Taming The Flame (Characters) [Taming The Flame]

[Ayl]

This RP is a very though out creation, and such I will only admit a certain number of individuals per race. There are 4 races and 4 spots over for it, making up a total of 16 characters. Every roleplayer shall have only 1 character. I shall not accept WIP characters or any spot reservations. Post your character when it is complete and not earlier. By posting a character, you agree with the rules I've displayed in the Rules/Regulations tab of this RP.


PRIVATE MESSAGE ME WITH THE CHARACTER SHEET YOU WISH TO POST BEFORE ACTUALLY POSTING IT.

• Dylenor

• 
  
  
  - Permanently Closed
  
  
  - Permanently Closed
  
  
  -Raicus Cypher, @LupusDeUmbra
  
  
  -Zevran Sha'dan Jenesari, @The Lady Kitsunerisu
  
  
  - Permanently Closed
  
  
  

~Character Sheet Template~


Please follow the next instructions accordingly.


Name:


Race:


(Dylenor/Duender/Mjulnir/Sharian)


Gender:


(M/F)


Hometown:


(You can either choose any of the capitals except the Obsydian Keep, or either of the other cities of the Kingdom you would like your character to hail from. Since the other villages/hamlets/cities besides the capitals are not predesigned, you are free to design them however you wish, but please do not invent other towns than the ones posted in the map section. The names of the undesigned towns are right under the map.)


Age:


Appearance:


(Picture prefered, nothing realistic I.E. selfie, etc. Written description also permitted if the submitter prefers so)


Height:


(Self explanatory)


Weight:


(Self explanatory)


Personality:


(Self explanatory, at least 1 (one) paragraph)


Bio:


(A lengthy and coherent biography is recommended. Noone just appeared out of nowhere. At least 3 (three) paragraphs)


Other:


(Weapons used, mounts, pets, anything that doesn't actually fit in the other categories)

​

 

[ZeroHunter]

Race:


Sharian


Gender:


M


Hometown:


Hjaltland


Appearance:


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Height:


(Self explanatory)


Weight:


(Self explanatory)


Personality:


(Self explanatory, at least 1 (one) paragraph)


Bio:


(A lengthy and coherent biography is recommended. Noone just appeared out of nowhere. At least 3 (three) paragraphs)


Other:


(Weapons used, mounts, pets, anything that doesn't actually fit in the other categories)

 

[Pequeno Burraidh]

Name:


Brae Irvette


Race:


Sharian


Gender:


Female


Age:


Twenty


Hometown:


Nalor(From the look of the map, it looked like both a colder northern climate coupled with mountains settled upon an island.)


Appearance:


Edit: My hand's acting up due to an old injury and impeding my drawing. So for now have a khajiit =P When I'm able to I'll get my own drawing down and up.

Just with no spots, green eyes this colour, two piercings on the outsides of her eyebrows and 'sharkbite' style on her lips, and a mid back length of braided hair. She wears a dark brown leather, black furlined and trimmed vest and dark brown leather, black furlined pants. Also wears adye white cloak that is lined with white furs for camoflage out in the snow.


A slight and svelte girl, Brae was born undersized, a trait that has stuck with her for the rest of her life. Despite this, she has done well. She possesses a wiry strength and nice tone to her muscles from years of trekking through the icy, frozen hills she resides in.


Her coat is sleek and soft despite the harsh weather and it matches the oft snowy climates with a silvery-white hue that is lighter on her throat, chest and stomach, inner thighs and the inside of her arms. Her eyes and a sparkling seafoam green that have once or twice, to her amused embarassment, been complimented to appear as fine jewels. Brae also has a fascination for piercings, having an number of them herself.


Height:


132 Centimetres(4 feet 4 inches)


Weight:


5.1 Stone(71.5 lbs.)


Personality:


Cheerful and good natured, Brae lets little get her down. Despite having a somewhat morbid understanding of her mortality, Brae views many things as gifts, including the fact that she is alive to begin with. Ever ready to make friends, Brae can sometimes be a too friendly, not always thinking about the idea that either she or someone else could actually be considered a threat. Despite this, she is extremely serious when she is working and while she may seem oblivious often understands the severity of problematic circumstances better than most.


Beyond this, Brae simply wants to be able to spend her days relaxing and with friends, something she's found herself lacking in. Her loneliness makes her eager to please and also gives her a fear that friends she may one day make could abandon her.


Due to the above traits mixing, Brae allows herself to appear seemingly unaffected by many things in public but often feels crippling fear or sadness when in more private and alone settings. She can be emotionally fragile as glass to harsh critiques or rejection by those she simply wants to help.


Finally, due to her small stature, Brae is naturally wary of anyone over 30-40 centimetres taller than she is.(About a foot to a foot and a half.)


Bio:


Born to bow fishermen parents in the frozen ranges of Nalor, a complication caused Brae to be born underweight and under sized. The Mjulnir midwife that aided Brae's mother advised throwing the kit into the frozen sea, thinking she would not survive the night. Despite this both black furred parents took the snowy fur as a sort of omen that they belonged here and kept her. Having survived the night, and subsequent years to come, the only 'defect' Brae seemed to show was that she was simply smaller in both width and height compared to anyone else.


Brae never allowed this to get to her and soon took up her parents trade, bowfishing with them during the days despite her trouble handling the weapon due to her size. Over time Brae's out of the box thinking led her to seek out a weaponsmith, Hrothmund, in the main part of Nalor. Performing odd jobs such as clean-up for Hrothmund, Brae managed to work enough to 'pay' for an invention. A week later Brae was back out with her parents fishing, now using a one of a kind lever action crossbow.


About a year after her friendship with Hrothmund and the construction of her tool both her parents passed away when the ice gave out under tem and they were swept away by an under current. Hrothmund aided in the organisation of a funeral service as well as helped Brae cope, becoming her 'uncle' of sorts. This was also about the time Brae made the choice to move into the main town of Nalor.


After this Brae changed her profession and began hunting elk for meat and furs as well as helping the local guard ward of the occasional pack of wolves. This allowed her to also befriend a younger drinking pal of Hrothmund's and member of the guard, Aldritch, who Brae has become close friends with as well.


When not working, Brae can be found in a local tavern, usually in the rafters drinking, or outside the town walls walking.


Other:


Brae makes her own jewelry(Her piercings) out of bone, and occasionally sell trinkets to the townspeople.


Brae also owns a special made crossbow that is re-drawn and loaded from a disk shaped bolt holder via lever pulled on the underside on the stock. (Will also be drawn at some point)


Brae carries a firemaking kit and has learned the bests ways to coax out a flame.

 

[Harbinger]

Name: Salvani Sarmani


Race:


Dylenor


Gender:


Male


Hometown:


Kwovat


Appearance:

Height:


5'10


Weight:


160 lbs


Personality:


Salvani is a very strategic and calculating person. He doesn't like to take failure as an option but will if there is no other choices and has to resort to his final option. Does not take excuses and wants the best out of his men and his family. Keeps his family honor very high and wants to keep it like that and doesn't not do anything to tarnish it. He wants the best for his family and makes sure they are secure and safe before he heads out on a campaign


Bio:


Salvani was born into a simple middle class family and lived a comfortable life with his mother and father. His father was a captain in the Redguard and was very honored by his men. He wanted to put Sal on the same path as him. Sal didn’t want to be a fighter though, he wanted to be a strategist instead. Planning the tactics of the battle instead of fighting in them. His father knew he had a high intelligence and could remember some important things about strategy.


When Sal reached the age of 24 he was given a chance to do that. He was recruited into the red guard as one of their chief strategists and he proved himself as a capable man and could out maneuver some of the best troops that other enemies had to offer. After 5 years of working under other men, he had become one of the very best strategists in the army and loved it. He married a nobleman’s daughter and has been living in the capital for 5 years now.


Sal has been on over 5 campaigns with his army and one all of them except on eof them and got over 1,000 men killed. His honor was struck down after that and he works to regain his honor.He was demoted back down to lieutenant and is trying to regain his position as captain.


Other:


He carries two sabers with him along with one flintlock pistol. He has a satchel with the etching of a Phoenix surrounded by Flames to show how he rose up but collapsed and is rising again. He does have horse but only uses it for long travels and important events like battles or royal meetings. Within in his satchel he carries personal maps of the continents and every major settlement of those islands. Salvani also carries a custom pen passed down from generations of family.

 

[Harbinger]

Name:


Salvani Sarmani


Race:


Dylenor


Gender:


Male


Hometown:


Kwovat


Appearance:

Height:


5'10


Weight:


175 lbs


Personality:


Sarmani is a very strategic and calculating person. He doesn't like to take failure as an option but will if there is no other choices and has to resort to his final option. Does not take excuses and wants the best out of his men and his family. Keeps his family honor very high and wants to keep it like that and doesn't not do anything to tarnish it. He wants the best for his family and makes sure they are secure and safe before he heads out on a campaign


Bio:


Salvani was born into a simple middle class family and lived a comfortable life with his mother and father. His father was a captain in the Army and was very honored by his men. He wanted to put Sal on the same path as him. Sal didn’t want to be a fighter though, he wanted to be a strategist instead. Planning the tactics of the battle instead of fighting in them. His father knew he had a high intelligence and could remember some important things about strategy.


When Sal reached the age of 27 he was given a chance to do that. He was recruited into the Army as one of their chief strategists and he proved himself as a capable man and could out maneuver some of the best troops that other enemies had to offer. After 5 years of working under other men, he had become one of the very best strategists in the army and loved it. Salvani has been living in the capital for 5 years now and lives in a some-what nice home with his wife and one son.


Sal has been on over 5 campaigns with his army and one all of them except one of them and got over 1,000 men killed. His honor was struck down after that and he works to regain his honor.


Other:


Has a personal satchel etched with a phoenix with Flames surrounding it. Carries two sabers and a flintlock pistol when he gets into combat.

 

[Kharmin]

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Name: Na'drin Zauviir


Race: Duender


Gender: Male


Hometown: Nir'Amen


Appearance:


Dark brown/black hair that is straight and comes to his shoulder blades, and brown eyes. He dresses in soft leather which is colored in a mix of black and gray. Black, soft leather boots come to mid-calf. He carries a slender long sword at his hip and a longbow across his shoulders, opposite of the quiver of arrows.


Height:


5' 9" / 1.75m


Weight:


140# / 63.5k


Age:


40 years old


Personality:


Na'drin keeps mostly to himself. He is a keen observer and will pretty much speak up only when he feels that his words have relevance and merit. He is dispassionate and holds a neutral countenance about himself.


Bio:


Na'drin was born out of a marriage of convenience. Neither of his parents really wanted a child as they were more engrossed in their studies and workings for the library. As an infant, Na'drin was shuttled off to an orphan's home and was raised by those who cared for them.


He was always a quiet child and never ran and frolicked with the other kids. Rather, he would find some comfortable place to sit and simply observe his surroundings. He self-taught his discipline of intellect over physical strength and was constantly on the receiving end of taunts and other abuses by the older children. Na'drin faced them without fear and accepted whatever they dealt to him without complaint. After a time, the taunting and abuse stopped.


When he was older, he was evaluated for any proficiency with either the martial or arcane arts. Na'drin showed no talent for magic and was summarily sent to the academy to learn war craft. He studied the art, like everything else that he did, with cold calculation and intense scrutiny. As a result, he managed to excel at both swordplay and archery which was unusual as most students were better at one or the other.


During his time at the academy, the instructors learned of Na'drin's ability to observe and strategize, often with solutions that were far and above one of his age. They also discovered his cool, almost detached temper which made him an excellent sentry or guard for the nobility.


He was assigned to one of the detachments of the guards who protected royalty and his silent personality and martial skills quickly promoted him to the rank of first lieutenant. This placed him in charge of his own cadre of men assigned to the upper suites of the royal family where he well established himself with the upper class for many years.


With news of stirring armies of undead and their necromantic sorcerers that trickled, Na'drin was removed from the palace and re-assigned with special orders to hunt down and capture necromancers so that they could be brought to justice.


Other:


Na'drin was discovered at an early age to have a more martial aptitude than arcane, and was sent to train with both the long sword and longbow. As a result, Na'drin is equally proficient in both the long sword and longbow, but is no expert in either.

 

[Shura]

Name: Maivin Cyred


Race: Mjulnir


Gender: Female


Hometown: Serrmos


Appearance: Usually wears a thick soft leather hooded cape the trails down to her knees over her armor.


Height: 5'9"


Weight: 130lbs


Personality:


Maivin can be social and friendly in her own way. She's not very talkative with new people but will reply to those who approach her. She doesn't like to talk much about her self away to those who are not family, and even her family doesn't know everything about her. She is very observant noticing things most other would not and has a very good memory. She enjoys the out doors and will usually spend hours enjoying nature rain or shine. Her great love is hunting and find great pleasure in stalking her prey before pouncing on it to make the kill. If she is particularly board she will take her time and scare her pray into running. She finds the chase to be more thrill in the actual hunt than the kill and usually makes quick work of ending her targets life. Despite her violent nature Maivin doesn't kill for the sake of killing, she respects her kill for the food and resources they provide for her and her family. She does show mercy towards children and young animals.


Bio:


Maivin live a pretty normal life for a Mjulnir. Her family was known for there hunting skills and would often spend several days out in the wilderness. Mai learned early how to wield a sword and shoot a bow by the age of 10 she had killed her first deer all on her own. She slowly developed an obsession for hunting hunter bigger and more threatening prey as she grew older. She made friends with in her hunting group and would often time rough house with them during down time. When alone Minvin would often explore the forest and mountain getting lost sometimes but never really felt lost since most time she would figure out a way back. Most time she would get in trouble for going off on her own but she didn't really care.


During one of her forest excursions when she was 14 she mistakenly wandered into the territory of a very angry wolf. At first she tried to run but the wolf was persistent and when it tried to maw her she fought back fatally stabbing it. It wasn't until she tried to make her way back home that she realized why the wolf had attacked her. Not to far from when she had been chased was a den with two wolf pups. No other wolves were around and she felt bad for them she took them back home. With a lot of convincing she was able to keep on of them. A friend of her took the other. Minvian named the gray wolf Lavin.


Other:


Preferred weapon: Short sword and Dagger


Pet: Lavin gray wolf

​

Flames

​

 

[Naxtaroth]

Name: Sheut


Age: 18 ( for later on in the roleplay, his birthday is one month after the invasion)


Race: Sharian


Gender: M


Hometown:


Chamorest (an



desert city home to jackal-like Sharians in the center of an island. The island is home to many Navy ports. Under the least control by the Sharian Empire before the invasion, the city was allowed to appoint its own leaders. The Empire did, however, send a Navy fleet once every year to choose 10 Sharian warriors over the age of 16. The warriors would be taken to Shan'Manrir and trained for the Navy. This was to remind the village that their customs were their own, but their allegiance was with the Empire.)
Appearance:





Built like this WoW Worgen

With the jackal appearance and wardrobe of this minus the staffs

His eyes are purple and his fur is jet black.


Height: 6'6" (198cm) to the top of his head. His ears add about 25cm (approx. 0.8 feet)


Weight: 236 lb (107-108 kg)


Personality:


Sheut is a jokester with a sense of humor that sometimes others don't understand. He can keep serious if circumstances call for it, however. He enjoys musical hobbies and finds anyone with musical talent fascinating. He has a love for snakes that everyone in the village somewhat shuns him for. He is sort of an outcast in the village for his odd habits, interests, and opinions. He can be very cocky at times due to his rank in his old village. He often forgets his place when he's in Shan'Manrir


This next part of the personality is for after the invasion of the capital of Shan'Manrir


He finds it hard to cope with his memories of the invasion, but he does not hate the Undead as much as other Sharians. He feels that Necromancy should be explored and understood. If it is understood well enough there might be a hidden solution to be found. He is often isolated by the other Sharians for this.


Bio:


Sheut's mother, Hatep, died during childbirth. Growing up in the desert city of Chamorest, Sheut was the son of their ruler, Anrak. As high of a status as this was, Sheut was still an outcast. From a young age he proved to be different and many worried about the day he'd take control. One example of this is that between the ages of 7 and 8 he would disappear often. The Elite Guards of the village would often find him out in the jungle surrounding the desert playing with various dangerous animals as if they were innocent puppies.


At the age of 10 his father had him trained in the arts of archery and the Khopesh blade. He trained for the next 6 years until his father decided he was a master. His father got a bit brave for the next year and did more and more things his own way in the city. He often threw Sharian Empire law to the wind when he saw fit. The year Sharian turned 18 was absolute hell for him, especially the Choosing Day.


This year the empire got tired of his father's rebellious actions and decided it had had enough. The Navy came in and a tiger-like general, whose name Sheut cannot remember, gave a speech. The one thing Sheut remembers is that was the day that a member of the ruling family was chosen. Anrak was publicly executed for his insubordination and Sheut was shipped off as one of the 10 new recruits. The Tiger general became the new head of the city of Chamorest. This all happens roughly five months before the invasion (which means four months before the rp starts)


Other: dual-wield Obsidian Khopesh blades... they're each about 85cm (2.7 feet) long... faintly glowing purple runes dating back to ancient Chamorest glow along the blade... the runes say "Shadow"... the blades are said to have been passed down through generations of the royal family since the beginning of Chamorest

custom ebony wood bow

imagine this bow, purple instead of red, and rather than being made of the material it is made of, it is made of smoothed and polished ebony wood


Custom Arrows that have a black shaft and purple fletching... the fletching uses this style

the arrow tip is made of a strange black metal and looks like this

At the age of 9, Sheut found a cobra which he named Apophis... Sheut hid the snake and cared for it. He trained it as his companion and even developed a secret code of hisses to communicate basic commands like attack, stand down, scout the area, and numbers... This allows Apophis to tell Sheut the rough amount of enemies without Sheut revealing his position.

 

[Ayl]

Due to @Huehuehuehuehue not being able to post his character himself for the next 5 hours, I find it unfair for him to lose his spot due to RL Syndrom, thus I shall post it for him:

​

Velen Durandal

​

Race: Duender


Gender: Male

​

Hometown: Nir'Amen


Appearance:

Height:


6'5


Weight:


188 lbs.


Personality:


Velen is a highly sophisiticated being who loves to observe things. He indulges himself in ruminating about the wonders of the world around him and pays great care and attention to the small events that make up his days. This leaves Velen prone to find deeper meaning within things and naturally gives him an observant and precise nature. Velen is unerringly polite, and treats every living being with respect, although this respect does proportionally go down depending on how wicked or sinful the person he addresses is. Velen is rather quiet and believes in pragmatism over idealism. Velen has great mental fortitude, and he radiates an air of imperturbability through his solid calm. Velen is also incredibly fond of weapons of war, mainly standard melee weapons such as swords and spears. He admires those who can produce fine metal works and believes that the art of the Blacksmith is the most respectable. Indeed, his interest in fine blades has made him a collector of sorts, as he will always have a desire to either own or carefully view a blade that he considers to be of expert craftsmanship. Velen is also quick witted and reactive, able to learn things incredibly quickly and discern the shifting moods of a conversation or discourse. In general, Velen gives off the vibe of being a quiet, polite, and knowing person.


Bio:


Velen was born and raised in Nir'Amen, His father was perhaps the greatest and most skilled blacksmith in the entire city. His father did not create weapons for war, but rather ornamental or decorative weapons of such fine quality that they held viewers spellbound with their matchless luster and beauty of form. Nevertheless, the finer a blade is, the finer its material, and Velen's father prided himself in knowing that he created both blades of beauty and blades capable of destruction: Very few, if any smiths were able to mesh the destructive nature of the blade and the capacity of beauty of steel together in such a refined and complete way. There was nary a noble born in Nir'Amen who did not possess a blade crafted by Velen's father, as their beauty matched even those of the paintings and drawings of the renowned Nir'Amen artists. Durandal's mother was a rather well - known and educated actor, who blossomed Velen's interest in the higher arts and studies when Velen was incredibly young. Velen's mother died due to a crippling illness when Velen was seven.


By the time Velen was ten, he apprenticed himself, naturally, to his father. He was the heir to a great legacy and many placed great expectations upon Velen. Velen met these expectations flawlessly. His natural talent for molding weapons exceeded that of his father's, and by the time he was fifteen, Velen was producing works that were fit to be sold side by side with his father's own magnificent crafts. Velen's love and appreciation for swords and weaponry was so strong and sophisticated that his father through that he was a being destined to be the greatest blacksmith ever known. However, his career as a blacksmith was cut short when a highborn Duender practitioner of magic felt that Velen had the capacity to learn magic. Because of the highborn's suggestion, Velen was placed into an academy and re-evaluated. He was deemed intellectually capable of learning military stratagem and general studies, but what fascinated the higher ups in the academy was his ability to learn Plane Shifting magic. This was not what was truly interesting though, it was his particular affinity within Plane shifting magic that none had ever had before. It seemed that Velen's plane -shifting magic stemmed from his affinity to "blade".


And thus Velen trained and refined his plane shifting magic - the ability to manipulate freely the qualities and form of a weapon or to project them from thin air. Velen describes the process of creating weapons to be like imagining a weapon in his head. At first, the image of the weapon is foggy, but Velen can focus and "forge" the blade, thus creating it. By extension, Velen could copy weapons he had seen with extreme precision. Although there was interest in Velen's unique subset of plane shifting magic, it was largely just curiosity stemming from seeing something unusual. Velen's absolute inability to do anything else with his plane shifting magic other than what fit under his affinity of "blade" was considered to be a massive handicap to many, as it forced Velen to fight with his bare hands.


To counteract this, Velen trained immensely hard, working every day for countless hours to hone his swordsmanship. And, true to his affinity for "blade", it seemed that Velen had an incredible natural talent for swordsmanship as well, equaling the talent he possessed as a blacksmith. However, it seemed the Velen had absolutely no talent in using the bow and only exhibited an average modicum of ability to lead soldiers, though his awareness and ability to act in tough situations was commented as being exceptional. With the combination of excellent swordsmanship, refined nature, and extreme awareness, Velen was placed in a royal guard and sometimes reassigned to being a personal bodyguard, though once his duty was done he would return to the royal guard, where he would not have to lead others and where his excellent swordsmanship could be used more usefully.


However, the recent stirrings of the undead has caused Velen to become almost primarily a personal bodyguard, protecting highborn on trips or excursions. The upper order is also considering on placing Velen into a group of "Trackers" as they are tentatively called; a group of highly skilled soldiers, usually those with experience in the royal guard, whose objective is to kill Necromancers.


Other:


Velen carries around a small leather sketchbook that he carries around on his body, as Velen prefers to wear garments with large pockets. The sketchbook has a worn out wooden pencil inside and is filled with sketches of blades. This is how Velen can remember what image to put into his mind when he projects a blade, and is also an outlet for Velen to practice his good talent in drawing and sketching. Velen also likes to sketch blades that he thinks are worthy or good enough, and thus they naturally become a part of a sort of "collection" of weapons that Velen can project.


Flame.

 

[Manoneno1]

Name: Miderenm Gaernms


Race: Duender


Gender: male


Appearance:

Hometown: Nir'amen


Height:174 cm


Weight: 56 kg


Age: 27


Personality: Miderenm is extrovertial and helpful for everyone he meets. Usually the thing that drives people away from him is his forthrightness; he doesn't like to gratify people by agreeing with them but if he does like someone, he's really loyal to him or her. He's also really optimistic and tries to cheer people up as well as he can.


He haven't got the best relationship with ordinary duenders, as the ordinary ones have a negative picture of his tribe: he usually reacts to new duenders with a grain of salt but gives a space for them to befriend him. He's usually is really curious about people and can start to ask a bit too much about you, and he also has a lot of honor towards people who respects him, no matter of their race.


The thing which usually pisses him off is people's empathy because of his deafness, as he feels that he can survive very well without the sense. He also feels himself uncomfortable when the woman/man he meets is unpredictable and/or mysterious.


After invasion





He has started to be more alerted about the people around him, mostly because he has a lot of worries if they have doubts of his loyalty and rightfulness because of his tribe. He also has become more serious about the injuries and his duties as a healer, but still tries to think the brighter opinion in the situation. However, he thinks a lot if he should even try to brighten the day by saying it outloud, depending on mood of the people around him.


Biography: Miderenm was born deaf in a small tribe called 'Terület' who were living with their horses and caravans on the roads of Mloik, Tor'Valen and Luyn. The tribe avoided the duender zones as they had an image of terület that they sacrifice weak duenders for their gods. However the tribe taught him to speak, and nowadays he can interact with people as long as he sees the people's mouth. After hundred years of living with the tribe, he had a ritual which every Terület duender had at the age of 24.


After his department, he started to live a mercenary life on the same roads which he did when he was young. However he has started to visit more often duenders' zones as the new generation is not so aware about területs and might not even recognize him as a terület: területs are nowadays more like urban legends across the land, as the tribe is really small and doesn't wander a lot anymore.


Other information:

• Is mercenary, selling his effective healing services and things related to welfare, such as herbs.
  
• Has a rare disease what makes his eyes white parts orange-ish. If he drudges too much he might become blind.
  
• (in case someone/you missed it from bio) Is deaf.
  
• Uses crossbow as a weapon but seldom uses it.
  
• Területs use 'mha' instead of "she" and "he" to provide more gender equality.
  

 

[Ayl]

Same as for Hue, I shall post a CS for @Cuddly Kraken , who is unable to post it due to her own reasons:

Name: Ceallach Hayes, meaning Brave Warrior of Flames. Prefers just Ceall, pronounced Kel.


Race: Mjulnir


Gender: Female


Hometown: Hjaltland


Appearance:

*image is not mine* Ceall does not carry any swords such as the one on her back and in her hand. The skull-topped dagger is something she would carry.


Height: 5'8"


Weight: 125 lbs.


Personality:


Ceall is as cold as the ice of her homelands, with an even sharper wit. She gives off the feeling of danger and her constant glare screams "get back". Ceall is very quick to asses a situation, though clearly not as tactile as the Dylenor, but she is decent in planning. Of course, when in a battle, she isn't exactly thinking of the prettiest ways to kill. When fighting, she just wants bloodshed. She has a soft spot for children, and respect for elders, but if you aren't either of those you are as good as dead to her. The only time one can see her smile (and maybe laugh if they're lucky) is if she's in battle, or if she's drunk which doesn't happen often.


Bio:


Ceallach was born into a very unstable family in Hjaltland to a wealthy warrior and, well, a wench. Her father was constantly disappearing to fight, and when he did return he usually showed up drunk. When her father was home, sober or not, her parents fought both physically and verbally. In attempts to keep her younger brother Conner safe and as normal as possible, Ceall shut down her emotions to console him. After a short while, it just became habit for her and she never really opened up to people again, hence her cold attitude. When she was eight, and her brother was six, her father left and never came back.


Not long after, Ceall found herself lost in learning to fight. She found herself a pair of daggers, deciding to start small, but it took her a mere week to master. She moved up from there, making deals with the blacksmith to train with his weapons in return of helping him around the shop. Ceall quickly found herself excelling at fighting. The blacksmith decided to take custody of her, which both thrilled her and upset her. After promising to visit her brother, she agreed to live with the blacksmith. He taught her the different ways of holding weapons, proper form, etc. It was during one training session that the blacksmith told her he was going to join in the battles against other tribes, ones fought to sate their natural bloodlust. Naturally, she decided to join with him.


She was 17 when she first fought on the battlefield, and she found herself enjoying the bloodshed more than she thought sane. Though so long as she did what she had to do, she was okay with the possibility of being mentally unhinged. She and her partner, a man named Bram, bonded through their battles. She was content with her situation until there was an ambush. She still cannot remember all the details of that day, but she lost her father figure to death and she failed to save her partner Bram. She can only remember waking up, covered in blood and surrounded by dead men and women from both sides of the battle.


Ceall returned back to Hjaltland to recover and see her brother, discovering that her mother had also died and left her brother on her own. Ceall remained with Conner... Until now...


Other:


Weapons used: Ceall has daggers and blades hidden among her clothing and even when she looks to be unarmed, do not be fooled. She prefers to use short swords. She has very good aim and is unbreakable when interrogated, something she prides herself on and considers her best weapons other than her own fists.

​

 

[Pinklullaby]

Name:Helena Browmere


Age:18


Race:Dylenor


Gender:Female


Hometown:Kwovat


Appearance:

Height:


5'5


Weight:


110


Personality:


If there is one word to describe our delightful Helena, it would have to be Narcissistic. She love's herself more then anything and considers herself to be the prettiest girl in all the land . She's perfect in her eyes and if you say otherwise then you're dead wrong. Half the time she's focused on what make-up to put on, or what skirt fits the best.She's far from military material, but she knows how to defend herself she she isn't weak by any means.Pick a fight with her, and you may just lose a tooth and gain a black a eye. She tends to love being the center of attention at any event and if she isn't then she'll somehow find a way to make it so that she is. She's very flamboyant, loud, and isn't afraid to speak her mind-weather you want her to or not. She has quite a temper and 'patience' is not a word in her vocabulary by any means. When she gets angry she tends to act like a spoiled child, She'll even challenge you to to a fight to prove a point. Despite all her bad quality's she can actually be a very good friend. Whenever you need her she'll be there in a second. When she realizes she may have angered you or she may have been wrong in a situation, she'll apologies despite her prideful personality.


Bio:


Helena grew up never knowing her mother but was born into a very posh, elegant, refined,lifestyle. Her father,Jared the great Archer, was one of the best tactical generals there was at the time and had been awesome with a bow and arrow to boot. He received much recognition and praise. Because her father was so recognized, and appreciated for his work ethnic and genius, she was as hailed as much as he was. They lived being praised and always were given gifts by admires.Helena grew up very spoiled and self righteous because of this. She found found herself thinking she was more better then anyone and anything. She never once picked up a weapon nor worked a day in her life.She relished just the sight of labor and rough housing. It wasn't until she turned 18 that she got a severe reality check.


When the Necromancers attacked the capital of Oynur Kingdom, it was her father that was immediately sent to the front lines to help aide and fight back against the horrid army. Helena raised to be so naive and simple minded thought her father would come back in one piece. He was Jared the great Archer after all - nothing could kill him,he was made of righteousness and genius. She waited patiently for weeks for him to come back . She even ignored presents and gifts that she always received just for his sake. But alas he never came, and it was cruelly apparent that he never would.Helena was broken and scarred for weeks and wasn't the outgoing , self-praising girl she once was. She shut herself out from everybody,and soon the Browmere family name was forgotten.People stopped coming to console her but she cared less.None of those people meant a darn thing to her. Her only family was taken from her and there was nothing she could do to bring him back. She realized she was alone, isolated, - she'd never ravish in the warmth and love from him ever again. Loneliness took over her, and she became quite dark and sorrowful.


In only a matter of three weeks, was when she came back to her fiery personality.She was snooping through her father's old room as she usually did. Looking through his old stuff brought some solace to herself. Ravaging through a large wooden chestnut box she found an old bow of his,with a couple of arrows. He used it quite often when he was alive but never in battle,mostly for training. Helena never had any interest in weapons,or battle, not even war, but seeing the bow brought so much nostalgia that she decided to try it. Going out and slaying random animals and hitting targets on trees she began to understand why this was her father's preferred weapon. Soon enough, she was so skilled with the weapon that she was sure she matched her fathers mastery of it. She realized all too well that she wasn't just going to waste the talent she acquire and decided to join the military. She never in her wilds dreams thought she would do this, but she knew her father would have wanted her to continue his foot steps and avenge his death.


Other:She uses a Bow and Arrow.

Flame. Flame. Flame. Flame.

 

[Big Whiskey]

FLAME!





Name: Kearg Rjunlir the Red


Race: Mjulnir


Gender: Male


Hometown: Denos (Currently residing in Hjaltland)


Appearance:


Kearg is broad and strong. Though still young he has a body riddle with hundreds of scars both small and large, but all having their own story. Whether or not he tell you depends on which ones you ask about. Particularly note worthy are the scars across his lips, on his left shoulder and the ones he keeps hidden underneath the bandages of his forearms.


Height: 6'2"


Weight: 245lbs


Personality:


Kearg is a believer. He believes in people in purpose and in hope. He's generally cheery and quick with a joke. He is however also quick to run into things without understanding fully the situation. He can at times with luck talk his way out of a situation, though when that doesn't work there is generally a fight and he's not usually one to back down. He has a sense about him that everything will be okay and this at times sheds off onto those around him. He is presents stability and strength. In battle he becomes stoic and serious though he may let slip a quip or two in the heat of battle, but for the most part he when he in danger or when things aren't going great he's focused on getting through the fight. Kearg may not be the strongest, or fastest, perhaps not even the smartest, but he will always be the last one standing,even if he's covered in blood, covered in Red.


Bio:


Borahg Gomdulin was the name of Kearg's great grandfather. He changed their surname to Rjunlir when he deserted the ranks of the army and was one of the first to settle Denos. Kuragg, Kearg's grandfather was a proud man who found himself at ends with the WarChief of Hjaltland many times and was eventually in his old age exiled from the Mjulnir, but before he was; he raised Fardim, Kearg's father. Fardim Rjulnir was a humble man and learned quickly to take after his mother. It was after Kuragg's death however that everyone found out about Borahg Gomdulin the deseter and began to cast blame on the Rjunlir family. Fardim and his family were looked down upon and often mocked and scorned, but Fardim learned to not let it get to him and continued on. Fardim was a farmer in Denos and fathered eight children in his poverty, one of which was Kearg.


Kearg Rjunlir was nothing more than ordinary. Growing up he was the third of eight so he learned a great deal about family and that they always came first. His mother was kind and treated him softly, however Kearg had a fighting spirit within him. He would always get into fights with the other kids and would always lose. However Kearg never reacted to the others speaking lowly of him. It was when others attacked his family or even others who were innocent that he would get into trouble. One day as a child he befriended a young Sharian child who's father travelled to Denos to open up a trading post with the Mjulnir there. The child's name was Jorden a quite and smart child who was always being chased and teased because of his ethnicity. Kearg's first encounter with the boy was when three older Mjulnir were pushing Jorden around and taking his things. Kearg hated didn't like that and made it known. Three bruised ribs and a broken nose later Kearg managed to scare off the older boys and also make a friend at the same time. It wasn't the last time that Jorden and Kearg got into a fight. Infact it was their entire childhood. Jorden stood up for Kearg when others would make fun of his name and Kearg would stand up for Jorden when others would make him feel unwelcome in Denos. This is how they grew up.


Many years and scars later Kearg and Jorden became fantastic hunters and great warriors. They worked for a few years as the towns hunters and at one point were honored by the Jarl himself. However their paths seperated sooner than expected. Early one morning on a hunt Jorden and Kearg came across a small farm on the outskirts of Denos which was being raided by bandits. Quickly they moved without concern for their own well being and began to fight the bandits. It wasn't long until the bandits overcame the two of them. They both miraclulously made it out before the Bandits could finish them off however, Jorden suffered heavy injuries and Kearg could only do so much. So he began to pray. It was soon that the keeper Syrae came to him and told him that she would heal Jordens wounds if Kearg would go and take every life that lay within the encampment of the bandits, a feat that no man could hope to accomplish., but he went anyway. He tracked the bandits back all the way to their encampment in the foothills north of Denos and he began the fight. Years of being tortured and beaten by the older kids of Denos gave Kearg thick skin and his dying friend gave him purpose. He tore through them all one after another. Then as he cut off the Bandit leader's head he saw a hidden door and heard shifting inside. 'It wasn't over' he thought. He swung open the door covered in blood to find children huddled in the corner. There were a dozen of them, teenagers, kids, toddlers, infants... Syrae's words echoed in his ears and for the first time that day he began to shake. The fear in their eyes left a deeper scar than any steel could leave. So Kearg walked away. He walked back to Jorden, to Syrae and said not a word. He lifted up the dead body of his old friend and walked home. That day Kearg entered the small farming town of Denos covered in the blood from head to toe. That day they would call him Kearg Rjunlir the Red.


Soon after Kearg left Denos in hopes of finding a new life, perhaps in the capitol of Hjaltland. However on his way he descovered that he was being followed by a large dire Fox. For three days it followed him and did nothing but watch him. Upon the rise of the fourth day Kearg went and confronted the beast, he tracked it back to the den and found it with it's several newborn. It took one and gave it to Kearg. He knew not what to say until above the den in stone was suddenly written "Here, a gift." Syrae had taken pity on him and grante him this gift. Kearg named the red dire fox Andur'mir, being interpreted Keenswift. Now with a companion once more Kearg left for the capitol where he would raise Andur'mir until the day the southern archipelago would die.


Other:


-Andur'mir the Dire Fox: Kearg's loyal companion is bright red and orange and always travels by his side. Sly and silent this pet proves to be a very deadly companion on the battlefield and a very charming one of of it. His stature is that of the largest of dogs and his speed carries him like a leaf on the wind. Andur'mir and Kearg have a very special relationship and will fight by one another until the end.


-Kearg's arsenal is made up of a variety of weapons. His bow serves him at long range as his bastard sword companied by his shield helps him in close combat; and at anytime he can switch his shield out for his one handed axe. However Kearg is known to fight with anything he can get his hands on being particularly deadly with large two handed war hammers and broadswords. He is Mjulnir and is bred for war.


-Kearg has incredibly tough skin and can endure outstanding amounts of damage and last a very long time in battle. Also he is known to be incredibly lucky in combat, coming within inches of death at almost every turn it's like death itself can't get a grip on him.


-Due to his childhood Kearg has a special place in his heart for Sharians and is quicker to side with them than other races besides his own Mjulnir. He considers them to be almost like his own people, for whom he would fight for.

 

[Big Whiskey]

FLAME!

• Kearg Rjunlir
• Scars

• 
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  *Repeated numbers are scars that come from the same event.

Name: Kearg Rjunlir the Red


Race: Mjulnir


Gender: Male


Hometown: Denos (Currently residing in Hjaltland)


Age: 26


Appearance:


Kearg is broad and strong. Though still young he has a body riddled with hundreds of scars both small and large, but all having their own story. Whether or not he tells you depend on which ones you ask about. Particularly noteworthy are the scars across his lips, on his left shoulder and the ones he keeps hidden underneath the bandages of his forearms.


Height: 6'2"


Weight: 245lbs


Personality:


Kearg is a believer. He believes in people in purpose and in hope. He's generally cheery and quick with a joke. He is however also quick to run into things without understanding fully the situation. He can at times with luck talk his way out of a situation, though when that doesn't work there is generally a fight and he's not usually one to back down. He has a sense about him that everything will be okay and this at times sheds off onto those around him. He is presents stability and strength. In battle he becomes stoic and serious though he may let slip a quip or two in the heat of battle, but for the most part he when he in danger or when things aren't going great he's focused on getting through the fight. Kearg may not be the strongest, or fastest, perhaps not even the smartest, but he will always be the last one standing, even if he's covered in blood, covered in Red.


Bio:


Borahg Gomdulin was the name of Kearg's great grandfather. He changed their surname to Rjunlir when he deserted the ranks of the army and was one of the first to settle Denos. Kuragg, Kearg's grandfather was a proud man who found himself at ends with the WarChief of Hjaltland many times and was eventually in his old age exiled from the Mjulnir, but before he was; he raised Fardim, Kearg's father. Fardim Rjunlir was a humble man and learned quickly to take after his mother. It was after Kuragg's death however that everyone found out about Borahg Gomdulin the deserter and began to cast blame on the Rjunlir family. Fardim and his family were looked down upon and often mocked and scorned, but Fardim learned to not let it get to him and continued on. Fardim was a farmer in Denos and fathered eight children in his poverty, one of which was Kearg.


Kearg Rjunlir was nothing more than ordinary. Growing up he was the third of eight so he learned a great deal about family and that they always came first. His mother was kind and treated him softly, however Kearg had a fighting spirit within him. He would always get into fights with the other kids and would always lose. However Kearg never reacted to the others speaking lowly of him. It was when others attacked his family or even others who were innocent that he would get into trouble. One day as a child he befriended a young Sharian child whose father travelled to Denos to open up a trading post with the Mjulnir there. The child's name was Jorden a quiet and smart child who was always being chased and teased because of his ethnicity. Kearg's first encounter with the boy was when three older Mjulnir were pushing Jorden around and taking his things. Kearg hated didn't like that and made it known. Three bruised ribs and a broken nose later Kearg managed to scare off the older boys and also make a friend at the same time. It wasn't the last time that Jorden and Kearg got into a fight. In fact it was their entire childhood. Jorden stood up for Kearg when others would make fun of his name and Kearg would stand up for Jorden when others would make him feel unwelcome in Denos. This is how they grew up.


Many years and scars later Kearg and Jorden became fantastic hunters and great warriors. They worked for a few years as the towns hunters and at one point were honored by the Jarl himself. However their paths separated sooner than expected and early one morning on a hunt Jorden and Kearg came across a small farm on the outskirts of Denos which was being raided by bandits. Quickly they moved without concern for their own wellbeing and began to fight the bandits. It wasn't long until the bandits overcame the two of them. They both miraculously made it out before the Bandits could finish them off however, Jorden suffered heavy injuries and Kearg could only do so much. So he began to pray. It was soon that the keeper Syrae came to him and told him that she would heal Jordens wounds if Kearg would go and take every life that lay within the encampment of the bandits, a feat that no man could hope to accomplish, but he went anyway. He tracked the bandits back all the way to their encampment in the foothills north of Denos and he began the fight. Years of being tortured and beaten by the older kids of Denos gave Kearg thick skin and his dying friend gave him purpose. He tore through them all one after another. Then as he cut off the Bandit leader's head he saw a hidden door and heard shifting inside. 'It wasn't over' he thought. He swung open the door covered in blood to find children huddled in the corner. There were a dozen of them, teenagers, kids, toddlers, infants... Syrae's words echoed in his ears and for the first time that day he began to shake. The fear in their eyes left a deeper scar than any steel could leave. So Kearg walked away. He walked back to Jorden, to Syrae and said not a word. He lifted up the dead body of his old friend and walked home. That day Kearg entered the small farming town of Denos covered in the blood from head to toe. That day they would call him Kearg Rjunlir the Red.


Soon after Kearg left Denos in hopes of finding a new life in the capitol of Hjaltland he discovered that he was being followed by a large dire Fox. For three days it followed him and did nothing but watch him. Upon the rise of the fourth day Kearg went and confronted the beast, he tracked it back to the den and found it with its several newborn cubs. It took one and gave it to Kearg. He knew not what to say until above the den in stone was suddenly written "Here, a gift." Syrae had taken pity on him and granted him this gift. Kearg named the red dire fox Andur'mir, being interpreted Keen swift. Now with a companion once more Kearg left for the capitol where he would raise Andur'mir until the day the southern archipelago would die.


Other:


-Andur'mir the Dire Fox: Kearg's loyal companion is bright red and orange and always travels by his side. Sly and silent this pet proves to be a very deadly companion on the battlefield and a very charming one off it. His stature is that of the largest of dogs and his speed carries him like a leaf on the wind. Andur'mir and Kearg have a very special relationship and will fight by one another until the end.


-Kearg's arsenal is made up of a variety of weapons. His bow serves him at long range as his bastard sword companied by his shield helps him in close combat; and at any time he can switch his shield out for his one handed axe. However Kearg is known to fight with anything he can get his hands on being particularly deadly with large two handed war hammers and broadswords. He is Mjulnir and is bred for war.


-Kearg has incredibly tough skin and can endure outstanding amounts of damage and last a very long time in battle. Also he is known to be incredibly lucky in combat coming within inches of death at almost every turn it is like death itself can't get a grip on him.


-Due to his childhood Kearg has a special place in his heart for Sharians and is quicker to side with them than other races besides his own Mjulnir. He considers them to be almost like his own people, for whom he would fight for.

 

[HDemon]

Alexandre Agmundr


Race: Dylenor.


Gender: Male.


Hometown: Luyin

Height: 5'9 " (175 cm)


Weight: 176.3 lbs (80 kg)


Personality:


Alex is a 17 years old, lonely and solitary boy who trully dislikes teamwork. He loves to do things by himself and hates people who try to help him. Alex mind is confused since his parents left him when he was a baby. Alex loves to practise his battle skills, with his two swords that were left by his parents. He never backs down in a fight and he will fight until he's dead. He is brave and strong but idiot when it comes to follow rules and tactics since he loves to disobey people.


Bio:


Alex was born in The High Peaks near a city called Issgar. He was raised by his uncle Steven Agmundr, a blacksmith from Issgar who used to be a great warrior in his early days, who always cherished him like his own child. Steven was making swords and shields for his work and someone knocked the door. He went to see who it was but there was no one there. He looked down and saw a little baby in a wooden basked, crying. Next to the baby there was a letter that he read:

Inside there was a short message saying:


"We must protect Alex... He is still a little baby and we love him so much. That's why we sent him to you, Steven.


We need you to protect him... Please... Our city is being atacked and we love him so much!" -There were a few teardrops stains in the letter.- " Raise our baby... for us."


Steven Agmundr fulfilled their wish and teached Alex everything he knows. His childhood was simple. Alex and his uncle were poor and hunted for food. When he turned 16 his uncle made him a white armor suit that he always wear. He begin to practise his sword skills when he was 10 with his uncle. Steven used to be a warrior for the empire, so he had great fighting skills. When he gave the two swords to Alex he saw in his eyes a burning flame. His uncle reminded when he got his first axe because he had those burning eyes too. Alex was known in his city for being a troublemaker. He was always running around, breaking stuff and climbing roofs.


Alex asked his uncle why he had no parents, why all other kids had parents and him not. His uncle told him that he wasn't alone and he would always protect him.


One day, Alex went to hunt some animals and when he got back his house was burning. He rushed inside and saw his uncle fighting two strange creatures. They were Necromancers! Alex grabbed his two swords and rushed the Necromancers but they were too powerful for them. They couldn't do anything against those creatures. His uncle grabbed some explosives and set them in the house. " Leave now!" He said. Alex began to cry and saying he would not leave with out him. His uncle smiled and pushed him out of the house. "Goodbye, boy" His uncle locked the house door and set the explosives. Alex saw his house,with his inside uncle and the two Necromancers explode. He just stood there... Watching the house burn... Alex swore by his heart and by his uncle that he would extinguish the nencromance race.


Other:


Alex carry his two swords everywhere. He uses them to fight and they are really sharp. They are made from a rare metal and are really hard to brake.

​

​

 

[Ayl]

Attention, good people ! Due to the fact that...well, I'm an idiot, I forgot to put the Age section in the CS I've submitted, so if everybody could just update their CS with their age, that would be great. Thanks!

​

 

[Jays]

Name: Raicus Cypher


Race: Dylenor


Gender: Male


Age: 26


Hometown:

The little town of Lerwar at the Eastern shore of Mloik. Built among the harsh and mountainous terrain, where winters lasted 2/3 of the year and animals are scarce, the children were taught to survive and hunt at a very young age. The people of the little town were closed and were all related in some ways, so conflicts among people were almost nonexistent. Every year, the climate took somebody, sometimes an old man on his sick bed, sometimes a youthful and strong hunter who travelled into the snow storm and never returned. The Dylenors here knew more than most the fraility of a life, and so treasured it with the utmost care. The town is led by a group of 6 Elders, whose jobs were mostly communication between families and organising search parties of missing hunters. The town rarely had any visitor or merchant passing by, everything was self-supportive and trading was only among the closest of households.

Away from the mainland and big cities' influence, most knowledge of the world outside was through stories told by the occasional visitors or one of a few who had travelled. No one really even considered leaving their hometown, knowing next to nothing about the other lands and races. The tradition and honor of the race of Dylenors were corroded somewhat, as battles had never before in history touch this small seluded town in the middle of nowhere.

Appearance:

Height: 6'2


Weight: 172 lbs (about 86 kilograms)


Personality:

Having a keen and patient personality sharpened through the years of hunting, Raicus was one of the best hunters of his generation. As most of the others in the town, he had never had much thought about anything dreamy or of a life outside Lerwar. Not as single-minded as his fellow townies, he was one of a few who suceeded in the art of setting traps, an incredibly hard task considering the seemingly-endless terrain covered in snow in all direction spared little chance for strategic thinking. Driven and determine when he had set his mind into doing something, Raicus could be as stubborn as any if his determination is to be challenged. Quick to adept and change as the situation demands it,

As much as his personality made him one of the best, it also made him practically an outcast. He could track his prey for days, usually big animals that others afraid to target, he would be alone for that whole length of time, and so came to love the solitary. He would drag his prey back to town after a successful hunt and stay only long enough to distribute the meat and prepare for the nest journey, and then he was away again. Raicus was not so much a member of the community as a occasional visitor.

Bio:

His parentage marked him as different, marked him as an abnormanilty. His father, Kelron Cypher, was not from Lerwar but Kwovat, and not a simple commoner either. He was a commander of an unit of Royal Cavalry, a soldier of the higher rank. He seeked the peace of mind after accidentally murder his best friend during sparring. It was in the little town at the corner of the world that he had met his future wife, Melody Freiter, a strong and skillful hunter. Raicus was the result of that love, and was raised among loving arms of his parents. His father would usually tell him stories of the grand city of Kwovat, of the magnificient sight that was the Ancestor Wall, of the nobles and the royals and their great banquets that lasted for months. Raicus could only wonder and dreamt of being there, of being part of the society that his father once was.

Sheltered from most of the cruelty of the terrain around him by his father, who was unfamiliar and disagree with many of the rough customs of the town, Raicus was week and foolish, a dreamy kid who could spend hours imagining the golden and silver palaces of the King. It all changed the day his mother went on a hunt and never returned. After having a family of her own, she usually only hunted nearby on short trips. Days of worry turned into days of praying, then turned into the days of desperation. His father, a great general yet powerless before the unforgiving snow storms, broke. He felt sick and died not long after, leaving him all alone in the world.

Raicus changed drastically. He locked himself away for a full week grieving his parents, denying the sympathetic offers of help from his mother's friends. He emerged ragged and as thin as a ghost, but a changed man nonetheless. Raicus began his training to be hunter from that very day. He learned hard and eager to learn more, absorbing knowledge like a sponge in water. He was also the only one in the town who practiced the art of the sword in the memory of his father, who imbued in him a great sense of honor and loyalty, to whom he was yet to decide. The dreamy and happy boy was gone, replaced by a driven man with a purpose.

Raicus threw himself into the wild the first chance he got. Somewhere deep inside, hiding it from everyone even himself, he still believed that his mother was still alive somewhere. He deluded himself with several scenarios of her being lost and of him bringing her home. He found her. His mother's bones layed among a pile of frozen mangled flesh picked almost clean in a bear's cave, the clothes torn badly but was still recognisable. The sight and the meaning of it nearly drove him to madness, only the words of his father anchored his sanity to reality. Raicus left the cave behind and moved on, to what he did not know. His reasons to live were all gone, yet he still lived day after day, each one a challenge. He desperately needed some purpose, yet after countless time praying to the Keepers, none came. Eventually his faith too faded.


Other:


His father's sword

That Bow in the picture


Also flame.

 

[theunderwolf]

Name:


Algos Diermon


Race:


Duender


Gender: Male


Hometown:Nir'Amen


Appearance:


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Age: 22


Height: 5’11


Weight: 115 lb


Personality:


Algos is a bit of a social recluse and somewhat awkward in conversation, which often fools people into thinking hes not that bright. They are wrong. Algos is one of the smartest scholars in Nir’Amen and he relishes it, always looking for new information and things to learn. He is constantly observing and recording and would never give up a chance to discover something new. He can seem reserved to most people but if opened to a person is a caring and loyal friend.


Bio:


Algos was born to a mid-ranked aristocratic family famed for their archers but grew up the runt of the litter (of four) who prefered his books to the bow and arrow and while his parents lamented the loss of their families fourth archer-capitan, they supported him in his scholarly pursuits.


Eventually after much work and practice, he won his place as a librarian in the library of Infinity and became well established there , learning essence manipulation in record time and becoming a model student and librarian. However he was somewhat blind to the rest of the world as his studies kept him isolated from his peers. That all changed though one day when he had a chance encounter with the aeon, Tumar, who recognized his scholarly potential and passed him a new task. By the aeons will, Algos became a seeker of knowledge, (or giller as street slang refers to the post) a wandering mage who is tasked to find lore, books, stories, spells etc. to pass back to the library of infinity and thus Tumar. Algos took the position with gusto and after a hard beginning, became a successful giller, bringing back many pieces for the library.


That all changed when the undead came though. With his lord Aeon resting Algos has begun searching desperately for any knowledge that can help to stop the hordes of the dead and banish Mektos once and for all.


Other:


- He owns a golem known as Arch (short for Archibald, a name they both loathe) that is shaped like dragon, it was given to him by his master. The golem cannot fight, but instead is used by Algos as a research assistant


-Algos has a basic knowledge of all four schools of magic, being able to cast simple spells from all of them, but is a master of Plane shifting.


-His weakness is melee combat but carries two knives and a staff that he can wield with some proficiency.


-He can ride horses but doesn’t own one, preferring to walk.

​

 

[The Lady Kitsunerisu]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: DECEASED


Name:Zevran Sha'dan


Race:


Sharian


Gender:


Female


Hometown:


(Asami)


Asami is a tropical area of sorts with high trees covering the landscape. Thick underbrush easily hides small prey, and the predators that normally roam this thick forest. Upon the trees there are treehouses, all connected by rope bridges and wood bridges alike. The common folk often use their bows to shoot food and then send a recovery team out to get it, but their diet relies mostly on vegetation.


(Current Place of Residence)


(Kwovat)


Appearance:

Age:


28


Height:


6'2


(She is one of the shorter members of her particular species of Sharian.)


Weight:


218


Personality:


Zevran has a sweet disposition towards other of her race, but to any other race, she has a rather short temper. It's FLAME is nearly like no other. She would play with the children around her age in the town that she lived within and she would often be called a freak, or have rocks thrown at her. Her temper is fiery and she has been known to start a fight or two with those who look at her funnily. She also has a wiseass sense of humour, but it is mostly charming...when she isn't stepping on anyone's toes.


Bio:


Zevran was born in the beautiful forests of Tor'Valen. Her mother and father had been mercenaries for hire and normally offered their services to the magical natives that lived upon that part of the world. The magical natives were very powerful, but some of them were older and fragile of body, and those were the people that her parents, Lemarra and Kenzin, normally guarded. On Zevran's twenty-fourth birthday her parents were killed by a spell gone wrong, killing both them and the person they were guarding.


After a year or so of grieving she finally decided to pull up her roots and travel to different lands. Though her first mission that she assigned herself was to travel the seas for a time, as most of her kin did. With what little belongings she held, and with little to no ties to the forest climate of her hometown she went to the port and found a ship filled with wolfish Sharian's. They were all male and welcomed a female on board. Zevran was a very innocent girl and didn't know what she was going to be putting herself through by accepting their invite to travel with them. She took their offer without a second thought. The next day they were out to sea, she was taught how to assist the crew so that she wasn't a dead weight, and everything went smoothly for a time.


The way of the sea was nearly second nature to her. She reveled in the swaying of the boat, the feeling of being a part of something useful. She loved it out on the ocean blue, away from the worries of the past, looking only to the present. Though she was a free spirit, she was still hesitant to do some things. Like drinking, or sleeping in the same hammock as a fellow shipmate when all other hammocks were taken. Despite her parents not being the best parents, they had still taught her how to behave and what to do and not do, and she knew for a fact that getting into a bed with a man was not an option.


When they next made port in the city of Kwovat she began to be bombarded with requests to go for drinks with her shipmates. She accepted to go, but she refused to drink. As her fellow crew members slowly began to become more and more intoxicated they began to be more...forward with their approach to their female ship mate. They constantly barked at her, they constantly stared at her, and even few yanked on her tail. After about three hours of this constant attention Zevran finally got tired of it all and attempted to leave. This was when the captain stepped in, glaring down the rest of his members, grabbing onto her arm. All she could see was the message “mine” on his face, and she began to get frightened.


That day was the first day that she had used the skills that her mother and father had taught her before they had left. Even though the captain had been a seven foot monster of a wolf she easily took him down and then made her escape out the door whilst the other members of the crew were acting like drunken, bumbling idiots.


Ever since then she has been a resident of Kwovat. With only the staff that her mother had gifted her, and the clothing upon her back, she has made a rather decent life for herself doing guard work.


Other:


She mostly relies on her physical capabilities to assist her in a fight, but she never goes anywhere without it. She has a pet Dire Wolf that met her on one of her hunting trips outside of Kwovat and follows her around now.

She also has two, serrated daggers that she keeps on her person a all times for emergencies.

 

[CatArms]

Name: Sinna


Race: Sharian


Gender: Male


Hometown: Hat'old ---> Ufes


Age: 17


Appearance:


Sinna is rabbit-like with long ears often down-turned. A bush of chocolate fur is long enough to cover his right eye, which is how he likes it. He is often seen wearing a meek expression as if the whole world out to get him. He likes to wear gentleman's clothes much like his eccentric master.


Height: 5'10"


Weight: 90 kgs


Personality:


A bit of a pushover but is extremely loyal, many would think this young man was no threat. However, having lost his dear master, he is desperate to strengthen himself so he wouldn't have to feel so helpless ever again.


Sinna has a tendency to be shy and reserved but when he sees someone in need, as he can be very perceptive about these things, he rushes to help. He has often gotten into trouble because of this.


Bio:


Sinna's parents were quick to get rid of him as soon as they found out he had the potential of being a magician. At the age of ten, he was shipped off to Ufes where an outcast Sharian magician resided. The magician, a quiet eccentric named Brimi, took the boy in as his apprentice ever since.


In truth, this Sharian, a quiet eccentric named Brimi, was more of a librarian than a magician--- at least that was what Sinna thought. For where they lived, in a wooden manor in the outskirts of Ufes, there were shelves and shelves of scrolls that Sinna knew to be spells gathered from all around the world.


Unfortunately, he was never allowed to read them.


Still, the seven years as Brimi's apprentice hadn't been a waste. He learned to cast average elemental spells despite all the servant-worthy chores Brimi had him do. He also knew how to inscribe scrolls though he had never been successful.


All was fine and well for the magician and his apprentice until one night, the manor was besieged by dark forces. In a hurry, Brimi ordered him to escape along with the key to the library and several sealed scrolls. Sinna hated leaving his master behind but he felt too weak and too fearful. The young man has been on the run ever since.


Other:


FLAME

 

[Dendyne]

Name:


Tyr Dalgaard


Race:


Mjulnir


Gender:


Male


Hometown:


Issgar originally but is at the capital, Hjatland, now


Age:


27


Appearance:

The left, lower third of his face has taut burn marks that are still fairly fresh and will crack and bleed if he changed expressions too wildly or moves his face in any weird way.


Height:


6'1"


Weight:


188 lbs


Personality:


Tyr is a stubborn man with a tendency to anger and has never really been one to talk much since he has tendencies to make a fool of himself and commit social faux pauxs but has a good heart underneath it all though it has been well hidden for the last couple of years, when the chips, so to speak, are down however he's the guy you want in your corner. He can never turn down good pulled pork, tends to look at the girls too much and drinks to match( and then some), his beard is patchy under the chin so he ties it all up in a braid to keep from being made fun of by the thick, full beards of his cousins'. Most of all though Tyr hates the cold.


Bio:


Tyr grew up in a bustling, frozen town called Issgar on the opposite side of the Giant's Collar, a local name for the mountain range that curled around the eastern, southern and western flanks between Issgar and Hjatland but there were snowy plains to North straight through tot he coast. Often merchants or mercenaries coming from the Free Isles to the capital would run afoul and miss the plains completely wrecking on the jagged sheer cliff off the mountains, there were a few spots that smugglers knew he could land safely among the rocks and churning waves however it was risky at the best of times. In Tyr's youth he would ride out with a dog team and collect whatever washed up on the banks as most of the kids did here, sometimes and only very rarely there would be survivors on the rocks but they never lasted long and come to think of it none ever actually survived. He made a little money doing that and kept a slender black-iron dagger with him that he found on a lighter skinned fellow had, he had survived the crash but was delirious from dehydration and drinking sea water. It had been some time before he could be reached and brought back to town but it didn't do him much good, he kept asking to see his mate Krumm saying he owed him something and sometimes he'd cry and beg for his wife but he never saw any of them before he kicked it. Tyr inherited his ax from his father after he passed away after a bear hunt went awry, they killed the bear easy but a pack of wolves ambushed him and his hunting party while they loaded the kill on their sledges. He was proud of his father's valor against what he had to have known was certain death, he learned to fight from his close friend Kaney, he was kind of scrawny guy, came from the Free Isles trying to sell his sword but ended up almost actually selling it until he was hired on as a tanner but he kept up practice just in case bandits ever became a problem or someone ever tried something funny, He taught Tyr 3 crucial things. The first was that all your power comes from your hips so stay grounded and swing with the whole of your body, the second was breathe, always remember to breathe and finally the third and probably the most important since he heard it constantly was that the reason we must learn to fight is to fight well, because once you know how to fight you no longer have to fight.


Years passed, Kaney eventually moved on back to the Free Isles or to the capital and beyond he never really said though he promised he would hear about his exploits before he left. After that Tyr's mother passed away in the night to a chill she just couldn't shake, his whole world seemed to darken a little afterwards though he never let it keep him down for long she wouldn't like that one bit so he pushed forward and became hole again, met a women with fiery red hair and had a baby girl with matching locks. Tyr trapped mostly and hunted with a few guys from Issgar so he never had problems provided for himself or his family but his wife, Dalla, had an intrepid personality and an itching, burning desire that dragged her through adultery's dark route. When Tyr realized she was sleeping with a man that he hunted with he almost lost himself completely, but he did go out once more with that man, that man went into the bush in search of deer but only Tyr came out and marched straight into his home where his little girl, now 6, slurps up some broth while her mother stirs the pot over the fire. He grabbed little Elise and turned to a pot of hot broth that seared the left side of his face and burned into Elise's right shoulder, he knocked his now ex-wife to the floor and ran with the screaming girl to his sledge. She was in her skivvies so he bundled her up in furs and hooked the dogs up, the mother came out screeching so he picked her up and flipped her over into a snow bank she couldn't get herself out of. Tyr hooked those dogs up and they took him straight to Hjatland where he's trying to find work and living quarters.


Other:


Uses a a bearded ax and carries a narrow dagger on his hip though his gauntlets with his skill at punching people's heads into mash make him fairly deadly even while unarmed,(Flame)usually has his daughter along with him.

 

[BlaineInTheButt]

Name:


Loenth Wylor


Race:


Mjulnir


Gender:


M


Hometown:


Hajltland


Age:


26


Appearance:


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Height:


6'1


Weight:


180 lbs


Personality:


Loenth is nothing but pride when it comes to who is the better fighter. Although he does have a side of him which only a hand full of people have seen. He can be kind and caring to those who are important to him, even going as far as to using himself as a shield for protection. He is also one of the most curious people his friends and family have known. Loenth is the kind of person that would not think twice if someone has challenged him to a battle, hacking and slashing away until the last man stands, his inner demons taking full control of himself when in the face of battle. When this happens, his violent nature activates until there are no foes to slay. No one has yet to find a cure to snap him out of this demonic state.


Bio:


As a child, Loenth was already trained in the ways of war, being taught by his father who was the warchief when he was young. Although it did not last long, Loenth's father died suddenly, assassinated under the blanket of the night sky, to which Loenth had witnessed the killing and had seen the killer. In his sudden rage, he jumped the assailant and began slashing at him with his own knife. His mother had gone out to find Loenth on the ground beside his dead father, a hacked up murderer in front of them. In his mother's shock, she let out a scream, signalling the others of the event that had ensued.


Helpers and neighbors ran out to witness the alarming sight. As Loenth was picked up by his mother, those that came to help began a small fire, throwing in the remains of the murderer in the flame. Loenth looked to it, watching the flames lick the burning carcass of the traitor. That night changed Loenth for the rest of his life.


As news spread quickly of the warchief's death, many a warrior began training for the battle royale that was bound to ensue. Loenth watched as the day of the battle royale came, blood and body pieces flying around him, an evil grin on his face. As the years passed on and the new warchief decided, life began slowly running back to normal. Loenth had gotten over the death of his father, as did his mother, and continued on his training which he and his father began all those years ago.


Now, he stands as the 5th strongest warrior in Hajltland, waiting to see if the current warchief would die the same way his father had did long ago.


Other:


-He uses a long sword for combat and a bow for his hunting and seldom uses it in combat.


-He has a pet falcon named Altore, who helps him in hunting.

​

 

[Ayl]

Name:


Admiral Sebastian "The Wolf" Grauwen


Race and allegiance:


Dylenor, Kingdom of Asralshar


Gender:


Male


Hometown:


Kwovat


Age:


45


Appearance:

Spoiler

Height


6'2"


Weight:


212


Bio:


Ever since his birth, high expectations were expected from Sebastian, especially since his was one of the greatest and wealthiest of families in the grand port of Kwovat. His father was one of the Admirals of the 3 mighty fleets of the Asralshar Navy, the Lion Fleet. His mother was one of the fabled War Maidens, a corp of the army dessigned for women who wished to help the wounded or tend to the fallen in battle and their families left behind. Despite no full-scale going on, the continent of Mluik was the most pillaged by bandits and the sort, thus leaving the Dylenor always on the defensive, many times employing their army to fend off raiders.


As the years went by, Sebastian grew into a fine young man and soon started to take lessons to cultivate his mind and body. He had a great affinity for strategy and history, being greatly attracted by the Fourfold Slaughter that occured over 250 years before his time. The first time he picked up a sword he felt the warmth in it, although something was lacking. After a few sparring lessons, his tutor gave him another blade to fight with, letting him use a dual wielding style. This one was more to Sebastian's liking, being more fluid with it, launching attack after attack, but his true skill came out the first time he spotted a glaive. He despised spears for their inability to slash, only able to thrust, but when his eyes landed upon the strange weapon, he knew he found the perfect match for him.


Soon after reaching the age of 20, he followed hsi father's footsteps and joined the Navy, serving on various ships of every major fleet, doing an exceptional job, working even harder to prove himself due to the fact that some other fellow crewmates talked behind his back that he was receiving preferential treatment because of his blood and status, even though such claims were untrue. Sebastian didn't mind and used that to his advantage, working harder to achieve his goals.


It wasn't very long until Sebastian finally made himself known as a strong-willed and righteous soldier and was put in charge of his own division of ships. Being a commodore gladdened the now grown man, his family proud of him and his achievement. But reality hit like it always did back then, quick and merciless. On a simple coast patrol, Sebastian's father, the Admiral of the Lion Fleet and his son were aboard 2 different ships of a total of 5 when they were ambushed by Sharian pirates, which were quite an often sight in those times. Being the brave men they were, the Dylenors engaged the evil doers, but the weather itself had other plans. A brutal and unforeseen storm hit the ocean. The patrol's course was quickly redirected by the fierce wind as 3 ships smashed against a rather wide shoal of rocks, the same happening to the rest of the pirate ships that were still standing starting to sink immediatly. Tragically, Sebastian's father was among those aboard the ship that were wrecked. To avoid any further casualties, the fresh captain ordered the rest of the group to fall back out of the storm's surroundings.


By some miracle, or maybe Ridsk's own mercy, the 2 remaining ships evaded the deadly waves raging on the sea and reached the safe harbors of Kwovat. The now empty seat of the Lion Fleet was filled by one of the other Admirals who owed the former Lion a great debt, leaving his seat open for Sebastian himself, who was promoted Admiral of the Wolf Fleet 5 years after the sad incident, the largest and most esteemed of the 3 flotillas, for his cold-blooded thinking, courage and selflessness in a situation where most would've lost their judgement due to grief.


Personality:


Raised to be compassionate and aware of his surroundings, Sebastian always strived to achieve the omnipresent, but silent expectations of him. He is versed in many cultural domains, being an intelligent and strategic person, with a joyful character to go with. However, the death of his father, whom he loved a great deal, left a deep mark upon Sebastian. Usually sociable and open-minded towards errors commited by his men, after returning from the coast patrol that robbed him of his parent, the newly knighted Admiral became cold, very strict about the rules and regulations, keeping his people on a tight leash. This did not upset his subordinates, quite the contrary, boosting their respect for their leader. Due to being one of the highest ranking officers of the Navy military, the Lord's schedule was busy, preventing him from ever marying and building a family for himself. Despite this, Sebastian never complained, as he thought of the military to be his family, caring for each and every one of his men, trying his best not to endanger them, willing and ready to give his own life for any of his men, at any time.


Other:


Sebastian wields a double-bladed glaive that can be split into two, turning into 2 scimitar-like weapons that enable him to fight faster by dual wielding them.

Spoiler

Wears a dark blue cloak with the print of a wolf's head on it.


Wears a signet ring on his right ringfinger, belonging to his family, proving his heritance.

 

[Lokipi]

Name: Marik ValinTor


Race:


(Mjulnir)


Gender: Male (never done this gender before so yeah xD )


Hometown:Kwovat


Age: 25


Appearance:

(hehe know this is Snow, but I liked his hair)


Height:


5’9


Weight: 149 lb


Personality: Odds are that everything is going to be fine. At least that is how Marik sees life. The man has a kind heart hidden beneath a layer of grim, scars and stubble. Like most Mjulnir, he has a great sense of honour but has a higher sense of justice than anything else. From being a child, he has always gone out of his way to help those below him knowing that if he were in their position, he would appreciate a hand now and then.


He is a hard worker and has no problem with doing the grimy jobs which most others would shy away from. Discipline in his work comes from years working along the docks, working under multiple captains whenever they took him on. Due to this he has a higher regard for Sharians, spending most of his adolescent years amongst them as they moved between docks, sating his thirst for travel and furthering his search for a long lost friend.


Here he learned to trade and develop a silver tongue, enjoying the banter of the docks. Regardless however, despite the jolly persona this man presents to the rest of the world, it is only a cover. Beneath everything else, is a secretive core which nurses several childhood wounds which this man will never forget.


Bio:


Marik was the result of an unwed relation with a bar maid and a drunkard. When the barmaid eventually gave birth, she abandoned her child to a church within the city walls, never looking back as she retreated into the night. The woman would go on to sire several more children, some out of wedlock before she was married.


The priests who took him on, agreed it was best to ship him out to one of the larger monasteries within the hills, were there was plenty of food and more hands to take care of him and so began the first five years of Marik’s life. Sheltered beneath the care of monks in the grand halls of a monastery.


The life a simple one, the men of the monastery teaching Marik to care for those less fortunate and to always believe that their god would provide for them if they were true of heart and kind of soul. It was when he turned 6 however, that he was taken back to the city on an errand with her foster father, Monk Valker. The man was stern of tongue but had never been cruel to his young charge, teaching him to read and write as well as make sure he was fed and slept peacefully.


However during their trip through the lower levels of the city, they were mugged. The Monk had tried to offer money for their safe passage, but the thieves were too skittish and as the old man moved forward, reaching into his robes, they panicked. Little did they know that the man was only reaching for a pouch of coins. They stabbed him there and then, in front of the kid, before fleeing with what little they could grab, leaving Marik behind to sob.


He remained there for hours, until one man, a captain from the docks stumbled across the scene. He called for the guard and took on the child himself. At first the captain had offered to take him back to the church, but Marik had refused. His 6 year old mind convinced that the death of old Valker would be blamed on him, so in shame he hid.


The captain soon gave up on trying to persuade the small boy that there had been nothing he could do and took him under his wing and thus began Marik’s life as a dock rat.


He sailed with the generous captain, whose name was Joph for 8 years, learning the trading tongue and ability to haggling quickly, along with swordsmanship and sailing skills . His life was happy, filled with language which would make women blush and milk turn sour, but happy non-the-less. Yet in the series of unfortunate events of Marik’s life, Joph soon passed. Lost to a storm.


Just like Valker, Marik took the death hard and soon convinced himself that Joph was not dead, simply lost, abandoned to one of the other realms with no money or food. Taking it upon himself to then find the kind man, Marik began to jump from ship to ship, searching every dock for miles and soon earning him a name for being a skilled sailor. As the years ticked by, the reality of Joph’s death slowly sunk in, but regardless the man still sails.


Other: Uses multiple knives hidden around his person as well as as scimitar which was given to him by Joph.


As far as pets go, the man keeps a large mangy dog named Bern. The large thing is loyal as anything but looks more moth eaten than slick and fine. Years of travel and sea has done nightmares to his coat.

 

[Ayl]

Since we have one spot open, and one only, those who wish to submit their chars, PM me them as requested and I will choose the one that I deem the best of all to accept in the RP. The spot open is for a Duender race ONLY, as you can see from the Race Box in the first post of this tab. This is a message addressed to those who wish to occupy the spot that just got open due to a member dropping. This does not affect in any way the people that have already been accepted.


Also, I would like you to click the "Watch thread" button, in the top right of the OOC and Roleplay tabs of this thread, to get notifications when posts are...well, posted. Also, please click on "Watch this Roleplay" for future possible updates. Thank you and have a nice day.

​