Equipment: She has a large sword with a water rune in the hilt so she can summon water to use even when there is none in the air, and a pouch to carry health and stamina potions, along with the odd antivenom or vial of poison.
Demeanor: Eve is decidedly cold towards others, the type who'd stick to herself rather than a large group. She'll criticize you, but also build you up stronger at the same time. She is not unkind, just distant, and is a very loyal teammate and friend.
History: Eve grew up in a kingdom very close to the storm, you could see it on the horizon from anywhere in the kingdom. She lived with her parents, helping out in the shop they ran selling wood carvings and flowers from her mother's garden. Her mother was a storm, though only an Adept, she helped the people in her town keep their gardens growing well in the loose, sandy soil of the area, while her father was a jack-of-all-trades who could do things from building furniture and houses to making a clay vase and other cookware. Eve's parents found out she had the potential to be an elemental at the age of 8 and sent her off to the Academy when she turned 10.
That's where her cold personality started. Instead of being as kind and open to everyone as she had been at home with her parents she pulled into herself, only trusting a select few and becoming harsh and overly cautious to others. She decided that she wanted to become a blizzard when she saw a duel between one and a storm, a few weeks after finding out that she had the most potential for hydromancy than any other element.
In the years that followed Eve focused on making herself stronger through any means possible, fighting, travelling the land, studying texts written by or about strong blizzards, and countless hours of meditation. Her current ability is that of an Adept, but she has been able to cover her arms and torso in ice as a type of light armor through her training, but it really takes some concentration to make and is not very strong yet.
Appearance: Drew is tall, but he tends to slouch or hunch over, so he appears to be average height. He wears a simple light grey robe with a hood (though he hardly wears the hood). He has pale skin, medium-length brown hair, a constant 5 o’clock shadow that he can’t seem to get rid of or get to grow further, and green eyes that tend to be half-closed all the time. Between the slumping and the closed eyes, Drew constantly looks like he’s asleep.
Equipment: nothing beyond the essentials.
Demeanor: Not terribly sociable, but not a brooding loner. He’ll stay with groups and chime in occasionally, but he usually just sits back and listens. Willing to let others know what he thinks, but he does try to have some tact about it. Has an odd distrust of Nightshades. Hard to earn his trust, but he’ll trust you almost unconditionally once you earn it.
History: Compared to most, some would say Drew’s upbringing was dull. He was born to parents who were well off, even if they weren't actually wealthy. His powers manifested at the earliest point possible and his parents sent him off to the academy with little complications. They were very supportive and tried to stay in contact with him whenever they could, though their jobs as nomadic merchants meant they had much to deal with.
Drew would discover he had a talent for some of the more niche parts of the path of the Storm, though the basics of the Hydromancer were harder for him to grasp. Though he had trouble making water solid and even making great quantities of liquid, he was very skilled at manipulating vapors, forming mists and clouds and even generating and controlling the element of lightning. He could still make rain and make liquid from gas, but his expertise was in the winds, not the waters.
Time would pass and he’d do above average in his classes. He wasn’t a social butterfly, but he wasn’t a pariah either. He made friends and even had a few relationships, but they all just seemed to drift away over time, and neither side really strove to maintain contact. He became just another face in the crowd, the guy who sat at the back of the classrooms and sat around his living quarters quietly.
The one constant companion he had was his little sister, Fei, who was discovered to be an elemental years after Drew was enrolled. She looked up to him and thinks of him as the smartest, coolest mage in the academy (especially because of his skills making lightning). Drew never tried to impress anyone at the academy, never giving in to any dares or listening to the instructor’s wishes for him to better himself or “live up to his true potential”. He does well in his classes, had his specialties, so he thought that was enough. But deep down, he does try to be the mage his sister sees him as. It’s why he finally got the motivation to finally try and get himself promoted to weaver (he was considered, and good words were said, but he was ultimately rejected) and why he’s going on this journey.
Appearance: Standing at 5 feet 9 inches, Silvana has blue eyes and dirty blonde hair that is wavy and reaches to just above her shoulders. She's got an athletic build with a fair amount of muscle because of her specialty, and she has a slight tan as she likes being outside. Her clothes usually consist of bright colors, typically being red or orange. Her robes are slightly dark red, blending into some orange on the ends of her sleeves and the bottom of the robes.
Equipment: Silvana carries a pendant under her robe in the shape of a flame, a gift from her parents to congratulate her becoming an Adept, and to motivate her towards getting the higher ranks of Weaver and Master.
Demeanor: Silvana had always been a good girl. Her parents treated her well, and she had treated them well in return. Kind to others around her, and positive about most things around her, she wouldn't dream of arguing with someone, nevermind being angry towards others.
History: Silvana was born to Nina, a Metallic Weaver who specialized in Ironwork, and Timothy, a merchant who did well enough as one. As an only child, she was spoiled a little bit, but her parents did their best not to make her feel like she could get anything she wanted. They gave her enough, and she was happy with what she got.
With her mother being a mage, Silvana was used to seeing magic on occasion. Her mother didn't need to use it often at home, but it came in handy at times. Silvana hoped that she could one day become a mage like her mother, so that she could do all the cool stuff too.
Silvana did all she could to help her parents at home, whatever task they asked her to do this or that day, and she rarely said no to them. Since she couldn't go with her mother to wherever she needed to be, she went with her father most of the time to the market, helping him sell his products. When her mother was at home, Silvana and her would spar with dull swords since she had asked her mother if she could train her to become strong like she was, what with her needing to be strong as an Ironworker and all that. And since Nina couldn't train her in magic Silvana didn't have, she agreed to help her become stronger physically.
One evening, when she was at the age of 7, the family was enjoying some down time in front of the fireplace, Silvana got extra interested in it for some reason she couldn't explain at that moment. She got closer and closer, and once she was close enough, she somehow made the flame dance almost exactly like she wanted. Her parents watched for a moment, then looked at each other and agreed that the next day they would take their daughter to the Academy.
There, Silvana was questioned on a lot of things, and asked to show what she could do. Provided with a small flame, Silvana got the flame to dance as she had done the evening before. After all that was done, Nina and Tim were told that she would need to attend the Academy in order to gain control of her powers.
So began her life at the Academy, where she would learn to become a Pyromancer. It wasn't the same kind of magic as her mother had, but she was thrilled nonetheless to be able to use magic of her own. She attended classes, learned the various ways to control fire, and eventually found that she preferred Firesmithing over Firestorming. There was just something about making a weapon or a companion out of fire that fascinated her more than simply throwing it around all willy nilly. Plus her mother had trained her in using a weapon, so that did factor into her decision as well.
She studied as hard as she could, becoming an Adept in her late teens. Her parents were proud of her when she became an Adept, giving her a pendant in the shape of a flame so that she might one day become a Master. Silvana was more than happy with being an Adept for now, but still wanting to study harder to become a Weaver like her mother. She wanted to make her parents even prouder of her, as they were the most precious and important people of her life.
Dirty and disheveled would be among a possible series of words used to describe the boy. He's about 5'11. Tan skin on a mostly skinny figure. He’s got strong arms and legs, though. Dark brown eyes. An unkempt bush of bouncy, brunette curls sit atop his head. Dirt marks and scars go hand in hand on decorating the boy's body, naturally. A sprinkle of dark freckles are noticeable along the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His crass, cockney accent does well to meld with his street urchin appearance.
Hands and feet are usually covered in wrappings or some sort. He’s almost fiercely against any form of footwear, actually. Feeling the dust and dirt kick up between his toes is a bit securing to him. His clothes could be considered rags; a short, sleeveless white shirt and thin, brown pants covered in dirt and dust. His hooded shawl could be considered the most unique article of his attire, the knee-length brown cape draping over his shoulders and fastening at his neck. A faded, blocky, zig-zagging pattern lies all along the edge of the tattered drape.
Equipment: Usually, if he isn't mindlessly twirling it between his fingers, he has a six inch dagger holstered in his belt. It has a ring near the blade by the hilt, hence all the twirling. Also usually tied along his belt, is a small sack containing the assorted forms of earth he can control. Sand, stone arrowheads, and all sorts of small rocks and pebbles are in this bag.
Demeanor: He's a bit of a shady figure. Can keep up in a conversation, but it would be wise to not trust all his words. He's had to lie, cheat, and steal to get to where he is today, and it's what he knows best. Friends were few and far between for the boy, yet he's managed to get by. But, he's reckless also. Foolishly so. His life experiences have made him careless towards the direction his life goes in. Along with the numerous ways he's been used; he knows of his expendable status, he just doesn't care at this point. If you can manage past those wondrous qualities, he’s quite a blast to be around. Jokes and snarks with the best of them. Unhesitant to flirt with any sort of female.
History: There's been no shortage of orphans inhabiting that island the mages were pushed to so long ago. However, there were the young ones that managed to find the righteous path, to fully embrace their abilities and to fall in line with all the other budding mages at the Academy. Joey never found this path. Not immediately, anyway. His parents, whoever they were, pulled the ol’ “baby in a basket (sans basket)” routine on a human owned monastery not too far from the nearest town, but at least several fortnights away from the nearest Academy. Little Joey was left on the doorstep with nothing more than a soiled diaper with his name hastily scrawled into it. Such an occurrence was a normal routine for the place, so of course he was taken in.
From there he grew up along the monks and nuns and the other assorted ragamuffins of that monastery. He was quite the quick handed troublemaker out of the kids in his age group, a mischievous little runt that was always ready to plan or play the next prank on one of his unsuspecting elders. No doubt he was the all time best at hide and seek. They were quick to give him his forty lashings whenever they found him, too. Despite this, he was always willing to lend a hand, that is, if he were getting something out of the task.
At some point in his seventeenth year, he overheard news of a public execution being held in town. It was two criminals; a mage couple. Now, he’s heard many stories and comments about mages up to this point. And none of them were good ones. They’ve been called demons, savages, heathens and false prophets. How they could manipulate flame with just a flick of the wrist, snatch the light right out of the sky, and how the earth would tremble at their will. Most of the religious folk thought that they all deserve nothing shorter than burning in hell. The news of the execution practically resulted in joyous celebration among the nuns and monks of the monastery. Naturally, Joey had to go into town to check it out, he wanted to see what these so-called demons looked like!
You could imagine his disappointment when he actually set eyes on the criminals once he reached the town square. They weren’t nearly as monstrous as he was thinking. Nope, instead they looked like old, tired folk, with faces and bodies covered in bruises and cuts. Lame. He looked on, disinterested. The announcement of their crimes went mostly unheard, but it was something the executioner said that really got Joey’s attention. He announced their names: Mikaela and Rohaan Dunst. “...Dunst?” Joey scoffed. It was an interesting coincidence, that he’d have the same last name as these two. As the two dropped from the gallows, and hung for all the town to see, Joey made his way back to the monastery, not giving much thought to that strange coincidence.
...That is, until he started making little rocks float by his fingertips one day. He couldn’t even tell how he was making it happen or why, but he knew he should knock it off before someone noticed and amassed a angry mob. He did pretty well at keeping it under wraps, and even felt he could suppress his newfound abilities. But, he was eighteen pushing nineteen by this point, and felt it was time to move away from the monastery. Though from there, he was so fast to fall in with the wrong crowds. Gangs, thieves, rogues, and other presumably violent ne’er-do-wells. He would do well to use his fists to find his way out of a scrap, rather than his abilities.
He would skip from town to town, ever so slowly heading in the direction of the Academy. He would swipe small trinkets and currencies from oblivious tourists and unsuspecting lodgers. If he weren’t sleeping outside in the dirt, it would be in the warm bed of a maiden he’d manage to sweet talk. If he'd get lucky, some odd job would fall into his lap during his travels, maybe help move things off a freighter, or play as an extra hand in a shakedown. The more he stole from the humans, the more he began to loathe their ways. The lot of them were selfish, ignorant, and oh so dumb. He realized the hate against mages seemed mostly for no reason, and it angered him a bit.
He managed to reach the Academy just a few weeks after celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday. He was surprised at how gracefully they let him in, that is, once he showed what little of his abilities he possessed. That was understandable. Living alongside the humans for so long, he could understand why it would be so hard to trust any of them. Yet, he would wonder if anyone would trust him.
Appearance: The best way to describe Alexander is plain. He is neither good looking nor ugly. A skinny man standing at 6'0" tall, he is by no means physically imposing in anything other than possibly height. His brown hair is kept short and he keeps no facial hair. His eyes are green and his heritage is clearly of the area around the academy in terms of features.
For clothing he wears plain white robes, specifically meant to be plain and not give a sense that he thinks himself in any way above others. The look is carefully crafted to make him look like an unassuming man as opposed to a master mage. The only thing giving him away are a pair of metal suns attached to his shoulders. A gift from his family upon confirmation that he would be an Illuminate. He wears the symbols with pride and will never be seen without them.
Equipment: Outside of what has been detailed in appearance Alexander keeps ink, quill, charcoal, and blank journals on him at all times. He has found them infinitely useful for documenting his travels and works. Actually working on both magical and non-magical treatments for various ailments and plagues and documenting them, as well as stories and cultures he has come upon in his travels. Aside from this he keeps various herbs and plants for use in making medicines, along with the travel versions of the equipment needed to make the various medicines. While he rarely uses them he has found them handy in cases where patients were adamant magic was not to be used in their treatment.
Demeanor: Alexander is a calm man but one who dislikes unnecessary delays in accomplishing his goals. The quickest way to make Alexander act is to behave in a way which is overly cautious or skittish. He has seen far too many young healers get squeamish and freeze at the sight of people in pain to tolerate such paralyzing inaction. He knows he cannot be rash, but he also knows that in what he does every moment counts and must be made meaningful.
Alexander also has something of an adventurous spirit. The fact the academy is full of healers means that often the people who he could be helping are often those who don't actually need him specifically. Instead he has used his ability and what authority he can manage to venture out into the world and find people who desperately need his help and render them aid.
Overall, Alexander is driven by a desire to help and heal. He knows what he is good at and wants to use his abilities to their fullest to positive effect. He also wishes to accumulate and pass down knowledge in as many fields as possible. Himself having added multiple works and studies to the Academy libraries in his lifetime.
History: Alexander was born the son of a Smith and his wife. It was a recruiter who would eventually find Alexander and bring him to the Academy at the age of ten. Before this time he had done the same work as any child of a smith, light work, watching what his father did, and running various errands as needed. When he arrived at the academy he spent much of his time in the library, unsure of what else to do other than attend his studies at such a low level he began to read and learn. As his power and rank grew so did his responsibilities, when he wasn't found nose deep in a book he would be found at the healing facilities on campus, tending to any who he could help and acting as an assistant/gopher for the higher ranked healers. It was neither a long nor hard decision as to what his specialty would be. He remained in contact with his parents through letters all through his time as a Mage and an Adept, keeping appraised of what had happened to old friends of himself and his family as well as the general goings on of his home.
When he reached the rank of weaver however that changed, he began to venture back out into the world. Starting with occasional trips home, then to the surrounding area. He knew on an intellectual level that his skill set was likely needed more out in the world than in the halls of the academy, but seeing it first hand was a realization on an entirely different level. Being on his own or under light supervision to help villages hit by plague or those who had grievously injured themselves at home or on battlefields awakened him to the need to not simply study and work his way up through the ranks, but actively apply that knowledge whenever he could.
Upon reaching the rank of master at age 35 he technically gained the title Medicinae Lux "of the healing light" making Alexander Smith Medicinae Lux. However amongst some of the masters he came to be known as having the joking title Errantem Lux "of the wandering light" as he very often was nowhere to be found. However he always had systems in place that his absence was never felt particularly hard or long. He of course remained up to date of the business that required his attention as best he could, but he was not about to ignore the plight of those who needed his help most. In a world such as this, it was a list that had no end. He is currently back at the academy, bringing with him as he so often does fresh recruits for the academy. While never his primary mission, he always keeps an eye out for those who were academy material and bringing them to receive the training they both needed and deserved.
APPEARANCE: Albus has a long straight black hair reaching to his chin level. His hair would blaze into fire once he start casting powerful spells. Average height. A bit muscular. One of his eyes are faded red caused by an unknown spell his father experimented on him in his youth, perhaps to enhance his pyromancy abilities, while the other is plane black. He has an average grey beard and mustache. Some of his facial hair is faded red due to side effects from an experiment he's done in his late youth. He some times ties his hair into a ponytail when not in a serious situation. Strong cheek bone. He looks very intimidating when angry, his thick eyebrows help him look the part.
For his clothing he wears light leather boots, black pants that are fit. Helps him stay silent. A dark brown long sleeve shirt. Wearing an old red leather jacket with a couple of torn stripes tangling from the back of the jacket. Hard leather bracelet along side of his right arm leaving the other arm bare. and a short light brown scarf hanging from his neck. Albus never liked robes, hard to be quick and silent when wearing them. On his right hand, on the index finger he wears a black silver ring, written on it "The path to fire is the path of unease men" in a blooming red color.
EQUIPMENT: he carries a small steel dagger. Always has a bunch of fire ruins in case he ever felt tired and needed a boost.
DEMEANOR: He is mostly quite and isolated. Doesn't like the company of talkative ones and social people. Always tries to read others carefully before barging into a friendly relation with anyone. Never befriending anyone truly just a passing relation with every one he meets. Vicious and unforgiving as well as cruel when in heat of combat, especially when he's fighting against filthy humans. He seems nice at times but may put his needs first before the needs of others. Never thinks he's doing enough, thinking that he must master the power of fire the power to rule.
HISTORY: Albus was named after his great great grand father who was a great Pyromancer at his time. Who saved his family from a blood thirsty humans who craved a world cleansed from Elementals. By the age of 15 Albus knew then that he would be a Pyromancer, just like his father. While his mother was a illuminate, a healer. She didn't care what element Albus would be, as long as he is true to him self and good to others she would encourage him. His father never had the time to teach him or guide Albus. He spent most of his time studying and researching to become a better and more vicious "Firstorms" Pyromancer, by the age of 17 Albus was an official mage. He went to the academy leaving his mother and father along with the village behind him. And never thinking about them.
Albus father then had mastered Pyromancy and was the most powerful Pyromancer in his local area. Words spread quickly that a powerful Pyromancer has killed his wife and his entire village with but a mere fire storm. The authorities searched for this dreadful killer but never found him. The wife's corpse was identified as Albus's mother. When Albus knew he was devastated. Then at the moment he chose to become a Firesmith. And swore to kill his father in the most painful way he could think of.
Albus became an adept at the age of 23. He was one of the most smart and brightest, but he didn't wanted to be recognized anywhere after that tragic that happened to his village. So he back downed a little and hid him self in the shadow for years. Till he became a Weaver. And he still thrives for more knowledge.
Appearance: Tobias has light brown hair, that is curly and kept quite messy. It’s isn’t that long, but reaches the nape of his neck, curling up slightly. He has a slight fringe, curling over his forehead and a few strands falling over his eyes. Body type wise, he is tall and lean, with only a hint of any muscle definition. His eyes are a light watery blue, like light just filtering through the surface of a lake. Clothes wise, he wears pale grey coloured robes with a belt tied at his waist, carrying potion bottles-empty and full-as well as pouches of herbs and other such things.
Equipment: Tobias carries his potions equipment around with him at all times, as well as a small notepad to jot down any new recipes he's thought of. If he's going somewhere dangerous, he might carry a larger side bag, and perhaps a short blade.
Demeanor: Tobias is quite blunt with his approach to things, and likes to get things done as quickly as possible. He can also be brutally honest with people, and can come off as being rude or haughty. He feels as though showing he cares will ultimately back fire on him in some way. When others make a mistake, he can get a little irritated, but not that much, however when he himself does something wrong, it seems like he doesn't really care but really, he judges himself more harshly then he would anyone else. This was good for pushing himself to learn, but it can quickly turn self-destructive. He has trouble with making a strong or lasting relationship, and while to others it can seem just arrogant, but really he's afraid of hurting himself, or the other person. In this way, he can be somewhat a coward, but makes up for it by refusing to show any weakness at any time.
History: At the time when Tobias was born, his parents-His father an Ironworker and his mother a Pyromancer-got along fine. It wasn't until he was around 5 that arguments started happening. His mother was a master, and she spent a lot of time in the academy teaching the younger and less experienced Mages, and in his fathers opinion, not enough time at home. In his small room at the top of the stairs, the young boy would cover his ears, huddled away in his blankets, and wish for something anything to take him away.
Even thought his parents kept arguing, they seemed reluctant to actually split, seeing as they had a still only 9 year old son. But, using his parents now normally frequent disinterestedness to his advantage, he would sneak away to the library and imagine himself away to a different kind of world, one where he wasn't afraid of doing anything that could set off his parents. Then, once he turned 11, his mother finally left, and took him with her to the academy, leaving his father behind. After finding that he had an interest in potions and herbs, she entrusted him to the hands of the other Nightshades, then left to pursue her own studies.
As he grew and progressed in his studies, he found a little time here and there to visit his father, but never bothered to go and see his mother. Soon though, he stopped going to see his father, only sending the occasional letter, and focused entirely on his studies. In his classes, he strived to be better and better, but rejected any offers of friendship from his peers, seeing them as just something that might distract him, or hurt him by leaving. Someone leaving wasn't something he'd well and truly experienced before, but from watching his parents, he felt he'd learnt how painful it might be and never wanted it for himself, as he couldn't see anything good come of it.
Nataly is 5'7" and is a slight 116 lbs. Her northern roots show in her pale skin, contrasting with ice blue hair. The hair is cut short, left at about shoulder length and her have bangs bound with purple bands. She has eyes are deeper blue than her hair, and what could be considered a "cute" complexion.
People are surprised by Nataly's slender frame because her robes are huge. They billow out from the sides and are bulky with fluff to protect from the cold that she conjures. Contrary to her skills, underneath the robes she dresses rather revealingly, to help deal with the heat of the southern lands the Academy sit on (relatively speaking). She has a pendant with a cut piece of blue amber on it that she'll often pull out to help her focus when conjuring up her icy magics.
Equipment: Why carry weapons when concealable and untraceable ones can be crafted out of ice?
Demeanor: Nataly has been rather bubbly as of late. The prospect of finally getting promoted from Adept to Weaver has lifted her spirits in recent months, and has seen a surge in her production in classes as well as her kindness towards her fellow Hydros. You do not want to get on her bad side though. If ever wronged in any way, it's not possible for Nataly to just let it go.
History: The Andrades welcomed young Nataly into the family during a nasty blizzard in the Far Northern town of Cartaquilla, which serves as the main port for the Kingdom of Gran Helada. That might have served as a premonition for Nataly's future, but blizzards were a regular facet of life in the frozen lands. For Falco, a fisherman by trade, and Yoreli, a stay-at-home mother, the first daughter in the family after three boys was a welcome change and they doted the young girl from the moment she was placed in the buffered crib.
The first sign that Nataly might be special in more ways than one manifested when she was eleven. Yoreli opened the door to Nataly's room one morning to find the girl playing in a layer of snow, a icy replica of her brother Jaime standing guard as she made snow angels. Yoreli scolded the child for leaving the window open and letting all the snow in but the window was closed, revealing the sunny day that Cartaquilla had been blessed with. As Yoreli looked up she could see the sprinkles of snowflakes falling from the ceiling, then dropped down to her daughter, still happily waving her arms without a care in the world.
This revelation was met with fear and seclusion for Nataly, as Yoreli did her best to hide the witchcraft her daughter perpetrated. Falco paid no mind, usually out on trawling expeditions but Yoreli kept Nataly's powers a secret from her husband and he maintained a loving bond with his child. However, the snow that Nataly so willingly embraced would prove to be her father's downfall. Twelve hours after he left Cartaquilla on a day hunt for crab, one of the worst blizzards in a century struck. It paralyzed the region and trapped all seabound ships for days while the ice raged on. Worry grew with each passing day, and the prospect of Falco returning was fading. It got to the point that on the third day, Yoreli came out into the snow, searching for her sixteen year old daughter only to find Nataly standing in her pyjamas, tears frozen to her face, desperately trying to bend the snow away to open a path for her father to come back. She failed.
Without Falco, Yoreli tried to look for other paths to taking care of her children. She learned about the Academy for people with Nataly's talents, so the girl was sent packing at age 17 for the far south. Nataly was slow to progress off the bat. She still was upset about her father and did not want to conjure up the substance that took him away in her mind, but eventually the icy walls tumbled down and she was starting to get the hang of controlling her gifts. She finally passed her Adept exam at 23, and has been working hard to try and progress up the ranks. Nataly wants to get to the point where she could control the snowstorms of her hometown and at least make sure other kids don't have to lose their parents like she did.
EQUIPMENT— Vanahara is practical in every way. She wears a tool belt whenever possible, and keeps some in her pocket if she can’t—she has pouches for random scraps of metal, wires, and bolts, some small blacksmithing tools—but the main part of the belt is entirely metal. She also wears iron bracers that stretch from wrist to elbow, with a leather lining that stretches into fingerless gloves. With a little Ironworker finesse, she can quickly spread the metal of a bracer into a small shield, or a larger one by bringing her forearms together. It doesn’t end there—Vana keeps metal on her wherever possible. Tucked into her boots, pins in her trousers, buckles on her vest, the ornaments in her hair; she refuses to be without a weapon if necessary. On that topic, she keeps at least one pre-formed set of brass knuckles on her at all times. She prefers not to fight, but she’s been helpless before, and doesn’t want to be there again.
DEMEANOR— For her size and obvious strength, Vanahara is surprisingly quiet. She’s not unfriendly, but reserved, more willing to listen to others than talk herself. She considers every word before she says it—this slow speech and her large size combine to give the impression of stupidity, at first glance. Make no mistake, though, she’s smarter than many of her peers—she just waits before she uses it, and she never tries to show off.
It can be difficult to get to know Vana, but you will never have a more loyal friend. She sticks by her friends through thick and thin, and is more than willing to stand between them and danger, and would trust them with her life. Unfortunately, no one has actually ever met one of her friends—they’re starting to doubt she has any.
HISTORY— Vanahara was born in a small desert village called Sunder, the Storm always brewing on the horizon. Due to their proximity, their hostile surroundings, and their remote location, the people Vana grew up around were tough, but close-knit. Her family have been blacksmiths for generations, ever since the village sprung up and possibly before then—as such, Vana can’t ever remember the exact moment she recognized her elemental talent, as she's been around metal and tools her entire life, and can't quite pinpoint the moment it slid into supernatural ability. She had three brothers and sisters, all significantly younger than her, and it always seemed to them like she was just the perfect eldest sister. Her father was hard to please, but his praise meant everything to her with the absence of her mother; he was a devout follower of Karina and Loriot, like most of the villagers, and instilled that same sense of duty and purpose in his daughter. It seems like she’s always been bending metal to her will; when he realized she was more than just a talented smith, he said she was proud of her and sent her off to the Academy. Vana’s family is all about duty; she misses them, but she recognizes an opportunity to improve herself and the world, and she’ll do what she’s told. She hasn’t seen them in more than a decade, now—maybe soon she’ll see them again.
Vana hasn’t made many friends, mainly due to her intimidating size and her quietness, but she’s not quite lonely. She's made some enemies, simply because of her skill on the dueling floor, but she's not the type to hold a grudge over anything as simple as that. She dedicated herself to learning about her abilities, and as such has become quite proficient. She’s quite talented, and controls metal almost instinctively, and she’s more than willing to follow orders—she’s a prime candidate for a military outfit, but what she really wants to do is help people with her gift, whether that's making armor for peacekeepers or going home to protect her family and her village. She wants to keep people safe, and make her father proud.
Appearance: As Ling originates from the Dragon Empire of the eastern plains, she is Imperial in appearance and stature; she stands at five feet seven inches tall and is notably lightweight. Her black hair is always tied back in a short ponytail; no sense in letting it get everywhere. She has brown eyes, almost always behind protective glasses out of habit.
Ling can usually be found wearing black pants and a simple black-and-white tunic with long sleeves (which are rolled up when working). Her tunics bear her personal emblem in silver thread: a potion vial with an Imperial dragon curled around it. When travelling, Ling will often don a wide straw hat and a pack to hold textbooks, journals, and similar bulky items. She supplements her outfit with a belt of pouches to hold potion ingredients and the tools to work them, and two sets of leather straps. The first is fitted with loops and pockets to hold potion vials, plus a sheath to hold a silver knife. The second keeps her weapon of choice secured on her back.
Equipment: Aside from a bag of Imperial silver, her usual supplies of potion ingredients, and the tools a travelling Alchemist would normally need, Ling carries a custom-made crossbow and four rectangular boxes of bolts called autoquivers.
The crossbow has several modifications from the standard model: its arms can fold inward for ease of transport; a lever on the side, when pulled, draws the string back without the need for extensive strength; and the stock's space for ammunition is twice the width of a standard crossbow. This last feature allows Ling to fire either standard-issue bolts from a fitted autoquiver, or potion vials that explode on impact, scattering their contents across a patch of land or group of opponents - or allies.
Ling had her crossbow - which she fondly nicknames "Kei" - and its autoquivers custom-built for her purposes. Each autoquiver holds fifteen bolts, and bolts can be replaced at any blacksmith. One of her autoquivers is marked with a skull and crossbones, the classic indicator of poison, indicating she has applied poison to each bolt in that pack.
Demeanour: Some paint the Nightshades as sullen, selfish individuals who seek only a means to achieve their own ends. Ling is almost the exact opposite. She's cheery and outgoing, willing to help others in a situation even if there's no up-front benefit to her. In this sense she might be considered a tiny bit naive. She does, however, have a particular devotion to her alchemy; while working, she enters a state of focus in which nothing outside of the immediate area matters until her task is complete. There's no sense in leaving a potion of any kind half-finished; as a result, Ling ensures she has everything in order before she starts work.
Ling also makes a point of keeping notes on all of her standard-issue potions and experiments. She finds the latter much more interesting than the former: there's no sense of discovery in copying the methods used by the textbooks. She has already filled several journals with these notes, in addition to memorising all of the more commonly made recipes (some of which have her own unique spin on them).
Despite being of the Nightshade mastery, Ling shies away from Sitheria, God of Darkness. Instead, she favours two others of the Council: Alainia, God of Water; and Loriot, God of Fire. Ling believes that Alainia and Loriot, while opposed in their Elements and her own, are the closest to Alchemy at its core.
History: The Dragon Empire is a fascinating culture. There, the long, snakelike Imperial dragons are revered in almost any art form you would care to mention. Statuary, paintings, the written word, even architecture. Little is seen of the majestic creatures, as they are often hostile to human life and civilisation, yet at the same time the Empire reveres the dragons for their grace and beauty.
Of course, Ling knows nothing of the Empire firsthand, as she was shipped overseas to another Academy at the age of three, when she was tested for magical potential like all Imperial children. There is no Academy in the Dragon Empire: in the year 73 AW, after the destruction of the first Imperial Academy - whether as a result of a spell gone awry or a deliberate act of arson was never found out - Emperor Jutai Fallen Leaf declared that his lands would play host to no mage. To this day, all Imperial children are tested for magical power at an early age. Those that show the signs are shipped elsewhere, and may apply for Imperial citizenship at the age of nineteen despite being confined to Academy life.
The young Ling was part of a group of fifteen Imperial children sent to the Academy, filtered into the Nightshade mastery with two others. Her grasp on shadow magic was limited, while the other young Nightshades reveled in their new-found power. But she persisted, not wishing to fall behind. Eventually, at the age of twelve, the path of the Alchemist was opened to her, and she threw herself into it.
Ling found alchemy intriguing; the chemical transmutation of simple, disparate ingredients into a greater, more powerful whole. She didn't care that the Masters had chosen to wait to see whether her skills would develop. This was where she would thrive, she told herself, pushing her limits on a regular basis. She caught up to her fellow students, those the same age who had chosen their paths before her, within six months, and didn't stop there.
During her later teenage years, Ling volunteered for journeys outside the Academy. Whether the gathering of unusual ingredients that couldn't be found in the Academy's gardens, eliminating a group of bandits before they could attack a nearby town, or just providing an escort for a trip for younger mages, she wanted in on them. She wanted to see what life was like outside the walls. While she has never visited the Dragon Empire on one of these journeys - it is a long way - she studied the region and its culture during this time.
At the age of eighteen, she accompanied a caravan of supplies leaving the Academy for the purposes of trade. She supported the caravan's guards for most of the trip there and back, fending off unwanted company. But while they fought with magical prowess, she hurled vials and passed restoratives to those who needed them. On the way back to the Academy, she ran out of potions, having only prepared a dozen beforehand. It was only after documenting her experiences that Ling realised that potions and poisons simply weren't enough to be properly supportive. She had to be able to cause some effective damage herself; otherwise, she was just another body the caravan guards needed to protect. So she began researching means of expanding upon the simple act of throwing potion vials to cause harm.
There was a recent innovation in throwing short spears from a Metallic kid, that she jumped on and experimented with. While the technique was certainly effective for the javelin, it was almost useless for throwing potions. Too inaccurate without a proper guidance system. And then came the brainwave. A crossbow, modified ever so slightly to accept the small vials she used frequently. Ling, still at the rank of Mage at this time, went to a Metallic Weaver with a bag of coins in one hand and her notes in the other. The Weaver and the Mage spent the next few weeks on her customised weapon, ranging from sourcing the required materials to Ling providing several potion-related favours. But after a month of work, the crossbow was finally finished, and with a few extra modifications for ease of use. Calibrated perfectly for the throwing of vials with just enough force to catapult them a good distance, but not enough to shatter them when she pulled the trigger. As a bonus gift, the customised weapon, which Ling named "Kei", came with a set of long box-shaped containers of crossbow bolts, to be fitted atop the weapon.
Submissions of high-strength potions for examination, as well as a short written paper on her vial-launching crossbow, earned Ling the rank of Adept soon after she turned nineteen. And with this promotion came her choice of title: she became Ling the Silver Vial.
Surnames are uncommon in the Dragon Empire: instead, titles chosen by the individual are the norm. Whether a title comes before or after the given name is up to the individual, but a title will always have some reflection of the person choosing it. To give examples, an adventurer might call himself "Explorer Lun", while a Metallic Elemental might refer to himself as "Shang the Steel Hand".
An Imperial citizen will usually choose his or her title at the age of nineteen, when Imperial law deems them a legal adult.
But now that she had passed the first of her trials, Ling had even more work to do. So she got stuck into it, working late into the night to complete her projects and supplementing her midnight studies with restorative draughts to keep her awake and focused. It was here that shadow magic began to play a part in Ling's studies once more: the art of drawing a fragment of one's own shadow into a bottle to serve as an ingredient called an umbral reagent. A grasp on this particular alchemical discipline eluded Ling for several years, to the point where she began to experiment, finishing the textbook's recipes without the regents.
Every one of them blew up in her laboratory. Without the use of umbral reagents, the Adept-tier recipes were unstable; they needed the refining qualities of the reagents to blend components that - as Ling learned the hard way - reacted badly to one another.
Ling saw this only as another obstacle. She pushed herself harder, driving herself to find a way to either follow the textbook's methods, or create an alternative to the use of umbral reagents. She asked Weavers and historians, gathered the most odd or unusual of components, all in the name of solving this problem. Three years after becoming an Adept, she knew every Adept recipe back to front, but had little practical experience because she still struggled to bottle a tiny piece of her own shadow. But no matter what she tried, her experiments resulted in wasted efforts, not even acidic enough for throwing at something.
Frustrated, Ling stormed out of the Academy with Kei on her back. She hitched a ride with a caravan to one of the nearby cities, seeking something - anything - she hadn't used yet. There was nothing. So, having spent the day searching with no result except a box of vials from a glassblower and a pack of crossbow bolts from the blacksmith - each traded for a trio of Ling's homebrew all-nighter tonics - she settled into a seat in the caravan with a profound sense of having wasted her time.
Halfway back to the Academy, the caravan was ambushed.
"You alright there, miss Ling? You're looking like a bee got under your hat."
"I'm fine. Just keeping an eye on the road." Ling's response was terse and quiet. As always when travelling, she had Kei in her hands, an autoquiver in place. It was better to be safe than sorry, she reasoned, especially since she was the only mage on this trip.
The caravan rounded a corner in the road, to find the path blocked by a makeshift barricade: logs, hastily jammed into place to hinder passage. The driver spat over the side. "Sons of... we've got company." Almost instantly, Ling was on her feet, her weapon up and aimed. Four bandits leaped from their hiding places, an assortment of weapons in hand.
"Get behind me," was Ling's command to the driver before she pointed Kei at the closest of the ragtag bunch. "I am Ling the Silver Vial. If you have even a scrap of self-preservation, you will dismantle this barricade and allow us to pass."
The lead bandit just chuckled. "Yer pretty words dun mean nuthin, girlie. Drop the weapon."
"Oh, you want simpler words? Fine. The bolt in my crossbow is poisoned. One cut is all it takes." It was a bluff, but a carefully crafted one. The man flinched, but recovered his composure.
"There's six of us an' one of you. Y'can't take us all on."
Too dumb to count. Not worth the effort of negotiations. Ling pulled the trigger. The bolt hit him straight in the chest, like she'd trained. She didn't even watch the man fall, instead yanking on Kei's reset switch to reload before putting another shot into the second bandit. One of the outlaws tried to rush for the horse pulling the caravan; if they couldn't take the whole thing, they could at least cripple it, preventing it from moving. Out flashed a thrown vial, shattering on contact and dousing the rogue in acidic fluid. He flailed away from the caravan, screaming as the poison ate at his face.
An arrow, crudely made, punched through the side of the caravan. Ling looked up to find the last bandit standing on a thick branch, carrying a bow and quiver. The second shot grazed the back of her hand; it was Ling's turn to flinch as she felt blood seep out from her skin. But she raised Kei and launched a series of bolts upward, peppering the archer's perch and knocking him out of his vantage point. He was dead before he hit the ground.
And just like that, it was over. The one that Ling had hit with the acidic vial remained only in cries, as he had dashed away to find water. Ling spun to the inside of the caravan. "Is everyone all right?"
The caravan master, two young boys and a lady in a sunhat were hiding, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Breathing slowly to calm herself, Ling collapsed Kei's arms and stowed the crossbow on her back, hands open to show she meant no harm. Even an Alchemist was still a mage. "It's okay, they're gone. The fighting's over."
"A-Are you sure, miss?"
"Positive."
"If you're certain... hell's gates, miss Ling, you did quite the number on them," the caravan master murmured as he peered out at the scene. He jumped down to check on the horse, which was skittish and restless.
"I didn't hit him with the vial, did I?" she queried.
"No, no, he seems fine."
"Oh, good. Last thing we needed was a panicked horse."
"Last thing we needed was this damn ambush. If'n you can give a hand with getting these logs out the way, that'd be aces. C'mon, boys, time to earn your keep." The man beckoned to the two lads in the caravan, who jumped out and hurried to help him with the barricade. Ling hesitated, however, taking the time to examine her hand, which had taken a glancing blow. There was no sign of poison affecting the area, which was always a good sign. However, as she raised her hand to study it in the light, the entire injury turned solid grey, even the thin trail of blood. Ling dabbed at the viscous liquid with one finger; it remained the same grey-black colour.
Ling could feel the presence of her shadow magic, stronger than ever. Inspired, she hurried to her space in the caravan, drew a vial from its box and collected the shed blood within. The glass and its contents seemed to glow in her hand.
Reagent magic will become easier over time as you get used to touching your shadow. Ordinarily an intangible presence, the spell twists your shadow's properties, changing it, allowing you to gather it in your hand as you would do with mundane water. When the preparation stage is complete, pour a handful into a vial and allow it to sit for a few minutes until it turns darker and thicker, similar to blood.
The paragraph on umbral reagents came to Ling's mind easily. The vial's contents were almost an exact match to the accompanying sketch. But she hadn't done as the textbook prescribed. It was almost involuntary, like her shadow magic was called to the spilled blood, mixing of its own accord.
Ling bested the bandits easily, thanks to Kei and an acidic vial. When the trip was concluded and Ling was safe in her laboratory, she drew out a vial of blood she had collected after the fight and examined it. It bore all the physical signs of an umbral reagent, as described in her textbooks, but there was only one way to be sure it had the alchemical properties of one. Ling quickly prepared an introductory Adept potion for regeneration of injuries. Two bright red flasks, whipped up within minutes... all that remained was to blend the two together in the same flask as the reagent, according to the book.
So she tipped her vial of infused blood into a flask, lit a fire beneath it, and tentatively poured the other two in with the grey, holding her breath all the while. The three liquids began to bubble and merge, aided by Ling's tentative stirring, then the potion turned a bold, dark red, unlike the two from a minute before. No explosion. No shattering of glass.
Ling had found the key, her way to progress as an Adept. Her first priority, however, was to inform the Masters, to ensure she wasn't breaking any rules or wouldn't accidentally poison anyone with her blood-fueled potions. The ensuing discussion was intense, thorough, and more than a little scary; she was called on to repeat the creation under a Master's scrutiny. She managed it, though, and didn't poison him in the process. That was always good; there was often a chance that a healing potion, even one made to the letter, could turn out to be lethal. And since she was dealing with previously uncharted territory, anything could happen. But nothing did. The shadow-infused blood acted in the exact same manner as an ordinary umbral reagent.
After another hour of talks with the Masters, Ling was cleared to continue her work in this unusual fashion. And continue she did. She took to carrying a knife to draw her own blood for her reagents. Coaxing shadow magic into the shed blood quickly became easier, aided by restoratives and regeneration potions, but she couldn't draw too much too quickly or she would have to wait even longer to resume her work. She depended on being in some degree of physical fitness, to ensure she could heal quickly from the cuts she inflicted on herself. Thankfully, any scars she might have gathered were quickly healed by her own creations. And occasionally an Illuminate healer, in the first stages of her experiments when she cut too deep and caused more pain than she had intended.
After several years of further study, Ling is slowly working her way through her textbooks. She still relies on drawing blood to produce her reagents instead of just drawing scraps of shadow directly. While she understands the Masters' concern for her variation on the core practices, she still feels a tiny bit held back by their observations. Her method is unusual, but just as effective as the standard procedure. But she brushes it off, and tries to be her usual bright and cheery self; the Masters do what they do for a reason.
Appearance: She had long blonde hair that reaches all the way to her waist that looks silky smooth to the touch. Her skin has a little tan but it is hardly noticeable unless someone is very observant. She had deep blue eyes that shine bright whenever she had happy or dark whenever she is made. She had a slim form that holds a lot of strength for a body with the height of 5'1". She had some scars on on the back of her neck which is covered mostly by her hair unless it is up in a high braid.
She wears a long white dress that had straps that are able to fit in two finger that is kinda like a vest that can be unbuttoned but not all the way. Under the dress she wears a faded pink off the shoulder shirt leaving the skin in between the straps and the sleeves of the faded pink shirt exposed but not enough to be considered inappropriate.
Equipment: She had a bow and a few hundred arrows that she carries with her all the time courtesy of the general who took her in as a child to make sure she had something to protect herself encase she couldn't manifest her light bow and arrow , she has a small hunting dagger she keeps in her bag whenever she is wandering around in the wilderness
Demeanor: She is a very shy girl who only talks to people she knows she can trust, but she warms up very quickly to people she knows that would never let her down. Under her shy exterior she is a sweet caring girl who would do anything to protect the ones she cares about and loves
History: She grew up in a very small town in the mountains called Voleroes that was very isolated from the world surrounding them. She had lost both her parents to illness that couldn't be cured and she was taken in by a family friend who was also the general of the small town. The general was kind and very loving but he would be very strict when he needed to be weather it be her or the small army that guarded their small down. He treated everyone in the army like they were part of his family and would do anything to make sure they had everything from weapons to food.
Around the age of nine she had found out that she had illuminate she was training on hand to hand combat and suddenly a bow made out of pure light appeared in her hand. Confused she went to her foster father and told him and he told her of how her mother was an illuminate before she decided to give up on using that power when she moved to Voleroes and started a family with her father who was a blacksmith. Her mother had apparently been close to reaching a master, but she was tired of her life being controlled by her powers and gave up using it not knowing that it would be past down if she had a child of her own.
After learning this she became determine to reach the status that her mother was so close to getting and by the time she was almost 17, which was the age where she was ready to go out on her own she had reached the level of adept. The general knew she had dreams of leaving their small town and on her 17th birthday he gave her a small hunting dagger and a bow with 60 arrows for more protection.
So the day after she had turned 17, she left the only place she knew to explore the world making a promise to everyone that she would visit
Name: Jonathan Silvas Age: 47 Gender: Male Mastery: Metallic Specialty: Mechanic Rank: Weaver Appereance: Jonathan stands tall at 5'9"", with a muscled build. His black hair, as well as his slightly unshaved beard, have stated shown some specks of white hair- possibly more than normal for his age, due to the physical and mental fatigue he had experienced throughout the years-, but his amber brown eyes sparkle like they never did before. A roughed-out man, with hands full of scars and burns that vibration with his white, but slightly tanned skin , but also a slightly charming man, according to some. He always carries with him a pair of glass optical lenses, which he constructs in-situ into a pair of glasses when he needs them. Equipment: Any Arcane Staff he requires for his current task (more on than on History) Generally prefers wearing a full set of armor, so he can have have access to a good amount of material to work with. Demeanor: Jonathan is a quiet man, possibly an introvert by some standards. He prefers hearing others talk, and only jumps into the conversation when he is sure about the validity of his words- when he does, however, he shows signs of great wisdom. Gaining Jonathan's attention and trust is generally a hard task, and will require patience and skill. For the ones who have, however, he is an extremely loyal companion who will put their lives beyond his. Jonathan also loves reading and expanding his knowledge over a wide variety of subjects, especially concerning magic. On the recent years, however, he has given the mage community the impression that he has gone insane, even though this is not true; well, not entirely. This theory is also bakd up by his obsession with backronyms, even though this is something he always had. History: Jonathan is the only son of a blacksmith named Stewart Silvas; his mother, Margaret, died at his birth. Even though not a poor man by any means, Stewart was not satisfied by his way of making a living, and wanted his son to have a better life than him; for that reason, he raised Jonathan to become a priest of Karina. However, as he grew up, he found more interest in his father's tradition. Despite their arguing on that matter, Stewart finally conceded on his son's decisions and trained him to the art of smithing. One day, at the age of 16, Jonathan broke a swordblade he was working. He was immediately captured by fear and embarrassment as his father walked in, and just when he was about to punish him, they both realised that the blade had reattached. Mesmerized by this unnatural act, Jonathan was directed by his father to concentrate on the hot blade again, and it was proven that he could indeed manipulate the hot metal. Stewart immediately realised the danger his son was under in this remote and superstitious village. He gave him almost all the money avalaible on him to Jonathan and told him to hurry towards the Academy. Even though initially reluctant, he followed his father's orders. He left his home and, through an adventurous journey that lasted a year, finally reached the whereabouts of the Academy. During his training, Jonathan took a passionate interest in the study of magic in all its forms. He read scrolls with spells, he learnt books on the study of magical and Arcane arts. He read, and he read, and he read. Even though he initially wanted to become an Ironworker, in memory of his father- whose fate he did not know since he left his home, and he still doesn't- he was eventually enchanted by the possibilities offers in the path of the Mechanic, which he followed. In his late-30s, he had reached many conclusions about the art of magic, the most important of which is the fact that magic is not merely a supernatural power with certain limitation, but a power with laws, rules, exploits ; almost akin to a science. This enabled him theoretically to reliably imitate certain applications of magics, up to this point restricted in regards who could use which, into constructions of Metallic nature ; allowing the wielder of a tool- say, a staff- to use said aspect -colloquially known as a spell- without being an apprentice of said element. He tested and trained on this theory for years, in conjuction with Weavers of other elements,with which he studied all elements at the best of his abilities. However, Jonathan eventually became fixed on the idea that, through certain proccesses, he could create tools that could replicate certain aspects of other elements by themselves. This gave him the reputation of initially the slightly disturbed, afterwards kooky, and finally the outright nuts mage, which only got worse when he requested the Academy Masters to send him with a research team on the closest parts of the Scar, so they could investigate it in further detail; sure that this would clear out the haze behind his idea. The Masters repeteadly declined on this request, and gradually started restricting his rights from the Academy, convinced he was insane. Then, at the age of 43, Jonathan decided to take the matters in his on hands; in the span of six months, and with the help of his iron companions, Small Tool-Working Robotic Technician and Medium Robotic Gear and Apparus-crafting Robotic Technician, he built a crude airship- nothing too spectacula, but enough to get him away from the Academy during the night, along with most of his reseach scrolls and experiments. The Academy has yet to find out anything about his fate from this point afterwards.
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