Age: 14 [24] | Height: 5' 8" | Voice: Light Lyric Baritone

• Preferred Weapon: Dual Swords
• N/A

• Physical Strength: 1st Rate [+2 Exp]
• Aura: 2nd Rate [+1 Exp]
• Magic: 0th Circle
• Skills:
  
  • Devil's Eye - Vincent's Aura Type is Sensation. In his first life, the empty socket of his right eye became the channeling point, re-igniting with crimson flare. Within 10 feet of himself, he is able to detect all living creatures around him even in active combat; effectively, he's got an Arkham/AssCreed QTE-sense (w/o auto-counter, of course). However, it can't be used for long because he doesn't have enough Aura for it. [+1 Exp]
    • Sub-Sub-List for Upgrades.

Age: 17 [27] | Height: 5'0 (152cm) | Voice: Flat, quiet, blunt.


A pitiful, unfortunate child.

Those are the kinder comments she'd receive from the nobility who knew better than to speak ill of the Kaides.

A cursed child, or an omen of ill fate.

Words of those who would quickly learn to keep their mouths shut.

When she was just three years old, Ophelia fell victim to an insidious plot to take her life. One she would never fully recover from despite the efforts of the best priests, mages, scholars and even more fringe groups of society. Whatever she had been poisoned with, was something that she was going to have to live with for the rest of her life.

And live, she would.

Born with two direct siblings, growing up Ophelia's life was a constant struggle. Confined mostly to her room and the interior of their home for most of her formative early years for fear any exhaustion or exertion would prematurely end her life, those two siblings and her mother, were really her entire world. She was a curious, if not overly lively child thanks to her condition, and would spend much of her time reading. For the poison may have taken her body, but it certainly didn't take her mind and books, stories, and the like were quite an escape for a child whose world was small.

This, was her life until she was ten. When she was finally allowed to leave, with supervision from her siblings and mother, of course, or a trusted advisor. It...is also where her mother began training her and where her somewhat strained relationship with her started. The logic was sound really. All Kaides children are trained such a way, eventually attending Collegem Yllustre at the age of 14. Even if she understood that, she couldn't understand why her mother was pushing her so hard at the time. Every day, her weak body was pushed to its limit. Her mother, for all her good intentions never stopped to consider that no, somethings can't just be overcome with diligence and hard work. Somethings, were indeed, impossible.

Even so, such words and beliefs were not something she entirely disagreed with. She just understood that it wasn't something realistic for her. She always would argue with her mother about such things, often insisting and taking a more gentle approach but she never refused such trainings even if they were something she disagreed with.

If nothing else, when her 14th year came, it seemed to have helped when she officially entered Collegem Yllustre. Coincidentally, it was the first time she had ever made any kind of public appearance.

"Is that the weird kid from that uncouth commoner woman?"
"I heard she's cursed!"
"Didn't you hear? The reason she was kept locked up is because she nearly killed a servant!"
"Doesn't she look...weird? Is she really a Kaides?"

She didn't know what to expect from other kids her age, but it wasn't such vitriolic comments. She didn't understand where they came from or why they were made at the time. She hadn't really been taught proper noble etiquette, after all, her health left little time for multiple avenues of study, even if she had steadily gotten a bit better as she had gotten older and she could do most things herself now.

Even if her life at the Collegem was a lonely one plagued by bullying, she paid it no heed. For she was a Kaides. She was certain of it herself, and even if she wasn't some prodigy, she was not one to let everyone else words get to her. No, her mother if nothing else taught her one thing - she could do anything, and anything she would do.

-However, fate seemed to be fond of pulling cruel pranks.

Her oldest sister was attacked during their time at Collegem Yllustre that left them in a coma for nearly a year and a half. Ophelia, sympathetic considering her own nature would spend almost more time making sure she was taken care of then almost looking after herself. She knew what it was like, and certainly didn't want her to suffer the same way if she could help it.

Only for such kindness to be returned with cowardice and weakness. Her older sister immediately left, when she recovered. Running away from home. Ophelia, for probably the first time in her life, cried enough that it left her bed ridden for a week. One of the two people in her life that she could ever really call a friend, her sister, just left like it was nothing.

Perhaps that's when she truly learned not to expect good results or positive outcomes from things. She never really forgave her sister for it in her first life. Her life at the Collegem Yllustre continued, for as normal as it could be for her. The only difference was her getting into more altercations with other students either verbally or even physically, most of which she would lose, though not before making certain to give them a little trouble and making them look weaker than they were for having trouble with someone like her.

But of course, history repeats itself.

Ophelia's second sister left home after she left the academy at 21. Truly, Ophelia wished she had asked her to go with her, but this time she told herself she didn't care, only applying herself to her studies more. Who needed her siblings, anyways? Unreliable. The only one she could rely on truly, was herself.

Time passed. She never graduated. How could she? She was never destined for it. While she always managed to do the bare minimum needed to pass physical exams and did well in any written exams, she never developed aura, let alone a proper ability to handle martial ability. She spent the next year in relative peace, mostly now using her free time to more thoroughly look for anyway one might cure her condition, but such an endeavor was cut short by the war.

Kaides were called to serve, and Ophelia was not one to back down. She answered the call, much to her mothers chagrin, who never really agreed. Ophelia just tagged along whether she wanted her too or not. Not that anyone expected much of her. Even when she came back successful from skirmishes, or helped with the evacuations of Lagyntem.

Perhaps, for once in her life she should have listened to her mother.

Shortly before the invasion of the capital, one of the wives of the great patriarch fell in battle from an ambush while she protected her daughter.

The rest of the war isn't important enough to mention. She demanded to be at Kaidisyums last stand, to avenge her mother. The people that had already lost their lives. But she was told that she couldn't. No. The patriarch told her instead, go to Hadrum.

Even as she lay there, body broken and beaten, her sickly blood leaving her body for the final time she refused to accept it. She tried to will her body to move again. Just an inch more would have been a victory.

But alas, she would perish, like all the others.

• She could never wear full plate or a full suit of armor, but her mother hand a lightweight breastplate made for her as well as armor that if nothing else would protect her vitals. It fit rather comfortably on the dresses she used to wear.
• An Estoc, for thrusting.

• Physical Strength: 3rd Rate
• Aura: 2nd Rate
• Magic: 0th Circle
  
  • Flaw Peirce - Ophelia could never match people with raw strength in her first life. Instead, she focused on honing her skills and mind as best she could to make up for the disadvantages she had. This one, in particular, helps locate weak spots in armor, a creatures physical body, and other such things for someone to exploit.
  • Adept Movements - Ophelia has refined her movements and muscles to be surprisingly stable and steady. In an effort to maintain and overcome her limitations. Less wasted movements and a keen eye allow her to spend less stamina and strength doing something.
  • Predictive Intuition - Reading an opponents body language and subtle movements can reasonably allow one to tell if an opponent is going for a feint, or what an opponent is going to be doing before it even makes it halfway through its performance. Precious seconds one can use to defend oneself.

Age: 16 [26] | Height: 5'11 | Voice: Baritone, warm, clear


Do you know what is awful about being a half-elf? On one hand a half-elf is more attuned to magic than a human, but on the other hand they were less attuned than full blooded elves. Half-elves were also more attuned to aura than full blooded elves, but less so than full blooded humans. They can only be described as genetically mediocre and that can also describe Rodin or at least that was his excuse.

He was born to an adventurous nobleman of the Kaides' house, son of Deividas Kaides, who came back with an elven wife of noble status or equivalent and baby Rodin in his arms, which must've been a sight that nearly gave his father a stroke. Five years later, Rodin's twin younger siblings were born and like any elder brother he was told by his parents that it was his duty to look after and protect them. Of course, like any other enthusiastic elder brother he took to it like a bee to a flower.

Once he was old enough he took on the training placed upon him by the family tutors with great earnestness and without complaint, something that carried forward into the Collegem Yllustr. Rodin was naturally talented in using polearms, but none felt as comfortable in his hands as the simple yet elegant glaive and his elven heritage attuned him to magic than his peers. Rodin was a model student, exemplary in both his dedication as a warrior and fealty towards his family, a promising role model for the future generations of Kaides.

And then it came to a halt, his progress suddenly came to a near stand still. It was as if he hit a wall and no matter how hard he trained, no matter how hard he smashed that wall he never made so much as a crack because talent was overrated and hard work without direction was pointless. His magic was laughable and he was nowhere near able to squeeze out a droplet of aura from his body. There was no help because why would there be? He was a Kaides; you are either strong or you are not. If he could not break through himself, then this was his limit.

"Of course this was all he could amount to. What did you expect from a half-breed?"

Those were the cruel words he would suffer from those within the academy and the worst part was that he was beginning to believe it. Why even try anymore?

At some point he was brought by his parents to a function as he was the eldest child, surrounded by dignitaries from within Luzia and from other kingdoms. An awkward night of gossip and sneers though that was not what he remembered mainly of that night. With a racing heartbeat and flushed cheeks he saw her from across the room, a noblewoman that he could only describe as such:

"Of all the people and finery in this room, the kingdom, and beyond she is the loveliest."

And yet, he could not dare approach her. She was surrounded by those so much more competent than him, those deserving of so much more respect than him. He was a disgrace of a Kaides whose blood was watered down. All he could do was admire her from afar.

This was the cycle of Rodin's life; watching others surpass him as he pined for a girl that he never even spoke to before, something that he would admit is kinda creepy, and was just a general disgrace to his family. This was the life of a bonafide loser.

Eventually, Rodin just couldn't take it anymore and at 19 years old he just left it all behind. It would've been better if he died in a ditch forgotten by his own family, by everyone. To make ends meet he worked in a small mercenary group that traveled around the kingdom and the neighboring kingdoms. No matter where he went and what he did, his past life would always linger in the back of his mind along with his regrets. At the same time though, for the first time in a very long time he was... happy? The people he traveled with cared not of his past or of his heritage; they treated him like a real person. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough.

In a short amount of time he met so many different kinds of people and in many different places. Sometimes, depending on the duration of their stay, Rodin would teach the village children how to fight with a polearm for self defense against bandits and some magic to help with daily tasks. Watching these kids perform these tasks so clumsily was like looking at a mirror; he could see his own faults and his own shortcomings. It allowed him to see where he needed improvement and to break out of his own bad habits, something that the Collegem never allowed him to do.

Two years later, it all came to an abrupt end; the demons were invading Luzia and Rodin and his fellow mercenaries were soon conscripted into what would be known as the Demon War. Forcibly reunited by fate with his family, Rodin would fight alongside them in a bloody, horrible war. One by one, comrades and family were slain on the battlefield. Those who mocked him were torn to shreds and those who he swore to defend were left in the piled bodies of mass graves because there were not enough people to bury their dead. The irony certainly was not lost in him that he somehow survived while those more capable had not.

Rodin had buried his mercenary companions by his own hand and he could only ask himself why he was still fighting; his father was dead, his friends were dead, the entire bloody world was going to be razed by burning winds and demon malice. Maybe it was his own penance for being such a disgrace to his family, maybe it was seeking atonement, maybe he wanted to at least protect the small part of his life that once made him happy, or maybe he was already dead and was too much of a coward to just die.

The final day came, the stragglers and dregs made their symbolic last stand. Rodin fought like hell, but ultimately fell. He laid on the battlefield with a broken body, bleeding on the scorched earth and the only thing he could do was weakly laugh a blood garbled laugh. How could one single man have so many regrets and failures?

He could've once again cursed his watered down bloodline, but he knew the truth of the matter. If he worked just a bit harder, a bit smarter, instead of blaming an absurd inferiority complex fueled by those that did not matter then maybe the day would have been so different. Maybe everything would have been different. He could've stayed in school, he could've stayed with his family, he could've approached her...

His final thought as he looked up at the burning sky was, I wonder what my first words to her would've been?

And then he woke up in his bed, ten years earlier.

• Steel glaive
• Throwing knives
• Plate armor

• Physical Strength: 2nd Rate
• Aura: 1st rate
• Magic: 1st Circle
  
  • Urigellr- Allows the wizard to telekinetic abilities strong enough to lift up and interact with small/light objects.
    • Sub-Sub-List for Upgrades.

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A man in his mid-thirties, Andreas stands about six feet tall with a strong, muscular frame befitting a warrior and a seasoned adventurer. His skin is worn by winds and sun and scarred by his various encounters with both beast and man from his adventures. His eyes are a very light blue gray, and his hair is a messy mop of black while and matching black scruff of a beard.

Despite his rather rough appearance and risk-taking tendencies he is an intelligent man, some would say dangerously so. He is a strategist in not just combat, but in politics within and outside of the family to the point where he could be described as vicious. Outside of that he is a good natured and jovial man that relishes life's new experiences. Andreas keeps an open mind and is accepting of the various cultures of varied races, which he takes a great interest in. He is a known author that has penned down his experiences and his anthropological observations.

As a father he is loving and well meaning, but he is not very good at it. Like all parents he does want the best for his children, but at the same time at least in the case of Rodin he just doesn't get him because he sees potential greatness in his eldest son that's just not being capitalized upon. Rodin is a Kaides after all so he should be great by default. For all of his smarts, he often time puts his own foot in his mouth when he tries to encourage his eldest son.

Brief Bio

One Deividas Kaides sons, Andreas stood out among his siblings with his adventurous tendencies that more often than not got him in trouble. He was a wild child, but no one could deny his talent as a warrior and his intelligence so they tolerated his behavior to an extent because they thought he would grow out of it. Surprisingly, or rather unsurprisingly, he did not. Rather, he graduated much earlier than his peers and then went off on several expeditions to explore the continent.

To his father's dismay, he absolutely had no interest in marriage. In fact, when the prospect of potential marriage partners was brought up, he quite literally got up and left for an expedition for Ylf'ethjya. When Andreas returned, to his father's understandable shock, Andreas came back with a noble elven wife and his newborn half-elf son, Rodin. His whirlwind romance became something of a controversy within the Kaides and other noble families, but at the same time it was completely expected. They were more surprised at themselves for being surprised.

These days, especially after the twins were born, Andrea typically stays within the Luzia to be an involved father and husband as well as manage the family business. However, occasionally he gets the itch to go on an expedition though his wife does a very good job at making sure he stays put. On the rare chance he gets to go on an expedition, he brings his wife with her. At least he brings back souvenirs for his kids.

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• Archer: Grand Master
• Mythril long bow, steel arrows, mythril dagger, light armor
• Augmentation Type Aura User: Grandmaster
  
  • Peak Mastery of Incarnate Will Style
  • Awakened Self-Enhancement: Uses a smaller, but consistent flow of aura to increase his overall physical abilities.
  • Dragon's Bane: Adreas while channeling his bow with aura as well as his body, he shoots an arrow with enough force that it breaks the sound barrier. One does not even need to be hit by the arrow itself to sustain damage as the force of the arrow passing can tear through its surroundings. The recoil is minimized due to a combination of a firm stance and aura minimizing the recoil.
  • Pathway: It can be described as a self-induced adrenaline rush that when working in tandem with one's natural instincts as a warrior allows its user to run simulate many outcomes until they reach the most optimal one in fractions of a second. To those who are unaware of it, it almost seems like pre-cognition. However, the toll on the body and brain is heavy with repeated uses.
  • Unknown skills

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Despite appearing as a beautiful woman in her early twenties, she is actually in her late eighties. She is only slightly shorter than her husband, standing at about 5'9 with a lithe figure typical of an elf. Unlike her husband, she has a graceful air about her and appears always prim and proper as the wife of a Kaides and the daughter of the Rostina.

Myrrh can be described as a very motivated and competitive woman, unusually so for an elf. Her pursuit of knowledge and magic is voracious. While those of her race would call her impatient, she would in turn call them complacent for compensating their lack of work ethic with their long lifespan. Her tongue is sharp, but there is an elegance to it that suits the upper echelons of society though if anyone were to truly get on her bad side then they'll see a fierceness that even makes her husband afraid of her. However, there is also kindness and understanding in her as well.

As a mother she loves her children and wants what is best for them. She is firm and has high expectations for them because if they're her kids then they should be able to be held at the same standards that she does for herself though there is a gentleness to her teachings. However, she also worries about her children a lot, especially Rodin, due to her eldest son changing from an energetic, cheerful boy to someone she couldn't recognize.

Brief Bio

Before she was Myrrh Beizeiros Kaides, she was Myrrh Beizeiros Rostina, the daughter of powerful elven nobility in the elven country of Ylf'ethjya. As expected of anyone of elven nobility she left wanting for nothing; wealth, resources, and longevity she had everything that most could dream of and yet as she looked around at her fellow kin, she felt nothing, but contempt towards them. Everything about them was so half-hearted, using their long lives as a crutch for their lack of work ethic to achieve what regular humans could do in their lifetime. It was no wonder why they were so far behind the other enlightened races.

She refused to be like the rest of her kind. Myrrh, almost obsessively, studied magic and absorbed the information at a breakneck pace. She would rebuke her peers' mockery though her explosive growth was enough to shut them up as well. There was no doubt that she was a divisive figure; on one hand she was disliked by many either out of envy or what they perceived as self-importance, or she was liked by others because of her hard-working nature and grace. What no one on either side could deny though was beautiful woman and many suitors sought her out for marriage, even the ones her family set up for her. She refused to marry someone that did everything so half-heartedly.

One day an unusual guest arrived: a human troupe led by a scruffy man in his early twenties. This human's name was Andreas Lucas Kaides, a nobleman from the Kingdom of Luzia, and he came to her country to document it and its people. Her father offered to house them as honored guests but were politely declined. At first Myrrh approached the man out of curiosity, after all, she had never seen a human in her life before. As time went on though she found herself drawn to him by something that went beyond fascination. She was drawn by his boyish exuberance for life that belied that sharp intelligence behind his eyes and his strength as a warrior that was equal to his kindness. Before she knew it, she was in love with him, and he too fell for her. However, they knew that they could not get her father's blessing as he wished for her to remain in the country, so they eloped and went on their own adventure.

Nine months later she arrived at Luzia with Adreas with baby Rodin in her arms, raising controversy between House Kaides and House Rostina that was hell to settle. The rest is history.

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• 6th Circle Mage
• Bone Staff w/ Ruby Foci
• Non-awakened
  
  • Urigellr: Allows the wizard to telekinetic abilities strong enough to lift up and interact with small/light objects. In Myrrh's case, she is so proficient that she can manipulate several upon several of objects at once with ease.
  • Verdant Thumb: A spell that is used to accelerate plant growth though it is typically used to accelerate the growth of crops
  • Orbys Pyre: A 3rd circle tiered spell where one creates a fireball that explodes with lethal force. For a mage of Myrrh's caliber, she is able to shoot a volley of these with ease, but if for some reason her ire be stoked for some reason then she can upcast it. In the words of a soldier who witnessed it from a distance, "it was as if she dropped the sun."
  • Roche: A 6th circle tiered spell that increases the gravity of an object by a factor of 10 for a short period of time. It is a painful, crushing force that could just hold someone down or turn them into a mess of broken bones and flesh.
  • Calderas: A 6th circle spell where Myrrh creates a plume of magma from that erupts from earth and then pools around the ground, making the environment much more difficult to maneuver.
  • Unknown Spells

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The younger siblings of Rodin. They are twin half elves that are around eleven years old and look like standard kids except they have pointy elf ears though they take a bit more after their mother. Bazin and Verusya are the same height standing about 5'2 and both have black hair and ruby red eyes.

Bazin is a shy boy while kind and gentle, is typically the subject of teasing and bullying. He inherited his mother's voracious drive for knowledge and his father's razor-sharp perceptiveness and strategic mind.

Verusya looks like she is a calm girl due to her relatively emotionless face, but she inherited her mother's competitiveness and sharp tongue, and her father's sense of adventure. She is more likely to get into a fight than her twin brother and they would most likely be on his behalf when he is bullied.

They are both also incredibly intelligent children.

Like most kids, they love and look up to their parents as well as their older brother Rodin. However, they were not unaware of his change of behavior when he entered the Collegem Yllustre. While he smiled and told them that he was fine, they weren't naive children. They heard things from the children of other nobles and their parents.

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Bazin

• 3rd rate swordsman and 1st circle mage
• Iron rapier, wood deco
• Non-Awakened
  
  • Kandyla: Produces an unimpressive candle-flame at the tip of one's focus,

Verusya

• 3rd rate archer, 1st circle mage
• Wooden bow, wooden deco
• Non-Awakened
  
  • Kandyla: Produces an unimpressive candle-flame at the tip of one's focus.

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Age: 19 [29] | Height: 5"7 | Voice: Shrill, with a piercing laugh

---

Sherry was spoiled from an early age. She was beautiful and she had innate natural talent when it came to fencing. She wasn't strong, but she was an acrobatic, dextrous genius when it came to swordplay. She was a fast learner and a good actress, picking up quickly the ability to pass herself off as the perfect little noble Lady. It was perhaps this upbringing that got her addicted to praise, and that caused her to began seeing herself as superior to all others by birth. She was rude. She was cruel. At first, her personal maids quit. Then they began needing medical attention for wounds inflicted by Sherry. Eventually they began to need counseling and therapy after leaving her service.

What brought about this twisted change was the slow realisation as her brothers and sisters caught up with her, that her position of alone being special was at risk. Her older half-sister, Estelle, was the pride of her little bubble. Sherry played nice on the surface but was incredibly jealous that her older sibling dare outshine her. Sherry paid for a hit to be placed on her dear sister's head. Though it didn't kill her, the effects were pleasing enough. Her acting skills were truly put to the test having to keep a beaming psychotic grin off her face every time she basked in the sight of the invalid cripple that was once talked about more positively than Sherry was.

Everyone knew Sherry was rotten to the core, but she always covered her tracks and remained civil in public. Her skills stagnated as she rested on her laurels but she was still no joke and was more than skilled enough to stand above others at the Academy. She left the academy at 21, having not awakened her Aura, and settled into an arranged marriage with a minor Duke. A distant relative of the Royal Family who was very far down the line of sucession but still, technically, in it.

When the war broke out, Sherry didn't go to the front lines. She stayed in the capital and oversaw strategy meetings. Things went from bad to worse and three years into the war, the Capital was attacked. Sherry was chosen to lead the defenmding army as a Kaides. It was her first time ever experiencing life or death combat. She broke down, and deserted. Without a leader, the army lost the battle for the capital. The royal family, including her fiance, were all killed.

When Sheery was eventully found and caught hiding in the forest, she resisted, killing several of her own family's knights before finally being arrested and locked up insider ther family's prison. Being surrounded by hardened criminals who were enemies of her family, her life was naturally made hell incarnate. One could say it was karma.

On the day the kingdom finally,truly fell to the Demon King, Sherry was dragged out of her cell by the demons, tortured, but kept alive just long enough to see her family fall before her eyes. The Demons took great amusement in Sherry being the last Kaides alive, if only for a few seconds.

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• Preferred Weapon: Interchangeably uses both a steel shortsword and a barbed whip in combat.

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• Physical Strength: 1st Rate
• Aura: 2nd Rate
• Magic: 0th Circle
• Skills
  
  • Snare - Uses her barbed whip to wrap around part of an opponent's body, preventing them from utilizing their full capabilities of movement and binding them into close quarters combat.
    • Sub-Sub-List for Upgrades. E.g, "Range increased to 4 meters."

Age: 17 [27] | Height: 6' 0" | Voice: Tenor



Eryx had always been invisible.

Born into a sea of siblings, he was neither the heir nor the prodigy, nor the troublemaker worth scolding. Any ordinary child might have buckled under the loneliness, the isolation. But Eryx wasn’t ordinary. He twisted that neglect into a license to drift through life without consequence. If no one expected anything from him, then there was no need to try. No risk of failure. No pain of disappointment.

Home was a quiet place for him—not because it lacked noise, but because he chose not to be part of it. He spent his days watching. Watching the servants go about their duties. Watching his siblings train, argue, cry, be praised or punished. He never envied them. He never pitied them either. They were players on a stage he had no interest in joining. As long as he kept his silence and stayed out of sight, no one demanded anything of him. And that, to Eryx, was enough.

At the Collegem Yllustre, he was just as invisible. He made a few friends, some cousins whom he offered companionship, but he kept to himself otherwise. When others were harassed or picked on, he remained on the sidelines. To intervene would be to risk failure, something he had grown to avoid. He spoke freely with those few he trusted, but around everyone else, he kept silent.

He picked up the spear—not out of passion or strategy, but out of convenience. Too dangerous to wield a sword. Too precise to master a bow. A spear was simple. Especially the light ones, which didn’t strain his arms or demand real endurance. He studied magic when spear fighting required too much, hoping it would be easier. It wasn’t. If anything, higher-level casting required even more discipline than spearwork. So he circled back to the spear, the least demanding of all his choices.

He never graduated. He never awakened an Aura. He never distinguished himself in any way. War broke out, and he fought as a faceless footsoldier. He told himself he didn’t care. That he didn’t need status or praise. But on the front lines, something changed. People gravitated towards him.

Unlike the Collegem, the battlefield didn’t care about bloodlines or family politics. The soldiers beside him were raw and real—laughing over stolen rations one day, sobbing over their dead the next. Eryx found a camaraderie he’d never experienced before. It broke something in him. Softened him. And then it hardened him, again and again, every time another friend fell.

Each death left behind a mission, a final wish. And he accepted them all.

He told himself he would fulfill them. Not out of pride, but desperation. He had to prove that he mattered. That he could do something. That he could carve a legacy from his previous apathy.

But for every friend he buried, three more fell. He began to ask himself why he was surviving.He wasn’t the strongest. He wasn’t the smartest. He wasn’t brave. He survived by striking once, then vanishing.

He threw himself into battle, driven not by honor, but by guilt. Self-hatred was his only fuel. He fought harder. He trained belatedly, feverishly, and pointlessly. He was a man chasing redemption he didn't deserve.

He made more friends. He made more promises. And he watched them all die.

In the end, his final act was the only one that ever came from real effort.

He died trying to save someone.

And he failed.

The Shield Spell flickered and shattered. The spear was too slow. All his broken promises, all his wasted years, all his could-have-beens collapsed into that one moment.

Regret was the only emotion he could find as the world faded to black.

Until he woke up.

• A light-weight, golden spear
• Simple leather armor

• Physical Strength: 2nd Rate
• Aura: 2nd Rate
• Magic: 2nd Circle
  
  • Shield Spell - Creates a visible barrier in front of the user, blocking a single attack.
  • Minor Illusion - Allows the user to create a simple noise, or a simple still picture. The origin can be anywhere within thirty feet.

Age: 19 [29] | Height: 6'1| Voice: Bass

• Axe
• Guantled Fists
• Plate Armor

You have 4 Experience to spend here

• Physical Strength: 1st Rate
• Aura: 3rd Rate
• Magic: 0th Circle
  
  • Intuition - An (often) correct subconscious guess on attempts at his life
    • Increased chance of dodging lethal attacks

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Age: 20 [30] | Height: 6'6" | Voice: Weak, deep, raspy

---

At first, the family was hopeful towards the firstborn Kaides. She had shown her talents early in life. She worked harder than the children who would be her siblings. Other children were not nearly as strong, fast, or tall as her. Rather quickly, she showed her talent with a bow. She took pride in her own skills. Effort made it worth it. That's what she said.

But beyond that were her siblings. She loved being their big sister. She would be the one to lead the way. Of course, with this talent and ability came immaturity. She prided herself on being the talented older sister--perhaps too much. She had quite an ego--but who she was was built on her talents. She was always the talented big sister. But she was a child, the family said. Surely she would grow out of it. She'd learn to be a great knight worthy of the Kaides name.

Unfortunately, her time at the academy didn't teach her to be a great knight. While she excelled at practical skills and tests of knowledge at first, her own ego and talent began to damage her. If she thought something was not worth learning, she put in the bare minimum effort towards it. She was an elegant yet powerful archer--she didn't need much else. And she completely failed in the other purpose of an academy--to form connections.

She didn't care for the other students. Snide remarks were returned with bitter vitriol. Childish disdain between herself and other students festered for years with Estelle refusing to make even the most basic of amends. She didn't care what others thought about her. However, she still cared about her siblings. She loved them. She loved how they looked up to her. But her ego and pride reared its ugly head again. When her siblings were in trouble, she did comfort them and take proper steps. No, she fought. She created conflict--conflict that affected her siblings more and more.

Her time at the academy came to an end during a training exercise at 18. It was simple: just work with other students to slay a monster. After all, what use was a knight if they couldn't bear the stench of blood and view of viscera? But she had received a note. It was, without of a doubt, of little importance--merely words that hated her. But it challenged her. It attacked her vain pride created by her talent and effort. Needled on by her squad's rebuttals as she accused them, she would fight the monster alone. She didn't need her team.

She would have been able to defeat the monster herself. After all, it wasn't meant to risk the student's lives--it was merely meant to get them used to teamwork, stress, and blood. She fought with the monster with blade in hand. After all, that note said she couldn't do so. She'd prove whoever wrote it wrong. And she did--she would fell the monster. But in her hubris, the archer failed to notice that she was watched by another--someone who had fired a poisoned arrow directly into her torso. Wounded, she slaked her life to fell the monster--its claw taking her left eye as recompense.

Estelle lived--barely. While the arrow had missed her vitals, it had been poisoned. Her squad--and the instructor on duty--managed to make it to her in time. But it would be the end for her time at the academy. She spent the next year and a half fighting for her life. Months she would spend in nearly a coma. When she finally woke, she could barely even see. Despite that, she saw herself more clearly than she had before: she was no longer the big strong sister that she took pride in being. She was little more than a brat who lost everything she valued in herself.

Soon after recovering enough to walk unassisted, she ran away from the house at the age of 20 with little more than her clothes, some coin, and her unstrung bow. She couldn't take the shame. She couldn't face the brothers and sisters that she still loved. She didn't want them to ever see her like this.

In spite of her health, she wandered from town to town doing odd jobs to keep herself alive. For some time, she worked at an orphanage. Children who had lost their parents to bandits and disease didn't care much about a sickly giant taking care of them. The children took interest in her unstrung bow--the one that she had used as a walking stick for her journey. She showed them how it worked and dared them to try to string it--something she could no longer do. The children loved it. Perhaps, they thought, they could be hunters.

Spurred by the children, Estelle taught them what she knew. Some of the kids were talented. Some weren't. While there were some misgivings, she soon learned how nice it was to simply impart what she knew, regardless of everything. Perhaps she should have done so with her siblings--no. It was too late. The children showed quite a talent, even with makeshift bows.

But then the war broke out. The orphans--now nearing adulthood--were conscripted. She had heard that they displayed significant talent and bravery, but...

Without an orphanage, Estelle wandered more. Away from the war. Away from the frontlines. She would find refuge in a small village. At this time, she had seemed to become the caretaker to an elderly man who still retained his muscle. A man so scarred that babies would cry at the sight of him, yet so gentle that they would coo once he held them. He taught Estelle--though his lessons were wasted on someone who was merely his caretaker--with tales of violence. How to brutalize. He was not a noble knight--no, his stories didn't paint him as a good man. But Estelle still listened to him.

Then war came to the village. Refusing to leave, Estelle could do little more but watch as the old man burnt what little life he had to let his village, the family he chose, escape. Estelle was with him, but could only etch into her mind how the he fought.

Estelle continued to run away during the war. Each time, she survived. And eventually, she found herself back home. Even so, she still ran away from her home. She hid her identity. Of course, her siblings could easily tell who she was. There were no other woman in the world who carried a bow and stood as tall as her. She did her best to care for her siblings in her remaining time. On rare occasion, she would nock her bow once more--though, she did little more than desperate movements inspired by how that old man burnt away his life.

Even though she never stopped running, she saw the end alongside her brothers, sisters, and cousins.

• Biggest Failure: Her failing her siblings in her ego.
• Biggest Regret: Running away after she recovered--and never stopping.
• Biggest Obstacle: Herself--who she was.
• Greatest Achievement: How she was looked up to by her siblings--how she could be relied upon by them.
• Driving Hope: Her brothers and sisters who kept fighting.

---

• Estelle's weapon of choice are heavy longbows and equally heavy arrows. Before her passing, she wielded the same longbow that she grew up with. She never touched the bow that had been made for when she would begin to use aura.
• She never carried much else.

---

• Physical Strength: 3rd Rate
• Aura: 3rd Rate
• Magic: 0th Circle
• Skills
  
  • Hammering - A drawing of the bow that pushes one's body to its limit, allowing one to both pull heavier string and draw faster.
    • Desperation - Allows one to push themselves even further.
  • Trued (Deprived) - Allows the user to intuit and strike weak spots. The range is quite limited--for obvious reasons.
  • Swift (Deprived) - Calculated and precise movements allowing the user to adeptly move while in combat. Slow is steady and steady is quick.

Age: 19 y/o [29 y/o] | Height: 5'11 (180 cm) | Voice: Soft-spoken mezzo




Biggest Failure: She gave up on herself before trying. She ran from her pain, her family, and her name, and thus, left behind people who needed her. She turned her back on House Kaides, and by the time she wanted to help, it had been too late.

Biggest Regret: Besides the war itself? She wishes she’d been able to share what little happiness she found with her sisters.

Biggest Obstacle: For most of her life, she was hounded by anxiety, mistrust, and social judgement. Later, as she learned to overcome her fear, she discovered a deep-seated grudge. She came to hate the whole damned ‘Kaides equals greatness’ mentality. It was flawed, it was hurtful, and ultimately, she was sure it was the cause of their downfall. She will need them, but hell, can the Kaides and their worshippers be a gut-curdling lot.

Greatest Achievement: She and her adventuring friends had many small victories Though insignificant in the grand scheme of things, yet precious to them. Isana's last happy memory came during the war, when her friends were all still alive. In 1014, they reclaimed an occupied bridge and freed nearby settlements. That night's celebration felt like the old times; laughter, warmth, and the faint illusion of peace.

Driving Hope: Her friends and her family. The people she loved were her true treasure. In the end, desperation kindled a new idea. The faintest, impossible hope that if they succeeded, they might once again experience peace.

• Shortsword & daggers
• Leather armour, a hooded cape
• Alchemical solutions: poisons, 'smoke bombs'
• Slingshot and ammo
• Misc tools (wire...)

• Physical Strength: 1st Rate
• Aura: 2nd Rate
• Magic: 0th Circle
• Skills:
  
  • Blindside - In a moment of enemy’s inattention, she delivers an incapacitating strike. Exploits blind spots, targets least defended areas.
    
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Age: 16 [26] | Height: 5'2" | Voice: Sweet, quiet, shy, soft.




Her life wasn't easy at all, but also couldn't be considered difficult. Indifference would be the word to describe it, to describe her life, her parents, her relations. Growing up in a rich home, with tutors, with everything and the touch of her fingers. Everything except someone to trust, someone to love her.



Her parents didn't really want kids, they wanted an heir. All they imagined and dreamed of was a perfect heir, a son with amazing abilities with the sword and strategy, or a perfect daughter, beautiful, all soft smiles, someone to marry off for a good price. Instead, they got Lucille: she was a good kid, nice and loving, but never enough. She wasn't beautiful enough, smart enough, cunning enough. She just wasn't.



Growing up, she spent far more time with her tutors and servants than her parents. Her father was always travelling, trying to be as far as possible from his wife and daughter, her mother busy maintaining an image of the perfect lady, even though her husband wouldn't even talk to her. Meanwhile, little Lucille had to find ways to entertain herself, isolated from the world so her family could keep playing the perfect little noble family. The only thing she could do with her time was training archery, being an art that one of her tutors enjoyed teaching her.



And that she did. Soon she started training, spending all of her free time, almost all of her waking hours, shooting arrows in the backyard, improving day by day. Some servants even started going with her, enjoying the spectacle that it was, whispering about how she could easily win most of the tournaments, even with people older and wiser than her. Everyone in the palace would go see her one day or the other; everyone but her mother.



When it was finally time to go to the academy, Lucille didn't have any idea of how to talk to people her age. She got to her classes, did her tasks, but never showed her real ideas or opinions. Her mother always told her she was supposed to be seen, a beautiful flower, and she had to let the others be the ones to think and explain. She never showed her talents, stopping her training and focusing on being the perfect average noble, just as her mother wanted. She wouldn't let others get in her heart either, even if that hurt her sometimes. She was still nice, all smiles and helping acts, but no one ever knew if that was real or not. She even gained herself the title of Ice Princess: cold, unattainable, pretty to look at, fragile. Something you couldn't touch unless you wanted it to melt and go away. She got through the academy as the wind blowing softly: maybe you noticed it, but it wasn't relevant enough, it didn't change a thing.



When the war started, she decided to take a stand and go with the other archers. Her mother didn't agree at the beginning, until al counselor said that it would always be good publicity. When the demons got to the palace and Lucille was called with the others, her mother didn't even say goodbye. She was already trying to run away through a tunnel. It was the last straw: she was trying her best, keeping the face of her family, all their responsabilities in her shoulders, while her mother ran away like the worst of the traitors. But she couldn't get angry then, didn't have time for vengeance or regret, only cared about trying to save her home and her people, the only ones that cared about her. They deserved to live, and she deserved too, now that she understood that she had to really live instead of just moving to her mother's song.



They did what they could, but soon the palace was surrounded. There were demons everywhere, chaos, smoke and screams getting to the place where the archers were. It was almost a massacre, blood every place Lucille looked, people falling over the wall, everyone falling over corpses and forgotten victims of the attack. Lucille fought with all she had to try and find a way out, helping out the others, but they couldn't make it. Thankfully, the axe that got her was merciless, but quick. It all faded to black, but it didn't even hurt.

• Light bow and arrows
• Leather arm guards

• Physical Strength: 1st Rate (2EXP)
• Aura: 1st Rate (2EXP)
• Magic: 0th Circle (0EXP)
  
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Age: 15 [25] | Height:6' | Voice:Baritone

Lucas was his mother's last child, a disappointment like all the rest. Lucas could never shake the bitter feeling that had he been born to a lesser family his lot in life would have been better, all his problems were the unreasonable expectations of the Kaides, he was smart, he worked hard, he listened to the instructors, but he lacked natural talent, every ounce of muscle the result of hours of excercise, every strike or block the result of constant practice. At first it wasn't so bad, he was treated rather kindly, tutors supportive of hard work, praising his occasional successes as often as critiquing his failures, childish games and stories often mixed between proper lessons. Around the age of 10 things changed, he was never told why, but an overheard conversation about spoiled half-siblings certainly gave him an idea. his instructors became stricter despite his best behaviour, and what scant praise he used to treasure dried up.

Collegem Yllustre was worse, the instructors seemed to have something against him, or perhaps it was his family for they were already being called a disappointing generation when he arrived. Even when he bested other students in the sparring grounds he received no praise, only a list of mistakes that a better opponent would have exploited to defeat him, there it was again, the unfair expectation that he somehow rise to perfection just to be worthy of the family name, apparently the failing of his (half-)siblings just made them more desperate for at least one success rather than buying him some breathing room. When he stayed up late to write careful essays on military tactics, history or natural philosophy, he received not a single word about what he did well, just red ink outlining every last little flaw.

This began to make him bitter and unmotivated, why bother to try so hard if noone will ever be happy with him, he thought. And so he stopped trying so hard, at least not for them. He kept up most of his physical training, he may not be able to make the tutors or his family happy, but holding his own in the practice bouts is a more personal goal and hard as the work was, he did enjoy it. Other areas were allowed to slide, getting on the bare minimum of effort, why put work into lessons on leadership and tactics when his family will never allow a failure to command anyone, why focus on these odd anatomy studies that are only useful to those who will awaken their aura.

He turns 21 in the year 1013 and leaves without graduating, a strong 1st rate guisarmier by the standards of most knights, but merely failure by the standards of House Kaides. By this point Lagentym has fallen, with soon to follow, so rather than being cast out on his own or sent somewhere quiet and out of the way where he could do no further harm to the family line, he's sent to the front lines. Luzia needs every able warrior more than House Kaides wants to hide its failures.

He's initailly assigned to a batallion composed primarily of men-at-arms and lead by a knight from one of the vassal familiies. The fighting was worse than anyone had expected, despite their heavy armour they took serious casualties in every battle, mundane steel simply could not stand up to the brutal force behind an ogre's club. Things really went to hell when their leader was among the slain, there was no time to bring in a replacement from elsewhere and the men-at-arms were mere retainers to a vassal house, they had neither the tactical education nor the family name to lead, and thus Lucas was placed in command. Lucas who had given the last three years of tactical education only the most cursory of efforts, in a war that was seeing experienced commanders lose time and time again. Within a month the unit had suffered such severe casualties that it was deemed impractical to reinforce and the few survivors use to replenish other fighting forces. Lucas never received any formal reprimand or acknowledgement of his failure as a leader, what was one more fallen batallion among the many losses of this war, but he didn't need one, he had failed and there was noone to blame it on.
The next year or so is something of a blur to him, he's blaming himself now, quietly of course, decorum is one thing he actually managed to learn, but that doesn't actually give him, but that doesn't make him any less bitter, doesn't bring back motivation. They march, they fight, they either win a temporary victory or once more retreat. Some of the other soldiers probably notice his generally miserable demeanor, but who among them has much to smile about.
Things take a positive turn for Lucas, at least on a personal level, in 1015, another scrapping and restructuring of units as yet more of them fail, this time he's under the command of one Sir Justinian Lascaris, an older knight from one of the branch families, with an awakened aura and the charisma of a true leader, the kind of man who inspires his troops in battle, drinks with them afterwards and believes in fostering camaraderie among them.
It's one of these post battle, half-drunk, bonding experiences where the topic of childhood and training comes up, as Lucas comisserates with one man's tale of early morning drills where every failed block got him smacked with a thick wooden training blade by recounting his own tutors and their relentless criticism that Sir Justinian interjects, to general agreement, that he'd have killed for that sort of detailed feedback on exactly where he was going wrong rather than simply being told to watch closer and practice more when he was trying to earn a knighthood, ending with the comment that kids these days don't know how easy they have it. The rest of the men don't really bring it up again, to them it's just onother conversation, memorable only in so far as Lucas usually doesn't have much specific to say, but he can't stop thinking about it, criticism is helpful? Other people would still want the life he was born to after learning what it actually means?
The introspection does him some good, takes some of the bitterness away, brings back that drive to improve he'd practically forgotten, he even starts trying to make friends with some of the men and women fighting beside him.
Of course there's still years of war left, it takes its toll the same as ever, comrades fall to the demons, but Lucas mourns them as friends taken too soon, rather than numbly pressing on. He even finds something more with a lady named Felicia a year younger than him with a knack for making him smile despite the world falling apart.
Sleepless nights of constant watchfulness combine with thoughts of what he could have been had he only done better and the ever present sight of better warriors wielding their aura leads to strangely lucid dreams of what his own might be and in the final month of 1016 his own aura finally awakens.
An awakened aura is certainly a boon, but he can never shake the feeling that it came too late, humanity's chances had been nosediving ever since Ylliastrum fell over a year ago.
1017 comes, Kaidisyum falls, news comes that many of the tutors he once blamed for his own failures fell in battle delaying the demons, hard to hold a grudge against a man for his teaching style while one of the few refugees is describing his part in the diversion that let them escape.
Felicia falls in battle mere weeks before Hadrum, the truly gut wrenching fact is that if Lucas had had just a little more stamina in his Aura, he's sure he could have slain the high orc that clove her in two.
He joins the others gathering at Hadrum despite his ever growing misery, he has no intention of boarding the escape ships, no he'll die delaying the demons, perhaps that might make him in death the Kaides he never quite managed to be in life.

• Preferred Weapon:A Poleaxe
• N/A

You have 4 Experience to spend here

• Physical Strength: 1st Rate (2 Exp)
• Aura: 1st Rate (2 Exp)
• Magic: 0th Circle
• Skills:(None, but I'll leave the formating here)
  
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Age: 19 [29] | Height:5' 11" | Voice: Calm, clear, resonant



Mateo is the 1st son of Deividas Kaides's youngest daughter, making him about as far removed from the patriach as you can get and still be a relative. Being positioned on such a distance branch of the family tree meant there was little to no chance of him inheriting any kind of power, unless the whole kingdom collapsed around them, but given how many woes the children of the main family had, Mateo considered that to be a stroke a luck.

There is a chance that Mateo could have been exceptional. Physically he was fit and strong, tall but not exceptionally so, broad shouldered and athletic. Mentally he was always considered to be quite smart; no genius or prodigy mind you, but intelligent and with a degree of cunning. When it came to skill with a blade, he picked it up easily enough; he was no master with the sword, but he took to the lessons given to him with only a small amount of difficulty and there was no telling how high he would ascend given time and the right tutelage. All in all, Mateo was not a legend in the making, but there was strong hope that he would at least live up to the exacting standards of the Kaides family. Perhaps he would even do more.

Mateo did not want to be exceptional. Bad things happened to exceptional people, as he saw with his cousins; poisoned and shot with arrows and almost killed in "training accidents". The nobility was a pit of vipers all too eager to sink their fangs in you if they saw you as a threat. No, it was better not to be exceptional. It was better not to stand out at all. Better to be average, one of many. Perhaps it would be better to have "potential", so that some would have cause to ensure your safety long enough to see if you become useful; but that could just as easily backfire. No, maybe it was better to be below average; a disappointment. Just enough that people disregarded you entirely, turned away from you in disinterest at what a "waste" you were, but not so much that they got rid of you entirely.

So that was what Mateo did once he entered the collegem. He disappointed. The talent and potential of his youth never bore fruit; his physical talents went untended and were surpassed by a few in the first year and then many more in the years after.His academic performance was better, above average at least; it wouldn't do to be seen as completely useless, or a dullard. The combat lessons were a little harder to manage, since the eagle-eyed instructors of the Collegem would notice immediately should he hold back or fail to give his all; so rather than try to feign weakness or slowness, Mateo instead slowed his reactions and added a hesitancy to his movements. He would flinch before blocking, or wait a beat too long to seize an opening. It was enough to fool the instructors, who marked him as having the strength and skill but lacking in the spirit needed to be a swordsman.

If his goal was to be ignored, then it worked perfectly. He slotted right into the "failed generation" as one of its less remarkable members; a somewhat average individual who did not achieve what was expected of him, of all Kaides, but was not so much of a failure that it bear mentioning him specifically. His classmates were cordial to him and he had a small circle of friends, his instructors hounded him just enough to keep him up to speed with his peers, and if there was ever a chance that someone would want to assassinate a boy from the further branch of the family, they must have decided better of it.

Mateo continued this all the way up to the age of 21 where, upon failing to awaken his aura, he left the Collegem without graduating. He considered his time there to have been rather successfully mundane and with his throat intact and his back free of knives, he turned his mind towards what the rest of his life would look like.

A few years later war was declared and Mateo began to think that there might have been a flaw in his plan.
There was an expectation that even failures like him enlist and put their meagre strength to good use and so Mateo did just that, picking up a blade for the first time since leaving the Collegem and wondering if it was too late to start learning to wield it properly. As it turned out there was plenty of instruction to be found in the middle of battle, though the sparring partners were a little bit too eager. Mateo was a quick study, which saved him from dying immediately, but his tactic of fooling his instructors by feigning hesistance was no longer a feint; it had instead become a deeply ingrained habit of his to hesitate dangerously before every block, ever dodge, every swing. The first time it happened he nearly lost his head, instead losing only part of an ear as the orcs wild swing went wide, but no matter how much he fought against it the years of muscle memory were set deep in his bones.

He accumulated many more scars over the next few years, the bits being chipped away from him piece by piece as his folly came back to bite him over and over again. By the time of his final stand at Port Handrum, he looked grizzled beyond his years and covered in a patchwork of scars and the stiffness in his limbs was as much from muscle damage as it was from hesitation.
There is not much to say about that final battle. He fought and he died. In a shield wall alongside regular soldiers facing down a charging line of demons that greatly out numbered them.

• In his past life, Mateo only ever donned the gear of a trainee and a standard soldier; a long sword, a kite shield, chainmail. In this life, who knows? Maybe the same, maybe something more exceptional.
• blank

• Physical Strength: 1st Rate
• Aura: 1st Rate
• Magic: 0th Circle
• Skills:
  
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Age: 17 [27] | Height: 5'11 | Voice: Tenor

• Sword & Board
• Full Plate w/o Helmet
• A Big Ass Cape

• Physical Strength: 2nd Rate
• Aura: Expert
• Magic: 0th Circle