Name: Morgan Mason

Age: 28
Sin: Lust
Height: 180 cm
Weight: 64 kg
Hair Color: White
Eye Color: Green
Gender: Female
Written Appearance:
Long hair, black clothes, face mask. That's all anyone ever sees of her out in the open and on her travels, preferring to dress as a crow as a symbol of her extravagant life. Her voice muffles and echos through her mask, giving it a more masculine or gender neutral tone. A faint rose sent seems to surround her; soft, but strong enough to not be overtaken by any other stench. Underneath her thick black leather coverings is a pale skinned woman that rivals the height of most young men.

Brand Appearance: Her brand resembles a star pentagram, marked clearly on the underside of her wrist. Below the palm of her hand.

Personality:
A pleasure seeker with a hint of perversion. She takes nothing back, but will move on and ignore in an instant if she becomes displeased or bored with current topics. She is usually kind, greeting each day and each new person with a smile and willing to give away her possessions once she tires of them, but everything she does is done is excess. You can never have too much of a good thing.

Background: TBA?

Current Story:
She lived solitarily, roaming from town to town in search of ... something. What it was she didn't exactly know, but she kept on regardless. Mostly spending her nights drinking at whichever tavern was nearby with the cheapest alcohol under the guise of an old man. She noticed they were treated a bit more favorably than other demographics. Twice she had drank more than she could hold, causing her to pass out and revert to her naturally beautiful self. The first time, she got lucky and was able to fly off in the shape of a raven. This time, she was really done for. Caught, caged, and stripped of every possession; she now rests in a sealed tight room within the jail with only the base of needs being supplied as she sleeps. Not like she has any immediate plans of escape however. Maybe it was time to give up her search and make the most of her new life here?

Weapon:
- Scepter of Icutum
A strange staff she tends to use as a cane. It doesn't hold much extravagance, just a simple, smoothed out piece of wood with a glass ball on top. It is, however, durable enough to withstand some force with out breaking. It can't do much by itself, but it can tap into It's wielder's powers and copy it accordingly. In Morgan's hands It has the ability to transform into any non-living object so long as there is enough space to do so. It retains power and shape until either Morgan cancels it or it leaves her possession.

Ability:
- Doppelgänger: She can turn into any living thing she can think of that she has seen before. This only affects her physical attributes and she doesn't gain any abnormal abilities other than complete control over her new form. Her mark is always still visible somewhere on the transformed body.

Name: Carac
Age: 36
Sin: Sloth
Height: 308 cm
Weight: 376 kg
Hair Color: Red
Eye Color: Red
Gender: Male
Written Appearance:
Tall. And all around big. Though pretty average of the fire wielding half-giants, He stands near twice the height of most fully grown humans. His hair is wild and his voice deep, he wears a specially made cloth outfit that isn't hard to repair or make anew.

Brand Appearance: His brand resembles an anchor and is located on his left bicep.

Personality:
It doesn't take much to please him, he can find the joy in almost anything. Always looking on the bright side of things and being optimistic about the future. He loves to drink, but has never gotten drunk. Sometimes going through three or four barrels before be cut off, to which he happily complies. He loves to joke and never takes anything seriously, but always likes to look out for fellow comrades when able. Be it man, beast, or spirit he will always side on the one he finds is just or is need of assistance.

Background: TBA?

Current Story:
He awoke somewhere in the mountains with not a soul in sight. It was nice and peaceful there. He noticed he had what he assumed was all his stuff with him, but anything he felt was missing would be ignored. He wasn't sure how he came to be there, or where he really was, but so long as there was no trouble he did't care. He was content, living off the land and sleeping most of the day. However, his presence isn't totally unnoticed. Tremors run down the mountain causing animals in the nearby area to flee along with occasional land slides and fractures from all his stomping around. The surrounding villages has began to call the mountain cursed.

Weapon:
- Hands. or fists if he'd rather. They sit about three times bigger and with about three time the amount of force behind them. Though, with the help of his Flame Creation, he can really add the heat to any of his normal attacks and manipulate fire without being burned.

Ability:
- Flame Creation: Where the giants of old claimed mastery of the earth and it's metals, the fire halflings grew to unravel the mystery of fire and rock. Able to summon forth hidden magma below the surface and mold boulders into tools of their destruction. This power grew overtime, allowing their kin to even be able to summon forth flames hot enough to melt steel with their touch alone.