Name: Colman "Cole" Arkus
Age: 20
Race: Half-Elf

Appearance: Born to a human mother and an elven father, Colman stands at 5’7, and is quite thin from years of forgoing meals in favour of study. His hair is already a pale silver, despite his young age, and his eyes are green like the lake near where he grew up. The tattoo on his forehead represents a tree and its branches, ever splitting, but still the same tree. Due to his heritage, he naturally has a greater amount of dexterity, but also not as much as a true elf. The same holds true with human strength. As far as clothes go, he generally wears formal clothing in dark colours, and is not often seen without his coat.

Nation of origin: The Oakheart Sovereignty

Personality: Lucky enough to be born into a knight’s family – his uncle’s, to be specific - Colman’s name means ‘little dove’, and he lives to it, seeking peace with all. While he is often serious, Cole goes about his life in a light-hearted way, trying to smile when others are down. He has a great passion for knowledge, and the preservation of, considering himself an amateur scholar. He also has great respect for all the world, and all walks of life. The only things he will not tolerate are outright murder, taking advantage of the weak, and hurting his friends – the only ways you can get him to lose his temper.

Biography: Colman is one of the many examples of half-elves who come from Oakheart. However, due to his ‘hybrid’ status, there were a number who looked on him with distrust. His mother and father also bore the brunt of this attack, given that their marriage was sudden and unexpected. Unfortunately, it was also short.

In his sixth year, whilst walking with his parents alongside the lake they lived near, his mother suddenly became aware of people following them. The treeline was too far away, and no boulders or bushes provided cover to hide behind. So she pushed young Cole into the reeds of the lake, and told him to stay there and not make a sound until she or her father said so. There he witnessed the act that he will carry with him for the rest of his life – the murder of his parents. But he did not make a sound. His uncle’s men later found him at the scene, shivering and cold, still waiting in the reeds for his mother’s say so. Despite his protests, they took him back to his uncle, Terrence Arkus, squire of the knight before him. Finding himself charged with his dead sister’s son, the knight had no idea how to raise the boy, having neither children nor a wife of his own. He was able to bring the murderers to justice, though, by Cole’s detailed description of their appearances.

Left to his own devices, Cole grew up mostly secluded, the only interaction he and his uncle shared being mealtimes. Despite the knight’s attempts to reach out to Cole through offering to train him as a knight, the child responded only with cordial politeness, and would leave soon after, showing no interest in the ways of the sword. In fact, the only person who truly seemed to connect with him was the healer of the estate, a dryad of many years, who never seemed unhappy to see him drop by. It was this dryad who first awakened his interest in learning, and she taught him many things, even lending him some of her small library of books from time to time.

In Cole’s fifteenth year, Terrence finally married, and the first new lady of the estate came to live there since Cole’s mother died. She was a young and beautiful woman, charming everyone around her, and she even seemed to love Cole despite his standoffish behaviour. Despite this, Cole now felt like he was intruding, given that one day his uncle would one day soon, have children of his own. And during an argument over this with the healer, her tree fell. She died the next day, causing Cole a severe amount of grief, only greatened when he found that her worldly possessions had been left to him. Due to the pain he felt after her death, he swore to never end a life, lest he cause someone as much pain as he himself was feeling.

The moment Cole turned sixteen, he received his parent’s small inheritance, and used most of it to buy passage to Solace, where he sought to learn all he could, being the centre of the Eversky’s knowledge, and forget his past, with little success. He ceased contact with his uncle, and despite himself, finds that his new life brings him a modicum of comfort and happiness. In the four years since, he has made a living primarily as a tutor for the children of the city, though he has been known to hired as a secondary tactician against pirate attacks, or as a neutral party for negotiations between businesses, and the occasional members of state. Now, though, with the rise of the Heaven’s Eye, he is reluctantly once again preparing to leave his home – but where he will go, he cannot decide.

Skills:

• Committed to Memory - Anything Colman sees, he will likely never forget. Whether he wants to or not.
• Magical Potential - Given his elven blood, Cole most likely has the potential for magic, but has never attempted it, given his proximity to the Heaven’s Eyes.
• Healing Hands - Years of friendship with the dryad taught him many things, and one thing she knew very well was medicine. Cole, though he’d rather leave it to professionals, can perform medical practices, from illnesses and injuries of minor levels, to devising a medicine and giving treatment to a severe wound, to providing quick emergency care that gives someone just a little more time, provided he has the right supplies.
• Better Safe than Sorry - Due to his hours of study, Cole, among other things, knows battle tactics and politics, and can apply both to his situation should he need to.

Weaknesses:

• Oath of Peace - Cole has sworn never to kill, should it come to it, and as such is only barely able to defend himself in a fight. Nor will he stand aside if someone is injured and in need of help. It binds him together as much as bone, muscle and sinew
• Sore Thumb - Cole is unusual, and often finds himself the centre of people’s attention. His appearance, his way of dress, and the way he acts are all rather unique. Thus, he’ll draw a bit more attention than he wants. He can pass for human or elf, but either way, he's most likely going to have eyes on him.
• Experience Trumps Education - Despite everything he’s learned, Cole has never put much of it to practice, and should he find himself in an unfamiliar or extreme situation, he will become agitated and unable to remember what to do.

Equipment:

• Basic Medical supplies: Allows him to provide aid quickly and easily to the injured.
• Journal: Cole records many things in journals, so that even if he forgets, or he falls, what he has learned will not be forgotten. His current study is airships.
• His mother's ring He received his mother's wedding ring alongside his inheritance, and wears it on his non-dominant right hand.
• Rock Island Revolver Even if he’s sworn an oath, it doesn’t mean he can’t disable them. It’s better to be carry and be ready than unarmed and face conflict. Holds seven bullets compared to the usual six.
  
  Rock Island Revolver: [+]

  

Other: In accordance to his oath, Cole is a vegetarian and will only eat meat again if he is on the brink of starvation.

Full Name: Elain Vahrot Lux
Titles/Nicknames: Paladin Lux
Age: 22
Race: Venatrian Human
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Combat Role: Guardian

Hair Color: White
Eye Color: Green
Height: 5'10
Weight: 156 lbs

Appearance: Elain is rarely seen outside of his armour - a sign of how guarded he has become. However, when it isn't required - by his standards, of course - he will wear simple clothes that are better suited for travel than fashion or formality. He stands proudly, but not arrogantly, and never makes an accidental move. Some have mistaken him for a mercenary, but he has quickly corrected them.


Overview: Elain tends to keep to himself, speaking only a few words in conversation. Any more than that is only those he knows well - but he doesn't do it for hostility's sake, and opens up easily. He is loyal to Loreia Valens, given an oath he swore long ago, but he also tends to worry about her - and is determined to keep her safe. He is devout to his faith, and would take offence should someone slander his, or indeed, any, god/s. He can charm someone easily, but someone who looks might notice that it isn't always genuine. And no matter what, he is never too far from his sword.



Strength: 6
Dexterity: 6
Intelligence: 6
Cunning: 3
Magic: 1
Willpower: 4
Endurance: 6
Charisma: 5

Weapons of Choice: A long-sword that can be held in both hands, or used alongside a shield. He also keeps a dagger behind his back should he be disarmed, or if drawing his sword would be too obvious. He may also use a spear, but it is not his best weapon.

Armor/Combat Apparel: Elain’s armour is made from a light steel, typical of paladins, and thus it doesn't slow him down as much as a normal knight’s would. It guards the majority of his body, however, and so in the arena, to appease the crowd, he bares his arms and shoulders, and wears leather pants to guard his legs instead of steel, with only greaves to guard his shins and bracers for his wrists. He may occasionally forgo his helmet as well, to cast a winning smile in the direction of the crowd.

Fighting Style: : Elain can fight offensively on the front line, or he can defend those who tend to be a little weaker. Either way, he always finds himself fighting those among the strongest of the opposing team. Thus, he needs to be quicker than the strong to avoid their crushing attacks, but strong enough to fend off the quick who can dart around him. But armour alone does not protect against magic, leaving him vulnerable to spells.


Place of Birth: Venatria, Apulum
Social Status: Ex-noble of low status. Gave up his title in order to serve.

History: Elain was born into a family of low nobility, not too far from Apulum, the lands of House Valens. As a child, he always had a talent for fighting, like his grandfather before him. And so, when his parents ‘gave’ him to Lord Lucius as a symbol of loyalty, he was entered into the Valens’ Gladiatorial School. Angry at the people he no longer called mother and father, Elain began to disrupt lessons, damage training equipment, and just generally make trouble in an attempt to get expelled and thus break the alliance. Eventually his antics caught the attention of the lord, who summoned him.

After some strict reprimands, the Lord Valens was called out on business. It was then, wandering in to see the strange boy in her father’s office, that Elain first met Loreia. At first hostile and brash, he eventually opened up to her about how he didn’t want to leave home, and he’d rather be defending people than fighting for some fat merchant’s entertainment. He mentioned the possibility of running away. Then, young Loreia, with some quick thinking, realised and told him that he could defend people just as well by bearing arms in the area as he could on the field – because a renowned gladiator’s name bears great influence, and the money earned could go towards helping as many people as possible. These words inspired Elain, and when he returned to the school, it was as a changed student.

Forswearing his title as a member of House Lux, he dedicated himself to the craft. He exceeded in his lessons, learning much of what it meant to be a gladiator and a warrior. His progress and talent was unrivalled by any of his peers, and while this success isolated him, he didn’t let his loneliness show, not even to Loreia, who visited occasionally. He eventually graduated the school early, and up to now, his last sight of Loreia was during the ceremony, not a word exchanged between them. And when he swore the oath of loyalty, it was with determination in his heart. He eventually departed from Apulum, with leave from Lord Lucius, in search of something – what, he couldn’t say. And then he found it – religion.

Elain had never been religious, but when he had begun his journey vastly under prepared, and had found himself starving and weak near the border of Markoth. To his surprise, he was ambushed by a trio of mongrels. Even in his weakened state, he was still capable, and managed to take down two of them before collapsing. He uttered a futile prayer to the Guardian, a last bitter hope, before succumbing to a deep sleep as the mongrel approached. He woke in a bed, being tended to by a priestess of the Guardian. When he asked if he was dead, she told him no. And when he asked why he was still alive, she told him that a Markothi Hobgoblin had brought him to the doorstep of the shrine. Believing that the Guardian had helped him in his hour of need, Elain began to recover his health and strength at the shrine, and eventually began a tutelage under one of the swordsmen there. He began to settle in his new life. And then, word reached them of the fall of House Valens after Lucius’ death. It all came rushing back. Most of all, his oath. With the blessings of the priestess, he packed up, and set out back home, to find Loreia, to honour his oath, and also to enter service as a Paladin of House Valens.

And along the way, he came across a group of Mongrels savagely attacking a group of Hobgoblins, with one sole defender, the rest barely trained. Thinking of what Loreia would do, and of the mysterious Beast who had saved him once before, he leaped to the aid of the Hobgoblins, aiding their defender. When the battle was said and done, the trained Hobgoblin looked at him curiously, and then asked him why he had helped. Elain told them why. The Hobgoblin looked to their companions, and then, asked if Elain would help escort his charges to safety. When Elain refused on the account of having to track down Loreia, the Hobgobliin offered his assistance in finding her, and unable to truly refuse, Elain accepted. Now, a full year after he left House Valens behind, he finds himself in the coastal town of his upbringing. He and his companion had heard rumours that Loreia had returned to Apulum, ones with substance, and they were here to find out if they were true.

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Name


Age


Gender


Relationship Status


Job


Element/Abilities


In-Depth Appearance


Likes

• Early mornings.
• Training.
• Fine foods and wine.
• Thinking.

Dislikes

• Thieves, vagabonds and the like.
• Dwelling on the past.
• Debauchery.
• Beer and liquor.

Biggest Fear


Personality


Background


Extra
As seen in the picture, he favours his left hand.
Color:92278f
Faceclaim: Drawing approved for being realistic.

Full Name: Endar Ignis Drayen
Titles/Nicknames: Lord Drayen; Prince Endar; the Exiled Prince
Age: 20
Race: Human (Elf-blooded mother)
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Gold
Height: 5’8
Weight: 145 lbs

Appearance: Endar, given his upbringing, carries himself quite regally, with the pride, elegance, and grace of a young nobleman. He is usually seen wearing comfortable, if expensive, clothing. He is slender, compared to others his age, but he has lived a comparably sheltered life.

Personality: Endar lives for his little sister, Mari, despite only sharing half her blood. He tends to be quiet and keep to himself, but he takes care to be sociable when he can. He will also not hesitate if he sees someone in need of aid, and genuinely cares for the people around him. It applies to all, no matter if they aren’t human; he would be quite the hypocrite and look quite the fool if he did, after all. However, he finds it extremely difficult to trust people born or raised in Noctis. It will not stop him from working with them, but he will only do it for his sister.

Those who know him will also know that he’s a little shy, no matter if he puts on an air of confidence. He does these things because he must, and so he buries himself in another persona. And he’s taking into account personal risk and sacrifice at every moment, because he’s determined to complete his end-goal. It might get him in trouble in times to come, but that’s what he’s building a team for. He’s slow to smile, and perhaps grim, but he never lets his mood affect others if he can help it.

Other than that, he’s quite well-read, and has a passion for it, but there’s not much time for him to page through books whilst on the road. Because this is for Mari, not him. And he’s not going to lose her.



Strength: 4
Dexterity: 6
Intelligence: 6
Cunning: 2
Magic: 8
Willpower: 5
Endurance: 4
Charisma: 6

Weapons of Choice: A golden rapier that he’s carried with him since the day he turned fifteen. It is almost new, but it will not fail him. But his primary weapon is the spells that he has learned in his time - Seraphim, Draconis, and the Seal of Light.

Armor/Combat Apparel: Endar owns a full suit of armour, one of the few things that Sir Sharn brought with him when they fled. Endar could never understand why the knight had a set that didn’t fit him… until he realised that it wasn’t for Sharn. It is made from light steel with a golden enamel. It guards the majority of his body, however, and so in the arena, to appease the crowd, he bares his head, arms and shoulders, and wears leather pants to guard his legs instead of steel, with only greaves to guard his shins and bracers for his wrists.

Fighting Style: Endar takes it upon himself to be wherever he is needed most. Sometimes he will fight their strongest enemies with magic from afar... other times, he takes it upon himself to defend those closest to him with his blade.

Magical Affinity: Divine, Ancient Magic

• Spell 1: Seraphim - A bolt of pure light that arcs towards its target. It disregards simple armour, and inflicts a sort of holy magic. It can do anything from kill weaker targets instantly, to stunning them in order for an ally to get an opening. It is especially effective on Shades and the Undead. However, Rune-inscribed armour, as it is with all magic, will reduce its effects, meaning the caster must get stronger.
• Spell 2: Draconis - Reaching deep within the caster to find their inner spark, it calls it out and manifests a spectral creature; in Endar's case, the dragon's cousins, drakes. They will go about the purpose they were summoned for - but for the duration of the spell, the caster is overcome with an extreme weakness, and rendered vulnerable to attack.
• Spell 3: The Seal of Light - A spell that calms the mind and soothes the body. It can be aimed towards a singular target, or turned into an aura that sweeps the field, but no matter what, it will heal those under its influence and restore a little of their energy. Endar can only use this sparingly, but he will use it as often as he can.

Place of Birth: Ancora, Arlen.
Social Status: The rightful Prince of Arlen
Alignment:Thunder

History:Endar was born to an elf-blooded mother and his father, the future King Consort Rowan. His mother died when he was only one season old, leaving him motherless and his father a widower. A few years later, Rowan married into the royal family. Queen Liara was gracious enough to adopt Endar as her own son, but the Court accepted this only on the condition that her first blood child would receive the crown, not him. He grew up training as a prince, who would one day guard his King or Queen as tradition asked, serving as their guardian, like his uncle, Sharn, did for his mother. And when his little sister was born, he began to work harder than ever. He knew that Liara wasn’t his true mother, but she was his mother nonetheless, and so when he was asked to make a terrible decision, he had to listen.

The attack on the castle was unexpected, and truly, the residents were completely unprepared. Nobody knows to this day, who the attackers were, why it happened, or what happened to the Royal Family. None of their bodies were found. And the few battered, bleeding survivors hadn’t seen them. Queen Liara, King Consort Rowan, Lord Sharn, Prince Endar and Crown Princess Mari were pronounced dead to the world, and Pope Agnes laid their spirits to rest. Nobody knows to this day that three of the five had actually escaped, and fled to the east.

Once they found that nobody saw them for who they were, Sharn and Endar began to set up a life for the three of them. The young boy aged much in those months, and found himself always standing close to Mari. This was when he began to learn swordplay, though he couldn’t quite grasp the heavy-handed style of his uncle. Thus, he chose his own. The dance of the duelist appealed to him, and as he began to practice more and more, he found that this art was his way.

And just as their lives seemed to improve, they headed back down. Their uncle fell ill, and shortly before Endar’s fifteenth year, he succumbed to it. This left the two of them with only each other for family, and only the servants and guards for company. A poor existence for them to have, at such young ages, but Fate had not always cast her dice in their favour. Time once again passed, and the young prince found that his availability plummeted when he became the head of the household. It wasn’t long before he wondered whether he should hire a vizier to manage it instead, since he needed Mari to be happy, not him. Mari’s encouragement alone convinced him not to when she refused to let him do so.

When Ulfrur, cousin to King Venenatus of Noctis and his chief general, was given a coronation unexpectedly, news spread fast. Endar, when he heard, was filled with anger like he’d never known. It didn’t belong to him. It belonged to Mari… But now there was an idea. Someone who could have orchestrated the attack all those years ago. And in the back of his mind, Endar was forming a plan on how to get close to the pretender. Because snake or not, Ulfrur had no right to sit on the Marble Throne.

Other: Endar is left-handed, but fights using his right.

Name: Inigo Sombra (meaning 'Indigo Shadow')
Age: Just under three centuries, still considered a child by demonic standards, he looks about 18.
Family Role: Older brother.
Placement and Design of Contract Seal: The contract seal is located on his left wrist, resembling a full-colour tattoo, each of the petals slowly fading into flames.

History:
Inigo is a Flame Demon. His purpose isn't like those of higher Ranks – those who feed off of emotions or events – but he does have a mischievous side which he will occasionally put into practice, should there be a convincing reason for it. He left the Realm when he was still quite young, only seventy, and wandered the human world, curious about it and the people whom were the obsession of many of his peers.
As he wandered, he thought about a good few things, and learned a good amount more. He also had to depend on his wits when he found himself in some particularly tricky situations, in pranks gone wrong or when he'd encounter those who were aware of his true nature. Eventually, though, his wanderlust brought him into the modern age, and he found himself travelling around a whole lot more, trying to experience all these new things. But he began to want for somewhere to belong, too.
Then he found it. One day, at dawn, he found himself outside a house, and made eye contact a little girl. It was then that he felt an intense burning on his wrist - only to discover the Contract Seal.

Abilities:
Smokin’: Inigo can exchange his human form for what resembles a cloud of black smoke. This form allows him to travel at extreme speeds, and get through small gaps, provided he stays out of direct sunlight – at which point he will immediately revert to human.
Candle next to the Inferno: He can summon the smallest flickering flame, or a raging bonfire, and retains full control of it as long as he isn't distracted. However, what he can summon depends on his current emotional state.
Demonic Strength: As many demons obviously possess, Inigo has greater natural strength than a human.
New Dawn: Though he doesn't necessarily need to sleep, he does need to rest. And in order to regain his power he needs to experience the light of the new day. This can leave him drained if he is unable to get there.

Occupation/Work: Has a part-time job as a barista in a coffee-shop. He's known for always serving drinks at the perfect temperature.

Personality Traits and Quirks: Whilst his joking nature tends to lead people to assume, Inigo is actually quite hot-headed. He only gets angry when sensitive topics are brought up to him, though.

He's also fiercely protective, and cares a lot more than he lets on. This leads him to go to the aid of anybody close to him in his life. It likely stems from being alone for the better part of two centuries.

And lastly, Inigo knows quite a bit about the world and the things in it, giving him a brand of logical thinking that few others tend to have. It lets him pick up on things others might not usually notice.

Name: Markus Jordan

Alias/Nickname: blu_drag0n

Rank: Artisan

Appearance:

Under his visor are the eyes that nobody can ever decide if they are blue or grey. Even his answer varies from time to time.

Age: 19

Race: Human

Personality: Generally a laid back individual who jokes around, Markus tends to spend long hours by himself, working with codes. Well, not quite. He has Ark, after all. He can come off as antisocial, or aloof, but if he can relax around a particular person, then his attitude is much more welcoming.

Biography/history: Markus is the only son of Lauren Jordan and Paladin Elain Luxien. Paladin Elain and his squad were pronounced M.I.A, presumed dead, less than a week before the boy was born. And his mother was not long for the world, either, dying during the childbirth, and entrusting Markus to his aunt's care. Growing up, he never really had questions about where his parents had gone. And despite his Aunt's best attempts, he never seemed to be passionate about anything. The young boy was simply just content to let the days pass by in that small little world of his. Of course, as he grew older, that world grew larger. And as that world grew larger, more things happened within it. One of these things made him who he was today.

Markus' aunt ran a small café, by the name of The Blue Dragon. They offered breakfasts and lunches, snacks and drinks, and had a good signal that allowed people to use their portable devices to their heart's content. They closed mid-afternoon, and one day a week they didn't open. It was a happy life, but all too soon it was cut short.

In his adolescence – though, he hasn’t quite left it yet – he was going through the inevitable rebellious phase. And because of it, he and his aunt began to argue more and more. And one of these arguments turned sour. Markus ran from their home in a rage, and stayed away for an entire day. But when he returned, it was to flashing lights and grim news. There had been an accident.

The café closed. He kept to himself even more. His aunt’s friends, after months of trying to reach out, eventually moved on. It was in this time that Markus became who he is today.

Spending time alone on the streets, he came across a man being assaulted by some kids for looking strange. Markus didn’t think before moving to defend the man. Once they left the pair alone, the man said that he recognised Markus as a fellow wanderer, and offered to teach him how to survive. And he began to teach Markus how to hack.

Though he never learned the man’s name, nor would he know when he’d next see him, Markus gave in to his curiosity, and found himself in a world of codes and programming. He knew how to exploit a single unprotected outlet, or the smallest flaw in the security, and then he would be in control. His mentor eventually vanished, causing him to go adrift, for a while, but then he continued on his own. He felt unstoppable, tasking himself with getting into the highest-security systems across Galendar.

But he got careless. He got caught.

Reason for recruitment: A good number of hackers are hired after breaking in. Obviously some also get incarcerated, but why let them go to waste?

Strength of Will: Unnatural

Magic: None

God relations: Xandrius is the god that Markus feels closest to, given that they both know a little more about what life is like nowadays, and have access to a thousand secrets.

Tech:

• V95ZO36 or Zoe, an artificial intelligence Markus created himself. She can easily transfer between platforms, and holds an expansive database. While she does not always completely agree with what Markus does, she often concedes given that there's little chance to turn back without getting imprisoned.
• Visor and headset – his visor isn’t without function. It’s fitted with a computer chip that allows him to watch codes run, or video feed if he has access to cameras, whilst still being able to see what’s in front of him. And the headset – he uses it to listen to audio feed, but also in lieu of a neural implant, since he knows from past experience that they can be hacked by someone of prodigal skill.
• Wristbands – the bands around his wrist aren’t for show. He can use them anywhere to bring up a plasma screen which he can use to ply his craft, though it is only an alternative for his being unable to hack remotely. If pressed, he can also use them to generate a melee weapon or function as a wrist-gun in a battle.
• Rollerskates – His boots contain deployable wheels which he can use if he needs extra speed. They can only be used in areas with even ground, though.

Possessions/items/property: Other than the clothes on his back and his gear, none. He lives light.

Skills:

Hacker: The obvious part, Markus is an extremely skilled hacker, be it at the location of the system, or doing it from afar. As long as he has access, he can get in.

Good in a fight, I guess: He can assist in event of combat, but he’d rather not have to.

Name: Brass Roseblood.
Age: 21
Race/Class: Human/Scoundrel

Posting Rate: Dependent
Karma: 0

Team Leader of: (No name yet, but Recruiting!)
Team Member of:(No other teams)

Coins: 10
Crystals: 5

Appearance:

A brown-haired, green-eyed young man, who considers himself to be at least half good-looking. He tends to wear rough, if comfortable, clothing, and carries himself with an air of confidence. He’s also quite agile, from an entire lifetime living on the great blue.

Personality: Brass is an individual who, while not truly accustomed to the ways of the land, tends to be sure in his actions, and quite carefree. He’s quick to smile, and can easily joke around with others – even if they might not respond in kind. He can be serious when he wants to, but only when he needs to – he’d rather have friends than partners. He possesses a certain wanderlust, always moving him onward, to new places he’s yet to see. Oh, and be careful when playing games against Brass – while he’s generally a good sport, there may be the occasional toss of the dice that seems just a little too convenient, or an extra card you’d swear he didn’t have.

Biography: Brass was born to Captain Aurora Bloodrose and her partner and first mate, Ignis. While never officially married, they did have a relationship that had lasted for years, and together managed the ship by the name ‘Mercury’. Growing up on the boat gave Brass the opportunity to see much of the world, but it was also quite small for an inquisitive child’s explorations to bear fruit. But neither of his parents could leave the sea – nor did they have any friends or family Brass could stay with on land. So on the boat he stayed.
But one day, they found themselves without the winds to back them nor a current to rely on. But there was a mass of dark clouds gathering in the sky. They were far from any port city or town, but still the Captain ordered her men to break out the oars, and begin securing the boat. The storm hit them before they were truly prepared, but still they fought against her. And though the boy wished desperately to help, he was ushered back below every time he made to do so. Eventually, after a particularly large wave, he was tossed against a wall and loss consciousness.
He woke to find that the Mercury had suffered damage, but its hull was intact. Yet the crew was not. Several sailors had been swept overboard during the storm… and among them was Captain Roseblood’s first mate. They made port at the first town they came to, and for the first time, Brass found himself on land for more than a week while they recuperated. They had to move on, though, and so the captain told them to set sail. In the following days, she kept mostly to her cabin, and turned away anybody who attempted to speak with her. It fell to Brass to be in charge. He delegated tasks, gave orders and kept order on board. By the time his mother got over her grief and came above deck, the crew had already accepted him.
It had only been a matter of time before he became the new first mate. Mother and son sailed the ocean together. Their lives were happy again. But of course, Brass was still growing, and he still wanted to know what lay beyond his world of sea. And though reluctant he was to leave his mother behind, the call was just as tempting. Now, with the blessing of the captain, he’s making his first great steps on land.

Stats

Health: 10

* Wisdom: 4

* Stamina: 6
** Strength: 3
** Speed: 4
** Agility: 3

* Mana: 0
** Elemental Affinity: 0
** Arcane Affinity: 0

Arsenal

Armors/Talismans:


Weapons/Relics:


Tools/Charms:

Techniques/Spells:

NAME: Brass Roseblood
HAIR COLOR: Brown, which is honestly quite boring, when you think about it.
EYE COLOR: Green, though what shade, changes with the light,
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: It isn't really a 'feature', but he always has his sword with him.
SCARS AND BIRTHMARKS: None to speak of.

DESCRIBE A STRANGER'S FIRST IMPRESSION UPON MEETING THEM.
Brass, to those who haven't quite met him yet, could easily come off as arrogant, or a troublemaker. However, on appearances alone, he could appear to be a well-worn traveller, despite his youth, what with his leather coat and boots both being weathered by the road.

WHO ARE THEIR FRIENDS AND FAMILY? WHAT SORT OF PEOPLE DO THEY SURROUND THEMSELVES WITH?
None to speak of, I'm afraid. He's been alone in the world for a long time. The only one who might be alive is his father, but Brass never knew the man, nor will he. Don't worry about it, though - he isn't lonely, not at all. There're a few innkeepers who know him by name - probably take pity on him, to be honest - and he can well afford to pay them for bed and board, maybe for a few nights at a time before he moves on. He wouldn't exactly call the people who played him in cards friends, though. Enemies, more like - he's been in enough scraps in the aftermath to know that some dice rollers don't take kindly to his 'luck'.

WHERE WERE THEY BORN? WHERE HAVE THEY LIVED SINCE THEN? WHERE IS HOME?
Brass was born inland, in a small town. He doesn't tell people where - because to him, it's a grave. He may as well have buried the whole town, as well as his mother. Now, he's mostly looking for a new home - and he's always been drawn to the sea.

WHERE DO THEY GO WHEN THEY'RE ANGRY?
Angry isn't something you'll see Brass be. He doesn't need to go anywhere. He's fine, honestly. If he feels any 'angry' coming on, he buries it, deep down, where he's determined to let it stay.

WHAT IS THEIR BIGGEST FEAR? WHO HAVE THEY TOLD ABOUT IT? WHO WOULD THEY NEVER TELL?
Strangely enough, for his lifestyle, his greatest fear is dying. Dying alone and forgotten. But he isn't dying today. No, siree. He's not going to tell you about this, either. It's... it's not something you can easily confess.

DO THEY HAVE A SECRET?
Other than the ones you already know? No, he doesn't have many secrets to keep. But if you trust him with one, he'll be sure to add it to the list of ones he does.

WHAT MAKES THEM LAUGH OUT LOUD?
Now, that depends. What do you consider to be a loud laugh out? A joke? That'll earn you a smile or a chuckle. Losing to him in a game of cards? Perhaps a little more. You'd probably need to really amuse him to get the full-blown belly laugh you're asking for, though.

HAVE THEY EVER BEEN IN LOVE?
One, once... but other than that, no. He's had his dalliances, from time to time. Women, men, both, neither - didn't matter. None of them were serious. He might give someone a second look, but no, no long-term crushes or relationships. That doesn't mean he'll never fall prey to it, however.

DESCRIBE THE THINGS THAT WOULD BE HARD FOR THEM TO PART WITH.
He doesn't really have that many material possessions - though, of the ones he does have, a good number of them are irreplaceable. His sword, his ring, and his jacket. The ring he wears is a memento of his mother - it was her signet ring, and even if it came down to selling it or starve, he'd go without food. His sword also came from her - though, it never belonged to her. It was a gift, for his last birthday with her. He might be more willing to sell that. And as for his jacket... well, it's a good jacket! He's had it for a while, and he's probably going to have it for a good while more.

LOOK DOWN AT THEIR FEET. DESCRIBE WHAT YOU SEE.
Well, his feet are in his boots, for one. About knee-high, good leather, that sort of thing. A flagstone floor - standard, for this establishment, if it's not wooden boards instead. Wooden table legs, chair legs. Yep, this is an inn. And he's sitting at a table. There's some golden light coming in through a window, somewhere - so it's either dawn or dusk. Probably dusk.

WHEN THEY THINK OF THEIR CHILDHOOD KITCHEN, WHAT SMELL DO THEY ASSOCIATE WITH IT? WHY DOES IT RESONATE?
Good smells. Puffy rice... and mince, maybe? A stew? He can't quite tell. And... a warm, nice smell. Mother. She was a good cook. Always making good food. He helped, from time to time. It certainly made it easier on her.

DESCRIBE ONE STRONG MEMORY THAT HAS STUCK WITH THEM FROM CHILDHOOD.
A memory? Hmm... it's probably... the girl. Brass was sitting up in a tree, in the garden, when he saw her across the way. She had golden hair, and it fell down over her shoulder in a long braid. She had just picked a flower - a lily? A rose? And when she smelled its perfume... the most beautiful of smiles lit her face. It wasn't a grin or a smirk, and she didn't bare her teeth... but, it was beautiful nonetheless.

WHAT DO THEY WANT MOST OF ALL?
Honestly... he doesn't know himself. I suppose that's what he's trying to find.

RIGHT NOW, IN THE FIRST MOMENT OF OUR STORY, WHAT IS THEIR BIGGEST PROBLEM?
The guy sitting across from him. They're playing a game of cards and dice, and both of them have placed large bets. The man across from him is a thug. Bullied his coin out of others, probably. And he's getting increasingly frustrated by his poor luck. Brass has been playing the game for what, an hour, now? The man'll probably accuse him of cheating, and normally, he might be right. Who doesn't? But this time, there's not a single card in his sleeve, nor a loaded dice. Just Lady Luck. And clearly she favours Brass in this case. Let's just hope the guy doesn't try to start anything, shall we? He might not look that pretty, but Brass would hate to ruin what little he already has.

Name: Dyan Whitewing (Pronounced Dee-ahn)
Age: 19
Race: Aethen
Role: Alchemist

Appearance:


Personality: Dyan, to those who don’t know him, is a surly and abrasive individual. It doesn’t matter what social status you are; he’s going to speak plainly. He might hold his tongue if he considers them a friend, but such people are rare. Around animals, though, it’s a different story – cats in particular. With them, he’s gentle and kind, and he doesn’t mask his emotions. He is more comfortable around them than people, that’s for certain.

Skills:

Potions Master – As long as he has the right herbs or powdered gemstones at hand, Dyan can make a powerful potion. He keeps a pouch on him for this reason with a few of the less common ingredients.

Rune Worker – Alchemists know the power of runes, and utilize them to make enchanted items. As long as there’s a magic gemstone on hand, he’ll be able to enchant something. Though, he has only memorised a few, so you’ll need a compendium of runes as well if you want something more complex.

Scientist and Alchemist – Dyan is devoted to his studies, scientifical and alchemical, and strives to expand his knowledge. While sometimes he trips up on his work, he eventually gets past it.

Weapon: A carved rowan staff. Dyan isn’t quite a fighter – he can use his staff to keep people at bay, and has before, if the scratches in the wood speak for anything – but he isn’t what you’d call skilled on the battlefield.

Armor: - A leather jerkin with metal plates to protect the vital organs. And steel bracers and greaves to protect his wrists and shins.

Notable Possessions: A simple band of twine, to be worn around the wrist. On it are three beads of sea glass – one red, one blue and one green – to remind him of his sisters.

A potion pouch – as mentioned above, he keeps some ingredients on him in case they’re needed. He also has three spaces to store vials, so he can have some on hand if needed.

A black cat called Kali. She’s not Amber’s cat, but she is one of her kittens.

Brief History: Dyan was born into a simple life, on an Aetherdale farm with his family. He had three older sisters, and no brothers, but he didn’t mind that. After all, he had the animals. Given he wasn’t actually strong enough in his younger years to help with things like the harvest and tilling the dirt, it was often his job to watch the goats, the chickens, or the cows – it didn’t require much bulk.

When he was ten years old, the local lord had raised the taxes, causing outrage among the townsfolk. His family, though they’d never had much difficulty, would be unable to pay the tax for long. And so, came a difficult choice. To sell their land or their animals, which made up their livelihood... or to sell their children into slavery. Dyan can’t remember whether the choice they made was out of desperation, fear, or lack of morals. And he doesn’t want to.

He ran into the forest, with only the clothes on his back, and his wits. It was a long time before he stopped. He doesn’t remember what happened then, either. But he woke up in a ramshackle old hut, being tended to by an elderly woman with warm, twinkling eyes. She’d found him unconscious whilst gathering herbs, and had brought him to her home among the trees. She offered to guide him home, but he told her he had nowhere to go back to. His story was soon told, and he learned hers in turn; she was named Amber, and she lived here in the forest because the townspeople were suspicious of her, and she had no desire to disrupt the peace. But, she offered him a place to stay, and a bed to sleep in. It wasn’t for free; he would have to search for the herbs with her, feed the geese she kept, and stop the cat from eating aforementioned geese.

He eventually grew to consider her his new family, and she him. He slipped into calling her his Grandmother almost without realising. A few months after his stay began, he secretly watched her use the herbs they’d gathered to make a potion of some kind. But, predictably, he was discovered the next time he tried. While angry at first, she could neither fault his curiosity, nor blame him for wanting to know. At first, she only let him watch. Then she taught him how to make a basic salve. Soon enough, she was teaching him all she knew. Potions, runes, biology, even a little chemistry. He studied by her side for years.

And then she got ill. Despite his desperation, and every potion he made for her, nothing seemed to work. She got sicker, and weaker. And eventually, she told him that when she died, to travel to Eternia, and seek audience with the Royal Court. He would have to give her name; Amber Roselia Whitewing. If any there remembered her, then they would take him on as an alchemist.

Four weeks later, he was standing over her grave. He stayed for a fifth, then began his journey. Selling the geese and all the potions they had stored, he once again was without a home. At least this time, he had more than just the clothes on his back – taking with him Amber’s five only books, her ring as proof he knew her, and her cat, Dusk, and the clothes on his back, he bought passage on a ship to the Eternian lands. Eventually he got to the court, presented himself and his proof, and well...settled in. He made a name for himself quite quickly, even gaining the position of a royal retained alchemist, despite having only limited knowledge. He continues to study to this day, always aiming to better his knowledge.

Name: Tristan Veneti
Sex: Male
Culture: Brittonian
Age: 23
Physical Description:

For all intents, Tristan resembles any other young nobleman who might reside in the court. He dresses finely, and stands both tall and proud. With a mop of brown hair that he keeps short, for the most part, and hazel-coloured eyes that always seem to shine with mirth. His face is fair, his skin pale, and any scars he has are more likely from childhood scrapes than battles. After all, his life is somewhat comfortable, to the observer. He does, however, keep himself fit, from a combination of practicing swordplay and archery, and dancing at events in court.

Occupation/Skillset:

Unknown by most, Tristan is a spy in the employ of the Duke. Well, it wouldn’t do for people to know, after all – it would defeat the purpose, in fact. His duties mostly entail surveillance, gathering information that various nobles or merchants might try to conceal. Smuggling silk or spices, diplomatic sabotage, even the occasional murder – all these are Tristan’s to uncover. Sometimes he relies on subterfuge, picking locks and climbing through windows, to get what he needs. Other times he uses deceit and charm.
And, of course, he has a fair number of skills that come from being noble, though not all. He has trained in swordsmanship, archery, and riding, learned how to dance, bargain, and strategize. These lend themselves to his overall skill.

Personality:

Tristan considers himself to be suave; and in a sense, he is not incorrect. He is intelligent, charming, elegant, and carries an air of confidence. But he can be arrogant, from time to time, and he is by no means wise. He has a tendency to be zealous, and this can lead to recklessness, or close calls. Due to his blood status, he might suffer from taunts or jeers from his peers, and this usually results in anger. Additionally, around others, he might act pompous, and foolish, though it is far from his actual self – it is a mask he wears, a façade, so that others don’t suspect he knows more than he lets on.

Backstory:

Tristan is, in no uncertain terms, a bastard. He is the son of a servant woman, and a minor noble – Lord Aymon Veneti, low enough in power that he wasn’t among the most renowned members of the Duke’s court, but high enough that he had a measure of recognition. His father was both married and had an heir before Tristan, but that is not to say that he was ignored. In fact, he had a noble upbringing alongside his half-brother, Reinald, and when she was born, his half-sister Adelaide. He was snubbed by his step-mother, of course, but he thought nothing of it for a great portion of his life.

When not being educated by the harsh tutors, or playing games with his brother, he spent time with his mother. Despite the scandal of her son, she had been kept on at the Veneti household, to the Lady Veneti’s protests. He would watch her tend to her duties. She kept out of sight like servants should, but Tristan eventually became skilled in identifying where she and the other servants walked, where they’d go to conceal themselves – and he emulated them. Such was his life.

But, eventually, it could no longer last. When he was in the middle of his adolescence, the Lord Aymon took ill, and would succumb a month after. The change was swift. His father was mourned, by both him and his siblings. With Reinald taking over the household, the Lady Veneti stepped in to advise him. Tristan barely saw his brother anymore, but that was to be expected, given he now had duties to attend to. And as time went on, Tristan was given a summons by Reinald, to speak in private. Apparently, his step-mother had been whispering to him that Tristan might plot against him, in a bid for power, that even now he had to be careful of a dagger in his back. Despite Tristan having no such ambitions, they made an agreement, for the safety of both – Reinald from Tristan, and Tristan from the Lady Veneti – that Tristan should leave. That was how the young nobleman found his way to the Duke’s court.

Announcing himself as Reinald’s representative, he would attend court in his brother’s stead. This covered the documentation of taxes, the crops grown and the serfs that died and were born. Missives were carried between the castle and the Veneti residence. One day, however, Tristan found himself bored, and whilst walking the corridors, saw another man, a noble higher in rank, acting unusual. He would check behind him and in front of him, and dodged into rooms and alcoves whenever a guard might pass by. Tristan, unwilling to challenge the man, would follow. He trailed the man for quite some time, into the catacombs, until he encountered his target and another man talking with one another, regarding some shipment of a kind. Though he didn’t know the topic, he could tell that what these two men spoke about was neither meant to be heard by others, nor permitted by law. Stepping out of his hiding space, he confronted them. They responded by attempting to bribe him, and when he refused, kill him. His murder was prevented by a well-timed arrival of a fourth man, who swiftly detained the two.
This man himself was the Duke’s spymaster. Like Tristan, he had been trailing the nobleman. The man in question had been suspected for a while now. But when the spymaster had noticed the youth doing the same, he observed him, instead. Tristan was told he had natural talent, to which he disagreed, but when he was offered a position, he knew it would be poorly advised for him to refuse. He was taken on as a spy-in-training, and the rest is history.

Full Name: Dennis Zachary Eden

Nicknames/Aliases: N/A

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Rune/Location:
Berkano, on the nape of his neck.

Rune Powers:
Nature Speak – By touching a plant with his bare skin, he will instantly be connected to the ‘wood wide web’, if the plant he touches has enough mushroom mycelia in symbiosis. Using this will make him ‘aware’ of everything in his surrounding area, with more limited communication the further the mycelium spreads. However, it has limited capability – it overrides all of his own mind’s functions, meaning that it can be difficult to pull away. He also cannot use his other power during this time.
Phytokinesis – Be it rain or shine, dark or light, Dennis can manipulate nearby vegetation, trees, flowers, and even moss. For the most part, it’s his ability to accelerate a plant’s growth that comes in use. He is also able to command them to grow to enormous proportions (…to an extent) and develop vines, tangling roots, and barbed thorns. He can even persuade them to quickly regenerate, as long as the ‘wound’ has not been burned. Not all scars can heal…

Description: Tending to wear things bought cheap or found in charity shops, Dennis is often considered ‘simple’ in what he wears – consisting of a small range of jumpers, jeans and shirts. It’s more out of necessity than desire… okay, it’s completely necessity. But, he doesn’t mind. It’s for Tom, after all.

Personality: Dennis is a tough nut to crack. It isn’t that he’s antisocial or he doesn’t believe in people… he’s just rather closed off person. It comes mostly from his situation as his brother’s only bodily able relative, and their financial difficulties from the same situation.
He’s also been alone for a very long time, and had to grow up far too fast. Caring for an ailing parent and a younger brother tends to do that to you. So he isn’t going to bloom without a little coaxing.
His determination, strong desire to protect, and his reason for joining the Blessed all stem from Tom. And so does his perseverance, strength, and ruthlessness.

Skills:
Photosynthescout – Due to his ability to connect to the plants’ network, as long as these things are in the circuit, he can ‘see’ the surrounding area. It can also be used to identify his, or other people’s blind spots. Though, the aforementioned difficulty of disconnecting means that there will be delays in his relaying this information.
Hold Fast Your Determination – As long as he knows he needs to help, and he’s not totally incapacitated, he’ll keep on fighting. While it might be overall harmful to his own body, it may just be the tipping point needed to win.
Adaptable – He might not always appear to be, but he’s a quick learner. He’s had to learn a lot of things over the years, and adding another few things to his arsenal isn’t going to be a problem. So prepping him for combat, isn’t going to be much of a shock.
Cheap Chef – Since he’s spent the last five years caring for his younger brother and mother pretty much by himself, he’s learned to get a little inventive with limited ingredients – and it turns out he can be quite good at it. He prefers to prepare meat and bread and pasta, mostly, since fruit and vegetables started screaming at him when he tries to eat them.
Athletic – While he hasn’t gone out of his way to do running or weights and the like for a while, he’s certainly no couch potato. He won’t fall behind too far.

Weaknesses:
Arid Areas – if there is little or no life nearby, not even the smallest seedlings, it begins to take a toll on Dennis himself. Quickened exhaustion, increased paranoia and shortened temper – separate him from the plants and he’s useless.
Tethered – Dennis’ dedication relies solely on Tom’s well-being. If Tom – or somebody he believes to be Tom – appears to be in danger, he’s not going to think or hesitate. He’s going to help his little brother, no matter what he has to do.
Unexperienced – While he’s good at training, and perhaps even good at controlling his powers, he has put neither to practice.

Brief History: Dennis Eden, born from Chris and Lily Eden, was relatively happy for most of his childhood. It was the three of them, and then four, Tommy being born when Dennis was nine. They lived in a nice house, with a nice garden, in one of the smaller towns. He went to school there, too. But for him, it was too small a world. He always wanted to see what was beyond that great big wall, and explore, and protect the people he cared for… but that wasn’t going to happen.
It was unexpected. There was an attack in their home area – Dennis and his brother and mother were all out shopping, but their father… he’d been at the neighbours, helping them fix their sink or something. And… well, the officer didn’t go into details. Just that several parts of town had been… destroyed. So, their mother took them from the town, and to the city.
They moved into a small apartment in the city. The rent was cheap, but Lily could only afford it by working multiple jobs. Dennis learned quite quickly that he had to keep quiet about their home situation. So he kept away from others. Didn’t try to make friends. Didn’t interact with them. And he definitely didn’t talk to the adults. But Tommy did. It took warnings from both his brother and mother to convince him not to talk about their difficulties.
And then… his mother got sick. Dennis was seventeen at the time. At first, doctors didn’t believe him, but her condition would worsen by the day. It took a while before anyone figured out that her condition was an Auto Immune Disease – her own body was attacking her. Eventually, Dennis quit school in favour of working in labour or odd errands to keep them afloat, to pay for bills and medicine, and to make sure Tommy got along in school. It was barely just enough to get them by. And then… the Rune etched itself into his neck.
Dennis didn’t know the nature of this rune. He wouldn’t know just what it could do for a while. But he did know about the Blessed, and what they were trying to do. If this was what he thought it was, then he’d cut them a deal. Proper treatment for his mother, and a much better education for Tommy. That’s all he’ll ask of them.

Other: Dennis has dated both men and women, though he’s never quite put a label on himself.

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NAME: Caleb Osiris Martineau

AGE (13-17): 16

DATE OF BIRTH: November 2nd, 2000

APPEARANCE: As pictured.

RACE: Witch

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

FAMILY MEMBERS:
Juniper Martineau (née Scarlet) – Grandmother
Alwyn Martineau – Grandfather, deceased
Bowen Martineau – Father, deceased
Willow Martineau (née Jacinth) – Mother, deceased
Delia Martineau – Sister, 12. Quiet.
Attie Martineau – Sister, 10. Strong.
Gwenn Martineau – Sister, 6. Happy.


HISTORY: Juniper was once a counsellor at Remedy, a popular and well-loved member of the faculty. Those who knew her then might tell you that she was a skilled teacher, a good guide and never wanted for any more. But then… she fell in love. Alwyn met her on a winter night when they she took shelter in his library. He was a normal man, a researcher who wanted to learn as much as he could, be it history, science, arithmetic, or otherwise. His earnest desire to find truth and the passion for his work had its effect on her. And her sunny personality and her own brand of knowledge made him fall for her too. So she left her job at Remedy, in order to pursue her relationship with him.

Bowen was born without magic, but he was always strangely aware of things that should have been beyond his knowledge. Such as when an old friend of his mother’s visited, he already knew that she and her daughter were witches. But, aside from that, he grew up with a relatively normal life – and would even marry the girl who had once been his childhood friend. Caleb, their son, was full of energy and knowledge, but was never found too far from his younger sisters – always ready to protect them if need be. This family didn’t have everything, but their life was comfortable and happy.

But it seemed that this life was to be cut short. February 24th this year, a call was received, and Caleb answered the phone. His parents’ car had been hit by a drunk lorry driver... but that man had walked away without injury. His parents did not. As the legal guardian and sole living relative of the four children, his grandmother would be joining them the next day, to sort the funeral arrangements, before taking them to her home in the country.

Caleb has changed drastically since then. And, given that Juniper has to take care of Caleb’s younger sisters, one of whom is now experiencing her emergent powers, she reached out to an old friend – and assures him that he will get better tutelage there than she could give him for his magic.

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PERSONALITY: Caleb, to someone who barely knows him, is a solemn individual, openly hostile to social interaction, and will respond vehemently to anybody who pushes too far. However, this is just a shield he uses – anybody who already knows him will remember the protective elder brother, the scholar searching for knowledge, and the artist who wore his heart on a paper sleeve. All these things remain, just with a more solemn gaze, and a fear of getting closer to others.

POWERS: His general knowledge of magic can be a little rough, at times, but when it comes to potions or runes, he excels.

HOBBIES: Caleb likes his alone time like any other, but he enjoys reading, drawing, and writing most. He is an exceptional artist, but struggles to draw something he cannot hold clearly in his mind.

ANYTHING ELSE WORTH MENTIONING: Be it a book, an essay or a painting, most of these things are marked by an Ankh. He also wears a pendant of the same symbol.

Name: Scott Carter – now, just Scott

Theme: Don’t generally use themes ^_^;

Gender: Male

Species: Pixie

Appearance:

Goals:
Become more confident and open.
Reach the Demon King’s palace and have his questions answered.
Return home.

Past Life:

Abilities:

• Lesser Flight I - 1.7
• Minor Heal I - 1.7
• Muffle I - 1.0
• Scribe I - 1.3
• Shield I - 1.4

Transformations:

Inventory:
A pair of green leggings fashioned from the leaves his ‘parents’ abandoned him in. Not much, and not going to last long, but eh. It's modesty.

NAME: Flint Ambrose
SEX: Male
AGE: 35 (Middle-Aged).
HOMELAND: The Black Duchy, formerly the Kingdom of Lithenia.
BACKGROUND: Tradesman

TRAITS:

• Strider – Flint is not the strongest, the fastest, or the smartest. But he knows how to take what he has and use it to survive.
• Tactician – When you’re at this for half of your life, you usually develop an eye for strategy.

FLAWS:

• Sleepless – Most people go to sleep at night, but Flint... it takes a bit.

PROFICIENCIES: 16 +4 Skill points
Expertise:
Tactics II (3 points)
Folklore I (1 point)
Mathematics I (1 point)

Skills:
Cooking II (3 points)
Herbalism II (3 points)
Flute I (1 point)

Social:
Command I (1 point)

Weapons:
Swords II (3 points)
Shields II (3 points)

PERSONALITY:

Flint can be the stoic type; he has endured hardships and pain, but gritted his teeth and got on with it. That’s all he really has to do. Not much he can see ahead of him, and not much that would come after, either. This also extends to people. He’s not gone out of his way to make friends, and can often appear aloof. That said, he does try to care for the few people he knows – it’s simply that he’s lost enough people that it becomes hard to care for anyone more.
He tries to watch out for his friends, or rather, comrades, to make sure that they live to see another day. Whether this is interposing a sword or shield to halt a deadly blow, making sure they don’t make enemies of import or just plain shouting at them, he’ll do his best. If he doesn’t have any bodies to care about, he’ll just worry about making sure whatever’s trying to gut him gets gutted first.
And as for his beliefs… Flint practices some of the Old Ways, but he is no god-fearing man. In fact, he doesn’t fear much at all. Put him in a panic? Certainly. But there are only a two things Flint has truly come to fear. The first is meeting his end – a reasonable fear by any means, and one that has often kept him his hide. And second… Duke Garcell of the Black Duchy. That man is truly a demon to him.
He's also coming to regret how long he's been in the game... the number of creases on his brow have increased. He hasn't found any grey hairs, but it's only a matter of time. Both signify he's nearing an age where he won't be as effective a fighter as he used to be. Even if he became a captain of some kind, he would still see war. Or he could purchase some land, open a shop or an inn, get a pretty wife - the standard dream. He can't trudge dirt paths forever. So once again, his life falls to a choice.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:

Not tall, not short, with tawny brown hair and gold-flecked brown eyes, he would not stand out among the people you might see in the Aldaric Sea, common as that is. He couldn’t even tell you from whom he is descended – though he has his presumptions. He’s fairly balanced in his athleticism, lean enough to be quick, muscled enough to be strong, and, well, he's had an admirer or two in his life.

EQUIPMENT:

A bastard sword and a simple iron shield are his primary tools-of-choice, with a leather brigandine, bracers and greaves, and steel-toed boots, with a plate helm and leather cap he wears if knocks to the head are likely. He has a crossbow and a dagger, too, but mostly it’s piecemeal things he’s picked up over the years. Most of it he just sold on to someone else. Add in his bags with enough food and clean water to get him to the next town, some dried herbs and strips of cloth in case he injures himself, kindling and a flint to light the occasional fire, a wooden flute which he whittled himself and occasionally plays, a whetstone and oil for his gear, a bedroll and blanket for sleeping, rope, which you always need, and his coin, and he’s set to go for his journeying. You might think that’s a lot for one man to carry, and you’d be right, which is why he brings along Gale, a bay-coloured mare. She’s not exactly one to ride, and she’ll kick if she’s made uncomfortable, but they seem to have a good relationship.

HISTORY:

Flint was born to a herbalist and a miner in a provincial town, in the Kingdom of Lithenia. He refuses to call it by any other name. He was twelve when Barthos Garcell staged his coup, and that was about when his father died, too. And under the Duke’s (now King’s) rein, things certainly changed. He remembers how harsh things were back then. The toll it took.

In lieu of taking up a pick-axe, Flint’s mother taught him her herb trade, how to grow some, where others grew wild, and which ones not to touch, and then how to mix them, cut them, mash them, brew them. It took several months, and a number of arguments, before he relented. He’d run the town to make deliveries and hiked into the mountains to go where his mother dare not. He met a few 'Low Aldonians' at that time, too. The ones who saw him were brash, and the ones who didn't... he came to pity these people. Their ancestors had left them quite the legacy. Aside from those distractions, he and his mother were still relatively happy... but as it always does in stories, that didn’t last.

Just before his sixteenth, his mother died, in a fit of Fate’s Irony, from illness. And that took everything from him. He didn’t have nearly the expertise his mother did in herbs, and the horror stories of explosions in the mines struck that off the list. That left starving, begging, or apprenticeship to a craftsman or trader… or enlisting. He was too old to find anybody who’d take him, and he’d seen enough dead in the streets to know that trying to beg would starve him anyway. And that left enlistment.

He remembered the time the King took over. He didn’t want to be a part of that. But what choice did he have? It came in the form of a mercenary company, in search of new work and fresh blood for the fold. They had no interest in a scraggly youth, untrained and untried, but a single man took pity on him. Menos was an old veteran, more one to bark than bite, and reaching his decline. But he claimed to see the fighting spirit in Flint. So Flint sold what he no longer needed, including the only home he knew, bought a rusted sword and mould-ridden shield, and left. His training took some time, years spent on the road until he was on par with his mentor. He helped his group wherever he could, and joined his company in fights when they happened. He turned twenty by the time he could afford a proper weapon. And he was more than distraught when, in a moment of hesitation from Flint, Menos took a blow for him. It proved fatal.

That was all it took for Flint. Despite the congratulations of his comrades and the coin in his pocket, he felt numb. Death was a thing that happened. He had always known that. But one after another, they’d left him behind. He’d lost most all he considered dear to him. Taking his share of coin from the company, he bought a filly pony and left on amicable terms with the men he’d known for the past four years. His time since has been spent as an escort, making sure bandits and pirates don’t lay their hands on his charges, and on occasion, grabbing the occasional thief or murderer. The only place he’s not gone in the last twelve years has been the Duchy itself.

Name: Father Oren Kanus

Age: 20

Height/Weight: 5’9 / 151lbs

Race: Omestri

Appearance:
Oren has the golden eyes prevalent in all born of Omestris, but also his own unusual traits – a silvery hair colour and dark, angled eyebrows. About average height for his people, and paler than most, he has a thin, if not particularly muscled, frame that lends to his speed.

When not dressed in his Inquistorial garb, he wears quite casual clothing – mostly in red. He’s also chosen to augment his uniform with a black hood and cloth mask, so that only his eyes are visible. This helps to shield him from the elements, protect his face and his identity from enemies, and conceal his most distinguishable traits. He also wears a clawed right hand glove when he has time to prepare for battle.


(Sorry about the ears… this literally fit my image of Oren in all other aspects, though, - well, until I found out about the eye colour thing)

Personality:
Oren, on the outside, appears to be a quiet young man who rarely chooses to speak – he would just rather sit back and observe than interject. He does have things to say, if you ask him, and he often knows just a little more than he lets on. He is a guarded individual as well, so he will keep you at a distance unless you’ve been able to break down his walls, or were around before their ‘construction’. He cares, though, so never mistake his actions for lack of sociability or hostility. He’ll be there if you need him.

As for his views on the gods… he doesn’t know quite what he should believe. It is by Lord Varya’s grace he lives, but by Omestris’ will that he even exists… and, like all Omestri, the fire of the Fire Titan runs through him… but, with the Red Seminary he will stay.

Background:
Born in one of the many ghettos that are home to countless slaves, Oren has only the cloudiest of memories of his home and family. He never truly knew them, after all – because his etheric potential was found early. Taken from them when he was only five years old, and confined to a room for several days, he doesn’t quite know what happened during that time. All he knows is that, when that door opened, a tall woman with iron-coloured hair and sallow skin took him by the shoulder and introduced him to the Red Seminary.

For the next two years, he would be watched constantly – left to his own devices, except when the grey woman would come and speak with him about the Lord Varya, teaching the boy of His ways. But one day, when she came to him, and saw him waver around the edges – immediately, he was put into training with the others. He would be pushed relentlessly, not just by his teachers, but by his own wish to prove himself to the only ones he could ever remember showing him kindness. He wouldn’t allow himself to fail them. Not yet. As Oren grew, he would learn how to methodically and swiftly disable his opponents – and if that wasn’t possible, he would wear them down over time, striking at their legs, shoulders, arms, until they became too weak to carry on.

In his thirteenth year, he went through a crisis of faith. He had studied history, so he knew that Lord Varya had brought Oren’s people to ruin. He knew that, even now, hundreds of Omestris, even thousands, were forcibly parted from their ether, and that Oren himself was using that ether in order to further the god’s goals – to bring more people under his rule with shackles around their feet. The grey woman had taken him to see the Omestri ruins only once, during his soul-searching. He could see the beauty of their courtyards and gardens, the mastery of their artwork and architecture… but they were ruins all the same. Scarred. Broken. Destroyed. And never again would they stand. Lord Varya, however… he had not put the Omestri people to death. Enslaved them, true. But they were alive all the same… and Oren had been spared of a life of slavery. Perhaps… he should not be so ungrateful.

He was fourteen when the nightmares started. It always began the same. A woman, with soft hands and a gentle voice, murmuring words he couldn’t understand. Then, a loud crash – people shouting and screaming. The woman had stood, with her back to him – a deafening bang, and she fell with a sickening crack. Then another figure – a black shadow, with a great red eye in the centre of it. It turned to him, and with a clawed, five-fingered hand, it reached for him. After that, the dreams could take any number of turns – but all would fill him with dread.

Months of sleepless nights took their toll. He began to fall behind in his training, in his studies, turning up late to sessions, even missing them. Reprimands and punishments became everyday occurrences. Stress mounted high for him – but he wouldn’t admit to anyone the reasons behind it. Night after sleepless night, dream after damned dream.

It took him stumbling into unpleasant company for him to find a solution… a pair of deviant soldiers-in-training, hanging about behind the Red Seminary’s training hall. Oren confronted them initially, but neither really seemed to care – they were more preoccupied with their reasons for meeting there - Gantleaf. It had taken rise recently in the poorer parts of the city, mostly as an anaesthetic cream and healing agent held on with bandages. Today, it's a commonly used medicinal painkiller.

The two young soldiers talked to Oren about it, praising it – it gave them a relaxed feeling unlike any they’d managed to find in years. Though hesitant at first, Oren eventually gave in to curiosity, and they gave him a needle. It took a few minutes, but suddenly an intense wave of feeling washed over him… it would gradually recede over the next ten minutes, and even afterwards, he felt relaxed and… focused, somehow.

It was the first night in a while that he didn’t have a nightmare.

A second night followed, and then a third. He woke up believing they were gone… but the fourth night brought them back. And the fifth. And the sixth. So, in desperation, he crept away from the supervision of his peers and teachers, to find someone, somewhere, he could get the Gantleaf – in its secondary form. He was eventually able to find a seller – and it would spiral from there. He became dependent on the drug just to make it through the week – if he didn’t get a dose, he’d become disoriented, and get the most extreme of headaches. He has worked hard to keep this weakness a secret, and he knows it’s an addiction – but ever is there the fear of those nightmares, and worse, from not taking it.

Talents/Ethereal Abilities:

• Haze: – Drawing on his internal ether, Oren distorts the light around him – making it look like he is vibrating, almost. For as long as he does this, it isn’t quite possible to pinpoint where he is – you’ll be able to see where he is, for certain – but where he isn’t? Oh, that’s another story.
• Telekinetic: – Focusing his power, Oren reaches out with his mind to take hold of any item or person he so desires. Through this power, he can push, pull, bend, sever, and crack whatever he holds, though with varying degrees of ether needed. It may only take a fraction of the effort, but it still takes a toll on him when he needs to lift great weights. So, he focuses on using it for smaller projects instead - like snapping a man's neck instead of throwing him off a cliff.
• Long Knives: – Oren isn’t the fondest of heavy weapons, so instead he carries three of these. Perfectly balanced between melee combat and throwing, they can be held in both hands. He can even disarm his opponent with a single move; should his opponent make a cleave downwards, all Oren needs to do is make a cross section with the blades. Once the three hilts meet, he twists and wrenches their weapon away.
• Talon Hand: – Oren’s nightmares still have some grip on his mind – in particular, the claw that reached for him. Drawing on his own fear, he had a custom pair of steel gauntlets made – fitted with small metal blades. Not exactly equipped to kill, but still, if he has an empty hand, he is by no means unarmed. He can slash at someone’s unguarded skin and cause a long, thin and shallow set of lines – a distraction for most all fighters. While he rarely chooses to do so in case he nicks himself, they can be laced with poison for a more damaging effect. (image for comparison effects only)

Personal Seal:


Character Relationships:
Father Ilya: Oren's opinion of Ilya is overall a little... sour. His arrogance, his privileged birth, his great concern for what others think of him; all are black marks against his name. He acts amicably enough around Ilya, and by no means will let his view of the man interfere with their work, but, well... Oren isn't the best at hiding it, even in silence.
Initially, Oren did admire the man, because he works tirelessly to improve himself, his strategies are incredible, and he desires to help as many people as he can. Yet, as Oren observed him, he came to notice that things weren't quite all they appeared on the surface.

Mother Viveca: Oren feels a kind of kinship with Viveca, given that both she and he are descendants of the Omestri people. Despite their differing stories - he, being born a slave and she, born free - both of them have come to be here, be it through the divine will of Lord Varya, the lost Omestris, or some other higher being, or simply by chance.

Mother Indira Al-Sayed: Mother Indira… a harsh woman, to say the least. But fair. And even though her training was punishing, Oren relishes the lessons he learned from her. It was her teachings that kept him together when he was fraying at the seams… even though he eventually had to give in to other methods. Every lesson, every mark on his body and on his mind, he refuses to forget.
In short, he is both highly respectful and highly grateful to his teacher. He has not fully grasped all of the things he has learned, but he endeavours to.

Father Cillian: Cillian was interesting, to Oren. Quiet, like himself, but in a different way. Oren preferred to hang back and observe, but Cillian didn’t even do that; disappearing into his garden more often than not. His store of ether made him an ample Protector, and his exclusion from Mother Indira’s ‘additional lessons’ made him even more of an oddity. Eventually, though, Oren acknowledged that the man was just disinterested in the rest of the world beyond his own place in it; or at least, that was his own interpretation of it.

Mother Ziotea: Oren is unsure what prompted him to offer to take the woman with him to the ruins. A sense of kinship due to their shared Omestrian heritage? Duty, from the lessons that had been given to him? No, those weren’t right. Best not dwell on it.
From what little he knows of her, he knows that he and Ziotea have different outlooks on life; different methods and values. But, Oren isn’t fool enough to think that his way is the only one that brings success. He values the fact that they are different - it will make her a beneficial ally.