<sub>T I T L E S

R A C E

T R A I N I N G

E Q U I P M E N T

S P E L L S K I L L S

O T H E R S K I L L S

W E A K N E S S E S

A F F I L I A T I O N

P E R S O N A L I T Y

H I S T O R Y

T H E M E S</sub>

Age:


Gender:


Race:


Training:


Equipment:

• Hide and chain armour
• Bastard sword
• Longbow
• A talisman around his neck which helps muffle his movement
• A purple scarf around his neck
• Snow-bear pelt cloak

Spell Skills:

Logan can take over his eagle companion's mind or share it to command it to do things for him. He can also see through its eyes and use any of its many other senses. However, to do this he must be in a relaxed state and in a calm, secluded area.

Other Skills:


Affiliation:


Personality:
Hard. Even for a northman, Logan is rather brusque and to the point. When he talks, if he talks, he uses the least amount of words possible, which makes others see him as somewhat dull, but the opposite is true since living a portion of his youth relying solely on surviving has made him cunning and a sharp thinker, although he does tend to take his sweet time making a decision if he can get away with it. He's also a very curt individual, rarely refusing requests from others and not at all unkind.

He's a simple man with simple tastes. He only uses and buys what he needs, nothing more and nothing less. Extravagance, although it isn't foreign to him, is something he cannot seem to wrap his mind around and sees it as odd and a little childish.

History:
Logan was born to a noble family in the Northern Alliance, and despite being a noble, life was still harsh and cold but he did have the benefit of having a knight train him in combat and horse-riding from a young age, along with other benefits like tutors who would teach him literacy, diplomacy, and other skills needed to be a statesman.
But life was far from comfortable in the north even though he came from one of the oldest Houses of the Northern Alliance, and although they did have their own castle, it was cold and dreary within its walls and in the night they were filled with awful howls that would keep him awake and terrified, reminding him of the endless ghost stories his caretaker would tell him during the day.

At the age of thirteen, only a few months from his Nameday and the day he would take his rite of passage, his father decided that they would visit his uncle from his mother's side in the ancestral home of the Fjoren Family where Logan's rite of passage would take place. In the middle of their journey they were hit with a sudden, massive blizzard that almost instantly shattered their columns. Logan was thrown off his horse and in an effort to find his parents and siblings ended up getting himself lost. He wandered in hopes that he would eventually run into one of his house guards or someone he knew for what seemed like days until the blizzard finally subsided. Lost, he found himself in the middle of a dense forest with no food, no water, and only the most basic of survival skills. Wandering a bit longer in shock, he found himself a small cave only a few meters away from a nearby stream.

Almost a year in that cave had hardened him better than any rite of passage could have. He'd crafted himself a crude bow and expanded on what little hunting knowledge he had had before; it had taken practice over a long period of time, but he eventually went from sleeping most nights with an empty stomach to sleeping almost every night with a full one. He learned which berries to pick from by observing animals and soon had turned the little cave into his home.

Until a bear cub wandered into his cave. Seeing the opportunity for food, he tried killing it when he heard the roar of a larger, angrier bear just outside that came in response to the panicked sounds from the cub. Dropping the cub Logan watched as the mother bear walked into his cave and instantly attacked him. Leaving everything he had behind, he managed to escape the mother bear through sheer luck alone and ran until his legs gave out. Then ran again the next day. On the third, when he was satisfied that he'd managed to get as far away as he could from the bear, he began looking for somewhere else to live and came upon a larger cave on the side of a mountain that gave him a great view of the forest below and the game within.

He had rebuilt the new cave into another home when a small fledgling eagle fell in front of the cave's entrance during a week where game was particularly scarce. Something about the small creature sparked pity in him however and he decided that he'd feed and take care of the tiny bird, and through that some sort of small connection had been made between him and the eagle that seemed to get stronger every day, a connection that became so strong in a short few months that he found he could actually communicate with his companion, although rather crudely. He explored that skill further and in several more months found he could use his companion to make hunting easier.

It was on one of his hunting trips that he ran into a half-elf that was passing through the forest. The first sentient being he'd seen ever since getting lost and although it was awkward at first, Logan was soon conversing with the half-elf and sharing her camp. They talked and traveled together for days and Logan learned the half-elf, Vorix, was a hunter that had been hired to look for him or his remains. He also learned that she had a companion much like him, but a tiger instead of an eagle, and when he broached that subject she began teaching him how to become one with his companion or to use its stronger senses to his advantage.

By the time they reached civilization once more, several months later, he had learned everything he could from Vorix and the bond between him and his eagle, Sorin, had grown stronger. He then allowed the half-elf to present him to his father and a feast was held for his return; although he was trained to be a noble practically from childbirth, his time in the forest had made transitioning back into civilian life a challenge and rather awkward. Many in his father's court saw him as unrefined and rough, even for a northman, verging on savagery despite how hard he tried to be civil. It was only his mother that truly accepted him for what he had become and he found that he would spend most of his time in her company, sharing his experiences with her and even telling her of his strange connection with Sorin the Eagle. In a short time they had become closer than they had ever been and those couple years in her company are among his fondest memories.

His mother fell ill soon after, and in the end, when she breathed her last, he decided noble life was no longer for him. He took the scarf his mother wore the day he was lost in the forest and after saying farewell to the rest of his family, he rode down south into the Grand Kingdom where he joined the Hunter's Guild. After several years in the guild, he was invited into a sub-group of the guild that dealt with hunting down dangerous and rare monsters. And although the jobs were extraordinarily risky, they came with incredible rewards and he soon found himself with too much coin than he cared to have and decided setting up a permanent residence in the capitol of the Grand Kingdom in the form of a small estate.

Name Juni Arren
Titles N/A
Age 19
Race Gnome

Training

• Magitech Tinker - Naturally inventive and highly creative, Juni is mostly self-taught in this field, but received an education in magical and mundane physics by the esteemed Praela Nox, a prominent professor from Protectorate Mages Academy.
• Thieve's guild protege - A relatively new member to the Thieves Guild, Juni has been trained in some of the more... subtle ways of life.

Equipment: A thief and tinker's lifestyles don't tend to mix well together, as thieves like to stay light on their feet, while inventors like to stand around workshops. In his short life, Juni has been able to come up with a happy medium.

• Magitech Daggers - A pair of otherwise plain looking dagger hilts- aside from the small crystal shard embedded into the handle. Powered by magical ether within the crystals, the hilts can create short blades of arcane energy. Capable of quickly melting and cutting through untreated steel, stone and wood alike- tougher materials require a bit more time, and more magically resistant materials are, well, more resistant.
• Magitech Crossbow - A small, hand sized crossbow constructed from a combination of wood and steel- lacking a bow and string, with a small crystal embedded into the handle. The crossbow launches bolts with spell-runes inscribed on them, powered by magical ether within the crystal to fuel the spell.
• Magitech Cloak - A small, hand sized contraption with a sizable crystal embedded in its center. Upon activation, the contraption creates an invisibility spell that conceals the user. Not quite as effective or efficient as a traditional invisibility spell, the cloak only renders the user mostly invisible- at most a shimmer in the air. A slight blur can still be noticed when one moves, and it does not block out sounds.
• Leather Longcoat - A thick, tough leather duster. Its got pockets, padding, and a hood.
• Thieves' kit - A small leather case with the essential thieves tools: a small file, a set of lockpicks, a small mirror mounted on a metal handle, a set of narrow-bladed scissors, and a pair of pliers.
• Tinker's pack - a portable magitech tinker's workshop, stripped down to its most vital components. a few glass phials, small amounts of reagents, tools, and a small ether condenser fit into a small leather pack worn at the small of the back.
• Tinker's Goggles - Goggles used by all manner of inventors. Various lenses can be popped in and out of the sockets to provide all manner of vision, from magnification to a blast shroud that prevents experiments gone wrong from destroying one's eyes.
• Tinker's Workshop - Not a piece of equipment Juni carries with him, but back at the Thieves' Guild hideout, Juni has setup a small workshop. Though a small setup, it contains a variety of half completed experiments and contraptions, both magical and non-magical, alongside a full-sized ether condenser.

Spell skills

• Magical Theorist - While not possessing of considerably powerful magic himself, Juni's understanding of magical forumlae and processes are something to be astounded by. Intuition and logic supplemented by a bit of luck and deduction allow him to breakdown even the most complicated spells to their basic components to be combined and used in later experiments.
• Basic Magical Prowess - Possessing a modicum of magical talent, Juni is able of casting simple spells and charms. Among other abilities, Juni is able to create small flames for light, lift small objects, and dull the pain (but not heal or remove the source) of smaller injuries. (Prestidigitation in d&d terms)

Other skills

• Prodigious - Incredibly intelligent and eager to learn, Juni readily and quickly absorbs new information, and can learn the theoretics of various skills fairly quickly- though often lacks in the physical application of such skills.

Affiliation Thieves' Guild

Personality
Earnest and eager, Juni is a light-hearted and friendly soul, always ready with a snarky joke or an unwarranted comment. Earnest and clever, if a bit stubborn and headstrong, Juni is a kind-hearted and jovial little gnome that seems to have nary a care in the world. Underneath his carefree persona lies an innate brilliance, a highly intuitive and calculative mind. Highly perceptive and logical, Juni shows an almost insatiable appetite for knowledge and learning of any kind, be it scholarly or practical and will often rattle on endlessly about whatever is currently on his mind- even if no one else is around. Juni posses an uncanny talent for all things mechanical, magical, or some combination of the two. He learns fast and has incredible memory recall. A kinesthetic learner by heart, Juni is inventive yet practical and does best his best when he's in the thick of things, working through problems with his hands. A tinkerer at heart and by trade, Juni often busies himself by fiddling with equipment and rarely likes to sit still for too long.

History
A child prodigy born to a pair of lower class gnomish laborers, Juni's ingenuity shone early at a young age. Though he was born with very little, his parents, amazed by his small displays of brilliance, vowed to provide a good future for their son. They lived in the sprawling underground slums of the Darakeene Protectorate Capitol- the slums, or the undercity as its denizens referred to it as was built from the spaced out tunnel and cave network underneath the magnificent Capitol, where its overcrowded and poor denizens toiled endlessly to maintain the craftwork city above them. Overcrowded, crime-ridden, and choked in pollution, in his parent's eyes, the undercity was no place for their son's budding intellect. They toiled through long factory hours and worked in dangerous conditions in order to forge a path for their son to have opportunities in the upper city of Darakeene.

Juni witnessed his parents aging beyond their years, trying to make ends meet with small wages while their handmade factory goods were sold to wealthy Darakeeni for exorbitant profits, profits they'd never see thanks to the greedy Factoryworld overseers and their shrewd buyers. Adventurous, rich and young Darakeeni wandered down to the Undercity Promenade for good, cheap times, or deep to the Underbelly to indulge in 'everything goes' type clubs. All the while spitting on its denizens. Juni concluded that his parents' vision of him living a good life in the privilege-filled City was one he didn't share.

Here in the Undercity, where his parents only saw the oppressive layers of choking pollution and a blight of criminality, Juni looked beyond and discovered a dynamic city overflowing with energy and potential. It was a hotbed of pure innovation, a melting pot of faraway cultures, immigrants united by a single desire to pioneer the future. The scrappers, the alchemists, the horticulturalists that tended to the nutrimoss. These, and so many more, were the heart and soul of the city- Capitol and the Undercity combined. They were resourceful, resilient, and industrious. They built a thriving culture out of hopelessness and flourished where others would have perished. The spirit of the undercity was what drove Juni to learn and build as he did making confangled contraptions and dabbling with magical arts.

While exploring a recently destroyed Undercity Laboratory for parts, Juni incidentally came across an injured and trapped Praela Nox, a researcher and professor at the Protectorate Mages Academy in the upper city. Saving and eventually befriending the somewhat shady professor, Praela Nox eventually offered Juni the education and opportunities that his parents had dreamed of him having. While he himself was not necessarily sold on the idea of becoming an upper-crust snoot, the opportunity to learn from such a man was a hard offer to pass up.

Moving out of the Undercity and up into Capitol proper, Juni began his education in the Protectorate Mage's Academy at an uncharacteristically young age. Despite his young age, Juni excelled in classes rated for young adults several years his senior. While his family was happy that Juni was receiving the education and potential opportunities the felt he deserved, Juni couldn't help but feel trapped. The education he received was certainly enlightening and useful, but the school, the people, the city were all restricting. They discouraged ingenuity and required him to fit into set paths and molds.

When Juni felt he could learn no more without sacrificing his freedom, he abandoned the school, absconding with whatever materials he could carry with him. He returned to the Undercity, where he would eventually make contact with and join the local branch of the Thieves' Guild, where his talents and size could be put to use. Along with a small crew from the Thieves' Guild, Juni was relocated to Tarantis, the Capitol of the Grand Kingdom of Kron-Nesis- where profit was plentiful.

Juni has been with the Thieves' Guild for a little less than two years now, and is content enough with his position for the time being, the Guild allowing him freedom to do what he wants, and means to acquire materials he requires for his next big invention.

~Titles:

~Age:

~Race:

~Training:

• Mentored by Eldest sister Pashae as Scout: weather reader, climber, stealth, survival, flora/fauna recognition.
• Mentored by Eldest brother Daestimane as Soul: hunter, tracker, trapper, pathfinder
• Trained by ShamanMother Miir as Spiritualist: rituals, Communing, reading/sign recognition, seeing/soothesaying, Shadows and Mists.
• Mentored by Circus performer Volante the Wicked Serpent as acrobat/actor
• Trained by former Gladiator Noeflitos as swordfighter/dirty tactics
• Mentored by former GuildMother Ashalra as assassin/toxin crafter.
• Trained by Underhanded teammates as 'Guild' member: streetwise/blackmarket/negotiate contracts/appraise goods/craft weapons.

~Equipment:

• Linferre-Atuol - The StarBlazer Bow – a most prized and powerful item. Once mastered, the user will never again have the need to purchase another arrow ever again. The power of the stars and suns above have been harnessed and a missile of energy will fire forth from the bow. Mercie only will ever use the power in dire situations. For not only is it fatiguing after prolonged use, but she does need anymore reason for others to chase her down, kill her and steal her stuff.
• Shadow Waker Cloak – This is an assassin's dream. The device is actually the upper part with the drawstrings; the flowing cloth can be of any material. Once activated, Mercie may 'fade' in to darkness. The shadows are like commanded waters of the abyss to her. Mercie may ‘swim’ through complete dark in any direction. Also she makes no sound in low light situations. But if activated for too long, ‘things’ from the other side of that liquid abyss notice her and will try to claim her for their own and she will be forever trapped in the dark. She may take up to two others with her… if they dare.
• ‘Wicked One’ light-weight armour – this is her signature look when she dons the persona of Wicked One, the Archer. Once activated, this enchanted armour sprouts like a fast growing flower, covering her entire body, including face. It increases her bulk height and weight but minimally. Mercie is still allowed quite a lot of motion for the armour is made with light-weight flexible mithril plates that are still strong enough to deflect weapon blows without breaking. And the truth of it is, is that she wears it all the time. It is actually hidden in her bodice. She will only use it when she needs the persona; she wants to protect her alter-ego afterall.
• Four ‘throw-weighted’ daggers
• Durable, utility serrated edged knife used as a off hand weapon.
• Short sword with hidden poison spike in pommel.
• Multiple arrow heads for specialty uses. i.e. Armour piercer, shattering, hollowed for toxin delivery, whistling etc.
• Skull, bone, claw, feather, hair 'trinkets' and other ritual casting devices in her kit.
• Black leather travelling/fighting ensemble: includes jacket, battle skirt, boots and archer gloves.
• Regular clothes, cloak and travelling shoes

~Spell skills:

~Other skills:

~Affiliation:

~Personality

~History

<sub>M A L E / Y E A R 0

R A C E


T R A I N I N G


E Q U I P M E N T


S P E L L S K I L L S


O T H E R S K I L L S


A F F I L I A T I O N


P E R S O N A L I T Y


H I S T O R Y


T H E M E S</sub>

Age 29

Race Human

Training:
Pox's expertise is specifically in the realms of the medical arts. Healing Magic, Enhancement Drugs, Curing Potions, Medical Devices and Techniques, all are taught, practiced, refined, and utilized. Indeed, the Apothecary Guilds believes itself the pinnacle of modern doctoring. Having a brilliant natural and progressive mind himself, Pox is essentially a poster boy to this ideal. Pox can perform open heart surgery amidst a heated battle, aboard the deck of a ship in a squall, and cure the cabin boys case of leprosy. There is a reason why he is to become the next master of his Guild.

Equipment:
Apothecary Encounter Suit - This is the uniform of a true Apothecary of the Guild. These enchanted leathers riddled with attachments, hinges, and tubes allow for its wearing to work in any fundamentally toxic environment, rending them immune to the effects of gas, spores, and other foulness. Additionally, the suit actually pierces the wearers skin with tubes that circulate the blood through various enchantments and filters, which flushes the system constantly, rending the wearer immune to hostile poisons and diseases. Indeed certain entrance ports allow the wearer to freely inject other drugs for enhancement and healing, but other methods simply fail. Most amazingly is that the suit repairs itself after damage, though this is mostly for the convenience and safety of their wards. The bird mask is part of the suit and can be opened slightly for eating purposes.
The Apothecary's Martial Arms - Apothecaries are expected to get into dangerous situations, and sometimes the best way to keep their clients from harm is to remove it. Darts, Simple fire, smoke, or choking Grenades, and Knives are their main defenses. Light, fast, and capable of being poisoned if need be. Pox himself keeps a crossbow (15 Bolts) as well, for long distance problems.
Field Surgeon Pack - Sutures, Bandages, Scalpels, Salves, Disinfectants, and Leeches. Everything the bleeding body needs!
Alchemists Kit - For all your chemistry and potion making needs.
Collection of Various Vials - Indeed, among the multitude of colors are enhancement drugs, healing salves, euphorics, pain killers, and poisons a plenty. He keeps a book on him that contains the recipes but by now, he knows most of them by heart. Alchemy research are one of his passtimes.
Camping Gear - Lanterns, rope, tent, and a bed sack. Its a real wonder how he's able to move around.

Spell skills
Pox's magic is centered almost exclusively into the purview of Life, Enchantment, Entropy, and Death as the spells that deal with biology and chemistry touch on these magical disciplines. He can heal at a distance, curing light wounds and drawing poison from a victims pores, but actually potions and medical techniques are necessary for more mortal injuries, with magic coming to help the wound heal quicker once the victim is stabilized. Indeed, he is more likely to use alchemy and his mind for problem solving than any simple trick. Indeed he is actually quite brilliant when it simply pertains to factual knowledge. He has always been curious, and always eager to see how things work which has served him well in the past.

Offensive magics are always in the form of afflictions and diseases that are liken to symptoms of sickness, some of them being quite supernatural. Poisonous Cloud, Spell of Weakness, Strike of the Blind, Belly of Maggots, to just name a few. All of these spells are designed to not be permanent, and only effect a certain area. Pox is no fan of collateral damage.

He also knows a useful arcana spell of telekinesis. Without a nurse to aid him, he sometimes needs to do several small things at once. There are no excuses for being too slow and not having help when lives are on the line.

Other skills
Additionally as actual, formal training, Pox is expected to lead the Apothecaries one day when he comes of age, and part of his job functions are to act as mediators to nobility. Pox is expected to uphold any culture mannerisms and social protocols. Despite his monstrous attire, he can kneel and flatter, and rub elbows with the upper echelons of society. In fact, Pox enjoys this facet of his life the most, as he's a regular social butterfly.

Affiliation: Apothecary Guild

Personality
Pox is a man of contradiction, much like his Guild but there is something about him that remains genuine. He wants to bring some light back into this dark world. He flatters, he encourages, he studies and shares, brining a sense of child like wonder with him. He loves to laugh and loves to bring cheer and loves to always learn. His curious mind will allow for nothing else. At the same time however, his look and position as an untouchable makes that quite difficult and he is evasive at best when it comes to questions about himself or the Apothecaries. Indeed, he gets quite chatty when the conversation goes somewhere he'd rather it didn't, a tell tale sign that he's hiding something. His words are so prepared and reflexive that there is almost something uncanny about them, something unsettling. He can't help but sometimes giving into Gallows humor, considering how he is surrounded by pain and death for most of his life. Gotta stay positive in the face of horror.

History
It is not quite known where The Apothecaries, the Vultures, call home. They commonly wander from the Crow King's Lands of the broken Nyrae but with the wars, the bloodshed, the curse of undeath, these beings always somehow are close at hand, praying on the survivors that need their potions and their healing arts. The Apothecaries are terrifying images of plague and death, with rumors abound of what they hide behind their bird like masks and what goes on in their charnal houses, but they always come bearing the greatest of gifts. A life saved, and pain spared. For this reason, they are accepted, even sought after, but always kept at arms length, and the Apothecary like it no other way.

Apothecaries exist as researchers, provisioners of magical substances, undertakers, and most importantly, hired doctors for the wealthy, and quarantiners for outbreaks of plague and disease. Their skills are second to none and many a noble felt the assassins touch but walked the next day, with nary a worry save the Apothecary's growing bill. They are open, but secretive, dodging questions and neither accepting nor rejecting any accusation against them. The imagination can be a powerful deterrent. They have grown in such power that they have their own code and structure of social order. This is where Pox comes in.

Born within the Guild, he was trained from a young age to become an Apothecary, and due to his particular talent and eagerness to please his parents, was chosen to become heir to the Guild, a position always reserved for the most capable of their number. The Guild could not ask for a better student. He would never ask more than once for anything he didn't want to do, and he would never make the same mistake twice, under the consequence of traumatizing pain. Such was the effectiveness under the tutelage of the Guilds Master Chirurgeon Typhon. For the Guild, there was no such thing as special treatment, even for nobles; only special training.

Through grit, intellect, and various chemical enhancements (and dependencies) he managed to live up to the lofty expectations of his family and guild, with the forgivable side effect of OCD, Neurosis, and potentially self harming phobias when when it came to the details and success. The ends always justified the means afterall, and the Apothecaries always did have a results first mentality. And with that, his final test had just begun, a decade long quest as a fully fledged Apothecary out in the field. He was expected to gain clients, acquire fame, favors and fortune, uncover arcane secrets, and come home to take his mantle as leader of the Guild with years of experience under his belt.

However while he is only a few years into his task, the Apothecaries would be remiss to find out just how unlike them Pox really is. Out from under their cruel thumb, Pox had learned just how effective a caring bit of bedside compassion could work more wonders than any draught or pancea. Pox learned to love people. Helping them, healing them, always willing to surround himself with those that may look upon him with fear and always trying to show them that there is nothing to fear. Still, he is an Apothecary, and thus still has a task to do and secrets to keep, thus as eccentric and opens he seems, Pox will avoid things about himself or his Guild, dodging the question or coming up with an explanation that seems a little too practiced to be taken at face value. There is no way he could abandon his own family... could he? The more he speaks, he teaches, he discovers, he becomes painfully more aware of just how isolated he is from the rest of the world, a world he can only see through lenses, and touch through thick leathers. His own kind only wants expectations from him, and the rest of the world wants him far far away. What is the poor prince to do?

Keep smiling. Everything will be okay if he just keeps working at it... Just keep smiling.

Name Zakhul
Titles Beast of Balcoth
Age older than he can remember
Race Daemon
Training The battlefield is the best educator in the art of war one can find. Zakhul has fought in many a battle throughout his life. Experience has grown his skills with very little legitimate training. For a few years he had a swordsman train him in the basics, but he in no way achieved mastery of swordsmanship.
Equipment

-simple clothing: Simple riding clothes that are nothing special. Higher quality than what a peasant would wear, but nowhere near what a noble would wear.
-sword: A simple sword made of quality materials.
-scrolls: A few scrolls for writing.
-feather pen: A pen for writing on said scrolls.

Spell Skills

-Illusion magic: Zakhul utilizes illusion magic to change the placement of his attacks by just a few inches, mostly geared to messing up their timing. He also uses the magic to disguise his more demonic features.

Other skills

-Hand to hand combat: He is an expert in hand to hand combat, preferring to fight barehanded than with a weapon.
-Good Situational awareness: He is very good at keeping track of everything on the battlefield after he has noticed it. This allows him to stay away from environmental hazards and stay wary of foes outside of his vision.

Weaknesses

-Incredibly lazy: He is unwilling to put effort into nearly anything, unless the incentives are high.
-Overconfident: Years of not being killed has made Zakhul believe he is somewhat indestructible.
-Slightly insane: Imprisoning his mind has broken it slightly causing him to become slightly insane.

Affiliation his pillow(his one true friend)
Personality All Zakhul wants in life is to do nothing and be entertained. Of course that is not how life works, so he often misses any entertaining event he hoped to see. Zakhul is often calm and unguarded when he speaks. He doesn't understand why he should try and lie about things, because who could harm him. More likely to toy with an enemy than kill them instantly he can be seen as cruel. The more accurate description is that he doesn't want the excitement to leave. He often spares his defeated enemies in exchange for a favor, hoping they will become entertaining once again.
History
Zakhul is one of the ancient demons that were summoned when the harvester reigned. He was a ferocious fighter that utilized incredibly quick movement and illusion magic to overwhelm and confuse his enemies. While not quite royalty he was held in high regard by the other Daemons he interacted with.

After the crucible Zakhul had been caught on the outside of the barrier, having his mind freed from the harvester. Unsure of where to go he attempted to find a safe place to get his bearings and learn what happened. He came upon an abandoned fortress that appeared to have fallen into disrepair only a few decades ago. Exploring the fortress he made his way to the lords chambers and looked upon the bed. On looking at the bed a wave of exhaustion overcame him and he stumbled forward. Collapsing to the ground Zakhul could feel his eyelids shutting on their own, as if some force was forcing them closed.

He slept for many years before being woken up by a party of adventures looting his hidden castle. After driving the adventures away he decided to go see how the world had changed.

Leaving his castle he used minor illusion magic to disguise his daemonic features and set out into the world. He spent many years just wandering around the world, spending nights in any dry place he could find. He observed and tested the people of this planet, trying to learn more about them. He began to see the puny mortals he had terrorized in a new light and became fascinated by them. To him their multifaceted nature was extremely interesting to him, because of the one sidedness of daemons.

Zakhul began to start interacting with the humans more closely, moving into a village as a “trader” and becoming part of a community. After a few years he would leave and find a new town to stay in for a while. He continued like this for a while before he started to notice changes in him. He had lost his lust for power and felt more comfortable in his human form. He felt different than before he started this journey, more...less. He felt less “all powerful”, more mortal. He knew he was still as powerful, but he had begun thinking like a human after lifetimes among the creatures.

This realization shocked his mind, that he was becoming something he had previously viewed as weak and pathetic. That he no longer truly felt like a daemon. The worst part though is that he now viewed his past actions through the morals and viewpoints of humans. Fleeing to his hidden home he tried to reconcile what he had done with his new conscience. Unable to do that he imprisoned his mind, creating the detached creature that exists today.

_{T I T L E S}
The Raven King, The Swordmaster

_{A G E}
128

_{R A C E}
Elf

_{T R A I N I N G}
Illyarion has lived more than a hundred years of conflict as a mercenary leader, fighting in battles on the entire length of the continent. As a result, he has become a complete expert with his sword and dagger, and while he is not as good with ranged weapons, he has learned a few offensive spells to cover him in that regard.

_{E Q U I P M E N T}

◈ Shadoweaver: His most prized possession and an artifact passed on from father to son for as long as his house has existed. This magic sword is utterly unbreakable and so sharp that it is able to cut through regular steel unhindered, at least in the hands of those part of house Myriavin.

◈ The Raven King's Armor: Another prized possession of his house, though this armor has a rather exquisite look, it offers only slightly more protection than a regular suit of steel armor. However, unlike a suit of steel armor, this armor weighs practically nothing.

◈ Dark Blade: Unlike his main weapon and armor, this black-bladed intricately decorated dagger is nothing special, serving only as a regular steel dagger and a show of his former station.

_{S P E L L S K I L L S}

◈Arcane Bolt: A simple bolt of magical energy slightly more effective than a regular crossbow bolt.
◈Arcane Lance: The upgraded version of the arcane bolt, this magical projectile is much stronger, able to pierce most armors, however due to it's energy cost, one must cast it only when sure that he is able to hit.
◈Ravenbrand: For an hour every day, he is able to brand either an weapon or an armor with a magical mark. When on a weapon, it makes said weapon much lighter and much sharper, while on an armor of any sort, it makes the armor tougher than it already is and much lighter.
◈Raven's Call: A sort of magic unique to the Myriavin bloodline, it allows the user of the magic to sprout large black raven wings that allows the user to fly at will.

_{O T H E R S K I L L S}

◈Social Etiquette: Though with only minor holdings at the moment, Illayrion is still a noble and he acts like one anytime he is court. This allows him to navigate the court of Kron-Nesis with ease and without any repercussions.
◈Inspiring Leader: Illayrion has led troops for a long time, he has fought alongside them, he has eaten with them, he has slept alongside them and that earned him the respect of the men under his command, he is able to inspire the men under his command to do great deeds and to push themselves beyond their limits.
◈Agile Fighter: Illayrion knows that one must always move when fighting and as a result of that, he has become a quick fighter, always on the move and always quick to end a battle.

_{A F F I L I A T I O N}
Kron-Nesis; Grand Marshal Lenius

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}
Illayrion is a man of few words, rarely speaking out of his own initiative unless he definitely has to and even then, he speaks only enough for him to convey his idea or to get his point across. However, even if he is not a very social person, he likes having friends, even if he does not go out of his way to make them. Even when he talks to someone he has never met, he will always greet anyone he meets with a courteous smile, be they a lowly peasant or a king.

However, when it comes to respect, so far he has only shown any semblance of true respect to only two people. The first of them is Grand Marshal Lenius of Kron-Nesis himself, as thanks to his influence, he was able to appoint the elven mercenary leader as a lord of a medium sized plot of land situated on the borders with the Darakeene Protectorate and finally be settled once again after spending more than a century as a mercenary leader. The second person he has shown respect to is the young daughter Maryvale, who was able to earn herself the title as strongest knight of Kron-Nesis in only ten years, something which deserved his respect.

_{H I S T O R Y}
Illayrion was at first born to the great noble family of Myriavin within the royal courts of Curael Endir, however, he was unable to enjoy the intricacies of the court too much as only two months after he became the head of the house at the age of 20, as due to an unfortunate escalation with one of the rival noble houses, he is banished from the country and removed as the head of the house in favor of his uncle. However, before he leaves, he is able to take his family's heirlooms, the magic sword Shadoweaver and the Raven King's Armor.

With no other prospect, the young exiled noble decides to sell his services as a hired blade throughout the continent. At first, not many people were willing to hire a single mercenary with no real-life experience on the battlefield, but... as the years passed, he was able to garner enough experience and money to form his own band of mercenaries, the Band of the Raven. With his new men at his back, Illayrion began to get himself involved in actual wars, though after deliberation with his men, as he did not want to get them killed.

As the years, then the decades passed, Illaryrion participated in many petty conflicts around the world, however, the worst of them was the civil wars of Nyrae... and he had signed himself with none other than the Crow King himself. On the side of this cruel king, he was forced to participate in the most cruel battles of the civil war, the one who haunts him to the day was the destruction of the once great metropolis of the Barrows and the slaughter he and his men were forced to do.

After that day, most of his men left the band of the Raven, saying that they had earned enough money to live the rest of their lives in comfort and had seen enough bloodshed to them for the rest of their lives. The few that remained pleaded with Illayrion to break his contract with the Crow King. After a few more days of deliberation, he and his remaining men riding for a full day and night without pause, for they knew what would happen if the King of Nyrae caught them.

Thankfully, he was able to ride without any intervention on part of the Crow King and reached one of the few places he had yet to visit, the Kingdom of Kron-Nesis. There, he and his men were hired not by the king, but by the new Grand Marshal of the country, as he had heard of Illayrion's skill in both leading men and fighting them. During the time there, he had won a few several minor skirmishes against the Protectorate and while he did not expect it, it seems that those skirmishes were what made Lenius to use his position to appoint him as a lord of a plot of land that had belonged to a previously disgraced lord.

With that, Illayrion and his men had found themselves a new place to call as home. This deed alone made the elf consider the Grand Marshal as his greatest friend and the Grand Marshal had found himself his staunchest ally.

<sub>A G E


R A C E


A P P E A R A N C E

T R A I N I N G


E Q U I P M E N T


S P E L L S K I L L S


O T H E R S K I L L S


A F F I L I A T I O N S


P E R S O N A L I T Y


H I S T O R Y


T H E M E S


A U T H O R'S N O T E S</sub>

Name: Aldon AthanTitles: Lord of the night/ Blood King

Age: (appears early 30’s late 20’s) Actually countless eons

Race Vampire- (was Human)



Training:
Trained to be an expert swordsman before being turned. After he became a vampire he was taught more advanced skills that complimented his newfound speed and strength along with the secrets of magic.

Equipment



Void sword- Aldons custom made sword “void” is a work of art that took decades to create. It is acurtly named as it has the strange ability to absorb magic and store it within. TO most this sword would be absolutely useless as it weighs an incredible amount and is nearly impossible to lift to a normal man. Lucky though because of Aldons Vampiric strength he is able to wield it as if were light as a feather.

Black leather outfit with hat- As shown in the above picture Aldon wears his black garb almost everywhere he goes regardless of the situation. For one it is because he prefers to look his best at all times but in the rare cases he is about with the masses of common folk he protected from the sunlight.

Magic Portal Pendant- This pendant is linked to a portal with in the castle of Aldon and allows for the wearer to travel back to the castle at any time. Because it is only a simple pendant and was one of the first magical items created by Aldon it is only able to be used once a month before recharging and he must be within a reasonable distance to be used properly.

Spell skills
Blood magic- Aldon can use both his own and others blood to abilify his other magical abilities. Of course his being immortal any magic combined with his blood has a greater effect than that of a human or other race.

Summoning- Aldon with his long life span has come to studying the evil art of necromancy. With his great power he is able to conjure and army of the undead provided he has the body’s or skeletons to use.

Fire- While one of his lesser used abilities Aldon can conjure an manipulate fire in both offensive and defensive manners. Being a vampire however in this regard means Aldon will hurt himself as well when using any kind of fire magic.

Teleportation- When this ability is in use a beam of hellfire erupts from the ground and flies into the sky which is visible for many miles. Once Aldon has left the spot he was once standing the beam slowly closes in circumference until it is completely gone. This ability allows Aldon to travel about half way across the continent . He rarely uses it though as it lets out a large amount of his vampiric aura and is easy to recognize. on top of this Using this drains Aldon powers to substantial amount which usually leads to him feeding soon after.

Bat form- as stereotypical as it is Aldon can transform into a bat or a swarm of bats to move more easily.


Other skills

Compel- THough he rarely uses it Aldon can compel another person to do as he wishes with nothing more than eye contact. This however by far Aldons weakest ability as a Vampire. Because of this the most he can do is have the victim forget certain events or make them to basic task. If the individual were to be put in danger the person will break out of the spell.

Affiliation
NA. Just his own castle which is found in the Arcadian sea.

Personality
Aldon is a very calm and collected person. He is always analyzing everything to its fullest extent. He is a very calculated fighter who exploits all of his opponents weaknesses and tries to end any fight he finds himself in fast and efficiently.

Even though he is calculated and generally very calm he is angered by the mistreatment if innocent people. While he knows he isn’t the best role model and he for sure doesn’t have a clear conscious, he follows a strict set of rules when conducting himself around others.

History

Most of what you would read in the ancient text or textbooks in a school Aldon has seen firsthand. Aldon was there during the first great wars where the titans of the world for the first time tested each others might. It was on those battlefields that Aldon was given what to some is a gift and to others is a curse. How or why he gained this is lost to all but himself. Being one of the first cases of this new occurrence he thought nothing of it. However as time passed people around began to see changes in him. For the early years he was unable to walk in sunlight at all and never seemed to age. Because of this the people believed he had signed a contract with one of the many demons that plagued the world. Fearing for his life after yet another mystery, known as the night of the blood throne, he fled to a island not far off the coast and built his castle Blutmond.

Here Aldon stayed for many years learning all he could about his new self and all its gifts and curses. He completely through himself into the work and any and all magical artifacts or text that could help him. For a time he hated what he now was. A immortal breaching the basic laws of nature, he had become what he and many of the humans fought against in the beginning years of most nations.

After a few lifetimes for most humans he gave up on the idea of a cure and began to go mad. He saw the inferiority of mortals and began to see himself above them. He saw how corrupt the nation's of man had become and how the beast followed suit. Believing it was his duty to cast judgment so he did and believed them to be unworthy. While not openly, he began to wage wars against the kingdoms of man and beast alike. He saluted hundreds of thousands of people during these dark times. He had learned how to give people the vampiric plague and create more like him. These new vampires however were different from him. They cared for nothing more than killing. They began rampage throughout many of the country’s. At this growing threat from creatures of the night people began to openly challenge them as Hunters in what those from that time called the night wars. Seeing how men and women would stand and fight creatures far stronger than themselves with no hope of winning restored his faith in the humanity he had condemned. Many of the vampires were killed by hunters though a few including Aldon managed to survive. Aldon fled back to his castle now with the title of “king of the night”.

That was last time Aldon was seen openly in a large scale. He for the most part, stayed in his castle from then on only traveling across the world to keep up on the events of the world. Many of the common folk have even forgot about him. The lasting prices of him in the history books are the legends of the Great War he started or the horror story’s tell their parents to scare them from wandering off alone at night.

Other
Theme Song:

Name: Toradeen Folgamer.

Titles: Archmage of the hollow light communion, Magelord, Mayor of Brellt, Scourge of Camden, vanquisher of the bonewyrm, terror of war, slayer of Darakenes, wraith of fools pass, king of the will'o'wisp.

Age: 98

Race: Human
People suspect some sort of half-breed nature, but no proof has ever been found for that case. But it is obvious that humans should not normally have this sort of magic potential.

Training: When it comes to magic, there are few secrets that are not known to Toradeen, with an extensive knowledge of all types of magic and a fantastic skill at many types of magic focusing primarily on pure magic. He has training and is the leading master when it comes to transforming magic energies from one to another, capable of creating a wide range of effects with basically the same type of magical energy.
On top of this he was a capable staff fighter, trained by the hollow light communion.
While all the basics are things he has had training in, he has also studied and self taught and even invented techniques himself.

Equipment: Carrying a gnarly smooth sturdy ironwood staff and a Shillelagh of magically hardened wood.
His robes are heavy wool with many adornments of lighter blue embroideries, he carries a book on his belt and has a dagger on his side. His torso is protected by a plate cuirass which doesn't show much beneath the cloak.
On his belt he has two daggers that are sewn shut to their scabbards, the reason for them is unknown for most but skilled demonologists will see that they are the binding foci of his deamon servants.
He has many necklaces, chains and brooches enchanted with magic that dulls pain and reinvigorates the body.

He rides in a black wagon drawn by grey horses, the lanterns glow brightly blue and leave a trail of light as they move. The wagon has no driver but still moves as it needs to.
The wagons storage is loaded with magic grimoires, scrolls, tablets, trinkets, magical materials and items.



Followers: At his side he has two bound deamons who work as his bodyguards.

Toradeen lured them into a pentagram, overpowered them with magic and enslaved them in suits of armour. Their form is hazy and they smolder with hellfire.
Their two handed swords felling embers and their steel-cutting edges also burn the flesh.
The hellknights are comparable to elite human swordsmen of various nations in skill, but they carry literal deamon forged armour and weapons, they will only perish if their armour is destroyed.
They require no food, no water. They only serve their master.
An existence of pure anguish for them.
In his dreams Toradeen often must fight their wills, since they constantly try to escape their imprisonment.
Taking their chance when they perceive him to be weak.
They have not succeeded yet.

A single will'o'wisp seems to live within his robes. Toradeen at times command it simple tasks.
It cannot do much but can confuse mortals and attack with weak lightning.
It is one of the few things in existence that willingly come near Toradeen.

Spell skills: Grandmaster of magical essence channeling, master elementalist, master astral mage, master enchanter, expert demonologist (focusing on binding and banishing), adept nature mage, novice blood mage, novice necromancer.

Other skills: A great skill at library searching and keeping, high intelligence and situational awareness, monstrous arcane knowledge and a broad knowledge of history and archeology. He also has good geographic knowledge and is a novice cartographer.
Unbeknownst to most, he can cook an excellent venison steak.

Drawbacks: With great power comes great responsibility.
Haunted past. 'His power is legendary, he can slaughter armies, slay dragons, he has no empathy, no soul, a machine of war.'
Everyone who has heard the stories fear him, the looming magical might makes everyone uneasy, magical creatures don't trust his vast magical power and his sad angry demeanor even manages to scare off the kind naive children.
He is truly alone.
Time takes its toll. In his youth he was a fit battlemage of unequaled potential. His physique was similar to the most well trained knight. That was fifty years ago.
Magical backfires, rheumatism, constant battle, scars, numerous magical experiments, pulsing mana ebbs within him and the odd migraine leaves him in constant pain. He has trouble moving and uses both his staff and cane to support himself.
In truth he is in somewhat good shape for a ninety year old nearing a hundred, but that doesn't mean he is vigorous.
The only thing sharp on him is his mind, and surely it is beginning to falter as well.
Magic is not the answer. Gone are the days where he solved all his problems with magic.
Since magic only creates pain, he chose not to do it.
At least that is the case when he does it...
Cursed. He never seems to be able to help anyone, the people instinctively revile him and the will'o'wisp is always an omen of doom.
While he actually can help people, in his mind it seems to always turn out for the worse.
Arcane studies has proven that there is some form of curse upon him, if it is his body or his soul is not certain, but some sort of cosmic law is doubtlessly here to make his life misery.

Affiliation: The hollow light communion. (On poor terms but Toradeen Folgamer is still technically part of the communion.)
An communion of mages, focusing on magical studies away from affiliations. They however see the wars of the nations as a great proving ground and many hollow light mages work as mercenaries.
The communion has its base in its wizards tower in the northern region of Kron-Nesis.
The communion has poor relations with the wizards guild, the guild feels the communion encroaches on their monopoly, while the communion claims it belongs to all (and most certainly them.)

Personality: A bitter old man, angry outwards but sad inwards.
Would lash out more on those around him if it wasn't for the fruitlessness of it all.
He is working his darndest to be more than his past, but time and time again it seems the world only wants the scourge, so he falls back in his old boots.

History: Toradeen Folgamer was born to some unknown parents. No one knows who, he was left on a busy street in a town, all alone abandoned because he felt weird.
No one dared go near the crying baby, for its presence was dreadful.
But fortunes had it that Toradeen Korak walked by, a mage of the hollow light communion, whom recognized the odd sensation of raw power that emanated from the poor baby.
He had never felt such a presence, at least not from someone of such a young age. He knew no one else would take the baby so he took it for his own. Cared for him, told him his past, gave him his family name and named him Folgamer.
Meaning 'Power', Folgamer was brought up with the singular motive to make as much of the potential he held.

Trained to be strong, fast, intelligent, quick witted and polite, He was to be a tool of war, of income for the communion. Someone who could give demands to guilds and orders, whom could strike down those who would demand from the communion.
Folgamer was an enthusiastic youth, he had a spring in his stride and was thankful for the opportunity the communion was giving him.
He would be the most potent weapon, his enemies would fear him, those around him would respect him.

He fought in wars, slew monsters, brought down the necromantically resurrected bones of a dragon, he fought armies and while not alone, he did the most damage.

Eventually he took to the field in blindfolds, just to test himself, none could stop him, he was an avatar of magic!
He had now become the perfect tool of war.
There was however one who could stop him. Himself.

It was during a battle, he took the field as usual and sundered the foes before him, the village was supposed to have been empty, he ripped the souls from their bodies, used them to channel more magic and death.
The small village was now dead, a few had managed to get away, it was how he wanted, he worked hard to let just a select few enemies get away to spread the word about him. To spread his legend.
As he walked through the streets however he noticed the corpses, they were not of soldiers, but civilians.

It was there he noticed it. He had succeeded and now he realized the prize of success.
He was the most powerful wizard, all feared him. None dared even get close, his allies cowered in fear outside the village, he had slain innocents and soldiers more easily than the wind rustled the leaves above.
If there had been leaves, all life energies of the place had been drained to fuel the carnage, the dead showed only terror and agony in their tortured faces revealing the last of their lives.
This was Camden, it was no more. Never again would life return.

He realized that when everyone looked at him as he had wandered proudly forth to fight their foes, they did not show appreciation or respect, it was sheer horror, disgust and revulsion.
They didn't avoid him out of coy admiration, they were terrified. He had become the terror of war, he thought he would be thrilled when he reached his goal of becoming the most feared mage of all time. This was....

It took a long time before he reached a conclusion on that last question. He slew more, rained fire upon fortresses, shook the walls of cities, snuffed rebellions.
More and more it was obvious, only one thing now got near him on its own volition unless they had business with him. A single will'o'wisp.
It danced across his fingers, up his arms and around his head. He assumed it fed on the mana that overflowed from him.
During the crow war he reached the epiphany.
He had done his best, he tried to save the village, blew up scores of infantry, he had won the day.
As he approached the townspeople they cowered and hid their young, he wondered why they reacted so, he had saved them. They only replied 'monster'. He called out that he did this to save them, they responded that hollow light did nothing for others, only themselves.
He got angry, shouted, he asked for their gratitude, their praise, anything.
The mayor of the town then moved up to Folgamer and shouted the following.
-"Look around you, the dead litter the streets, dozens of homes destroyed, the druid tells us the source of the water in the well was torn asunder so the well will dry. You want us to thank you? Give you praise? Well hear your reward, you are now mayor of Brellt! We are leaving this accursed place, everything you touch is cursed and so is this land. King of will'o'wisp, the omen of doom."
At the end the wisp had exited Toradeen's robe, the people walked away and he knew.
He would do this no longer.

It didn't take many weeks before the communion took notice, their mightiest asset would not be lost. Several mages was sent, including Toradeen Korak, to coax him to follow the communions of the hollow light.
The plead turned to heated words, heated words to an argument, argument to a fight. Fires is said to have draped the sky, stars rained down to smite those on the ground.
It was here he slew his own father along with another and sent the rest packing with wounded limbs and magical scars.

Following this he created his bodyguards, left the communion and began to search anew.
He had already found how to be the mightiest warmage, he never wanted that again. Now he sought to solve his questions with magic.
Years passed and it seemed he could never find the answer in magic.
He began to despair, his body had grown old without him noticing, he had lost his prime, he was a weapon no more.
Good....

Currently he is leaving Kron-Nesis to go to Ithell. Since magic seems to grow only pain, perhaps another way is the answer?
But first an old acquaintance of his had asked for a favor, Toradeen would hear the old grand marshall out. The last time he did a favor for him he became the wraith of fools pass. So this time will probably be no different...
Or so he thought.

youtube.com/watch?v=TAQMJZeYSe8

---

Nar Zalaam, Pyromancer Maestro

---

---

Titles: Some call him "The Wandering Pyromancer", though this isn't formal.
Age: He stopped counting at 28, as he had better things to do. He looks mid to late forties.
Species: Human

---

Equipment:


Wandering Kit A backpack full of things Nar could use on a long trek. It's a rather extensive list, due to just how long he's spent developing it.
Quarterstaff A cheap, durable, and deadly weapon for when pyromancy is impractical. It's ~9' long, 1" wide, and 1 1/2" thick piece of oak. He has been trained in it by peasants in exchange for money while he traveled, and is quite handy with it. Of course, he will prefer to use pyromancy where possible. The weapon itself is easily capable of shattering bones, so long as there isn't steel in the way. Because of this, he uses it mainly in defense from wild animals.
Robes These robes are more of an amalgamation of different fashions from around the world than one particular piece of clothing. They're relatively short, only going to knee height. Of course, he has some very sturdy boots and pants under it. It's mostly optimised for practicality.

---

Spell skills:

Pyromancy: This shouldn't come as a surprise. While his life has been a cluster of different events, pyromancy has been the singular constant. After his duel with the knight, there has never been a moment in his life where pyromancy hasn't been there for him. Strangely, he hasn't become consumed by the power it offers, as so many are.

His pyromancy comes in two main varieties, which he has named Ishamel and Nar. Very creative.
Ishamel tends to be very focused and efficient. At times it almost feels like it's holding back. The fire burns intensely hot, and is conjured by speaking words from the Book of Ishamel while contemplating your understanding of them.
On the other hand, Nar tends to be much more wild, but still far more focused than most pyromancy. It always feels like it's being held back, and can easily be identified and separated from most pyromancy. It tends to blow things up a bit.

---

Other skills:
Study: If there was something he would put his skill at pyromancy down to, it would be this. He has become very skilled at finding the right information for the job at hand, whether this be in a library, book, situation, or person.
Traveling: One might not consider this a skill. Nar would beg to differ. If one can travel as much as he has within the time he has, it definitely is a skill. He is accustomed to using a map and compass, packing light, walking (so much walking), sailing, and learning local languages and dialects to a level that allows survival. Even finding forest food when none other is available.
Communication: He is very used to communicating his ideas to others and understanding what others are trying to say. He has Taught many people and been taught by many people, and that is the root of this skill. He learns and teaches quickly as a result of this.

---

Training:
Nar has been trained by uncountable tutors in the art of pyromancy to such a degree that those who are beholding it are spellbound (not by rule, for obvious reasons). Chief among those tutors are the Old Man and the Book of Ishamel. He can weave firestorms the size of warships, or place a singular point of super hot fire exactly where it needs to be.

---

Affiliation: He isn't affiliated with any order, religion, or country in particular. Although, he has a notable distaste for the inelegance of the Order of Fire. He is of the belief that they don't know how to properly control themselves. He agrees with some of their ideology, but not their practice.

---

Personality: Nar has a personality that is brimming with a youthful curiosity, though it has been tempered by age. To elaborate, he will pursue anything and everything that interests him with an utmost dedication, but use the wisdom he's gathered over the years to guide himself.

He tends to find himself lost in contemplation of fire when he has a spare moment, especially when there is fire present. Campfires aren't for sharing stories, singing, or cooking. They're for discovering anything at all about the nature of fire. Because of this he has a very deep understanding of his art, and how it affects other objects. He also tends to let of a contemplative air, which most people find quite contrary to his standing as a maestro pyromancer. He also performs startlingly well under pressure, only losing a little bit of control. On the flip side, this 'zoning out' can cause him to miss some important things. While he will generally pick up on loud noises or large movements, he may miss smaller details. This isn't helped by his age, either.

He loves a good jest, and will often give cryptic answers to questions for shits and gigs. Even if they could be answered in a few concise sentences. He's also able to find the funny viewpoint on a given situation in a slightly absurdist manner. This has led to some people feeling alienated by him laughing at their suffering, but he's not really of a mind to care about that.

He views mistakes as learning opportunities, although some of the mistakes he's made have really ruined some people's lives, and he struggles to move past that. He will actively try to reduce collateral as thoroughly as he possibly can. Although, if he is unable to do this he suffers a guilty streak, causing him to run from the problem. He knows he shouldn't run from it, but this only serves to cause more guilt.

---

History
He usually starts his story with the day his gift unveiled itself, so I'll do that. He was the eldest sibling in an upper class merchant family, and he had mistakenly offended a Knight. He must've been having a bad day, because he challenged Nar to a duel. The knight was wearing plate mail, and Nar was wearing no armour. The knight had a sword, and Nar was lucky to have a stick. Nar wouldn't take this without a fight, however. Within seconds he was bested, and as naturally as breathing, his rage rose out of his fist, and became fire. By the end of the fight, the knight had a cheek melted off, and Nar had some nasty cuts.

The surge of power interested Nar. He'd never experienced anything quite like this. He spent the next five years studying everything on pyromancy he could get his hands on. When he ran out of reading material, he watched fires and studied the emotions it brought. Every pyromancer that came through Kron Nesis was hired to tutor Nar, and by nineteen he had made a small name for himself as a young scholar of his art.

All too soon, he had exhausted his resources on pyromancy. The teachers had no more time, the books only said so much, and his hearth fire was evoking the same emotions over and over and over. He figured the best way forward was to travel the world, and collect some piece of knowledge from each area. And so he set off with a sum of money, some clothes, and some food. He headed north out of Tarantis, towards Vesh. Unfortunately, he was never much of a spendthrift and had spent most of his money by the time he reached Vesh. He decided he'd work in the farmhouses along the way for food and board.

In one farm, he met an elderly couple and their thirteen children. The youngest was called Fiona, and was the same age as Nar. She cared for her parents while all the other siblings worked in the fields, kitchens, or forests. Nar decided to stay longer here, as he had nowhere better to be. On top of that, he was interested in Fiona. He hadn't been interested in something this way since he discovered pyromancy six years ago, and in the small amount of time in a day when they were both free, Nar and Fiona grew closer. It took longer than Nar would've liked, but they became lovers.

One night, when they were... doing their deed in the forest, Nar's pyromancy reared its ugly head. From his pores poured fire instead of sweat. He didn't feel the heat, and only noticed when Fiona began to scream in pain. She had blackened skin all over, and some of it was smoking. He carried her to her parents farm, put her on the doorstep, and ran. His guilt was stronger than his love in every way, and his will was stronger than his muscles. He kept running until he passed out.

He woke up in a wagon, covered in blankets, but shivering. He was deathly sick, and drifted in and out of consciousness all the way to Urland, where he soon found out he was to be sold off as a slave on the black market. It was his first major scale pyromancing, and it went wonderfully. He had managed to burn everybody around him to death within seconds. As an added bonus, he was able to mitigate property damage to some faint blackening. After about a month in Urland, he met an Ithell Scholar who specialised in the study of the stars. This scholar was carrying a certain book that Nar had assumed nonexistent until now. The Book of Ishamel. After a few days of hopeless pestering, Nar managed to get him drunk enough to wager it against the entire Zalaam family fortune in a game of dice. Fortunately, lady luck was smiling on him that day, and he won by a narrow 12 points. He was finally in possession of the most rare book on pyromancy in history. He spends the next few years holed up in Urland, doing nothing but studying The Book of Ishamel. The insights he gains are impressive, and he makes a significant name for himself. People had begun to actively seek him out as a tutor. This proved useful to him, because he was able to legally earn money through pyromancy.

The student that impressed him most was a young human named Tetheras Pessoa. He had something that Nar could only describe as a gift. Teth had a huge amount of raw power he could tap in to, but not too much control. They spent a few months in Urland before shipping out to Ithell at the behest of the mages guild. During these months, and on the way there, Teth developed his grasp on pyromancy so quickly that Nar was almost ready to name him an equal. They had daily sparring sessions aboard the ship, and while Nar still managed to win most of them, Teth would consistently slip through Nars defenses. The sparring made the captain nervous, but they were both confident enough to quell flames before they did any significant damage to anything.

Nar noticed that over time, Teth would grow more reckless. He was growing more aggressive as time wore on, but Nar thought nothing of it. In hindsight, this was a very bad idea. As it turned out, there is an affliction that plagues skilled, yet uneducated pyromancers: Fire fever. It causes the afflicted to become increasingly more power hungry. It drives them to burn everything around them, just to watch the beauteous flames. Nar had never faced it before, so he didn't know to look out for it.

After four months in Ithell, they had both learned much. Nar had refined his pyromancy to heights he hadn't dreamed of, and Teth had never been far behind him. One day, not entirely out of the blue, Teth was found burning a supply ship from Urland. As Teth's mentor, Nar was asked to deal with the situation. So Nar went down to the docks. He forced the fire Teth had started to die down, to which Teth responded with more fire. Naturally, this led to a fight. Teth had totally forsaken his defense, though. This made it incredibly easy for Nar. With one hand he warded the flames from the dock, and with the other he fired off a beam of intensely hot fire. He meant only to his Teth's arm, but alas, Teth was moving too much and took it straight into the gut.

He wasn't happy with himself, naturally. If he caught this earlier on, he could've saved Teth. Instead, Teth was dead by his hand. As he is accustomed to doing, he ran from his problems. He made a brief announcement of his departure before stealing a rowboat and heading north. And so the next leg in his journey saw him hopelessly lost at sea. This was a period of massive growth for his mind (which he credits in part to sunstroke). He had several revelations while lying in a tiny rowboat, clutching the Book of Ishamel. The most profound being Low Fire. He hypothesised on the existence of a third flame type based on Ishamel's relationship with the night. When he had nothing better to do he would sit and think on despair, and how it would power a flame. The days saw nothing but him, the Book, and the sun. The nights saw something quite different, though. The stars were eyes to see his elaborate displays of exquisite firecraft. Bolts of flame licked wavering strokes around the boat, boiling any water that happened to come into contact with it. Perhaps most strangely, words rang through the air.

This is how he was seen by a small fishing town who lived on a coast in the north. They sent a longboat to pick him up, and he was taken in. They nurtured him back to health out of the kindness of their hearts (to this day, Nar has not forgotten their kindness. He means to pay them back in full next time he finds himself even remotely close to the north). When he had returned to health, an old man who wore a blindfold and a raven feather cloak showed up in the village. Nobody knew who he was, but he was asking for Nar.

The old man turned out to be an old fire wizard from the far north. He allegedly had family ties to Ishamel, and felt the Book's presence. He brought Nar to his homestead, and taught him the north's take on pyromancy. They spent every spare hour studying the Book: at first as teacher and student, and after time as equals. Nar has no idea how long he spent there, but it was long enough. On the last day Nar was there, the Old Man removed his blindfold to reveal a completely melted face and scalp. He told Nar to be careful with fire, and make sure it doesn't consume him as it does so many others. (I can't do justice to how profound this was to Nar. He had never seen under the blindfold before, and it had just seemed to go unnoticed after a certain point.).

The Old Man, after revealing his face and warning Nar of the internal danger of fire, requested that he deliver a package to Curael Endir, in Illvandrin. The journey there was cold, long, and somewhat boring, so I'll skip over it. When he arrived at the forest entrance he got chills. He'd heard of how the forest will attack those who enter if they mean harm, and he was entirely unsure about how it'd react to his pyromancy. Much to his relief, it held no objections. He'd never seen such a magnificent forest, and spent the first few days getting lost in its beauty, before stumbling across a scorched area. It was here he realised that while fire can be destructive, it is also a natural force. It's only a problem because humans make it one.

In Curael Endir he was treated as an outsider, which he wasn't used to. Finding the person he had to deliver the package to took weeks of constant detective work, but when he found him it turned out to be another student of the Old Man. The package was just a few rocks, but the other student knew what was really going on. Nar had been sent as eyes for the Old Man, so he might check up on his student (It was only now that Nar knew the Old Man could see through others' eyes. Perhaps he was more than a pyromancer?). Nar spent as little time here as he could get away with. There was something that kept him on edge.

Next, his travels brought him westward. He planned on going through the archclericy, and through Eamonvale. His goal was to get to the Darkeene Protectorate. Of course, something surpassing odd happened on the way. Due to a battle he'd heard of, he gave the Fool's Pass a wide berth. This turned out to be much more wise than he could've anticipated. As he looked upon it all he could see were magical storms, melting the souls out of those who were caught in it. Even at this distance, Nar felt a slight pressure from it. He had no doubt he could protect himself from it for a few minutes, but there was no way he would last longer than that. The sheer power on display made him realise just how close he had come to death. The amount of wasted magic did bother him, though. Whoever created that storm was taking out the army, sure, but he was doing it in a way that would wipe out thousands of civilians. He felt hollow as he wondered if Fiona died from this, or from Nar's burns. The image of the storm haunts him to this day. He wonders if that type of magic could offer some insights on Low Fire, based on the utter despair he could feel within the storm, much like how you feel the charged air in a thunderstorm.

With a newfound lust for Low Fire, he traveled south to the Darkeene Protectorate. He was fully aware that they had very few mages there, but he wanted the opinion of a scientist. He figured that finding out the physical requirements would help immensely. Unfortunately, the scientists had nothing groundbreaking to say. Doubtless they helped, just not as much as Nar had hoped. Slightly disappointed, he made his way back east through the war torn mountains. He didn't have much to fear from soldiers. Humans burn.

And now we catch up with the present, where he has made his way back to Kron-Nesis. Further still, into Tarantis. The first thing he sees is two knights duking it out in what Nar assumes to be an honour duel.

Theme: Burn the Witch, by Radiohead