Inertia

The Curse of Sonina

If the GM approves, I'd be down to do a character relations sheet (that's optional), might be good for initial impressions before the rp gets started and it'll help with interactions.

The Curse of Sonina

Jason Pierce

【 NAME 】
Jason Pierce

【 AGE 】
21

【 GENDER】
Male

【 SEXUAL ORIENTATION 】
Demisexual

【 OCCUPATION 】
Student at a nearby university - Engineering Major

【 PERSONALITY 】
♦ Kind ♦ Headstrong ♦ Perseverance ♦ Withdrawn ♦ Empathetic ♦ Unforgiving

Jason is not one to back down from confrontation. When he makes up his mind, it is very difficult to get him to change it; usually butting heads with others who do. Aside from that he keeps to himself, leaving others alone as long as they don't bother him. This has earned him the reputation of being aloof and 'hard to talk to' amongst his peers. Most of the time he's alone, not that he makes an effort to change it, finding solace in loneliness.

Though it's rare, there are embers of kindness that shine through. Despite usually being avoided, he helps others out if they ask for it, even if the 'ask' is a pain. Even sometimes going out of his way to do so. When asked about this he usually says something along the lines of helping out when you can.

In spite of this, he still was labeled a delinquent. Though he himself doesn't look for trouble it somehow, almost always, gravitates towards him. The rumour stem from the the time he came to class covered in gauze and bruises. Said rumour has spread and morphed into something drastically different from the truth. He really didn't care to correct them, partly due to indifference and partly due to no one bothering to ask him what actually happened.

Finally, Jason is very persistent. Despite not being the most studious around, landing a bit below average school rankings, he worked his way up. Many hours were spent on his desk at home, just pouring over the notes continuously until he understood. His ranking climbed steadily from one exam to the next, eventually landing him within the top 15 of the school rankings. Due to this many of his peers believe him to be somehow cheating or threatening his way to the top, when it couldn't be further from the truth.

【 SKILLS 】
. Tinkering
. Studying
. Brawling
. Cooking
. Free-Running

【 PARANORMAL EXPERIENCE 】
Jason was on his way to the library to do some late-night research for his project. The air felt inhospitably cold and foreboding that night. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him as he eyed the dark treeline. He chalked it up to his anxiety shooting through the roof due to the project deadline.

The sidewalk lamps began erratically flickering, with each flicker lasting longer than the last. Suddenly he felt something hard 'grab' at his shoulder, the force almost yanking him off his feet. He turned and found nothing there but he definitely felt something having a death grip on his shoulder. His face scrunched in pain as he tried to shake off whatever was pulling him but it didn't work. A black cat jumped out of the hedges, it was the the cat he saved- furball. She hissed, with a previously unseen ferocity, at the empty air behind him. The grip became lax and with a hard shake managed to break free from it. Without a second thought he scooped up the still angry cat and sprinted in the direction of his house.

The rest of the night was a blur but he eventually woke up in his bed. He thought it a silly, vivid nightmare until he found furball was asleep next to him. That and the fact that he had a purple, grip-like bruise on his right shoulder.

【 BIOGRAPHY 】
Since his teenage years he found it fruitless to make friends. His parents frequently moved from country to country, jumping from one job to another. The friends he made in one school were forgotten by the third school. He realized quick that he'd rather save himself the heart-ache and avoided forming close relationships. This caused him to stand out, especially during his teenage years, as the 'loner'. He always stood up for himself, even getting into a few fights here and there when neither side wouldn't back down. Almost every school he attended, had the same type of group who would try and pick on him. Almost every time they would be the ones on the floor. The punishments didn't matter much as he would usually already be moving away.

It wasn't until he had received a scholarship from a Russian university that he would be able to stay in one place. His parents were elated, they let him use a vacation home their grandparents owned in Russia. Despite the opportunity of once again being able to form stable relationships, he opted out of doing so. The years of being by himself were bittersweet and he didn't mind being by his lonesome. Of course he would make a few acquaintances or loose friends here and there in the university. Luckily in this university most of his peers opted to leave him alone or just ask him for the odd favour or two.

His infamous reputation began when walking home on a rainy day. A group of young adults were chuckling among themselves. On closer inspection they were punting a small kitten around. The soft, terrified mews of the kitten spurred him into action. Without hesitation he began yelling at them. They laughed and spat at him and before he knew it he had retracted his umbrella and was getting ready for another fight. The brawl didn't take long, before they knew it they were sprawled across the wet concrete floor. Though he suffered a few bruises and cuts, it wasn't much. He sat on one of the delinquents that spat on him as he checked the kitten for injuries.

He took the kitten home and nursed it back to health. After a few weeks he set the cat back outside. It now frequently visits him at his doorstep, begging for food or cuddles. Jason indulged the little furball as much as he could.

The Curse of Sonina

Here's my CS, do tell me if you find any issues that I can append/change.

Jason Pierce

【 NAME 】
Jason Pierce

【 AGE 】
21

【 GENDER】
Male

【 SEXUAL ORIENTATION 】
Demisexual

【 OCCUPATION 】
Student at a nearby university - Engineering Major

【 PERSONALITY 】
♦ Kind ♦ Headstrong ♦ Perseverance ♦ Withdrawn ♦ Empathetic ♦ Unforgiving

Jason is not one to back down from confrontation. When he makes up his mind, it is very difficult to get him to change it; usually butting heads with others who do. Aside from that he keeps to himself, leaving others alone as long as they don't bother him. This has earned him the reputation of being aloof and 'hard to talk to' amongst his peers. Most of the time he's alone, not that he makes an effort to change it, finding solace in loneliness.

Though it's rare, there are embers of kindness that shine through. Despite usually being avoided, he helps others out if they ask for it, even if the 'ask' is a pain. Even sometimes going out of his way to do so. When asked about this he usually says something along the lines of helping out when you can.

In spite of this, he still was labeled a delinquent. Though he himself doesn't look for trouble it somehow, almost always, gravitates towards him. The rumour stem from the the time he came to class covered in gauze and bruises. Said rumour has spread and morphed into something drastically different from the truth. He really didn't care to correct them, partly due to indifference and partly due to no one bothering to ask him what actually happened.

Finally, Jason is very persistent. Despite not being the most studious around, landing a bit below average school rankings, he worked his way up. Many hours were spent on his desk at home, just pouring over the notes continuously until he understood. His ranking climbed steadily from one exam to the next, eventually landing him within the top 15 of the school rankings. Due to this many of his peers believe him to be somehow cheating or threatening his way to the top, when it couldn't be further from the truth.

【 SKILLS 】
. Tinkering
. Studying
. Brawling
. Cooking
. Free-Running

【 PARANORMAL EXPERIENCE 】
Jason was on his way to the library to do some late-night research for his project. The air felt inhospitably cold and foreboding that night. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him as he eyed the dark treeline. He chalked it up to his anxiety shooting through the roof due to the project deadline.

The sidewalk lamps began erratically flickering, with each flicker lasting longer than the last. Suddenly he felt something hard 'grab' at his shoulder, the force almost yanking him off his feet. He turned and found nothing there but he definitely felt something having a death grip on his shoulder. His face scrunched in pain as he tried to shake off whatever was pulling him but it didn't work. A black cat jumped out of the hedges, it was the the cat he saved- furball. She hissed, with a previously unseen ferocity, at the empty air behind him. The grip became lax and with a hard shake managed to break free from it. Without a second thought he scooped up the still angry cat and sprinted in the direction of his house.

The rest of the night was a blur but he eventually woke up in his bed. He thought it a silly, vivid nightmare until he found furball was asleep next to him. That and the fact that he had a purple, grip-like bruise on his right shoulder.

【 BIOGRAPHY 】
Since his teenage years he found it fruitless to make friends. His parents frequently moved from country to country, jumping from one job to another. The friends he made in one school were forgotten by the third school. He realized quick that he'd rather save himself the heart-ache and avoided forming close relationships. This caused him to stand out, especially during his teenage years, as the 'loner'. He always stood up for himself, even getting into a few fights here and there when neither side wouldn't back down. Almost every school he attended, had the same type of group who would try and pick on him. Almost every time they would be the ones on the floor. The punishments didn't matter much as he would usually already be moving away.

It wasn't until he had received a scholarship from a Russian university that he would be able to stay in one place. His parents were elated, they let him use a vacation home their grandparents owned in Russia. Despite the opportunity of once again being able to form stable relationships, he opted out of doing so. The years of being by himself were bittersweet and he didn't mind being by his lonesome. Of course he would make a few acquaintances or loose friends here and there in the university. Luckily in this university most of his peers opted to leave him alone or just ask him for the odd favour or two.

His infamous reputation began when walking home on a rainy day. A group of young adults were chuckling among themselves. On closer inspection they were punting a small kitten around. The soft, terrified mews of the kitten spurred him into action. Without hesitation he began yelling at them. They laughed and spat at him and before he knew it he had retracted his umbrella and was getting ready for another fight. The brawl didn't take long, before they knew it they were sprawled across the wet concrete floor. Though he suffered a few bruises and cuts, it wasn't much. He sat on one of the delinquents that spat on him as he checked the kitten for injuries.

He took the kitten home and nursed it back to health. After a few weeks he set the cat back outside. It now frequently visits him at his doorstep, begging for food or cuddles. Jason indulged the little furball as much as he could.

The Curse of Sonina

Ooh, colour me interested.

[HIGH CASUAL] ► Her Majesty's Spirit

A few days prior...

Alovian Training Yard

---

^{August 25th, Dawn | Sparring partners, Jacques Wymark}

An ashen-haired man stood in a courtyard in the early morning, gripped with a wooden sword. The knight was besieged by men on all three sides. The three men bore down on Niavak, waiting for an opening or movement. A chirping bird broke the still silence causing one of the three men to momentarily lose focus. Noticing this lapse in concentration, Niavak let out a breath and dashed at blinding speeds towards him. The man managed to bring his sword up to defend but his posture and balance were off. His weapon flew off his hands with a quick upward diagonal slash. Without pause the disarmed man punched in a wide, horizontal arc. Niavak deftly dodged the swing with a leg sweep, the man's face thud into the sandy soil.

The other two blinked for a moment, stunned. This was, however, brief, as they both leaped on their feet and attacked him from opposite sides. Niavak commended the duo internally, they still had kept their composure and attacked as a team. The knight also knew that being surrounded was the worst case scenario for a fight and as such he retreated in a way that kept both of them in his sight. He noticed that both men had their eyes directly on his sword. He played an obvious feint, a heavily telegraphed, high downward slash. The arc of the slash was interrupted by him abruptly letting go of the weapon. The men infront of Niavak were stunned, their heads followed the arc of the falling weapon. He delivered a swift kick to the man on his right, causing him to fall over and tumble back. While the other one was stumbling, he slithered around the man and put him in an neck-lock. It took a few moments before the man tapped the dirt, signalling his surrender.

The last man standing had regained his stance. Niavak stood up and grabbed his wooden weapon and stared at the man. His stance, while good and leaving little openings, highlighted his inexperience in dueling. It was too rigid. He also noticed that the man's hands were shaking. Deciding to prod the young man, he slashed horizontally but stopped it mid-way. The man quickly held his sword up to defend but only found air. Niavak wasn't doing it to anger the man, it was to prod him, but it incensed the him. The man charged at him, striking with noteworthy speed and strength. However these strikes were easily blocked or parried to the side. He stayed on defense, he ignored the feints and pushed aside the strikes. The man would now gamble, he began a left, horizontal swing only to feint and transform it into a right, horizontal swing. Niavak pushed the swing upwards and kicked his foot that supported his weight. The man fell on his ass, Niavak's wooden sword trained on his neck. He held his arm up in mock surrender.

With a long sigh, Niavak's face loosened up and a smile crept on his face. His battle-demeanor beginning to dissipate. He wiped the sweat off his face and held his hand out to the fallen man.

"You are terrifying, Wymark." The man said, accepting the hand. He dusted the dirt off his clothes before he continued. "This is the first time I've trained with you, but I'm not sure if I'd do it again."

The other two men joined his sentiments. Niavak could only scratch his cheek in shyness. "You three were good! I really had to improvise when you had surrounded me, any mistake on my part would have been my end." He said, taking a sip of water from a leather bottle. "If I had to say much, you, Eliot, should've control your emotions. It's easier to strike down an angered man."

The three men could only listen to him and nod. Eliot looked away when he was mentioned but begrudgingly agreed. An older man's laugh could be heard, the man looked like Niavak but older and with a cane. The three men bowed towards him and Niavak could only grin. "Father, what brings you here?"

"I came to observe my favorite son." Jacques Wymark said, resting on his cane. His eyes swam between the three men "... and as I suspected, you didn't hold back against these trainees at all."

"I'd be surprised if I wasn't your favorite son. Since I'm your only son, right?" Niavak chuckled, helping his father down the steps. "You three, take a break."

The three men dispersed and went their own directions.

"I can only assume you're here to talk about the super-secret party I've been recruited to." He said, as he was set to travel to Thelan in a day.

"As expected o' the ever astute 'Pale Knight'." His father said, mockingly sheathing his cane into an imaginary hilt.

"Ugh that nickname. It's because of this white hair and complexion." He said, gesturing towards his hair. He simply followed his father's antics. "If you think about it, this is your fault father."

His father laughed boisterously for a moment. His face turned serious with his following words. "I have only one question that I'll ask. Are you nervous?"

"Of course I am!" He said, his face flabbergasted. "Anyone who says otherwise is a fool. However we have little choice now. The situation is taking a turn for the worse. Thelannian military have begun pulling out of key locations. This last-minute party may be the only chance at stopping a full-blown war."

Jacques leg ached at the mention of the war. "Good." He smiled warmly. "You are to take my clothing into the dinner. This time I won't allow you to wear whatever you find under your wardrobe. Try not to earn the ire of any Thelannian nobles, or I daresay, their King."

"Naturally, father." Niavak placed his hand on his chest and bowed deeply. "Blessings and glory upon the Alovian Empire."

His father followed suit, the grim silence that followed pierced by both the father and son's uproarious laughter.

----------------------------------------

The Ballroom

---

^{August 31st, Sunset | Servants, Alice Allaire @Lionhearted}

Niavak pulled at the scruff of his stuffy clothing. He had worn clothing such as this in more than a few occasions but he could never get used to it. It was too tight, impractical for chases or fighting. It's only merit was to look fancy and presentable. As soon as he stepped in, he could feel a waft of cool air hit him. The atmosphere, while appearing on the surface as jovial and lively, was heavy and foreboding. It reminded him of the political jungles back at home.

He stood before the king, placed his arms over his chest and took a knee. He paid his respects with a few words. "My greetings to the Thelan King." The king wrinkled his nose and waved him away. With another bow, he walked away and back into the festivities. That's the king huh.

Formality was drilled into him at a young age, so he was used to rather callous behavior. He knew the king's mind was preoccupied, however he still thought it rude to not even acknowledge him. Maybe that's how Thelannian's greet their visitors. He thought jokingly, shaking off the king's discourtesy. He had only visited Thelan in more than a few occasions, mostly for joint-military training and sparring, but he had always thought it to be a beautiful kingdom. He would try his best to prevent both kingdoms from going to war.

A few eyes now drifted on him after paying respects to the king. Most were Thelannians trying to place who exactly he was. The Alovians that recognized him gave him a wave and chuckled. Niavak smiled at the few that met his eyes.

His first objective were to greet those who were to be in the legion. He eyed the sea of people dining and talking amongst themselves. He'd already caught a few noteworthy people. One such individual was the 'Shield-Maiden of Moore' Ellinor Myren, her reputation even reaching Alovia. He would have like to acquaint himself with her but she seemed busy conversing with a few other people so he pushed the greetings later.

His head craned around the room, looking for the rumored commander of the party- Lady Alice Allaire. Though his father said he wasn't entirely sure of the validity of this information. Because of his distraction he bumped into a female servant, causing a tall glass of champagne to spill into him and break on the flawless marble floor.

The servant looked pale as a sheet. She stood silently, unable to process what had just happened. She let a moment pass before she prostrated before Niavak. "Ac-Accept my deepest apologies sir." The servant said, her voice shaking with each enunciation. She apologized a dozen more times. The hubbub had drawn the attention of a few attendees. With a shaking arm, she began to hastily pick up the broken glass.

"No no, that was entirely my fault Madam." He said, grabbing her wrist. "Best not to get your beautiful hands cut, I'll handle it." He bent down and pulled his sleeves up, revealing multiple scars and burn spots. The woman gasped at the sight his arms. He picked up the glass pieces and placed it on her tray.

"I've also ruined your garments, please let me pay." The woman said with a downtrodden look.

"As I've said, that was my fault. Send the cost of the glass to the Wymark family." He continued, flashing her a smile. "Don't worry, it's why I wore black, the champagne just blends right in." He winked at her, an attempt to settle her nerves. After another slew of apologies she eventually left.

Niavak stood, smelling of champagne. He ignored the whispering directed at him. Guess I'll be known as the champagne knight now.

He took off his jacket and black inner shirt. He called another servant and asked them to bring them to his carriage. He only had one layer left on his person; a white, long-sleeved linen shirt that were pulled taut due to his muscles. He cuffed his sleeves in an attempt at making his shirt 'formal', however his garments still looked out of place in the ballroom. A few noblewomen and, oddly enough, noblemen seemed to flush red before looking away. He silently regretted not heeding his mother's words at bringing an extra set or two of formal clothing.

Finally he spotted Lady Alice. After making her way to her, he placed his hand on his chest and bowed. "Lady Alice, my greetings." He said. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. Excuse the attire, my clumsy self had caused them to be drenched with champagne."

[HIGH CASUAL] ► Her Majesty's Spirit

That formatting/coding on the character roster is really phenomenal!

Sidenote: My character link leads to Andreyich's one.

[HIGH CASUAL] ► Her Majesty's Spirit

Niavak Wymark

---

---

_{"Glory and blessings upon the Alovian empire- er, was it 'Blessings and glory'?"}
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Niavak Wymark

---

---

N A M E

Niavak Gratia Wymark

T I T L E

'The Pale Knight'

N A T I O N A L I T Y

Alovian

A G E

25

G E N D E R

Male

S E X U A L I T Y

Demisexual

A P P E A R A N C E

Niavak has dirt, snowy hair that's usually slicked upwards, an odd colour for Alovians. He stands at a height of 5'11"; he boasts a build befitting that of a speedy swordsman. His muscular tone leans towards his preferred use of agility rather than brute strength. Not to say he's a slouch in that either. His hands are calloused, a tell-tale sign of rigorous training. He fashions a similar attire to other Alovian knights, fully plated with ring armour and gambeson adorned underneath. Draped on his back is a black, graying cloak, fastened by a shimmering Alovian crest. Similarly, his longsword has the crest of Alovia on its guard and pommel. He also carries an arming sword as a backup weapon.

I N T E R E S T S

- Equal and fair fights.
- Clear, sunny days.
- Tactics and Strategy.
- Music/Musicians.
- Ballads.
- Horseback riding.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

For a rigorous knight, Niavak is a cordial individual. He believes in treating everyone with equal respect irregardless of stature or standing, only not doing so when he deems the person unworthy of said respect. He has a certain charisma to his speech, effortlessly turning odd acquaintances to a weird sort of friendship. His friendliness even causing friction between him and his superiors on following proper conduct befitting that of a 'knight'. Though friendly, he will not take threats targeted towards him sitting down and almost always readies to defend or fight for himself.

Continuing on with fights, Niavak has an almost unquenchable thirst for the 'thrill' of battle. A trait he inherited from his now crippled father- who, when asked, would say that "he did not regret a single second of it". He lives and breathes fighting, even during the period of peace he was usually found in the training grounds training or sparring with others of his level or greater. It wasn't an unusual sight to see him participating in tournaments, even managing to snag a win or two. Many have said that he was 'born during the wrong era'.

In battles his personality changes entirely. This personality shift can be a whiplash to those don't know him, some even stating that he's an entirely different person. He dons an almost apathetic facade as he begins tunnel visioning into the fight. His movement becomes sharp, wasting less energy. He forces all of his concentration and focus into the fight- with his friendly, amiable self being replaced with a silent and analytical demeanor. In the beginning of a fight he almost always prods an opponent's fighting style as he looks for weaknesses before formulating a quick plan in his head. Said plan shifts and changes as the fight goes on.

Despite his love for the warfare, he believes that another war with Thelan would be the end for both kingdoms. He also has a certain distaste of the cruelty that comes shackled with war. The atrocities committed by either kingdoms via pillaging, senseless killing and raping was not to his liking. He actively makes sure to dole out punishments and report Alovians who do not follow conduct of war. This has landed him in some hot waters with more than a few nobles.

H I S T O R Y

Niavak was born to a retired knight- Jacques Wymark and his wife, Miliane Wymark. His father would enthrall him with stories of the 'warring era' during bedtime. He spoke of the chivalry and bravery of the Knights Guild in the front-field, as they were the shield that 'guards the kingdom'. With wide, sparkly-eyed reverence, the young Niavak was captivated by these stories and dreamt of being a knight. His youth was filled training that would help attain his dream. His father warned him not to go at knighthood with half-hearted intentions and as such was harsh and uncompromising during his training. Despite his talent for battle, his father made doubly-sure in attenuating his overconfidence- instilling humbleness into the young kid.

During his teenage years he made a name for himself in small-scale battle. He gathered the routing Alovians and reinvigorated them to stay and fight until reinforcements arrived. They dug their heels in and barely managed to hold the territory before Alovian backup arrived. His last minute strategy clutched victory at the jaws of defeat. It was here where the moniker of 'The Pale Knight' took root.

After that battle he was recommended the role of strategist, which was promptly declined as he had too much love for the battlefield. A few higher-ups had begun taking notice of the young man, with him being recommended on more and more future conflicts. Eventually, he would rise to the rank of a Knight, which took nearly a decade of servitude to Alovia. He may have risen faster and further up had he played the game of politics; he did not heed the words of his peers and superiors and still went against nobles. He disliked politics. The manipulation and little games the court played was not something he was remotely interested in.

Niavak would earn the reputation of being a fairly laid-back knight. He felt no desire for superiority making him easy to talk to and get along with. He conversed with poor and rich alike. Due to easygoing nature and skills, the Alovian military handpicked him to join the Royal Plea. They had hoped that he would mediate the mish-mash of clashing personalities, as even they did not know who entirely was to be in it.

This party was charged with the singular goal of finding and retrieving Queen Anice. A last ditch effort to try and stop the boiling pot from tipping over. He hastily accepted, as he felt that the fate of both kingdoms were at stake.

M I S C

- Niavak is usually present during important strategical meetings of upcoming battles for his insight. A rare event for knights.
- Could have been a musician/bard with his singing voice.

_{art | #00CED1}

[HIGH CASUAL] ► Her Majesty's Spirit

CS, edited some stuff!

Sidenote: It's dang hard to find a live-action face claim for a medieval rp.

Niavak Wymark

---

---

_{"Glory and blessings upon the Alovian empire- er, was it 'Blessings and glory'?"}
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Niavak Wymark

---

---

N A M E

Niavak Gratia Wymark

T I T L E

'The Pale Knight'

N A T I O N A L I T Y

Alovian

A G E

25

G E N D E R

Male

S E X U A L I T Y

Demisexual

A P P E A R A N C E

Standing at a height of 5'11", Niavak boasts a build befitting that of a speedy swordsman. His dirt snowy hair is usually haphazardly slicked upwards. His muscular tone leans towards his preferred use of agility rather than brute strength. Not to say he's a slouch in that either. His hands are calloused, a tell-tale sign of rigorous training. He fashions a similar attire to other Alovian knights, fully plated with ring armour and gambeson adorned underneath. Draped on his back is a black, graying cloak, fastened by a shimmering Alovian crest. Similarly, his longsword has the crest of Alovia on its guard and pommel. He also carries an arming sword as a backup weapon.

I N T E R E S T S

- Equal and fair fights.
- Clear, sunny days.
- Tactics and Strategy.
- Music/Musicians.
- Ballads.
- Horseback riding.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

For a rigorous knight, Niavak is a cordial individual. He believes in treating everyone with equal respect irregardless of stature or standing, only not doing so when he deems the person unworthy of said respect. He has a certain charisma to his speech, effortlessly turning odd acquaintances to a weird sort of friendship. His friendliness even causing friction between him and his superiors on following proper conduct befitting that of a 'knight'. Though friendly, he will not take threats targeted towards him sitting down and almost always readies to defend or fight for himself.

Continuing on with fights, Niavak has an almost unquenchable thirst for the 'thrill' of battle. A trait he inherited from his now crippled father- who, when asked, would say that "he did not regret a single second of it". He lives and breathes fighting, even during the period of peace he was usually found in the training grounds training or sparring with others of his level or greater. It wasn't an unusual sight to see him participating in tournaments, even managing to snag a win or two. Many have said that he was 'born during the wrong era'.

In battles his personality changes entirely. This personality shift can be a whiplash to those don't know him, some even stating that he's an entirely different person. He dons an almost apathetic facade as he begins tunnel visioning into the fight. His movement becomes sharp, wasting less energy. He forces all of his concentration and focus into the fight- with his friendly, amiable self being replaced with a silent and analytical demeanor. In the beginning of a fight he almost always prods an opponent's fighting style as he looks for weaknesses before formulating a quick plan in his head. Said plan shifts and changes as the fight goes on.

Despite his love for the warfare, he believes that another war with Thelan would be the end for both kingdoms. He also has a certain distaste of the cruelty that comes shackled with war. The atrocities committed by either kingdoms via pillaging, senseless killing and raping was not to his liking. He actively makes sure to dole out punishments and report Alovians who do not follow conduct of war. This has landed him in some hot waters with more than a few nobles.

H I S T O R Y

Niavak was born to a retired knight- Jacques Wymark and his wife, Miliane Wymark. His father would enthrall him with stories of the 'warring era' during bedtime. He spoke of the chivalry and bravery of the Knights Guild in the front-field, as they were the shield that 'guards the kingdom'. With wide, sparkly-eyed reverence, the young Niavak was captivated by these stories and dreamt of being a knight. His youth was filled training that would help attain his dream. His father warned him not to go at knighthood with half-hearted intentions and as such was harsh and uncompromising during his training. Despite his talent for battle, his father made doubly-sure in attenuating his overconfidence- instilling humbleness into the young kid.

During his teenage years he made a name for himself in small-scale battle. He gathered the routing Alovians and reinvigorated them to stay and fight until reinforcements arrived. They dug their heels in and barely to hold the territory before Alovian backup arrived. His last minute strategy clutched victory at the jaws of defeat. It was here where the moniker of 'The Pale Knight' took root.

After that battle he was recommended the role of strategist, which was promptly declined as he had too much love for the battlefield. A few higher-ups had begun taking notice of the young man, with him being recommended on more and more future conflicts. Eventually, he would rise to the rank of a Knight, which took nearly a decade of servitude to Alovia. He may have risen faster and further up had he played the game of politics; he did not heed the words of his peers and superiors and still went against nobles. He disliked politics. The manipulation and little games the court played was not something he was remotely interested in.

Niavak would earn the reputation of being a fairly laid-back knight. He felt no desire for superiority making him easy to talk to and get along with. He conversed with poor and rich alike. Due to easygoing nature and skills, the Alovian military handpicked him to join the Royal Plea. They had hoped that he would mediate the mish-mash of clashing personalities, as even they did not know who entirely was to be in it.

This party was charged with the singular goal of finding and retrieving Queen Anice. A last ditch effort to try and stop the boiling pot from tipping over. He hastily accepted, as he felt that the fate of both kingdoms were at stake.

M I S C

- Niavak is usually present during important strategical meetings of upcoming battles for his insight. A rare event for knights.
- Could have been a musician/bard with his singing voice.

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[HIGH CASUAL] ► Her Majestys Spirit

The plot seems awesome, colour me interested!

Avalia

Time: Late Morning.
Location: Roshmi- Kenia's estate.
Interactions: @Potter - Corvina, @Tae - Kenia, @princess - Malachi.



It was as Rei had initially feared, from what he could gather, that fox seemed to have made them- as in their identities were likely discovered. Though they veered away from Corvina's question, it wasn't difficult to guess what exactly they would be doing from now on. His raised a surprised eyebrow at Corvina's hug that enclosed the two elves. Well, it wasn't like Rei couldn't understand it, they were all sticking their necks out for them and he is grateful. Still, his discomfort towards emotional affection was apparent as he looked away whilst scratching his cheek.

He silently took in Kenia and Nym's conversation about the relocation. He agreed quietly, with it being the most logical option that they have. Had Nym not been there, it was likely Malachi who would have suggested it and if not him, then Rei. It's just one mess after another. He thought gloomily before clasping his ring necklace and shaking those thoughts away. He followed as Kenia led both him and Corvina to pack their belongings. It wasn't like they had much to begin with.

Rei's footsteps creaked on the wooden staircase, with his hands in his pockets he followed just behind the two girls. The walk had allowed him to ruminate in his thoughts again. He needed to get strong quicker; if not for him then for the people who depend on him. With furrowing brows, the wind began picking up around him. His steps creaked louder as thoughts of Aklenroth consumed his mind.

Ah. Damn. Chill out. He thought, forcefully halting his ability. His face throughout remained unchanged but he hoped they had not noticed.

"What do you require me to pack?" Rei asked inquisitively as they arrived at the room, he had a general idea of clothing but not much else. It was better to ask than assume and be wrong, even if the answer was blatantly simple.