[hider=Mithril and the Golden Sword] [center][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/ad/8d/fd/ad8dfd7a6cbc597e0b7f684ebe1a9e2f.jpg[/img] Name: Mithril Blackblood Age: unknown Gender: Male Race: Human Magic:Powerful Goa incantations Divine Protection:None Personality: Mithril is a broken man dwelling more in the sentient mind of the sword strapped to his back and shrouded in black cloth, than a true human anymore. He revels in bloodshed and dances in the misery of his victims before sacrificing them to whatever dark whim he has. The extent of his madness is known only to the victims before they suffer their fate, which is not always a meager killing, sometimes they speak of simple torture or making them torture another victim. Yet never for ransom or gain, never for greed or revenge, it is madness. Pure and sweet chaos that flutters in the wind like feathers across the imperial city. Mercenaries refuse to take the job to find him anymore and even the lawmakers have learned to leave it alone. Because madness cannot be stopped and it cannot be reasoned with, because it has no solid form to slay. Mithril is the puppet in a play as old as time. Background: The rumblings of the mountains are the beating heart of our world, the rivers its blood, the grass its flesh, and the light illuminates all for us to appreciate. But the darkness lurking in every nook and cranny of of this place is a mask to hide the reality of what lurks below the smiles and the sad hatred bubbling from the core of every creature capable of thought. Even those without it. Chaos is the intangible and unspeakable reality of the universe. It seeks out nothing, wants for everything, and destroys or creates on whim. That is why the Golden sword was buried as deep in the vaults as they could and then dug a little further for safe measure. Order demanded that something so beautifully 'evil' be locked in the darkness that festered it in the first place. But the universes cold reality is that Chaos will never disappear and can never be forgotten. The Golden sword is merely a shell for something history has tried to erase over and over to no avail, every time it surfaces in a new form and leaves its signature on the land before returning to some dusty forgotten nothingness for a rest. Mithril Darkblood is just another thing wielding the hatred now. His own feelings of powerlessness against this ancient force merely pushes his body to the peak of insanity as it bathes in the crimson essence of the lights children. Even the evils of our time have felt their blood flow to this hatred. This is the reality of my existence! THE REASON FOR MY BEING! THE PUPPET FEEDS ME ITS HATRED AND I FEED THE WORLD ITS OUTRAGE!! There is no right. No wrong. No reason, beyond calamity. I am the natural opposite of this reality. You are nothing and will return to nothing. I am chaos incarnate. Likes: Bloodshed, torture, calm walks by the water, the thrill of battle, screams of anguish, chocolate cake, vanilla ice cream, suffering, happiness. Dislikes: Bloodshed, torture, calm walks by the water, the thrill of battle, screams of anguish, chocolate cake, vanilla ice cream, suffering, happiness. Theme: [hider=Main theme] [youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbRBgCtOGlY[/youtube] [/hider] [hider=Battle theme] [youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HfBlM_fo61A[/youtube] [/hider] [hider=The golden sword] [img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/af/54/ac/af54ac6805025ba44a191d5e5c0a6a71.jpg[/img] The Golden Sword has three powerful abilities. 1. As a sentient weapon made from a powerful ancient soul, it is capable of stealing the thoughts and memories of anyone who wields the sword. Having absorbed hundreds of memories the Golden Sword is capable of teaching the next wielder every martial lesson the other hosts have learned, making every new wielder stronger with stolen experience. 2. Possessing its own terrifying essence, the soul of the sword can transfer its own vast energy into the wielder to mend wounds at alarming rates. While it cannot regenerate brain damage or regrow a limb, it can still allow its host to shrug off otherwise debilitating or even fatal wounds. There is a limit to how much it can regenerate in a given time before it must replenish its own power. 3. True Suppression. Three notches on the blade taken on a crimson glow as the aura of the swords soul leaks out bit by bit, smothering everything around it. Being in the blades proximity weakens everything, from their strength and speed to their ability to use magic or generate mana. At first it is barely noticeable, shrugged off as fatigue from battle. The next stage is exhaustion, weapons are heavier and your body moves slower than you remember. The final stage of the suppression was described by a survivor as 'Making you half a man.'. Over half your true strength is snuffed out under the weight of the golden swords will. Even divine protections are weakened under its influence. [/hider] [/center] [/hider] [hider=Olipher "Olly" "The Heartseeker" Blightbreak] [Center] [hider=Appearance] [img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/72/e4/0f/72e40fd232e78f9d21f241463d07afb0.jpg[/img] [/hider] Olipher "The Heartseeker" Blightbreak Age: 45 Gender: Male Race: Oni Magic: Trained in useful Fura incantations. Divine Protection: Blessing of the mark - Olipher was blessed by marking a target, creating a small unceasing dot on his target that only he can see. The mark will not vanish until dismissed or until death. While active, Olipher can detect a marked persons presence within a great distance. Originally dismissed as a useless trait for a future warrior, Olipher trained to use a bow with great accuracy to make complete use of his blessings often overlooked aid. While indeed useless against an opponent currently face to face with him, it is invaluable to his assassination style use of the longbow. Personality: Olipher is the rough and wild free spirit, open and accepting of others for their differences. While not reckless with his life he will still jump (sort of?) into a fight to provide aid for the more upfront warriors, protecting their flank with well placed shots into high priority targets as well as marking enemy commanders that might flee the battlefield. Ultimately he is still a bit of a coward when faced with the more personal aspects of his life, such as removing his helmet (Which he despises wearing but doesn't like showing his face either) or explaining why he wears such intimidating armor despite fighting from the back. He often states its for Aesthetic purposes. Not to have his large horns blend in with his appearance. When the fightings done you can find this man laying about in the sun, fully clothed and no skin showing, trying to get a good tan or a peaceful snooze in before more important matters find his attention. Whenever possible he will try to make friends with stronger people in order to better make up for his own lack of melee options. Has a terrible habit of making the absolute worst puns or comments. Background: Born and raised in a backwater town with what could only be described as 'cowards and weaklings' who praised themselves as veterans of a war nobody bloody remembers with stories about it often fluctuating between a group of their finest warriors (or sometimes a single warrior) taking on an army and surviving casualty and injury free. Though that is not to say these people were unskilled as warriors, it was simply very hard to determine if they had ever spilled blood for anything more than another villager angering each other. Olipher was about 15 when he abandoned his 'home' and his parents, who styled him an idiot for taking the way of the arrow over the way of the sword, and found adventure and profit elsewhere. Lieing to adults to pass as an adult himself, Olly (as he came to be known) became a skilled game hunter for a traveling band of tradesman and mercenaries for hire until he was in his late 20's. Olipher had no idea what happened to them other than one guy betrayed another guy and some other guys interfered with swords and.. If asked, Olly will simply say that a lot of people 'fell on a sword' at some point and took a very long nap. Fighting happened and Olipher fought. Olipher killed. Olipher took no pleasure in it. But the payment he got after was, needless to say, substantial. Rather than hang around and make more money off dead mens leftovers he took a passing group of strangers (assassins disguised as mercenaries who said they were 'simple nomads') and went for a long boring walk to a capital city. After being tipped off, and paid handsomely, Olipher was paid by the city guard to poison the killers' water with sleeping powder to make their capture much easier. Olipher drank the water too and woke up in a prison cell.. To which he was let out a few hours later for 'good behavior' (Savagely beating a fellow inmate over Ollys innocent whistling). Rather than being punished for his attitude he was instead released back into the streets with all his possessions and told 'not to cause any more trouble'. Things got hazy for a few months after that. Drinking. Fighting. Lovin'. More jail time. Less lovin' but more fighting. Jail time again. Etc, etc. Olipher lived the highlife and found himself relatively broke and decently well stocked for arrows. Now he's just looking for things to do and people to travel with again. Such has always been his way. Likes: Drinking. Women. Sometimes men. Sandwiches with that... you know, those luxury toothpicks with the olives through them. Hard working city guards. People with more armor than common sense. Discount sales on arrows. Groups of people that go places and do things whom are willing to have a weird horned person helping them. Dislikes: Street rats (not the urchins or beggars, the actual rats. Beady eyes and stuff..). Prisons. This one really mean guy named Jack somethingorother he met during a hunting expedition who accidentally shot Olly with a hand crossbow because he'd been drinking too much before going out. Olive oil (DO NOT ASK WHY). The word 'potential'. Theme None. The whistle on the wind is music enough~[/center] [/hider]