toll in his wife's power and thus she was running out of time for him that is until she began the ritual to lichdom allowing his wife to constantly bring him to life which he would have no qualms with if it were not for the fact that the rituals calls for the sacrifice of an untold amount of people which he failed to prevent after trying to confront which ended in her death and the beginning of his eternal unlife

Crimes:

1) He is undead

2) The murder of countless innocents

3) Killing a pries after finding out he is a pedophile
Fighting Style:

He is called The Dread Knight not because of his fighting prowess or sheer power, but rather his unrelenting pursuit of his enemy. Death means nothing to him should you cut an arm or a leg he will continue to fight and should he be given a chance he will reattach his own limbs if it is lost the limb will grow back within a decade or two, behead him and his body may remain unconscious for an hour or two but nevertheless he will continue his pursuit with or without his head .

Specializations: A century a long time to master the sword though this come at a price as he is inept out of combat situation save for weapon maintenance and the art of tracking men

Equipment: He carries a longsword and rusted armor as these two have the only things that lasted as long as he had though from time to time he comes across a backpack or a satchel which he uses to carry rations to leave at crossroads for weary travelers or whetstones to sharpen his sword.

Weaknesses: Should his body turn to ash he can still regenerate as he is technically a lich though this would leave his phylactery, the longsword, vulnerable.

Other talents: He can track a man down to the ends of the earths so long as you are in his plane of existence he will try and given enough time, which he has a surplus of, he will find you.
The sky was gray and the air smelled of rotting corpses as a man clad in golden armor and a muddied white cape ran through the dead trees of the foggy forest constantly looking behind him searching his relentless and deadly pursuer. the paladin clad in gold stopped at one of the trees to catch his breath but out of the fog came a faint green glow then shortly after a tall emancipated figure came running at the man with a hoarse and ear piercing cry.

"OH GODS HELP ME!" The man clad in golden armor screamed as he drew his sword and shortly after a number of arrows pierced the Dread Knight's knee stopping his advance. The Paladin sensed the opportunity to strike out against this unholy abomination quickly lunged forward and swung his word at Wilhelm cutting off his left arm however this was useless and gave the Dread Knight an opening that allowed him to thrust his sword deep into the Paladin's gut. The Paladin staggered backwards as blood began to drip out of the wound then came gushing out as Wilhelm withdrew his sword from his innards all the while arrows flew at him from behind as five men continued to lose their arrows at him. Wilhelm's Abdomen in the span of a few seconds had become a pincushion for the bowmen though this did not stop him from continuing to limp towards them causing the men to run though the dread knight continued to pursue them as sooner or later he will find them and sooner or later he will wring their neck with his own bare rotting hands.

Melon Bomb · May 7, 2016

Appearance:

Name: Elena Greywater

Title: Pirate Queen

Gender: Female

Orientation: Bisexual

Appearance:

General: Elena is a tall woman that stands at least a head above most and a wide, muscular build to boot to complement her tan skin. Though her hair is quite long, she often wears it short with the excess tied into a ponytail with a faded red ribbon.

Eye color: Hazel

Hair: Platinum Blonde

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: Scars on Hands, Forehead, Waist

Anything else: Tattoo of waves on back

Personality:

General: Elena is loud-spoken and intrusive, caring little for the discomfort of others and making decisions on impulse. She is just as quick to pick fights with strangers as she is to share a nice cold brew with them. And like a true sailor, she does swear her fair share here and there. Aside from that, she does try to make friends when she can - sometimes a bit aggressively - but knows when to lay off when she needs to. Generally easy-going and hearty, but can be dead serious at times.

Vices: Avaricious, Brutal, Reckless

Virtues: Loyal, Merciful, Honest
History:

Elena's father was a devout military man of the Arithell empire who taught his daughter to follow in his footsteps. Their people had originally hailed from a large island centered in the middle of their terra's ocean, known not only for their incredible physical strength, but their uncanny ability to tread stormy waters as well. Growing up around navy soldiers, fighting oceanic beasts, and dueling against pirates, Elena quickly learned to do her part and took after them, showing an aptitude as a sailor and a fighter that hadn't been in decades.

Things quickly went to hell when their vessel was assaulted by a nautical creature that scattered and killed most of their crew - while they were barely able to stave off the beast, the remainder were spotted and rounded up pirates that had been drifting off shore of the nearby islands. Although their captain executed almost everybody on board, including Elena's father, he showed mercy to Elena, as she was only a child. She graciously accepted his hospitality, and then killed him months later with the full intention of mutiny. She won over the pirates to her side with her astounding knowledge of the great seas, of rival pirates, and even of the imperial navy - information she had garnered under the years spent journeying with her father.

It was here that, strangely enough, she felt truly at home - on the seas, where she was meant to be. With no real place to return back home, she gathered and stayed with her own crew, using her tactical prowess and fighting techniques to slowly conquer the seas. While she harbored no grudge for Arithell, she had no fond memories of the place, either. Following her desires, she treated it just the same, destroying and taking whatever she pleased like she had done countless times on other isles. In an ironic twist of fate, their ships were attacked by a sea creature as they made to take their leave. Elena and the remnants of her crew were swiftly captured by the navy and executed or imprisoned. From there, the rest is history. . .

Crimes:

-War crimes against Arithell

-Destruction and pillaging of churches

-Ransacking of various towns
Fighting Style:

When her father passed, he handed to her his most prized possession - the Dreadnought - a great meteor hammer designed as a solid black anchor that can serve many purposes: The edges are sharpened and honed like the blades of an axe, and it becomes significantly thicker closer to the base of the weapon. Its sheer power and durability also gives it use as a hammer that can smash through stone and metal, and when thrown properly, can behave like a spear. Because it is bound to a chain, this weapon can be swung around in a whirlwind of death for anyone who dares to comes close.

Specializations: Impressive Strength and Reflexes, Naval Knowledge

Equipment: Elena travels light, but if she is preparing to gear up for battle she may choose to don heavy armor to complement her axial fighting style. She always carries a flask for drinking, gutting knives, and a trusty compass.

Weaknesses: Poor Eyesight, Afraid of Sudden Darkness, Overconfident

Other talents: Navigating, Swimming, Breath Holding
Many have heard its name, and there are only a handful of sailors and pirates who do not fear it. The heavy fog only hampered the battle even further in the dead of night, out in the open sea where there lie only the men and the beast. Even the waves seemed to attack the ship as they battered it from all sides, rocking it in a stormy cradle that threatened to collapse from under them. Looking up into the maws of a hundred beasts sprouting necks from a single mass, Elena pulled her anchor to her side and squinted, the hazy weather doing little to help her already poor vision.

A Scylla. One of the greatest scourges of the sea, breaking the surface of the water and throwing the formation of their flotilla into complete chaos. Its many heads thrashed and lunged at the ships, smashing them to pieces with ease. It was a monster among monsters, and the notion to move barely even registered in Elena's mind until one of the Scylla's heads drifted over to her own ship, staring her down from however many meters above with a glistening maw, each tooth nearly half as long as she was tall. The pristine whiteness in its eyes that had witnessed more than a thousand deaths saw her as nothing more than an insect, just another speck of fish feed drifting along, waiting to be devoured.

That was all she could remember before everything become dark, cold, and murky. There was a stillness in her joints that made it seem impossible to move, descending deeper and deeper into the water. Although she was able to breathe underwater for extended periods of time, she would sooner be crushed by the intense pressure of the ocean's depths than drown.

Damn monster, Elena thought idly has she felt her consciousness starting to leave her. If we had bigger ships, we would've been feasting on your hundred heads. Getting the best of us like this, I don't bloody believe it. Didn't even let me have. . . a single swing at you. . . came out of nowhere like a damn coward. . . get back here. . .

KhalZhavvorsa · May 7, 2016

Appearance:

Name:

Leona Syden (Leo)

Title:

Cursed One

Gender:

Female

Orientation:

Demisexual

Subspecies:

Half demon

Appearance:

General:

On a normal day Leo likes to wear all black. Even if it's hot outside. Her outfit consists of a skin tight tank top with a hooded black shawl that comes down to about her mid thigh. It looks like it was had made, and more along the lines of something one might see in Demobaza. Her pants follow the black color scheme as well as the tight factor, only they have various rips on them from upper tight to ankle. For shoes, just simply black combat boots with silver adornments.

Eye color:

Black (Literally exactly how it looks in the picture)

Hair:

Black

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.:

One thing a person might note about Leo is her scars. She has several all over her body, many vary in length and depth though people only really see the ones on her chest, arms and maybe legs. All of those aren't too deep looking or long. If one where to loo on her back though, they'd see scars that are long and wide as well as look as though they were deep at one point. They look like whip marks. On her chest right across her heart is a scar with a particular design of an upside down five pointed star. Then from her right side cheek bone to her jaw is a scar that looks like it was done with a blade.

Personality:

General:

Leo tends to be quiet and reserved. She won't talk unless you talk to her first; however, that doesn't mean anything. This woman has a strong will and sense of duty. She follows commands from her superiors without question, even if the deed is 'evil'. Many people would say her alignment is Chaotic Neutral, and they would be correct. As for other thing's regarding her personality..well she has quite the temper due to her half demon side. Pissing her off is not recommended. If you truly take the time and coax her into keeping conversation, then you might see a change in how she acts.

Vices:

~Temperamental

~Literally a half demon

~Is a trained assassin

Virtues:

~Very loyal

~Modest

~Obedient

~Respectful
History:

Leo comes from a 'troubled' past. From the moment she was born to now, she has always been treated differently regardless of how noble her family was. Now you might ask, how on Earth did a noble family have a demon child? Well you see...before Leo was born, her mother was cursed with the ability to not have children. At first that never bothered the woman, until she fell in love with Leo's father. Years down the line the pair tried and tried to have a child, but to no avail could they. Fearing the worst and wanting a child to continue the lineage of both noble families, they summon a very powerful Greater Demon. This demon heard their pleas for a child, and granted it; however, he told them their child would be cursed to live as a half demon for her entire life. Her parents agreed to this, and so they were blessed with Leona. Later they would explain to her why she was cursed. Now, there's something about this demon for you see..he did not tell the couple his name, only a false one. He knew the child one day seek revenge for creating her, and come to kill him.

Many years down the line, Leo had learned to deal with the looks given to her by other families and people. The child bore no horns or other ungodly things, her only difference was her eyes. Yes, you see they were pitch black all over. This frightened many people and their local church shamed the family and child. As Leo grew so did her power. The child showed skill in sword play, namely with dual long swords. Her parents aloud he to learn the skill, to fine tune her ability with them. It was rather unnatural for a female to learn this, but her parents and family had already been shamed by the church and their family named filled with blasphemy, so they figured why not.

Time skip forward to an incident caused by the locals. No one knew why or who told them to do this, but the locals revolted against Leo's family. They burned down down everything and slaughtered everyone in both families. Leo at this time had been sent away to learn from a Master Swordsman to further her skill in the blade. When she had leaned that her family was destroyed, she swore vengeance on the entire town. Her Master disapproved of this, but continued to teach her. Her time with this Master was long and hard, but she learned the way of many swords and how to make them. Her Master also taught her to control her anger and blood lust from the demon side of her.

Crimes:

~Has slaughtered countless amounts of people with no regard to who they may be.

~Is a unholy being, namely a half demon. (?)

~Was part of the Orophos Clan that killed millions (Estimated) of people.
Fighting Style:

Leo's fighting style tends defensive. Leo will block, counter and evade until she's tactically figured out how you fight then she begins to attack back, adjusting her fighting style to help her defeat her opponent. If her demonic side is not suppressed, then she goes into a state of almost..hysteria. She becomes aggressive, never backing down from attack as she keeps coming and coming. Receiving and giving out massive damage until the enemy is quite literally a pile of limbs.

Specializations:

Leo specializes in close combat and a little mid-range. Her preferred weapons are dual long swords.

Another small thing Leo is good with is stealth. She's fairly quiet and can sneak past ALMOST anyone/anything.

From her assassin past, she's adequate in poison making.

Equipment:

Leo carries around her dual long swords on her back with a single poison dipped dagger on her outer thigh. Other than weapons, she carries two 'bombs' if you will. One is a smoke bomb that when thrown and hits the ground erupts into a black smoke. This is used for escapes only. The other one is a poison bomb. This one she didn't make, but when thrown it creates a fume of gray smoke that smells good (like lavender), but causes paralysis. She has twenty five (25) smoke bombs and ten (10) poison bombs.

Weaknesses:

~Leo has sunlight sensitivity due to her demonic blood. The sun light causes irritation in her eyes and alabaster skin as well as makes her weaken substantially if she's fighting.

~It's extremely hard for Leo to recover from her blood lust like state, but when she does..she often times will pass out due to how must it takes to suppress that.

~In battle, Leo will often get a headache from trying to suppress her 'wild side'. The longer she fights, the worse it gets. If she fights too long, then her vision will go blurry and this could cause her to pass out from how intense the headache is.

(If more need to be added, tell me.)

Other talents:

From her time spend with her Master, she learned to blacksmith.

She can speak in demonic. (It's really rough though.)

She's really good at chess.

She's a decent chef.
The room was dark the only light coming from the candelabras that was held by the thirteen people that surrounded her. The room smelled thickly of copper, ash, and some strange smell Leo did not know. The room was made of stone and rather small; this making her slightly uneasy as she awaited instruction. Her hands where by her side, eye forward and posture perfect. She knew not where she was only that it was somewhere owned by the Orophos Clan. A hooded figure in front of her moved forward, the face hidden. The person was tall,but seemed slender, their movement slow. Leo's eyes watched this person as they came forward followed by two others on the left and right.

"Leona Syden, you have been a loyal member for many years. For this, we have decided to have you join the Circle. Are you prepared to bare the sigel of the Orophos Clan?" The figure asked. It was obvious that the person was a man for the voice was deep and 'manly'. Leo nodded once. From there the figure handed off his candelabra to another member. In that moment, every hood came off in the room. It was hard to see but the man before her was someone she'd seen before, but couldn't place the name. His face was rough angles from what she could see, his hair an ashen color, eyes light blue, or so she thought.

It wasn't much long after trying to focus on him that she felt a hot pain sear through her chest, right over the heart. It hurt. A lot. Leo was about to move away but before she could, huge arms wrapped around her, effectively holding her still as the pain worsened and worsened. That unfamiliar smell hit her from earlier but this time she knew it was burning flesh.

((Could write more, but where's the fun it that? c)

If anything needs to be changed or something needs to be added..tell me please! c:

Elffri3nd · May 7, 2016

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Aeros Wolfbane

Title: The Beast

Gender: Male

Age: appears in his late teens but is much older

Race: Werewolf

Sexuality: Bisexual
General: He wears leather that transforms when he does, which becomes his fur.

Eye color: Yellow

Hair: Grey

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: Aeros has a birthmark on his back, and a scar on his neck.

Anything else: He has a tattoo of a wolf over his left shoulder
Aeros can out maneuver most in sword play and if you aren't careful he will maim you.

Power: He regenerates quickly, and during a full moon he transforms into a wolf that has unnatural strength. His claws are poisonous and can kill a vampire or turn a human.

Specializations: Aeros can negotiate with others. He is an excellent sword fight while in his human form and an excellent hand to hand fighter (if that is what you want to call it) while in his beast form. He has a great sense of smell, that he can use like a dog.

Weakness: Aeros transforms into a powerfull wolf in the presence of moon light, but he can't control it. He can easily be killed with silver, and vampire poison.

Equipment: He has a special collar, and while he wears it he can't change from what ever form he is in whether it is human or wolf. He also has a short blade that he uses for defense.

Other talents: Aeros is slightly talented in hand to hand combat, and he is very talent with swords.
General: Aeros is a loving person, who hates to fight. He rather try to talk things out and he hates it when he kills someone in his beast form. Although he hates fighting or hurting others he will if it means life or death. He is loyal to all of his friends and despite his dislike of fighting he would die for them. He would do things for his friends that he wouldn't do for his self. Lastly due to the fact that is in a way an animal, he is very lustful and this causes him to do things he wouldn't normally do.

Vices: Monsterious, lack of control, lustful

Virtues: Loyal, caring and straight forward
Bio: Several decades ago Aeros was turned into a beast and his first night as one he killed his entire family. He began wondering around in the woods, alone of course. He was found by other werewolves who tried to train him but they were hunted down and killed. Aeros did manage to learn some control as a human. However, while there is a moon he is still forced to change and become a violent monster.

Crimes: Aeros has kill villages full of people while in his beast form. He has also raped some innocent people and of course he is a werewolf.
(This was from something else I did.)

The boy began to take his first steps north, looking for a town. This wasn’t his first time waking up drained of energy some place strange, it was all he remembered. Sometimes in his dreams he would remember the soft face of a woman who was usually crying. Suddenly out of the background light and darkness would collide in a violent attack and the sad woman would disappear forever. It was a recurring dream, every morning after this dream he would wake up in a new place, alone except for the dragon spirit, who was his only friend.

In the sky the boy could barely make out figures, or so he thought. They seemed to be hand crafted using the stars of twilight. “How would figures be in the sky?” He thought aloud and Kuma quickly replied, “Maybe they are angels? Do you forget that I can fly? Come on Fane you must keep moving.” Fane stopped dead in his tracks, Kuma was right, he could fly.

@Sullivanity

Needle · May 7, 2016

Appearance:

Name: Meralith Westbrook

Title: The Red Queen

Gender: Transgender (originally male)

Orientation: Bisexual

Subspecies: -

Appearance:

General: Meralith is a skinny, small-chested girl with a tall frame(ignore boobs in the picture). Complete with gangly limbs, she could almost pull off being a young boy (although only a few know why). But what she lacks in her physique, she compensates with her attractive facial features. She is beautiful, truly, with bright eyes and a kind smile. No matter what day of the year, she can be found in an elegant green gown dotted with sapphires and diamonds, meant to bring out the color of her eyes. On her feet she adorns tiny slippers encrusted with precious gems, and a bright yellow shawl made of the finest silks will always be found draped around her shoulders.

Eye color: Deep, bright blue, like the sea on a sunny day.

Hair: Red, wild and shiny, cascading over her frame and ending at her hips. She almost always leaves them loose and they never seem to get frizzy or tangled up.

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: Her back is laced with countless scars from her days with the high priest.

Anything else: She has a tattoo of a bleeding rose on her right arm, which she likes to kepp concealed.

Personality:

General: Meralith is what some may call...distant. At face value, she appears to be what you might expect of any highborn girl: gracious and pleasant, compliments dripping off her tongue like honey. But there is a darker side to her, a side she prefers not to reveal and has been taught to keep hidden. This side trusts no one, acknowledges nobody's feats, is egotistical and mean and crude and selfish and sarcastic and staunchly believes in the saying: every man for himself; a complete opposite of what she appears to be at first: warm, welcoming and easily trusting. At the end of the day, she finds she has little room for anybody in her heart, apart from herself, and wouldn't think twice about sacrificing a life if it means she gets to keep her own.

Vices: She will do anything if it means she gets to keep her life. Although she doesn't like to admit it, she enjoys watching people suffer from her hands and gets a strange sense of satisfaction after seeing the results of a bloody death she caused. Her only means of pleasure is death, the sickly sweet smell of blood, the remains of a body after a brutal fight.

Virtues: There isn't much to like about Meralith when your life depends on her. However, under normal circumstances, she can be pleasant and kind, likeable even. One thing is for sure, no matter under what circumstances, she will never give away your secrets.
History:

Meralith's father was the son of a wealthy merchant. He lived his life under palm trees, eating grapes off of silver platters. However, when the time came, he refused to take on his father's trade for he knew the simple truth: the only way to ensure a luxurious lifestyle for the rest of your days is by securing a place at court. With the help of Meralith, his beautiful, perhaps even too beautiful daughter, he was able to ensure that no matter what political tensions brewed between the church and the king, his family would hold their title forever.

Meralith had lived for only five years when the high priest began to take interest in her. Or, to be exact, him. Back then, she went by the name of Merlaith. Merlaith was more like his sisters than his brothers. He knew he looked more feminine than the queen, with his soft curves and dainty cheeks and a tiny nose. The high priest saw that, and he liked what he saw. With the help of dark magic he shouldn't be performing, the high priest managed to transform Merlaith into today's Meralith, to suit his sexual needs. At such a tender age, Meralith had lost all sense of identity. Her body did not belong to her anymore, it was being exploited by a man she barely knew, and her father kept on telling what she was doing was the right thing, and she endured for countless years, until one day she could endure it no longer.

When she first bled, it was arranged that she would marry a young member of the royal court. Preparations began at once, highborns came from all over the realm to watch the engagement of two strangers. Meralith barely knew him, and she knew he had no idea of her past as a male. It was arranged that both the young boy from court and the priest would get their fair share of her body. This had not mattered to her; she had lived her entire life being used by men for their pleasure and her father's gains. However, as she lay sobbing in her bed the night before her wedding, she knew what she had to do.

Crimes:

- Poisoned a high priest of the church

- Burned down the church hall where the wedding was about to take place, including the holy books and pilgrims residing there

- Hung the man she was promised under the blessings of the Lord at the altar in front of about half the realm's population
Fighting Style:

Meralith prefers to stay in the shadows rather than fight face to face. She can fight miles away from an enemy and still successfully win a battle. She relies on traps and quick escapades rather than fierce displays of strength and bravery. Some call her a coward, others a genius. You may not even realize you are standing in one of her traps until you are hanging by a rope with a knife at your throat. These traps may not be physical; they can be seductions at a bar which can lead to slit wrists in a tavern room. After years of pursuing knowledge and acting, her mind is her greatest weapon. However, during an actual fight at battle, she prefers to shoot an arrow from a safe distance, and she is a good shot. She can also be very nimble and quick to escape tricky situations.

Specializations: Excels at archery and setting up traps using minimal supplies. Can also use her acting skills to lead a person to a trap, and escape from tiny spots. Also knows the most painful ways of physically torturing a person, due to her lust for blood.

Equipment: A simple but razor-sharp dagger. Spell forged, made of the finest metals and can chop through iron if you have the strength(which she unfortunately doesn't). Encrusted with jade, and the hilt is of solid, carved gold.

Weaknesses: She is hopeless at hand to hand combat and anything else that involves strength. She is more likely to die during a fistfight than a zombie apocalypse. Catch her (if you can) empty handed with nowhere to hide, she is dead meat. She also fears wild animals, such as wolves and bears. Even a large and seemingly ferocious dog can scare her.

Other talents: Does knitting count? She was a highborn, of course she can knit. Very well, in fact.
Ghostly shadows fell across the marble tiled floor. The wind was making Meralith’s snow-white curtains dance mid-air. High-pitched laughter and the tinkling sounds of goblets being held up for toasts in her honor streamed through the open shutters. Outside, the night was alive in celebration. Inside, on a stained-satin canopy, the bride sat in a pool of tears and blood.

She was drowning. Her lungs faltered, her vision grew hazy. Tears spurted from her eyes as the light cast by the flickering lamps grew dimmer and dimmer. Body shaking, she made herself stand up and walk over to where the shutter opened out to the immense courtyard, where her wedding feast was taking place. Her fingers grasped for furniture she could hold onto, to steady her quivering legs, only to be pierced with shards of broken glass.

Meralith kicked off her slippers, one at a time. They landed with a gloomy thud on the red carpet of bride chamber. Slowly, she stepped onto the ebony ledge of her windows and sucked in her breath. Her feet, still bloody raw, throbbed as she balanced precariously on the ledge. She was going to do this, there was no stopping her now. More tears spilled, thick dark makeup ran down her cheeks. The world had given her nothing, no happiness. What place did she have in this world anyways?

The ground loomed below her, and several stories beneath, rich men and their young wives chatted airily in the lamp-lit gardens, helping themselves to the feast and taking in the scent of the best wines mixed with honey and cinnamon. For a split second, Meralith wished she could kill them all along with herself too. She despised them, there was no hiding the fact. Highborns who had never known misery, who would never understand the injustice this marriage signified. Would they even care? Were they just here for the free wine? Where her fingers held onto the wood, there remained bloody fingerprints. She took one feet off the ledge, let it sway uneasily mid-air. She gasped, and drew back. There was no way she was doing this. But she had to.

And then from the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of her dagger. Encrusted with jade, it was the most expensive gift she’d ever received. She remembered the day she had received it. It had been the gift of a stranger, one of the church's many servants. The memory was still fresh in her mind, as it would remain for all eternity. She had been five, it was her first time with the priest, she had just turned to a girl. She was sobbing as she made her way to her bedchamber, her back still burning from where the priest had whipped her, when a man in a hooded cloak had given it to her. She had not seen his face, but his eyes had burned yellow beneath the hood's shadow. "Keep this carefully. A day will come when you shall need it." And with that, he had disappeared before her eyes into thin air. Perhaps the day had come. She reached out to examine it, to look for answers in the beautifully carved gold, the answers to anything at all, anything that would save her from her monsters, and she had almost reached it -

Until she lost footing and the ground swiveled beneath, coming closer and closer and faster and faster. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, because she was not ready, and there were things yet to do, but she did not get the chance to, because her hands had grasped a pole, and she was hanging dangerously off the ground. Quick as a squirrel, she pulled herself into one of the nearest windows. After ensuring nobody in the courtyard had seen her, she examined the throbbing pain in her palms. The dagger had cut through her flesh deeply, and blood spurted out of the open gash, but it was there. At that moment, she knew: all wasn't lost. And as the sweet smell of blood filled her insides, she decided one thing: she must not die. Because there were things she must do. Revenges she must take. Actions she must pay back. With that, she left in search for the apothecary, where she knew her father hid the most powerful poisons.

(Sorry if this is too long, I got carried away I can write short entries too, or replace this one with a shorter version of it if you'd like @Sullivanity )

DarKnight36 · May 11, 2016

Appearance:

Name: Varxess Klarind

Title: Hitokuijinshu

Gender: Male

Orientation: None

Subspecies: Wendigo

Appearance:

General: An ethereal aura surrounds Varxess, and age does not seem to touch him. He stands around six and a half feet tall, and is heavily muscled.

Eye color: Icy blue permeated with white. His eyes glow in the darkness.

Hair: Thin and long with a color so blonde as to be almost white. Seems to float above his shoulders in an otherwordly way.

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: None

Anything else: Varxess is never seen without his armor on, armor that is stained with the blood of his foes, and pitted from years of combat. His cape is blood red, although rumor suggests that it was once as white as his skin. His many weapons include his legendary broadsword of silver-steel, and a shield said to be crafted from the scales of a serpent, born of Hell itself. A chain with a small star ornament rests around his neck.

Personality:

General:Varxess seems driven by some relentless desire, a hunger that he can never satisfy. He hunts and kills his targets ruthlessly, often murdering anyone who gets in his way. He eats the flesh of those he defeats, hoping to gain their power and transcend mortality.

Vices:Varxess cares for no one. He sees people not as individuals, but as objects. He does not hesitate to kill, and enjoys doing so.

Virtues: None.
History:

Varxess was once a normal human, with a family and a strong faith. However, during a hunt for a monster attacking a nearby village, Varxess was separated from the main group. When he returned, Varxess was "different", and 60 years later, Varxess remains untouched by age. He remains with the Church only because of his unerring efficiency, although he is almost never sent with a group. Varxess has become known for his cannibalism, and for his unnatural abilities. The Church controls Varxess through a magical device kept within his family.

Crimes:

Cannibalism, murder, and Varxess' "curse" are the three main reasons for Varxess' establishment into the Sinful Knights.
Fighting Style:

Varxess fights with a sword and shield infused with silver, as he normally combats what he dubs "Hellspawn". He is very light on his feet, and is extremely strong. He is also a decent shot with a bow and arrow. In battle, he will wound his target, weakening them rather than going for killing blows. When the blood loss affects them, he will swoop in and gut them, carving them up for his next meal while the flesh is still alive. He also has unique abilities, such as blending into shadows and moving quicker than should be possible, but these drain his strength.

Specializations: Varxess has fought in many battles for the last seventy years, and is an extremely skilled swordsman.

Equipment: Varxess' armor is made of silversteel, forged by the legendary blacksmith Haru Dosim. It is said to be nigh impenetrable to all but the most powerful bows or crossbows, and is patterned with overlying scales that act like blades in battle. Varxess found his sword in the rooms of a dark wizard he had killed, and runes crisscross the silversteel blade. Varxess has learned some, but not all, of the incantations that allow the weapon to infuse with magic. Varxess also carries a shield forged of the scales of a serpent, born of Hell itself.

Weaknesses: Varxess can only "activate" his powers once every day, for an hour. He plans his battles accordingly. It also might be possible to overwhelm with numbers, although he is careful to never take on more than he can "chew".

Other talents: Varxess is an excellent chef, especially of meat. Any type.

Stickdom · May 12, 2016

Pyrrhos Orchenta

"Sinful, am I? I will speak of the true sins of humanity. Contentedness. Satisfaction. Complacency. Why do you wish to remain as you are when I could make you so much more? Is it so vile to wish to evolve beyond your frail human form? I do what I have done not out of spite or evil, but mercy and love. I can rid you of your sickness, free you from your pain, save you from yourself. Come, relinquish your flesh to me, let me caress your beating heart, let me touch your soul. And I will show you what it is to live. I will make you perfect!"

Pyrrhos' Dedication

Appearance:

Title: The Flesh Prophet

Gender: Male, usually.

Orientation: Hetero-Uninterested

Subspecies: Eldritch Skinchanger (Acquired, not Hereditary)

Appearance:

General: Varies based on current form. Standard human shroud is tall and gaunt, nearly 6-foot in height, skin is pale and cracking, with the appearance of rot and disease. His outfit commonly consists of mage's robes, dyed scarlet red and reeking heavily of decaying flesh.

Eye Color: Faded white, as a blind man's.

Hair: Neatly cut short and dark brown, when present at all.

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: Too many to count, skin is riddled with deep lacerations and indecipherable tattoos.

Anything Else: When focusing on casting spells, his eyes glow with a sickening green hue.Personality:

General: Contemplative would be the perfect word to describe Pyrrhos, he always appears to be studying those around him in the same manner as a predator examines its next meal. He speaks in soothing tones, expertly masking his venomous intent with honeyed compliments and observant comments. Never angered or disturbed, Pyrrhos keeps his composure in the most stressful of situations, always analysing the battle to determine its flow and strategising his next action. When in public or group settings, he prefers to keep silent, remaining the right-hand of the party face, but he always seems to be striving to isolate an individual towards private conversation, in which he often speaks possessively to his partner, claiming to want them for himself.
Vices
- - Scheming: Will backstab, betray, and sacrifice any of his "companions" when, not if, it suits his ends.
- - Hateful: Bears deep hatred for any who defy him, and even those who follow him are little more than tools.
- - Guile: Has a way with words, especially in negotiating, bargaining, and persuading, usually for foul deeds.
- - Vindictive: No good deed goes unpunished, and heavens save any who wrong him.
- - Arbitrary: Treats others as servants, uses them as objects, throws them away as garbage.
- - Amoral: Has no sense of propriety, says and does exactly as he pleases, regardless of the law.
- - Disconcerting: An aura of unease surrounds him, making those not familiar with his presence uncomfortable or sickened.
- - Obsessive: Once focused on an object of his desire, be it item or person, he cannot be dissuaded from obtaining it.
- - Gruesome: Takes no pains to disguise his penchant for violent and bloody measures, including his grisly disfigurations.
- - Crafty: Ever the creative mind, he rarely uses the same tactic or ploy twice, preferring to keep others on their toes.
Virtues
- + Observant: Always collecting details on his environment, he often recalls what others forget.
- + Knowledgeable: Having studied many subjects, he tends to have tips for almost any scenario, though often misguiding ones.
- + Protective: He views working with him as valuable assets, and he usually invests effort into defending his assets.
- + Scholarly: Being adequately versed in street survival, nature lore, and magical phenomena gives one a slight edge over the common traveler.
- + Charismatic: Despite his reluctance to take the role of a face, he does have a knack for leading willing subjects.
- + Tactical: The ability to overlook a battle and predict inevitable outcomes has resulted in many victories in the past.
- + Poetic: Often speaks in pleasant verse, recites lyrical tales, or records philosophical ponderings in his journal.
History

Young Pyrrhos

Young Pyrrhos Orchenta was an apprentice Luminator, an acolyte mage in The House Of The Gleaming Dawn, the foremost magical academy of the Church of Luminescence. He was ever the ambitious student, devouring the knowledge from textbooks and tomes of all sizes, absorbing as much information as he could to impress his tutors, to outdo his peers, to become the greatest mage of all time. His ambition lead him to every corner of the great libraries, even the ones kept bound by magical seals and students barred from entering. But such seals were child's play to Pyrrhos, he easily undid them and crept to the forbidden crypts full of ancient knowledge, artifacts of a world long forgotten, all slated to be studied by the high mages to prevent their evils and then destroyed. But Pyrrhos knew no such evil, and it was here that he found the Book of the Flesh. It seemed to call to him, words whispered in the darkness that pierced his soul, and as he opened it, the mystic text consumed him. His naive mind was filled with undeniable desire to learn these forbidden magics, and so he resolved to return again to study in secret. Over the weeks and months that passed, Pyrrhos changed from a rambunctious and eager boy into a somber and quiet scholar, a change noticed by both his instructors and his friends. His closest companion, a boy named Eathrose, confronted him about it, asking what had come over him to alter his personality so. Instead of denying the claims against him, Pyrrhos offered to show him. The two snuck into the forbidden vaults, and there on the table lay the Book of the Flesh, now no longer a mere book, but an abomination of tendrils and teeth and gazing eyes. Eathrose staggered back in horror, but Pyrrhos caught him up, drew him closer, and said that he had delivered as promised. Eathrose's blood froze when he realised that his friend was not talking to him, but to the horrific tome before them. The next instant, it leaped forward and took hold of Eathrose, consuming the screaming boy until there was no trace of him left. The dark voice of the book spoke to Pyrrhos again, stating there was one final task which would make him the most powerful mage of all. Pyrrhos nodded his assent, and soon he too followed after Eathrose into the creature's maw.

Pyrrhos' New Form, Mhal'ireth When Pyrrhos awoke again, he was lying on the floor of the crypt. He stared in both horror and delight at his new form, one devoid of his human form, now a creature of only bone and muscle and soul. Inside of himself, he felt an essence that was not his own, and he knew that he and the Book of the Flesh had become one being. It crafted a shroud for him resembling his former self, a skin he could wear that would hide his gruesome new body. Despite this new power, Pyrrhos also felt somewhat less, and he realised that he had lost all connection to his magic, his years of study discarded forever. He grieved over the loss of such great talent, but also rejoiced at his newfound power. For the book whispered to him still, telling him of other arts he could achieve, curses he could cast on his enemies, and gifts he could bestow his allies. The only stipulation it gave was the he was to provide it with the bodies of his enemies to sustain itself, or it would instead devour him and search for a new host.

Pyrrhos On The Run

Pyrrhos relished the power at his fingertips, and he began to see the state he had entered as the true destination for humanity, not the weak, pathetic bags of skin and bones they were. Years passed as he continued his classes at the academy, passing under suspicion through deceit and trickery, while he slowly and eventually started luring other students to the same fate as Eathrose. Those who fell for his trap found themselves alone in the darkness of the crypt, with Pyrrhos standing over them, performing rituals and transforming them into monstrosities as himself, then consuming them into his body. But such activity could not go unnoticed, and soon the Wardens of the Golden Light, the sentinels that guarded the schools premises tracked an evil magic to the crypt, where Pyrrhos was finishing a sacrifice on another student. They attacked and he fought in return, and Pyrrhos only barely escaped with his life. He fled through the countryside, always followed closely behind by the Wardens. He evaded capture for some months in the wilderness, or stopping at small villages and towns to replenish his strength, but always on the run. Even with his ascended body, he was overcome in the end, half-starved in the open wilds, captured by the Wardens and imprisoned in the Sunless Halls, a prison inescapable even for the most powerful warlocks and witches. His trial was conducted with no contest: guilty. However, a handful of Archmages, lords of magical study at the college, did not wish to destroy him for fear of releasing the existence such an influential artifact as the Book into the public. So they gave him a mandate, serve them in ridding the world of scum as foul as himself and he would live. Refuse, and he would be imprisoned for eternity in the Sunless Halls, tortured with lack of sustenance and light for millenia. Pyrrhos answered simply that he would follow their orders. After all, he cared not whom he devoured, villain or hero, demon or saint. All men were equally worthless to him.

Crimes:

2 Counts Heresy: For abandoning the Church of Luminesence and for consorting with eldritch spirits.

147 Counts Blasphemy: For creating that very number of monstrosities using dark magic.

147 Counts Murder: For killing students and civilians via transformation process.

1 Counts Forbidden Arts: For the practice of corrupted vivomancy, the magic of the body.

147 Counts Eldritch Magic: For performing sacrificial rituals on innocents.

86 Counts Robbery: For theft of items stolen while on the run.

42 Counts Breaking-and-Entering: For assaulting homes to seek refuge during his flight.
Fighting Style:

The key feature of Pyrrhos in combat is his adaptability, being a shapeshifting mage of sorts, he can vary his combat to the situation with relative ease. The gruesome transformation from one form into another is terrifying of itself: to see a man's skin split and tear into pieces only to watch an aberration emerge from beneath it, to feel its grasping tendrils around your throat and piercing your body, to have a man shed his body like a cocoon to emerge a titanic bloodrager, or slither out as a lithe and nimble cutthroat.

Specializations:

Pyrrhos' primary role on the battlefield is as a tactician, predicting the enemies' plans and being one step ahead of them. He transforms between his Shrouds to control the flow of battle, each being specialized in its own right, very nearly their own person with their own personalities and unique behavior outside of what actions they are commanded to perform.

Equipment:

Wears a blood-red mage's cloak and hood, and carries an enchanting stave whose spiked ring makes an efficient melee weapon as well. A satchel slung over his shoulder carries quills and ink for making notes, wands enchanted to various mundane effects (prestidigitation, cast light, ember, etc.), as well as vials of poison he has distilled from his magic to use as needed.

Weaknesses:

In his own body, Pyrrhos is not a fragile man, but is still defensively weak. He is vulnerable to any injuries that can befall a man like any other, and is particularly sensitive to magic, with divine magic being his ultimate nemesis no matter which Shroud he is currently assuming. Prolonged combat is also a weakness, as he runs short of stamina and magical power very quickly, leaving him vulnerable to any kind of attack after a strenuous or lengthy skirmish. Changing Shrouds in and of itself is a weakness, being a tiring process as it is, as well as leaving him completely defenseless and immobile while shedding his current skin and reforming a new one, making him open to attacks when transforming from one to the next

Other talents:

Basic lockpicking and disabling magical devices: From his time breaking into the forbidden chambers of the academy, as well as more practical experience while on the run.

Crafting wands and staves: Also from his time at the academy, he relearned this art to have on-hand magic in emergency scenarios.

Diplomacy: Not exactly a perfect talent, but still usable, though typically only in his human form. Able to appropriately discuss and be heard among many social and political circles.
Aberrant Shrouds: The Book Of Flesh is not only a tome of knowledge, it is a receptacle for the souls of those it has devoured. Pyrrhos himself is the host of the Book, retaining it inside of his body as a part of himself. However, the Book has a will of its own, and can sometimes assert itself through Shrouds. The Shrouds are semblances of powerful souls whom it has taken, perverted into horrific creatures who still retain the natures of who they once were, but controlled by a combination of Pyrrhos' will and the Book's power. This allows Pyrrhos to call upon the Book to change his form to that of another whom he has defeated and absorbed their soul, but the limitations are severe and overusing a Shroud can destroy it completely. If the Shroud is defeated in battle, its soul is shattered, lost to Pyrrhos forever, and Pyrrhos is returned to his original form, unconscious for possibly days at a time and unable to manifest another Shroud until he recovers completely.
Pyrrhos, the Human Form
Description: The standard human form that Pyrrhos takes by default, especially when he wishes to be as an unassuming member of society. Being wholly human in both appearance and durability, he possesses no otherwordly strength outside of his ability to access magic and craft mystical wands. This body is average height with no distinguishing features other than the scars scattered along his body where the skin splits and reforms during the changing of Shrouds.

Ability:

Vivomancy: This form boasts the use of ancient vivomancy, magic which affects the body, though this corrupted darker version of the art allows only curses and mutations to be bestowed, rather than the magical healing and blood-magic that the purer holy version wields. These spells he casts from his mystical staves and wands, though their uses are limited however, since the strong-willed or magically-imbued can typically resist such effects and they do not have the power to outright kill in an instant, though multiple hexes cast can be lethal over prolonged periods of time. Most curses must touch the victim directly to take effect, making heavy armour very effective against such attacks, though some of the more vaporous spells can slip through smaller chinks and cracks than others.

Known Skills/Spells:
- Conjures poisonous fumes that scathes flesh and sickens the natural senses. While the fumes themselves do only little outward damage, they may enter the body through open wounds to flow through the bloodstream. While the poison remains in the victim's body, they are unable to be healed or regenerate until the toxin is nullified with cleansing magic.
- Saps vitality and stamina from the victim and puts great stress on their bones. Causes their limbs to become frail and their bodies to wither if applied several times in a short period, leading to shattered bones and limp muscles, effectively leaving them for dead. Requires direct physical touch on the victim to apply this curse, so using it in the midst of battle on active opponents is difficult, but rewarding.
- A psionic suggestion that forces the victim's mind to become clouded and drowsy, causing them to fall into a deep sleep haunted by visions of gruesome deaths. These nightmares paralyze the body, leaving the victim in a near-comatose state until healed by magic or awoken with significant physical force. Those who remain in this state for the length of a full night's sleep never wake again. Mages and those protected by magical wards and barriers are immune to this spell altogether.
- Casts an orb of dark magic that plunges the victim into a magical blindness, temporarily severing the connection between their eyes and their mind. The projectile is rather slow-moving and can be blocked or dodged to avoid this curse, though it can circle around and hit again if left undestroyed. The effect lasts for five minutes maximum, or until magically cleansed.
- One of the fundaments of the Vivomancy Arts. Blood is the wine of victory, whether his own or belonging to his enemies, Pyrrhos drinks of it deeply. Blood spilled in battle can be manipulated into vicious weapons, from lashing whips of crimson liquid to hardened spikes of blackened blood, under Pyrrhos' control. To control another's blood, he must first establish a connection between himself and the blood by mixing it with his own, and then he may use it as he pleases. Blood that remains inside of another creature's body cannot be manipulated, since their life-force still retains its hold, and magical or enchanted blood cannot be used at all, but making contact with blood in another's wounds can allow him to draw more out, sapping their life slowly away, or force it to return enchanted with bloodlust, granting them the strength and power of a berserker, but causing their mind to become irrational and attack any close to them.
Weaknesses: As with all of Pyrrhos' forms, enemy magic is devastating to him, since it can effectively dispel or even negate his own power, making it both a vulnerability and a countermeasure. Holy magic in particular will damage him immensely due to the dark nature of his magical abilities, and even ordinary elemental magics are significantly painful to encounter. He lacks any defensive spells other than preemptively inflicting statuses to ensure he gets the first blood, literally, but any who have adequate defenses against his hexes can challenge him with impunity, able to fight his mediocre melee ability with relative ease.
Mhal'ireth, Embodiment of Flesh
Description: The bodily manifestation of the Book of Flesh is both delicately beautiful and atrociously terrible. This Shroud of bone and muscle is the other half of Pyrrhos' dual nature, a separate entity dwelling within like a welcome parasite and himself the host. In this state, Pyrrhos is secondary, his will and thoughts remain intact, but the creature's actions are wholly directed from The Book, who refers to itself by the name Mhal'irith . It speaks in soft tones totally separate from Pyrrhos' speech, a feminine voice to match its delicate proportions, however its behavior is far from being a lady in any sense of the word. The creature is one of insanity and bloodlust, ever eager to kill and consume its prey, ever searching for the next soul to fuel its transformation into the pinnacle of evolution. It is well-equipped to accomplish this ambition, with spines of bone and sinewy tendrils that sprout from its fibrous limbs, devoid of any skin to envelope them, leaving bare muscle and tissue exposed.

Ability: Eldritch Terror: The nature of the Book of Flesh is ever-changing, each page of its tome a chapter on the soul it contains, the imprint of their life's essence, and the Book strives to collect more and become a perfect creature. This nature translates to its physical manifestation as a fluid and shifting entity, the body disfigures and transforms at will, interchanging physical features for one another. Grasping tentacles of muscle reach from its back or out from its body, limbs split into numerous smaller appendages or sacrifice one to enlarge another, the slim chest opens to reveal a gaping toothed maw that devours and consumes. Significant features of this ability are feeding on the bodies of the slain to gain their soul, potentially giving the creature a new Shroud to evolve into, as well as enhanced agility and endurance, making it quick and nimble in battle, leaping and dashing from one unfortunate victim to the next. This is the only Shroud that can gain souls for the Book by devouring a human body, and since it is technically the source for all of the Shrouds, it cannot be permanently destroyed if defeated in battle, though it will require a very significant period of time before it recovers enough to be embodied again.

Known Skills/Spells:
- The ability to form new limbs requires significant energy and matter, both of which Mhal'ireth quickly expends in battle. The matter can come from either her own body by sacrificing the material from one appendage to restructure it as others, or by devouring fresh organic matter around her, specifically humans or animals. The features she can grow from her body depend directly on how much matter is ingested, with half of it being formed into new features and the other half being converted to energy to sustain her. Other organic materials such as plants or wood are only a fraction as effective, needing ten times as much material, only resorted to in dire emergencies, and all other matter such as metal or stone cannot be digested or converted to energy.
- While consuming things is the basis of many of Mhal'ireth's offensive repertoire, not all of its applications are inherently violent. Inside of her body is a space that holds ingested items, keeping them separate from the world until she either releases them or digests them. This can be used for multiple purposes; to carry equipment or store hidden weapons to be regurgitated for later use, or as a temporary shielding of allies, snatching them up and covering them in protective membrane inside her body. The space is disproportionally large to her size, since it is projected from the Book Of Flesh, which is in itself a dimension designed for storing, namely souls, but physical objects may temporarily fill this space as well. Objects inside of this space cannot be damaged, though sharp attacks from the outside can break her defenses and pierce through into the space if cut deep enough.
- Matter which Mhal'ireth eats is normally split equally between being converted into material to create new body parts and energy to fuel the transformation. However, if the matter is wholly converted to energy, it can instead be applied to regenerating already existing body features rather than creating new ones. The conversion is not very efficient, however, since energy is lost through the process, and it takes converting organic matter equal to her own size to regenerate a single serious wound, or split between several minor scratches and injuries. Deadly wounds cannot be healed, since the shock of such trauma renders her incapable of using this skill, and the only way to recover from such injury is to retreat into Pyrrhos' body and regenerate over a long period of time.
- A being of such alien nature as Mhal'ireth has some enchanting power over the frail minds of humans. While not technically sorcery or even magic at all, she has some enchanting sway with many whom she infects with her madness. If she subdues an weakened or severely frightened enemy, she may decide to forgo eating them in favor of implanting them with a piece of her essence, the same madness that first enthralled Pyrrhos and lead him to become her host. The infection first worms its way to their mind, seizing their thoughts and attuning them to her own, then manifests in their bodies. Spikes of deformed bone break through the skin from their ribs and back and face, long lashes of flesh peel away from their body like bloody tentacles, leaving them deformed and crazed. Mhal'ireth then releases them back to their former comrades, a ravenous beast of hunger and rage, where they wreak havoc as they can. Unfortunately, the transformation has a weakness: itself. The bones and skin leaving wounds that seep blood, and soon there is none left in their body, causing them to fall lifelessly to the ground. The entire duration is only a minute or two at the most, though it is often enough to cause severe chaos in the enemy ranks. Magical creatures such as vampires or werewolves and those with magically-protected minds are immune to this ability, since their minds cannot be infected and so the parasite dies before it is able to control them, leaving their form untouched as it dies and disintegrates in their body with no effect whatsoever.
Weaknesses: Other than granting Pyrrhos the ability to take Shrouds, this creature has no magical capabilities outside of absorbing souls of those it feeds upon, though it has access to unique abilities befitting such an ancient entity. It is weak to magic of all kinds, particularly fire and divine types thereof. While it can change its body at will, it cannot hold many transformations at once, and it must feed on flesh to fuel the creation of numerous features on itself, making it ravenously hungry and eager to kill. If starved, it will go into a frenzy and attack any creature in sight, friend or foe, until it has sated it appetite. Despite being menacing and deadly to combat, its body is elastic but fragile, leaving it flexible against weaker physical attacks that hit it, with most blunt attacks bouncing off, but vulnerable to strong cuts. Since the creature is highly agile and maneuvers quickly around the battle, it may be difficult to achieve such a slash, but a heavy slice or two can impair its body, rendering it heavily injured and open to further assault.
Other Shrouds

Pyrrhos has several other Shrouds which he has manifested in the past, formed from the souls of the powerful he had consumed, their essence crafted from countless lesser innocents to fuel his rebirth of the new Shrouds.

These have included

-Eathrose, The Firstborn,

-Hartmund, The Executioner,

-Valencinta, The Pierced Heart,

-Kerrigan, The Blighted,

among others.

However, the Church of Luminescence found a way to bind the Shrouds, locking them from Pyrrhos' use and preventing him from becoming too powerful for them to control. However, even while he obeys their commands, he still seeks a way to unlock the barriers placed within himself to release his true power. And it will only be a matter of time before he succeeds...
The quill pen touches the page, leaving scarlet ink tracing over the leathery parchment, lines like ribbons of blood scratch out the words in the lantern-lit darkness.

I have had a vision, one of grieving and loss. Sitting in this damp cell, I have the opportunity to reflect on many things. I consider the toils of living, the sorrow of death, the joy of birth, all inherent to the human mind. The beasts and birds do not weep over death, they do not celebrate their young coming into the world. How truly naive not to feel the sting of remorse or regret, to be cattle in the field content with the sun and the grass and the streams until the day of slaughter comes and we surrender to the beautiful knife. Such are the people of this world, ignorant that they are every second dying to the murderer of all life, Time himself. I have had a vision, one of purity and perfection. I must remain true to my purpose, to hold in my arms all of the weary and forgotten, to take them into myself and show them what it is to be created anew. They will become my eyes to see beauty, my tongue to speak tales, my feet to journey upon. My skin will be their skin, their bone will be my bone, our body will become the pinnacle of the world, a creature perfected through the tests of time and the purity of our souls.

I have had a vision, and her name is Mhal'ireth.

fire master · May 13, 2016

{insert image here, optional}

Appearance:

Name: {Aeries Mesiro}

Title: {The knight of blood}

Gender: {male}

Orientation: {asexual}

Subspecies: {vampire}

Appearance:

General: {your 6 foot, thin but strong muscles surround you white skin, you have a kind round-diamond shaped face, but can quickly turn. you keep your nails in a slight point. You wear your black suit when "resting" and for battle you take on a suit of red knight armour you left with. while human you had two different eye colors the golden one just stayed unaffected and you did have a blue eye.} {http://66.media.tumblr.com/6055c80ff84fe03abe9740731b72bb94/tumblr_mohbosM2Eq1rcm312o6_1280.png}

Eye color: {one red eye and the hidden one that is a golden color, with flicks of red from the vampirism}

Hair: {black with a wisp of white hair that covers one eye}

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: {a scar on his back that goes from the blade of his left shoulder down to his right hip. As well the small bite marks on the right side of his collarbone.}

Anything else: {if anyone gets close enough you smell sweet but coppery. }

Personality:

General:{ after you got turned you held on to the one thing our had you humanness, which led you to feed of animals, you are a naturally good person, but with a touch of a snarky altitude, Aerial tends to sit alone and keep to himself to read or write his music, well use his pleasant voice and vampire charm to "nicely" tell you to fuck off.}

Vices:{when hunting or under bloodlust you tend to lose control and well fight and kill anyone, people aren't trusting at first where you could easily use them. }

Virtues:{you value honour to your word above all else, will not feed from anyone unless it is willing given, your rather a bit of a charmer}
History:

{Aeries had a normal childhood to grow up and join the guard ranks find a wife, etc etc, but fate had a different story for you, it started on a summers evening that you where walking home and had a attack from the village vampires and they took your everything and left you in the streets confused and bloodthirsty. You held to your morals and left for the forest and continue training keeping this your secret, you moved quickly in the ranks with unmatched skills you where guarding the king, but the head of the guard soon had suspected what you where, and followed you on a hunting trip, he attacked you in the forest but filled with the hunt you attacked out and killed him. You come back staggering and covered in his blood, other guards attack you but you end their lives as well and go to where you where living gather the items you'd need ( armour and your two swords) and leave to start your new life on the run.}

Crimes:

{1- killed most of the guards including the head of the royal guards 2-you went on the run for some time. 3- was a hidden vampire in ranks.}
Fighting Style:

{you wouldn't want to meet me in a alley because I might seem kind and charming but if given the second I can and well rip your throat out. }

Specializations: {You have speed and strength to back your attacks as well as regeneration( has limits of course IE losing a arm wont regrow) and the immorality}

Equipment: {Aerial fights with twin blades that a made of steel and are slightly curved you named them Vengeance and Mercy}

Weaknesses: {sunlight which is why you cover up with your armour}

Other talents: {Aeries is skilled in piano playing and writes his own music, as well as survival training. }
{I was walking back home from the days training back to my wife, it happened all so fast once moment I was walking the next I was on the ground getting ripped at.....I screamed...nothing came out.....I was bleeding I could feel its warmth spreading around me and where the drops landed from their mouths as they feed.... the darkness pulling dragging, wanting to give in the slowing of my heart.....I knew they would be done soon and I would be left for dead.....my love my dear sweet Mariven....then the air was filled with a growl, they all backed away, this one had a soft voice that just filled you, it was if was a mother talking to a hurt child "hello Aeriao, I'm sorry for what these half brain celled younglings have done but it's going to be one and we with patch you up" I could feel her teeth dig into my soft flesh and I felt the cold chill of her against me.. wasn't I dead. my head felt fuzzy and then everything started get sharp and she spoken once again " you're a strong one or soul is not like they others, if you need me just use this" I felt a small stone get placed in my jacket pocket. I try and stand but it's like being drunk, I know I didn't have anything more than just a beer with the guys beforehand. I finally make it home, I make my way to the bed we share and flop down. forget about my wounds and the shirt that I seem to be now missing. I wake and everything feels sharper and brighter, I race out of our small home and rush to training, my ungloved hands start burning and blistering. "what in the actual fuck is going on" I roughly pull my gloves on, and place them in my pocket. "what's this" as my hand brushes the stone "where did I get this" I mumble "hello Aeries how are you feeling this morning, burn I assume" " who the hell are you" "my name is Peisler and if you don't mind I would like to talk some things over with you" her soft voice fills your mind "uhhh where" my mind starts to feel foggy again and things start going dark, I close my eyes and focus I open my eyes and its back to normal...well new normal " are you done if so meet me at the inn in the southern edge of town and come to room 6" I start running to the going faster than normal " this lady better know what's happening and why this started last night" I reach the inn and bang on door 6 " OK ANWSERS NOW" I growl. A woman answers the door "hello again come and sit" I sit and she tells me about last night and what is going to start happening, "here drink this" she hands me a red liquid and I can smell the copper from here " you want me to drink blood" "yep and you best get used to it and the hunt, oh and sun....might want to cover up" I drink the blood and I realize just how hungry I am "uhmmm could I have more" she hands me a large pitcher of blood and I down it all " ok but we have one other thing to talk about, you are now a part of my clan, now you don't need to live here it just means that I'm in a way your teacher." I nod and the next few days I train for the gauds then in the night train Peisler. I end up diving to far into work that my wife leaves me and I'm left alone but it's all for the better.}

Throne Trinity · May 15, 2016

Appearance:

Name: Gregor Heartway, Last of the Outriders, Master of Funkromancy

Title: The Bandit Bard

Gender: Male

Orientation: Heterosexual

Subspecies: N/A

Appearance:

General: Gregor is tall, rounding out to be 6'1". He has a fairly slender face with a nice and even chin. Despite being a Bard he has a decent set of muscles on him. He certainty isn't jacked but by no means is he scrawny either.

Eye color: Bronze, almost red.

Hair: His hair is long and light brown, veering on dirty blond.

Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: Gregor has plenty of scars. The more significant ones are on his left shoulder (caused by an ogre's hatchet), Upper back (teeth marks from a Basilisk) and across his right leg (courtesy of a Troglodyte). He also has sleeve tattoos on both his right and left arm and a large Tattoo of the Outrider crest on his back.

Anything else: Gregor claims he's 32 but he looks like he's probably only in his mid twenties. Whether this is because of magic or he's just full of himself is unknown. Underneath his coat he usually wears a purple button up shirt with a vest (he believes being well dressed is important).

Personality:

General: LOUD, BOISTEROUS, OBNOXIOUSNESS! All of these are most likely the words that will first come to mind when meeting Gregor. His eccentric behavior and lack of personal boundaries is off putting and undoubtedly annoying. He also seems to enjoy the telling of (very obvious) tall tales, sometimes to a point that it makes it hard to determine what is truth and what is fiction. Of course this is just Gregor's surface personality. He's more complex then the simple moronic persona he uses. In fact Gregor used to be an incredibly charming and friendly guy. He was widely considered by his peers to be one of the most genuine and lovable people they knew and was the life of the party. But then after a string of unfortunate events he turned cold and hard. The passion that once burned so bright in his eyes died out and was replaced by a seemingly grey nothingness. His body lived on but his spirits died. So, in order to hide his pain he created the persona most will know him by. And yet, despite his trauma, one thing managed to survive. His poetic behavior. Gregor will frequently speak in alliteration and sonnets which can sometimes seem a bit over the top, but everything he does is over the top so it's not much of a surprise to most.

Vices:
- Loud
- Annoying
- Obnoxious
- Liar
- Eccentric
Virtues:
- Good Morals and Ethics
- Well Dressed
History:

The story of Gregor Heartway, Last of the Outriders and Master of Funkromancy is a long one. It all started back in an old kingdom, far from Arithell, called Tanhowser. A child was born to a family of servants. For many years that family lived in the Kings mighty fortress and worked directly under him and his royal family. Of all the servants they were held with high regard and were treated with the utmost of respect. Gregor, being recently born, was treated very well and raised right their in the fortress. As he grew up his biggest struggle was finding what to do with his days. To stave off the general boredom that seemed to consume his everyday life, Gregor set out to learn as much as possible. He learned how to read and wright, how to fence and fire an arrow, how to paint and draw, etc. And all though all of these things were good and fine they never gave him permanent joy or a true sense of happiness. But, as fate would have it, as Gregor was wandering the halls of the palace he heard a beautiful sound. The boys was instantly entranced and hunted down the sound like a pack of wolves might a deer. A few moments later he found himself in the piano room, and sitting at the piano was the queen. The queen was singing with such elegance and power, while her hands were guided across the keys as if by magic. The small child was instantly in love with music. For the next couple of years Gregor learned how to play the piano, the lute, the guitar, the harp, the flute, the lyre, the bugle and anything else he could get his hands on. Gregor felt he had found his true calling, but sadly this was not the case.

Gregor's family's duty was to serve the king and his royal family, and on Gregor's sixteenth birthday he was put to work. No longer could he spend his days in the music room playing his many instruments but instead he worked side by side with his father. It was honest work and there was no shame in being a servant but Gregor felt that he was meant for something more. Another year went by and Gregor's father fell ill. It had been a slow decent into sickness, first the arthritis set in, then the dementia and so on and so forth. Gregor's dad was bed ridden and all the servant work was left up to Gregor. Several months later and the King too had fallen ill. To prevent death he had enlisted the help of a traveling Sorcelock. After several nights of treatment the Sorcelock was able to heal the king, and Gregor seeing this spectacle wanted in. He begged the Sorcelock to help him cure his dad but he refused to directly help. He did say however, that he saw potential in the boy. The Sorcelock had no legacy to speak of so he took the boy under his wing and began to teach him the art of magic. Gregor had hidden potential, but it was tough to unlock. After months of rigorous course work and still barely any success Gregor began to lose hope. The boy began to resent the Sorcelock, as he refused to help his father and instead tried to teach Gregor an art that was next to impossible to learn. When Gregor confronted the man about this the Sorcelock simply said that; "Your father is not my problem but your own. My problem is that I have no one to pass on my powers to. That is why I am here. Nothing more, nothing less." And so with a spiteful heart Gregor continued his lessons, not wanting to give up yet. Eventually, the Sorcelock unlocked Gregor's potential through music. The key to the boys magic abilities had been his impressive skill with instruments all along.

Gregor thanked the Sorcelock and after much practice went to work on his father. Several nights of treatment and Gregor was able to fight off the illnesses in his dad, he was back to normal. The King, wanting to celebrate everyone's good health, invited Gregor's family out to a night of drinking. After much merry laughter and many a good tune it had struck midnight and it was time to pack up and get some rest. Gregor (who hadn't had a single sip of beer) walked/carried the king back to his room. The king was shit faced, more so than Gregor had ever seen before. And as the boy began to tuck the king in, he decided to let Gregor in on a little secret. Apparently years ago, before Gregor or his father or even his fathers father were born there was a civil war. The battles had reached into the fortress and chaos was present in spades. And right underneath everyone's noses, while everyone was ensued with battle he killed the king at the time and took his spot. And lo and behold that king was Gregor's ancestor. Right underneath everyone's nose, he deceived the people and took what was rightfully Gregor's. "And you want to know the best *hiccup* part is?" The king said as he giggled drunkenly. "I'm using the tax payers money to buy the services of that Sorcelock *hiccup* and stay immortal!" Gregor was fraught with rage, so much so that he killed the king and ran away.

Gregor ran and never looked back. He wanted a new life and it was time he took the world by storm. After stowing away on a ship and travelling to Arithell, Gregor set out to make himself a name. Using his magic (a special mixture of both Eldritch and Ethereal energy) he began to work on a special brand of music. He had been living in Arithell as an illegal immigrant for only a year when he came across a group of bandits called the Outriders. They were not average bandits that simply stole, but instead worked above the law rejecting any affiliation with the churches holy law and simply existed to slay monsters that preyed on the weak and innocent of humanity. Gregor instantly fell in love with this group and after consulting with their leader Ventis and some hazing was considered "good enough" for the group. For years Gregor thought he had found his new family, he had friends, brothers and sisters even. Life was good. But death was around every corner. It wasn't a rare occurrence for an Outrider to die, whether it be by monster claws or the hands of the Arithellian guard. But that was life for Gregor and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

For years the Outriders were on the run, saving villages here and there from danger. But eventually that all came to a close.

Those who weren't captured were killed on the spot and those who were captured were killed later. Things had taken a turn for the worse but Gregor stayed true to the Outriders, even when he was the last one alive.

His whole family had been slaughtered before his very eyes and it took everything in his power to stay sane. So after many years of being on the run Gregor was finally caught and after a trial sentenced to the Sinful Knights program.

Crimes:
- Illegal Immigration
- Conspiracy Against the Church
- Practice of Eldritch Magics
- Several Counts of Homicide and Manslaughter
- Illegal Group/Gang Activities
- Refusal to Submit to Holy Law
Fighting Style:

Gregor is incredibly calm and collected in battle, almost unsettling so. He frequently uses his magic to create illusions to deceive his foes before obliterating them with an Eldritch blast or some other destructive spell. If shit gets really real though he'll drop the shenanigans and summon up his Glaive and cut you down. During his time with the Outriders one had to be proficient with some sort of blade and Gregor's choice was the Glaive. He's all but retired it as it brings back bad memories making him a little unpredictable but his techniques with the weapon are a bit unorthodox and incredibly deadly.

Specializations: Although Gregor is no stranger to close quarters combat (in fact that's what he primarily did when with the Outriders) he tries to stick to magic. Using his Lute or other instruments he can cast impressive illusions, distort shadows, control Eldritch and Ethereal energy, dissipate, summon imps, etc.

Equipment:
- A bag of holding (an enchanted bag for holding lots of shit)
- Lute On person
- Glaive On Person
- Throwing Knives On person
- Knuckle Wrappings In bag
- Spare cloths (most of which don't actually fit him and have a weird floral pattern) In bag
- At least 5 notebooks and pens In Bag
- Glass Vials In Bag
- Pouch of glitter
Weaknesses: Gregor is a soft fleshy human. Get him anywhere vital and he is as good as dead. Of course getting to him is a bit harder then that. Gregor tends to fight at a distance, creating magical illusions and then using powerful spells to off his opponents. But if one manages to get close enough, he doesn't wear armor, so a good knife through the heart would do the trick. Also if one were to draw him out and get him to use his Glaive he'll be a lot closer so that would make killing him easier.

Other talents: Great with almost any instrument (except the triangle, fuck the triangle) and has a beautiful voice. He's one for performance and theatrics so he can be incredibly entertaining.
In the dead of night I stare up to the sky, and watch the stars, their presence like maggots in the cold flesh of heaven. How I longed for the days when we were whole but we've been broken down, destroyed and devastated. What once was a force of two hundred men and woman had been broken down to a messily twenty. I've seen so many of my brothers and sisters fall but still those who were left stood strong. It was admirable but was it worth it anymore? I began to doubt myself more and more but I couldn't abandon my family. They were all I had, and I would gladly die for them as they would for me. I turned onto my side, averting my gaze from the night sky and instead resting my eyes upon Aryn. She slept so peacefully, it was almost hard to believe that this girl had single handedly held off a pack of Owlbears whilst carrying a full grown man to safety. She was a force to be reckoned with in battle for sure but that passions was just the same if not greater when it came to their love. I reached out a single hand and ran it through her fiery orange hair and kissed her cheek. She stirred silently and let out a quiet indistinguishable murmur. I couldn't help but smile a little, all previous thoughts hand vanished from my head. Closing my eyes I pulled her in close and began to fade off to the land of dreams.

What was that? I shot up from my sleeping bag and my eyes began to dart around in the darkness. Something wasn't right. I turned back to Aryn and shook her shoulder trying to get her to wake up. "What? What is it?" She slowly sat up rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She looked up to me, seeing the worry in my face, instantly knowing something was wrong. "Gregor? What is it?"

"I'm not sure... Could be nothing... Wait! What's that?" I pointed of in the distance. Thousands of glowing red dots could bee seen, just on the fringes of shadow. It was like a thousand eyes starred at us, hungry for our death. They suddenly began to grow closer and closer. "What is that?"

"GREGOR DUCK!!" In an instant Aryn was over me, her shield covering both of us as the rain of arrows hailed down on us. Their fiery tips blocked out the moon and stars, casting a reddish glow in the once inky black sky. I was up in an instant, lute in hand ready for the on coming soldiers. Out of the corner of my eye I saw them, emerging from the shadows, sword drawn. They weren't here to capture us, that much was clear. Ventis was up as well already fighting off the foes. Metal on metal, steel against steel, blood from both sides swirling into the grass. Where our bodies fell, blood was sure to drown the grass. I did not hesitate to engage in battle as well, the screams of those damned by the church's blades filled my ears sending me into a rage. Just then another volley of arrows was fired. Aryn covered me with her shield as I sent an Eldricth blast hurtling towards on approaching knight. The ball of swirling black and purple energy impacted the man as he exploded in a shower of gore and viscera.

The Outriders fought bravely on that day, but that was our end. Ventis had told me to run. To take Aryn and leave the Outriders forever. He was injured, there was no way he would make it. Blood pulled from multiple wounds and he could barley stand. I had never refused an order from Ventis, it felt strange and oddly foreign. But in the end he convinced me. He told me I must live on to spread the noble tale of the Outriders. So I took Aryn by the hand and we ran. I never looked back and neither did she, I guess if we did we would have seen the next volley of arrows. Seeing the attack to late, Aryn sacrificed her body for mine. She threw herself in front of the arrows before I could even react. And just like that she was gone. Dead and bloodied. There was nothing beautiful or elegant about her demise, it was simple, gruesome and appalling. I watched unable to move, as her body feel to the grass, twitching as rigamortis set in. It took every ounce of strength in my body to flee from the scene. But I did. And I live on as the last of the Outriders.

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King of Prehistory

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女王の猫

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Orc

hi i make bad decisions

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BLACKJACK!

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