Fantasy The Prophecy Characters

[Shagranoz]

Witch


Name: Rebecca Blackwood


Age: 23


Race: Human


Appearance:





Personality: Rebecca is a very quiet and studious woman. She doesn't tend to make friends easily, but when she does, you have a companion for life... and maybe beyond. She also loves books and scrolls, and has parlayed that into a position as the group's librarian. Anyone who harms a book in her presence may well find their living flesh rotting.


History: Rebecca grew up the daughter of two merchants. At an early age, she found she had magic, and further experimenting found a mastery of death itself. She joined the witches as a teenager, in order to learn more about her powers.


When Aura and Calico had their falling out, Rebecca was devastated as her friends tore themselves apart. She pleaded with Aura to grant Calico leniency, but to no avail. She still wishes she could have stopped the fighting.


Recently, Rebecca has become very ill with an unknown disease that seems to be resistant to magic. Even Aura's healing powers have merely been able to slow the descent. There may be other ways to solve the problem, though...


Magical Specialty: Necromancy. Rebecca is the queen of death, and can call back ghosts and raise zombies. Recently, she's begun learning magic involving sickness and decay as well, in an effort to understand and curb her illness. So far, though, there's been no success on that front.


Follower: Leans towards Aura, but would prefer a peaceful resolution.


Class: Summoner


Skills: Formidable knowledge of magic, even of disciplines she cannot currently use.


Equipment: A crystal-tipped hawthorn wand that enables her to increase her powers

 

[Ratatoskr]

Although this isn't finished, I do need to ask the race isn't an Anthropomorphic. And yes before you ask, Jefferson sort of has that, but his character has a backstory as to why he takes an animals form. It's different from 'being' an animal himself.  Hope you understand!

What should I change my race to then? Hopefully we can compromise.

 

[Kiowa]

Name: Rebecca Blackwood
​

This is all good except for one thing! Due to Necromancy being a magic that has been forbidden since Witches/Warlock ancestors, if Rebecca was to be using it, she would be hunted down from Auras scouts. You're welcome to use it but know that she wouldn't only be on the run from the oncoming war but also those in 'Good' ways of magic.

Name: Eris 

Accepted, Looking fab!

Name: Keithia Finva
​

 Amazing! I love the concept of her, accepted!

What should I change my race to then? Hopefully we can compromise.

In the first page there is a basic list of what races suit Magic users or witch hunters. These are such as Satyrs, Nymphs, Elfs, or Human-like. You are welcome to ask about any other race you have, but unfortunately I won't be accepting another Anthropomorphic like character. 

 

[Ratatoskr]

In the first page there is a basic list of what races suit Magic users or witch hunters. These are such as Satyrs, Nymphs, Elfs, or Human-like. You are welcome to ask about any other race you have, but unfortunately I won't be accepting another Anthropomorphic like character. 

I don't like playing as humans or variations thereof, so I won't join.

 

[Kiowa]

I don't like playing as humans or variations thereof, so I won't join.

That's fair enough! Good luck  

 

[Shagranoz]

That's fine. She'll try to seek nonlethal ways of dealing with them, but won't hesitate to kill if pushed. To Rebecca, there's no such thing as inherently "good" or "evil" magic; it's all about what you do with it.

 

[Kiowa]

That's fine. She'll try to seek nonlethal ways of dealing with them, but won't hesitate to kill if pushed.

Okay dokey. Accepted!

 

[The DoomyFish]

Added theme songs for Deucalion and Kuma

 

[Kloudy]

I'm fairly sure I'm gonna have Drake be some kind of right hand man for Calico. Like his army general or chief advisor or something. He's all about the subterfuge and higher skills and qualities of life, you know?

 

[Kiowa]

I'm fairly sure I'm gonna have Drake be some kind of right hand man for Calico. Like his army general or chief advisor or something. He's all about the subterfuge and higher skills and qualities of life, you know?

Sounds good to me.

 

[FireFlare]

Kyriel Fristan

Age: 22
Race: Human-Like
Personality: Though no longer on the brink of insanity, Kyriel will never be completely sane. Hallucinations are still a fairly common occurrence in his life, so at times he has trouble distinguishing if what he’s seeing is reality or a creation of his mind. When he feels the pull start to strengthen, he often secludes himself from others in order to protect them. He’s wary of himself.
Kyriel has had problems with coping ever since his recess into madness. This has caused him, to prevent falling back into his mind, to not take much seriously, though he doesn’t joke a lot either. He instead has tried to turn everything into some sort of game. To accomplish something, he must try and distance himself from the consequences of it. This has put him at odds with some because they wish to be viewed in a more serious manner.
Kyriel personally feels that he’s more trouble than he’s worth, which causes him to be unyieldingly loyal to those who haven’t abandoned him. To be completely aligned with ‘good’ would take time, if it’s even possible, but Kyriel desperately tries to get as close as he can.
His smiles are rare, but the more time he spends with those who calm him, the more they appear. He depends on others in the more civil and mundane portions of life as he hopes to get back to normalcy. He can hold himself in a fight, but he won’t do anything to cause harm unless he’s sure the person is evil, or one of his allies tells him it’s necessary. He doesn’t want to cause more pain than needed but is resolved to the fact that it will be needed at different points. However, he occasionally has points where he’s not willing to even fight those people. When he’s feeling unconfident, he worries that hurting other will throw him back into the world he’d escaped.
He talks to himself some, less frequently than he did before, as he can still hear voices sometimes. He tries his best to hide those types of things, but most of the time, hiding it isn’t his biggest priority.

History: Up until the age of 14, Kyriel had a fairly normal life. Too young to really remember the death of the king, Kyriel lived with Zoarus as his one and only home. His parents spoiled him as much as they could, naively hoping to protect him from the rest of the world. The succeeded for a bit, with Kyriel passing through his younger years ignorantly. If they’d never ventured out of Zoarus, he would have stayed that way, but they did, and that caused their death.
His parents wanted to show Kyriel the world outside of Zoarus, if not it’s dangers, and so they planned a vacation of sorts. They had been advised against it, but they were confident in their power, evidently too much so. They left Zoarus to a nearby town and rented a room in an inn. For a couple days, nothing happened. They simply wandered as much as they could through the small town. On their 3rd day outside of Zoarus, Kyriel had left the inn before his parents, promising to stay in view of their room’s window. Less than 5 minutes later, when Kyriel could see his parents approaching the door to their room, a group of men stormed the building. Kyriel was tempted to follow them until he saw the look on his parent’s faces. They immediately turned rushing towards the window to stand in front of it. The blocked Kyriel’s view of the room while simultaneously blocking Kyriel from sight.
Though not extremely young anymore, Kyriel was still confused at what was going on. His father moved forward slightly and raised his hands, and then there was blood. Kyriel heard his mother’s scream even from outside. He watched as she rushed forward, and then he saw the men standing over the couple. His mother seemed to freeze, her shoulders tensing. A few of the men cracked smirks while others remained stoic. Kyriel wondered why his mother didn’t just use her magic, her power, but she didn’t. And then she was gone. Her blood splattered across the window, and Kyriel stood in shock. One man approached the window and locked eyes with Kyriel. There were a few seconds where they just stared before Kyriel took off. No one followed. Thinking back on it, it’s likely he just thought Kyriel was a child from the town, so he let Kyriel run.
By the time Kyriel was back in Zoarus, weeks or maybe months gone by, it was too late. Kyriel’s world had shattered and with it, his mind. For the next few years, Kyriel spent every second tormented by his own mind. Hallucination plagued him, and his powers seemed to attack him. He wasn’t lucid enough to know if he was doing it on purpose or not, but any attempts to stop them didn’t work. Voices infiltrated his thoughts, endlessly confusing him, and at one point, Kyriel wondered if he was still alive.
As it turned out, he was. With the help of a few close friends, Kyriel clawed his way from the depths of his mind, though not completely leaving it. For the first few months, even outside of his mind, Kyriel wondered if he should have died. He felt like he was a danger to those around him. If he couldn’t control himself, how could he help anyone? However, his friends convinced him otherwise. Apparently, through his whole episode, which in its entirety had taken 4 years for Kyriel to overcome, Kyriel hadn’t once harmed another person. His attacks had solely focused on himself. No one else.
That one fact really brought Kyriel back. He could have some sort of purpose, even if he never fully accomplished it. The desire to keep people from the darkness he’d been imprisoned in was enough to keep him sane, at least a bit.

Magic Specialization:

Psionic Abuse: The ability to cause pain through one’s mind, and possibly loss of consciousness. At its strongest, it has the capacity to cause death(Kyriel can’t do this yet).​

Psionic Empathy: The ability to sense another person’s emotions, and forcefully generate a sense of calm -most people don’t appreciate this. He can take on another person’s pain, mentally, not physically, so they won’t feel it, but they will still be hurt.​

Fulgurkinesis: The ability to control lightning​

Follower To: Aura
Class:
Skills:

Endurance
Self-Defense​

Equipment:

Two Silver Daggers
Silver Wrist Bracers
Short Black Cloak​

Mount: N/A
Extra: N/A

 

[Ariel]

Maya DevereuxThe Penance

B A S I C S

Age - 24


Race - Human


Gender - Female


Height - 5'1"


Hair Color - Oak Brown


Eye Color - Gold


Class - Support

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Maya is a kind spirited woman, often a good counter or balance to those with a poor temper or those who are not so kind. She has a way of working her way into the hearts of those around her, watching, learning, and eventually caring for those she cares about. The best term to describe her would be motherly despite being young and not very close to be a mother anytime soon. Her demeanor is gentle and her heart is gold but she'll stand up for herself and what matters to her. She isn't afraid of much, preferring to takes things as they are and brave them in just that way. One of the things that keeps her strong is the idea of being strong for others, being a pillar, someone to look up to or lean on when those around her are doubting, fearful, or losing themselves. She'll give you the clothes off her back if it comes to it, always having been a very generous and benevolent person. She's good at telling stories and could keep groups listening to her even voice weave delightful tales for hours. Ever since she was young, Maya has loved music and dancing. She's not good nor bad at seeing but there are few who could claim they move to a rhythm better than she does. Sometimes, she can be a bit of a worry wart, maybe slightly annoying those with her worries and insistence but she's as stubborn as a mule so it's much easier to let her run her course, flit about, and eventually leave you be than to argue. Arguing is a lost cause with Maya, the woman having quite a bit of experience despite being so young, and you'd better believe she'll bank on that.

H I S T O R Y

Maya's mother passed away when she was seven, suffering an illness that she never quite got over. Maya is almost a copy of her mother, taking similar ideals and ethics and even going as far as to act the same in some ways, developing the same quirks and the same love for dancing. Both we fierce and strong women. Maya's father used to joke that he never needed a son because Maya was ten times stronger than any boy her age. Maya had never planned to join the fighting, the war. People were all the same to her, no matter their race and no matter their magical affinity. But if there was any way Maya could ever help anyone, she took the opportunity. Now that it was just Maya and her father, and now that he was getting older and unable to work, being a hunter would allow Maya to be able to provide for both of them.

P R O F I L E

Magical Standing
"I do not understand this war and to be honest, I'm sort of fighting a fight that isn't my own... But no matter what I think we're all people and we're all redeemable. The thing about war is, you usually have to pick a side and fighting is inevitable... I just so happen to be on this side."

Skills

- Charisma

- Botany

- Cooking

- Dancing

- Hosting/Taking Care of Others

- Intuitive


Equipment

- Paper Charms

- Naginata

- Perfumes

----

 

[Kiowa]

Kyriel Fristan

Age: 22
Race: Human-Like
Personality: Though no longer on the brink of insanity, Kyriel will never be completely sane. Hallucinations are still a fairly common occurrence in his life, so at times he has trouble distinguishing if what he’s seeing is reality or a creation of his mind. When he feels the pull start to strengthen, he often secludes himself from others in order to protect them. He’s wary of himself.
Kyriel has had problems with coping ever since his recess into madness. This has caused him, to prevent falling back into his mind, to not take much seriously, though he doesn’t joke a lot either. He instead has tried to turn everything into some sort of game. To accomplish something, he must try and distance himself from the consequences of it. This has put him at odds with some because they wish to be viewed in a more serious manner.
Kyriel personally feels that he’s more trouble than he’s worth, which causes him to be unyieldingly loyal to those who haven’t abandoned him. To be completely aligned with ‘good’ would take time, if it’s even possible, but Kyriel desperately tries to get as close as he can.
His smiles are rare, but the more time he spends with those who calm him, the more they appear. He depends on others in the more civil and mundane portions of life as he hopes to get back to normalcy. He can hold himself in a fight, but he won’t do anything to cause harm unless he’s sure the person is evil, or one of his allies tells him it’s necessary. He doesn’t want to cause more pain than needed but is resolved to the fact that it will be needed at different points. However, he occasionally has points where he’s not willing to even fight those people. When he’s feeling unconfident, he worries that hurting other will throw him back into the world he’d escaped.
He talks to himself some, less frequently than he did before, as he can still hear voices sometimes. He tries his best to hide those types of things, but most of the time, hiding it isn’t his biggest priority.

History: Up until the age of 14, Kyriel had a fairly normal life. Too young to really remember the death of the king, Kyriel lived with Zoarus as his one and only home. His parents spoiled him as much as they could, naively hoping to protect him from the rest of the world. The succeeded for a bit, with Kyriel passing through his younger years ignorantly. If they’d never ventured out of Zoarus, he would have stayed that way, but they did, and that caused their death.
His parents wanted to show Kyriel the world outside of Zoarus, if not it’s dangers, and so they planned a vacation of sorts. They had been advised against it, but they were confident in their power, evidently too much so. They left Zoarus to a nearby town and rented a room in an inn. For a couple days, nothing happened. They simply wandered as much as they could through the small town. On their 3rd day outside of Zoarus, Kyriel had left the inn before his parents, promising to stay in view of their room’s window. Less than 5 minutes later, when Kyriel could see his parents approaching the door to their room, a group of men stormed the building. Kyriel was tempted to follow them until he saw the look on his parent’s faces. They immediately turned rushing towards the window to stand in front of it. The blocked Kyriel’s view of the room while simultaneously blocking Kyriel from sight.
Though not extremely young anymore, Kyriel was still confused at what was going on. His father moved forward slightly and raised his hands, and then there was blood. Kyriel heard his mother’s scream even from outside. He watched as she rushed forward, and then he saw the men standing over the couple. His mother seemed to freeze, her shoulders tensing. A few of the men cracked smirks while others remained stoic. Kyriel wondered why his mother didn’t just use her magic, her power, but she didn’t. And then she was gone. Her blood splattered across the window, and Kyriel stood in shock. One man approached the window and locked eyes with Kyriel. There were a few seconds where they just stared before Kyriel took off. No one followed. Thinking back on it, it’s likely he just thought Kyriel was a child from the town, so he let Kyriel run.
By the time Kyriel was back in Zoarus, weeks or maybe months gone by, it was too late. Kyriel’s world had shattered and with it, his mind. For the next few years, Kyriel spent every second tormented by his own mind. Hallucination plagued him, and his powers seemed to attack him. He wasn’t lucid enough to know if he was doing it on purpose or not, but any attempts to stop them didn’t work. Voices infiltrated his thoughts, endlessly confusing him, and at one point, Kyriel wondered if he was still alive.
As it turned out, he was. With the help of a few close friends, Kyriel clawed his way from the depths of his mind, though not completely leaving it. For the first few months, even outside of his mind, Kyriel wondered if he should have died. He felt like he was a danger to those around him. If he couldn’t control himself, how could he help anyone? However, his friends convinced him otherwise. Apparently, through his whole episode, which in its entirety had taken 4 years for Kyriel to overcome, Kyriel hadn’t once harmed another person. His attacks had solely focused on himself. No one else.
That one fact really brought Kyriel back. He could have some sort of purpose, even if he never fully accomplished it. The desire to keep people from the darkness he’d been imprisoned in was enough to keep him sane, at least a bit.

Magic Specialization:

Psionic Abuse: The ability to cause pain through one’s mind, and possibly loss of consciousness. At its strongest, it has the capacity to cause death(Kyriel can’t do this yet).​

Psionic Empathy: The ability to sense another person’s emotions, and forcefully generate a sense of calm -most people don’t appreciate this. He can take on another person’s pain, mentally, not physically, so they won’t feel it, but they will still be hurt.​

Fulgurkinesis: The ability to control lightning​

Follower To: Aura
Class:
Skills:

Endurance
Self-Defense​

Equipment:

Two Silver Daggers
Silver Wrist Bracers
Short Black Cloak​

Mount: N/A
Extra: N/A

Accepted! Feel free to post!

 

[Cosmos]

Name:
Alecia (El-ee-ci-a) //She hasn't got a last name//

Age:
17

Race:
Human x Elf

Appearance:
Alecia has short white hair that ends just under her chin, her ears are pointed and the tips poke out from her hair, she has small bangs at the front that have a tendency to fall over her eyes a little on occasion if she doesn't keep them clipped up. She has a small frame and is petite in size, her skin is incredibly pale and almost seems to glimmer a little when catching rays of light upon it, she has light blue, almost aqua eyes and generally dresses in loose, plain white dresses with a small frill at the bottom. She's rather short at 5'1" and appears incredibly fragile. She has little to no bust or curves and an overall child-like look.

Personality:
Alecia is a kind-natures girl with a heart as pure as newly fallen snow, she cares for all those around her and seems to find the beauty in everything despite what's happened to her, despite this her smile is somewhat of a rare thing, appearing very briefly and generally only when others aren't around. This is mostly because the times it does appear is when she's tending to the plant life within the forest away from others eyes. She's young and has a child-like air about her but is not stubborn nor acts it a lot, she quietly follows the orders of others and drifts off into a daze easily. She seems distant from everyone and- somewhat lonely, she's shy and has trouble interacting with those she doesn't know, the only person she really trusts is their leader, and even at that she can be hesitant.

One thing to note about Alecia is the fact that she is in fact blind. And has been for a long time now…. Her eyes always remain slightly glossed over and hazy, some might call it a grey tint to their light blue colouration. She can make out faint outlines and blurs of colour here and there but apart from that she's lost in a world without sight, her movements are drifting and seem almost graceful because of her dependance on touch and hearing compared to seeing. She's rather frail and can't use magic for very long but is determined to try her hardest, she easily gets sick and can't hold her own for very long in a hand-to-hand combat fight.

History:
(Pre-Read note, I'm not so good at writing up history's in bio's. "^w^ I'm much better at doing it during the role play so sorry if this is a bit all over the place and not very well described.)
Alecia was orphaned at a young age, too young to remember what really happened or what the love of another felt like. She was raised in a small village on the outskirts of a forrest, one that was both extremely wary of magic users but also any of another race after the announcement of the war, as a halfling elf she was pushed around from one person to another as what one might describe as a child slave even without their, or her own knowledge of her dormant powers. If she were ever to make but a simple mistake, the tiniest slip-up was always punished without hesitation nor mercy. Her only real joy was a place tucked away just a little deeper into the forrest, whenever she could she'd go out to it and rest under the shielding branches of the old oak tree, surrounded by the most breathtaking of flowers and ferns which she'd tend to, it was her place- a place where she wasn't the rejected outsider within the village but instead where she was free to be herself.

It was also the place where she discovered her powers over wind, creating small breezes that flowed through the leaves of the trees and mad ether flowers sway ever so gently. It wasn't until a few years later that the incident occurred, it's a foggy memory is she were to be honest, a fight- she…. broke something. She apologised over and over but they wouldn't stop yelling, stop hitting her over and over again, at one point they picked up something and splashed a stinging liquid into her eyes, it…. burned so badly it just- hurt so much that something came over her, a force like she'd never felt before, it consumed her and gave her strength, strength she didn't know how to control. The next thing she knew the house was on fire and she was running blindly out of it as fast as she could, spluttering out coughs from the smoke, it spread quickly and before she knew it half the village was set a light, people were screaming and all she could do was run, run as fast as her legs would take her, wherever they would take her.

She didn't know how long she was running, until her lungs stung and felt empty of air, until her legs seized with throwing pain and her breaths were but a raspy gasp for air, everything had been getting progressively blurrier, harder to see and the last thing she remembers was hearing a voice in the distance calling out as she collapsed in exhaustion. When she awoke she was in the place she now calls home, a lost child who cried for days and nights longing to be able to reverse what she had done, longing to bring back the people who she'd hurt despite how badly they'd hurt her.

Someone who from then on had a changed future, or rather had gained one in the first place.

Magic specialisation:

-Healing: She can perform basic healing spells to do things such as repair small scratches or create potions in order to cure a cold but not much more- she is still young after all and inexperienced, especially compared to others around her.

-Wind: She can manipulate air currents in a small area around her to cause levitation of light objects or even cause blade-like cuts to those around her, an invisible dagger as its so been named by herself.

-She does have powers relating to the creation of fire but hasn't used them since 'the incident'.

Follower to:
Aura

Class:
Support, Healer. (Though does have the potential for battle if need be)

Skills:

-Gardening: She can grow even the most difficult to nurture plants, not with ease mind you as she current holds no magic over nature- but she still loves them.

-Enhanced hearing: Because of her blindness she's learnt to adapt over the years and her body has naturally compensated with her hearing improving.

-Singing: A little known skill of hers but she has quite the beautiful voice.

-Agility: Though she can't take a punch very well nor hit hard back it'll take more than a little effort to actually land one on her in the first place, her small size and fast movement speed allow easy dodging, the only downside being that she needs the person to be close enough to sense the air around them, using the magic to help her 'see' their position and movements.

Equipment:
-A small knapsack full of different potions and other random bits n' pieces.
-A small silver knife.

Mount:
/NA/

Anything extra:
-She's blind, yes. But not completely so, please bar win mind that she can still make out the rough shape and colour of things, just at a very limited level.
-She has small scars across most her body from her past.

Theme Song:
Okami, Reset- (Thank you)

​

K Kiowa

 

[Kiowa]

Name:
Alecia (El-ee-ci-a) //She hasn't got a last name//

Age:
17

Race:
Human x Elf

Appearance:
Alecia has short white hair that ends just under her chin, her ears are pointed and the tips poke out from her hair, she has small bangs at the front that have a tendency to fall over her eyes a little on occasion if she doesn't keep them clipped up. She has a small frame and is petite in size, her skin is incredibly pale and almost seems to glimmer a little when catching rays of light upon it, she has light blue, almost aqua eyes and generally dresses in loose, plain white dresses with a small frill at the bottom. She's rather short at 5'1" and appears incredibly fragile. She has little to no bust or curves and an overall child-like look.

Personality:
Alecia is a kind-natures girl with a heart as pure as newly fallen snow, she cares for all those around her and seems to find the beauty in everything despite what's happened to her, despite this her smile is somewhat of a rare thing, appearing very briefly and generally only when others aren't around. This is mostly because the times it does appear is when she's tending to the plant life within the forest away from others eyes. She's young and has a child-like air about her but is not stubborn nor acts it a lot, she quietly follows the orders of others and drifts off into a daze easily. She seems distant from everyone and- somewhat lonely, she's shy and has trouble interacting with those she doesn't know, the only person she really trusts is their leader, and even at that she can be hesitant.

One thing to note about Alecia is the fact that she is in fact blind. And has been for a long time now…. Her eyes always remain slightly glossed over and hazy, some might call it a grey tint to their light blue colouration. She can make out faint outlines and blurs of colour here and there but apart from that she's lost in a world without sight, her movements are drifting and seem almost graceful because of her dependance on touch and hearing compared to seeing. She's rather frail and can't use magic for very long but is determined to try her hardest, she easily gets sick and can't hold her own for very long in a hand-to-hand combat fight.

History:
(Pre-Read note, I'm not so good at writing up history's in bio's. "^w^ I'm much better at doing it during the role play so sorry if this is a bit all over the place and not very well described.)
Alecia was orphaned at a young age, too young to remember what really happened or what the love of another felt like. She was raised in a small village on the outskirts of a forrest, one that was both extremely wary of magic users but also any of another race after the announcement of the war, as a halfling elf she was pushed around from one person to another as what one might describe as a child slave even without their, or her own knowledge of her dormant powers. If she were ever to make but a simple mistake, the tiniest slip-up was always punished without hesitation nor mercy. Her only real joy was a place tucked away just a little deeper into the forrest, whenever she could she'd go out to it and rest under the shielding branches of the old oak tree, surrounded by the most breathtaking of flowers and ferns which she'd tend to, it was her place- a place where she wasn't the rejected outsider within the village but instead where she was free to be herself.

It was also the place where she discovered her powers over wind, creating small breezes that flowed through the leaves of the trees and mad ether flowers sway ever so gently. It wasn't until a few years later that the incident occurred, it's a foggy memory is she were to be honest, a fight- she…. broke something. She apologised over and over but they wouldn't stop yelling, stop hitting her over and over again, at one point they picked up something and splashed a stinging liquid into her eyes, it…. burned so badly it just- hurt so much that something came over her, a force like she'd never felt before, it consumed her and gave her strength, strength she didn't know how to control. The next thing she knew the house was on fire and she was running blindly out of it as fast as she could, spluttering out coughs from the smoke, it spread quickly and before she knew it half the village was set a light, people were screaming and all she could do was run, run as fast as her legs would take her, wherever they would take her.

She didn't know how long she was running, until her lungs stung and felt empty of air, until her legs seized with throwing pain and her breaths were but a raspy gasp for air, everything had been getting progressively blurrier, harder to see and the last thing she remembers was hearing a voice in the distance calling out as she collapsed in exhaustion. When she awoke she was in the place she now calls home, a lost child who cried for days and nights longing to be able to reverse what she had done, longing to bring back the people who she'd hurt despite how badly they'd hurt her.

Someone who from then on had a changed future, or rather had gained one in the first place.

Magic specialisation:

-Healing: She can perform basic healing spells to do things such as repair small scratches or create potions in order to cure a cold but not much more- she is still young after all and inexperienced, especially compared to others around her.

-Wind: She can manipulate air currents in a small area around her to cause levitation of light objects or even cause blade-like cuts to those around her, an invisible dagger as its so been named by herself.

-She does have powers relating to the creation of fire but hasn't used them since 'the incident'.

Follower to:
Aura

Class:
Support, Healer. (Though does have the potential for battle if need be)

Skills:

-Gardening: She can grow even the most difficult to nurture plants, not with ease mind you as she current holds no magic over nature- but she still loves them.

-Enhanced hearing: Because of her blindness she's learnt to adapt over the years and her body has naturally compensated with her hearing improving.

-Singing: A little known skill of hers but she has quite the beautiful voice.

-Agility: Though she can't take a punch very well nor hit hard back it'll take more than a little effort to actually land one on her in the first place, her small size and fast movement speed allow easy dodging, the only downside being that she needs the person to be close enough to sense the air around them, using the magic to help her 'see' their position and movements.

Equipment:
-A small knapsack full of different potions and other random bits n' pieces.
-A small silver knife.

Mount:
/NA/

Anything extra:
-She's blind, yes. But not completely so, please bar win mind that she can still make out the rough shape and colour of things, just at a very limited level.
-She has small scars across most her body from her past.
​

K Kiowa

Accepted!

 

[archur]

Name:

Viskur Blacksteele

Age: Amount of time since the banishment of Calico


Race: Golem


Appearance:


Personality:

An ancient golem with unfettering rage, Viskur was created with the intent to destroy by whatever means necessary. Since then, he has earned his scars from his battles. His once fiery form has settled for a more stable, golem-like body forged of igneous rock. Much like his body, he is a stoic figure, with sudden lashes of anger that literally burn those around him. Though he seems to be in perpetual anger, he does not allow this to inhibit his studies in the arts of curating his anger and igniting the flame that will engulf him and make him a living, breathing, inferno. Though his personality would make people think that he would be picking fights with everything that moved, you would be surprised that he does not. He sees fighting everything as a waste of both participant's time. No, he does not feed upon the weak. He is more honor-bound than many of the people that blindly follow Calico to the ends of the earth. His set of morals are a strange one, but many a time, he will call a duel for opponents he finds strength in, bringing a referee with him when he thinks he will find a worthy duel. No powers or equipment are allowed during these matches, but some sort of bet is usually place upon the line. Usually at stake is a sum of gold, or allegiance to him as his personal fighter/sex slave/housekeeper. Few willingly outright forfiet and become one of those three, but many fight him for it. And many lose. Some their lives, others their freedom. They live with him, and his whim is their command. He isn't a cruel god, but he looks down upon picking on the weak, or using others to their own advantage. He instead advocates for people to be self-supportive and to instead achieve greatness through your own means.

History:

His creation was one that was bred for war. Him being Arthric Blacksteele, a shaper of life that chose to follow Calico into banishment. But as the followers of destructive Calico were forced into exile, Arthric decided that he would fight back against the two warring mages with his own army when the time was right. He created a force of destruction, something that was built to destroy. Fused with a part of his own soul, Arthric passed away shortly after due to politics and a hired assassin. Viskur sought purpose after this, fighting in a gladiatorial arena held by hedonists and sadists. He rose towards the top, and became a pawn under the ringleader's, Brahaka's, grasp. Desiring his own freedom from the constant orgies and disgusting feasts, he easily slew the fat man with little to no effort, and took his place in his position of power. Now he openly challenges those who wish to compete in his place of power.

Why this sort of behavior cultivated in the normally subservient species is beyond all reason, but the point still stands of a quite powerful golem holding the position of what amounts to a gang leader is very unsettling. And so when Calico himself appears at his ring for a show, it would be up to Viskur to entertain him properly, and entertain did he do. He had his very best gladiators appear to fight hellish abominations that almost destroyed the coliseum, and threatened his career. The very culmination of this huge event however, was Viskur appearing himself, to take on a Magma Wurm one on one. It was a tense fight, with the Wurm cleaving off his arm, but Viskur held strong and hefted the Wurm like a whip, and bashed it around until the various high-speed blows that it delivered to the ground killed it.

With such an impressive feat, killing a Wurm is no easy task, and losing an arm is a testament to that, he was absorbed into the ranks of Calico's growing army to invade the overworld that they were cast out of. Of course, his arm came back with time, and stone. Lots of stone. But it came back easily. With it came the knowledge of pyromancy, and how to curate his anger and focus the red hot radiance into a single destructive point.

Magic specialization:

Pyromancy- The study of fire, control of fire, and creation of fire and all of its destructive intents.

Follower of: Calico

Class:

Brawler/MUSCLEWIZARD

Skills:

Burning Thoughts: As a mage, his mind (however simple it may be) is an unassailable fortress. Many who try to manipulate him through magical means are met with such a mental backlash that the least one has received are intense burns and crushed organs. From Viskur pummeling them of course, but the actual backlash one receives is enough to cause pause in actions and a migraine.

Flaming Salvo: Rather than "LAUNCH PANSY ASS FIREBALLS" he instead generates one whenever he punches, effectively turning his already powerful truck of a punch into an entire train. That's on fire. Usually though, he doesn't use this overkill on most things other than "LAVA WURMS AND SHIT", as he deems them a waste of energy, and unworthy of his attention if they couldn't withstand a single mighty blow of his.

Firebreath: Seeing that dragons are "THE MOST BADASS THING TO EVER EXIST, SHUT THE HELL UP YOU DON'T GET TO TALK", he wishes to emulate the most badass parts about dragons. Flying is for pansies. But fire breath? That's cool as fuck. Plus, he can do it feasibly too! Viskur is able to project a steady stream of fire from his mouth for a solid two minutes before needing to rest, leaving him out of breath for a good second.

Last Chance: Should Viskur ever be pushed past the limit of his anger, from 'Pretty Pissed Off' to 'YOU'RE DEAD KID', magical energies begin to violently spew ahem explode from his eyes. Sure, it does hurt a lot, and yes, it does mostly cause damage to his allies, but hot damn when it hits a overly cocky enemy, does it blow them to smithereens. Though very powerful and destructive, he cannot do this multiple times as he will literally combust from the psychic energies passing directly from his mind to his body. Sadly, he can only go on blast only twice week, and that's after he's gotten a elementalist to patch him.

Equipment:

None, because when did a golem ever need maintenance?


Mount:

No creature has ever, or will ever be able to bear the weight of Viskur. Also, he's a tireless golem, only having a breathing function to circulate air for the flames that burn within him.

Anything Extra:

Interestingly enough, Viskur plays an instrument. The acoustic guitar. Being a sentient being, he plays the guitar to de-stress himself during studying periods. A few inquisitive students have asked about the phantom music that drifts from the master's quarters, but the few that have ventured in have only ever left in bits and pieces, usually by a maid of some variety sweeping their broken bodies out of the room. Some say they have heard a somewhat course voice accompanying the tune, but those are rumors at best.
He hears these from various traveling bards that he passes on the streets, or when he enters the overworlds above.

A tune.
Of fighting against those who self proclaim as saviors of the world.

And yes, the flaming brute does have times when he is vulnerable, as anyone would be. No matter how stoic, brooding, or hell, angry one be, there's times where one can feel alone. Don't think that anyone is an exception.​

 

[Kiowa]

(A Fair Forewarning: This character has a very 'colorful' selection of word choice in his speech. If you'd like me to tone it down, I don't mind. Also, it seems he may be a little bit more powerful than other characters in comparison, since he is a giant fucking fire dude whose sole purpose in life is to PAWNCH.)

Name:

Viskur Blacksteele

Age: Amount of time since the banishment of Calico


Race: Golem


Appearance: View attachment 283550


Personality:

An ancient golem with unfettering rage, Viskur was created with the intent to destroy by whatever means necessary. Since then, he has earned his scars from his battles. His once fiery form has settled for a more stable, golem-like body forged of igneous rock. Much like his body, he is a stoic figure, with sudden lashes of anger that literally burn those around him. Though he seems to be in perpetual anger, he does not allow this to inhibit his studies in the arts of curating his anger and igniting the flame that will engulf him and make him a living, breathing, inferno.

History:

His creation was one that was bred for war. Him being Arthric Blacksteele, a shaper of life that chose to follow Calico into banishment. But as the followers of destructive Calico were forced into exile, Arthric decided that he would fight back against the two warring mages with his own army when the time was right. He created a force of destruction, something that was built to destroy. Fused with a part of his own soul, Arthric passed away shortly after due to politics and a hired assassin. Viskur sought purpose after this, fighting in a gladiatorial arena held by hedonists and sadists. He rose towards the top, and became a pawn under the ringleader's, Brahaka's, grasp. Desiring his own freedom from the constant orgies and disgusting feasts, he easily slew the fat man, and took his place in his position of power. Now he openly challenges those who wish to compete in his place of power.

Why this sort of behavior cultivated in the normally subservient species is beyond all reason, but the point still stands of a quite powerful golem holding the position of what amounts to a gang leader is very unsettling. And so when Calico himself appears at his ring for a show, it would be up to Viskur to entertain him properly, and entertain did he do. He had his very best gladiators appear to fight hellish abominations that almost destroyed the coliseum, and threatened his career. The very culmination of this huge event however, was Viskur appearing himself, to take on a Magma Wurm one on one. It was a tense fight, with the Wurm cleaving off his arm, but Viskur held strong and hefted the Wurm like a whip, and bashed it around until the various high-speed blows that it delivered to the ground killed it.

With such an impressive feat, killing a Wurm is no easy task, and losing an arm is a testament to that, he was absorbed into the ranks of Calico's growing army to invade the overworld that they were cast out of. Of course, his arm came back with time, and stone. Lots of stone. But it came back easily. With it came the knowledge of pyromancy, and how to curate his anger and focus the red hot radiance into a single destructive point.

Magic specialization:

Pyromancy- The study of fire, control of fire, and creation of fire and all of its destructive intents.

Follower of: Calico

Class:

Brawler/MUSCLEWIZARD

Skills:

GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD : As a mage, his mind (however simple it may be) is an unassailable fortress. Many who try to manipulate him through magical means are met with such a mental backlash that the least one has received are intense burns and crushed organs. From Viskur pummeling them of course, but the actual backlash one receives is enough to cause pause in actions and a migraine.

EAT MY FISTS DIPSHIT: Rather than "LAUNCH PANSY ASS FUCKING FIREBALLS" he instead generates one whenever he punches, effectively turning his already powerful truck of a punch into an entire train. That's on fire.

FUCKING FIREBREATH MOTHERFUCKER: Seeing that dragons are "THE MOST BADASS THING TO EVER EXIST, SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU DON'T GET TO TALK", he wishes to emulate the most badass parts about dragons. Flying is for pansies. But fire breath? That's cool as fuck. Plus, he can do it feasibly too! Viskur is able to project a steady stream of fire from his mouth for a good few minutes before needing to rest, leaving him out of breath for a good second.

YOU'VE DONE IT NOW FUCKO: Should Viskur ever be pushed past the limit of his anger, from 'Pretty Pissed Off' to 'OH THAT'S IT MOTHER FUCKER I'M COMING FOR YOU', magical energies begin to violently spew ahem explode from his eyes. Sure, it does hurt a lot, and yes, it does mostly cause damage to his allies, but hot damn when it hits a overly cocky enemy, does it blow them to smithereens.

Equipment:

None, because when did a golem ever need maintenance?


Mount:

No creature has ever, or will ever be able to bear the weight of Viskur. Also, he's a tireless golem, only having a breathing function to circulate air for the flames that burn within him.

Anything Extra:

Interestingly enough, Viskur plays an instrument. The acoustic guitar. Being a sentient being, he plays the guitar to de-stress himself during studying periods. A few inquisitive students have asked about the phantom music that drifts from the master's quarters, but the few that have ventured in have only ever left in bits and pieces, usually by a maid of some variety sweeping their broken bodies out of the room. Some say they have heard a somewhat course voice accompanying the tune, but those are rumours at best.
​

Alright, this is great, but I will ask that it's toned down a little with the profanity. Purely for the sake of the CS sheets. In RP that's totally fine! (Sorry I'm picking about this)
Couple things about his skills, the Firebreath I can't have him being able to continue to do that for minutes on end, perhaps put a cap at 2?
I would also ask that there be a few more..limits to how often he can use his skills due to his size.

 

[archur]

Alright, this is great, but I will ask that it's toned down a little with the profanity. Purely for the sake of the CS sheets. In RP that's totally fine! (Sorry I'm picking about this)
Couple things about his skills, the Firebreath I can't have him being able to continue to do that for minutes on end, perhaps put a cap at 2?
I would also ask that there be a few more..limits to how often he can use his skills due to his size.

Oh yeah sure, that's why I put the disclaimer and such. I would honestly be surprised if you accepted it as is, as I am still polishing Viskur even now.

 

[archur]

Boom, donezo. Whaddya think? K Kiowa

inb4 basically khorne

 

[Kiowa]

Boom, donezo. Whaddya think? K Kiowa

inb4 basically khorne

Yup I think you're good to go!

 

[Cosmosis]

Marth Flames

Age: 5

Race: Neko

Appearance:Tail and ears are the same color of his hair:Golden/hay colored. His ear fluff is a bit lighter than his hair.

Personality:Marth is really a kind child. Shy to new people at times he'll grow attached to someone or some people easily after his cold weights are casted off from his new "master". He's also very considerate and curious due to being in the mansion his whole existence.

History:Marth hasn't had a long time in life but for that short time it's been rough. Abandoned at birth and raised to only know discipline by a harsh master and their co-operates, the tyke has become more robotic than human. Even a smile can scare him and he'll do everything told with almost no question.

Magic specialisation: Unknown Currently

Follower to: Aura

Equipment:

Anything extra:He's curse riddled at the start. Unless he's convinced his master put him under the care of another he'll get very sick, unable to die, any healing of his wounds copy to the healer and stay on him.
His first master he'll always refer to as "The Mistress"
Marth can be a sanity weight to the group as he's still innocent and already has been through too much.
(Shall he start just being taken to the group or no?)

Peach Crawford
Real Life

Anime

Age: 16

Race: Human

Appearance: Breasts are bigger than they should be on her frame, Pink silky and soft hairless

Personality:Normally shy, Peach has always been quiet, voice as loud as a whisper, yell as loud as a person talking at a normal volume. Recent events have made her wary of people, scared of men and more prone to cry in the presence of others.

History: Peach has an abusive boyfriend who wards everyone away but recently her parents grabbed everything and just left. Unbeknownst to her, Calico and or his men have taken an intrest into her! Drugged and disoriented on her 'sweet sixteen', the pinkette awoke in a cell. A week has possibly went by or longer. she doesn't know. All she does know is that she's been broken beyond most understanding. Bruised up and not brave enough to fight back, Peach awaits to be home again. If home is still there...
(Check EXTRA)

Magic specialisation: Peach is a healer who hasn't any known magic in her veins

Follower to: Aura

Equipment:Common healing supplies. (Alchol, bandages, sewing things, tweezers etc)

Pet:A mainecoon/munchkin kitten named Mittens.

Anything extra: She'll start either escaped or in a cell, up to the owner.
Unknown to her, she's Pregnant with two or four children. Two being one option, four being the second. As before, up to the owner.​

 

[Hell Diver]

T H E M A N

Age
"I'm 35"

Race
Human

Gender
"Male, welcome to check if you'd like."

Height
"I'm Six foot Three inches"

Hair Color
Gray with Red undertones

Eye Color
Hazel

Class
Brawler

T H E M Y T H

A man of few words --- But of action. Didean stands against the flow of the world, his body unmovable through a resolve hardened by the steel winds of war. It may be his faith that holds his frame down like a titanic guardian; Or it may be his morals, one may find themselves on the wrong end of the table to be asking such questions. For that stoic demeanor is only the calm before a great storm.... Its anger fueled with such passion it may tear the trees from their homes among the earth. His rage is not hard to find, the man lashing out against those who might harm who he cares about --- his once protective instincts that provided shelter underneath the mans large arms; Now antagonizing his pride, forcing the man to fight even where he might win. His desire to keep those around him save in such harsh times bringing him to be reckless, throwing his own life on the line.

T H E L E G E N D

You find yourself sitting at a wooden bar, before you several shot classes call the surface home. You soon remember the conversation you were having with the patron beside you. "What put you in all this mess?" You ask, the words lingering in the air for what feels like an eternity. The gruff voice of the man soon fills your ears, flooding them like a cavern "A lot of things make a man who he is, boy. Family, the memories they hold ear, the thing they hold closest to their heart --- Well I'm afraid this war took that from me." You watch the man pound back a shot from the slightly cracked glass. You follow suit, the caramel tinted liquid inside stinging your nostrils as the scent hits you. The taste burning the back of your throat ever so slightly. "Had a wife... A little girl that made my world turn round... But soldiers don't get those luxeries, the little things in life. The things that tie you down to being human, the being a man.... They just blow away in the great winds of combat." The man's hazel eyes seemed to fog over slightly as he kept talking to you, not pausing for you to put in an edge. "The same things you used to love haunt you, boy. I remember the stars in my little girls eyes; They didn't last long against the shock of a wizard who felt he was entitled to judge who may live --- and who may die. " You hear the shot glass in the mans hand crack ever so more, the orc behind the bar bringing another round to your hands. You spot the scars that tangle across the man's arms, coiling like brands across his flesh while he reaches for the next shot. But as soon as you saw them, just as soon they were, gone, pulling back into the sleeve of his jacket. You question "What happened to your wife, why did the wizard kill your daughter?"

Time dragged on, you could feel the tension in the air. You watch the mans fingertips drum against the shot glass before he pounds another shot, You soon follow suit. His voice, now cracking ever so slightly pierces the silence between you two. "I've always been a bit of a hot head, Felt the need to fight like it was a hunger. Some times you pick fights with the wrong men --- It was like any other day, I was out chopping some wood for the fireplace, The wind caressed my skin, the sounds of life held my ears. But it was soon replaced by a scream, I'd never moved so fast in my life, my legs moved with their own instinct. Through the field.... through the yard ... To where I saw my wife, and my daughter --- The man before them had a hood, his body seemed to glow slightly. He was raving about someone I'd beat I could tell he was angry, his eyes were bloodshot, he was shaking ever so slightly. But before I could even think, the bolt shot from his fingertips. I watched it tear across the terrain, scorching the grass as the lightining tried to ground. It found its home in my little girl... The flash was blinding as she hit the ground, her little body spasming as she cried out. I reckon he felt he made it even. That whatever wrong doing I'd done was right in the world now." You see tears slowly streaking their way from the mans eyes, carving through the dirt that caked his battle worn face. " I ran to my little girl smell of her burnt skin flooded every sense I had. I told her to hang on, to just stay awake for daddy. But it never works out that way. Her little hand holding onto my arm, all I remember her saying was: Please be good. I didn't know what it meant at the time, I reckon in her youth she had seen the bruises I came home with... The busted lips and broken knuckles her mother dusted with the alcohol we kept in the counter. She wanted me to be a better man... Didn't take long, you can't break a man out of his mold, boy. I tried to be a better man, for my wife, but you can't mend a mother who held her passing daughter. Four long years --- We fought, We argued, She cried, I screamed; The love we shared was worn down, broken by the hardship we faced when Aifean died in the attack. And it didn't take long for my wife to follow. I found her in the bathing room, her body laying in a crimson water that rivaled the royal silk. Her wrists lashed open. In my heartbreak I did what I only thought I could, I set the home ablaze, and set out with what I could carry." You watch the tears continue to flow, the orc that stood behind the bar seeming to keep his distance from the large man. You sunder up the courage to speak, the question fluttering from your lips before you realize what you asked. "What happened to the wizard?" You question, bringing another shot to your lips. The sound of glass shattering suddenly pierces the air, the shot glass in the mans hand had broken in his grip. Through pursed lips and grit teeth he speaks. "Boy... You take everything a man loves....You take it from him.... You make him think of it every day, you take those memories he had and you break them --- You make a monster, something that'll chase you down til it gets you. His monster was named Didean, and what I did to that man, not even the gods could watch. " You don't get much a word in edgewise, the man stands; Blood still dripping from his hand as he slams his way out of the bar.

T H E A R S I N A L

Skills
Brawling--- Able to hold his own in a majority of fights, he can take hits an deliver hits back with deadly force. However he isn't as slow as a lot of his larger counterparts, his years of fighting in the bars and in the backwater much of the world have given him a slight agility.

Intelligent--- He may be rash in times of rage, but when his mind isn't clouded Didean is a smart man, able to analyze and plan strategy. But his intelligence isn't combat for the most part, its survival; Shelters, how to make a fire, makeshift weaponry in times of need.

Equipment
Aries Gauntlets--- Two gauntlets that work from kinetics, the more he moves his fists (usually in combat) Charge up a small charge in the top of the gauntlet. The energy can be released from a small tube at the top, working like a blast.

Hades Smile--- A Half mask that covers Didean's Glasglow smile, but the small pods he carries with it hold a versatile drug. Dragon's Dust; He can inhale it to drive himself into a state of fight or flight, his mind running wild with paranoia. Almost uncontrollable as he lashes out at anything and everything, his nerves numbed by the drug.

 

[Kiowa]

T H E M A N

Age
"I'm 35"

Race
Human

Gender
"Male, welcome to check if you'd like."

Height
"I'm Six foot Three inches"

Hair Color
Gray with Red undertones

Eye Color
Hazel

Class
Brawler

T H E M Y T H

A man of few words --- But of action. Didean stands against the flow of the world, his body unmovable through a resolve hardened by the steel winds of war. It may be his faith that holds his frame down like a titanic guardian; Or it may be his morals, one may find themselves on the wrong end of the table to be asking such questions. For that stoic demeanor is only the calm before a great storm.... Its anger fueled with such passion it may tear the trees from their homes among the earth. His rage is not hard to find, the man lashing out against those who might harm who he cares about --- his once protective instincts that provided shelter underneath the mans large arms; Now antagonizing his pride, forcing the man to fight even where he might win. His desire to keep those around him save in such harsh times bringing him to be reckless, throwing his own life on the line.

T H E L E G E N D

You find yourself sitting at a wooden bar, before you several shot classes call the surface home. You soon remember the conversation you were having with the patron beside you. "What put you in all this mess?" You ask, the words lingering in the air for what feels like an eternity. The gruff voice of the man soon fills your ears, flooding them like a cavern "A lot of things make a man who he is, boy. Family, the memories they hold ear, the thing they hold closest to their heart --- Well I'm afraid this war took that from me." You watch the man pound back a shot from the slightly cracked glass. You follow suit, the caramel tinted liquid inside stinging your nostrils as the scent hits you. The taste burning the back of your throat ever so slightly. "Had a wife... A little girl that made my world turn round... But soldiers don't get those luxeries, the little things in life. The things that tie you down to being human, the being a man.... They just blow away in the great winds of combat." The man's hazel eyes seemed to fog over slightly as he kept talking to you, not pausing for you to put in an edge. "The same things you used to love haunt you, boy. I remember the stars in my little girls eyes; They didn't last long against the shock of a wizard who felt he was entitled to judge who may live --- and who may die. " You hear the shot glass in the mans hand crack ever so more, the orc behind the bar bringing another round to your hands. You spot the scars that tangle across the man's arms, coiling like brands across his flesh while he reaches for the next shot. But as soon as you saw them, just as soon they were, gone, pulling back into the sleeve of his jacket. You question "What happened to your wife, why did the wizard kill your daughter?"

Time dragged on, you could feel the tension in the air. You watch the mans fingertips drum against the shot glass before he pounds another shot, You soon follow suit. His voice, now cracking ever so slightly pierces the silence between you two. "I've always been a bit of a hot head, Felt the need to fight like it was a hunger. Some times you pick fights with the wrong men --- It was like any other day, I was out chopping some wood for the fireplace, The wind caressed my skin, the sounds of life held my ears. But it was soon replaced by a scream, I'd never moved so fast in my life, my legs moved with their own instinct. Through the field.... through the yard ... To where I saw my wife, and my daughter --- The man before them had a hood, his body seemed to glow slightly. He was raving about someone I'd beat I could tell he was angry, his eyes were bloodshot, he was shaking ever so slightly. But before I could even think, the bolt shot from his fingertips. I watched it tear across the terrain, scorching the grass as the lightining tried to ground. It found its home in my little girl... The flash was blinding as she hit the ground, her little body spasming as she cried out. I reckon he felt he made it even. That whatever wrong doing I'd done was right in the world now." You see tears slowly streaking their way from the mans eyes, carving through the dirt that caked his battle worn face. " I ran to my little girl smell of her burnt skin flooded every sense I had. I told her to hang on, to just stay awake for daddy. But it never works out that way. Her little hand holding onto my arm, all I remember her saying was: Please be good. I didn't know what it meant at the time, I reckon in her youth she had seen the bruises I came home with... The busted lips and broken knuckles her mother dusted with the alcohol we kept in the counter. She wanted me to be a better man... Didn't take long, you can't break a man out of his mold, boy. I tried to be a better man, for my wife, but you can't mend a mother who held her passing daughter. Four long years --- We fought, We argued, She cried, I screamed; The love we shared was worn down, broken by the hardship we faced when Aifean died in the attack. And it didn't take long for my wife to follow. I found her in the bathing room, her body laying in a crimson water that rivaled the royal silk. Her wrists lashed open. In my heartbreak I did what I only thought I could, I set the home ablaze, and set out with what I could carry." You watch the tears continue to flow, the orc that stood behind the bar seeming to keep his distance from the large man. You sunder up the courage to speak, the question fluttering from your lips before you realize what you asked. "What happened to the wizard?" You question, bringing another shot to your lips. The sound of glass shattering suddenly pierces the air, the shot glass in the mans hand had broken in his grip. Through pursed lips and grit teeth he speaks. "Boy... You take everything a man loves....You take it from him.... You make him think of it every day, you take those memories he had and you break them --- You make a monster, something that'll chase you down til it gets you. His monster was named Didean, and what I did to that man, not even the gods could watch. " You don't get much a word in edgewise, the man stands; Blood still dripping from his hand as he slams his way out of the bar.

T H E A R S I N A L

Skills
Brawling--- Able to hold his own in a majority of fights, he can take hits an deliver hits back with deadly force. However he isn't as slow as a lot of his larger counterparts, his years of fighting in the bars and in the backwater much of the world have given him a slight agility.

Intelligent--- He may be rash in times of rage, but when his mind isn't clouded Didean is a smart man, able to analyze and plan strategy. But his intelligence isn't combat for the most part, its survival; Shelters, how to make a fire, makeshift weaponry in times of need.

Equipment
Aries Gauntlets--- Two gauntlets that work from kinetics, the more he moves his fists (usually in combat) Charge up a small charge in the top of the gauntlet. The energy can be released from a small tube at the top, working like a blast.

Hades Smile--- A Half mask that covers Didean's Glasglow smile, but the small pods he carries with it hold a versatile drug. Dragon's Dust; He can inhale it to drive himself into a state of fight or flight, his mind running wild with paranoia. Almost uncontrollable as he lashes out at anything and everything, his nerves numbed by the drug.

Accepted~