[center] [hider=Saint Lucca] [img]http://orig07.deviantart.net/5266/f/2012/338/a/6/paladin_by_kimsokol-d5n3bc0.jpg[/img] [color=coral][b]Name:[/b][/color] Saint Lucca the Redeemer, Bearer of the Light [color=coral][b]Gender:[/b][/color] Female [color=coral][b]Age:[/b][/color] 16 [color=coral][b]Race: [/b][/color] Human [color=coral][b]Appearance: [/b][/color] Saint Lucca the Redeemer, Bearer of the Light. Such a title would invoke images of a strong woman, dedicated to the service of the Holy and protection of the weak. So imagine the disappointment when the faithful look upon the newest saint and see not a valiant noblewoman charging into battle, but a five foot five malnourished former slave struggling to unsheathe her sword. Her rough, straw-like chocolate brown falls down to her about her chin, yet pokes out in whatever direction it feels like, honestly. Her pallid skin is marked by freckles that dot across her crooked nose and cheeks, and dark circles that hang under her hazel eyes. Numerous scars run across her body, though the most visible would be the vertical cut running from top of her upper lip down about an inch and a half past her bottom lip. Despite having healed up, the scar is deep. The thin pink lips pull back to reveal a set of crooked, yet only slightly stained, teeth. As far as clothing goes, Lucca is...Simple. Practical. Plain. She’s drawn to durable clothing, articles that can worked in time and time again without tearing. Clothing is a precious commodity, after all. Simple, earthly tones worn in slightly larger sizes, that’s her preference. Wrapped around her neck is a dark, leather band. A series of simple symbols are etched into the leather, and painted in white, proof of her bondage to a relatively poor, lower-class master. Her armor is simplistic as well. Lower arm and leg guards and shoulder pads. Just enough to protect her from being disabled yet not enough to really restrict her movement too much. Leather and steel. No helmet, no chainmail. She relies almost entirely on padded layers and the short, lightweight plates. Now, hanging off her right side is something that seems completely out of place. Sticking out of a rather shoddy, inexpensive scabbard is an extraordinarily ornate, golden hilt with precious gems located on the pommel and guard. Unsheath the sword and protect your eyes: the sword shines bright, even in complete darkness. The metal feels warm to the touch, yet not scalding, with a touch of heat present from even a couple feet away. It seems to be steel and/or silver infused with some sort of arcane energy. [color=coral][b]Personality:[/b][/color] When one goes from being an object, a simple tool used for labor, to an exalted figure of a prominent religion seemingly overnight...well...it’s a bit difficult to adjust. Lucca toiled in the fields, gathering crops, clearing weeds. She labored under the hot sun, working to construct buildings in the name of the master. And now? Now she is to bless the devout, cure the sick, spread the teachings, and perform literal miracles in the name of Lady Serafina, the First Archangel of the Divine. So yes, the girl is a little bit...conflicted. All her life, the slave girl had been quiet and obedient. The type to keep her head down and attract as little attention as possible. She did her work diligently and efficiently. As was expected. To slack or disobey would mean Punishment. She didn’t ask questions either. To question the Master would mean Punishment. And when given the order to carry out sentencing on one of her brothers and sisters in bondage...she did not hesitate. To hesitate would mean Punishment. And Punishment was what the slave girl feared most. Not death...death would be emancipation. Death would free her from her shackles. On some days, she yearned for death...but she yearned for life even more. And Punishment, while not robbing her of that life, would make it much, much more difficult. Now freed, she is more or less the same. Quiet. Obedient. Patient. Diligent. Loyal. Her peers urge her to loosen up, to become more personable, if not for their sake, then for the peoples’. And she tries, she honestly does, but a lifetime’s worth of habits and mannerisms are hard to break. She is honest to a fault. To lie would mean Punishment, of course. She has become a bit more...blunt as of late. Being able to say whatever she feels like is...uplifting. Empowering, even. She likes the feeling. It’s intoxicating. Freedom is intoxicating. She makes for a decent saint, though. While she should be angry, bitter, and selfish, given her origins, Lucca is none of those. She’s incredibly grateful for her freedom. She doesn’t hate her former master for what he did. She doesn’t hate the world for allowing it to happen. She’s simply thankful that she’s alive. And now, given the opportunity, she wishes to turn around and aid those she left behind. She doesn’t hesitate to share what little she has with anybody the seems in need. And where some might feel some sort of self-righteousness in such deeds, Lucca doesn’t. She’s humble. Overly humble. Slavery does not lend itself well to breeding pride amongst the slaves. And most of all, Lucca is determined. Given a task, she will stop at nothing to accomplish it. Even if it means her death - failure is not an option. [color=coral][b]Bio:[/b][/color] The slave girl was born to her slave mother on a cold, winter’s night. She wasn’t given a name. None of the Master’s slaves had names. Names were for people and pets. Slaves weren’t people and they were below even pets. The slave baby was left with the elder women, the ones who were not capable of working the fields any more. The mother was sent back to work the very next day. She died a week later. The slave girl would be sad about that when she grew older. But for the time being, she simply shat herself and whined to be fed. As soon as the girl could reliably walk, she would be sent out into the fields to pull weeds. Years would pass, and the girl’s responsibility in the fields would grow. But the slave’s days of bondage would come to an end, a month after the girl’s sixteenth year had passed. On a day no different than any other, an elderly wanderer would visit the Master’s fields. The ugly wench approached the Master, and begged his kindness to spare pail of water and some bread. Unsurprisingly, the Master refused. He laughed at the beggar and spit in her face, turning her away. The beggar then turned to the slaves and asked for the same kindness. The Master heard, however, and forbid anyone from doing such. To disobey would mean Punishment. Still, that would not stop one of the slaves. An elderly man snuck away when the Master was not paying attention. He made his way into the Master’s home, and escaped with a pail of water and loaf of bread. The Master caught him. He was Punished. None of the other slaves attempted to disobey the master, yet the beggar stayed regardless, her pleas falling upon deaf ears. That night, however, during supper, a slave girl snuck away from the pens. She approached the beggar woman and offered her all of the tiny bit of bread that made up her ration. The beggar took it and devoured it hungrily. The slave then offered the tiny drink of water that she was given as well. The beggar took it and downed the mug. The slave girl apologized that it wasn’t a full pail, but it was all that she had to give. The Master caught the girl disobeying his word, and dragged her away to be Punished. The beggar followed the Master and his slave, and watched as he prepared the Punishment. She then smiled, and stepped in, telling the Master to stand down and let the girl go. When he obviously refused, the beggar revealed herself to be the Lady Serafina in all of her immaculate glory. She commanded the Master once more to release his slave, and once more he refused. Thus he was smitten. The Lady Serafina released the Master’s slaves, yet before she left, she approached the slave girl. She was so touched by the slave girl’s selflessness and charity that she blessed the girl. She was entrusted with the Lady Serafina’s sword - Retribution. And she was conscripted into the Lady Serafina’s Order of Saints. Dubbed Saint Lucca the Redeemer, Bearer of the Light, the former slave brought the number of living saints up to five. Lucca’s life in the church was...different, that’s for sure. She was unaccustomed to the newfound freedom and found herself lost and without purpose. It wasn’t until Saint Roland the Oathbound, Paragon of Virtue took her under his wing that she finally started to adjust. He was patient and wise, a far cry from the Master. Since then, Lucca has spent the last few months learning from the side of Saint Roland. Swordplay, the Arcane, Letters, and Scripture. A full schedule, sure, but she proved to be an excellent student. The studies went on without a flaw, but they would soon come to an end. See, it had come to the attention of the church that the crown was putting together an expedition to retrieve a rather powerful artifact. It had been decided that the crown succeeding in this mission would benefit the church greatly, thus it offered to supply additional supplies along with a saint or two. Naturally, Saint Roland accepted this mission, and decided to bring along his squire-of-sorts, Saint Lucca. Everything she had learned would be put to the test. Would Saint Lucca be successful in her journey, or would she quickly go to join The Lady Serafina in the next life? [color=coral][b]Abilities/Skills/Magic:[/b][/color] [i]Amateur Swordswoman -[/i] Having only trained with a sword for a couple months, and being in somewhat poor health before then, Lucca isn’t the great fighter around. That being said, she is rapidly improving and Roland claims that she shows promise. Give her a couple years and she might end up being something impressive. For now, though, she knows enough to fight off beasts and untrained/equally-skilled fighters. Her form quickly deteriorates, thus the longer a fight goes on, the worst she’ll be doing. [i]Flames of Retribution -[/i] Retribution is an unusual sword. Of course, being the weapon of choice of an angel, that’s no be expected. Still, the sword can channel the mana of its wielder into arcane flames. They function just like any natural flame, the difference being that they burn mana as a fuel source, rather than oxygen. While this can obviously demoralize enemies, rally allies, and just fucking burn shit in general, the Flames can be used for two other major functions: tossing projectile burnstuff at people and… [i]Ravens of Serafina[/i] By expending the majority of her manaflames, the wielder of Retribution can conjure up the Ravens of Serafina - living flames that resemble ravens. While they can be used to attack an enemy directly, causing burns, they’re a bit more useful in ranged attacks, where the ravens can use parts of their own flames to toss burnstuff similar to Retribution, and reconnaissance. The ravens can be directed using Retribution. So long as the raven is within sight of the wielder, control can be maintained. Should sight be broken, the raven will dissipate. The ravens can relay their sight and hearing back to Retribution’s wielder. The number of ravens available depend on the mana pool of the user. Saint Lucca can conjure up to three at a time. [i]Light of Serafina[/i] The bread and butter of the Order of Saints, the Light of Serafina is a powerful healing ability castable only by those blessed by The Lady Serafina herself. It differs from most healing spells by it’s potency being directly affected by both the faith of the caster and the target. So long as the caster has faith in The Lady, he or she will be able to cure most wounds and illnesses. Death, however, is a different story. Only the most powerful, most devout followers of The Lady can snatch Life from the jaws of Death, but only if the deceased has only recently passed. The cost for such an extreme ability, however, is the loss of the caster’s life. But making the ultimate sacrifice is considered the most honorable way for one to join The Lady Serafina in the afterlife. Lucca is unable to perform a resurrection as of yet. [/hider] [/center] [center] [hider=Saint Roland] [img]http://img10.deviantart.net/1fea/i/2016/108/6/1/paladin_by_yy6242-d9zbuor.png[/img] [color=FFDF00][b]Name:[/b][/color] Saint Roland the Oathkeeper, Paragon of Virtue [sub]Born Augusto Timothé Lebeau[/sub] [color=FFDF00][b]Gender:[/b][/color] Male [color=FFDF00][b]Age:[/b][/color] 55 [color=FFDF00][b]Race:[/b][/color] Human [color=FFDF00][b]Appearance:[/b][/color] Roland the Oathkeeper is a bear of a man. Six foot six with a bulky, muscular build, the body reflects the man’s long history of intense combat training. Despite his age, Roland considers himself in his peak physical form. Most would agree with him. Those that fight him agree doubly so. If the size doesn’t give him away, there are other ways to spot the Oathkeeper. He wears his pale golden hair nice and tight. His hairline has retreated a bit past his temples, but his messy bangs fall in a way as to cover that. A well-groomed full beard starts on his neck and reaches up to join the hair on his hear. More grey and white hairs lie in the beard than atop his head, but such things happen with age. Wrinkles have found their homes on the man’s face. His forehead now permanently smiles, and lines have formed around the corners of his eyes and mouth. His skin is rough leather, darkened by much exposure to the sun. His small, dark blue eyes are set underneath a powerful brow. A scar starting just off his left nostril crossed over his nose in a horizontal line. It extends about an inch from either side of the nose. It’s rare to find Roland outside of his plate armour adorned in the colors of The Lady Serafina’s Order of Saints. The armour that sports the visage of a lion on the right pauldron and fur from the savage beast wrapping from the head, around the back of his neck, and draping over his left arm. Should Roland decide that he would like to go without his protection though, he often will don the simple robes of the order. Very basic robes, mind you. Almost as recognizable as Roland would be his trusty weapon - Judgement, a bastard sword crafted of quality material and infused with arcane energy. It’s long, wide, and incredibly hefty. And very, very expensive looking. It’s scabbard looks equally sleek. Roland has fine tastes, it seems. But regardless of what he’s doing, or what he’s wearing, or even where he’s at, Roland will NOT be seen without his copy of the holy text. It’s bound in a tight leather cover, with a golden emblem centered on both sides. The text itself lies upon thin golden sheets, complete with thoughts, questions, research, and opinions scribbled in the margins. It’s well-worn, perhaps almost to the point that a replacement might be in order, but...Roland isn’t about to give up his scripture just yet. [color=FFDF00][b]Personality:[/b][/color] Roland the Oathkeeper, Paragon of Virtue lives up to his title. He is an honorable man above all, swearing to protect the weak and put a stop to evil. He is kind and patient, but both are trumped by his love of justice and his absolute, unquestioning devotion to The Lady Serafina. That’s not to say that he’s a mindless puppet of the Church, mind you. Roland loves the people of Themis. Each and everyone of them are his brothers and sisters. And for those people, he would gladly put down his life. But the Oathkeeper is a champion of order first and foremost. With age has come wisdom. Experience. A once impatient hothead now one of the most respected strategic minds of Themis. He takes a slow, cautious, meticulous approach to whatever he happens to be doing. While that might be infuriating to some of the younger ones under his command, the results he brings can not be denied. Yet despite being hailed as a hero and a truly good man, not even Saints are free of sin. See, Roland is an incredibly prideful man. Enough so that it can shroud his judgement should his pride be threatened enough. And as he aged, Roland has developed a nasty anger. It doesn’t show its ugly head often, but when it does, the old lion surrenders himself to a blind fury. It’s most prominent in battle, where he sometimes finds himself giving in to bloodlust. He’s aware of the danger such actions pose, however, and seeks strength through The Lady Serafina to calm himself...with mixed results. [color=FFDF00][b]Bio:[/b][/color] Born the third son to the moderately powerful Lebeau family, Augusto was never destined for great things, barring some sort of tragedy. His eldest brother would become the family patriarch and inherit the lion’s share of the fortune and power. The middle child would also be placed in a position of some relevance, an alternative in case the eldest met with an unfortunate fate. No, he would be expected to pursue some other form of honor, to both spread the family’s influence while simultaneously removing himself as a threat. His father had decided that the Royal Guard would be the perfect fit, and thus, young Augusto was groomed from a young age for a martial life. Curious then, that the boy would be so drawn to the Divine. The family practiced the faith, of course. To not do so would be the equivalent of political suicide. But for most, it was nothing more than ceremony. Be seen and move on. Augusto was a bit different, though. He took the teachings seriously, learning passages until he could recite them by memory. The lessons touched his heart in a way nothing else could. The family encouraged this, of course. It looked good on them. More so when, at the tender age of six, the young Augusto stood before the massive congregation of the Grand Temple of Themis during the Great Summer Gathering and professed his unwavering, eternal faith to The Lady Serafina and Her ways. It is said that that night, Augusto was visited by spirit - a young girl who warned that the boy’s faith would be tested. She offered to protect him from such a harrowing fate if only he renounced The Lady Serafina. He refused, of course. This pleased the girl, so she asked him if he would promise to never turn from the Lady’s path, no matter what happened. Asked if he would swear an oath to dedicate his life to the teachings. He accepted without hesitation. The rest of his childhood was relatively uninteresting. His education and training continued at a respectable pace. He devoted much of his spare time to worshiping the Divine, either in proper worship at temple, or in the spreading of the kindness and charity so stressed in the teachings. As a young man, Augusto was accepted into the Royal Guard. It was soon after he joined that his faith would be tested for the first time. Shortly after his parents passed from mysterious illness, his eldest brother also succumbed to disease. Augusto traced the deaths back to his brother, the middle child. He had slain their kin and parents for a little bit of land and money. He didn’t want to believe it, but...something inside him urged him to accept the truth. And the same voice whispered to him to balance the scales. Thus he brought his brother to justice, sentencing him to death. As for the family’s holdings, the young man sold off much of it and channeled the money into the church, where it was then used to ease the suffering of the poor and needy of Themis. They needed the help much more than Augusto. His noble family had come to an end with the deed, and Augusto found himself living far beneath what he had been raised on, but he was never bitter. Such was the grand plan of The Lady Serafina. He could not claim to understand it, but he would accept it wholly. As the years moved on, so too did Augusto move on through the ranks of the Guard. And soon after he met the woman who would become his wife, Augusto was met with the second faith shaking event of his life. During one particularly terrible winter, on a moonless night, the young man was placed in charge of watching one of the great gates of the city. It just so happened that on this night, during the dead of night, a large band of refugees came to his particular gate, begging and pleading to be let into the city, to be sheltered from the weather and the beasts that lived beyond civilization. His men, being faithful followers of the Divine, wanted to grant them refuge, if only just for the night. Augusto was inclined to agree but...something held him from doing so. A whisper in his heart. A whisper from The Lady Herself. A warning to beware the wolves that come wearing the skins of sheep. So Augusto did the only thing he could...he welcomed the refugees to stay in the clearing between the inner gate and the outer gate. They were hesitant at first, but when the man personally went to join them between the gates, they agreed. There wasn’t much room for the fifty-odd women and children, but he got everyone in...then he had the gates closed. Panic swept through the refugees before Augusto ordered his men to drop the oil - right on top of himself and his guests. Never before had he seen such looks of pure fear nor heard screams of such terror as when the oil came crashing down. He then conjured fire, and the entire area went up in flames. The women and children begged and pleaded for their lives. Augusto’s men also cried out in protest, claiming their leader to be mad! To be a monster! They called for his head, and moved to try to free the refugees but...the visitors then showed their true forms. The Daemons that had been possessing the poor, helpless bodies had left their vessels and tried to flee, but to no avail. The flames ate the mangled corpses and the grotesque minions of death without discrimination. The fire raged on for hours before it was finally put out. And amongst the ashes stood the lone survivor, Augusto himself. The man who set himself aflame and emerged without a burn. Those screams still haunt him late at night, from time to time. Augusto was hailed as a hero. And he continued his ascent through the ranks of the Royal Guard, eventually being brought in as Captain of the Guard which he had spent his life serving faithfully. The man married and had a strong son and a pair of beautiful daughters. His faith had never been stronger nor had he ever been more devoted to the church. But like the spirit had warned, that faith must be tested. The third test came the closest to truly breaking the man. On the eve of the Great Summer Gathering, his wife went into labor. For hours she fought, desperately trying to bring Augusto’s fourth child into the world. The Captain remained by his wife’s side through the entire process… ...but then the whispers came. That damned soothing voice echoed in his heart. It warned him against letting the child enter the world. It spoke of damnation and evil. Augusto did not want to listen to it...it couldn’t bare the weight of the words...of what they meant… But the whispers would not relent. They urged him to end the child...to prevent it from escaping. Should it escape, it could mean the end of Themis. The Lady Serafina demanded the sacrifice. An innocent life must be claimed so that countless other lives may be spared. He wished it was not so. He begged and pleaded...but his cries fell upon deaf ears. He offered to trade...to take his own life in place of the child’s...but the whispers did not waver. The child must be the sacrifice. It was the only way. It wasn’t fair...but it was how things had to be. So Augusto did it. He plunged his sword into the belly of his wife, and by extension, his unborn child. He did not ask her forgiveness, nor could he even look upon her. His wife died with his name upon her lips. Augusto wanted to curse the name of The Lady Serafina, to hate Her and blame Her for his actions but...he couldn’t. It was Her plan, and while he could not understand it, he had to accept it. Such was the fall of the hero Augusto. The elders of Themis likened Augusto to his brother. Kinslaying ran in the family, or so they claimed. He was dishonored. He was hated. And so, in order to prevent more shame from tarnishing the name of the Royal Guard, he resigned, relinquishing command to a more honorable woman in the ranks and the only person he would trust to serve the crown as faithfully as he had: the familiar of Her Grace, the Queen Selma Renilde Lorenz, Alena. His children understandably shunned him. He was disowned, dishonored, and disgraced. Yet Augusto still could not bring himself to curse Her name. He dedicated himself fully to the church, then. While the community shunned him, Augusto continued to worship daily, and went about pushing the teachings to the uninformed, and spreading kindness, love, and charity to the poor and helpless. This continued for a year, in which Augusto lived in utter poverty himself, yet his faith never wavered. And so, on one fateful day, Augusto was approached while he was in worship. It was the spirit from his childhood, the young girl. She was happy. She told Augusto that he had pleased her, that despite anything she threw at him, he kept his oath. She explained that he had to be tested for it was the Plan. She assured him that it was perfectly acceptable if he hated her for it. But he didn’t. Despite everything...he couldn’t bring himself to hate Her or curse Her name. He told Her such...and the girl disappeared. In Her place was the form immaculate of a woman. Augusto fell to his knees and praised the Aspect of Life. The Lady Serafina blessed the broken man. The man Augusto Timothé Lebeau had served her faithfully, and now he deserved to rest. He would be no more. In his place would rise Saint Roland the Oathkeeper, Paragon of Virtue. In his Sainthood, Roland was much like he was before. He continued his worshipping, and with Her Blessing now with him, Roland was able to help the poor and weak much more than he ever had before. But advancing the teaching wasn’t his only job. Roland the Oathkeeper was tasked by The Lady with raising warriors of the faith, those of the devout who would take up arms to protect the Divine and Her children. Thus the Order of Justiciars was founded. Roland trained young men and women in the ways of both combat and scripture. He was intimately involved in the early years of the Order, but as of late, his original students have finally stepped up and begun training the next generation on their own. While few in number, the Justiciars have proven to be very capable warriors in their own right. Roland also served to guide the new conscripts to the Order of Saints. The first after him was a young mage given the name Saint Marcella the Pious. He taught her the ways...but Marcella had a bit of a reckless streak to her. In her zealous mission to spread the faith, Marcella was struck down by an agent of evil. Her death had saved the lives of innocents, though, so Roland has no doubt that she walks beside The Lady now, serving Her in death just as fiercely as she had in life. Still, he can’t help but blame himself for her demise. If he had only been more diligent in her training then perhaps...but The Lady’s Plan was absolute. It was meant to be. In more recent time, Roland’s newest charge would be the Saint Lucca the Redeemer. She is certainly proving to be the biggest project he’s had to undertake, but...the girl shows promise. Her training and education goes well. For a woman that had been a slave only months prior, she’s making incredible progress. Still, books and practice scenarios can only teach one so much. It was with this in mind that Saint Roland had decided to undertake the expedition at the last moment. The Church would gain much from the Crown succeeding in this task, and Lucca could learn much. Of course, there was always the possibility the neither of them would return… ...but such would be the will of The Lady Serafina. [color=FFDF00][b]Abilities/Skills/Magic:[/b][/color] [i]Master Swordsman[/i] Few in Themis have spent as much time as Roland behind the sword. With a form that is as fluid and steady as breathing, the man channels decades of experience into his fighting. He is relentless in his strikes, looking to overwhelm the foe with his sheer might and ferocity. This style leads to him trading blows more often than not, but he relies on his powerful magic to protect him and keep him healthy. The sheer brute strength of his style is backed by a rather surprising finesse though. It would be difficult for the average man to best him in a contest of arms. Not impossible but...well...a man doesn’t get to become Captain of the Royal Guard while being a slouch with his weapon of choice. [i]Shackles of Sin[/i] Those such as Roland that are well versed in the Holy Arts have managed to pioneer means of channeling The Lady Serafina’s Blessing into more than just healing. The Shackles of Sin are such an innovation. Holy Light manifests in the form of chains from the caster (typically from their weapon or a shield of sorts, though it is possible to channel it from a bare hand), and extend towards the target. Should they make contact, the shackles wrap around the target and bind them to the caster. The shackles may be broken, however, by striking them enough. The strength of the caster’s resolve determine the durability of the shackles. Roland’s shackles, for instance, can withstand quite a bit of punishment. [i]Bulwark of Serafina[/i] By channeling The Lady Serafina’s Blessing in a certain way, Roland can construct a sort of barrier around himself, protecting him from harm. The barrier is rather durable, but it can be broken. Should the barrier be destroyed, Roland will be disoriented for a time. The barrier protects the user from most physical attacks, but magical abilities can cut right through it. Slashing and piercing weapons have a helluva time getting past the barrier, whereas blunt weapons are a bit more reliable in smashing the damn thing. [i]Flames of Penance[/i] Should Roland be channeling the Bulwark of Serafina, he can choose to convert the barrier into the Flames of Penance. Similar to the Flames of Retribution, the user converts his or her mana into flames of a sort. In this case, Roland’s entire body is enveloped in thick, bright blue flames. The fire spreads across his body without burning him. It obscures much of his characteristics, giving him the appearance of a flame elemental. In this state, Roland exchanges his physical protection for magical protection. The flames burn spells that come too close, eating up the mana to fuel even more fire. This eats up a lot of Roland’s mana though, so it must be used sparingly. Should his mana be completely eaten, the flames will start to burn his body. [i]Absolution[/i] Absolution has two forms. The first is accessible by Roland at any time. He converts the Blessing into an unstable form and unleashes it towards a foe. It is channelled in the form of a beam of light that, depending on how much energy is being expended, will be anywhere from a couple inches wide to a couple feet. Should it strike home, it causes significant blunt force trauma. The second form of Absolution is only accessible whilst Roland is under the Flames of Penance. The man channels his energy directly in the center of his being, before he violently expels it in all directions. The flames encasing Roland’s body are inflated, expanding out many yards and whipped up into a funnel of sorts. To call it a flaming tornado would...well...be pretty spot on, actually. Anybody caught up in the flames will experience burns, obviously, as well as significant sharp force trauma. The closer one is to Roland when Absolution begins, the worse damage they’ll end up taking. This form of Absolution consumes all of Roland’s remaining mana. It acts as his desperation attack. If it fails, he’s essentially lost. [i]Light of Serafina[/i] The bread and butter of the Order of Saints, the Light of Serafina is a powerful healing ability castable only by those blessed by The Lady Serafina herself. It differs from most healing spells by its potency being directly affected by both the faith of the caster and the target. So long as the caster has faith in The Lady, he or she will be able to cure most wounds and illnesses. Death, however, is a different story. Only the most powerful, most devout followers of The Lady can snatch Life from the jaws of Death, but only if the deceased has only recently passed. The cost for such an extreme ability, however, is the loss of the caster’s life. But making the ultimate sacrifice is considered the most honorable way for one to join The Lady Serafina in the afterlife. Roland is more than capable of performing the resurrection. [/hider] [/center]