"My darling, you would not be so foolish as to tempt me would you?"

---

---

Character Summary:

Name:
Saetan SaDiablo
Aliases:
High Lord, The Sadist, The Executioner, High Priest
Age:
2,839 years old
Birthday:
October 15
Race/Species:
Hayllian
Gender:
Male
Birhtplace:
The backstreets of Draega
Jewel Color (Birthright and Offering):
Birthright - Red/Offering - Black
Class/Caste:
Warlord Prince/Black Widow
Languages:
Eryian, Common, Hayllian, Dhemlan, and essentially most everything else.
Occupation:
High Lord of Hell, Dorothea's 'Pet', Warlord Prince of Dhemlan in Kaeleer, High Priest of the Hourglass Coven

---

---

Height:
6 foot 2 inches
Weight:
Average weight
Body Type:
Lean, well built
Eye Color:
Gold
Hair Color:
Black
Skin Tone:
Tan skin

---

---

Sexuality:
Straight, though he can and does seduce men
Relationship Status:
Single
Personality:
Saetan is a man who deeply hates his own race and would destroy it in a heartbeat if he could. Fortunately for them however, the High Lord holds his honor above his hatred, using it as a leash to keep himself in check and not wipe out those innocents who had have nothing to do under Dorothea's thumb. This mercy does not extend to the rest of the women who flock to Dororthea to see him, from them he quickly gained the name 'Sadist'. Where before he put his skills to terrifying use on the killing field, Saetan now puts them to use to discourage women from seeking him out. Knowing that while he will be punished for it, Dorothea does not dare kill him. Hyall's bloodlines are failing to produce the darker jewels that the Priestess-Queen needs to increase her influence and at the crux of a plan that has taken over fifteen hundred years to come to fruition time is critical.

This, however, does not mean that Saetan is without care. He cares deeply for a select few, but as a essential prisoner under Dorothea he dare not reach out a hand in friendship as the woman is quick to use these things against him. So he keeps his approval of others convert. However, as the ruling Warlord Prince of Dhemlan he has been very secretive of his position under Dorothea to those people from Kaeleer. Caring about what those people think of him. As if they could ever connect the Warlord Prince SaDiablo with Saetan, Dorothea's pet war prisoner. But Saetan is biding his time. Waiting until he finds a Queen worth the chance of freedom who can challenge Dorothea as he himself dares not to unless he wishes to spark the war between Kaeleer and Terreille, putting the Dhemlan people he presides over at risk.
Habits:

• Drinking often
• Smoking
• Always wearing his tinted black nails long
• Dressing immaculately

Hobbies:

• Drinking/Smoking
• Thwarting Dorothea's plans
• Reading
• Playing the violin
• Teaching Craft to children

Fears:

• Siring a child under Dorothea's control
• Starting a war between the Realms
• Finding his Queen only for Dorothea to slay her

Likes:

• Drinking/Smoking
• Reading
• Scaring the clucking women who flock about Dorothea and her pet Queens
• Children
• His Hall in Kaeleer

Dislikes:

• Dorothea
• Dorothea's pet Queens
• Those who do not follow Protocol
• Dogs

General Skills:

• Seducing men and women alike
• Courtly Manners/Dancing
• Courtly subterfuge
• Playing the violin
• Making potions/poisons

Combat Skills:

• Knife/Dagger (rusty)
• Sword fighting (rusty)
• Hand to Hand (rusty)
• Snaketooth poisoning

Magical Skills:

• Seducing via the Craft
• Mentally tearing apart someone's mind
• Killing via the Craft

---

---

Background:
Born in a rickety house in Draega, the capital of Hayll to a whore. His mother cared for her son the best she could. But perished shortly into Saetan's life. From there Saetan was granted his Birthright Red and made the Offering for his Black jewels. Between the two he sought work where he could find it. Picking up skills quickly at charming women and fighting off those who would take his profits from him. Playing a randy rogue, he lived on the 'gifts' of his female friends til he made the Offering and received the Black. It was roughly about this time that he began working in Courts as a variety of positions and more often than not a Consort.

It was around 200 years into his life that Saetan left Terreille, sickened by the games of the Courts in Hayll. Especially the younger Queens that were appearing and flocking about the new Provincal Queen Dorothea, a woman well on her way to power. No longer the boy he had been or the handsome Haylllian, in Kaeleer he was recognized as a force to be reckoned with. While Terreille was his birthplace, Kaeleer became his home and the rules of Protocol were as he was taught and not the twisted form they were becoming in Terreille. Especially in Hayll. It was around when he was four hundred that he had established himself as a powerful Warlord Prince and the Dhemlan Queens asked this man in his prime to take the rule of Dhemlan Terreille and Kaeleer. Accepting he ruled for a thousand years give or take and he did well with protecting and defending Dhemlan.

But Hyall had grown greedy in his absence. Saetan had ruled in Dhemlan and was not going to take Hyall's intrusions lightly. But things did not pan out as the High Priest hoped. Dhemlan won, but at a cost. Heketah, a demon dead woman, had approached Saetan and lured him into a meeting only for Saetan at a crucial point in the victory to be forced to make a choice between his country and people or himself. While Dhemlan had won, Pruul and Raej had allied with Hyall thanks to Queens that had been set up in their economically weakened courts and were now poised to strike at the Terreille Dhemlan. Saetan gave himself over as prisoner and Dhemlan was given over a proper Queen. Not that her fair and just rule lasted long. Soon Dhemlans forgot about a Warlord Prince thanks to Dorothea's machinations. Since then Saetan has been working on subverting the Preistess-Queen, contained though he is by a band of compliance. A object forged by craft that Dorothea controls and if compliance is not given, pain is.

---

---

Other:
Theme Song:

"I can take you apart just as well as I can put you back together."

---

---

Character Summary:

Name:
Faeril Ashkevron
Aliases:
Fae, Ashke, Scalpel Tongue, Ice Healer, Iron Healer, Razor Tongue
Age:
953 years old
Birthday:
November 29
Race/Species:
Eryian
Gender:
Female
Birhtplace:
Doun, Askavi
Jewel Color (Birthright and Offering):
Birthright - Blood opal/Offering - Red
Class/Caste:
Healer/Black Widow
Languages:
Eryian, Common
Occupation:
Healer, Secretive Poison/Potion Dealer, Hourglass Coven Black Widow

---

---

Height:
5 foot 11 inches
Weight:
132 pounds
Body Type:
Lithe
Eye Color:
Grey-Blue
Hair Color:
Dark Aurburn
Skin Tone:
Grey-tan skin

---

---

Sexuality:
Bisexual, though she prefers men
Relationship Status:
Single
Personality:
No nonsense, sharp and to the point. Faeril will beat about the bush should she be unsure of something or unwilling to reveal something. Generally in these cases she's trying to avoid lying. But she is very capable of it. Lying to herself, to patients, to everyone she sees regularly about many things. She expects her word to be done when attending to her patients or wounds. Mental or otherwise. This also reflects in her refusal to accept excuses and her quickness to punish failure in those about her and herself. All brought about by her job as a Healer. To Faeril failure results in death and that is unacceptable and inexcusable. The eyes of the dead she failed to save and brought the death to haunt her. Not that she will admit it. Shielding herself in a wall of mental ice.

This is not to say that Fae is without feeling. She feels very deeply, but due to her abilities and profession she buries this side of her deeply. Under sharp wit, tongue and a devil-may-care attitude for everyone. Subordinates, and authority alike is beneath her when she is working. Everyone is expendable, but she will often try to save everyone she can. Pushing herself hard to do as much as she can without harming her beloved jewels. Something she is very careful of, aware she can save more with them being whole them either being shattered or drained. But she desires more. A place were she will not fear if any find out of her Black Widow status. With a dark humor, and a hand for politics she has ambition to claim enough power to increase her own. For those who get in her way, she will render them into madness and their body to meat unfit for Hell.
Habits:

• Pacing when in the height of emotion or thinking hard
• Biting at her crooked forefinger when thinking
• Always wearing gloves
• Dressing immaculately and abhorring wrinkles
• Speaking with her hands

Hobbies:

• Bossing people about
• Making Potions/Poisons
• Shopping for/Acquiring clothes, accessories
• Verbally berating people
• Messing with people's outlooks

Fears:

• Dying and facing the patients she lost
• Healing and loosing a friend or kin
• The nightmares of the dead
• Being exposed as a Black Widow

Likes:

• Bossing people about/Verbally berating people/Messing with people's outlooks
• Potions/Poisons
• Clothes, accessories
• Healing someone successfully
• Torturing/Killing a threat

Dislikes:

• Being bossed about, berated, or messed with
• Losing a patient
• Messy Clothes
• Failure/excuses
• Dogs

General Skills:

• Diplomacy/Lecturing
• Dancing
• Flying
• Cooking
• Making potions/poisons

Combat Skills:

• Knife/Dagger
• Limited Hand to Hand
• Snaketooth poisoning

Magical Skills:

• Healing - Adept at working with the body, or taking it apart
• Mental - As a Black Widow she is Adept at weaving her tangled webs about the minds of others, or ferreting out the truth
• Making Poisons/Potions - Adept at the brewing of poisons and potions for good or ill.
  [color=]What they carry on them: [/color]
  
  • A keen edged long knife
  • A embroidery kit.
  • A basket of Healer supplies
  • A basket containing materials to weave a tangled web
  • Several books for reading or journals.

---

---

Background:
The Ashkevrons... An old and powerful Eyrien family though most would not think of them as such. Their power is in a bloodline rich in Black Widows. The ancestral eyrie had been carved from the mountain about them from countless generations of fathers, lovers, and brothers. The distaff line holding the key to the place and the name they possess. Faeril was born to Nivarian, a Queen and Black Widow of the Grey jewel, and her consort at the time. A Warlord named Falkar who wore the red. She grew up watching the workings of the court from a young age and learned the basic skills of a Black Widow from her very cradle. For her mother was not so busy as to deny her daughter the family teachings whether she would turn out to be a Widow or no. But it was shortly after her Birthright ceremony when Faeril was given the Blood Opal that her mother was slain by assassination. Nivarian had sensed something coming and sent her daughter to live in the family home that was held by her sister, Lumerian, who had no children of her own. Black widows were already being whispered about as 'unnatural women', and Nivarian's death only confirm this in many eyes.

When Faeril's snaketooth grew in over her years of puberty, Lumerian taught her niece far more of their shared craft. So the young woman split her time with her aunt in secret teachings of the craft that was becoming more and more dangerous to practice and her more open and readily admitted Healer training. Faeril wasted no time with her no nonsense attitude, nor did Lumerian waste anytime teaching her quickly raising her sister's child to a journeyman in the Hourglass Coven. It was when she was a hundred and fifty two that Faeril achieved Master status among her Craft as a Widow and two hundred by the time she became a full fledged healer. Well respected if disliked for her harsh tongue. But the Healer came too late as her aunt failed to notice the days and died of her snake tooth's venom.

Distraught though she was over her aunt's death, Faeril did not abandon the village she lived in nor family home. Sending out a plea for aid from a close friend and her escort. For as a Black Widow herself, Faeril suspected her aunt had been drugged by someone into forgetting and did not feel as though a early grave would suit her. Gen Saroth and his twin brothers Denar and Belor answered her call and all three were ready for a fight. Their mother was a sweet woman, but her mind had been shattered thanks to the boys' father a Hyallian male. Gen had sought aid from Nivarian when he was old enough to challenge his father and gotten it readily. The Hyall male was sent off and their mother's mind was healed as much as Lumerian and Nivarian could heal the woman. She still was a good deal lost in the madness and her ability with the Craft was next to nothing, but the twins and Gen both swore a debt to the Ashkevron family. After Lumerian's death the four Eyrien Blood sought out the males' father and Faeril ripped the knowledge from his mind. Leaving him for the wolves of the mountain. His body nothing more than a sack of meat, the bones all being dislocated and crushed to gravel with Faeril's skill and might.

Over her nine and a half centuries of existence, Faeril has known many. Enjoy the company of friends and rivals alike. But while has had her 'little Healer's cadre' there are few she has taken into her embrace as a lover. She has confided in each that she fears losing them while trying to heal them. Though her sharp tongue and frosty demeanor tend to scare most off. Much to her constant friend Saroth's, a fellow Eryian, amusement and exasperation. While he is of her circle and was one of her first guards as a Healer. Their relationship was more one of quick wit, unwavering friendship and benefits on the side. Neither believe themselves 'correct' for the other. Which would be completely right in the fact that Saroth preferred men to women just as much as Fae does. But it was Saroth who held Faeril together when she lost her first, and thus far, only child. Born stillborn, the child was not only Faeril's but Saroth's as well. Faeril had decided to make the attempt to be a mother and Saroth had been happy to be a donor of sorts. But Saroth had pulled himself together and Faeril as well, dragging her back from the brink of willing herself to death. Since that day 150 years ago, Faeril has refused to take another lover or even consider children. Stating she would not be a good mother. Even if Saroth is exempt from the first rule, if merely for his ability to be one of the few who can brave through her harsh tongue.

---

---

Other:
Her and Gen Saroth's stillborn son is something neither talk about.
Theme Song:

"You dare approach me? I hope you've prepared to die."

---

---

Character Summary:

Name:
Xandar Markov
Aliases:
Xandar, The Reaper, Defender of Men, The Alpha
Age:
1742 years old
Birthday:
February 3rd
Race/Species:
Eyrien
Gender:
Male
Birthplace:
Askavi - Terreille
Jewel Color (Birthright and Offering):
Birthright - Sapphire/Offering - Ebon-Gray
Class/Caste:
Warlord Prince
Languages:
Eyrien, Common
Occupation:
Rogue Warlord Prince

---

---

Height:
6 foot 7 inches
Weight:
247 pounds
Body Type:
Muscular
Eye Color:
Bright Gold
Hair Color:
Jet Black
Skin Tone:
Dark Gold / Tan

---

---

Sexuality:
Heterosexual
Relationship Status:
Single
Personality:
As a man born from a warrior race, coming from a long line of merciless warriors, and Xandar is no exception. His strong physique and features already stand out to the human eye, being even larger than most of his own kind. His tall stature, large gold wings and piercing gold eyes that shine in even the dark reflect his personality in a way. He almost always believes that he should be the center of attention and of the upmost importance. Coming from the only Patriarchal race, this was only natural and instinct for him. The males ruled the household. Xandar will go out of his way to show his dominance and authority, challenging other men who he sees as a threat. Xandar is your definition of an Alpha Male, and his pride is what fuels many of his emotions and actions.

Due to his nature, Xandar can get highly aggressive and angry in some instances, especially on the battlefield. In a society where most disputes are settled by combat, Xandar has a low tolerance for bullshit, and he's willing to fight the person responsible. Many have tried to take his spot and few have lived to regret the mistake.

While Xandar is very much the hugest asshole most people have ever met and quick to draw his sword, this is not to say that he can't be civil. He has matured from his "younger" years, and for those he respects he can be somewhat tolerable, even hold a decent conversation. He even has a bit of charisma sometimes. After all, there are very few things that are stronger than a Warlord Prince's sex drive. He can even be humorous sometimes, even if it's usually belittling others or making very dark and crude jokes.

Under that whole strong, fierce, bust your ass persona, there is a heart deep down there. This often comes in the form of his more protective side. The only thing that enrages him more than challenging him, is to hurt the ones he cares about. There is a reason his name is "Defender of Men", and while this is somewhat because of his namesake, he has always believed that his power was bestowed on him to protect others. Internally, the reason he needs to be stronger than anyone else is to never be defeated. Men fight the hardest when they have everything to lose. His pride, his life, and mostly importantly... the lives of those around him. He is a warrior who seeks a cause for fighting. Lately, it's been just for the sake of his pride, his people, and the thrill of the fight.
Habits:

• Smoking
• Having very dominant body language
• Dressing extremely well everywhere he goes
• Biting his lower lip
• Stretching, flexing, and yawning to openly express emotions

Hobbies:

• Combat/Fighting
• Giving orders
• Talking down to others/Boasting of himself
• Adult affairs
• Most things pertaining to physical contest and challenge

Fears:

• Being alone
• Being defeated
• Not being able to protect others
• His rage causing a fatal mistake

Likes:

• The glory of combat and murder
• Being in control
• Taking out his aggression of on others
• Dogs
• Victory

Dislikes:

• Losing
• Not being in control
• Being looked down upon
• Being denied things
• Those weaker than himself

General Skills:

• Leadership
• Athletics
• Flying
• Singing
• Tactician

Combat Skills:

• Expert Swordsmanship
• Well developed hand-to-hand combat
• Aerial Combat
• Using Magic to enhance and work with physical attacks
• Bow and Arrow

Craft Skills:

• Psychic blasts
• Shielding
• Physical buffs

Items:

• Large Eyrien Warblade
• Bow and arrows
• Military-Grade Studded leather
• Cigars
• Dual Long Swords

---

---

Background:
Born in the Askavi region of Terrielle, the heir of the Markovs had been born in a home carved at the peak of the tallest mountain. This is where he called home, and where the Markov family had been for generations. The family name alone came with a certain swagger, pride, and power, their family having an infamy on the battlefield. Xandar's father, Edgar, hosted a Gray Jewel and wielded it with passion on the battlefield. The nickname Tyrant described his father quite well. Merciless on the battlefield, cruel to those he knew, and abusive to even his own family. His wife was Ellian, owner of a Red Jewel and a fierce warrior in her own right. This is what initially drew his father to her, but her strong spirit and fiery personality compared in comparison to his father's. Xandar has striking memories of his father beating his mother half to death for disobeying him, and Xandar was not spared from these beating as a child either. However, his mother would always stand up for him, often times taking his father's wraith in place of him. These moments of kindness and protection taught Xandar about what it meant to protect those you loved, even if you had put yourself in harm's way.

While he was very close to his mother, he and his father had an odd relationship. As the only male descended from Edgar, it was Xandar's birthright to carry the Markov legacy. And because of that, his father beat into him how to act, how to fight, and how to be a proper man. Edgar saw Xandar as an extension of himself, and was very seldom proud of him, verbally berating the young boy for not being good enough. And while he has his father to thank for helping shape him into the warrior and man he is today, he'll always hate that son of a bitch.

Xandar was finally spared from his home when he had attained his birthright jewel, Sapphire, and was sent by his father to a hunting camp. Not to say that this wasn't hell either, and at 45 years of age he was pitted against boys of his own age for decades. He is proficient with most things that can be considered a weapon, but he is most proficient with a sword and bow and arrow. Even at a young age, he had the size and strength to wield a warblade, and few could match his skill with a sword. The power of his Jewel only added to his prowess on the battlefield, not relying on it, but simply using it as an enhancement and extension to his body. Normally he had no need to use his jewel, but is would be idiotic not to harness it's power and use it to it's fullest potential in combat. After decades of honing his skills, he was ready for the run. And while many of his allies died, he was the first to complete the run.

For the next few decades he would train under his father, often accompanying him in battle, even though he hadn't received his offering yet. Xandar would often have to fight his battle alone at first, his father watching and judging him as he narrowly escaped death on more than one occasion. He told him that he would not step in, as that was the nature of war for the strong to survive and the weak to perish. Years of this and many experiences of combat under his belt caused his demeanor to harden, now often leading other men into war with him and ordering them around. This was due to the fact of his namesake, but also due to the fact that he was truly fit to be a leader. A very cruel one, but he knew what the hell he was doing.

At 100 years old it was time for Xandar's offering, receiving the Ebon-Gray jewel. This sudden surge of power that came to wielding this dark of a jewel enraged his father, and Edgar could tell that Xandar would soon surpass him. His own son, who he saw as his legacy, he now saw as a threat and rival. Soon after this he sought to destroy Xandar and kill him out of fear of him. He would just have another son with a different woman he thought to himself. Xandar's mother Ellian caught wind of this and quickly sent Xandar off. There was a confrontation between the two parents, and in a fit of rage his father killed his mother in cold blood. When Xandar returned he was enraged, knowing now why he had been sent away. His mother had saved him yet again, but this time at the cost of her life. He couldn't even protect the only person close to him. After this he sought out his father in a blind rage, hunting him down and murdering him in front of dozens of his father's men. It wasn't even a contest. In one day his mother was murdered by his father, and in turn he avenged her and cut down his own father in combat, the one who taught him how to fight. Orphaned, he was one of the sole Markov's left now, and that realization of being alone struck him. As he stood there, his father's lifeless body torn open by Xandar's blade, the nickname "The Reaper" was given to him. It was as if death itself had come for Edgar, and nothing was going to stop it. Now alone and with the blood of both his parents on his hands, he went to extinguish countless lives afterwards in the pursuit of finding meaning and purpose in his now empty life.

Hundreds of years have past, and Xandar has spread his name further as the sole heir to his name. A proud man with a thirst for power that never quenched, he became more and more restless. It seems that others are restless in the world too. Many of the Blood were being corrupted by the twisted Queens, powerful men and women coming under control of the Matriarchs. A few of his own warriors had even been lost. It was only a matter of time before they came for his head, and he knew it. The fact of the matter is, he believed that nobody could control him, let alone women who claimed to be all powerful and influential. Xandar thought this was some bullshit magic, and although he never went out of his way to fight these Queens, he would readily defend himself and his people. If they wanted power, they would have to fight for it, just like he did. Xandar only respected power, and he had yet to see power that could match his own. And for that, he was blind to the fact that their were many who held power far greater than his own. He was in for a rude awakening.

After narrowly escaping capture, Xandar was forced to become a rogue, leaving the court and queen in order to declare his independence. Slavery was not an option for him, and he actively declared rebellion against this tyranny. There were many men at first that called to his cause, lots of them he had fought with on the battlefield. Xandar would lead these men into battle once more. At first they were successful, but the longer the fight went on, he slowly realized how truly outmatched and outresourced he was. There were far too many people under this new power, and one by one his men were killed, captured, or disheartened. All that was left was himself. While there was no one person he had met so far who could take him down, the Queen's army was too much. They even took over his family estate and assets. o home, no money, and nobody to count on, his was very low on options. If he wanted to continue to live as a free man, he needed friends.

This led Xandar to Aven, where a good friend of his had a father who ran a bar. It wan't much, but before he was killed in combat, his friend had mentioned going there to help the movement. After breaking the news of his son to the barkeep, he didn't seem all to mad at him. He understood that his son died fighting for a cause he believed in, and he knew the dangers. Upon asking the man, he steers Xandar to ask after the Ashkevron Healer as she "-will put ye to rights. One way or the other. Though you may not like how 'right' leaves you." Now he didn't know who this woman was, but he really had no other choice. And so this is where his story leaves off, on the hunt for a woman who had the answers he was looking for. Or so he hoped.

---

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Other:
Favorite Color Red, Doctor Strange is cool. roleplayerguild.com/posts/4856697
Theme Song:

Extra:(read rules)
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.

”Taking a life is easy. If you do it right, it can be as easy as simply waiting for it to happen. What is dangerous is when you start caring about who or why and start to simply... enjoy it.”

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Name: Mikhail Volkov

Aliases: 'Misha'

Age: 32

Birthday: June 8th
Race/Species: Dea Al Mon
Gender: Male
Birthplace: Dea Al Mon, Kaeleer.

Jewel color:
Birthright: Red
Offering: Gray

Class/Caste: Prince

Languages:
Common
Dea Al Mon
Occupation:

Saboteur, Assassin. Usually takes works from noble houses plotting against other houses or even against themselves.

---

---

Height:
1,90m

Weight:
80kgs

Eye Color:
Blue eyes.

Skin Tone:
White

Body Type:
Tall and slim.

Hair Color:
White.

Hair Style:
Long, sometimes tied in a long ponytail, sometimes untied.

---

---

Sexuality:
Heterosexual
Relationship Status:
Single
Personality:
Mikhail's personality is an interesting topic. Normally he is a very amicable guy. Most of the times he is easy to approach. Often enjoying talking with others, the word 'kind' seems to perfectly describes Mikhail. People often enjoy having him close by as he is generally a very good company as he is always a calm and quiet guy. He tries to avoid unnecessary confrontations and draw as little attention to him as possible, often preferring to keep his opinions to himself if he sees they could draw the wrong type of attention to him. Regarding social situations, he will rarely approach someone, but if people approach him, he will mostly always show to be a calm and friendly guy.

Mikhail fears being betrayed by someone he trusts, so thanks to this fear, he avoids any serious relationship. He is especially careful around blood female, as he knows that love is an even more effective way to control someone than craft. That doesn't mean he dislikes females. He greatly enjoys reading romance books & etc.

Despite his placid and calm smile, there is one part of his expression that he cannot change. His eyes. Even with his calm, kind expression, if you look deep within his eyes, you can see an almost... frightening coldness... A calculating and penetrating gaze that seems to analyze everything that happens around him carefully.

But things change radically when Mikhail enters a combat situation or is 'working'. That faint hint of coldness on his eyes from before becomes the only thing on his expression. He becomes incredibly calculating and cold.

Habits:
- Training. From studying, stretching and keeping his body flexible to actual combat techniques and even things like training his balance and gymnastics.
- Always checking thoroughly the places he sleep. Be it an unknown inn or the same place he slept for the last week.
- Taking a few moments before sleeping to meditate, in part to keep his 'sanity'.

Hobbies:
- Cooking
- Reading, especially story books or sometimes studying.
- Training, specifically free running and gymnastics.
- Sightseeing, walking around and appreciating the small things such as the night breeze, the smell of the flowers & etc.

Fears:
- Ironically, even though he avoids relationships, he fears never having anyone whom he can really trust. Someone to stay by his side.
- Losing his freedom.
- Being betrayed.

Likes:
- The thrill of the hunt and kill.
- Training
- Reading
- Using 'training' as an excuse to go around the city to climb tall places and just enjoy the scenery.

Dislikes:
- Alcohol
- Being ordered/manipulated.
- Having others realizing who exactly he is or knowing his past.



General Skills
- Cooking
- Manipulation
- Lockpicking
- Anatomy and herbal medicine (including poisons)

Combat skills
- Using wires (both steel and craft made ones) as weapons.
- Daggers, knives and throwing weapons.
- Stealth, traps and ambush tactics.
- Infiltration
- Hunting

Magic skills

- Mikhail is able to create wires with his craft. These razor sharp wires are used by him either to create traps, ambushes or in actual combat by cutting or snaring his opponents. He has some degree of control over these wires. He can make them move as a projectile through the air, as they had weighted tips or simply make them almost weightless, as they were made of silk. He still cannot control their trajectory though or completely control their movement as in make them chase someone or make them just go and wrap themselves around someone while he does nothing.

- Sight Shield

What they carry on them:

- Twin, Dea Al Mon curved style Daggers.
- Throwing knives, thin and similar to needles.
- Razor sharp steel wire. Thin and hard to see but it easily cuts flesh.
- Mortar/Pestle and a number of small vials with poisons and healing potions, such as to stop bleeding & etc.

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Background

Born deep within the forests of Dea Al Mon in a house of healers, Mikhail was entrusted to be his older sister, Eleanor's escort even before he was born. It was only natural for the one who was supposed to be the next head of the house to have an entrusted escort to her and what best choice than one trained since he was young by the house themselves? Born and trained with the sole reason of being his sister's escort, following her at all times, Mikhail was trained exhaustively. Assassination, combat, stealth, traps... The best way to understand an assassin and how they work was to be one. Never having a say in the matter, he simply followed orders. His fate, his future was already decided for him the very moment he was born.

Despite the fact that Mikhail himself shouldn't be treated with the same 'standing' or importance of his sister, it was undeniable that he cared about her. Not only thanks to his instincts as a blood male, but she was his sister after all. It was only natural for Mikhail and Eleanor get close, after all, he was practically together with her or watching her every single time he was awake. Their relationship wasn't one of a guard and the one he was supposed to serve. It was closer to one of a brother and a sister's. Mikhail wasn't allowed to be away from her, so the only thing close to 'having fun' he had was either reading books, talking or even studying anatomy and healing with her (watching her for so long made Mikhail really interested in herbal medicine, including their varied effects on many different races, the effects of poisons and how to make antidotes for them). Despite some of the most powerful women in the family being clearly unsatisfied with their relationship, after some time, they allowed Mikhail to be a bit 'closer' and present for Eleanor than just being a shadow, protecting her from the dark as it was good for her own development both as a healer and a woman.

But unfortunately, things weren't going to keep that 'peaceful' for long... Mikhail never failed his job. Nothing ever even touched Eleanor, but he never expected that the ones whom she should be wary of weren't outsiders... Caught completely by surprise, Mikhail just realized that he and his sister had been betrayed by the ones closest to them when it was already too late... On the night Eleanor was poisoned. After feeling unwell, she went to her room early after the dinner. Mikhail didn't even know what happened, until she never woke up the next day. With his sister dead and him being framed by her death, Mikhail did the only thing he could... he ran, leaving everything behind without even knowing who was responsible for such act.

After losing his sister, whom he had a deep bond, not only due to his instincts as a blood male, but due to his personal feelings as well, he fell into a deep depression. Without a home to return to, without anyone to rely upon after being betrayed by the ones he trusted the most, he closed his heart to the world, not allowing anyone to get closer to him. Being alone in the world, he started to work as an assassin to earn money. Taking a life wasn't hard, especially with his training. Being cold and effective like he was, contracts began to become common for him. But neither the bloodshed nor the alcohol were able to make him completely forget the pain of having lost his dear sister, of failing to protect her. Desperately trying to find relief to that agonizing feeling, his assassinations began to become even more cruel and ruthless as he tried to get rid of all the frustration and anger on his heart on his targets. It was due to this feeling that he developed an unique, extrmely cruel and brutal type of craft, creating razor sharp wires with his jewel. But nothing could ease the pain. Not the killing, nor the alcohol, not even the books, which did the completely opposite, reminding him of his sister even more.

When he was about to lose himself, he heard about a certain Black Widow in Terreille that, for a price, offered her services to anyone, without asking questions. After a long journey and reflecting about a lot of things, he knew what he had to ask her. The only thing that could get rid of that pain... He asked her to make him forget about Eleanor and what happened back in Dea Al Mon. After she was finished, Mikhail was able, for the first time in years, to enjoy simple things like the beauty of nature and the smell of flowers. The pain was gone. He felt like he got rid of an incredible weight he was carrying all those years. After spending a few months living in a small village surrounded by the forest, he learned how to smile once more and find balance between his old, cold self and the new person he had became.

Unfortunately for him, the mind spell wasn't complete. Even without remembering anything about what happened in Dea Al Mom, Mikhail was having strange nightmares every night, leftovers of the incomplete mind spell. Once again, he went to see the Black Widow, aiming to get rid of the nightmares, which were starting to affect his work.

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Other:
Theme Song:

“Wild woman are an unexplainable spark of life. They ooze freedom and seek awareness, they belong to nobody but themselves yet give a piece of who they are to everyone they meet. If you have met one, hold on to her, she'll allow you into her chaos but she'll also show you her magic.”
― Nikki Rowe

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Character Summary:

Name:
Fatima Damiana
Aliases:
None
Age:
316
Birthday:
July 26th
Race/Species:
Hyllian
Gender:
Female
Birhtplace:
Eldan
Jewel Color:
Birthright - Sapphire
Offering - Grey
Class/Caste:
Healer Queen
Languages:
Dhemlan, Common, and Hyllian.
Occupation:
Queen

---

---

Height:
4'10"
Weight:
120lbs
Body Type:
Curvaceous
Eye Color:
Pale Gold (nearly the silver of white gold)
Hair Color:
Black, wavy, curls
Skin Tone:
Bronzed

---

---

Sexuality:
Heteroflexible
Relationship Status:
Single
Personality:
She behaves in an airheaded and foolish way. Rather enjoying tea parties or galas. She appears to be easily manipulated or controlled by her Court and others around her. She smiles often and giggles too much. Good, kind, and benevolent. Her knowledge of the world seems rather closed and her trust in people naive.

But, behind the mask of stupidity hides a happy, bubbly, and vivacious woman. In her heart she is wild. She would much rather be riding horses and running barefoot through grass fields than spend another day doing needlepoint and watching theatre. She loves to feel the wind in her hair and the dirt between her toes. Dancing around a fire, drinking, and carnal delights are her preferred form of celebration. Climbing trees and getting dirty are second nature to her, but this has been stuffed down and tied tightly into a corset. She is a woman who believes in violence and sacrifice if it is for the right cause. Death is just as an important part of the cycle as life. She loves a good joke.

She doesn't have any qualms or misgivings towards any other living being, except perhaps Dorothea and her pets. However, if she is crossed or someone she cares about is hurt she will hunt down the offender and flay them, heal them, and then flay them some more. (By no means is she a squeamish woman.) She cares not what would happen to her own person as long as vengeance is had. She is also willing to sacrifice for the sake of her goals. The loss of one is nothing to the loss of many. That being said, she is compassionate and understanding. Her hatred is hard earned and she will always attempt to put herself in the other's shoes. There are actions those take in order to keep those they love happy and healthy. It is just as important to understand that their actions do come with a consequence.
Habits:

• Sneaking off to do something fun for a change
• Waking early and sleeping late
• Stopping to pet adorable animals
• Clasping her hands in front of her stomach when making Queenly statements

Hobbies:

• Mushroom hunting
• Potion making
• Herb collecting
• Horseback riding
• Soap and Candlemaking
• Dancing (in the rain or around the fire sort, though she can do proper fancy dancing.)
• Falconry

Fears:

• Death of a loved one
• Loneliness
• Loss of her jewels
• Centipedes

Likes:

• Being outdoors
• Thunderstorms or sunny days
• Carnal, earthly pleasures
• Getting dirty
• Howling at the moon
• Bathing in rivers

Dislikes:

• Stiff, thick clothes
• Skirts
• Shoes
• Clothing in general really
• Cabbage
• Sweet foods
• Curmudgeons

General Skills:

• Herbology
• Horseback riding
• Bandaging and suture (knowing traditional ways of healing are important)
• Creating salves and potions
• Cooking

Combat Skills:

• Basic self-defense

Magical Skills:

• Healing
• Reaching inside of a person to fix or break things
• Psychic Probe - Detection
• Disguising her offering jewel rank with her birthright.

What they carry on them:

• Pre-made healing salves and potions
• Handkerchiefs
• Medical supplies (bandaging, suture, needles, pure alcohol)
• A book on plants and their healing properties
• An extra pair of shoes

---

---

Background:
She was born to the court and to a family that aligned themselves with Dorothea. She was the daughter of a Queen and herself a Queen. She was doted on and spoiled as a babe. As she grew older she showed strong promise in her abilities but was wild by nature. It took many punishments to finally groom the girl into being able to sit still long enough to read a book. Once she discovered the magic of the written word she was insatiable. At her birthright, she received the sapphire jewel. She was in love with it, cherished it, and would often stare into the blue depths. She studied healing both through the jewel and more traditional versions of healing, believing a place should be had for both. She also soaked up information regarding the ruling and caring for her territory. She studied economics, agriculture, and diplomacy. She wished to do right by her people.

Seeing her daughter's power, her Queen mother hid her away - often sending her to nicer areas of the realm. Fatima was never allowed to develop her own court. For the first time, her mother actually feared Dorothea and what she might do to her daughter. But, Fatima being the wild thing she was, would often go off and play with the other children. And as she got older, began to see the hardships her people were put through. And her heart was saddened.

At her offering, it was the Grey jewel that chose her. Her mother felt more desperate to hide her, using members of her own court to keep her safe. She was made to wear her Sapphire for the sake of her safety and to always keep her Grey hidden. No longer was her guard lax enough that she was able to slip away - though she tried. She was truly awakened one day when a small, dirty street urchin was run over by her carriage but no one seemed to care or give a second thought to it. The lack of appreciation for life outraged her. And she disappeared from the realm to go among the people of her territory and to pay back the life of the child that was killed. Though Fatima was small, she worked fields and sewed clothes. She learned to cook during these adventures and lived as the people. She came to truly understand their hardships and the lack of love the reigning class had for this realm and its people.

Fatima was eventually found by her family after about 50 years (at about age 205) and returned to her home. She vowed that she would do all in her power to make things right and change this realm for the better. The time for decadence was over. She had to focus and forget her wild ways if she wanted to help her people. Her mother's death has left her in a position to gain the sort of power she requires as the Queen of her village. Now she must navigate the nuances of the court and attempt to rise in power.

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Other: Plaid, color code: 6E8E67
Theme Song:

Extra: roleplayerguild.com/posts/4723583
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.

"The first rule of protocol is not to serve but to protect. And I will protect my Queen with all that I have. And all that I am."

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Character Summary:

Name:
Sybl Elias Landseer
Aliases:
The Dhemlan Whore, Obedient Puppy, Palace Pet
Age:
47 years
Birthday:
Feb 22nd
Race/Species:
Mixed, Dhemlan and Shaladorian
Gender:
Male
Birhtplace:
Dhemlan, Terrielle
Jewel Color (Birthright and Offering):
Rose, Blood Opal
Class/Caste:
Warlord Prince
Languages:

Occupation:
Slave Consort

---

---

Height:
6'1"
Weight:
195lbs
Body Type:
Swimmers build, lithe but muscular
Eye Color:
Bright Fern Green
Hair Color:
Black
Skin Tone:
Pale

---

---

Sexuality:
Confused
Relationship Status:
Perpetually "engaged"
Personality:
He is a soft sweet creature, made pliable by a life spent amongst those in Dorothea's good graces. Quiet by nature and with a kindness only possible through a harsh life of abuse. He thinks lowly of himself, not seeing the young man who has actually bloomed beneath the tyranny of rancid cacti. For each positive thing you could say he would find five more to see badly about himself. He is hard on himself, constantly attempting to do better in the eyes of the Queens he serves. He takes any of his failures much more harshly upon himself than that offered to him by his Queens. He feels he deserves the punishment and always strives to do better. An endless and thankless task.

He has developed the ability to engage in long hours of quiet introspection. He can find fun in even the dullest of moments. He can get a bit lost in himself, drawing into his core and forgetting the rest of the world exists. Sybl has a keen sense for other's emotions and often times will take more onto himself than he can handle in order to lighten the burden of someone else. He is a grand listener and has the unique ability to find no fault in those who administer his punishments. However, he is not open with his own thoughts or feelings. Preferring to keep all, even his discomfort, to himself.

Sybl can be rather gullible, not having quite the sense he should in deciphering a falsehood from the truth. He is an easy soul to trick. An oddly trusting boy. He prefers when people are straight forward with him. Tell him what to do, what they want, and how they want it. The games some of the Queens play to trick him into doing something wrong make him anxious. He has a hard time sorting between serving and self preservation - not that he has much of that.

Sybl is a hopeless romantic. He has not yet met the Queen who draws his heart though there are times he has thought he perhaps, just maybe, felt the twinge. He longs to meet the one he would serve until his end. He dreams of her entrance into his life and just how magical that would be. So, to this end, he treats every Queen he meets with the enthusiasm and dedicated charm that he would reserve for the one. To pass the time he has a tendency to overindulge in drink. It dulls the pain of his life and makes the world a bit more bearable... if not perhaps a bit lopsided at times.

He is quite the artist - drawing and painting to the point of painful reality. There have been times, upon asked to paint one of the women he has served, that he has only earned their censure and their whip. The piano, the violin, and the cello are all something that he excels at, having been playing since a young age. For reasons quite unknown to him, he has not been allowed to touch any sort of percussion or wind instrument.

Habits:

• Chewing his lower lip
• wringing or worrying his hands
• Cringing/withdrawing/hiding when there seems to be an argument brewing

Hobbies:

• Drawing/painting
• Playing various instruments
• Pleasing others
• Day dreaming

Fears:

• Anger or Aggression toward himself
• Failing anyone
• Never finding his true Queen
• Heights

Likes:

• Sweets
• Alcoholic beverages
• Gardens
• Sculpture and art
• Music
• Physical affection

Dislikes:

• The hollow, fakeness of the Courts
• Dirt
• Dancing
• Having to play the games of court politics - he's not very good at them
• Dogs

General Skills:

• Music/Drawing/The Arts
• "The Bedroom Arts"
• Reading/Writing/Penmanship
• Languages
• Etiquitte

Combat Skills:

• Fencing
• Horse riding
• Spear/Lance
• Archery

Craft Skills:

• Seduction
• Class Suppression
• Air Walking
• Sight Shield

What they carry on them:

• His musical instruments and scores
• papers, pens, paints, watercolor - art supplies
• Spare clothing and costumes
• Rapier
• Soaps, perfumes
• Healing salves for cuts and to lessen scars

---

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Background:
He was born of mixed heritage to a middle-classed Blood family. They dealt mostly in the trade of musical instruments. He took to music at a young age. His being born a Warlord Prince meant that it was not long before the Queen of his seaside town had taken an interest in his well being. She favored his parents with gifts and privileges. He had his Birthright Ceremony and received the Rose Jewel. He quite liked the soft pink of the jewel. It was calming and comforting.

After the ceremony was done, the Queen took Sybl into her home. Bought from his parents with all the niceties she could supply. And the assurance he would be in good hands. Queen Rissa was kind at first, spoiling her new treasure. It was a slow process groom the boy and distort his understanding of the world in a way that would not break him. He learned all the proper things a young man should learn. But he also learned things he was far too young to understand. This brought him to be a skittish and pliant teenager. Being of a weak will, he did not expect to come through his Offering.

It seemed that an inner strength he did not know he possessed, his avid dream to serve his true Queen, is what pulled him through. And with a darker Jewel. The soft pink of his Birthright Rose was now joined by the firey glitter of the Blood Opal. Proof of the passions and darkness that dwelled in his damaged soul.

As an adult he served in many courts, doing the bidding of many Queens. Some punishments have left him with scars. Most notably, he had been tricked into "betraying" one of Dorothea's pet Queens. He had his throat slashed for "speaking ill" of the woman and his vocal cords mangled. No longer could he sing and his voice became a mute whisper. He avoids speaking whenever possible due to this wound. He did heal but his voice never recovered. He tends to wear scarves or high necked shirts in order to hide his throat.

Rissa still holds his ring and is his "true owner." She passes him around to Queens in her favor for perhaps a year or two before bringing him back into her clutches. She had even loaned him to Dorothea. That was one of the most horrifying experiences of his life. He was actually glad to go back to Rissa after that year with the monster.


Other:
Color Code: B2E0DD
Theme Song:

Extra:
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.

"Oops."

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Character Summary:

Name: Dareen Kahina
Aliases: "D"
Age: 35
Birthday: October 26th
Race/Species: Pruulish
Gender: Female
Birthplace: Pruulish Desert
Jewel Color (Birthright and Offering): Birthright Jewel: White

Offering Jewel: Yellow
Class/Caste: Witch
Languages: Pruulian, Common
Occupation: Professional Soldier

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Height: 5'9
Weight: 155 pounds
Body Type: Athletic
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Black
Skin Tone: Light Brown

---

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Sexuality: Straight
Relationship Status: Single
Personality: Confident and amiable, Dareen's personality has been tempered and rounded by a lifetime of poverty and mercernary work. One thing she has learned from fighting all her life is that if there is an alternative to it, it should be sought. She takes no pleasure in harming her opponents, but a hard-earned win is always desirable, whether it be through physical prowess or saying the right thing at the right time to the right person. Perhaps her consideration can lead to not taking action in time, but on many occasions planning and fore-thought can save lives.

Dareen has a bit of an ego problem- often she tries to quickly get an impression of someone and usually she assumes she is more fit for the job. This does not mean she is rude or dismissive but she can be condescending. Often in her life she has had to deal with people ill-equipped or overconfident, and without noticing she has been jaded by these experiences and is cynical to a fault when assessing the capabilities of other people. Throughout her life she has had to rely on noone but herself and thus has a hard time trusting people to follow through.

Conservativeness is key in her mind, and there is a seed of apathy within her that is on the brink of sprouting, but Dareen tries to keep her spirits up. But she struggles not to believe that most people are either stupid, malicious, or dead.

Still, there is a part of her that is idealistic. Wanton greed, strong injustices and exploitation can get her blood boiling but sometimes it is hard for her to believe she can do anything about it.

Habits:

• Looking over her shoulder and keeping her back in a corner.
• Popping and cracking various joints.
• When idle, she is often tracing the drawn markings on her body with her finger, even through clothes as she has them memorized.

Hobbies:

• Games of skill.
• Wargames/board games.
• Sketching what she sees or finds interesting in a sketchbook. She's surprisingly talented in this area but keeps her drawings to herself.

Fears:

• Death. People who aren't afraid of dying are usually the ones who die.
• Being maimed or otherwise losing the ability to move as freely as she can.
• Destitution. She was poor for a very long time, and sellswording has paid well. Not being able to afford to buy food or shelter is a nightmare.

Likes:

• Competent people who know what they are doing.
• Beautiful paintings, though she won't admit it.
• Having money.
• Nature, in it's grandeur and simplicity.
• Swords and bows. Hell yeah.
• Alcohol! As long as the time is right.

Dislikes:

• Sensual people. They make her uncomfortable.
• Kids. They are often foolish and annoying.
• The social elite.
• Killing and hurting other people, though she is good at it.

General Skills:

• Taking care of horses.
• Foraging and making food from scratch.
• Map-keeping and navigation.
• Sketching.
• An overall athleticism and agility.

Combat Skills:

• Archery.
• Sabre and shield fighting is her specialty.
• Hand to hand fighting.
• Cavalry and mounted combat.
• Situational awareness built up from experience and a naturally fast reaction time.

Craft Skills:

• Telekinesis. She can project her physical strength onto objects far away, near to her, and onto herself. Like an extra set of invisible hands at her disposal.
• A skin-tight Shield of protective energy underneath her light armor and clothes for deflecting physical blows in combat.
• Pyschic Probe. This allows Dareen to have advanced situational awareness. This makes surrounding her less effective, and can occasionally sense when an enemy is about to strike so it can be more easily countered.

What they carry on them:

• A steel sabre of simple but effective design.
• A leather bound, steel-rimmed, wooden and sturdy small round shield. A more nimble shield for deflecting blows instead of stopping or absorbing them, or to be used offensively for bashes and punching.
• A well-made wooden bow of sentimental value, along with a quiver for arrows.
• A water canteen of deceptive size at her hip.
• And her sketchbook, in which drawings of environments and people go back for years.

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Background: Dareen was not born into wealth. Relatively, for Blood society, she was poor. Her mother died giving birth to her, and her father was aloof, dispassionate, and seemed to stick around more for obligation than anything else. If one could call what her did "sticking around", which would be a stretch. Still, Reginald had a sense of honor and Dareen always respected that about him and occasionally sends him some money as thanks. Though she hardly loves or even knows much about him, he protected her in some particularly dire moments. Whatever he did, he was good at it. It was mainly through him or her mother that Dareen was kept incontact with Blood culture. Her Birthright Jewel and Offering Jewel were granted upon her by the ceremonies her father took her too. But as a child she mostly taught herself to wield the Craft, as with most things.

Perhaps out of destiny or perhaps out of necessity, the Craft of Dareen is one of combat and killing. From scrapping with the local children to joining a gang and battling with rivals, fighting has been a part of Dareen's life from the beginning. She observed the politics of the higher echelons of society with dispassionate interest, just making sure to see nothing too evil was happening. When she grew into a woman she fell in with a mercenary gang. When the Landen needed help, her company was dispatched to help them be rid of the bandits or raiders that plagued them, or to mediate conflict. It was through these encounters she learned that sometimes diplomacy was the correct solution, and not simply stabbing every problematic person in the throat.

But often the most dangerous missions were subduing the enemies of the Queens or whichever rich and powerful person paid them to kill others. It was also where she lost some of her friends, people that were close to her. These taught her the lessons of frugality and caution.

She rose through the ranks of the mercenary company as she grew in age and experience. Eventually she was a higher officer and came into charge of a small platoon of soldiers. Tactics and maneuvering also became something she was quite good at. As time went on, contracts became more and more morally questionable. Or perhaps, Dareen was just blinded by greed and excitement from the start. Either way, the mercenary began to notice a pattern as to who they were fighting. Black Widows, proud Princes, and people who claimed to rebels. People who called Dareen and her comrades filthy fascists, murderers, traitors to their own kind. But Dorothea has been in power for longer than Dareen could remember. A thousand years, at least, right?

But this wasn't right. Dareen felt it. The compassion and nobility of the people she was helping to murder and imprison versus the cold-blooded sellsword? Perhaps they were onto something. This broke when a desperate Black Widow, no older than her early twenties, pleaded for her life before being put down by her second in command. Like an animal. Confused, Dareen left the band of mercenaries in search of the truth. To find out what 'honor' really meant.

Reminder/ Edit: Crimson Sunrise

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Other:
Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8V4tYZHNUY8
Extra: My favorite color is red.
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.

"Blades, spears, and maces, are nothing more than tools. Implements to be used in a craft. They are not the true weapons of this world. The primal arsenal of man is composed of terror, rage, love. These emotions are the things to be weaponized, and are far more potent than any sword. To be kill in anger, yes, that is murder. But to kill while unarmed...is to be free."

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Character Summary:

Name: Ahmar Aezil
Aliases: The Weaponless
Age: 44
Birthday: August 15th
Race/Species: Pruulish
Gender: Male
Birhtplace: Pruul
Jewel Color (Birthright and Offering): Birthright: Blood Opal Offering: Red
Class/Caste: Prince
Languages: Pruulish, Common
Occupation: Mercenary Company Leader

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Height: 5'11
Weight: 200lbs
Body Type: Strong
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Black
Skin Tone: Brown

---

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Sexuality: Asexual
Relationship Status: Single
Personality: Ahmar is a quiet and reserved individual, slow to passion. He is polite, cordial, and authoritative in his presence. When he speaks, his words are like a honeypart, entrancing, but dangerous to the wise. While on a surface level he may seem like he lacks emotion, this isn't the case. He cares for those he commands and has a respect for all living creatures. He can be witty, and inspiring, and almost always leads from the front. However the extremes of emotion, he has purposefully cut himself off to. One will never seem him truly enraged, or utterly terrified. Like any person he was born with the capability to be whisked away by these feelings, but through training and philosophy has made himself immune to the whims of the primal parts of his mind and soul. He is a very likeable person in social interactions. He is a good listener, and he is humble and considerate. When he needs to be, he can be very assertive. He also greatly dislikes social niceties and double speak, and will cut right to the crux of the issue, loud and clear.

The most intoxicating and interesting thing about him is his philosophy. He is extremely self-assured of it. Nothing could ever convince him that he is wrong. He walks what he calls the Path of the Weaponless. According to him, in this world, killing and violence and entirely natural. Not only are they natural, but they are the proper way of things. Death is a necessary step into the worlds beyond this fleeting mortal life. The distractions of society and civility are just that- distractions. Lies told to surpress and control the people. Bigotry and classism and rules, all of these things are Weapons in an arsenal used to restrict the freedom of all people. The freedom to express themselves, the freedom to have good friends and good times, the freedom to exert their own will upon the world. The freedom to die proud, and in the knowledge that one died on the never-ending path of self improvement. The perfect world will come about when the Great Dialogue has come to an end, and only the strongest remain alive. The Great Dialogue is not one of words, but of steel and blood, and not one of hate and love, but of reason. Force is the only currency that matters, but that is not a savage and nasty thing, it is beautiful.

However, he is no revolutionary. He will not fight fervently for them, for that would go against them. He is content to stay on the outskirts of society, building his own connections. Careful not to step on too many powerful toes and simply fulfill a roll, knowing that he and his people are free, while those within society are blinded to the truth.
Habits:

• Closing his eyes and listening while sitting down somewhere.
• Interlocking his fingers in philosopher's cradles while speaking.

Hobbies:

• Taking care of his horse.
• Taking care of his pet raven.
• Singing and writing songs.
• Playing card games

Fears:

• Losing his mind and memories. He would rather die then forget himself.

Likes:

• Animals.
• Sparring with trustworthy friends.
• Battle.
• Humble people with good sense of humor.
• Well-made tools of warfare.
• Money, for security and pleasure.
• Being free, and in control.

Dislikes:

• Doublespeak, liars, and dishonesty.
• Arrogance, and the weakness therein.
• Cowards.
• Addiction to drugs or alcohol.
• Those who are prone to emotional outbursts.

General Skills:

• Singing.
• Animal care.
• Tracking.
• Gambling.
• Leadership.

Combat Skills:

• Mastery over pole-arms.
• Mastery over mounted combat.
• Skilled tactician and strategist.
• Sling usage.
• Hand-to-hand, unarmed combat.

Craft Skills:

• Powerful- His craft exceeds his Jewel in terms of strength and stamina.
• Surfing- Ahmar can skim above the ground using a whirlwind centered around his legs. It makes him very mobile and maneuverable when he uses it. It can also be expulsed in a blast for defensive or offensive purposes. The floating nature of this ability makes it very easy for him to deflect the force of blows or avoid attacks, and then center himself to maintain the effectiveness of his own strikes.
• Witchfire- Ahmar is skilled at manifesting searing red flames to fire from his hands or coat his glaive with.

What they carry on them:

• His Glaive, a medium-length polearm of fine make, for cutting, thrusting and slashing. A refined weapon for a patient man.
• Sling. The often underestimated, humble sling. Effective in long and medium ranges, able to split skulls and burst internal organs with well placed, high velocity rocks.
• The armor underneath his cloak, often enhanced with Craft, is resistant to slashes and arrows.
• A large water canteen that is always full of water.
• A pouch of grain.

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Background: Ahmar was born an ambitious boy. His mother and father were decently wealthy, at least, he wasn't poor. He quickly formed a small inner circle of friends. Even as a child he couldn't help but accrue power and influence, and segregate his community from that of the greater whole. It was this natural inclination that, in another life, could have faded away. But upon reading history books and seeing the truth of Queen Dorothea, Ahmar decided that society as he knew it was fundamentally broken. Counter to the Blood and even Landen spirit to be free.

It was then his little circle of friends became a gang, a gang that developed it's own rituals, and those rituals developed into a culture. A culture that would soon become a group named the Crimson Sunrise. During his teenage years he and his group would scrap with other boys for "territory". Some of them took it quite seriously, but Ahmar knew this was only the beginning. He upped his training until he became skilled at several forms of combat. He hasn't stopped training since, and his scraps and fights gave him experience. He sees his short life as an advantage. He has never become rusty, his life has been full of conflict. His body is always warm with energy, his fingers always frosty and dexterous. Ahmar is a healthy person brimming with life, and no doubt will live a long life if he does not die in battle. Which, Ahmar imagines will most likely happen.

The Crimson Sunrise grew in influence and power. Eventually they became a well known mercenary core. Unlike many other sellswords, who Ahmar viewed as merely paid brutes, the Crimson Sunrise was more refined, cultural, philosophical. They did not fight just for money, they were practicing a superior way of life. Participating in the Great Dialogue. The more people joined their cause, the better. But the corrupt and ineffectual society of Queen Dorothea was all they had to draw resources on. Though there is no doubt in Ahmar's mind that she is cruel and evil, in the current structure of society there would never be a leader of any other kind. There is no point in attempting to unseat her, or resisting her rule. Any potentially kinder leader would have their work undone in the future by yet another cruel tyrant. The people of the world have brought their suffering on themselves for being too afraid to participate in the Great Dialogue.

So, he and his mercenary core took contracts from Dorothea and began hunting down their enemies and enforcing her rule. They were always open to those strong enough to join them. If they did not do their work, then someone else would. If there was perhaps one thing that Ahmar imagined he and Dorothea agreed on, it was that power was the only currency that mattered.

Ahmar realised he had never accepted a woman into his ranks. It was not on purpose. But the ineffectual "society" gave people roles based on how they were born, instead of who they wanted to be, or what strength they had to give. Dareen, to Ahmar, was interesting. She was softer of heart, but still strong of spirit. He wanted to see how she would fair in the Great Dialogue, if a person like her could survive. He took a liking to her, for she was not as loyal as his other followers. The men of his group often followed his word without question, but she was not afraid to speak up. They trained together, but ultimately Ahmar wanted to cure her of her weaker qualities. Refine her into a free-thinking leader, like himself. When she vanished several months ago, he was not surprised. Ahmar waits, expectantly, to see what she will do next.

Ahmar and the Crimson Sunrise have killed many people. Killing is the natural way of things, and death is nothing to fear. All life is short, and brutal. The people he hunted down spent most of their lives hiding, afraid to stand face the light. They deserved what they got, because they got what they deserved. That is the nature of his perfect philosophy, the Path of the Weaponless. That is what he believes, in his heart. Some call it cruel, heartless, nonsensical. But those that do have nothing to use against him in the Great Dialogue. They are all servants, all peasants, or dying at his feet. Who, then, could bring up a valid point? How could one say he is wrong when those who oppose him lead futile lives, and are always in search of meaning? They cannot.

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Other: I was wondering if his raven could be a skeltie like Dunny, a talking, magical animal companion.
Theme Song:
Extra: Still red!
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.

"Can discourse ever be enough in the face of violent injustices?"

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Character Summary:

Name: Jandar Varan
Aliases: Jean, The Impassioned Loyalist, Dhemlan's Tournament Favourite, Warlord Upstart, Morqen’s Hound, The Varan Scholar
Age: 472 years
Birthday: 8th of April
Race/Species: Dhemlan
Gender: Male
Birhtplace: Dhemlan, Kaeleer
Jewel Color (Birthright and Offering): Birthright - Blood Opal / Offering - Red
Class/Caste: Warlord
Languages: Dhemlan and Common
Occupation: Hunter, Merchant, Traveler

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Height: 5'11
Weight: 165 pounds
Body Type: Wiry
Eye Color: Pale gold
Hair Color: Black
Skin Tone: Medium tan

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Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Single
Personality:
Jandar’s core personality is one of youthful confidence, fiery passion, petulant temper, willful pride, and an unbreakable faith in his own righteousness. As hot-headed, easily provoked, and almost maliciously cruel as he had been once in his early years, he’s long since buried his most violent instincts and his teenaged tendency to recklessness, which are now lying deep (but not entirely forgotten) under impenetrable layers and layers of tightly controlled emotions, expressions, gestures, and even thoughts. His current personality is a veritable fortress of icy – but in most cases polite – harshness. Jandar is still more than willing to exhibit his displeasure, insult others implicitly or explicitly, or simply ignore them stoically whenever he sees fit to. That is not to say he is incapable of politeness; on the contrary, Jandar has participated in enough courtly functions and debates to know very well how making even a single more enemy (wittingly or not) usually isn’t worth it. However, that has only driven him to hone a subtler way of inserting barbed comments in a conversation that might make socialites narrow their eyes or try their hand at a witty comeback, but couldn’t be openly disputed against.

However antagonistic Jandar might seem (and often is), he is not unreasonable. He is willing to listen to the ideas of others patiently, and then refute them just as calmly but surely if he disagrees with them, and though prideful, he is certainly self-aware enough to recognize his own failings, and will honestly apologize and correct his behaviour if he’s proven incorrect. His core beliefs are definitely tenacious, however, and Jandar is willing to pursue what he believes in as long as his course of action doesn’t actively prove catastrophic – something he’s secretly afraid of happening. He is willing and capable of bending with the wind, as it were, but doesn’t dare think what the consequences might be if he were ever forced to do so for a prolonged time. He's an introvert by nature but an extrovert by nurture, and can enjoy both solitude and company - if is of a sort that suits him. Jandar is most familiar with the habits of the Aristo, having been born as one, but he could probably blend in among middle- or working-class well enough, as he's been in contact with each.

Habits:

• Scowling, frowning
• Looking upon in disdain or cool indifference
• Smirking
• Gesticulating fluidly while speaking
• Pushing back his hair with both hands when frustrated

Hobbies:

• Reading and writing
• Fencing, duelling, participating in tournaments
• Horse racing
• Hunting
• Meditating

Fears:

• Losing his dignity
• Forsaking his faith, purpose, principles, and/or goals
• Being humiliated
• Shaming his family or ancestry
• Being discovered and captured

Likes:

• Politeness, respect, diligence
• Competence, skillfulness
• Honour and loyalty
• Remembering and learning lessons from history
• Whiskey, brown ale, and mead

Dislikes:

• Terreille in general, disrespect of proper protocol in particular
• Those disrespectful of nature
• Off-key singing, shrill giggling, fake societal laughter
• Bad actors, greedy politicians, cowards
• Impractical, ostentatious displays of wealth

General Skills:

• Equestrianism
• Dissembling
• Perception
• Research
• Hunting

Combat Skills:

• Fencing - he's skilled with both a sabre and a rapier
• Mounted combat
• Martial arts (less so street brawling)
• Archery
• Spear-wielding: esp. for hunting, he can also throw javelins well enough

Craft Skills:

• Enhanced senses: Jandar can choose to have his senses heightened in general, but he can also focus on a specific sight, sound, scent, or flavour and bring them into focus (e.g. he could focus on a specific conversation to listen to in a noisy bar and hear only it better, while the other the rest of the sounds would be slightly dimmed to him in the meantime).
• Sight shields: an ability that can be applied to people, items, or locations and turn them invisible.
• Phasing: Jandar and any objects he’s touching (his clothes, possessions, or even a stolen item or two) can phase through most unwarded matter.

What they carry on them:

• He travels with a dappled grey horse named Teo
• A steel sabre and hunting knife
• A wooden heater shield, unpainted
• A bow, quiver, and arrows
• A travelling backpack with various supplies (including a small, concealed pouch of recording gems)

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Background:
Jandar Varan hails from one of the families of Dhemlan Kaeleer that had fought for Dhemlan Terreille alongside their once-ruler, Saetan SaDiablo. Dhemlan had won and the reinforcements from Kaeleer returned home to celebrate while their brother-in-arms stayed in Terreille in their own homeland to do the same. However, SaDiablo had disappeared after the victory, and the connections between Kaeleer and Terreille had been growing weaker, fainter, and most importantly, tenser ever since. Though Jandar’s grandfather (Sanev Varan) and a Dhemlan Provincial Queen he servers (Amarille Morqen) are one of the rare Dhemlans with living memory of SaDiablo’s rule and their victory, Amarille has been as reluctant as the rest of their Realm to make moves on Terreille that might be construed as an attempt at war. Kaeleer had been sending ambassador after ambassador, and yet, not only did no-one find anything, some of the emissaries had been mysteriously and conveniently disappearing.

That was the knowledge that permeated Jandar’s childhood, and though he’d once been a bright-eyed, curious, and intelligent child, he soon grew embittered. Jandar had always loved his grandfather’s stories, enjoyed hunting trips alongside his father (Ettrian Varan) and uncle (Dontien Varan), committed fully to the formal training he’d received from both in combat, and imprinted the traditions and loyalty his family spoke of into his very soul. However, as a teen, he couldn’t help but be ruled by his temperament and ever-growing acerbity. He relished to participate in tournaments, duels (whether friendly or not), and dedicated himself to chasing down any ruffians in Morqen’s territory with practiced cruelty. As his family and the Queen they pledged allegiance to were all still SaDiablo’s loyalists, it is perhaps inevitable that Jandar took it upon himself to be the most passionate of them all when it came to defending SaDiablo’s loyalty, honour, glory, and the certainty of his (eventual) return.

He spent years and years in service to Morqen, polished his armed and un-armed combative skills (though he’s well aware he lacks real martial experience), developed his Craft, practiced his silver tongue in debates among SaDiablo loyalists, feverishly researched history books, treasured any of his uncle’s trading reports as analysing them often revealed precious information on the current state of Terreille, and generally distracted himself from his gnawing worries however he could. Despite his best attempts, he grew troubled – feeling idle regardless of a full daily schedule – and all the more frustrated, especially because it seemed to him that those in influential positions seemed to suspect terrible goings-on in Terreille, but rarely said anything, seemingly content to sit, bicker, and twiddle their thumbs. He often came in conflict with his own father, and eventually decided to approach his uncle instead. Jandar begged Dontien to understand his frustrations and pleaded for information or rather, an explanation of what Dontien was working on behind the scenes, because Jandar suspected his uncle knew more than most, certainly more than Ettrian did.

Before his uncle deigned to offer even an iota of what he considered sensitive information, Jandar had to spend decades upon decades to prove his worth, trustworthiness, and ability to reign his youthful temper in under a cool façade of polite indifference. His uncle was a man well versed in strategy, tactics, and business, and had capitalised on his intellect and charisma to build trade routes not only within Kaeleer, but extended his reach even to Terreille. Trading with the lighter Realm revealed to Dontien that Terreille’s land appeared to have been slowly but surely worsening in the past centuries – evidence that while incriminating in a traditional sense wasn’t something they could act upon decisively. Because, as much as no-one wanted to admit this, Dorothea was more influential and powerful than any single Territory Queen of Kaeleer, no matter that she technically ruled only over one territory just like the rest of them. As such, there was not a single male or female in Kaeleer who desired to say aloud what the majority of them was thinking – that they would have a corrupted Queen to go against if but a single of their people said the wrong thing, or, Darkness forbid, acted in a rash manner.

For these reasons, Jandar learned the ways of subtlety and deceit from Dontien, all the while despairing that their Realm would be done for sooner-or-later if SaDiablo weren’t found, wherever he was. While Jandar had occasional doubts as to the Warlord Prince’s loyalty to the people he’d left behind – it had been almost a thousand-and-a-half years – he not once considered the possibility that SaDiablo had somehow been killed; such knowledge would surely have spread faster than a fire in a drought. Long after Jandar himself felt ready, his uncle and father both finally agreed that Jandar could pose as a merchant in one of the ever-rarer trading expeditions his uncle still occasionally sent to Terreille. Morqen granted Jandar his requested meeting and, after a convincing speech on his self-assigned mission as a spy (under the ruse of a merchant), allowed him to cross the Realms to make investigations of his own.

Thus, Jandar was sent chasing after a single precious whisper Dontien had managed to obtain: a rumour of a Black Widow still living in Terreille even after the lighter Realm’s horrendous attempts to purge them. All this, because of Jandar’s conviction that he could get insider information on SaDiablo from someone who was not only a Black Widow but also Terreille’s resident and must therefore (in Jandar’s mind) possess knowledge that people of Kaeleer didn’t have access to. At this point, Jandar is willing to do more or less anything not only to locate SaDiablo, but to get him back to Dhemlan Kaeleer one way or another.

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Other: I like crimson, forest green, and violet. Harry Dresden kicks ass.
Theme Song:

Extra: roleplayerguild.com/posts/4865026
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.