[High-Casual] The Seven Elementos

[McHaggis]

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[Baklava]

@McHaggis Very good! Although I can't help but notice there wasn't very much mentioning of him discovering his powers. With him being 25 years old, he has had complete access to his first set of abilities for about 9 years now.

To everyone else, please do not feel rushed or shy about posting your character sheets here. The auditions have not officially started, so now is your chance to throw up a rough draft and ask any questions you may have.

[McHaggis]

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[Baklava]

@McHaggis I'll try to reword it so it's a little more clear, but yes. As soon as any one of them turned 17, they're powers kicked in. This is mainly to add some diversity of skill amongst the group. Obviously, the older the character the more experienced they are with their abilities and vice versa.

[Zombehs]

Jorak

Jorak Tenumbra

Element: Darkness

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Appearance: Built like a great oak, Jorak stands at 6’ even and seems to still have an inch or so left to grow. Though not overly muscular, he’s clearly trained to define his body from a young age. He’s been described as older than he looks thanks to his relatively sharp featured face; his blue-grey eyes have been described as harsh or steely at times. His auburn hair is surprisingly long, shoulder-length, though it’s kept out of his eyes by a purple headband.

His outfit consists of a short sleeved shirt, secured at the waist with a leather sash, long pants, and simple boots. Colors vary from dull green to faded brown, showing the clothes have been well-worn. His forearms are wrapped constantly in cloth, secured at the wrists by a pair of purple armbands. Of note is also the plain purple tabard he wears, its color still vibrant. Though not quite as useful as a cloak, it’s still heavy enough to provide some warmth and comfort. He's donned a thick travel cloak for the journey.

Dagger and hatchet hang from Jorak's belt, while quiver and unstrung bow are on his back.

Theme Song: Virus by Max Legend

Nature: A quiet but confident youth, Jorak isn’t the most individualistic person. Though quick-witted and observant, he still looks to his elders for guidance and orders given how he was raised. He can come up with a plan of action, but waits on those in charge to give the go-ahead first. Admirable and desired qualities for a young guard or soldier, but perhaps a bit crippling in what’s to come.

Tenacious to a fault, he has improved such that it could be called a virtue rather than vice. As long as the task is legitimate, Jorak will strive to see it through to the end. At the same time, he isn’t stubborn, so it’s easy enough to have him direct his efforts elsewhere. Naturally, he’ll express frustration and discontent if his efforts are for naught, but ultimately he follows directions.

He gets along well with most sorts given Jorak doesn’t really give others trouble and isn’t easily bothered. He respects both intelligence and actual deeds, understanding both are important in their own rights. Naturally leans towards those that are more brainy given it’s what he would consider his weakness.

Backstory: Lorcrove. A small town situated near the edge of a twisted forest covered in heavy mist at all times in the year. Twisted silhouettes stalk the treeline and occasionally venture forth to terrorize the population. Ghastly screeches and wails pierce the night sky every full moon, filling the sleep of many with night terrors. Why for all this do people still stay? During the day, when the sun shines bright and drives back the unsettling fog. The land is bountiful and harvests are rich. Brave men and women man the makeshift walls, built from the wood from the “cursed” forest itself.

Jorak’s father was one of the respected militiamen. A veteran of more than a fair share of battles and expeditions. By the time Jorak had been born he no longer manned the walls or patrolled as often. Age, but mostly old injures, had taken their toll and left him unfit for the strenuous nature of active duty. His father remained involved with the guard though as a trainer for new recruits. Thus, it was only in the evenings that Jorak saw his father. His mother managed to raise him while maintaining her profession as a baker.

From a young age, Jorak remembered the forest was never scary to him. He slept soundly through the nights of a full moon, and seemed to gaze at the shrouded treeline with interest and curiosity rather than fear. It wasn’t much later that he began to accompany his father to the training grounds. At first he simply watched the recruits drill and train, but in short order he had his own drills and training to fulfill. It was quite harsh, but he was a child and impressionable. That his father seemed genuinely happy and impressed that he followed through was enough for Jorak to continue and persevere.

At 14 Jorak finally understood what monsters plagued the town. Manned at the wall when a silhouette loomed at the edges of the treeline, the bell tolled an alarm for Lorcrove. As if set off by the booming noise, the creature swept out of the fog covered forest. Only it brought the fog with it, swirling around its body and hiding its appearance. As arrows were loosed, the projectiles disappeared within the shroud of fog that hid the creature. Only shrieks of pain that sent chills up his spine showed that the creature was harmed. What had to be dozens of arrows and the shrouded monster still put up a fight against the spears that met it at the gate. Yet fall it did and to his surprise, the fog drifted back to the forest and left nothing but clean arrows behind.

“They already see you clearly enough. These are so your comrades will never miss you, even if the fog descends upon the town.” With those words his father gifted him the purple-colored accessories Jorak still keeps to this day. Though he has stood guard on the walls many times, he is still too young to venture forth from the protection of the walls and towards the forest to strike back at the monsters that would prey on the townsfolk. With recent events, it seems unlikely that he will either.

Since his last birthday just a few days ago, his dreams have been unchanging and constant. Visions of a journey far south from home to a grand town where he would meet with others. A task that culminated at the castle where the root of evil had taken hold and spread far and wide. He tried to ignore it, but night after night it returned. It is not the only oddity either. When he jolted awake from the vivid dream… though it felt more than just that, Jorak found a pitch black dagger in his grip. He dropped it like some venomous snake and the weapon splattered against his bedsheets like ink on parchment. Well… if the ink moved like it was alive and disappeared into the shadows cast by the moonlight from his window.

Goal(s): Nothing grand at the moment and simply hopes to live up to his father’s expectations. Curious of the dreams he has had since his birthday and the strange abilities that seem to have come with it.

Inventory

• Short bow & Quiver (20 Broad heads)
• Hatchet
• Dagger
• Waterskin
• Belt Pouch (Bow strings, coins)
• Travel Pack (Extra clothes, fire starters, bundle of rope, rations; wooden bowl, spoon, and plate.)

[Baklava]

@Zombehs I'll review your CS a bit more closely on my next break.

I've put together some information about the different locations in Coake. It's not quite finished and a bit rough, but it will be complete (and fully proof-read) soon. Just wanted to throw up what I have so you guys can work with it so please forgive me of any spelling errors:

Frel

A wealthy city located on the eastern peninsula of Coake, Frel has always been most known for it's nonsensical frippery. Nowadays, the people of Frel have somehow found a way to maintain their pride and pomposity in light of the kingdom's tragic circumstances. They have also enjoyed the luxury of being far away from the Realm of Spiritus Raptor and were one of the first cities to surrender when the attack began. In the end, this saved many lives within Frel, but because of this, many harbor contempt for the 'City of Glitter'. That being said, Frel has never been known for it's sturdy military. Jousting tournaments and other such competitions are often held there, but jousting and amazing displays of athletic skill do not always translate so well into bravery and valor in the thick of a bloody war. Nonetheless, this is just a stigma. Of course, not everyone in Frel is like that and despite it's laughable reputation, it's a lovely place to visit (if one can afford) and the only place one can purchase artifacts from other far away kingdoms.

Diedremere

A small, humble village at the base of the mountains, Diedremere is inhabited mostly by farmers, hunters, and miners who make their living by selling their goods to Jeorva and Frel. There is not very much to be said about Diedremere nor the people that live there-- and that's just fine with them.

Inisad

A boggling frustration for many, the name of the island is Inisad, as well as the name of it's capital (if you could call a small stick hut village a capital). The islanders of Inisad seem almost like they're in a world of their own with strange customs and ways of speaking in spite of many past efforts to colonize and 'refine' their way of living. They pay homage to Laureleen, the Goddess of the Aisle who they claim is responsible for cleansing the waters that allow safe passage the mainland to the north, east, and west. They are a people with a deep love and respect for the land.

Jeorva

A wealthy trading town (though not nearly as wealthy as Frel). Jeorva is most known for it's college, sculpting some of the brightest minds in Coake. Jeorva, being located on the trade route to Frel, has always acted as the last stop for many traveling merchants delivering their wares.

Jeorvo

The brother town of Jeorva. The story goes that two wealthy twins set off to seek their fortunes hundreds of years ago and decided to make a competition out of who could found the greatest town. Jeorvo came out as the butt of that joke. Jeorvo is a wealthy fishing town, but instead of cultivating a happy, balanced economy, the wealthy are ridiculously wealthy and the poor are ridiculously poor. The war only made matters worse as the wealthy fled to Frel with their riches and wagons for safety-- leaving the peasants to fend for themselves. Many peasants live in indenturement to the wealthy citizens of the town. The crime rate is also deplorably high.

Periset

A desert fortress inhabited by a sturdy people who are well adapted to the harsh climate in which they live. (more information to come, but for now... think Gerudo Fortress with an equal balance of males and females)

Vevian

Once known for it's magnificent church and for being the starting point of all pilgrimages up into the Wisdom Mountains, Vevian is now a broken city. It sits precariously close to the Realm of Spiritus Raptor and is plagued by frequent visits from orcs and goblins from the sorcerer and sorceress' army. They steal, murder, and rape and the citizens of the town suffer a great deal because of it. Many have tried to leave, but the safe passages through the mountains are all guarded by military outposts occupied with soldiers who would just as soon play a game of darts with their corpses than allow them safe passage. Those who try to avoid the outposts are often rumored to fall victim to the monsters of the mountain.

Xaviar

Once known as the Pearl of King Antony's kingdom, Xaviar's sturdy walls withstood the onslaught of attacks from the evil sorcerer and sorceress during the war-- but, alas-- the inhabitants did not. It is now a haunting place with tall castle walls scorched with dragon fire and the silhouettes of dead of men. Bones and blood litter the grounds. It is the ultimate symbol of how utterly defeated the kingdom of man had been. The few survivors from Xavier escaped to Vevian. Some were rumored to have escaped to the Desert of the Lost, but it is believed that those refugees perished before they ever reached Periset.

The Crimson Sea

Also known as The Shortcut to Death, the Crimson Sea is overflowing with sea monsters of every variety. It envelopes the entire south eastern quadrant, settling just south of Inisad. Not even the sorcerer or sorceress, nor their armies, would dare cross it. (This will be added to the map with the creation of the OOC)

The Wisdom Mountains

Before the war, monks often began their pilgrimage in Vevian, traveling up into the mountains and meditating at the monastery beside the small lake. Very few still make the journey, as they have to get past the military outposts that now obstruct the safe passages up into the mountains. Without the safety of the path, many travelers risk encountering dangerous beasts. Exactly what kind of beasts inhabit the mountains remains a mystery. Very few who encounter such monsters live to tell the tale and survivors are rarely sane.

The Desert of the Lost

The Desert of No Return, the Desert of Death, the Desert of Bones-- it is known by many names throughout Coake, but there one thing about the desert that all citizens of Coake are in agreement about. One does not venture into that desert unless one wants to die.

The Realm of Spiritus Raptor

(More information to come...)

[Captain Jenno]

Name: Aster Tenesilia

Element: Darkness

Age: 17

Race: Why, a filthy, filthy human, of course!

Gender: Male

Appearance: Aster is a fledgling of a man, on the cusp of maturity but not quite there yet. He has features that might one day cut a heroic figure, like a head of flowing red hair, and eyes that are like demantoids set in the terracotta of his lightly tanned skin. But for now, they are mismatched, clumsy. His hair is a mess of knotted red waves and curls, an unkempt mane which curtains his face unevenly. His features, though dark, are littered with even darker freckles, and his eyes seem wide and naive, disarmingly bright and innocent. He stands at 5'9", with narrow shoulders, and a build so willowy he looks almost as though the size of his hair could cost him his balance.
He smiles crookedly, not maliciously but always with a bewildered awe about the world at large.

When it comes to dressing himself, Aster has simple tastes. A light green jerkin, worn partly open over a white ruffled shirt, and a pair of loose-fitting, baggy black pants, tucked into his tall leather boots. The outfit is tailored to be very light, and very easy to replace, as fleet feet make for quick defeats or hasty retreats. Over his shoulder, he carries a small messenger back, which he tries to keep packed light.
Still, what is a teenager without his bizarre aesthetics? He also wears a long, forest-green scarf, tied so as to hang with twin-tails in his wake. He carries no obvious weapons on his person, and casts a conspicuously long shadow for somebody of an average height.

Theme Song:

Nature: Aster is almost relentlessly outgoing, gregarious and insatiably curious. There isn't a tree he doesn't want to climb, a subject he doesn't want to study, or a battle he won't charge into with the utmost fervor. He has a zest for life, and an unending desire to experience the new and the bizarre. For a boy entrusted with the power of darkness, he is of a perpetually sunny disposition.

Backstory: What is there to tell, in times as dire as this? Aster comes from simple beginnings, a modest lineage. He grew up in a small agricultural village not far North-West of Vevian, an overgrown hamlet called Thalassavra, as the son of a suffering dairy farmer father. He was one of five siblings, the youngest of four brothers and their leader, a sister.
In most ways, his upbringing was unspectacular. It was a dreary existence of rising early to repair, unquestioningly, the damage marauding goblins had done the night before. Tending to the crops, tending to the cows. The sun would rise, the sun would set. Life was dull and routine.

Except, when Aster was designated the 'chore' of attending to his grandfather for the day.
The Tenesilia children were on a regularly shifting rotor of jobs, and twice a fortnight it fell on Aster to assist his aging grandfather in day-to-day tasks. To his older siblings, this was a task: for Aster, it was escapism.
Because Aster's grandfather had been alive before the evil duo who plagued their land had staked their claim, and he remembered- just barely- what it was to live in freedom.

And it was on those sparse days that Aster was assigned to him that his grandfather told him of these forgotten wonders, and ignited his imagination.
"Imagine," he would say, gesturing with a quivering finger towards Vevian, "The old church spire, so tall and well maintained you could admire it from here."
"Imagine," he would insist, "A time when our soil was rich, and people had nothing to fear, walking after sunset."
"Imagine."

And in Aster, the spark of exploration was born.
He began to travel, if his father felt lenient enough to spare him his chores, to the town of Vevian. There, goblins and orcs ran even more rampant than they did at his humble, countryside village: but he kept his head down long enough to buy books written in and about the old world. They were all about chivalrous knights whose daring overcame villains, and the great merriment they left in their wake.
He got to eat food that wasn't certified farmland gruel, and meet people of different shapes, sizes, crafts.
But everything Aster learned just made him hungry for more.
He should have been warier than he was. He'd read so much on life in the old world, he'd never studied how to thrive in the new one.

It was sometime in the early Winter, when he received is vision beckoning him to the North, away from the heartlands of evil. The early morn of his seventeenth birthday.
If only he'd had the common sense to keep it to himself, to disappear into the night. Instead, he went on another excursion to Vevian, looking to spend his meager birthday money on the materials for a new winter scarf, and he foolishly let his hunger for knowledge lead him astray. It had been a small crime, at first: asking a local bookshop owner he'd developed a small rapport with about Jeorva, casually. As though he were just genuinely curious, when in actuality he was scouting out his destination.
But the questions just got bigger, and word spread fast. Vevian had once been a city of holy men, but now it was at the mercy of beasts: and they did as they liked.

It was that evening, as he made his way unsuspectingly home that Aster had his first, face-to-face run-in with a troupe of goblins. True, he'd known them to attack Thalassavra some nights. Spook the cows, break the fences, steal a chicken or two, then move onto their neighbours.
But he'd never dreamed he'd have to fight them up close. He was unarmed, and too weedy to come out swinging.
In the country, there might be nobody to hear you screaming for miles around. And in Coake, even if somebody did hear you, they might know better than to interfere.
Dragged off-road, Aster clutched for anything and everything. He tore clumps of grass from the ground, trying to gain some leverage against his foursome of attackers. He snatched at rocks, and failed to reach for passing tree branches. Soon, he could think of nothing but to reach hopelessly out to the night and pray somebody, anybody would heed his calls for help.

But when he reached out... he felt something.

That was the first time Aster tapped into his inherent power, the one no doubt linked deeply to his visions. The eve of his seventeenth birthday, Aster seized for the night, and the night delivered: a saber, ethereal and yet, in his grip, solid. Unyielding.
This same saber would be his favoured arm, from that night on.
Dispatching the goblins took very little in the way of herosim: waving his sword around and cutting one of their shoulders deeply was enough to make them scarper, given the smaller monsters of Vevian were undisciplined, unused to resistance.
Aster didn't wait around to see if they came back, with the frequenting army in tow.

He ran home faster than he'd ever run before, but it wasn't fear brewing in his bosom, it was excitement.
A small dose of his power, and he already felt like one of the old heroes in his grandfather's stories. His parents, however, were less enthused.
At first, they resented the idea that he should leave the farm. But they were also wary of his new-found ability, and the risks it carried for the rest of the Tenesilia clan. Very soon, they resented the idea that he should stay.

And so, Aster became a consenting outcast. His last act as part of the Tenesilia clan was to make himself a scarf, forest green to remind him of his rural homeland, and say farewell to his grandfather.
"I'm headed to Jeorva, grandpa. I'm going to see the world!", he'd said.
To which his grandfather had only replied, "Imagine..."

He set off, that night. On a journey his family said was perilous, hopeless... with his newfound weapon at hand.

Goal(s): To become a worldly hero! To see and experience all of life's sights and sounds, and temper his powers for old-world justice.

Inventory:

• One forest green scarf
• An armoury, stored in his shadow
• A waterskin slung from his belt
• A small journal and a small collection of pens
• A messenger bag, in which his journal and bare necessities are stored.

[Venku]

This looks awesome I'll try for wind I'll have my CS up by this time tomorrow if nothing comes up.

[Baklava]

Since I'm now at 12 people, I'll be creating the OOC soon. Most likely tomorrow or Friday.

[Sodium]

I've gone with a somewhat different approach to my character's audition. He's auditioning for both the Animals/Plants and the Earth/Stone elementos. No, I don't want him to have both; I intend for him to end up with one that conflicts least with the other auditions and/or that you find most fitting of him. Text in lime indicates something reliant on the elementos he is chose for.

Without further ado, I present to you Sir Isaac Dorovich.

Sir Isaac

Name: Sir Isaac Dorovich

Element: Animals/Plants OR Earth/Stone

Age: 23

Race: Human, with a bit of human blood mixed in on his mother's side. Some call him a snake.

Gender: Male

Appearance: As a man from the higher classes of the world, Sir Isaac carries himself with pride, standing at his full height of 6'2" with no slouch in his posture. His wavy, prematurely greyed hair is kept neat yet long, with the bangs kept to the sides to frame his facial features. His paler-than-normal complexion emphasize his piercing golden eyes, which reflect his lust for power and wealth. His dainty, pointed nose and thin lips belie his noble heritage.

Also speaking of his noble heritage are his clothes. Sewn of fine silks and linings by one of the finest tailors in Coake, the dark colors of his outfit contrast beautifully with his skin and hair. His coat is decorated with golden lining and embroidery, removing any doubt of Isaac's supposed standing among the classes of Coake. The dark grey silken robe worn beneath that merely serves to hide whether he is wearing the muffled chainmail he uses for protection on excursions. Finally, his black trousers are tucked neatly into his tall and tough black leather boots, which are lined with golden silks themselves.
Feature changes if Animals/Plants: Eyes are snakelike - vertically slitted and solid gold elsewhere.

Picture

Theme Song: youtube.com/watch?v=zUJPBw9TV8Q

Nature: Sir Isaac is every bit the shrewd businessman that a black market salesman needs to be. He is known throughout the "underworld" for his reliability and skill. He has a rebellious streak, which is what led him to his current profession. Some may find his matter-of-fact, all-business manner when working to be cold or even abrasive, though to him he's merely being "detached". Those who have gotten onto his bad side find he is quick to take up his trusty lance. However...

A few mannerisms remain from the days of his high-class upbringing. He conducts himself with an air of elegance that makes him stand out from those outside the inner district. Those lucky enough to be on good terms with him find he's quite the pacifist, as he frequently moans about times he is forced to use force. So long as he's given the respect he believes he deserves, he is happy to return the favor.

Backstory:
Sir Isaac was born to a wealthy noble family in the city of Jeorvo. His family spared no expense in his education, sending him to the college in Jeorva as soon as he was old enough to attend. There he learned a great many truths of the world, though none were as valuable in his mind as those he learned in alchemical classes. Something just seemed to click for him, and both he and his teachers were startled by his aptitude for the subject. The professors were certain that Isaac had a bright future ahead of him.

However, the future was not so kind. During Sir Isaac's fourteenth year of life, disaster struck the Dorovich clan. Like the other wealthy families of Jeorvo, Sir Isaac's parents decided to move the family's home from Jeorvo to Frel while Sir Isaac studied at college. During the journey, they were accosted by a group bandits that quickly disposed of the hired bodyguards and Sir Isaac's parents, then looted their fortune from the caravan. When Sir Isaac received the news, he was stricken; his whole life had been shattered in a nightmare of brutality. His professors offered to let him study for a year free, but Sir Isaac chose to head home and see what he could salvage of his family's wealth.

When he arrived in his home he found it being burglarized. Isaac, then a man of pure scholarship, had no way to defend himself from their blades nor stop them from taking what they wanted. Thus, he uttered four words that changed his life forever: "Let me join you." The group, surprised, took him in when he told his story. It turned out that the group was part of a crime syndicate which ran a sort of black market in the city, procuring valuables and contraband for their clients. They taught him the ins and outs of the job from the ground up, taking him with them as they stole everything from jewels to rare animal eggs. At age 16 the merchant he procured goods for began to teach him the skills needed for fencing them on the black market proper, such as finding clients, setting up trade locations, and negotiation tactics.

When Sir Isaac turned 17, he awoke to his power. General details in the hiders below. A more specific explanation will be added when Sir Isaac's elementos power is determined.

Animals/Plants

Sir Isaac uses animals to help forage for alchemical materials, beginning his alchemical business as a front to his black market shop. He also uses it to help procure rare "pets" for clients.

Earth/Stone

Sir Isaac shifts the earth to create tunnels for the black market, and to enter unsuspecting basements without a trace. He also finds success panning for precious metals, both for alchemy and sale to jewelers.

By age 21, Sir Isaac had a business in the black market, handling both the procurement and sale of goods himself. He had built a strong name for himself with his service guarantee and results. Only one of his orders ever went unfulfilled, and that due to special circumstances. A client approached him and requested a peculiar stone and a number of research journals find their way out of the possession of an old man deep in the third district and into the client's hands. Sir Isaac agreed (after more than doubling the client's price) and began his work as normal.

In the old man's home, things quickly became paranormal. The old man was bedridden when Sir Isaac arrived and held the stone in his hands. After a short conversation, the man requested that Sir Isaac destroy the stone and protect the research from thieves, not realizing why Sir Isaac had visited, then promptly died of old age. Upon reading the research, Sir Isaac decided that it would be far more valuable to do as the man had requested, destroying the stone and keeping the research. He justified the action through his client's mistake: the client attempted to short-change Sir Isaac, resulting in the black market itself voiding the transaction and silencing the client.

Contained within the journals was a plethora of information on alchemy. The knowledge contained in the pages was far beyond anything he'd learned at the college in Jeorva. By incorporating them into his alchemical front business, he began to turn enough profit to lessen his black market dealings. He does, however, maintain a positive and mutually beneficial relationship with the black market that spared his life and helped him find his new calling: to rebuild his family's greatness.

Goal(s): As a former member of the nobility, Sir Isaac seeks only to find his way back into the upper echelons of society. He intends to reach this end by whatever means he finds necessary, up to and including dethroning a king or two. Of course, as a businessman, he would greatly prefer negotiation over the use of force.
Inventory:

• Alchemical Supplies
  
  • Mortar and Pestle
  • Glass Jars w/ Labels
  • Apron, Gloves, and Eye Shield
  • A small supply of alchemical ingredients
  • Tinderbox
  • Research Journals
• Lance (Bei)
• Muffled Chainmail
• An assortment of pre-prepared poisons and antidotes

[Scrapula]

Decided against making a fire guy for now. I've made a strong, physical character with a heart of gold and a desire to live life to the fullest, instead!

Leon Alabaster

Name: Leon Alabaster

Element: Light/Teleportation

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Appearance: Leon's toned muscles and uniformly-tanned skin belie his exceptionally violent past. He stands tall at around 6'5'', and has brown, curly hair. Leon generally wears non-restrictive clothing, but will not hesitate to wear heavy armor for protection's sake. Leon enjoys wearing nothing but his loincloth and, on colder days, a toga.

Theme Song: This is NOT optional.

Nature: Leon is a warrior with a fiery-hot heart. While he assumes the worst in nearly everyone, he holds a soft spot in his heart for the unfortunate. To anyone who reminds him of his past, Leon will gladly lay down his life for them. When infuriated or stirred to move, Leon strikes with unnecessary force and nothing else. When relaxed, Leon is a heavy drinker and a hard joker. If compelled to heal or defend anyone, Leon acts with the utmost professionalism, and lashes out at any distractions.

Backstory: Born on the streets of the great city of Periset, Leon never knew his father. His mother, a born slave, had very little time to care for him, forcing Leon to grow up by his own experiences.

At the ripe old age of thirty-two, Leon's mother had finally figured out how to free herself from slavery: marrying her master. Their marriage was, as a matter of fact, enjoyed by both parties, and Leon's mother had earned a luxurious life on her own merit. Unfortunately, the conditions for their marriage required that she disown Leon, a condition that she gladly accepted. Homeless at the age of twelve, Leon was forced out on the street. It was by sheer chance that, two weeks after this unexpected eviction, Leon was picked up by the owner of the Periset Fight Pits.

A combination between a theater and a penal system, the Fight Pits were the most popular community-operated source of justice in the city. It wasn't by any stretch supported by the city's authorities, but was widely endorsed by the city's lower-class. Though Leon didn't know it yet, he had been selected as one of the Fight Pits' newest gladiators. Leon was trained by the Fight Pits' premier coaches, an orc by the name of Branwen Malog. Branwen treated Leon like his own son, and did his damnedest to prepare Leon for the grim career ahead of him, which Leon tucked into with ignorant gusto.

At the age of 16, Leon was billed for his first fight. Branwen brimmed with pride as Leon crushed the life out of a condemned man with practiced ease. Leon's rugged good looks and phenomenal strength drove the crowd wild, and made Branwen and his colleague's very wealthy. Leon very quickly became the Fight Pits' most popular player, and found his calling in life.

Though the gladiator's life is filled with prizes, fitness, and popularity, it wasn't enough for Leon. Day after day, and fight after fight, Leon gradually began realizing something: he didn't want to spend the rest of his in the fight pits. The thrill of death had lost both its sting and its charm, and now was merely a chilling numbness spreading across his soul.

Branwen was unusually supportive of Leon's concerns. It was, after all, the very same reason why he was a coach instead of a fighter. In between matches, Branwen taught Leon the basic healing and teaching skills that were the craftsman's mark of the Fight Pits' greatest members. Over the course of several years, Leon learned how to apply his own awakening healing powers to his practical knowledge, and shortly rose to the illustrious position as Pit-Dog Coach. Now, Leon was in the same position as Branwen was. Yet he was still unsatisfied.

Leon began getting visions of an unknown city that he needed to reach, filling Leon with aimless determination. Slowly but surely, a mission and a destination formed in his mind's eye: Jeorva. The temptation grew too much for him to bear, and Leon felt himself unable to resist the temptation to simply leave Periset and fulfill his mission. Leon retired amicably, to the knowing appreciation of Branwen, and bought a spot on the nearest caravan out to Jeorva. As the caravan slowly made its way across the desert sands, Leon thought to the future. What awaited him in Jeorva? Would he be able to earn a living away from an endless cycle of murdering others for the amusement of the crowd? Only time would tell.

Goal(s): Leon hopes to find a safe, comfortable job that allows him to actually help people for a change. Failing that, he hopes to build a reputation bloody enough to discourage others from trying to attack him. With a dangerous combination of healing magic and obscene physical strength, Leon feels he has an excellent head start on both of these goals.

Inventory:

• A large leather satchel.
• Eight torches, dipped in pitch.
• A well-maintained bronze gladius.
• Two heavily-used caestūs, worn only in combat.
• Five days' rations.
• Twenty gold coins.
• A brass necklace, a gift from the Fight Pits' crier.
• A bar of lye soap and a dirt-scraping brush.
• A small container of cheap wine, brewed by Branwen himself.

[Zombehs]

@ScrapulaJust pointing out that from how the OP reads, the visions are only sent out after the last of the seven has turned 17. Might be mistaken though.

After patiently biding their time until each of the chosen humans had been born and passed age 17 (at which time their powers will awaken), the elves sent visions to each human using magic.

@Baklava

[Scrapula]

@ScrapulaJust pointing out that from how the OP reads, the visions are only sent out after the last of the seven has turned 17. Might be mistaken though.

<Snipped quote by Baklava>

@Zombehs

Ah! I misread that, then! I'll have to wait until we can confirm a character who's 17-years-old before I can change the backstory, though. Depending on how recently they turned, it'll be a big difference on how much time our characters have to understand their powers!

[Sodium]

@Scrapula @Zombehs
The visions of the city come after the youngest turns 17, while the powers come to each individually when the person themself turns 17.

@McHaggis I'll try to reword it so it's a little more clear, but yes. As soon as any one of them turned 17, they're powers kicked in. This is mainly to add some diversity of skill amongst the group. Obviously, the older the character the more experienced they are with their abilities and vice versa.

@Baklava

[Crazy Doctor]

@Baklava Is this still open to join? Coz if so then i will post a CS as soon as possible!

[NanoFreakV2]

I know I said I'd get a CS up by friday, but I've decided to not join this RP as I feel I might be over-committing if I do. I hope everyone else in this RP will have a great time ! Nano out!

[Baklava]

@Crazy Doctor Seeing as I haven't said anything about closing the RP, imma gonna say yeah, it's still open.

@NanoFreakV2 No worries, dude. I appreciate the honesty! Best of luck to you!

To everyone else-- yes. The visions are sent out to everyone once the youngest elementos has turned 17.

[Venku]

I'm gonna have to say the same as nano I'm not sure if I will be able to keep up with this if I were to join so to avoid that possibility I'm going to have to withdraw my interest.

[Undine]

.

[Crazy Doctor]

@Baklava Awesome Sauce, will put a CS up soon.