[CHAR] Prophetiae Adventum: Envoys of the Pantheon

[Siber]

[DELETED]

[Psyker Landshark]

Vyandar Urthac

Name: Vyandar Urthac
Race: Dragonborn
Age: 41
Envoy of: Anhur

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Class: Cleric

Description:
Stands at approximately 6'6". Is wide-shouldered and well-muscled. Scars line his body and his face, and one of his horns is chipped off, most likely as a result of battle.

Skills:
Veteran Combatant: Vyandar has skills and physique honed by a lifetime of battle. He is adept with all common martial weapons, and is in peak physical shape. Additionally, he has experience with a variety of battlefield tactics, and very little surprises him in a conventional fight anymore.

Divine Magic: Being a priest of Anhur, Vyandar is blessed with the ability to cast a variety of divine spells. He specializes in enhancing the physical abilities of both himself and his allies, though he can also heal wounds and sap the strength of his foes if needed. Direct damage spells such as holy flames are also in Vyandar's repertoire, though he doesn't favor them, preferring to wade into melee with the effects of enhancement spells upon himself instead.

Orator: As his mercenary company's sole clergyman, Vyandar was often called upon to deliver sermons and rites over the years, and became rather adept at public speaking as a result. After his ascension, Vyandar has taken to preaching in the street where he travels, seeking to exalt the necessity of conflict to all. He can also turn his gift of the gab towards other speaking pursuits such as debate or sophistry, but prefers to preach his patron god's dogma first and foremost.

Flaws:
Brute: Subtlety is not in this dragonborn's nature. At all. While Anhur's tenets state that pitched conflict is not the sole battlefield available to mortals, Vyandar still dislikes measures such as diplomacy and stealth when open battle is a viable option.

Zealot: Having already been a man of faith before his exaltation, Vyandar is fanatically devoted to his patron deity. While he tolerates worshippers of other members of the Pantheon and even respects their priests, he is still liable to take any insults to Anhur or rejection of his dogma extremely poorly. In addition, his constant preaching and prayer can quickly grow tiresome to those who do not follow Anhur in every single aspect of their daily lives.

Wrathful: Quick to lose his cool. Vyandar has a bad tendency to develop tunnel vision on those who anger him, causing him to focus on the object of his wrath above all else, especially in a fight.

Background:
Born in the frozen northern wastes of Malia, Vyandar of Clan Urthac found himself baptized in battle at a young age. At barely five years old, his village was raided by mercenaries paid off by a neighboring town that wanted the local fishing space completely uncontested. His family members were either slaughtered in the chaos or scattered to the winds, but Vyandar was abducted and taken in by the company after he showed an unusually spirited amount of resistance for a child, actually driving a knife into a sellsword's shin.

The company chaplain, a cleric of Anhur, practically adopted Vyandar, seeing him as a worthy successor to the priesthood. Throughout his adolescence, Vyandar was immersed in both priestly and martial training. Though as an acolyte of Anhur, the two were practically the same at times. While at first, he resented his abductors and sought only to make them hurt during training, Vyandar eventually came around to his teacher's line of thinking that what happened to his village and his family was regrettable, but only natural. The coast around his birthplace couldn't support the needs of two towns, and so conflict was inevitable. If anything, it had been his own village's fault for not trying to be rid of their competition first.

Vyandar eventually came of age to be both a full-fledged member of the mercenary company that took him in, as well as a cleric of Anhur, ordained in battle. He served for a decade in combat and as the company's secondary chaplain until his adoptive father and teacher fell in battle, causing Vyandar to take his place in full. The company took contracts both in Malia and in foreign lands where Malian mercenaries were in high demand, and Vyandar even served a tour of duty for the Twin Kingdoms against the Nuniel Empire at one point.

However, it was on a job back in Malia where Vyandar fell, and subsequently ascended. The assignment was eerily similar to the one that had shaped his course in life decades ago: raid a village that was competing with their employers for hunting grounds in the nearby forest, and teach them a lesson. But it didn't pan out like it had thirty-six years ago: the target village had hired their own mercenaries to do the exact same thing, and both companies met in the middle. Having no knowledge of each other, both sides were caught off-guard, and the situation devolved into utter chaos as the two mercenary companies rushed each other in a disorganized, unplanned charge.

The carnage was immense. By the time Vyandar succumbed to his numerous wounds, several arrows piercing his armor, the last thing he noticed was that both companies had wiped each other out nearly to a man. Despite being on the verge of death, he smiled. He would die honoring Anhur. What he didn't know, however, was that through his last hour of life, he had been chosen.

When next he woke, the being that understood its host body's name to be Vyandar Urthac found his wounds miraculously healed, though the damage to his armor remained. Moreover, he had a mission to fulfill. Vyandar rose, callously brushing off the corpses of men he'd trained, fought beside, and feasted with for years, working out how long it would take to reach the nearest port that would sail him to the Twin Kingdoms.

Gear:
Holy Symbol: An iron catalyst crafted in the shape of Anhur's mark. Worn around Vyandar's neck beneath his armor at all times, and serves as his casting focus for divine magic.

Full Plate: A suit of steel platemail, worn and dinged by decades of battle. Engraved across several parts of the armor are Anhur's mark, to represent devotion.

Sword and Shield: A large, dragonborn-sized steel longsword with an accompanying kite shield to match.

????????

Misc.
Voice claim: Steve Blum

[Click This]

A second Envoy?

official portrait of Princess

Lutatia Eichenwald von Brudel

or, Kyra Pfalz-Karstadt,
Envoy of Agamemnon.

Falconknight | Hybrid

Lawful Neutral,
Aasimar,
25.

---

Kyra stands at 5’ 6”, or 167cm, with flowing platinum hair that reaches down to her upper waist. Despite her figure being on the smaller side, she has a commanding presence, with alert, piercing purple eyes and a confident way of carrying herself that belies her scholarly and cloistered origin. Contrary to her portrait, she eschews most finery, preferring to dress in simple, but quality cloth, both in the streets and even into battle.

Skills

• Scholarly Monasticism
  With much of her early life spent secluded away among the religious and learned, and later augmented by tutors on the royal payroll, she received a wide array of education topics ranging from scripture and the arcane, to economics, statesmanship and diplomacy. Although some topics bored her more than others, she always had a scholarly inclination, and if not training, much of her free time was spent self-educating herself by lamplight among scrolls of her interest.
• Mount and Blade
  For all the books in the abbey, Kyra never shied away from the sword. At her own request, and courtesy of the small order of Pegasus Knights that guarded the young royal at her monastery in the mountains, she received training that would befit one of a member of her own veteran guard. She never quite took to the lance, though she has a basic competency in it. Where she excels is in the sky with her Pegasus, and with a longsword aboard her mighty steed, or even dismounted.
• Minor Magical Markswoman
  A skill picked up later in life, Kyra can shoot a gun, and reload it quickly enough, though her competence ends at basic marksmanship. Her magic, too, is at a middling level, but her knowledge specializes in enchantments and augmentations of her weapons and body in battle. Why spend the time to learn how to aim properly, when a magically enhanced bullet can blast away a something with a small explosion from the sky?

Flaws

• To fool oneself
  Kyra claims and thinks she that she wants a quiet, comfortable, hassle-free life, away from trouble and living the life of a true fairytale princess. She is, however, not that person. Although she desires to return to her cloistered past, and despite all her actions professing otherwise, within her heart of hearts, she would have never accepted living out her days there again. For all the diplomacy and peace that she avows by, she’s a battle maniac that can’t get enough of the thrill of combat, even if it is not her first choice of action. Yet, it reflects in a fight; though she has a perfectly serviceable personal doctrine in sitting far away in the air firing away with a boomstick, in the end it’s more of an opener for her to fly closer to hit something with her sword.
• Inflexible
  From a surprisingly young age, Kyra has had a well-founded sense of self, and accompanyingly, a well-formed, mostly well-informed world-view. This lends her a certain degree of confidence, one that she fully trusts in. While it doesn’t quite border on arrogance, it does reflect on an astounding degree of stubbornness on her part— to the point that it can be become impractical.
• Therein the Crown lies madness
  Others would celebrate her closeness to divinity, in both upbringing and birth. Although Kyra is perfectly fine with things holy, she sees her own divine blood as a shackle to an unwelcome crown, and unwanted hassle. She fully believes in her own superiority to rule, but yet nonetheless wishes to be nowhere close to the levers of power. Yet paradoxically, if there is nobody better to fill the role, then it remains a grudging responsibility for her to shoulder, lest she lose her selfish desire of a peaceful life. Nonetheless, she does all in her power to avoid power—a madness hardly helped by being assassinated for.

Class

Hybrid Falconknight

Many Pegasus Knights specialize on the variety of forces of cold steel in the falconknights, or the punishingly versatile mobile mage that is colloquially dubbed the dark flier. Yet some others combine the two arts into one. Kyra is one of those latter riders, with a bit of her own added flair. Dismissing bringing the lance into battle in favor of a carefully honed swordarm, and eschewing the wide repertoire of spells available to traditional mages for the honed expertise on a few, she brings her own unique take on the matter—channeling through her sword and gun, like a spellsword on wings.

Her range of spells are simple, but refined to her martial skillset. Reinforcement abilities to help her body weather a strike, stimulate her observation and response time, or pull some hard Gs in a combat maneuver; magic-backed hits of her sword, enhanced shots of her gun that punch above its caliber class, and even a simple illusion spell onto a table to project her bird’s eye view for pre-battle planning are also part of her main magical repertoire.

Gear

• Custom Longsword
  A simply designed, but quality sword custom built to Kyra’s purposes. Plainly decorated save for simple design elements and the accommodating inscriptions for reinforcing enchantments and to channel elemental spells through.
• Second-hand Magi-lock Rifle
  A lost Nuniel rifle that exchanged through many hands before ending up in Kyra’s. Like her sword, it is well taken care of, and retro-fitted in a way for her to channel spells through— particularly ones that make explosions and fire.
• Trusted Cloak
  A thick, quality burgundy cloak that ends at just above the ankles. If one looks closely, it almost looks as if a family crest was meticulously removed in the past. One of the few possessions that remain from her days in Brudel.
• Royal Pendant
  A carved orange gemstone with that is kept around Kyra’s neck under clothes at all times. The royal seal etched into the stone is the only physical proof of her bloodline. She stores mana in it for reserves.
• Lede
  Kyra’s trusted Pegasus since her days at the monastery. Seems to know more than she lets on—especially after her partner’s possession.

Background

Born the result of a queen’s night of indiscretion with a courtier, as an illegitimate child, Lutatia lived an early life secreted away in a remote mountain monastery. For much of her childhood, she was an unremarkable, if somewhat precocious student among the monks and nuns, a girl with a polite, but forceful personality that indulged herself in books and scrolls in the confines of gardens and cloister benches.

For years, she was just another noble girl at the convent, though she always did have an inkling of her true origins, whispered among rumors upon rumors of the clergy of a girl with divine blood. Despite its remote location, news did filter through to the monastery, and when she had barely seen eleven summers, she learned that the heir to Brudel, the crown princess, had died. Shortly after, a small wing of the Pegasus Knights of the Royal Guard made the place their home. It was then that she learned the truth of her origin.

All too aware of the game of nobles, the treachery of the court, and the vulnerability of her own position, she requested the Knights of her new guard take her under their tutelage. From then on, martial training became part of her daily studies. Long soiled on the concept of the throne from the histories and tragedies of the past, she reluctantly threw herself into preparing for what could easily come to pass. If she wanted to survive and navigate the rest of her life as her own person, then she couldn’t sit idle and pretty as the princesses of times past.

Indeed, at fifteen, she finally had to say her goodbyes to the convent, but she left as a fully-fledged Pegasus knight in her own right. Brought to the capital, in an elaborate ceremony, Lutatia was legitimized as a princess and heir presumptive to the empire of Brudel, a title and position that she came to accept with great reluctance. Living on a peaceful mountain retreat had suited her just fine, after all.

She was introduced to court life. It was everything that she expected. Yet, she took to it as her responsibility to the empire in absence of a better person.

It quickly became obvious that the sitting empress was not long for this world. Like vultures circling the dying, the high nobles of the court plotted, with a prominent duke maneuvering to become Lutatia’s regent upon her succession as his puppet. Soon after, a second camp scrounged up another underage royal candidate in opposition.

Amidst all the chaos, the princess discovered an unrelated conspiracy to defraud the royal treasury—a problem that she took it upon herself to personally correct, maneuvering and personally raiding the conspirators with her knights to recover the stolen gold.

She was not the meek sheltered princess that many had expected. No- to the other plotters, it became obvious that instead of being a piece on the board to be controlled, despite her own wishes, she was in fact another player in the game for power— a threat.

An assassination attempt logically followed. Ambushed in the air during a mountain excursion by 'rogue' knights, the princess was nearly killed, bloodied and escaping death by a hair’s width. With battle lines in the court seemingly being drawn in the sand, and her continued existence seemingly the catalyst to set it all off, she faked her own demise in the ambush. Taking the name of a missing heir of a merchant house, she set off on her own as Kyra Pfalz-Karstadt in the Twin Kingdoms, making a new life as an advisor and martial troubleshooter for a trading company there. She would get her peaceful and idyllic life back eventually.

Time passed. The Brudelian queen died; long live the queen. She picked up new skills, and new weapons. The company grew, as did its challenges, but so did her own wealth. Then… her past finally caught up with her, and she became subject yet again to another attempt on her life.

This time, there was no perfect escape. A good fight she gave, but against a numerically superior foe, there was no salvation.

Dying in forest amidst a burning caravan was never the way she had expected her story to end.

It was somewhat ironic, but equally fitting nonetheless that an Envoy of Agamemnon would appear in front of her before her dying breath. Despite her wishes as a host, it seemed she would still become an Envoy of Agamemnon no matter what she did.

With a newfound purpose, the being that was now the princess tied up her loose ends with the company and made her leave across the strait to Latis. Like all past endeavors of its host, she would tackle the Prophecy head on.

Perhaps, then, she would get her retirement in splendid isolation— after all, if an empty being, compatible in all respects but one, received the memories and personality of its host, are they not in the end but the same?

?????

A special secret for the future?

[TheWendil]

The Red Scholar

REAN WESTFALL

Envoy of Reemis | Scholar | 26 | Human | Neutral Good

Coatless

SKILLS:
• Unspoken Scripture: First and foremost, above all else, Rean is a scholar. Although she dabbles in the arcane and has even picked up the blade to better defend herself, her true passions and skills lie in the texts. Years of experience have made her adept in transcribing, translating, and overall making clear what is unknown from common knowledge. She has a unique specialty for language, though how much of this is of her own making and not boons from the gods remains to be seen.

• Arcane Nature: Despite her inherent nature for the finer things in life, Rean's life has taken her down the arcane path. All of this can be traced back to her initial interest in the Devulga and through it she's able to channel a number of fascinating spells to her quarry. Although she is no fighter, she's adept in magic enough to get by and keep herself alive when her scholarly antics lead her to less than savory explorations. Because all of her spells are channeled through the Devulga, they manifest as a deep crimson coloration befitting of the scholar's preferred fashion choice. It's very coincidental.

• Culinary Arts: The pitfalls of any scientist, tutor, or really individual of the learning craft are universal. It is not uncommon for those devoted to their work to neglect their own mental state and health for the pursuit of their studies. Thankfully, Rean has enough foresight to at least keep herself fed. As such she's become quite the remarkable chef by upbringing and her own curiosities in what meals were efficient. Despite the near-callous nature of her meal preparation, she's actually had little complaint when her dishes are tried by others. Had she any more foresight she might consider a secondary career in the culinary arts.

GEAR:
• Devulga: A magical tome bound in “wine-soaked leather”, the Devulga is a family keepsake for the Westfalls. Rean herself doesn’t quite understand its origins or its secrets, but it remains both a journal of recording for her studies and as a magical conduit for her spells. The tome itself sometimes acts as if it holds a mind of its own, though Rean holds theories for this explanation. The most prominent speculation is the tome acts as a possible link for Reemis to contact her through the physical world. Whatever the case, the Devulga is Rean’s most faithful companion with a variety of spells of which include summoning crimson bursts of fire and energy, conjuring red winds, creating blood-soaked spectral “limbs”, and finally a darker breed of magic whose contents are whispered only in hushed tones.

• Steel Sword: Very aware of the dangers of a changing world, it wasn't unreasonable for Rean to pick up the art of combat. Thus, she carries with her a prim steel sword for those rare occasions when words have no effect and magic cannot simply erode away the obstacle in front of her.

• Crimson Coat: A red coat gifted by her family. Rean is seldom seen without it as it is her usual choice of travel attire over her outfit. The coat is properly taken care of whenever Rean gets the chance with little crease or wear to show for it. It's a rather reliable and robust piece of companionship, able to power its owner through the most incremental of weather.

FLAWS:
• Curiosity Kills: Strictly speaking, Rean is no fighter. When faced with anything requiring physical needs she'll often deviate the work to others much more capable. Indeed, she only learned basic swordsmanship as a necessary survival tool. Although she specializes in magic more than other forms of combat, all of her spells are mitigated and channeled through the Devulga. Should a dangerous situation present itself to her, you'll find Rean the first to flee or at the very least, let someone else handle the problem.

• Misplaced Devotion: Sadly, even Rean may fall to the seduction of her own work. Like any alchemist on the break of a new miracle or a magician grafting a new spell, Rean is also prone to losing herself devotedly in her studies. More prominently, if she has her mind on a goal or something to achieve, she will toss away whatever else she's doing in the pursuit of that new boon. The results often lead to messy outbreaks in her wake as well as quite a few people more than annoyed with her, from their perspective, unapologetic ways. Being a successful people person is often a fifty-fifty shot with her.

• Double Nature: Rean is, for the most part, a law abiding citizen. While she can be ignorant of other's feelings or even headstrong into her own goals, she's often more eccentric than outright malicious. However, there are times where her curiosity and interest in whatever she's studying briefly override her morals. It's so much more interesting, so much more efficient to take certain paths that may be frowned upon by others. But what is the sake of the individual to the greater good? Sometimes, sometimes Rean may cross a line to gain her answers. How much of this is of her own choosing or of a result by Reemis remains to be seen like many things about her.

BIOGRAPHY:
• For as long as anyone could remember, the Westfalls have always been a respectable family who pooled their life’s works and resources into the many libraries they hold monopoly over. Thriving within the Nuniel Empire, the Westfalls were acknowledged in no short part due to their wealth of information. The majority of libraries that dotted the empire, of course, listed their name as owner and benefactor. Despite being looked down upon by the military culture of Nuniel elites and higher-ranked families, the Westfalls remained a popular household name for the poor and others deemed as such.

Thus, Rean-if she could even be called that-was surrounded by family books and scriptures for as far back as she could remember along with the numerous other texts the Westfalls coveted and collected. She didn’t know when it happened, when the Envoy of Reemis, God of Vengeance, melded into her flesh and became one with her being. And yet, it must have been extremely early in her life, of this much she reasons. There was always something off about her, even among the rest of her family. Whereas the Westfalls were a mostly private bunch, sticking to their texts and dusty libraries, Rean always sought more, to explore more, to seek out more.

It wasn’t very long before such ambitions grew out of hand and she felt compelled to leave the empire’s territory for her own purpose. Of course, such purpose was by the hand of Reemis, of the Envoy that puppeted her flesh. The desire to find this prophecy, to contain it, to learn more about it fueled her harder than any other passion in her life. Driven by her own curiosities and compelled by this prophecy, Rean eventually found herself in Latis.

Oh, she was curious indeed to meet her fellow Envoys, to discover what the gods truly had in store for her. Curious indeed…or perhaps it was some desire of selfishness and respite just as the god who claimed a piece of her denoted. Whatever the case, she was sure it’d no doubt at least be amusing. Still, she wonders, why would the God of Vengeance ever find any interest in her…

???: Secrets of a time yet to come.

[Crimson Paladin]

Sol Invictus!

Name: Sir Aurelian Asellius, The Last Knight of Nuniel

Race: Human
Age: 26
Envoy of: Sol
Description: |Armored| |Formal attire|
Alignment: Lawful Good

Skills:

Swordsman
Aurelian is a disciple of a Nuniel sword-and-shield school of swordsmanship. In contrast to his normally honorable behavior, this fighting style is ruthlessly pragmatic, using every inch of both the sword and shield, as well as the wielder's hands, as weapons.

Heavy Cavalry
Aurelian served as a heavy cavalryman in Nuniel's army and has become a talented equestrian and mounted combatant with both a sword and lance. He has enough tactical understanding to know the limitations of a heavy cavalry charge, and knows not to charge into a wall of spears or volleys of missile fire.

Sol's Magic
As a paladin of Sol, Aurelian is blessed with a small degree of divine magic linked to the sun god. He can heal minor wounds, burn away illness, summon a divine servant in the form of his old warhorse, and augment his weapon with fire.

Flaws:

Old-Fashioned Combatant
Aurelian clings to a the "old ways" of chivalric combat and thus hesitates to make use of ranged weapons such as bows, magiarms, or divine fire magic. If he wants to kill something, he will have to get up close.

Noble of Nuniel
The aristocracy of the Empire of Nuniel are, for good reason, quite unpopular with the other races, nations, and even the Empire's own lower-class citizens, and while Aurelian no longer has any love for his empire since being merged with the Envoy of Sol, he makes no efforts to hide his nature as a noble.

Deserter
The Empire does not take kindly to those who desert the military, and their military courts are unlikely to accept "technically I died so I'm released from service" or "I'm possessed by a divine servant and am technically a new person". As a noble, and as an Envoy who continues to use his host's real name, Aurelian's departure from military service will not go unnoticed.

Oath of Chivalry
Aurelian is bound by oath to uphold Sol's code of chivalry. He is compelled by his code to defend the innocent, keep his word, and treat both friend and foe with honor and courtesy, among other things. His code does not forbid him from employing nonverbal misdirection, however- tactical feints, sword-fighting techniques, and keeping his mouth shut when someone doesn't need to know something do not violate his code.

Background:

Aurelian Asellius was born to a noble family with a time-honored tradition of serving as knights of Nuniel. His family were long-time supporters of the Emperors and its able-bodied members were expected to serve in its military- anything less would be considered deeply shameful and would result in being disowned and disinherited. Aurelian did not question this duty, and from a young age was brought up to serve as a knight. Even at this point, however, it was evident that the future of the Empire's military laid not in noble knights, but in professional armies making use of new magical technologies currently being developed.

Aurelian, a squire at the time, began to be assailed by doubts and worries that becoming a knight was becoming less prestigious and less worthwhile. Even worse, he worried that perhaps he had wasted years of his life being trained for an obsolete role. He would overcome these concerns by finding faith in worship of Sol, where he was assured that the ways of chivalry were worth preserving. He dedicated himself to upholding the sun god's ideals, and began to walk the path of a holy paladin.

Upon being knighted, Aurelian enlisted in the Empire's military, determined to honor emperor and family. When Emperor Metiros Alland launched his invasion, Aurelian was at the front lines, battling against the forces of the Twin Kingdoms. While there was still a place for cavalry in the Empire's armies, it was was clear that his role in the battles were limited. With the newfound success of the Empire's invasion, made possible by armies of professional armies and fantastic magi-technology, it became a popular belief that the old chivalric ways were on their way out.

Initially, his relationship with the ordinary soldiers was strained, both because of their skepticism that he had any place on a battlefield, and because of the disdain for the lower classes ingrained in his noble upbringing. However, as time went by, as they lived and fought together, he learned to appreciate the low-born and non-human soldiers. Meanwhile, as Aurelian risked his life again and again to defend them, as he stabilized their wounds and purged their illnesses after the battles were over, they took a liking to him in return, and even gave him the endearing nickname "the last knight of Nuniel". The nickname wasn't literal- there were still other knights of Nuniel out there- but Aurelian was one of the few who still championed chivalric ideals.

Not everyone took a liking to Aurelian, however. The officers and other nobles scoffed at him associating with the lowly, expendable soldiers and the "outdated" morality that he constantly touted. Additionally, they did not appreciate him openly criticizing their tactics and their un-noble conduct. More than a few times, these squabbles nearly devolved into violence.

Aurelian's participation in the war would end with a large enemy counter-offensive on his position. Several officers were among those killed in the initial stage of the attack, and the remaining troops routed. Aurelian chose to stay behind and cover their retreat. He rode alone against the enemy, managing to push through a disorganized spear wall and charge directly at the enemy officer that appeared to be leading the attack. He never made it- his horse was felled by a barrage of arrows and he was surrounded and stabbed to death by spearmen. His only consolation was the hope that his attack had disrupted their momentum enough to allow his allies to escape and regroup.

Shortly after perishing, the Envoy of Sol descended and looked upon the fallen Aurelian, the last bastion of chivalry in the Empire. It beheld a foolish idealist who had sought to keep the sun god's ideals alive in a brutal, unjust war, even unto death. Was he even worthy of calling himself a paladin if he had knowingly and willingly participated in this terrible conflict, it pondered? Its ultimate conclusion was perhaps.

When the merged being rose to his feet, the battlefield was empty, the enemy having resumed its pursuit of his former allies. Fueled by his possessor's disgust of Nuniel's invasion, he summoned a divine doppelganger of his fallen horse and rode away, never to involve himself in this terrible war again.

Class & Gear:

Paladin
Aurelian is a holy warrior of the sun god, bound by an oath to uphold Sol's chivalric ideals. He is a skilled swordsman on foot, a skilled lancer on horseback, and has been blessed with some of Sol's magic. Among his powers include searing his foes with the power of the sun, minor spells of healing, and purging disease with fire.

Nuniel Plate Armor
Aurelian's full plate harness represents the apex of Nuniel's armor-smithing technology. In addition to providing fine physical protection, it is augmented to protect its wearer from arcane energies, and the cuirass in particular has been "proofed" against a magiarm carbine. The armor is adorned with the colors and iconography of Sol.

Paladin Mount
Aurelian was quite fond of his original horse which perished alongside him, and as a result, he now uses a paladin mount that takes the shape of his old horse.

Holy Arms
Aurelian's steel arming sword, lance, and shield are his primary weapons, both of which have been anointed with the blessings of Sol, protecting them from being corrupted by rust or malign magic.

???

[Guppy Franz]

Arthur Lupin

Arthur Lupin

Race:
Human

Age:
25

Envoy of:
Astarte

Alignement:
Chaotic good

Skills:
Quick footed:
Thanks to a lifetime of running around his town doing errands for his family's Inn along with his training sessions with his brother, Arthur has become quite good on his feet. Due to his fighting style, Arthur is always moving, making sure he can always outmaneuver his opponent and get one up over them.

Marksmanship:
Though Arthur is no master sharpshooter, his training with magiarms has been very beneficial for the young dualist. During his training with magiarms, he realized how quickly a well-placed shot can change the tide of a battle. During his time training within the Empire, he found practicing his marksmanship to be rather fun, loving the feeling of landing a direct shot. By the time his training came to an end, he had become an excellent shot that could hit the hardest of targets.

Precise swordsman:
With the years of training with his brother and in the military under his belt, Arthur has become a fine swordsman. Choosing to use his favorite rapier and a fine parrying dagger Arthur is a very precise swordsman, aiming for gaps in his foe's defenses and relying on his learned techniques to overcome his opponents.

Flaws:
Adrenaline junkie:
During a fight Arthur can become quite enthralled in the action, finding entertainment is pushing his skills to the limit and practically fueling himself with the thrill of the fight. At times if he gets too into the fight he will throw caution to the wind and do whatever he can to make the fight more thrilling. Outside of fighting, he can manage to hold himself back, but there is always a small itch for some action.

Noble hatred:
A burning hatred towards those born of so-called “Noble blood” remains well and alive within Arthur, the urge to spit at the mere mention or sight of them a struggle to overcome. Arthur will always grow tense and silent when in the presence of a noble, never believing a word from their mouth and doing his best to ignore their existence. If given even the smallest chance to bring a noble down a peg or two, Arthur will quickly take the risk.

Spiteful nature:
If given the chance to get back at someone who had at the very least annoyed him just a little bit, Arthur would. He’d even stoop so low to childish pranks that would serve little purpose other than to just give him the satisfaction of knowing he ruined the day of those who irritated him. Of course, this spiteful nature can become more twisted if a line is crossed, insuring he leaves a lasting impression that won't be forgotten.

Background:
Born within the Empire of Nuniel Arthur was raised amongst the common folk, his father a proud soldier of the Empire, and his mother a simple Inn owner settled in the town of Triest. While his father was stationed at Neumark fort, he lived with his mother and siblings in Triest, running an Inn and living a simple life. Being the second oldest of his two younger siblings Arthur took up most of the responsibility to help his mother keep the Inn running smoothly, running errands, helping customers, and even helping cook meals.

On the few days he would have to himself Arthur would seek out his older brother, Ryan, who once severed within the Empire like their father towards the eastern borders near Zuiterra. After a bloody skirmish Ryan had become too injured to continue serving, losing his leg in battle and being forced to return home to Triest. Arthur spent most of his free time with his brother, helping him with tasks he could no longer do himself and simply giving him company. Ryan appreciated his younger brother's care and decided to reward him by teaching him what he could with the sword. They would train throughout the days they had together, going over stances and techniques until eventually, Arthur was an amateur dualist.

One night after a rather grueling training session the two brothers spent the night talking to one another on the outskirts of Triest. Seeing how far his younger brother had come in the few years they had trained together Ryan suggested that Arthur should enlist within the Empire's ranks. Arthur was hesitant towards his suggestion, thinking of the Inn and his family. He had only taken up the training with his brother to grow closer with him and to liven up his quiet life in Triest. After speaking on the topic the whole night Arthur finally relented and agreed to enlist under the condition he’d spend the next week getting things in order with the Inn to insure his mother and siblings would be taken care of.

Within a week Arthur had joined the ranks of the imperial army and spent the next several months training, improving his skills as a dualist and even being introduced to Magiarms. During his time training, Arthur became somewhat of a rising star amongst his fellow trainees, his quick reflexes and impressive skills with the sword setting a high bar for others to reach. Eventually, he even became a natural marksman when given the chance to practice with the magiarms, being able to shoot an apple off a post from across the courtyard of their barracks. Unfortunately, even though Arthur showed great promise as a soldier he began to doubt his decision to enlist, slowly seeing his role within the Empire to be nothing more than peasant cannon fodder. He had already known of the gap between nobility and the common folk, but now he was officially a pawn to be used by those born in higher places. The thought sent chills up his spine.

Finally, the time had come for Arthur to put his training to the test as he was sent south to No Man’s Land, being put under the command of a noble from a prestigious military family within the Empire named Talos De’Sardet. For weeks Arthur faced many cruelties of war, battle after battle and horror after horror made the fighting feel like years. Day by day he would watch his comrades be given impossible tasks by his commander and ultimately be sent to their death, simply to probe the enemy's defenses. The man's cruel tactics seemed to have worked, the armies gaining ground little by little, but Arthur couldn’t ignore the number of bodies of their own they had to march over to get there. Eventually, the day came when Arthur and a few dozen unfortunate souls were given the orders to go against an overwhelming foe that had been preparing to lash out with a devastating counterattack that threatened their line. Their orders were simple, hold the line for as long as possible to allow the main force to catch up and position themselves to fend off the attack, then wait for the signal to retreat. To disobey this order would end with their death.

The battle was bloody and long, Arthur and the others sent to fight just barely holding against their enemies. As they were finally about to be overwhelmed the call to retreat had finally been sounded and they began to flee back to their lines as ordered. They ran through smoke and dust kicked up from the fighting with their enemies close behind them, practically nipping at their heels as they fled. Finally, as they emerged from the smoke and dust Arthur was horrified to be met by rows upon rows of Magiarm rifles aiming towards them, Commander De’Sardet standing proudly in the middle of the ranks with his pistol at the ready. It was then he had realized in that split second they were nothing more than a distraction, even worse than that, bait to draw the enemy in. Before Arthur could react the deafening sound of rifles cracked in the air and he was tumbling to the ground with a hole in his chest, blacking out as the battle went on without him.

Long after the battle ended Arthur awoke to see the night sky and the many stars looking down at him. His body was too heavy to move, the hole in his chest aching with pain and his hazy mind slowly fleeting. As he lay dying on the battlefield, staring up to the night skies with only the thought of his home and family on his mind he could only feel a fire build in his wavering soul, anger and frustrations towards not only the bastards who led him to his death but the gods themselves for allowing these senseless wars to continue. With his last breath, he cursed the gods and bid his home a final farewell.

Once his body finally went cold nothing remained of the young dualist, his empty eyes looking up towards the heavens. That is until a servant of the gods themselves descended upon the fallen soul and made their decision.

“You who have been sacrificed to the cruel wars the mortals of this world wage, who took up the sword to better understand your kin and who passed on with bitter hatred towards my gods and your fellow man, I have chosen you. You will be my armor and sword, you will be my instrument to please my master. Though your body has grown cold, the fire that still lingers within you will be used in my mission. For this, I thank you.”

Within a matter of seconds, the Envoy of Astarte took his host and rose to his feet with his purpose already known. The Envoy pitied the fallen soul, their bitter and warm memories flashing through his mind as he adjusted to his new body, but his master's bidding must be done. With his new host secured he began to travel to his destination, sensing more like him heading to the city of Latis.

Class & Gear:
Dualist

Trained to be nimble on his feet Arthur takes advantage of his speed and sharpened instincts to find and attack his enemy's weaknesses, preferring to rely on his footwork and stamina rather than pure strength. Together with his blade and magiarm skills Arthur has found a perfect balance between close quarters and ranged combat. With his strength being with his speed and reflexes he is unfortunately less durable than other frontline fighters, thus making him resort to hit and run tactics when facing larger opponents or groups of enemies.

Rapier and parrying Dagger:
His brother's old, and reliable steel rapier sword, used during his service in the Empire and engraved with the symbol of a falling star, the logo of his family's Inn. To his hip is a finely made steel dagger with a gold and black hilt.

Magiarms pistol :
A standard magiarm pistol was given to Arthur after he was deployed to No Mans Land. During his time on the battlefield an old comrade of his who specialized in magiarms tech helped tinker with his pistol, improving his accuracy while taking away some of the firepower behind his shots. Though he could still be considered an amateur with the weapon, Arthur has managed to at least learn a few things about it and how to keep it in good condition.

Light armor:
Weathered and worn, a mixture of leather and iron armor serves as Arthur's only defense against his enemy's attacks.

???
Yet to happen.

[Rune_Alchemist]

Welcome to the feast, do enjoy.

Orial

Name:
Orial Librin
Liora Brinil
Race:
Aasimar
Age:
24
Description:
Standing at height of 5'8, Liora dresses and typically carries herself in a way one wouldn't initially expect of her particular fighting style. Dressed more like a well to do noble with an adventurous streak, or perhaps one that spends many an hour on ships and the open sea. Silver colored hair neatly presented and combed back, eyes the color of deep blue, and a somewhat bored expression constantly worn.

Alignment:
Chaotic Neutral
Skills:

• Novice Weapon Mastery:
  Though her skill with melee weapons is far less than her others, its typically what she uses to engage with things first should conflict break out. She favors a sword, but she can at least use most melee weapons at a novice level, her impressive physical ability making up for a lack of skill. A bit of foreplay, as she says, to gauge ones skills and whether or not she should get invested in a fight.
• Martial Arts:
  The actual bread and butter of Liora's fighting skills - beating things to a bloody pulp with her arms and legs. Complemented with her more magical abilities strengthening her body with rage and sheer strength, she can be a fairly formidable close range fighter as she can both take a beating and dish one out.
• Divine Fury:
  While all Aasimar's supposedly trace their lineage back to Agamemnon, Liora herself seems to have inherited quite a lot of it. Enough that her divine heritage is made manifest by sheer willpower at the cost of throwing her into a violent rage that delights and revels in destruction. Channeling this magic through her body strengthens her physical form by making her both faster, stronger, and harder to kill. Typically has a tendency to make her forget how to use most melee weapons effectively aside from just being giant sticks of death to beat people with and maybe makes her have trouble distinguishing friend from foe occasionally.

Flaws:

• Cavalier Disinterest:
  Generally speaking, Liora hardly ever puts her full attention or focus on anything. Even during fights she treats most situations as some lighthearted game. This can make her quite...not fully effective most of the time unless she's doing something or fighting someone she finds 'interesting' in some manner. In effect, she's a battle nut that only likes pushing herself to the limit. On the flip side, she's rather cavalier with everyone...but perhaps, its just surface level because she generally finds most things -and people- boring.
• Debauchery Impulse:
  Being the envoy of Qhalus well, comes with certain proclivities. Hedonistic proclivities that may see one spending more time in brothels and getting absolutely shit-faced with high class wine. Well, she's fully embraced this side of her. Why work or care about others when one can simply let all of that go? Why worry or do get worked up over something? Over indulgence can be difficult, and she can often be swayed by someone showing her a good time. While perhaps, not an overly egregious personality flaw - it also has made her enjoy some...less than nice forms of pleasure-seeking. She's found inflicting pain on others and herself to give her a special brand of it. Can often be both found in brothels or anywhere a party could be. Rather merciless and sadistic in battle if she gets riled up.
• Hedonistic Motives:
  What does loyalty mean? Loyal to another? Friends? Family? To king and country? Well, simply put, if you asked her, she'd say herself above all else. While she doesn't seek to often intentionally cause trouble, she does follow the principle of leading both herself and others to various acts of debauchery and hedonism, whatever it may be. Even if said person commits acts of atrocity...if they enjoy it, then well, whose she to say otherwise? Why do something if you don't? Of course, this doesn't mean she won't help if there's a good reason too or lead people that actually truly enjoy doing good or helping astray. If she finds something would be amusing to do, she'd do it. Whether for ill, or bad. This can make her a bit of a wildcard sometimes, but generally she follows a single rule: Does it bring her any amount of satisfaction.
  
  This isn't to say she's not loyal to the Envoy's divine mission, she is, just don't expect her to be all that in a hurry to do so.
  
  Just do what you want. Let your emotions lead you.

Background:
Growing up in Brudel as the daughter of a noble house that had made much of its money in the sea-faring industry, well, the body the Envoy had taken over, has led quite the errant path to end up where she is today.

From an early age she was blessed with particularly strong, holy blood that caused her to fly into fits of madness and rage, often causing it to lash out at things around her should she become particularly agitated or emotional. It was said that perhaps, she was blessed by Midemis - though she would not have called it as such. As such, she was under strict supervision to attempt to 'contain' and 'control' this power from her early life from her parents and the clergy, seeing great potential in such power. Not to mention being confined to her room and being kept away from others to avoid incidents.

Still, her training continued as she continued to watch the parties, balls, and other things of the cities from the distance. Oh, how she wanted to go out and experience the world, life, and general, and get away from this stuffy nobility. At least she found some form of release and solace in her trainings. The tutors and parents had decided that exerting her powerful ability physically in some manner was the best way to contain it, or to give it direction so they began training her in both physical and martial might.

It was one of these training routines, where she nearly died and also nearly killed quite a number of servants. After that day, seven years ago...she ran away from home. She found herself on a ship, under cover, becoming a sailor on a pirate vessel. Perhaps drawn there by Midemis, perhaps for other reasons. That was her life up until a few weeks ago where the ship she was on was hit by bad weather, sinking into the ocean not far from Latis.

Its humorous, that an Envoy of Qhalus decided to then save her from a watery grave.

The Envoy chose her, even if she herself would have rather died then becoming the puppet of the gods, the envoy chose her. And so, soon, it would take Liora's body for its own.

Anger quenched by drink. Savagery suppressed by Lust. A brash and rough tongue turned silver and honeyed. While originally the Envoy certainly took over Liora's body, Midemis' blessings still ran strong within the host - and at times it seems as though the ego of the one formerly known as Liora potentially rages still creating some not so qhalus like qualities among its behavior occasionally.

Assuming an alias to shed the hosts past and fully embrace this role, it would then head to Latis where she would attempt to find her fellow envoys...well, if she happened to run into them while taking a moment to enjoy this new, mortal life it had.

Class & Gear:

• Class: Bloodrager
  Some people fight with skill, intelligence, and elegance. Many years of discipline and honing ones skill to a fine point and a deadly edge. Liora? Yeah, no, that sounds like a pain. She'd much rather rely on instinct and the strength of her body alone. Generally speaking, she's a physical bruiser with some divine blood to enhance her physical abilities and to perform some small magical feats instinctively. While she'll never be as skilled as a dedicated spell caster, her physical ability more than makes up for it. She can both give and take a beating, and should as she put it 'her switch gets flipped' well, you best be ready for the unfun kind of pounding, because her fists are going inside your intestines.
  
  Aside from enhancing her physical abilities, theoretically she should be able to instinctively use the magical blood in her veins for other things, but she's yet to quite reach that potential.
• Gear:
  Trusty Ornate Longsword:
  A rather lovely, elegant looking long sword. Surprisingly sturdy enough to not have broken in combat when she goes full cage match on a poor fool.
  Padded clothing:
  Fairly mundane, if somewhat expensive looking clothing. A few layers of padding have been added for protection, but generally they're just normal clothes. Easier to move around in, and who doesn't like getting a bit roughed up or losing their clothes in a fight? Bonus points if both parties do.
  Alcohol flasks:
  Did you expect anything less? Very strong stuff. Possibly illegally strong. If she's not busy getting it on with someone in a brothel, a party somewhere, or beating someone to a pulp for fun, she's probably some level of drunk.
  Sweets: She likes keeping various hard candies on her. She especially likes things that are sweet enough to kill, our sour enough too.

-???-

Something super special and secret?