Fantasy The Guildstone Chronicles ((Character Sheets))

[Ivan Dark]

~INTRODUCTIONS~

"We've come a long way from home, haven't we Andrius?"
Brenn'an Hufēng: Sa'heul
Human
Spellblade/Trickster
<<><- Gold I -><>>
Spirit | Fire
BASE STAT TOTAL: 500
STR: ( 25 )
MAG: ( 175 )
AGI: ( 125 )
DEX: ( 0 )
CON: ( 50 )
FOR: ( 125 )
"Where I- I mean, where we come from, it is a place of wild gods. Where we come from, magic was measured by the title bestowed by these gods when you were born and by the oath you placed upon yourself in their service. Sa'heul and Kalivann. Sa'heul was a serene wild god, dedicated to flow, chaos, and the expansion of all things. Though he offered safety through tranquility and pleasure, those corrupted by his influence were subject to depravity and sloth. Kalivann was the iron-fisted wild goddess. It was under her oath that Andrius' kingdom grew to great might and order at the cost of the people, shattered by predation of the strong over the weak.
I was one of them. The weak.
The kingdom, ruined by Kalivann's excessive influence, had become one of war and bloodlust.
And now, it's not.
Honestly, the rest of its history is a blur ever since I met Andrius.
A lion brought low by his vizier and the sins of his father, forced to continue their oath to bloodshed and tyranny. That day that he picked me... the day Andrius picked me...
It was a cry for help.
Scared and alone on his father's soil, I was taken into Andrius's service, I would accompany him on campaigns to quell rebellions and conquer nearby cities. And, through it all, I could see her in his eyes.
Kalivann had chosen him.
But as she had her champion, Sa'heul had his own, though it tore his heart to see me rise.
Years of tears had kept me sane with Sa'heul's power coursing through me, fighting not just to free the continent... but also the man I loved.
And, judging by the outcome, I'd say I've done well!
Kalivann was purged from Andrius's body and the world knew one less god.
It was the first time I was ever crowned king of anything,
and I hated it.
And so, against my oath to Sa'heul, I would bestow the crown to Andrius's younger brother; I had never seen a young boy so terrified!
But, over the years, as Andrius atoned for his bloodline oath and his brother grew into his role, I sensed my time in their story was over, and mine would continue.
But not alone.
​

-Brennan Profile

Spoiler

Brennan is a 27-year-old male. Standing at 5'9" his well-toned, slender frame is hardly noticeable under his chest plate, shrouded by a noble-looking longcoat, its collar lined with fur. Improving his mobility, shoulder guards, bracers and boots he wears brandish the symbols of an occult origin, likely to some wild god unknown to the denizens of Lantana. While most weapons were foreign to him upon arriving on the continent, one appears to have caught his eye. Wielding spiritual fire in his off hand, he uses a rapier to parry and strike as he summons columns and bursts of white flame. With snake-like agility, Brennan observes his foes from a safe distance, weaving in and out of striking range with safe thrusts of his rapier and small flickers of spiritual fire. He aims to draw the opponent in, only to overwhelm them with a flurry of interwoven spells and steel, leaving no room to breathe as he piles on ever-growing pressure.
Tapping into his oath to Sa'heul, Brennan's spiritual and fire affinities come in the form of spiritual fire. Unlike elemental fire, it excels in both dealing elemental damage at initial strike, while also eating at the foes' mana as it burns. In addition, its spiritual properties allow it to deal damage to incorporeal beings, which would otherwise be unaffected by elemental fire (thanks Sylph !). Fitting with his spiritual fire ability, Brennan's ability to damage otherworldly beings allows him to exorcise dark curses and other such beings that can possess or control objects and living beings, this comes from sending spiritual fire through the possessed object in order to force the entity out. Unconventional for a spellcaster in Solmar, this means that Brennan is able to chip away at his opponent no matter what defenses they may have, be it physical, magical, or spiritual.
Overall, Brennan's role as a spellblade/trickster is designed with mid to close-ranged fighting in mind, able to weave in and out of the foe's attack range to fire off bursts of attacks with either his sword or spells. While he is fairly quick on his own, his ability to cast small spells and act in unison as opposed to casting more powerful spells makes him a more tenacious adversary than conventional mages when confronted with physical threats. In a one-on-one duel, he is most certainly a threat to his foe, no matter living beast or entity they may be.

Trivia Tid-bits:

Spoiler

- Often feels as if he is staring right through you during conversations; don't worry, he's listening!
- Outright falls asleep when he gets bored.
- On ice or anything slick, he seems to have perfect balance. Taking a single step leads to him sliding the rest of the way without stumbling.
- Often "fashionably" late to meetings and gatherings.
- Despite his cold, expressionless gaze, his face melts into a smile effortlessly when he speaks to dear friends and clients.
- Holds Andrius hostage in bed during mornings. He is the big spoon.
- A very light drinker. Becomes extremely sociable and excitable when drunk.
- Occasionally "borrows" things, but returns them unscathed and perhaps even polished or refurbished.
- The best scary story teller at the campfire.
- When serious/angry, he flips a switch and goes from agreeable and polite to toxic and direct.

"You'll have no better home than in your husband's arms, Brennan!"
Andrius Mistlethaw: Sa'heul
Human
Bastion/Sniper/Bow-Knight
<<><- Gold I -><>>
Body | Darkness
BASE STAT TOTAL: 500
STR: ( 225 )
MAG: ( 0 )
AGI: ( 150 )
DEX: ( 0 )
CON: ( 120), (20 from Rumors Event)
FOR: ( 25 )
"Our bloodline was one lionized with Kalivann's grace upon our altars and it was through her whispers that I felt powerful. Abiding by my father and that twisted warlock's orders, I felt the endless splatters of blood soil my hands.
Until I met Brennan.
I knew what I was getting when I enlisted him into my service:
quite the charming lad! Though he never spoke much.
Brilliant, full of surprises...
Amazing in bed hehe..."
I hated him.
So curious and carefree. I wanted to be the slavemaster that stripped his innocence from him.
I abused him. The many times I've bruised his fair skin... The many times I've clasped my hands around his throat...
...
But the further I pushed him, the more he fought back, fought my men right back against the palace gates, fought me back against the tapestry in the throne room.
Strength's a funny thing, see; that's what Kalivann was blind to. She underestimated him, as I did. And so, I lost. The throne, the kingdom, everything. Ended up locked behind bars for two years. And the day I was brought back to the throne, I could see him. Tears in his eyes.
...
It's... all be cause he missed me so mu-"
"He's the little spoon."
"Sa'heul damn it, Brennan! I can't have my dignity intact?"
"Not a single shred, especially after trying to turn that story around. You've atoned for your father's sins, but we've still a long way to go. You belong to me now, remember?"
"Aye! I remember my oaths! To my country, to Sa'heul, and to you, love."

"No longer. No longer will any harm come to you."

I swear it.
​

-Andrius Profile

Spoiler

Andrius is a 29-year-old male. Standing at 6'2" he towers above most commonfolk with a noble air that's somewhat wild, only accentuated by his rugged, charming smile and mischievous habits. Even beneath his full plate, heavy, defined muscle seeps through the cloth, implying the extent of his strength. While at his side sits a simple longsword and upon his back is a meager kite shield, his greatest weapon is usually in hand for all to see: the great warbow of the bastions. Almost a ballista all on its own, it can be seen from a simple glance that its draw was meant only for Andrius. Made from a strange, thick metal, the bow is meant to be mounted as Andrius fires, loosing great, barbed arrows that make even full plate armor crumble under their power. Loosed by a beast like Andrius, they're bound to do serious damage to their foe and perhaps even the foes behind that foe! Armored himself, Andrius is a threat on the battlefield that can't be ignored, closing distance in the blink of an eye a black spears of fury.
Even in close combat, Andrius's strength makes him a daunting enemy. Just as proficient with his longsword and shield, he dispatches closer foes around his mounted bow with athleticism that betrays the thickness of his plate.
And yet, all this is only enhanced further from the remnants of dark power bestowed upon him by Kalivann. As a parting gift, the expelled wild goddess had allowed Andrius to hold onto a fraction of her power. Able to wield mere glimpses of darkness, Andrius's bare minimum in magic aids him in concealing his presence in combat, allowing him to pick off foes who favor more noticeable targets.
Overall, Andrius is a bastion/sniper class, designed as an immobile, ranged tank that picks off targets while able to hold their own against groups of enemies with mighty ranged damage.

Spoiler

Trivia Tid-bits:
- He's not shy about telling you if he find you attractive. At all. Hopefully Brennan's around.
- He only wears his plate armor on missions, most of the time you will find him in a simple, black long shirt and trousers when out and about Lantana.
- Gets randy/frisky after a few barrels of ale. Hopefully Brennan's NOT around.
- His temper flares pretty easily, other than that, he's a generally upbeat fellow.
- Can be found feeding local dogs and cats.
- Wakes up in the middle of every night to meditate and stare at a wall, then falls back asleep.
- Extremely protective of Brennan. Sa'heul forbid you flirt with his man.
- Very fond of sweets.
- Will mock you in a baby voice if he doesn't take you seriously.
- Will gladly show off with trick shots he knows if you ask.

~Synopsis~
Brennan and Andrius are veteran fighters. While their time in the guild hall has been brief and their wherefromabouts are questionable, their great experience has earned them the right to stand amongst gold ranked guild members. The journey they had been through together was quite literally a campaign all on its own. And now, far from home, their foreign battle techniques have caught the guild's eye. This is not their first day in the thick of things, but they sure don't seem to know anyone here. Aside from being polite to the other guild members, it often seems like it's more like an extended vacation to them, just... with more at stake.
Regardless, they had come together to Solmar to start their new journey together, one of new experiences and growth.

I plan to expand on Andrius's kingdom and the history of Brennan's short reign after usurping the tyrant bloodline. I also will likely expand on the wild gods as well to fit in with the existing lore. Please let me know if anything would have to be changed with these two and hopefully we can get this integrated into continent off of Solmar.

 

[Tellussoil]

Appearance:

Name: Marianne Prata Vendaval
Race: Centaur
Class: “Knight”
Rank: Copper I
Affinity: Body / Air
Total Attribute Points: {50 am I right?}
- Strength: 10
- Magic: 0
- Agility: 10
- Dexterity: 0
- Constitution: 20
- Fortitude: 10
Background: Marriane comes from Terraderios an area somewhere on the eastern ends of the plains. a land of grass and rivers. Ever since she was a young fowl Marriane wanted to be strong so that she one day could become a loyal knight to her friend the princess of her clan. to that end, she had trained every waking moment. But how hard she tried she was never good enough, or so she made herself believe. There were so many dangers in the world that could threaten the clan. And she knows that just staying in Terraderíos and training will never prepare her enough. So she realised that to become strong enough to serve her princess she needed to go out into the world and experience it for herself so she can learn and become stronger.
this eventually led her to Lantana and to her joining the guild as an adventurer. although she only did this due to the limited information she had of the world. She knew adventurers went everywhere over the world and were very strong so she decided to become one as it will help her reach her goal. at least that is what she thinks

Extra:
- Her weapon of choice is the lance, although she is also decently skilled with a sword
- She’s a vegetarian and can not and will not eat any meat.
- Her centaur pride makes her reluctant of letting anyone ride on her back Although she secretly likes it
- She always wears her armour. It’s part of her knights' code.
- She can’t swim and is terrified of water because of that.

 

[Muunbane]

◉ Ruma Laspeyres

Appearance: Long, pale hair pulled back and tied neatly with a few stray strands framing a sharp and near-always smiling face. His garb is light, primarily cloth and leather as opposed to heavy plate, allowing him to move quick and quiet. Tall and lithe, he appears strong but graceful, enjoying a visual prestige that leaves him treading a fine line between approachable and dangerous.

Name: Ruma Laspeyres
Race: Human/Shifter
Class: Swordsman
Rank: Iron I
Affinity: Body | Transform
Total Attribute Points: 100
Strength: 40
Magic: 20
Agility: 10
Dexterity: 0
Constitution: 20
Fortitude: 10

Background:
A scoundrel, perhaps notoriously so; one may be somewhat taken aback by Ruma's outspoken and confident demeanor. A smile is never far from his face and he nary misses a chance to offer a friendly word or wink. Ruma is a skilled swordsman with a sharp eye, though may be mistaken otherwise due to his laid back and lax attitude.

He is a shifter of sorts, though rather than purely beast-like his altered state appears partially skeletal, with the bones possessing a silvery sheen and fur long, white and wispy. While this form has left him mistaken for a necromancer's beast he abhors such and rather dislikes being compared to the likes of liches and undead. Ruma tends to keep this part of himself quiet, avoiding its use due to it having caused various discharges from former guilds and mercantile groups.

Hiii hope this is enough, can clarify anything if need be :'D

 

[Vagabond Spectre]

Appearance:

Name:
Elias Allard

Race:
Human

Class:
Guild Cook

Rank: Copper

Affinity: Water/Body

Ability description: While hardly aware of his abilities, he is capable of control already existing water into morphing it in any shape and size while also moving it around thin air with the movement of one’s body.although for now. The ability is at it’s untrained infancy which can grow to it’s full potential with enough training and discipline

Total Attribute Points: 50
Strength: 10
Magic: 0
Agility: 5
Dexterity: 20
Constitution: 10
Fortitude: 5

Background: In the outskirts of Lantana city. There was a young boy who is always seen by the local docks, always carrying a bucket and rope in hand to help pull a wagon filled with fish with his father. This was Elias Allard. Every day he would wake up early to set sail into the open cold sea with his father, return to the docks to sell the mountain of fish they have caught with his father, Attend his local school to pursue greater education, and finally return home to assist his mother in selling more caught fish.

Every day was the same thing, despite the sustainable occupation at such a young age. He was well aware of the potential dangers of fishing with his father, especially in the mornings. Where the sun is yet to rise and the water is cold. After all his father, Braxton Allard is no stranger to the sea's infested waters and navigates with his son, who captured his industrious and hardworking attitude. Even with these two hard-working men, their small home inside the city of Lantana would remain the same despite the running years. As the boy grows older than his mother and father, for they were older than most couples. His father's age would eventually catch up to him and slow him down to his work. Elias would continue on for him even while at the young age of 17. This extra time to focus on work cost him his cease to his promising future in completing his academic future.

Elias gave up on the dream of future graduation in school to focus more on helping his family's fishing business. Sometimes volunteering on participating in other nonfishing related jobs such as being a part time Candlemaker and being an assistant fletcher for a short while. It is only then he he had a more finer job find into the guildstone where he worked for the guild as a cook as volunteer to share one of his talents in the culinary arts.​

 

[Pathfinder03]

"Don't overthink fighting too much. Anything dies if you pound on it enough—so just don't die 'till then."​

Name:Valeen "Val" Hammerfell

Race: Half-Orc, Half-Human

Class: Barbarian

Rank: Iron I

Affinity: Fire | Seismic
It may come as a shock, but Valeen is not exactly known for her...magical capabilities. Some might even have the audacity to say that she has almost no aptitude for magic at all! And—they'd be completely right, Valeen would say. Even basic spells are a struggle for her to conjure, and she figures it all too much of a hassle anyways. However, her affinity does permit her one natural skill. When Valeen strikes the earth with enough force, she's able to conjure seismic shockwaves. It's an unrefined skill for now, as nothing so far has lived through her beatings long enough to warrant using it.

Total Attribute Points: 130 [ Base + OOC Event ]
Strength: 120
Magic: -60
Agility: 15
Dexterity: 0
Constitution: 50
Fortitude: 5

---

Background:
"Now get out of my sight. The last thing I want to see—cough!—before I pass...is hardly you."

These were the last words Valeen's mother spoke to her. Valeen didn't hold it against her, though—from the moment her father returned from the war with a half-orc child in his arms, she never approved of Valeen. Of course, her father saw it differently. He saw a helpless refuge from the war he had been waging, a child whose parents had been stolen—and he saw the son Valeen's mother couldn't give him. A pair of strong arms to help tend his Westridge farm back home. A mind more keen to his combat training than classroom lessons. A crude and unemotive lass, but a good-hearted one worthy of inheriting the family weapon. Oh, they used to bicker and bicker about her! But personally...Valeen didn't really care.

When the neighbors taunted her, she did not scowl. When she was forced to sleep in the barn night after night, she did not complain.
When her father died in yet another war, she shed only a few tears. When her mother fell ill, and scorned her one last time on her deathbed—Valeen did not even reply.

Perhaps she was a monster like her mother said, to feel so apathetic towards her own life. But that was simply how she was.

Of course, her own aloofness would strike her in the back soon enough. Valeen hardly knew how to run the farm all on her own—and to be frank, hardly cared to. What was the point? To live in a countryside that ill fit her, to cling onto a house she held no affection for? Valeen rejected the idea of continuing life in the Westridge countryside...but she hardly had any other skills to her name, and even fewer aspirations for herself. In the end, once she had drank the rest of her funds dry, Valeen figured there was only one real path for her.

To take up the family weapon, and embrace the orcish art of smashing monsters, things, and people for coin.


Other:
- She stands at 7'0. 213 centimeters of pure muscle that she...hardly ever covers with armor. Too much of a hassle, she says. Most wouldn't fit her anyways, she says.
- Valeen is just claustrophobic, and doesn't enjoy being weighed down and 'suffocated' by armor.
- Valeen doesn't quite care for farming. That said, she has a particular soft spot for barn animals with cows in particular holding a special place in her heart. It's rumored that this may be one of the reasons why she settled for Waystone Guild, and she has expressed disappointment upon finding out that Phi was not an actual owl.
- Surprisingly enough, despite her stature most animals seem to naturally like her too.
- She has several unpaid bar tabs across many, many different Westridge towns.
- She does not have a drinking problem. It's just hard to get herself properly drunk.
- Though many fear upsetting Valeen due to her orcish heritage and her...interesting methods of dealing with problems (which is mostly just beating things down into a pulp), Valeen does not have a big temper. Honestly, she finds it very nice when people talk things out and is more than willing to hear people out. Not that anyone tries with her.
- That is, except, for native orcs. Valeen doesn't like interacting with full-blooded orcs, and is even visibly bothered when surrounded by them.
- It is said, though, that when she is truly angered...she has a horrifying scowl, and an even scarier snarl.

Spoiler: Oxheart

Perhaps one of the only reasons why Valeen has gotten as far as she has—aside from her overwhelming strength, of course—is her weapon. A massive mace whose size is too unwieldy for the average man, the Oxheart is the family heirloom of the Hammerfell. Its previous wielders grew accustomed to the size, learning to use its weight for devastating attacks. Valeen uses it as any other person would use a two-handed mace. It's most notable feature is the purple flame that burns inside the mace itself...for the Oxheart is meant to break through even magic, letting nothing stand in its wielder's path.

 

[Guppy Franz]

Nicolas Godfrey

Race: Human

Class: Swordsman/Tank

Rank: Silver

Affinity: Body/Fire

Total Attribute Points: 250

Strength: 75
Magic: 30
Agility: 15
Dexterity: 0
Constitution: 100
Fortitude: 30​

Background:
Nicolas has no memories of his childhood or even his real name. His mind would become shrouded in a blurry mess whenever he tried to recall his life growing up. His earliest memories were of the road and the battles they would lead him to. For a few years, he would simply travel from place to place without thought, mindlessly wandering the land to fight foe after foe. Most would think he was just simple in the head, and they would be correct. Unfortunately, because of his somewhat oblivious mind, Nicolas would often be tricked into completing tasks for unsavory individuals without realizing the severity of his deeds. Bandits, thieves, and crime lords would use the dull-minded brute to do their bidding, often sending him on tasks that were practically suicide missions. However, Nicolas processed a natural talent when it came to fighting. Out of everything, combat seemed to be his best quality. Alongside his skills with a sword, he was quite a sturdy man. Most of the past wounds he had received in battle would typically kill any ordinary man, but Nicolas always stood on his feet no matter how severe the injury.

During his travels through the countryside of Westridge, he encounters an individual that would change the lone wander's path forever. This individual was named Yuri Rhinehart, a traveling musician, and storyteller. Yuri had been set in the sights of a grubby band of bandits who believed him to be a perfect target to rob, though little did they know the lone musician didn’t have a coin to his name. When they were ready to gut him on the spot, Yuri spotted Nicolas and called out for his help, promising a grand reward. Of course, it took little convincing for Nicolas to aid him and make quick work of the would-be muggers. After saving the small musician, he had to be expected to be rewarded with coins, but instead, the musician simply grinned and held up a worn leather journal.

“My fine fellow, my grand reward is not coin but immortality! I will sing and weave your name to all I pass and make you known throughout all of the lands as a mighty warrior of the people!”

The musician's words were utterly lost on Nicolas, the dull-minded wander only able to understand the small man had no coin to give. After staring down at him with a blank look, he simply turned away and continued without him. Yuri frantically called for the man to stop and begged to know his name so he could tell others but would be horrified to learn he had no real name.

"That just won’t do sir! Not at all! You must have a name! People's names are what goes down in history! To live without a name is unfathomable!"

Nicolas was only more confused by the man's statements, not understanding why the man's face grew so red in frustration. Sooner or later, he simply drowned the man out and kept walking along, not noticing the Yuri until he reached the next village. It had seemed the musician had decided to follow the wander until a proper name was given to him. So for months, Nicolas had found himself traveling with the small musician who insisted on accompanying him. At first, he barely paid him any mind, letting the man ramble on with whatever he wanted to talk about and continued his endless march to wherever the roads took him. Over time though, Yuri would tell stories and tales to travelers they passed and found himself listening along, curiosity finally taking hold of him.

From old tales of mystical beasts and lands to heroes and villains of history, Nicolas found himself captivated by the musician's stories, with an almost childlike obsession to hear more. Eventually, Yuri would speak of the great Waystone Guild and the legends that would arise from them. The musician must have seen his curiosity spike when talking about the guilds.

“You know my tall nameless friend, I think you would fit in as a member of that guild. You could leave this cold blood-for-coin life behind and become a hero of the people! Yes! Why, with your strength and will, I’m sure you will become just as great as the heroes I’ve told you from my tales!”

Nicolas could only imagine the thought, so enthralled in the idea of being a hero like in Yuri's stories. Before meeting his small companion, not once had he thought other than walking and fighting from place to place, but now he thought of a whole new future for himself.

A week later, tragedy would befall the two travelers as they would be cornered near Magistar by a band of outlaws looking to take Yuri’s head. For what reason they wanted his small companion's life, he didn’t know, nor did he care. Without any hesitation, Nicolas clashed with the outlaws in a brutal fight. They were far from amateur fighters and had done significant damage, but in the end, he emerged victorious. His victory would come at a bitter cost, though. Lying motionless on the ground away from him with a bolt in his chest Yuri barely clung to life as Nicolas rushed to his side. With a weak smile, he held up his journal and handed it to Nicolas.

"I’m sorry, my friend, but fate has decided this is where my story ends. I had so many songs and tales to share with the people. But fret not. I have finally found you a name to make your own. So, open the first page of my book.”

Nicolas did as instructed and opened the journal to see a finely written name along the side of the cover.

“A name that once belonged to a dear friend of mine. This was his book before I took it on as my own after his untimely death. Of course, the two of you couldn’t be any more different, but it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Nicolas repeated the name in his head several times, feeling his heartbeat every time, he repeated it. So, this was to be his new name? Before he could think any further on it, Yuri's weak breathing caught his attention, and he stared down at his fading companion with sadness.

“Make your name known to all, Nicolas Godfrey. Become a warrior of the people and become… Immortal.”

With a final breath, Yuri Rhinehart had finally grown cold, and once again, Nicolas was alone. His fallen companion's last words echoed within his mind even as he laid him to rest. To make his name known and be a warrior of the people, how would he achieve this? It was then he remembered the stories of the guild and what Yuri had said to him that night.

 

[Spoiled Bread]

Name: Gion Stickman
Race: Living Skull
Class: necromancer/bardrogue
Rank: Copper I
Affinity: Spirit/Bone
Total Attribute Points: 50
Strength: -40
Magic: 20
Agility: 20
Dexterity: 0
Constitution: 0
Fortitude: 50
Background:
Far, far away to the south there exist a kingdom ruined into oblivion by a rampant use of forbidden magic a few centuries ago. Nowadays the place is an abandoned inhospitable land with countless undeads roaming within its perimeter. However, among these mindless zombies and skeletons, there exist an anomaly, a lonely skeleton who spent his time searching for someone to talk to.

After several decades of wandering he finally found people, living people. Granted, their first reaction upon seeing him was to stab him with pitchfork but Gion was soo happy he finally found other people that he didn't mind the villagers threw his body into the ocean. He survived that though. From there on, Gion jumped from ship to ship to look for a place where he wouldn't get smitted on the spot. Sometimes he stuffed himself inside a cargo, sometimes he works as cleaner. There's even a particular crew of pirates who took a liking at him and made him the ship's mascot. He traveled with them for a few years before he realized what they had been doing were considered terrible. He wanted to make friends and be loved by everyone, so he left the crew and look for a honest work in the guild.

Other:
- Gion's skull is the only real part of his body, the rest are simply extension that he can switch and rearrange with his magic
- Gion has no talent for music but he carries a guitar and insist that he's a bard. He usually just pull the strings and observes people's reactions to see what they like or don't like though.​

 

[A Sparkling Zombie]

Name: Crask
Race: Half-orc, half-human
Class: Ranger
Rank: Iron I
Affinity: Body | Air
Total Attribute Points: 100

Strength: 20​

Magic: 0​

Agility: 30​

Dexterity: 10​

Constitution: 30​

Fortitude: 10​

Background: Atrok wasn't a real orc. The tribe respected how the human woman saved them from an illness with her herbalism, but Atrok wasn't strong and assertive like a real man. Only a human could form a relationship out of pity.

"I seek the opinions that matter," Atrok told Crask, but the young half-breed didn't understand. The chieftain and their elite warriors mattered, so their opinions mattered, but every time, his father would brush aside the taunts. Apparently, he was as much of a pushover as those-who-mattered said.

And when his father died on a hunt, those-who-mattered laughed. Crask decided then. He may follow in Atrok's footsteps, become a hunter and a scout, but he would earn the right respect, for both himself and his father.

He felled an owlbear by himself. He assisted in the gnoll threat. He orchestrated a hunt that kept the tribe fed through a harsh winter. And when he found the mine shaft and helped commandeer it from bandits, he thought it would be the turning point. He saw the sparkle in their aging's chieftains eyes, he knew he did, but still the chieftain refused to see him. Others in the tribe did, even some of the elites, but the chieftain didn't, and that was who mattered most of all. Crask's last option was to become strong enough to best him in a duel and succeed him, before his son could.

But he didn't get the chance.

A representative of an unidentified company sought negotiations from the tribe. They would trade ore for other goods, but the chieftain--quite literally--kicked them out. Crask knew it couldn't have been a coincidence when a band of mercenaries appeared within the forest about a week later. One of his team suggested they warn the tribe, but Crask thought they could deal with them on their own.

He was wrong.

Crask should have died. He was left to bleed out. It was a combination of stubbornness and the kindness of a stranger that allowed him to survive, but his tribe had been wiped out.

After failing to locate other survivors, Crask managed to trace the mercenaries to the Waystone Guild. They haven't crossed paths, but for now, he will use the guild to become stronger and find out who hired the thugs. He will seek vengeance from them as much as the ones who drew their blades.


Other:
- He is 6'0".

- He knows herbalism involving regional flora, thanks to training from his mother.

- His failure to follow some aspects of social protocol is more out of stubbornness than inability. For example, he often gives his appearance little thought, and he's more likely to cake himself in mud than to clean up if asked to do so. Eventually he might learn this is more of a hindrance than not.

- His favorite way to show disagreement is to headbutt.

- The noticeable scar on his face is from the owlbear's claws when he was dared to slay it alone. He still wears a claw of it around his neck.

- At least for now, his weapons of choice are a bow and a spear.

 

[Eccentric_Undead]

Appearance:

Name:
Elias Nyxra
(Everyone calls him "Enigma")
Race:
Elf

Height:
6'11"
Class:
Tamer Mage

Rank:
Gold I
Affinity:
Light|Taming
Total Attribute Points:
500
​

Strength: 0
Magic: 160
Agility: 40
Dexterity: -50
Constitution: 50
Fortitude: 300

Background:
Born over 300 years ago, he was a pride to his people. His childhood was filled with wonder in the far expanding woods and companionship with all the people of the forest. The world was great, until it wasn't. An age old war between his people and another raged on. At this point the other people encircled his land and starved his people out. He watched as his family and friends succumbed to hunger and madness. The fear that permeated the air of his normally cheerful homeland. It was at this point he learned the true brutality of people. He learned that wars of attrition could be far worse than war of battle.

As time passed he realized that he was the last of his people. He was starved, soiled and wanted death. His life was gone and he knew the evils too well. He knew not what his people did, but the only thing that kept him going was the thought that he may one day bring this same pain to those who deserve it. From the ash and soot in the air, he spotted three lights. After a moment, he saw them fall. Pixies. Three Pixie sisters, near death due to the others draining the water around. Elias felt a kin to these kindred souls and knew he had to help. He pulled his last bit of water, a few drops of his blood spilling in. As the pixies drank, he knew instinctively what to do. Placing his forehead to each of theirs. The bond was complete.

Using their power over light, they escaped and he vowed to use their tactics to fell the wicked. He traveled from place to place, learning tactics and developing his skills. Specifically his Taming Affinity. He learned rather quickly that his particular skill was very close to a highly illegal act, so he keeps in pretty close to the vest. It wasn't long until he found the Waystone guild. He joined and immediately got to work. The entire guild had heard of the mysterious member with three little Pixies, but never really saw him. New people know of him, but only the receptionists and a few select members of his own rank have really seen him. His particular set of skills makes him perfect for long missions, so he doesn't come back to the guild often. As such, Enigma is an infamous guild mate. Strong and storied, but rarely seen. However, that doesn't stop him from completing jobs, utilizing attrition and numbers to make it easy and almost unfair for his opponents.

Taming:
This is a Special Affinity. This affinity allows him to test his fortitude against that of another creature that shares his Light Affinity. Once this Affinity is activated, a bowl of water, mixed with a few drops of his blood is offered to the beast. As the creature drinks, he must place his forehead against the chosen target to seal the Bond between them. The subject of this Taming is Bonded to the user and will do as ordered. This also allows for the user to cast spells through the Tamed Creature (Only light magic spells, as they are the shared affinity). The amount of creatures he can bond with and tame is equal to his fortitude. The fortitude of each creature he has tamed is added up and must fall within the limit of his own Fortitude (Example; All his creatures have a total of 200 fortitude, so he must have at least 200 fortitude to keep them all tamed). He can surpass this limit, but this is difficult as his ceiling for fortitude limit is decreased dramatically. Tamed creatures all have one set rule in order to keep them under his Taming. Of course, he has to care for them with all the basics, but each one will have a specific required rule. If this rule is broken, they will immediately turn on him.

He has never attempted this on humans or any other humanoid race, but theoretically, it could work.

Tamed Creatures:

Spoiler: Pixies

Current Number: 3
Fortitude Cost: 30
Rarity: Ultra Rare
Appearance:

Special Rule: Once a week, The user must dedicate 3 hours of alone time with the Pixies. This can be in the form of tea time, a picnic, staying inside or anything else. All that matters is that no one else is around except the Pixies and the user.

Affinity: Light|Flight

Total Attribute Points: 50
Attributes:
Strength - 0
Magic - 30
Agility - 10
Dexterity - 0
Constitution - 10
Fortitude - 0

The pixies are very possessive of Elias and make it actively known that he is theirs. They don't like anyone getting friendly with him.

Theme Song:


Battle Song:
​

 

[Tattletale]

Seth of Silvervale​

​

Height: 5,6 - 167cm
Weight: 155lbs. - 70kg

​

Race: Quarter-Dwarf​

Class: Spearman​

Rank: Iron I​

Affinity: Body​

​

​

Total Attribute Points: 100​

​

Strength: 30​

Magic: -10​

Agility: 40​

Dexterity: -10​

Constitution: 30​

Fortitude: 20​

​

​

• Background
• Trivia

• 
  
  Seth was born in Silvervale, a small mining community located at the base of the mountain range north of Magistra. His younger brother Valar and him were the sons of the town's hedge witch, a kindly woman who went by Nana. Valar took to the magical arts and the study of medicine quickly and easily, but Seth couldn't follow the footsteps of their mother. The simplest spells escaped him and, though far from stupid and capable of stitching a wound or setting a broken bone, he simply lacked the refinement necessary for higher learning. Given that he couldn't help the family business, Seth decided to join the local militia and patrol the surrounding wilds in search of feral animals and bandits. He was hardy and strong, and the job suited him well. Far from being bitter, he took pride in his mother and brother's work and knew he helped protect the town in his own way. And so, life was slow, but happy.
  
  The years passed, and Seth became second in command of his community's small guard at the age of nineteen. His captain trusted him even in his youth, and so sent him and two other men to guard a caravan bound for Magistra, to trade during the yearly festival that was being held and prepare for the coming winter. Seth was a cautious man, and he was prepared for blizzards, for wild beasts and bandits. What he wasn't expecting, however, was to fall in love.
  
  The tournament was toted to be a sporting event, to strengthen the kingdom's ties to the nation of Aestir, but it was clearly a proving look into their strength and a stroke to the nobles' egos. Seth expected a lot of hot air and little fighting. He was wrong.
  
  The first time he saw her, she was fighting 5 men to a standstill, alone. No, she was winning. And it was beautiful. There was artistry in her motion, her long spear danced like a silver snake keeping her opponents at bay, deflecting blows and tripping limbs and weapons. It wasn't long before the 5 fell before her, disarmed and defeated. She didn't even break a sweat. And she was beautiful.
  
  Seth instantly knew what he needed to do. He completed his assignment quietly, guarding the caravan back to Silvervale in the next few days. Then he took what little savings he had, his spear and armor, his family's blessing, and threw himself into the world, to polish himself against anyone who would fight him. He abhors taking lives, but every day he falls more and more in love with the dance of steel and flesh. And every day he's closer to being at her level.
  
  One day, he will duel Priscilla Degrand.
  
  And it will be beautiful.
  
• 
  
  - Incapable of singing and completely tone-deaf, he was actually forbidden to sing at Silvervale.
  
  - The only magic he ever managed to learn was a simple sense enhancing spell. It's an old alchemist trick to find ingredients, but he has adapted it to combat by reading his opponent's body language, and to detect ambushes.
  
  - Enjoys spicy food, specially with some strong ale to go with it.
  
  - Has a love for animals, specially cats and horses. He left his mare, Snowbloom, at Silvervale, and still misses her.
  

 

[SilverbackActual]

Andromeda de Valinnari

Gaze into the void if you dare.​

Race: Half-Dragon
Class: Fighter/Berserk
Rank: Iron I
Affinity: Body - Regeneration
Total Attribute Points: 100
Strength: 50
Magic: -25
Agility: 45
Dexterity: 0
Constitution: 20
Fortitude: 10

Background:

Daughter of two half-dragons, Andromeda grew in Valinstead, a somewhat isolated community of Half-Dragons, hosted at Jörmunbrunnr. Long ago, communities of humans welcomed disguised dragons into their villages, not knowing the truth about their new neighbors. In these communities, which were often secluded and small, half-dragon children became common as the dragon visitors married their human friends. Over time, the overtly draconic physical characteristics faded, leaving an almost human-looking children with dragon bloodlines. Eventually, the dragons themselves departed these communities, leaving behind the strong draconic heritage.

Once the girl got old enough she was sent to do the pilgrimage, while the Pilgrimage isn't all that ritualistic as it sounds, normally a half-dragon do that to prove themselves, to bring honour to the family, and to bring honour to the community itself. When they return home, normally they have a gift, that attest the end of the pilgrimage, normally something of value that could be add to the community.
A Half-dragon isn't sent to a pilgrimage absolutely unprepared, they receive lessons on how to survive outside the Community, and gifts to help them on their way. Despite this, some half-dragon leave on their Pilgrimage and never return, either from running afoul of dangers, or because they have chosen a different life after experiencing the greater world beyond the Walls. But most return safely with their gift, to rejoin the Community as an adult and a valued member of society.

While a child, Andromeda heard from her parents about the outside world. Her father told her about the battles he witnessed, and her mother told her about the battle she fought. It was a staple for her to hear about all the wonders of the outside, everyday she heard a new story, how a simple man did amazing things, how a princess almost put her kingdom into peril, how they both got to know eachother.

Spoiler: Other

- Andromeda is quite tall, being generally taller than an average human being of the tallest race. Standing somewhat at 2,11m or 6.6ft tall.
- While she has a spear, her preferred method of dealing with something is using her bare but draconic fists.
- She excels in linguistics, being able to speak a dialect of draconic and read glyphs.
- Similar to every other half-dragon of this kind, Andromeda has some patches of scales, while without claws, wings or tail, she has bonelike structures in her head, that forms a pair of horns, and knuckle bones that protudes with the same bonelike characteristic.
- Andromeda wears an aketon, gamboised cuisse, and a pair of sabaton-cavalier boots. Mixing style with a striking mobility.

​

 

[Eccentric_Undead]

Name: Droll

Race: Troll
Class: Guild Master Chef

Rank: Gold I
Affinity: Fire|Enchantment

Total Attribute Points: 500

Strength: 0
Magic: 200
Agility: 0
Dexterity: 300
Constitution: 0
Fortitude: 0

Background: Born to a race known for their consumption of anything, Droll was much different. He was abandoned for being the runt of the litter and was taken in by humans. These humans raised him and taught him that there was more to life than just shoveling food down your throat. They taught him about flavors and spices. How to properly cook and make a full meal. To a race that just ate anything, this was a magical new world to the small troll and a world he wanted to explore further.

Over his life he studied. He learned the proper ways to bring out the best in anything he cooked. He learned the extent of spices and how to properly cook meat. What baffled him was that there was always more to learn. More combinations, more food and different techniques. Pursuing the unending knowledge of the kitchen was the only thing he wanted.

Around the age of 20, while he was discovering the wonders of charcoal cooking, he learned of a guild that traveled the lands. This interested him as he just wanted to go places and learn to make sure he had a better knowledge of the culinary world. Joining the guild was tough, since he specialized in food rather than anything that could help with combat or espionage. However, since he knew fire magic, it allowed him to keep up at least. Soon, he discovered that he had a knack for gifting. Certain foods had a very special property. He was able to learn to give these properties to the ones who consumed the meals he prepared with those special ingredients. This new ability opened the doors for him. Now, he gained the title of one of the best supports in the guild. However, he didn't want to be limited to just one team. No. He wanted to share his love and talent with everyone. So, he went to the guild and opened a kitchen to serve both the public and the guild. However, the guild has access to his secret menu. The menu that grants buffs and powers. Have you the coin to purchase such valuable food? Better get to work.

 

[Uasal]

~ Rebekka Dragonheart ~

Name: Rebekka Dragonheart

Class: Martial Artist

Rank: Copper 1

Epithet: TBD

Nicknames: Bekka

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Race: Human

• Attributes
• Skills and Abilities
• Quest Log
• Personality and Bio

• 
  
  Affinity: Spirit | Body
  
  Total Attribute Points: 50
  
  Attribute Distribution:
  Strength: 20
  Magic: 0
  Agility: 10
  Dexterity: 0
  Constitution: 10
  Fortitude: 10
  
• 
  
  Skills:
  Martial Artist: Foundation
  Spirit Fist: Foundation
  Martial Constitution and Fortitude: Foundation
  
  Abilities:
  Marsh Born - Raised in the marsh Rebekka has grown used to this climate and biome and can navigate such terrain with ease
  Martial Art Legacy - Grandaughter to a Platinum rank martial artist some of his genes have to have rubbed off on her right!?
  
  
• 
  
  Empty
  
  
• 
  
  Personality:
  Rebekka is a loyal and patient individual who keeps her cool in all but the most hopeless of situations. A simple woman who seeks not money or fame but instead a life well lived and memories of plenty. Rebekka is a kind soul who always seeks to help those less fortunate than herself or those in need above all else. A battle junky Rebekka finds a thrill in fighting those stronger than herself and growing from such battles is what's most rewarding to her as a martial artist. That said she takes no pleasure in fighting those weaker than her and will only do so if absolutely necessary. Rebekka has a soft spot for sweet treats and children and is very easily persuaded by both. Her primary aspiration is to follow in her grandfather's footsteps and live a life she can look back on with a sense of pride and loving memory when her final moments come.
  
  
  Bio:
  Raised in the Dark Marsh by her Grandfather, Rebekka lived a pretty normal life all things considered. In fact, really if you exclude the fact she was raised outside of a town in a more secluded area, one might say her life up until now has been oddly normal, especially for someone raised in the Marsh. But alas she is but a normal individual. Her grandfather however was anything but. Indeed a former adventurer and martial artist himself Rebekka's grandfather was a platinum rank adventurer in his hay day and a former member of the Guildstone Guild of Lantana. That was until his daughter and her husband were slaughtered. Forced into retirement the man raised Rebekka as his own child from when she was but a babe.
  
  Rebekka never knew her parents, well not that she can remember but her grandfather has told her many a story. Of him, of her parents of the guild and of the fame it once held. Rebekka saw her grandfather as her own father and as a mentor/master. Trained from a young age Rebekka has had the fundamentals of her grandfather's martial arts beat into her and in order to bring out her potential she has decided to venture out and join the guild he spoke so highly of. The Guildstone! 'The greatest guild in all the lands. Surely it'll have grown quite a lot since her grandfather's day right!?