Fantasy Valiance Character Submissions

[SkyGinge]

Character Submission​

This RP is currently closed for submissions!If you're interested in joining us though, please do let me know and I can contact you should a space be opened up!

In Valiance, we will be playing as the last survivors of the Anarquesse's massacre, who rise from desperate scavengers to undertake the impossible mission of taking down this powerful evil. As I will not be providing archetypes, you have a lot of freedom in creating characters, and I look forward to reading what you come up with!

Wait a minute!Before you start creating your characters, please make sure you have read every other thread to ensure you're up to date with the lore and world! Then, there's just a few things to get clear before you hop in...

• Available Spaces/Feedbacking on Characters: We're aiming to stick at around 10 writers for logistics sake. When reviewing a character form, I'm looking for the promise of the character (i.e. the scope for interesting interactions and character development), the layeredness of the character and how well they fit into the world. After reviewing character forms, I'll private message all applicants individually with any feedback or tweaks that are needed; feel free to ask any questions in the OOC ahead of this though if you have any doubts about what you're doing. If you don't get in, please don't be upset - there are plenty of other RPs around and I am sure you will find something more suitable for you!
• Character Limits: You are allowed to play as multiple characters if you think you have the capacity for it! You can have a maximum of two protagonists and one antagonist. Furthermore, there are a few roles which I might ask people to play further down the line.
• Character Types: Characters come in three different types:
  • Protagonists: These are our main characters, the ragtag survivors, the characters we will be primarily playing as.
  • Antagonists: Whether it be a reckless bandit desperate for survival, one of the Anarquesse's mysterious council, or anything in between, antagonists are characters we can introduce as part of plot to provide conflict with our characters as they work to their own agendas.
  • NPCs: Side characters with a minor role. You don't need to create a form for these, but do discuss them beforehand in the OOC.
• Deadlines: I will be reviewing all the posted characters on 31st July, and hope to start the RP the day after on 1st August!
• Starting Location: For plot beginning reasons, our characters all need to start in the southern valleys. They can have travelled elsewhere after the fall in their backstory, but this is where they must end up prior to the start of the RP!

Without further ado, here's the forms:

Spoiler: Protagonist Character Form

Name:

Age:

Gender:

Tagline:
[Six words max, summarises character - e.g. 'The Haunted Hunter, The Pretentious Prince', etc.]

Appearance:
[Please provide a picture and at least one paragraph of description]

Personality:
[At least two paragraphs featuring positives and negatives]

Likes:
[small list]

Dislikes:
[small list]

Personal Goals:
[What does your character want?]

Skills and Abilities:
[What is your character capable of doing? Don't include magic or combat stuff here, that comes later]

Magic:
[State the element of magic studied (if any!) and then describe the character's proficiency with it.]

Combat Skills:
[What type of weaponry (if any) is your character proficient in? What is their usual battle style?]

Starting Inventory:
[What does your character have on them at the start of the RP?]

Background:
[What is your character's personal history? Two+ paragraphs, including describing how your character managed to survive the fall.]

Other:
[Any other info you think I've missed!]

Writer Timezone/Country:
[Required to figure out when people are likely to be online!]

Spoiler: Antagonist Character Form

Name:
[Can be an alias or a title if you want to keep an identity hidden.]

Age:

Gender:

Appearance:
[Picture and short description]

Personality:
[At least one paragraph]

Personal Goal(s):
[What do they want?]

Background:
[Optional - can be kept hidden if you want it to be a big reveal later, or fairly brief to provide a basic background.]

Magic and Combat Abilities:

Other:

Feel free to format the CS in whatever pretty coding you want (though I won't be taking coding into account when choosing character, obviously!) - just so long as you include the above categories, you are welcome to include other sections and more information as you see fit.

Happy characterising!

 

[SkyGinge]

Cast of Characters

Heroes

Skyre Eraldus, 'The Baby Faced Enigma'
21, 5'11'', Green Mage
Played by SkyGinge , from England (BST (+1))

Aeryn Winter
19, 5'7'', Gold Mage
Played by Kharmin , from the USA (EST (-4))

Belina Franz, 'The Strong-Armed Lost Lamb'
22, 6'0'', Yellow Mage
Played by Archon , from England (BST (+1))

Theodor Teldarinas, 'The Solemn Crusader'
28, 6'0'', Yellow Mage
Played by Trappy , from Australia (GMT +10)

Tai'yang Long, 'The Faceless Desert Dweller'
27, Green Mage
Played by Shotgunpenguin , from the USA (EST (-4))

Maria Valinco, 'The Star-Crossed Gypsy'
22, 5'6'', White Mage
Played by thefinalgirl , from the Philippines (GMT +8)

Elerina Markovo, 'The Wrong Girl at The Wrong Time'
24, 5'5'', Blue Mage
Played by Kabboom , from Vietnam (GMT +7)

Elisheva Franz, 'The Vengeful Sorcerer'
22, Red Mage
Played by Epiphany , from the USA (PST (-7))

Jorg Stonewall, 'The Bereaved Botanist'
23, 5'9'', Bronze Mage
Played by MToki , from South Korea (GMT +9)

Carrow Vadovan, 'The Guiding Scion'
52, tall, Experienced Warrior
Played by Dalamus Ulom , from the USA (EST (-4))

Thomas Wembleye, 'Knight in Training'
20, 6'2'', Horseback Squire
Played by WalkingDogo , from England (BST (+1))

​

 

[SkyGinge]

Skyre Eraldus

Name:
Skyre Eraldus

Age:
21

Gender:
Male

Tagline:
The Baby-Faced Enigma

Appearance:
Skyre's visage is a curious blend of the average and the extraordinary, of age and of innocence. Most striking are his emerald eyes, which are at once piercing and powerful and yet, along with the rest of his youthful face, express his every emotion; the power and richness of feeling betrayed in his gaze give him a weighty sense of experience that his young face contradicts. Despite his attempts at putting at an impassive poker face, spend a little time with Skyre and you'll soon learn to read how he's feeling, whether it's noticing how his small lips curve slightly when he's pleased, or the way his brow furrows dramatically in concern. His other most notable feature is his ginger hair, which is patterned into an intricate and seemingly physics-defining style, imitating the dancing of flames. Were it not for his hair and his eyes, Skyre would come off as fairly average.

Though his slim 5'11'' build does conceal some muscle, Skyre is far from the strongest person out there. His standard costume is made up of a long emerald-green coat - his former academic robe - over a waistcoat and simple cotton shirt, brown trousers tucked into long white socks, and brown boots, fitting in with what was the prevailing fashion in Alsiere.


Personality:
The studious Skyre is a charismatic young mage with an unflinching focus. Fuelled by the legends he loved as a child, and buoyed with hope over a mysterious message, his central aim is to avenge his fallen kingdom, to approach the end with purpose, to conclude with death or glory. A natural-born leader, his optimism, boldness and aura of intelligence mean people gravitate towards him, and his warm, tolerant nature sees him showing empathy to even the most aggravating individual.

Self-styling as a hero, he attempts to create an enigmatic aura, speaking in riddles and wit and only sharing personal information when necessary. This behavior renders him somewhat impassive, and his cautiousness and general goodwill leaves him protected from challenge or accusation – whilst it may frustrate companions, it forces them to learn to trust him, supporting his authority. In addition, his level-headedness and his unfittingly charismatic voice lend him attention and respect, especially in the heat of combat.

Nevertheless, a foolish ambition requires an ambitious fool, and in his idealism, Skyre is blind to the several contradictions of his character. His impassioned speeches sometimes miss the mark, generalizing and failing to truly understand people or situations because he has over-simplified them. Whilst his combat quick-thinking has helped him survive, it is built on a sub-conscious arrogance that considers himself impervious – heroes can’t die, right? Similarly, whilst he tries to uphold a strong moral compass, his morality lacks nuance, with an inability to compensate for grey areas. Furthermore, Skyre short-sightedly lacks self-perspective, and sometimes fails to take in the bigger picture of a complex situation, and indeed of his own desires.

Socially, Skyre is great at establishing friendships as he refuses to discriminate between anyone, and exhibits patients even towards the arrogant, as much as they may frustrate him. However, despite his compassion, he struggles to push beneath the surface, leading to difficulties understanding people with real depth. He pridefully considers it his responsibility to uphold the wellbeing of all party members, and grows sad if somebody is upset. Helpless ‘overcaring’ cripples him; whilst he’s understanding to an extent, his stubborn single-mindedness and over-simplification mean he pushes his own ideas and agendas on the struggling, even if unintentionally. Similarly, his desire for unity sometimes overpowers his desire for transparency – hating conflict, he struggles to balance compromising and being correct.

Instead, Skyre is an introvert at heart and is very comfortable alone with his thoughts. He holds an immense academic curiosity for the natural world, especially when it pertains to magical science. Contemplative and focused, Skyre is in his element when submerged in a book, and gets childishly over-excited over certain information, ‘romantically’ absorbed in nature. He is prone to over-thinking though, and can get caught in a whirlwind of certain thoughts. This is symptomatic of a wider problem; though he wants to remain impassive, his face betrays him, and he is often at the whim of his emotions. Pressure and circumstances can make him fickle, swinging very suddenly between emotional states, and his investment in others can leave him crushed by guilt.

Though he is unaware of it, Skyre deeply desires to be loved and admired. Leadership gives him an amazing sense of control and power which he gets a real buzz off of, and he finds himself far too quickly attracted to someone, becoming overbearing and needy despite good intent. As he comes to acknowledge these aspects of his character and weigh them up alongside his ambition, what will he be willing to sacrifice to get what he wants?


Likes:
~ Science: Understanding more about the world leads to a greater appreciation of it; Skyre had aspirations of becoming a scholar before the fall curtailed his education.
~ Books: Where wider knowledge is sure to be found!
~Myths and Legends: Having been brought up on stories of days good by, Skyre is a sucker for a well-told story, and spent much of his childhood absorbed in ancient tales, which is from where he accredits his moral values.
~ Music and the Arts: Admiring high society despite not being noble himself, he plays a woodwind instrument called a Herthuin (though doesn't have one on his person).
~ Facial Hair: Though he can't grow proper facial hair himself, he's always loved a good old-fashioned bristly moustache.
~ Contemplation: Skyre's evening habit is to stare into the fire and reminisce and mourn for the fallen world.
~ Eating Fish: Whilst he doesn't have much of a sense of taste, a fish meal is his favourite meal, taking him back to his childhood.

Dislikes/Fears:
~ Selfishness and Arrogance: Self-seeking attitudes trigger him to no end
~ Alcohol: You don't need it to have a good time, and all it does is mess you up.
~ His Own Shallowness: Whilst he is usually able to ignore this fear, sometimes in the darkness he worries that his personality is just a front, that there's not much real underneath. Furthermore, his lack of perspective means he doesn't have time to conceptualise other fears until he finds himself in the centre of them.

Personal Goals:
Externally:
To defeat the Anarquesse and rebuild the nation.
To learn more about auranium and the secrets of the forbidden age.

Internally (sub-conscious):
To be loved and admired.

Skills and Abilities:
~ Scholarly Aptitude: Studious by nature, Skyre is a quick reader and capable of effectively extracting data from a dangerous text.
~ Knowledge of Ancient Languages: Whilst rusty as the next scholar due to a lack of available information, Skyre is able to read bits and pieces of some of the languages used by former magic tribes.
~ Tactician: What he lack in combat experience, he makes up for in combat smarts.
~ Musician: Skyre can play the Herthuin, a woodwind instrument, and also has a well-hidden good singing voice.


Magic:
Green Mage
Whilst he Awakened at a comparatively young age thanks to accessing a scholarly text on magic from his village market, Skyre didn't make much progress for several years owing to a lack of formal tutelage. At the University of Magic, Skyre was one of the most dedicated students in his year, choosing to spend most of his time studying whilst others were out socialising, and whilst he was a few months away from graduating when the fall happened, he is at a reasonably advanced level, especially when it comes to using his magic with precision. His primarily uses his magic to increase his mobility, making himself move faster, lightening his blade and compensating for his otherwise lacking strength. He is even able of making himself fly for a short period of time using the air around him. Nevertheless, Green Magic is by nature lacking in offensive power, and whilst his creativity and quick thinking are some of his greatest assets, the most he can normally muster is short buffets of air to force enemies away.

Combat Skills:
Skyre wields a showy blade he calls 'Galeforce', which is a lightweight sword with sharp, retractable 'wings' that point up and effective transform the sword into a pseudo-trident. These provide extra defensive coverage, but make the blade more unwieldly to swing. Though not overwhelmingly fit, Skyre did train himself with the blade whilst at the University, having for a long time considered joining the Valiarum Knights - he powers up his strikes and lightens the weight for him to carry using careful manipulation of Green Magic.

Starting Inventory:
His pack is almost empty, containing only sheets for sleeping, an auranium potion and a religious book in an ancient tongue he is yet to decipher.

Background:
'The unifying principle of studying histories is as follows: what is put to paper is never quite the full truth'... ~ Anon. scholar.

Skyre's curiousity and studiousness was nurtured from a young age by his surroundings. His father a knight and his mother a joiner, the boy grew up in a village called Bridgeton Crossing, a settlement built at a major intersection on the Merchant's Path and surrounded by elements which exemplified Valia's natural beauty, being right on the perimeter of the southern forest valleys and with Mount Somnium, source of the River Azulis, overlooking it. Though quiet in the winter months, summers transformed Bridgeton's town square into a bustling market, with traders and merchants travelling from west, east and north all stopping to exchange livestock and goods. Skyre loved these summer markets, gazing on at wonder at the exotic goods on offer. And most of notable of all, these market's introduced him to books.

As a child, Skyre was a recluse, a dreamer. His father was often away policing nearby villages, and his mother was both too busy and too unfulfilled with her craftsmanship to give him too much attention - they loved him, for sure, but the family was fairly distant and were fairly hands-off in their approach to parenting. Therefore, the young boy spent most of his time wandering the nearby hills, imagining grand adventures and dreaming of the day he would be able to use magic. And then there was the summer. Each year, Skyre would beg his father for a slice of his knight's wages, dash off to the market, and return with a handful of texts. They were called histories, though not many of them really spoke definitively about the past. Great big books full of tales of heroic knights vanquishing evil magicians, saving princesses from foul rogues and other mythical monsters. As he read, he was filled with wonder and imagination. And the books often focused on knights like his father - that made him a hero's son, right?

If he was lonely, he didn't realise it - the trees and the hills and all their mysteries were enough to satisfy him. So he grew up friendless, somewhat scorned by his peers. All except for one - Jonveng, adopted son of the local nobleman, who was some years his senior. Both shared a certain bookish reclusiveness, and they especially shared a fascination for magic. However, over time they fell away from each-other. As he grew up, his idealisation of his father also began to crumble as he overheard the mutterings of the marketeers, who told stories of his father's laziness and negligence towards his duties. All these factors fuelled his dream even further: he would travel to Alsiere, study magic and make a difference in the world.

And that he did. Despite his reclusive childhood, Skyre settled in well to life in the bustling capital. Perhaps it was being surrounded by similarly academic-minded young people, perhaps it was the joy that came from living out his dream, but the young mage thrived both socially and academically; whilst he dedicated much of his time to personal study, he still kept a close-knit group of friends and often spent time at artistic events with them. His dedication and strong results brought him attention from one of the leading teachers, Professor Morvent, who developed a personal friendship with him.

Each year, final year students at the very top of the academic standings are rewarded with a special banquet with the king himself. Here he discovered that his old friend Jonveng had obviously made quite a name for himself, rising to become one of the king's advisers. When the feast and the festivities had died down, Skyre was heading out when the king himself took him aside. And if this wasn't surprising enough, what the king told him shook him to the core:

"You must flee this city tonight."

Despite his attempts to probe further into the king's words, Skyre was ushered out with a book in his hands and without further information. The strange request weighed heavily on his mind, impossible to fully understand. But, given little time for further consideration, he packed a few essentials and left.

And when he turned back, the city was burning, and Valia's fall had been set in motion.

Other:
N/A

Writer Timezone/Country:
England, BST(+1)​

 

[Kharmin]

Name: Aeryn Winter

Age: 19

Gender: Female

Tagline: N/A

Appearance:
Aeryn is slight of build with deceptive, wiry strength. At 5' 7", she stands average for her age and her slender build accounts for a less than modest weight. Straight, deep-red hair cascades over her shoulders and is typically kept loose unless she's on a mission, in which case it is neatly tied or braided as the length allows. Sea-green eyes contrast with the darker hair and her fair skin is without freckle or noticeable blemish. Aeryn's smaller nose sets kindly above firm but not too full lips and soft cheeks.

Her preferred dress is an all black ensemble, complete with hood, that helps her to blend into the shadows when necessary, but is cut to allow for free movement. She carries a thin, short sword in a sheath at her hip and a few, well-placed knives which are camouflaged within her attire.

Aeryn almost always wears her long, black leather gloves. She is rarely seen without them on her hands.

Personality:
Aeryn appears casual and easy-going with practically anyone who encounters her. She has worked very hard to perfect a friendly disposition and tries her best to get along with anyone. She is quite adaptable to any situation which involves interacting with others, being either aggressive in negotiation or coy and demure depending on what is needed at the time.

However, life has been (and continues to be) black and white with Aeryn. Given enough time and exposure to her, people will know exactly where they stand in her eyes. She is a realist and as such she can come across as somewhat stoic. Aeryn tries her best to suppress this as she knows that such attitudes can negatively impact these interactions which can make dealings more difficult than they ought to be.

Aeryn was treated to a very lavish life-style as a benefit for working for her merchant benefactor, Jayson. She was quickly seduced by the riches and comforts that she had only dreamed were possible when she was younger. She abhors unclean things (and people), as she now believes herself elevated well above such things.

Experience has taught her that everyone is out for themselves at the expense of others. Aeryn finds it difficult be personal with anyone as she is always watching out for whatever angle or advantage the encounter might provide for either side (or both!); however, once a deal is struck (or a word given) she fully expects both parties to abide by it. In this way, she can be too trusting or too quick to point out when another is welching on a deal.

Aeryn does not easily admit defeat or always understand when it is best for her to cut her losses and fight another day. She can seem arrogant and over-confident. This stems from her merchant training where she learned to never quit until she got what she wanted.

Likes:
Animals - they have simple wants and needs. Their lives aren't complicated. Aeryn envies them in this regard. That she is able to commune with them using her magic is an added bonus. She desperately misses her family and uses these relationships as her surrogate family.

Luxury - Having been involved with a high standing merchant, Aeryn learned to really love the finer things in life.

Dislikes/Fears:
Dishonesty/Treachery/Betrayal - Aeryn expects people to keep the promises that they make. When they don't, she knows how those stories end: her benefactor made her into the instrument of his displeasure to those who went back on their word.

Being alone - Aeryn despises loneliness. Her ability to find animal companions helps to fend off this fear, but deep down she longs for a more meaningful connection that animals cannot provide.

Social status - She fears being found out that she isn't highborn, but rather the daughter of a family from the lowest parts of the city. She guards this secret with more fervor than her secret identity as an assassin.

Personal Goals:
Aeryn strives to be the best assassin that she knows she can be. This drive leads to her ultimate goal: to avenge her family's death.

Skills and Abilities:
Aeryn is an accomplished assassin and is quite skilled in stealth and getting into places unseen in unorthodox manners. She is versed in the merchant trade and has a critical eye for the value of goods. Aeryn uses her merchant background as her cover to keep from being exposed as a ruthless assassin.

Magic:
Gold Magic - Highly Proficient
Aeryn was taught by the best instructors that Jayson's wealth could provide and she threw herself fully into this craft. She graduated with the class prior to the Fall at the early age of 17. She mainly uses her magic to form magical symbiotic relationships with lesser creatures (animals) to help her achieve her goals. Aeryn can also influence weaker minded individuals to a small degree.

In combat, Aeryn will use animal companions to distract or dissuade attackers. She will also animate her blades (usually her knives) and have them dance at her command to inflict wounds on her opponent who may be otherwise focused on her.

Combat Skills:
Close combat melee; small arms (short sword, knives, daggers)
Aeryn prefers to attack from stealth whenever any fighting is necessary. She uses her talent to strike from hidden positions or from angles unseen by her opponent. If out in the open, Aeryn will attempt to get in close where her smaller weapons have the advantage over larger (or ranged) ones. She is very adept at close quarters combat and will even use her magic to animate her weapons for additional strikes.


Starting Inventory:
Since Aeryn was on assignment when the Fall occurred, she only had the following with her:
Black leather attire (see picture/description)
Cloak
Short Sword
2 stiletto

Background:
At the age of six, Aeryn had a strange affinity for the rats, mice and alley cats wherever she and her family were able to live on the streets. Her awakening occurred unexpectedly when she calmed a young, feral wolf-dog that attacked her baby brother as they were scrounging for food in an alley. Not only was Aeryn able to calm the large canine, but it became her protector and companion from that point and when she had recovered from the shock of her awakening, no one could deny her new found talent.

For her tenth birthday, her parents managed to secure a spot at a busy intersection where Aeryn could show her talent in befriending small animals or perform simple tricks with her companion she affectionately named Grey. The coin made for these shows was meager, but it was enough to help the family survive the more lean months of the year.

Aeryn was thirteen when she was arrested for allegedly manipulating the thoughts and emotions of a high-born brat who only accused her for sport when she declined his advances. Her family didn't have the money to afford a legal defense against the allegations. She was brought before the local magistrate, but before sentence was passed, a very wealthy merchant named Jayson Grainger paid her accuser a hefty sum. In return, her new benefactor insisted that she work off her debt to him with honest, merchant work.

Working in Jayson's large merchant guild house was easy work at first. Aeryn's budding womanhood made her fetch practically every customer's eye. At first, she was reluctant to use her talent to influence Jayson's clients but he convinced her that he would have gotten his deals anyway and that she was only expediting the process. For his part, Jayson never forced her into anything physical with their clients; rather, he allowed her natural charm and innocence to be her tools before using her magic to seal the deal.

Jayson arranged suitable housing for Aeryn's parents and brother, in a much better part of town, which he neatly tied into her debt. He used his city contacts to find suitable work for her father. She protested at first, but when she realized how much better her family would be in a cleaner, healthier environment, Aeryn accepted the arrangement.

Jayson personally trained her in combat arts and the use of small, hand-held weapons like knives, dirks, daggers and such. He also schooled her in how to hide from sight and to use stealth to meet her objective. Whenever she wasn't working at the guild hall, she was training with Jayson. Aeryn barely had time for meals or sleep and didn't see her family at all.

Three years later, Jayson enrolled Aeryn at the university to study gold magic. Her aptitude for this was quickly apparent and she soon excelled well beyond expectations. For this, however, Aeryn was forced into more dubious work.

That was when things turned dark.

After a year of such training, Jayson began to take Aeryn with him to learn the more shady dealings of the merchant house. Assassination and murder concluded deals far more expeditiously than discourse and despite her objections, Aeryn learned these skills with the same aptitude as her magic. She had no choice: Jayson threatened to toss her family back into the streets should she disobey.

All too soon, the killing became rote and Aeryn succeeded on her solo missions with ruthless efficiency. She would use her magic talents on small animals to track and follow her mark and then on the weaker minded to get close and finish the job. Cold and emotionless, Aeryn focused on the two things that kept her family alive: magic and murder.

The next three years, her life was a blur. Aeryn lived a double-life between the university and her missions. Her tutelage as Jayson's aide, taught Aeryn much about the merchant trade and soon her experience and knowledge made her a worthy adversary within the merchant's ranks. Her cover as a merchant's apprentice kept suspicions at bay and allowed her access to various parts of the city. On rare occasions, she was granted time to visit with her family. They were so proud of her accomplishments at school and she was content to see them happy and healthy and out of the slums.

Her appearance had radically changed from the lanky pre-teenage girl who played on street corners for coin such that hardly anyone from her past really recognized her as the same person. She grew into her curves and accentuated her assets with her choice of attire. Aeryn carried herself with confidence and a hint of arrogance when she was among her peers at school -- a charade to hide her true heritage from her days as a street urchin.

Aeryn was in Alsiere when the Fall occurred. She watched from a rooftop as the section of the city where her family lived was completely destroyed. With nothing left to live for, Aeryn sat and waited for death to find and claim her; but fate conspired against her. Even through all of the stench of death and destruction, Aeryn spied her small friends -- the rats and alley cats -- were managing to slink their way through the shadows and debris as they made their escape. Their actions implored her to survive, to avenge her family's death.

She used all of her talents and skills at both magic and stealth to dodge, hide and avoid detection from the shadow minions. Once free from the ruined capitol city, Aeryn headed deep into the Southern Valleys.

Other:
Father - Gerald
Mother - Laurana
Brother (3 years younger) - Dorian
Aeryn only assumed that her family did not survive the Fall.

Companion - a rather large wolf-dog whom she calls "Grey"

"Everything has value as long as someone is willing to pay the price for it." -- Jayson Grainger

Writer Timezone/Country:
US East Coast (GMT -4 right now; -5 in the fall/winter)

 

[Archon]

Spoiler: Appearance

Name: Belina Franz

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Tagline: The Strong-Armed Lost Lamb

​

Appearance:
Clad in the regal colours of the Valiarum Knights, cherished Order of Valia's finest; their stalwart arms glistening in defense of their great and mighty home. Belina sports the frontline get up of the Valiarum Knight infantry line, her brigandine sporting a boiled leather backing with plates wedged between the gaps, with padding between the leather and the skin, cushioned by adorned fabric on the exterior to create the majestic appearance sighted. The sea-blue hue and golden yellow contrasts brilliantly under her cascading cherry hair which shades the creamy pale-white of her battle-tested skin, sharp hazel eyes often stare past the veil of reality in a distant gaze; there is a sorrow there betraying that eager. Belina herself stand tall at 6'0, her form is matted with the scars of past defeats, her toned and athletic figure matching the storybook appearance of Valia's elite guardians.

Personality:
A fiery heart forged in the visage of elevation and attached to a strict and unbending warrior culture, Belina's familiarity for the finer aspects of life are non-existent, her soul knowing only the purpose of how to fight - of how to march - of how to be the perfect dangerous damsel in the Valiarum's elite entourage, she is possessed of a fighter's spirit, an indomitable will wielded with determination, fueled by endless ferocity, a domineering inert desire to succeed and excel. This can lend her to be a highly productive thinker, able to apply surprising philosophical solutions to otherwise difficult problems, her blend of Knightly training and a noble's tutelage has left her highly adept at strategy and planning. A sharp mind fitted for the intensity of battle, a protective aura and an inspiring noble's bearing, the best parts of chivalric valiance and gruff frontline fighter merged into the astute focus of a unwittingly independent and highly empathic mind.

She can often come off as somewhat simple, perhaps dull, but her learning was akin to a form of indoctrination, she knows no other way. Despite the foundation for knowledge being locked within the mind, Belina's lack of informal civility makes her a difficult individual to interact with. Her training, and her upbringing, has made her unwillingly entitled and somewhat arrogant, vying for the position of a leader based on merit and distinction - these are the aspects of nurture as opposed to nature. She views herself as without peer and is far too prideful to cede a semblance of control or dominance to anyone else - even the Grandmaster of the Valiarum Knights would be hard-pressed to control the errant squire in this new world of orderless anarchy.

The horrible truth is: her path is tainted by the bitter pits of buried resentment. Belina wasn't born to be a fighter, nor was she naturally pre-disposed to the life of a warrior - a Knight of Valiarum - but the role was enforced with brutal clarity by the machinations of 'Family Tradition', the Franz line stretching back generations untold - each one more heroic than the last - to be the best, the Royal Academy's roster of legend stacked with the family name, Belina had no say in her future, and what little sparks of rebellion her youth could muster were beaten from her - or she was locked in a kennel to learn obedience, "discipline", her father called it. This has left her with an inherent and unbridled anger, longing to be released, an unsteady and unstable bearing that can overflow at any time. This makes her erratic, fueling her with resolve but causing a blip in the valiant Knight persona she enforces. She is cold, to the point in her mannerisms. Overtly stoic, protected by social barriers and past upbringing to be nothing but a glorified weapon to further legacy; the all-important family name. Whilst this may spread an air of mysterium and reinforce the warrior archetype, it's the antithesis of what a leader should be.

​

Likes

• Physical Exertion: Though an adopted hobby forced through trial and expectation, Belina has adapted to harsh training regimes of days past; she finds some solitude in victory and defeat both, with her already egoistical nature bolstered by the former, and lessons to ponder earned from the latter.​
• Dark Sky, Beating Rain: Belina finds a sense of tranquility among the darkened night sky of Valia, further still in the presence of her patron gifts; thunderstorms and lightning, the splashing of rain drops against brightened cheeks.​
• Children's Books: A niche enjoyment, but despite the front of power, Belona is a young girl - one robbed of a childhood - the innocence of a Children's Tale warms her heart in a way nothing else can.​
• Singing: Another forlorn essence of a lost childhood, Belina's dreams were to be a bard - once upon a time. In the confines of her own company, she likes to sing, to herself, for herself.​
• Philosophy on the Gods - religion: Now more than ever, Belina's one social passion is the meaning of the Gods, on religion, their existence and their machinations, whether pure or cruel.​
• Relics of the Gone: Knives and quills; sharpened daggers; a cook's recipe book: a broken locket of a man's wife. Belina collects whatever small mementos she can of the past, mementos before the fall. They offer comfort, sorrow, and introspection.​

Dislikes

• Disorderly: Belina has lived under authority enough for a lifetime, society's collapse and her own talents for Knightly virtues makes her unwilling to follow others easily.​
• Classist Attitudes: With a history of noble prestige and the bearing of a famous family name - and with the reality that she hated every moment - Belina's rage towards people who'd judge her on status is boundless.​
• Humidity: Dry heat and the beating sun, matty, uncomfortable, sweaty and unwelcome. Belina despises the warm dry weather​

Personal Goals

• Simply surviving seems like a commendable goal.​
• On a personal level, Belina must find herself. The gripping tenacity for self-improvement and excellence, and the fact her life has revolved around achieving Knighthood and elevating beyond, means without structure she is lost without purpose. The collapse of society means she has no prospects, nothing to work towards; years of training, lessons on legacy and climbing ambition gone. In it's absence, the wayward child who once wanted freedom, who craved independence beyond all things, has reared its bearing deep in the soul.​

Skills and Abilities

• Voice of Hearth, with a soothing calm; a lifetime of gentle song has left Belina a highly able singer ​
• Strategist, the noble tutelage of the venerable House Fanz included strategy and planning as key learning areas. Give her some figures, a map, and a small length of time, and the Knight can conjure an effective plan of action for coming challenges with the resources available.​
• Athletics and physical training have made the wayward warrior a very adept practitioner of the physical tasks that form the world's many survival struggles; namely, climbing and swimming, even simply running, should be considered a worthy skillset.​

Magic
Belina's ability with a Yellow Mage's spellcraft can best be described as a tantalizing brutish proficience, her studies were sporadic but expert, funded by the state and with high priority tutelage owing to her nobility, much of her time wrestled attention for martial training and combat. Leaving the finer elements of magical theory and creative use sorely neglected; Belina, like all who'd enter the ranks of Knighthood, is an able hammer that beats against the heated anvil - and not much else. She can wrap her blade in a wreath of lightning and direct her blade with finely attuned magnetism, but the wider elements of application are lost on her. She cannot manipulate large masses of steel, and what she can manipulate is basic and unwieldy, whilst she can call thunder to smite her opposition, it is unrefined and without control.

Combat Skills
Wielding a specially tailored zweihander with deadly purpose, Belina is a proficient swordswomen possessed of excellent stamina and strength, dancing in tandem with her powers of magnetism to wield the doppelhander with further skill and an astute precision that shouldn't be possible for its overwhelming size. She is able to charge the blade with the essence of lightning to empower her already thunderous strikes; her ability with Yellow Magic allows the weapon to act as a magically charged javelin to be launched at an opponent, or to spin the blade furiously as it's maneuvered into enemy lines. When manipulating the zweihander in such a way at range, she wields a katzbalger - a short sword - in a single hand as a sidearm.

Starting Inventory

• Letter of Invitation to a Valiarum Knighting Ceremony; her knighting ceremony.​
• A small tent and a bedroll, affixed to a large carrying pack upon the back.​
• The Wonder's Beyond the Mist: A Children's Tale​

Background:
Born in the loveless union of the prestigious Grand Duke Galbert Franz and his wife, the esteemed Lady Diane, of House Redwell, Belina's life was - from the outside view - one of grand assurances and immeasurable luxuries, those afforded the the highest echelons of noble society. The dominion of the Grand Duke, the imperious realms of the Greylands, the expansive town of Lothian's Well perched on the pillars of a grand hill, higher still, the ancestral home of the Franz line - Bleaksword Castle - peering over the dominions in its clutches. As a child, before she could scarcely walk, Belina would be toured throughout the lands under their control, regaled with tales of mighty heroes and ancestral deeds, tutored on the critical priority of legacy - of the impact it has on their name - on the importance of her responsibilities, of her role to play in life.

When the child grew to consciously accept this role, the wants of the individual were replaced with the expectations of the father; she had no interest in swords and battles and glory, but that mattered little. Forced tutelage by the finest minds for 6 hours a day, education and intelligence were gained, at the expense of fulfillment and enjoyment; she was forced to memorize history, strategy, indoctrinated pride from their grand martial line. For a time, she resisted, hating every moment and wanting an end - clamoring for the light of normality. But punishment to such antics was harsh and swift; utterly decisive in quelling that inner flame.

As her resented life approached it's designated marker, a 13 year old Belina was enrolled into the Valiarum Knights as a squire with special attention, her regime received private family-funded trainers to bolster the martial training she was haphazardly pushed through by a circle of Knightly trainers. Here she learned the crafts of magic alongside Valia's finest. The status-quo stretched on relentlessly for many years, until the essence of independence was gone and dead, replaced by the successive glory-seeking mindset enforced by her father. She hardly excelled in anything, the workload was simply punishing enough that she was forced to adapt beyond natural ability through grueling suffering.

At 18, Belina's family influence and noble standing pushed her - unfairly - through the ranks into the position of an Officer - Infantry Hauptmann - for the mounted Knights tended to neglect magic for the unwieldiness of casting on horseback. As her training focused on foot combat supplemented by magic, the choice was obvious. As a Hauptmann - Officer of esteem - responsibility and standing was pushed onto the young, she was disciplined and trained further, taking part in multiple bandit skirmishes and ceremonial parades, encompassing use of yellow magic was shelved entirely in favor of hammering in the simple - calling thunder, manipulating steel for combat. Effective, but without innovation.

Acting as an Infantry Hauptmann for four years, her father finally deemed his - still disappointing - daughter to be worthy of the Valiarum Knights, an official Knighthood Ceremony was held - a formality - for many had been elevated for much lesser credibility than herself. The spiral of her long years forged the girl into an ambitious clone, it felt vilifying to be elevated, to be owed the respect she'd so long deserved. Only for everything to come crashing down in a miasma of chaos and death; much of the Valiarum Knights were at Bleaksword Castle when the Fall occurred, preparation for the grand ceremony at the behest of the generous Grand Duke Galbert, acclaimed high-standing Knight in his own right, who covered their expenses.

A brilliant occurrence, he proclaimed; as darkness swept over the lands, the arrogant and oh-so heroic Duke rallied his armies alongside the greatest of the Valiarum Knights to smash this unknown threat that'd taken the King by storm. His daughter stood beside him; nerves steadied with a steely breath, the spears lined the horizon and blazing sword of lightning gleamed in the moonlit sky. Speeches were had. Victory was assured. As the mighty army prepared to face down the bullish threat in the great unknown, Belina crept back to the Castle in the guise of organizing further defenses.

She deserted through the Keep's hidden door in a moment of impulse.

She refused to look back.

Elisheva, who stayed to fight, chose life over death and later caught up to the deserting heiress. Their relationship, whilst distant in the past, is on the edge due to their differing nature and Belina's treason. Though for the month, they've had only each other to rely on.

(may edit for collab with others) ​

Other:
N/A

Writer Timezone/Country:
England, BST(-1)

 

[Trappy]

Name: Theodor Teldarinas

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Tagline: The Solemn Crusader

Appearance:
Clad in the plates of the Vailarum Knights' heavy infantry, with a set of tough leather bracers, knuckles, pauldrons and a heavy breastplate, upon which Theodor adorns the majestic Teldarinas crest - never far from his heart. Outside the steel, Theodor is a broad man with bright blue eyes beneath a mane of blonde hair and sideburns. He is athletic-built, sporting almost a Roman physique standing at 6 feet. The man is formally dressed in silky clothes and a tunic of the imperial silver and blue of his house as well as proudly bearing the symbol of the venerable Vailarum Knights. He rarely remove the set of leather bracers which conceal the numerous gnarly scars from disciplinary acts.

Personality:
Theodor is a good man. Perhaps, better than he knows. He does try to be one, deep inside, he thinks he is one, and the truth may not be too far from it. The knight was, of course raised in a stalwart, forthright Knight House, and all his mannerisms did not go to the wolves once Valia met an undeserved fate. Kind and caring, the Heir of House Teldarinas comes to aid where it is needed, and no lamentation shall fall upon deaf ears when he is around. His sense of companionship cannot be trumped by adversity, remaining as unwaveringly as his knightly armor, and no one can ask for a better friend than Theodor. What an icon of empathy and goodness Theodor could have been, in this hostile, corrupted, shadow beasts-infested world.

If anything, the vows and tenets he'd pledged himself to as a brother of the Vailarum Knighthood would've further reinforced Theodor's virtues and his faith in the things he believes with ideals of honour and righteousness, if he was not so horribly and tragically wronged. The Fall had ruined and broken the young man, and the knight in him despaired, his flame inside was profaned and tainted with hate, and this hate for those who had ruined his family is just as, if not more potent a fuel for Theodor's flame. Theodor is a good man and at least he still believe that, but he is also hateful. The man indeed would've been a pure soul in a dark world, if he didn't held such a grudge against those who ruined his house. Humans, in their great ingenuity, come up with things and methods to help them cope with even the greatest trials and move on with life. But without such coping means, it is said that time can erode even the most resilient of minds, and Theodor's was far from among them. In time, the knight's once ironclad resolve had become vague, malleable, and the grudge against 'those who ruined his house' had begun to run along a same line with 'those who cross with him'.

Perhaps as an influence of his upbringing and his training and time among the Knights, Theodor expects certain things from people around him, such as mannerism and respect. In his new life following the Fall of Valia, many had disappointed him. Still, Theodor tries to be tolerant, even though many would not do the same for him, when the man adorns what he expects of others upon himself. After all, what love do commoners have for a lone pompous young lord?

Likes

• Foods and drinks are blessings, but the culinary art piques him interest a little more than that. He likes to cook and experiment with various spices and ingredients, especially the more exotic ones.
• A good spar.
• The honourable, brave and dedicated.
• Honesty, it takes courage to devote to an honest life.
• History, myths and the lore of the land fascinates him.
• Stormy weather. Teldarin is a land frequented by storms and the people here had weathered all of them. Many Teldar deities are connected to the chaotic nature of the storms, placing ideals of noble competition and show of strength above all else.

Dislikes

• Yellow-bellied cowards who succumb to their own fear.
• Ignorance and narrow-mindedness.
• Lawbreakers and scoundrels.
• Useless violence and unneeded loss of life.

Personal Goals
Theodor strives to punish the Anarquesse and those who led to the fall of his Knightly House, as well as who stand in his way. But above that, the young man looks to weather the crisis and survive, for he values self-preservation and the survival of the bloodline.

Skills and Abilities

• Decent Cook: Theodor, through experimentation with the various wild spices and whatever ingredients he manage to get his hands on in the crisis, can usually put together meals good enough to be enjoyable.
• Athletic: Muscular and athletic, Theodor is built to take on physically-taxing tasks, namely swimming, jumping and even grappling.
• Critical Thinker: Once an idea or plan is presented, Theodor will do his best to think of any flaws or issues it might present and he will speak his mind so that the issues may be appropriately addressed.

Magic
Theodor wields a fraction of the storms' power as his own. From a young age, the man had been home-tutored to control and familiarise himself with the potent and overwhelming forces of thunder and electricity. These skills were further developed when Theodor attended the University. As expected of him as heir to a venerable Knightly noble house, his trainings with the Yellow Magic were leaned towards combat utilities, and even though Valia had only just began to grasp the potential and power of electricity, the man did experiment with it himself with a number of scholars sponsored to work at the family library.

Combat Skills
Sporting a set of heavy plates and shield, Theodor usually stay in the thick of the action, keeping foes and fiends at bay for his frailer comrades behind him. His physical prowess allows him to manoeuvre around the battlefield with relative ease, even in armour, and the man is a trained swordsman with a tight grip on his blade, aided with the magnetic qualities of the Yellow Magic he wields. That is not the extent of his use of the magic in combat, however, as the blade itself crackles with destructive bolt of electricity, or his spiky shield too, when he wills it.

Starting Inventory

• A longsword.
• Theodor's Shield: The shield resembles a round, spiky tortoise shell, despite being metallic in nature - an impressive metalwork, to be sure.
• A short bow and a quiver of 10 arrows.
• Waterskin.
• A backpack containing his tent, some herbs, rolls of bandage, a mess kit, a dagger, a tinderbox, 5 torches, some rations and some hempen rope.

Background:
Theodor Galdric Teldarinas was born in the highest towers of the family estate, surrounded by servants and retinues, on a night when rough currents grounded ships in the docks while a raging tempest tore the Teldarin sky asunder. He was the fifth child of Lord Galdric Teldarinas, a former Vailarum Knight to the Hero King Lyram during the Great Crusade. His reward was the lordship over the stormy coasts to the South of Mount Warpyr, granted for his service in wartime and fidelity to the King in peacetime. From the moment of his birth, Theodor's life was one of assured opportunities and luxuries, with his role as heir to the Knightly house set him on a catapult to luxuries and authority, among the elites of the Valia. All of it was to be in his grasp - immeasurable wealth, and the dominion of his name stretching across the rocky Southern shores of Warpyr along with its denizens, his subjects. An enviable position indeed, to the narrow-minded and the ignorants who could not see the burdens that came with authority.

Lord Galdric was a strict father, but fair, with great expectations in his heir. A former soldier himself, he'd made sure that the boy was taught the ways of the blade the moment he was fit to wield one. First, Theodor was not to be some fat-bellied lord spending his days fattening by decadence and luxury. Squired to his own father, battle-masters in the ranks of his father's retinues, and at times even the Lord himself would tutor the boy. It also was around this period he was enlightened with the arcane arts of Yellow Magic by his father. Many of the marks from these early days of knightly training and discipline remain with him to this day. Secondly, the Heir of Teldarinas was not to be seen as some ignorant fool who loses the respect of his subjects and earns naught but contempt from other nobles and elites of the realm. The family had invested in a private library, and scholars from all across Valia were hired to show Theodor the ways of life, the sciences, politics, and the young heir was really interested in, the nature of the power he'd been shown. While he was hardly a quick learner, he had understood disappointment very early on, and was relentless in his pursuits, as to not let down the expectant father and the family name.

Eventually, with a determination to finesse his understanding and skills with the Yellow Magic, an 18 year-old Theodor left home for the University of Magic. There, as expected, he soon grew bored of mulling over texts and scribing scrolls, preferring the more practical experimentations and exercises the scholars were tasked with. Deeming high education unfit for himself, Theodor left the academic halls after a few years to find a mentor in his father, a veteran knight who introduced him to the magic in the first place. From here, he serves as a knight in his father's retinue, training day and night and experimenting with the art that was a gift from the Lord of Teldarinas to his Heir.

Then the Fall, and swiftly came with it: chaos, anarchy and fiends of shadow. Lord Galdric and his faithful subjects haphazardly organised whatever defences they could manage in face of blasphemous evils. In the assault that ensued, when his father and all of his sisters, Shield-maidens, were felled by the beasts, the young Lord's will was broken, and he fled the battlefield into the wilderness. The last Theodor saw of his home was the crumbling of the towers he'd grown up in and an avalanche of flame and shadow magic sweeping over the town.

The young Lord spent weeks in the wilderness absolutely raving mad. He had screamed at the sky, the trees, the earth, and he had punished himself for deserting his people. Theodor could not take his own life, for he deemed it as an act of cowardice that would've contributed to naught but furthering his sins. And so, he continued screaming. He screamed at random bystanders who he happened upon, challenging them to battle. Most shy away or ignored him, like they would a mad man. Only until he had collapsed from thirst and hunger miserably in the middle of the trees, that some refugees decided to take the nobleman into their band. While disease and dangers of the wild would eventually claim most of them, with their help, Theodor had managed to recover from grief-driven madness. Having loss all he ever had, and those he held most dear, the knight had made vengeance his purpose, and pushed on with a new quest in life: to punish those who wronged him.

When Theodor arrived in the Southern Valleys after weeks of wandering and staying away from the roads, he came upon Elerina Markovo ( Kabboom ), who appeared to be some female brigand. Tolerant as he is, Theodor had always found it difficult to accomodate outlaws and banditry, and in normal circumstances, their blades most likely would've crossed, and his would find itself carved in her neck. However, it was no normal circumstances, and with each in desperate conditions and a common goal ahead of them, the two had decided to strike a pact and band together for their journey.

Other:

Writer Timezone/Country:
GMT+10. Australia, NSW.

 

[Shotgunpenguin]

Spoiler: Apperance

Name: Tai'yang Long

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Tagline: The Faceless Desert Dweller

Appearance:
Very few have seen the true face of Tai'yang Long, the stone mask that shields his face from the elements serves the dual purpose of keeping his identity a secret. Those who claim to have seen his face describe it as a cross between a perpetual smirk and a scowl, with eyes of deep blue that could rival the darkest depths of the ocean. His face is free of blemishes, with a strong jaw and fair skin hidden behind the mask. His hair is a deep brown, reaching down to just before his shoulders and swept back in the front.

Although slim, beneath his clothes lays muscles toned from his daily life in the sands. His clothing may seem ill-suited for the arid climate, however he believes that they are more than comfortable enough. A grey undershirt of cotton lies partially hidden underneath a grey tunic, a grey scarf and leather vambraces. Twin sashes of blue fall at his sides above a pair of sickly green pants, the openings at the bottom flaring out to allow for better airflow. On his feet are a simple pair of sandals, although he sometimes goes without them during the night. The final part of his outfit, his stone mask, is devoid of any markings and shows obvious signs of wear and repair.

Personality:
Depending on who you ask, you may get different answers on who the masked wanderer of the sands really is. His victims say that he's a no good thief who takes advantage of their kindness, enticing them with tales of lost treasures before taking off in the night with most of their supplies. The traders of Neheb claim that he's a remnant of the old tribes, traveling forever in search of his final resting grounds. The man seemed unsure of the answer to that question himself, his actions contradicting himself more often than not. To the tribes of the desert however, the ones who see beyond the mask know him as a wandering soul searching for his purpose. Each day he wakes hoping to find something, anything that would give his life meaning beyond just survival.

While not considering himself entirely good, Tai'yang likes to think that he does more good than bad. Even when he steals from travelers or relic seekers he tries to leave them enough supplies to reach the nearest oasis. If they decided to continue on after that point then it was their decision. When he does steal he holds himself to a strict code, no stealing from groups with children, and only take what can be replaced. What he does steal is either traded for food and supplies, or handed out to the tribes for them to use. While most of the tribes reject his offerings, stating that they would not condone his thievery and his lies, those who refused would have a sudden turn of good luck and stumble across an abandoned caravan filled with supplies. He likes to think of himself as lackadaisical, a life spent wandering the sands will do that to you, but that thought quickly falls when a tribe requests his assistance. To those he considers close he will do nearly anything to help them, even if doing so would put him at odds with others.

Tai'yang is hard to truly anger in most cases, although he will pretend to be if the situation would benefit him. When he is angry however he becomes very combative and snarky. He loses all pretenses of civility, openly swearing and snapping at whoever is the closest to him. He will usually calm down after a day or two passes, although he will still be bitter to whatever angered him for a week.
Likes

• Basking in the Desert Sun: To Tai'yang, nothing beats a warm mid-day nap under the desert sun. The heat of the sand underneath just warms the whole body, something he hasn't been able to recapture outside of the desert.
• Cute Cuddly Cats: Cats are a surprisingly valuable resource to the nomadic tribes of the desert. Able to catch mice who would damage grain stocks, alert you of snakes and scorpions, and just plain make your day better. That last part may just be his opinion, but he stands by it
• Poems: The nomadic tribes had little in the way of entertainment, so to try and fix that they began making poetry of their history. Being around the tribes for long enough, Tai'yang picked it up as a hobby in his spare time.
• Helping out children: If you asked Tai'yang what his favorite feeling in the world was, he'd tell you it was the pure smile of a child thanking him. In their smiles lies no treachery, no alternative motive other than genuine thanks. Something that's hard to come by in others.
• Listening to people: It really is interesting how much a person will reveal about themselves if you just let them talk. Most of the time he uses that information to decide if they're worth scamming, but sometimes it's just nice to have the information on hand.

Dislikes

• Idealists: People who go on and on about how the world should be according to their moral compass. The world doesn't care about what you think is right and wrong and neither does he
• Materialistic people: The nomads of the desert saw little value in hoarding wealth, lest it control their every action. Those who hoard their possessions are fools, for none of it will follow you to the grave.
• Anyone who harms children: There are many things that Tai'yang can forgive, and maybe even see it from their point of view. But anyone who lays hands on a child with the intent to harm them, that is something he can never forgive. Those who have harmed children are considered irredeemable by him and he has no qualms about enacting swift and brutal justice.
• Mountain areas: Sheer drops to your death, jagged edges to slice yourself open if not careful and uneven footing hold a special hatred for Tai'yang. If possible he avoids them like the plague.

Personal Goals

• Find any surviving members of the desert tribes and ensure their safety. If possible, lead them back to the desert and back to the trading city of Neheb
• Atone for his past failures, for those he could not save before and after the fall

Skills and Abilities

• When you spend nearly your entire life in an arid desert, you learn how to survive harsh conditions. From simple things such as reading the clouds to check for rain, to learning which flora tastes good but kills you an hour later. Despite the change in environment, the lessons that he's learned can help him survive.
• Tai'yang is not the strongest, or the quickest, or the smartest fighter you'll ever meet, but one thing that he is good at is reading people. From the way their body shifts, to the way they brace themselves for a blow and even how they look when swinging their weapon. Given enough time Tai'yang should be able to locate the enemies weak-spot, if they have one at all that is.
• While by no means awe inspiring, Tai'yang's daily routine has lead to his body being used to the stress. While he does consider himself strong, his real pride is in his stamina. Where others would pass out and let the sands take them Tai'yang would grit his teeth and push on, sometimes going for 2 days without rest.

Magic
Green Mage: Beginner/Advanced

Tai'yang was never the best at his studies. It was not for a lack of trying on his part, the desert born native was simply way out of his element. Trying to learn how to control the winds proved harder than he thought, and what little he was able to master was far below the other students. It wasn't until he tried to use the magic for more "practical" uses that he began to understand. He'd been trying to control the wind, force it to do what he wanted when all it wanted was to be free. The main way he uses his Green Magic is to misdirect and interfere with his opponents, using the wind to kick up dust and other debris to cloud their vision.

Combat Skills
A bo-staff is an extremely versatile weapon, when used in the right hands. Being the weapon of choice for many tribes, Tai'yang has learned to use his staff as an extension of himself and not just a simple weapon. Using the staffs range he can keep his distance and wear down his foes, or use the centrifugal force of his body to deliver devastating blows. When the length of a staff proves disadvantageous he carries twin daggers, although he prefers to have an open hand when wielding one. Much less training and more or less instinct drives his strikes, slashing and stabbing at whatever he can hit. Requiring little training to use, there is a reason why the dagger is the preferred weapon of bandits and thieves.

To Tai'yang, honor has no place in a fight where ones life is on the line. Anything is fair game, from using his control of Green Magic to blind his opponent with sand, to grabbing fistfuls of hair and even low blows. Any advantage that he can get is another advantage that he has over his opponent.

Starting Inventory

• A wooden bo-staff
• 2 iron daggers, the hilts wrapped in cloth for a better grip
• A water gourd holding enough water for a day and a half
• A leather pouch containing enough dried fruits and nuts to last a day, maybe a day and a half if properly rationed
• His stone mask, worn smooth by the sands

Background:
To the tribes of the desert, birthing rarely occurs outside of the trading city of Neheb. Due to the extreme conditions it is considered miraculous if the mother even survived the ordeal, let alone the child. However, due to a severe sandstorm engulfing the area Tai'yang's parents were forced to deliver inside one of the many abandoned ruins of the land. The gods of fate must have been feeling generous that day as not only did Tai'yang survive, his mother did as well. The newborn child was too fragile to travel along with the rest of the tribe and instead spent the first years of his life in the town of Neheb. His parents adjusted well to the change, his father becoming a laborer to support his family while his mother preformed odd jobs for spare coin. With his parents away for most of the day, Tai'yang was usually left to himself until sundown and being in a trading city did wonders for his entertainment. His parents raised him in the ways of the tribe, teaching him to forgo material pleasures and instead focus on the simpler things in life. Of course being six years old those lessons went over his head, leading to him to acquire his most personal possession, his stone mask.

Having stolen the mask from a vendors table, Tai'yang kept it a secret until age twelve when he was finally old enough to survive in the desert. Rejoining their old tribe the family traveled all along the desert, assisting travelers and traders alike as they moved from oasis to oasis. Sometimes he would accompany his father to Neheb when he was sent for supplies, and Tai'yang would always procure himself something special for himself whenever he did. A small habit that he formed from his younger days, although one he thought was best left a secret from his parents and the tribe. These thefts did not go unnoticed however, and upon turning eighteen his father and the rest of the tribe were greeted not with open arms but hostility and disdain in Neheb. The leaders of the town offered the tribe an ultimatum, either exile Tai'yang from the tribe or forever be forbidden from trading within the town. Shocked and disappointed in their son for forsaking their lessons and hurting the tribe, Tai'yang was expelled from the tribe by vote and was stripped of his tribal name. With no family to turn to and nowhere to go, Tai'yang Long disappeared into the desert sands in disgrace.

The shame that he felt ate away at him daily, unable to stand his own reflection he donned the stone mask that he had stolen as a child. Now a wanderer without a home, he found himself apathetic towards life and began doing whatever pleased him at the time. He began to rob passing travelers and caravans, passing himself off as a humble nomad willing to offer directions and help. Once night would fall, he would dawn his mask and steal anything of value before vanishing come morning. He would later find out that the mask would allow him to slip into Neheb undisturbed, the guards thinking the mask strange but chalking it up as some strange tradition. Over the next four years he continued to rob passing caravans, selling off their valuables and amassing his own wealth. Having long since rejected the ways of the tribes he built up a decent sum of coin during this time, hiding it away in the very ruin in which he was born. It wasn't until a member of one of the tribes had appeared in the middle of town, begging for someone to assist him in finding his son. While Tai'yang had no inclination to help the man he could not help but feel something well up in his chest. Agreeing to help, the two of them set off into the desert.

The man's son had been playing within some nearby ruins when he lost track of him. The tribe had already moved on, unable or just unwilling to send any men to try and find the child. The man told Tai'yang of where he could find the tribe later in the day before he descended into the ruins. After two hours of searching Tai'yang considered giving up and informing the man of the possibility that his son was lost before he heard cries for help. Following the cries, he found the lost child trapped in a sand pit underneath a collapsed stone pillar. The pillar was wedged between the ceiling and the wall, the pressure keeping it locked in place. Using all of his strength he managed to topple the pillar, sending it crashing down. He was about to reach for the kid when the ceiling started to shake. The pillar was the only thing supporting the already crumbling ceiling, without it the entire place was likely to come down. If he grabbed the kid there was no guarantee that they could both make it out before the ceiling collapsed. Turning between the ceiling and the child, Tai'yang made a decision.

Sleep didn't come easy that night. Or any night after that one. If only he wasn't such a coward, if he had just tried then maybe he could have saved him. The next year was a blue for Tai'yang, everything seemed to bleak to the point where he considered just giving up and letting the sands take him. It wasn't until he heard tales of mages who could shape the very elements that the long lost feeling of hope was rediscovered. If he could become a mage and master the elements, he could make sure that he would never have to leave someone behind again. Using the funds he amassed during his thieving days he bought his way into the University of Magic, dead set on reforming and becoming a better person.

Unfortunately it's never that easy. The money that Tai'yang had stashed away was already running low, he couldn't understand any of the lessons and his aptitude for magic left much to be desired. Faced with the possibility of dropping out, the desert dweller was forced to go back to his old ways in order to survive. On the bright side, it was during this time that he finally begun to understand Green Magic. All this time he'd been trying to force it to do what he wanted in a rigid and strict manner. All he needed to do was guide the wind, pursuade it to do what he wanted it to instead. Once he learned this method his studies improved by leaps and bounds. He graduated from the University at age twenty six, receiving average marks on his exams. He then spent the next year wandering the desert, offering his help to any of the tribes in any way he could.

He was away in Neheb when Valia fell, the news shocking him enough that he needed to check for himself. During his journey across the desert he came across the ruined remnants of one of the desert tribes, all of them slaughtered without mercy. Feeling a knot form in his stomach, he continued on only to find a similar story at the next oasis. Panicking, his heart fell when at every oasis there lied another tribe slaughtered. Distraught at the fact that he could not protect anyone, he found signs that some members of the tribes had escaped towards the Southern Valleys. With no time to waste he rushed towards the Southern Valleys. This time would be different, this time he wouldn't run away.

Other: N/A

Writer Timezone/Country:
United States of America, EST(-5) College will be starting again soon, schedule may change depending on classes

 

[thefinalgirl]

Spoiler: Appearance

Name:
Maria Estrella Valinco

Age:
22

Gender:
Female

Tagline:
The Star-Crossed Gypsy

Appearance:
Donned in the clothing of her tribe, she wears it with pride and honor. Her hips are covered with two moons as her shoes have stars on their base. Its back features more stars and a large moon in the center showcasing the village chiefs and their god. For accessories, she wears gold bangles and large earrings that hide a secret when used correctly. Outside of her tribal clothing, Maria has some charms that a mature woman has. From her busts to her legs, a woman would kill for her looks. Her most striking feature is her eyes, some say that they look directly to their soul while others say that it makes her look more like an 'angel'. She stands at around 5 feet and 6 inches but she is very agile and can easily dodge anything that is thrown her way.

Personality:
Maria, when described by others, is an enigma. People say that she's just a good-for-nothing dancer that seduces men for their cash. Some people say that she's an absolute angel with the compassion of a saint. The truth is, she is a mix of both. She is a dancer that seduces men for cash but, she does have good intentions. She spends most of her cash by giving it to beggars on the street or buying loaves of bread for the street children. Her motivation was due to her father who helped strangers whenever they stopped by their small cottage within the Southern Valleys. Worthiness shouldn't be dictated by your social status, what matters most is what you have in your heart and your mind; this is Maria's motto in life when it comes to people. She sees kindness in everyone and doesn't care if they're a noble or a commoner, as long as they have good intentions and aren't willing to harm people, she will gladly take care of you.

When it comes to family, she's more serious. She tends to worry about her father's sickness and how he will take care of himself when she's gone. Maria became more cautious with her father about what happened back in her village. She knows that he can't take care of himself anymore and it hurts her heart to see him struggle to make a shortsword for travelers that come near their cottage. Maria visits him whenever she wasn't busy going to Loedissa for her job or trying to study more about White Magic and her potential in it.

Sadly, she can become rash when it comes to emotional decisions. She can't bear to decide on a situation involving leaving someone behind. Her emotions get the best of her rather than her rational mind. She may look gleeful but in truth, she's hurt inside with what fate has dealt her. Regarding her background, she still regrets ever being born as a bastard and wishes to pay for her father's crimes. Maria has a hard time letting go of some things, she easily develops an attachment to a person or animal. Other dancers even mock her for being too 'sensitive' but she was just born that way.

Likes:
Feeding street children - Maria has experienced what it's like to live on the streets and barely have anything to eat. She doesn't want children to live unhealthily and feeds them in her spare time. Some people judge her for feeding them but the gypsy just brushes them off.
Dancing - The gypsy likes dancing in general. From the dances that she learned from her culture to free-form movements that express her more, she performs at town squares with energy and glee.
Animal Care - Whenever she comes back to her father's home, she always takes care of the animals nearby by feeding them and petting them. She was just attached to animals when she was still a small child.
Music - She plays the tambourine when dancing to enhance the performance slightly. It was a common instrument used in her village. Maria has a tambourine that was gifted to her by her mother that had a star and a crescent moon surrounding the star as its design.

Dislikes:
Rude Mannerisms - Maria doesn't like it when people treat other people terribly. It annoys her on the inside since it really doesn't help anyone if you decide to be a dick to a person.
Animal Abuse - In her tribe's culture, animals are referred to as guides for spirits who roam the land that has been lost. Maria and her father are actually vegetarian in order to support this belief more.
Unnecessary Violence - If a situation can be solved using words, then use it. Maria doesn't like fighting or putting someone else's life in danger. People refer to her as a pacifist but that really doesn't help if a whole army of the Lost is going to devour you if you don't fight.

Personal Goals:
- Find her desert tribe and guide the remaining survivors to safety
- Redeem her father in the eyes of the villagers
- Find which noble's child she saved and guide them to safety

Skills and Abilities:
Resourcefulness - Maria can find use in anything in her surroundings. She may seem like she doesn't know how to take care of herself but her knowledge with berries and creatures will certainly shock you if you expected less of her.
Agile - Maria can dodge projectiles with ease and quicken her pace as fast as a leaping gazelle. With all the training that she had from working as a dancer, she knows how to jump and put on a performance.
Flexible - The gypsy has a flexible body, much similar to a gymnast's body. She can contort her body that normal people can't like reaching the back of her head using her feet or doing multiple front-flips at once

Magic:
White Magic
Master
Maria can cast magic to her own will as she practiced almost every day with no rest. She may seem like she can't do it but she can heal a couple of humans, just around 2 to 3, if there is enough auranium to be used. She lets her hand flow and her body sway to the light that shines upon them. The gypsy meditates in order to restore some of her focus whenever she uses her magic on other people. She uses a barrier to protect people from harm whenever she can. When it gets hit, she takes damage in her soul. She tries to not use this as much as it tires her.

Combat Skills:
She uses daggers and knives in order to fend off bandits or people from touching her charms. She tends to use daggers as if they were easily disposable by throwing them to the person. It creates a good distraction against people who want to harm her and creates an opening to escape from whatever encounter she had. She relies on her agility when fighting using a knife in order to land hits on the opponent. She may not be the best dagger-wielding fighter but, she can surely pack a punch within that bombshell body of hers!


Starting Inventory:
- Her mother's scarf
- An iron dagger
- Some rations for herself

Background:
As a child, Maria was unique. She didn't follow the rules of the elders and went by her mind. The gypsy dances to her beat. When she was born, a scandal brewed. She was the bastard of the village chief's wife and her father, Anton. It was kept as a secret for two years until the chief learned about it from his advisor and punished the two. The wife begged for mercy but she was stabbed and beheaded by the chief. He commanded Anton to never return from their village and live with what he has done. The father and daughter proceeded to stand and walk away from the village. Anton wasn't proud of what he had done, but he still wished that he didn't get tempted by the woman's seductive sways and her tempting charm.

Months had passed and the pair had built themselves a home within the forest of the Southern Valleys. Anton became a blacksmith while Maria went to Loedissa to beg on the streets for food and money. While she was exploring the town, she noticed a woman performing in the center of the town square near the fountain, swaying her hips and twirling with glee. She stepped within the crowd and ended up popping out to the front. Maria was mesmerized by the dancer's beauty. Her gracefulness and sexiness exuding within her twirls and steps. She stops for a moment as she extends her hand towards Maria and asks, "Would you care for a dance?" At first, she was shocked, what did she even have that would make Maria get noticed by her? She didn't question it as she nodded while the dancer grabbed her hand and danced with her. They did pirouettes and leaped onto the air with grace as they landed with no sweat. When the performance was over, the dancer complimented Maria and her talent for dancing. She gave the little gypsy a bag of gold coins that she obtained from the performance. Maria's eyes beamed with joy as she thanked the lady while running home to her father.

Years have passed as Maria was already 16. She was exploring the forest when she noticed a pack of untamed wolves getting closer to a boy. The gypsy decided to step in as she struck the ground with a stick. The wolves started to go back but she wasn't done yet. Maria proceeded to get two rocks and strike them together, causing a small spark to fly and light the stick on fire. She grabbed the torch as she swung it near the wolves. One wolf tried to bite Maria but it got its mouth burned by the flames and ran away. The rest of the pack started to follow their defeated leader as Maria proceeded to put out the flame using a small canister of water that she had brought with her. "Are you all right?" She asked the boy as she notices some scratches at his knees. "I think I know what can cure that wound of yours." Maria proceeded to grab some herbs and rip them to pieces. Next, she grabs some stones and sticks to turn the ripped herbs into a smooth paste. When the paste was made, she applied it onto the boy's knees as he started to slightly feel better. Little did she know was that the boy's parents were nobles. The mother of the boy had arrived and saw Maria gently comforting the boy. The woman grabbed the gypsy by her hands and thanked her for her kindness. The mother took note of what Maria had applied to his scars for future reference whenever she's exploring or searching for herbs to cook with. The mother who was a noble decided to repay her thanks by enlisting her to learn magic. Maria was hesitant and asked for some time to think. She arrived back at home and told her father about what happened to her, Anton agreed that she should go attend the University of Magic to let her see the world more, rather than stay here and die lonely without ever seeing the whole world.

When she arrived at the campus, the other students looked at her. 'A commoner got accepted, are the council members insane?', 'I can't believe a slut decided to attend here, I hope she fails miserably...', 'Yikes, what she's wearing is too revealing... Even I wouldn't go that far just to make men notice me.' Those were the words that she heard from them. Was a commoner not able to take courses in White Magic? Shouldn't people not base talent on status but rather on mannerisms? The gypsy managed to learn about White Magic the hard way, through intense and grueling training. Most of the students wanted to back out or switch courses but Maria was determined. The gypsy had awoken to her true potential and eventually, started casting magic at her style. She added some hip sways to some hand motions and facial expressions to some chants. The teachers were impressed with how she managed to awake and adapt her style of White Magic.

After the Fall, she graduated but decided to work at Loedissa as a dancer. She visited her small cottage within the forest but, something was off. The air smelled like rotting carcasses. There were a bunch of animals lying on the ground, lifeless. Maria proceeds to quicken her pace as she spots her home, sacked and destroyed. She spots her father, beheaded as his blood dried onto the wooden floor. The gypsy screamed in agony as she wanted revenge for her father. She was angry, confused, and sad. She didn't want to leave him like this. Maria grabbed a towel and some flowers as she placed it over his head and near his body. She proceeded to grab some things before she left her home, tears running down her face. She stayed within the Southern Valleys at a cave to survive. If she did spot some survivors, she'll gladly welcome them and make sure they won't experience the same fate that her father had.

Writer's Timezone:
8+ GMT, Philippines
​

 

[Kabboom]

Name: Elerina Markovo

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Tagline:
Wrong Girl At The Wrong Time

Appearance:
Disheveled hair, bloodied and marred clothing, uneven hips, swaying ponytail, all are the hallmarks of the Wrong Girl At The Wrong Time. Perhaps if she'd been the right girl, or if she'd existed in the right time, done the right things, then perhaps she would've earned herself a prettier look. But of course, she wasn't supposed to be here. Standing at only 5'5", Elerina tries to make the best of her small posture by growing a fantastical ponytail, braided and intertwined carefully. Her life had been rough, mostly due to her inability to avoid unfortunate events, and they leave their shameful mark with scars and bruises across her battered body, most prominently being the light pink scars upon her left cheek and eyebrow. Whether she likes it or not, a glossy layer of skin wraps around her at all times, markers of the filthy sweat that plagues her. She has nothing but her own lack of endurance to blame for this.

Despite her unfortunate looks, the Markovo woman does her best to make herself presentable. With scavenged leather armor worn over the thin blue veils of her birthday present dress, she maintains a basic sense of fashion while staying light enough to be constantly on the move.

Personality:
Perhaps it would not be too harsh, nor too disingenuously simplistic when one says that Elerina Markovo is a mere woman. A boring, tedious, simplistic little girl with no idea how to stay out of trouble. A no-good, can't-do-nothing simpleton whose only saving grace is the ability to manipulate water, like all the other thousands of Blue Mages that exist on Valia. Perhaps it would be an apt description of Elerina's demeanor, her mannerisms, her interests, her entire life.

Elerina never felt like she truly belonged anywhere, and it obviously showed: longing stares into nothingness, strolling and mumbling about in her mind, fading slowly away from conversations that didn't pique her immediate attention. Her parents' disdain for her, accompanied with her perhaps unfortunate life contributed greatly to her lack of... 'homelikeness', as she puts it.

But alas, though mere woman she may be, she never intended to stay simple, to stay small: for every misstep in her adventure, she takes two more steps, always eager to overcome difficulty with sheer effort, unfaltering in her decisions. Within her mind, the bitterness of a stinging defeat is forced through the rough crucible of her determination and curiosity, melting into the sweet resolve needed to outperform herself, to surpass the unfairness of life once more. No matter how hard she gets pushed down, she'll always strive to do better, to stay bright and to make new friends. Like an impenetrable bastion wall, her psyche cannot be stunted, her will indomitable, and her persistence dogged. Her curiosity is the force that pushes her forward, like the fire that burns inside her furnace, and she indulges it as long as her common sense can guarantee her safety while doing so.

But of course, like all fortress walls, she cannot last forever. If her will ever breaks, if the burning light of power inside her ever flickers... she may never be the same again.

Likes:
- Flowers: Of course, a florist loves flowers! They calm her, and she considers them to be one of the little joys in life.

- Sunrises: The start of a new day. The rejuvenation of the cycle of life. The cue for all things, inanimate and animate alike, to get going. The beginning of a new experience. Sounds fitting for a woman like her.

- Cold days: With hard labor being on her to-do list for many years, Elerina appreciates the feeling of warmth that physical exercise provides when the days are cold. Makes her exertion less intolerable.

- Warm showers: Especially after doing hard work.

- Natural ambience: The serene sounds of nature humble her and amuse her to no end.

- Truly kind people: Of course, it's common sense to like good people, but she finds that those who are kind and caring without any ulterior motive deserve a special room in heaven. This is heavily influenced by her upbringing.

- Information: Any kind of information, really. She hadn't had much access to knowledge outside of her direct interest, and her curiosity prods her to know more.

Dislikes:
- Loud noises: Self-explanatory. She'd been exposed to many loud noises in her life, and have developed a distaste of them.

- Mud: Self-explanatory as well. She doesn't like mud, mostly due to its obvious mud-like properties. This is heavily influenced by her frequent handling of mud.

- Sweat: They make her feel slippery and dirty, and they stick onto her gear and tools. Dreadful things.

- Defeat: Having to try one more time gets taxing on her will and body after a while. Definitely not a welcome concept.

Personal Goals:
- Surviving, and thriving. Elerina doesn't want to take over the world, of course, she's just a florist! She'd like to reside in a peaceful, safe countryside where she can enjoy her days without fear or worry anymore.
- To sever her ties with the unluckiness of her past and present, and perhaps forge good ties for her future.
- To feel like she belongs somewhere.

Skills and Abilities:
- Nature identification: Having invested quite a lot of her time into natural studies, Elerina is quite knowledgeable when it comes to the flora of the Valian wilderness. Proves helpful when scavenging for food or for supplies in the wilds.

- Traps: Utilizing both her wits and her magic, she can set up a wide array of traps for both hunting and combat use. These range from simple snare traps to complicated lethal water-based tripwires, and her creativity is the limit when it comes to these things.

- Stealth and evasion: Being a petite woman in a big and dangerous world, the Markovo girl has a natural penchant for disappearing whenever she wants to. With experience and expertise, she can make her tracks disappear, as if she were a ghost.

- Martial arts: Self-taught, of course. Not much against a trained fighter, but more than enough to hold a hooligan or two back.

Magic:
Blue Magic - Adept, creative

Elerina learned Blue Magic with earnest and determined effort at the University of Magic, partly due to her own aspiration to become proficient, and partly because of the pressure put upon her by her parents and relatives. Barely passing for a Blue Mage, the Markovo girl continued to experiment in her spare time. She can use it for daily life with minimal effort, although most of it is just wiping off her sweat without using her hands, but most of her applications also lie around as unseen dangers: traps in the forests that activate on her command with the ingenious use of some water, a handy pouch of water to use in a pinch, and some out-of-the-box thinking on how to get out of physical trouble.

Combat Skills:
Elerina can never hope to stand her ground in an open fight of strength and endurance against someone actually competent. As such, her skills revolve around her ability to be as fluent as the water that she manipulates. Ideally, she uses her weaponry and magic as diversions, making much use of water vapors and freezing cold water from nearby sources to disorient the enemy, or at least temporarily break line of sight for her to vanish. Her combat 'tricks' also play well as an ambush, eluding her foe and striking from where they can not effectively protect: these 'tricks' range from manipulating water to reflect light (if there is any) into the eyes of their opponents, creating shapes to mimic the existence of powerful weaponry on her, to devilish stuff when close-in. If confronted, she can cry on command through self-training, and use her tears as close-in, very lethal needles to pierce her attacker's armor.

Of course, that is if she had to fight. Despite being trained thoroughly in the art of fighting dirty by criminal companions, the Markovo girl rarely ever uses these tricks but makes sure she never forgets them. The only time she would fight dirty is when she's fighting for her life. She'd never been one to identify personally with something as inherently evil as a weapon, but the glaive she'd been given has proven useful; she frequently dips the blade in water for use if she has time to prepare for a fight. What she does with that water is up to her, depending on how the fight goes.

Starting Inventory:
Glaive, along with a sheath for the blade
A small hammock, rolled up and slung over her back
A pair of spare undies, packed inside the rolled up hammock
A canteen of water
A few apples and dried jerky stuffed in her pockets
A small dagger with a sheath

Background:
Elerina never felt that she belonged. She didn't feel that she belonged when she lived as a child in a backwater village that she herself doesn't even remember the name of. She didn't feel she belonged when her parents put her on a wagon, surrounded by gruff, jaded wagon guards, rumbling towards the bustling city of Alsiere. The hexagonal capital, surrounded by the six mountains, awed her as her wagon passed the great city walls, staring in amazement at the place she would've stayed at for the rest of her life.

She didn't feel that she belonged when the wagon dislodged her luggage and belongings on a bustling street lined with luxury shops, and then quickly hauled into her new home by her parents. The Earnest Flowery, her home and livelihood, stood on one of the plentiful side avenues to the main boulevard of Alsiere, tucked into a neat hole-in-the-wall corner of exquisite goods. Throughout her teenage years, she made many friends, from many backgrounds, and they had fun strolling through the city streets, snooping around the taverns trying to fake being older to get in, partying during the festivals and carnivals, sharing trinkets and clothing; fun stuff for a teenage girl. And no teenage girl's life would be complete without unfairly harsh parents: her father always expressed open disdain for her, regardless of her efforts, and her mother always reserved a special disappointed glare behind her nurturing facade. Perhaps she will never be able to discover why this was so.

An exorbitant amount of money was garnered in order to fund her magic tutelage in the University of Magic, once her aptitude for learning became clear to her parents. From where this money came, she didn't know at first. But her parents were restless with every day she spent studying, rushing her constantly in every letter she ever received. Perhaps that contributed to her meager academic performance, being constantly pushed outside her comfort zone without respite. But regardless, Elerina became a Blue Mage, and, seeking warmth and familiarity, she returned to her home and remained content with working here.

But of course, all fun comes to an end: despite working hard in The Earnest Flowery, her parents' fledgling flower shop bring in fewer and fewer customers by the day, and their little hole-in-the-wall corner slowly turned into a sleepy cul-de-sac. Worse still, she no longer had her parents with her, courtesy of a tragic season of fevers. Left alone, Elerina Markovo's feeling of not belonging crept back to her more often than she'd liked to admit. Her friends slowly moved away, seeking business ventures in more profitable places, while she was left alone in this corner of hers, with no financial ability to move. She didn't feel that she belonged, when her days as a florist meant sitting freely in her decaying shop, dreaming of a customer that would enter through her doors.

One day, a few customers came. Their offer? Her life.

A particular band of criminals and gangsters showed up at her doorstep, identifying themselves as the Thirty Snakes. Instead of killing her in the secluded cul-de-sac at midnight, they made a quiet proposition: the Thirty Snakes haven't had a record of good business, thanks to the 'damned no-good knights and city guard cracking down' on them, and seeing as her parents lent a great amount of money from them to fund her mage tutelage, they've come to call in the favor and use The Earnest Flowery as a front and safehouse, and she'd get a small cut of money to keep quiet.

For months, she kept quiet as criminals used her flower shop as refuge. No one suspected her, of course; like actual snakes, the Thirty Snakes covered their tracks well, and part of the battle in discovering her deal with the devil involved finding her cul-de-sac shop in the first place, so no guards ever managed to suspect The Earnest Flowery. Thankfully enough, the criminals left her alone, grateful enough for the sealed lips and quiet confines of the flower shop, and the Markovo girl was left to maintain the shop.

It was a morally dubious but economically peaceful life. No one would ever find out, and she'd never run out of money to survive. Perhaps that reliability is what made the shock of the Fall even worse.

One of the Thirty Snakes scouts, Two-tongue, sniffed out the surprise attack before the others. As they moved under the cover of night, the criminals brought her with them out of goodwill; they were criminals, not monsters. Bidding reluctant farewell to The Earnest Flowery, the group fled from the city. At the very last gate out of Alsiere, they were caught up in the fighting. The Thirty Snakes gang actually numbered around fifty, spread out over the entirety of Alsiere. They fought and bled as they squeezed themselves through a panicking crowd and into the wilderness. When they reached the forests, there were ten left, Elerina included.

The survivors made for South Valley, where the Arquiesse hopefully have not defiled the lands. As they went, Elerina Markovo herself got caught in the dirty work. In the wild, every man- er, woman must pull her weight, lest they be left behind, and the Markovo girl had learned this well. With the aid of the criminals, she picked up an overwhelming amount of dirty tricks, both in social life and in dirty, raw combat. Two-tongue proved to be the most effective teacher; with his scouting abilities combined with her lithe, lightweight movement, they were frequently sent to scout out the woodlands, and keep tabs on frequent travel routes to watch for Reapers.

They moved slowly but surely, making sure no one ever knew they existed in the forest, lest the Reapers find and kill them all. Fevers, diseases and the horrors of the wild soon claimed most of the ten, Elerina included. Ailments and injuries soon pile up, and she became a hollow, beaten wreck of her city self, but on she pushed. Soon enough, one day, she found herself alongside Two-tongue being the last survivors of the group. Unfortunately, that was also the day Elerina lost Two-tongue, with the latter stepping on a bear trap, and then left behind to his demise as she fled the captors.

She made her way to the South Valley alone. After encountering some coward knight who'd also fled to this place, she grudgingly camped with him for safety during the nights. In times like these, perhaps she was right in feeling that she didn't belong. But something in her says that the valley may just be the new start that she needs.

Other:
Despite being grown, she still believes ghosts are real.

Writer Timezone/Country:
GMT+7, Vietnam

 

[Epiphany]

Name: Elisheva Franz

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Tagline:
The Vengeful Sorcerer

Appearance:
Not especially tall, Elisheva has a regal carriage and presence that projects. She's slender, redheaded with wavy waist-length hair, and her green eyes are as clear (and often hard) as gemstone. Her voice is a soft alto that can sharpen in an instant when snapping off an order or wielding the powers of magic. Once, Elisheva was immaculately well-groomed and coiffered as befit the eligible daughter of a famous war hero. The fall of her homeland has put her in far more desperate straits, though. Although her travel robes are still of excellent make, worked with auranium for immense durability, they're dirty and in danger of growing ragged as her situation continues. She doesn't appear to be armed.

Personality:
Elisheva is both blessed and cursed by her noble upbringing. On the one hand, she's well educated and gracious, diplomatic and polite. She knows how to talk to people, how to ask questions and how to command answers. On the other hand, much of what she's known is an artifact of a system of nobility utterly smashed by the invasion, leaving her on unsure footing when it comes to negotiating new relationships with new people.

In her heart, she's more of a scholar than a soldier. The study of magic always fascinated Elisheva more than its useful application. Nonetheless, she possesses a familial fierceness when danger nears. Elisheva is the granddaughter of a famous war hero, Sir Gregor Franz, who also served as her mentor in her formative years. She's powerfully shaped by his image and unconsciously (and even consciously) strives to be worthy of him, to continue his legacy and bring honor to his name. These days, her genteel demeanor has burned away, replaced by implacable determination. One way or another, the enemy will pay for what they've done!

Likes:

Magic: The study of it and its applications are fascinating to her, in both the intellectual sense of theory as well as the thrilling feel of putting it to use.​

Fire: No Red Mage is immune to the allure of watching the world burn.​

Books: No matter the subject, the written word is a delight.​

Good Manners: Born and bred to the nobility, Elisheva appreciates those with a cordial and civil tongue.​

Teacups: Her rooms back in Bleaksword Castle may or may not still hold shelves bearing hundreds of teacups from all over the land.​

Dislikes:

Being Rushed: Virtually anything worth doing is worth doing well, if you just give it enough time!​

Crudity: Whether foul language or poor manners, Elisheva is not a fan.​

Physical Exertion: A month on the run has forced a degree of physical conditioning on her but Elisheva has no talent nor interest in being an athlete of any kind.​

Personal Goals:
Besides survival? To use magic to save the kingdom and equal her grandfather's accomplishments. Finding a lover or a spouse would be nice too.

Skills and Abilities:

Noble: Trained in diplomacy, etiquette and command.​

Scholar: Although Elisheva's focus has been the research and application of magic, she's widely read in history, economics, religion and any other subject likely to be in a book.​

Tactician: She's never had much of a head for strategy but Elisheva has learned a lot about it from her grandfather. More relevant, she's studied in detail his stratagems for the use of magic in battlefield conditions, along with whatever the University of Magic was willing to teach her.​

Magic:
Red Mage: Elisheva is a prodigy at Red Magic. Where most citizens of their land don't begin formal training until enrolling in the University of Magic, she had a remarkably thorough upbringing in it given by one of the Knights who won the war against the Drochiads. In terms of pure raw power, she's among the best of her age and may be the best Red Mage still alive now. Her real strength comes from variety in application. While other students struggled through Storage and Activation techniques, Elisheva broadened her experience by learning non-combat applications. As a result, she can perform dozens of different spells with military and civilian applications as needed.

Combat Skills:
Fireballs! For variety, Elisheva may conjure walls or trenches of flame to restructure the battlefield by warding allies or fencing in foes. She's been known to coat weapons in fiery magics that blaze like a torch for an hour at a time. Depending on the situation, Elisheva can also project fire like a flamethrower, ignite structures from a distance as a diversion or even create spectacular flashes of flame to startle or blind her adversaries. Creating smoke's not too difficult either, though actually controlling it takes magic she's never learned. Elisheva is well practiced in the strategic and tactical applications of her magic as well. But she's never worn armor in her life, never wielded a sword or dagger or bow, so she paces her use of auranium, knowing that once she runs out, she's helpless.

Starting Inventory:
Besides a bedroll and cobbled together rations, Elisheva travels light but does carry a bound text with pencils for making notes, drawing maps and the like.

Background:
Elisheva was born in Bleaksword Castle, the familial seat of the Franz family which oversaw the prosperous northern town of Lothian's Well, nestled in the hills bordering the Greylands. Although an only child, her father was Johannes Franz, whose own father was Sir Georg Franz who was the youngest of three children. This put Elisheva as a second cousin to the rightful heir and far enough from the line of succession to never plan for it, but close enough to never quite escape it either. Not that she especially minded. While her father was content to play at being a vinter and the agricultural overseer for the province, Elisheva's grandfather was one of the original knights that rode with King Lyram against the Drochiads. The old man had been among the very first to take up the arts of magic in service to the Kingdom and he'd spent decades perfecting his arts...arts which fascinated his only granddaughter.

This allowed her something of a charmed childhood, one spent filled with books (many of them penned by Sir Georg Franz himself) instead of politics or martial duty. While her cousins spent hours of grueling effort mastering blade and battle, Elisheva studied at the feet of her grandfather. The Knight of Valiarum was convinced a new war would come someday; new tactics and new magics might be needed. And so he saw his granddaughter as the only continuance of his legacy left to him.

By the time she left for the University of Magic in the capital of Alsiere, Elisheva had long since awakened her soul through her grandfather's instruction and was well into the use of battle sorcery. The University wasn't quite the cakewalk she expected, though. She had natural aptitude combined with a sizable headstart but Sir Franz had focused exclusively on the use of offensive magics. At the University, she found new applications she'd never imagined, like heating a forge, extinguishing a housefire or even just cooking food without an oven. Elisheva took to each challenge with the enthusiasm only the privileged could afford, for she'd undoubtedly be given a position at Bleaksword Castle eventually or perhaps just be married off to some noble who would likely enjoy the status of having a preeminent sorcerer for a spouse. Nothing would get between her and her studies!

Elisheva graduated at the top of her class from the University of Magic, only to be summoned home shortly thereafter to attend the Knighthood Ceremony of her cousin Belina Franz to the Valiarum Knights. Elisheva expected to be bored, containing her excitement at coming home to her famous grandfather to continue her studies with him once this was over. Swords were so old-fashioned! Magic would be the new way war was waged!

Except darkness fell over Bleaksword. Then shadows swept over the town below, utterly annihilating it. The Valiarum Knights attending Belina's ceremony rode out to meet the threat and perished to a man. Elisheva herself unleashed every bit of distance magic she knew, to utterly no effect. Horrified, she fled in the chaos of the invasion, finally disappearing through the same hidden door Belina had fled through.

She didn't look back but knew, someday, she'd find a way to strike back.

Other:
N/A

Writer Timezone/Country:
PST/United States

 

[MToki]

Spoiler: Jorg

Name: Jorg Stonewall

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Tagline:
The Bereaved Botanist

Appearance:
From an outsider's perspective, Jorg is as average as they come. He's about 5'9/179 cm and has a lean muscular build. Not a bodybuilder, but he definitely looks in-shape and active in some way. His brown hair is past shoulder length and is usually an untied, curly mess. When he is doing something more physically demanding, he ties it up into a ponytail. His hazel gaze is warm and inviting, but since the fall, they have become cautious, darting around for any threats.

Clothing wise, Jorg is a simple man. White cotton shirt, brown slacks with pockets, black boots, and a leather utility belt with pouches of various things and a scabbard for a hunting knife. On him is also a brown knapsack full of things he hurriedly packed. Overall his demeanor is very relaxed and calm and has a "not looking for a fight, but isn't afraid of one" vibe.

Personality:
At first glance he looks to be stern, mundane, and perhaps a little threatening. To be fair, that is his intention. Jorg wants to be seen as a strong, honorable man, whose aura alone demands respect. A man who can drink more than a whole tavern and still be able to win in a fist fight. A man who's smooth with the ladies and only cries at the death of family. A man who can protect the ones he loves and appropriately moves on from tragedy.

While the true Jorg is quiet and stoic looking, he's also sensitive and easily attached to people. Which are the parts he hates the most about himself. He's really affected by what people say about him and how they treat him. But not all people. Jorg has walls, not very thick or impressive walls, but they're still walls. Strangers saying off handed things about him will only be on his mind for a few moments, before he shrugs it off. However, someone who's talked to him, gotten to know him, someone who he considers a friend, could cut deep with only a couple of words. His definition of friend is also very lax. Anyone who has stuck around for a day or two, has willingly done him a favor, or simply cared about him, even just a little bit, he considers them a friend.

Which may be because of the sheer amount of loneliness he feels. Jorg has been alone for most of his life, and even the ones he had all grew up and got a life of their own. Except now he has a life, but no one to share it with. He's a touch starved, affectionate baby, who never really learned how to make friends, and really wants them, but he doesn't want people to know that he's sensitive and lonely, because he thinks that that will deter them from being his friend.

As one might be able to tell, Jorg is also lacking in confidence. Maybe it was the heavy competition in his large household, maybe it was the expectations put on him by his father, or maybe it was neither or both. Whatever it may be, the end result is Jorg constantly second-guessing every decision he makes and searching for someone or something of higher power to make choices for him, so if it all goes wrong, he can console himself that it wasn't his fault.

Aside from the problems with his own masculinity and an evident fear of the mistakes he hasn't made yet, Jorg is also a patient, understanding, level-headed guy. He takes time to learn both sides of an argument and carefully considers which he agrees with more. And even then, if it's a matter of opinion and not fact, Jorg will still be open minded to the other side.

Mess up his plans, kill a favorite plant, or simply punch him in the face, he will continue to maintain a calm attitude, until something truly infuriating happens. After which, he will hunt you down and make you suffer. It takes a lot to make the man angry, but if you do, he will remember it until the day he dies, or the day you die, depending on which happens first.

Likes:
-Gardening: What a surprise, the botanist likes to garden.
-Wildlife: It's what he's passionate about, it's what he's loved since his birth. Wildlife and nature in general will always have a place in his heart. He believes every part of nature is magnificent in its own way. From spiders to deserts to mysterious ocean creatures, he loves all of it.
-Tea: He grows herbs for a living, a good portion of which is tea, it only makes sense that he enjoys it.
-Literature: On quiet days, when nothing seems to be happening, Jorg sits down by a window with a cup of herbal tea, some cookies, and a good book.
-Desserts: The man has a sweet tooth, a ravenous one at that. He appreciates all sweet delights, although his favorite is a cherry Danish, just like his mom used to make.
-Fishing: It brings him back to old times, where the whole family would go on fishing trips together. Singing songs, telling stories, and just enjoying each other's company.

Dislikes:
-Wine: He's more of a mead and beer fan. Wine just isn't for him.
-Cashews: Hates them. The texture, the taste, everything
-Children: It's less of a distaste for children and more of a fear. Children are small and fragile, and he has no idea how to take care of them.
-Luxury Goods: Unless the extra cash equals a better quality product, Jorg thinks it's a waste of money.

Personal Goals:
-Avenge his loved ones and finally be at peace.
-Learn to move on from the tragedy and live a happy, productive life.

Skills and Abilities:
-Cooking: Jorg has lived on his own for over five years, so in order to save some money, he learned how to cook. Even before his lone escapades, he often helped out his parents in the kitchen, which gave him some experience in butchery and making a meal out of odd meats.
-Knowledge of Nature: Having grown up in a small village in the middle of a forest, he's quite familiar with nature. As he grew older and became a botanist, his love for wildlife grew with him. Jorg can name thousands of plants, tell what they can be used for, and which to stay away from. He can also tell weather patterns, identify animal behaviors, and survive in different environments with little difficulty.
-Repairing: If it's solid and not magical, Jorg can probably repair it. For example, if a fork broke, he can't mold the two pieces back together, but can create the other half of the two pieces. Simple stuff is easy, plates, chairs, things that are basic in design. Complicated designs or things he's never seen before can be repaired, but the created half will only be as good as his memory of the object.

Magic:
Bronze Magic - Moderate to Advanced
Jorg can manipulate the forms of solids quite easily, he uses this ability to quickly irrigate land or temporarily move heavy objects out of his way. Even dense metal is easy for him to shape and mold. However, creating solids is hard for him. Plants, wood, sand, dirt, stuff that's abundant in nature is easy for him to produce, albeit he still has some difficulty with dense rock and ores. But making precious metals, jewels, or even hard brick is very difficult. He can create bits of unnatural material, especially if they're less dense, which he does to mend clothing and fix chipped dishware.

Combat Skills:
Being raised around weapons all throughout his life, Jorg has some experience in them. Swordplay is a skill he's somewhat familiar with, but hasn't practised much since his early teens. He's good with his hunting knife, but is proficient in defense. Protecting party members, quickly fleeing while carrying heavy objects, and being able to fend off or at least get by one or two enemies in close quarters. With little weapon proficiencies and lacking in hand to hand combat skills, Jorg relies on magic for combat. He can encase people or things in stone, create rough terrain for enemies, and drop foes into large holes in the ground. Jorg also has high endurance physically. As long as he's not in the frontline of the battle, he'll be alright.


Starting Inventory:
-Hunting knife
-Handful of coins
-Pouch of seeds for birds and other small creatures
-Pouch of sunflower seeds to snack on
-In his knapsack are: 2 apples, a cloak, a bag of miscellaneous herbs, and a waterskin.

Background:
Jorg was born in a small village in the Southern Valleys to Gunnhilde, a fierce blacksmith, and Fenris, a local hunter. He had one older sister, Anselma, and four older brothers, Ingmar, Hagen, Halvor and Arvid. In their large house, built by their grandparents, expanded by their parents, everything was a competition. Morning to night to next morning, it was survival of the fittest. And little Jorg was protected from it for only a few years, before he was let loose into the warzone.

His brothers, especially the ones closer to his age, constantly tormented him, but he didn't mind much. They were family and a little teasing never hurt anyone. For the most part, Anselma kept them from picking on him too much. She was like a parent. Cooking, cleaning, making sure no one killed each other, she took over all responsibilities regarding the household. Their mother was always working in the forge, crafting weapons made for legends and gods, while their father was in the forest, hunting for his family and the village. It was only a matter of time before Anselma became their primary caregiver.

Growing up in a small town, Jorg never really made many friends. He knew all the kids in the village, but none of them ever really talked to him. Most days he'd spend time in the outskirts of the village, where he would observe animals and watch plants grow and change with the seasons. Some days, he would visit his mother in the forge, who taught him about weapons and the art of making them. Other days, he would follow his father into the forest without being noticed, and spy as his father killed with a single arrow.

As time passed, Anselma began expressing interest in magic and when she turned eighteen, she was sent to Alsiere to study it. On special occasions, she would return home and show off her new found powers to the family. This sparked Jorg's interest for the mystical arts. At night when everyone else went to bed, he would ask Anselma to teach him about magic, to which she would happily comply.

After Anselma left, no one took her place as head of the household. Ingmar tried, but he crumbled under the pressure. The house became a free for all again. Everyone did their own thing, because they were old enough to take care of themselves. Being only twelve at this time, Jorg quickly learned how to survive on his own. He fed himself, cleaned the house, managed a small garden in the backyard, all the things an independent adult could do.

Slowly everyone left. Ingmar and Hagen went to Alsiere start a business in brewing, Halvor became a traveling merchant's apprentice, and Arvid met a girl in the next village over. When he was sixteen, Anselma returned home from an extra year of studying, finally graduating from the University of Magic. It was a joyful reunion, filled with laughter and food and stories, even some of his brothers came home to congratulate her.

After an early dinner, when his brothers traveled back to their homes, Jorg told his parents about his wish to go study magic. Things were silent, Anselma cheered after a few seconds, but his parents didn't say a word. Then a deep sigh came from his father and broke his peace. "Jorg, you should reconsider. This isn't a thing a man should study. Perhaps carpentry or woodwork. But not this." Is what he said. Jorg was shocked, he didn't know what to say, he didn't know where it was coming from. Before he could speak, Anselma was already letting out a furious rant about following dreams and being supportive parents. His mother tried to argue how she was concerned about his job opportunities and how he didn't show any extreme talent in anything in particular. Yelling filled the house and Jorg felt as though he wasn't even there anymore. Past incidents were brought up, mistakes he made in his childhood, his antisocial behavior, his lack of interest in major topics. He felt as though he had disappointed his parents, and he was finally learning how they truly felt about him. As the argument roared on, Jorg excused himself from the house.

He went on a long walk in the woods, the walk turned into a night out, then a camping trip. It was supposed to last a day, then it became two, then a week went by. Jorg slept in the large roots of an old tree, he collected berries, hunted fish from a small pond, cooked it on a fire he made. He spent most of his time looking into the wilderness and reflecting on what life was now and what it was before. Had they always felt this way? Did he really not have anything special about him? All of his siblings had talents and went on to do great things, so what was he doing?

After a week, Anselma found him. She talked to him about how their parents were wrong and that what had happened, shouldn't have. She handed him a forged parental consent for the University of Magic and promised to put in a good word for him. He was conflicted. A part of him was concerned about the amount of strain it would put on his relationship with his parents, especially after he left abruptly and hadn't gone back in more than a week. But a much more angry, dominating, and hormone induced part of him said something along the lines of: "What do they know anyway? It's not like they were actually around to notice anything. This your sister, the one who's been doing their job for over twelve years! And here she is again, being a parent and giving you this opportunity. Fucking take it, Jorg, show them what you can be."

He took the note and thanked her. She smiled at him and told him to keep in touch, he nodded, bid her farewell, and made his way to Alsiere through the forest. It was a long journey from his small village to the culture capital of the world. He survived off the land and the need to spite his parents. Eventually he made it, scuffed up, with no money, and only a piece of paper to his name. Once he entered the halls of the university, it felt as though everything had changed. He was no longer a brave man living in the woods, journeying to prove himself. He was a homeless man in a beautifully decorated fortress, where every surface seemed to sparkle his reflection. He wasn't even a man. He was a boy, who left a secure home for a dream, because of an argument one night. He applied, he gave them the consent form, his sister showed up a day later and charmed the admissions officer to let him in.

At the university, he studied with rage and determination. Everytime he slowed, he thought of that moment in the house and tapped into an, perhaps immature, anger. He wasn't the best, he could never claim to be the best, he was just alright. He didn't fail any classes, but a lot of the kids there had private tutors and so much experience, and he literally walked out from the woods not that long ago. He was keeping up, and that was more than enough for him.

When he graduated, and he opened up a shop with his savings that would sell teas and herbal remedies. People came and people went, but for the most part, he remained solitary. Every summer, post graduation, Anselma visited with a gift wrapped sword in one arm and a basket full of cherry Danishes in the other. It showed mom still cared. The two siblings would have tea, snack on Danishes, and talk about how their year was. Then Anselma would stand up and do a whole speech when presenting her sword to him. Every year it was the same speech with the same mouth trumpets and same deep announcer voice. And every year they would crack up halfway through and have to restart five times. And every year the sword was magnificent.

Life continued on at the same melancholy pace. Blossoms raining down on the slim cobblestone path in front, rain calmly pattering against the window, warm sunlight filling the small shop, snow playfully swirling outside, a fire crackling at cold nights. Jorg had a life of his own. Was it lonely? Yes, but he didn't think of it much. It was a comfortable life. During this time he did a lot of self reflection. He thought about his mistakes and problems he had in the past. He learned patience and level mindedness. However, he insecurities was still very much there. He was still unsure if life was going to work out, or if he was enough of a man, because he pursued magic. He thought about a lot of things, and eventually decided to invite his parents over for dinner. It would be the first time they'd see each other in seven years. A few back and forth letters, and a date was set.

As the day came, so did the Fall. Jorg awoke to cries of help and screams of agony. When he looked outside, all he could see was chaos. Smoke filled the sky, flames devoured house after house, and shadowy knights roamed the streets. An instinct triggered in his brain and he knew that he just had to run. He pack up a bag of things he thought he would need and ran. Ran from his home of four years, ran from the city that gave him a life, ran from everything that he had in that city. His sister's breathtaking swords, his beloved windowsill garden, his neatly categorized bookshelf, the memories of coming into his own person. All consumed by the shadows of an unknown enemy, who attacked with unknown reason.

After a week of hurried travel, he saw the remains of a once prosperous little village. His family house was burnt to the ground. Generations of love and care took place in a house that was nothing but ashes. There he found the bodies of his parents. Both scorched black, barely recognizable. He fashioned a raft out of logs and loose planks, placed his parents on top, set them aflame and sent them down the river. He knew one day he would have to watch as they drifted away on a boat of flames, but he had thought that that wouldn't be for a long time. Yet here he was.

Alone.

Jorg made his way around the Southern Valleys searching for other survivors and the remains of siblings, so that he may give them the same ceremony as his parents.

The future in his eyes is bleak, but a deep rage fills him. He will have his revenge.

Other:
Gunnhilde - Mother - Blacksmith
Fenris - Father - Hunter
Anselma - Sister - Red Mage Blacksmith
Ingmar - Brother - Ale Brewer
Hagen - Brother - Tavern Owner
Halvor - Brother - Traveling Merchant
Arvid - Brother - Lumberjack

All of them are thought to be dead, except for his mom and dad, of course

Writer Timezone/Country:
GMT+9, South Korea

 

[Dalamus Ulom]

Name:
Carrow Vadovan

Age:
52

Gender:
Male

Tagline:
The Guiding Scion

Appearance:
Carrow is a tall, lanky man, with skin like old leather, and covered in a tapestry of scars that tell a history of pain and hard work. His face is worn by age, and his hair is the color of old soot. His clothes are salt stained and worn from near constant wear and travel, and the breastplate and chainmail he wears is ill-fitting and almost seems to be older than he is, and bears the crest of the Valiarum Knights, from the days of the Crusade.

Personality:
Before, Carrow had been a happy man, contented. Though didn't care for them, he did see why the knights and mages existed, how they could be of some use, and had largely let go of his old childhood hatred of them. He had moved past the death of his father, the pain and confusion that that event had brought in him. He had found himself through travel, found the love of his life, had children, and was prepared to enjoy the twilight of his life in relative piece before he would probably pass away in his sleep.

But then Valia Fell.

The Fall changed him from the man he once was. Behind a thin mask of stoicism lay a tired, depressed, grieving man who was solely focused on vengeance, but some of the original man was still there, hidden in kind words and gestures, unthinking actions and heroics, and a desire to help those around him. Now he believes that he's only alive so that he may bring vengeance to the Anarquesse, and with that thought in mind, he has honed himself to focusing on that single thing, that one driving force, with all the passion and rage and grief he can muster to power himself.

Likes:
Hunting- Carrow finds great pleasure in the art of the hunt, relishing every moment he's able to focus on something that isn't haunting his mind.
People- Even after what's happened to him, Carrow still enjoys the company of others
Reading & Writing- Despite what some may believe of the commoners or of him, Carrow is an avid reader, and is actually an author, having released a book before the Fall about his personal experiences traveling across Valia.

Dislikes:
The Nobles- Though Carrow has met a number of genuinely good people of noble birth, the vast majority that he has had to deal with have ranged from peevishly vindictive to outright monsters.
People- Not exactly an outright dislike(what with him enjoying the company of others), Carrow more dislikes the possibility of growing close to people only for them to die gruesome deaths a short time after meeting them.
Knights & Mages- Before the Fall, Carrow held a passionate stance against the Valiarum Knights and Mages in general, directly caused by the death of his father in the Crusades of his childhood. Now, after the Fall, while Carrow isn't antagonistic towards any surviving knights he encounters, he does have a certain disdain for them, now for the added reason that he somewhat blames them for the Fall even happening.
Liars, Traitors, and Oathbreakers- A dislike any person can get behind, Carrow has had personal experience with this, having been betrayed by someone whom he had considered his friend during his youth.

Personal Goals:
Carrow only has one goal. Vengeance.
He doesn't believe he'll live past that point.

Skills and Abilities:
Hunting & Tracking - Having been a professional hunter, Carrow is skilled in all manner of hunting, trapping, and tracking, having honed his skills for almost four decades.
Survivalism- Carrow is skilled at identifying edible plants, avoiding dangerous areas, finding fresh water, and multiple other things one would require to survive in the wild.
Strategy- One needs to be able to anticipate movements and actions when hunting, in order to hit your mark and help with tracking, and those skills are easily applied to humans, allowing Carrow to take a solid guess as to what an individual or group will do based on the information he has. Obviously, the better he knows the person or group he's attempting to anticipate, the better he will be at it.

Magic:
Though Carrow has the ability to learn magic, he has up until now refused to, due entirely to his father's death in battle during the Crusade.

Combat Skills:
Archery- As one would expect for a man who has spent almost forty years using a bow, Carrow is a skilled marksman.
Swordsmanship- Wielding his father's sword, while Carrow is a bit rusty, he had practiced with the blade extensively during his youth, allowing him to use the blade effectively in battle.
Knife fighting- Though rarely called upon, Carrow is able to wield a knife effectively in close-quarters combat, though he would generally prefer to use his sword or bow.

Starting Inventory:
-A well oiled bow and a quiver of fifteen or so arrows
-A finely crafted steel bastard sword named Asmens, that had once been his father's
-A simple and well used hunting knife
-Worn leather clothes, thoroughly salt stained
-His fathers breastplate, heavily rusted near the left pit
-A large pack with bedroll and tent
-A large waterskin filled with fresh water

Background:
Carrow was but a boy of twelve when the Crusades ended, not that it mattered to him. Crispin Vadovan was dead. His father. Killed in the penultimate battle of the crusade, saving the twenty men, including an important general, and recognized as a hero across the land. Not that it really mattered. Oh, they said so much about how his father was a hero, and that no one would forget him, but they all forgot Carrow and his mother right quick when they didn't want to deal with the commoner knight's grieving family anymore. No one cared enough about his father to even invite them to his funeral. They barely remembered them long enough to toss them his things, the breastplate and sword.

Growing up with that mindset, it was no wonder that he grew to despise the knights and mages in all their shining armor and high towers, these people who had let his father die, and even less of a wonder when he outright refused to learn the use of magic when offered it. He didn't want anything they would give him. This self-perpetuated rebellion against the hierarchy eventually led him to leave his home town and travel Valia, from the Northern Wastes to the Calaslei Desert, and allowed to meet a wide collection of different peoples and cultures. Eventually, he would settle for a time in Loedissa, where he would write the book "From North to South: A Common Man's Journey Across Valia", which would see some modest amount of acclaim for the representation of the common peoples.

Eventually, he would meet the woman of his dreams, settle down in a small village in the Southern Valleys, have children, watch them grow up, and watch his children have children. But that all ended the way we all knew it would. With the Fall. He'd been away from the town when The Fall took place, not that he knew. He wouldn't know until he walked into the village with two rabbits strung on his back to find the town filled with the butchered remains of the dead, their bodies crumpled up like oh so many paper dolls littering the ground. He didn't know what had done it, but he felt that he knew who had set this in motion. The Anarquesse. Avoiding the main road, he made his way to his home, where he found those things that had inspired such hatred in him long ago. His father's cuirass and sword. While the sword was as perfect as the day he'd gotten it, the armor, not so much. The place where his father's armor had been pierced had expanded with time and rust, to the point where an able bodied boy would be able to pierce through the old rusty steel on his left side. Not that it mattered. He only needed something as a symbol. And for that, it was perfect.

Now, all he had left were fathers heirlooms and the identity he had made for himself in the absence of his father.
The irony wasn't lost on him.

Other:
[Any other info you think I've missed!]

Writer Timezone/Country:
U.S. East Coast, EST, time table varies at times.​

 

[WalkingDogo]

Thomas Wembelye

​

Age: 20

Gender: Male

Tagline: Knight-in-Training

Appearance:
He wears a scruffy, dirty green gambeson that has clearly seen better days. Attached to his belt is plain but sturdy scabbard and a glimmering heater shield, bearing the coat of arms of the late Sir Aldrich. He has scruffy brown hair and greyish blue eyes. He stands at 6' 2" and weighs roughly 189 lbs, his body is conditioned more for endurance then for strength but he isn't lacking in either. His appearance it not all that striking, but he has some charm.


Personality:
Thomas doesn't change who he is to, his friends, uppity nobles, senior knights and even his parents all know him as the same carefree, goofy, blunt, person. He's excessively informal. The sole exception to this is when he stands before people worth of awe. Those who stand among the ranks of Lord Galdric Teldarinas, Elder Druid Karaxis, Sir Gregor Franz and, of course, the Hero King Lyram himself. Whilst he graced with the presence of these living* legends, he actually develops some respect! A lot of respect in fact, arguably too much. He kinda breaks down into pure fanboyism.

Adventure. Thomas hasn't entirely realised that at heart, he's a traveller. Staying in one place for too long is just not what he was made for. Life in Alsiere did have occasional spikes in excitement. Like festivals, friendly (and often not so friendly) competition between in the Knight’s Academy, almost being mugged - you know fun, interesting stuff. But still it was not enough.

Thomas has always been quite sociable. He makes friends quickly and is good at reading people, but his best friend is a horse. He cares about people and all, but has never been able to connect to someone on that level. Still he's likes making people laugh and be happy.

While he can come a cross as impulsive to some, Thomas is good at keeping his emotions check; he's got more discipline in that regard then most he give him credit for. he He's not immune to out bursts of emotion - injustice, hypocrisy and being looked down are things that can really tick him off - but he more often chooses to act on impulses, to follow his heart. It's not so much that he's over taken with emotion, it's that he lets it guide him. If that makes any sense. It's the more subtle things that take him down. He is blind to how good emotions and thoughts, like an childish dream of becoming a knight, can be just as destructive as rage and lust.

The fall and a month of living in the wild has took its toll on him. He became very much pre-occupied with trying to stay alive, his gung-ho disposition toward combat lays dormant and his old confidence is practically non-existent. He retains his humour, though most of it self-deprecating now. He feels guilty over how he survived the fall, over how he did nothing to save his city or anyone in it. It's traps him, chained him. It’s robbed him of some of his old freedom. Though he is certainly less lazy now.

Likes:
(Btw, these are quotes in chorological order. Starting from when he's a child to ending sometime after the fall. Most hint at more than one distinct ‘like’.)

"Mooom, can you tell me another story about the Hero King Lyram? What about the one about Simon the Dragon Slayer! Oh! OH! Tell me about the battle between Terriorn the Red and the Vailarum Knights again!"

"Pleeeease can you show us a bit of magic Sir Eldritch, preety please with a cherry on top?"

"Last one back to the academy is a rotten egg!" - Riding horses is fun, racing them is even funner. Competition in general is just great.

"Guess, what I got you a treat!" - Bellona is his horse and she deserves the best.

Dislikes:
(Same thing applies here. You know, to be honest, I am not too sure about this whole quote gimmick now. It sort of limits what I can put on here.)

"Books are for nerds!" - Look, he was very young when he said that. Sentiment still stands though, he just isn’t that interested in scholarly stuff.

"Stop calling me 'Tommy-boy' Brad!" - That stupid nickname, and just being looked down on in general, really tick him off.

"Come on, Sir Aldrich, more chores? Really?”

"Signatory, dignitary, what’s the difference. Now carry on with the story, it was getting good.” – Politics kind of just goes over his head.

Personal Goals: Not dying.
Look he would love to try liberate Valia, to avenge the fallen knights. He just don't think he can, it's not like he's a legendary hero or anything even close. Though I don't think he's entirely realised that, it is in dire situations like this when heroes are truly born.

And heading back home counts as a temporary goal.

Skills and Abilities:

He's quick on his feet and can make up bullshit very quickly. Though his lies generally get him into more trouble more often than not.

Thanks to a painful amount of effort on the part of Sir Aldrich, Thomas has manged to retain some knowledge of the laws of Vaila and other such matters of culture. Emphasis on some.

He has had survivalist training as Sir Aldrich insisted upon teaching it. As it was once a skillset invaluable to the Vailarum knights whilst they were hunting down remote Drochiad hideouts but had fallen out of fashion once they were vanquished. Tom agreed, it was just cool.

He take you in and out of plate amour, and he can ride a horse!

Magic:
He knows a bit about Yellow Magic. He can't do any Yellow Magic... but he does know stuff! And that's mildly helpful.

Combat Skills:
He’s good with a sword and shield. He knows how to use a bow and various polearms - not to a great deal of proficiency but well enough.

After the fall he has begun to fight more defensively, avoiding both receiving and landing killing blows. Preferring stuff that keeps his emeries off him for long enough for to escape. If he must fight whilst mounted, he enjoys the benefit of his increased mobility, dancing around his opponent(s), trying to disorient them, quickly engaging and disengaging, searching for an opening.

Starting Inventory:
"Hey, I'm not just an idiot with a sword! I have a shield and horse too..."

Yeah, that's about it. Like anything he’s been able to forge he or Bellona has had to eat. He's also wearing gambeson that has way too many pockets in it then any armour should have. All of it is empty.

Background:

Spoiler: Overveiw

Thomas was born in homely little village, nested snuggly in the southern valley. Largely disconnected from outside world. His birth was a delightful surprise, his mother’s poor health had the couple fear she would never give birth.
The lone child loved to spent a great deal of his early life helping out in his parent’s modest little ranch. It was their he met his best friend, Bellona. The red-haired horse was born when Tom had just turned six. His parents allowed him to get very involved in raising and training her and, when Thomas learnt to ride, there was hardly a spare moment where the two weren’t tearing across the countryside.
Eventually, the joy of riding wasn’t enough. The valley paths had become too well trodden, the trees hid more secrets and mountains no longer had the same majesty. He was seventeen when had made up his mind. He was going to ride off to Alsiere and fulfil his childhood dream of becoming a Vailarum Knight! Become a symbol of justice! Uphold the peace! Go on grand adventures like the heroes form the stories! He just had to be go to he Knight Academy’s Seminar!
And lo and behold he manage get a place! He was now the squire of Sir Aldrich of House Eason! Aaand, it was not exactly what he imagined. Had to learn some many about inane details about high culture, all of the other knights seemed to be obsessed with out politicking each other and Sir Aldrich refused to let him learn magic until "He had proven himself." or whatever. He couldn't jelp but feel disillusioned with it all. He's began to question whatever or not he really wants to be a knight after all. Does really want to go into law enforcement or become some noble's errand boy?

Spoiler: Sir Aldrich

Sir Aldrich of House Easone was a man of tradition fist and a pragmatist second. He was also old as fuck. The man became a knight a few years before the Hero King Lyram's legendary crusade against the Drochiad. Made a name for himself when his regiment killed one their inner council with only one casualty, unfortunately that was overshadowed when his former squire tortured their former commanding officer to death.
Most didn’t know why exactly the half disgraced/half praised knight was suddenly taking on a new apprentice. A lot chalked it up too the man feeling old and wanting to leave a better legacy, some figured he took pity on the boy and the more cynical claim he just wanted a free manservant.

Thomas has never been able to figure him out. He certainly feels like a manservant at time.

Spoiler: His parents' history

I need to finish it

Spoiler: The Journey to Alsiere

His parents were easy enough to convince, they worried of course but his ma approved of him “spreading his wings” and his pa’s favourite brother had never left Alsiere. And Arnold was perfectly happy to take on Tom’s jobs around the ranch, though he put on good act of being grumpy about it. His Great Aunt Margret disapproved, but she disapproved of everything.

As soon as Thomas got a letter back from his uncle, saying he could stay with him until he was given residence in the Knight’s barracks, he wanted to leave. His parents were having none of that. They held him back whilst they arranged a quaint farewell partly. It was a nice and all but straight after that he was off north to the Merchant’s Path. He had said his goodbyes, now was the time for adventure!

The journey was safe, the venerable Vailarum Knights assured that, and largely uneventful. Though Thomas didn’t get bored, the novelty of it just didn’t rub off on him. Just visiting all of taverns and inns he came across was enough to reignite his excitement. He even met some mages! Drunk and boorish mages sure, but mages none the less! They knew magic!

After two and a half long weeks of travel, he arrived at the capital. And by the gods it was just so, big. It was on a scale he hardly imagined possible. The walls dwarfed every single other building he had ever seen, in both size and with just how well maintained they were! The gate was an intricate masterpiece, etchings into the gold plate depicting tales as old as the very founding of the Vailian throne. Heck there was enough timber in the drawbridge to make every single house in his run-down shrimp of a village!

Now this was a place where dreams come true.

Spoiler: The Seminar

I'm am going to probably rewrite everything I have for this

Spoiler: The Fall

On one very historic day, Tom was napping in the old and largely disused armoury building. The shield he was meant to be polishing lying underneath him, being used as an uncomfortable pillow.

He jumped up, clutching the shield. He was jolted awake by a... weak electric shock? Well, that was new. Sir Aldrich stood above him, clicked his figures and then armour flew off their racks and danced around onto him and a new surprise took hold of Thomas.

"Wait, what? You can do that?! What the hell was the point having me put it on!?" Tom cried out, aghast.

"Wembelye now is not the time." Sir Aldrich replied.

"What do you mean! What the heck is going on?"

"We were attacked by beings of black magic and lost. Alrisse has fallen. Now stay still for a moment while I-" An crack and down came the door. An armoured figure was approached. A knight with no face and armour as black as the void. It creeped forward, slowly, methodically, it wanted to savour this kill. The rest it had butchered far too quickly. Aldrich jerked his hand backwards and with a crack of electrical power, a hole was blown up in the Armoury's wall.

"Holy shit."

"Leave through there. Get to the stables and ride as far as way as possible. Don't hide, don't fight, run." He spoke and drew his blade with same speed and efficiency. His eyes never leaving the creature before him. The abomination was still approaching steadily, it did not even flinch at the electric discharge.

"I- I can... I can... "

"You won't make a difference! Now run! Live!"

By sheer luck, Thomas made it out alive. Through crumbling ruins of the academy, past the ghostly remains of the Palace of Light, through the streets haphazardly decorated with hundreds of the dead, out through the wide open gates and into the wild. Now he's been trekking southward, far off the merchant’s path. He's heading back home, back to the southern valley. He has to know if his family is still alive.

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