Genre: [Medieval/Fantasy]

Name: Taelan Wilheim (Paladin)
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Demisexual
Species/Race: Human – Paladin with mid-level holy abilities

Eye colour: Cobalt blue
Hair colour: Dark bluish-black
Height: 190cm
Weight: 89kg
Description/Clothing/Appearance: Of Northern descent, he stands out due to his dark bluish-black hair, cobalt blue eyes and pale skin. He is rather solidly built, especially around his broad shoulders, chest and back due to his speciality as an archer. His hair is spiky and reaches past the nape of his neck, with fringe swept to the sides. His combat outfit consists of a helmet with a transverse crest, which is dulled silver with dyed black plume. The armour included greaves and forearm guards, which has engraved markings of stars, and a dulled silver cuirass chest plate with incorporating scaled armour, shoulder guards and protective hanging strips for the upper arms. A black, or sometimes blue, tunic is worn under the armour. A black cloak with silver lining tied at the front using a brooch depicting him as the second-in-command of his squad. His casual outfit is a loose blue tunic and black breaches, with a woolen dark blue cloak during colder seasons. Taelan rarely wears his helmet unless it is a formal occasion as he hates the feeling of constriction he gets whenever the helmet is on his head.

Personality: With his heavy use of sarcasm and mocking politeness, he makes it very difficult to discern his thoughts. Many find his demeanour and appearance rather unsettling and there are very few who were willing to trust him even after he has provided them assistance freely. Taelan is fully aware of the effect he has on others and more than once has toyed with people's emotional states for his own amusement (usually to poke fun at his juniors). Beneath the unmotivated and seemingly dead-to-the-world look, he is rather perceptive when he wants to be. His observational skills are mostly used to pick up adversaries' weaknesses and fear to use against them.

History: The middle son to a distinguished paladin father and a priest-healer mother, Taelan and his older brother were groomed to be paladins from a young age, while his four-years younger sister took after their mother as a healer, having being born with an astounding affinity for holy spells. His three-years older brother took after his father, both in well-built physique, height and natural talent for swordsmanship. On the other hand, Taelan was the most disappointing of his siblings. Born with mediocre ability to perform holy spells, curse-worthy laxness towards studies and training, possessing a more slender physique than his brother and having only an above average talent for the sword, his father sent him off to the military boot-cap when he was eight. Taelan quickly found his calling in archery after wandering into an archery range and seeing the mesmerising way the archers nocked, aimed and released their arrows in quick succession and astounding precision. His skills in marksmanship was greater than his other talents by far, and many an accomplished archer took him under their wings, refining his techniques and building his skills, not giving up even when they found out about his tendency to laze around instead of training, because he more than made up for it whenever he set his sights on learning all he could from them. In the five years away from home, he also managed to learn and perfect three incredibly useful holy spells, which had saved his life – and dare he say it – that of his brothers-in-arms on more than one occasion.

When he turned thirteen, he was allowed one visit home which he eagerly accepted as the letters his brother wrote during his time away lessened steadily until they eventually stopped altogether. He arrived back, only to find a burnt patch of land, scorched ruins and no family member in sight. He soon learned of the fate that befell the small village. Twin sirens hypnotised the males into drowning their spouse, children, neighbours and even each other in the nearby river. Those that survived were ordered to burn the village to the ground. Halfway through burning his house down, Taelan’s brother managed to free himself from the hypnosis and killed one siren before the other killed him. When one siren died, the men under her compulsion were freed and the patrolling paladins arrived, putting a swift end to her. Taelan essentially became the last of his family.

At sixteen with several battles under his belt and still holding a grudge against Night Creatures, Taelan was a member of a twenty-man squad under the Order of the Holy Sceptre. They were hunting a group made up of various Night Creatures who had managed to evade numerous patrols and raided several villages in their path. Along the trail, they came across a destroyed village with but one survivor, a young boy desperately clutching the mutilated corpses of his parents amongst the carnage. The squad took the group of Creatures off-guard, bringing justice swiftly to the foul beings. Their captain decided to bring the boy along, feeding, clothing and dubbing him ‘The Compassionate’ due to his inherent kindness. The boy, Amon, was taken in and trained as a paladin. Taelan kept an eye on the talented boy, often interacting and training with him as he grew older.

When Taelan was 21 and Amon 15, the older paladin had already achieved the rank of Captain under the company’s Knight Commander. Due to his lax nature, the Grand Masters refuse to have Taelan promoted to Knight Commander, citing his inability to lead his men through all kinds of situations, as he was only capable of giving orders when the situation turns dire. Thus, he was placed as second-in-command in the Knight Commander’s company. When Amon volunteered himself for the experiment, Taelan was torn between worry for his health and pride for his dedication towards the Church. Now at the age of 30, he has plans to have Amon as his Lieutenant.

Habits: In his free time or when not on a mission, he is often caught lazing around in bed, outside on the field or in various nooks and crannies around the Church’s headquarters. However, that does not mean he is unskilled in his chosen crafts.

Strengths: A master marksman with a longbow, Taelan is deadly at long-ranged combat. He hits hard and fast and although less skilled in the area of swordsmanship, his ability to press the enemy with numerous and unpredictable strikes make up for his lack in skill. When he is focussed, he loses his playful and lazy nature, allowing his mind to analyse situations and opponents quickly and accurately.

Weaknesses: Although he can be stealthy if the situation calls for it, he is not as mobile as the more slender of his men, which usually meant his inability to cross difficult terrains on foot easily. His lax nature does not make him a good leader in situations he does not feel sufficiently motivated in, which makes his superiors hesitate to trust him in leading an expeditions. Due to the difficulty in reeling his temper up, he is often underestimated, which in turn makes him underestimate any opponents he is not familiar with or any beings he does not deem dangerous.

Equipment: A 1.5m yew longbow with a draw weight of up to 185 pound-force and several quiverful of 90cm steel-tipped arrows (one on his back and spares in his saddlebag). Dual curved daggers that have been forged to twice the toughness of an ordinary blade.

Special abilities:
Purification: A spell that allows him to imbue his arrows with light and utterly destroy dark creatures if it strikes the heart in one hit. If not, it burns the area where the arrow hit and its surroundings at a 15cm radius.
Circle of light: A wall of light encircles his surroundings at a 50m radius and lasts for five minutes as he cannot hold it for longer.
Ward of the Divine: A single direction barrier that springs up before him and sends lesser beings running in fear.

Fears: Becoming a Night Creature. Dying a painful and slow death. Being the cause of his close friends’ death.

Goals: Taelan does not exactly have a goal in life other than serving the Church as a paladin as best he can until his death through completing missions and killing Night Creatures. He believes the Church and Pope is right in its ideas of cleansing the land of foul creatures and freeing them from their dreary existence.

Genre: [Urban Fantasy/Supernatural]

General
Name: Amon "Hunter" Noire
Age: 30-35
Gender: Male
Race: Half human, half were-tiger
Sexuality: Bisexual

Appearance
Height: 190cm
Weight: 89kg
Eyes: Dark emerald and heavy-lidded, giving him a rather intense stare especially when he makes an effort to intimidate
Hair: Black, thick and spiky, his hair reaches just past the nape of his neck and his right eye is usually concealed behind a thick clump of fringe
Body Modifications: No piercings, but has the number thirteen in Roman Numerals tattooed in black ink on the right side of his neck with the bottom at his collarbone and the top of the tattoo halfway up his neck.
Distinguishing Marks: N/A (just the tattoo, the top can be seen even if he wears a fully-buttoned collared shirt
Extra equipment: A .44 magnum tucked in a belt holster at his waist that is constantly on his person
Other Form: Since he is only half were-tiger, he cannot change into a full animal.

Abilities
Racial Abilities: The only thing that sets him apart from normal humans is his retractable claws and ability to see better in the dark.
Magcal Ability: N/A

Strengths:
1) EnhanceClaustrophobicity and stealthiness due to feline heritage
2) Ability to see in the dark unlike the humans he works with
3) Since he is half-human, he wouldn't go crazy over catnip, shiny objects, bright lights, etc
Weaknesses:
1) Easily startled by sudden loud noises
2) He has an irrational fear of large bodies of water (again, most likely due to his feline genes)
3) Clautrophobic (this is more his personal experience and might not actually apply to half-weres as a whole)

Personal
Personality:
Amon is mild-mannered and a hard person to offend, waving off insults and jokes in an equally offhanded manner, as long as it is directed at him only, of course. Quick to banter with people he has been acquainted with before or anyone he is comfortable around, he is the sort of man that is easy to befriend, work alongside and open up to as long as he is not being his typical lazy self, which usually rubs some people the wrong way. He works best when sufficiently motivated and/or under pressure. If not, he is pretty lax and uninitiative until a superior gives him a command.

However, he is serious when he has an objective to work towards and will do whatever it takes to complete it. Amon believes that the law is right, and rules are placed there for a reason. He hates it when people try to find a way around it, twisting it so they will come off as innocent when they are clearly not. As someone working for a law enforcement organisation that acts as peacekeepers between supernatural and humans, he will not hesitate to use his authority to do what he thinks is right. This attitude has made him an enemy in the eyes of some extremists supernatural beings and humans, making him rather paranoid at times.

History: (can be tweaked)
When the existence of supernatural beings was made public sixteen years ago, Amon was nineteen, a recent graduate of high school and starting his first year in the Police Academy. He is the only child in the family, born to an ordinary police officer who now works as a mall's security guard and a chauffeur mother. For the first nineteen years of his life, his family was as normal as they could be. They were mostly absent from home, coming back in the evenings to either a cooked or bought dinner and catching up with each other then, before Amon would excuse himself, finish whatever work he had to do and head to bed. Life was repetitive, bland and mundane as can be, occasionally broken by rare days off or overseas holidays.

Amon grew up listening to the stories his father used to tell about his days in the law enforcement, the gory and simply inhumane things some people were capable of. From a young age, he dreamt to be like his father, working in the police force, keeping innocents safe and doing the righteous thing. When he was seven, he discovered his unique 'abilities' when a friend pulled a prank on him and trapped him in a school's storeroom. Despite the utter darkness, he could see as though it was merely evening. He went to school, read books and from listening to conversations all around, he knew it wasn't normal to be able to see in the dark. But that was not what scared him. Claws, sharp, shiny, long and protruding from beneath his fingernails made him scream in utter terror. The hollers drew his teacher, who took one look at his unnatural hands and merely sighed, shifting into a large wolf for a second before shifting back. Amon calmed down and as his shock receded, the claws retracted. That became the little secret between Amon and his teacher, who disappeared a year later and her body found abandoned along the highway.

He kept quiet about this, living as though he was a normal human student. That was, until a month after his nineteenth birthday and the existence of supernatural beings exposed. Everything began to make sense, which meant either both his parents were supernaturals, or one of them was. It turned out his mother was a were-tigress, making him a half-were. This revelation did not sit well with his father, who proceeded to ignore his mother's existence and even began throwing judgemental looks and snide remarks at Amon. For half a year he ignored the sudden change in their household, attempting to mend the rift between his parents and himself. However, every attempt was shot down rather spectacularly by either of them. He gave up, losing himself in the Police Academy instead. The previously warm house became cold, and Amon began to see the world in a new light. He could see the tensions between humans and supernatural beings, personally bore witness to several violent and bloody clashes between the two extremists factions and was dragged into the conflict more than once.

It was these conflicts that prompted him to enlist into the 'Supernatural Division' of the Police force, made up of members who are pacifist supernatural beings and humans who strived to keep innocents out of clashes. In this Division, he was able to slowly come to terms with being neutral despite his mixed blood. He was twenty-four when he made his first arrest whilst breaking up another riot started by humans over a gutted victim. That was also the year he moved away from home and got a tattoo of the Division number (XIII) on his neck.

Now at the age of thirty-five, he remains single, more scarred, paranoid and cynical then he was before, although he never lost his lax nature. An Inspector in the Division, he heads a relatively small team of twenty officers, and often work together with the friends he made over the decade as a peacekeeper.

Rayden Hale, codename "Ghost" (Agent)
Genre: [Urban Fantasy/Supernatural/Modern]

General
Name: Rayden Hale
Age: 26-40
Gender: Male
Race: Human or mutant (depends on genre)
Sexuality: Demisexual

Appearance
Height: 182.3cm
Weight: 80.9kg
Eyes: Dark cobalt blue and slightly narrowed, allowing him to maintain a bland look unless he consciously shifts expression.
Hair: Coffee brown
Body Modifications: No piercings, but has a Ranger tatoo on his arm
Distinguishing Marks: N/A (just the tattoo)
Extra equipment: A Glock tucked in a shoulder holster that is constantly on his person

Abilities:
1) Improvised Weaponry
2) Hand-to-hand combat expert
3) Infiltration and espionage expert
4) Linguist

Personal
Personality:
Agent Hale has many different aspects to his personality. He is often serious, maintaining a bland expression which can turn threatening when a situation calls for it. As an infiltration specialist, he tries to be bland and unassuming, with his plain two-piece suit and tie and mild-mannered speech. He is also practical, calmly facing hard truths and situations without descending into hysteria. For the greater good of the organization he works for and the world in general, he will do his part without hesitation. This, of course, makes him seem ruthless and extremely devoted to his job to those who don't know him. His one redeeming characteristic is ensuring as many agents come home from an operation alive as possible. Opinions about him are varied: those who are outright disdainful of his callous approach to anyone he deems as enemies, those who admire him for his efficiency and care for his assets, those who fear him by repute or experience and those who see a non-threatening paper-pusher - in other words, just another government suit.

Hale also has a humorous side, often displayed in the form of dry or sarcastic comments, especially when hanging around the few people he fully trusts - civilian or otherwise. He can be carefree when off-duty, such as when bonding with the members of his team following a successful mission and such like. He is also caring, treating his team as family, and protecting them at all costs. While sometimes he presents bad news gently, he knows when it is necessary to present it bluntly.

History: (can be tweaked)
TBA

Ravana Azazel (Captain of the Royal Guard)
Genre: [Medieval/Medieval Fantasy]

General
Name: Ravana Azazel
Age: 438 (appears 27)
Gender: Female
Race: Vampire Lord (depends on genre)
Sexuality: Heterosexual

Appearance
Height: 173cm
Weight: 69.2kg
Eyes: Half-lidded, dull amber that bleeds into scarlett in accordance to blood-deprivation level.
Hair: Ash grey
Body Modifications: Normal ear piercings
Distinguishing Marks: Blue veins will slowly marr her blemishless skin the longer she is deprived of blood. The first lines begin to appear at the end of the first fortnight.
Extra equipment: Scimitar tucked in her belt as well as a sai.

Abilities:
1) In Vampire Lord form, she looks the same, except with sharpened teeth, lengthened incisors, glowing eyes and deathly white skin. Large white bat wings grow out of her back and her fingers become claws.
2) Night empowerment: Is stronger at night or on dark places
3) Mist form: When in Vampire Lord form, she can turn into a cloud of mist to replenish stamina used for 15 seconds at a time. She can only use it in ten minute intervals and is invulnerable in this state. However, she cannot attack when in mist form.

Weakness:
1) Sunlight is her natural enemy. While it does not burn her, her health, regeneration and stamina are downed by half ehn under direct sunlight.
2) Fire causes her double the damage any other elements can deal out.

Personal
Personality:
She is usually contend to go with the flow, preferring to adapt to the situation as she goes along. She has a strange sense of humour and a slightly sadistic attitude. She lives by the rule “Forgive but never forget”. She doesn’t take kindly to those who are slower on the uptake than she is and those who betrayed her. Although she does not hold a grudge, if you crossed her once, it is difficult to get her to trust you or get back in her good graces. She is calm like the ocean, cool under pressure and is rarely fazed. However, when she is angered, her wrath is silent but forceful, like the raging sea. She is rather paranoid and will not hesitate to attack first and ask questions later if she feels threatened.

History: (can be tweaked depending on plot, etc)
Once a member of the mysterious and feared Ranger force that roamed the lands hunting dark creatures(blood-frenzied vampires, rogue werewolves, feral ghouls, undead, orcs, murder sorcerers, etc.), Ravana split off from her party to clear the small lair of recently-turned vampires. It wasn’t the first time she hunted groups of dark creatures on her own so she thought she would be able to handle it. However, she miscalculated. With her standard issue crossbow, she killed off four and was hunting down the last when she was pinned to the ground. This vampire was different from the typical ones. He appeared human from head to toe, not even a sharpened incisors could be seen when he smiled. She was bewildered and caught off guard, mind still reeling as she was drained of blood.

By some luck or will of the Gods, she did not die. Instead, the venom of the unique vampire changed her over the course of five long, excruciating days. The memories after were a blur. She didn’t know how long had passed, coming to her senses only to discover herself crouching over a terrified woman. She dashed off instantly, going as far into the wilderness as she could and isolating herself. However, she did not allow herself to starve. Spending years on animal and the occasional bandit blood, she explored the limits of her newfound power.

As soon as she deemed she was strong enough, she left to find her sire, catching him off guard as she snuck into one of his extravagant parties disguised as a blood sacrifice, making sure she would be the first to be chosen and offered to the host during dinner. She set him on fire and stole his short sword, using it to run him through several times as he burned. She revealed her Vampire Lord form, preparing to fight her way through the horde when they fled. Ravana discovered a small chest of her sire’s personal belongings, learning that she was now a creature known as the ‘Vampire Lord’ and the benefits that came with it.

Over the centuries, she came across other dark creatures like herself, clinging on to their humanity and refusing to give in to the dark temptation. She gathered them all, offering the castle she got from her sire as a sanctuary and picked up hunting inhuman creatures once more.

Genre: [Medieval Fantasy/Medieval]

Name: Iyazen Enlai (prefers to be called Zen)

Age: 23

Race: Human

Appearance:
Like her father, Zen has wavy, thick, sandy bown hair, which she keeps long and tied back in a high ponytail with a brown leather strip, the end of her ponytail reaching mid-back but is typically tossed over her right shoulder. She takes after her mother in regards to facial features and structure. She has high cheekbones and an oval face that ends in a sharp and pointed chin, framed by long sidebangs. Her fairly-even-but-jagged fringe stops just below her thin and slightly arched eyebrows, high enough not to get into her eyes when she does vigorous activities, or merely tilts her head down to read. She has a straight nose and thin, firm lips that are faintly pink. Her eyes are steel grey, staring piercingly out from under heavy-lidded eyelids, giving her an apathetic and bored gaze. Standing at 168cm and weighing 59kg, she rarely wears much jewellery, save for the silver Enlai ring upon her left middle thumb and a thick dull metal cuff upon both wrists, which are wrapped in brown leather. Her everyday wardrobe consists of a high-collared one piece dress of dark shades of blue, green or purple with twin waist-high slits. She wears breeches beneath for manoeuvrability. During formal occasions, however, she will wear full gown, together with the necessary accessories.

Personality:
Zen is quiet and thoughtful, preferring to think logically before speaking or acting, a habit that was not hers by nature, but rather, ingrained into her through nurture, seeing as she is was taken in and brought up by her master Yuen Shun, the General of the Kai Empire, and the decisions she is required to make in her position can hardly depend on her following her emotions. She is highly inquisitive, and enjoys learning about the wider world, the histories of each nation through reading any books and scrolls she could get her hands on, pursuing them with an intense figurative hunger.

Since she has never been pushed to do anything in her twenty years of life, Zen is usually content to go with the flow of things, preferring to adapt to the situation as they unfold. She also has a strange sense of humour and has one important rule that steamed from her childhood, “Forgive but never forget”, and doesn’t take kindly to those who betray her. Although she does not hold a grudge, if you cross her once, it is difficult to get back in her good graces. While she might be a hard person to offend, she can't stand being belittled, and can get rather competitive, especially if that particular person proves rather challenging.

Backstory:
Born in a small border village of the Eastern Kai Empire, Zen was the daughter of the village chief. Her parents were killed in a raid by their rival nation during her childhood. Being one of the few survivors when General Shun's army arrived to drive the enemy away from the border, she was taken in by the General as another orphan of war. However, her skills with the blade and inquisitive mind coupled with a desire to serve her saviour eventually persuaded Yuen to take her under his wing. Working with other members of his 'trusted', Zen refined her skills as an infiltrator and assassin, gathering intelligence around the country or behind enemy lines for her master to use. She has been at this business for seven years and counting, but this mission she is currently undertaking might prove the most challenging by far. Posing as a personal maid to the daughter of a high-ranking official in one of Kai's bordering nations, Zen is tasked with gathering as much intel as possible about the country's state of affairs as tension between these two kingdoms are steadily rising (due to trying to expand territory, acquire more resources, trying to unite the land under one rule, etc).

Name: Hei-Ran Mihn
Alias: N/A
Nickname: Striking Scorpion
Age: 26
Region of Origin: North
Hometown: Yuen, a medium-sized fishing village close to the north near a glacier that is creeping closer every year. It houses a population of slightly more than three hundred, with fishermen, skinners and alchemists with a specific skill set.
Deity: She most closely associate with the Phoenix of the South, as per the traditions of the orphanage’s matriarch.
Master: Assassin


Gender: Female
Race: Yun
Height: 5’ 4” (164.5cm)
Weight: 126lbs (57kg)
Hair: Black
Eyes: Sea Green
Skin: Lightly tanned blemishless skin over lithe muscles. She has callouses on both palms from handling kunais and tanto. The lower half of her face (from her neck to the bottom of her eyes) is a shade lighter due to the mask covering it.
Handedness: Ambidextrous
Scars: She has several thin, light nicks (virtually non-visible unless you look very closely) littering the back and palm of her hands and fingers from early years of handling razor wires and blades. She has a long, rugged scar running from the top of her left ribs vertically down to her hip.
Tattoos: She has a small black tattoo of a scorpion on her right collarbone.

Basic Description: Hei-Ran has been likened to your classic porcelain doll in terms of facial appearance, slender figure and healthy light-tanned skin. Her black hair and green eyes make her stand out amongst her fairer Sisters, but worked to her advantage when blending in with crowds as it is not an unusual or more unique colour. She keeps her long hair tied back into a tight braid, and secured by a trio of senbon masquerading as hairpins. Long sidebangs frame her face while the rest of it is cut short to reach the top of her eyelids and swept to the side. Arching eyebrows, a delicate jawline, defined cheekbones and straight nose, one would think her a high-born woman of wealth and comfort if they did not look too closely. However, beneath her choice of attire - whether it be her standard grey assassin’s robes, mask and leather greaves or long casual robes when not on the job (very rarely) - lies a well-tone body with lithe muscles and little excess fat. Her skin may look soft and flawless from a distance, but up close, one would be able to see the various scars collected over the years if uncovered by clothes.


Likes: Skill competitions amongst her Brothers and Sisters, experimenting and discovering new poisons and antidotes, sweet pastries, pleasantly cold nights, peaceful silence she can mediate in.
Dislikes: Unnecessary killings, harming children, being completely unarmed, mindless destruction and people who oppresses others for whatever reason, jellyfish.
Goals: To redeem the name of the Striking Scorpions after the evil deeds wrought by one of theirs.
Fears: Losing anymore of her Brothers and Sisters to the Dark, either by being converted or killed.
Mannerisms: Hei-Ran has many different aspects to her personality. She is often serious, maintaining a bland expression which can turn into a sharp glare if faced with something – or someone – she dislikes. As someone who does not like to be under the spotlight, she tries to appear bland and unassuming whenever she is out of gear. Her common looks, casual clothes that allows her to fade into the sea of people around her and polite, mild-mannered speech all contribute greatly in making her seem like an ordinary, boring person.

But unknown to mere acquaintances, she has a humorous side, often displayed in the form of dry or sarcastic comments, especially when hanging around the few people she fully trusts. People on that list includes her chosen family, a few select childhood friends, and a little old lady running the local bakery. Hei-Ran rarely allows herself to be carefree, loud and active even when in a place she feels safe, such as her home. She is relatively caring in that while she doesn’t believe in sugar-coating the truth no matter how harsh it may be, she will break the news gently if that person is close to her, or is in visible distress, close to breaking down.

Hei-Ran is extremely practical, and strives to be a woman of sound moral principles, and would stand by them no matter what it cost her. She can be stubborn and hard-headed when she believes she is right, and refuses to be convinced otherwise unless the opponent manages to bring sound logic into the argument. She refrains from judging people by first impression alone, and usually reserves her opinion until she knows them better. While she might be a hard person to offend, she can't stand being belittled, and can get rather competitive, especially if that particular person proves rather challenging. Her temper is a slow simmering fire, not easily coerced to rearing up and retaliate, but the right trigger works like kerosene, making it explosive and abruptly, but dwindles down quickly. The right trigger? Threatening the young ones in the orphanage. The older ones can take care of themselves, but the younger were her responsibilities.

Psychological Condition: Having grown up and trained to be a hunter of the corrupted, Hei-Ran had been witness to some pretty horrific scenes and skirmishes that still haunts her memories at present. Hence, she is often plagued by bouts of nightmares, waking up in the middle of the night covered in sweat, eyes darting around to look for the enemy. After several years of this happening, she has taken to working herself to exhaustion before falling into a deep, dreamless slumber. This has resulted in her being an insomniac, only catching a few hours rest each day. She is also rather paranoid, worrying so much that enemies would come busting into their home and slaughtering everyone in their sleep. It is not unusual for her to sleep with a tanto clutched in her hand.
Superstitions: Members of the Striking Scorpions believe that losing control of one’s emotions before striking brings bad luck, for the spirit of the victim will latch onto such a strongly expelled emotion expressed through their final hours and continue to linger and influencing the person’s base emotions until their death is avenged. Thus, at an early age, they were taught to present themselves externally, while controlling themselves internally through deep meditation.
Social Pressures/Problems: Although she likes children, and would do anything to protect them, she has never felt comfortable around crying people and so has no clue on how to deal with them. Whenever there is a threat of waterworks starting, she is gone. Her paranoia also makes her nervous when forced to mingle at social events, and when she is nervous, she can’t help but be blunt and let her sarcastic side run loose, resulting in her offending quite a few guests before she leaves.


Parents: Orphan (pseudo-mother – Sil-Sung – deceased)
Siblings: The members of the Striking Scorpions and those within the orphanage.
Rivals: Open to rivals.
Enemies: Tae-Jun Kan, the one who was converted to the Dark and slaughtered handfuls of innocent in a bout to prove that he has truly fallen. Sil-Sung was killed trying to stop him and Tae-Jun has disappeared ever since.


Weapons: A brace of senbon wrapped around her right forearm bracer, ornamental hairpins in her hair, two tanto strapped horizontally at the small of her back (placed side by side of each other, one facing the left and the other right for easy access), thin ninja wire wrapped around the entire length of her right forearm bracer and a pouch of shuriken strapped to her right thigh.


Skills:
1 Stealth: She can blend in seamlessly in a place, can be utterly silent if she wished and is able to use corners, covers of darkness and the like to avoid detection if sneaking to a place.
2 Sewing: As an active combatant, her pseudo-mother made sure she is apt at mending her own clothes, or making new ones for herself in order not to waste money, and ensure no one else has the chance to temper with her clothes.
3 Music Instrument: In order to improve finger dexterity, Hei-Ran learned to play the pipa (Chinese lute) and has taken a liking to the instrument. She uses it as a form of meditation or to simply unwind for the day.


Powers:
1 Wire Trap: With this technique, ninja wire (a translucent string, both elastic and highly durable) is attached to a shuriken, making it possible to alter its path after having thrown it. She can then have the ability to freely glide the shuriken in any direction with just a single twitch of the finger the end of the wire is wrapped around. When multiple shuriken is employed, she can send them in seemingly random directions and end up with a near-visible web of wires that traps the enemy within, or bind them if they take the wrong step. The web only requires a trigger (cutting a string, removing a shuriken, pulling on or loosening a thread, etc) to cause the other threads to rearrange, making it adaptable to change in combat tactics and situations.
2 Iron Curtain: Again using the wired shuriken, she can manipulate it to revolve around her instead, creating a 360 degrees curtain to deflect incoming projectiles.
3 Needle Rain: A sudden barrage of precisely targeted senbon, especially when unleashed in surprise, can be used to incapitate an opponent’s limbs or even paralyse them, making them an easier target. Lethality can be increased if the senbon is dipped in poison, or can save a life if dipped in antidote and delivered precisely into the bloodstream.
4 Trick of the Light: When out in the open under sunlight, she can reflect/bend light off any reflective surfaces on her person to ‘cast’ minor illusions, usually distorting the opponent’s image of her or disorientating them for a few seconds, enough for them to be distracted. This bending of the light can extend to allies within her sight and/or touch.
5 Scorpion’s Sting: A length of wire is attached to the hilts of her tanto and a poisoned senbon is attached to the other end, so when she strikes with her blades, the opponent is not aware of the other weapon, and with a move of her wrists, she can flick the senbon around to pierce the back of the neck.
6 Shadow’s Embrace: When concealed in the shadows, she blends in thoroughly with it, making her virtually impossible to detect.
7 Shrapnel Bomb: Imbued with ki, her hairpins and shurikens are dormant bombs that can be triggered on command. Although its explosive radius is small – capable of injuring only one or two people – it sprays small, red-hot shrapnel outwards in all direction after the explosion.
8 Dance of the Scorpion: This kata is a mix of defence and offense that can be used with one or two blades of any length. It relies on speed first and foremost and the firmness of one’s stance when in the defensive position. It has two stances, the strike and the block.
Stance One, Strike: The user does not need to settle into any set stance. As long as the blade(s) is positioned low, wrist loose and blade held behind their backs, they can strike out straight towards the opponent from any direction. Like a scorpion’s tail, the user brings the blade up from behind their backs, striking high and precise in one quick forward motion. This move can be done multiple times in quick succession even when their feet is moving. Like a dance, the user twirls and sidesteps around or circling the opponent as they strike.
Stance Two, Block: If the opponent manages launch an attack during the time in which the user is about to launch an attack, in the middle of an attack or directly after the strike, this position would allow the user to switch instantly from offensive to defensive if they cannot dodge in time. The user clamps up instantly, firming their muscles and locking their joints in a way that doesn’t allow accidental shift or jarrings when the opponent’s blow hits. The blade(s) is held vertically in a slightly lose grip so minute movements to fully counter the opponent’s strike can be made.


Current Story: The only orphanage in Yuen, Sil-Sung’s house is located at the north-western side of Yuen, a slowly dwindling town thanks to the creeping glacier. In one early morning near the start of the year, she found a Fire Egg sitting innocently at the bottom of her doorstep. With no letter nor any indication of how it turned up here, Sil-Sung took it in like she would any other child who turned up outside her door. A whole day later, the egg hatched, and out came a baby girl, who wasted no time bawling her eyes out. A fortnight went by without Sil-Sung naming the girl, having thought up nothing suitable. It was only when the baby’s face lit up the very first time she took her to her small indoor garden full of blooming flowers and various plants embracing spring that she bestowed upon her the name Hei-Ran, which meant graceful orchid. As orphaned babies were rare around these parts, Sil-Sung indulged herself in taking care of the Yun infant.

In the early stages of her childhood, Hei-Ran was already proving to be a serious and reserved child by nature. She preferred to listen in on conversations, adding in her piece when she felt necessary, but otherwise content in letting others talk. In showing affection, however, she was not the least bit reserved. As a couple more orphans arrived, she would more often than not sneak into their room to make sure they were settling in well, or show people affection by placing a quick peck on their cheeks. The first time her abilities manifested was under duress. For Hei-Ran, that is. For everyone else, it was a hilarious incident. It was a prank set up by the older occupants of the orphanage, a payback for the numerous times the younger have annoyed them. At dinner, they struck, throwing all manners of insects on the younger children. Freaked, Hei-Ran screamed as an older boy aimed at her, preparing to drop a spider. However, the spoon she was clutching like a lifeline reflected a short, sharp jab of light from the candles around, momentarily blinding him. He bumped into the table, jostling it and a stunned silence settled, for Jon-Doh was known for his amazing spatial awareness. Mightily embarrassed by her scream and the stares of everyone, Hei-Ran fled, not noticing the look Sil-Sung and a few other exchanged. Curiosity made her think back about the incident a few days later, pushing her to uncover what that really was all about, and if she could recreate that effect again.

When she turned seven, Sil-Sung approached her with an offer. A chance to join the vigilante group known as the ‘Striking Scorpions’, who took it upon themselves to protect their town and those close-by from dark ki/chi users. In addition to that, she would learn about the theory of ki/chi in the world, how to harness her abilities, and of course, and later, combat skills best suited for her structure while also allowing her to use her abilities to the fullest. By telling Hei-Ran she was going to be protecting people as well as learning how to harness her abilities, she was sold on the spot, not even bothering to protest when Sil-Sung emphasised she would not be going out of town or considered a full-fledged member until she is sixteen, and even then, only if she manages to pass. The first couple of years were intense, focusing on building up stamina, strength and endurance while maximizing the areas she had advantage in, like flexibility, speed and forming plans on the spot. Together with her five fellow trainees, they steadily advanced through the years, discovering new abilities and modifying their individual gears to suit them. Hei-Ran eventually decided to go down the path of an Assassin, which she feels fully utilises her expertise in wires, senbon, shuriken and the tanto, all of which are suited for striking from the shadows, taking the opponent by surprise or trapping them before they could move. One by one, as each trainee hit sixteen, they disappeared for a week or more, and came back either in triumph or defeat. The day she finally turned sixteen came, and she was tasked with observing a certain village south of theirs to subdue a necromancer. Unbeknownst to her, a more experienced member was shadowing her just in case things went wrong. Hei-Ran managed to get close enough to the plain looking woman, catching her off guard. From the shadows, she threw her shuriken, binding her immobile and struck her down before the woman could break free. Thus, she earned her tattoo and place within the group.

The member who had shadowed her introduced himself after as Tae-Jun Kan, a Blades master. He helped her polish her skills with the tanto, and more often than not, they found themselves as a tag team, one going up close while the other supporting at a distance if the enemy proves to be more powerful then one of them can handle. At nineteen, when soloing against demon, she thought it was dead, only to be caught off guard when it moved, slicing her from rib to hip. Fortunately, it was only a flesh wound and damaged nothing vital. However, she now had a constant reminder what happened when you didn’t ensure an enemy was fully dead.

For three years, things quietened down a little, and the only drama within the group was the strange behaviour of Tae-Jun. While he was still charming and mischievous like before, there were periods of him losing focus, staring off into the distance for a while, and nothing they did – shaking him, slapping him and the like – worked in breaking him out of it. It didn’t happen during his missions, so they didn’t press, instead keeping an eye on him. Then one night, the town next to Yuen was drenched in a sea of fire, with handfuls of demons cutting a bloody path through. Everyone currently not on duty was dispatched to help. However, Hei-Ran and a few of the other more experienced members were not amongst them, having been misled by Tae-Jun to a secluded spot to be ambushed. Hei-Ran managed to escape, meeting up with two others along the way back to Yuen. But they were too late. By the time they got back, Sil-Sung was dead, the House destroyed and everyone who survived went into hiding. The name of the Striking Scorpions had been tainted by Tae-Jun due to him causing destruction in their name. While some of the stigma was cleared when they made it clear Tae-Jun was a traitor to the group, it didn’t restore their reputation, for they failed to kill the traitor and lots of lives were lost. There was also the thought that if the charismatic Tae-Jun could cover his corruption so thoroughly only the Scorpions suspected but didn’t fully know, then how many other members could be corrupted, or approaching corruption themselves?

With confidence in them all but destroyed, the group faded into the shadows, still protecting, but not declaring. Lesser members and lesser drive to continue, they became a pitiful shadow of their former self. Sickened by the death of her mother figure and not being able to bare looking at the pathetic group any longer, Hei-Ran took up Sil-Sung’s family name and vowed to track Tae-Jun down and kill him in revenge. Only when that is done will she turn her attention to restoring the honour of the Scorpions, as it is Sil-Sung and her ancestor’s pride. Two years of hunting his trail has brought her to many places and across the East, West and South. When word of impending trouble in the North reached her ears, she decided to head back to her homeland, a place she had not set foot in for more than a year.

NAME: Haigara Yoruichi (Clan name, First name)
AGE: 27
GENDER: Female
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: N/A
BIRTHDAY: 06/13/----
BIRTH VILLAGE: Konohagakure
CURRENT VILLAGE: Konohagakure

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS
EYE COLOR: Lilac
HAIR COLOR: Ash blonde
HEIGHT: 169.1 cm
WEIGHT: 62.7 kg
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Yoruichi is an attractive ash-blond woman of average height (169cm) and possesses a lithely-muscled figure. She has a scar running horizontally on the left side of her forehead and another vertically down her left cheek, cutting through the center of her eyelid. Both faintly pink scars intersect near the end of it close to her left temple. Her shoulder length hair is normally tied up at the back of her head into a secure bun, while her parted fringe is done up in a bundle, held by two miniature kunai, both with red thread at the end, on each side. The part of her hair that isn’t tied is left to frame her face, reaching past her chin. The left sidebang is thicker than the right in order to cover the ends of the scars.

Yoruichi’s preferred attire is a black battle kimono made from ballistic fibre without a right sleeve and exposing her right leg all the way to the middle of her upper thigh, decorated with dark auburn flowers of the Haigara Clan, held together by a wide red obi from her ribcages down to her waist. Beneath, she wears tight black shorts. On her right arm she sports a detached sleeve that goes from her wrist to her mid-biceps. She also wears fishnet stockings and black kunoichi half-shoes that reach just below the knee. She’s often seen smoking a kiseru (a thin pipe), a trait she shares with a few older members of her clan. When the kiseru is not lit, it will still be in her hands or tucked in her obi. It is a hard blackwood pipe fused with chakra-conductive metal, meaning she can use it as a weapon as well, which is one of the reasons she brings it with her all the time.

STRENGTHS:
Physical Strengths:
Ninjutsu: 10/10 – She has perfect mastery over her bloodline, and as such do not require handseals for them. In addition to that, she has strong affinity with doton and futon jutsu, the lower-ranked ones she can perform without seals as well. Her near-perfect chakra control over a large reserve means she can pull off higher-ranked techniques with the least amount of chakra needed to achieve the same effects.
Taijutsu: 7/10 – Due to her slender physique and short height, she relies more on agility and speed rather than strength. She only knows the clan taijutsu, which relies on short bursts of Haiton to keep the enemy on their toes. However, due to her speed and agility, opponents are hard pressed to catch her unless they are on par or better, allowing her to land more hits before her defence is broken through.
Tessenjutsu: 10/10 – Probably the only close-combat weapon she has a prodigious skill in, to her immense irritation. If hard-pressed, she can wield a blade or staff, but anyone who knows more than the basics can easily beat her, therefore, the only hand-held weapon she keeps on her are her dual tessen.

WEAKNESSES
Physical Weaknesses:
Genjutsu: 3/10 – She can recognise and break illusions, but anything above C-rank takes a lot longer. In addition, she doesn’t have an active enough imagination for a successful B-rank as enemies would know right off the bat that it is a genjutsu, so she doesn’t use anything over a C-rank.
Long-range combat: She mostly specialises in medium to short range combat and doesn’t really do stealthy. She can be silent if she wants to, but more often than not, she fails to suppress her chakra to avoid detection, so she doesn’t bother anymore. Her lack of long-range techniques make her unable to engage anyone who specialises in that area as it will be more difficult for her to close the distance. But when she does, then the difficult part is over.

MENTAL CHARACTERISTICS
LIKES: Reading fiction texts, engaging in clan business, people with guts and brains
DISLIKES: Traitors, those who see the world in black and white, commiting the same mistake twice
FEARS:
1)Death by torture
2) Being severely crippled, enough to be forced into early retirement
3) Commit an act bad enough or make a bad decision resulting in multiple, evitable deaths of her fellow Konoha shinobi

STRENGTHS:
Mental Strengths:
1) Able to think on her feet in the heat of battle
2) Works hard to eliminate personal flaws as best she can. Even as Clan Head and jounin, she firmly believes that there’s still things to learn and skills to polish every day. No one’s perfect, after all.
5) Has patience in spades

WEAKNESSES:
Mental Weaknesses:
1) Blunt, straightforward in speech and mannerism.
2) Awkwardness in expressing her feelings aloud: Having been made to grow up fast and with a lack of people to hold normal conversations with, Yoruichi has grown accustomed to keeping her feelings to herself and speak in a distant manner, even to her brother. When she tries to give heartfelt compliments, she becomes tongue-tied and awkward. This has resulted in a strained relationship between Tenma and herself as he believed she sees him as nothing more than another Clan member, but whenever she tries to convince him otherwise, the conversation turned strained. The same applies to her shinobi friends. Although she accepts their invitations to hang out now and then, she is not the greatest conversationalist when it comes to small talks.
3) Has a tendency to over-estimate her opponents and under-estimate herself. This doesn’t usually happen, but when faced with someone she knows outclass her (like an S-Class), she tends to second-guess her actions.

PERSONALITY
As someone who gave up everything that means to be a woman in order to protect her Clan during the later period of the War and their wellbeing after, Yoruichi is dead serious at all times, even when making dark jokes or finding herself in a comedic situation. She is usually not very talkative when it comes to small talk and counteracts all kinds of provocations and threats with a relentless offensive physical reaction, especially when it is directed towards family and friends. Any jokes, threats or insults directed to her would be met with a deadpanned stare and dry replies. As a consequence of that character trait, she doesn't hesitate for a moment to give someone a knock on the head with her kiseru, or throw senbon in their direction if the perpetrator is an ally.

Yoruichi generally portrays a very tough and ruthless front, believing that showing otherwise in public would result in being taken advantage of. And since she is the Head and thus, representative, of the Clan, her actions will affect those of her people. If she wants other shinobi to respect and trust the Haigara Clan, she cannot show weakness or signs of turning against the Hokage. The only ones who know about and have seen the caring, compassionate woman beneath are her clan and team members. Beyond her harsh and naggy exterior, however, she is kind at heart despite multiple attempts to smother it. When she stumbles into a situation where a comrade needs her help she doesn't hesitate to give it, though her facial expression rarely changes even then, giving no indication of her thoughts or motives. Like most Konoha shinobi, she prizes teamwork highly, having experienced beforehand multiple times what tremendous results having good teammates yield.

Having been groomed from a young age to take over her father’s position, Yoruichi grew to be rather intellectual after years of intensive study of clan politics, history, leadership and finance. This led her to become rather refine in speech, choosing her words with care and speaks in a formal tone towards friends and family alike, whether she is complimenting or criticizing them. She carries herself upright, her bearing regal. Every movement seem effortlessly graceful and her steps are light and silent, akin to a feline’s. The typical aura she gives off is hard and no-nonsense. Although the Head of a Clan with a Kekkei Genkai and prone to be treated with respect and faced with status privilege, she sees herself as just another shinobi within the Clan. Sure, she is their de-facto leader, but she is also a kunoichi and she wasn’t about to hide behind others. If they were to go into battle, she would be at the lead. Her status as Head also results in her being rather hard on herself, often wondering in the dead of the night “what if”? Could she have done things differently? Would things have turned for the better if she took the alternative? Nonetheless, in spite of her self-doubts, she stands fast by her decisions, believing it is the best she could have made, and if she proved to be wrong, she would shoulder the consequences without fuss and try to make the most of the situation.

She respects good leaders and admires those with courage to stand by their beliefs, no matter if the world is against them. Like many shinobi, Yoruichi views the world not in black and white, but varying shades of grey. She doesn’t believe in true good or evil, only the nature of the person’s motivations behind their actions, and the consequences of their actions. As a result, right and wrong only exist in context to their actions. One can’t be labelled wrong if they were ordered to kill a friend, after all. That was loyalty to their Kage. Execute the guy if you wish, but he cannot be called ‘bad’. A woman of simple tastes, Yoruichi likes to read fiction of any genre in order to wind down or take her mind off matters for a while. She absolutely abhors traitors and betrayal, and doesn’t take kindly to people who commits the same mistake twice, including herself.

A different side of Yoruichi can be seen when she comes in contact with alcoholic substances. She has a very low alcohol tolerance, needing only a small amount of strong sake to get drunk. While drunk, she tends to display an extremely giggly nature, laughing at every little thing but not talking in coherent sentences. However, after resting, she weirdly shows no visible signs of a hangover even if she doesn't remember her actions before blacking out.

Fighting Style: She prefers to make the first move, usually by combining a wide array of low-chakra cost Haiton and Doton to disorientate her opponent(s) before they can get close. If they manage to escape that barrage, then she will engage them in close-quarter combat with her pair of tessen and Futon and/or Haiton. Her taijutsu is incorporated in her tessenjutsu.

SHINOBI CHARACTERISTICS
Rank: Jounin/Clan head
AFFILIATION: Konohagakure Shinobi
ACADEMY GRADUATION AGE: 7
CHUUNIN PROMOTION AGE: 10
JOUNIN PROMOTION AGE: 12
SENSEI: Nara Shikamaru

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CHAKRA POOL (How much chakra do you have, 1 - 10, 1 like Rock Lee, 10 like Naruto.): 7/10
CHAKRA CONTROL (How much control do you have on your chakra?.): 10/10
CHAKRA NATURE: Futon (Wind), Doton(Earth), Yin
KEKKEI GENKAI:
Haiton, or Ash Release gives the individual the ability to infused earth or sand with the user’s chakra, turning it into ash for wielding. The amount and range of the created ash depends on the individual’s chakra reserve and control over it, as every minute of maintaining the ash will sap chakra. The maximum range of this ash ever recorded is as far as the person’s eyes can see, for manipulating it requires the user to be able to see where they are sending it. Of course, if one’s sense for chakra is incredible, one would be able to manipulate the ash as far as they can sense. Perfect mastery means it takes her only a second to convert earth/dust/sand into ash and she can manipulate it fast and easily. She can also infuse her other affinities with the ash. Unfortunately for her, she is no sensor, meaning her max range is limited by her vision.
Kekkei Genkai related weakness: When her ash is infused with doton/futon nature or both, the ash is become weak towards ration/katon.
WEAPONS: Dual tessen, senbon, kunai, kiseru (sometimes)
CUSTOM JUTSU:
Haiton: Tsunomuchi (Spiked whip: C-rank) – Ash coils around the individuals’ hands and fingers in the form of spiked whips. It can lash out at the opponent during intervals in close-combat and can coil around the individuals’ hands to form a protective spiked layer.

Haiton: Haikagura (Ash cloud: C-rank) – Creates a cloud of ash that spreads over an area (distance can be controlled), blocking the vision of anyone caught inside. If breathed in, it will build up and clog their throats and lungs, slowly suffocating them.

Haiton: Tatsumaki (Ash storm: A-rank) – Creates a huge hurricane of ash that can be split into two smaller ones. Infused with other affinities like futon, its attack power is much fiercer, with capabilities of tearing skin off flesh. Akin to a sandstorm, it blocks vision further than what’s right before you and makes breathing rather difficult. It is also capable of sweeping individuals up and tossing them around.

Haiton: Haihaka (Ash tomb: B-rank) – It is a slow technique in that it develops layer by layer. Ash flakes begin to stick on the target(s)’s skin, coating it in a thin layer and hardens. If the target fails to get the ash off before it hardens, it will stay attached to their skin until the jutsu stops, the user runs out of chakra or uses another Haiton technique. Once the first layer is on, the second layer forms and hardens, then the third, fourth, fifth, and so on. With every layer, the target’s movements becomes more and more encumbered (think being coated in layers of cement). If the target’s mouth and/or nose is covered by hardened ash, it might suffocate them. The jutsu targets one person at a time whenever it is used, but can be overlapped to a max of three times. While they can use this move consecutively thrice without ending the technique, usage of any other Haiton will break all three at the same time. (Adding Earth nature into this technique merely increases the density and hardness of the solidified ash).

Earth Barrier: Tidal Wave – B-rank: This is a one direction stone barrier the height of 3m made out of three adjacent walls that forms in front of its user and shoots forward in a tidal wave-like movement, crushing all in its path until the chakra behind its creation in depleted. It cannot change direction and will only head in the path its user aims it in. However, its width is changeable according to its user's desires, and the three parts can be separated to head in three different directions if so desired.

Earth Spikes – C-rank: The user unleashes a row of short, sharp earth spikes towards the enemy in a straight line. Depending on chakra input, range can be from 1m to 100m.

Rock Spears – C-rank: The user causes several rock spears to protrude from the ground to skewer the opponent. These spears will even pass through obstacles and lengthen themselves to reach their target.

Wind Blade Barrage – B-rank: Derived from the Lightning Cutter technique, this allows the user to create several small kunai or senbon size blades with the same long-ranged cutting effects to shoot towards the opponent. The range of its cut depends on the amount of chakra the user puts behind it, and each individual wind blade can vary even if they are all created at the same time. As a result, it is unpredicatble and difficult to evade. On the other hand, it requires a lot of concentration to pull the different cutting lengths off and thus, it is only used to fire off small amounts if engaged in close-combat. (Yoruichi’s tessen is made from chakra-conductive metal, meaning she can fire off jutsus using her weapons as a medium.)

Coil of Wind – C-rank: By swiping one or both tessen before her, it creates a strong gust of wind that will blast towards the opponent. By using both tessen and rotating her wrist in a semi-circle, the gust of wind becomes defensive instead of offensive. It creates a wind barrier around her that is able to deflect any projectiles unless it is infused with chakra (or one of the Seven Swords).

HISTORY
Before one look at Yoruichi’s past, one must also learn about her ancestors and how their decisions affected the future of their descendants at present. Haigara Fuzen, the Eleventh Head of the Haigara Clan, was always one for fighting against the stiff, unyielding and frankly restricting nature of Iwagakure’s system, both civilians and shinobi. He recognised that the continuous conscription of civilians with a lick of chakra and lack of traders would end up hurting the Village itself, not at all helped by the Tsuchikage’s nearly-obsessive need to one-up the other Major Villages, especially Konohagakure. Being one of the founding clans and thus a member of the Council, he had many a times tried to get his Leader to see reason, but have failed on all accounts. The last straw was the forced enlistment of Kekkei Genkai civilians, amongst them his cousin, someone with terrifyingly good grasp of genjutsu but was too sickly to keep up with others in the Academy, hence his life as a civilian. Needless to say, his cousin didn’t survive his first C-rank mission.

Absolutely livid by the blatant throwing away of lives, Fuzen decided to round up his Clan and leave Iwa. To do otherwise would be to break the Clan’s motto of “Family First”. The Clan’s leaving was not abrupt, but more gradual so by the time anyone realised what was going on, they were well on their way to Konoha. The deal Fuzen struck with the Hokage all those weeks back was more to the Sandaime’s favour, nevertheless, the Clan Head had no choice but to accept. He was rather desperate, after all, and his Clan was by no means a big one. They had only seventy-odd members in total, only one-third of which are active shinobi. The children and their mothers were the first to leave, and the last to depart was the jounin-level members. Three years of careful planning and execution, the Haigara Clan eventually settled in Konoha during the ten-year peace (post-Second War and pre-Third War), claiming the southern-most border as their territory. Of course, the shinobi of Konoha were wary of the former-Iwa Clan, especially one who wielded a Kekkei Genkai and were participants of the First and Second Shinobi War against Konoha. The members were met with distrust and alienation, but the Haigara persisted, determined to prove they had burned the bridge between the Clan and Iwa. It took a decade and countless successful missions before they were a grudgingly accepted presence. Of course, their participation in the Third Shinobi War bearing Konoha's hitai-ate helped their integration immensely. By the time the Fourth Shinobi War came around, they were proudly integrated into Konoha’s history. However, now another challenge emerged: the political battle between Clans within the Village. It wasn’t too crucial for Clans like the Haigara, who didn’t bother vying for more power than what they earned, but Council matters were another issue.

Born as the second heir in the early years of the Hachidaime’s reign, Yoruichi was a relatively bright child due to ignorance of the wider, realistic world of shinobi life. Her brother, Raizaku, who was six years her senior, took care of her whenever their parents left on missions that took them away from home for days on end. Having spent most of her early childhood around her older brother, it was not at all strange that she would look up to Raizaku as both a role model and her closest confidant. As soon as she reached her fourth birthday, clan tradition meant that she would begin her kunoichi training, starting from simple chakra control lessons and learning to wield Haiton, their clan’s Kekkei Genkai. Now ten years old and officially a genin, Raizaku was busier than before, but he never failed to find time in his schedule at least once or twice a week to help Yoruichi with her training. At this young age, Yoruichi already had a clear aim in life. To become a strong kunoichi, strong enough to stand by her brother’s side and assist him in any way as best she could when he took over their father’s position as Clan Head. Raizaku did not object, knowing that there would be no persuading her otherwise. Instead, he shared whatever little knowledge he had about being a better shinobi with her whenever he could, further deepening the bond of friendship, siblingship and understanding that connected them since her birth. On the days Raizaku left with his team on message runs and other tasks suited for lower ranked shinobi, Yoruichi trained herself to exhaustion, striving to improve faster in order to graduate from the Academy early and be of use.

A month and two days after her fifth birthday, Raiga and Yoruichi personally witnessed the arrival of their new baby brother. Father was not present, having been sent on a six-month long mission to Fire Country’s border outpost just weeks ago. Staying in the corner of the room as mother’s screams echoed around the compound, Yoruichi clutched her older brother’s clothes tightly in her fists, staring wide-eyed as the wrinkly, red baby was cleaned and wrapped in a clean strip of linen. Their younger brother was held firmly in the midwife’s clutches, and Yoruichi was thrown into confusion as the other two assistants began yelling. She could only watch, tucked into her brother’s side, as medics poured into the room and her mother’s face steadily lost colour. At the age of five, she did not truly understood that her mother was dying of blood loss. But her brain comprehended that no living person’s skin should be so white, eyes so glassy and body so still. She could feel Raizaku’s arms tighten around her as his own breath trembled and broke. What was meant to be a day of celebration turned into a day of mourning. For five months, the three siblings were found everywhere together. Yoruichi clinging onto Raizaku as the two did their best to take care of their unnamed younger brother while still grieving for their deceased mother. Their father came back one night in the sixth month to a dead wife, a grieving household, a nameless infant and two depressed children.

Slightly less than one year later, Yoruichi’s healing heart took another devastating blow. Raizaku’s chuunin team with their jounin leader was acting as a decoy for an important scroll to be directly delivered to the Hokage. Decoy scroll retrieved and on their way back to the Village, the enemy shinobi ambushed them, killing the entire unit, Raizaku included. None of their bodies were recovered. Instead, all their father got was a bloodstained hitai-ate and a letter of condolence, citing the important role Raizaku played in the successful retrieval of an A-rank package. The words were stilted, hollow and meaningless. Yoruichi didn’t cry even as a few tears slipped down her father’s cheeks. Mere waterworks couldn’t express the sorrow drowning her being. The next day, she demanded a meeting with the Elders in order to request their blessing to take Raizaku’s position as the heir. However, having a female as the Clan Head was unprecedented within the Haigara Clan, but Yoruichi was unmoveable in her resolve. As a compromise, she had to give up her ability to bear children, as her main responsibility had to be the well-being of her Clan, first and foremost. Her younger brother Tenma would be responsible for continuing the line instead.

Her father, driven by the fear of losing his only daughter and next heir, began training her harshly in the clan’s techniques, pushing her to the very edge when he discovered her aptitude for ninjutsu. While Raizaku was a genius, their father had always held his training back. He was but twelve years of age. In his eyes, his eldest son was not ready to delve further into the more complex and harder techniques. His hesitation most likely cost him his son’s life. No more. Yoruichi might be younger, a girl, and less talented, but he was not going to withhold anything from her. It would kill him if she were to die an evitable death. The result of his decision to impart everything to his daughter meant that training was often harsh and brutal, leaving her bloody and bruised at the end, but she gritted her teeth and endured. Raizaku died for the Village, and he desired to become not just any old Clan Head. He had big dreams of removing the patriarchal view of the Clan and to allow the integration of civilian or shinobi with no bloodlines as potential spouse rather than arrange marriage between other Clan shinobi. Now with him gone, she took it all upon herself. As her father was mostly absent except when it was time to train, she grew closer to the other clan members who took over looking after her and Tenma. Hence, the start of her unwavering devotion towards her clan.

At the age of 7, she graduated from the Academy and was put under the command of Nara Shikamaru, former Jounin Commander. With all Clan kids in the squad, Shikamaru-sensei was not hesitant in putting them through trial after trial, gauging their strengths and weaknesses and fixing their flaws. During this period of time and up til the present, the desperation for survival and the sheer amount of close calls throughout her experiences spurred her onwards in skill and abilities, earning her chuunin rank at eleven on the field for successfully covering a retreat. . It was this very skirmish between vindictive Iwa troops and Konoha’s forces that her father fell. The body could not be retrieved as they were too busy fighting for their lives and retreating. Young as she was, she acquired a name on the battlefield due to her constant usage of Haiton (Ash Release). Not big enough to make her known, but enough for her to be listed in Iwa’s Bingo Books as a relatively low-level threat.

As a team they grew closer, staying together from genin through to jounin. Unfortunately, due to her position as Clan Head, she was not able to follow her teammates into ANBU. Yoruichi was instigated as the Nineteenth Head of the Haigara Clan and the next four years were filled with clan politics, meetings with advisors and the Elders. At the age of 15, she eventually participated in the jounin test and passed.

Now, at the age of twenty-seven, there are talks – whispers – of the revival of an enemy long thought dead and gone. But memories of the devastation this enemy managed to bring upon Konoha have not faded entirely. Yoruichi knows this – have read texts on it – which is why even at peacetimes, she ordered the younger members of her Clan to continue using the wartime training regimen. It was both a matter of Clan pride and preparation for the future.

Killian Eugene Gavril (Auror/Charms Professor if in H.P universe, mage in other universes)
Genre: [Medieval/Medieval Fantasy/Modern fantasy]

Name: Killian Eugene Gavril

Age: 25-40

Gender: Male

Blood Status: Pureblood

Native Country: Ukraine, resides in Germany

Education:
· Age 11 - 17: Began study at Hogwarts and graduated with N.E.W.T.s in Herbology, Ancient Runes, DADA, Transfiguration and Charms

Occupation:
· Former Auror - retired from field work after a mission gone south which resulted in severe damage to his left arm, reducing range of movement and strength in that area
· Current Charms Professor

Personality: Killian is calm and controlled, with an even reassuring voice and solid stature. Unlike many pureblood wizards, he mastered the knack of dressing and acting like a muggle mostly due to his former position as an auror, a useful skill to have when hunting criminals in the muggle world. Killian has a reputation for being level-headed – sometimes too collected as if he was more machine than man – although his calm demeanour belies his quiet fury and explosive emotions. His temper is rarely witnessed as he grew older, gaining more control over his body than when he was a teenager.

Killian is also a good judge of character, and trusts known individuals regardless of age or status on the basis of his knowledge of their character and abilities. Of course, he has a fair amount of paranoia, and will distance himself from strangers, placing them under his scrutiny until he has a fair idea of their character. While he may listen to rumours, he tries not to believe them fully, acknowledging them with a dose of sceptism. An admirer of efficiency and quiet competence, he respects people who can do what they say, fulfil their promises and are as realistic as can be. Ambitious individuals, dreamers, optimists and romantics he does not mind, but he very much prefers down-to-earth folks with a good head on their shoulders. Less posturing and bragging that way, in his humble opinion.

The opposite of the pure-blood advocates, Killian believes in equality and fairness for all wizards and Muggles. 'You are what you are, and nothing you do can remake you entirely'. He believes magic and its wielders are there for a reason, as were the mundanes. Nature does not favour the existence of unwanted organisms. Everything has a place in the universe, even if they were to perish the very next day. There's potential in everything and everyone, it's just a matter of what one does with it, and how they use it. That is his belief, which he steadfastly stands by to the end of his days, especially now that he can air his opinion aloud without fear of retribution from his family and Voldemort's supporters. Of course, there are still many who do not believe he stands by his ideas, but that is the price one pays when from a Dark Family and survived the Second Wizarding War.

Appearance: A leanly muscled man standing at the height of 182cm weighing 80.6kg, Killian looks to be in his late-twenties. Weathered tanned skin, strong jawline, slightly crooked nose, firm lips, wavy shoulder-length coffee brown hair gives him an overall image of a refined pureblood, if one ignores the map of scars running down his left arm, over the wrist and palm. His eyes are a light violet, hard and piercing despite the obvious crows-feet at the corner of the eyes. He favours the muggle collared shirts and slacks, generally covered by the dark, open robes he has taken to wearing in his teaching days, as they provide maximum manoeuvrability and doesn't weigh down his injuries.

Strengths: Calm and collected, Killian will try his best to defuse the situation quickly and without casualties, be it through words or actions. He has experience in certain fields and thus is able (and willing, depending on the situation) to impart advise to those who are willing to listen and try.

Weaknesses: While he tries not to judge a person, his past experiences are a shadow hanging over him. There are times this influences his decisions, of which he is immensely bitter about. Of course, he also has the obvious physical ailments.

Family:
· Father - Yusoff Gavril - pureblood
· Mother - Julia Falkenhausten - pureblood
· Sister-in-law: Patricia Luwen - half-blood
· Older brother: Mikhail Gavril - pureblood
· Niece: Sasha Gavril - pureblood (considered)
· Nephew 1: Dmitri Gavril - pureblood (considered)
· Nephew 2: Jakob Gavril - pureblood (considered)

Background: Born in Kiev, Ukraine, during a brief visit back to their homeland, Killian was the second son of Julia and Yusoff Gavril, his older brother being six years his senior. As the 'spare' heir, Killian rarely shared the same space as his brother, the latter being educated and groomed to take over his father's position. It's not to say both brothers were strangers to each other, but they lacked the air of familial bonds between them. At best, they were friends. Left to his own devices most of the time, Killian took refuge in learning, in the knowledge available for him to pursue. His tutor was a fervent scholar in the area of Herbology and Ancient Runes, thus sparking the same interest in him.

At the age of eleven to seventeen, Killian immersed himself in the lively hustle that was Hogwarts, making a number of friends despite his serious disposition - and a number of enemies due to his Family's background. They teased, jabbed and hung out together, the small group slowly gaining members as the years progressed. It was during his seventh and final year that he eventually realised he had no firm goal in mind for his future. He didn't want to become an academic, cooped up in a lab or study all day long. Nor did he wish to be a Curse Breaker. It was during one of the many discussions with his friends that a few suggested the path of an Auror. He had some of the prerequisites, after all, and one could drop out at any point during the training years if it got too much.

And so at the age of 18, Killian found himself enlisting for Auror training and to his pleasure, found it something he enjoyed doing. His parents were none too happy with his decision, not seeing the point of risking his life to chase unknowns around the globe. He had refused to quit, and parted on bad terms with his mother. The pay was good, he had a purpose, and he could take on riskier missions without much fear or thought as he didn't really have anyone he desired to return to. It was around this time that Headmaster Dumbledore offered to integrate him into the Order of the Pheonix to help fight Voldemort. Two years later, Dumbledore died and the Battle of Hogwarts erupted. With Voldemort defeated and the Death Eaters dispersed, the Aurors were now tasked with hunting them down and bringing them to justice. Killian threw himself into his work.

As one could expect, this reckless behaviour was his downfall. What was meant to be an easy mission went south due to a combination of bad intel, set-ups, unknown parties, etc, and it was in his 27th years of life that his left arm was metaphorically put through the grinder and acquired some impressive scars all over his body. Viewing himself as a liability in the field now, he planned to hand in his resignation after the mandatory physical therapy to spend half a year locked away in his home, trying to come to terms with his new handicap. However, his plan was dashed when Headmistress McGonagall offered him the Charms position at Hogwarts. Not wanting to feel useless, he took the job, and have been for three years and counting.

Others:
· 13.5" Cypress wand with core of Thestral bone, slightly swishy
· Steller sea eagle pet & Patronus
· Animagus form: Elk

Nuallan Luthar (Captain of the Guard)
Genre: [Medieval/Medieval Fantasy]

General
Name: Nuallan Luthar
Age: 28-40
Gender: Male
Race: Human or half-demon (depends on genre/setting/etc)
Sexuality: Pansexual

Appearance
Height: 191.6cm
Weight: 88.2kg
Eyes: Dark sea green and narrowed due to a near permanent frown pinching his brows.
Hair: Sandy copper brown
Body Modifications: None
Distinguishing Marks: A ring of jagged blood-red ink around his neck in the image of thorny vines, courtesy of being nearly strangled to death by daemon hands.
Extra equipment: A claymore and daggers tucked into each boot

Abilities:
1) Improvised Weaponry
2) Hand-to-hand combat expert
3) Profound knowledge of daemons courtesy of making it through a portal in one piece
4) Mentally strong despite slight diminished physical ability thanks to the damn daemon mark

Personal
Personality:
Nuallan usually displays a harsh, prideful and stern demeanour, yet in actuality truly cares for those fighting alongside him, and is willing to do anything for the well-being of those he cares for. He takes pride in the fact that he is allowed to fight alongside others of such courage, taking an especial pride in his comrades - brothers-in arms and subordinates, and also holding a respect for opponents on the battlefield who carry honour and care for all their men. He can be quite compassionate and affectionate, yet does not allow himself to become too attached to any one man or woman due to his devotion to his duties as Captain.

He understands pain and hardship shared amongst soldiers, having trained on the same level as any regular warrior, and although he feels that he should understand his men to be a good leader, he becomes nervous over interacting with those who hold him in high regard off the battlefield. Nuallan also has a rather inspiring and honourable side, able to rally his soldiers in times of battle, and is capable of keeping his head calm in battle, while being incredibly brutal during combat. His philosophy is simple and rather warrior-like despite his intelligence, and can only be blamed on his heritage. He believes there is nothing better than to perish in glory upon a battlefield, which ultimately led to him being court-martialled.

However, Nuallan does at times show weakness. Although he prides himself in courage, combat skills and strength, he feels unconfident in his level of intelligence regarding negotiating and planning things other than battles for the good of others. For much of jis career, he had depended on others for advice and guidance in political skills. Yet, whenever he has a problem or issue of lower matter, he tends to not like admitting he has an issue and keeps it to himself, not wanting to seem weak by asking another for help in a matter unless it is during battle, and even then only if he feels it is necessary.

After the disastrous scheme in closing the daemon portal in the Town of Ebros, Nuallan's confidence in being able to keep his men alive and see them through another day has faltered greatly. Thirty soldiers he led in and only one survived: him. With a mark on his neck that is slowly killing him, reducing his combat effectiveness through random bouts of scorching agony, hometown destroyed, getting his friends killed and thrown into prison for disobeying a direct order from the Crown, the disgraced Captain has nothing to live for. Now he is simply a shadow of his former self, bitter, cynical and awaiting swift execution to put him out of his misery.

History: (can be tweaked)
TBA

Vildarr Pelidell (Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, Dovahkin)
Genre: [Medieval/Medieval Fantasy]

General
Name: Vildarr Pelidell
Age: 229
Gender: Male
Race: Altmer
Sexuality: Homosexual

Appearance
Height: 194cm
Weight: 79.3kg
Eyes: Heavy-lidded, grey-blue
Hair: Platinum blonde
Body Modifications: None
Equipment:
- A full set of BLACK CYRILLIC ARMOUR
- Enchanted Elven bow [soul trap and paralysis for 2 secs upon strike] and elven arrows (a quiver full on his back and a bunch in his backpack)
- Dual enchanted elven daggers (one fire damage, one lightning damage)

Abilities:
Primary Skill: Archery, Dragon shouts
Secondary Skills: Destruction, Sneak, Illusion
Adept Level Skills: Conjuration, One-handed, Alchemy

Personal
Personality:
Vildarr always has a half-smile on his face and seemingly indifferent to everything that is happening around him. In actual fact, it is him suppressing his visible emotions to make him more difficult to read in combat or to be detected when sneaking up on his targets. He is mild-mannered and polite - although his tone has a general mocking lilt to it - greeting friend and foe alike the same way, who rarely loses his calm, even when surprised, angered or terrified out of his wits. Vildarr is extremely devoted to his Dark Brotherhood Family, seeing them as precious as there is only a handful of them left. He is confident in his better skills, is also an adaptive thinker and knows how to analyse a situation quickly to determine the best possible action to take. Of course, he is not infallible but over the years, his Altmer arrogance has mellowed, allowing him to consider routes his fellow Altmers would never stoop to.

History: (can be tweaked depending on plot, etc)
Born in the last few years of the Third Era, his parents were killed when he was two while fleeing the flood of Deadra that entered Summerset Isle. They managed to place him in the care of their kinsmen at the Crystal Tower before dying, and there he stayed with several other younglings, hiding in the deepest chambers of the Tower when the Deadra swarmed the Altmer's last stronghold. However, he has no recollection of their faces and names.

Vildarr grew up in the early stages of the Fourth Era as an orphan in the care of a small group of Altmer veterans who were present at the Last Stand of the Crystal Tower, listening to his caretakers' stories and ideas about unifying the lands. It is no wonder he decided to join the Aldmeri Dominion when it was recreated in Fourth Era 29.

In Fourth Era 171, when the Great War was waged between the armies of the Aldmeri Dominion and the Imperials, Vildarr participated in the invasion of Cyrodill more, specifically, Western Cyrodill. Under Lord Arannelya's command, the portion of the army that crossed Western Cyrodill took Avil and Kvatch before crossing the border into Hammerfall and invading the Redguard's homeland. When the Imperial city was retaken by the Cyrodillic-Skyrim armies, the Dominion and the Imperials agreed to a ceasefire and thus the White-Gold Concordat was formed. At this time, Vildarr had already participated in numerous battles and seen the Aldmeri Lords' increasingly fanatic beliefs that the Altmeri were superior. Having experienced the world outside Summerset Isle, Vildarr became rather disillusioned with the ideas of the Dominion, especially when he witnessed worshippers of Talos - men, women, children and elderlies alike - being mercilessly cut down.

A decade after accepting the position of Thalmor Justicar and being stationed in Skyrim, Vildarr made a decision to quit the Dominion. While he was no stranger to death and bloodshed, he didn't care for senseless killings of children and those who couldn't fight back. Hence, when the opportunity came, he freed the prisoners that were locked up in the Dominion Headquarters and faked his death during the outbreak, making the other Thalmor think that he was killed in the scuffle. Now free, he travelled over Skyrim for several years, making profits by doing odd jobs and contracts. He bumped into a rather insane but amusing joker by the name of Cicero one day, helping him free the carriage and following him to his destination. That was the start of Vildarr joining the Dark Brotherhood.

After completing a job in Riften - before he took on the position as Listener, a blood Dragon attacked the city of Dawnstar. Assassin or no, one couldn't run when the Dragon itself made one's stead a target. Between the efforts of the guards and himself, they managed to bring the Dragon down. That was when things got strange. Although he didn't know what it was at the time, he absorbed his first Dragon soul. The event sent him diving back into the shadows for a year, digging through any archives the Brotherhood could get their hands on and discovering he was apparently a Dragonborn. Meeting the Greybeards in High Hrothgar set him on a journey of no return which will eventually lead him to confronting Alduin, and the final battle will then decide who lived or died.

Name: Guiren Liam Li (usually goes by Liam)
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Appearance: Jet black, straight hair that is left to hang below his shoulder in an uneven cut, Liam's dark hazel eyes are almost always hidden behind a curtain of long, uneven fringe. Apparently, he has his father's nose, thin lips and sharp chin. His slender frame, oval face and eyes are all his mother's. When he isn't hunched over a book or a computer, he stands at the height of 177cm, weighing 69kg. Since he typically wears long pants and hoodie over his shirt, his skin is rather pale beneath his clothes, contrasting sharply with his dark hair.
Attire: When he is not in school, he favours short-sleeve T-shirts, jeans and comfortable sneakers. Typically, he also wears a black or grey thigh-length jacket, unzipped, over his top.

Arcana: Hanged Man
Weapon: A double-bladed glaive measuring 1.5m in length, from one tip to the other.

Personality: Blunt and frank with his words, his polite and formal way of talking usually offsets the impact they make. He doesn't believe in sugar-coating his words, preferring to tell facts as they appear. Liam's sense of humour typically revolves around sarcasm and despite his quiet air of confidence, is actually prone to indulging in self-blame should something go wrong. He can spend hours analysing past situation and listing what he could have done better.

Liam has patience in spades, partly through nature and nurture. He is able to calmly await outcomes and don't mind sitting through long conversations, one-sided or otherwise. As a side-effect, he is not easily agitated no matter the circumstances. One had to be extremely patient when dealing with three younger siblings and a good handle on their self-control in order not to strangle them, after all. As the eldest son, it has been pounded into his brain that he is responsible for his younger siblings, especially with his father absent. Hence, he doesn't really bother taking care of his health (mental or physical), only enough to ensure he can function at what he deems his peak condition.

His loyalty, once given, is unquestionable and unwavering. Nothing can and will break it. Unfortunately, his trust and loyalty are very difficult to gain. To date, the only one who holds his irrefutable loyalty is his family and a couple of friends who have stuck with him since childhood. While Liam might not be one of the most intelligent person out there, he makes up for it by viewing the world through logic. Well, he is more one-part heart and four-parts logic. If it doesn't concern his friends or family, he sticks to cold, hard facts. But when those he cares for is involved in an unfavourable situation, he becomes easily agitated and reckless.

Determination is in his blood. He is one to persevere even if everyone says it's impossible. Once he sets his sight on a goal or his mind on a decision, it is extremely difficult to dissuade him. He will give his all - and then more - just to accomplish his objective and receive that sense of satisfaction from doing so. Liam doesn't like to be told to give up, and would even willingly risk his life to achieve what he wants.

Backstory: Born in London, United Kingdom, to a Chinese father and a Korean mother, Liam lived a normal, peaceful life for the first five years of his life. His father was a businessman, a relatively well-off one even if he managed only the branch businesses of his own father's empire. Liam's mother was a high school teacher who decided not to continue teaching the moment she was pregnant with her first child. She wanted to be there when her child grew up, and since his younger brother was born when he turned five, followed by a twin brother and sister two years later, she simply became a housewife. Liam's father had always been the breadwinner, anyway, so it was no loss.

Brought up under strict, traditional parents, Liam readily accepted the role as the eldest son, fully experiencing the brunt of such responsibilities when he turned nine. One night, his father failed to return home. It turned out he was involved in a car accident due to the other party being distracted while driving, resulting in a head-on collision. With his father gone, his mother had to take up work again, leaving two infants and a toddler in the care of her eldest. From a young age, he became rather proficient in balancing school and household chores, sharing his mother's burden of keeping the family going.

When he turned thirteen, Liam's grandfather finally got in contact with them, looking to persuade Liam to leave Australia and return to China, where he would be groomed to take over the family business. Take over the position his father would have held had he not passed unexpectedly. Torn between obeying the official head of the family and staying with his mother and siblings, he managed to come to a compromise with his grandfather. Only after he graduates from university would he go back, but it had to be with the whole family.

A year later marked Liam's first time experiencing the Dark Hour. He was on his way home from a friend's house one night when suddenly, the sky and surrounding buildings turned green and random puddles appeared on the streets. The atmosphere turned heavy, temperature dropping sharply a few degrees, causing the hair on his body to stand on end. Freaked by this sudden, strange change, he sprinted all the way back home, afraid to linger longer outside. He didn't meet any members of his family as he ran to his room, something he didn't question during that time. In the safety of his home, he burrowed into his bed, convincing himself he was hallucinating due to extreme exhaustion. Everything was fine when he woke up, so Liam pushed that incident to the back of his mind, forcefully forgetting about it. Now and again he experienced the strange phenomenon, but each time he was at home, telling himself it was all imagination.

Those once in a blue moon occurrence eventually stopped, and Liam thought he could return to living like he didn't experience strange things for a few years, that nothing was ever wrong with him. Then 2010 can about and a strange symptom dubbed the "P3" hit UK's capital. At first, it wasn't a large issue, but when children after children fell victim day after day, panic began to settle. Liam was no exception. Being seventeen, he would be fine, so would his nearly thirteen-year-old younger brother. But the twins weren't. And much to his despair, his sister failed to stir from sleep one morning. With no cure found and nothing he can do, he decided to seek help from his grandfather, who had a pharmaceutical company under his name. The conditions his grandfather put forth was harsher this time with no room for negotiations, but with his youngest brother and sister's life on the line, he can't refuse.

Theme Song: "Shadow of the Day" - Linkin Park

Name: Bayard
Gender: Male

Appearance: In his true form, Bayard is a heterochromatic black and tan hound that stands at 63cm in height. There are two vertical scars running down the left side of his face, starting from the forehead, running over his eyelids and down the side of his face, coming to a stop above his neck. On the right side of his face, another jagged scar runs nearly horizontally over his neck, as if someone had tried beheading him.
In his human form, he possesses a slender physique, standing at 168cm tall. Shaggy black and brown hair, he retains his scars and heterochromatic eyes. His attire consists of a black, high-collared, long sleeve shirt, black slacks, brown boots and brown fingerless gloves.

Arcana: The Moon

Power: Like the other Awakened Shadows, he can transform into a human form. His other ability, Chameleon, is limited to nighttime when the moon is out, and directly tied to how much moonlight there is. He is able to bend the moonlight to hide himself by blending into his surroundings. Of course, the brighter the moon, the more thoroughly he blends in.

Weapons: A katar dagger.

Personality: Bayard's personality is an ambiguous one: For the most part, he comes off as a sweet, docile, and sometimes shy youth when around people, whether they be friends, acquaintances or strangers. He usually shies away from attention, preferring to observe instead of being observed. Polite speech, courteous manners and quiet voice all contribute to people taking less notice of him, and lessens the chances of him making any impactful impression. As he gives off an honest and simple vibe, people tend to lower their guards around him, allowing themselves to be easily manipulated by him. As such, Bayard's role lies in being a spy and scout, leading people astray or gathering information.

However, his seemingly docile demeanour masks his darker side, which is that of a cold, ruthless, and calculating individual who has little problem in using others for his ends, which is ensuring his survival. He will resort to cruel and mostly violent methods if he truly feels threatened. He knows what he is - simply a being of congealed negative emotions - and he fears disappearing. Death is an absolution, one he doesn't mind. It is the thought of his physical body gone but his consciousness remaining that terrifies him. He doesn't like being a Shadow, constantly worried that he might vanish without a trace, but he can't become human either. Beneath all the violent and ruthless tendency lies self-disgust, paranoia and a need to prove that he can do something, even if it's working towards a goal he didn't care a whit about.

Theme song: "Flaws" - Bastille

NAME: Venyamin (Surname is Strois, but guild members of the Bounty Hunter Guild are strongly discouraged to keep their surnames)
HAIR COLOR: Light sandy brown
EYE COLOR: Slate grey
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: A pair of black metal framed, lightly tinted, square glasses covering his eyes, a small silver stud earring in his right ear and a black tattoo of a small scorpion on his left collarbone. Venyamin, standing at the height of 180cm, is relatively tall and slender with lithe muscles and tanned skin. He wears his straight, dusty brown hair short, the ends reaching just past his shoulder blades. His eyes are heavy-lidded, giving him an apathetic but intense look (mostly hidden behind his glasses), both of which are very much part of his personality. Ven is usually seen in a dark blue double-breasted military-esque uniform with poison green accents left unbuttoned, allowing the white dress shirt beneath to be seen, and black boots on his feet. The sleeves of his jacket are always rolled up to his upper forearms and he wears white gloves on his hands. A high-collared cloak completes his outfit, and he is never seen without his trusty rifle.

SCARS AND BIRTHMARKS: Ven has a scar above his right kidney, the entry and exit wound courtesy of his mentor when he was fifteen. He also has gun callouses on both palms as well as little barely-visible scars from accidents or mishandlings of gun repair when he was still green.

DESCRIBE A STRANGER'S FIRST IMPRESSION UPON MEETING THEM: At first glance, one would mistake Venyamin for a palace guard due to his attire. However, on closer inspection, the colours on his coat as well as his well-used clockwork rifle with the guild's scorpion emblem is telling.
The first impression one will have of Venyamin is a lazy, carefree guy, reinforced by his relaxed gait and slight slouch. Most of the time he is indifferent to situations around him and seemingly content on going with the flow, often making random trips to nearby Towns in order to pass time and gather information if there is anything interesting happening in the area whenever he is not thinking about making some cash or fulfilling guild commitments through hunting. He is extremely loyal towards those who has earned his trust, respect and friendship. He is also quite inquisitive and if something catches his interest, he will obsess over it until he has solved the puzzle (so to speak). Ven sometimes develops a liking for those that can stand their ground against him and/or prove a challenge (mentally, physically or otherwise), which he shows by bestowing upon them a nickname he creates on the spot. Despite his typical portrayal of being a lackluster person when off the job, his fellow bounty hunters or anyone who has spent some time with him know full-well he can be serious, and what can keep him motivated and focused.
Venyamin is extremely practical and thus, that makes him rather blunt with his speech and actions. While he can censor the words coming out if the situation calls for diplomacy, most of the time he doesn’t see the need to. This tendency of being very frank has its ups and downs. Some might appreciate his non-sugar coated words while others might be offended. Due to the nature of his job, his sense of justice might be different from the average person, but that does not mean he doesn't have a set of principles to live by, and would stand by his beliefs no matter what it cost him.

WHO ARE THEIR FRIENDS AND FAMILY? WHAT SORT OF PEOPLE DO THEY SURROUND THEMSELVES WITH?
For most of his twenty-four years of life, Venyamin treats his close friends like family, as his flesh-and-blood parents perished as a result of double-crossing merchants and his only living grandfather passed when Ven was four. Growing up in the orphanage bagged him quite a few friends due to his easy-going nature, but his bluntness whittled that group down to a bare handful. Some drifted apart after they were adopted, others became more focused on their respective careers when they became old enough. Eventually, Ven was left with only one other same-age friend from the orphanage by the name of Irwin who stuck with him through all five years. Although Irwin's personality is the total opposite of Ven's and the latter often finds himself in all sorts of situation thanks to his energetic friend, the two boys were joined at the hips. Slowly, that circle of one best-friend-slash-brother expanded when the two were semi-coerced into joining the bounty hunter guild at the age of eleven. Ven found a father-figure in his gruff, reluctant mentor Tristan and good friends with a bunch of eccentrics within the guild. Between the guildmates that he deems close friends, each of them have a fondness for messing with people by communicating half in spoken words and half in sign, deriving amusement from the lost or confuse expressions of strangers. As a general rule of thumb, Venyamin doesn't give a damn what sort of being or morally-skewed person you are (unless you are a mindless murderer or the like, of course). As long as you have a sense of loyalty to those you keep close to your heart and will not betray them, he is cool with you. Needless to say, his acquaintances are a mixed bag, guildmates or not.

WHERE WERE THEY BORN? WHERE HAVE THEY LIVED SINCE THEN? WHERE IS HOME?
Venyamin was born in Fir, the capital of Maple, one of the four islands that makes up the Isle of Cancer. Shaped like an isosceles triangle, the largest island Cedar occupies the centre area and is surrounded by Birch to the north, Oak to the East and Maple to the West. Cedar is connected to birch, Oak and Maple via bridges whereas the smaller islands at the edge are not connected to each other. One can travel over by ship or take the inner roads to Cedar before heading to their desired destination.
As the Isle of Cancer functions as one unit rather than four separate little nations, Venyamin views the Isle as his birthplace rather than Maple. Perhaps this line of thought was strengthened through being able to travel freely around all four islands and familiarising himself with them due to his job as a bounty hunter. However, while trade flows smoothly within the Isle without restrictions, the same can't be said for technology. Cedar is the most advanced island in terms of technology, relying on clockwork operated machines to run its capital and other smaller cities. The other three islands rarely see and use machines larger than an elevator.
Although he spent the first ten years of his life in Maple, his true home is the guildhall in Cedar. There is where he can kick back and truly relax, knowing he is always welcomed.

WHERE DO THEY GO WHEN THEY'RE ANGRY?
Where he goes depends on the scale of his anger. If he is merely mildly angry enough to act, he will retreat to the guild's trainning hall to take his emotions out on the targets at the shooting range. If truly enraged, he will leave the guildhall and head towards the south of Cedar, where the cliff lies. There, he will sit and enjoy the view until he calms down enough or thinks things through.

WHAT IS THEIR BIGGEST FEAR? WHO HAVE THEY TOLD ABOUT IT? WHO WOULD THEY NEVER TELL?
Venyamin's biggest fear is torture, steaming from stories and accounts he heard from his fellow members. As a gunslinger, he acts as support when in a group and long-range marksman when alone. Hence, unlike Irwin, he has lower pain tolerance and as such fears the possibility of being captured and tortured for information rather than being killed outright. The only person he told this to is his mentor Tristan, who has thought about subjecting Ven to torture training. However, that has yet to come to pass.
His second fear is large automatons after a botched job that resulted in his team and him nearly being crushed.

DO THEY HAVE A SECRET?
Venyamin has a secret. One that pertains to the death of his parents. It's nothing big, just that he takes it upon himself to hunt down the main members of the merchant organisation that double-crossed them and find out why they had his parents killed in the first place.

WHAT MAKES THEM LAUGH OUT LOUD?
Really funny jokes/stories. Strangers making a fool of themselves.

HAVE THEY EVER BEEN IN LOVE?
No, he has never been in love. Although he did have a crush a few years back. Pity the person's dead now.

DESCRIBE THE THINGS THAT WOULD BE HARD FOR THEM TO PART WITH.
Friends, home, job. These are what he views to be his purpose in life and is loathe to part with any of them.
His rifle is his most prized material possession, given to him by Guild Master Riften, crafted by his mentor and self-modified, it has been serving him for a good eight years now.

LOOK DOWN AT THEIR FEET. DESCRIBE WHAT YOU SEE.
Well, his legs are clothed in black trousers, for one, with laced, black leather boots that reach mid-shin covering his feet. The state of his shoes is not pristine despite being well-cared for. Although polished, various scuffs and marks riddle its surface. Dark jarrah wood makes up the floor beneath his feet, the planks fitting so well together it looks as though it is one giant piece. The flickering candlelight from the lamp on his desk cast wavering shadows around the room, offset by the sliver of moonlight seeping through the closed window and half-drawn curtains. To his immediate right is the lighter cherry wood bedframe, slightly scratched and dulled with age. If one squints, two deep rents can be seen on the bottom left corner where an Enfield sharpened its talons on the poor furniture. Thank the Gods Prima took that mischievous little creature back with her. His room would have been reduced to splinters by the end of the week.

WHEN THEY THINK OF THEIR CHILDHOOD KITCHEN, WHAT SMELL DO THEY ASSOCIATE WITH IT? WHY DOES IT RESONATE?
Baked beans and burning wood. The orphanage, while reasonably well-off, has to take care of about thirty kids and a handful of staff. Maintaning the house required money, buying the children clothes and other necessities cost a fair bit. Not to mention how much food is consumed at every meal. Hence, baked beans was something that is served at every meal as it is filling and cheap. Easy to cook over the fire, too.

DESCRIBE ONE STRONG MEMORY THAT HAS STUCK WITH THEM FROM CHILDHOOD.
One of his fondest and strongest memory would be Venyamin's first meeting with Irwin. Ven had been reading in the corner of the orphanage's small library, happily lost in another world weaved by words and all the exciting adventure Mr. Snowman was experiencing when the candlelight suddenly disappeared and he couldn't make out the words on the page. A little annoyed at the unwanted disturbance - it was during the climax too! - Ven glared peevishly at the culprit who sent the lamp flying off the table. He had barely registered the other boy's features when two hands clamped tightly over his mouth and a body shoved him right into the corner, squishing the air out of his lungs. Ven's annoyed mumble was cut short by the shrieks coming from downstairs. He blinked, recognising the chorus of voices to be Matron Yule and Brenn. Amongst the intelligible cries, Ven could make out the matrons cursing someone named Irwin to hell and back. The hands over his mouth retracted and the other boy giggled softly. Apologising for ruining Ven's peace, he introduced himself as Irwin, proudly tagging on the title of "Resident Prankster" at the end. As Ven merely shrugged away the apology and didn't blow up at Irwin, the prankster took it as a sign of budding friendship, prompting him to start seeking Ven out.

WHAT DO THEY WANT MOST OF ALL?
First and foremost, that he would always be welcomed home. Second...his inquisitive little mind has always wondered what other sorts of mysteries await discovery in the cast world beyond. He would like to discover such things himself at least once in his life, maybe while on a job, on vacation, or after he retired.

RIGHT NOW, IN THE FIRST MOMENT OF OUR STORY, WHAT IS THEIR BIGGEST PROBLEM?
Stranded...on an island that was no more than a jagged piece of rock smack dab in the middle of the ocean. Did they really just left him here after taking his transport fee?! Those damn money-grubbing worms! Why, he ought to pepper the side of that ship with holes and laugh as it sinks into the watery depths. But he wouldn't because if anyone discovered his involvement, compensation will come from his paycheck. Idly, he glanced around. There's a grand total of two palm trees shading him from the unforgiving afternoon sun and a smattering of weeds and grass. Great. With only a half-full water skin at his waist, Ven will need to survive for who-knows-how-long before another ship might come his way.

Name: Belze, of House Mygalomorphae

Age: 31

Appearance:



Classification
Arachne/Jorogumo
These long-living, half-human-looking half-spider race is made up of females only, for they reproduce with unsuspecting males of other species before either killing them off or keeping them in a state of comatose, wrapped in a cocoon of webbing for further use. Most Arachnes have long lifespans. Arachnes are split into various Houses, categorised by habitat/environmental nature and led by the Brood Mother, with a handful of Brood Elders as second-in-command. The Brood Mother is usually followed by two Brood Guards, sometimes more, depending on the size of the House. Each House has their own territory, but it is not uncommon for neighbouring Houses to descend into conflict over territorial disputes, or simply being the case of one House targetting a weaker one. Arachnes share a Brood mentality, where the Brood Mother is the supreme leader, and the most important member of them all. By nature, they are ruthless towards enemies, indifferent towards those they deem neutral and relaxed amongst confirmed allies. Each House has their own unique ability.

Those of the House of Mygalomorphae are a sneaky bunch even if some are rather big, and prefer to observe before striking.

Powers
1) All Arachne have supernatural durability due to their exoskeleton, and can stand both cold and heat (not to the extreme ranges, but higher/lower than most beings)
2) Their supernatural regenerative abilities only kick in when they suck the fluids out of a prey
3) Their sting induces paralysis. Of course, stronger beings require a larger dosage, and beings immune to poison are naturally immune to the Arachne's sting
4) They can shoot webs out the rear and from their claws
5) Arachnes can telepathically summon help from normal spiders under the same category as they are, in this case, the Mygalomorphae category (for example: trapdoor spiders, tarantulas, funnel spiders, etc)
- House Mygalomorphae's unique ability: Chameleon-like camouflage

Skills

Positives
- Like all spiders, she is an excellent weaver
- Extremely stealthy and agile despite her size
- Deadly at close combat
- Good at ambush and guerrilla tactics
- Extremely patient

Negatives
- Only one House of Arachnes is able to wield magic. Unfortunately, Mygalomorphaes is not the one.
- While she technically can wield a gun or the like for long-ranged combat, her multiple eyes does make it inconvenient and distracting, so she doesn't do long-ranged
- Overly-cautious and analytical
- Lightning is the one element she dreads facing
- When forced to engage in outright combat, she will keep fighting no matter the injuries she sustains until either she dies or her opponent does

Weapons or Artifacts: The only artifact she has is called "Brood Mother's Justice". It takes the form of claws which melded with her fingers and appears to be an original part of her. It has no magical properties other than being extremely durable and sharp. There are only three such artifact, and every Brood Guard of the House of Mygalomorphae bears it as a symbol of their status. Only in death does the artifact detach and is handed over to the new Guard.

Personality
Positives
- Extremely patient
- Able to think on her feet in the heat of battle. Cool under pressure
- Works hard to eliminate personal flaws as best she can. Even as a Brood Guard (and mainly because she is one), she firmly believes that there’re still things to learn and skills to polish every day. No one’s perfect, after all.

Negatives
- Overly-cautious and analytical
- Has a tendency to over-estimate her opponents and under-estimate herself. This doesn’t usually happen, but when faced with someone she knows outclass her, she tends to second-guess her actions.
- Has an explosive temper and will become reckless when the Brood Mother is threatened. (Doubly so now, as her new Brood Mother is rather young.)

Biography
Hatched from a small cluster of eggs spawned from a Mygalomorphae Arachne and a Manticore, Belze, although the runt of the clutch, was still blessed with a large form thanks to the male's genes. From the moment she could see and weave her own web at the age of six months, the female who gave birth to her - Fyre - took her clutch siblings and herself away from the nest and threw them out into the wide expanse of the Mygalomorphae's territory. Left to fend for themselves, they needed to survive until Fyre came for them again. How long that will be, they had no idea. But that was Arachne tradition. As Fyre was a warrior of the House, her offsprings would be set on the same path, and only those who had the ability to survive as a hatchling would be welcomed into the fold of fighters.

So for days Belze crawled through the territory, more often than not taking advantage of her camoflague ability to sneak away from danger than engage in a fight. She saw the gruesome end one of her siblings suffered by being too arrogant. Mygalomorphae's territory it may be, but that didn't mean the Arachnes chased away every other creatures. Because if they did, what will they eat? As she was now, even a hellhound pup would have no trouble ripping her in two. Less than a year old, Belze was only two feet tall.

Despite the various dangers, she survived by consuming smaller insects and animals until Fyre returned. The clutch of thirteen was now five. Proven that she has what it takes to be a warrior, she and her siblings were shoved to train with the veterans, learning to take advantage of their stealth to ambush and attack, to spin traps and use their multiple eyes effectively. For four whole years this went on, until they were deemed good enough to re-integrate into the House as full-fledged warriors. Before they could actually call themselves Warriors of the House, though, there was one last trial. To bring back the corpse of a creature on par or stronger than themselves. Belze caught within her traps a young witch and didn't hesitate to suck her dry.

From there on, Belze led the fairly exciting life of a warrior, patrolling the territory, training the hatchlings, participating in skirmishes against other Houses and fights between creatures looking to take over Mygalomorphae's territory. Of course, there were the occasional humans who hunted the supernatural, all of varying capabilities. She was lucky enough to survive each encounter. Perhaps it was due to this that she was picked as the next Brood Guard at the age of eighteen human years when one died. This also marked her first time seeing the revered Brood Mother face-to-face.

However, a decade later, tragedy befell the Mygalomorphaes. Skinwalkers launched an attack on her House in a bid to move into the Arachne's territory due to the barren state of their own. During the conflict, the Brood Mother was critically wounded when the Guards were swarmed. Victory for the House was bittersweet that day and went uncelebrated. The Brood Mother's heir was relatively young, and amongst the three appointed Guards, only Belze survived as the previous Mother's Guard. After failing to protect the previous Brood Mother, Belze took it upon herself to be the new Mother's shadow. Unfortunately, in the middle of the third year serving the new Mother, she fell victim to The Order.

At first, she tried resisting, taking advantage of the fact they didn't seem inclined to kill her just yet. However, what she least expected happened. The Knights of the Order managed to pinpoint the exact location of the Brood Mother's nest. Any further resistance from her would result in the death of her charge. Unable to see a way out, she caved. So it was in her thirty-first year that she was blackmailed into working for the Order in exchange of her House's continued exsistence.

Name: Duyi Killian Song

Age: 16

Appearance: Dark auburn, shaggy hair that is left to hang below his shoulder in an uneven cut, Killian's steel grey eyes are almost always hidden behind a curtain of long, uneven fringe. Apparently, he has his father's nose, mouth and sharp chin, his slender frame concealed beneath his standard uniform. At times when he is not in classes, he favours the muggle T-shirt and jeans. When he isn't hunched over a cauldron, he stands at the height of 177cm, weighing 69kg. Since he rarely exposed himself to sunlight, his skin is rather pale, contrasting sharply with his dark hair. At his left hip, looped through his belt, hangs his potion kit and emergency medical supplies. Strapped to his right wrist is the wand pouch.

School Year: Finished his 5th Year

House: Pukwudgie (Ilvernmony)

Short Bio:
Born in Shenzhen, China, Duyi was five years old when his parents died in a factory explosion, caused by a gas leak and an errant flame. As his aunt was in the middle of a case during that time and in an entirely different country halfway around the world, Child Services handed Duyi over to the local orphanage, where he got into scrapes and scuffles with some of the boys due to his lanky frame and shy demeanour. More often than not, he found himself in the medical bay, and was fascinated with the way bruises, sprains and even broken bones could be mended under the right care. Sister Li taught him the basics of first aid whenever both of them had spare time, and by the time his aunt discovered what happened to Duyi and his parents, the boy was able to name different ointments and their specific uses. A little over six months since his stay in the orphanage, Aunt Chelsea turned up and got custody of him. Which was just as well, because his first bout of accidental magic kept his aunt from crashing her car.

Thus, at the age of six, Duyi was thrust into a whole new world when both aunt and nephew moved into Chelsea's apartment in New Orleans. On top of adapting to a new environment and language, he learned that his aunt was a witch, himself a wizard and there were many more like him. It was during this period of transition that Duyi started using his unofficial English middle name of Killian. The following years was spent reading Chelsea's old texts and interrogating her over dinner about her school life in one Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, trying to learn all he could about this secret society he was now a part of. Imagine his delight upon discovering the many uses of potions and the Art of Healing readily available to be pursued in the Wizarding World. Between Chelsea's personal experiences and his textual knowledge, Killian entered Ilvermorny relatively knowledgeable, glad that he wasn't floundering about like a few other still-adapting muggleborns.

In his third year, a friend of his one year above introduced him to duelling, a sport he eventually took a liking to after finding his feet, and a role he could play well within the team. As he grew older and became more confident in both his potions and spell-weaving skills, Killian became bold enough to conduct his own experiments during his spare time. Although he has yet to discover something ground-breaking, he is not discouraged by that little fact. After all, he planned to pursue the path of a Healer after graduation.

Imagine his surprise when he received a letter of invitation from Hogwarts for a school trip to Egypt, a privilege the Headmaster of Ilvernmony extended to high achievers in their fifth, sixth and seventh years. Killian accepted it without a second thought. It would be foolish of him to forego a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, after all.

Personality:
Killian has many different aspects to his personality. He is often serious, typically trying to appear bland and unassuming, with his average looks and proper uniform that allows him to fade into the sea of students and mild-mannered speech, enabling him to acquire information on unsuspecting people in the environment he shares. He is also practical, calmly facing hard truths and situations without descending into hysteria.

He is striving to be a great healer with the mastery of potions and relevant spells. For the greater good of his chosen craft, he will do his part without hesitation, whether it be experiments or using real-life situations to collect data. This, of course, makes him seem heartless and detached due to being extremely devoted to his craft to those who don't know him. His one redeeming characteristic is ensuring the important people in his life are and stay safe if he can help it. Opinions about him are varied: those who are outright disdainful of his callous approach to anyone he deems as enemies, those who admire him for his efficiency and care for his people, those who fear him by repute or experience and those who see a non-threatening healer who has no place or talent on the dueling floor, seeing as he is not the 'muscles' for the team.

Killian also has a humorous side, often displayed in the form of dry or sarcastic comments, especially when hanging around the few people he comes to like and/or trusts - magical or otherwise. He can be carefree when in a place he feels safe. He is relatively caring, treating his close friends as family, and protecting them at all costs. While he can be considerate of other's feelings, he typically keeps his words frank and gives his opinions bluntly.

Classes taken:
Art of Healing
Charms
Potions
Herbology
Study of Ancient Runes
Alchemy

Wand:
12" Alder wand with a core of White River Monster Spine

Hobbies
Sketching (anything from creatures to landscapes to objects he finds interesting)
Playing chess (Chinese, Western, shogi, it doesn't matter)
Playing badminton
Duelling (mostly team)

Extras:
- He has a rather single-minded focus, meaning someone has to be there to shake him out or prompt him to do something if he is absorbed in a particular task.
- He doesn't have an owl, instead, he has a runt of a red salamander for a pet.
- Even if Ilvernmony rules states that students have to leave their wands in school when they leave for holidays or the end of the school year, an exception was made for students attending this trip to Egypt.

Name: Taheton Alosaka (Previously Taheton Cliffe)
Alias: "Red Crow" (to other Native Americans)
Age: 30

Appearance: Taheton, standing at the height of 170cm and weighing 70kg, is of average height but gifted with a good, solid build, the product of intensive training in the use of dual hatchets and stamina-building exercises. Like most of the people from his tribe, his hair is solid dark brown, deep black in the dark and a lighter brown under sunlight. His long, wavy hair hangs freely save the various braids on the left, intertwined with two crow feathers, one red and one black, as well as tribal beads that symbolise his status as a veteran hunter and accomplished healer. His steel grey eyes are heavy-lidded, giving him an apathetic look, never ceasing in their darting movements, as though there is a constant need to be alert. There is a light crease between his brows due to frowning too much. His eyebrows are low and pinched, contributing further to his serious, no-nonsense look. Since he dislikes the feeling of scruff around his mouth and chin, he keeps himself cleanly-shaved so long as he can afford to do so. His thin, pale lips, straight nose and sharp jawline are directly inherited from his mother. The tanned skin and darker colouring is all his birth father, though.

Clothes are the least of Taheton's concerns. As long as they are a comfortable fit and are able to cover all they are designed to, he would gladly wear them. However, his daily outfits changes depending on his current situation. If he is with his tribe, he adopts the woollen tunics and trousers native Americans favour. If he has to travel across the land on his own, he prefers dark coloured shirts and trousers, with a long overcoat to complete the outfit. The shoes are always the same brown leather ones, as he feels the most comfortable in them.

Personality: Taheton is extremely practical and thus, that makes him rather blunt with his speech and actions. While he can censor the words coming out if the situation calls for diplomacy, most of the time he doesn’t see the need to. This tendency of being very frank has its ups and downs. Some might appreciate his non-sugar coated words while some will be offended. Due to events he witnessed in his youth, he strives to be a man who stands by his principles no matter what it cost him. He can be stubborn and hard-headed when he believes he is right, and refuses to be convinced otherwise unless the opponent manages to bring sound logic into the argument. He refrains from judging people by first impression alone, and usually reserves his opinion until he knows them better.

In the eyes of mere acquaintances, he is a serious person. However, he actually has a humorous side, often displayed in the form of dry or sarcastic comments, especially when hanging around the people he feels comfortable with. Those on that list includes his tribe and a select few outside friends. While Taheton might be a hard person to offend with his seemingly endless patience, he can't stand being belittled since he tries his best in anything he sets his mind to, and can get rather competitive, especially if that particular person proves rather challenging. His temper is a slow simmering fire, not easily coerced to rearing up and retaliate, but the right trigger works like kerosene, making it explosive and abrupt, but dwindles down quickly. The right trigger? Threatening anyone he cares deeply about.

Bio: Mid-winter, when the chilly wind blew across the land, a baby was born in the dark of the night under a half-moon, delivered by an ageing midwife to a single mother. Taheton had never known his birth father except for the fact that he was a member of the nomadic Red Indian tribe Sioux, and he shared the colour of his skin and the mane of dark hair. That was all his mother ever told him, when he was younger and wondering where the other half of his parent was. Year after year passed, and soon curiosity over that question ebbed. He had everything he needed and wanted here, on a small ranch in the middle of Arkansas.

When the little half-Sioux boy turned six, his life went down another path. It was one he had stubbornly refused to acknowledge back then, but looking back now, he rather thought he didn't mind the way life seemed to work out for everyone. With the arrival of a man seeking shelter from an oncoming storm, the time that was seemingly frozen by deep pining and longing started to tick once more. A spark of life returned to the eyes of his mother, a glint that Taheton had never seen before. The man - later revealed to be a doctor - quietly eased his way into the heart of a young mother. Gregory Cliffe did more than soothe. He gathered the broken pieces and melded them back together so it was stronger than ever before. And for that alone, he earned a place in Taheton's eyes and heart. If, was the boy's thinking, he was to stay in this small farmstead and remain with Mother, then I wouldn't mind acknowledging him as Father.

So it was then the young widow was a widow no more, and the little family lived in peace upon their small, fruitful piece of land. The young boy grew in body and mind, learned to properly handle and care for his father's rifle, but was ignorant still of the wider world, having little to no chances of interaction with a large group of people. Only the occasional caravan or wanderer passed through this land, and none took the chance to tangle with his stepfather. Consequently, none stayed longer than two nights before heading out again as if the very devil was on their heels. He would be lying to say it didn't make him curious, but each time he asked, he was answered with a smirk, tapping of fingers on a scalpel and a "don't piss off anyone who can remove metal from your insides and stitch you back up".

But alas, peace was never meant to last. During his seventeenth winter, a party of men came seeking shelter for the night. It was a common sight for the Cliffe family, so with the typical welcome by stepfather and stepson - a sharp smile with glinting scalpels and a pointedly cocked hammer of the rifle - the small party was granted stay for a night. However, unlike the other strangers who came and went, this lot refused to leave peacefully. The leader of the gang tried to persuade Gregory to go with them, promising someone called Richard Dawson would make it worth his time if the doctor was willing to sell his skills.

Upon hearing the name Dawson, Gregory's face went sour, and vehemently refused, snapping at the party to leave this instant. Apparently, that was not the response the gruff man wanted, for he whipped out his revolver and shot Taheton's stepfather square in the chest. In the next moment, Taheton shot the murderer and drove the butt of his rifle into the temple of the closest one reaching for his own firearm. While the rest of the gang scrambled for their guns, Taheton grabbed his mother and ran, mounting the ranch's only horse and fleeing. Amidst the exchange of gunfire, his mother took a bullet to her arm.

The next two days was a blur of events as he pushed the horse to its limit, trying to lose their pursuers. By the time he shook them off his tail, his mother was delirious due to high fever and he was stuck in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, luck shone on him when he stumbled upon a few Sioux scouts who were camped nearby. Due to his appearance and story, they were willing to lead his mother and him back to the main body of the Sioux tribe, who tried their best to treat his mother. However, she had lost too much blood and soon passed.

Thus orphaned, Taheton found a place amongst the nomadic tribe and for the next few years, learned everything he could about the culture, language and people his father was a part of. Here, he discarded the surname of Cliffe and took up his birth father's name of Alosaka. By the age of twenty-four, he was an acknowledged Hunter and Healer of the tribe, earning the name of "Red Crow". Nevertheless, time and circumstances did nothing to lessen the hatred he held for the name Richard Dawson and those under his employment. Not after they tore apart his family.

For better or worse, the ever-moving nature of the Sioux Tribe meant they had to stop by a town every now and then to trade. And each time they did, the name of Dawson never failed to turn up one way or another. Whether it be the form of rumours or gruesome deeds, the man managed to engrave his identity deep in the lands. Enraged that vile beings like Dawson and his men were allowed free reign, Taheton took it upon himself to do what little he could. Sabotaging a caravan transporting gunpowder here, slitting the throats of sleeping mercenaries there. He made sure not to leave incriminating evidence behind. Not that it would have been easy to track him, but there's no such thing as being overly-cautious. Who knows if the man had trackers in his employment.

For years he continued, but it was evidently insufficient. At most, his actions were about as crippling as a pinprick. Taheton wanted - needed - to do more. So it was with little persuasion he agreed to join a man named Henry Leopold Adams when said person offered a place in his quest to topple Richard Dawson.

Weapons: His Springfield rifle is almost always slung on his back, as well as the twin tomahawks at his left hip. A bone dagger for crafting, skinning and cutting is sheathed to his belt at his left hip. A belt of bullets is slung over a shoulder and across his chest.

Relationships:
- Family: None left in the living world
- Sioux Tribe: He views this nomadic tribe as his second family, and the Chief as a grandfather he has never had.
- Henry Leopold Adams: He had yet to form a solid opinion of this man, but he at least respects his ability to survive thus far.
- Others in the party TBA

Recruited?: Yes

Other: He is an accomplished healer in both traditional Indian and western healing methods.
While most Sioux tribesmen and women see no need for mounts, Taheton has a black mustang stallion named Mato.

Name: Evelio Laugier
Age: 41
Hair colour: Dark auburn
Eye colour: Cobalt Blue
Distinguishing features: The very first thing one would notice about this eccentric man - if they caught him at the right time - would be the dark grey-and-white peregrine falcon perched on his right shoulder. it doesn't usually stick around for long periods of time, preferring to fly until it is exhausted, then use Evelio like a resting place.

A leanly muscled man standing at the height of 181cm weighing 76.6kg, Evelio looks to be in his late-thirties despite his rugged face. Weathered tanned skin, strong jawline, slightly crooked nose, firm lips, straight shoulder-length dark auburn hair with streaks of grey and neatly-trimmed beard give him an overall image of a refined gentleman, if one ignores the brown leather eyepatch covering his right eye and the nasty scarring surrounding it. Several angry looking vertical scars travels past the covering of the eyepatch and ends just above his cheekbone. His lone eye is a dark cobalt blue, hard and piercing despite the obvious crows-feet at the corner of the eye.

He favours light tunic and breeches, with a heavy leather coat and vest over it. On his hands, he wears thick gloves and boots on his feet. His outfit rarely changes despite changes in season, but he hardly cares as he has gotten use to wearing this much even during summer. This is because the cold makes his scars ache. If he takes off the glove on his left hand, a small brand of a five point star can be seen on his wrist, and a circle branded around his ring finger. Evelio always has his falchion clipped to his belt at his left side.

Who are their friends, family, comrades?: It has been around two decades since he last contacted a member of his family. As far as he knows, however, his parents are still alive, his younger brother doing a better job than Evelio ever could in running the family estate and the family business was flourishing. His younger sister was engaged last he heard.

Comrades? Now that's a touchy subject. Granted, he didn't look back when he left - got booted out, more like - the Order all those years ago. Most of the brother-in-arms probably heaved a sigh of relief when the doors closed behind his back. The select few that acknowledged him when they happen to cross paths do hold a special little place in his heart, though.

As for friends, Evelio supposed he could count those within the Order that didn't shun him as friends, but friends keep in touch, right? So...that's makes them more of acquaintances than friends. And the various strangers that came into his life and left are only short-term friends or companions.

So I guess the closest he has to a friend for the past decade is his falcon companion. He can talk to it, share his woes and thoughts and it wouldn't judge him for it. And it has always returned to his side for the last five years.

Where were they born? Where do they call home?: Evelio Laugier was born in the Laugier Estate, in the town of Machiva to wealthy merchant Bernard Laugier and his wife, Daniee. The stone-and-wood mansion was located near the eastern edge of Machiva, built on top of a hill and surrounded by fertile land for plantation. This place was his childhood home, filled with happier memories of playing with his siblings and escaping those tedious arithmetic tutors.

When he turned twelve and decided that being a merchant wasn't the path best suited for him, he enlisted with the Order of Astra, the group of knights serving the Goddess of Stars. Aster was the dominant religious figure in Machiva as well as their neighbouring towns, but Evelio wasn't a religious person. He didn't believe in Aster, but being a Knight of the Order was better than being a simple soldier of the kingdom. The pay was better, and he didn't think he would witness much fighting. From the age of fifteen to twenty-nine, the main barracks of the Order of Astra in the city of Grimsole served as his second home.

Unfortunately, for Evelio who thought he would spend the prime of his youth as a glorified priest-in-armour for a religious Order and little else, his dream was shattered in his late-twenties. All the training and mock-battles he was forced to undergo wasn't just to keep up appearance. Ignorant of that little fact, Evelio was blindsided by the sudden skirmishes the Order of Astra had against another Religious Order, the Order of Taigi, Knights serving the God of the Moon, Taini. Tension had been growing between these two Churches, and poor Evelio was caught up in the middle of it all. These skirmishes turned into small-scale battles, and by the time both sides retreated and an unofficial truce was formed, his fragile psyche broke a little. So it was at the age of thirty-one, the former Knight of the Order of Astra was unceremoniously kicked out the doors of his second home on the grounds of being punished by the Goddess Aster and subjected to random bouts of insanity.

For the next decade, he wandered the lands as a nomad, doing odd jobs here and there. From the age of thirty-two, he sees the lands itself as his home. After all, nature itself provides him with food and shelter wherever he went.

Where do they go when they're angry?: Go? He doesn't go anywhere to vent his anger. If he is angry at you, a fist to the face is what you're gonna get. Of course, he doesn't make it a habit to hit women or children. His ma raised him better.

What is their biggest fear? Who have they told about it? Who would they never tell?: His nightmares give his fear form. Corpses littering the ground, the feel of warm, sticky - fresh - blood on his skin, the pleading eyes of his brothers-in-arms boring right into his soul. And then comes the hands - bony, rotting hands pulling at his legs and clawing at his body, the dry rasp of "help me help me I don't want to die help me why don't you die too --"...
He told his Order's Grandmaster about it when he first began experiencing night terrors, but the older man wasn't much help, citing them as survivor's guilt and telling him it will pass given time. When Evelio coped with it through other means - filling his mind with nonsensical thoughts so the nightmares don't come - he was dismissed as insane. Needless to say, he will never tell anyone again.

Do they have a secret?: Nothing major enough to be worth talking about. Although...he does secretly wish he was a little more insane, mad to the point he doesn't remember anything. That would be a blessing, eh?

What makes them laugh out loud?: Everything. Anything. Nothing specific. He could suddenly find a worm squirming in the mud funny. His sense of humour ranges from nonsensical to morbid and everything in between.

Have they ever been in love?: Unfortunately, no. Being labelled a loose cannon during his time in the Order didn't give him many romantic prospects, and after that, he just didn't feel like pursuing romance.

Describe the things that would be hard for them to part with.: His freedom: A decade of not being tied down to anything and anyone, of having no expectations on how to act and not giving a damn about what people thought of him has been riveting. He never wants to lose this sense of freedom, ever.
Materialistically, his coat. It's his favourite and he personally crafted it himself. There's his falchion, too. Well, it didn't start off his, but his best friend wouldn't really be needing it in the grave now, would he?

Describe the smells and sounds of their childhood kitchen.: Evelio's mother usually frowns upon her children venturing into the kitchen and interfering with the cook's work. But the few trips he took to the kitchen without his mother knowing, the first thing that greets him is the smell of freshly baked bread. Beneath that strong aroma is the ever-present charcoal and roasted meat from the night before. If he sneaks in at night for a midnight snack, then it would smell of crushed berries and honey they had for dessert.

Describe one strong memory from childhood.: The book's spine smacked soundly on the palms of his hands. Flinching from the initial sting, watery cobalt blue eyes glared disdainfully up at the bearded old man holding that offending tool. With a harrumph, the frail tutor turned away from the desk and Evelio's gaze dropped sulkily back to the half-filled paper sitting on his desk. Cursing the demonic tutor in his mind, the boy grudgingly picked up the quill and started writing once more, the flesh of his palm throbbing as it curled around the slim writing tool.

"Eh hem...you're making the same mistake again, Young Master Lio."

Evelio jerked, startled by the old man's voice suddenly coming from over his shoulder, the action sending a drop of ink to stain his answer. Growling from irritation and annoyance, he slammed the quill on the table, heedless of the mess it made on his desk.

"Stop hovering over me, you old coot!" He snapped. "I'm not the only one Father paid you to teach."

The tutor sniffed, looking down his nose at the scowling child. "Young Master Will is doing admirably on his assignment. He has already completed this set of questions."

Evelio's teeth clenched, forcing down another retort with difficulty as his eyes involuntarily drifted over to his younger brother working quietly in the other corner of the room. Willbur's gaze rose to meet his for a second, a quiet plea and apology swirling in those big, expressive eyes. Just like that, his anger drained away. With a quiet sigh, he dipped the quill in the ink again and continued working, trying his best to ignore the man hovering behind. He knew his younger brother was smarter than him, better at academics no matter how much Evelio tried. He wasn't jealous. Far from it. He was proud of Will, but he just wished his father saw what Evelio already knew deep down. The eldest Laugier child was not suited to be a merchant.

What do they want most of all?: Acceptance. To not be turned away because of his queer mental state. Perhaps that's why he refuses to stay in one place with the same people for too long. A funny stranger would garner a few looks but no one would truly mind as said person's just passing through. But once that same person hands around and becomes a common sight, general tolerance might drop. He doesn't want to experience being kicked out the doors again.

What is their interest in the motes?: Obscure records show these motes to grant the strangest of things to the world around it. Mayhaps, if he is lucky, the mote can either make him forget everything or restore his mind. He's not holding his breath, but better a sliver of hope than completely giving up, right?

Give a (non-spoilery) synopsis of a small adventure-plot that would be personally meaningful for your character.: Two decades since he stepped into this town. While the streets are hazily familiar, almost everything has changed. No one recognised him, which is understandable, given he hasn't been around since his early adolescent years. Not to mention his appearance has changed significantly from the fresh-faced boy so long ago. But the biggest change has to be the silent, empty manor sitting forlornly on the hilltop, surrounded by weeds, uncared for. What had he expected, really? That they would still be here after all those years, waiting for him? Something sharp dug into the soles of his boots, making him look down. It was a small silver star pendant, half hidden in the dirt. On it, the words 'Marigold Laugier' were engraved in a cursive script.