Fantasy The War

[KhalZhavvorsa]

Finally, the CS!! You do not have to include what's in the ( )


Rulers must have full names.


You are accepted when I 'like' your post.


Name:


Age:


Gender:


Species/Race:


Kingdom of Origin:


Powers: (If any. At least 4. DEFINE THEM.)


Personality: (A list or a paragraph.)


History: (Optional)


Job:


Alignment:


Appearance: (Picture or paragraph of vivid description.)


Equipment: (Weapons, Armor, etc.)


Other:

 

[KhalZhavvorsa]

Queen Bellatrix Lilith Vincetia

• Basic Information
• Powers
• Personality
• Extra

• 
  
  
  Age:
  
  
  1,345 looks 21
  
  
  Gender:
  
  
  Female
  
  
  Species/Race:
  
  
  Lich
  
  
  Kingdom of Origin:
  
  
  Dark Kingdom
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Powers:
  
  
  Necromancy: Bellatrix can easily reanimate the dead to fight for her however this causes her to decay further.
  
  
  Blood Magic: Bellatrix cuts herself open and manipulates her blood into a weapon, or to bind someone, or if her blood gets into someone's body she can drain their life.
  
  
  Hell Fire: Bellatrix can summon the fires of hell. This fire is much more intense than regular fire and can only be put out with Holy Water.
  
  
  Cursed Fire: Bellatrix's normal fire is pitch black, and once it gets on you there's no getting it off without Holy Water. If this fire gets a taste of your blood, it will grow and grow until you parish. Then it will dissipate.
  
  
  Voodoo: If Bellatrix gets a sample of your DNA, then she can create a voodoo doll and slowly torture you.
  
  
  Curse/Hex: If Bellatrix places a mark on you, the she likely cursed you with something. However whatever she did to you, also happens to her. (She must touch your skin with her palm.)
  
  
  Demon Summoning: Bellatrix can summon an array of demons from any level of hell. Whether it will work with her..well that is a good question.
  
  
  Undying: Bellatrix is virtually un-kill-able. UNLESS you destroy her phylactery.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Personality:
  
  
  Ill Tempered: Bellatrix tends to have a very bad temper should she not get her way (sometimes) or if something in her kingdom goes horribly wrong. Her temper fits often include, but are not limited to: Throwing things, hitting things, cursing, screaming, fire...lots of fire, huffing, and pouting.
  
  
  Playful: Bellatrix tends to like to mess with people, whether that be in a sexual way with teasing or just by simply teasing them. She'd never take her teasing too far though. She knows when to stop.
  
  
  Stone Hearted: Bellatrix does not often show her real side, nor does she wish to fall in love ever again. Most of the time she keeps her emotions under control with a smiling and friendly facade.
  
  
  Lustful: Bellatrix tends to have a lusty and temptress bit to her that shows up every now and again, but it never sticks around too long, just enough for her to be very..'flirty'.
  
  
  Iron Will: Nearly nothing can shake this woman after living so long and through what she has.
  
  
  Stubborn: She tends to never back down from a fight, or give up on anything..no matter what it may be.
  
  
  ((There's more..I'm just too lazy at this point))
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Job:
  
  
  Queen of the Dark Kingdom
  
  
  Alignment:
  
  
  Chaotic Neutral
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  
  Bellatrix stands at roughly 5'6". She's very curvy and fair skinned with multiple scars and tattoos. She prefers to wear black, but will occasionally wear other colors like silver or white. Most of her clothing is form fitting and revealing, but does not show off her legs which have finally started to flake off and decay from being a lich so long. Her eyes are lilac and her hair a rich amethyst. Her hair goes all the way down to her ankles and is very thick. It's often pin straight. Most of the time she wears make up and keeps her nails fairly long, sharp, and painted black.
  
  
  Weapons:
  
  
  Grimoire (Her spells are kept in this)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Whip (Retired)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Scythe (Main Weapon)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Armor:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Theme Song:
  
  
  [media]
  

• Extra

• 
  
  [/media]
  

 

[Cosmo]

Name

Arkos 'The Wight King' Kallrax




Age

1,451




Gender

N/A. Goes by Male pronouns




Species/Race

Wight




Kingdom of Origin

Dark Kingdom
​

Powers

​

Spoiler

Being a creature of the undeath, Arkos has certain advantages that the living do not, but also limitations. Arkos does not need sustenance of any kind, he does not need to sleep, nor does he. His body will never tire and he can swing his sword, conceivably, until the very world ended without feeling any sort of strain. As a Wight, Arkos is just as fast and strong as he was when he was alive as well as having all his old skills, however, he is far more durable as he no longer has major organs or even flesh to worry about. His arms can be removed, he can be bisected, and he can still go on as if nothing happened (although walking becomes more interesting), and he can be 'stuck together' again by any necromancer or other dark magic user.​

However, he is not immortal. Removing his head will break his connection with Bellatrix and so 'kill' him. However, if his parts are brought back to her, or another necromancer, he can be brought back to 'life'. In order to truly 'destroy' him, Bellatrix must die or, in turn, she must release his bond. Although, of course, if someone were to remove his head then take it, he would be effectively 'dead'. As a creature of undeath, bound to Bellatrix, he is at her whim. He cannot disobey her command or will, he cannot lie to her nor can he, willingly, do anything that will bring her to harm. Due to their link, she can speak to him telepathically from any distance, assuming, no warding is interfering with the link. If she so desires she can enter his mind to see or hear what he is and, if she wishes, she can take control of his body at any moment making him dance as a puppet to her will.








As an ancient Wight, the first of his kind, Arkos is an immensely powerful undead being, one of the strongest second only to a lich. As such, Arkos has an ability known only as the Death Howl. Letting out an unholy roar, Arkos terrifies everyone in the vicinity. So potent and powerful is this howl, that those weak of will or valor will die on the spot, their faces contorted in horror as their hearts give out. The closer someone is to him, the stronger the effect. Magical resistance/warding does work against the Death Howl and it can be endured just fine by 'heroic' people with great valor or bravery. ( so.. you know.. PCs)








During the civil war, Arkos, along with his friend and king, Dimitri developed techniques to fight against magic and deny its power and they called it the Shadow Aegis. While it is far from perfect, it does allow for non-magical beings to stand a chance against mighty wizards and sorcerers. It can deflect or even outright block magical attacks, however, it has limits. Should the wizard/sorcerer be too powerful or the spell, itself, be too great, there is nothing they can do about it. One cannot stop an ocean with a pebble.









An ability unique to him that no other Wight has. If Arkos wanted to, he can drain the 'life' out of another being. This process is slow and incredibly lengthy, so the other person would need to be held down or otherwise infirm. If he uses this, he will regain some of his.. well, fleshy bits and look more as he did when among the living. However, he has only done this once and swore to never do it again as.... it is a revolting process and Arkos takes in everything, their pain, their fears, their hopes... their memories, and it is a limited treatment as he will simply decay again as time rolls on so serves no purpose besides to feed a vanity he no longer has.

Personality

Honorable || Melancholic || Proud || Eloquent || Aloof


Arkos is an extremely honorable warrior, a being who lives by a strong moral and martial code. This code can be a weakness if someone exploits it, but it is one of the few things about himself that he likes and tried to maintain over the centuries. This shows predominately on the field of battle where he will always answer challenges and do his best to ensure the fight is 'fair' such as if his foe is fighting dismounted, or is unhorses, then Arkos too will dismount to fight on even footing. He will almost never lie and will do everything humanly possible to keep any oaths he swears. This makes him incredibly stalwart, a bulwark, almost, against the rest of the world for those who are smart enough, or cunning enough, to use him as a shield. Being an honorable 'man', Arkos hates underhanded tactics such as assassinations and while he will do it if compelled, he makes no effort to hide his protest against it and very much believes in the ideal of personal honor despite his own life experiences. Any who easily toss aside personal honor are beings Arkos view as little more then insects skirting around in the dark waiting to be crushed under heel.


One doesn't get to his age and not suffer from melancholy.. Arkos often drifts off in his mind, reliving moments in his past, the good and the bad, but especially upon sins of the past. It is often that he comes across situations that are near replicas of something else that happened during his long existence and his mind will struggle with recalling the details, and so, create a 'Deja Vu' effect. This...quirk often makes him seem aloof, which he is, or distant as his mind travels through time to walk upon familiar, and forgotten, paths of a wretched existence.


But it would be foolish to point out when this happens as Arkos is immensely proud. Despite being little more then Bellatrix's pet attack dog, his warrior pride remains. He does not forget nor forgive slights to himself, well, unless they come from Bellatrix as his own actions earned him those, and angering a nigh-immortal Wight is never a good idea. This pride is also the source for a lot of Arkos' anguish as he knows, better then anyone, what a monster he is and has become as well as the damage he has done to Bellatrix and the kingdom. He hates himself more then anyone could possible do so for his failures as he holds himself to a higher standard then others, expecting more from himself. This same pride that pushes him to be better, is also what keeps him alone even after all this time. He refuses to ask for help, refuses to fall on his knees and beg Bellatrix to let him die, especially as he has not earned the right, and he refuses to show just how badly he is falling apart inside, how hollow he is and how little of 'Arkos' is left within the shell. Arkos is the kind of 'man' that will crawl, hands and knees, through miles of broken glass then ever ask anyone for help.


While Arkos may look like a monster of the undeath, which he is, he is still noble born. As such, Arkos is incredibly eloquent and polite, the perfect picture of etiquette. It tends to come to a great surprise to those that meet him as the large skeletal warrior greets them, bows or, if they are ladies, takes their hands and places a bone dry kiss upon their wrist, well, those that allow him close enough to do so. This.... well, eloquence and his honor are almost a mockery of a great knight, as he once was, but even if he is nothing more then the skeletal shadow of what he once was, he cannot let such small things go because, in truth, they make him feel almost... human.


When you take him all together, his appearance, his attitude, his pride... well, one can imagine the Wight King is incredibly aloof. He prefers to keep a distance between himself and others, an emotional and physical barrier. He prefers it. The solitude, the isolation, the self-inflicted banishment. He may not 'like' it, but he firmly believes it is all he deserves as... with what he is now... there is nothing else. Merely continued forced existence until the day.. the day he will be granted release from his wretched existence.

​

Living Arkos

History




Arkos was the second son, and third child, of Dorant and Zarra Killrax, and as such, was not in line for inheritance. He was a spare, something to have around only should something foul befall his older brother. His life consisted of 'Just In Case'. His training, his education, his care... all 'Just In Case'. This treatment, this keeping him in the background encase they needed the spare continued until his fourteenth birthday when the king decided he could make use of their service. The Killrax family had long served the crown as faithful lords, knights and, at times, advisers, but the king did not want any of those, he wanted a boy to stand with his son and heir, Dimitri. Someone to grow and fight alongside him, to create a bond that would help Dimitri grow as a boy and into a man without merely being a spoiled royal heir. A friend to keep him grounded, a brother in arms to be the sibling they never had.


Faced with the king's desire, the Dorant Killrax had no choice but to oblige, but this is what the spare was for, the second son. Arkos had his things packed within a fortnight and was all but tossed out of his family home with nothing more then an 'obey the King and Queen, befriend the prince... Do not fail the family,' and sent on his way. When Arkos arrived at the palace, he was... lost. It was so large, and there was so much attention being thrown at him, something he had never experienced before. But it all settled down when he met the Crown Prince, when he met Dimitri. They clicked instantly and on a deep level, they bonded over their mutual hatred of onions and tomatoes. While Arkos was a few years older, it was Dimitri who was the leader. Even as a young boy, Dimitri was a born leader, Arkos his faithful supporter and brother.


They played together, they fought together, they learned together... in many ways, Dimitri was Arkos' real brother and they would often lay awake, late at night, Dimitri having crept into his room to talk about the future. What they would do when Dimitri became king. All the things they would change, Arkos would be his adviser, his commander... they would rule the kingdom together, brothers not by blood but something stronger, love. It was one of the happiest times of his life... and then she came, Bellatrix.


She was... beautiful beyond words. Arkos knew the second he laid eyes on her, the young mage, that she was everything he never knew he wanted. But he had no idea what to say to her. He... wasn't the smoothest with women as that was Dimitri. Arkos was strong, the fighter, he was not the leader nor the lover. He would find small excuses to visit the mage, pointless little trips just to see her, just to have small, meaningless conversation. He knew then, as he does now, that she was barely aware of his existence. Just the friend of the king. But he had hope that, someday, she would look upon him as he did her, but that all came crashing down when the king was murdered by magic. Arkos can still remember laying his hand on his sobbing shoulders as they stood before the King's mangled corpse, the corpse of Dimitri's father and the man who had become more of a father to him then his own. Arkos could feel it, deep in his bones, at that moment in time that something had broken in the world, something had shattered and it would never be the same agian.


Dimitri was enraged, magic, magic was at fault. It was magic that caused this. The world would be better off without magic. The, relatively, young Dimitri found himself leading an entire nation, and Arkos could do nothing but watch as Dimitri rose to meet this new challenge just as he always did... but a part of him died the day his father did. He introduced new, harsh, laws against magic, against Arkos' advice, and soon it lead to a clash against the beautiful, outspoken Bellatrix. The same fiery, passionate traits that he had loved about her were the same spark that set off Dimitri... that split the country, the started the civil war between the Crown Loyalist and the Mage Supporters. In that moment, when she stormed out, when Dimitri called for his war council, Arkos knew that things had changed. He could not go back to that night where they lay together wondering about the future and all the wonder it held... the grim reality of the world had set in and he could do nothing but watch as his world was consumed by fire.





The war was bloody, families were torn apart as brother fought brother. It was not a war fought on the battlefields, but in the homes of the citizens, in the streets and alleys of their homes... It was a war that tore them apart and Arkos hated it. He did not trust magic, he didn't use it and so didn't understand it, but they were still people, still their people, and while Dimitri was a great ruler, better then they have had for centuries, bringing the nation, despite the harsh war, into a new golden era... his hatred of magic bordered into obsession. Dimitri and Arkos eventually developed a serious of techniques and a fighting style designed just to combat magic users... something Arkos justified ot himself by saying it would keep Dimitri alive, but every protest he made fell on deaf ears. Dimitri was lost to his anger, lost to his obsession... They had taken his father, and he wasn't going to stop until he took everything from them, or, well, so Arkos thought...


Bellatrix was the leader of the Mages, and Arkos did everything in his power to avoid meeting her on the battlefield, he didn't want to hurt her, didn't want to see her die... but she proved to be a capable commander, capable enough to force Dimitri and Arkos to work for each victory, but... Arkos noticed a slight change in Dimitri. Something he had not seen in a long time, he was happy. His anger and obsession against the mages seemed to lessen with each passing week, but so did his unexplained absences. One night, after Dimitri had evaded his questions, Arkos followed him... and saw why. He was embracing Bellatrix under the shade of a large willow. If he was someone else, if he were anyone else, he would have thought it poetic. That love bloomed even in the midst of war, that this love, this pure feeling, had triumphed over the hate and was going to heal the wounds of the kingdom, bring it into a new age of enlightenment...


But for Arkos, all he felt was the shatter of his heart. Pieces he could never pick up. He had loved her for so long, watched her from afar, but he was a fool. How could he compare to Dimitri? Dimitri was perfect. He was handsome, intelligent, strong, a great leader... and a king. Arkos? He was strong.. and that was it. He was a spare,.. an unwanted second son who was only prominent because he made the right friend. He was the 'great' and honorable Arkos, the warrior Arkos... But he was just Arkos while Dimitri... Dimitri was everything.


Arkos fled the scene that day, unable to watch what was happening. Unable to bear watching them embrace and knowing she would be happier with him then she would ever be with a spare. When Dimitri came to him, weeks later, with the news of the cease fire, Arkos smiled at his friend, and clapped his shoulder, glad to hear it and force himself to ask what the reason for the change was, he pretended to be happy to here about Bellatrix, happy to hear how they were getting married... he pretended with everything he had.... Smiled a false grin with everything he had until he could no longer feel the pain.


Arlos smiled at their wedding, standing as best man to the King, he smiled as he watched his brother marry the woman he loved.... he smiled, but deep inside, the seed grew. The seed of jealousy, of envy... of hatred.





Arkos watched them, wishing he could be happy for them. Wishing the sight of their small smiles to each other, their eyes filled with promise for the coming night didn't tear his heart out, didn't squeeze his soul. He wanted to be able to look his brother in the eye, but he couldn't for fear of the lurking resentment would show. Arkos hated himself just as much as he was growing to hate and envy Dimitri because he knew it wasn't right. If he was a better man, he would be able to look away, he would have asked Dimitri to have a border position until the feelings left, but he didn't... he couldn't.


While the kingdom was at peace, not everyone wanted peace. Many loyalist and mage supporters still wanted war, still wanted to settle old debts, but the king was in the way of that. In the way of 'progress' with his new wife. So they hatched a plan, a plan to remove the king and restart the civil war, and this time, it would be seen to its conclusion. Several failed attempts were launched at the Queen, most of which were thwarted by Arkos, and so she couldn't be used as a weapon against the one she loved, Bellatrix became a lich. She sacrificed her humanity for love, and Arkos hated Dimitri for it.


Unable to put down the Queen, they went for the King. Arkos was on patrol that night, he was just a room away, he saw the figures enter his chambers, saw the glint of steel. He could have stopped them. He could have easily made it in time, cut them down and saved his brother's life... but he didn't. He stopped... and he waited as his treacherous, blackened little heart whispered into his ear that... maybe, just maybe, with Dimitri gone, she could love him. Maybe he could make her happy and finally he could have her arms, and so he watched. He listened as Dimitri struggled against them, as he cried for help... as he cried for Arkos... He can remember the banging, the way his voice sounded when it was clogged with blood and... he wasn't sure when he started running towards his brother, when he finally came to his senses, but it was too late. The chamber was covered in his blood, the mutilated body of Dimitri laying at the center. Arkos ran to him, tossed his helm aside, and held him as he bleed out... watched the light in Dimitri's eyes as he looked up at him, the glint in his eyes telling Arkos he knew... Knew he had stood by and let him die, the question in his eyes the last thing he saw about his brother before he died there in his arms.


Arkos isn't aware of when the tears came or when he started screaming in anguish for what he had let happen, for what he had done. He only stopped when she arrived, when Bellatrix arrived to see her lover and husband dead in the arms of the man who claimed to be his brother, holding the bloody dagger and covered in his blood. Unable to bear the look in her eyes, the pain and anguish that rivaled his own reflected back at him, Arkos fled and so brought upon his ruination.


His guilt was clear. He was on patrol that evening, he was within earshot and could have prevented it, but had not. Arkos was holding his body and had the weapon that killed Dimitri, and before anyone could question or apprehend him, he had fled the scene of the crime. It didn't take long for news of his actions to spread like wildfire, for his family to disown him, for the honorable Arkos to be known, over night, as the Great Betrayer. The man who ended the golden era, who brought darkness back to their realm. Left without anything to do, Arkos joined the 'Loyalist' faction, who opposed Queen Bellatrix and the mage users.... Without purpose or sense, Arkos did the only thing he knew how, he fought, and somehow, figured fighting for what Dimitri used to believe in, the destruction of magic, would somehow atone for what he had done. But there was no atoning for that, some sins are too deep, too dark to ever wash away.





The civil war was far bloody then the last. Bellatrix, now the sole ruler, had become harsh and cruel from Arkos' betrayal and the loss of her lover. Arkos, a shell of what he once was, was nothing more then a figurehead and sledgehammer for the nobles leading the 'Loyalist' faction. After nearly a decade of intense fighting and war, their final clash happened at the fields of Draknell.


It was early morning, the mist still rolling in when the two forces clashed. The warriors of the loyalist pushing through the center of the Mages, the flanks of the loyalist being overrun by the newly raised dead from the new 'Lich Queen'. Blood, screams... it was a battle of nightmares, a battle of broken souls fighting over what scraps remained. The once lush meadows had blood running in rivers and in some areas, the bodies were piled as high as the waist as the remaining warriors of both sides waded through fields of the dead to od battle with brothers and sisters and here, among the dying, rivers of blood and screams, Arkos came face to face with Bellatrix.


She was so beautiful, even covered in blood, her face contorted in equal parts rage and anguish. To her questions of why, Arkos could only say he was sorry for what happened. For the first time in years, Arkos felt alive. She may hate him, she may loath him, but he still loved her and despite what she was becoming, just seeing her brought warmth into his chest... and they clashed. The fight was long, bloody and intense as rage met love, loss met regret... and two sorrowful souls that had lost someone they dearly loved fought with what remained of them.


Arkos can still remember the moment it happened, she swung her blade at him, and he could have dodged it, prolonged the fight, they were both exhausted from the battle and their struggle, maybe... just maybe he could have beaten her as she was lost into a rage, but he didn't, his sword lowered a fraction of an inch, accepting death. Accepting his punishment at her hands. As the blade bit deep, spilling his warm blood over her hands and the soiled ground underneath, Arkos felt.... content for the first time in a long time. It was a fitting death for a mongrel like him, dying at the hands of the woman he loved. As he tumbled down to the cold earth, his eyes closing, he wished that... she would find happiness again and recover from what he had done to her... and to his brother.


But it was not to be. Mere moments after his eyes glazed over, he arose again. He had been arrogant. He assumed death was a punishment, but it had been a release. A release he had chased like a crazed dog. As his flesh dissolved, as his metallic voice screamed into the area as his skeletal hands came to his empty eye sockets that were alight with a blue fire, he understood, his punishment had only just begun. Born from potent magic fueled by rage, Arkos was reborn as the world's first Wight.





But becoming a wight was only the beginning. As a wight, he was unable to disobey Bellatrix, and so was compelled to do as she commanded... whenever she commanded. He got to watch the horrified look on people's faces at his passing, the whispering behind his back... He was just as monstrous on the outside as he had been on the inside. He became her tool, her pet, her dog of war. Her champion, her bodyguard and her executioner. He served her in all things. He had taken her love, and so, she took his everything as payment.


But that was not the worst of it. No, the worst was seeing what he had done to her. Bellatrix... his Bellatrix was gone. She was replaced with a cold, hate filled dictator who ruled her kingdom with an iron fist crushing those, or often sending him to do it, that dared speak out against her or her laws. The days of Dimitri were long gone, the era of the Lich Queen had begun... and every nearby nation trembled for her wroth was wicked and her reach was great. It became apparent, over the centuries, that while she hated him with all her being, she also.. needed him. He was a reminder of a better time, the last tie she had to Dimitri even as tainted as he was. He wasn't sure if it was Dimitri she sitll loved or the idea of Dimitri and what they once had that kept her warm at night. It was the knowledge that he had done this to her... that he had broken her so, the very person he had loved so dearly, had wanted enough to betray his own brother that was the greatest punishment of all. That was the knife to his heart, the final due he could never atone for.





As the centuries turned to a millineium... Arkos finally started to see her again. The Bellatrix he had destroyed start to resurface. It wasn't... well, it wasn't perfect, it wasn't the beautiful young mage from his memory, but she was far closer then the monstrous lich queen had been.It seemed time truly was starting to heal her wounds, but she would never let him go, never let him rest. It had grown beyond hate, he was the only person she had, and he knew it. He was all she could trust, the only reminder she had for her old self, for a better time, the idea of Dimitri, in some way, was still kept alive so long as he still existed. And while he wanted to help her, he was now nothing more then a crutch, he was chains holding her to the past, and she would never be free, never be able to be truly happy again so long as he remained.


But also... he was tired. Bone weary of existing, of being a pet attack dog, of scratching out a wrteched existence within the Dark Kingdom, the 'Wight King' he was mockingly known, the fool that thought he could best the Lich Queen. But he couldn't just die. He was unable to end his own life or willingly do something that would bring it to an end, Bellatrix would not allow him to leave her even if she would never admit it. So, he started to single out mighty foes on the fields of battle, challenging them to single combat in the hope that they could slay him... but no matter whom he fought, no matter how many duels he entered, he won each and every single one. A mockery to his desperate pleas for his vigil to end. To finally sleep. With each kill, his personal unit, the Lords of the Barrow, grew. A mockery of his efforts to end his life as he was forced to lead into battle the very same men and women he had used to try and kill himself.


But it is the only way he knows how to end his life as she... she will never let him go and he would never endanger her, not again. She had suffered enough at his hands, and compulsion or not, he would protect her from what pain he could... and so he circles the battlefields on his manticore, looking for great warriors to fight, hoping against hope that, finally, finally he will find the soul that is destined to defeat him, destined to kill him. And so, Arkos throws himself into battle, fighting to win but hoping to die.



Job

Champion

​

Spoiler

Alignment

Lawful Neutral


Mount


Arkos' personal mount is a mighty Manticore that he has raised and trained. He breeds the 'lineage' of them as he does, eventually, outlive his mounts. His current Manticore is called 'Dro'Khan' and is an immense beast that is often mistake for a dragon by its massive shadow. Like most Manticores, it has reptilian wings, a scorpion tail and a massive lion body. As one would expect, the poison of a Manticore is one of the most potent poisons in the world able to bring down a mammoth in moments. Highly trained, Dro'Khan responds to mental commands given from Arkos Helm of the Damned allowing them unparalleled teamwork.


When riding into battle, Dro'Khan is covered in battle armor, metal plates for his legs and a thick chainmail 'blanket' for his back as well as a large face mask and metal 'jaw'.

The Mighty Dro'Khan

Equipment


​

A potent dark helm that was enchanted by the Lich Queen, it allows him to mentally direct the Dark Kingdom forces especially the other undead many of which cannot speak and would only obey commands of a Necromancer. This helm also keeps the undead forces together and stops them from crumbling.








The dark plate armor of the Wight King is inscribed heavily with runes that support and empower his Shadow Aegis techniques aiding him in the cancellation and resistance of magic. The armor was forged for him over a millennium ago and despite time and more battles then he cares to recall, the armor is still sturdy and resistant even if it is covered with the battle scars of a thousand battlefields. A heavy, black iron shield is a part of the Aegis.








The dark blade of Arkos was corrupted when he was. The blade appears rusted and dull, but it is anything but. The unholy blade is wickedly sharp and supernaturally durable able to cleave through mundane metals like butter. But what makes the blade truly horrible is the Kiss of Decay. When the rusted, dark blade strikes flesh, it causes the target to rapidly decay. The longer the contact with the blade, the faster the decay. It has no decaying effect on beings with Eternal Youth.








Along with these magical weaponry and armor, Arkos has a dagger and, when riding into battle, he brings a lance and four throwing spears.



Other

In his quest for death, Arkos has dueled, and slain, hundreds of warriors throughout his long existence. Each and every one was raised to be a wight after their fall and sentenced to serve under Arkos, the price of their failure. This special unit of fallen heroes serves as Arkos' personal unit and follow him into battle or, in times of 'peace', serve as protectors of Bellatrix. This unit is known as the Lords of the Barrow. often referred to as simply the Barrow Lords. .


Their current number stands at four hundred and thirty-seven, upon their great banner, the standard of the Barrow Lords reads the words, "Serve Her In Life. Or Slave For Her In Death."

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

Requisite

Full Name: Svenja Nikolaevna Romanova


Nickname(s): The Crownless


Age: 24


Gender: Female


Orientation: Straight


Race: Human


Kingdom of Origin: Galadarnad


Job: Queen


Alignment: Tries to prevent war, but not for every cost

Persona

Personality:


Svenja is more someone to order than to be ordered. She has big trouble taking orders. Its not like she could not accept to fulfil a task, but being ordered without granting her the possibility to discuss, she will be very unhappy. That can easily lead to fights with her. Svenja is merciless, yet not cold hearted. She would kill everyone without remorse, if they appear to be a threat, but she would never sent her comrades on a suicide mission without them knowing and accepting that fact. The Crownless can make for a great friend. She is loyal and stands at her friends side. Despite her usual, stern and serious manner, Svenja can also be joking and laughing. Even though she is a royal, the woman is not spoiled or thinks she is something better than others. She however knows that her skills surpass some others.


Likes:


-Friends


-Books


-Dancing


Dislikes:


-Rudeness


-Taking Orders


-Pork Meat


Strengths:


-Quick decisions


-Great Leader


-Agile and high endurance


Weaknesses:


-Has trouble to obey orders, even if its to her good


-Short fuse when being treated rude


-Lacks physical strength


Hobbies:


-Reading


-Riding


-Dancing


Favorite Food:


Mutton meat and chocolate

​

Backround

History: The line of Svenjas family is a line of kings and queens. The throne of the country of Galadarnad has always been in the hand of the Romanov family. This family consists of just rulers that are loved by their people and never have disappointed their kingdoms.


Biography: The lines last king is Nicholas Alexandrovich Romanov. That is the father of Princess Svenja Nikolaevna Romanova. She was raised both, as a Princess and as a ruler. She learned politeness and values, she learned to fight and to spare a life. The Princess was a true elite. However, when she was offered to take the crown of the crown princess, she refused. "I will journey. When I return, I will have earned the right to reign this kingdom. My experience and memories will guide me well. Yet, I have not earned the crown. Keep it, keep it to my return." That were her words. In the age of 16, the princess ventured out. However, through a sudden illness her father died. Svenja took the crown, but refuses to wear it. In her oppinion, she will have to earn it before wearing it. She still rules the country as good as she is able to in her young age.


Status: Royal/Rich


Love Interest: (Pm me)

Combat Information

Preferred Weapon/Fighting Style: Onehanded sword, armor. Fast fighting style.


Equipment and armor are made of Lucenit.


Powers:


Lightstrike


Charges a strike with the energy of light to make it emit a massive light forcewave


Thunderstruck


A ability only the royals of Galadarnad posses. They let a thunder strike them, granting them strong electrical abilities, like shooting bots of lighting. They also increase all body attributes, e.g. speed and strength


Healing Wave


Unleashes a wave of healing, healing every person in the near area.

A D D I T I O N S

Useful Information:


She has a habit of saying "??" (Da) instead of "Yeah"


In addition she usually says "???" (Net) instead of "No"



​

 

[Cosmo]

Name

Sigvald Markell




Age

26

Gender

Male




Species/Race

Human




Kingdom of Origin

Ostleim




Powers

​

Spoiler

Sigvald is a master Chamon mage despite how young he is, it is said his talent is something that comes only once every few generations. With this power, Sigvald can transmute metal with a wave of his hand, age and rust metal in moments or even mend equipment with a quick brush of his hands... He can control and animate metal constructs, can summon forth and fling great balls or tides of molten metal at his foes and even lift and levitate metal with an ease that is almost frightening for another Chamon users.


However, because of his illness, he is shortening his lifespan every time he does heavily use his power.











Like most Chamon Mages, Sigvald utilizes his power to create. He loves to tinker and forge new things such as massive golems of war, small golems to help him move around or lift objects, statues and other works of art, to even smaller little mechanic toys and trinkets. He is one of the best craftsmen in all of Ostleim. No one puts as much thought, effort and time into their creations as Sigvald.




Personality

Inquisitive || Sardonic || Nonplus || Generous || Resentful


Suiting his magical discipline and his love of creation, Sigvald is incredibly inquisitive. He loves nothing more to learn and relishes the pursuit of knowledge. This knowledge doesn't have to do with alchemy or mechanism, as the simple act of learning makes him feel alive, as such, he is incredibly observant and will often just sit and watch other people talk, watch them move, watch them go about their days and so learn little facets about them that he will file away for later. This also extends to a deep love of nature and things of beauty such as flowers or animals which is often reflected in his craft as he seeks to imitate these works of natural beauty, of course, this love isn't given in return as the outdoors is very.. stressful on his body.


Sigvald is far from the easiest person to get along with as he has a... certain sense of humor that many do not appreciate. He has a very grim and dour look on the world around him, the gods and even the people. Because of this, his humor tends to be more mocking and incredibly cynical. His appearance alone is off-putting enough, but when coupled with his biting wit and grim outlook, it isn't surprising that most people give him a wide berth, and it is a vicious cycle as the more he is isolated, the grimmer and more cynical he becomes, but the more cynical he becomes, the less people desire to be around him. He simply doesn't know any other way and so often comes off extremely blunt, depreciating and abrasive.


Despite his cynical nature and his desire to learn as much as possible, Sigvald is incredibly easy to fluster. He simply hasn't had as much life experience as many people and even conversations tend to be one-sided and short. So, if someone.. odd comes along, someone who laughs at his jokes, someone who doesn't mind being close to him or doesn't shrink at physical contact, he is often left at a loss of what to do or how to react. Simple things normal people take for granted, heartfelt hellos, a hug... these things leave Sigvald on the wrong footing and can even leave him stammering. He views this with a mixture of embarrassment, as who likes stammering like a silly chit, as well as fondness as while he may not know how to handle, it always gives him things to consider later and, well, it is an interesting sensation nonetheless.


Despite his cynical nature, Sigvald is incredibly generous and giving. He loves to create, but he loves even more sharing them with others in the hope that his labors of love will make others just as happy as they make him. If someone is admiring one of his works, he will often give them it as a gift... although, the giving is often fairly rough and it isn't unusual for the other person to take it the wrong way as he is... very poor at wording things and often him giving it to them can come off as an unintended insult. One of his favorite activities, and one he tends to keep to himself and his assistant, is Sigvald loves to create toys and little trinkets and then donate them to Vogan's Light, the Ostleim orphanage so the children there can play and have a little more light in their lives. He sees that, the creation of toys and other works of joy, to be the greatest of all his works.


But despite his giving nature, Sigvald can be incredibly resentful. He hates what he is, hates how weak he is, hates how people look at him as if he is contagious as if even going near him will put themselves at risk... He envies others for the little things they can do such as laying out in the sun, being able to run through fields of grass, being able to hold a lover or even have a lover. He knows how close to the edge he is, how easy it would be to fall into that abyss of self-pity and hatred and never come out again, but he cannot help it, and the worst is what he feels for his elder brother. He loves him, he truly does, his brother is a great brother and a great man, destined to someday do wondrous things and be the next great hero of Ostleim... but oh, how Sigvald hates him just as much. He was given everything while Sigvald was given nothing, why, when they were born the very same day, grew in the same womb, why is it that he is so blessed while Sigvald is a cursed, sickly thing? He does his best to temper such thoughts, but somedays, he cannot stop the bitterness that rises in his heart and blackens his soul.

History








Sigvald was born to Lord Tavin and Lady Adal Markell, the heads of the Markell family, one of the five great families and holders of a seat upon the High Council. His birth came to great surprise to both as both had only been expecting a single child, yet, he quickly followed his brother Regnier into the world. When the nursemaid handed his sickly little body over to his mother, his grandmother broke into a fury. She was a follower of the old way, and twins was a curse. The Gods had gifted her womb with only one soul, he was a monster, a soulless freak who would only raise up to do great evil and serve as a vessel of the demons. His father was torn as twins, outside of superstition, rose great issues especially if they were both male as who was truly the heir? How easy would it be for a servant to misplace one and deny the other their birthright?


His grandmother made her case, talked of how she would take care of it. Give young Sigvald a little deathcap on the tip of her finger and he would pass away before the night was out, but his mother, Adal, would hear none of it. She begged Tavin to let her keep her boys, both of them. Loving his wife and knowing how weak she was, Tavin relented and grateful beyond words, Adal finally let herself fall unconscious, but his grandmother, knowing she couldn't remove the curse, at least begged her son to mark him, so no one could ever mistake one for the other. Having denied his mother once, and wanting to put it all behind him, he took off his signet ring and held it over a candle, heating it up before pressing it down on his babies forehead. Tavin ignored the small sickly screams, the smell of burning flesh and the fact he was mutilating his own child, when he was finished, the coat of arms of their family forever branded into Sigvald's forehead.











As a child, Sigvald seemed to get better. He wasn't the sickly little baby he was when he was born. While he wasn't quite as healthy as Regnier, seemingly needing to stop and take deep breaths far more often, he was a perfectly normal young boy, save for the 'birthmark' on his forehead, the coat of arms having stretched out and distorted as he great. He truly was no different, he laughed, he cried, he played and he did what every nine year old was expected to do. It seemed his grandmother was wrong... well, it seemed she wasn't.


Sigvald can still remember the day it happened, the nights had finally slipped away and the sun once more shined down on their home. He was so excited he rushed out of the house early to go join Regnier and his friends in reenacting the Battle of Twilight Fields when it happened. The sunlight didn't just burn him, it was melting him. The pain was unbearable, and he collapsed to his knees and started screaming as chunks of flesh rolled down and fell to the grass, trying to press his hands to his face to stop it, he only made it worse as his hands came away with large swaths of his cheeks, blood flew freely from the open wounds and down his eyes. Unable to handle the pain, Sigvald slipped into unconsciousness in the stained grass outside his families manor.


He awoke hours later, after the sun had gone down, surrounded by adults. He started to panic, but Sigvald calmed down when his mother's hand came to his shoulder and pushed him back down. The men and women were healers from the magic school, they had arrived just in time to save him. He was bound head to toe in thick bandages, to protect his skin, they had told him, and he must never remove them unless one of them did it else he could burn again. His terrified emerald eyes looked around the room, to his father with emotion he did not recognize lurking behind his eyes, to his brother looking around just as bewildered as he was, to his mother trying to hold back tears as she rubbed his bandaged hand, to his Grandmother with a gleam of triumph in her gaze....


His life changed drastically then, he was too weak to get out of bed most days, and the shutters to his room was always drawn closed, casting him into darkness. His grandmother and father never visited, having moved him to another wing of the house as if pushing him from their minds, from their lives. His brother visited every night, they say together, talked, and, when he could, he ate with his brother. If he didn't already love him, this would have sealed it as in those precious moments, Sigvald felt human again. The worst was his mother, whenever she visited, she would break down and cry at the sight of him as if his state was her fault. She would tell him how sorry she was over and over again as if she wished she had, indeed, let grandmother dispose of him rather then let him live like this.


It was only three months later when his mother took her own life, a brew of deathcap mushrooms. Whatever chance he had of seeing his father again evaporated as he blamed Sigvald for her death, and partly, blamed himself for not doing what he should have done years ago. And so, for years, Sigvald would sit in his bed, walk around his room... his only visits the occasional servants who did their best not to look at them, mages from the school and his brother.











When he was twelve, during one of the numerous healer visits, an old man stepped forth and held out a hand, the only person since his brother willing to offer to touch him. The old man told him he had magic, strong magic, running through his veins and had great potential. He asked him if he wanted to come with him to the school that his father had already granted permission. Sigvald was stunned. For a moment, he didn't want to leave. The dark room was all he had known for years, he was afraid of seeing what lay beyond the door and his brother... he needed Regnier. But... but... it was like a ray of light, the first glimmer of hope he had seen in a long time, and so, Sigvald gave a small nod of consent.


In a whirl of activity, more then he had seen in years, he was whisked away, right there, to the school where he was quickly tested before the other students and proudly proclaimed to be destined for Chamon, the Lore of Metal. Despite the looks he got from the other students, despite what they whispered about him behind his back, Sigvald felt at peace and truly happy as he lost himself into this new world of knowledge and magic. He dedicated every ounce and soul of his being to his craft, losing himself in the art of creation becoming... anyone but himself for just a few hours. While he may be revoltng, he created works of wonder and beauty the like of which no other Chamon student could replicate.


At sixteen, he was proclaimed a full mage, the youngest to ever become a full Chamon mage. As a right of passage, he was required to create something that replicated his skill and everything he had learned, and so, he made Charon. The great and mighty silver lion impressed the older mages to no age as they proudly proclaimed him to be a talent that only came once every few generations while his fellow mages looked on him with anger and jealously... just as he often looked on them. Charon was more then just a right of passage, he was freedom. He could use the great lion to travel, to go places without needing to lean on someone, without needing to be carried, finally, he was able to start taking care of himself, well, in small ways, at least. He was truly coming into his own and then he met her.











Her name was Claudia, a mage of Hysh. She was beautiful and far too interested in him for comfort. No matter how hard he tried to brush her away, send her fleeing from his presence with biting comments, she would come floating back. This beautiful blond mage who seemed to be made out of the very same light she wielded. She wore him down, slipped through the cracks in his armor and made him happy. Truly, happy. He enjoyed just being around her, listening to her talk and sing, creating small trinkets and gifts for her to show her his affection.


Around her, around Claudia, he felt normal. Not a crippled freak, but someone who was valuable, someone who could truly go out and accomplish whatever was set before him, someone who could be loved. For two years they were constant companions, telling each other everything, burning the candles low as they just talked, as he read to her, as she would sing for him... He loved her with everything he had, she was his light, his ray of purpose and his source of warmth in his cold life. He just.. didn't know how to tell her, but he soon had little choice as a Mage of Aqshy, Kaldor, also pursued her. Kaldor was passionate about life, about love... he was handsome and strong, he was everything Sigvald was not... So, desperate, he meticulously crafted numerous tiny golden roses, using every piece of skill he had to make them perfect, beyond perfection, to show her his love. When he went to give it to her, Kaldor was telling her how much he loved her, and so, shoving down his fear, Sigvald rushed in to give his gift and give his declaration... and she had no idea what to do. She simply looked from one to the other and started crying. Kaldor, passionate as the fires he controlled, took matters into his own hands and challenged Sigvald to combat, to fight as mages. If she could not pick, they would pick for her. Emotional and distraught, Sigvald agreed.


They met on the dueling field two days later, his brother serving as his second. He had not tried to talk Sigvald out of it, had merely asked why, and when Sigvald told him it was for love, his brother merely nodded and patted him on the back. Kaldor arrived early, sure of his victory as the Metal Lore was not known for its pure combative ability like the Fire Lore was, and moreover, Sigvald was weak of body and barely able to walk on his own much less fight someone trained in both combat magic and the sword... but he underestimated the depth's of Sigvald's feelings.


Their duel lasted for all of ten minutes... Kaldor mocked him and flung a small fireball at him, ignoring Sigvald's cloak and burning his flesh underneath. Sigvald, infuriated beyond imagine, unleashed every pent up feeling he had, every bit of sorrow and every last bit of anger he had in one devastating moment and unleashed the dread Final Transmutation... Kaldor's laugh turned to screams as his sword turned solid gold... and it climbed up his arm, higher and higher as he was slowly turning into a statue. Sigvald watched with grim satisfaction as the metal climbed up his arm, as he frantically tried to stop it... but his satisfaction left as a scream pissed the air, a woman's scream. Claudia threw herself into Kaldor's arms, begging Sigvald to stop it, to spare him... and he did even knowing what sparring him meant. There had never been any need for the duel, she had made her decision long ago, and what hurt more then that, is he knew she allowed the duel in hopes he would lose so she could avoid being the one to tell him she didn't return his feelings. In that moment, Sigvald hated her with everything he had. She had made him believe he could be loved, made him believe that she cared for him, but she never had. He was just... just a side-project, a way for her to feel good about herself for taking 'pity' on the freak.


He tried to walk off the field with dignity, but was unable to, too exhausted from his display and, to his shame, he had to be carried off by Regnier. To his ever lasting relief, his brother did not say anything, merely carried him off and offered his silent support. When he was alone in his chambers... when the rage and anger started to leave him... he wept like a child, throwing his mask aside as the tears spilled out of his eyes no matter how hard he tried to stop them. He cried throughout the night, and on the morrow, when he opened his door, he found a box filled with all the gifts he had given her over the years, gifts she had returned. It seemed they both understood there was no going back after what happened, and from then on, they both avoided each other. Even when she and Kaldor split after a short relationship, neither willingly came close to the other, avoiding each other and their gazes... What was broken could never be repaired.


With... the 'distraction' gone, he threw himself back into his work. Losing himself into the mindless repetition, the creation... ignoring how his body got weaker with every passing year, he was going to die, he always knew that, but now... now it suddenly seemed so much closer and he doesn't know what to do about... or even if he should.

Job

Chamon Artificer


He is not the patriarch of the Chamon Discipline.

​

Alignment

Neutral Good

​

Equipment

None to really speak of. Sigvald carries no weaponry, not even a dagger, as he would more likely hurt himself then any foe. Sigvald does wear the cloak of the Chamon Discipline, the dark hooded robes and dark gloves covering every inch of his skin, a necessary. Along with his clothing, he wears a metal mask that obscures all of his face save for his eyes. Thanks to his magic, Sigvald can change the shape, color and density of the mask at will.

​

Other

Waking Death

Is the disease Sigvald was afflicted with at birth. It is an incredibly rare disease, in all of Ostleim's history, Sigvald is the third person to ever have it and no cure for it exist. Sigvald is also the only one to have ever made it to adulthood, however this is only due to his birth and so his family could afford the healthcare, and now because of the Mages of Ghyran who heal him daily, once in the morning and once before he goes to sleep, this allows him to stave off the effects for as long as possible, but Sigvald is well aware that this measure is starting to fail and he will not live to see his thirtieth winter.


The disease causes Sigvald to occasionally bleed from his ears and eyes as well as cough up large amounts of blood. His bones are incredibly brittle and even small falls can shatter his bones. It also effects his organs as he becomes winded very easily and his heart will often skip beats and ever sometimes stop for a few moments before resuming. The worst, however, is his skin. Should be unclothed in the sun, his skin will burn and peel away a truly revolting sight and, of course, makes him incredibly vulnerable to infection. Because of all this, he is deathly pale beneath all his clothes and incredibly gaunt to the point of being almost more akin to a scarecrow then a man.




Assistants

Sigvald has two assistants, Charon and Karleen.

Charon

Charon is a large silver golem forged into the shape of a massive lion. Charon serves as Sigvald's protector and, when needed, Charon carries Sigvald especially up and down stairs. Charon has been with Sigvald for over eight years and is one of his closest companions and dearest creation.




Karleen

Karleen is an apprentice of the Ghyran discipline. Just like a few before her, she serves as personal caretaker, healer and assistant of Sigvald. Young, kind and incredibly idealistic, Karleen is a source of some fun for Sigvald as he mocks and teases her, and despite only being together for a few years, Sigvald views her as the younger sister he never had... even if he has trouble showing it.

​

 

[KaalysBR]

Raeghal T'Zoha

Age

29


Gender


Male


Species/Race


Light Elf


Kingdom of Origin


Galadarnad


Powers


- Healing -


Since Raeghal's job is mainly focused on protecting the royal family,he learned quite a bit of healing magic. This power consists of a warm,bright light that fixes the tissues of the body. Major wounds may take a longer time to heal.


- Animal Touch -


Raeghal can speak to animals and creatures from the kingdom of Galadarnad and induce them to aid him,be it on the way of fighting or on smaller tasks.


- Control Over Emotions -


Raeghal has minor control over the emotions of people,being able to calm them down or do the exact opposite and create the will to fight in their heart. Happiness or melancholy aren't emotions he can influence,mostly because they are too complex.


- Battle Meditation -


Raeghal's influence will give courage and boast the powers of his allies.


Personality


The personality of Raeghal has evoluted through the years,mostly reflecting the growing influence of Svenja's presence. Gone is the arrogant and impulse young boy,giving place to a man with a much more leveled head. Raeghal will always think before acting,knowing that his decisions could often mean the progress of his entire kingdom.


Still,he can be stubborn when time calls for it. He expects his Queen to listen to his words,and will follow his own instinct beyond anything. He isn't unable to listen to criticism,but will ultimately follow his own mind.


Raeghal took a long time to fully feel committed to the royal family,but now that he found his loyalty he isn't willing to back down. He can and will die to make sure that the queen and her family is safe.


It's not easy to trigger Raeghal's temper. Most offenses will be ignored or simply have replies that come in the form of sarcasm. But threatening the royality under his care is the way to make him go sour. He will act with complete and cold calmness,until his sword is against your chest and you are bleeding on the ground.


History

Raeghal comes from a long and respected line of advisers of the kingdom of Galadarnad. The work of his family has always been on the background,standing close to kings and queens and offering their thoughts and even their blades when time calls for war. But still,their specialty lied on diplomatic strategy. Many battles were avoided thanks to the careful planning of the T'Zoha family. Not a single law passes without the approval of the T'Zoha,and not a soldier goes into field without listening to their experience on war.


Still,the young elf had many concerns about his job and the royal family itself. In a long century of serving,Raeghal was the first adviser do directly confront the royal family for their decisions,mainly concerning the land of the kingdom itself. He disagreed with the economics and the position of the palace,which often led to truces with his family and the others royals.


His bigger concern was the king's young daughter,Svenja. He did not consider the girl as prepared for such an enormous responsibility as leading an entire kingdom. But her choice of not accepting the crown immediately confused him,making him question his own judgement. The decision of following Svenja in her travels was a difficult one,but Raeghal realized that he had no other choice. If he wanted to get to know his next ruler,he had to leave and stay by her side.


This travel made his ancestors suffer great worry. When Raeghal was born,a prophecy spurn along with him. If he didn't stay by the kingdom's side,he would become sour and eventually try to destroy his own rulers by the ways of deceit and backstabbing. But their concerns were eventually proved unfounded.


The travel by Svenja's side made the young elf turn into a man. He finally recognized the worthy of his ruler,sticking by her in any adventures that arrived and sworning himself to her rule. Raeghal was finally committed,and the prophecy wasn't completed. He would stay by the Queen's side for as long as she needed him. Those feelings eventually grew into a friendship instead of simple duty,and now Raeghal was ready to fully commit his soul to the Romanov family.


Svenja's decision to remain crownless rose quite a few eyebrows,but Raeghal fully agreed with her decision. She would wear her crown when she was ready,and not a second before that.


Job


Champion/Adviser


Alignment


Neutral Good


Appearance

Equipment


Raeghal's armor is made out of silver moonstone,being a resistant metal but focusing on movement and agility beyond anything. The use of a helmet could compromise his vision,so he wears a simple circlet on his head that marks his position as an champion.


His training with the shield is more focused than his other arts,mainly because is job is to protect the royal family and die for them in case it's necessary. His shield and sword is made of the same material of his armor,crafted to be extremely shard.

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

The threat of the waters

​

The mousy cover

Name: Tina Nilson


Age: appears 11


Gender: Female


Species/Race: Banished Terror


Kingdom of Origin: Water Kingdom

laying on top

Powers:


-Water Manipulation


-Breathing under water


Personality:


Tina is a very nice and polite girl, she acts like a daughter to the undyne of the Verdurous Waves. She is very loyal and would do anything he says, except to kill, as that is what she really hates. When seeing TIna, nobody would expect what she really is.


History: After the banishment, Tina had no memory of her past. She does not know what she is or what she did. In her mind, she was the daughter of Matthias Callious.


Job: /


Alignment: Lawful Good


Equipment: A plush bunny named "Bunbun"


Other:

The monstrous Truth

Name: Arcagar


Age: Ancient


Gender: Unspecified


Species/Race: Terror


Kingdom of Origin: Water Kingdom


Appearance:

Burried beneath

Powers:


Primordial Sea


At the moment, Arcagar is freed, the weather in a range of 6 miles changes to massive rain. If this rain keeps up, which it does as long as Arcagar is free, it will make the waters rise and flood the land.


I am the ocean


Except for its massive size, Arcagar has the absolute control over water.


Origins Pulse


Arcagar actively tries to cover all the world in water again, yet to kill all beings in water. It wants to kill everything in order for it to develop new, create a new world.


Personality: There is no such thing as a personality for Arcagar. Arcagar just lives to destroy, it knows nothing but destruction.


History:


Arcagar was one of the biggest threats to the world, especially the water kingdom. The seven undynes fought hard and at last managed to banish the Terror into the body of a young girl. The terror would never come out again, unless the seal would be broken by one of the undynes. For the reason of trust and responsibility, the girl got placed with Matthias. She would never know what lied in her.


Job: /


Alignment: Evil in every and any way


Equipment: /


Other: /

 

[Cosmo]

Name

Regnier Markell




Age

26




Gender

Male




Species/Race

Human




Kingdom of Origin

Ostleim




Powers

N/A



Personality

Determined || Demanding || Idealistic || Clever || Ambitious


Regnier has an iron will and a steely spine. Once he sets out to do something, he does it. He was raised with the concept that duty came first and to never quit on whatever he was trying to do and this lesson never left him. This determination shows itself greatly in his quick rise in the ranks as his diligence in improving himself and his pursuit of advancement. This sheer determination also gives him a courageous spirit as while he may see monsters and the horrors of battle, he pushes on anyways. While he is far from being immune to fear, he simply knows that one must grit their teeth and push on before it wavers. This bravery and diligent way of leading strikes well with his men and women as Regnier is always willing to fight alongside them.


This determination is far from perfect as he is just as diligent in his expectations in himself and others making him incredibly demanding. Regnier has incredibly high personal expectations believing more of himself then is rational possible and is incredibly harsh on himself when he fails to meet his own standards. He also extends these expectations to others expecting them to live up to his ideals and when they fail to meet them, he has no qualms in letting them know of their failure and cracking the whip until they get there. He is, very much, a drillmaster with his men, his friends and even his family. This does make his relationships strained as he can be incredibly overbearing and most people do no enjoy being openly judged and evaluated.


Despite what he has seen, Regnier is a very idealistic man. He, genuinely, believes that most people are good at heart and if given the chance, people will do the right thing. He believes that good triumphs over evil, that criminals will get what they deserve in the end and that honor and hard work will get a soldier further then wealth or influence. This does make it incredibly easy to lie to him as he will often believe someone at face value and he doesn't tend to question the odd behavior of others. This high value of honor and a firm belief in the good of the world, Regnier tends to react poorly to those that act dishonorable, that steal, that murder that rape and they drive him into an unreasonable rage where he acts before thinking such as when, as a swordsmen, he nearly beat his commanding officer to death after he used his position to get sexual favors from a fellow soldier.


He may be overly trusting, but Regnier is a very clever man. Thanks to his heritage and being the heir to a Great Family, Regnier has had extensive formal education especially in the arts of war as befitting a noble of Ostleim, but he takes it beyond is formal education. Regnier has introduced new techniques in the training regimes of his units and has employed... questionable tactics against his foes but they have all turned out for the best. However, this does put a lot of expectation on his shoulders the men and women serving under him have begun to expect some sort of grand plan, some incredible maneuver that will decide the battle and... he expects himself to be able to meet their expectations even if they become unreasonable.


It is well that he is intelligent as it aids him in his ambitions. Regnier wants to make changes to Ostleim, especially, to the class difference in the Councils and Ostleim's predisposition towards isolationism. He firmly believes he needs greater influence in order to fulfill his goals and is willing to do near anything to see it come to fruition. He spends so much time considering what he is going to do and preparing for it that he tends to not pay as much attention to the 'now' which can lead him to be fairly oblivious to the problems of others or opportunities right in front of his eyes.

History

​

Spoiler

Born to Lord Tavin and Lady Adal Markell, the heads of the Markell family, one of the five great families and holders of a seat upon the High Council, his birth came with much rejoice as the two had been struggling to have a child, an heir, for years. Lord Tavin had even begun considering a divorce on the grounds of a barren partner, but Regnier, and his younger brother Sigvald, were born and secured the family linage. As the first born, Regnier was thrust into a world of expectation and duty. Even as a child, he was expected to excel in everything, when he was unable to walk by the time he was a year old, his nurse was fired, but not before she was flogged for her 'performance'.


Rarely was he allowed to mingle with other kids, even if they were noble born as he was, so he spent most of his youth in the company of his brother enjoying the few times they were allowed out to play with the servant's children or the children of nearby families. While he cannot recall everything about the day his brother's disease act up, he can remember the feeling as it was he who found him first. Curled up and bleeding on the ground, his skin peeled off and the stench of rotting flesh filling the air. He had wanted to run, to flee from what was happening, to bury his head in blankets and hide from the world, but he didn't. Instead he screamed for help and in doing so, saved his brother's life. A lesson which he did not understand at the time, but would instinctively follow the rest of his life, that to run solved nothing.


But it was after this event that Regnier finally noticed how different his parents, especially his father, treated him and his brother. The death of their mother seemed to have crushed whatever small amount of light remained in their father... whatever decent man may have been in there somewhere. While his father pushed his younger brother fromhis mind, Regnier resolved to be there for him in his place. And so he did. Every night, he sat with him, played when he could, even slept in the same room more then a few times. It wasn't much, but it was all he could really do. As he grew older and his education intensified, it became more and more apparent how much their father resented his younger brother and, in turn, Regnier started to hate his father. When the recruiter came for his brother, Regnier wished Sigvald would say no. He knew he shouldn't have, he knew it would be good for Sigvald, knew that going outside again, finally meeting new people would be good for him, but he didn't want to let him go. Sigvald, even as miserable as he was, was a source of comfort for Regnier knowing that, no matter what happened, Sigvald would be there, in that room, waiting for him to come back. It was selfish, but he couldn't deny his feelings on it, but he bit his tongue when Sigvald was taken out, bit his tongue as his father's smug comments on how nice it was that the freak was gone... he bit his tongue and kept his head down, doing his duty as the heir.


He was trained by the family Master of Arms, he studied with various scholars, he lost his virginity to a chambermaid that, he would later find out, was 'encouraged' to do it by his father and so to 'make a man' out of the boy. At sixteen, he was more then willing to leave his home and his father's influence. Joining a regiment of the Swords, Regnier felt... free for the first time in his life. Free to do whatever he wished, free to be himself, free of his father.











Regnier excelled in the Swords, having been extensively trained already and having no small amount of natural talent. But he was quite bad at making friends. His desire for advancement and his need to succeed rubbed the others wrong, especially, the other recruits many of which had never handled a weapon in their life. While they went out to drink, to blow off steam, Regnier stayed in the barracks. At first, his pride made him stay away, pretend he did not mind nor care about what they felt towards him, but just like many, he did care, and as his Swordsmaster would later point out that he needed to build comradely as they would be the ones watching his back and they needed to be able to stand together.


Taking the advice to heart, Regnier tried his best to mend the bridges he had unintentionally burned. He started by giving tips and extra help to the other recruits, helping them master the sword/axe/mace quicker, he then took them out for drinks shamelessly using his families wealth to buy drinks for the unit. While he never became the most popular of soldiers, he did manage to build some level of comradely, but he was never able to bridge that last gap between himself and the others, there was always... something that divided them, something intrinsic about himself. Whatever reason this could be was quickly forgotten when they were deployed deep into the Goran Forest to clear out an infestation of Arachyaw. The massive spiders had set up a large nest near the forest edge and had been preying on travelers and had taken out one small homestead already, so they were to go in and kill the Widow, the queen, something that, by the size of the nest, they assumed would be a small widow, newly spawned.


They were wrong.


The Widow was old and had been uprooted by a much larger Widow from her old nest in the mountains. They faced light resistance when the approached the next, smaller Arachyaws, and while a few went down to the chittering hordes, they pushed onward their blades covered in the ichor of the mutated spiders. Thats when they came, the Arachyaw Guard, the protectors of the Widow. They came from the trees, dropping down on the swords, grabbing a few of the screaming men and women before using their webs to quickly ascend back up to the dark tops, the screaming ending quickly as their weaponry and armor tumbled back down to the ground below. Regnier can still remember the sight of a large Arachyaw pouncing on one of the swords, its large fangs puncturing through the breastplate and chain beneath to get to the soft insides, the sword screaming as he slammed his fist over and over again into the soulless black eyes as the monstrous legs stomped around the body trying to get a better angle as it devoured the sword. The revolting stench of the spider's ichor as his blade punched through its back, the chittering scream as it knelled over, its legs twitching and coming to cover his body... the look in the sword's eyes as he begged Regnier to kill him as he felt his intestines liquefying... and the way his heart fell when his blade thrust through the fallen sword's throat, ending his suffering.




Their swordmaster, seeing no alternative, charged the widow, his great two handed blade above his head... and the widow swallowed him whole. Snapped him up like a bird snapping up insects. The swords fell back into a circle, the Arachyaws closing in around them, their death all but assured when the great beast shuddered, thick ichor falling from its mouth to burn the ground beneath it. With wounded shrikes, the horde panicked fleeing every which way, other Arachyaw started to attack and fed on their own, driven into a frenzy by the dying Widow. Finally, the great beast tumbled to the ground, shaking the ground. The Swordmaster, when being devoured, had torn apart the great beast from the inside, killing him with his defiant last effort.


Fifty swords had entered the forest, seven walked out, and sadly, this was not the worst loss the city had faced even just that week. So low on survivors, Regnier was made Swordmaster at only 17 and attached to the 8th Ostleim, the 'Bloody Crows'.

The change from sword to swordmaster was a daunting change. He had no real idea how to lead others, especially, the new recruits since their ranks were recently decimated and were not exactly happy to be in such a unit. But help arrived in the form of a fellow unit commander, Hilda Volker who quickly took him under her wing and showed him how to best lead the troops, lots of yelling and more then a few smacks to the head. Regnier found something in the stern older woman, something he never had, a role model. He followed her like a duckling after his mother, and to his relief, she took it in stride even finding it amusing.

​

From her, he managed to rebuild the unit and push them to greater levels of skill, determined to never let what happened in the Goran Forest happen again. They would be ready and prepared for the next conflict.

​

He would spend three years as swordsmaster, facing down orcs, goblins, arachyaw, and he had even gone into the tunnels to face Dorgar. While he lost many men and women, he came out stronger, getting a firmer grasp on command with each passing day.


They were deployed to a small fort outside a mine Ostleim had set up, a new silver vein that promised a growth in commerce, but it was in a dangerous location and so needed to be protected. The fort was little more then a collection of tents and shacks surrounded by a low palisade wall. The largest building being the lumbermill that was a must in order to create support beams to keep the caves from caving in on the miners. Hilda and Regnier both petitioned their Marshal, Konrad, to, at the least, reinforce the gate and dig a ditch where they could bury some stakes in to ward off the larger creatures that prowled the land, but Konrad waved off the concerns, sure they were secure enough. Their concerns only grew as reports of raids and sightings of large orc warbands came in. Hundreds of orcs had been seen in the forest and surrounding fields, orcs from numerous tribes and clans... More then should be possible as orcs tended to in fight unless something stronger then them was keeping them in check, but Konrad dismissed theri concerns, the chances of an Orc Warlord rising up this close to their fort was unlikely in the extreme. So, they settled in and increased the drills of their opponent, both of them fearing the worse... and not a week later, their fears were realized.


Thousands of orcs, goblins and more then a few ogres appeared on the horizon swarming down in a tide. They did their best to save as many as possible, but most of the lumberjacks were still out working and didn't make it back. They barricaded the gate and prepared for the coming assault.. but it didn't come. The orcs and goblins merely camped outside the gates, and at night, they found out why. A massive orc, dwarfing even the largest of men, came out to watch the small fort, and Regnier, even from the distance could make out the evil intelligence the beast had as its red eyes peered at them over the darkness. Regnier wasn't sure what was going to happen, but Hilde knew as she left her spot on the wall to grab a wineskin and settled in, keeping her eyes on the ground before her, and he soon learned why. The lumberjacks... they weren't killed but captured, before the walls, just out of bolt range, they were tortured and thrown onto the great fires to be cooked then devoured, their screams and the smell of burning flesh filling the air. The Warlord was trying to intimidate them and force them to do something stupid in anger, and while they did not sally out to try and save the lumberjacks, the intimidation had worked as the pale faces of the soldiers knew that their fate was the same. They would either die by their blades or be devoured while they were still alive. There would be no surviving this. They were heavily outnumbered and from the howls filling the sky, they had wargs... there could not flee, they would merely be rode down by the highly aggressive warg riders.


In the morning, the attack began. The orcs and goblins poured forth like an unending tide. Each wave of bolts released by the crossbows, punched through their flimsy armor and stopped them cold... but for every one that fell, two replaced it. There were simply too many and as they slammed into the palisade, the Bloody Crows drew in a breath as the thick walls trembled, but they held. Rushing to the walls, the Pikes did what they could to keep the orcs and goblins back and stop them from scaling the walls impaling those that tried, replacements constantly running up to reinforce them as they tumbled down, pierced by the black arrows of the goblin shortbows. Their comrades dragged the screaming wounded back to the nearby tents to be treated. For a moment, just a moment, it looked like they could stem the tide, that maybe, just maybe, they could hold... and then the ogres came. They smashed through the flimsy gate as if it weren't there, pushing through and easily smashing right through the wall of pikes and crushing the men and women holding them with their large clubs and fist, smashing bones with sickening crunches with every blow. Konrad tried to rally his men to him, to take back the gate and push out the ogres, but he was thwarted when a large ogre boot came crashing down, snapping his spine and turning him into a stain with a revolting crunch.


The walls fell quickly afterwards and Regnier did the only thing he could, he picked up a banner and charged the ogre to rally them, well, he likes to think it was him, but he knows it was because of Hilda. She had enough pull that when she joined him in his charge, the others flocked to her side, and they were able to push the ogres back towards the gate with thrust of halberds and bolts from the surviving crossbows. With the Ogres wounded and retreating back to mend their rooms, headless of the orcs and goblins they crushed and smashed in their wake, they were able to block the gate with a wall of pikes and spears, and they held for the rest of the day, the bodies of men, gobln and orc piled up to the thigh around the gate and finally, as the sun set, the Warlord called the retreat. They had survived the day.


But the news was not welcome. They were the only regiment within days, and they chance that Ostleim even knew what was going on was close to non-existent. There would be no reinforcements. They had suffered heavy losses, there were less then forty pikes left, half the swords and crossbows and little more then one hundred halberds left as they were the ones to hold their ground thanks to Hilda's leadership. Most were dead, but enough were wounded that it became clear they would not survive another day. The ogres would punch holes in the wall, and the orc tide would wash them over as they would no longer be funneled through one choke point. They needed a plan... any plan... and so Regnier supplied one.


They took the barrels of sawdust from the lumbermill and spread it around the town, covering the ground in sawdust and stacking up crates in buildings and especially near the walls and they spread what oil they had on what they could. When the attack came the next day, the Orcs entered a town of ghost... the Bloody Crows had retreated into the cave, blockading the entrance. As the orcs poured in, the trap was sprung. Oil lamps tumbled down and the town exploded in fire. The sawdust and oil setting fire near instantly as the fort went up in an inferno. Hundreds of orcs and goblins died screaming as they burned or were crushed by their fellows in their mad panic to escape the flames.


When the Bloody Crows emerged from their hold out, there was nothing but ash and the charred remains before them. They couldn't tell which were orc and which were men, so they left them where they fell and made the trip back to Ostleim, they had lost their Marshal, over half them were dead, they were broken but unbowed. They would heal from this as while the Crow may bleed, it would not die.


After returning to Ostleim, Regnier was made Marshal of the Bloody Crows, while the position was offered to Hilda, she rejected it as she always had. When he asked her way, she smacked him on the back and walked off, but the news they had brought back was grim. The Warlord, which the rangers found out was known as Gargrim, was quickly subjugating the other orcs and goblin tribes and had even managed to subdue a giant... A horde like this had not been seen in centuries and they were preparing to march on Ostleim himself. The Grand Marshal declared a state of emergency as the full might of Ostleim was rallied to face this new threat.


(Going to write out the battle, Battle at Karlin Falls, in the Lore Tab, when I make it, as it is a fairly important moment in their timeline.)


Job


Marshal of the 8th Ostleim Regiment, the 'Bloody Crows'

A Marshal is akin to a 'Captain' or field commander of Ostleim. Each Marshal commands roughly 700 men which includes a Pike unit of two hundred and fifty, a Swords unit of fifty, a Halberd unit of two hundred and a Crossbows unit of one hundred. The last one hundred is made up of support and logistical troops along with other camp followers.


The Marshal is the 'first' rank of the command staff, junior officers, as it were. They are often sent into the field on their own to engage wandering orc/goblin warhost or to patrol Toran. During times of war, they are organized into larger forces and they will serve a High Marshal. A High Marshal will, usually, command ten marshals giving them a fighting force of around 6,000 men and women. There are only three High Marshals at any time (Ostleim keeps a standing army of roughly 20,000 soldiers, although in times of war this number can greatly climb as men and women are conscripted.)


The commander of all the Ostleim forces is known as the Grand Marshal (Only High Marshals and the Grand Marshal may make use of the Right of Conscription).





Alignment


Lawful Neutral





Equipment


Regnier, as befitting his status and rank, is well armed and armored. He has a finely crafted longsword, a thick dagger and, when riding in battle, he has a lance which has the Bloody Crow banner swinging from the end as he uses it as both a battle standard and a war lance.


He dons finely crafted partial plate armor over leather and chain with a large red cloak hanging from his back, the sigil of his great family, an Elk, is proudly on display. Thanks to his personal wealth, and the need to supervise the battle, Regnier rides astride a mighty auburn warhorse called Althandin who is clothed in a thick chainmail barding.





Other


Regnier has four subordinate officers that serve under him and help him lead the Bloody Crows:




Hilda Volker, the Halberd Sergeant

Hilda has served with the 8th Regiment for over three decades and was a halberdier back when they adopted the Bloody Crow as their standard. A hard-bitten veteran, Hilda serves as Regnier's unofficial second-in-command, an anomaly as that position tends to belong to the Swordmaster. A stern, uncompromising woman, Hilda's advice is always welcome as there are few events or foes she has not faced before, the men in her unit often jokingly refer to her as their 'Mother Bear', a moniker she embraced as she fashioned her pauldrons to be that of bear heads. When asked why she never retired to start a family, Hilda merely said, "The halberds were her family."


Stefan Kruger, the Swordmaster

Stefan is the heir to a minor barony within the city and seeks to grow his wealth and influence through service in the military. Although he has only recently joined the Bloody Crows, he quickly made a name for himself and became the unit's Swordmaster wielding his family heirloom, a great two-handed blade aptly named 'Foe Splitter'. The self-proclaimed greatest warrior in the regiment, a claim that has some merit as Regnier losses more spars then he wins, but he has yet to test that claim against Hilda or Belegar, probably for good reason. A passionate man, he pursues women just as hard as he pursues his ambitions, a fairly renowned 'ladies man' in the regiment, he often teases the younger swordsmen, and the Marksmen, for their innocence offering to let them 'dip their blades' with him when pursuing local merchant's daughters or village girls.


Derrick Gerhard, the Marksman

Derrick is the son of a local cobbler, incredibly young at only seventeen, he has proven himself to be a superb archer able to, they say, hit a flying hawk in the eye from three hundred paces. Due to his youth and inexperience, he is often teased and mocked by the older officers, especially Stefan, which does not do well as Derrick has not settled in to his command just yet, still unsure of himself and his abilities. His promotion to this position, while recent, has raised a lot of anger among the troops who believe he is not worthy of a position that should have gone to a veteran.


Belegar Kragg, the Pike Sergeant

An old, rough dwarf, Belegar joined the unit only recently merely saying, 'He needed to shape the manlings up, so they stopped embarrassing themselves.' He is tough on his soldiers knowing that without his teaching they aren't going to live long as his pikes are comprised of almost all fresh recruits. A hard dwarf to get along with as he is just as stubborn and critical of humans as the rest of his kind, he is a stalwart solider and one anyone would want at their back as his pike, large round shield and hefty warhammer are a ferocious sight on the battlefield.

Their swordsmaster told them to press on, if they killed the Widow, the others would run, eat each other, or otherwise be helpless before them, and so they did... and she came. Standing half the size of a giant, topping the nearby might oak trees, the Widow shambled forth. Its massive body somehow having light steps as it shouldered its way through the trees. More then a few of the surviving swords turned and fled at the sight of the fanged monstrosity, back into the woods where they were picked off by the other Arachyaws. Faced with death before them and death behind them, their Swordmaster led the charge towards the great beast. They hacked and slashed at the massive tree trunk sized legs, but their weaponry did nothing but scratch the thick chitinous plates, and with every passing moment, they lost more swords to the flanking Arachyaws, others were stomped into the ground, their insides pierced through by the massive spiked feet of the Widow... and numerous fell to the Widow's spitting acid spray, their faces peeling away as the acid ate through their armor then them, their screams of pain lost in the endless chittering of the horde closing in on the few survivors.
​

 

[Kumii]

Name

Melisara Bellatrix

Age

19

Gender

Female

Species/Race

Half-Human

Kingdom of Origin

Dark kingdom

Powers

Auramancy - The act of changing ones 'Aura' to resist damage, increase strength or magical damage and even absorb damage, but 'Auras' are very limited and can easily be exhausted and take a while to recharge.

The Sight - Able to read others auras to determine hostility, because of this her eyes are a soild foggy, pale blue.

Occultism - Summon the dark magics of the Occult, able to summon crows, cripple enemy movement or for a less offensive move, telekensis.

Sorcery - Draw from the elements to deal massive damage with devastating magicks, however the skills take time to cast, forcing the caster to time their other skills to accomodate.

Personality

- Shy

- Misjudged

- Withdrawn

- Courageous

- Foolhardy

Job

Revenant

Alignment

Chaotic Good

Appearance

Equipment

Her hands. She casts her magics via her hands

​

 

[Captain Spooks]

Alar Le Menn

The Explorer

Name:

Alar Le Menn

Age:

24 (looks around 19)

Gender:

Species/Race:

Half-elf

Kingdom of Origin:

Light Kingdom

The wanderer

Powers:

Alar has no magical powers.

Personality:

Brave - No matter what Alar will be the one who fights against impossible odds. He'll say whatever's on his mind, even to royalty. He tends to act upon his gut feelings, and he goes lone wolf style from time to time.

Common sense - While Alar isn't the best educated person out there he is intelligent in the common sense way. He can usually tell when something is off, or noticing when someone is threatening him.

Survivalist - From countless hours of traveling Alar know a great deal about the wild. This is a side effect from his half elf heritage, but it helped him through his long travels.

Alar knows what plants are good to eat, and he's skilled at finding/creating shelters.

Shrewd - Alar has a good ability to understand things and to make good judgments. This personality trait clashes with his one tracked mind.

One tracked mind - Alar's only goal is to bring fame and fortune to his slowly decaying tribe. This goal is all he thinks about, he yearns for this goal. Whatever decision he makes will always be for the greater good of his tribe, even if said action is considered bad.

History:

Alar is a member of a small nomadic tribe. It's location is unknown, but he states that it is very, very far away. Alar is the son of the tribe's chieftain, and he holds that status with the up most respect. Even in regions where his heritage doesn't matter. One year a terrible drought hit his tribe, and their food supply quickly diminished. Soon bodies started to fall due to starvation, and there was only one option left. Alar's father gave him two sacred items from their tribe, a sacred sword that is made from an extremely rare mineral, and a bow that has been passed down for generations. Alar then left his home in search of fame and fortune.

Job:

Hired mercenary

Alignment:

The Hero

Equipment:

Mythical Sword

A glowing blue sword. It's length is that of a long sword, and Alar switches between a one handed and a two handed fighting style during combat. The blade stores up magical power, and it can be released through different attacks.

Heirloom bow and Special arrows

A well built short bow that has been passed down through his family. With that Alar has a limited supply of special arrows that are powered by the same mineral that his sword is made out of. These arrows can cut through even the thickest of armors, but he rarely uses them.

 

[Graecus Scum]

Name: Arya Kael


Age: 605, and yet she looks no older than 21.


Gender: Female


Species/Race: Light/Plant elf(Parents were from diff. Kingdoms...)


Kingdom of Origin: Plant Kingdom


Powers:


Light Aura - Casts off a slight glow, making it very easy to see in the dark.


Happiness - Arya can make just about anyone happy by walking into the room. She has a very light and pure soul.


Plant Manipulation - Arya has a special bond with plants. She can make them grow or move, even make them attack people, although she rarely does this.


Hawk Eye: Like most elves, she is a fantastic shot with a bow, but she can also see at great distances.


Healing Touch: Arya can heal incredibly well, as it is a power that she trained for centuries at.


Taking Inventory - Arya can sense certain things about a person with just one touch, such as if their body is pure(If they're a virgin), if they have any diseases, or if they have any wounds.


Personality: Arya is quite possibly the happiest soul anyone will ever meet. Nothing can bring her down, not even tragedy. Her saying is, "When bad occurs, I look for the good.". She flirts without meaning to, and draws most men in with her beauty and charm.


History: Arya was brought into the world by a young Light elf woman and a powerful Plant elf man. Her mother returned to her kingdom, knowing that her daughter would be safer in the hands of her father, and never returned.


Arya herself grew to be a very important woman in the kingdom, one of the best healers. She hates violence, though will resort to or if necessary. Thanks to this, she is often requested by other kingdoms for emergency healings. Many kingdoms have tried to convince her to stay, and all were gently let down. She knows her place is in the Plant Kingdom.


Job: Arya is a healer, mostly for the Queen's army.


Alignment: Lawfully Good


Appearance:


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.3b6858e96f8467d44cf352ff65784220.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137806" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.3b6858e96f8467d44cf352ff65784220.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Arya is considered quite beautiful, even for an Elf. Her eyes are the brightest of blues, her hair a delicate pink. Every one of her features is gentle and very feminine, and her full lips are always smiling.


Equipment:


Arya's only weapon is her bow, which is her most prized possession.


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.e56dd187193bb5a81d776a35176d5a2c.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137807" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.e56dd187193bb5a81d776a35176d5a2c.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Other: Arya has a knack for falling in love easily and deeply, especially for the wrong men. Most of these men hurt her and leave her, while others die in battle.

 

[Graecus Scum]

Name: Demetrius Drake


Age: 329


Gender: Male


Species/Race: Vampire


Kingdom of Origin: Dark Kingdom


Powers:


Hard to Kill - While Drake is not immortal, he is incredibly hard to kill. Like most of his kind, he is incredibly loyal to Bellatrix, and would do anything to protect her, even give his life.


No Sustenance - Drake does not need food, drink, or sleep to survive, and therefore makes a perfect bodyguard. The only thing he needs is blood.


Daylight Savings - Unlike most vampires, Drake can handle sunlight, although he hates being in it.


Hypnotism - Like most vampires, Drake can hypnotize nearly all species. Of course, higher beings like Bellatrix and Arkos are totally immune.


Superhuman - Drake is incredibly strong and fast due to his species, and can kill most creatures with ease.


Personality: Confident, loyal, and brave. Despite the bad rep about vampires, most are pretty normal. Drake is no different. He's a typical cocky, flirty guy. He can't be bothered by little, trivial things, and pretends to be larger than life. He is kind to those he turns, and teaches them patiently.


Job: Creator of the largest vampire coven in the Dark Kingdom. Will often hire out his 'children' for cash or to protect the kingdom.


Alignment: Chaotic Neutral


Appearance:


Regular

Bloodlust form


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.444ec235819ccddda95643f47076d28e.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137816" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.444ec235819ccddda95643f47076d28e.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Drake looks pretty normal most of the time. Black hair, handsome face, muscular figure. His fangs do show permanently, but they look surprisingly normal with his face. When he gets hit by bloodlust, his eyes go from light blue to a deep red, veins extend from his eyes, and he loses control.


Equipment: <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.9b5f6dd424b8cbd3aff991bdba4a0364.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137817" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.9b5f6dd424b8cbd3aff991bdba4a0364.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Other: Would do anything for the queen, no matter the cost.

 

[DylanDaDeer]

Name: My full name is Aragion Aray Penmer


Age: I'm 13


Gender: Male....


Species/Race: Well um.. My mom was well um.. I don't really know but my dad was an elf!


Kingdom of Origin: I'm from the Fire Kingdom


Powers: Anything with fire that I know of so far


Personality: Ummm well i'd describe myself as shy sweet and caring but that's my opinion!


History: I don't talk about it much so I don't want to tell you just yet...


Job: I'm 13!! I don't have a job yet!!


Alignment: Um I don't know what that means yet...


Appearance: Here is a picture of me!

Don't ask about the fire!! its part of my history i won't tell you yet!!


Equipment: I don't fight yet but when i'm older this is what i want to have!

Other: Nothing else! Besides my theme song which I will give now[media]



[/media]
Sorry this character is still sketchy!

 

[Play On Words]

Daeshnir Valnov
<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.png.fcbdab6d7c1d55f26ae0ccf44a0d67ae.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137797" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.png.fcbdab6d7c1d55f26ae0ccf44a0d67ae.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

• Basic Information
• Magic
• Persona
• Equipment

• 
  
  Name: Daeshnir Valnov
  
  Age: 499(Looks about 24)
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Species/Race: His mother was a fire elf, his father a dark elf.
  
  Kingdom of Origin: Abstrain
  
  
• 
  
  Powers: Thanks to his mixed parentage, he has both dark and fire powers.
  
  Immune - Daeshnir is immune to burns from normal flames, and some more powerful ones, and dark auras do not affect him nearly as much as they do other elves.
  
  Fire - Daeshnir can summon fire at will, although it drains him of energy greatly. The fire is a cobalt blue in color, and he mostly used it for combat.
  
  Healing Touch - Like most elves, Daeshnir can heal people with one touch. It is not a skill that he uses often, but he will use it when necessary.
  
  Animal Nature - Daeshnir has a close bond to all dark or fire-related animals. He can tame them easily or communicate with them, even give them orders. Of course, the larger the beast, the more difficult it is. Beasts such as Bellatrix's or Arkos' would be almost impossible for him to even speak to.
  
  Durable - Like most Dark Elves, Daeshnir is rather hard to kill. Not impossible, but he is stronger and faster than most due to years of training, and his body can handle more pain and damage than many other elves.
  
  
• 
  
  Personality: Loyal to a fault. Daeshnir will not disobey an order unless he thinks it will do more foul than harm. He believes that any sin or crime done under orders is still a crime, and therefore avoids them. Despite that, everyone knows he'd give his life for the queen without a heartbeat's hesitation. He has a bright sense of humor and a desperation to prove himself. Many distrust him due to the fact that neither of his parents were from the Plant Kingdom, and he himself is half Dark Elf. He has always been slightly curious about life in the Dark Kingdom.
  
  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.92916ce782c0cd65492d97d685589d5d.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137799" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.92916ce782c0cd65492d97d685589d5d.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  History: Daeshnir was born in the Plant Kingdom. His father died in a battle shortly after his conception, and his mother died during childbirth. Daeshnir was raised by his uncle, a soldier in the Plant Kingdom's army, names Beshkev. Beshkev died in battle when Daeshnir was 18, but at that time, he was old enough to raise himself. His dream was to become a Champion, and he had no intentions of failing.
  
  For almost 500 years, he worked hard to earn his place. And finally, he did. For the past year, he has been the proud and strong Champion of Abstrain.
  
  Job: Champion. Any kind of mishap in the kingdom is his duty to subdue, which he does swiftly.
  
  Alignment: Lawfully good
  
  Appearance: Daeshnir is a handsome man. He is 6'4", and masculine looking for an elf, more muscular than most. His eyes change color according to his mood, mostly staying a neutral grey. His face is heavily scarred and often bleeding from getting in battles. His hair is black(Ignore the white streak), and the hair is rather short for an elf.
  
  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.6655224e072be98d46030a423d073fd1.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137798" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.6655224e072be98d46030a423d073fd1.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  
• 
  
  Weapons:He has many weapons that shrink into various trinkets.
  
  Battle axe/Bracelet.
  
  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.7bc99dcdab89ef40f14f888c45c92eeb.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137804" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.7bc99dcdab89ef40f14f888c45c92eeb.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  Sword/Necklace
  
  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.ba9f74c2f29c5b7e48b34375bb048a71.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137803" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.ba9f74c2f29c5b7e48b34375bb048a71.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  Daggers/Ring
  
  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.png.977bbe8323b5399cf5d8282871532744.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137802" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.png.977bbe8323b5399cf5d8282871532744.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  Bow(No disguise)
  
  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.png.a28e122a197a287ad026a1957db43eec.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137801" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.png.a28e122a197a287ad026a1957db43eec.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  He also has a set of armor, which he keeps in his chambers until need arises for it. The dark color only emboldens the rumors of him being loyal to the Dark Kingdom.
  
  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.png.61d9a06f520a84234d7c5f814f494868.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137864" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.png.61d9a06f520a84234d7c5f814f494868.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  Other: He has a mount, who he calls Reaver. It's a Flame Unicorn, a very rare species, that he found in the Fire Kingdom. He brought it back with him, and is his favorite mount.
  
  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.063c878348a440b611a3eb474cec2c86.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137800" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.063c878348a440b611a3eb474cec2c86.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  

 

[ThatOneWeirdo]

Name: Bryn Maeve


Age: 947


Gender: Female


Species/Race: Merfolk. Subspecies, Siren.


Kingdom of Origin: Water Kingdom


Powers:


Siren Song- Of course. As a siren, Bryn easily lures men into her grasp, where she feasts on their flesh. Singing is the most powerful options, but it is partially just her aura.


Duo-Lung- Bryn can breathe underwater or above air. She prefers being under the sea, but is perfectly comfortable either way.


Mask- Bryn, unless hunting, stays in her normal form of a beautiful woman. As she feasts, her body morphs and changes into the true form of a Siren.


Speedy Strength- Bryn is an incredibly fast swimmer, and is rather strong. Her body doesn't look as muscular as it is.


Personality: (A list or a paragraph.) Seductive, of course. She seems to know the effect she has on men, and basks in it. She is teasing and sarcastic, blunt and stubborn. But most of all, she is loyal to the bone. She'd die for her kingdom without a second's pause.


Job: Champion


Alignment: Lawfully Neutral


Appearance:


Normal


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.645092eba204a9ce5b6158309fdd1149.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137917" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.645092eba204a9ce5b6158309fdd1149.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Siren


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.da50ae52299637e0956ecc2c15892f75.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137918" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.da50ae52299637e0956ecc2c15892f75.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Equipment: (Weapons, Armor, etc.)


Her sword, which she uses for battles against many. She prefers her teeth for killing.


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.80ab5cfa11daaeefb78664ddf74ec01c.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="137921" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.80ab5cfa11daaeefb78664ddf74ec01c.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

 

[UnknownOrigin]

Name: Alistair Cadwell III


Age: 28


Gender: Male


Species/Race: Shifter


Kingdom of Origin: Graenite


Powers:


Shifter-Like all Shifters, Alistair can change shape into any animal at will. The more familiar the animal, the easier the animal.


Cadwell-Alistair, like all Cadwell Shifters, can also change his appearance to look like other people. Of course, he can't make himself look like people such as Bellatrix or any undead creature.


Personality: Noble and brave like most rulers, he is loyal and willing to die for his kingdom. He hasn't taken a wife yet to keep himself fully dedicated to his country. But as time wears on, he knows he needs to carry on his bloodline, and his search for a wife had taken a desperate turn.


Healer-As a King of Graenite, he has learned a few magic tricks of his own. One such is the ability to heal himself or others with on touch or one thought.


Animal Sense-Most Shifters have a very vague sense of self when they turn, just enough to remember their goal and when to turn back. Alistair, for some reason, has perfect sense of mind, no matter what he turns into or for how long.


Regality-Alistair has an aura of nobility that causes people around him to stand a bit straighter, be a bit braver.


Job: King of Graenite


Alignment: Lawful Neutral


Appearance:


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.5b9ba7d09b76fd8287963eaa126dabf8.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="138092" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.5b9ba7d09b76fd8287963eaa126dabf8.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Like most Cadwells, Alistair is handsome. He is 6'3", talc and had dark hair. His eyes(Ignore picture) are a silvery grey, and his jaw is solid.


Equipment:


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.png.7dbc1fba2e98dcad56afa1ac207494db.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="138093" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.png.7dbc1fba2e98dcad56afa1ac207494db.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


His blade, passed down from generation to generation.


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.0b55fa7d45417de90200631bb73cdbbf.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="138094" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.0b55fa7d45417de90200631bb73cdbbf.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


His cane, used mostly for appearances.


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.825196df3f6dfa63c1c25bce7c953128.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="138095" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/image.jpeg.825196df3f6dfa63c1c25bce7c953128.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


And his armor, used only in battle.

 

[Kent]

Name: King Uesis L. Borealis


Age:1345(Looks 21)


Gender:Male


Species/Race: High Angel


Kingdom of Origin:Air Kingdom


Powers:


Weather Manipulation-Uesis, As The Lord Of The Skies, He Can Manipulate The Weather, Within 20 Miles Of Where He Is Standing, However It Drains His Energy Every Time He Uses It.


Wind Manipulation- Uesis Can Manipulate And Turn Into Wind, Making Him Fast, And Intangible For An Hour Every 12 Hours. He Can Also Summon And Control Wind Spirits. The Wind Spirits May Only Be Killed When You Strike Them At Their Heart. Uesis Can Only Summon 10 Every 6 Hours. He May Also Change Air Pressure For A Certain Amount Of Time. He Can Use Wind To Cut His Enemies


Light Manipulation- As A High Angel, Uesis Can Manipulate Light, He Only Use It When Dealing With Dark And Evil Beings, He Can Turn Normal Water Into A Holy Water.


Holy Presence- His Presence Itself Can Weaken Any Dark And Evil Beings That Is Near Him. However Not The Same Can Be Said For Weaker Evil Beings, As Some Crumbles To Dust. He Can Also Easily Intimidate Enemies, But It Depends How Great He Wants His Presence.


Life- He Can Restore Life To Any Dead Animals, Plants, And Humans That Have Died In Less Than 8 Hours, Anymore Than That And It Is Beyond His Powers, It Would Also Take A Considerable Amount Of His Life Force When He Revives Humans.


Healing- He Can Easily Heal People That Got Wounded In Battle, But There Is An Exception, He Cannot Heal Anyone That Has Been Corrupted By Darkness. He Also Regenerates At An Unbelievable Speed.


Wings-Uesis Has 2 Pair Of Wings, Which He Uses To Fly, Defend Himself, And Attack. He Can Retract His Wings When He Likes To.


Personality:


Uesis Is Kind, And Humble. He Likes To Help The Citizens Of His Kingdom, He Loves The People Around Him, The People That Makes Him Happy. However, When The Gates That Kept His Anger Within Him Opens, It Would Be Disaster, Consequences Are Grave To Those Who Angers Him.


History: Ruling The Air Kingdom Since He Was 28, When He Rose To Power, He Stopped To Age. He Fought Many Battles, Saw Many Empires Rise And Fall, People Die And Live. He Also Has A Friendly Rivalry With Queen Bellatrix Of The Dark Kingdom.


Job:King Of The Air Kingdom, Lord Of The Wind And Angels.


Alignment:Lawful Good


Appearance:

Equipment:


Angelic Armor- When At This Armor, He Gains Extra Agility, Strength And Defense, He Retracts A Pair Of His Wing, And Transform The Remaining Wings To Holy Steel, Along With His Armor, And An Air Dragon Spirit Appears, The Air Dragon Spirit May Only Be Killed If It's Head Has Been Cut Off.

The Holy Sword-A Sword That Is Highly Effective Against Unholy Creatures. Uesis Also Uses The Sword Sometimes Manipulate Light, As The Sword Is Made Purely Out Of Holy Steel.

Spear Of Light- The Spear Of Light Is Also Highly Effective Against Unholy Creatures As It Is Made Purely Out Of Holy Steel.

 

[Cryo]

• Nekri Casath
• Powers and Equipment

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Age: 26
  
  
  Gender: Female
  
  
  Species: Cait Sith
  
  
  Kingdom of Origin: Galadarnad
  
  
  Alignment: Neutral Good
  
  
  Job: Bodyguard
  
  
  Personality:
  
  
  Adventurous | Daring | Secretive | Undecisive | Lively
  
  
  History:
  
  
  Nekri comes from the forest of Galadarnad, living a secluded life with her family. Her adventurous nature grew an idea in her to leave the forest and see the world beyond the trees, her mother was against it but her father stoked the fire, so he trained his daughter in secret. Not only did he prepared her for the world, he also taught her how to use the sword if anybody ever dared to pick a fight.
  
  
  When Nekri reached the age of 18, she left without her mother knowing and her father on the front porch, teary-eyed for being able to see Nekri grow up. The first city that she encountered was Rakravia and there she made a living as a bodyguard using the skills that she inherited.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  Powers

  
  
  

  • Enhanced Speed: A natural ability for Cait Siths and its a common fact that they have unmatched agility against the other races on foot.
    
  • Enhanced Eyesight: Again another natural ability for Cait Siths, most would exploit this for archery but Nekri uses it to scout out hostile fields.
    
  • Illusion Magic: Unlike destructive magic, illusion magic are silent and not as tiring to cast. Branching to spells like disguising oneself or inflicting nonexistent fear.
    
  • Alteration Magic: Also known as enhancement magic. Nekri would often use it to strengthen her armor for a period of time.
    

  
  
  *Can only use one school of magic at at time, no simultaneous casting.
  
  
  

  Equipment

  
  
  

  Spoiler

  

 

[Kumii]

Name

King Xentrev "Silver Swordsman" Kallap

Age

29

Gender

Male

Species/Race

Enhanced Human

Kingdom of Origin

Human Kingdom

Powers

​

Spoiler

A down-ward slash with his blade imbued with unnatural lightning. This slash is able cut through tempered steel or otherwise other unnatural metals. Can only be used a few times in between rest sessions.​

Spoiler

A slice from his blade thats as sharp as the coldest gust of wind. Can be used many times before needing a rest.

Spoiler

Imbuing his blade in water then rapidly spinning, Xentrev becomes an unstoppable spout of lethal water. Can only be used once before needing a rest

Spoiler

A series of multiple strikes and slashes in a combo. Can be used many times before needing a rest.

Spoiler

Personality

Unlike his blade training, he is generally happy and outgoing. Though not as easy to trick as you may think, his enhanced blade combat training, he also has an enhanced mind, quick-thinking and strategizing are his greatest feats. He is no step above being ruthless and a complete genius. Able to quickly adapt to any realistic situation, given he has enough time to.

Job

King of the Human Kingdom

Alignment

Lawful Evil

Appearance

Equipment

His sword

 

[Clockwork Syringe]

Name: Alexander "Fireheart" Ortega


Age: 29 Looks 27


Gender: Male


Species/Race: Human/Dragon hybrid


Orientation: Straight


Appearance:

Kingdom of Origin: Galadarnad


Powers:


Fire magic- Earning him his nickname "Fireheart," Alexander knows a wide variety of magic and can employ it in whatever fashion he desires. He can hurl fireballs at enemies, and breathe fire via cupping his hands near his mouth, among many other applications.


Draconic Alteration- Alexander can morph portions of his body into their draconic counterpart that is equivalent to his size. He mostly uses this to transform his hands into draconic claws, and grow leathery wings on his back. His claws, when activated, can cut through the vast majority of metals with little to no effort for there are only a few metals that can withstand his strikes better than others. The Magnum Opus of this technique is to transform himself fully into a humanoid winged dragon in which his other powers are heightened. This however depletes his stamina at a very fast consumption rate than normal so he cannot stay in this form for too long.


Enhanced Perception- Can see and comprehend objects/destinations/people/etc, at a longer distance due to his draconic senses.


Arcane Observation- Alexander developed this skill during his studies and as a result, can help him comprehend magical languages, artifacts, skills, and other items with much ease.


Personality:


Calm and collected, Open minded, Stubborn, always up for a good time, and enjoys teaching and learning knowledge to others.


History: Alexander grew up with his mother Gabriella as his then unknown father was nowhere in sight. Even at a young age, Alexander was kind hearted and would not willingly commit evil acts even as a joke. He had his mother to thank for his honed moral compass. At the age of 10, he was enrolled in the magical academy at Rakravia and his magical potential was almost immediately noticed by the teachers who foresaw great things for him in the future. However, at the age of 15 was when his draconic blood manifested itself truly during a teaching lesson. It was during a routine exercise when Alexander, who had then shown great promise as a fire battlemage, uncovered this secret. He cast a normal fire spell when all of a sudden, his right arm transmogrified into the dragonesque counterpart. A good deal of the students became frightened by this development despite Alexander's good nature and accused him of being a demon due to the striking similarity of the arm's to a demon's. So, after having him examined by the higher wizards, it was determined that the transformation was not demonic in nature, but rather draconic. It all became clear after that, his natural affinity and relative ease of a grasp of fire magic, and his aura was uncovered. After this incident, the nickname, "Fireheart," stuck with him all through his school years. Students began to come to him, younger, and within the same year to ask for his help with fire magic, leading to his love of teaching and learning. His fellow classmates also began to admire him as well for his good looks, or perhaps it was his dragon aura that drew them to Alexander. After he left the academy at 23, he went back to visit his mother and ask her about the draconic side of the family. Gabriella did confirm that his father's side had been descended from a dragon, but wouldn't tell him the name of his father. It was at this time, the princess desired to travel from what he heard, so he decided that he would as well, but learning to control his own powers and obtain a better grasp of them in the process. It was at the age of 27 that after 5 or so years of travel and study, between the cities of Galadarnad, minus the royal island, and other cities, he uncovered another advancement. He realized that with his ease of ability to transform individual parts of his body into draconic form, his entire body must have a form as well. Alexander then learned the current height of his Draconic Alteration skill, as well as unlocking the power of his blood to greatly slow down his aging. Currently, he is within Dervanir of the Dark Kingdom wrapping up his travels before he heads back to Galadarnad.


Job: Sorceror/Wanderer/Scholar, wants to do something more with his life, something good.


Alignment: Neutral Good


Equipment: Alexander carries a steel dagger with him just in case, however most of his powers come from his magic and his transformation abilities.

 

[Ariel]

Much WIP, So wow

Maya Grenzle

-

-

Age // 1,087

-

Species // Penghou

-

Kingdom of Origin // WIP

-

// Powers //


-


-


-


-

-

// Virtues //


-


-


-


-


-


// Vices //


-


-


-


-


-

-

// History //


WIP

-

Occupation // WIP

-

Alignment // WIP

-

Equipment // WIP

-

 

[Graecus Scum]

Name: Evelyn Hamilton. Her friends(Not that she has many) call her Eve or Evee.


Age: 792, appears to be about 22


Gender: Female


Species/Race: Light Elf


Kingdom of Origin: Abstrain


Powers:


Light Aura - Like Dark Elves, Evelyn has a light, happy aura that surrounds her on a constant basis. This weakens, and so does she, around incredibly powerful Dark Elves, such as Bellatrix. But the average Dark Elf would begin to feel weak after too long in her presence.


Healing Touch - With one touch, Evelyn can heal most wounds, unless the one who sustains them is already on the path to death. In that occasion, the most she can do is reduce their pain and take the agony for herself, giving them a calm and peaceful passage to the afterlife.


Hawk Eye - Like most Elves, Evelyn can see to great distances when necessary, and is an excellent shot with a bow. Whoever is in her sights is very likely to get skewered.


Mind's Eye - Evelyn is an exceptionally powerful magical being. She can look into most creatures' minds and see their intentions, although seeing into their past or thoughts is much more difficult. The more she enters someone's mind, the more familiar it is. She often has telepathic conversations with her champion, Daeshnir.


Personality: Evelyn, in public, is the strong and regal queen that everyone needs to see. Emotions don't reach her eyes, and she seems to be perfectly calm.


In private, or around people she cares about, it's a different story. She is restless and stubborn, always thinking she knows the best, when she often does not. She depends on her more levelheaded champion, and her group of advisers that keep her calm and collected.


Job: Queen of Astrain


Alignment: Chaotic good


Appearance:

Evelyn looks very carefree and happy, even when stressed from her duties. Her long, golden hair is often left unbound, with only a viney headband to keep it out of her eyes. She wears a lacy blue shirt that exposes her midriff for casual affairs, along with green pants, a belt made of leaves, and black boots. Her arm bands are simply the fashion of Astrain, and her necklace was a gift from Daeshnir. Her bow is always over her back, her quiver hanging from her waist for easy access.


Equipment: Evelyn does not wear armor, and mainly depends on her champion/bodyguard to defend her physically. She does carry a bow and quiver with her wherever she goes, and has a few daggers tucked away for attacking in a bind.

 

[Garnet Marigold]

Name: Garnet Marigold


Age: 18


Gender: Female


Race: Human


Kingdom of Origin: Galadarnad


Powers: She can see visions of the future (at most a few months ahead) but not all the time, can change her spear to appear differently in the blink of an eye, can run faster and longer than a normal human being, almost cheetah like, and has a large amount of strength (stronger enough to crush iron with her bare hands)


Personality: She is a very battle strategy oriented person. She sees everything as if it were on the battlefield and does not like to be told she is incorrect. She likes to work as a group to overcome a difficult goal and will stop at nothing to make sure it is done. Under all that tough armor, she is a true sweetheart


History: She has always been a tough girl since she was born. But, at the age of 7 her parents abandoned her. Left her on the steps of the guards barracks hoping she would be trained to protect herself. Since then she has trained to become one of the most powerful soldiers in the Kings army. Not quite a major aspect of the force, but she is the youngest captain in the army.


Job: Spearman and captain of squad 12


Alignment: Soldier


Appearance:

Equipment: Simple spearman armor and a spear that can change appearance and abilities. (Keeps a sword on her belt for backup)

 

[Leo Radomir]

Name: Ace Acura


Age:last count 30 but is at least 1,440 years old


Gender:male


Species/Race: Ice demon/celestial


Kingdom of Origin:Ice


Powers: (If any. At least 4. DEFINE THEM.) Regeneration ace can regenerate small to medium wounds very quickly through the mana in his body.


Cursed ice of the north winds, this attack not only does wind damage but it can also suck away the life force of his foes.


Ice mulnipulation


Ice summoning/binding He can summon water/ice elemental and creatures of that nature and bind them to his will with exception to sentinel type creatures.


Magic resistance


Soul Gem Storage ace can transfer his soul into a magical gem and keeps it well hidden knowing if that's destroyed his screwed.


Personality: (A list or a paragraph.) Ace is a reasonable and understanding man but is no fool and will not do something just because others say it's for the greater good. Ace is very mercenary at times if he likes what he hears he'll ally with you till the contract is finished. If you try and screw him over more than twice he won't think twice about letting his minions turn your kingdom to a frozen wasteland. Ace can be whimsical and decide to do something for people simply because he can. Ace is careful/thinks ahead most times.


History: (Optional)


Job:King of the Ice Kingdom


Alignment:true Lawful Neutral


Appearance: (Picture or paragraph of vivid description.) white hair art | Tumblr


Equipment: (Weapons, Armor, etc.) A magical demonic ice bow that is especially nasty against angels and light based creatures. Sprite Ice armour which covers most of his body it's a little heavy but not enough to slow him down to endanger him. Two celestial curved blades with light magic infused in them for killing demons and the like. Ace also carries poisons and antidotes to different effects but only has a limited supply


Other: likes cooking alchemy making weapons magic and strong and fun women and good company. Ace is strong and faster than he look and isn't afraid to get his hands dirty.

 

[TheEscapist]

"From the family of Iron,the Iron Lady is born."

- THE IRON LADY-

Name

Catherine Tyrell


Age


27


Gender


Female


Species/Race


Human


Kingdom of Origin


Olstleim


Powers


"My power is my sword,my magic is my will."


Being a human,Catherine has no particular powers to make use of. But she shows an impressive resilience,and her hand is quite heavy. She can stand her ground against many of the creatures that have Osltleim as their home.


Personality


|Determined|Stubborn|Kind|Impatient|Idealistic|


x Catherine isn't the type to give up when she has her mind set upon a certain task,specially when it's one concerning her job. The same applies to her personal life,and any challenges are sought with determiniation.


x Catherine is quite stubborn,and doesn't accept no for answer.


x Even being a tough commander,Catherine often shows kindness to match that toughness. She is gentle with new recruits and friends,but isn't afraid of giving them a beating to remind them of who is the Commander.


x Catherine is impatient,and any matter related to wait is a complete torture to her.


x Idealism is a big trait in Catherine's life. She believes that most people deserve a second chance,and are ultimately good in their hearts.


History

Spoiler

The life of Catherine Tyrell has always been somehow related to Iron, but not exactly in the way she would have desired. The Tyrell family was the most respectable trader of Iron in the entire kingdom of Olstleim, gathering huge sums of money and influence through their superior materials and prices. The export of Iron expanded their fame to the other kingdoms and they were soon becoming the most powerful family of traders in the land of Olstleim. The head of the family, Caius Tyrell, was now known as the King of Iron. It didn't take long for him to arrange a marriage with a family that was rival to his business. Now that the two families were together instead of competing against each other, business simply grew in an explosive manner. Marcella Hoen became Marcela Tyrell,his wife.


The announcement that Marcela Tyrell was carrying a baby was received with extreme happiness by all the family members, especially Caius Tyrell. He finally would have an heir to control his business when he passed. Caius wouldn't admit anyone lessen than his first born to control the trade of Iron, which is why every year of Marcela's pregnancy was accompanied with extreme eagerness. His expectations didn't diminish even when the pregnancy proved to be increasingly difficulty. Ending the pregnancy soon could mean that Marcela had more chances to survive, but Caius wouldn't admit that. The only life he cared about was the one of his child.


The day of the birth finally came, and celebrations glowed through the usually stern kingdom of Olsteim. One of the biggest trades of kingdom would be secure. Caius was a beloved man, mainly because of how many jobs and opportunities he granted to the people around him. Not only that, but his child was proving to be a fighter even before leaving the womb. The baby had struggled to survive through nine long months, and the expectations for it’s birth was growing by the day.


An entire crowd gathered on the outside of the Tyrell house. And then the loud, lively cries of a baby resonated through the silent street.


The cheering of the people drowned any other sound, pure happiness converted into screaming and shouting. But the kingdom suddenly fell in silence once a black flag was placed on the outside of the window were the baby had been born. Like most doctors predicted, Marcela couldn’t stand the trauma of giving birth. She died soon after bringing a little girl to the world. The baby was named Catherine, the name that Marcela had whispered a few seconds before her death.


Caius felt torn between the happiness of gaining a heir and the sadness of losing his wife. But through the next years, he struggled to raise Catherine and make her become the heir that would control all of his business. He didn’t know it yet, but he would soon be disappointed.











The strength that Catherine showed during Marcela’s gestation disappeared soon after she reached her second birthday. The once tough and curious child became increasingly weak, not having any will to play or to study about the trading of her father. Caius could barely stand the sight of his daughter slowly decaying, but he had no other choice but to try and raise her.


The only times that Catherine seemed happy was when she held a sword into her hands. Her attack style was fast and strong, and she could easily hold her own against the older boys of the family. She was tall, strong and intelligent. But she didn’t have a single will to be a trader inside of her, and became angry whenever her father tried to push his ways into her.


Caius became cold with Catherine, regretting the fact that he allowed his wife to die and bring the girl into the world. What was the point if she wasn’t going to take care of his business? His sourness kept growing until the point where he remarried, completely ignoring Catherine’s existence. She kept training to be a warrior by her own, mostly getting over the sickness she had when she was a baby.


Her father’s wife soon became pregnant with Catherine’s sibling, making hope return to the eyes of Caius’. If he once ignored Catherine, he now treated her with complete rudeness. The sight of this child that was a brute instead of a trader made him hateful of her. He turned his love towards his wife instead, much like he once did with Marcela.


The baby boy was soon born, closing the first chapter of Catherine’s years.


Nothing seemed different in the night that would change Catherine’s life completely. Her father glared at her with rage, but that was no news. But in the middle of the night, she woke up with a loud sound in her room. Suddenly the pressure of hands involved her neck, and Catherine jerked awake. Instead of seeing the face of an assassin, she saw the pure madness in the eyes of her father.


Catherine was strong, and certainly could have fought back. But the complete shock of being attacked by someone she loved caused her to paralyze. She was soon unconscious, no sounds leaving her mouth through the entire attack. When Catherine came back to herself, she wasn’t in her house anymore. The darkness and wetness of her surroundings registered into her, and Catherine knew where she was immediately.


The tunnels.


She had been abandoned to her own fate in the underground of Olsteim.











Despite the fact that her death seemed obvious, Catherine fought with the strength that she always had. She wasn’t afraid of the globins and ratmen. They should be afraid of her. But there was only so much that an unarmed kid could do by herself, and Catherine knew that she would eventually be overwhelmed and die in the darkness.


But the sounds of clattering armor and blades hitting against shields brought back the hope to her heart. Catherine was saved by the Iron Knights, and begged to be one of them. Commander Hael was amused at first, but he soon recognized her worthy was a fighter. She would finally have a chance to be a warrior and prove her skills.


The first years as a Knight were difficult, harsh. But soon she became settled onto their rhythm, spending more time bellow the Earth than above it. Still,the thoughts about revenge often crossed her mind. She wanted to take the life of her father with her bare hands, but Hael was against the idea. Catherine had to make a choice between revenge and staying by the side of her brothers and sisters of Iron.


Even if she craved for the blood of her family, Catherine loved her new life too much to let go of it. Not only that, but she could see that Hael was getting increasingly tired. He needed her help more often than not, and couldn’t fight for as long as he once did. Her commander was getting old, like any human eventually would.


The day of his death came without any previous warning. That was when Catherine’s eyes fell upon a Korva for the first time, and dread spread through her body. The serpent was huge. They fought it off in the best way they could, but the damage was done already. Hael was mortally wounded.


Before her commander died, he did something that Catherine wasn’t expecting. He assigned her as the next Iron Lady. That made Catherine the youngest commander to ever reach such a rank, but none of her brothers and sisters on Iron questioned his decision.


She was ready for the challenge, and any will of getting revenge was finally left behind.


Job


The Iron Lady,commander of the elite unit known as the Iron Knights.


Alignment


Chaotic Good


Appearance


Catherine has long,white hair. Her skin tone is pale,mostly because of the time spent in the underground . Her body build is muscular from the constant work and battles,and she is quite taller than most women,standing at impressive 6'0". Catherine doesn't pay much attention to her appearance,but that hardly means that she isn't beautiful.


Equipment

Like most Iron Knights,Catherine prefers heavy armor and heavy swords that require two hands to be wielded. She is used to the weight and slowness of such attires,showing quite the skill with them. The dark color of her armor is a strategic decision,mostly because it works as camouflage in the darkness on the underground. The details of her armor show her position as a commander,as most of the armors of the Knights is completely plain. She is the only one allowed to use a golden belt,a gift from the last commander.

Spoiler