Fantasy The Raven Knights Character Applications

[Skaia]

Name:


Appearance: (Please credit artists)


Age: (No younger than 18)


Race: (Human, Elf, Dwarf)


Banner: (See Extra Information Forums for details)


Magic: (See Extra Information Forums for details) *


Weapon of Choice: (See Extra Information Forums for details)*


Bio: (2 paragraph minimum) 


*

 

[Darth Gangsta]

Name: Lowen Wolfsword


Appearance:

Age: 22


Race: Mutated Human


Banner: Doesn't belong to any region, he travels around the world.


Magic:

• Aard: A directed blast of telekinetic energy that staggers opponents, leaving them open for a subsequent attack.
  
• Igni: A directed fiery blast that damages enemies. 
  
• Yrden: Magic trap that slows enemies who enter its area of effect.
  
• Quen: Protective shield that lasts for thirty seconds.
  
• Axii: Charms an opponent's mind, temporarily eliminating them from combat.
  

Weapon of Choice: One steel sword that is mounted on his back and a one-handed crossbow which he refers to as "Gabriel".


Bio: Lowen is the son of the sorceress Helen and, presumably, the warrior Korin. Shortly after his birth, Lowen was taken by his mother to the School of the Wolf at a stronghold. There, Lowen was trained and made to be a Beast Hunter. He survived the many blistering mutations required to grant Beast Hunters their abilities and passed the Trials. Lowen's intensive training and mutagenic experimentations have granted him considerably greater strength, speed, endurance, resilience, senses, complete immunity to diseases and conventional poisons, and an extreme resistance to pain.


Due to his brilliant success in training, Lowen was selected for additional mutation experiments. He is the only Beast Hunter to have survived these experiments, his stark white hair being a side effect of these additional mutations. After finishing his Beast Hunter training, Lowen embarked into the world on a horse named Kelpie, a name he would bestow upon every one of his later horses. Thus, he became a monster slayer for hire.

Spoiler

Scars
​

​

 

[Junketsu]

Name: Selvala Redwood


Appearance:

(Imigimuru - Credited Artist)


Age: 27


Race: “Wood” Elf


Banner: Illyndryll


Magic:


Detect Life: Allows her to sense, the presence of all Living Creatures. (Insects, Mammals etc.)


·         Bloom: A Rejuvenation Magic, which can be used to cure disease and restore health.


·         Pyrokinesis: Psychic ability allowing her to create and control fire with her mind.


·         Soul Bind: The Castor’s Soul leaves its body, and is free to roam the area around it, and even possess the bodies of lesser creatures. The body of the castor will remain defenseless.


Weapon of Choice: Hickory Wood Bow, inscribed with Elven Designs. And a Hand-Axe of Elven Design, a little dull from wear and tear.


Bio: Selvala was born in the thick woods of Illyndryll, to a caring family. Her father was nameless to her, and her Mother. Some of the villagers speculate he was an Elven Noble of Cascadia, hence her lighter shade of skin. From her younger years, she had excelled in the Archery, becoming one of their best Rangers.


After a late-stride into the woods, venturing for supplies. Marauders had ambushed Selvala, far from their Village. A quick strike to the back of the head left her unconscious. She awoke bound, and stripped of clothing, a sharp pain in her abdomen resonated within. She remained in their custody for an undocumented amount of time. Eventually her Clan Member’s had staged a rescue of her, and her comrades. The sound of arrows zipped through the wind and clashing of steel.


Eventually being unshackled and armed, she was quick to return to her own Village, where the conflict continued. One by one, for each Elf slain, another Bandit also fell… As the conflict raged, the only remaining survivor was Selvala, her Mother, Brothers and Sisters all fell in attempt to protect their home.


A burning rage swelled in her heart, and in a cry of anger, fire engulfed her body and the area surrounding her. Burning trees brush and the remnants and bodies of the deceased around her. Crying, and cursing the vile scourge of Humanity, as she fell unconscious. Awaking after some time, on a carriage and clothed. The only notable sign was the Banner of a Stag upon the Gate. Rescued by an Elderly Hooded Male, named Vance, claiming he knew all about what happened to her, and could help her harness the full power of her abilities. And would help her regain what she had lost, her life and home.


Eventually settling onto a Ranch, almost at the border of Cascadia and Hearthstead. She began her new life, training under his guidance. Teaching her what it meant to be one with the wilderness and the fury of nature itself. The years passed, and the love for the Man had grown, she had eventually grown to calling him Father.


And with all good things, they must come to an end. The dawn of her 22nd year, her Master had passed, leaving behind a Will, and a Strongbox. The Will bequeathed to her the Homestead, and everything on it. And within the Strongbox, a Black Bound Leather Journal, titled the Raven Knights. The Journal had logs of Vance and his time spent as a Raven Knight, logs all the way until his passing. With a written testimony of her to inherit the mantle of Raven Knight, and raise her hand in defense of the defenseless. A title which she took very seriously, and would uphold for 5 years faithfully until she would heed the King’s Call,

 

[Onikuma]

 
​

Name: Roderick Vale, The Plague Lord, Heir to Cascadia


Appearance

(Credit: Nathan Park art)


Standing at six feet in height with an athletic build, handsome and rugged, Roderick Vale is the embodiment of what comes to mind when one thinks of a knight. He moves and speaks with a tone of nobility, but tends to relate better to the common man. His fair, golden hair and deep blue eyes make him an object of desire among those in Cascadia, though that could also be due to his claim to Lordship after Bromman. He sports a trimmed beard at medium length and wears his hair down, preferring to let it flow as it will. He is concerned about maintaining his appearance, as to him it is representative of his place in society as a man of the people more than it is an attempt to come off as attractive. 


Age: 32 Years of Age


Race: Human


Banner: The Stag of Cascadia


Magic: Plague Magic - Poisonous gases and corrosive acids, able to directly cause physical harm or subject targets to disease/illness. These abilities can be secreted through the skin, injected through the canine teeth, channeled into an attack or even enveloping, much like an aura. Due to the nature of his powers, Roderick also bleeds a green, corrosive acid. It is not harmful to him, but can injure others on contact. He is also immune to natural disease, as well as acids, toxins and gases. That being said, if he utilizes his powers too much, he will grow ill and fall under the effects of his own attacks.


Weapon of Choice:  Two Arming Swords - 80cm in length, light-framed, built for finesse combat.


Bio: Fair hair, piercing blue eyes and a noble heart are what come to mind when one speaks of Roderick Vale. Firstborn to Lord Bromman Vale, ruler of Cascadia, and his second wife, Elaine, Roderick's birth was a moment of pride for his father upon the discovery of the mark of magic upon his skin, as there had not been any magic born in Cascadia since the death of the last Cascadian Raven Knight some twenty years prior. Roderick was immediately sent to The Raven's Grove to be trained in the use of his abilities. By his sixth year, the true nature of Roderick's powers began to manifest; a harmful plague that proved to be more of a curse than a gift. Control of these abilities did not come easily, and Roderick spent many years of his youth in poor health due to overexertion and becoming a victim to his own magics. While his abilities leave him immune to poisons and diseases outside his own, he learned early on that if they weren't contained properly, his powers could afflict him in the same way they would anything else.


Despite these shortcomings, Roderick pressed on with determination and willpower, succeeding at his training no matter the odds. By the time his eighteenth year came, he had overcome his final trials and was finally dubbed a Raven Knight. His powers still posed a threat at this time, as he would occasionally suffer from a lack of self-control and would secrete toxins through his skin and into the air. This side effect swayed him from returning home for several years, as he felt that until he could master the negative aspects of his magic, he would be unfit to serve his people. He remained in solitude until his twenty-forth year, meditating, training and honing in on the skills necessary to live up to the standards he'd held for himself as a member of The Raven Knights. By the time he returned home to Cascadia, however, tensions with the neighboring Elves of Illyndryll were at an all-time high. His father, Lord Bromman, had increased his efforts in the deforestation of the region to feed King Dedrick's naval war machine, causing an outbreak of skirmishes along the outskirts of the forest by Elven defenders.


Roderick, having friends in Illyndryll and understanding the plight of the Elves, urged his father to come to terms with their leaders in order to maintain peace. Bromman, being a stubborn man, would not see reason and continued to push back with force. Knowing a plea to King Dedrick would be futile, as he was gaining a great benefit to his kingdom through Lord Bromman's efforts, Roderick took to serving as an ambassador for the humans of Cascadia, frequenting the forests and doing whatever he could to undermine his father's wishes and work to maintain what was left of the shaky relations with Illyndryll. While Bromman knew of his son's efforts, he became far too invested in his success to bother putting a stop to Roderick's attempts. This became Roderick's life until a very short time ago. The emergence of ancient creatures, lost to the annals of time, has put Cascadia on the brink of destruction.


Lord Bromman has halted nearly all of his lumber trades, instead turning his resources to the construction of defenses for the city. Walls thirty feet tall were erected, catapults large enough to hurl boulders weighing hundreds of pounds were situated in town, and the town guard has taken to closing the gates to the city, attacking anything that dare approach without prior approval from Lord Bromman. This has forced Roderick to remain within the walls of Cascadia, only leaving it's safety to lead contingents of soldiers to victory against the various beasts that now roam just outside the gates. Unable to aid the Elves any further until the matter of the monsters is resolved, Roderick was relieved to receive a summons. A Call to Arms has been issued, and The Gathering of The Ravens is about to begin. Seeing his path to ending these ancient threats and returning to his mission to establish peace between man and Elf, Roderick rides to The Raven's Grove, ready to stand tall against the forces that seek to destroy their world...

 

[Onikuma]

@Junketsu


Both @Skaia and I really like the potential this character has and greatly appreciate your application. That said, there are a few key points you'll need to revise before one of us can approve Miss Redwood.


1. Magic is singular in this universe, meaning that powers are restricted to one key element. Fire users stick to fire, healers stick to healing, etc. Of the four you have, you'll need to pick one and stick to and elaborate on that. One power per character ensures that nobody is able to handle every situation and that The Raven Knights work as a team to combat them big ol' baddies.


2. I am perfectly okay with half-Elven/Human roots if that's what you're going for, but I can't quite tell where she fits into that, if at all. Is she supposed to be full-blooded Elf? There are no Elves in Cascadia, as their populace sticks to their home of Illyndryll. Just as well, tensions between Cascadia and Illyndryll are so tense that they are frequently battling it out in the woods due to Cascadia's lumber operations, so there would need to be a pretty solid background for her heritage if that was indeed your angle.


3. As one born of magic, she would be branded with a mark upon her skin that would be recognized at birth. If she were born in Illyndryll, the Elven leader of The Raven Council would have taken her to The Raven's Grove from birth so that she could be trained in the use of her abilities. She would only be able to return home after her 18th birthday. Because of this, there will need to be some revisions to her backstory to ensure accuracy within the lore.


Outside of those three things, we're very excited to have you on board and hope to see things patched up soon so that we can get you approved. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to reach out to myself or Skaia, as we'd be happy to help with anything that may need clarification. Also, we have a pretty extensive write-up of mostly everything that details the world in our "Extra Information" subforum which I'll link to you below.


Can't wait to write with you!

 

[idalie]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Name:[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]Asbjørn Agnarsson

Appearance:[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]

[/SIZE]


(Credit: [Pinterest] Clive Standen as Rollo - Vikings)

[SIZE=14.6667px]Astoundingly tall at six foot five, with broad chest and shoulders starting the foundation for his well-built frame. Tattoos decorate his expansive figure in varying patterns, all containing different meanings; mostly religious or tribal. Dark, brownish locks of thick hair, reach just beyond his collarbone found to be either tied up or braided differing from day and situation whilst a thick beard encases his strong and sturdy jaw.[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]Set beneath his brows, sit eyes of deep, smouldering blue, flecked with grey - only accentuated by the curving cheekbones of his face, offering a more bear-like appearance than anything else. Angular nose, somewhat slightly crooked from fighting gone wrong and lack of medical attention, alongside all the little scars which litter his body. Large calloused hands signify his life dedicated to a laborious job, and his ability to survive climates of hostility. Asbjørn’s attire differs from the intimidating bareness of his [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]chest, to furs and tunics, as a cultural and rather proud[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] message of where he originates from.[/SIZE]


 

[SIZE=14.6667px]Age: [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]33 [/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.6667px]Race: [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]Human [/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.6667px]Banner:[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]The Wolf of Loenshire

Magic:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Manipulation and strength of stone.[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]This power enables him to withstand various injuries and falls, that might kill a normal man. Although just like rock, he can be chipped and broken under the right circumstances.
The strength of stone, offers him the ability to perform amazing feats of brawn, nonetheless has developed a bad relationship with water and cannot swim (as well as naturally sinks, like a pebble in depths above his head, which is battled through an exhausting amount of flailing).[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]Manipulation of stone is limited to simple constructs of rock, such as forcing up natural walls or using boulders for various forms of attack. Etc.
Does not work with earth, nor magma.[/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.6667px]Weapon of Choice:
Large two-handed axe. Made from some of the toughest dwarven steel, to avoid breaking the weapon from the force he exerts on it.[/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.6667px]Bio: [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]Born during one of the coldest winters, a strong healthy babe-in-arms screamed into the night. The son of Chief Agnar and his wife, Ingrid. Yet this was an all too short-lived union, as they spied the markings of magic. Three short days, his mother gazed upon her child's face, for he was only to return at the age of eighteen. Hiding their infant, for those precious hours till Agnar set out towards The Raven’s Grove, after they could no longer hinder the inevitable. Ingrid persisted for more time, one more day, nonetheless her eldest was whisked away before she could say goodbye. Handed over to the Raven Council for training and his eventual Knighthood within the organisation. During Asbjørn’s eighteen years hidden in the grasp of his unique education, both Agnar and Ingrid did what they could to continue with life as normal. Four other children, and many questions about their mysterious brother - fuelled by an imagination of a grand figure; a Raven Knight.[/SIZE]


 

[SIZE=14.6667px]Training was militaristic, brutal in some aspects, but it was for his betterment. Learning about his original culture whenever he could manage. His affinity for [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]stone[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] was discovered at a young age  and although wildly spontaneous, managed to be reined in by various techniques and rigorous training that honed his techniques and hotheaded temper. Thus, being able to use the raw, explosive, short fuse to fuel his ability on the battlefield or divert it into something else. Although Agnarsson has been known to make small outbursts if someone delves headfirst into a sensitive topic.[/SIZE]


 

[SIZE=14.6667px]As he neared the age of his release, Asbjørn had been transformed into more than just a warrior or soldier, but righteous, respectful and fierce. Kind, yet not to be pushed over. Strong, but not abusive to his bestowed gifts. A son of the Winter, and of stone. At last gifted his title of Raven Knight, Asbjørn returned home and was welcomed with open arms. Taking his time to bond with the family he'd been taken from, and reinitiated back into the community. Although now, as a guardian. Growing close, with both his mother, newfound siblings and incredibly proud father. Asbjørn gaining various affectionate nicknames, such as 'Nalle' (teddy bear) or others that resounded within his reputation as merely 'Bear' or 'The Wolf' which varies, depending upon whom is questioned. In only a short space of time, his protectiveness of the clan grew. So did the familiarity of being surrounded by them.[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.6667px]The call for arms wasn't a surprise when the first supposedly vanquished beasts began to roam. The storm had begun. And it began with the Gathering of the Ravens. His loyalty confirmed as the battle-hardened Knight started his journey - heading for Raven's Grove.[/SIZE]

 

[Moolock]

Spoiler

Artist: https://drawcrowd.com/mykingbird 

Name: Kira Madylin of House Ren.


Age: 23


Race: Human


Banner: None


Magic: Heat Drafting: Kira can sense, almost see heat signatures. This ability does not go through thick or cold walls or in/underwater, though she must have heat within sight if she is to cast magic. She can conjure fire in its purest form and the color of the flame depends on the quantity of heat surrounding. With her own body heat, Kira can summon a dull red flame, through sustained use of this will lower her body temp. Alternatively, if she were casting with a brazier or large fire nearby, or even a substantial number of people, her magic grows more powerful.


Weapon of Choice: A light sword, one-handed, with the grip oriented to be held in the right, for now. She means to take it to a smith and have the grip re-oriented for left. The blade and hilt are bare of adornments and the sword looks old, though kept in good condition. Though less proficient with knives, she keeps a pair, also plain, each with 5-inch blades. They’re balanced for throwing.


 

Bio: As a girl in the snowed hills outside Hearthstead, Kira grew up as a ward of House Ren, a bastard daughter yet to be acknowledged formally. Her mother, no doubt finding a child one duty too many or perhaps fearful of the mark that appeared on the small of her daughter's back, left her on the manor's doorstep. For a bastard, she was treated well, given schooling alongside her older brothers, and even sparred with them as they grew. The years dragged on, as they would. Amanda Ren barely tolerated her and her older half-brother, Gavin, despised her, though as Kira’s 15th birthday drew nearer, she began to show signs of having an aptitude for some kind of magic.


 


It began with her winning hide and seek every time they played, during a hunting trip. Convinced she was cheating somehow, Gavin ordered her to close her eyes and he went to hide in a cabinet. Upon opening them, her gaze immediately drew to his hiding spot. When asked how, she explained it was “hotter” over where he was. Felix and Branden did the same, in different places, and she found them all and gave the same explanation. Later that night, as they were riding back, the siblings were separated, leaving Kira ambling through the woods with a slow pack horse after dark. Snow gathered and in an attempt to stay warm, she found herself drawing heat into her hands until a red flame glowed in her palms. This warmth cost her the pack horse, who’d frozen as she drew the heat out of it. She didn’t notice until the flame went out and her horse keeled over. She took what she could from the saddle bags and was found later by her brothers, kindling flame this time from her own heat.


 

Much to Madam Ren’s disapproval, Kyle Ren sent his daughter (by now, recognized as Kira Ren) to the Raven Knights to gain a better understanding of her magic and having started late, elected to stay until 20 rather than 18 before returning to the manor outside Hearthstead. With her, he also sent the house relic, a short bastard sword with a snowbird engraved on a common stone set into the pommel. During the time with the Ravens, she learned how to better gauge what she was drawing from and when to stop drawing heat for her attacks. The Knights training taught her to be a woman of honor both on the streets and on the field, to fight respectfully but fight to win.





It didn’t take her long to learn everyone else there had been training for a long time. Some of the other noble children knew the Ren family, one of the guardian families of Hearthstead, and they knew she looked nothing like her “family”. In addition, Kira stuck out like a sore thumb. She was slim, not toned, and by no means excellent or controlled, and even after the seven years she ultimately spent there- a dismally small time compared to the other trainees- one look and it was clear she was far below their standard. More than once, one of the younger trainees, a tall, muscular boy with an ice-based magic found it funny to make a cube around her thick enough that Kira couldn’t find a heat source to get out.


 

It seemed all she was good at was playing dirty, not the best attribute in a school for training formidable warriors. She would kick up sand, draw a second blade when first disarmed, and carefully. She learned to obey what the rules said, not what they meant. When they did scouting mock-missions, she used the heat signatures to pinpoint hidden teammates and the opposition. Between careful regard for the rules and narrowly avoiding being called a cheater and thrown out, she found many a loophole. Much to her frustration, though, no loophole lead to gaining a knighthood. She simply didn’t have the skill, the abilities and mannerisms taught to the trainees as mere children.



It took pulling teeth but they allowed her to stay some years extra, though when she was sent back into the world, she was sent without the raven banner and without a title to her bastard name. In the year she returned home, Kyle had died and Amanda was guiding Gavin in running the house. Amanda disgraced her position and denounced her late husband’s judgement in recognizing the young woman, in doing so stripping Kira of a banner. With no house to protect, Kira journeyed to Montiven and bought a cheap house (due to the town being mostly in ruin), that way she could be on-call for the Raven Knights, should she be needed. Life for the year continued simply, she hunted her own food- other than what she could find in the few shops.

 

[caYabo]

Name: Jaxon Peak


Appearance:


Age: 18


 

Race: Dwarf


 

Banner: The Anvil of Stonewall


 

Magic: Powers over frost and ice, still developing, typical of one so young. His powers include the ability to lower the temperature and a small area and the ability to form shields and missiles of ice. Even though he is a full knight of the order he chooses to remain under the tutelage of Magister Curley in order to further develop his powers, limited as they are.


 

Weapon: A two-handed warhammer. A traditional dwarvish weapon suited to a dwarf’s powerful arms and low center of gravity.


 

Bio: A small procession of three dwarven guards and one human moved up the exposed mountainside of Stonewall, their efforts slowly managing to eat away at the seemingly endless pile of steps. Their climb was varied only by the periodic gifts of the mountain; lashes of ice and snow hurled by the ever-present wind howling in and out of the crags that enclosed the staircase on either side. Behind them all of upper Eradona yawned outwards in a quilted patchwork of farms growing out of the forest at the base of the Ordin’s Teeth, the mountain range that was home to Stonewall City. Visibility grew worse as they moved ever higher, yet keen eyes could still detect the smokey dots of Arranhall and Loenshire, snuggled as they were far to the southeast.


 

To Raven Knight Magister Marthen Curley the expanse at their rear and the wailing crescendo of wind was a relief. He breathed the icy air deeply under his fur-lined hood, and despite the sharp cold of it causing his lungs to hiccup in protest, he smiled to himself. Their recent passage through the industrious Stonewall Common had been oppressive. Its alien dwarvish closeness and stagnant, smoky, air had been taxing to the teacher, used to as he was the quiet song and open canopy of the woodlands at Raven’s Grove. Marthen managed to spare a glance behind him as the stairs petered off and a rare pathway appeared. Ah, a sip of flat ground to cleanse one’s palate in between the many and varied courses of steps. You would think a people with such notoriety for invention and such short legs would come up with a better way to reach the top of a mountain he mused to himself. Although his sarcastic inner diatribe was more out of habit than actual spite, for he knew no human had climbed these steps in over half a century.


 

To his surprise their vantage was nothing but white cloud cover at the current height, which he had been told meant they were nearing their destination. A few flights later their guide held up a hand for the universal signal to halt and turned to face them, leaving their line sprawled awkwardly on the steep staircase at varying heights. Somehow, despite the mountain gloom, the dwarf’s burnished breastplate managed to shine in his eyes and frustratingly, he continued to stand a few moments with his hand raised before saying anything. Presumably for effect Marthen thought to himself drily as he placed a glare-shading hand dramatically to his brow and waited for the dwarf to state the purpose of their halt. The offender either failed to notice Marthen’s impudent gesture or failed to care and instead spoke his voice managing to overcome the roar of the wind in an impressive boom.


 

“A few more steps will take you to the doors of Stonehall, the ceremonial apartments of the Stone Lords and their families. Weapons are forbidden and you will be searched by the Hauberk Guard upon entry. You are highly encouraged to observe proper royal etiquette when addressing anyone inside, otherwise you’ll be making the trip down and I promise you’ll be traveling a hell of a lot faster than you did coming up.” Marthen waited for the grunt of laughter to come but the dwarf remained silent, choosing instead to glare at him. “And magister,” he called, “Magic is forbidden within Stonehall proper, unless given express permission. Am I clear?”


 

“Aye, guard. Clear as the icicles on a frost troll’s testacles,” Marthen called back, holding his stare, uncowed. The dwarf seemed satisfied with the answer, obviously deliberately ignoring his sarcasm, and turned back to the march. Seems he was briefed on my...disposition Marthen thought. Either my reputation precedes me into the upper echelons of dwarven society or our little friends have been spying. Magister Likken owes me a crown after all.


 

Another turn in the staircase revealed a landing bearing a large stone door decorated with dwarven runes and the anvil crest of Stonewall. The only significant feature was a split down the middle where presumably the two halves of the door met. Otherwise, Marthen could see no hinges or handles for pulling the door open. Curious, he reached out into the aethereal and could feel nothing, which told him the door was purely mechanical in nature. His guard seemed otherwise unconcerned by the door’s lack of convention and simply walked towards it. His approach eventually triggered its opening; the heavy stone slabs of which shot apart and into the uncut mountainside, borne by some unseen, silent mechanism. A few moments later his charge deigned to wave him inside and out of the raw cold of the cliffs.


 

As he entered the wind mounted an eager assault on the fresh opening in the mountainside the din of its noise reaching previously unseen levels. Yet, somehow its icy tantrum had no effect on the chamber inside. Everything beyond the entrance was comfortably warm and immediately dry, even the snow and frost on his clothing vanished in quick order. More of the famous dwarven ingenuity at last, compared to Stonewall Common I was beginning to think Stonehall was going to be draconian. The guard made good on his promise of a search and then they were off down the winding, dimly lit corridors and into the depths of Stonehall. A brief walk up a stone ramp and through another silently opening stone door ended their journey into a six-doored antechamber and they halted once again.


“We can go no further, you’re on your own now Magister. Good Luck,” by way of further direction he pointed to the largest of the doors, the likeness of which bore a crown on its face. Marthen made to nod to his escorts in goodbye and was instead answered by the clank of three dwarves in full harness already making their exit. Good luck indeed, more like good riddance. There was nothing for it now, so he shrugged and went to make his entrance.


 

The door was another of the astute stone types he’d been seeing all throughout Stonehall and opened to reveal a personal living quarters. They were neither resplendent nor laconian in nature, lacking in any windows but plentiful in comfortable furniture and an odd hearth that contained a streak of glowing red rock instead of the more typical firewood. The rooms only inhabitants were two male dwarves seated conversing over a meal in the left corner of the chamber and a female dwarf and infant asleep on the large canopied bed nestled in the right corner. Upon seeing him enter, both dwarves stood. The one to the right, he noticed, was considerably smaller than the other, both in height and girth. During his brief at Raven’s Grove, he’d been told of the High Stone Lord’s family size, unique among the normally diminutive race and he presumed the taller one to be the High Lord in question, as it was he who spoke first.


 

“Greetings Magister Curley, you made it I see. I entreated the council to allow your use of the secret elevator, but they refused. Can’t have dwarven secrets falling into human hands and all that,” at the last part he flicked an inscrutable sidelong look at his companion whose face remained an expressionless mask. “I am Arthas Firstforge, High Stone Lord to Stonewall City. The man to my right is Benten Peak, commander of Stonewall’s Gauntlet Covert Ministry.” The smaller dwarf dipped his head ever so slightly as he was named and Marthen’s blue eyes caught his dark brown ones for a brief moment. He could read nothing in them so he stole a glance at his jupon instead, noting the embroidered gauntlet holding a dagger before turning his regard to the High Stone Lord once again. Marthen went to one stair sore knee and respectfully lowered his head before answering.


 

“Yes your Highness, as a Raven Knight and agent of Raven’s Grove I am well aware of who you both are. And, I’m sure, you and your associate are aware of why I’ve come.”


 

As sudden as the fall of a snow drift on the mountainside, Arthas’s demeanor changed, going from merely cold to outright gelid.


“Aye Magister, we’re well aware. Come to take the babe away to your trees and open air, far from the mountain’s bosom. Condemned to spend an unnaturally long life fighting monsters in service to humans. Quite aware in fact.” Benten placed a soft hand on the shoulder of his Lord whose breath had noticeably quickened. At his touch, the dwarf sagged visibly and sat back at the table with his head in his hands. The smaller dark-haired dwarf spoke when it became obvious Arthas would say no more.


 

“Forgive him Magister, the loss of our loved ones is never easy, be it death.... or service. We know well that our nation owes a debt to the Raven Knights, hermetic as it may be, and I assure you, dwarves always make good on their payments. As I understand you’ve come to examine the child. You have our leave,” Benten said, gesturing towards the bed, his voice soft and neutral compared to the Lord’s scathing tone. “The lady has been… administered a medication and will remain asleep, precautions which, believe me, were quite necessary.” Benten stressed the last statement with a knowing upward movement of his eyebrows. Marthen bowed his head deeper in thanks and rose to his feet, leaving Benten squatted in front of his still seated lord, speaking quiet words of comfort. As he made his way to the bedside he concentrated and reached out into the aethereal, beginning his examination. As he had expected, the nevus marking the babe’s magical talent burned brightly in his truesight. Marthen let his sight fade back to normal and quickly decided his best course of action was to get straight to the point.


 

“The babe is indeed magicborn your Highness. You know what comes next, indeed, it has been already stated that by the King’s word no nation of Eradona is above the call of the Raven Knights. I plan to depart for Raven’s Grove within the hour,” he hoped they realized that With the child was implied. For his part, Arthas made no movements or sounds in reply, opting instead to remain seated, seething in his anguish. It was Benten who spoke for him.


 

“Of course Magister. The Ministry has already made preparations for your departure. A wet-nurse and Hauberk Guard escort await you in Stonewall Common,” he had only just finished his words when Arthas looked up and gave Marthen a final glare before storming from the room. Marthen turned a questioning look in Benten’s direction at the Lord’s angry departure. Benten’s eyes lingered on the shut door momentarily and he smiled sadly, “You either have no children of your own magister or are uninformed in the ways of dwarven culture. Our tradition dictates that any possible scions to a house must be raised within the strictures of Stonewall City. His duty to the Raven Knights will place him outside upper society, doubly so for being magicborn. Politics demand that he can’t even take his father’s name. He’ll be a bastard. A Peak... Like me. I’m guessing you can understand the High Lord’s consternation?”


Marthen managed a depressed sigh in response, his years as a Raven Knight suddenly seemed long and his duties wearisome. He stared down at the sleeping child and mother for a few moments before looking back up in hopes to ask Benten more questions. The dark-haired dwarf was nowhere to be seen, likely having taken his exit in pursuit of his grieving liege. Marthen marvelled briefly at the silence and speed of his departure, not a footstep having been detected by even his trained ears. Alone save for the sleeping duo, in the quarters of Stonewall City’s highest ruler, a sobering thought came to him: I wonder if I’ll be taking the swift way down after all...


 



[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]***[/SIZE]


 

Jaxon crept carefully along the forest floor, willing his ears to better hear his surroundings. If you’re quiet enough, the song of the forest will guide you better than any scout and point out your enemies better than any spy. Jaxon could hear the words of Magister Curley in his inner mind clearly, the man’s training had over the years become a part of his inner monologue, an endless and sometimes unbidden stream of lessons and advice. In combat you must pull your instincts as taught as a bowstring, ready to release the arrow of action when needed. Patterns of sunlight danced cheerfully along the ground as the wind chased itself between the trees. Jaxon continued his deliberate movements, placing each step as quietly as possible, straining his ears.


 

A faint rustle of grass was his only warning and he reacted rapidly, throwing a shield of ice over his upper body and bracing it against his shoulder for impact. The bola whirred through the air and closed around his feet with a resounding clack and Jaxon knew at once he’d been tricked, foiled again by one of Curley’s ceaseless tricks. Any remnants of his balance left him and he fell to the ground, his rapidly formed hold on his summoning in the aethereal was lost and his ice shield shattered into a thousand crystalline pieces. Jax sighed and looked up into the leopard spots of light in the forest’s canopy, dreading as always the sarcastic remark he knew was waiting for him from Curley; sure to be as cutting and vicious as any physical attack.


 

“You were faster that time, faster than I’ve seen you. You might not get killed in your first engagement after all… Although at that speed you’ll most certainly be maimed,” came the old man’s voice from his hiding spot in the forest, “Now untangle yourself and try again. This time don’t anticipate the attack, you obviously assumed I’m as dim as Magister Likken. Nay lad, this doddering old dog’s got more than one trick up his sleeve, of that you can be sure.” Jaxon knew he was right. He’d been blocking his blunted crossbow bolts at shoulder range for more than six hours. Leave it to the cantankerous old man to change things up in the last hour, probably an excuse to keep him out here longer. Jaxon lay on his back a few moments longer savoring the cool forest breeze, stealing a few precious moments of rest before beginning the process of untying Curley’s bolas. Vindictive thoughts crept into Jaxon’s mind as he rose to begin the task, contemplating the so called merits of his extra lessons and wondering if he shouldn’t just call an end to whole silly business.


 

Suddenly the aethereal seemed to shimmer and a wave of magic passed through the forest, he could feel its aura surround him, dizzying his magical senses  and forcing him to switch to truesight. The wave at once became clearer, a dense flock of ravens, crafted in the aethereal, flying in every direction. The magical pressure was intense and he came back to the real just in time to hear a tolling of bells emanating from the direction of Raven’s Grove.


 

“What is it Magister? What’s happening?” Jaxon asked the patch of forest that he judged Curley’s voice had come from. There was a long period of silence before Curley emerged from his hiding spot, eyes locked in the direction of Raven’s Grove, his face set in uncharacteristic quiet consternation.


 

“That, my lad, was the Raven Knight call to arms,” he stared silently a while longer before turning his head to regard Jaxon. The icy blue of the man’s eyes seemed to shine brighter than he’d ever seen them. “Why, I believe I was your age the last time it was sounded.” Jaxon rose to his elbows and looked towards Raven’s Grove, he could still feel waves of magic pulsing through him in the aethereal. Called to arms for the first time in five decades, maybe the extra lessons were worth it after all...

 

[Onikuma]

@HumansArentReal Your application is seriously glorious. I can think of no other word to describe how excited I am to see [SIZE=14.6667px]Asbjørn in action. @Skaia and I give you that sweet ass seal of approval. Welcome to The Raven Knights, brother![/SIZE]


@Moolock So, @Skaia and I had a bit of a discussion about Kira's backstory. In a nutshell, we both really like the direction you went with her even though it goes against the typical Raven Knight training. We can see that you read the lore and that you kept it in mind when writing your application out, but we do have some thoughts to bring everything together so that we can approve her. We will allow the backstory to remain the same on the grounds that Kira has to deal with some adversity from her fellow Raven Knights. 1. Because she wasn't trained from birth onward, she cannot become an honorary Raven Knight. The council will train her and allow her at The Raven's Grove, but she did not go through the necessary steps that the others have and thus will not have a voice among the group. This could prove to be an interesting point of contention for Kira, if that's something you'd want to do. And 2. Because of the reasons listed in numero uno, Kira will also be at a disadvantage when it comes to controlling her powers and in combat in comparison to her counterparts. Again, it's a point of contention for the character, but it's the only way for this backstory to make sense in the world. If you're cool with making these small revisions, we will happily approve her and get you on board. P.S. Kyle Ren! Star Wars is love, Star Wars is life. xD


@caYabo There are a few things here that we'll need to clarify and work on before we can approve Jaxon. First and foremost, while his powers are acceptable, we'd prefer to avoid having any prodigies in the roleplay. It's a very team-oriented story and to have anyone, especially a character so young, stand out as something like that would ultimately detract from that goal. Secondly, he wouldn't have had time to be raised among his family, as all magic born as recognized at birth and immediately sent to The Raven's Grove to train. Barring the exception above, The Raven's Grove is a place that when you go there, you don't leave until your 18th birthday. Thirdly, magical control is something that grows and grows over time. An example being my character, Roderick Vale. He still lacked that necessary control after passing his trials and becoming a Knight, and thus opted to go into solitude for several years until he could better grasp those abilities. I'm not saying you have to do the same, but the council would still likely grant Jaxon Knighthood and, for lack of a better term, kick his ass outta the house. The Grove serves a purpose, and having people come back to train at their leisure isn't it. Anyways, if you're willing to make these revisions, we'll gladly read your updated application and get back to you then.

 

[Skaia]

Name: Nym Ralopetor


Appearance:


 ("Wood Elf" By HazieAsh)


Age: 28


Race: Elf


Banner: The Tree Illyndryll


Magic: Nym’s gift of magic is control and slight manipulation of water. For the little training he has mastered and come to know of his magic, Nym only is able control water around him. He has yet the years or motivation to further it past what it is, but it has been said that magic is changing and adapting to its user. The limits to his magic are only as restricting as he makes them. Yet, he knows that his water magic can not be used in solid form such as ice or a gas form, it is only surely his control of it as a liquid.  


Weapon of Choice: An oak bow, there was nothing too special about this ordinary bow. But to Nym, it was priceless, it had been his father’s bow. His father, who given this bow to Nym before he departed to Raven’s grove. He wields an unused steel short sword that he sees as a last resort


Bio: Nym, like many Elves, was born in the safety and sprawling woods of Illyndryll. At birth the strange marking of the magic users had emerged onto his chest. His Father and mother feared for their son and the hardships that the cursed mark came with, for even in the safety of their boarders, magic users still had a duty to the Realm’s human King. The elected Council member, Alluin, gave words of encouragement to Nym’s parents. Their history, culture and philosophy would be instilled in their son’s teaching within the training grounds at Raven’s Grove, but their son would not return to them until his 18th year. But for now, their son was the property of the King and the realm. 


With magic scarce and even more rare within the Elven population, the young Nym had a hard time among the human children that outnumbered the few dwarf and elf children in attendance at Raven’s grove. It was in the grueling years of physical training and strenuous studies that Nym found his minority his greatest motivation. Even amoungst fellow peers, Elves still found hardships. Alluin, the only Elven council member, made sure that he spent time with Nym and the other elven children to teach them that Elves did not kill, it was a great sin and dishonor to Elven kind to take a life. This philosophy caused Nym to always question his other teachers about the battle tactics that they were teaching which in turn lead to scores of punishments, loss of meals and distancing from fellow peers. Only to add fuel to the fire that Nym had tossed himself into, he hated his magical abilities and hardly ever saw the need for them. This was a boy determined only to use what was given to him, he excelled within his Archery and short hand combat, as well as scholar studies.


Within his 12th year at Raven’s Grove, Nym gradually became to understand his powers and constantly kept them far from his mind. He didn’t hate them, but to extent it was these very powers that caused the council to separate him from his family, home and kin. This wasn’t the council’s fault, but whatever cruel divine had placed this curse upon him. So, his training only grew harder with his refusal to practice his magic in any way that he didn’t seem necessary to him. There wasn’t any issue with him and his magical studies, the problems lied with him choosing not to use them as freely as the others chose to. However, he like many of the other children within the group were trained well in skilled combat, the teachings of mastering what made a Knight a Knight.


Returning to Illyndryll on the eve of his 20th year, Nym was welcomed home by his family with much excitement and celebration. They also expressed concern on his late arrival, explaining to him that the council had sent word of their son’s graduation two years prior to his return to them. Nym gave no explanation to his whereabouts for the two years and only telling them that he explored the realm for the time he was missing. Reluctantly, they excepted his answer and presented no more arguments to this minor detail. They were just happy to have their son home.


[SIZE=11pt]Once home, Nym sought work alongside his father in the lumber trade. It wasn’t much of a living, but it kept his sword and magic unused and that’s all that he cared about. Yet, within the passing years, Nym noticed and heard rumors of all manner of beasts and creatures reemerging within the realm and the growing fear that he’d might have to take up arms tightened in his chest. He’d already seen the beauty of the Illyndryll and gorwn to love the forest, he hated the thought of leaving this place. The thought of being pulled from his family and home for a second time by the council seemed almost like a nightmare to him. And a nightmare it truly was. For on his 28th year, Alluin sent word to Nym and other knights of Illyndryll that the King and Council had issued a Call to Arms. Nym had no choice but to obey, if he had refused the penalty for his actions would be death and his family shamed for his digressions. So, with a heavy heart, Nym left his home once more with only his father’s hunting bow and an unused steel short sword Alluin had given him to congratulate him on his Knighting.[/SIZE]

 

[caYabo]

@Onikuma sure thing I'll work on it and get back to you! I may just scrap the character... I was trying to do a race/power that no one else would pick and it didn't really turn out the way i wanted it to.

 

[Lexi Whittaker]

Name: Ylva Löfgren





(Lagertha 'Vikings' pintrest)


Age: 28


Race: Human


Banner: None (Crossroads)


Magic: The ability to heal the injured, however the healing of the severely injured takes a toll on her health. It has taken her several years to overcome the pain she feels to heal others. 


Weapon of Choice:  Long sword/ dagger


Bio:  Her question was never “Who do you serve?”, but always “What do you serve?”                                                                              Ylva was born to Eirik and Freja, both common merchants that lived a simple life. They were a part of a small community of locals at Crossroads selling travelers random goods. She sought out tragedy early on, as her mother passed shortly after her birth. Her grief-stricken father soon after discovered the strange mark on her thigh. She was taken a day later and dropped off. She was at a young age trained with a sword. Becoming familiar with the way of the blade she often questioned whether that was her path. She was always very inquisitive and some might say even nosey. Her question was no sooner answered in her first sparring match where she sliced her competitor's arm, which is where she first discovered her healing abilities. She realized at this time that the healing came with a price of pain, a fairly immense amount of pain. She spent many years overcoming the almost crippling pain of healing others and mastering the art of war. Although adapting better to the pain of healing, she has realized it will not ever subside it was just a mere cost.                                                                                                                    Eventually at the completion of her training she was sent back to Crossroads where there was no trace of her father. She spent a couple weeks gathering information from travelers, but every person seemed to have a different story. She presumed he was either dead or long-gone, probably too coward to face his daughter. She was assigned to heal the injured and to take leadership over the merchant town of Crossroads, which came with it's own issues of petty criminals and other issues often trickling in from nearby towns. She is an intelligent, respected, and compassionate leader, who is always putting others before herself.

 

[StarBabyPixel]

(Art by myself )
​

Name:
Marilyn Capocaccia-Whitewave
​

(Mari, Lyn, Wave, River)
 
Appearance:
​

Spoiler

 

Not signed in




 


Not signed in





 

 
Age: 25
 
Race: Half-Elf 
​

 
​

Gender: Female
 
Banner: Shark of Shoreline 
 
Magic:
​

Animal Shapeshifting
Can only become animals she has come in contact with.
Will revert back to humanoid form when knocked unconscious. 
Her clothing does not change with her.
Her markings are kept when she transforms.
Can not be in an animal form for a large amount of time without risk of animals natural instincts overpowering her.
Current Animal list
River Otter, Seagull, Alley Cat (Grey Ocicat Cat), Dog (Black Belgian Sheepdog)
​

Spoiler

 

 
​

Weapon of Choice: Two Elvish daggers, both steel high grade with garnets embedded into the gold tinted hilt. The hilt adorned with a leaf pattern while the blade is engraved with wave patterns.
​

Spoiler

 

Not signed in




 


Not signed in





 

 
Bio: During a warm summer night, when the sea was calm and the air was crisp a little baby girl was born. Her proud father, Conway Capocaccia Lord of Shoreline and his not so secret elvish lover, an Elvish Quartermaster to The Siren ShatterWinds Pirates Celeste Whitewave celebrated the birth of the little half-elf, her mother giving up her illegal ways so they could raise the child together. It wasn't until the morning light hit the couple that their newfound bliss was shattered, the markings on the little half-elfling's face illuminated in the light. The small already broken family stayed close together until the evening, Lord Conway leaving to inform The Raven Council. Before losing her daughter for the next eighteen years, Celeste took her little one onto her ship, letting the wind whip around the two of them.
​

 
​

Growing up training with the Ravens Mari's powers came into bloom and mischief began, her canine and feline forms quickly becoming her favorites to get out of studying and training. As the years rolled on and Mari became more mature, her animals forms became more a mixed blessing, already not confident in her own skin being a half-elf being an animal became more and more appealing, constantly wasting far too much energy and becoming introverted. 
​

 
​

On her eighteenth birthday, Mari was escorted back to Shoreline to be introduced to her father, the man growing more refined and impassive in the passing years soften slightly at the sight of the now young women. She soon became acquainted with her step-mother Lady Lorelai and younger half-brother young lord Leven , quickly becoming respectful of the powerful women and developing a slight competitive streak with her half-brother.
​

 
​

It was of great surprise to the young half-elf that on the third day of the visit she was taken by her father to the dock in the shadow of night, a small sail ship waiting for the pair. Her introduction to her mother was unanticipated and contradicted everything her studies had taught her of proper noble etiquette she couldn't complain when presented with her very own pirate outfit and daggers. 
​

 
​

Now splitting her time between learning to rule the land as a noble, rule the seas as a pirate and more than often going back to the Raven's to train her magic after a few accidents of ruining outfits after patting animals.
 
​

 

[Skaia]

@Onikuma Your application is approved, wholeheartedly. Although, I don't see why I even have to approve it since we both have been planning this for some time.


@MoolockI've went over the revisions that you made to your character and I'm approving it. Whoop, whoop!! 

 

[BlightGiver]

Name: Fjord Fjordson (pronounced like fyord)


Appearance:

Credit: KidKazuya on DeviantArt   http://www.deviantart.com/art/Dwarf-142789229


Age: 31


Race: Dwarf


Banner: Anvil (though he wishes to not be associated with what he considers pointless symbols)


Magic: Can release a grayish gas from his fingertips that completely confuses anyone Fjord wants to. Unfortunately, to properly use this, Fjord has to be completely focused; if not, the gas can end up confusing people unintentionally, or sometimes even Fjord breathes it in. The confusion lasts no longer than 15 minutes and can be easily blocked if you wear a covering over your mouth and nose; which Fjord sometimes remembers to wear. Fjord's mark is above his gluteus maximus.


Weapons: A large battle axe and a small hatchet as a sidearm.


Bio: Fjord was born in Stonewall to a loving couple: his father was a miner and his mother was a guard. Unfortunately, baby Fjord once released the gas and confused his parents. They didn't know where they were or that they even had a child. Left alone, Fjord was soon rescued by a Raven Knight that witnessed the scene; taking Fjord from Stonewall. Once taken to the Raven's Grove, he was promptly taken care of until he was of age to begin training.


Fjord took a while "mastering" his powers up to the point where he no longer released the gas unintentionally. His power served quite well in combat, especially in situations where the target(s) were needed alive. Fjord usually wore a bandana to cover his mouth and nose; although he will at times forget to put it on or not even have it with him. This once proved very dangerous when he released the gas while drunk. Fjord, already inebriated, ended up confused and affected the entire bar. Since then, Fjord has been careful to avoid drinking too much, though there are times where his will is put to the test. 


Aside from his magic, Fjord is also very skilled at wielding a large battle axe; easy for him with his dwarven strength. It is a slow weapon to swing, but Fjord can account for this when paired up with his magic. Unlike most dwarves, Fjord isn't very good when it comes to large machinery and engineering; but he is a whiz at building smaller tools and devices.


As he got older, Fjord's love for alcohol has grown with him. He has a hidden cellar full of his favorite rum and beer, which he drinks from only in very special occasions (and by that I mean every day). People that mess with his beer face the wrath of Fjord's confusion.


Personality: Fjord acts like the usual dwarf; hearty and positive, and a huge love for alcohol. He will be serious when he needs to be, but even then he will still crack a joke or two. He doesn't have a huge sense of honor and a slight sense of loyalty. He tends to view honor as narcissism, and is only loyal enough to the point where he dutifully does assigned tasks and won't harm other knights or citizens. As such, Fjord does not care about the banners or organization names; but, since he must have one, he is fine with being assigned the banner of his birth place.

 

[Junketsu]

@Junketsu


Both @Skaia and I really like the potential this character has and greatly appreciate your application. That said, there are a few key points you'll need to revise before one of us can approve Miss Redwood.


1. Magic is singular in this universe, meaning that powers are restricted to one key element. Fire users stick to fire, healers stick to healing, etc. Of the four you have, you'll need to pick one and stick to and elaborate on that. One power per character ensures that nobody is able to handle every situation and that The Raven Knights work as a team to combat them big ol' baddies.


2. I am perfectly okay with half-Elven/Human roots if that's what you're going for, but I can't quite tell where she fits into that, if at all. Is she supposed to be full-blooded Elf? There are no Elves in Cascadia, as their populace sticks to their home of Illyndryll. Just as well, tensions between Cascadia and Illyndryll are so tense that they are frequently battling it out in the woods due to Cascadia's lumber operations, so there would need to be a pretty solid background for her heritage if that was indeed your angle.


3. As one born of magic, she would be branded with a mark upon her skin that would be recognized at birth. If she were born in Illyndryll, the Elven leader of The Raven Council would have taken her to The Raven's Grove from birth so that she could be trained in the use of her abilities. She would only be able to return home after her 18th birthday. Because of this, there will need to be some revisions to her backstory to ensure accuracy within the lore.


Outside of those three things, we're very excited to have you on board and hope to see things patched up soon so that we can get you approved. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to reach out to myself or Skaia, as we'd be happy to help with anything that may need clarification. Also, we have a pretty extensive write-up of mostly everything that details the world in our "Extra Information" subforum which I'll link to you below.


Can't wait to write with you!








 

Will do, I will be doing some rewriting in addition to some changes to this. I do have some questions for you... Would Soul magic such as Conjuration, and understanding of an Ethereal plane be allowed in such a story as this?

 

[Onikuma]

Woo, this is gonna be a lot of replies, so bare with me if I miss anyone.


@caYabo I feel ya. Take your time with it, pump out some quality work and we'll be thrilled to have ya on board.


@Skaia Denied! Just kidding, you're approved, biznotch.


@Lexi Whittaker Consider yourself approved!


@StarBabyPixel Approved, welcome aboard!


@BlightGiver Approved, and thanks for the laughs! xD


@NostalgiaOwl Approoooooooooved!


@Junketsu Why don't you shoot me a private message and we'll discuss it further.

 

[Onikuma]

Heads up, one and all! The first post of the roleplay is up! If you've been approved, feel free to jump in. Please try to maintain a sense of order when posting and above all, have fun!


Side note, I will be taking control of The Raven Council for the time being. As such, any post I put up under those characters will control the flow of things to ensure the plot progresses, so keep that in mind whilst we argue about Knightly politics.

 

[Hatt730]

Name: Gareath Woodstock


Appearance: He has deep brown eyes, reddish receding hair, standing at 5'2", a thin and lanky torso but oddly muscular calves, his square jaw is smooth and he’s only tanned on those visible but other than that he’s covered in light leather armour. His mark is on his hand which makes it sensitive.


 

Age: 19


Race: Half-Dwarf/Elf.


Banner:  The Stag


Magic: Static Electricity, by swiping his hands together he can cause a buildup of static electricity. Mainly from close combat he can shock a person but he’s typically a very weak person and so can make such electricity go through good conductive materials or… a meat shield but he can’t manage in water at all, in fact, swimming will cause his ability to be unusable for a few days. It also takes a lot of energy to build up and projecting it in long distances certainly holds a lot of exertion and extreme concentration. The mark also being irritable often by constant rubbing but he does it habitually when nervous.


Weapon of Choice: Crossbow given by his mother and 2 daggers, one which is engraved and the other rather blunt.


Bio: Gareath, was born under a Dwarven mother  and Elven father - unbeknown to most, he doesn’t seem at all like either. Unfortunately even more so, he’s never been able to meet his father and his Ma was certainly an opposite to an Elf from Illyndryll.


 

Gareath has always been the runt even growing up with the Raven Knights, weedy and other-wordly. He definitely doesn’t have the strongest power but if used accurately and determinedly he could definitely be a game changer. After being returned to Cascadia, he’s come back to fill in the duty he left, and that’s logging… painfully ironic since he’s certainly not built it. Gareath was a small gentlemen with thin arms and an oddly square jaw, not the handsomest person on the planet, or the most useful in the lumber cutting business that his mother had operated in for more than 10 years, although had been stopped in recent months because of the tension with IIyndryII. He’s thinks more than he does physically but even then not very independent; with people or back home. He’s certainly able to strike up conversations, barter and joke but very weakly and even spending one year old his life back with his Ma, he has yet to handle the mead or rough housing… for a few months, he was more antisocial than he had been in his 18 years.  


However Gareath was always able to please someone and be content with being an outsider to the rest of his Ma’s family because it was definitely better than to sprout any hatred. The small man was definitely someone who didn’t want to hurt his Ma anymore than the fiery woman’s family did. In fact, Gareath was never dismissed by her and even at Raven Knights, he certainly learnt more about social interaction with her than there. Gareath promised himself that he would stay true to himself and keep his observant eye out for anything that Ma had said, mostly about logging to be honest but even then Gareath always wanted to show Ma more than just trees and would probably have more to sketch in his crumbling notepad - and he certainly would know that Ma would certainly like to experience the adventure he would take on.

 

[Darth Gangsta]

Name: Åsmund Svaenson


Appearance: 

(Credit: Mike-Mizanin, Deviant Art, Ragnar Lothbrok from Vikings)


Age: 


29


Race: 


Human


Banner:


The Wolf


Magic:


N/A


Weapon of Choice: 


Axe, Seax 


Bio:


Åsmund was born and raised in Loenshire,  and earned a reputation as a clever boy. When Åsmund was 15, a rival tribe invaded Loenshire and killed Åsmund's father . Åsmund joined with the rebels to drive out the rival tribe's leader. The tribe's leader, whose name was Bjorn, 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 Bjorn, Åsmund fashioned a coat and breeches from a hairy animalhide. In the battle that followed, Åsmund faced off with Bjorn 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, Åsmund earned his name "Svaenson", the hairybreeches. 


Åsmund is in the Eastern lands alongside his tribe, fighting several foreign tribesmen. After they dispatch the eastlanders, Åsmund sees a vision of his god, in the guise of a nearby lake, directing the Valkyries in taking up the spirits of fallen Northmen to Valhalla. Sometime thereafter, Åsmund returns to the small farming and fishing hamlet where he and his family reside, not far from the village of Loenshire with what little plunder he can take from the Eastern lands.


Later, Åsmund gains the aid of Erik, a huge and mighty warrior and leader who gathers the warriors who will later become the core of his warband. Åsmund successfully wins the men to his cause and later goes on the raid to the Southwest to Arranhell as he promised. After many days of sailing, they finally reach a monastery and loot it. 


Åsmund is now known all through Arranhell and of course Loenshire for sailing to Arranhell for the first time in a long time.

Spoiler

Tattoos
​

​

 
​

​

(Left arm)
​

 
​

​

(Upper back)
​

 
​

​

(Right shoulder)
​

 

[ARSENIC]

Name: Tervidaii "Terry" Oakhurst


Age: 24


Race: Elf, Hunter Caste


Banner: Raven (Adoptive)


Magic: Psionics


Terry's mark is a massive, sprawling, serpentine one that covers his entire upper back, shoulder to shoulder.


Terry's "mind magic", or psionics, operates in two distinct aspects: Telekinesis, and Telepathy.


Telekinesis, the easier of the two to understand, is simply the act of mentally manipulating objects, from lifting a tool to pushing a button to wielding a sword. Terry has two 'maximums' on his telekinetic capacity: Force and finesse. The more focus he puts into strength of force, the more brash and uncontrolled the result, and vice versa. Lifting a large amount of weight will also tire Terry in the same way physically doing so would.


Telepathy, the other side of the coin, is slightly more complex. In simple terms, Terry is able to connect to the minds of those around him directly. This means he can communicate without the need for words, projecting thoughts directly into the mind of another. These thoughts can technically go beyond mere language to thoughts of wrath or calm or other emotions, though this is a very slow process and is usually only fitting for interrogation or post-traumatic mental healing. The most peculiar aspect of this connection, though, is Terry's ability to read fragments of immediate, surface thoughts - like where an opponent plans to swing their weapon next - allowing Terry to predict his opponent's actions before they occur. This makes him an almost unparalleled duelist, though in larger conflicts the sheer number of enemies overloads his ability to process thoughts. A particularly brash opponent who acts before thinking also has a distinct advantage against Terry.


Weapon of Choice: Elven Shortswords


Terry's magics have lent him to a very unique brand of swordplay, wielding five Elven shortswords in tandem, all using the power of his telekinesis, floating around him as they lash out against his opponents. His technique, blending swordplay and magic, makes him uniquely able to simultaneously parry and attack, making up in speed and swarming number what his sturdy, maneuverable blades lack in the crushing power of a greataxe or the piercing thrust of a rapier.


Bio: 


I'm not your typical elf, though that much is clear enough from the simple fact that I actually eat meat. Explaining why takes a bit of a history lesson to understand, so stay with me. In ancient times, before the first humans set foot on Eradona, the Elves were divided into two castes: The Hunters, and the Gatherers. The Gatherer Caste are the elves you know today: Pacifistic to a fault, purely vegetarian, caring for and nurturing the world around them. The Hunter Caste represented the other side of nature. The Hunters were defenders of the groves. We protected the Gatherers from the rampaging beasts. We tamed many a legendary creatures, and stories abound of Elven Hunters who rode on the backs of dragons in times long gone - for it is the Hunter's way to destroy only that which you cannot bring under your will, and the will of the forest. And so it was with mankind.


From the day man first set foot upon Eradona, the castes were split over how to deal with them. The Gatherer Caste spoke of educating and nurturing the young race so that it might assume its place beside the Elves as fellows - and that it was the duty of the Elves to teach. But the Hunter Caste spoke differently, confident that this was a beast that could not be tamed. As the smoke of human industry rose above the dying treeline, the noble lords and ladies of the Hunters warned again and again, and each time their warnings were ignored by the more numerous and more politically powerful Gatherers. When it was discovered that the humans, too, could be born with the gift of magic just like Elves and Dwarves, we watched in horror as they reacted to their newfound gifts with a bloodbath. Lady Shariyah Oakhurst, leader of the Hunter Caste, initiated an emergency meeting where the Hunter Lords were unanimous in the decision to intervene and stop the War On Magic, even if it meant the subjugation of all of mankind, since they were clearly incapable of ruling themselves. And so, for the first time in history, the Elves declared a full-scale war. They lost badly.


The Hunter Caste was massacred in droves by the human armies. The Hunters, unfamiliar with the tenets of war, utilized the same tactics and strategies we had been accustomed to in slaying great and legendary beasts, but mankind proved to be a different kind of beast entirely, swarming and slaughtering the unfamiliar and uncoordinated Elves before a retreat order could even be given. Within months, the Hunters were all but wiped out. What fragments remained scattered throughout the human lands and into hiding with their families to escape the war, stubborn in their bitterness, swearing to assault humanity's impenetrable walls and castles from within - through sowing chaos and disorder through hit-and-run tactics.


I was eight years old when my home was raided and both my parents were arrested. I had been raised with hate and spite and loathing for the humans, so when they caught me I fought back with everything I had - lashing out again and again and again with my unfamiliar, budding magical potential - but I was still just a child, and was subdued all the same. During my captivity I was approached by a member of the Raven Knights, Lady Catherine Beaufort, who had heard of my magical potential, and wanted to recruit me. I spent many, many days spitefully screaming all the hundreds of ways I wanted to kill every human on Eradona once I was free, while she simply sat and listened without a word, until one day I got tired of the repetition and asked her why she even bothered to come see me. That was when she told me about the Raven's Grove. Slowly, and with enormous patience, my walls began to melt, and the rage and wrath that had brainwashed me faded away as I finally understood my parents for what they really were: Terrorists.


I was being offered a chance to change my legacy, a chance to redeem the Hunter Caste as a force for good, to protect and defend as a Raven Knight. And I took it. I would become Lady Catherine's squire and adoptive son, learning the ways of the order, expanding on my own potential, both inward and outward, maturing physically, mentally, and magically, until the day Lady Catherine was slaughtered before my eyes by the very same people who once counted me among their ranks: The Hunters. I snapped. Every lesson of serenity and calm gave way to the primal rage of loss, as I used splintered wood like javelins and shattered glass like knives until I killed every last Elf I could see, transforming the small, homely little hut into a nightmarish hellscape of gruelingly barbaric executions. And it felt good. Too good.


It's been one year since that day. I had lost my only real family, and I came home, to Raven's Grove, successful, and with my head hanging low. I was knighted that day, in honor of my valor and prowess, and in honor of Lady Catherine. The only thing that knighthood did was keep me from ever forgetting the one day I lost control and nobody ever knew. But that doesn't mean I give up. I'm going to make her proud - I'm going to make me proud. I'm going to be worthy of being a Raven Knight.

 

[Elowyn]

Still accepting? This sounds good!

 

[Fear Fates]

Name: Terra Fates


Appearance: (Please credit artists)

DanteWontDie - DeviantArt


Age: (No younger than 18)


25


Race: (Human, Elf, Dwarf)


Human


Banner:


The lion


Magic: (See Extra Information Forums for details) *


Magnetism-


Weapon of Choice: (See Extra Information Forums for details)*


Terra carrys two weapons, one is a large claymore imbued with strange markings and the other is a crossbow that has the same strange markings like the claymore.


Bio: (2 paragraph minimum) 


Terra, a young child who was parent-less and living in one of the many orphanages in the city of Arranhall. Tormented and not cared by any other adult, she ran away to the streets of Arranhall. Thought wasn't better either, eventually she collapse in front a workshop where she was saved by Gravelyn Fates. Giving Terra medicine and food, she and her sister Aura adopted Terra into their enclose family. Terra assist Gravelyn and Aura as she was taught basic reading and writing by Aura. Terra was also taught how to cook and make medicine by Gravelyn, while staying with the sisters she finds that they are highly respected by many social class of Arranhall from Nobles and knights to commoners and outlaws.


One day a group of thugs came in to cause trouble and attempt to intimidate the sisters business, as one grabbed Gravelyn, Terra took action and strike the thugs head with a broom stick. Though it failed to do anything as the thug was in rage and tried to punch Terra, but Gravelyn didn't take that to well. Aura used her light magic and Gravelyn toss the thugs out to the streets and proceeds to punish them for their mistakes. By the time the city guards came they saw only ugly faces with burn marks branded all over the thugs body. This amazed Terra as she sought to become strong like Gravelyn, and she asked Aura to explain what was magic. With knowledge of magic, Terra soon discovered her magic abilities to attract metallic objects. Though it was a weak attraction and she practice using magic without having to risk anything everyday. Years later a knight named Sir Tristram came to recruit Terra to be part of the Arranhall knights order. Reason being due to the fact her father was a knight who died in a expedition and her mother died giving birth to Terra thus eligible to be trained and become a knight.


Though Gravelyn detest the idea of Terra becoming a knight who will die in vain for some unreasonable cause like she and her sister once faced. Terra on the other hand wants to take this opportunity, Aura asked Terra's reason for this, she explained that she wants to become strong, strong like Gravelyn, wise as Aura, explore the lands of Eradona, meet others, stop the suffering like she had, and to make the sisters proud knowing of something she can accomplish alone. After the speech Gravelyn finally gave up and support Terra's decision, Aura motioned as well. With a final hug and good byes, Terra went with Tristram to the training grounds to become a knight. Years after training and strife, Terra became a knight with valor and honor. Joining the ranks of the banner of the Lion she wants to work her way up to became someone to change Arranhall with good intentions. With a surprise gift from the Sisters who raised her, giving her tailored armor, a claymore, and a crossbow.  Terra takes these gifts to heart as she has yet to sharpen her swordsmanship and magic. Despite all of that Terra is ready to serve Arranhall and protect the city where the she and the sisters can live peacefully, and make them proud.


[W.I.P again]

 

[Onikuma]

Alrighty, so I'm gathering some of you guys aren't really reading the lore when posting your applications, so I'd like to reiterate; please view the extra information section in it's entirety. It will save all of us a lot of time in the long run. That, or message Skaia or myself for clarification. We're more than happy to help. Now, onto the replies.


@Hatt730 - You're approved. Please feel free to join the thread.


@Darth Gangsta - I'm going to have to say no again, for two reasons. One, the backstory creates lore that neither Skaia or myself want in the roleplay. And two, a character without any ties to the Knights is niche, he won't be able to involve himself in anything at all. I'd recommend sticking to our lore or moving on, as this may not be a good fit for either party.


@ARSENIC - Much like I told Darth, your backstory creates lore that we do not want in our story. While we're fine with being an outsider, if you will, to the greater population, we are adamant that the lore is followed to some extent. Additionally, you have two powers and I've clearly stated time and again that we are limiting powers to one per person. Pick one, then tone the powers back a little, revise the backstory to follow our lore and get back to us.


@Nyctophiliac - Yes, we are still accepting, but please do read over the lore. If you have additional questions, we're happy to help via pm or the ooc forum.


@Fear Fates - So, there's a multitude of things that are the reason behind us denying your application. Among them, the powers are too over the top, the backstory is more or less a sequence of events rather than a history of the character and finally, while I try not to be the grammar police as I'm nowhere near perfect myself, the writing is fairly sloppy and uses so much modern slang that I couldn't approve it even if the other issues weren't in question. I'm going to ask that you revise the entirety of your application and get back to us.


@sprouhtt - You're close, but there are a few revisions that need to be made. One, pick one power. Only one. Elaborate on its strengths and weaknesses, but keep it to just one. Two, your character has no affiliation to the Raven Knights and thus would be unusable in the roleplay. Revise the backstory to fall in line with the Knights and we'll reconsider approving your bio.


Also, in addition to all this, we are now closing down half-breed applications for now. Please keep all future applications one singular race. As always, if you have questions or concerns, pm Skaia or myself, or hit us up on the ooc forum. Thank you, everyone.

 

[Skaia]

Alrighty, so I'm gathering some of you guys aren't really reading the lore when posting your applications, so I'd like to reiterate; please view the extra information section in it's entirety. It will save all of us a lot of time in the long run. That, or message Skaia or myself for clarification. We're more than happy to help. Now, onto the replies.


@Hatt730 - You're approved. Please feel free to join the thread.


@Darth Gangsta - I'm going to have to say no again, for two reasons. One, the backstory creates lore that neither Skaia or myself want in the roleplay. And two, a character without any ties to the Knights is niche, he won't be able to involve himself in anything at all. I'd recommend sticking to our lore or moving on, as this may not be a good fit for either party.


@ARSENIC - Much like I told Darth, your backstory creates lore that we do not want in our story. While we're fine with being an outsider, if you will, to the greater population, we are adamant that the lore is followed to some extent. Additionally, you have two powers and I've clearly stated time and again that we are limiting powers to one per person. Pick one, then tone the powers back a little, revise the backstory to follow our lore and get back to us.


@Nyctophiliac - Yes, we are still accepting, but please do read over the lore. If you have additional questions, we're happy to help via pm or the ooc forum.


@Fear Fates - So, there's a multitude of things that are the reason behind us denying your application. Among them, the powers are too over the top, the backstory is more or less a sequence of events rather than a history of the character and finally, while I try not to be the grammar police as I'm nowhere near perfect myself, the writing is fairly sloppy and uses so much modern slang that I couldn't approve it even if the other issues weren't in question. I'm going to ask that you revise the entirety of your application and get back to us.


@sprouhtt - You're close, but there are a few revisions that need to be made. One, pick one power. Only one. Elaborate on its strengths and weaknesses, but keep it to just one. Two, your character has no affiliation to the Raven Knights and thus would be unusable in the roleplay. Revise the backstory to fall in line with the Knights and we'll reconsider approving your bio.


Also, in addition to all this, we are now closing down half-breed applications for now. Please keep all future applications one singular race. As always, if you have questions or concerns, pm Skaia or myself, or hit us up on the ooc forum. Thank you, everyone.

With all the commotion swirling around in the OOC and Applications sections, I have been reading over all the applications and want to chime in. I know that the decisions that @Onikuma have been making regarding approval and denial of these characters seems a bit biased, but I assure you it is not! The decision is made by the both of us, and we make the best decision based on how much your characters stick to the Lore. With that said, it might not be perfect, but with all things we need a point to start. This is a simple experiment. We know that everything isn't perfect and that their are many subjects that were not solidified. However, our point is that you all stick to the Lore as close as humanly possible to get the story going. I do not wish to upset anyone in these decisions or cause conflict, but I have no issue with Oni making those kind of steps in my absence.


We have yet to see this journey pass the intro of our story and I want to make it simple and clear, if we feel that you are not sticking to the Lore and going through making your character part of the Raven Knights in the guidelines we've provided, we will have to deny it. If this decision doesn't sit well with anyone, then by all means, do not join. I'm pretty sure this site is filled with other wonderful and extensive RPs that will meet your needs. For now, we're going to stick to our guns and keep this roleplay constant, at least until we see it in need of characters belonging to something other than the Raven Knights.


I commend those that have made excellent characters and have read and built their characters around the Lore. For that you have my thanks and ultimate approval. For the others however, Oni gave you proper explanation of the revisions you have to make. I look forward to seeing many other applications that heed this message of building around the Lore that was set out.


                     -Best Regards, Skaia.