The Queen's Madness

[awriternamedian]

So, characters!

Those things that without


which we have no stories!

This kingdom and it's surrounding ones are full of fantasy beings and creatures, so feel free to play as you wish. However! If you are going to play a species other than human, you must submit a brief description of it. That way if somebody else would like to play as that species, we don't have a bunch of different lore and contradictions. Shoot it to me in a pm, so I can add it to the Lore tab.

Character Sheet


Name:


Age:


Gender:


Side: Queen, Rebel, Neutral


Species: Include a description of their abilities.


Occupation:


Magic/Weapons:


Appearance: Picture or paragraph


Personality: At least a paragraph


Background: At least a paragraph


Strengths: At least four


Weaknesses: At least four


Other:

NPCs


The Queen


Hisochu


Buras Skull Smasha


Mother Alyara


ladidadida

Allan Burris ~ ianbabyyy - Rebel


Emmony Burris ~ ianbabyyy - Rebel


Caelyn ~ ianbabyyy - Rebel


Thoros of Narcel ~ SirFlabberghaspy - Neutral


Siara Whytewynd ~ SirFlabberghaspy - Rebel


Miziki Kurone ~ Mitchs98 - Neutral


Sarah Alistair ~ Mitchs98 - Neutral


Gareth Bryne ~ Beowolf


Asavar Del'Vorra ~ Cosmo - Queen


Joran Stronham ~ KillThemAll - Queen


Vass Noira ~ KillThemAll - Rebel


Amunet Celeste Charmont ~ LadyArdent - Rebel


Aurora Norok ~ xEmoBunnehx - Neutral


Dai Grepher ~ Halohbottech - Neutral


Aster Gale ~ Rui


Erikur Cetrix ~ Veyd Sahvoz


Beledroth Torrwin ~ Veyd Sahvoz - Queen


Ragnar Floki ~ Darth Gangsta - Neutral


Iltal Tasat ~ LokiofSP

 

[awriternamedian]

• Allan
• Emmony
• Caelyn
• Neslima

• 
  
  
  

  Anime Picture

  

  Realistic Picture

  
  
  
  

  

  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  Name: Allan Burris
  
  
  Age: 28
  
  
  Gender: Male
  
  
  Species: Human?
  
  
  Occupation: Tavern keeper
  
  
  Magic/Weapons: No known magic, carries a medium size dagger on his hip and keeps a large club close at hand while in the tavern.
  
  
  Appearance: Small for a man, standing at maybe 5'4 with a deceptively small frame. Clothing doesn't vary much, generally a loose tunic, either black or grey or brown, tucked into a pair of dark trousers, held up with a leather belt. The clothing tends to emphasize his small waist. There's not an ounce of fat on his body, His hair is dark brown, verging on black, and is cut too short to pull back, but long enough that he's constantly brushing it out of his sharp face. Bright green eyes sit above a nose that's slightly crooked from having been broken a couple times, and his skin has the slightest hint of a tan.
  
  
  Personality: Friendly and personable, if a bit detached. Quick witted and a big fan of sarcasm, he has skill in making people laugh, useful in his line of work. Not an emotional person however, even with his sister, and has no temper to speak of. Is quick to shut down trouble however, with the large club he keeps behind the bar if necessary.
  
  
  Background: Not much is known about his first two years of life, or who is parents are, but he was found wandering by himself in the streets. He bonded quickly with their daughter, who was about the same age as him. They loved him, but he made them a little nervous. He never cried or got angry or scared like most children, and he tended to have a calming effect on their daughter, who's emotions were everywhere. As he grew older, his parents paid for a tutor for him, and he absorbed every bit of information he encountered.
  
  
  A couple years after they adopted him, his parents changed the name of their tavern to Seer and Sword, in honor of their children, as Allan had immediately picked up the responsibility of his blind sister, helping to guide her around and protect her. The pair were attached at the hip, and rarely spent time apart.
  
  
  Their mother passed away when they were twenty and their father passed soon after, unable to bear life without his beloved wife, and so the siblings took over running the tavern. The transfer to them was almost seamless, as the pair had been spent a good portion of their child and teen years, mingling with the patrons and helping out with both the business end and the physical end. Their life after that remained fairly unchanged and calm.
  
  
  Strengths:
  
  
  - Highly intelligent
  
  
  - Personable
  
  
  - Strong fighter
  
  
  - Generous
  
  
  Weaknesses:
  
  
  - Detached and fairly emotionless
  
  
  - Not particularly loyal
  
  
  - Likes to cause trouble; the name change was his idea.
  
  
  - Mildly sadistic
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  Anime Picture

  

  Realistic Picture

  
  
  
  

  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  Name: Emmony Burris
  
  
  Age: 28
  
  
  Gender: Female
  
  
  Species: Seer; Has the ability see into the past or future.
  
  
  Occupation: Tavern keeper
  
  
  Magic/Weapons: None.
  
  
  Appearance: Stands at about 5'10, with a long willowy figure and slight curves. Her dark brown hair flows to just past her waist with a very slight wave, with long bangs that frame her heart shaped face. Her nose curves up slightly at the end, and her lower lip is slightly fuller than her upper. Though rarely seen, her eyes are hazel, with no pupil. Generally ties a thin black scarf around her head to cover them, as they tend to make people nervous.
  
  
  Personality: As if to make up for her brother's lack of emotions, she feels every emotion strongly, no matter what it is. Thankfully not quick to anger, but her temper is something to be feared. Generally a very friendly and welcoming person, easily striking up conversations with strangers and almost always walks away with new friends. Highly flirtatious, with both men and women, but not particularly sexual.
  
  
  Background: She had a very happy childhood. Her parents doted on her, and the patrons they trusted to be around their child absolutely adored her. The addition of her brother didn't affect her happiness, as happens when most small children find out they're no longer a single child. If anything, having a brother seemed to make everything infinitely better. She adored him, clinging always to his side.
  
  
  Through her child and teen years, she was a highly emotional being, seeming to do complete 180's from one emotion to the next, and threw her whole being into them. Her brother remained a calming influence in her life, drawing her down from her highs when necessary. They remained happily attached at the hip, one never far from the other.
  
  
  Though born a Seer, and thus blind, she didn't start having visions until she was around 5. At first they were uncontrollable, what she would see and when she would see it, and they were mostly indecipherable. By thirteen, with a lot of help from her brother, she had finally started to manage them better. She could occasionally draw them out at will, and decipher them sometimes, but there was still a lot of uncertainly. By twenty however, she almost had it down to an art, and began advertising the use of her skills to help people.
  
  
  Their mother passed away when they were twenty and their father passed soon after, unable to bear life without his beloved wife, and so the siblings took over running the tavern. The transfer to them was almost seamless, as the pair had been spent a good portion of their child and teen years, mingling with the patrons and helping out with both the business end and the physical end. Their life after that remained fairly unchanged and calm, except that she had a habit of going through lovers quickly, managing to leave each of them with friendship intact.
  
  
  Strengths:
  
  
  - Makes friends easily
  
  
  - Intensely loyal
  
  
  - Generous and caring
  
  
  - Empathetic and reads people easily
  
  
  Weaknesses:
  
  
  - Allows her emotions to rule her sometimes
  
  
  - A shameless flirt
  
  
  - Very forgetful
  
  
  - A little controlling
  
  
  Other: Blind, but has an almost sixth sense when it comes to being aware of her surroundings.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  Current Favorite Appearance

  
  
  
  

  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  Name: Caelyn
  
  
  Age: Unknown; Guesses somewhere in their mid to late twenties
  
  
  Gender: Variable
  
  
  Side: Rebel
  
  
  Species: Changeling; Similar to Shapeshifters, however their form changing is limited to human forms. They can change their gender, height, features, etc. Due to how uncontrollable this ability is until about their teens, most of them lose any sense of identity, and a large portion are eventually driven insane by it. They're also rare, as it requires the 'mother' to stay in one form for the duration of the pregnancy, which is incredibly difficult for them as it goes against their ever changing nature.
  
  
  Occupation: Barmaid at The Queen's Madness; Messenger for the rebellion.
  
  
  Magic/Weapons: None. Weapons frighten them.
  
  
  Appearance: Because they shift their form so often, it's hard to pin down the appearance of a changeling. Their current favored form is that of a sleight girl, mid to late teens, with shoulder length strawberry blonde hair. Her eyes are a light blue, a little large in her pale face, with a delicate nose and a small mouth. She stands at 4'10, weighing maybe 90 lbs, and her body is almost frail looking. The kind of person who inspires a desire to protect her when she's around, but plain enough that she's quickly forgotten once she's no longer around. No matter how they change their form, however, they always have a brand on their right shoulder, what appears to be a family crest.
  
  
  Personality: As with most changelings, their personality has become slightly unstable. The few things that linger almost always are their timidity, how easily terrified they are, and their unwavering loyalty to Emmony and Allan. As for the rest, they're rather unpredictable from one day to the next. Sometimes they have a temper, sometimes a sense of humor, sometimes a strong sarcastic streak.
  
  
  Background: Due to the fact that their mother was one of the few changelings who was comfortable maintaining one form, Caelyn's childhood was more stable than most of her kind. The changeling who fathered her lost themselves to insanity not long after their birth, so it was only the two of them. They lived in a small village in a fairly secluded area, somewhere that they didn't draw a lot of attention with Caelyn's unpredictable 'changing'.
  
  
  Around ten years old, they finally caught the attention of the lord of the area. Changelings were highly sought after, as they were beings who could be what you needed when you needed. As such, many were captured to be used as either a spy or in the bedroom. The lord had always been fascinated by changelings, and as such had the pair captured. Their mother became his permanent bed warmer, willing to be and do anything to protect her child.
  
  
  Until their late teens, Caelyn was kept mostly for entertainments sake. Their uncontrollable changing made them useless for most tasks, but was highly amusing. When it was discovered that they had an impressively beautiful voice, they soon took on the task of entertaining him and his guests in that way too.
  
  
  Somewhere in their teens, when their changing was beginning to become more controllable, their mother finally lost herself to the insanity and had to be put down by a guard. The loss went almost unnoticed by the lord, who now had a more stable Caelyn to play with.
  
  
  Caelyn had something inside of them that their mother had not however. Something strong and almost hard. As such, though they still spent a lot of time in his bed chamber, they were used for other things as well. Spying, assassinations, assisting in torture a few times. They were also willful, which led to frequent lashings, some which cut deep and should have left horrendous scars. However, while changing forms did nothing to heal wounds, they could make scars and imperfections disappear, so no matter how many times they were injured, their skin remained smooth and perfect.
  
  
  As they got older, this became wearing on them. They became less willful, more timid, quiet and almost numb. The more they withdrew on themselves, the more cruel the lord became with his punishments, both with lashings and in his bed, as if trying to force them to fight back again. It only succeeded in turning them into an easily frightened being however, jumping at their own shadow and frequently close to tears. One of the servants, who'd always been kind and almost motherly to them, finally broke down and helped them to escape.
  
  
  They spent the next couple months constantly looking over their shoulder, waiting for the lord's men to find them and haul them back to him. There were a couple of close calls, the last one forcing them to escape into the city of Draede, where they found they could meld fairly easily with the crowds. They passed out in the stable of a tavern and woke in a bed, being fussed over by a blind woman.
  
  
  Emmony offered them a job and a place to stay, which they took up quickly, though they were fairly useless in the tavern at first. Not a month after their first meeting however, a group of the lord's guards came looking for Caelyn, only to be turned forcefully away by the siblings. From that moment on, they were fiercely loyal to the pair, soon agreeing to run messages for the rebellion.
  
  
  Strengths:
  
  
  - Possesses a beautiful singing voice; also is extremely skillful with most instruments.
  
  
  - Fiercely protective of servants or slaves who've been injured in any sort of 'punishment', so much so that they easily overcome any and all current fear.
  
  
  - More in control of their mind than most changelings their age, enabling more easy form changes with less stress on their body.
  
  
  - Skilled with a number of weapons, though they're terrified of using them.
  
  
  Weaknesses:
  
  
  - Easily terrified, making her a bit of a coward; Usually only able to overcome this to help Allan or Emmony, or to rescue someone who's been injured.
  
  
  - Has trouble with talking; having been prized for so long for their voice, they don't feel comfortable using it anymore.
  
  
  - Their mind has become slightly unstable, leading to them occasionally slipping from reality. With the help of Allan and Emmony they've managed to keep this mostly under control and have had more success than most of her kind with staying stable.
  
  
  - Haunted by the things that they were forced to do while in the service of the lord, often plagued by nightmares.
  
  
  Other: The brand on their shoulder is the family crest of the lord who'd owned them, and is magical in nature, remaining no matter which form they takes.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  Appearance

  
  
  
  

  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  Name: Neslima Techondraila; Goes by Tech or Drai. Anything else and you'll wake up in a hospital bed.
  
  
  Age: Unsure. Stopped aging around 30
  
  
  Gender: Female
  
  
  Side: Queen
  
  
  Species: Revenant; Revenants are born when a young human child, usually under three, is present during some sort of bloody disaster. Due to how malleable children are, they absorb the negative and violent and bloody energy into themselves, becoming something that is somewhere between life and death. They become creatures of violence, sustaining themselves on negative energy, and have an innate ability to use blood magic. While they can be killed by another being, they don't die of normal causes, such as cold or hunger or sickness or age. Most times when a Revenant is formed, the child is left on it's own, so their first couple of years tend to be spent in the place they were formed. They grow up wild, a slave to their instincts and violent nature. When they do find themselves around people, they tend to leave a trail of destruction. It can take up to twenty years for them to regain a piece of their humanity and mentally stabilize themselves.
  
  
  Occupation: Captain of the Castle Guard
  
  
  Magic/Weapons: Blood magic; In simple terms, it's the ability to control and manipulate blood, as well as use it's energy in various types of spellwork. It is an innate ability in a couple of species, not a magic that can be learned.
  
  
  Appearance: Tall and slender, she has an elegant air about her. She stands around 5'11 with a long, hourglass figure, curves generally kept well hidden. Raven black hair falls to her waist, usually braided around a spiked leather strap, to dissuade people from grabbing it during a fight. Piercing grey eyes sit in a heart shaped face, above a straight nose and a full mouth. Her skin is pale, as if it rarely sees the sun, and is covered in hundreds of small white scars. Typically found wearing plain leather armor, sword strapped to her side, but there is a rumor that somebody once saw her in a dress.
  
  
  Personality: Loud and crude, with a strong undertone of sarcasm, she tends to make as many enemies as she does friends. She swears like a sailor, and believes that either violence or sex is the answer to a good portion of life's problems. She's short tempered, but not hot tempered, so while it's easy to rile her up, she doesn't stay that way for long. The person riling her up may end up on the floor with a black eye, but she'll be the first to offer her hand to pull them back to their feet. Due to finely tuned self control, she rarely, if ever takes any fight farther than that, though few realize exactly how much she keeps herself in check. While frequently difficult to get along with, she does genuinely care about people, friend or foe. She loves her city and it's people, and is the first to answer a call for help. Secretly, this caring nature extends to all things cute and cuddly. One can frequently find all manner of animals in her rooms, injured creatures she nurses back to health, castle pets, wild birds she feeds at her window. She is also very much an intellectual. Having lived a very long life, she tends to get bored easily, and thus spends a good deal of her free time with her nose in a book, or in the royal library arguing with scholars.
  
  
  Background: She was born in a small village
  
  
  Strengths:
  
  
  - Has a great deal of self control, though it doesn't seem it. She constantly battles down the violent nature of her species, while letting herself be for the most part who she is, and is capable of switching to serious mode in an instant.
  
  
  - Incredibly intelligent. Boredom has led to her devouring as much information as possible, so she's become an endless fount of knowledge.
  
  
  - Good with animals, children, elderly, and the ill.
  
  
  -
  
  
  Weaknesses:
  
  
  - Not always great with people. She tends to be sarcastic and honest to a fault, saying things to a person's face that most would only whisper behind their back. She insults people as a form of affection, and it takes most people a while to realize that.
  
  
  - In a way, her magic. Because it requires blood to use, and she hates the thought of using another being's unless in an emergency, she generally has any number of small cuts on her body, each varying in size depending on what she needed it for.
  
  
  - Aura of violence and blood thirstiness
  
  
  -
  
  
  Other:
  
  
  

 

[SirFlabberghaspy]

[Appearance]

Typically identified by his golden mask, Thoros takes on the appearance

of various people through unknown magics not of the usual arcane origin.

Hailing from the East, Thoros is clearly multilingual given his presence

in Lathien, his accent often shifting depending on his appearance. His usual

appearance is that of a 5'9" Schnarian (Northern) man with an accent.

However, he also takes on the appearance of a female, 5'9", Schnarian woman

at different times as well. Both have lean figures and clean faces.

​

Spoiler

Name:

Thoros of Narcel.

"Merr", in his Northern male form.

"Yara", in his Northern female form.

Age:

One hundred and thirty three.

Gender:

Male (A Eunuc, following his adoption into the Priesthood)

Species:

Human (Eastern, from Hakarr in Narcelik)

Occupation:

The Web Priesthood and, formerly, the Silencers.

Assassin and Agent for Nostros, the true god of Rebirth.

The Web Priesthood faithfully serve Nostros, the God of Rebirth in Narcelik.

A shady but devoted and fanatic group, the Web Priesthood are made up of

skilled priests, spies, and former sinners who seek redemption and love from their god. The Web Priesthood has carried out numerous assassinations in the name of Nostros, often slaying those who act against their order's wishes. The Priesthood are said to dwell in complex mazes within the Shadowlands, filled to the brim with arachnids and devious traps that guard their ancient base: The Sunken Temple of Nostros. The Priesthood, while generally viewed as deadly madmen and criminals, are very religious in their actions regarding the laws of serving Nostros. Led by a triumvirate, named the Reborn, the Web Priesthood rely on their three greatest members to command Nostros' will.

The Silencers are an Eastern clan of assassins dedicated to working for the highest bidder. While they have ulterior motives regarding the worship of Sithis and Nargath, God of the Unbroken, they ultimately work as hired killers. The Silencers are extremely skilled, masters of poison and various techniques of killing. They are made up mostly of humans due to the fact that the Silencers recruit based on one's beliefs regarding their two Gods, who are mainly worshiped by menfolk. The Silencers also double as a Thieve's Guild, often stealing to grow to their hoard of money. This has led to them being dubbed 'The Ghosts' in Akara, due to their almost magical ability to appear and disappear at the seams. Many believe the Silencers are practitioners of dark magic, such as Umbraflectre, while others simply think the Silencers are skilled assassins who spread their name in order to gain influence. Either way, the Silencers are known as deadly killers and are almost impossible to approach directly.

Magic/Weapons:

Hydra Venom (Quick to Kill)

Hydras are a type of non-sentient dragon-kin often found in the far reaches of the world, occupying many oasis's in the Eastern part of the Realm and other humid areas, such as swamps, dotted around the world. Often hunted by various cultures for their valuable scales, Hydra Venom would only come into play when the Bronze Elves of the East began selling their valued creation to the world. A few tribes of Summer Children had used their magics to subdue local hydra. In doing so, they were able to collect things of interest from the restrained beasts, namely the glands that produced their legendary venom.

However, the Elves found that the venom was largely without effect when consumed. It lacked the deadliness it had when the Hydras themselves applied it to their prey. And so, the Summer Children would continue on with their primitive research on the venom, eventually finding a way to use their elven magics to awake the potential in the dormant weapon. With their newfound weapon, the Summer Children terrorized settlements around their lands further, the practice of enabling Hydra Venom becoming common in Bronze Elf society. One tribe, seeking riches from foreigners, would sell their beloved venom for extreme prices, ensuring only the most professional of killers and determined of nobles had access to their legendary weapon.

The venom burns away at blood on contact. A small amount of venom can almost instantly evaporate its way through one's veins until the body is nothing more than a husk. Likewise, the heart is often the most targeted area when applying Hydra Venom, making it an almost instant death if its delivery agent pierces the chest.

Phoenix Berries (Explosives)

Phoenix Berries are a type of plant indigenous to Southern Narcelik. The strange fruit are dubbed 'Phoenix Berries' after the legendary creature due to the large amount of heat they produce and their scarlet color. Often collected by slaves for their masters, Phoenix Berries are widely collected by warlords in the East. However, this is not because they are rare or because they have indescribable taste. No, Phoenix Berries explode when their insides are exposed to oxygen. This not only spreads the seeds within the berries, but it produces a flash of heat needed to correctly cultivate the berry seeds. The explosion of one berry isn't enough to do anything above a light burn on the skin. However, a pound of Phoenix Berries has enough potential to shatter a sword or bite away at a man's armor and chest in seconds. Due to the eager control many Eastern warlords have over these fruits, the Phoenix Berries are growing much more rare. Wars in the deserts of the East often involve Phoenix Berries as a projectile for siege weaponry, striking terror as they hammer widespread panic in conflicted cities. However, the seeds distributed by the berries are unable to cultivate in such extremely hot and sandy areas, meaning a lack of growth for the berries where they are mostly used.

Luckily, they are cared after and grown enough in their homeland of Narcelik to prevent any real threat of complete extinction. Due to their unique abilities, many foreigners purchase these berries, unknowingly saving them from extinction as they spread their seed around the world.

The Rattler (A painful poison)





WIP

Mithril Dagger: "Silktouch"

Mithril Kukri: "Duty"

Hand-Crossbows: "The Vipers"

Heavy Illusion Magic

Personality:

Thoros is often very silent and careful, never speaking when he doesn't have to.

A member of the Web Priesthood, he is a fanatic follower of the Eastern God of Rebirth,

Nostros, and has devoted the entirety of his life to serving his one true god. While dismissive

of other gods, Thoros is fully aware that other pantheons exist and respects other's beliefs.

He can get very agitated when he doesn't perform a task well, often taking out his anger by

isolating himself from others until he calms or simply by striking something nearby. As an Easterner,

Thoros often likes to mess with those in Lathien through the use of his stranger magic and by

feeding them false information about the East. He carries out mischevious deeds in his general female form,

handles social situations in his general male form, and is completely silent in his normal form.

Once a megalomaniac, Thoros is very scarred from his previous life, haven chosen to forget

most of it just because of sheer trauma. Consequently, bringing up anything relative to his past

will quickly anger the Narcelian. He truly believes that he is now a different person, reborn in

service to Nostros.

Background:

Thoros hails from the East. Once a prevalent slave master and assassin of the Silencers in the slave city of

Hakarr, Thoros was later defeated in combat by a Western Lord who freed his slaves and left

him to die in the desert. Surviving through sheer will and luck, Thoros would eventually stumble

upon Yui Ma of Akara, a Web priestess of Nostros who promised Thoros an end to his suffering and a new life.

Eager, Thoros accepted, drinking the strange water Yui Ma offered him before being put through

a terrifying hallucinogenic experience. However, when he awoke from this experience, Thoros

was suddenly different. The man had been taken to the Sunken Temple of Nostros by Yui Ma,

who recruited him into her order. Making use of his skills as an assassin, Thoros was made an agent

of the Reborn God.

However, this adoption into the Web Priesthood was not without a cost. In atonement for his sins and to ensure that his mind was truly a vessel of Nostros, Thoros was castrated and his mind altered. He relived pain, pain that the God of Rebirth would cleanse from his mind through service to him and the promised rebirth of his soul in fire. Thoros' face was disfigured, holy magics keeping the former slaver alive as Yui Ma carved away his face and replaced it with a golden mask, blessed in arcane fire by their god. The magical golden face was orange with heat, burning away at Thoros' skull. The immense pain tore at whatever remained of Thoros' pride, driving him in an attempt to escape the priests who restrained him. However, he lacked the strength to do so, instead accepting the punishment of his new god. Once doing so, the mask suddenly grew cold, his quiet prayers to the deity answered as the mask's powers ran through him...

It began to whisper, caressing Thoros' mind, encouraging it to praise his new god. The powers of the blessed mask would cleanse his blood, which grew an icy cold as the mask and man became one. The ritual was over, and Thoros had been reborn of mind and body. Lacking the strength he once had, Thoros' pride was recrafted and rebirthed into a new sense of loyalty. His mask, bound to his very soul, would ebb with the power of his god. Nostros had granted him the powers of the Spider, to bend his reshapen body so that he could carry out the will of his savior.

In later years, Thoros would earn his fame as he killed those who acted against his god's will.

Slaying the Council Masters of K'qar, Shakar the Usurper, and Aivela the Sand Queen would earn

him his early fame. Thoros would later travel to the Western side of the world to further the will of Nostros,

spreading his influence across the Realm. There, he murdered the honorable Ser Cairne Nodos of Camelot,

slew the Great Serpent of Myre, and defeated Thagg Stone-Eater, a prevalent giant who had been plaguing a village.

When news of the unrest had reached the Web Priesthood, Thoros was instructed to travel northwards towards

Lathien in order to dispense justice towards the Mad Queen. He was also given the order to establish the Web Priesthood's

influence into the kingdom following the rebellion, when the government would be at its weakest.

Strengths:

Decent Fighter.

Extremely Sneaky.

Disciplined and Loyal.

Extreme Pain Tolerance.

Quick / Agile.

Alchemist.

Weaknesses:

Touchy on his Past.

Easily beatable when surrounded or when fighting another quick opponent.

He is not very cooperative, preferring to work alone. He is heavily introverted at times.

Blind in his right eye due to a previous injury.

Blindly fanatic, he always follows the rules of Nostros, even if it'd get him killed.

His coughing fits.

Other:

Thoros often coughs, usually attempting to

hide it for an unknown reason. These coughs

range in severity from a single and pathetic

cough to a large chain of painful bombardments,

sometimes resulting in blood.

 

[SirFlabberghaspy]

[Appearance]

5'6" in height and of a lean build, Siara

is an attractive young woman with a rather

light tan. Her eyes are a dark brown,

and she is painted by scars around her legs

that dress her like a tiger's stripes. She

often stands tall and boldly with pride.

Name:

Siara Whytewynd

Age:

Twenty Four

Gender:

Female

Species:

Half-Elf (Human and Wood Elf)

​

Spoiler

Wood Elves are a sub-type of Elves, often dwelling in forests

or jungles around the world. They are divided into three sort of

generalizations. While hundreds of different clans and tribes of Wood Elves

exist, a few different factions have been created to give a general idea of their different cultures. While this is extremely offensive towards most Wood Elves, many travelers would find the information given quite helpful if they were to ever encounter a "Child of the Trees" on their way through a forest.

Andal Wood Elves are sets of Wood Elves that are considered civilized, often living in human cities or around them. They make their pay through their people's magics and alchemy, often using it to enhance agriculture tenfold. Andal Wood Elves are looked down upon by many of their own kind, whom see them as traitors to the forests and as no better than other types of civilized elves. Often, Andal Wood Elves serve as rangers or archers in a kingdom's military, and some are even hired by milling companies to restore forests that were cut down through their nature magic. In some parts of the world, namely the more Eastern and Southern kingdoms, Andal Wood Elves are nothing but servants and slaves to other races, which has resulted in more than one rebellion.

Nature's Children are a type of Wood Elves solely dedicated to protecting nature through the use of whatever means they can develop. Often very disciplined, much more so than their brethren, and very unwelcoming to outsiders, the Nature's Children seek to prevent harm to the Wild. Despite many stories made to make them seem just as savage as any other Wood Elf, the Nature's Children are truly a force for good but limit themselves to their chosen forest. Often, Nature's Children groups are led by a King or a Guardian of the Forest, both who have a strict dictatorship over their clan. Deadly archers and spearmen, the Nature's Children have been denounced throughout Western history as nothing more than killers and pillagers. Much more realistically, however, the Nature's Children are simply a druidic society using the tools of modern kingdoms to protect what they hold dear: Nature.

Windrunners are the most thought-of type of Wood Elf, as they are the most abundant and therefore often referred to when people generalize and stereotype Wood Elves. The Windrunners only rely on natural elements made from plants and animals to arm themselves. Even their arrows are tipped with Ironwood, the signature plant of their people which they spread within their forests in unnatural abundance. Windrunners are usually set by two parallels: They are either extremely reclusive and kill outsiders on sight, or are welcoming and tend to throw festivals in their forests. The Windrunners are often seen as savages and tricksters who often steal from more powerful peoples. However, the Windrunners often only seek to pleasure their neighbors to make peace through open invitation to their festivals or are simply protective of their traditions and respect them.

The Summer Children or Bronze Elves are a large sub-type of Wood Elves who often dwell in tropical areas of the world, namely jungle oasis' in the East, near places such as Narcel and Idrona. Dubbed the Bronze Elves due to their tan, the Summer Children take much offense to their other name and prefer their tribes' actual names rather than generalized names like both mentioned above. The Summer Children are often very savage, practicing brutal blood magicks and a worship of the art of war. They loot any villages nearby their tropical forests and tend to leave no survivors. Although, some Summer Children are known to practice taking prisoners, often turning them into mindless servants or using them for sacrificial reasons in their blood magic. The Summer Children are definitely the most savage of the Wood Elves, and are still feared by many Eastern civilizations to this day.

Occupation:

Escaped Bastard, Travelling Doctor

Weapons/Magic:

No Weapons

Untapped Nature Magic

Many Elves possess some sort of innate magic. Namely, Wood Elves commonly possess strong connections with the forest and the fauna in it, enabling them to use these connections for their own benefit. However, some are much more potent than others when it comes to their connections. Like Mother Nature, the ability to take advantage of these strong bonds to living things are often very random, showing up strong in some and weak in others. Due to conflicts with humans, most Elven practitioners of Innate Magic are specifically hunted down and killed, making the honing of said skills a rare one in Elvish communities.

However, Wood Elves have closely guarded their abilities with nature, moreso than any other type of Elf. Often, Children of the Forest take their connections to nature extremely seriously, almost fanatically. They treasure those born with the inner strength to use these connections, often naming them their Clan's Chosen (Ala'farr), or even simply giving those with said power leadership of their Clan.

The abilities themselves are often different, largely depending on the culture of the Elf's Clan. For example, think of those gifted with innate power possessing their own balls of clay. They may mend this clay however they want, shaping it into what image they or others particularly like. They may make them into bowls, cups, or simply figurines. However, it is still, no matter what, clay. It will always be clay, only shaped in various ways to serve different purposes.

The Summer Children often use this Innate Magic to channel Sanguistractus: Blood Magic. They use their natural connection to beings to manipulate their insides, the energy within the user creating a psionic bond between them and their target as they bend their mind and force their body to work with their thoughts. While often hard to master, those that do are often revered as angelic beings: Servants of the gods born into the world to grant their tribes power through the controlling of higher races.

The Windrunners always used their magics to thicken their forests, the bridge between plant and mind built upon the powers within their bodies. Through thickening their forests, outsiders were more likely to avoid their lands. In contrast, the much more welcoming parallel of the Windrunners use this same technique to create natural walls around paths into the forest, which would guide those who follow it to their circus-like festival grounds.

Andal Wood Elves use their abilities to "encourage" their crops to grow, exhausting their power on agricultural needs. Through this, Andal Wood Elves have found their place on the farms of many menfolk. Often, they are paid their weight in gold to do the same to forests long massacred by the axes of greedy lumberjacks, using their connections to force small saplings to grow at an unnaturally quick rate.

Finally, the Nature's Children use their abilities in the most druidic way. Often, they communicate to animals and the very forests they protect to aid them in their sworn duty. This results in many of these Wood Elves to become naturally powerful druids, often bending roots and claws to their will in order to defend the same thing they seek to preserve. Those who can control the Wild are often named, as other non-elves are, druids. These druids take their magical connections to nature and harness them in an almost religious manner. Those born with a strong control of their innate magic are often taken to the druids of Nature's Children clans, who raise new generations of druid on the teachings of their ancestors. The practices the Chosen of the Nature's Children are taught has been adopted into teachings that have extended outside of their forests, leading to the cultivation of druidic magic in other beings not of Elven descent.

Siara, while a half-elf, still possesses the powerful inner magic that few of the Wood Elves can control. However, due to a human environment with a lack of druidic guidance, Siara's inner connections to nature are mostly untapped and unrecognized even by herself. Often, other druids are needed to bring forth the Wood Elves' inner magic at a quicker rate. But, due to her lacking such aid, Siara hasn't developed any real skill in controlling the magic within her. It is an untapped weapon simply waiting to be assembled.

Likewise, there are indeed cases of those like Siara. Beings with Elvish inner power whom have unlocked it through various means. While some have used rituals or sought out teachings themselves, many often find that the most common way of unlocking their inner powers was through extreme emotion, whether it be pain, loss, or anger.

Personality:

Siara is a very expressive person, often

acting boldly in order to do what she believes is right.

She isn't very hateful, mostly a kind and caring soul.

Siara enjoys teasing people and making jokes, along with

a mug of ale every now and then. She's a fighter,

often concerned more for the welfare of others than

herself. Siara is very protective of her scars, often doing

her best to hide her legs because of it. She

was very depressed as a girl, often joking about it

as a woman. Siara is scared of dogs, forests, and hooks.

Siara believes in duty and honor, and

likes someone who follows their word and expresses

kindness to others. She is very stark when it comes to

respect, believing every being deserves some form of it.

Siara enjoys cooking and other activities that involve

mixed patience and quick wit, mirroring her own personality.




Background:

Siara was raised in the city of Whytewynd as a hidden child,

spending much of her time within the Rusty Rat, a tavern in the city.

Her mother was an innkeeper and her father was an unknown being, or so she thought.

Later, her mother would reveal to Siara that she was a bastard,

the product of a Lord out of wedlock. It was then that Siara was told

her true last name: She was not Siara Brown, but Siara Whytewynd,

wedlock daughter of Lord Gregor Whytewynd. Her mother

explained that she had found Siara abandoned near the Silver Rivers as a babe

and took her in.

Siara, confused and scared, would later flee her home. Revealing

her story to a stranger, it would quickly become a growing rumor in Whytewynd

that reached Lord Gregor's ears quickly. He sent assassins to kill Siara's adoptive mother.

Consequently, the Rusty Rat was burned to the ground and its innkeeper slain.

Siara, frightened more than ever, would later attempt to flee Whytewynd. She was seen

by guards on the way. Chased by guards and hounds, Siara would eventually flee into the

Whispering Forest. There, she hid for a few days from the man-hunters. However,

after escaping a rape attempt and having her location revealed, Siara was attacked by

Lord Gregor with a barbed whip, scarring her legs immensely as she ran from her father.

Eventually, though, Siara would escape the forest and join a caravan of travellers. One man,

Alexander Victanus, would tend to her wounds and serve as a sort of father-figure and mentor,

raising Siara from then on and training her in medical practices.

Later, she would find herself travelling around the west to aid those in need.

Hearing of the rebellion and increased violence in Lathien, the noble girl travelled

to the country to further extend her caring nature to those who required it.

Strengths:

Very Caring.

Open-Minded and Respectful.

Enjoys giving advice.

Witty and knowledgeable.

A tough cookie.

Weaknesses:

Self-conscious of her appearance, namely her scars.

Scared of greenskins/orcs.

Easily persuadable.

No fighting skill to back her toughness.

Due to the wounds she suffered when attacked in the Whispering Forest, Siara has always walked with a slight limp. She is unable to run without immense pain.

Extremely reckless, often getting herself into danger when she isn't forced to do so. This has led to more than one additional scar or injury.

Other:

She has twenty-six scars on her legs in

total.

 

[Mitchs98]

• Miziki Kurone
• Sarah Alistair

• 
  
  
  Name: Mizuki Kurone
  
  
  Age: 18
  
  
  Gender: Female
  
  
  Species:
  
  
  Spoiler

  Kitsune, also referred to as Spirit Foxes, are seemingly immortal beings that can live for a very long time. Kitsunes are generally immortal unless their tails are removed, their hearts are outright destroyed, or they're decapitated/severed in two. Most Kitsunes specialize in Spirit Magic and/or Fox Fire, both very powerful magics that have numerous uses each.
  
  
  While most Kitsune are powerful, there is a difference in power amongst each Kitsune, made readily noticeable by the amount of tails they have. 1-12, to be exact, 12 being the most rare and most powerful. To date there are only ten kitsune to possess 12 tails. Each Kitsune also possess the ability to transform into a fox of varying sizes, also porportinate to age and amount of tails.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Enhanced Senses: Includes everything from smell and hearing to kinetic and spatial sense.
  
  
  Enhanced Agility: Enhanced speed/balance/dexterity. Parkour stuff/dodging, ya kno'?
  
  
  Occupation: Profesional Healer
  
  
  Appearence:
  
  
  

  

  
  
  

  • Height: 5'1
    
  • Weight: 95 lbs
    

  
  
  Fox Form:
  
  
  

  

  
  
  

  • Height: 1'
    
  • Weight: 15 lbs
    

  
  
  Personality:
  
  
  Mizki can be extremely shy towards new people, especially those she finds intimidating for any number of reasons, once she warms up to you she's generally a kind person. She's a klutz and generally has the worst luck someone could possibly have, people that know her tend to blame her for their misfortune.
  
  
  Background: Miziki came from a small Kitsune village, in which she was generally picked on on a daily basis. Ever since she was little she was extremely clumsy, doing pretty much everything possibly to trip and somehow injure herself. Not only that, her bad luck seemed to spread to others. Or rather, they blamed her for it. Eventually though, she got tired of it and decided to leave to explore the world. The only people there that didn't treat her badly were her own parents, plus she kind of wanted to explore anyway. And thus, she eventually became a professional travelling healer.
  
  
  Strengths:
  
  

  • Kind and caring
    
  • Pretty intelligent
    
  • Dextrous
    
  • Good at stealth in fox form
    

  
  
  Weaknesses:
  
  

  • Small frame, thus not durable
    
  • Extremely clumsy
    
  • Kind of stubborn
    
  • Way to trusting
    

  
  
  Magic/Weapons:
  
  
  Spirit Magic
  
  
  Weapon depends on summon
  
  
  Other: Pie
• 
  
  
  Name: Sarah Alistair
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  4'7 60 lbs.
  
  
  Species: Angelic Plane Walker
  
  
  Age: Looks 8, Technically immortal
  
  
  Gender: Female
  
  
  Sexuality: N/A / Straight
  
  
  Personality: An extremely sweet, kind, and fun loving girl. Loves making new friends and is extremely over-protective of said friends. Typically does whatever she can to help others whenever she is able. She is generally very hard to anger, never resorting to violence unless nessacary. Tends to be more of an observer in things unless her interference is absolutely needed.
  
  
  Abilities/Types of Magic:
  
  
  Red Belt in MMA.
  
  
  Heightened strength and speed, roughly three times the normal average adult human
  
  
  Protective Magic: Basic knowledge of all protective spells.
  
  
  Angelic Shield: A purely defensive ability, surrounds Sarah in a barrier almost impossible to be broken by physical blows. Normal magic also has a hard time breaking it, but it is possible. Demonic magic is a sure fire way to counter it, however.
  
  
  Angelic Barrier: Same as above, except she can cast it on others.
  
  
  Teleportation: Self explanatory. She can teleport herself and up to one other person up to 1 mile away.
  
  
  Flight: She has wings, and can therefore fly.
  
  
  Wind Magic/Manipulation: Sarah now has full magic over such. Meaning she has the capability of cutting nearly anything with the wind itself as well as creating it amongst other uses.
  
  
  Enhanced Senses: Spatial, Kinetic, etc. Matrix type stuff.
  
  
  Healing Magic: Nuff said.
  
  
  Plane Walking: Allows the user to walk through most planes, impossible to do so in combat.
  
  
  Bio: Sarah lives a generally peaceful life in Limbo, a realm inbetween the veil of this one. She is one of the three rulers infact, though she rules over one part in particular; the forest. It is her job to keep it safe and make sure the denizens of Limbo bring no harm to it. Another one of jobs is to travel other planes or rather worlds and find and recruit people to join Limbo, this is the job she enjoys the most by far.
  
  
  Other: One of the rulers of Limbo.
  
  
  Has a white mouse named Squeaks that usually rides in her dress pocket.
  
  
  Weapons: Her Unicorn Spear:
  
  
  
  
  Most attacks made by her sword/spear damage the soul itself and leave minor physical wounds. Though, this isn't fatal, not in the least. It simply drains the strength of the opponent until they pass out. Though, she can choose to do the exact opposite.
  
  
  Angelic Plane Walker Armor(Middle Image):
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Deflects most physical attacks, armor is incredibly draining to wear.
  
  
  

 

[Soviet Panda]

Name: Gareth Bryne


Age: 27


Gender: Male


Species: Draco-ling. Similar to a dragon, but without wings, scales, and the general magical power. Draco-lings can still, however, breath fire and are extremely strong and durable. It is rumored that they are a dying race, however, and in exchange for military service (ie a member of the Queen's Guard) they are given protection and a mate. These rumors have yet to be proven, however.


Occupation: Former Captain of the Queen's Guard.


Magic/Weapons: A Greatsword. Plain and simple. The scabard is the royal red color, as well as the wrapping on the handle. The cross guard and pommel are a brassy crimson color as well.

Spoiler

Appearance

Personality: Military and political doctrine has trained him to be quite, out of the way, yet always ready for action when superiors are around. He, however, has very few superiors. Correction, had few superiors. Due to a circumstance within the palace, he no longer has that luxury and it irks him to no end. Take a man that has practically everything, now take it all away and give it to someone else. That is how he feels currently about everything. But it was partially his choice to leave, so he's determined to not be to frustrated with it.


Background: As stated many times by now, he was in the Queen's Guard. Not much is known before he was in the Guard except that he came from a village in the southernmost region of the Empire. But once properly trained in the art of combat, Gareth quickly proved himself more then just some village sheepherder. That and the fact that he and the Queen were kind of close. Not lovers, that would be indecent, but very close acquaintances would be a better term. But when she started to become more of a recluse, and when she began making ridiculous laws and obscene punishments, that is when he said enough was enough and left. He caught wind of them, for he cannot believe that the Queen was making these decisions alone, wanting to dishonorably discharge him from his post, but he took the initiative and quit. Now he's scrounging near the bottom, looking for a job that can keep him afloat while the last few coins slip through his fingers.


Strengths: He's a draco-ling, and has all the perks of being one. He can breath fire, lift things that most people shouldn't, and can be trampled by a horse only to get back up and dust himself off. And thanks to his time in the Queen's Guard, he has both superb training and good political sense.


Weaknesses: He's out of his element down here, not used to being lower on the social food chain then many people and not having a steady, and rather large, income to support him. Since he now has little power, he cannot simply give an order and expect it to be done which throws him off terribly.


Other:

 

[Cosmo]

Name

Asavar 'The Obsidian Executioner' Del'Vorra




Age

34




Gender

Male




Species

​

Spoiler

The Draxxan are an endangered species. Asavar is the first one anyone has seen in centuries. Outside of the large size, their race appears human, for all intents and purpose, but it is what is inside that the difference between the Draxxan and Humans appear. Draxxan live for centuries, they are physically stronger and tougher then normal humans, but their emotions are far greater and intense. No human, perhaps, no being can understand the depth of emotion Draxxan feel. Their rage is all consuming, their love all binding, their sorrow soul crushing and their pain blinding. If a Draxxan's emotions were the sun, the same emotion of a human would be a mere flickering candle.​

This intense way of feeling can drive them insane, as such, controlling their emotions becomes paramount. Some do it through, well, sheer control. Master their emotions and their emotional responses, others focus their minds on a single facet of life, a single dedication in an attempt to channel all the emotion for a better purpose. This makes Draxxan incredibly dangerous as while they are often incredibly driven, they also tend to be dangerously unstable and, at the worst, obsessive.


But this is not what led to their near extinction, it is the soul binding that did. When a Draxxan meets a special being, one connected to them by fate, there is a chance a bond will be established. This most often happens between lovers, but it is not always so. Close comrades in arms or even family members may have this bond establish between them, and there is only ever one bond for any Draxxan. This bond is a linking of the souls and a melding of the mind. Between two Draxxan it is a thing of beauty. Their emotions are shared, and so, easier to control, their destines entwined in life and in death, so if the bond mate perishes, the other shall as well as the psychic backlash of losing their bond mate is too much for their mind's to handle. This bond lowers their breeding rate as a Draxxan can only have children with his bond mate and no amount of effort or magic can change that, as such, when the bond forms between two non-lovers, the Draxxan race takes another blow.


But the worst... is when a Draxxan establishes a bond with another species. The other species cannot feel the Draxxan's feelings, they cannot hear their thoughts, if the Draxxan perishes, they will live. But the Draxxan still feels everything from the other. The other species emotions will bombard the Draxxan pushing their reserves to the limit just to keep up with all the bombarding emotions on their own, if the Draxxan bond mate dies, despite the other species being in no danger should the opposite occur, the Draxxan will die. If this bond mate of another species betrays the Draxxan either through laying with another or betraying their trust, it will drive the Draxxan mad with grief and shatter their control making them enter a state known only as, 'Drakhan', the Black Rage from which the Draxxan will never emerge from.


The threat that destroyed the Draxxan race... was the Draxxan. Their exposure to the other races doomed them to a death sentence they never recovered from.



Occupations

Current Commander of the Queen's Guard


Executioner and Enforcer of the Queen




Magic/Weapons

The Obsidian Blade

A dark greatsword that is used by the Executioner. The black blade glows with red runes that run down the length, a relic of the kingdom that was gifted to the Commander on his ascension to the position. The great blade can shear through even the heaviest of armor with ease, but the dark runes are whispered to do more then that, it is said that when the blade passes through flesh, tiny flakes of the blade will break off and enter the blood stream of the victim, tearing and rending their way through the victim's body until the tiny shards reach the victim's heart and bring them to a gruesome and painful death.


It is testiment to the Executioner's immense strength that the great six foot blade can be wielded with but a single hand if he so wishes.

Abyssal Plate

Spoiler

The dark, heavy plate armor of the Executioner is what most see and recognize for Asavar rarely, if ever, takes it off, not even removing the helm unless commanded to do so. Much like the Obsidian Blade, the armor is an abyssal black seeming to suck in the light in any room he enters. Over the large pauldrons, a thick fur cap hangs that falls to Asavar's calves.


Much like the blade, the armor has dark red runes running across their surface, while normally, they are dull and hard to see, but in the presence of magic, they will shine brightly as they ward off spells, both beneficial and harmful, from the wearer. The runes are capable of completely blocking lesser spells or lesser mage casters, while merely reducing the power of mightier spells or the efforts of great sorcerers.

Appearance

Thanks to his Draxxan heritage, Asavar is big. Standing a head over seven feet tall, but he is not just big in height, but large in bulk as well. He has a very brawny build, his chest large and expansive. Many have confused him, from a distance, as an Ogre as he is powerfully built, thick arms and tree trunk sized legs round out his physique as large, imposing and almost unnatural.


Asavar's skin is incredibly pale as he rarely ventures into the sun without his armor, and failing that, he tends to cover himself head to toe, especially taking great care to cover his face for his face is... well, as the saying goes, he has a face only a mother could love. His pale face is misshapen, his brow too large, his nose crooked from numerous breaking and poor settings, his lips thin and pursued that seem lost in his large, square jaw, well, mostly square, there are 'bumps' that stick out from a poorly set broken jaw from his youth. On his left cheek, a large stretch of molted skin from an old burn wound give it the look of crumbled paper. His eyebrows are thick and few sunken brown, almost black, eyes.


He is missing more then a few teeth in the back of his mouth, but the rest are straight and white, the only pleasant thing he will admit to having, and while these, alone, would paint a horrid face, the scars that mar most of his face do him no favors. Numerous scars crisscross across his face, some tearing a part of his lip, another tearing through his right eyebrow and through his eye, numerous smaller scars crossing his nose, forehead and cheeks, it looks, almost as, someone took a knife to his face and happily carved away as if he was a Christmas ham which is not far from the truth. His hair, much to the amusement of others, is a rich onyx, thick and luxurious, it is the hair many women would kill for, however, with his pale skin and unattractive features, it merely contracts more and adds to his... unique visage.




Personality

Stoic || Driven || Obsessive || Insecure || Cunning || Abrasive

Spoiler

The Queen's Executioner is a stoic figure. One who speaks rarely, but does so with force and purpose. Few things seem to faze him, but this is only skin deep. As a Draxxan, Asavar has little choice but to maintain this tight control over himself, over his actions, over his thoughts... over every facet of his personality with constant vigilance. This makes him feel cold and distant, unattached to the world around him, and for the most part, this is true. He does everything in his power to keep the world at an arm's reach. But his control is not perfect and due to his nature, he can break. This happens, most often, when his anger or jealousy grow too great and he enters a berserk-like fury. He will often try to seclude himself or put himself into the path of his Lady's enemies so as to only spill the correct blood, but.... he doesn't always make it.


He is many things, and has been called many more especially behind his back, but there is one thing no man, or woman, can deny about Asavar, he is driven. Asavar pushes himself and his body further then any other person in the Queen's Guard or beyond. He will fight until he can no longer stand, and then, he will keep standing. Many have referred to him as a freak of nature as no matter how great the injuries or daunting the task, he does it. Without complaint or failure. He would drag his broken body miles if that is what it took to do what he must, especially, if she orders him to. It is almost fair to say Asavar is not a freak of nature, but a force of nature. As unyielding as the mountains and as mighty as the oceans.


This immense strength of will is fueled by his obsession. He is obsessed with his Queen. Ever since he first met her as a child, he has lived for her. He breathes for her. He kills for her, and if she but asked it, he would die for her. To him, she is less a Queen and more a deity, a savior. She is the reason he exist, the reason he gets up in the morning. Without her, he has no purpose. He loves her as only a Draxxan can. While it is entirely one-sided, and she would never return feelings to a monster like he, it doesn't matter, because his heart is her's even if he will never glimpse her's. This... descent to 'madness' has not decreased his fervor to protect her, if anything, it has increased it. She is his Queen, she will get better... and until then, he will protect her from any threats, outside the palace or inside.


Asavar, despite all his strength, is incredibly insecure. He knows, better then anyone, just how hideous he is. He has seen the way people flinch at his appearance, he remembers the look in the Queen's eye, a young princess at the time, when she looked upon him. Because of this, he loathes showing his face and will never, willingly, remove his helm in the presence of others. It is fair to say he hates this weakness and hates a large part of himself. It is fair to say a large part of his insecurities come from a deep sense of self-loathing and the thought that no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, he will never be worthy. These thoughts can also lead him to intense bouts of jealousy and rage especially over anyone that the Queen shows favor to.


While never having a true education, Asavar is incredibly cunning. While he is not 'book smart' nor does he know much in the way of history or mathematics, Asavar is adept at reading others, at planning assaults and traps. He is incredibly shrewd and behind his dull, black eyes is a quick, calculating mind. It is well as Asavar is a very abrasive man. He does not lie, he does not play at politics nor does he attempt to be polite. He is a very brunt and blunt man. He 'tells it like it is'. This abrasive nature rubs wrongly with most people he meets as few people like being told when they are 'worthless cretins not worthy to scrub the latrines in the servant's quarters'. Everyone, save his Queen, is treated to this rough, harsh personality.

Background

Asavar is unsure of where, exactly, he comes from. He was raised in an orphanage in the slums, well, an orphanage seems like a very polite word for it. The orphanage was controlled by a local gang that dabbled in the usual, extortion, thievery and prostitution. The children, when they are old enough, were expected t go out into the streets and beg or pickpocket and bring back money to help 'pay their keep'. Those that did not bring enough back didn't eat. Much like the gang, itself, the children in the orphanage quickly established pecking orders, the larger, stronger, kids would force the smaller ones to do their dirty work for them and then reap the rewards. It was simply the way of the world, the strong ruled.

Asavar was one of those smaller children, a... troubled child due to his heritage. He simply couldn't 'behave' as the others did. He cried often, he threw tantrums, he attacked other children... He simply couldn't control his nature, how could any child be expected to do so? It was during one of these episodes, at the age of seven, that he attacked an older, larger child, one who was trying to take what little money he had managed to scrounge in the hopes of getting his share of moldy bread. Driven by a bestial anger, he tore a chunk from the boy's arm and left his left eye blind. The boy ran, and for the first time, Asavar felt large and strong. But it didn't last.

The boy, Fenric, had friends, and more importantly, Asavar was trying to usurp the established order. Late at night, Fenric and his friends made their move. Holding him down with blankets, Fenric climbed on his bed with a rusty knife and taught Asavar a lesson he would never forget. One slice at a time. Asavar can remember screaming, the feel of the hot knife sheering through his flesh, the taste of his blood, the crazed look in Fenric's remaining eye as he brought upon 'retribution' on Asavar. The next morning, their 'caretaker' took one look at him, gave an annoyed huff and dragged his sobbing body to the kitchen where she washed out his wounds. Despite what happened, he was forced to go out and earn money. Even when infection sat in, and he grew delirious, he was sent out. He had a job to do and he was of no use to them if he couldn't preform that simple function. Asavar would continue to... endure the tender mercies of Fenric and his friends even as he grew older, but when he was twelve, his life changed. He met his savior.

It was a normal day, the stink of sweat and desperation rampant through the slums as he tried his luck with purses only to be caught and dragged kicking and screaming to the merchant quarter where he would face the magistrate and 'justice'. But, as fate would have it, the old King and his young daughter, along with their royal escort, were parading and the King saw him. To this day, Asavar is unsure why he stopped, why he dismounted his carriage, why he approached the ugly boy in the dirty rags... perhaps he knew what he was, thought he would be useful, perhaps it was a single random act of kindness.

Lowering his hand, he offered it to Asavar and desperate for anything, he took the king's hand and was lead to the carriage where the king charged him with a single duty, to look out after his daughter... no matter what happened. Asavar, not quite sure what was going on, mumbled his agreement, but when he saw he, his heart stopped. She was so beautiful, even before he liked girls, he knew she was something else. From her beautiful silver dress, to her flowing hair... but she took one look at him and said what only a child, without malice or a filter, could say. She called him hideous and said she refused to ride with someone like him. It shattered him, never before had he considered what he looked like and suddenly he became aware of his stained, soiled rages, of his dirty hair, of his broken face... and was ashamed. Escorted to the front, to ride with the driver, Asavar was taken to the palace where he was made a stable boy.







As he reached puberty, Asavar shot up in both width and height. At fourteen he was larger then most of the men around him, and was quickly, pressed into armed service serving as a squire for one of the King's Guard. He learned the art of the sword, the lance, the bow and how to ride a horse.To his greatest pleasure, he was taught to read. Asavar flourished in this new life, in discipline, in the physical aspects of fighting... and while serving girls turned away at his passing and other 'real' soldiers mocked him often saying how he was great to have around as any soldier lost their appetite when they saw him and so saved the kingdom gold... he was... almost happy.


Just as when he was a stable boy, he watched the princess. Admired her from a distance, always sure to keep his face hidden. He didn't want her to have to see him, have to hear her words once more, words that, years later, still ate away at his heart. Watched her grow up, growing more beautiful with every year, watched her learn to dance, watched her learn to play music, he used to relax under a tree under her window at sunset every third day as that was when she sat down to practice. But she didn't know he existed, not truly. He was the ugly squire and before that, the ugly stable boy, well, at least, he assumed that was what he was. While it was anguish, he preferred it that way.


On his eighteenth birthday, his commander, instead of passing him on to the King's Guard or the army, gave him a job he thought Asavar would be 'fitting' at. The King's Executioner. At least, the commander had told him when he was deep in his cups one night, no one would have to see his face. Well, he did before Asavar shattered his nose and nearly strangled him before five other Guard managed to pull him off, but with that act of violence against a superior officer, and the forty lashes that followed, his 'advancement' as the King's Executioner was secured. While his 'skills' were rarely used, it didn't take long for him to become an image of fear and hatred for the people of the city. Executioners were always pariahs, always hated, but Asavar? The hideous ogre of a man? He was something else, something more. He was a nightmare made manifest, but Asavar held some amount of pride with that. It was just as much fear of him, the King's Executioner, as it was the law, itself, that kept the people in line.


It wasn't a position of honor, but Asavar threw everything he had into it, nonetheless.






Upon the death of the King, and the ascension of the Queen, Asavar continued his duties, but saw even less 'work' now. The Queen was a better ruler then even her father before her. She was kind, wise and intelligent, and Asavar loved her with a fierce desire and loyalty for it was she, and no other, that brought about his change in life. But with this, came his jealousy and rage. The Queen was popular, especially, with suitors. Asavar watched, from the shadows as the Queen, his Queen, entertained and flirted. The worst, and most hated of all, was the old Commander of the Queen's Guard. The spawn of dragons. While the whispers were that they could be lovers were abound, and if it was true or not... Asavar would have given anything to be able to snap the man's spine, to sever him limb from limb and use his skull as a drinking cup.... It was an irrational hatred, a hatred that still last to this day despite the man's departure.

In the commander's absence, another man was put forth... but not for long. The Queen was... sick. She was changing, and Asavar, before anyone else, noticed it. Small, little, things at first, but soon she was doing things, issuing commands she never would have, and before he knew it, he was doing his executioner's duty nearly three times a week. Asavar knew she would get better... eventually. How could she not? The gods could never abandon one such as her. One night, he was issued a summons to the court and, before them, the commander was stripped of rank and the title handed over to him. No warning. No reasoning outside the Queen simply said she needed someone loyal to her above all. In a single night, among the shouts of angry nobles and guard, Asavar was made Commander of the Queen's Guard, but he still retained his old position as the Queen's Executioner.

Donned in black plate armor and given a new blade, Asavar was given a new role. He was the Queen's protector, her enforce, her executioner, he was her iron fist, and he would watch over her, just as he promised when he was but a boy, until she got better and no longer needed him, and then, he would go back to watching her from the shadows.

Holding the position for a few years, his reputation has already spread wide and far, there is no one in the Queen's service more feared and loathed then he, the Obsidian Executioner.

Strengths

? Diligent


? Iron Will


? Master Warrior


? Tactically Adept


? Cunning




Weaknesses

? Obsessive


? Unstable


? Insecure


? Berserk Fury


? Abrasive




Other

I understand that, with this character, I will be spending large amounts of time RPing with myself and NPCs, and I am okay with that. I really wanted to do this kind of character, and I am also open, and hoping for, character growth. Either him growing attached to some of the 'good' PCs leading him into a clash between loyalty, affection, obsession and duty.


But I am also completely okay with him dying sometime during this Roleplay. Just wanted to reassure you that I am quite ready to 'throw down' with this guy and walk the harder path of having only myself to RP with at times, especially, early on. A lot of his history I kinda had to take liberties with the queen, please pm me or just let me know what you want changed as I intend to ask some question in the OOC after I submit this/hopefully gets accepted to flesh out more about the world he will be living in.




For Everyone Else

Please feel free to PM me anytime with story ideas, history, or just to say hi, I don't bite....


...


Often.

 

[KillThemAll]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/73cacc30c3dbc90ac48d46de31d2401e.jpg.c1582f8b68aaf90abfb6234e48d22dc6.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="132396" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/73cacc30c3dbc90ac48d46de31d2401e.jpg.c1582f8b68aaf90abfb6234e48d22dc6.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

 
​

Spoiler

 





 

6'1", Well-Toned Build. Western Human from Camelot, therefore possessing a Western Accent (Northern British). Joran has blonde hair, which he keeps at a well-cut shortness. He has a collection of scars, only a few touching his worn face, most notably below his left eye, across his nose, and on his lower lip. He, sometimes, wears golden ear-piercings, a habit he picked up at Narcelik, where it is very common.

Joran Stronham of House Stronham, Exile of Whytewynd, Royal Knight

of (Formerly) the Kingsguard, now Royal Knight of the Queensguard.

"The Vowcrusher", "Father's Bane", "The Steel Wolf"

Age:

Fifty-four

Gender:

Male

Species:

Human (Western, Camelot)

(Wood Elven Ancestors)

Occupation:

Member of the Queensguard,

Former Exile from Whytewynd

Magic/Weapons:

Due to his Elven descent,

Joran has a small amount of

innate magical energy in him.

Using this, he often heals himself

in combat through regeneration.

This has also increased his

survival capabilities drastically.

However, he is not immune. A

strike to the right arteries or

to the heart and head would

just as surely end Joran as it'd

end a normal man.
 



 

Vowforger is the main weapon of Joran Stronham. His family blade, Vowforger has served House Stronham for many years. An arcanite-steel alloy sword, it is capable of cutting through stone as easily as scissors cut through paper. It also has a negating effect towards magic to the person who wields it. This prevents Joran from using his regeneration when wielding Vowforger, and also prevents others from damaging Joran with direct magical attacks due to the aura of spell immunity Vowforger grants. However, this spell immunity charm can be broken when a piece of mithril is in the vicinity of Vowforger or when a skilled magic-user dispels Vowforger or simply disarms Joran of it.

Vowforger is a longsword at 3'6" of length. It has a surprisingly light blade due to the arcanite alloy, but its grip is much heavier, as Joran modified it to be, preferring the extra weight.

Personality:

Joran is a strange man. Unlike his most of his family, Joran does not hold

high respect for honor. Rather, he does what he must to protect his interests.

While he does want to uphold honor and be like a knight of old, Joran

often denies himself the pleasure of appearing as such a hero by doing

what he deems necessary.

While he lacks the honor he seeks, Joran does hold duty high. He

stays true to his vows, and he is loyal to the Queen through duty.

This same duty is what drives Joran forward, who finds comfort in

purpose.

Not the most honorable, but dutiful, Joran has traveled much and learned

much in that time. Due to this, he is street-smart and has quite a bit of wisdom.

Often portraying this through light humor, Joran enjoys teaching the

younger guards about various things. One of the highlights of his time as

a Royal Guard would be training other soldiers how to fight and various

other things. Because of Joran's wide and existential knowledge, he

has found amusement in sharing it.

Joran often holds high doubts about his actions and his moral

integrity. He would slay a man if his Queen demanded it, but not

without respecting the man first. He does not enjoy slaying innocents or

killing likable people, but he will do it if he deems it

necessary.

Joran can listen to reason, but he most often resorts

to duty in times of inner conflict. This eats away at Joran, though.

A soul once plagued by wanderlust is always infected. He misses the

freedom of travelling and the adventures he once had. However,

Joran still believes his vow to protect the Crown is above all.

All but his duty to his family, and his home.

Background:

Joran was the second-born son of Lord Dragon Stronham, ruler

of House Stronham, the bannermen and the greatest house of Southern

Camelot in Whytewynd's vicinity. Because of their small size, House Stronham

was not considered a noble house until they were granted lordship by the

Lords of Whytewynd following their participation in various wars. However,

House Stronham and the Lords had a falling out as Dragon

refused to commit his House to their petty and dishonorable wars with

other houses, believing the cowardly Lords to be driven by

pathetic greed...

Raised as a warrior moreso than a fat noble, Joran grew to be

an excellent swordsman in his youth and would always envy, but respect and admire,

his older brother; Jovan. Jovan would go on to aid Whytewynd and the rest of Camelot

in their war against orcs in the north, leaving a young adult and hot-headed

Jorah with his disciplined and strict father. During their time, the two hunted and

carried out justice to criminals around the land. While the two didn't particularly

have a great relationship, they had mutual respect and his father was truly

proud of the warrior Joran had become.

On one of their daily hunts, though, Joran called for his father, whom didn't

answer. When he traveled out to find him, he'd see his father collapsed on a road,

injured by a great brown mare that had crushed his legs. The hot-headed horse

eventually charged the two once more, Joran ducked and slicing its legs out from

under it. He ended the unholy beast. Promising to uphold his honor and

duty to his dying father, Joran took Vowforger and put one of his greatest rolemodels

to mercy.

However, when he returned to his house, he found that the Lords of Whytewynd

had seized it. He was falsely accused of murdering his father; slaying his horse and

then killing him afterwards. Unable to defend himself against his house's enemies

without the aid of his eldest brother, Joran would flee Camelot. Proclaimed the

"Father's Bane" and the "Vowcrusher" by his enemies, it was not so long after his

exile that his older brother mysteriously died in battle, despite drastically

outnumbering their orcish enemies.

Joran became a mercenary and adventurer, travelling, first, to the East

by passage on a boat. There, he served as a mercenary and combat instructor

to other men. Later, after spending much time as a renowned figure in Narcelik,

he would make his way to the North. There, Joran learned various customs of

the vikings, barbarians, and hardened knights in the area. He studied their

religions, just as he did in the East, and earned the respect of many after slaying

a werewolf that had been terrorizing farming villages for decades. This earned

him the title of "The Steel Wolf", due to his knightly armor.

Eventually, Joran would return to the West. However, finding that Camelot

had fallen out of grace, he attempted to lead a rebellion against Whytewynd.

This ended with Lord Gregor fiercely dueling Joran, his allies slaughtered all around

him as they were ambushed in the mountains. Joran was ultimately defeated, tumbling down the rocks and into a

massive river known as the Snake.

Drifting, he would land in Lathien, where he was found by peasants

and taken care of. Word reached the former King, father of the Mad Queen,

who had heard of Joran and his exploits. More useful a servant to the King

then as a gift to Camelot, Joran was granted pardon in Lathien and made a

part of the Crown's Kingsguard. Following the King's death, he, naturally,

transitioned to the position of Queensguard.

Strengths:

Very Skilled Fighter.

Multilingual (Narcelian, Common, Elvish, Dwarven, Abyssal, Akaran, Jovahni).

Cautious.

Wise and Clever.

Respectful.

Weaknesses:

Average Body Type (Toned, but not agile or particularly strong).

Weak when it comes to hand-to-hand combat.

Indecisive when it comes to duty vs. reason.

Doubts himself due to him committing many dishonorable acts.

Lonely.

Other:

N/A

 
​

 

[LadyArdent]

Amunet Celeste Charmont


Rebel

Age: 26, as it appears.

Gender: Female

Species: Vampire

Species Description: Vampires have enhanced senses. They can hear like any mammal, vision to see better in the night, smell is sensitive such as the faintest of scents can be detected, strength beyond mortal comprehension such as like an ogre yet not as equal, they can't taste anything save for what they live off of which is blood. Blood from a human is what gives them their life, their essence. If one couldn't stomach the idea essentially they can live off of warm blooded animals, but still doesn't give them the pure iron that human blood provides to help keep them living. They are agile, and silent almost like a feline... however one had been in death any scars, blemishes, marks, ailments, etc. are all erased away once turned. You are essentially beautifully dead. Cold to the touch, you don't really breathe, and everything is enhanced about you. Lustrous hair, smooth skin, vibrant eyes, you catch the drift. The only way a vampire can be made is to be drained of blood while human and take from another vampire. The older they are the more enriched the blood is. When blood is taken from the vampire your human body goes through the process of death and then you are well a vampire. You'll begin to burn, aching for blood. Your personality is as it was as a human. Either you are emotional or not. Most have the same abilities, none have something over the other vampire. Their weaknesses are fire, and sunlight. The only ways to kill them is through decapitation, or cutting out the heart then burning it. One last troubling thing about this species is that they can fall into a deep madness that no one can bring them back from. In this madness caused by a lost lover, or not handling life pushes one to walk into the sun or fire extinguishing their life.

Occupation: Contract Killer

Magic: Telepath only when connected to victims or if another one is of the same species.

Empathy as in she can influence a mood on someone, but rarely does she act on it around people. Amunent only enforces this with victims or a killing. The bundle of emotions she gets when close to anyone is enough hence the guard she holds up around people.

Healing abilities are when most cuts, stabs, organ damage, etc heal in their own depending on extent of damage

Weapon: Two simple daggers, hidden upon person.

Appearance:

Personality: At the surface Amunet appears blunt, sarcastic, and she doesn't listen to anyone very well. This is the part where her stubborn attitude plays a big part depending on good or bad. She is feisty to the a degree. There is the really good side of her that she does feel emotion from another being when a bond is created. She is fiercely loyal, honest, and caring. There are times when she can be emotional yet for the most part she is closed off. She uses her exterior facade to keep most at bay.

Background: Her background is murky because she doesn't remember every bit of her human existence. The only time she does remember is when she was made. Amunet was said to be a mother in a quaint village with a loving husband. She had two babes, and was loving. Her village had been raided by a cult of such beings and she was taken prisoner. Her family was killed, along with most people. These vampires took men, women, and elders who they deemed worthy of sacrifice. Shocked by what happened she never really processed losing her family, and she was made. If one came through as one of them then they were allowed life, and she was granted that. Amunet has never learned the truth about her family or village because she has little memory of it.

Strengths: Sight, sound, strength like an ogre, and hearing.

Weaknesses: Daylight, fire, decapitation, prolonged periods of not feeding.​

 

[KhalZhavvorsa]

Spoiler

Name:

Aurora Norok

Nic-Name:


Aura


Lady Aura/Aurora


Age:


24


Gender:


Female


Species:


Seer


Has the ability see into the past or future.


Occupation:


Oracle

Magic/Weapons:


Walking Stick/Staff

Dagger


{Strapped to her inner right thigh}

Spoiler

Personality:


Aura is wise beyond her years, but yet carries a very playful side to her. Despite being blind, the woman is rather manipulative. She's friendly and yet mysterious in the way that she won't talk about her past. On the down side though, she's got a pretty hot temper and barely can focus. Sometimes. One could say Aura is fearless, but she does have her own amount of fears; despite knowing how she will die.


When telling a fortune, Aura becomes very serious as well as emotionless. She takes her job as an Oracle quite serious and being a born a Seer, she is proud of her ability to see what others cannot.


Background:


Aura was born in Autumn, when the leafs had just stared to fall from the trees. At birth, her parents knew she was different due to the fact that she had no pupils but instead milky white irises. Aura's parents were..unique people. Her mother a gypsy and her father a regular human; however, he had a gambling problem which lead to him later gambling away his daughter and basically everything they owned.


From that point on, Aura was used in ways unimaginable before she escaped and started to travel on her own, never staying in one area very long, in fear of them finding her. Due to her father's drunken mistake, she never trusted anyone. As she traveled, she met many people; some who helped and others that did not. At some point while traveling, Aura had a vision. a very intense one about her very own death. Since then, she hasn't been very fearful, but still wages on the side of caution in case the reading was wrong.


{I really suck at writing these things x.x More can be explained in RP and all that.}


Strengths:


~She's able to locate someone by the vibrations in the ground when they walk. Depending on how light or heavy they are, she can also tell if they are wearing heavy armor (or is fat. xD ).


~Due to her sight being gone her other sense are amplified by a bit.


~From a past experience, she knows a little about medicine. {Scale of 1-10..like a 3}


~She's pretty good at talking her way out of a sticky situation as well as talking someone into doing something for her. {Scale of 1-10..like a 7.5 or 8}


Weaknesses:


~Well..she is blind { xD }


~She never stays in one place longer than a month, if she can help it.


~Has a 'minor' gambling problem.


~Fears spiders and isolation


Other:


Want to have a past with her? PM Me c:

 

[Rui]

Aster Gale


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.8c56088d1092c04c359f4b956952a286.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="133478" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.8c56088d1092c04c359f4b956952a286.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Age: 20


Gender: female


Species: human


Occupation: seamstress to the Queen


Magic/Weapons: none; unless you count some shears and sewing pins.


Personality: Aster is a rather shy creature. She is submissive, polite, and loyal to a fault. She is kind, sweet, and giving, and would give anything to help others. This would typically pose problems, but she's so well liked no one dares take advantage of her. She is ladylike and poised, and sought after widely.


Background: Aster, or more officially, Lady Aster Gale, is the daughter of a former lower-ranking court lady. After being widowed by her husband, Sir Eduard Gale, Lady Marcella Gale became a handmaiden to the Queen. She was the favorite, until people began saying she was more beautiful than the queen, and her young daughter would be even fairer than she. This enraged the Queen, and Marcella was executed and ripped of her title. Aster was left a nameless pauper, trained by staff and raised by a cook, to serve the Queen. She does so with an unwavering loyalty, so it seems, but she silently feels some hatred towards the Queen regarding her mother. She became the seamstress after the last one had her hands removed for "supposed" thievery, and has become the Queen's top seamstress due to her skill. She must, although, wear an opaque veil in the presence of the Queen, as not to upset her with her beauty.


Strengths: Sewing, talking to people, singing (and playing the harp), running and climbing, horseback riding, and wooing men (usually unintentionally)


Weaknesses: Fighting (she is a small woman with little strength), yelling, drinking (she's a bit of a lightweight), and public speaking.


Other: Aster was named for the Aster Flower, a beautiful purple bloom the same shade as her exotic purple eyes.


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.d3bb07f01d7d3ce6bbe9f77b8c5e746d.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="133481" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.d3bb07f01d7d3ce6bbe9f77b8c5e746d.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>



​

Spoiler

Daily Attire Without Veil <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.b929c78602b97db67779f4227571f8a1.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="133479" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.b929c78602b97db67779f4227571f8a1.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
​

Spoiler

Song:[media]

[/media]






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[Sluggodile]

Name: Dai Grepher

• Nickname: Black Lightning Grepher - The Blackblood Knight
  

Age: Late Thirties (Even he doesn't know.)


Gender: Male-aroo


Species: Human - He has quite the mind on him, and is well aware of the extent of his powers, and how to use them, despite not knowing where they come from. He can do other regular human things, and like all humans, has an unmatched desire to progress, and achieve more. He calls it his PURPOSE.


Occupation: He's a freelance knight out for hire. If you have money, he'll take it gladly. His GREED doesn't impose on his morals, however. If he disagrees with what's going about, he'll work out a way to leave. He's not an idiot.


Magic/Weapons:

Spoiler

Being a human, of course Dai is more physically inclined than magically inclined. However, due to an incident in his past, he's now become more magically inclined than any human that lived in the land he came from. I'll list his magics here, though in the future they may grow more detailed, and perhaps new magics will even be unlocked.


Electromancy - Whenever Dai fights, whether seriously or playfully, a storm gathers about him. This aspect of his power is beyond his control. Rain and lightning ensue, which he's grown used to, and even sees it as a boon, especially against enemies unused to fighting in the rain. This storm of course provides him with a source for his lightning magic, which he channels through himself and his armor to use as a second blade, of sorts. The storm CAN be disappated with magic. It reappears, however, and usually you'd be better off simply ignoring it, and finding another way around his magic. He is NOT immune to electrocution or the like, and is equally harmed by others' Electromancy.

• Blacklight Channel
  
• Blacklight Cloak
  
• Blacklight Blade/Sheild
  
• Blacklight Strike/Shot
  
• Hurricane of Dark Thunder
  

Necromancy - This magic, similarly to his Electromancy, is in parts beyond his control. This magic much moreso than his Electromancy. Thankfully, it doesn't rear its ugly head at any given time. Only in a fight where it's clear he's at a great disadvantage, where support would be needed, does this magic come into play. No matter where he may be, the harder Dai Grepher fights, the more undead soldiers rise to his side. He personally believes these disgusting creatures to be the tormented souls that his blade has slew. However, it seems that they are unable to harm him, despite the hate their empty eyes view him in. Instead, they fight alongside him, and follow whatever orders he gives them. These soldiers are of differing difficulty to kill, ranging from basic footsoldiers to warriors as strong as Dai Grepher himself. They can, of course, be destroyed physically or with magic.

• Undead Rise
  
• Undead Orders
  
• Undead Disperse
  
• Blackblood Surge
  

His Fists - Of course, like all good knights, Dai Grepher is a master handsman. He can brawl with the best of 'em, and uses classic boxing moves, often going in for a finisher with his signature Uppercut-Elbow Jab combo. He's excellent with protecting his head, but not the best at protecting his body, which sometimes leaves him open for stomach/oblique blows. Still, he's better than your average mug when it comes to fisticuffs.


Arclight - His blade, which goes by many other names; it's known as the Blackblood Blade, the Cursed Broadsword, and even the Drake Tamer, though Dai Grepher has no idea why that name was given to it. For as long as he's held it, the sword has compelled him- driven him- and told him what to do, and what to trust. In an odd, backwards way, Dai Grepher is more of an extention of the blade at this point than the blade is an extention of him. And all his life, it's whispered its name to him- Arclight. An oddly pristine name for an obsidian black and slate grey blade, with an odd, almost vein-like lightning etching stretching down the entire blade. It's no doubt cursed, as the few times he's tried to toss it away, one way or another it's returned to his scabbard. He belives it to be the cause of the mysterious spirits that fight alongside him.





PRIDE - His shield. It has no mystical power about it besides that it is magic repellant, and is used to ward off most magic attacks that culminate in a physical form. For example, when battling dragons, drakes, and the like, it can be used to block their flames without overheating the holder's arm, but it won't stop him from being tossed around with psychich attacks. Mostly, however, it's used to absorb blows from blades, cudgels, and the other general fare of the like. It's not invincible, but it's extremely hard to destroy thanks to how well carfted it is. Being his pride and joy, it's obvious why he named that sheild what he has.








Appearance:

As with most knights, his physique is above the natural for a man his age. His body is nigh entirely muscle, with little fat to be found. His skin is lightly tanned, and despite being a wandering knight, has very few blemishes besides light knicks here and there that've devloped to become scars. He stands tall at a flat six feet, though it's hard to judge just how tall he REALLY his, what with the fact he has never removed his helmet. The most he's done to reveal his appearance is slide his face-mask up slightly to reveal his rugged (but shaved) chin and full lips, though a small scar curls up and towards his nose from the left side of his upper lip. Other than that, it's unknown what his face truly looks like.


Personality: Unlike what his physique and stature would suggest, Dai Grepher is extremely logic driven. He's not profoundly intelligent, and he knows this, and is prone to extreme caution, even going so far as to be called cowardly at the fact he rarely leaps to any conclusion. He's slow to make any form of decision, and would rather sit back and think for days at a time on a decision that'd keep most people occupied for no more than an hour. He's much more inclined to let others command him than to be forced to command himself, as he's extremely self-doubting, always second-guessing himself. His logic is that, though others don't have his best interest in mind, he's smart enough to know when to stop himself, but not smart enough to set himself in motion. He needs others to do that for him.


He's neither a natural pessimist nor a natural optimist, instead choosing to point out what he considers to be the facts in a situation before approaching it in a way that'd make anyone upset or happy. He fears most of all insinuating massive movements of baseless courage or riots, or insiting baseless fear or panic, and as such is more likely to squirm in his seat than to voice his ideas. Still, if the situation calls for it, he will speak his mind. He has no goals, other than see to it that his past is known to him and to find a suitable master to serve out the rest of his days, as all knights must. As such, he's easily manipulated, and will even allow himself to be manipulated willingly if he suspects there's a chance he'll get to have even a sliver of his past returned to him.


Despite being a large coffer of emotions and thoughts and logic, all that is thrown out of the window when he fights. It's odd- in street fights, he has no qualms about fighting dirty: seeing the only point in a fight like that being victory. He tries to clean up such fights as quickly and painlessly as possible, going about it coldly and tactfully, aiming to finish his opponent in one or two attacks, as fighting in heavy armor is wearysome for one of his bulk. But, when he swings his sword about instead, he fights with great honor, as if he truly were a knight, though the longer he fights, the more sadistic in his killing methods he becomes, trading honor for pleasure. At one hour, he may slay you quickly with a short jab through the stomach. The next, he'll slice your appendages off and leave your for one of his minions to slay.


Killing outside of battle sickens him greatly. His morals are unwavering out of battle, but like his emotions is tossed aside in battle.


Background: Not much of Dai Grepher's life is known to others, as it's barely known to himself. Though his childhood is vivid, after a certain unnameable night all is lost except to roughly a year ago. And even this information is what Dai Grepher wishes to keep to himself. Still, he opens up to his employers, and that's how what little is known about him is known in the first place. He was born some thirty or so years ago in a village in some far off land. There he was raised to become a knight by both his father and his father's instructor and general. Much of his day was spent swinging a blade much too awkward for his grip around and handling a shield much too bulky for a child like himself . Still, as the days turned into weeks, he began to grow into his equipment, and though they were a few sizes too large for him, he soon became used to that sword and shield.


Still, even as his days passed and he learned to love as much as he learned to kill, things were changing for the worse. Being the son of royalty, he was soon targeted by uprising peasants looking to overthrow their useless monarch and set things straight. Being the son of peasantry, however, he was spared death, and was instead banished after the castle was seized- his parents dying in the process. Not something that Dai Grepher had not seen coming, but something still traumatizing and heart-shattering that he carried with him as a heavy package that he let no other see or hold. He then traveled. Hours turned to days; days, to weeks; weeks, to months, to years. He traveled, and traveled. That is, until that fateful night, that not even Dai Grepher remembers.


His next memories were awakening in a snowy forest. Odd, because where he was born cold was not a word in their dictionary. What was also out of place was himself. He was soaked head to toe in blood, or, rather, his armor was. The style was familiar- reminiscent of the armor of his homeland, and so was the shield- and yet foreign as well. And the blade... it couldn't have been of this world. After all, it spoke. Much. It had to know his past, and yet it refused to say anything but "Arclight" to him. That name had to have significance. And yet what, Dai Grepher has yet to find the answer to. Still, as he walked, he found that people pointed, stared, and spoke. It appeared he was quite popular- though, perhaps infamous would be a more fitting word. Around every bend, around every corner, his name was spoken in hushed, anxious tones- tones that set his nerves on edge. What... had he done? What was with the odd looks? Why was he still hearing the blade's voice in his mind?


None of this was answered by the time he'd stumbled into the Kingdom which the Mad Queen ruled. It was unfortunate- he couldn't outrun his demons: they could swim and fly in shadows, after all. Alone, he wandered the kingdom, a blade for hire. A murder for coin. Here, again, he became infamous. And yet still, he was directionless, hungry, cold, and alone. His speech pattern had adapted an unconscious, heavy sigh, and though he could not see his face, he could feel heavy bags under his eyes. Something was killing him, despite him getting plenty of sleep, plenty to eat, and more than enough to drink. But what?


Strengths:

• Logical
  
• Efficient
  
• Neutral
  
• PURPOSE - His willpower is unwavering, and he will accomplish any feasible task set in front of him.
  
• Sheer Power
  
• Fighting
  

Weaknesses:

• Arguably Tactless
  
• Quiet
  
• Obsessively Driven
  
• Easily Manipulated
  
• Weak (Of Mind)
  
• Loses Mind in Battle
  
• Overly Cautious
  

THEMES:


Main/Battle! Theme -

- Spear of Agony (Underfell AU [undyne's Theme] - Remix)
Temperance!OW Theme -



- Dark Necessities (Red Hot Chili Peppers - The Getaway)

 

[Veyd Sahvoz]

Name: Erikur Cetrix


Age: 29


Gender: Male


Side: Eventual rebel (meaning I plan on becoming one as the RP progresses)


Species: Draxxan


Occupation: A wandering Battlemage who came to the kingdom about a week ago to see if the rumors about the Queen were true.


Magic/Weapons: He carries a slightly curved longsword called "The Silver Cleaver" and uses/practices the dark arts, using it to help others instead of just himself. The type of abilities and spells he uses are:


Dark Magic- Self explanatory. Involves many different types of spells all linked to the same kind of magic, referred to as the dark arts.


Electrokinesis- Allows him the power to manipulate lightning and generate it from his body simply from the existence of such energies around him. For example if there were a thunderstorm this power would be enhanced ten fold and he would derive the power from the storm and use it to generate more energy to use and then unleash upon his foes or simply channel the storm's lightning. Even if there weren't one he's still able to generate lightning from his body and utilize it simply because such a thing exists.


Darkness/Shadow Manipulation- Being able to create and manipulate darkness or shadows and to use it for one's own needs; travelling long distances via shadows, manifesting it into something physical (weapon or shield etc.) or using it to dispel light. The possibilities are many but even this has limits.


Hexes- A form of Dark Magic that involves affecting someones soul, mind, and body such as torturing them, with the use of magic. This is something Erikur dreads terribly and uses only to kill those that are, what he deems, entirely evil and deserve to death for the sake of not harming innocents, or to enhance his own weapons strengths.


Bloodfire- A Blood Magic spell involving an amulet he always carries and his own blood. Since he isn't a pyromancer and can't control or generate any kind of fire he uses the one spell he knows of blood magic that allows him to conjure fire from the use of his own blood. The fire itself is just normal fire that looks more red like blood.


Appearance:

Personality: Erikur is a very strange man, he's unpredictable and a wee bit insane sometimes. Even though besides all that he is still is sane, managing to remain calm in front of people and not cause too much conflict. His temper is difficult to manage, just like any Draxxan, and he chooses to try and not worry about things too much but being him...that's not easy. When he's having a bad day even the littlest problem will set him off. Whenever he fights he begins to go sadistic and insane, accusing his enemy of the littlest and most random things. When he is calm and actually sane he is quite philosophical and is alright to be around. He's the type of person that doesn't really care about whether he has a good life, he's more worried and concerned about others and would fight for, what he deems as, a good cause.


Background: His father died before he was born from a raid on the town he was born in, a grim death he had, and his mother died in child birth. This lead him to be raised by a mage scholar that came across the settlement. The man saw him, alone, cold, crying for someone to take him in and being the man he was the mage asked the townsfolk if the child. Who were his parents? What were they? Why was the child alone left to die? So many queations the man asked, most of them unanswered, so he took the child and raised him in the ways of a mage. He named him Erikur Cetrix, Cetrix being the name of his former master and Erikur being a random name he saw fitting. Unfortunately he had no name himself, preferring people to call him whatever they please so Erikur chose the name "Master" simply because he was his teacher and a near master of the Dark Arts but as he learnt from a young age there was no such thing as a master because knowing all there ever was to know about something was impossible because there would always be something else to learn, more knowledge to find. Erikur referred to him as such anyways, not caring much of the statement. When he reached the age of 8 he began practicing the most basic of spells and he spent as much time he could casting a single spell over an over until it was imprinted into his memory, doing the same for the next and the next. Every spell. That was what he learnt. His Master taught him survival skills, the Dark Arts, philosophy, how to write, etc. All he had to do was practice. He had a good childhood, besides the vigorous training and his constant depression that would always appear, and learnt more than he possibly could've knoen in the span of just over a decade and a half. Soon it came the time that he inevitably knew would happen; the day he finally left. Last time he ever spoke with his Master was the night before he vanished, as if he just disappeared off the face of the world. Erikur mourned the disappearance of the one that raised him and went into a long depression but urged himself on because he knew this day would happen. From then on he went on a journey of his own to find more and more knowledge, hoping to reach a higher potential.


Strengths:


+Very knowledgeable in magic, mostly dark arts.


+Honorable.


+Isn't affected by normal flames (as in just plain fire).


+Great swordsman.


Weaknesses:


+Can't control his emotions entirely.


+Becomes sadistic when fighting intensely or long periods of time.


+Not immune and at high risk to mind affecting powers or magic.


+Weak against necromancy, elemental magic, and light magic.


+Suffers from a form of depression.


Other: His iris glow a bright orangish-red whenever he uses any magic.

 

[KillThemAll]

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5'6", Athletic and Fit. Gray Skin due to Death, (Formerly White).

No scars due to her Light Regeneration. Has tattoos on her face

(two Widow Marks), one on her lower back (Crown), and one on

her left leg (Feather). Her right eye is a murky white and

completely useless, thus her use of her raven-black eyepatch.




Name:

Vass Noira

"Vira"

"The Undying"

Age:

134

Gender:

Female

Species:

Wood Elf (Nature's Children Sub-type)

Occupation:

Badass Rebel Officer

Former Commander of the Castle Guard

Magic/Weapons:

​

Spoiler

Corrupted Light is another term for the dark energies responsible for empowering necromancers

and warlocks in practicing the Dark Arts and shadow magic. Corrupted Light has a much more specific

origin, though. It is generated when pure holy energy is turned into a darker and much more volatile

form. As a volatile energy, it is hard to control and use, therefore earning it the name "Corrupted" Light.

For shorter reference, though, Corrupted Light is referred to as "Shade" by many civilizations. Narcelians

call it "Vora", or "consuming one".

Corrupted Light spawns in beings of a previous holy past that were raised through unholy means,

or may simply be the result of a person being resurrected after extreme damage, thus requiring more

energy in the transformation, leading to the creation of Corrupted Light. Those who have been

resurrected with excess Corrupted Light often find themselves able to control the immense energies

remaining through a natural connection with it. The dark energies are now a part of that being's

soul.

With the use of Corrupted Light, the possibilities vary. Many simply use the powerful energy to

increase their physical capabilities with short bursts of it, or use it in a magic-like fashion through

channeling beams of the energy or similar action. The energy may even be used to regenerate

wounds and heal others. Due to the Corrupted Light being a raw energy source, talented magic-users

may even channel the Shade into various forms of magical energy, ranging from elemental magic

to the Dark Arts.

The Heartseeker is a complex and traditional mithril Elven Highbow

that doubles as a defensive shield. A family heirloom of Vira,

the bow was passed down through generations, originating

with one of her ancestors, who received it as a gift after becoming

King of the Forest in Clan Noira.

The Heartseeker is a powerful bow. While it possesses no

enchantments to the projectiles it fires, Vass usually

uses her Shade energy to drastically increase the power

behind each arrow she fires. The Heartseeker is also an

"Aegis", immune to magic and most kinds of damage.

Due to this immunity, the Heartseeker earns its place

as, additionally, a defensive barrier between the user

and various types of danger.

The bowstring of Heartseeker is made of Ironwood-embued

spidersilk. With the Ironwood touch, the thin string is capable

of taking immense trauma without snapping, capable of holding

up a giant without snapping. However, the string is still breakable

through the use of immense trauma, precise magic, or just

a well-aimed strike.

(Formerly) Innate Elven Magic

Personality:

Vass is a very different person than she once was. While

she was once a caring and kind soul, the years that passed

molded who she was, eventually resulting in the girl's transformation

into a serious and dedicated woman. Determination was one

of Vass' most prominent traits. She was persistent, enduring,

and extremely stubborn, refusing to give up on even the slightest

of things. She swore to stay true to all of her oaths, all of her vows,

and to always succeed, even in the smallest of ways.

Presently, Vass is confused. She hates herself for breaking her

oath to the Crown, but hates the Queen even more, driving her

to follow her other Oath of ending the woman. It is an obssession, as Vass is an extremely

emotional being, the promise to end the Queen bites at her very

being every day she doesn't complete the vow. The elf would do anything

to achieve her goal, whether it be to kill innocents or even sacrifice her

own life. Though, to her madness, she has innocence. She still retains

some of her playful and confident nature that she regained during

her healing period as the Commander of the Castle Guard.

With this, she manages to stand strong and proud, determined

as ever. This eager nature, however, leads her to being reckless,

the driving point behind her willingness to do anything to slay the Mad

Queen.

Truly, she is a determined and willful person now driven

by a mad lust for revenge, plagued by a background of

trauma that has bit away at her innocence.

Background (Highlights, She's an Elf):

Vira, born Vass of Clan Noira, is a Wood Elf hailing from the

Northern forest of Tyrsva. She came from a Nature's

Children Clan, therefore being taught to honor tradition

and the Wild. Following the dutiful nature of her people,

she was also taught the art of marksmanship by her uncle,

Dore. Excelling in the art, Vass became the greatest archer

in her Clan, which earned her the position of Grand Ranger

of Tyrsva.

She spent much of her young life protecting the forests

of Tyrsva from outsiders and corruption within the

peaceful amber forest. Her Clan thrived for a long while,

preserving nature where it may lay. However, Tyrsva

was suddenly assaulted by a gargantuan blizzard. Sadly, The

wash of death that resulted from the chilling cold was

only the beginning.

Undead began to advance on the forests, wiping out

nearby human and barbarian clans from around Tyrsva.

However, the resilient and stubborn Vass led her people

following the death of their King of the Forest, Falon.

This led to a period known as the Dark March, where Clan

Noira strived to survive within the frozen wasteland

that was their former home, Tyrsva. The stubborn and

dutiful elves refused to abandon it.

Eventually, the few dozen remaining elves would learn from

a travelling Seer that their source of problem was an ancient

human shaman who had been killed by the elves' ancestors

long ago, and sought revenge. She told them that the only

way to kill him would be through 'the sands'.

Vass regarded this as nonsense and continued to

lead her people through the ruined Tyrsva. One

day, the group was attacked by a large gathering

of undead. Risen elves devoured their former family

as Vass and the remnants of Clan Noira retreated

to a large ditch in the center of Tyrsva Forest.

There, a slaughter ensued, leading to the massacring

of Vass' people before her very eyes. While she

held out against the swarming undead for as long

as she could, she found herself unable to

act in defense of her remaining kin when an

undead Falon stormed upon them. Run through

by her King, she collapsed and died in the snowy wastes,

frozen throughout time.

And the prophecy was true. The sands of time

had slain the Necromancer, as his magic gave

out and he withered away, satisfied with his

justice.

However, death had not come for Vass.

Rather, it was driven away by an appearing

source of light. A royal cleric travelling to find

a source of Ironwood for the King of Lathien,

Tarra Earnest stumbled upon the very ditch that

Vass had fallen in. The only visible, and intact,

corpse of the long-dead elves, Tarra attempted

to channel holy energy into the fallen archer.

With a sudden golden flash and a constricting embrace

of violent purple, the fallen elf opened her

eyes.

Vass was scarred by long-spent

years in death. She had been damaged

beyond repair in some areas, and lacked

some features that a whole life once

offered her. Though, she had grown

strangely used to the cold of winter,

and her skin took on a bleaker tint due to

its years of chilling undeath.

At first, Vass was confused. She

was eager to simply return to the

darkness before Tarra managed

to convince her to return to Lathien

with him.

After returning to Lathien, Tarra would

announce her discovery of Ironwood in the

ancient forest of Tyrsva. The King, pleased

with this, would find another set of news. Tarra

offered the services of Vass, whom had

promised to serve the King to Tarra on

their seaward journey back to Lathien.

The crowds in the Great Hall were

appalled. An elf, serving the King as Commander

of the Castle Guard? An undead elf, no less?

However, the King would approach Vass, strangely

taking her hand and inspecting it before nodding.

He accepted the former Grand Ranger as his

Commander of the Castle Guard. He dubbed her

"Vass Noira the Undying".

Over time, Vass found much purpose in Lathien.

Her men learned to greatly respect her, and she

did her duty well. Vass had a blossoming love with

Tarra, which aided her in healing over her past trauma

and the verbal abuse she suffered at the hands of

Lathien's people.

On one of the first days of the Mad Queen's reign,

Tarra had a major disagreement with the lady. This

led to an engagement with Queen's Guard members

that ended in a fatal wound being inflicted upon Tarra.

Vass found her injured lover and spoke to her

before she passed. Enraged, Vass would ultimately

abandon the Castle Guard and lead men who were

loyal to her out of Draede and into the countryside,

where they would begin preparing for vengeance

and retaliation against the Mad Queen so that

she could pay for her heinous crimes. And thus,

Vass Noira, former Commander of the Castle Guard,

became the leader of the Crownbreakers, and

an officer of the rebellion to come.

Strengths:

Extremely Dexterous (Agile, Flexible, etc.)

Skilled in Archery and Hand-to-Hand Combat

Loves Animals and Nature

Aversion to Cold

Tough

Determined

Formerly her enemy

Intelligent

Eagle's Eye (Observant)

Leader

Enhanced Vision in Left Eye

Sexy Lesbian

Weaknesses:

Bloodlust (Merciless, Ruthless)

Reckless

Blinded (Right Eye)

Constant Pain and Headaches

Haunted (Supernatural)

Weakened by Holy Places (Headaches, Pain)

Weakness to Holy Magic

Weakness to Fire

PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Hate of Heat

Anger Issues

Amplified Pain

Hearing Impaired

Disliked by the People

Disdain for Many

Can be Enigmatic

Other:

N/A

 

[Darth Gangsta]

Name: Ragnar Floki


Age: 21


Gender: Male


Side: Neutral


Species: Human


Occupation: Raider


Magic/Weapons: Warmonger, Bringer of the North (An axe that is enchanted with a chill that will eventually kill any opponent), The Visage of Woe (an unbreakable shield)


Appearance:

Personality: Ragnar is a very clever and curious man. He doesn't care for revenge (unlike most raiders) and looks beyond (like say two warring raiding clans fight each other, Ragnar would probably some how make them allies then then his clan and the other clan could raid together, thus they have power). He is a very patient and calm men, but when he does get angry, he is blind and essentially attack everything and everyone in his path.


Background: Ragnar was born and raised in the northern lands, and earned a reputation as a clever boy. When Ragnar was 15, a ruler from the east known as Jarl Svealand invaded the northern lands and killed the north Jarl Siward. Ragnar joined with Siward-loyalists to drive out the men of the east. Jarl Svealand was famous for carrying tame serpents around his neck in battle whom would bite his enemies while he fought them. For the purpose of fighting Svealand, Ragnar fashioned a coat and breeches from a hairy animal hide. In the battle that followed, Ragnar faced off with Svealand and the serpents could not bite through the hide for all the hair. Because of his unusual way of defeating the king at such an early age, Ragnar earned his name "Floki", the hairybreeches. At one point, Ragnar went to Kaarstaag's and Miraak's cave in order to win Warmonger and the Visage of Woe. Legend said that Kaarstaag was a large furry beast and Miraak an enormous grey hound that was not from earth. But when Ragnar came to the cave he was approached by a bear (Kaarstaag) and a wolf (Miraak) who guarded the treasures. Ragnar killed the bear with his spear and strangled the hound with his bare hands, thus winning both artifacts. Ragnar became the Earl (essentially the king) and is looking for someone to marry.


Strengths:


+ Honorable


+ Risk taker


+ Strategic


+ Weaponry


Weaknesses:


- Risk taker


- His temper


- Honor


- Love


Other:

Spoiler

Oh we'll rant and roar like true warriors


We'll rant and we'll roar for all that we be


We'll march from yonder all laden with plunder


Oh what treasures, what pleasures, then you will see


Farewell and good-bye to you fair women


Farewell and good-bye to you ladies of honor


We've taken a liking to mayhem and fighting


Our blades we will bring down and sharpen again


We'll burn and we'll plunder and then we will sunder


Their heads from their necks and their gold from their purse


We'll meet them in battle and kill them like cattle


We'll drink their beer dry while the poor bastards curse


The first land we sighted we saw a tall spire


We crept up in darkness and set it aflame


We took silver and chalice for we bore in malice


And we hope that next year they won't be there again


We found a fat farmer, we found his fair daughter


We tickled him up with the point of a knife


He babbled and gabbled, gave us gold without haggle


The girl ran off screaming so we took his wife


Now let every warrior take up a his full tankard


Now let every warrior drink deep of strong ale


Our Wolverines' spearpoints will skewer 'em like pork joints


For richer and stronger the wolverines will prevail!

 

[Sultan of Swat]

Character Sheet


Name: Phineas (Phinny or Phin or Finn, Whatever Floats Your Boat!) ((His name is also self-given)


Age: 15


Gender: Male


Side: Neutral, quite possibly a Rebel, in some way or form.


Species: He is a human, having no real talents accept for his knack of running, from escaping guards and store owners. He has the wit of a fox, able to talk his way out of situations if need be. He has quick reflexes, able to dodge many incoming projectiles (at a reasonable speed).


Occupation: Con-artist, homeless.


Magic/Weapons: He has no affinity for magic, or not yet discovered. He carries a simple dart gun, which he holds constantly. He also has a bag of darts attached to the back of his pants.


Appearance:

Personality: He is a cheery guy on the front, but inside, he is truly alone and saddened at the fact he has no family nor friends to relate too, as he has to leave whoever he meets for being a notorious thief. He has a sharp mouth and at the same time being sarcastic to tick off certain people. He generally cares for no one other than himself, since he has no one else to care for. Although never knowing his family, he hates them with a passion for leaving him in the dust. He is not easily angered, however, mess with him, he relentlessly hunt you. He is an adventurous man, often taking life endangering risks to get what he wants.


Background: Finn has no remote clue as to where he is from, but is life started in an alley, crying. He remembers being taken in by a kind family until the tender age of 9, until they made the decision of telling him that he was discovered, not really born by them. These parents, although a distant memory, hold a place in his heart. He tends to push them away however, as he believes them to be a weakness. He then pursued thieving, as it was his only means of survival. He now travels, the land, doing what he does best: Steal.


Strengths: He is fast, maybe a little too fast, able to run at a ridiculous speed. He is intelligent, having out talked, out smarted many geniuses on the streets for information and money. He has quick reflexes, able to dodge most close ranged attacks and reasonably medium paced projectiles. He is also a great actor, having to pose as many different jobs and people.


Weaknesses: He is weak, to say the least, lacking any form of physical strength. He is also prone to lies, as people can mention knowing his family and he will immediately be intrigued. He is also emotionally fragile, so making any comment about his loneliness and self doubt will shatter him. Love is his greatest weakness, as it is something he hardly ever got to experience.


Other: I wonder if anyone will be a taker on being is real parents? Not till much later however.

 

[Loony_Bin]

Name:

Iltal Tasat

Age:

31

Gender:

Male

Side:

Aspiring Rebel

Species:

Human

Occupation:

Illegal Shop Owner (He sells junk he finds on the road in a back alley)

Magic/Weapons:

Has four daggers in total, three hidden in his boots and gloves, one on his hips.

Appearance:
​

Anime Picture

Realistic Picture

Personality:

Iltal is an...Intreasting character. He's very theatrical, always attempting to woo the crowd with over exaggerated stories of his adventures, but he also doesn't have much patience for others. He's ashamed of what he does as a living, constantly talking of how it's temporary, and how soon he'll be 'leading the rebellion to whoever will listen. In short, he wants to make everyone think he's better than he is. A regular at any bar he can find, he barely ever drinks, instead wooing the local drunks with 'amazing' tales from his young life...

Background:

Growing up in a slum, Iltal often refuses to talk of his childhood. He came from an abusive household where he was constantly told he wouldn't amount to anything, typically being ignored otherwise. He grew up street smart, and showed potential to be a genuious, but in attempts to fit in with 'cooler' kids in gangs, he stopped his studies early on, cutting out any potential in that feild. He eventually joined with a group of catpurses for a few years, finally getting caught in the act for the first time at the age of ten.





His parents punished him, of course, and told him to cut off ties with the gang, but of course they never checked to make sure he actually didn't, so he continued running with the gang. This continued for about five years before he finally grew tired of the constant cycle and left town. He then lived the next years of his life going from town to town, learning how life worked and making whatever profit he could in whatever town he was in. He has now found his way Draede, and looks to swindle as many people as he can until he either joins the rebellion, or runs away...

Strengths:
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• Excellent Actor
  
  ​
  
  
  
• Silver Tongue
  
  ​
  
  
  
• Decent Thief
  
  ​
  
  
  
• Moves on easily
  
  ​
  
  
  
• Dirty fighter
  
  ​
  
  
  

Weaknesses:

​

• Doesn't care for people easily.
  
  ​
  
  
  
• Is physically weak
  
  ​
  
  
  
• Short tempered
  
  ​
  
  
  
• Brash
  
  ​
  
  
  
• He's a smoker
  
  ​
  
  
  

Other:

Has an excellent mustache.
​

 

[Soviet Panda]

Name: Buras Skull Smasha


Age: 168


Gender: Male


Side: Histyr War Boss


Species: Histyr


Occupation: War Boss


Magic/Weapons: He's not one to finesse over things. But surprisingly enough he can strike with an incredible amount of precision and care when he wants to. However, he doesn't want to finesse it. A massive maul hangs on his back and over an equally large ax that he is able to wield in either hand. They both appear to be rather primitive things, but not even an iron dwarf smith could break them, obviously making them magical in some way.


Appearance:

Personality: Buras is a being demented on doing one thing and one thing alone, fight. He is the biggest and therefore strongest Histyr in existance, rivaling even some Draxxans in height. With that said, everything larger then him he sees as a challenge and everything smaller as something to be crushed for the pure hell of it. Humies (Humans) he has no qualm splitting in two, stunties (Dwarves) he'll gladly beat to a bloody pulp. Pointy ears (Elves) he'll cut the ears off of and make a necklace out of them. Uros (They live in a desert, of course he wouldn't use a derogatory name for them) he'll pluck and eat like a chicken. Nothing is safe from his savagery, not even the Histyr in his war band. What he calls asserting his dominance, or "Teaching the ladz a good lessun", often means mutilating a couple dozen and having the shamans fix them up so he can do it again. In battle he is one to lead from the front, so far in the front that he's in the middle of enemy lines and carving a way to the back to get at archers.


Background: Not much is known about Buras' childhood. Why should it? They don't keep records of that kind of stuff, they don't care. But when he became chief of his tribe, after ripping out the throat and eviscerating the last chieftain in a fight, that was when he became known. Fighting other tribes, absorbing them into his own, attracting others that wished to freely join him, he soon amassed an impressive war band. One that he ruled with an iron fist. He wanted to go through a mountain range once, and about halfway across it a couple decided to leave the cold weather in favor for more warmer climates, like a desert or rain forest. Buras immediately turned his war band around and proceeded to hunt them down. Was it a stupid thing to do? Yes, but he's a very stubborn person and did it anyway.


Strengths: Incredibly strong, able to hold what would take humans two hands in his one. That also translates over into his endurance, he can take a hit that would cause most to at the very least break a couple bones and keep on fighting because nothing actually happened to him. He has a small amount of skill in magic, mostly offensive magic such as shooting lightning from his hands and breathing fire like a dracoling. In fact, those are the only spells he does know. And because of what he is, most generals do one of two things, underestimate him and get out flanked. Or overestimate him and get their teeth punched in after he throws his war band right at them.


Weaknesses: He's not to strategically smart. He does know how to get around the sides of an army, but often times he just yells real loud and goes running at them. He wears no armor, which is because he believes that he can't be hurt to bad. So if someone isn't shitting bricks as he comes running at them and survive long enough to get a good hit on him, they will do a lot to him. His limited knowledge of spells means he relies heavily on the shamans to do a majority of magical work, such as actually helping the army and not throwing one of two spells out at random. He's an arrogant and cocky S.O.B., once you get past that brick wall of anger that is the majority of the emotions he feels at any given time. So if you're a confident fighter and all that, you could probably bait out a fight with him.


Other: Currently he's an npc, but I will control him in the future.

 

[Soviet Panda]

Name: Hisochu


Age: 19


Gender: Female


Side: Neutral.


Species: Uros


Occupation: All Mother, equivalent to a queen.


Magic/Weapons: Mother Sky has blessed her with the ability to control the hot desert winds of the Waste to such a degree that she can single handedly hold aloft an entire army, of her kind at least. Almost every other species save for the sturdy yet small dwarves and the skinniest of elves are to heavy to be lifted, though they can still be blown around.


Appearance:

Personality: Hisochu is a rather young All Mother, Queen, whatever you want to call it, and so has some very large shoes to fill. They're all the larger when the fact that her mother is considered one of the greatest All Mothers to grace the Uros, only out shined by Mother Sky herself. She throws herself at her duty like a being possessed, making all decisions with firm precision and after much calculating. She does not want to ruin the carefully manicured treaties that her mother and other fore bearers worked so hard to get. To that end, she is more economically orientated in Uros politics, trying to secure as many trading rights as possible and settling any debts they may have before moving on to other things.


Background: Hisochu was raised like most other Uros, surprisingly enough. She was expected to fight when the need arose, like when their Roost was raided, and to easily survive out in the harsh desert that is the Waste. However, her mother being a queen and all, made sure that no Roosts raided theirs, and that whenever her daughter was to be tested in wilderness survival she would "accidentally" be placed rather close to one of the rare water sources.


Hisochu knew about this however, and so bared with it the best she could. She respected her mother, as tradition commanded, but there's a limit to what her honor could take. Luckily that limit was never reached, as even her mother slowly but surely began letting up on those few special treatments. Soon enough, when he fluffy down feathers had all fallen out and her primary feathers had fully grown in, she had no special treatment what so ever. Instead, she was expected to join the Sisterhood and begin worshiping Mother Sky and observing the more religious side of their kind instead of only knowing about war. It was an enlightening experience, spiritually and mentally and it changed her.


Honor was no longer a top priority to her, it was certainly there but her people came first. And when her mother grew to old to rule, she was officially made the queen.


Strengthsolitically savvy due to her upbringing and physically strong because of the war like culture of her people. She can just as easily jab a short spear into your gut as discuss a treaty with you, with varying degrees of politeness depending on gender, over a cup of tea. Knows the names of all the political leaders, so as to avoid insults to their honor. Female rulers seem to actually enjoy seeing her when it comes to political talks, most likely because she actually treats them as an equal unlike how it usually is.


Weaknesses: Raised in a matriarchal society, it's not that she looks down on men it's just that she doesn't feel like wasting her time with them. So, political talks with members of the opposite sex don't go well. A King doesn't like to be insulted, thinly veiled or not. She does not want war, with another kingdom. The clans can fight all they want as long as they don't get to rowdy. Though honor isn't as important as it once was, she still cares about it. Insult her one to many times and she'll do whatever she can to restore it, from simply walking away to demanding a duel. Though she knows other cultures exist, she hasn't really experienced them. What she would find normal others find strange and vise versa.


Other: She is an npc, @ianbabyyy has my full permission to control her if they want to. Everything else shall be filled out before the day is up, hopefully.

 

[Veyd Sahvoz]

Name: Beledroth Torrwin


Age: 31


Gender: Male


Side: Queen


Species: Half-elf


Occupation: Current Captain of Draede's city guard


Magic/Weapons: Beledroth used to be a vampire hunter and so all of the spells and incantations he knows are holy spells used to exterminate darkness, that doesn't mean his magic is incapable of harming mortals because it sure as hell can. Also carries a sword enchanted to burn vampires or any other undead, a curved dagger, and a crossbow along with 20 bolts (10 being steel tipped and 10 silver tipped).


Appearance:

Personality: Beledroth is quite kind and considerate, always worried about the protection of others rather than his own. As much as he looks and seems ruthless with his height and armor he's a softy of the inside. He's kinda casual and outgoing, reluctant to find love, and in all just a chill guy to be around. His long past of vampire hunting has left him desensitized and not really afraid of anything since he's stared at death right in the face so many times and seen such horrific things, it hardly doesn't bother him in slightest. That being said he would much rather die protecting the people of Draede than be killed by a monstrosity. He acts like he usually would around civilians as he would his own men and treats others fairly.


Background: Beledroth was born to a family of vampire hunters, his mother an elf and his father a human, so being attacked by beasts and undead were quite a common thing while he grew up in Vinas, a city in the Northeast of Lathien known for the forest their and the largest graveyard you could imagine. The day Beledroth's eyes changed his mother nearly dropped him. His right eye was gold and his left eye was silver, how that was even possible they did not know but from that day on he showed some form of devotion to becoming a vampire hunter, crafting his own sword mixed with silver and getting his own armor as well. There wasn't a day that went by when he didn't go out into the forest to hunt beasts and undead, or wander the graveyard. When he finally slew a vampire for the first time it was the worst day of his life. The day had been dark and gloomy, thunder boomed across the land and rain hammered the ground. There couldn't have been a better day for studying, he had read a lot from his parents library with his younger brother Qel'dreth on beast hunting and what not, the sound of the rain drumming on the roof was enough to put one to sleep. Their parents were outside headed to the forest while the two were reading books when they heard a sudden shriek. Qel'dreth was the first to react and darted outside, Beledroth on the other hand preferred to be prepared and armed, going upstairs as fast as his feet would take him to grab his dagger, rushing outside to see something he wish he hadn't. His mother was on the ground, blood dripping down her neck and staining her shirt, and a lady in a red dress holding his brother with a dagger across his throat as if she were going to end him. He was paralyzed by the scene in front of him and he would never forget the blood lust in the lady's eyes, so malicious and evil, not to mention his brother smiling along with her. It was as if he blinked and they were gone and he was left to watch the rain wash away his mother's blood as she died that very day.Why his brother was smiling when he left with the woman he has no clue to this very day but he made it his goal to try and find his brother and kill his mother's killer, thus the reason he became a vampire hunter solely for the reason and hope that some day he would kill that woman and find his brother.


Strengths:


+ Good swordsmanship


+ Desensitized


+ Fearless


+ Could use any kind of weapon if need be


Weaknesses:


- Darkness


- Women


- Lacks any armor other than his boots and chain mail


- Selfless


Other: Goes to the Queen's Madness occasionally. His right eye's iris is gold and his left eye's iris is silver.

 

[KhalZhavvorsa]

Jackal

• Just
• One
• Girl

• 
  
  Age:
  
  
  38
  
  
  Gender:
  
  
  Male
  
  
  Side:
  
  
  Neutral
  
  
  {He could careless. He's only here for one thing.}
  
  
  Species:
  
  
  Shapeshifter
  
  
  A species that can shift between human and animal forms.
  
  
  Occupation:
  
  
  Several things~
  
  
• 
  
  Magic/Weapons:
  
  
  The King's Claymore
  
  
  Lionheart
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Personality:
  
  
  ~Sadistic~Possessive~Obsessive~Clever~Temperamental
  
  
  
  
  
  Jackal is likely one of the most brutal and cruel person someone could ever meet. He finds utter enjoyment upon inflicting excruciating pain upon someone. or simply watching it. Not only does he thoroughly enjoy it, but her finds the utmost ecstasy when he inflicts the pain. The more suffering one shows, the better it is for him. Jackal found one girl that could give him the perfect high from this.
  
  
  Jackal is possessive over everything, especially his 'business'. He likes to keep it up and running as well as collect more people for it. Along with this trait, he has become very attached to one person and will do what it takes to get back what belongs to him.
  
  
  Jackal is a very clever person. He may be very unstable and paranoid, but the man is smart and can very easily devise away to get his woman back or, should the need arise, attempt to take over another country if he has to. With this, he is quite crafty at what he does as well. Most of his plans seem rather..ill-logical but they always seem to work, no matter how chaotic or deceitful.
  
  
  Jackal has a wicked temper, one that would rival that of a Draxxan. He is not one to like to be told 'no' or to have his woman keep escaping his grasp. Its not hard to anger this man, but much harder to calm him once he is irate.
  
  
  Background:
  
  
  {I'm only going to talk about his life before Her.}
  
  
  Jackal was born into a noble family, which is shocking for the person he turned out to be in the end. At the very beginning, Jackal was..different. Even his name was. What set him apart from everyone else, was his ability to transform into animals and people. It was very strange, and no one understood why he could do so. His family were pureblood Shapeshifters, but they had neglected to tell anyone that when they had moved into the country.
  
  
  In his younger year, Jackal was a happy child with many friends. He played and laughed like any other kid. Until one day he discovered his ability to transform and shift. It scared the children he played with and when their parents found out..they stormed his family's manor. They demanded to know why he could do such things, why their son was so..'unique'. Eventually his parents had told them, and they were forced to leave the country.
  
  
  His family moved to the Mediterranean area, settling down near a gypsy town. Here is where Jackal's life began to change..he started on the path that made him who he is today. Whiling living in this area, he met with a strange boy, the same age as him. This boy would later be Aurora's father. The two of them were fast friends and got into several mischievous deeds together. They grew up like brothers and watched one another's backs.
  
  
  {Annnnddd I'm blanking on history..so..the rest is To Be Revealed! c;}
  
  
  Strengths:
  
  
  Commands a militia made up of hundreds of criminals.
  
  
  Commands an army of several thousands of well armed and trained soldiers.
  
  
  Master level tracking
  
  
  He has his ways of getting information.
  
  
  {He's well informed of the places She has been, and keeps tabs on each one.}
  
  
  Expert torturer
  
  
  Weaknesses:
  
  
  Aurora Norok
  
  
  Impatient
  
  
  {He has but one desire, if he cannot have her now then he gets rather..aggressive.}
  
  
  Unstable
  
  
  {Jackal's mental state is everywhere. There is only one thing that calms him, and that is Her.}
  
  
  Wanted criminal
  
  
  Other:
  
  
  He is meant to be an extra character, much like an NPC. His job is to show up and be part of a little sub-plot I have thought up. He's not here to be in a relationship or really help develop plot (But he might accidentally. I'm not sure.). He's just here to fuck shit up. He's not to be addressed or talked to unless you ask me directly or unless I plan something with you.
  
  
  
• Elyas Warin
  
  
  
  
  
  
  King Nicholas Athelstan III
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Jackal - Animal Form
  
  
  
  
  
  
  These are his most common shifting identities. If need be, I'll make personalities for the two human ones.
  
  
  

@ianbabyyy


(If I missed anything or ya want me to add/change something, let me know ^-^)

 

[archur]

Name: Kytheon Vrisk


Age: 24


Gender: Male


Side: Neutral, he doesn't actively seek out trouble, so he doesn't side with either.


Species: Human


Occupation: Telepath, Drifter


Magic:


Telepathy- He can read the minds of those who he has a visual sight upon, and can give suggestions to people non-verbally. If he knows the subject well enough through person to person relationship, or delving deep enough into the mind, he can start replacing thoughts and memories, or completely blank them out. This however is incredibly debilitating, and forces Kytheon to a near-death state, where he has little to no control over his body, lies limp, and must manually think about breathing instead of it being an autonomous function.


Illusions- Kytheon is an expert illusionist, easily able to fool most people with his realistic illusions and tricks. Kytheon can see out of the eyes of each illusion, and deliver lesser arcane blasts, only enough to smite a small rodent, like a rat or young rabbit. Creatures who rely on the scent of blood, smell, or anything that truly senses the heartbeat and individual breaths of a human such as Kytheon can easily see through his defenses, going straight for the throat.


Summoner of Spirits: Kytheon has a few bonds in the land of the dead, where select spirits owe himself their service for making sure that their living loved ones are kept safe from the monsters that killed them. Kytheon can sense all sentient minds, so he can sense the minds of the dead, and can call upon them for aid in a serious struggle. He is very mindful of how many spirits he calls to his aid, as each expects some sort of reward or payment for its trouble, like the head of a lamb, or a lost trinket. Usually, when he completes these quests, the spirit will flow free, or follow him for a while, seeking adventure in the afterlife instead of floating along with the breeze.


Arcane Blasts- A blast of arcane energy that knocks back the target of said blast. Most of the time, it sears off clothes, and brands the skin. Other times, it will merely force one out of the way, without doing more harm than a bruise.


Weapons:


Kytheon is armed meagerly, mostly relying on his tricks to bring himself to or away from danger. He is armed with a longsword and a few antique throwing knives for show.


Appearance:

Spoiler

Personality: Kytheon surprisingly isn't known to be a trickster with the powers at his disposal. He tries to keep himself at a moral high ground with dealing with other people face to face, and doesn't actively delve into a person's mind for the hurtful things that would rather be forgotten by them. At the very least, Kytheon is masterful with his abilities, stopping bandits in their tracks with a few ranged attacks, or magicking up an illusionary task force to help him complete a mission sent by the few who can commission him. He doesn't take no for an answer, always taking charge of a situation, and knowing exactly what it takes to make someone say yes to him, only at the expense of a trivial material matter like currency. Very rarely, will he show uncontrollable emotion, like rage or sadness, preferring to keep control of everything, even himself. He does little to surpass the likes of skill or luck, and decides that the best way to go about anything is to anticipate all actions, and prepare for them individually.


Background: Kytheon was at one point, just a small boy in the town of Greenwich Grove, where he kept to himself as a farm boy, working all day, and educating himself at night through the wonders of books. His parents were some of the only people to know how to read in the whole town, asides from the mages of course. The constant reading activities of Kytheon had attracted the attention of the village elders, who exclaimed how important it was to give the Archmagus a scribe to work under him, eventually taking his place as one of the few mind sculptors in existence. Kytheon's parents did little to disagree, and gave their only son away to the elders, who promptly briefed Kytheon of his new life that he would be living. At the ripe age of 12, Kytheon trained and studied hard under the Archmagus, as they flew through lessons, day by day, week by week, Kytheon grew in power and strength, able to sense the consciousness of all that was around him. The trees, the people, and his masters. Though he wasn't the best he was at age 16. At age 22, he had learned almost everything from his mentor, and had even developed a trick of his own. In demonstration, he placed his hand on his mentor's head, and sifted through everything. And as he was able to recollect his mentor's date of birth, he slipped. All of it, was gone. His mentor sat there, drooling out the side of his mouth, face pasted to the floor as the flow of energy that sustained the tower had vanished, leaving Kytheon weak. So Kytheon did what he could and ran, ran as far as he could out of the misreable bandit sodden village, into a neighboring kingdom. It was fine for a while, but he couldn't bear the responsibility of know all he had done to his mentor, and the mistakes that can easily be made by just one slip up.


Strengths:


Anticipate- Knowing the mind of the enemy gives plenty of advantage to know where to block, dodge and swing at, but that doesn't mean he has super speed


Multitasker- Being able to keep multiple illusions up is a great mental workout, as each must move and think for their own, and making each one like him serves as a great way to train himself to do more than one thing at once.


Foul Intents- Kytheon knows who's nearby, and can easily thwart a planned attack of the would-be attackers are reviewing their plans mentally


Fit- Years of walking and practicing swordplay can cause one to gain muscle, so Kytheon doesn't tire out as quickly, and can life objects of up to 35kg


Weaknesses:


Coward- If things aren't going to plan, then it's time to bail.


Unskilled- Kytheon has only recently picked up the sword, and hasn't had much time to learn the expert tricks of the blade, and is easily outplayed by a experienced swordsman.


Scent Of Blood- As all his tricks are visual, Kytheon's illusions do not work on zombies, werewolves, vampires, or other creatures that can dectect the scent of blood or human flesh.


Unsociable- Even though Kytheon knows so much about everybody, he still dislikes talking to people merely to talk or entertain, and usually gets straight to the point with everything.


Other:N/A