[hider=leonid][center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/94/c8/9c/94c89c0f68ac80bf9fc5b20c35d4680d.jpg[/img][/center]

[b][[color=#ddb779]Full Name[/color]][/b]

[indent]Leonid Hector Sylmare[/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Alias[/color]][/b]

[indent]Leon[/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Affiliation[/color]][/b]

[indent]Cretus[/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Starting Class[/color]][/b]

[indent]Noble[/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Status[/color]][/b]

[indent](Adopted) heir to House Sylmare[/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Crest[/color]][/b]

[indent]Minor Crest of Sylmare[/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Age[/color]][/b]

[indent]Seventeen[/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Date of Birth[/color]][/b]

[indent]27th of the Hallowed Moon, Divine Year 764[/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Appearance Information[/color]][/b]

[indent]Once an unmistakable product of the streets, the past few months have molded Leonid into the epitome of nobility - as far as appearances go, anyhow. Much as he dislikes tight collars, unnecessary gloves and stiff pants, he wears them like he was born in them, both in classrooms and beyond. And with an impeccable posture to match a confident gait, he doesn't seem out of place even in the most prestigious of gatherings. That is, until he's forced to speak. He can't [i]quite[/i] pull off formalities like second nature, and seems to often get lost between what he wants to say and what he [i]should[/i] say. Amusing to some, jarring to others - and a source of great concern for his new 'family'.

Standing average at 5'9'', Leon is more lean and lithe than muscular, yet fully capable of besting any noble who's never known hard work. He has a very slight tan that makes the scars scattered upon his skin that much more apparent, at least when unclothed. Most are around his arms and back, which formal attire hides quite conveniently. [i]Something [/i]good comes outta the stuffy uniform, at least. Whenever given the chance, rare as those instances may be, he likes to slip into more comfortable and loose clothes - not quite the rags he once wore, but clean casual wear befitting nobility. 

Leon's eyes are a reddish shade of brown, constantly carrying an observant, even sly look - as if he's always assessing everything around him; the places he goes to, the people he meets and the words they speak. Call it a survival instinct or paranoia, it's all the same to him. He has an expressive face, and though he's learnt to fake a polite smile quite well, his gaze rarely changes. Leon's chestnut brown hair is forcibly combed to some form of submission, but a few loose strands still like to stick out every which way no matter how many hours he spends taming them.
[/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Personality[/color]][/b]

[indent]First impressions, as is often the case, are quite deceiving when it comes to Leonid. Though he looks refined and may come across as such at first, none of it comes naturally to him. In reality, Leonid couldn't care less for etiquette or manners, and sees them as a necessary evil at best. He's quite against the general view that some people are better than others through birthright alone, be it due to wealth, station or the possession of a crest, and he doesn't really believe in god or fate. As far as he's concerned, everyone should earn their place in the world - which is why he feels undeserving of his new title. 

Everything he's experienced has left him bitter and somewhat cynical - both traits that tend to show through the cracks of his noble mask from time to time. Still, it's not as though he's purposefully antagonistic even behind his facade. He does tend to make quick judgments when he first meets people, if only because living on the streets and dealing with shady folk taught him it was a necessity, but he is also willing to change his views if proven wrong. He's alert and observant, and it's difficult to sneak up on him - in fact, it's more likely that he's the one to sneak up on you! Though he makes sure not to go too far and risk consequences from the Sylmares, he doesn't at all mind rattling up nobles, particularly pompous or arrogant ones - be it with his words or actions. 

Though he usually appears calm enough, deep down Leonid doesn't have the longest fuse out there. He isn't one to resort to shouting or swinging his fists around, but he does get annoyed somewhat easily in certain circumstances, and that can lead to quite a sharp tongue indeed. He isn't a sore loser, and can even take some insults in a stride - but witnessing injustice or having to listen to nobles spout self-righteous spiels does get under his skin quite fast. Having to pretend to agree with them is even worse. As such, Leonid usually tends to avoid such situations; he knows that when angry, keeping up his act becomes that much more difficult - and his ability to care about being exposed lessens to a dangerous degree. He also has a soft spot for the downtrodden, and particularly hates seeing them mistreated.

On most occasions when interacting with others however, Leonid is amiable enough. He's talkative, and though his jokes tend to be a bit strange and some of the things he lets slip unfitting for a man of his status, he isn't looking for trouble - [i]most [/i]of the time. 

[/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Personal History[/color]][/b]

[indent]If categorized, Leon's story would be of the "rags to riches" variety. Born as a nobody in the less fortunate parts of Cretus, most of his early life was marked by struggle and poverty. According to the tales his father used to tell, theirs was once a successful merchant business in the heart of Solitaire - but whatever wealth their forefathers had once accrued had long since been lost to time. Bad business decisions, bandits and untimely deaths had eaten away at the success of their business over generations, until naught remained but tales. 'Keep close ever penny,' his father always told him at the end of the story. 'Today's coin is tomorrow's dinner.'

At the dawn of Leonid's ninth Amber Moon, his father told stories no longer. Illness claimed him, and at the turn of the year, his mother followed. Devastated and alone, Leonid soon found himself on the streets. At first, he got by with help of strangers' kindness; neighbours who pitied his fate, townspeople who'd known his parents and wished to aid their son in his time of need. Sometimes, he was given food - other times a bed, even [i]coin[/i], a time or two. But kind as the townspeople were, their resources were not infinite. At the end of the day, they had their own families to care for - and the more time passed, the more forgotten Leonid's plight became. New orphans were birthed by the harsh living conditions, and alms were distributed to them in turn. Even when Leonid worked for his coin or spent the entirety of his day begging, the closer the winter came, the less people could afford to give. It wasn't just him; everyone was struggling.

Then, with the first snow, [i]they [/i]arrived to town; traveling merchants, looking for a roof above their heads for a night. Leonid overheard them talk as he cleaned tables at the tavern, catching wind of their plans to head for the capital to sell their wares come morrow. The capital, Solitaire... a place where his family had once prospered, and where many a merchant had earned their fortune. Perhaps there, Leonid could start to accrue his own fortune. It wasn't easy convincing the merchants to take with them a stray boy, but free labor was free labor and Leonid promised he'd make a fine attendant and didn't have too big a belly. Scraps would suit him just fine.

Solitaire was as grand as the stories told, and from the moment Leonid first set foot onto its cobblestone streets, he was in awe. The city was big, beautiful and bustling, worlds apart from the quaint little town he'd called home. Leonid felt as though [i]anything [/i]was possible here.

His glee did not last. 

Not long after arrival, he realized that for a filthy boy with no coin in his pocket, Solitaire was no more hospitable than any other city. On the contrary, even; the citizens of the capital did not know him like his neighbours had, and they'd seen enough bastards, scoundrels and thieves that they had no sympathy left to spare. And then there were the unwritten rules of the street; where one could beg, sleep, or tread, carefully dictated by already existing gangs that had claimed parts of the back alleys to their name.

Leonid never wanted to steal. He'd heard his father speak ill of the bandits that partook in his family's fall from grace, yet winter was harsh and circumstances dire. It started as grabbing produce when no one was looking, then moved on to picking a pocket, two, three - until finally, he found himself stealing and conning the good people of Solitaire even when no direct need dictated it. He found a certain thrill in a successful gig - and it was only matter of time until it got him into trouble. Not with the locals themselves, nor even guards; certainly, he'd gotten a beating once or twice in his earlier years, but this was worse. He got caught trying to steal from a criminal much worse than him; a trained assassin, part of a guild of his kind. 

Leonid ended up trading his freedom for a chance to live another day. He was still a boy of thirteen at the time, but the guild never had a shortage of little birds. They did not only deal in assassinations; espionage and information breaking were also part of their trade, and the younger their messenger, the easier they could slip by undetected. That is how he spent the next few years: acquiring, carrying and exchanging information the land over, until fate threw a yet another twist his way. He got caught a second time. But if the first had been a curse, this one was more a blessing.

The young criminal had found his way into the manor of the Sylmares - the second wealthiest noble house in all of Cretus. Perhaps in part due to the legalization of assassinations, the house was quite secretive, and so any information he could gather would likely fetch a fine price. Unfortunately, as many others before him, Leonid got caught in the act by the many guards of the estate. Unlike those before him, however, he did not meet his end as punishment. In the process of examination and interrogation, it was discovered that he, against all odds, was in possession of a crest. And not just any crest, either - but the Crest of Sylmare. Someone, somewhere down his line of ancestors, descended from Sylmare.

Judging by the look in the lord's eyes, the news bode well for Leonid. All he wanted was to keep his life. What he got, instead, was a new life altogether. As it turned out, apart from the current head herself, they had no one with a crest to inherit the family name. And so, a quick plan was devised to present Leonid as the heir proper. With the legal status of assassinations, it would not be unthinkable for the family to have kept a crest-bearing heir a secret out of fear of attempts on his life, after all. And with him being almost of age, now would be a good time to reveal him to the world - perhaps by sending him to the monastery?

Leonid was not thrilled, yet he found himself given little choice. And so, for the next few excruciating months, he was trained in the ways of nobility. Etiquette, dancing, proper manner of dress and address - he did his best to learn it all, if only to keep his head. And when the next academic year begun, he was sent off to learn the rest of the skills necessary for someone in his position.  [/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Preferred Fighting Style[/color]][/b]

[indent]Sword[/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Equipment[/color]][/b]

[indent]Training Sword, Training Bow[/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Learned Spells[/color]][/b]

[indent]N/A[/indent]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Interests[/color]][/b]

[list][*]Climbing
[*]Archery
[*]Cooking
[*]Storytelling[/list]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Likes[/color]][/b]

[list][*]Money
[*]Sweets
[*]Rain
[*]Nighttime
[*]Banter
[*]Naps[/list]
[b][[color=#ddb779]Dislikes[/color]][/b]

[list][*]Nobles
[*]Horses
[*]Fleas
[*]Hypocrites
[*]Etiquette
[*]Restrictive clothing[/list][/hider]
[hider=Efraim][center][h3]Efraim von Kaiser [/h3]

[img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/05/74/36/0574364739d6292a38a128e36802725d.jpg[/img]

[b]Age[/b]
25

[b]Gender[/b]
Male

[b]New or Been in Training[/b]
Been in Training

[b]Other[/b]
Born as the third son to a renowned noble house, Efraim spent his youth breaking every rule he could. Being the third in line as far as heirship went, with two younger siblings to occupy his parents and servants, he very much felt like the middle child; not paid much attention to, in the good or the bad. That was, until illness claimed both his elder brothers, and the burden of inheritance and politics was suddenly thrust upon his shoulders.  

To his credit, he did very much [i]try[/i] to grow accustomed to his new role. He attended every briefing, every ball, and met every potential suitress his parents picked out for him. But though he could play the part of a proper noble well enough to fool most everyone, he never could get accustomed to the sheer weight of responsibility. It felt debilitating. And so, he devised a plan of escape. Efraim had once seen a dragon as a young boy, and been mesmerized by its beauty. His uncle was a famed rider, as well. As such, he argued that he would very much like to go and learn to be a rider himself - after all, that way he'd be better suited to protect his family, lands and kingdom. His parents agreed eventually, and Efraim travelled all the way to the Keep, while his younger brother was left to take care of political matters until his return.

And hopefully [i]thereafter[/i], if Efraim had any say in the matter.

Efraim has some affinity for magic, though he's unaware of it himself - he would need some teaching to be able to realize it.
[/center]

[center][h3]Incandescence[/h3]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/84/b4/96/84b49691f67f1aa05384d4d221e93bea.jpg[/img]

[b]Class of Dragon[/b]
Light

[b]Gender of Dragon[/b]
Female

[b]Strengths[/b]
- Perhaps owing, in part, to her multiple sets of wings, Incandescence is incredibly nimble and capable of many aerial maneuvers others could only dream of. She can twist her body as if a snake, and her wings allow her to make sharp turns with little delay.
- Though her scales are naturally a light pinkish hue, she is able to reflect light off of them - thus being able to appear as a different colour, or even slightly alter her appearance to look bigger, smaller, or even a different type of dragon - though only momentarily.
- Like some other light dragons, she can also turn completely invisible.
- She can fire plasma blasts and white flames, and also radiate similar plasma energy from her whole body. This can be used to relay signals, light the way in poor visibility and also blind an opponent, thus making it even less likely to land a proper blow.

[b]Weaknesses[/b]
- Incandescence is a proud creature, fearing nothing and bowing to none. A dangerous flaw in the midst of combat, where teamwork and cunning are often necessary talents.
- In addition to the above, though Incandescence can talk telepathically with her rider as every other, for now, she has chosen not to. 
- Due to her impressive evasive prowess, Incandescence is not used to taking hits. As such, her pain tolerance is quite low, and she's more likely to withdraw from battle after injuries that wouldn't necessarily bother some other dragons.
- When she isn't actively trying to hide herself with invisibility, Incandescence makes for a large, colourful target. A nimble one capable of dodging, yes, but there is always a danger of an attack she did not see coming.
- She has poor vision in darkness, and must keep radiating light or blasting out flames in rapid succession to light up her way if caught in poor lighting.

[b]Other[/b]
Incandescence very much acts like a dragon version of a spoiled noble lady - pompous, prideful and expecting due respect when addressed. How and why she chose Efraim - or anyone at all - is anyone's guess.[/center]

[/hider]
[hider=ayame][center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/hjvxT1cc/aka.png[/img][/center]

[hr]
[color=#933f34][b]P E R S O N A L ⋅  I N F O R M A T I O N:[/b][/color]

[hr]
[color=#933f34][b]Name:[/b][/color]

[indent]Ayame Sakanoue[/indent]
[color=#933f34][b]Gender:[/b] [/color]

[indent]Female[/indent]
[color=#933f34][b]Age: [/b][/color]

[indent]19[/indent]
[color=#933f34][b]Race:[/b] [/color]

[indent]Renard[/indent]
[color=#933f34][b]Appearance: [/b][/color]

[indent]Ayame is a small girl with a big presence. Though she's been through quite a few trials and tribulations in her young life, her noble heritage runs deep - and it shows in everything she does. She carries herself as if she was trying to impress royalty, with each motion carefully planned for. There's a certain aura to her, one of tranquility and grace, that seems to come effortlessly.

That is, until she opens her mouth. While the words themselves are often formal and polite enough, there's a demanding edge to her tone - and if she doesn't get what she wants, she can get [i]loud[/i], shattering any illusion of tranquility that might've still lingered. When frustrated, her silent, graceful movements become forceful and stiff, and she has been seen to stomp her foot on more than one occasion...

She has long, deep black hair cascading down her back all the way to her thighs, with various decorations included in her hairdo. She likes big, puffy, loose-fitting and [i]comfortable[/i] clothes, especially ones made of expensive material in vibrant colours. She adores jewelry as well, and can be often found donning excessive amounts of it. In other words, she--- hardly looks like someone that should be descending down into a monster filled dungeon. Thankfully, she has prepared for the trip a little, opting for a [url=https://pm1.narvii.com/6630/f36f1936e463287297ec81c560e98f6955ed666a_hq.jpg]slightly less obtrusive getup[/url]. Her skin is well cared for, but has seen little sun; as much is obvious from how easily her pale skin burns.

[color=#933f34][b]Height:[/b][/color] 5'2''
[color=#933f34][b]Weight:[/b] [/color]A lady should never be asked her weight
[color=#933f34][b]Eye color:[/b] [/color]Dark red
[color=#933f34][b]Hair color: [/b][/color]Deep black[/indent]
[color=#933f34][b]Personality: [/b][/color]

[indent]As said, one would be forgiven for mistaking Ayame to a demure lady that tries her best to go unseen and avoid conflict. For all intents and purposes, that is how her parents tried to raise her - but not quite what became of her. In a word, Ayame is a diva that ultimately strives to ensure her own comfort above everything else. She's greedy, coveting riches that might grant her an "easy life" as she puts it, and gods help whoever tries to get in her way. 

She's stubborn yet lazy, wanting things but not really wanting to [i]work [/i]for them. When things get hard, she has no problem throwing away her pride and acting like a damsel in distress, even if she were fully capable of solving the situation herself. She dislikes hard labor, particularly if it threatens to get her hands dirty. Why do something herself anyway, if she can have someone else do it in exchange for a few cooing words and a wink? That's just absurd! Of course, if her little ploy doesn't work, she's quick to grow frustrated and let her true, less than pleasant colours show via demands, threats, bribery or simply constant, endless, vehement [i]nagging[/i].

Difficult as it might be to believe, Ayame is not without her good sides, however. For one, though she's not above flattery or manipulation to get what she wants short term, she ultimately doesn't want to retort to lies and deceit to make a living. She's seen how such things affect others, and while she seeks an easy life, she doesn't want to make anyone else's (too) difficult while attaining it. She will, if begrudgingly, work for her keep if the situation calls for it, and will absolutely come to the aid of anyone she sees requiring it. She just... [i]may[/i] ask for a favor in return, but such thing is just common courtesy, is it not? She also has a soft spot for anything or anyone cute; children and small animals in particular. Except dogs. Hrr, [i]dogs.[/i]

Ayame is also curious, and always willing to learn; particularly through books, her second love, right after jewelry. She's particularly interested in furthering her knowledge on magic, culture and history, and can often be found taking notes in her little book. She might not seem like your usual intellectual, oftentimes acting rashly or coming across as sheltered, but let not appearances deceive you; that's exactly what she wants.
[/indent]
[color=#933f34][b]Likes: [/b][/color]

[indent]✾ jewelry
✾ riches
✾ history
✾ books
✾ compliments
✾ learning
✾ meat
✾ baths
✾ pleasant scents
✾ children
[/indent]
[color=#933f34][b]Dislikes: [/b][/color]

[indent]
✘ hard work
✘ dirt
✘ ugly things
✘ stupidity
✘ rain
✘ cold weather
✘ having her tail touched
✘ rude people
✘ thieves
✘ dogs
[/indent] 
[color=#933f34][b]Hobbies: [/b][/color]

[indent]
‼ reading
‼ napping
‼ collecting shiny things
‼ [s]bossing people around[/s]
[/indent]  
[color=#933f34][b]Background: [/b][/color]

[indent]Born to a noble family far from Orario, Ayame's early years were spent among riches and luxuries. She was an only child and the apple of her parents' eyes, all her needs taken care of and wishes heeded to. As one would expect, she grew up both sheltered and indolent, never having known the need to work for her keep. And once her parents found out that much like them, she had aptitude for magic, their praises all but doubled. If Ayame wasn't spending her days lazing around or relaxing, she was practicing magic or reading - skills that, while she never deliberately tried to lea, would prove useful years later.

Ayame was still a child when her home was ravaged by thieves, attracted to the family's wealth - or so the story told to her went, anyway. There were rumours that told a different tale; that her parents had earned their riches through fraudulent means, and that it had been their own vile deeds that had finally caught up to them. Whatever the real story, the end result was much the same; Ayame's parents perished and she was whisked away to safety at her uncle's house, far from her family's estate.

The new house she had to settle into was much smaller than the one prior, and the rules weren't quite as lax. For one, there was no such thing as idling around. Everyone that lived under Kotomine's roof had to contribute in some way - a concept that did not sit well with the young renard. Ayame was a turbulent teen and as stubborn as they came, so after a few months spent either bickering or begrudgingly preparing food, she finally gathered her things and bid adieu.

Only, as she would soon find out, she could not outrun the need to work. Without work, she could get no coin - and without coin, she couldn't eat. It was the simplest of concepts, yet it took actually experiencing it for her to fully grasp the absolute nature of it. But once she finally accepted that there was no shortcut to riches, she quickly found out that not having spent a day of her life actually working, she wasn't really... [i]good [/i]at anything. She couldn't cook, her hands blistered after the slightest attempt to clean, and she had neither the physique nor technique to lift or carry things. All she had was little bit of magic and an empty stomach.

So, she ended up a street artist, performing small magic tricks for anyone that had the time to stop and watch awhile. It kept her eating, but wasn't [i]quite[/i] the ticket back to luxury shed'd hoped for. It gave her practice in her craft, but even when her performance improved, her income hardly did. Even so, she stuck to her guns, stubborn as ever. Time and time again she came across shady folk on the streets, and just as many times she turned to face the other way, refusing their attempts to try and get her to join their little ploys. She'd seen what thieves did to people. She would not fall quite [i]that[/i] low.

Then, one day, she got reason not to turn her head away. She overheard a little girl screaming for help, and found herself at the scene of a kidnapping. Unarmed and completely untrained in any sort of combat, she acted on instinct and did the only thing she could think of; for the first time in her life, she aimed her magic at another living being. She was in luck; her display of magic attracted the town guards, and the situation dissolved before the thieves could retaliate. The girl thanked her, and in her childish glee, mentioned something about her adventurers - and how she would make for a great one. Ayame brushed it aside as a child's blathering.

That was, until one day at the local inn, she happened to overhear a similar topic. She heard talk of a place called Orario, a labyrinth city where many gathered in hopes of making a fortune. Utterly tired of her daily grind, Ayame's interest was piqued - and a few days later, she found herself stepping unto the cobblestones of Orario for the first time. 
[/indent]
[color=#933f34][b]Wallet: [/b][/color]

[indent]- 1,000 Valis 
[/indent]
[hr]
[color=#933f34][b]P A R A M E T E R S  &  S K I L L S:[/b][/color]

[hr]
[color=#933f34][b]Level: [/b][/color] 1
[color=#933f34][b]Achieved Floor: [/b][/color] 0
[color=#933f34][b]Class: [/b][/color]Mage
[color=#933f34][b]Affiliation: [/b][/color] Athena

[color=#933f34][b]Equipment: [/b][/color]

[indent]- expensive clothes
- decorative staff[/indent]
[color=#933f34][b]Stats: [/b][/color]

[indent]• Strength: I
• Endurance: I
• Dexterity: I	
• Agility: I
• Magic: I[/indent]
[color=#933f34][b]Basic Skills: [/b][/color]

[indent]N/A[/indent]
[color=#933f34][b]Development Skills: [/b][/color]

[indent]N/A[/indent]
[color=#933f34][b]Spells: [/b][/color]

[indent]N/A[/indent][/hider]
[hider=Jaroslav Moravec] [center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/3a/d8/44/3ad8442e366fef774aae5e48c9cdaf4e--jason-todd-art-images.jpg[/img][/center]

[color=#9c9c9c][b]Name:[/b][/color]

[indent]Jaroslav "Jaro" Moravec, or as he's known among the racer crowd, "Blazer"[/indent]
[color=#9c9c9c][b]Age: [/b][/color]

[indent]18[/indent]
[color=#9c9c9c][b]Crew Position:[/b] [/color]

[indent]Helmsman[/indent]
[color=#9c9c9c][b]Aspirations: [/b][/color]

[indent]Truth be told, Jaroslav's ambitions aren't particularly noble or worthy of reverence. All he wants is his next fix of adrenaline. The small-time races back home just aren't doing it for him anymore. He needs to go harder, faster, and with something far more gigantic on his ass. Bonus points if it breathes fire.

[/indent]
[color=#9c9c9c][b]Personality:[/b] [/color]

[indent]Jaroslav isn't a difficult guy to read - he's an open book with a detailed synopsis. What you see is what you get; a reckless youth that doesn't remember yesterday and doesn't worry for tomorrow. He's generally laid back and takes things in a stride, to an extent that some may find irresponsible. If he does have a problem with someone or something though, worry not; you'll hear about it. Though he usually doesn't have bad intentions, he doesn't really watch what he says or to whom, and it has gotten him in trouble more than once. 

It's not like he has trouble with authority on a principle or something though, and he is fully capable of following orders and doing as he's bid - even if he might complain about it on the way. Similarly, while Jaro does hate boredom and menial tasks, he doesn't purposefully seek to cause havoc, and never intentionally drags others into his mess. Sometimes it just... [i]happens[/i], and he only notices it when everything around him is figuratively ablaze. He will always try to fix what he's broken, though, and is not a bad kid at heart. At the core of most of his problems is inexperience, and no doubt leaving behind the city is going to do wonders in teaching him a thing or two about life - and death.

Adrenaline is, without a shadow of a doubt, Jaro's greatest vice. It's what drives him to seek excitement where he should not - but it's also what gives him the drive to overcome whatever obstacle he encounters on the way. It gets him in trouble, and it bails him out. It's what awaits him at the top, and what threatens to pull him under. He's a junkie, through-and-through.
[/indent]
[color=#9c9c9c][b]Background: [/b][/color]

[indent]Jaroslav was born in the lower-middle class area of Baltimore, and for as long as he can remember, it's just been him and his mother trying to make ends meet. There [i]is[/i] this guy that sort of looks like him in an old portrait at the back wall of the house, holding his mom's hand - but considering the bastard left before he was even old enough to speak, Jaro just knows the guy as "that dude with shitty mustache." Hopefully, wherever he is today, he's got a better sense of style. [i]Yikes.[/i]

Speaking of things Jaroslav doesn't know, most of his family history falls into that category. His mother has been reluctant to talk about anything that happened prior to his birth, but he's managed to gather some bits and pieces over the years. Apparently his family lived in some place called "Europe", and his grandfather served in the war that fucked the world over. Oh, and his mom had a dog, but the thing would be dead by now even if Earth [i]hadn't[/i] been taken over by abominations. 

Growing up, Jaro was always a troublesome kid - though not on purpose. He loved his mother even [i]before[/i] he was old enough to realize just how hard she worked to put food on their table, and would've never wanted to cause her worry on purpose. He didn't set out to cause trouble. He just... set out at the wrong time, to the wrong places, with the wrong people. Trouble didn't just [i]find[/i] him, it attached itself to him by the hip and made him race through life three-legged. It certainly didn't help that he practically lived and breathed adrenaline, with no amount of punishment able set him straight.

But worry over his increasingly old and weary mother eventually did, somewhat. By the time Jaro reached his teenage years, he started to try and redirect some of his energy to small jobs here and there in an attempt to financially support his mother. It... didn't always work out. He was still an easily bored teen, too easily distracted and too quick to rile up. Needless to say, many of his jobs ended prematurely, with his pockets being none the fuller.

That was until he ended up helping some of the older kids fix up their gear for a sport that had been making the rounds as of late; air-racing. Just like the name entailed, it involved racing over the city walls with small, usually home-made airboats. The vessels were only big enough for one, and needed dedicated repair often - which was where Jaroslav came in.

But he could only watch from the sidelines so long.

The first time he rose above the walls atop a wobbly boat, he fell in love. He was supposed to be just a substitute pilot, there to get a participation trophy for the real deal. He came in fourth. When he joined his next race after months of practice gliding around the city, he came in second; and from there, his climb to the top but continued. He was already a famous racer, hailed as the hotheaded "Blazer" with dozens of wins under his belt, when [i]that[/i] incident cemented his name onto everyone's lips for months to come. 

It was the Summer Ignite, the biggest race out there. Air-racing wasn't an official sport sanctioned by the city, and those participating in it were often fined if caught - but considering the size of the Summer Ignite and its popularity among the youth, too much effort would've needed to be poured into stopping it. It happened on the walls in the less populous, poorer area of the city, anyway; away from the general populace's eyes.

Midway through the race, all eyes were watching.

With no warning, the race was interrupted by two manticores emerging from the clouds below, their fearsome forms two dark dots against the blue of the sky. They caught the racers by surprise, and had Jaro not turned around and sped down to distract them away from some of the slower contestants, more than one family would've likely ended the evening in mourning.

So, at only seventeen, Jaroslav not only crossed the finish line first, he did so a hero, with two manticores hot on his trail. 

The city watch managed to take care of the beasts before Jaro's heroic story ended in a tragedy. 

Jaroslav's celebration was intense, but decidedly short-lived. By the time the next race rolled around and he rose to greet the skies once more, everything felt uncharacteristically... dull. All his senses, all the sensations around him. The breeze against his face, the wind's howl in his ears, the vertigo of leaning over the boat's edge to gaze at the murky clouds below. None of it made him [i]tingle[/i]. 

He won the race, probably. He wasn't really paying attention.

It made no matter whether he was walking the streets or sliding atop the wall now; the city felt like a prison regardless.

But while Jaro was busy having an existential crisis, the news of his heroic deed kept on traveling. Eventually, it reached influential ears, ones that happened to be in need of a helmsmen for a certain vessel. And so, a few months later, with no education to justify such a decision, he was offered the position of a helmsman on the launch of a new frigate; The Drake. Fancy name for a simple vessel, but hey-- Jaroslav wasn't shallow. 
[/indent]
[color=#9c9c9c][b]Other:[/b][/color]

[indent]He speaks fluent Slovakian, not that he knows it's what the language is called. It's his mother tongue, and the one used at home the most. [/indent][/hider]
[hider=Evelynn, Jae-won Park][center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/ncM6VLLL/587badf1af787130a9d01651ae6eae73.jpg[/img]

[color=#9885b5][i]"I have a plan. Please... [i]listen[/i]."[/i][/color]

[s]Or, [color=#9885b5][i]"What do you mean you're 0/3, we're two minutes into the game!?"[/i][/color][/s][/center]
[hr]

[color=#9885b5][b]Name[/b][/color]: 

[indent]Jae-won "Jace" Park[/indent]
[color=#9885b5][b]Age[/b][/color]: 

[indent]20[/indent]
[color=#9885b5][b]Gender[/b][/color]: 

[indent]Male[/indent]
[color=#9885b5][b]Occupation[/b][/color]: 

[indent]College student, aspiring pro-gamer[/indent]
[color=#9885b5][b]Champion[/b][/color]: 

[indent]Evelynn[/indent]
[color=#9885b5][b]Abilities[/b][/color]: 

[indent]
[hider=Passive Ability: Demon Shade]After not taking or dealing damage for a short while, Jae-won turns invisible. He can be detected if he attacks, takes damage, or walks within five feet of someone. If he's at low health while in Demon Shade, he will also start to regenerate health at a rapid rate.[/hider]
[hider=Ability #1: Hate Spike]With a flourish, Jae-won throws a dart that deals damage on hit. From there onwards, his next three attacks deal extra damage. Subsequent three casts have him launch rows of spikes that prioritize Jae-won's target and cost no prana.[/hider]
[hider=Ability #2: Allure]At cast, Jae-won marks a target. If he attacks or otherwise touches the target right afterwards, he slows their movement. If he waits for a few seconds before doing so, he charms them instead. If he triggers either effect, the prana used for Allure will be refunded.[/hider] 
[hider=Ability #3: Whiplash]Jae-won produces two ethereal lashers that strike at an enemy. If he was in Demon Shade during or between casts, he pulls himself to his target and deals increased damage. In either case, he gains a small burst of movement speed after the attack.[/hider] 
[hider=Ability #4: Last Caress]For an instant, Jae-won's visage is replaced by that of Evelynn's true form. All those that are close enough to witness the horrifying sight take damage - and those that are at a very low health are executed. Jae-won is untargetable for the duration of this, and is flung backwards afterward. [/hider]  
[/indent]
[color=#9885b5][b]Appearance[/b][/color]: 

[indent]Jae-won is diminutive in both posture and presence, easily blending into any given crowd - just the way he likes it. He stands at 5'6'' with a petite build and somewhat boyish facial features, making him look even younger than he really is. He has thick black hair; messy when he's alone, desperately combed to submission whenever he's forced to step outside. His eyes are dark brown, hidden behind the frames of large glasses. Round ones, unlike the ones in the picture. He has traces of past, teenage blemishes on his face, but he's rather apt at hiding them if need be. On most days, he doesn't bother. 

Jae-won can often be found with a plain white face-mask on, even when he isn't sick. Preferably one that smells pleasant. The obscurity the mask brings is comforting, and the scent soothing. When it comes to clothes, his can best be described as "safe"; nothing too striking in terms of design or colour. You probably won't remember whatever he had on at any given time. At home, hoodies are his life. He owns so many animal hoodies that he could fill up an entire zoo with them.[/indent]
[color=#9885b5][b]Personality[/b][/color]: 

[indent]It's quite difficult to get to know Jae-won - or the real him, anyway. First impressions tend to peg him as shy, reserved and polite, always the one to avoid conflict and never utter a controversial word. That is, if you manage to get a word out of him at all; if given the choice, he much prefers to observe and go with the flow rather than speak up. However, unlike many might think, that isn't due to lack of opinions or things to say. Underneath his practiced calm, Jae-won is surprisingly short-tempered, and his thoughts are quite a bit ruder than the words that do leave his mouth. The same can be observed in-game: in chat, Jae-won is the most rational player imaginable, keeping calm and shotcalling no matter the circumstance. But [i]oh[/i], if only you knew the rage going on in his room...

It comes as no surprise that an awkward gamer like Jae-won is somewhat of a loner. Not necessarily because he would dislike the idea of friendship, but rather because he isn't very socially adept and doesn't really know [i]how[/i] to make friends. Part of him fears that if he were to ever grow close to someone, they would eventually find out that he isn't as proper or polite as he seems to be - and fears their reaction. It's not that he's mean, but he is quite critical - and while that is [i]mostly [/i]towards himself, it goes to a lesser extent towards others as well. 

All his awkwardness is further amplified whenever he deals with the opposite sex, to a point that even his carefully crafted calmness shows cracks here and there. As such, he'd rather just say nothing at all and hope his aloof demeanor gets considered 'cool'. It never does.

[/indent]
[color=#9885b5][b]Short Biography[/b][/color]: 

[indent]Jae-won was born in Icheon, South Korea, where he spent the first ten years of his life. At the cusp of his eleventh birthday, his parents moved to Toronto, Canada, for his father's work - a prospect which, while exciting at first, turned out a source of anxiety for Jae-won soon enough. Always a shy kid, he turned even more a recluse when thrust into a new country with new people, customs and language. And while he learnt the latter fast enough, he never did grow fully accustomed to the former. It certainly didn't help that despite the big change, his parents' expectations hardly changed. They still expected him to be the top of his class and retain his previous academic score. After all, they hoped he'd one day achieve a high paying job like his father and help keep the family's finances steady for years to come. Stressed, desperate and in his teenage years, Jae-won did something he'd considered unthinkable previously: he acted out and rebelled.

That was, until his parents' sudden divorce. Jae-won was not told any details, and he never dared ask. All he knew was that one day, his father no longer came back, and his mother was left with the tough task of raising him alone. Stabbed with a sudden jolt of guilt, Jae-won went back to being the perfect, polite son to the best of his ability, taking on what little jobs he could to help provide for the family. This did come with an unfortunate trade-off, however; his studies suffered. During all this time, League was Jae-won's secret escape, a way to let out steam and forget all his stress and responsibilities for a while. 

Upon graduating high school, Jae-won focused on finding more jobs instead of furthering his education, a decision his mother found regretful - yet could not deny the need for. At least, until two years ago, she found a new love. He wasn't as well-off as Jae-won's father had been, yet he was a nice man and did take financial burden off the rest of the family regardless. Jae-won could not say he felt any particular attachment towards him, but he tolerated him well enough. And while vary of his new sister at first, after a few years spent as siblings, Jae-won has started to somewhat relax around her. He looks up to her determination and fire, she finds him cute, much to his dismay.

With his financial contributions no longer necessary, Jae-won finally applied for college. A little later than most, but later is always better than never, he supposes. As it has turned out so far, college hasn't been quite as taxing as he'd expected, either, and he now finds himself with a surprising amount of free time compared to a few years ago. He has dedicated all that freetime for League, and has quickly risen the ranks all the way to Challenger. Such success did come with a cost, however; once a game he played for fun, League has now become a prospective job. School and traditional worklife, Jae-won has found, are not things he enjoys or is particularly good at. So if he does want a job that brings in money... perhaps it's time to look elsewhere.

[/indent]
[color=#9885b5][b]Summary[/b][/color]:

[indent]Nerd with big dreams and a short temper.[/indent]
[color=#9885b5][b]Other[/b][/color]:

[indent]- Has multiple accounts on both NA and KR servers, since he travels between the two countries often. He has made one in EUW as well, but the high ping has deterred him from playing on it much. His NA and KR ranks fluctuate between Challenger and Grandmaster.

- Mains jungle, with support as his secondary role. Sometimes, when he's grown too frustrated with soloq ADCs, he dabbles into that role as well - mostly on smurf accounts that people don't know are his, since he isn't terribly good at it.

- His favorite junglers are Evelynn and Elise, but he has a fair amount of expertise with many others as well. At one point, he played a lot of Camille in particular.

- In Canada, or with westerners in general, Jae-won tends to go by the name "Jace" to ease pronunciation woes. It has nothing to do with the champion called Jayce.

- When nervous, fiddles with whatever is available. Mostly his phone - whether it's turned on or not - but in its absence, pens, hair or sleeves will do.[/indent][/hider]
[hider=Erin][center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/3Jtgggzq/Widowmaker-full-2067836.jpg[/img]

[h3]Kawasaki "Erin" Joseline[/h3][/center]

[b]Age:[/b] 18
[b]School Year:[/b] Senior
[b]Personality:[/b] Joseline is not the kindest individual you'll ever come across, but she is polite and tactful until given reason not to. Logical, calculating and not one to engage in idle chitchat, she speaks bluntly and formally, with little regard given to feelings or sentiments - though she can certainly pretend otherwise if needed. Manipulative and cunning, she isn't above using dirty tactics to get her way, either. With that said, her pride does prevent her from groveling in front of anyone, even if it would be useful for her. It also makes her come across as condescending, seemingly talking down to people even when it wasn't deliberate.

While she's calm and collected most of the time, she does have a tendency to carry grudges and become spiteful if her will isn't heeded or she's directly challenged. She doesn't yell even when crossed, but the sharpness of her tongue makes it clear enough when a line has been crossed. Ambitious to a fault, she hates the idea of following someone else's lead in matters where she believes she'd make a more suitable leader. At the same time, she is fully capable of recognizing and respecting talent and intellect around her, particularly in topics she's not well-versed in herself. She has no patience for idiocy or people she considers stupid.

[b]History:[/b] The marriage of Eloise Belleau and Alexandre Chauvet was more a mutually beneficial arrangement than a vow made out of love, but it lasted for nearly two decades and spawned a successful family business, so neither side truly minded. Joseline was born in Paris at the height of the couple's success, and being an only child, it was expected that she would one day inherit the leadership of the company. Her opinion on the matter was never asked, nor did she think to offer it. From a very young age, she learnt to view her eventual takeover as something natural and inevitable - much like sunrise every morning.

Joseline was home-schooled, with particular emphasis put on topics related to business endeavours. As a child, she found the topics dull and her teacher duller, only sitting through her classes because she did not think she had a choice. Homework was abundant and her time to play outside limited, in both quality and quantity. She was not allowed to play with just [i]anyone[/i], and was rarely allowed outside alone. 

The older she got, though, the less she minded her lifestyle and the more appealing her future position as a rich businesswoman sounded. The value of money became more apparent, as did the difference between her and the so-called 'poor folk'. Whether it was a natural development in her personality or the result of years of indoctrination, none could say, and she certainly didn't care either way. Regardless, she started to gain an interest in the family business, and the once-boring classes soon turned out to be something she thoroughly enjoyed. Ambition was in her blood, after all - or that's what her parents said, proud of her dedication.

Come time for high school, Joseline's parents decided to forgo home schooling in favor of improving her social skills and cultural knowledge. On her second year, Joseline went on exchange to North America - and it was while there that her life changed forever. Unbeknownst to her, both the family business and her parents' marriage had been going downhill as of late, until Alexandre and Eloise could no longer bear the though of each other. They divorced swiftly and professionally, with Joseline's father buying her mother out of the company; a deal that Eloise agreed to much more readily than Joseline. She had dedicated her entire life to this company, she was [i]not [/i]about to leave it behind over her parents' [i]whims[/i]. 

Unfortunately, being underage and unable to live on her own, she had little choice. Though her father would've readily employed her after her graduation, with perhaps the chance of one day rising to the top, Eloise had other plans. By the time Joseline's exchange year was over, her mother had already begun arrangements to move to Japan, where she'd found the new 'love of her life'; another multimillionaire with a successful company. And so, Joseline never did return to France; she found herself sitting in a plane to the other side of the world, frustrated yet hopeful. Perhaps she could put her skills to use in her adoptive father's company. Supposedly, it was even more successful than her father's had been.

That hope soon died out. As it turned out, Mr. Yamahiro Kawasaki already had an heir for his company in mind; a son by the name of Hirokichi, two years younger than Joseline. To make matters worse, the boy was neither suitable nor interested in any sort of business, much less his father's. He was not a bad kid, but he was, in Joseline's words, 'dumb as a rock, and twice as quiet.' Shy, meek, and not leader material. Joseline could not fathom him taking a position that should be [i]hers[/i]. No. She would see to it that she got her due, through any means necessary.

Quite conveniently, it turned out that Hirokichi was not only a fool - he was naive to boot, and made the mistake of trying to be friends with his new sister. That suited Joseline quite well; it gave her access to his trust and, by extension, influence over him. If nothing else, she could manipulate his opinions and decisions, essentially making sure her will was done, even if someone else did have to act as her mouthpiece. 

And yet, for someone as ambitious as her, ruling from the shadows is the same as not ruling at all - and so, she remains dissatisfied. Perhaps she will figure out a more permanent solution come graduation - provided there aren't any... other surprises to distract her.

[b]Alignment:[/b] Chaotic Neutral

[b]Weapon:[/b] -
[b]Armor:[/b] -
[b]Accessory:[/b] -

[b]Arcana:[/b] The Devil
[b]Arcana Bonus:[/b] +1 Mental Field, +1 Magic / Curse spells cost half, may cast magic spells for the MF/HP equivalent to the tier instead of SP / Cannot use Heal/Buff

[b]Current/Max MF:[/b] 7/7
[b]Current/Max HP:[/b] 10/10
[b]Current/Max SP:[/b] 50/50

[b]Persona:[/b] Lilith

[hider][img]https://i.postimg.cc/8P9twpw8/reyrfdgwewdssfdf.png[/img][/hider]
[b]Persona Lore:[/b] A demonic figure that has appeared in many legend, tale and religious text. Depending on the source, she's said to be the leader of the succubi, Adam's first wife, the mother of a horde of demons and so on and forth. Generally, she's seen as a seductress who preys on men at night.

[b]Persona Stats:[/b] 
[list]
[*] Mental Field - 2
[*] Strength - 1
[*] Magic - 3
[*] Endurance - 1
[*] Agility - 1
[*] Luck - 2
[/list]
[b]Elemental Affinities:[/b] 
[list]
[*] Phys - 
[*] Gun - 
[*] Fire - 
[*] Ice - 
[*] Elec - 
[*] Wind - 
[*] Psy - Resist
[*] Nuc - 
[*] Bless - Weakness
[*] Curse - 
[/list]
[b]Persona Spells:[/b]

[hider=T1]
[Curse/AOE] Maeiha: +2 dmg - 10 meter range / 10 meter radius / 10 SP
[curse/Kill] Mudo: 25% / 1 enemy / 15 SP[/hider]
[hider=T2][/hider]
[hider=T3][/hider]
[hider=T4][/hider]
[/hider]

---

[hider=caw][center][h2][color=8882be]Caw[/color][/h2]
[img]https://media-waterdeep.cursecdn.com/avatars/thumbnails/5334/207/420/618/636850247380923324.jpeg[/img]
[h3]True Neutral | Kenku | Rogue 1 | Cloistered Scholar[/h3]
[i][color=8882be]"Caw"[/color][/i]
[h3][color=8882be][b][u]Attributes[/u][/b][/color][/h3][h3][b]AC[/b] 14 • [b]HP[/b] 09/09 • [b]Speed[/b] 30[/h3]
[b]STR[/b] 08 (-1) | [b]DEX[/b] 17 (+3) | [b]CON[/b] 12 (+1)
[b]INT[/b] 15 (+2) | [b]WIS[/b] 12 (+1) | [b]CHA[/b] 10 (0)

[b]Saving Throws:[/b] Dexterity, Intelligence
[b]Skills:[/b][b] Stealth[/b], Sleight of Hand, History, Arcana,
Acrobatics, Insight, [b]Investigation[/b], Perception
[b]Tools:[/b] Thieves' Tools
[b]Languages:[/b] (Written) Common, Auran

[h3][color=8882be][b][u]Arms & Armour[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
[b]Armour[/b] | Leather Armor
[b]Weapons[/b] | Shortbow (20 arrows) | Rapier | Daggers (2)
[b]Tools & Items[/b] | Thieves' Tools | Explorer's Pack | Writing Kit (quill, ink, parchment, penknife) | "Borrowed" Book (on magical theory)

[h3][color=8882be][b][u]Appearance[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
[b]Age:[/b] 15 | [b]Height:[/b] 4'5'' | [b]Weight:[/b] 70lbs

A bit on the shorter side even for his species, Caw is a diminutive Kenku whose beak and colouration resemble a crow more than a raven. His beak is shorter and less curved, and his plumage lacks a coloured sheen. Quite a scruffy sight, his feathers are often ruffled (in a non-figurative way) and the dark robe he wraps himself in shows clear signs of wear and tear. All in a all, he very much looks like a product of the streets.

Caw tends to keep his face hidden, but when one does catch a sight of it, they'll see large beady eyes staring right back at them. He has a tendency to rapidly tilt his head around when listening or curious, the way a bird would - a habit he cannot control.
[hider=Personal Item (optional)]
[img]Image of item (optional)[/img]
[b]Name:[/b] Caw's Notebook | [b]Age:[/b] ~5 years | [b]Size:[/b] Small | [b]Weight:[/b] 02lbs

As he fled the wizard's dwelling, Caw tried to take the man's expansive spellbook with him for safekeeping. However, it was much too heavy to carry and make a successful escape with, so instead he opted to snatch a study book on magic and, more importantly his own notebook. It's a worn old thing that doesn't have any complete spells on it, but it has bits and pieces of invocations, as well as other notes he's made. Perhaps not the most useful, but certainly holds sentimental value.[/hider]
[h3][color=8882be][b][u]Personality[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
[b]Main Mood:[/b] Cautious | [b]Fave Food:[/b] Berries | [b]Pet Peeve:[/b] Being taken for a fool | [b]Style of Battle:[/b] Sneaky, careful

Caw isn't very talkative, owning to his "condition". However, that doesn't mean he's a recluse who's unwilling to socialize. On the contrary, he rather enjoys the company of people and even talking to them - he just hesitates to be the one to initiate small talk. Now, bring up the topic of magic or an urgent issue at hand, and he will do his best to contribute. He also has a tendency to mimic people or their manner of speech if he's been around with them long enough. Up until now, he's mostly been around illiterate folk; petty thieves and dimwitted minions. As such, even though the amount of reading he's done has left his writing eloquent and vocabulary extensive, he can only make rudimentary sentences with basic words, often with incorrect grammar. This tends to leave people thinking he's stupid, a fact that irritates him to no end. With that said, he does have a few more sophisticated phrases he picked up from the wizard. His invocations were always Caw's favorites to listen to.

Having attempted to turn a new leaf and leave behind his life of crime, Caw strives to do the right thing where able. However, being the craven sort, he does put preserving his own hide before anyone else's, and will flee if things get too dangerous. He also suffers from bouts of kleptomania, so used to picking pockets that sometimes his hand quite literally slips. He is a follower at heart though, having been one his entire life, so being told not to do something is an effective deterrent, at least for a time. If able, he does try to return the things he steals as well - unless the fellows he took from were the bad sort. Then it was just karma.

Finally, though he's read a lot about the world from the wizard's books, he lacks real experience in many aspects of life. He only got to see a limited portion of the world before he was taken in by the wizard and kept behind mostly closed doors, and the traveling he's done since hasn't been very vast yet. He's curious at heart, even if he is careful and cautious in his approach, and nowadays writes down his discoveries on the leftover pages of his book. A diary, if you will.

[h3][color=8882be][b][u]Origin[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
Born in the shadier parts of a small port town, it was only a matter of time before Caw ended up the newest recruit to an ill-reputable flock. An uncreative lot, their schemes were not very intricate, and for years they only found success in petty theft. They stayed afloat much thanks to their Master, an old and elusive Kenku with a good head on his shoulders. So when he passed away at the ripe old age of 57, the flock crumbled soon after; led by someone much younger and more reckless, they ended up following overheard plans of a heist and finding themselves severely outmatched. Some lived, some died, yet others slunk to the shadows and vanished. 

Caw lived to tell the tale, but the bliss of survival was short-lived. Kenku were not creatures that thrived on their own - especially not ones as craven as Caw. So, scared, alone, and in need of a new home, he traversed the lands in search for a place to belong. Who found who is a debate for another time, but Caw did eventually end up on the receiving end of an offer he could not refuse. An elderly wizard with a dark beard and darker yet gaze was in need of an extra pair of hands, and had no real use for wit. From his demeanor alone, there was no mistaking him for a friendly fellow, but Caw was no stranger to the wrong side of law. And so, he found a new Master.

From then on he worked as the wizard's underling, doing various little tasks for the man. These included relying messages, making counterfeits, occasionally memorizing voices and, perhaps most importantly of all, copying spells from stolen tomes into the wizard's own, expansive book. It was tedious work that few wanted and fewer yet could complete on the level of perfection a Kenku could. It was no matter to the old wizard that Caw had access to his spells; he thought the bird as dim as a cave, and his head as hollow to boot. He was wrong. Though not very eloquent and definitely not charismatic, Caw had a knack for remembering things. He spent most of his time in the wizard's library, and once his tasks for the day were complete, he studied up on a variety of topics. 

However, well-read as he soon was, his pool of memorized phrases remained rather limited. He didn't hear much speech during his days, only the occasional word or two from other minions, or the wizard reading out loud his spells. As such, since most of the auditory input he received for days on end were spells, he often found himself awake at night in his tower, gazing out at the night sky and muttering out loud invocations he'd heard. His words did nothing as far as magic went, but they brought him some form of ease. Somehow, the topic of magic in general did. After all, he'd seen spells like Levitate and Transmutation, and heard of magical boots and brooms that took their uses to the clouds. Eventually, it made him wonder... maybe if [i]he [/i]were to learn magic, perhaps one day he could learn to fly as naturally as any bird and take to the skies. He wondered if his Master already could; to Caw, the man seemed able to do anything.

He'd soon be proven wrong. Before Caw could properly start to realize his dream of studying magic, his Master met his end in the hands of adventurers who had come to end his reign. His minions either fled, fought or died, and after gathering what little he could, Caw made sure he was among the former. Nimble and small compared to most, he managed to slip away unharmed - physically, at least. Mentally, he was distraught and once more, alone.

Kenku were not creative, but they were not stupid, either - and after losing his home twice due to the bad deeds committed by his Masters and companions, Caw started to wonder if the life of crime was really worth it. He was not bad at heart, and felt no particular attachment to misdeeds or hatred towards other beings. It was just that... following orders was the only thing he knew, and picking pockets was second nature to him. What other work was there for a Kenku? 

He pondered on that, but as one would expect, could not come up with an answer - until his wandering hands came to pick the wrong pocket. Or the right one, as the case may be.
[h3][color=8882be][b][u]Writing Sample[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
[hider=How did NameOfChar meet NameOfTwin?]Start with 'How did NameOfChar meet NameOfTwin? I want you to write a short story describing the answer to this question, either full-third person or from the perspective of your character. This is how I will get an idea of your writing style. Cassandra wears green and white, and is a spellcaster. Sebastian wears blue and black, and uses a sword. Both wear a red cloak, and have brown hair and green eyes. Remember, Cayden's character sheet is HIGH END of what I expect.[/hider]
[h3][color=8882be][b][u]Features & Traits[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
[hider=Racial Features: Kenku]

[b][i]Expert Forgery[/i][/b] - You can duplicate other creatures' handwriting and craftwork. You have advantage on all checks made to produce forgeries or duplicates of existing objects.

[b][i]Mimicry[/i][/b] - You can mimic sounds you have heard, including voices. A creature that hears the sounds you make can tell they are imitations with a successful Wisdom (Insight) check opposed by your Charisma (Deception) check.

[b][i]Kenku Training[/i][/b] - You are proficient in your choice of two of the following skills: Acrobatics, Deception, Stealth, and Sleight of Hand.[/hider]

[hider=Background Features: Cloistered Scholar]

[b][i]Library Access[/i][/b] - Though others must often endure extensive interviews and significant fees to gain access to even the most common archives in your library, you have free and easy access to the majority of the library, though it might also have repositories of lore that are too valuable, magical, or secret to permit anyone immediate access.

You have a working knowledge of your cloister's personnel and bureaucracy, and you know how to navigate those connections with some ease.

Additionally, you are likely to gain preferential treatment at other libraries across the Realms, as professional courtesy shown to a fellow scholar.[/hider]

[hider=Class Features: Rogue]

[b][i]Expertise[/i][/b] - At 1st level, choose two of your skill proficiencies, or one of your skill proficiencies and your proficiency with thieves' tools. Your proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make that uses either of the chosen proficiencies.

[b][i]Sneak Attack[/i][/b] - Once per turn, you can deal extra 1d6 damage to one creature you hit with an attack if you have advantage on the attack roll. The attack must use a finesse or a ranged weapon.

You don't need advantage on the attack roll if another enemy of the target is within 5 feet of it, that enemy isn't incapacitated, and you don't have disadvantage on the attack roll.

The amount of the extra damage increases as you gain levels in this class, as shown in the Sneak Attack column of the Rogue table.

[b][i]Thieves' Cant[/i][/b] - During your rogue training you learned thieves' cant, a secret mix of dialect, jargon, and code that allows you to hide messages in seemingly normal conversation. Only another creature that knows thieves' cant understands such messages. It takes four times longer to convey such a message than it does to speak the same idea plainly.

In addition, you understand a set of secret signs and symbols used to convey short, simple messages, such as whether an area is dangerous or the territory of a thieves' guild, whether loot is nearby, or whether the people in an area are easy marks or will provide a safe house for thieves on the run.
[/hider]
[h3][color=8882be][b][u]Prepared Spells[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
[b]Spell Save DC[/b] XX | [b]Spell Attack Modifier[/b] +X | [b]Max Spells Prepared[/b] X
[hider=Class Spellcasting]Rules Surrounding your spells[/hider]
[hider=Cantrips][i]Cantrip Name[/i] [b]C[/b]oncentration [b]V[/b]erbal [b]S[/b]omatic [b]M[/b]aterial (material component), range, duration. Effect.[/hider]
[hider=Level (Slots)][i]Spell Name[/i] [b]C[/b]oncentration [b]V[/b]erbal [b]S[/b]omatic [b]M[/b]aterial (material component), range, duration. Effect.[/hider]
[h3][color=8882be][b][u]Other[/u][/b][/color][/h3]
- Color code is [color=#8882be]#8882be[/color][/center][/hider]
[hider=nadijah - done]
[center][h1]Nadijah[/h1][img]https://s7.postimg.cc/3jwtd8lff/nadijahedit2.png[/img]

[/center]
[hr]
[u][b]Name[/b][/u]

[indent]Nadijah of the Razordancers; second daughter of Farajah, the One-Eyed Watcher of the Valley. Yes, the full title is very important [/indent]
[u][b]Species[/b][/u]

[indent]Very aggressively[i] Gerudo[/i][/indent]
[u][b]Gender[/b][/u]

[indent]Female[/indent]
[u][b]Appearance[/b][/u]

[indent]Nadijah is a striking sight to behold - literally, because you will probably notice the weapon she's thrusting your way before anything else. Tan and built with lean muscle, she stands at 5'9'' and carries herself with the poise and pride befitting a warrior - most of the time, anyway. It doesn't take much to make her drop into a battle pose even when one isn't needed.

She doesn't carry much in the way of clothes, her heritage ensuring that she needs little protection even in the hot summer sun of the desert. She does have a cloak on her person for when she needs to keep a lower profile or shield herself from the cold (or her understanding of cold, anyway - please don't let her ever see snow) but in general she finds armour and heavy clothing constricting. And anything that makes her movement less fluid, must go.

One would think that the many weapons she carries around would be more a hindrance than another layer of leather, but her priorities are rather set in stone. Her twin scimitars, bow and dagger mean the world to her, and if she could have strapped her warhorse to her back to carry it around on her journey, she would have. No, really. [i]She would have.[/i][/indent]

[u][b]Personality[/b][/u]

[indent]Nadijah is first and foremost a warrior of her tribe, duty-bound to protecting her land and people come what may. She's prideful and matriotic, and is liable to react violently to any perceived insult towards her country or kin. Xenophobic and mistrustful of 'outsiders' - particularly those of voe variety - she is difficult to approach and even more difficult to befriend. Not that you'd likely [i]want [/i]to befriend her, anyway; she's callous, hot-headed and lacks the common courtesy not to voice unpleasant opinions out loud in polite company.

With that said, she's well aware that she is on a mission of reconnaissance at the moment, and knows that beheading random townsfolk for looking at her and her heritage with disdain is harmful to her duty. As such, she is attempting to tone down her violent tendencies and crudeness, lest she start another war. She's--- just not always successful at it.

But though she's ridden with faults, she is no monster. She fiercely cares for her own and is willing to risk her life for a cause she believes in. And though she holds no love for foreigners, she at least holds an immense amount of curiosity towards them, being both willing and eager to learn about them and theirs. True, this willingness stems from the thought that one should know their enemy to best fell them, but it is still arguably a better attitude than closing your ears and eyes from anything new or different.

Of course, as often is the case with Nadijah, she takes this curiosity a tad too far. Rude and intrusive questions aren't uncommon of her, and neither is downright poking, prodding or snatching things that she wishes to examine closer. So keep your fancy gadgets and especially unique weapons far from her unless you want her to repeatedly smash them on a wall to see whether they'll break. (If they do, she'll consider them boring and give them back, at least).[/indent]​

[u][b]Background[/b][/u]

[indent]​​Nadijah's story doesn't much differ from the others of her generation. She was a child born unto the doorstep of war, her mother a renowned warrior, her father a mere flicker of a presence within a society not meant for his kind. Come with the dusk, gone with the dawn, Nadijah never asked for his name, and her mother never cared to tell. 

The young Gerudo's first few years were spent in normalcy that she cannot recall. Her first memory proper is of fire; in the sky, on the heads of braced arrows, and in the eyes of her mother and sisters. The world burned, red-hot with hate. She was handed a blade all too heavy for her hands and told that soon enough she, too, would become a part of the pyre.

And a part of the pyre she became. 

Hers were menial tasks at first; practicing for the years to come, repairing weapons, gutting game, washing wounds, laying rest the dead - and taking shelter when the heavens exploded with sound and colour. But as the years grew, so did the scope of her responsibilities. There was blood on her hands before she saw her tenth summer, drawn from the arm of a man with hair as golden as the sun. A [i]foreigner[/i], she thought. [i]An outsider[/i], she was told as her hand was guided for another stab, [i]unwilling to talk[/i]. 

By the end of the night, he spoke plenty. 

Years held little meaning in war, and at some point, Nadijah stopped counting them. She told time by births and deaths, by the amount of able warriors and the frequency of hot, dry winds that heralded a season of drought. The elder Gerudo would often shed bitter tears over loved ones lost to strife, lamenting the harshness of life in the Valley. Nadijah never understood. To her, this was simply life. The only kind she'd ever known.

And then, one day, the world stopped burning.

But she never did.[/indent]

[u][b]Weaknesses[/b][/u]

[indent][b]Strike first, think-- actually, just strike again[/b] - Nadijah cares little for diplomacy, and even less for idle chatter. It's not that she is dumb, it's just that recklessness is carved into her very soul. She knows, in theory, how to plan out a quiet, stealthy assassination and carry it out with utmost care. She knows how to observe an enemy's weak spot before striking to avoid unnecessary injury. She does. It's just that... at times, once blades start to sing just so, she[i] forgets [/i] - and throws herself into the fray with reckless abandon.

[b]What sorcery is this[/b] - Magic is weird. Magic is[i] creepy,[/i] and she would rather stay the hell away from it. And no, it's not because she discovered early on that she had absolutely no affinity for it. No, not at all. She definitely [i]meant [/i]to burn her hair that one time, and the merchant's ware that other time; all she sold were crude counterfeits, anyway. With that said, she [i]can [/i]conjure fire to this day - but you probably don't want her to, considering she has no control over it.

[b]Me, myself and definitely not you[/b] - By teamwork, you mean the way a blade serves as an extension of arm and soul, yes? Oh, or perhaps you mean the unique bond between a warrior and her mount, carrying her off to countless battles? No? Wait, you mean, working together with another person...? Well, her Gerudo sisters[i] are [/i]capable, so if need be, she would not min-- teamwork with [i]outsiders?! [/i]Are you out of your damn [i]mind?![/i]

[b]Curiosity killed the cat(ty) Gerudo[/b] - Though she doesn't like to admit holding any curiosity or interest towards the outside world, she... does. Badly. And she's entirely unsuccessful at hiding it. She's bound to stick her nose where it doesn't belong, prod at the wrong people or examine[i] that one very suspicious lever that everyone keeps screaming at her not to approach,[/i] because how can she[i] not.[/i] And when something bad inevitably happens, well, that's [i]your[/i] fault for not adequately warning her.[/indent] 

[u][b]Strengths[/b][/u]

[indent][b]Float like a butterfly, sting like a motherfucker[/b] + Nadijah may not have been blessed with much of a strategic mind, but point her at an enemy you just want[i] gone[/i], and she's on the task like a flock of cuckoo scorned. Stealthy and fast on her feet with strength and skill to spare, she attacks like a bladed hurricane. At least, if hurricanes had a perpetual scowl and a foul mouth.

[b]If it's sharp, it'll do[/b] + Some children play with dolls, swing wooden swords or chase after hapless hens. Nadijah's first toy was a dagger, and the first game she played was gutting game her elders had caught. She can utilize most anything as a weapon, particularly if the object is sharp. She may not always know [i]the[/i] correct way to use a new weapon she has only just seen, but you can bet she will find a way to make it deadly in a matter of minutes.

[b]Ultimate Edgelord[/b] + Throw her in a pit of bones or have her watch an execution up close; she will not so much as flinch. She was warborn, living and breathing blood ever since she was old enough to understand the concept of battle. She has seen things, heard things and [i]done [/i]things that would make most grown men shiver or soil. Some would say her cruelty and callousness is a weakness - she doesn't understand how it could be anything but a strength.
[/indent]

[u][b]Attributes:[/b][/u]

[indent][b]Attack:[/b] 4
[b]Magical Attack:[/b] 0
[b]Speed:[/b] 5
[b]Defense:[/b] 1
[b]Intelligence:[/b] 1
[/indent]
[/hider]
[hider=duncan done moving this later][center][h1]Duncan "The Dunk" Stewart[/h1][/center]
[center][hr][h3]Gumption: 2 | Utility: 1 | Thought: 1 | Slyness: 1 | Athletics: 3 | Mechanic: 1 [/h3][/center]
[table][row][/row][row][cell]
[b]Experience:[/b] 0
[hider=Learning Experiences][b]Gumption Learning XP:[/b] 0
[b]Utility Learning XP:[/b] 0
[b]Thought Learning XP:[/b] 0
[b]Slyness Learning XP:[/b] 0
[b]Athletics Learning XP:[/b] 0
[b]Vehicles Learning XP:[/b] 0[/hider]
[b]Age:[/b] 21
[b]Build:[/b] Athletic
[b]Height:[/b] 6'6''
[b]Weight:[/b] 220lbs
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/campaigns/552]Link to your Dice rolls[/url]

[h3]Status Effects[/h3][hider=Show/Hide]
[b]Status name[/b]
[indent]Status description[/indent]
[b]Status name[/b]
[indent]Status description[/indent]
[b]Status name[/b]
[indent]Status description[/indent]
[/hider]

[h3]Injuries[/h3][hider=Show/Hide]
[b]Head:[/b]
[indent]
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[u]Minor:[/u] ( )
[/indent]
[b]Torso (Front):[/b]
[indent]
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[/indent]
[b]Torso (Back):[/b]
[indent]
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[/indent]
[b]Left Arm[/b]
[indent]
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[/indent]
[b]Left Hand:[/b]
[indent]
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( ) ( )
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[/indent]
[b]Right Arm[/b]
[indent]
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[/indent]
[b]Right Hand:[/b]
[indent]
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( ) ( )
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( ) 
[/indent]
[b]Left Leg[/b]
[indent]
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[/indent]
[b]Left Foot:[/b]
[indent]
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( ) ( )
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[/indent]
[b]Right Leg[/b]
[indent]
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[/indent]
[b]Right Foot:[/b]
[indent]
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( ) ( )
[u]Minor:[/u] ( ) ( )
[/indent]
[b]Strain:[/b]
[indent]
( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( )
[/indent][/hider]
[/cell][cell]
[h3]Inventory[/h3][hider=Hands & Pockets][b]Max Slots:[/b] 10[hr][b]Cellphone[/b]
[indent]Where would we be in today's society without one? Duncan, for one, would be late from everywhere all the time, as he was not blessed with any form of innate sense of time. Has a lot of numbers, half of which he doesn't remember the origin of - ditto for pictures.[/indent]
[b]Wallet[/b]
[indent]Contains the usual; ID, credit card, loyal customer card to his local sports store, a few various stamp cards to different restaurants some cash (around $20's worth).[/indent]
[b]Keys[/b]
[indent]Keys to his home, car, bike and another unknown location. Comes with a small dog keychain, which he has named Bruno. Bruno is a good boy.[/indent]
[b]Chewing gum[/b]
[indent]Sugar-free, peppermint flavour.[/indent]
[b]Lighter[/b]
[indent]Black lighter with a bulldog's head emblazoned on the side. The fuel container is half-full (or half-empty, whichever way one wants to see the world).[/indent]
[b]Pack of cigarettes[/b]
[indent]His biggest sin, love and addiction. He replenishes his stock often, so this one is two cigs short of full.[/indent][/hider]
[hider=Sports Bag][b]Max Slots:[/b] 10[hr][b]Towel[/b]
[indent][i]Essential[/i]. Don't at him.[/indent]
[b]Water bottle[/b]
[indent]Hydration is important, he's learnt, and will never forget to bring water to practice again. Once was enough.[/indent]
[b]Change of shoes[/b]
[indent]Shoes more fit for the basketball court, they're considerably cleaner than his regular ones.[/indent]
[b]Uniform[/b]
[indent]The uniform he wears at practice; shorts, top and socks in the college's official trio of colours; blue, red and white.[/indent]
[b]Basketball[/b]
[indent]They were instructed to buy their own, so Duncan did - not that he uses it much outside practice. It's basically always in his sports bag.[/indent]
[b]Comb[/b]
[indent]His hair doesn't get stylish on its own, you know.[/indent]
[b]Hair wax spray[/b]
[indent]Nor does it [i]stay [/i]that way.[/indent]
[b]Sports drink[/b]
[indent]When water is too boring and soda too bad an idea.[/indent]
[b]Packet of energy bars (4pcs)[/b]
[indent]Cranberry-chocolate-nut flavour, his favourite. He tends to always carry around a few for some quick energy recovery - or as a guilty pleasure snack when no one's looking.[/indent]
[b]Portable battery charger[/b]
[indent]In case he happens to run out of phone battery on the go. Carries it in his pocket if he doesn't happen to have a bag at hand.[/indent][/hider]
[h3]Appearance[/h3][hider=Clothing][b]Torso:[/b]
[indent]
Varsity jacket in his college's colours with the letter "R" patched onto the breast as proper. Underneath, one can spot a white t-shirt with the logo of whatever brand happened to make it.
[/indent]
[b]Legs:[/b]
[indent]
His favourite pair of jeans, identified as such by the torn knees and washed-out colour. He doesn't mind though; some people pay good money to buy theirs [i]ready-torn[/i], you know.
[/indent]
[b]Feet:[/b]
[indent]
Pair of casual sports shoes, good to run in. Rumour has it they used to be white upon purchase, though they're more grey at the moment.
[/indent][/hider]
[hider=Accessories][b]Head:[/b]
[indent]
Wireless headphones, found either on his head or wrapped around his neck.
[/indent]
[b]Neck:[/b]
[indent]
Steel chain necklace, not as expensive as first glance would have you believe.
[/indent]
[b]Arms:[/b]
[indent]
Sturdy wrist watch. Supposedly works underwater. Probably doesn't.
[/indent]
[b]Back:[/b]
[indent]
N/A
[/indent]
[b]Waist:[/b]
[indent]
Brown leather belt, more for style than utility.
[/indent][/hider]
[hider=Description]The first thing people tend to notice about Duncan is his considerable height; standing at 6'6'', he's gotten told he was born to play basketball on more than one occasion. He has an athletic build as one would expect from a regular player, though some of his lazy habits outside the court have kept him from reaching his peak. He has broad shoulders and an angular face, with a prominent nose that apparently runs in the family. His hair is a thick mess of black, which he has to spend copious amounts of time molding into something resembling a faux hawk. His eyes are blue, and his skin moderately tan. 

Duncan likes to look good, and generally takes good care of his appearance. Unfortunately for him, he isn't exactly swimming in money, so many of the more expensive brands are out of his reach. To compensate, he tries to buy particularly convincing counterfeits, or claims that the whole 'torn jeans and cheap accessories' look is a conscious fashion statement. Hey, in the end it's all about the attitude anyway; not what you wear, but [i]how[/i] you wear it.[/hider]
[hr][h3]Biography[/h3]
[hider=Background]Duncan's childhood was no fairy tale, but it wasn't exactly a horror story either. He was born to a fairly average household, or so he's told. He has no recollection of his mother, and would rather if he didn't have any of his father either. Gambler and a drunkard, Jason Stewart was more indifferent than malicious towards his son, allowing the boy to come and go as he pleased ever since young. Still, Duncan remembers more than a few instances of broken furniture when his old man drank one beer to many or lost too much money at once.

Speaking of, for quite obvious reasons, the Stewarts were not swimming in money. Duncan had a roof over his head and food on his plate, but not much else. College was out of the question, for one, as was Duncan's biggest dream; a sports car of his own. He'd worked summer jobs at a local garage, fixing up cars of various kinds, and had fallen in love with them.

High school was a big turning point. By the then, Duncan was already half a head taller than most of his peers, and quickly ended up being scouted for the local basketball team. Truth be told, he had no real interest in the sport, and just figured he'd try it out for the hell of it. As it turned out, though, he was decent enough- and before he knew it, it was a little too late to quit. He made friends with some of his fellow players, who practically dragged him to practice day after day. He ended up getting a reputation. There was no way to quit without losing face.

So, basketball became his life, even ending up carrying him to college through a sport scholarship - further trapping him into the world of courts and hoops when really, he just wants to be a car mechanic or, hell, a street racer. That'd be cool. He has a decent enough car of his own now, and pretends to own many more. Because, uh, somewhere along the way, he might have kind of given off the impression that he came from a well-off family - and since he's lying about his interests [i]anyway[/i], might as well keep that lie up, too. 

He was on his way back from practice when, well, he found himself waking up... [i]somewhere[/i]. [/hider]
[hider=Personality]Loud and boisterous, Duncan is sure to leave [i]some[/i] sort of an impression wherever he goes. Name a party - or any social gathering, really - and you can be sure to find him there. If not flirting by the pool, then making a name for himself at the dance floor or the beer pong table. Unless he's passed out under the latter, that is. You [i]would [/i]think that the son of an alcoholic would not readily touch alcohol, but you would be wrong. While he tends to turn to the cig more often than not when nervous or stressed, nicotine isn't quite as good a mind number as alcohol - and leads to less fun. It's fine, he can control it, he doesn't have a problem, okay.

As is quickly clear, Duncan tends to talk a lot. Whether to himself or others, he doesn't shy away from small talk, thinking out loud or throwing 'clever' one-liners where he sees appropriate - whether or not others might see it inappropriate. He's outgoing and sociable with a tendency for pulling pranks and teasing his peers - something that has caused undue conflict between him and some of his friends in the past. Admittedly, he can be a bit 'too much' at times; so focused on having fun that he forgets others' feelings in the process. Even so, he isn't a bad friend and will look out for those in his inner circle; sometimes he just needs a proverbial (or a literal) slap back to reality.

However, despite his well-crafted 'devil may care' attitude and love for high speeds in particular, Duncan is, at heart, an escapist and a coward, just as hooked on attention and adrenaline as he is on nicotine. He's deadly afraid of losing face or ruining his established reputation. In the same vein, though he likes to establish himself as the leader of most groups, when it comes down to it, he is a follower. He does like to shock people, but on a smaller scale; to do something unexpected every now and again to spruce things up, not to go against the establishment to make a statement. His reaction to scary situations is likely to be the same as to most other problems; by vehemently denying it and making light of it - at least until it's no longer possible. This makes him reckless, too stubborn to prove his non-existent bravery.[/hider]
[/cell][/row][/table][/hider]
[hider=cirillo - done][center][h1]Cirillo Bianchi[/h1]
[img]https://i.postimg.cc/Z5CGJh9C/f9e6dded3d5ea44dcf5c595c5b4373ed.jpg[/img]

"Don't take life so seriously. 's not like you're getting outta it alive, anyway."[/center]
[sub][b]Name[/b][/sub]

[indent]Cirillo Bianchi, but he's also used to responding to "Cyril", "Ciri" and "You little shit"[/indent]
[sub][b]Age[/b][/sub]

[indent]16[/indent]
[sub][b]Gender[/b][/sub]

[indent]Male[/indent]
[sub][b]Birthplace[/b][/sub]

[indent][i]PSR B1257+12 A/B, commonly [b]Draugr[/b], People's Union.[/i]

A small planet far from the stability of the Solaris Accord's core, Draugr is distinguished by its indistinguishability. It played a relatively small part in the war, and though it is recognized as an official part of the People's Union, it is far from the center of political discourse. It has traditionally been self-sustaining, and both immigration and emigration rates are low; those who were born there seem mostly content to stay, while residents of other planets are in no hurry to move to the quirky, distant little rock. Especially since Draugr comes packed with quite a reputation. 

The planet contributed little to the war effort, but that did not mean its people stood united. Quite the contrary; conflict among citizens persisted far past the declaration of peace, particularly among the young and the able who felt robbed of a chance to fight for their beliefs. The planet teetered on the edge of a civil war. The circumstances gave rise to crime that grew more and more organized by the day; until Syndicates, as they were referred, engulfed the entire celestial body.

To this day, it is these Syndicates that hold all the real power within society, their influence undeniable and omnipresent. At the same time, it is these very organizations that uphold peace and order, swiftly taking care of those that seek to stir trouble or threaten the system. As such, organized crime and corruption are seen as regular parts of every day life. Sometimes, people simply disappear - it's a fact of life. Unfortunate for certain, but so are thunderstorms and floods; yet there is little anyone can do to stop any of them.

It is generally understood that as long as one keeps out of the shadier parts of cities and towns, does not involve themselves in anything illegal or try to show opposition to the powers that be, they are able to live out their days in peace. It is the loons and the fools that find themselves in trouble.

Incidentally, Cyril is the latter.[/indent]
[sub][b]Appearance[/b][/sub]

[indent]One need not hear Cyril speak to understand just what kind of a person he is - for better or for worse. Standing at a rather regular 5'11, he carries himself with misplaced confidence that doesn't quite befit a boy from a backwater planet. Worse, no matter the circumstance, you will rarely find his face in a frown - unless it's a heavily exaggerated one, most commonly followed by a snide remark or an attempt at a joke. 

In fact, that's what life seems to be to him; a joke, not a thing to be taken seriously. Mischievous smiles, hands moving to the lazy rhythm of his words and a complete lack of posture; those are the cornerstones of what make up one Cirillo Bianchi, and you're entirely forgiven for finding it infuriating. He's like water; calmly flowing through life without a care in the world, yet never completely still. He does have a goal, after all. He just doesn't entirely care whether he reaches it today or next year. He's dead either way.

In short, he has quite a punchable face. 
[/indent]
[sub][b]Personality[/b][/sub]

[indent]
Cyril is, essentially, [i]that [/i]guy; the one that can't help but offer his commentary and crack unsolicited jokes at whatever topic is at hand, regardless of its gravity. Laid-back to the point it teeters on unnatural, he seems entirely unconcerned by things most people would find troubling. He's either unable or unwilling to read the mood, and seems to miss social cues many would consider obvious. Often, people simply label him an idiot and move on - and that is definitely not an inadvisable tactic.

However in truth, he isn't as stupid as he makes himself out to be (he wishes). Contrary to popular belief, he's actually quite perceptive; able to read people better than anyone would think to give him credit for. It's thanks to that, in part at least, that he's also able to be quite charismatic when the need arises. Yes, him. This guy.

Though he often wields them for stupid purposes, he [i]does [/i]have a way with words, honed by years of practice. He can talk himself out of many a bad spot, and it helps that he has an uncanny ability to keep his calm even in the face of danger. He has no pride to be wounded, and his life is forfeit anyhow; what is there left to be angry or shaken about?

Unfortunately, this does mean that his sense of self-preservation is low and his priorities rather messed up. Underneath the laid-back disposition is a defeatist, a boy who's very much resigned to his fate. The dark humour is a coping mechanism, as is the devil may care attitude. All the same, it's a genuine part of him now.

To sum the boy up, if he isn't busy having fun, getting in trouble, joking or flirting up a storm, he's... probably asleep - or [i]dead[/i]. Like, literally.[/indent]
[sub][b]Background[/b][/sub]

[indent]Cirillo's life [i]could [/i]have been easy enough. He was born into an entirely average home with two hardworking parents and a family dog with the most pretentious name imaginable. The quintessential middle class home, one could say. Being the only child of a couple that had wished for kids for years, Cyril was spoiled to the extent his parents' salaries would allow. He wasn't given [i]everything [/i]his heart desired, but there was no lack of love, toys or games during his childhood.

In retrospect, perhaps that was a bad thing. Perhaps things were made a bit [i]too [/i]easy for him; to the point that on some days - weeks, months - Cyril was almost bored by the normalcy.

Either way, like most things in life, it did not last. Draugr was hit with recession, and it didn't take long for its effects to reach the Bianchi household. Cyril was around ten when his parents came home downtrodden, with furrowed brows and tired eyes. The plant they had been working in until then had laid off workers.[i] In favour of magitek[/i], many said in angry, hushed whispers, [i]it's the very thing that sparked the war the last time! [/i] 

But though rumours circulated, none dared try and ascertain the truth underneath Syndicate's ever-vigilant eyes. Instead, it was taken as simply another thing that happened and had to be overcome, not by fighting against it but by finding a way around it. Cyril's parents set out to look for new jobs, be that those were not an easy find at the time. They did eventually land something that paid a few bills, but the pay was only a small portion of what they'd earned prior. More was needed, if they were to uphold their quality of life. And it would need to be an endeavour shared by the entire family.

Though still young, Cyril was ushered to try and find a part-time job to help support the family. Reluctant at first, the preteen did as he was bid and set out, eventually landing a job as a delivery boy. The pay was as poor as could be however, and once his father fell ill and was rendered unable to work, the pocket money Cyril brought home was like trying to apply a band-aid on a gash. Cute, but effectively useless.

And yet, his mother was soon granted a promotion, and his father's condition was stable and not at all life-threatening. The financial climate was slowly changing. If only Cyril had stuck delivering food a few years longer, things could have perhaps returned to the way they were. 

But the young boy was filled to the brim with impatience and frustration, and from those circumstances came the worst decision he ever made.

It happened one day on a bustling market as he returned home from work. Caught in the crowd and unable to push past all the people much bigger than him, Cyril found himself bumping into backs and pockets left and right, until someone's wallet threatened to spill onto the pavement. Thick and filled to the brim with cash, it was an opportunity all too tempting to pass up on.

Cyril brought home an exceptional sum of money that day; a bonus for work well done, he said. The next day, he brought home almost as hefty a sum, as he did the few days after that - though he'd stopped showing his entire haul in case it might rouse suspicion. And, just like that, gone were his problems. He could once again afford all the things his parents had bought him in the years past, be that some he had to buy in secrecy. He no longer had to go to work, when he could earn much more in a much shorter time.

For a long time, it was simply pickpocketing. Then it was counterfeits, sold with the most charming smile he could muster. And when that became all too boring, he trafficked illegal goods, broke into homes and menaced people he was paid to target, all for the sweet promise of money and excitement. He no longer needed the games and goods he'd originally missed so; he had something much more exhilarating now, a thrill unlike any other.

Then, one day, that thrill became a thriller.

To Cyril, the man had been but another target; just someone who wore an archaic gold watch that someone else wanted. He'd moved in with practiced charm and dexterity, smiling at the stranger one minute; gone with his belongings the next. By all means, it had been a success. The money the watch fetched him was exceptional, enough to support the entire family for... for years, he bet.

The warning bells did not ring in his head until a gunshot rung in his ears. The man had caught up with him, and slowly the gravity of the situation dawned on young Cyril. This was no ordinary Joe; this was a man held in high regard by one of the largest Syndicate families, and he was [i]not pleased.[/i]

Cyril thought he would die there and then, but he did not. [i]Not yet[/i], he was told; he would not be going anywhere until he'd paid back the full sum of the watch he stole. Which, according to the man, was far greater than what he'd been told by his contractor. The watch had been a MAID; he would be paying back his debt for years until he'd be allowed the peace of a grave. If not through money, then through blood; of those, Cyril reluctantly chose the latter.

After three years of working for the Syndicate, Cyril was informed that he would be sent away. To where and for what purpose, he did not know - but he'd long since learnt that refusal was not an option. So, all he did in the wake of the news was cross his arms, cock his brows and ask with the deadpan tone only a dead man walking could muster: [b]"Should I bring sunscreen?"[/b]
[/indent]
[sub][b]Statistics[/b][/sub]

[indent][b]STR -[/b] ▰▰▱▱▱
[b]DEX -[/b] ▰▰▰▰▱
[b]CON -[/b] ▰▰▰▱▱
[b]INT -[/b] ▰▰▰▱▱
[b]WIS -[/b] ▰▰▰▱▱
[b]CHA -[/b] ▰▰▰▰▰[/indent]
[sub][b]M.A.I.D.[/b][/sub]

[indent]Cyril's MAID takes the form of a ring, usually worn in his left middle finger. It's a fancy-looking thing of plated gold that paints him wealthier than he really is. Usually, his MAID allows him three distinct forms of attack.

1) By snapping his fingers (with the finger the ring is worn in, of course), Cyril can create a spark of static electricity that then gets picked up and amplified by the MAID and his own magical prowess. This allows Cyril to shoot out blasts of electric energy from his fingers with a snap. These blasts may stun targets or interfere with less complex electric devices upon contact (MAIDs are unaffected).

2) Similarly, by utilizing electric magic, the ring allows Cyril to essentially turn his hand into a railgun. He can pick up small objects such as rocks, and then with a snap of his fingers, fire them off at such high velocities that they essentially become makeshift bullets.

3) Finally, the ring is able to give Cyril's punches quite a [i]shocking [/i]edge. Channeling energy into his very fist, the MAID can enhance the power of his punch and, upon impact, release magic straight into the target's body. Needless to say, this is particularly useful when he's forced into close-quarter combat. 
[/indent]
[sub][b]Miscellaneous[/b][/sub]

[indent]♟ He's kleptomaniac, and cannot help his impulses sometimes. It's best to keep your valuables close by - or if not, at least your weapon; so you can whack him when he tries to reach for your stuff.
[/indent][/hider]

------

[hider=rylan - done][center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d9/80/09/d98009e5da37bfd3ad6cc23602488146.jpg[/img]

[color=#FFFFFF][i]"These alleys are no place for a lordling. If milord is looking for trouble, might I suggest the woods beyond the city? They're just as dangerous, but at least the smell's more bearable."[/i][/color][/center]

[hr]

[color=#FFFFFF][b]Name[/b][/color]: Rylan Twyford

[color=#FFFFFF][b]Age[/b][/color]: 18

[color=#FFFFFF][b]Gender[/b][/color]: Male

[color=#FFFFFF][b]Class[/b][/color]: Scoundrel

[color=#FFFFFF][b]Country of Origin[/b][/color]: Tenebroux

[color=#FFFFFF][b]Weapons[/b][/color]: 

[indent]♙ A simple dagger, not entirely untouched by the elements. The handle is worn and the edge rugged, kept sharp only by regular (amateurish) maintenance. Make no mistake, though; prime condition or not, a stab to the gut is a stab to the gut - and necessity gives Rylan quite an aim indeed.

♙ A crudely made slingshot. More useful for shooting down pigeons for dinner than injuring an actual person, but can at least provide a small distraction in a pinch.

♙ Rope. Good ol', plain rope. It's more useful than you'd think.[/indent]
[color=#FFFFFF][b]Appearance[/b][/color]: 

[indent]On most days, Rylan looks about what you'd expect from a kid who's grown up on the streets. Standing at 5'6'', the lack of proper nutrition has left him scrawny and short, even in face of all the physical activity he engages in every day. His hair is a tangled mess of strands and mud, his clothes torn and ditty, and the slums have left him with a distinct smell. Needless to say, he's not the most charming sight to behold on his worst days.

However, should there be a special need for him to look more presentable, he can - at least, if given ample time to prepare. Before fate thrust him onto the streets, he used to spend his days wrapped in scented silks and knows how to play the part of a someone more fortunate. He has a few articles of finer cloth safely tugged away in one of his many stashes, and though he knows selling them would fetch him many a coin, he figures they're worth more when worn. He can't exactly sneak into festivals looking like he usually does.

It should also be noted that while his physical strength is nothing to brag about, Rylan [i]is [/i]incredibly nimble; a cat on two feet, he always seems to find a way to land on his proverbial feet. To the chagrin of many a past pursuer, the boy can scale a building or lose a guard with the best of them. He has an uncanny ability to squeeze himself into the smallest of crevices and disappear as if unto thin air if you so much as lose sight of him for a second. It may sound admirable - but really, anything less and he'd be long dead by now.[/indent]
[color=#FFFFFF][b]Personality:[/b][/color]

[indent]Don't let the cocky grin and confident stride fool you - despite his casual smugness, Rylan is as craven as they come. Concerned first and foremost with his own well-being, loyalties mean little and promises even less when push comes to shove. It's not that he doesn't care about you - it's just that he cares about himself [i]more[/i]. He's aware that his life is hardly one for the bards, but it is the only life he'll ever have and he intends to hold onto it tooth and nail. 

Unfortunately for him (and certainly those around him) Rylan also comes packaged with a bitter sense of humour and a sharp tongue. Smartass at heart, it is only self-preservation that keeps Rylan's wit at bay most of the time. If need be, he knows just what to do to butter people up and has no qualms with throwing away pride for another morrow. As far as he's concerned, whoever said they'd rather die on their feet than live on their knees was a halfwit. He's lived knee-deep in rat droppings, and even that beats throwing your life away for some childish concept of 'pride'. 

With all that said, Rylan isn't entirely an unpleasant person. He may not be one to throw himself in front of an incoming arrow to save your knee in a shocking display of courage, but if you are a perceived friend, he will extend a hand where he's able. He isn't purposefully looking to make enemies, and will most likely return a favour if you've done one for him. The world is already a shitty place, he isn't [i]trying [/i]to make it worse.[/indent]
[color=#FFFFFF][b]Short Biography[/b][/color]: 

[indent]Though he's spent most of his life in Lutaire, Rylan's earliest memories are of a place far beyond the mountains and swamps - a place that lies across the endless ocean, under an eternal sun. There, as he recalls, everything was much sweeter; the weather, the scents, the words spoken to him by strangers. As a boy, he never understood the hurry with which his parents left. Now, he understands all too well.

Rylan's parents were lowborn. His mother was a foreign beauty, stolen away and sold to a local lord as his seventh concubine, and his father was a  slave under the very same roof, convicted for crimes he never committed and stripped of his freedom. Their first meeting was happenstance; their next few were not. For years, they managed to keep their rendezvous a secret, the comfort they found in each other the only thing that kept them sane.

And then the news broke that she was with child. For nine long months, both lived in a state of constant fear. Many a time they contemplated escape, but an opportunity never did present itself. So all they did was pray, pray and [i]pray [/i]that the child would not bear resemblance to their true father. The gods must've heard, because he did not. He had his mother's eyes, and her fair skin had made his a shade lighter than his peer's.

For years, life was... the same old, as it were. Rylan doesn't really remember much of it. He bore a different name and lead a different life, and it all feels as though it happened to someone else entirely. The only thing he can remember vividly is the day they fled; the sky was starless and filled with smoke. He had started to resemble his father too much as he grew. There were whispers. The fire in the northernmost tower was a sign from the gods. 

Theirs would have been a tale for the bards; two lovers, escaping into the night with their child. If only they'd gotten the happily ever after they justly deserved.

The few years the couple spent in Lutaire were filled with hardships and strife. They were strangers in a strange land and eventually, that led to their demise. Bandits slayed them, attracted by the smell of sweet summer wines and tales of riches from beyond the sea. Big was their disappointment, when they found naught worth stealing in the couple's hut - except their young son. He ought to fetch a few coppers.

Rylan never did find out exactly [i]how [/i]many coppers he fetched, but considering how grand the place of his new master was, he hoped it was a fine amount. For a time, he worked as a servant boy to a lord with a gaze that made his skin crawl. His tasks consisted mostly of serving wine and looking the part of an exotic trophy from beyond the seas. 

That was, until one day during a boar hunt, his lord and company were attacked by sellswords, after the man's gold - and head. Being young, Rylan was spared the bloodbath by one of the mercenaries and dropped off to the nearest town with a few coins, a piece of bread and a 'good luck' for good measure. And for a foreign boy with no particular skills to his name, luck was indeed what he needed.

Almost a decade later, Rylan's come to the conclusion that Lady Luck's a bitch and he's better off without her. [/indent]
[color=#FFFFFF][b]Summary[/b][/color]: If it looks like a street rat, sounds like a street rat and smells like a street rat, it's probably Rylan.

[color=#FFFFFF][b]Other[/b][/color]:

♙ Has a soft spot for animals of all kinds, and would love to one day behold a dragon up close. A dangerous affair, he knows, but it's not animals - even fire-breathing ones - that scare him so; it's people.

♙ Has spent time in a few other towns and villages besides the one he currently resides in. He often does his travelling with merchants or performer groups, working for free in exchange for protection from the elements. He's been in this village for a few years now, and leaving has crossed his mind. It's never a good thing to stay in one place for too long, lest you get caught and lose a hand or two. [/hider]

------

[hider=duncan - done][color=silver]
[center]
[img] https://s15.postimg.cc/qk9xqk4y3/dudeo.png [/img]
[color=0099aa][h2] DUNCAN STEWART [/h2][h3]"The Dunk" [/h3][/color]
[/center]

[color=0099aa][b]AGE:[/b] [/color]

[indent]Sixteen[/indent]
[color=0099aa][b]GENDER:[/b][/color]

[indent]Male[/indent]
[color=0099aa][b]PERSONALITY:[/b][/color]

[indent]Loud, boisterous and usually found at the center of attention, Duncan comes across as the quintessential jock. Name a party - or any social gathering, really - and you can be sure to find him there. If not flirting by the pool, then making a name for himself at the beer pong table or the dance floor. 

He's outgoing and sociable with a tendency for pranks and mischief - something that has caused undue conflict between Duncan and some of his friends in the past. Admittedly, he can be a bit 'too much' at times; so focused on having fun that he forgets others' feelings in the process. Even so, he isn't a bad friend and will look out for those in his inner circle; sometimes he just needs a proverbial slap back to reality.

But despite his well-crafted 'devil may care' attitude, Duncan is, at heart, an escapist and a coward, just as hooked on attention and adrenaline as he is on nicotine. He's deadly afraid of losing face, and though he likes to establish himself as the leader of most groups, when it comes down to it, he is a follower. What his older and cooler teammates do, he does after them - even if it involves bullying others or breaking the law. 

In short, Duncan is a kid who never [i]asked [/i]to be a big name - but since he turned out one anyway, he figures the only thing he can do is ride the wave until he crashes. [/indent]
[color=0099aa][b]OTHER:[/b] [/color]

[indent]
🏀 Stands at 6'5''

🏀 Local basketball ace; the source of his nickname.

🏀 While he seems to be soaking in all the attention and fame from his 'budding sports career', Duncan doesn't actually care much for basketball. He went to try the sport out in search of a mindless distraction, and somehow got coached into the local ace of his age group. Now, it's all too late for him to quit.

🏀 Lives alone with his father, but doesn't really talk about his home situation. Prefers to stay over at his grandparents' house whenever able.

🏀 Smoker. Usually turns to the cig when he's nervous or stressed out in particular.

🏀 Was among the first to be allowed on the trip. He isn't sure if his father remembers him asking, but he is sure his absence won't be noticed.
[/indent][/color][/hider]

-----

[hider=himiko - done][center][img]https://s15.postimg.cc/xiz8atuvv/hime.png[/img][/center]

[color=f49ac2][b]Name:[/b][/color]

[indent]Himiko "Hime" Suzuki [/indent]
[color=f49ac2][b]Gender:[/b] [/color]

[indent]Female[/indent]
[color=f49ac2][b]Age: [/b][/color]

[indent]19[/indent]
[color=f49ac2][b]Occupation:[/b] [/color]

[indent]Idol[/indent]
[color=f49ac2][b]Alignment:[/b] [/color]

[indent]Chaotic Neutral[/indent]
[color=f49ac2][b]Personality: [/b][/color]

[indent]The Himiko you see at first glance is much different from the Himiko you'll come to know with time. Her job in the entertainment business demands her to display certain traits even when the cameras are not at her back, and over the years she's learn to perfectly exemplify what a budding idol should be. Youthful, bubbly and too big a ditz to grasp complicated or difficult topics, she comes across as endlessly naive and twice as kind.

In truth, she isn't half as stupid as she would have you believe, and even her kindness comes with baggage. Above all else, she wants to be adored and cannot handle being viewed in a negative light or - heaven forbid - [i]disliked[/i]. Obsessed with her reputation, her kindness is a means to get people to flock to her and to wish to be around her. That is to say, her kindness isn't disingenuous - but it isn't selfless either.

As or her being a ditz... well, there is [i]some [/i]truth to that, be that the affliction is entirely self-inflicted. Being both curious and an avid reader, she would [i]like [/i]to study up on current events and various academic subjects, but has simply forced herself not to. If she genuinely is not well-read in a topic, there is less chance of her letting slip something [i]too[/i] intelligent, after all. To somewhat alleviate this, she has been studying languages. They're a 'safe' subject to excel in, and help her spread her fanbase beyond Japan's borders to boot.

Needless to say, Himiko is not at her happiest where she is now - though she would readily tell you otherwise. As far as she is concerned, this is the only path she can keep walking on. She could never stop being an idol. She couldn't live without the attention, much as it eats away at her person.
[/indent]
[color=f49ac2][b]Skills: [/b][/color]

[indent][i]Dia[/i] - Slightly restores one ally's HP
[i]Hama[/i] - Attacks one enemy with light[/indent][/hider]

-----

[hider=aelinor - done]
[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e3/b4/fe/e3b4fe0f84c1f385a9b1d31d06e8c88d.jpg[/img][/center]

[color=82ca9d][b]Name:[/b][/color]

[indent]Aelinor "Eli" Kiandall[/indent]
[color=82ca9d][b]Gender:[/b] [/color]

[indent]Female[/indent]
[color=82ca9d][b]Age: [/b][/color]

[indent]23 (around 14 in human years)[/indent]
[color=82ca9d][b]Race:[/b] [/color]

[indent]Wood Elf[/indent]
[color=82ca9d][b]Personality: [/b][/color]

[indent]Eli is an emotional person, in both the good and the bad - though it may not be apparent at first glance. Her parents always taught her that a hunter's greatest tools are a cool head and a brave heart, and she does her best to exemplify those traits to the best of her ability. [i]Especially [/i]now that she no longer has her parents or townspeople to rely on.

As such, when you first meet her she likely comes across as disciplined, mature and dependable. Having been the  leader in her group of friends and an elder sister to her sibling, she seems to have experience when it comes to leading, taking responsibility and looking after others. Indeed, she would like to consider herself levelheaded and logical, even wise beyond her years. But at the end of the day, she is still a teen - and all that it entails.

As said, she is emotional, very much so; all that she feels, she feels tenfold. Her usual calm belies a firecracker, easily ignited by many a thing. She's curious, quick to shed her ladylike exterior by the lure of an adventure or a challenge. Equally easy is to earn her scorn; you need not but underestimate her, treat her as a child or try to challenge her self-proclaimed authority and you've got yourself a conflict waiting to happen. And though she dislikes it, tears are not a stranger to her. Tears over cute things, tears over hapless things, tears over sad stories and beautiful love.

Perhaps the worst combination, however, are her stubbornness and pride. Fiercely independent and suffering from a 'big sister syndrome', she sees it as her duty to gather as much responsibility on her shoulders as she possibly can - only to eventually end up crumbling underneath the weight and stubbornly lash out as a result of it. And yet, her pride forbids her from asking or accepting help.

In short, underneath the exterior of a graceful young lady, Eli is a prideful firecracker with endless ambition and empathy - but also a lot to learn about sharing responsibilities and not trying to take on the world alone.
[/indent]
[color=82ca9d][b]Fears: [/b][/color]

[indent]➳ [b]Losing face / failure[/b]- While most people probably don't like failure, Eli takes it to the extreme. She's a proud little thing who has set her mind on being independent and responsible - and will not allow herself to look anything but. She [i]will [/i]deny help (even when it would be needed) to prove herself that she [i]can [/i] do what she's set out to accomplish, and will assure you that 'she'll be fine' to the very bitter end. 

➳ [b]Fire[/b] - Ever since her forest home was set ablaze, Eli has been terrified of fire. Seeing it in a controlled form, such as on a torch, hearth or at the heart of a camp does little more than make her keep her distance. However, open fires or fire magic are quick to give her flashbacks and nausea. [/INDENT]
[color=82ca9d][b]Background: [/b][/color]

[indent]Up until the tragedy struck, Aelinor led an entirely regular life. So regular, in fact, that for years she thought it boring and dull. Had she only known what the future held for her, she might've had more appreciation for the slow summer afternoons and brisk winter mornings of her youth.

Eli was born as the eldest of two children to a pair of Wood Elf hunters. Her parents were neither rich nor poor, and their name carried neither infamy nor power. They were a typical family of four, hunting game to sell on the market every afternoon. Since young, Aelinor was taught in the ways of the bow, oftentimes accompanying her father to hunting trips just outside town. 

For years, she was just like any other child her age. She spent most of her days outside - playing, laughing, teasing her brother and at times, venturing into the forest to find berries and mushrooms for an afternoon snack. She was outgoing and wild, usually the leader of her group of friends - and always the first one to make it to the top of an apple tree. 

At times, her parents would scold her for being too unruly, and eventually she would learn to balance out two Elis. One that combed her hair to perfection and smiled politely at the elders as she passed them by, a pinnacle of grace and beauty. And another that soaked her pretty clothes in mud for a slightly closer look at a passing-by curiosity of a lizard, unafraid to follow it up a tree or down a hill.

Then, one evening, things began to change. Eli woke up to the sounds of a skirmish just outside her home. Curious and worried, she hopped out of bed and tiptoed her way to the window, peering out into the darkness. She could make out the vague shapes of her neighbours, exchanging blows and profanities. In a few minutes, more people seemed to wake and step outside, though not in order to break up the fight - but to join it.

Eli's father pried her from the window, tucked her back in and promised it was nothing a child should worry her head over.

He was wrong.

The next day, it was the family down the street that found themselves wrapped up in a sudden conflict; as were the town's bakers, guards, and that funny old lady that used to read her stories whenever she paid her a visit. And unlike last night, it did not end only with a few bruises and bloodied noses. There were [i]bodies,[/i] lying lifeless on the streets.

The details of the following week are a blur. Eli can recall the madness reaching her very house, and the fight that broke out between her parents. She can remember taking her little brother's hand and pulling him with away. And then she remembers the [i]flames[/i], red hot fingers tearing at roofs and trees until the entire world was ablaze.

One moment, she was holding her brother's hand. The next, she wasn't. 

Eli cannot remember how or when she got out of the forest, but she must've done so. She can remember solitude, panic, fear, despair - and another pair of eyes, reflecting everything she felt. No, not just one pair of eyes; two, three, four--

Before she knew it, she was no longer alone.
[/indent]
[color=82ca9d][b]Weapon of Choice:[/b] [/color]

[indent]➳ [b]Bow[/b] - Aelinor's primary weapon, and the only one she can claim any proficiency with. The bow is made out of wood and carried around strapped to her back, close to her quiver.

➳[b] Dagger [/b]- A light-weight blade used more for carving wood or skinning game than actual combat. She [i]can [/i]use it to stab or slash at someone in a pinch, but has no actual combat experience with it. Usually carried around on her belt, however she has been known to hide it in her boot from time to time.[/indent]
[color=82ca9d][b]Magic: [/b][/color]

[indent] ➳ [b]Animal communication[/b] - When perfected, this branch of magic allows its practitioner to fully communicate with - and by extension, often befriend - most animals they come across, even some of magical nature. However, Aelinor is decades from mastering this ability, and can only communicate with animals on a rudimentary level. Misunderstandings may and do occur still, like that one time she accidentally insulted a bear...[/indent]
[color=82ca9d][b]Skills: [/b][/color]

[indent] ➳ [b]Hunter [/b]- Though young, Eli has been hunting for many a year now, and that has honed her senses. She has sharp eyes, acute hearing, and she can both recognize and track many species of animals in the wild. Also, what she lacks in physical strength with her bow, she makes up with accuracy. She's a very good shot, even if she doesn't have enough strength to pierce the thickest hides with her arrows.

➳ [b]Survivalist [/b]- Somewhat related to the above. Sometimes finding game could take days in the wild, with no settlements in sight. And while she was never on these trips alone without an adult, they proved useful in picking up various skills related to survival in the wild. She knows which berries and mushrooms are healthy and which dangerous, how to tell directions, find water and start a fire - [i]at least in a forest[/i]. In open fields, deserts, cities and glaciers, she is as lost as any other child.

➳ [b]Potionist [/b]- Though it isn't her forte, Eli has knowledge on a few basic potions. Provided she has all the necessary ingredients, she can create potions that may accelerate the healing process on an injured area, induce sleep, increase your ability to focus or perform tasks needing precision, and ones that can somewhat suppress pain. She needs the exact ingredients required for her concoctions however, and attempts to substitute one ingredient for another may end up in tragedy.
[/indent]
[color=82ca9d][b]Other: [/b][/color]

[indent] ➳ The Kiandall family tended to use various birds of prey to aid them in their hunts. However, since Eli was considered much too young to handle a hawk or an eagle, she was given a smaller bird to start out with. Enter her pet sparrow, Elion. He's small and not very powerful, but he has keen eyes and has been taught to scout. Eli considers the bird her friend and adores him to death.[/indent][/hider]

-----

Scrapped chars


[hider=vasilje][center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b4/e0/a2/b4e0a2dde6807ae74de7bbf34877ea6a.jpg[/img]
[color=#8de8dd][b][V A S I L I J E ☣ M I L O Š E V I Ć]
[21] | [MALE] | [5'11] | [AB+][/b][/color][/center]

[color=#8de8dd][h3][i]General Information[/i][/h3][/color]

[b]NAME:[/b] Vasilije Milošević

[b]ALIASES // TITLES:[/b] Vasil, "The Eraser"

[b]SEX:[/b] ♂

[b]AGE:[/b] 21

[b]APPEARANCE:[/b] 

[b]OCCUPATION:[/b] (What did you do before the campaign? Or what do you still do? This can be held prior to the campaign or ongoing.)

[b]CAMPAIGN TEAM POSITION:[/b] (Your position under Campbell. What do you do? See first post for various ideas.)


[color=#8de8dd][h3][i]Psychological Profile[/i][/h3][/color]
[center][b][color=#8de8dd]Trait | Trait | Trait | Trait | Trait | Trait[/color][/b][/center]

[b]PERSONAL GOAL:[/b] (Why are you still around? What are you trying to achieve?)


[b]CAMPAIGN GOAL:[/b] (Why did you link up with Campbell? What are you trying to do for his platform?)

[b]PERSONAL PHILOSOPHY:[/b] (Who are you really? What morally defines you? What drives you?)

[b]POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY:[/b] (What are your views on the world? While a partisan identity would be nice to include, feel free to define yourself outside of the five parties. This is important as Campbell will eventually have to choose a party to represent.)

[b]SECRETS:[/b] (What are you hiding? What would it cost you if someone found out what’s behind the veil?)

[b]FEARS:[/b] 

Augmentations > 

[b]REPUTATION:[/b] To a man that prefers the sidelines, the best kind of reputation is none at all. The few that still remember his name are

[b]LIKES:[/b] (Feel free to list a few.)

[b]DISLIKES:[/b] (Same as above)

[b]QUIRKS:[/b] (What makes you unique for better or worse?)

[color=#8de8dd][h3][i]Background Information[/i][/h3][/color]
	[i]”Character Quote”[/i]

the quintessential American dream. 


[color=#8de8dd][h3][i]Operative Information[/i][/h3][/color]

[b]AUGMENTATIONS:[/b] (What sort of Cyberware are you equipped with?)

[b]EQUIPMENT:[/b] (What are you carrying on the job?)

[b]SKILLS:[/b] (Feel free to list a few and elaborate a bit.)

[b]FLAWS:[/b] (Aim for three or so. Equal or greater to your number of skills.)

[b]NOTES:[/b]
[/hider]

--

[hider=haruto - for fate rp][center]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e2/fd/b2/e2fdb265020c47602ec17ee8ccfda8e2.jpg[/img][/center]

[b]Name:[/b] 

[indent]Takahashi Haruto / 高橋優音[/indent]
[b]Age:[/b] 

[indent]21[/indent]
[b]Gender:[/b]

[indent] Male[/indent]
[b]Height/Weight:[/b]

[indent]175cm / 64kg [/indent]
[b]Personality:[/b]

[indent] personality here[/indent]
[b]Character Alignment:[/b] 

[indent]Lawful Evil ; His entire life, Haruto has been doing what others wish him to, with no thought spared for his own dreams or ambitions. Lately, however, he's started to second guess the path laid out before him. And in a society that places the needs of the many over the needs of an individual, his are inherently selfish thoughts. [/indent]
[b]Class Affinity:[/b] 

[indent]Assassin[/indent]
[b]Background:[/b]

[indent]Bg here[/indent]
[b]Occupation:[/b]

[indent] University Student[/indent]
[b]Known Magic:[/b]

[indent]uhh some scholarly stuff
[/indent]
[b]Special Talents/Hobbies:[/b] 

[indent]He's a nerd[/indent]
[b]Ambition:[/b] 

[indent]Hotaru's wish is as simple as it is selfish; he simply wants a life he can claim absolute control over, without needing to be concerned by the wishes and expectations of others.[/indent]

[hider=Servant Cards]
[Center][b]Nitocris[/b][/center]
[center][img]https://pm1.narvii.com/6561/405c19921d0041500dcb82a7c6d509fea165c52e_hq.jpg[/img][/center]
[b]Parameters:[/b] 

[indent]
[i]STR:[/i] E- (E)
[i]AGI:[/i] C (B)
[i]END:[/i] E (E)
[i]MAN:[/i] B (A++)
[i]LUK:[/i] C (B+)
[i]NP:[/i] B ~ B+ (A+ ~ A++) [/indent]
[b]Noble Phantasm: [/b]

[indent][i][b]Anpu Neb Ta Djeser[/b]
Nether Mirror Thesaurus
Anti-Army, B+ ~ A++[/i]
-description-

[i][b]Sneferu Iteru Nile[/b]
Cleanse the Impurities, Blue and Beautiful Nile
Anti-Army, B ~ A[/i]
A Noble Phantasm born out of bitterness and lust for revenge. It entraps enemies into a giant cellar with no means to escape, then mercilessly drowns them in the waters of Nile. 

[/indent]
[b]Include:[/b] 

[indent]Including this Servant enables the use of an Example Include weapon![/indent]
[b]Install:[/b] 

[indent]Installing this Servant makes the user into a basic template of a character sheet, soon to be overwritten.[/indent]
[b]Install Skills:[/b] 

[indent]☠ [I]Affection of Horus E- / B / A+ [/I]
☠ [I]Imperial Privilege E- / C / B [/I]
☠ [I]Egyptian Magic E- / C / A++ [/I]
☠ [I]Presence Concealment E- / B / A[/I]

[/indent]
[b]Install Appearance:[/b] 

[indent]Never the pinnacle of masculinity, Haruto starts to take on more feminine features and characteristics. Not that you would likely pay attention to his softened features and grown-out hair, when there's two perfectly visible [i]bunny-like [/i]ears sitting atop his head. He also gets a free tan, not that he's able to find much joy in that. [/indent]
[b]Servant Biography:[/b] 

[indent]The last pharaoh of ancient Egypt's Sixth Dynasty. Upon witnessing the murder of her brothers, her heart grew weary and bitter. She devised a plan to revenge the death of her siblings by throwing a  bouquet for the people; trapping all those involved in her brothers' demise and then flooding them with the very Nile that gave the civilization its life. It is said that afterwards, with her revenge fulfilled, she took her own life. 

However, that is only a part of the story. Unmentioned in that snippet are her dealings with the underworld, and the divine Mirror of Nitocris which she received from the beyond. Loved by Horus, able to call forth Medjed and commune with Anubis, she dealt with many a god and goddess in her day. Older than Solomon, the magic she practiced in the midst of the Age of Gods was closer to True Magic than Magecraft. However, here she manifests as an Assassin, one who lurks in the darkness like the evil spirits she controls.

[/indent]
[b]Servant Personality:[/b] [/hider]
[b]Other:[/b][/hider]

[hider=Character Sheet][hr]
[center][img]https://s15.postimg.cc/6l5b992kr/kalevi.png[/img][/center]
[hr]

[b]Name[/b]

[indent]Kalevi Grigorovich Vasiliev[/indent]
[b]Age[/b]

[indent]22[/indent]
[b]Gender[/b]

[indent]Male[/indent]
[b]Birth-date / Location[/b]

[indent]January 2nd / City name, Republic of Finland (later USSR)[/indent]

[hr]

[b]Personality[/b]

[indent]Self-Explanatory[/indent]
[b]Relationships[/b]

[indent]tbd[/indent]

[hr]

[b]Classification[/b]

[indent]
Marksman [ Пехотный снайпер «марксман» ][/indent]
[b]Equipment[/b]

[indent]- Puukko | No self-respecting Finn leaves their house without one. [/indent]
[b]Experimental Gear[/b]

[indent]This will be thoroughly checked by me to see if it is plausible, but you can be creative with what you see. Requests for tweaks in its design may be asked for. Provide an image if possible, if not a good description of it.[/indent]

[hr]

[b]Background[/b]

[indent]The biography of your character. Keep fairly well made, making sure that enough is known about the character. Large details is optional.
This can be updated as the RP develops on more.[/indent]
[b]Experience[/b]

[indent]- Winter War, Finland's side [ January 5th, 1940 - March 10th, 1940 ]
- [/indent]
[b]Family[/b]

[indent]
[i]Immediate[/i]
Father - Grigoriy Konstantinovich Vasiliev 
Mother - Helena Annikki Vasilieva (née Leppänen)
Sister - Yekaterina Grigorovna Vasilieva

[i]Paternal[/i]
Grandfather - Konstantin Jaakko Mäkelä
Grandmother - Nataliya Ivanovna Vasilieva
Uncle - Aleksandr Konstantinovich Vasiliev, "old Sasha"

[i]Maternal[/i]
Grandfather - Tapio Samuel Leppänen
Grandmother - Ritva Leena Leppänen (née Virtanen)
[/indent]
[b]Theme Song[/b]

[indent]Just a bit of fun, really. Optional at most.[/indent]
[/hider]

[hider][center][img]https://s33.postimg.cc/4ipuw2or3/Elegan_White_Haired_Kitsune.jpg[/img][/center]

[b]Name:[/b] Viviana, The Maiden

[b]Gender:[/b] Female

[b]Age:[/b] 20

[b]Race:[/b] Erune, with a large tail signifying her highborn status

[b]Element:[/b] Wind

[b]Dream:[/b] She has two, in fact. To find the land she originally hails from (and whether she has any living family there still) and to find repentance for her actions as The Maiden. They're selfish dreams, she admits, but by now she has accepted that she is not a selfless person.

[b]Home:[/b] The island of Sanctilumia lies secluded far in the north, where few ships see reason to sail. It is a highly theist society, governed by an entity known as the Church of Asgargoth. 

As tales have it, the island of Sanctilumia used to lie on the brink of ruin many a century ago, hanging so low that any morning could've been its last in the sky. It was the weight of people's sins that weighed it so, they say, and that had it not been for a select few with pure hearts, everyone would have paid for their wretchedness with their lives.

However, the Astrals took pity upon the pure few, and sent a Primal by the name of Asgargoth down to scoop the island up. He shook the island until all those with impurities had fallen off it, and then returned the island back to its rightful place.

To this day, Asgargoth is said to hold the island upon his shoulders. However should the weight of sin ever grow too grave, his grip might slip or he may abandon his duty yet. To prevent that, sacrifices are necessary; those who have committed crimes must be cast down from the edge of the island into the abyss to ease the Primal's burden. 

... Or so the tales say, anyway. 

Coincidentally, denying the Church's right to rule or disobeying its envoys is considered the gravest sin of all. And so, their power remains absolute and unchallenged. 

Quite convenient, indeed.

[b]Gimmicks:[/b] Wind fan stuff things 

[b]Personality:[/b] (How does your character act around others? Give a brief, maybe 1-2 paragraph summary of their personality as a whole, but make sure its something you know you'll have fun writing.)

[b]Background:[/b] 

Viviana was not born on Sanctilumia, though she might as well have; she retains only a few, fleeting memories of her life prior. She knows she used to live in a palace where the walls were white as snow, and the ceiling was so high that she thought it endless. She remembers her parents and brother - and she remembers the day the storm took them all.

It happened on her third winter. The lustrous ship that carried her and her family got caught in a storm and ended up terribly off-course, eventually crashlanding onto the shores of Sanctilumia. To the secluded locals, the ornate ship was a thing of miracles. The few ships that dared do business in this corner of the world were sturdy and dull, and there were no jewels adorning their masts. 

And then, they saw Viviana. An Erune - and one with a [i]tail,[/i] no less! There was no one like her on the island, and the Church wasted no time making use of people's awe. They declared her The Maiden, a descendant of the original pure few who summoned Asgargoth to their aid all those years ago. She was his apostle, they declared, and she was to lead the land to a new age of prosperity. 

Those were the words she would hear over and over again for nearly two decades. And though it sounds so unbelievable now, she never once questioned the tale spun to her. The priests and priestesses that brought her up were her family, and the mysterious being known as Asgargoth, whom she never once saw or heard, was a creature worthy of absolute obedience. Why, because she was told so.

It was in the name of Asgargoth that she oversaw many a sacrifice, many an unfortunate soul cast off the edge of the world into certain doom. 

It wasn't until
[b]Inventory:[/b] 

- A decorated fan, which she uses to channel her wind powers. And, you know, get some relief on a hot day.
- something priestessy [/hider]

[hider=CS Skeleton]
[center][IMG]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/b1/5b/9f/b15b9fc1016d35d6358a8ae1efeec706.jpg[/IMG]
[ hr][ hr]
[h1][color=???][b][u]Name[/u][/b][/color][/h1]
[/center][ hr][ hr] 

[color=???][b][u]Name[/u][/b][/color]
[indent] [/indent]

[color=???][b][u]Age[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]28[/indent]

[color=???][b][u]Species[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]Tiefling[/indent]

[color=???][b][u]Gender[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]Male[/indent]

[color=???][b][u]Sexual Orientation[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]Bisexual[/indent]

[color=???][b][u]Job[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]Crown Prince[/indent]

[color=???][b][u] Appearance[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]
Feel free to skimp on this if you provide a picture, or write several paragraphs. I’m easygoing. One mandatory inclusion: mention the appearance that their Mark has taken, and where it is on their body.
[/indent]

[color=???][b][u]Likes[/u][/b][/color]
[list][*] At least five things that they like.
[*] 
[*]
[*]
[*]
 [/list]
[color=???][b][u]Dislikes[/u][/b][/color]
[list][*] Insubordination 
[*] Boring people 
[*] 
[*]
[*]
 [/list]

[color=???][b][u]Personality[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]
Give us a decent amount of detail here – who are they? What do they value? How do they treat other people? At least two paragraphs.
[/indent]
[color=???][b][u]Biggest Fear[/u][/b][/color]
[indent] 
Ill befalling his people, particularly as a result of neglect or instigation from the crown. He will inherit his father before his madness grows too big to handle, and he will see to it that he does not follow in his footsteps. 
[/indent]
[color=???][b][u]Greatest Dream[/u][/b][/color]
[indent] 
To be able to traverse the world and see all the different species and kingdoms out there. A futile wish perhaps, but that's why it's called a dream and not a goal. 
[/indent]

[color=???][b][u]Background[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]
This is the big one. At least a few paragraphs about their general history, life story, and how they’ve come to participate in the Festival of Destiny. You can feel free to worldbuild here: if your character is the prince of the underground kingdom of the dwarves, then there’s an underground kingdom of the dwarves, or there’s a small town called such and such, or a distant island nation of so and so, or this kind of monster or this kind of magic and so on and so on. Feel free to collaborate with other players when worldbuilding as well! If you're unsure about something, feel free to ask me. Most of the meat of the CS should be here.
[/indent]

[color=???][b][u]Personality Questions[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]
Answer these in as many or as few words as you like. (If you like, you can PM these to me separate from the rest of the CS, if they contain information you’d prefer other players discover through RP – it’s just stuff that’ll help me make the pairings. Or you can leave them in, I’m not picky.)
1. What is their worst specific memory from childhood?
2. What do they think of being Marked? Do they believe in it? Have they come to the festival in search of love, or for some other reason?
3. Spirit animal?
4. Thing they’re most proud of?
5. Thing they’re most ashamed of?
6. What motivates them?
7. What would they change about themselves if they could?
8. What’s most important in a romantic partner?
 [/indent]

[color=???][b][u]Extra[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]Color Code: ??? 
Theme song: If you like.
Face Claim: If applicable.[/indent]
[/hider]

[hider=jae][color=silver]
[center]

[img]https://i.postimg.cc/SxNGNJTL/91be7745a724a1b818b63e59676b43b1.jpg[/img]
[color=#735a90][b][h2]Jae-hyeon Park[/h2][/b][/color] 	
[color=#735a90][b]Demeanor:[/b][/color] Corporate

[color=#735a90][b]Blood:[/b][/color] 1  [color=#735a90][b]Heart:[/b][/color] 1  [color=#735a90][b]Mind:[/b][/color] -1  [color=#735a90][b]Spirit:[/b][/color] 0
[color=#735a90][b]Mortality:[/b][/color] 1  [color=#735a90][b]Night:[/b][/color] -1  [color=#735a90][b]Power:[/b][/color] 0  [color=#735a90][b]Wild:[/b][/color] 1[/center]
[indent][color=#735a90][b]Demon Form:[/b][/color]

[indent][color=#735a90]Head:[/color] halo of smoke, flaming horns
[color=#735a90]Hands:[/color] claws
[color=#735a90]Wings:[/color] leather
[color=#735a90]Skin:[/color] misty
[color=#735a90]Eyes:[/color] empty, smoky
[/indent][/indent]
[indent][color=#735a90][b]Demonic Jobs:[/b][/color]

[indent][color=#735a90]♜[/color] Collecting Souls
[color=#735a90]♜[/color] Assassinating your patron's enemies
[/indent][/indent]
[indent][color=#735a90][b]Tainted Moves:[/b][/color]

[indent][color=#735a90]♜[/color]The Devil Inside
[color=#735a90]♜[/color]??
[/indent]
[color=#735a90][b]Drama Moves:[/b][/color]

[indent][color=#735a90]♜ Tainted Corruption Move[/color]
When you persuade someone on your patron’s behalf, mark corruption.[/indent]
[indent][color=#735a90]♜ Intimacy Move[/color]
When you share a moment of intimacy—physical or emotional—with another person, they give you a Debt they hold on someone else.[/indent]
[indent][color=#735a90]♜End Move[/color]
When you die, cash in all the Debts your patron owes you to come back. If you have none, your patron will ask someone else to pay the Debt for you. If they refuse, time’s up. It’s been a good run.[/indent]
[color=#735a90][b]Gear:[/b][/color]

[indent][color=#735a90]♜[/color] An apartment 
[color=#735a90]♜[/color] A car
[color=#735a90]♜[/color] Smart Phone 
[color=#735a90]♜[/color] 9mm Beretta (2-harm | close | loud)
[/indent]
[color=#735a90][b]Debts:[/b][/color]

[indent][color=#735a90]♜[/color] x
[color=#735a90]♜[/color] x
[color=#735a90]♜[/color] x
[color=#735a90]♜[/color] x
[/indent][/indent][/color]
[/hider]