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Name
Brontes

Also known as
Father Death, Seeker of Lost Souls, the Betrayer.

Age
Unknown

God Status
God of the Underworld, the Dead, the Dying & the Lost. 

Personality

Parents
Lord Sun and Lady Moon

Sexuality
Pansexual

Form on Earth
Being a shapeshifter, Brontes usually appears as a rough looking middle-aged man or a well dressed dandy

True Form


Powers
•Shapeshifter: Brontes can shapeshift into anything mortal, be it man or animal, insect or even a cell inside an organism.
•Death Incarnate: Power over death, like granting death or making someone live forever. His power, as decreed long before Time itself existed, only exists over anything and anyone mortal.
•Last Rite: Brontes can grant a single wish to anyone recently dead, dying or to die soon. 

Weapon/Attribute
The Key: A rusty silver key, used to access the Gates of the Underworld and other countless locked or hidden parts of the realm including the mysterious Underdark, the heart of Brontes's kingdom. It can also grant access to everything, from a door to a man's heart, dreams or even future.

History (Pre-Earth bound)
Being the Second-Born of the Sun and Moon, one would expect that the Lord of Death would be right next to his parents yet Brontes never really cared about Earth, Heaven and anything in between, mortal or not. He refused any contact with the other Gods and in turn they didn't bother with him. He kept himself locked inside his Underworld which he shaped according to his thoughts and feelings ; a few parts beautiful, a few horrible but every part of it carrying a certain melancholy, unnoticed by almost all but always there. 

He was done forming the Gates and the infinite Halls of the Dead within a thousand years and after that he formed the Sinner's Maze, a labyrinth continuously supplied with the darkest souls in the Underworld with each one facing its worst fear, the mysterious Underdark, the part of his realm where no one has set foot but himself, and the Travelling Woods, a thick forest which cannot be found unless he wishes to and also happens to be his home in the Underworld.

However, each passing century made him more bitter towards the living and their petty lives, soon starting to punish them for fun, killing thousands without reason but to witness their lament, feel their sorrow and share his with them, sending away his ever present sadness through pain. In other words he made them suffer in order to ease his own suffering and feel as if he had something in common with others, even useless humans. Eventually, Brontes took an interest in humans and their short lives which they filled with as many memories as they could as if they knew that the Underworld and eternity awaited them. He turned his hate into love and left his realm for that of the mortals, spending a thousand years by their side, holding a starved man's hand in his last few moments or giving a mother a dream of her still born child, roaming his kingdom. However, soon the gift of immortality turned out to be a curse as Brontes saw humans he had bonded with die and turn to ash only to be replaced by others who in turn did the same. A vicious cycle of death, he practically was the reason he was alone.

He never told them of his nature, they knew it all too well, far better than his own blood. Some could tell that he wasn't human, most not but they all were so terribly important in his eyes, each one a story yet to finish. And then some God would appear and drown a village for fun or forcibly bed someone, leading to needless suffering. 

And he was patient, no one can deny that. Countless centuries he kept believing that they would change, that his kind would eventually mature into protectors of the Earth and its people but to no avail. Then he decided to take matters in his own hands and remind everyone why Brontes was a name that brought fear even to immortal hearts. 

He would imprison every single God on Earth, right next to his precious humans, forcing them to watch their struggles and hopefully reach the same conclusion he reached. Yet fate, wouldn't let him do that just yet as the moment he set foot in his realm, he knew of the two invaders, Thalliana and Amare and rage consumed him. He set out on his own, the Underworld itself tearing itself apart due to his wrath, eager to throw the two Gods in the darkest pit of his prison for eternity. He didn't though and the reason for that was the young Amare, a child compared to him yet a teacher for he showed him the meaning of sacrifice by offering himself as prisoner in exchange for Thalliana's freedom. Brontes accepted, intrigued by the young God and that was the day he made his first friend, someone who Brontes would always look out for. 

Amare eventually left though, under Moon's direct order and the God of the Underworld was free to put his plan into motion, despite the fact that Amare too would be trapped on Earth.

Brontes didn't hesitate at all when he used his Key to lock the Gates of Heaven with the help of a broken fragment of a trapped God perhaps much older than everyone he knew, after banishing all Gods from the Heavens. After that, he locked the Gates of the Underworld too and disappeared among the mortals, laughing at those forming armies to look for him when he was all around them, on every deathbed and each hospital.

History (Post-Earth bound)

After locking down Heaven, Brontes spent his every day helping the dead or dying in their hour of need, countless broken humans searching for someone to give them hope in their final moments while watching the fallen Gods and how they adapted to life on Earth.

In 2015, he decided that it was time to return and possibly fix his relationship with his family, starting from Amare who he hoped understood just why he had acted the way he did. Once that was done, he would go on and complete the final part of his plan which would change everything about Gods and mortals.

Motive
Brontes is currently looking to make amends with his ''family'', the Gods he betrayed thousands of years ago. You'll ask why now and the answer to that is that he's planning something big for himself, something that could possibly give him a way to kill someone who cannot die.

Hidden 10 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by Tendo

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Jukka Fenrirsson


Age
44

Alias
Bloodbeard, Juggernaut

Gender
Male

Race
Human

Personality
First thing you see about Jukka is definitely not his eyes. Being 213cm tall (7ft) and weighing around 150kg (330pounds) along with a thick, long beard and menacing eyes, not many can stand his gaze. The world would be a much better place if you could call him a giant with a heart of gold but he ain't. He has taken countless lives, be them lives of men, women or children, he will not hesitate. Never did really, except for the few years of his long life when he was happy. 

He is afraid of no man. Never have been, never will be. But monsters? Now, monsters are a completely different thing. He's seen many, fought them but never got used to them, there's something unnatural about them that he just can't accept.

Until now, Jukka had been a killer. A merciless, cold blooded killer. Well, he still is one yet nowadays he's only after those he considers evil, those who he thinks will bring him closer to being worthy of meeting his family, in the afterlife. His twisted logic makes every single life prone to his whims. On his bad days.

He's also an alcoholic. A life such as his can't really be dealt with without alcohol or something to take the thinking away. When it gets too hard, when he starts getting flashbacks, that's when you'll see him drink the most or join the fray with no fear. 

He doesn't really value his life, after all. He's old, he's tired and he just wants to be done with this hell they call living. If he can just do enough good to see his family again, he'll be the happiest man in the world.

Jukka can be called somewhat bipolar. Or moody, depending on who you ask. Some days, he's a wise old man who just wants to repent, get rid of some of his sins. Other days, he's the Juggernaut, you can practically see the bloodlust in his eyes, dancing widly from man to man, calculating angles of attack, timings, anything really.

To conclude, Jukka is indeed a man of low intelligence yet of immense experience. He will do anything for his so called repentance, his flawed logic dictating that the more of those he defines as evil he kills, the more worthy he'll become. He does not and probably can not understand that he won't find absolution through his acts, be they good or bad but from within.

Until then, killing is his truth.

Biography
Jukka was born in the heart of winter, in a shabby ol' hut his family owned, last of four children and with a knack for eating much more than his share dictated. They weren't poor, being considered poor would be a blessing for their little struggling family since the frozen land couldn't give them enough to last a winter and there's only so much prey in the never-ending Everwood. Not that his father, Bjorg, would dare venture deep into the lands of the knife-ears although necessity did eventually make them do just that, with deadly results as his older brother Enki was gravely injured by a black bear. 

His sickly mother, Noomi, died the following summer and a few weeks after her demise, her eldest, Sifkur, left their desolate little house wanting to find a better future. Anything really, would be better than that life. 
Eventually, he was robbed and killed.

Jukka on the other hand, survived winter after winter along with his father and his sister, Ashelga. The blood of his ancestors was obvious in him, with his imposing physique and immense strength before he even reached 15 winters of age as he, like his father, came from a long line of warriors. He was well versed in the way of the axe and the sword, of shields and tactics in the battlefield. 

After all, his father Bjorg had shed blood fighting all kinds of enemies. From the patrols of Gaelia or Haedrion to bandits, highwaymen, monsters, innocents, anyone who stood in his way really. He eventually formed and led his own band of killers and thiefs and terrorised whoever he could, always careful not to annoy the Empires nor any force greater than his.
After a particularly bloody skirmish against a caravan though and a little more than three dozen dead soldiers along with many traders and the gruesome torture and subsequent murder of an influential noble's bride, his and his band's luck ran out. They were eventually massacred down to the last man by a professional mercenary company although Bjorg did manage to hide until it was all over, an act he never felt guilty of despite his countless speeches about honor and loyalty to his now dead comrades.


By age 17, Jukka was ready to either best the world or be bested by it. He knew that leaving his old father and his sister alone was most likely a death sentence but his ambition was burning far too strongly, he wanted to travel and he wanted to fight. He said his goodbyes, accepted War-Fang, a two-handed axe passed down for generations and went on his way with everything he thought he'd ever need, good knowledge of living in the wilds, a proper weapon and the skill to use it effectively. To be honest, in these ages, you don't need much more.


He spent many months as a hired blade, guarding caravans, nobles, livestock but never staying in one place long. He had a few good brawls, earned his fair share of scars and coppers yet he kept on moving, burning his money on women and mead, his downfall as it would prove later on. 

A few good years later, having made a name for himself among commoners, Jukka had gotten cocky, a deadly trait for someone who bets his life on his blade pretty much daily. After one particularly heavy drinking session, he woke up covered in blood and two dead women next to him, a crime he didn't wonder whether he actually committed but knew that would end his life as he knew it. Soon enough, he was named a murderer and got a bounty on his head for two whole silver Dahls, a bounty he'd gladly go after if it wasn't for his own head.


Jukka, of course, wouldn't just sit idle and wait to be driven to the hangman so he became a bandit himself and joined the first ragtag band of cutthroats he found, not that he gave them much choice. After they fell apart, sometimes literally, due to monsters or men, he found others. Then he moved on to the next one and the next one for many moons until he decided to make his own, like his father, and earned his living by threatening, pillaging, murdering or just plain stealing. No one would really stand up to him or his men, they had surely earned their reputation as merciless.

The Juggernaut, they called him after he once impaled a man by charging him with his horned helmet. His axe was stuck on a skull and it was too late to draw his blade as the man was already pulling an arrow out of his quiver.

Bloodbeard, after he pulled his head away from that poor sod's innards. Jukka's usually light brown beard now had a deep crimson shade.

By age 38, Jukka's head was worth 30 silver Dahls. And he was proud of it yet the years on his back started to show their effects. He wasn't as bloodthirsty nor as cruel as he used to be. Hell, he even showed mercy on occasion. He'd prefer targeting bandits and gangs than villages and hamlets. His captains didn't take that well although none of them dare speak of betrayal, Jukka wasn't someone any one of them could best.


On a particularly warm night, Jukka and his men raided a bandit encampment. Not too much of a fight nor loot but it would be a night to remember as that was the time he met Erinya, a woman the slain men had captured and quite literally used. She was in a terrible state and many of his men pleaded for him to just end her, knowing his brutal nature, yet she woke something in him he never ever knew before. He carried her himself and used every last bit of his knowledge about wounds and herbs to nurse her back to health. Minds though, he didn't know how to heal so instead of being the loud brute he was used to be, he remained silent and just listened. From her sobs in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep, to her curses and screams in her sleep. Not much else was said. He did offer her freedom but she had nowhere to go, her family had been slain. He offered her a place in any village she wished yet she wanted nothing to do with society anymore. So she stayed with him and as the months passed, they grew closer, a broken beauty like her and a beast like him. 

It wasn't long before she bore his child and Jukka felt like a new man. She hated his brutish ways so he did his absolute best to change them. From being the scourge of those lands he was now protecting them. That, of course, didn't sit well with the rest of his men who called her a witch behind her back and were certain that their leader was under her devilish influence. So they planned and conspired for months, trying to figure out a way to break her hold on him while keeping him from turning against them. Yet they didn't get their chance as Jukka himself announced that he was leaving with his future bride and their unborn child, something which they accepted.

They travelled for days, to places Jukka had never been before, he always preferred the cold mountains and thick forests to the warm valleys. Yet he did it for her. They settled in a cozy little hut bordering parts of the Everwood he didn't know and that's where they built a new life for both of them. Jukka buried his axe and everything reminding him of his old life and she buried her traumas, to the best of her ability. 

A couple of months later, little Hope was born, his daughter.
Shortly followed by Delph, his son and Hope's twin brother.

And Jukka was happier than he had ever been, holding his children in his huge hands. He was living a dream, the crops were good, the weather was nice and sunny and he couldn't get enough of his wife and his children. But dreams have a nasty way of turning into nightmares, sometimes, don't they?


Jukka still had a bounty of 30 silver Dahls. And his former comrades came in force to collect. He was out hunting when they fell upon his wife and took away her pride, her sanity and lastly, her life. They impaled her on a spear and left her outside their hut, the crying of her children an elegy for a woman they'd never really know. 

If they had survived, that is.

Jukka always wondered who the true monsters really were. Was he better than the wolf or the wraith which lived by instinct while men chose to do unspeakable Evil. The smell of fire shook him down to his core. There weren't any settlements close enough other than his home. He ran through that thick forest faster than he had ever ran before and the closer he got the more he felt his heart sink deep into his chest. His Erinya was the first thing he saw. Then his burning hut and maybe, just maybe, he was never sure, his babies crying. 

And an army between him and them.

He didn't hesitate. He still had an axe and a bow with him. The first three men to charge him fell dead by his arrows. He didn't wait for the rest to come, he charged them head on and let me tell you, that was a sight to behold. The Juggernaut, charging down against impossible odds. He never learned how many he killed that day or whether the blood dripping down his body was his or theirs. Or how many ran for their lives at the sight of the terrifying brute, screaming at the top of his lungs for vengeance and retribution.

He was only a man. And no man can escape fate. He fought through the agony caused by the countless wounds on his body until the first spear went through his guts. He still took the head of the one who pierced him. The sword between his ribs though rendered him breathless. The sight of his dead lover was the last thing he saw before the blackness took him.

He woke up a few days later, bandaged and sheltered amongst Elves, the knife-ears as he called them until then. One of their patrols attacked the bandits as they were ready to impale his body too and saved his life through witchcraft and the elven ways. He left them the moment he could stand and if not for Aunas, one of their trackers, he'd never find his way out of Everwood. He spent three days and three nights mourning his family, weeping like a child for the first time in his life. On the fourth, he set their funeral pyres ablaze and dug out his axe. 

He spent the following year completely dismantling his former gang, leaving a trail of bodies behind him. He wasn't a man anymore, he could feel it. He didn't go after his men. He went after everything they ever loved, he knew them well enough to do that. Families, friends, inns they liked, hidden camps, everything. He murdered countless innocents before the fell upon them like disease. He left his captains for last and for three days they suffered at his hands. When he was done, he cleaned himself and drank more mead than he ever had, trying to lose his head with good ol' alcohol. When he woke up, he had absolutely no clue what was next for him, he was pretty sure that he'd die there.

But he lived.


He let his beard grow and got back in fighting shape. Sharpened his axe and looted the bodies for armor, not that it really fit him but he made due. With his axe on his back and an iron shield alongside a sword, he made his way home and took an oath in front of his wife and children to fix it. To become what she wanted him to be and be worthy of them, maybe in the afterlife. Seeing them just once more, would do, if he could only earn it.

He joined the Order of the Traveller, he always liked the stories about this God, he seemed the most human out of the many deities people put their faith in. After that, he simply did his best to help absolutely everyone in need. From plowing a field to helping an old lady with a rat problem. A fair amount of killing too but never against the weak, not anymore. As for his payment? A warm bed, food and drink. That's all he wanted.

As for coin, he looted those who had no use for it anymore and he let some street urchins steal it from him, acting drunk or just gave it away sometimes, to the widows. Not everyone lives, after all.



Equipment: (Armor, Weapons, Etc.)
•War-fang: Jukka's trusty two-handed axe has served him better than anything and anyone else. An old family heirloom which served his father in countless skirmishes, probably worth more money than he ever had or will have in his hands. He treats it better than he treated any living being, carefully applying various oils on it or sharpening it or even training with it.
•Ironback: His shield which is almost his height in order to cover from his shoulders to his knees.
•Armor: Generic iron armor along with his infamous helmet. 
•Weapons: Since Bjorg doesn't give just about everyone the honor of using War-Fang, a generic iron sword or an axe will do. He doesn't specifically care about these weapons as he usually loots the dead for better equipment. And valuables. And any spare coin will do really, mead is expensive these days.

•Misc: His flask made of bone, medicinal herbs, hunting supplies, various leather pouches where he stores money, valuables, trinkets and the middle finger bones of his family, like tradition demands, for protection.

Skills
•Master tracker when sober, quite a skilled botanist too.
•Has been hunting since he was 8 years old. Knows how to survive in the wilds plus he can deal with wounds. He is no surgeon but he can take care of his body.
•Battle-hardened veteran, you don't get to reach 44 years of age in his profession without being a damn fine warrior. Or one lucky bastard, both will do. He has seen things that would drive a commoner crazy and he has their teeth in his trophy pouch most likely. His experience against all sort of enemies along with his brutish strength and imposing physique make him a scary opponent for anyone in these lands and a really sought after mercenary by traders, nobles, anyone really. But, his drinking habits along with his somewhat troubling behaviour have made him starve more than once.
•He can empty a mead barrel in 270 heartbeats.
•Way of the Berserker: Jukka's unique battle form has been passed down his family for generations and allows him to completely give in to his bloodlust and battle rage, ignoring wounds, exhaustion, his physical limits in general. Combine that with his already terrifying physique and experience and you got an absolute monster of a warrior. Although, there are stories of him attacking his own, blindly, if he's not satisfied with the blood he spills.

Magic
-

Misc



Mivian "The Thaumaturge" Blueshimmer


Age
101

Alias(es)
The Thaumaturge

Gender
Female

Race
Elf

Personality
Mivian is the heiress of House Blueshimmer, one of the few royal bloodlines which survived the Desolation of Ter'Anel and the mass slaughter or enslavement of the Elf-Folk started by King Haedron the Accursed

Elven superiority
Throw humans to the sea
Reclaim the glory of the olden days
charismatic
in constant conflict
kind hearted yet traumatized
easily scared
being royalty, sheltered life

Biography
Mivian Blueshimmer is the heiress of House Blueshimmer, one of the few royal bloodlines which survived the Desolation of Ter'Anel and the mass slaughter or enslavement of the Elf-Folk started by King Haedron the Accursed hundreds of years ago.

She was born in Everwood

She's royalty. Many years of her life studying runes and their application on wounds and the like. Part of patrols until she was caught by humans and raped before her comrades could save her, kept secret. Joined the order in order to learn as much as possible about humans since she's the heir of her House and her voice will be extremely influential among Elves.
She will treat EVERYONE, part of her oath as a healer.
addicted to elven substance abuse
soft spot for children
deep trauma / was caught by humans once
has never killed

Equipment
 Runes
Bow
Silver daggers
Iron sword
healer's equipment

Skills
• Mivian, like most of the Elf-kin, is an excellent tracker and knows her way around Everwood far better than any human. She also is a great botanist.
• Decades worth of lessons with her father and her teachers have made her an above average fighter, be it with her daggers or her bow. She can defend herself in hand to hand combat against most combatants by utilising her years of training and her agility which is considered extreme even among Elves. However, she always has been a far better sharpshooter, like most who dabble in magic since the basic principle behind both magic and archery is tranquility and complete control over body and mind.
•Her revolutionary ways of utilising Runes in order to treat a wound, a disease or even perform surgery made her look like a miracle worker among her kin, giving hope where there was none. Thus, the Thaumaturge as she came to be known, is quite possibly one of the best healers on Erith.

Magic
Mivian uses Runes of all elements, mostly for treating her patients or anyone in need. While she can't physically support a Rune for more than 3 seconds, she more than makes up for that with her mental prowess, often driving herself to unconsciousness in order to save another life.

She has never used her Runes offensively as that would break the oath she took in front of her family and teachers, when she was finally ready to proudly wear the mantle of a healer. She fully understands that magic isn't meant to be used as a weapon but as a gift.

Misc

Hidden 10 yrs ago → 9 yrs ago Post by Tendo

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Name
Brynnulf "Bryn" Innamorte  

Age
26

Gender
Male

Sexual Orientation
Heterosexual

Role in Society
Royal Family

Occupation
Healer

Legend

Few know Bryn by name and even fewer by his full. Most have come to know him as Heavenly Demon due to his dreadful appearance and his saintly behaviour while others as the Pilgrim, considering that he's restlessly travelling from one town to the next, one day facing a plague and the other saving a dying child yet he never takes any payment, only a bed for the night and food. Countless have heard of him fighting a mysterious disease in a border town or of the time when he operated on an entire battalion which had been attacked by an ogre in a single night, not losing a single soldier yet these are only bedtime stories. His legend was formed back in the days when he was enlisted in his father's army as Vice-Commander. Royal blood after all does offer some advantages.

It was his first time in a true battlefield and he couldn't be more proud in his shining armor with a few hundred souls relying on him for victory. Then the battle started. He never really forgot the smell of it, the flowers and their crimson stains, the blood of commoners, knights and nobles. He, too, soon joined the fray. Stabbed a man and watched him fall in the dirt, moments before all his royalty came crashing down as he shortly after fell on his knees and held the dying soldier in his very last moments, an act he instinctively performed. His pain was so great that he vowed to never forget his sin and to redeem himself not in the eyes of the Gods but in his very own. He disappeared a few days later from the palace and wasn't found despite his father's best efforts only to reemerge two years later in the middle of a battle, softly speaking to dying soldiers, reassuring others that they will survive or stitching deep wounds. Many attacked him in the heat of battle and they all were knocked out by his quarterstaff. He kept on going like that for hours until the plain white cloak he had been wearing soon turned scarlet from the blood of many, an image many would remember, the man in the blood-soaked cloak who saved dozens and held even more in their last moments, the Ferryman as he is also known among soldiers, someone they can count on to deliver them to the afterlife instead of their bloodthirsty leaders.

Nowadays, the Ferryman, the Heavenly Demon or whatever name you wish to call him has become a heartwarming legend in Iliviace, a symbol of hope and peace, someone who will do his utmost to save you even if you are the greatest villain to ever live. And he will be there even when the sounds of war echoe in the distance, in his soon-to-turn-red white cloak doing what he had done innumerable times before. Risking himself so others may live. A healer's job.



Personality
Bryn isn't a bad person, doesn't do drugs and would never steal. Yet his ridiculously intimidating appearance combined with his royal origin often makes commoners hide. He hasn't been called Heavenly Demon without a reason after all.

He would happily give his life away if that meant saving one more person, he considers himself a tool of Jergal, someone meant to lift some of the weight off the common man's shoulders.

Regarding his relationship with others, he does have a few contacts who have come to know him but doesn't really stay anywhere long enough to grow fond of anyone as despite his demeanor he hardly ever trusts people.

Skills
Master Healer - Be it a simple cut or an infectious plague, he will be there and he will make you feel better even for a few moments.

Master Alchemist - As a non-magic healer, potions are his one and only weapon against disease and poison thus it was mandatory that he became a great alchemist. Instead, his unyielding will forced him to become one of the best.

Quarterstaff Mastery - Knowing that the world isn't full of butterflies and rainbows, his trusty quarterstaff never failed him against all kinds of threats although his abnormal skill plays quite the part.

Flaws
Combat Flaws
•No matter the enemy or the situation, he will do his best in order not to kill, even allow himself to be hit or his allies.

Personality Flaws
•Doesn't really do well with anything other than healing.
•His intimidating appearance often makes him look as if dread is his middle name despite the fact that he wouldn't hurt a fly.

Magic Spells
None.

Abilities
•Legendary Healer: His devotion to his ideals along with his selfless living were deemed worthy of Jergal's favor.
	-Empathic Touch: Through touch, Bryn is able to sense the status of any living thing. For example, by touching a pregnant woman he is able to determine whether it's a boy or a girl, the child's health status or even if the mother feels tired.
	-My Life For Yours: He can always hear the sick, recently dead or dying. Be they in the next room or down the street, he can sense their agony and through touch, he can form a bond with them where he will endure their pain in their place for a set amount of time.
	-Panacea: Bryn is immune to any and all diseases and poisons.
•Legendary Alchemist:
Well-Prepared: His satchel, a gift from his mentor seems to never run out of basic materials like vials, bandages etc.

Brynnulf Innamorte was born in the Kingdom of Ischael, son of Breinval the Wise and future heir to the throne and only child. His childhood was that of the highest nobility, luxurious and with many scholars giving him the short version of the entire human knowledge thus far. Despite the ways of the world where nobility belongs to a higher caste than the common man, he never looked down on them. Instead he often left the castle in order to hold common meals for the poor and organising classes for the children.

His uneventful childhood and teen years gave way to balls where he flirted with the daughters of many Houses hoping to marry into the Royal bloodline, a ticket to endless riches and long hunts with his father who had many things to say to his firstborn, words of wisdom and advice on how to run a kingdom.

Some time after the five-day feast for his 19th birthday, his father decided to destroy the bandit settlement in northern Ischael and thus Bryn rode alongside him and 800 heavily armored soldiers expecting an easy win. It was indeed an easy win yet for Bryn, it certainly didn't feel like it when he got his first kill. Moments later, the future King of Ischael knelt beside a commoner and held him dearly in his hands as he passed away. Twenty-four hours later, half the royal guard was looking for him in the capital while the rest spread throughout the plains, to no avail.

Bryn had taken his decision to abandon his Kingdom or at least leave it to his father's hands for a while, until he felt that he truly deserved to play a major role in the lives of thousands. He headed south, to warmer climates and away from the always cold foothills of the north where he studied the art of healing and alchemy under great scholars, eager to start redeeming himself.

Over the next few years, he started visiting distant settlements where he healed whoever needed healing and comforting whoever needed a shoulder to lean on, even for a minute building a reputation of a mysterious pilgrim in rags, helping all in need and asking for nothing in return. As soon as he finished his studies, he returned to Ischael in disguise in order to attend his father's funeral who ironically fell victim to a disease, further steeling his will to save lives and find a way to save even more. He remained in Ischael for the next few months, watching the kingdom almost crumbling since he as the heir was missing and many families openly fought for a chance at the crown. He shaped his legend in one of those fights, the mysterious healer, while leaving the House Innamorte medallion on his father's secluded grave, a message for a select few that he knew would be able to understand. Soon after a Lord Regent was elected whose responsibility was to run the country until 40 years passed or the lost prince returned.

Since then, Bryn has been travelling all around the lands, saving all kinds of people with Jergal by his side as the great God once revealed himself in his dream, blessing him with the power to heal more efficiently as a gift for his selfless living and great responsibility as a motive to keep him moving forward.

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Name 
Vice

Age 
20

Gender 
Female

Crew Position 
Swordsman

Race 
Human

Appearance  
Vice isn't your ordinary woman. Since the very moment she was born, she stood out for three things ; her ashen hair, her snow white skin and her blue eyes. She grew into a beautiful woman of average height, with short hair, a slender physique and an obvious love of kimonos since they're practically the only thing she ever wears. She could easily play the girlish, fragile princess role if not for the katana always by her side.

Personality  
Vice could be described as a social chameleon. She can be charismatic, cheerful, silly and pretty much anything if that gets her closer to her goal. That's her mask though, not her real self.

To be brutally honest, even Vice herself isn't sure of what kind of person she is. There is only a handful of people she trusts and around them she's usually quiet and relaxed with a peaceful smirk on her face. On the other hand, when on a mission or around people she doesn't know or like she is a cold and seething person, always calm but ready -and eager- to strike without mercy at a moment's notice.

Other than that, a trait which she is oblivious to is that she's probably the most literal person to ever exist. For example her revolutionary Commander, Alzac, still tells the story of how she gave him a crude drawing of her sword after he asked her to draw her blade in order to assess her skill, shortly after they met.

Backstory 
If you ask her about her past and you're lucky enough to get a serious answer, you'll learn that she was born a slave. Her parents were sold to a nobleman in Sabaody Archipelago and then taken to South Blue where she was born. 

Deep into South Blue, Vice lived a somewhat good life -for a slave- with food and clean water and only a few beatings every month. However, she wasn't and still isn't the kind of person to accept fate, destiny or whatever you call it. While both her parents urged her to forget escaping and do her best to pass unnoticed, every day that passed she got stronger as she had convinced another slave, and old man who claimed to have been an infamous pirate worth 25 million beli to train her.

By the time she reached 16 years of age, she was stronger, faster and more agile than she could ever imagine. Yet that was only the beginning. She spent every day of the following year training and forming her escape plan and once she felt ready, she simply vanished without a word to anyone. She had no idea about the hell that would follow.

A few days after the escape, the slaver who owned her announced that he'd kill her parents within two hours unless she returned. And unfortunately, she did. The beating she received left her unconscious for days with only the old pirate looking after her since her parents had been sold. Three days later, she vanished again. The following night, she broke into the nobleman's mansion, stole his family's heirloom katana and roughed him up until he ordered all the slaves freed. She left the island with her new blade and the old man who said he knew where to go next.

The rest of her story she keeps for herself although what is known is that she joined a cell of Revolutionaries and carried out many missions in South Blue until some time three months ago when she joined a dojo in Pol Stictid.

Long Term Ambition  
Destroy the World Government.

Medium Term Ambition  
Take down the tyrant, Dario Capper.

Fighting Style  
Ittouryu

Notable Equipment 
Her katana, Izanami.

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Name
Daisy Montblanc

Blue/Sea
North Blue, Lvneel Kingdom

Crew/Base
-

Bounty/Rank
- 

Age
18

Height
5'2'' / 1.61m

Weight
105 pounds / 47kg

Personality
Daisy is a carefree and often daydreaming person, always looking relaxed and calm. And that's exactly how she is, no complex words or actions, no hidden feelings or withheld thoughts, she will say what she feels and she will make certain that her voice is heard. She is fiercely protective of everything and everyone she decides to allow into her life yet she will show no mercy to those who -in her opinion- are wasting their lives or her time. She isn't the bravest person to ever exist nor the smartest, she's an average woman making the most of the hand she's been dealt.

•Type: Paramecia
•Ability Description: The Chloro-Chloro fruit essentially makes the user a plant-man. From harvesting the potential of the various abilities a flower has -from the many effects of photosynthesis to the destructive potential of thorns and various poisonous gasses- to effectively covering the body in iron-hard bark. As long as the user can see the sun, the extremely versatile and unpredictable Chloro-Chloro Fruit will be trouble no matter the opponent.
•Tactics
	-Offensive: The user is capable of more than doubling his strength and agility by planting deep roots into the ground which absorb minerals and water for 3 minutes at a time since it takes quite a toll on the body. The user can also grow long thorny vines which can act as whips of sort. One more of the various offensive uses of the fruit is the production of various gasses like sleeping gas or poisonous gas. 
	-Defensive: The user is capable of covering his body with extremely dense bark capable of withstanding even cannonballs. Other than that, through photosynthesis the user can regenerate health although that ability is practically unusable in battle since it demands the user to be unconscious and still.
•Specific Weakness: Practically, for the fruit's true power to manifest, the user needs to both see the sun and step on the ground. For example fighting the user aboard a ship on a shiny day will be vastly different to fighting him on the ground in the middle of the night.


Skills & Talents
Very talented botanist.

Transportation
Her father's luxurious galleon. 

Dream
To live life at its fullest.

Origins
Daisy so far has lived a good, rich life having everything one could ever want due to her family's vast wealth. Her father, a man carrying the blood of the famous liar Montblanc Noland -although rumours of the Golden City resurfaced two years ago- and a rich merchant raised her on the beautiful and peaceful Kingdom of Lvneel along with her mother who always stood by her side. 

Yet nothing's ever perfect. From her birth, Daisy has practically died 11 times in her sleep due to a very rare and unknown illness. The first two times it happened, her mother, a renowned doctor in North Blue, was the one to resuscitate her and ever since a team of doctors has been around her 24/7. Needless to say that she rarely was ever permitted to leave the estate until she reached the point where she stopped eating and she was eventually allowed to roam the kingdom.

Fast forward to her 16th birthday when she briefly announced her intention to set sail in two years time and see the world in front of a crowd and her shocked parents where in order to prove her conviction, she did the unthinkable and ate a Devil Fruit she had smuggled for a lot of money from the Grand Line. Countless fights followed and eventually her father accepted her decision and agreed on giving her a ship as long as her doctors along with her bodyguards are always with her.

Two years later, she set sail, eager to see the world and secretly with the ambition of entering the Grand Line on her own or with people who weren't aware of her condition.

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Name
Darlene / Subject 313

Appearance

Age
19

Height/Weight
5'3 / 110lbs

Subject 313 has proven time after time that she does not fit into any behavioral patterns but acts as a social chameleon, always adapting to her environment and the people around her. She can be kind for example but I can assure you that even if she does feel so, when it matters, she will do whatever needed for her situation to improve even in the slightest. She is a complete narcissist with delusions of grandeur and a certain inability to simply trust. She will take your secret to the grave as long as you ask yet she will never trust you with hers. 

Having spent countless hours testing, examining or simply watching 313, I can say one thing with certainty ; she isn't a sociopath nor a failed subject but probably a terribly successful one with a brilliant mind and the capacity for acts of both great benevolence and pure savagery. And part of it is our fault.

To sum up, Darlene is an enigma. We will never truly know the way she ticks and that, I believe, is simply unacceptable considering the destructive ability we have granted her and the cost if she ever escapes. I recommend her immediate termination.

The change in genetic composition of a population over successive generations, which may be caused by natural selection, inbreeding, hybridization, or mutation is the very definition of evolution. Now imagine that process sped up enough to last not millenia but hours, hell even minutes. 

That was the basic idea when creating 313, a body capable of endlessly transforming every single one of its cells as a reaction to pretty much anything it faces, from tear gas to temperatures beyond the human limit. 

And we were successful.

Subject 313 has faced thousands of tests with the purpose of finding the limits of her reactive adaptation as we called it. We found no such limits meaning that there is no situation she is unable to adapt to. From the formation of new limps in order to replace severed ones to strengthening her muscles enough to punch through a concrete wall with ease. The one thing which troubles us is the ungodly pain 313 feels as the body practically gives birth to billions of cells every moment which will undoubtedly mess with her very sanity unless we do something about it. However, her pain is not a priority.

However, she is not as perfect as she seems. For her body to transform even in the slightest there is a two minute window where she is as human as the rest of us. During those 120 seconds the only thing that counts is her own training and ability to survive and that is why you've seen her spent hundreds of hours exercising.

Other
Beautiful Pain

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Avo hadn't slept at all. In his empty, but for a bed and a desk, room he stood by the window, watching the night go by, barely blanking. On his old wooden desk, dozens of files were laying around, some given to him by the Council, others he made himself based on his notes about the people who were supposed to be part of his Circle. He had spent a good part of his evening, after meeting with the Council, finding out more about his new companions through those who lived in the Tower and he was pleased to have acquired enough info on each of them to know what to expect.

He lit another cigarette, oblivious to the fact that one was already burning out by the window sill, carefully balanced by the edge. His mind was racing, from the Circle he was supposed to lead starting tomorrow, to his company and memories of his father.

A soft knock was suddenly heard, his wooden door eager to fall apart. He didn't have to answer for the door to open, he knew who it was.

"I knew you'd be here, Avo." Nim said, his protege and the woman who would controlling the company from the shadows for as long as he was gone and the one to inherit it after he passes. He had found her in one his first few solo ventures outside the city walls, back in the days when he mercilessly hunted the damned, thinking that we would find his answers through violence. She was but a teen, back then, a sad sack of bones, barely capable of drawing breath. Her caravan had been attacked and she had been left for dead, trapped under one of the carriages for who knows how long, surviving simply through water and a definite amount of luck. She vividly remembers how he saved her, how he freed her and carried her on his back for two days and two nights, not stopping for a moment.

"Did you now." he whispered, not really paying any attention.
"You are good to go, I have arranged everything." she added, trying to draw some conversation out of him.
"Thank you Nim."

She took a few steps towards his desk and shuffled through the papers. "Tell me about them." she whispered.

"Where should I start..ah yes, of cour-"
"Nikolas Tulley, 22, someone who might just turn out to be a kindred soul both in thought and reality. His raw talent in the control of light itself will prove quite the asset once he gains mastery over it yet his flawed logic could prove to be a great disadvantage in situations where good and bad, black and white, just aren't enough."

She knew him. She knew him like the back of her hand. She knew that the mess on his desk was actually controlled, that the file on top was the file he had studied the most and that the cigar on the window sill wasn't forgotten but more like abandoned.

"Why him?"
"He could become my number two, a valuable and trusted ally."
"And your first contingency plan in case you are split in half by a Dark One." she retorted.
"Quite right too."
"Talk to me about the rest." she continued, as she sat on the weathered chair by his desk.

"Well, other than Tulley, there's Luciel, the young illusionist, he will be our diplomat and voice of our Circle for every interaction except the Tower. We won't be leaving anything to luck, from kings to peasants, he will be using his subtle abilities on them for our cause. Fighting wise, he's slightly of more use than a militia but I am not expecting him to take down dozens of Pyrrhics with his mind. Yet."
"A mind reader?! You'd do well not to let that be known, people don't react nice when they learn they are being influenced."
"Noted. Then there's Isaac Redgrove, our strategist. His.. unique ability demands him to be prepared for every situation so I will be betting on his expertise, when we need to plan our every move."
"I see. Sounds like you are ready for this. What about the girl, Grimm?"

Avo didn't reply immediatelly. Nim could always read him, somehow, part of why he had placed some trust in her.

"She will be leading her own Circle, Cygnus. We both have the same mission currently so I shall be seeing quite a bit of her."

Nim didn't reply, just kept looking at him, her face a riddle.

She spent the last few hours before daybreak with him, the last time she would see him for quite a bit. If she ever did again. There were a million things she wanted to say but nothing he would want to hear. And so the night went on, by daybreak she was asleep and he carefully wrapped her with the fur he used to keep himself warm in the winter before packing his files and quietly leaving the room where he grew up, maybe for the last time.

Tower of Helia


His step was quick but confident as he entered the Library, many new faces around him, faces he would share life and death with. He didn't introduce himself or speak to anyone, he simply lit a cigar and stayed by a window, awaiting his nemesis, Alessa Grimm, to finally decide to show up and get this mission going. He would be a liar if he told himself that he wasn't nervous, of course he was. But beginnings are supposed to be scary, aren't they?

Especially so close to the end.

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Hello everyone and welcome to One Piece: Anarchy! This roleplay is gonna be -obviously- based on the japanese manga and anime by the wonderful Eichiro Oda. I have been preparing this for quite some time since OP roleplays have somewhat of a curse on them, rarely ever surviving the first crucial month but hopefully this one will make the cut. At least, I promise to give it my best shot.

This roleplay will begin 12 years* after the battle that shook the world, the final confrontation where the Strawhats and all their allies stood against the World Government, the Marines and Blackbeard along with his own allies. Now, standing against one of these forces would be an extremely difficult task but standing against all three? 
Suicide. 
Luffy and Co. were utterly defeated thus ending the Great Pirate Era and giving birth to the Era of Justice where the ranks of the Navy flourished with thousands of new recruits who saw the fall of the Strawhats and all their allies, the World Government tightened its grip throughout the world now that there wasn't anyone willing to stand against it as well as honored its deal with Blackbeard and gave him -practically- full control over all the Blues, a price even the Marines considered too steep yet 

*Four years after Ace's death meaning a total of 16 years past the current OP timeline.

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    Erinya - Ishanni     

♀ | 34 |Elf-Blooded Human

Basic Info

Birthplace 
Wandering Hills, Anderfels

Appearance 
Erinya is of slighty more than average height, with a very slender physique. Her long black hair vastly contrast with her -nowadays- pale skin. She looks completely human despite her partly Elven origin although the angular features of her face can remind someone of an Elf. Her striking blue eyes, almost gray, are her best feature as many have said. All in all, Erinya used to be a beauty you don't meet everyday, especially in the lands she was born in. 

However, life hasn't treated her well and that shows. Her face looks pale and gaunt, full of freckles and proof of the hard times she's been facing in both her days and nights. Her vibrant black hair now look sickly and weak and her eyes have lost their spark. Her once slender body now looks fragile, ready to fall to the winter.

But she's strong, she's a survivor, always has been.

Background 
Erinya was conceived somewhere in the southern-most parts of the Brecilian Forest, according to Mother's parting letter. Her father,
 some random Dalish Elf who fell in love with the witch or as Mother put it "...fell in love because I was something he had never seen before". Her mother, one of the infamous Chasind and quite possibly a witch, she never admitted to it. For some unknown reason of hers, Mother travelled all the way to the arid and barren Anderfels, one of the literally worst places one can live and raise a child in, settled among the Orth tribe of the Wandering Hills and soon after, she gave birth to Erinya right in the middle of summer.

Growing up is hard and growing up in the Anderfels is much, much harder. From the constant threat of Darkspawn, the scarcity of food, scarcity of law, scarcity of life in general to the often deadly weather itself. Erinya was around 8 when her mother made her watch a genlock slaughter an innocent old man before she sent an arrow right between its eyes as it had just noticed them. 

"Earn it." she said, "Earn your right to stand and defend it until Death himself comes to take you."

She never forgot her words, not really. Eight year old Erinya wasn't shocked nor scared, not even scarred. She understood at that moment, how fair the world is through its unfairness. Some are born to suffer, others to live in pleasure. Some are as important as a bucket with a hole and others make their names echo for all eternity.

The Orth took them both in as their own, they faced no prejudice, ever, thus mother and daughter both considered themselves a part of the tribe. Erinya learned how to use the bow and the dagger, how to hide in plain sight and how to survive without water from them, her body getting much more exercise than she needed since a very young age. They taught her everything they taught their own younglings and even more as was somewhat of a prodigy, her ability with a bow matching that of the tribes's best marksmen. By her 11th birthday, Erinya had already killed a genlock, didn't even blink when she saw the arrow slide right through the opening of it's rusty helmet, she was already preparing another arrow for its also unlucky ally. Soon, she and her mother left the Anderfels and stayed for almost a year in the Korcari Wilds where her mother introduced her to her people, the Chasind, who taught her the ways of the forest and of the tribe. Erinya always had a mind that easily took in new things and this time wasn't different.

They travelled back home, as she felt about the Anders, and once again joined the tribe she had grown with. That also didn't last as Mother disappeared one day, leaving behind only a letter written in Chasind where she wished her luck and gave some information about why she left that Erinya hasn't told anyone.

As the years passed and Erinya was now an adult and a very important part of the tribe, it didn't take long for her to receive various marriage proposals from the tribe's up and coming singles. But ambition burned inside of her and staying in the Wandering Hills for her whole life was never an option. Quietly, without any fuss, she packed and left one especially hot and humid night. She made her way to the capital, Hossberg, where she met Anteus, a mercenary of the Green Men, a band comprising of the best marksmen in Thedas meant to protect caravans travelling towards the distant port of Leysh through these always dangerous lands. After convincing him that she had the potential to be in the company, she joined them and led the life of a mercenary, through its many ups and downs for three years, until one fateful day a couple of months after her 22nd birthday when they came across a group of Grey Wardens fending off a particularly large band of Darkspawn. Their combined forces saved the day and the caravan with minimal loss of life yet the highlight was Erinya, saving the Senior Warden Taliesin's life by shooting down a bolt headed towards him mid air.

Now, she knew of the Order of the Grey and always held them in high regard but never did she seriously think about joining them.

"It's not a profession, it's a Calling."

the Warden told her before inviting her back to Weisshaupt with him, as a Warden-Recruit.

She was pretty happy with her life but she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't meant to be just a mercenary either. So she said yes and soon enough, the magnificent headquarters of the Order stood in front of her. There were five recruits excluding her, at her Joining. One of them was Taliesin's son, Feodor, the man she would end up marrying and conceiving a child with, in the night they spent together before their Joining. They were the only ones to survive the Joining and Erinya was now one of the Grey, something which gave her purpose and filled her with the ambition to use her skills for helping the people of the Anderfels. 

The next four years of her life were quite possibly her best, she was truly and completely happy. She fell in love with Feodor and for the following months the two Wardens would travel on their own throughout the Anderfels, helping everyone they could while falling deeper and deeper in love with each other, until the effects of pregnancy brought her back to Weisshaupt where she gave birth to a healthy girl, Elleria. They eventually got married and Taliesin took her as his daughter, naming her Ishanni, the name of his long dead wife. She felt that she belonged, this was her little family and she would do everything in her hand to make the world a safer place for her daughter and her husband as well as the people.

Soon enough, Erinya or Ishanni, was well enough to start travelling again, with Elleria being taken care of by her grandfather, Taliesin. This went on for a few months until the couple decided to settle down in the Wandering Hills where no Grey Wardens ever set foot due to its remote location and constant darkspawn threat. The three lived there together, growing and maturing.

No dream lasts forever though.

It was an ordinary call for help like many others but this time, a father of four was possessed and threatening to burn his children alive along with his house. And Erinya just wouldn't allow that to happen.

She used her deathroot extract to enter a deep trance combined with an Elven ritual Feodor knew, certain he would drive the demon back, proud of her skills and prowess regardless of the fact that it was the first time she was entering the Fade. She did manage to drive the demon back. The farmer was safe as well as his kids. So was Feodor. But she wasn't.

Endless voices echoed in her head, her dreams started being plagued by nightmares and soon she even started seeing visions of horrid things. Feodor, worried about her, immediatelly wrote to his father who begun the long trek to the Wandering Hills alongside two Warden mages, certain that Erinya had been possessed.

They weren't fast enough.

They found her soaked in blood, clutching little Elleria's corpse for dear life, Feodor also dead on their bed, his throat slit, whispering incoherent things, crazed. She doesn't really know what happened next, she's certain that she died with them, with her people. She has no clue why she still wakes up despite being dead. On her way to the Circle located in Hossberg in order for her to be made tranquil, she escaped and ran, ran as far as her feet could take her and lost track of time. She could have been roaming for months, maybe years, with no recollection of what she did or how she survived.

But she did survive and found herself joining a band of mercenaries, the Oathbreakers, her best bet to avoid anyone asking too many questions or coming across familiar faces. She was an outlaw after all and a particularly dangerous one, at that. 

And there has she been until today, fighting and living, day after day, a usually empty husk of a person driven by instinct and some sort of twisted willpower, barely having any memories of anything at all.

Personality 
Erinya usually isn't someone you can talk to. Aloof and talking to herself or disappearing for hours at a time, speaking in riddles and acting without the least bit of logic.

She rarely ever is herself and those moments are the worst because that's when she remembers. That's when she realizes. That's when it all comes rushing back and she denies herself the pleasure of slitting her own throat or just falling on the first blade she finds drawn against her. 

"You gotta earn it."

she keeps repeating to herself, gotta earn death.

Only time you can somewhat get a glimpse of just who she was is during battles when her training takes over and her face looks more like the Grey Warden of the Anders who had saved countless lives and less like a complete, Fade-Touched, lunatic.

Curriculum Vitae

Years served 
•5 years, 11 months and 8 days.

Profession 
Rogue | Ranger

Modius Operandi 
Erinya rarely ever dirties her hands with blood in gruesome melee. Her bow and arrows never failed her and she intends to keep it that way. Being a master ranger makes her always capable of finding a suitable location to oversee the battle and send her arrows flying in order to support her allies first and rain fury on her enemies second.

Skills 
•Ranger's Boon: Summon Wolf / Bear / Spider.*
•Green Men Represent: One of the best marksmen in Thedas.
•Chasind Survivalist: When in the woods, Erinya is always the hunter, never the hunted. Stealthy, agile and with a knack for ambushes as well as capable of finding everything she needs to survive.
•Fade-Touched: Since she entered the Fade almost eight years ago in order to try and fight a demon who had possessed a single father of four, she hasn't been all there. Visions, voices, vivid dreams, Erinya has been plagued by them.
•Multilingual: Erinya, other than being fluent in Common, can also speak Dalish, Ander as well as Chasind.

*ᴰᵉᵖᵉᶰᵈᶦᶰᵍ ᵒᶰ ᶫᵒᶜᵃᵗᶦᵒᶰ⋅

Important Relations: 
•Taliesin Far-Eye: Senior Grey Warden, last known location was the Order's HQ, Weisshaupt Fortress. Taliesin was Fedor's father and the one who conscripted her into the Grey Wardens.
•Mother: Of Chasind origin and almost certainly a witch, Erinya's mother is probably still alive, back in the Korcari Wilds, home of her people.
 They haven't been in contact since she left Erinya, right after her 13th birthday.

Thoughts: 
To be filled in later.

Tools of the Trade

Weapons & Ammunition 
•Ma Vhenan: What can be said for Erinya's bow? Created by one of the greatest woodsmiths among the Dalish, it is made to fit her hands perfectly, a priceless wedding gift from her husband and his family which has served her greatly through the years. Comes with a 21-arrow quiver and the runes inscribed on it carry the motto of the Grey Wardens as well as the Elven name given to Erinya during her wedding.
•1x Generic Steel Dagger
•1x Quiver
•21x Steel Tipped Fine Elven Arrows.

Clothing & Armor 
•Warden Scout's Tunic: Despite having deserted the Grey Wardens for her reasons, Erinya still practically lives in her Warden days armor although it's not as clean these days and there's thick leather sewn all over it in order not to give away this part of her past. Too much attention would be fatal as she's still a wanted woman.
•1x Thick Leather Thigh-High Boots
•1x Flax Shirt, 1x Flax Pants
•1x Traveler's Cloak, Dark Green

Tools & Things 
•1x Bow, String & Arrows Repair and Maintenance Kit*
•1x Needle & Thread
•1x Wolf Whistle
•1x Bear Lure
•1x Spider Lure
•1x Herbalism Kit

*Oils and fine tools. 

Potions & Poultices 
•2x Health Potions
•3x Injury Kits

Ingredients & Rations 
•14x Deep Mushrooms
•1x Waterskin
•4x Crow Poison Vials
•1x Quiet Death Vial
•2x Flasks of Deathroot Extract

Bags & Pouches 
•1x Medium Sized Traveller's Backpack.
•2x Vial Pouch

Odds and Ends 
•1x Steel Weathered Grey Warden insignia
•1x Diary
•1x Dirty Ol' Child's Doll
•2x Wedding Rings
•1x Chasind Bone Medallion

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"Bugger off."

∟ NAME
Lilith

∟ FIELD NAME
Psyker

∟ RANK
#6

∟ CLASS
Passive*

∟ GENDER
Female

∟ PHYSICAL PROFILE
Lilith is of average height, with a slender and agile physique. She has never demonstrated any exceptional physical ability of any kind yet keeps herself conditioned through the Project's physical training regime. Her piercing grey eyes are her best feature which ties well with her pale complexion and dark hair, some of which she has bleached.

Her wardrobe comprises of heavy clothing, dark, which never reveals any skin regardless of season.

∟ PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE
Psyker, in any other condition, would have been either put down or at least locked for the rest of her years. Her tremendous ability along with her volatile nature created an explosive mix which more than once cost the Project dearly. However, our last-ditch effort of getting her in touch with our troubled #66 proved to be a masterstroke as they bonded extremely well and made each other far more useful to our organization and our war.

She still gives the impression of a rebellious and angsty teen who has been forced into a fight she never chose, a weapon in the hands of people she never liked, in a war she never tried to understand. Loud-mouthed and feisty, with a knack for challenging others, Psyker hasn't really bonded with anyone other than #66 despite having been raised alongside the only ones in the whole world she could ever call her own.

∟ ABILITIES
•Psychokinesis
	Psyker is capable of manipulating matter with her mind, from solving five Rubic's cubes at once without even touching them to lifting cars and throwing them on her enemies as if they were pebbles. There would be no limit on what she could potentially do if her ability took less of a toll on her. Currently, the most she can do without killing herself is the physical equivalent of  lifting a three story building for 6 seconds although she is constantly striving to improve.

∟ WEAKNESSES
•Lack of physical prowess.
•Her ability takes a toll on both her body and mind. The more she uses it, the longer her downtime is before being capable of being sent on missions.
•Not a team-player.

"Would you kindly let me in?"

∟ NAME
Eve

∟ FIELD NAME
Orphan

∟ RANK
#66

∟ CLASS
Hostile*

∟ GENDER
Female

∟ PHYSICAL PROFILE
A child in all but her mind, Orphan is one of the more peculiar members of our Project. In the extremely rare chance she is allowed to mingle, she'll usually wear whatever her caretakers will give her and carry as many of her teddy bears as she can but never two of the same.

∟ PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE
What can really be said about Orphan, such tremendous potential in her yet so much torment. We,
 the psychologists and psychiatrists of the Project, all of us with knowledge of the psyche, cannot reach a consensus regarding Eve, whether the things she claims are true and a product of her nature or she is a failure,
 broken beyond repair, a liability and a danger for all of us here, including our cause.

Malicious and manipulative with sociopathic tendencies, Orphan is not to remain without supervision outside the room we have designed and created just for her. She is under no means allowed to make contact with any of our other Subjects or any of the staff without supervision and never, ever, left to her own devices. 

Her mind is a constant threat as she is plagued by psychotic events which she claims are real and not hallucinations, events such as visions, voices, ghost sighting, thoughtography, automatic writing and more. She even claims to be capable of rarely demonstrating clairvoyant and prophetic abilities.

Other than our specialists, due to Orphan's extremely fragile nature, only Psyker is allowed to come in contact with her, they seem to have reached an understanding and both seem to find pleasure in each other's company. In due time, maybe she can even be considered field-capable, provided that we devise a way to control her mind.

∟ ABILITIES
•Telepathy
	Orphan is perfectly capable of projecting her voice and/or thoughts telepathically, she even has demonstrated the ability to include another or more into her telepathic network, something which would greatly assist during field operations. When she was asked to describe how she does it, she claimed that each of "the voices" has a different color and she just pulls them in.

•Extrasensory Perception (ESP)
	Orphan claims to be capable of remote viewing through the eyes of those who have "let her in" since she cannot apparently enter the heads of those who have not given her their explicit permission. We have not tested this as it was deemed too risky, in the off chance she was being truthful. She also claims to be able to get information about an object or person through touch (psychometry and the ability to communicate with the unseen (mediumship). 

Of course, due to the nature of these.. abilities, we cannot possibly test them. For all we know, she may just be a completely average yet damaged human being who lives among us in the off chance she is indeed a Child of Eve. We, as scientists devoted to the greater good, cannot do anything but simply care for her and her, sometimes admiteddly unexplained, psychotic events. 

However, in the off chance she ever gets a grip of herself and proves to truly be a psychic, she would be a great addition to our operations, maybe even vital to us understanding our enemies enough to end their threat.

∟ WEAKNESSES
•Orphan is currently completely lost in her mind, other than some moments of clarity which are few and far between.
•Zero offensive potential.
•Zero defensive potential.

Hidden 6 yrs ago → 6 yrs ago Post by Tendo

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"Aren't you a little ray of pitch black?"


| NAME |
Avo "Empyrean" Montblanc

|AGE |
28

| MAGIC ABILITIES/AUGMENTOR |
School of Magic
Terramancy: The manipulation of earth in various ways, versatile enough to be limited only by the Clairvoyant's own strength and imagination.
Augmentor
His ring.
Skills

Terratus: Avo creates a Golem of various sizes which fights in his place and is subject to his every whim. The Golem possesses no intelligence or any will of its own as it is a direct manifestation of its creator's will and ability. Size and power depend on the material that the Golem was created from and the Mana invested by the creator. Amount of Golems subject also to creator's own strength.

Terrarmor: Avo encases himself in an earthly element, from soil to rock and even diamond or magma if its available and proceeds to fight like that. Can be used on others but may have negative effects as magma for example will burn anyone without a specific earth or fire affinity, rock armor will most likely crush anyone other than Avo and so on.

Terraform: Avo can manipulate the soil and its various states any way he wants. From creating walls to spikes to pretty much anything he wants to. Mana required depends on size of the construct and distance.

Terra Invicta: Avo's ultimate ability where he draws strength from the earth itself and turns himself into a Golem of sorts, using all of his three main abilities. The Golem's abilities are based on the material it formed from. To use this ability, Avo has to sacrifice his life force too as no Clairvoyant, ever, would be able to create and sustain such a construct depending on their Mana alone therefore it's an ability with a great cost and the longer he uses it, the more of his life he sacrifices.

ᵀʰᵉˢᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃᶦⁿ ᵃᵇᶦˡᶦᵗᶦᵉˢ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴱᵐᵖʸʳᵉᵃⁿ, ᵀᵉʳʳᵃᵐᵃⁿᶜʸ ᶦⁿ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃˡ ᶦˢ ᵉˣᵗʳᵉᵐᵉˡʸ ᵛᵉʳˢᵃᵗᶦˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᶦᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ, ᴬᵛᵒ ʷᶦˡˡ ᵈᵉᶠᶦⁿᶦᵗᵉˡʸ ᵉᵛᵒˡᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉˣᵖᵃⁿᵈ ʰᶦˢ ʳᵉᵖᵉʳᵗᵒᶦʳᵉ.


| PERSONALITY |
Plenty of people will dislike Avo Montblanc, future owner of Montblanc Armaments, but the fact he's beyond arrogant and egocentric is just the tip of the iceberg. On top of that he's also proud and ruthless when it comes to his ideals, eager to use every means at his disposal to achieve a goal he set. Everyone who knows him can assure you that they're never certain of what he's feeling or thinking as his logic dictates him, refusing to give anyone any insight into his inner self to the point where even his own blood is unnerved by his presence. 

To be fair though, Avo does have some redeeming qualities. He's hiding quite the intelligence behind his distant demeanor and more often that not, he'll go out of his way to -simply put- help someone in need. He will never ask for a reward or recognition,
 he'll do his good deed, beat the dust from his expensive coat and go on his way.

All in all, Avo Montblanc is a person that you can't really make your mind about unless you meet him and get to spend time with him. He doesn't need you to like him or accept him, to talk to him about himself or anything that resembles opening up, he only demands that you do what he thinks you're capable of and that's it.


| SAMPLE POST |
"Pardon me, Mr. Ballard, but I refuse to subject my ears to any more of your hissing." Avo Montblanc almost whispered yet the deafening silence, between all those gathered around his office, that followed his words made certain that they had their time and now it was his turn to speak. 

On the left side of the relatively big yet empty room where his office was, four men stood, those selected by his workers to bring him their complaints against the man in charge of the metalworking department. On the right side, Joleon Ballard, the head of that department, his face turned red as this kid -because Avo was certain that Ballard considered him one- insulted him in front of his workers.

"You will pay the man who had the accident 3 months of wages and while he is healing, his wife will work for us. And that's final. As for you lot, Joleon Ballard is and will be the head of the department so if by any chance, your minds reach the conclusion that I value you more than him, you won't find any work in this town. Ever again. I sincerely hope I'm understood. By all of you." 

They all mumbled in agreement and bowed in respect before leaving his office yet Ballard, with his veins popping, stayed.

"A word, Montblanc?"

Avo didn't reply immediatelly, only stood and looked outside his window where most of the good part of town was visible, strong fires in every house, people who had never starved once in their lives. He lit a cigar, one of his guilty pleasures and one that only those of some status could enjoy.

"I have been in this company since your father barely had enough money to buy a decent meal, long before you were bor-"
"You will save me the speech, Mr. Ballard. I have no patience for those of your likeness, tonight. Go home, drink your expensive wine, smoke an expensive cigar and eat until you are bursting. I value you as a professional, immensely. But as a man, I find you lacking and that is all there is to say as our only relationship is and will be professional."
"I thought those of your kind are supposed to be outside our barriers, protecting us, we are not but prey, mortals. Not making a living through arms dealing." Ballard said, his words dripping venom.
"Quite right too, Mr. Ballard. But fighting those that you can't, isn't all I am. As well as leading this company, isn't all I am. The two together, aren't all I am either. And your words won't anger me, they are but words, words you would eat if you could witness the monsters that I get to face for your sake."

Ballard turned his face away, to leave, having worsened his position by losing his composure. He wasn't a bad man, by any means, he was kind and charitable, solely based on his personal wealth he had built an orphanage in the slums. But, like all men of wealth and power, they need to ascertain their position over the commoner.

"And Mr. Ballard? For the Pyrrhics, you might be prey, as you put it. But I am the hunter."

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