[center][h2][color=662d91]A Tale of Wolves[/color][/h2][/center]
[color=9e0b0f]Content Warning:[/color] [color=0054a6]This RP may contain uncomfortable or violent themes.[/color] While this won't make up the entirety of the RP it will be featured. Quests will feature a summary (and content warning) as well as links to the starting point. If a quest features a topic you are uncomfortable with feel free to skip over it.

[color=bc8dbf][b]Tale of Wolves RP (For Players):[/b][/color] [url=http://piratepad.net/EZCUh7IWWh]Here[/url]

[hider= Wolves]
[b][color=a187be]Vazheera Shadowsun[/color][/b] [@Rithy]
[hider=Vazheera Shadowsun]
[center][img]https://s18.postimg.org/w6jij2rcp/deffi.jpg[/img][/center]
[b]Name:[/b] Vazheera Shadowsun
[b]Continent of Birth:[/b] Penault
[b]Race: [/b]Dark Elf
[b]Class:[/b] Warrior, with a touch of Rogue as she is quite sneaky!
[b]Mage School of Foci:[/b] N/A
[b]Starter Equipment: [/b]Two Swords, a Dagger and her Bow with arrows. A simple alchemy & poisoner kit. 
[b]Age:[/b] 67
[b]Personality:[/b] Straightforward & Hot Blooded.
[b]Character Traits:[/b] Skilled, Confident, Perceptive, Superior, Narrow-Minded.
[b]Strengths:[/b] Bladesmanship, especially in 1on1 fights, and Stealth. Proficient in most types of fighting, but a master with blades and unarmed fighting.
[b]Weakness:[/b] Keep her away from any social encounters, especially cross-cultural ones on sensitive issues!
[b]Fears:[/b] Rats.
[b]Brief History: [/b]Shortly after her birth, Vazheera; like many of her peers; was gifted by her parents up to the Vaiz Ze Raan, also known as "the Temple of the Bloodied Path", which was a mix between a warrior academy and death cult tasked with raising future generations of warriors for her city. Raised to be a instrument of death for the priesthood, she was taught the art of war along with her sisters by the ancient masters of the temple, eventually becoming a fully-fledged soldier.
Since then, most of her existence has revolved around her city, living mostly separated from any other race and culture short of in the form of wars & slaves. It is only recently that she has begun the steps towards gaining a leadership role despite her relative young age, where one of the requirements is that she possess worldly experience, and so therefore she choose to seek sanction to leave her society behind in order to adventure out in the world so as to later return as an eligible candidate for further elevation.

[/hider]
[b][color=a187be]Siella Faeren[/color][/b] [@Lionhearted]
[hider=Siella Faeren][hr][center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171214/41cb4acfd5ffee605164ea8347c87278.png[/img][hr]
[img]http://www.internetdict.com/wp-content/uploads/related_images/2016/01/14/what-is-streak_2.jpg[/img]
[hider=Theme Song][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mv8YdIXcnrM[/youtube][/hider][/center]

[b][sub][h3][color=ABD9B3]Name:[/color][/h3][/sub][/b][hr] Siella Faeren
[b][sub][h3][color=ABD9B3]Continent of Birth:[/color][/h3][/sub][/b][hr] Valenndale
[b][sub][h3][color=ABD9B3]Race:[/color][/h3][/sub][/b][hr] Wood Elf
[b][sub][h3][color=ABD9B3]Class:[/color][/h3][/sub][/b][hr] Mage
[b][sub][h3][color=ABD9B3]Mage School of Foci:[/color][/h3][/sub][/b][hr] Constitution Mage
[b][sub][h3][color=ABD9B3]Starter Equipment:[/color][/h3][/sub][/b][hr] Siella wears protective [b]leather garments[/b] since she partakes in battle quite frequently while sporting her [b]elven cloak[/b]. Although she generally is accompanied by a companion that is better fit for killing, she can utilize her [b]elven short sword[/b] to kill or for added protection. Within her [b]small backpack[/b] she carries: a [b]spell book[/b] to read through to help perfect certain spells that she’s learning, a [b]map[/b] of whichever lands she’s treading. some [b]potions, food, water, and herbs[/b] for whenever the items deem necessary.
[b][sub][h3][color=ABD9B3]Age:[/color][/h3][/sub][/b][hr] 28
[b][sub][h3][color=ABD9B3]Personality:[/color][/h3][/sub][/b][hr] Siella is very calm, collected, and determined. She despises those that underestimate her and she’ll go to great lengths to try and prove people wrong when they doubt her. Being a constitution mage, it is obvious that she is protective over her allies, and even more so when it comes to trusted companions and family. Siella is very good at subduing her anger and her emotions, commonly meditating when she’s faced with an overflow of emotions. It takes a lot to bring Siella to an uncontrollable anger.

With a history of battle under her belt, Siella has a minor case of PTSD when it comes to loud noises, generally resurfacing when she’s within an environment that is very public or eerie. Siella does have a good intuition when it comes to hostilities or threats, which is thanks to her training since she’ll need to cast a quick barrier or three when faced with sudden attacks. Although, this type of training has made her to become constantly on edge. 

While Siella does have many deemed good traits, she is very hard to become close to since she’s more of an independent elf. It wouldn’t be expected, judging from her field of magic that she pursued, but she only trusts those that she finds worthy.
[b][sub][h3][color=ABD9B3]Character Traits:[/color][/h3][/sub][/b][hr] [center][h3] [color=ABD9B3] Determined [color=000000]•[/color] Brave [color=000000]•[/color] Calm [color=000000]•[/color] Defensive [color=000000]•[/color] Initiator [color=000000]•[/color] Focused [/color][/h3][/center]
[b][sub][h3][color=ABD9B3]Strengths:[/color][/h3][/sub][/b][hr]
√ Barriers and shields
√ Protective auras
√ Curing certain ailments
√ Healing minor wounds
√ Awareness
√ Mobility
[b][sub][h3][color=ABD9B3]Weaknesses:[/color][/h3][/sub][/b][hr]
Melee combat
Killing
Mobility while casting
Hostile magic
Battling by herself
[b][sub][h3][color=ABD9B3]Fears:[/color][/h3][/sub][/b][hr] As any constitutional mage would fear, Siella would continuously blame herself [b]if an ally would die by her side[/b] on the battlefield. While practicing this form of magic, Siella swore an oath to protect her companions and ensure survival of those around her. Having an ally slip through her fingers and meet their fate is what Siella fears before any battle, but perhaps this is what drives her to become better. Siella also strongly fears [b]decisions of life and death[/b], and [b]decisions of sacrifice[/b] — one can’t protect them all. 
[b][sub][h3][color=ABD9B3]Brief History:[/color][/h3][/sub][/b][hr] Born to a mighty, revered tribe leader, Siella was expected to follow within his footsteps to become the revered warrior that all of it’s tribesmen aim to be. Playful and energetic as she was, it was difficult to teach Siella the ways of their tribe, and the many responsibilities that she would grow up to acquire. The jungle was like her home away from home: meddling with fierce beasts, climbing to acquire the fruit of the tallest tree, and bushwhacking her way up a steep mountain were all daily tasks that she ignored the dangers of. Since her birth, she generated a fearless attitude towards the land, and accepted any challenge that was presented of her. While she was disciplined to stay away from these deadly provocations, she would always find herself to be in a situation that she would barely make it out of. 

It didn’t take long before Siella’s magical affinity was apparent, taking on a powerful blood flow of magic that was past down from her high-elven ancestors. Praised for her gift, they bestowed the decision upon her to decide on which branch of magic she would like to pursue. For many, this would be like taking a child to a candy store, but for Siella, it was a hard decision that had no correct answer. It was a gift, yes, but a responsibility to learn the branch of magic that would suit the tribe the best. For weeks, Siella neglected traveling to the high-elves from being stumped on which magic to take up. Book after book, she would research the many different possibilities, but each one offered it’s own set of demons. 

At age 15, during a time of battle and invasions, the overflow of wounded tribesmen that faced unheard of attacks is what really struck Siella to make the decision fast. A small chapter within her book suggested constitutional magic that explained the protection of allies, and healing if the protection was not enough. A clever form of magic this was, while it wasn’t destructive, it was tactical. So, Siella finally made the decision, and her free-spirit was tasked to pursue her first journey out of the tribe. Before setting off on her travels, they held a ceremony for the young girl that bestowed upon her the blessing of the tribe, and the mark on her face. This ceremony was spiritual, heart-warming, and ensured that her home will be ready to have her back at the end of her training. The tribe, saddened to let go of this child, knew she would come back with a new-found goal, and a more realistic dream that only a true leader would devise. And so she set off with her travel party, only to look back continuously until the tribe was buried along the horizon of thick trees, but even atop the mountains, she would scout out the tribe to bring back the rush of memories of her childhood.

Journeying through the forests and tasting her first experiences of true battle, she was becoming more and more ready to put her magical affinity to the test and become a new kind of warrior within her tribe. It was a long haul to reach the gates of Ellvenaan, mostly due to the hostile beasts that the travel party encountered before reaching the road. The more she travelled, the more it hit her that this quest to become a great mage was necessary, but bittersweet. She held the tears back, and only envisioned the day that she would return anew and ready to take on the role as chief of the tribe.

As she finally reached the gates, she was welcomed in and she was placed within a local inn that was owned by a former member of the tribe. Welcoming her in with open arms, and even giving her a respectful bow, she felt at home in a matter of weeks. The travel party left to return to their homelands to help battle against the invasions, while Siella began on her training to become the mage that she wished to be. Roaming the busy streets within the heart of Ellvenaan, it was difficult for her to find the mentor that she did. Within her tribe, she was respected and treated highly, but within the heavy gates of Ellvenaan, she was treated as dirt off the sidewalk. It took a few weeks of running around to finally get her head around the map she was given and she soon wound up within a sanctuary that housed incredible mages.

She then met her mentor, Erenil, whom listened to her story, saw the determination within her heart, and the light in her eyes. Taking her under his wing, she attended a school of magic, but trained with him during her free time. They built a strong connection, and she rushed to finish her schooling to hopefully return home as fast as possible. Despite her wood elf nature, she learned the traditions of the high elves and soon blended in as one, but still went back to her true heritage from time to time. Combining the combat of wood elves with the magical teaching of high elves ensured a skilled battlemage on the field. Erenil was amazed by her strength and fortitude, wishing for her to join their own army, but her destiny lied elsewhere. 

After years of practice and training, just before graduating and finishing her training with Erenil, she received word that her tribe had undertook a heavy attack. Spared the details, she left without notice to journey on her own to go back to her tribe. Although the path was long, and she forgot the way, she eventually reached the mountaintops in which she scouted her home from. She remembered the location along the horizon that the tribe would lay, the spot within the valley that the tribe would mark, but it wasn’t until she reached the broken gates that her heart would sink. Leaving at age 15, and returning at age 25, her dream of returning to help the tribe thrive was shattered as she was now faced with a pile of ashes, broken buildings, and unidentifiable bodies. Journeying through the barren tribe that was once lively with parties and cheering, she tried to layout what it would be like had she returned. This tragic moment caused her eyes to form streams of tears along her face, with a heart that beat so fast it was as if it was going to stop. 

Atop the staircase laid the chief’s hut, full of arrows and still smoking from a dying fire. She entered, only to see a sword stabbed within the gut of her father. His body was marked with slashes and bruises from the fight, but his death was cleaner than the rest of the tribesman. Siella approached, heaving and in despair, only to cry at his side for nearly an hour. This moment of anguish sparked a new light within Siella, adding to her already fearless personality, and making an oath to do her best to protect those that would ever come close to her.  She removed the elven sword that was stabbed within him, the sword of a leader, but it was now the sword of Siella. Beautifully-crafted as it was, it was very fitting for her to use this sword until she would slay the killers of her tribe. 

And so Siella set off after paying her respects to her tribe and giving them each a burial. Long days consisted of gathering rocks, digging holes, and gathering the remains of every tribesman she could. She now roams the lands as a mercenary, performing challenges to get coin, and to make a name for herself. Siella awaits impatiently for the time in which she would cross paths with the killers of her tribe to properly avenge the ones she loved. [hr][/hider]
[b][color=a187be]Moulder[/color][/b] [@Life in Stasis]
[hider=Moulder of the Dregs][center][h1]Moulder[/h1][/center]
[b]Continent of Birth:[/b] The Dregs of Valenndale
[b]Race:[/b] High elf (Undead)
[b]Age:[/b] Hard to tell, but it’s at least eleven months.
[b]Class:[/b] Mage
[b]Mage School of Foci:[/b] Necromancy
[hr][b]Appearance: [/b]
[indent]Tall and thin, as anyone would expect of an elf. He carries himself proudly and steps gracefully, although he often forgets to watch where he’s going as his pointed nose is usually in some dusty tome. Setting him apart from other elves is his, to put it generously, lowbrow sense of fashion. Moulder seems uninterested in the sleek gowns and jewel tones favored by his elven brethren. Instead he wraps himself tightly in cheap, stained linens in whatever way they fit him. His wardrobe appears to consist of whatever articles he could pluck from the line outside a peasant's hovel.

Owing to his undead state, more of his body sloughs away as time passes. He dresses more with the object of keeping himself together rather than to strike a particular look.

The only splash of color comes from a heavy red scarf, which nests loosely around the lower half of his face. His mid-length white hair, bearing some memory of once being blond, has grown dry and strawlike. It's gathered into an unceremonious tail which gets lost in the crimson of his lumpy scarf.[/indent]
[hr][b]Personality:[/b]
[indent]Moulder is too preoccupied with his own problems to truly notice anyone else's. However he does possess an elflike sense of honor, and he's usually amicable to an exchange of favors. He's always true to his word, and almost always honest, unless it's about his being a zombie—in which case he'll try to say whatever won't get him summarily burned or decapitated or the like.

Also elflike is his apathy for the world around him. He's uninterested in human politics or gnomish inventions or the ongoing plight of the Foreas. Moulder has enough to worry about, like keeping all of his limbs from suddenly falling off. Everything else just seems tedious and rather messy.[/indent]
[hr][b]Brief History:[/b]
[indent]Moulder came into sudden and painful awareness while standing knee deep in the swampwaters of the Dregs in Valenndale, with no memory of how he'd gotten there or what had happened. His immediate surroundings offered nothing helpful, no clues or nearby roads, only depressing scenery. He could remember nothing of import, not even his own name. Upon leaving the water and examining his legs for leeches, he was relieved to discover that the parasites had no interest in him.

However, there was the matter of the broken arrow through his gullet.

All manner of relief left him as he realized his plight: he was an undead. An [i]elf[/i], that was nice, but a [i]zombie[/i] one. Whatever glorious elven city he must have hailed from, they probably wouldn't be very eager to welcome a rotting cadaver.

His only possession, at the time, was a pewter ankh pendant hanging on a cord around his neck.

He wandered then, though he wasn't particularly certain to where. He needed answers: where he came from, why he wasn't properly dead, whether he had some connections somewhere, or even if his condition was somehow reversible. Perhaps he had some fat estate somewhere full of books and magic relics and all the fanciful things elves usually owned.

It wasn't long until he stumbled upon a burnt field, where a recent battle had taken place. The air was still tinged with arcane energy, but a thick smell of decay rising from the bloated corpses of horses and men indicated that the victors had long since rode away. His thoughts were interrupted as he felt his foot kick into the severed arm of a recently slain human.

Moulder, as he decided to call himself between the swamps and here, stared inquisitively at the arm for a long minute. Then, after some consideration, picked it up and began to eat.

In the eleven months since his awakening, Moulder has traveled from settlement to settlement seeking out libraries to find out more about his condition and the necromantic master that must have raised him into undeath. He has discovered that he too has some affinity for the necromantic arts, and has rigorously honed this skill in order to defend himself against wolves, the onslaught of further decay, and would-be slayers of the undead.[/indent]
[hr][b]Starter Equipment:[/b]
[indent]- Tawny cape, magicked with a weak enchantment that wards against fire. 
- Necromantic grimoire, kept on a bronze chain around his thin waist.
- Monocle, for reading.
- Deadwood scepter, forged from the branch of a yew tree and imbued with necromantic power.
- Ankh necklace[/indent]
[b]Character Traits:[/b]
[indent]- Wry
- Detached
- Affable
- Measured
- Honest
- Eloquent[/indent]
[b]Strengths[/b]
[indent]- Sharp elven senses
- Clever speaker
- Resistant to death[/indent]
[b]Weaknesses:[/b]
[indent]- Physically weak
- Must consume flesh of corpses (preferably humanoid)
- Fire[/indent]
[b]Fears[/b]
[indent]- Fire
- Villagers with sharp farming tools
- Other necromancers[/indent][/hider]
[b][color=a187be]Mor'Dor Guldur [/color][/b][@Bishop]
[hider=Mor'Dor]
[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3c/fa/d7/3cfad7d12e36e467b2786f6c44682bde.jpg[/img][/center]
[b]Name[/b]: Mor'Dor Guldur 
[b]Continent of Birth[/b]: High Mist
[b]Race[/b]: Tiefling
[b]Sexuality[/b]: |

[b]Class[/b]: Elemental Monk
[b]Starter Equipment[/b]: 
[list]
[*] Robes
[*] [hider=Double-bladed Staff]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ba/3e/40/ba3e404822e2513936df68a4b1a3ed67.jpg[/img]
[/hider]
[*] Hidden Weapon
[*] Traveling Supplies
[/list]
[b]Age[/b]: 32
[b]Character Traits[/b]
[list] 
[*] Vigilant
[*] Manipulative
[*] Patient
[*] Deceitful
[*] Diligent
[/list]
[b]Strengths[/b]
[list]
[*] Coercing 
[*] Killing 
[*] Taming
[*] Training
[*] Knowledge of weaponry and martial arts
[/list]
[b]Weaknesses[/b]
[list]
[*] Honorless
[*] Emotional
[*] Curious
[/list]
[b]Fears[/b]
Meeting a premature end
[/hider]
[b][color=a187be]Isobel[/color][/b][@Frettzo]
[hider=Character]Name:
Isobel

Sex:
Female

Appearance:
[hider][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/51/c8/ff/51c8ff0f72f245faaa1ba090e59a123c.jpg[/img][/hider]

Continent of Birth:
Carthian, in one of the forests of Vicelles

Race:
Foreas

Race Summary:
The Foreas, called Gwerin as an insult by the Elves, are a race of humanoid plants that live in ancient forests, isolated from all races. They get most of their nourishment from the sun and water and are not usually troubled by the desire for wealth or power, instead seeking to experience life to the fullest. 

They are thought of as a myth by the more close-minded individuals due to their isolationism and are sometimes hunted and sold in human black markets due to the extraordinarily strong wood that makes up their bones. They can live up to thousands of years when cared for properly, but most die young due to their curious, excitable nature.

[hider=some pics][img]https://img00.deviantart.net/8cbb/i/2011/229/4/d/fall_sylvari_by_k_atrina-d46xcwx.jpg[/img]
[img]https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/001/815/918/large/aurore-folny-sylvari2.jpg?1453195070[/img]
[img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/80b6/f/2013/082/a/a/sylvari_by_telthona-d5z058a.jpg[/img][/hider]

Class:
Ranger, Beast Master

Starter Equipment: 
Leafy attire, short bow and arrows, stone shiv, small pack containing patches of fur, bandages and some powders for healing.

Age:
27

Personality: 
Athletic, Curious & Energetic

Character Traits:
Daring, Friendly, Cheerful, Precise, Touchy, Impulsive

Strengths:
Proficient with a bow, animals love her, smells really nice (like a mix of chocolate and coffee), knows a little bit about a lot of things, agile.

Weaknesses:
Melee combat, formal situations, anything related to hurting or killing innocent plants.

Fears:
Fire, caterpillars (especially fuzzy green ones with orange stripes)

Brief History:
Isobel was planted 29 years ago in a beautiful clearing in one of the many forests of Vicelles. Two years later,
 she finally left her cocoon and was drawn by the scent of other Foreas to a nearby village. There, she spent most of her life, quickly learning how to hunt for the benefit of the chief and along the way, learning how to deal with animals and become their friend. 

She was always a friendly one, even when the Chief treated her badly, or the others insulted her for being too trustful of strangers. It was her thing treating others like family, so it came to the point that she'd become the village's face whenever a stranger came by, making sure their stay was comfortable and that they didn't intrude too much into their culture. That is, until she accidentally let a scientist learn too much about them,
 and she was cast out until she found that scientist and made sure he never spoke to anyone about their secrets.

Now, alone out in the world, she faces discrimination on a daily basis but tries her best to remain the cheerful, friendly little plant she's always been. And when humans, elves, dwarves or whatever else don't want to be her friend, she's always got a potential friend in the furry little meatbags called animals.[/hider]


[/hider]

[hider=Quest Log]

[hider=The Chains that Bind]
[i] A man claiming legitimacy to the throne of Caracas has challenged Dantel and seized control of the city through his army's might. I must avoid capture from the guards, and find out what is happening.[/i]
[color=lightsteelblue][b]⍚[/b][/color] [color=mediumorchid]Discover what is happening between Dantel and the invaders. [/color]
[color=lightsteelblue][b]⍚[/b][/color] [color=mediumorchid]Escape the Caracan Pits, and evade capture. [/color]
[color=lightsteelblue][b]⍚[/b][/color] [color=mediumorchid][s]Find Dantel, and follow him should he leave.[/s] [/color]
[color=lightsteelblue][b]⍚[/b][/color] [color=mediumorchid][s]Enjoy the event.[/s][/color]
[color=lightsteelblue][b]⍚[/b][/color] [color=mediumorchid][s]Discover the source of your anxiety.[/s][/color]

[/hider]
[/hider]