[Hider=Aark of Ispar][center]
[h1]Lord Aarkenhan J. Elzbrn of Ispar[/h1]
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[b][u]Origins/Heritage/Characteristics[/u][/b]
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[*]To understand an Ispari, one must first know of Fellmore. This region hadn't always been savaged from toes to teeth with orcs, and many know the name and their thoughts go to the frosted steppes and shimmering frosted wastes of what was Ispar's 'Sea of Glass'. The young kingdom's origins stem from the western ridges of The Crown. For a time, the land's terrain was enough to protect its people from encroaching orcs; rapid melting from the swift transitions of seasons often left the region flooded and more suitable for strong ships than large hoards. The Dragon changed all of this...
Driven from their home, Isparans carry legends of the northern seas, fables of kings befriending seamonsters migrating through the land like salmon up a waterfall, odd foreign customs and a lack of tolerance for heat. 
[*]Typically, the Ispari are hearty, fair-skinned humans with varying shades of blond to red hair and typically blue or hazel eyes, though others occur, uncommonly.
As Aarkenhan has not been seen without their armor, these characteristics are merely parameters of potential physical aspects. They stand at a lithe 6'8, with an inch and a half being offered by their boots.
[*]Given the state of Ispar, it is unfortunately difficult to confirm Aark's claim to lordship, as they presently rule over nothing that hasn't likely been raided or burnt down by Orcs. This in mind, they are hardly on the best of terms with goblinoids of any shape or size, to put their sentiments lightly.
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[b][u]Equipment[/u][/b]
[list][*]Aark is in possession of suspiciously well-crafted elven armaments beginning with their armor. An intricate work of mithril with stylized articulation in its etching and graceful form, the oddity is in how far away the seat of what was once Ispar rested from the elven empire of Aetherion. The quantity of material required for the work as well as its craftsmanship would lead one to believe that the commissioner was not concerning themselves with the distance traveled to acquire it.
[*]In the way of weaponry, Aark's tactics are made apparent in their lack of a shield, preferring, instead, [url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/dc/e8/f7/dce8f78f3bed192d990bc8aa2b136f5b.jpg]a human-crafted pappenheimer-style rapier[/url] - A masterwork with a sharpened edge forged wider than a typical rapier making it serviceable for light slashing attacks as well as intended piercing advances. The weight of the blade renders it slightly slower than most rapiers, forged with intent to serve as a weapon rather than a sparring prop. With skill, it bridges the gap between a longsword and a shortsword.
[*]Aark also totes what likely was intended to be wielded with the armor, due to its make, [url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c1/67/7e/c1677ed424cf54ec15981cd912152012.jpg]an elven-forged Cú Magil[/url] - A longsword with a versatile design intended for two-handed use due to its length and curvature making it moderately unwieldly for one-handed use. Roughly the same length as a standard European longsword, if not a tad longer, functions more or less like a falchion for the sake of martial arts and tactics though durable enough to retain effectiveness after more than a small handful of swings.
[*][u]Backpack[/u]
[list][*]Tent kit w/bedroll
[*]A commically enlarged hunting knife used for utility but being big enough to be close to a shortsword in its own right.
[*]Two waterskins
[*]An assortment of travel-sized pots and pans
[*]A bar of flint
[*]Whetstones
[*]Compass
[*]A small sack of wild onions[/List][/list]
[b][u]Capabilities[/u][/b]
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[*][u]Conditioning[/u]
[list][*]Heavier weapons by Isparian design are wielded excellently in the hands of this capable Ispari knight, their strength being enough to compensate for their otherwise obtuse make with poise and precision. Regardless of who they are, it is clear they've received extensive training and practice with their chosen weapons from performance to maintenance.
[*]Their size is hardly for show and barely a hindrance. Outside of conventional combat, Aark is wholly capable of feats of strength to eclipse that of any normal soldier. Growing up in the chill of what is now Fellmore, cold is hardly a concern and time spent traveling to and through Drakengard has grown them accustomed to life on the road...enough not to gripe [i]too[/i] much about not having a proper bed.
[*]While Aark does [i]technically[/i] know how to use a bow, it was mainly for the purpose of a workout regimen similar to that of soldiers. They're not the most impressive with such a skill and would have difficulty hitting anything moving at any practical distance. They would be better off throwing things.[/List]
[*][u]Niceties[/u]
[list][*]True to their title, Aark presents them as a gentleman in spite of their propensity to be an individual of few, if any words, behaving in some ways akin to a mute. Ballroom dancing, etiquette, posture and demeanor, all tailored from an upbringing grooming them to assume responsibility. They would make for a lovely guest to any formal occasion...if they could be brought to wear something other than their armor.
[*]Experience with traveling alone, out of circumstance rather than intent, Aark is somewhat reliable when it comes to setting up camp, starting fires and even basic herbology to the extent of knowing what kinds of berries and mushrooms are edible and how to root out local produce. What they lack in hunting and tracking, they make up for in campsite cooking.[/List]
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[hider=spoiler][center]I was born on the Twelfth day of the tenth month in the year three-kay, one-twenty-six. I had been told of an early blizzard that scoured the crown of Ispar, the howling winds rivaled by my newborn cries. As I grew, my days were balanced between the decadence of a responsibility that I was to assume; dancing, vernacular, scribework, singing, those forks which hell's dregs praise, and warfare. There was much more in those simpler times, but these days, the stresses of daily toil distract me from elegant tendencies intended to be etched into my persona. Though my means to do so are somewhat limited, I still serve the kingdom that raised me...the kingdom that fell for me.
The Kingdom of Isparia...Now some joke that the world mocks with its new name of 'Fellmore' while Neridian roosts in The Crown and orcs ravage the land. It cannot be permitted for such crimes to persist, though as capable as my arms are and determined as each of my heart's beats, I am a single blade. While I may count as three or four of our finest, I'm sure the monster from distant lands would relish the opportunity to give company to his prisoner, Princess Prim of Drakengard...and this is work to be done with more than a single soul.
If anywhere were to know my plight, it would be this wronged land of Drakengard, and I will see to its completion, myself, for there is no king without a kingdom, and no kingdom without a king.

No, the irony of the situation is [i]not[/i] lost to me, and I hope to have recountings of my exploits be written in the format of a comedy.

[h1]Princess Kaitra Jatherine Elzbrn;
Heir to Isparia[/h1]
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(Art by Alexandre Chaudret)
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[*]Relationships
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[*]I am the true heir to Isparia...such as it is. My family stretches back six generations to the conception of uniting the land under our flag. There was likely more before that, but busts and portraits aren't made of barbarians. I hear, for a time, my great, great, great, great, great, great grandmother had her likeness preserved in the figurehead of a longship that our people sailed up The Fingers on to settle the land. It is probably gone now, likely busted apart for fireword by less noble savages.
[*]I absconded with my grandfather's armor, my father's sword and my rapier. I...do not think they will be needing them. I will give them purpose, once more.
[*]Darvus David Dragan...A boy, from when I knew him, yet there was supposedly talk behind closed doors of an arranged marriage being proposed to contextualize the alliance between Isparia and Drakengard. Such a morose lad, and unfortunately tough to get a read on. Losing his sister must not have helped his disposition, but it has been years since we last met...such rumors do not entirely matter anymore, I suppose, all things considered.
[*]I have heard of Sir Nebel Mesanychta. I have heard many more things. Unsettling rumors of consortation with dark forces. Murder; insanity spurred by dissolution and errant contempt for the oaths they swore to. I am remiss to consider him a counting in [i]my[/i] court. What misfortunes lead them down their path, I care not, but the creature that wears their skin, I have been told, is one most deplorable, indeed. A jealous and sad creature that, perhaps in another time, it would be my responsibility to put down. However, for now, my enemies are of a more simple sort. I do not have time to be chasing ghosts, powerful as they may be.[/List]
[*]Blurb: Out of their element and being forced into a role in a fantasy story not too unlike the ones she once adored. The story I have planned for them is a process of slaying both literal and metaphorical dragons while coming to terms with what it means to hold responsibility. Knowing how to act and having the opportunity to act are different beasts that very well may take more than physical prowess to overcome, and knowing when to ask for help can very easily make the difference in sink-or-swim situations I know maybe a bit too well. Change is a funny thing, especially unexpected change. Sometimes, you're not sure how to deal with getting what you want...most things aren't for free.
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[Hider=Musics][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1CGMk_roNaE[/youtube]
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