Fantasy The War

[fshlkafhalkf;lkasdjflkasdj]

@Ami the breadling Lucky for you I left my butt-kicking boots at home today

 

[Cosmo]

@Ami the breadling >.> ..... <.< Have you ever seen Stomp? >.> Because you will.

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

@Ami the breadling >.> ..... <.< Have you ever seen Stomp? >.> Because you will.

*pops head out* What does that mean?

 

[Cosmo]

W-Woohoo!... One twin down.. one more to... go... will do it later, tired from all the writing.


@Ami the breadling <.< Means I am about to stomp the yard... would you mind being my yard?

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

W-Woohoo!... One twin down.. one more to... go... will do it later, tired from all the writing.
@Ami the breadling <.< Means I am about to stomp the yard... would you mind being my yard?

But won´t that hurt?

 

[Cosmo]

@Ami the breadling ..... <.<... Nooooooo. >.>

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

Okay, then I wll be your yard

 

[Cosmo]

@Ami the breadling And I shall be your stomp! Together forever!

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

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.

Spoiler

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.

​

Just for stupid Ami-chans understanding. This is not the ruler, but just a guy from your kingdom. RIght?

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

My question btw is still up. I am making a second character, a girl too, a small spy or guard or advisor. Is there any ruler wanting me to be their pendant?

 

[Cosmo]

[QUOTE="Ami the breadling]Just for stupid Ami-chans understanding. This is not the ruler, but just a guy from your kingdom. RIght?

[/QUOTE]
Yeah. My kingdom doesn't have a ruler or king, they are a... republic, pretty much.


As I mentioned before, anyone is welcome to join the kingdom I made.

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

Yeah. My kingdom doesn't have a ruler or king, they are a... republic, pretty much.
As I mentioned before, anyone is welcome to join the kingdom I made.

The character is planned to be for a ruler, so if there is no partciular one, that won´t work well... In the old RP, the one i ruined through being so stupid and incompetent, i was with @xEmoBunnehx

 

[Cosmo]

@Ami the breadling Ahhhh, I see. Good luck with that.

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

@Ami the breadling Ahhhh, I see. Good luck with that.

Thanks. However, if you DO want me to be with you, i can make the character just be with that character of yours (isnt that the Regent of the Mask? He reminds me kinda...)

 

[fshlkafhalkf;lkasdjflkasdj]

Anybody want to make a character who can live in the ocean like me? Please? The ocean is so lonely.

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

[QUOTE="Cunning Commander]Anybody want to make a character who can live in the ocean like me? Please? The ocean is so lonely.

[/QUOTE]
My character could be a race, that for some reason i will think up, is able to live there.

 

[fshlkafhalkf;lkasdjflkasdj]

Yay! Tuesday is Shrimp Scampi day!

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

So would you like a:


- Guard


- Advisor


- Assasin


- Anything else?


She will be a kid, i will need to think a bit why she can breathe under water. Maybe she is a spirit, contracted to him, taking the appearance of a girl and having another true apperance?

 

[Cosmo]

@Ami the breadling Lol no its fine, no need to make another character on my account. I am quite content. I still need to make his twin anyways, the heir to the great family and the warrior/leader to that guy's wizard.


The first picture is just one an artist did, the second one is Jack of Blades from Fable 1.

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

@Ami the breadling Lol no its fine, no need to make another character on my account. I am quite content. I still need to make his twin anyways, the heir to the great family and the warrior/leader to that guy's wizard.
The first picture is just one an artist did, the second one is Jack of Blades from Fable 1.

I recogized the mask in the first one, i just assumed it was him too in the second. See? Im good! *hops and dances around*

 

[Cosmo]

@Ami the breadling Yes, you are! Someone deserves a cookie. I used two different masks to show how he can change it. Due to being an alchemist (or just metal wizard pretty much) he can alter and change his mask anytime he wants including the color and composition.


Might have a white mask with a red outline in the morning and by night have a black mask with silver veins running through it.

 

[fshlkafhalkf;lkasdjflkasdj]

@Ami the breadline Don't worry about me just yet, my character and his kingdom aren't even approved yet.

 

[KaalysBR]

@Ami the breadling Do you need a champion for your kingdom? I was thinking of making one.

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

@Ami the breadling Do you need a champion for your kingdom? I was thinking of making one.

You of course may do so, but when coming to the relationship of the queen and the champion, be aware of her past. If you want them to be friends, he/she might have been with her on the journey, if not, then she will most likely be a little reserved around him like she is around most people.

 

[KaalysBR]

I'd like for them to be close so he can work as an advisor for the Queen. I will read her character sheet and make my bio based on it