Member
Apollosarcher
shylarahThis is a tribute to the previous RP to bear this name. These are the beloved characters involved from that ill fated storyline. Here is where they lie and here is where we remember them.
Fallen Soldiers
Nianxi Serilya:
Name: Nianxi Serilya
Age: 28
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: Red eyes with black lining, and a few other black spots
Profession: Void Knight
Appearance:
Bio: A girl born to the noble house of Serilya, Nianxi's live wasn't intended to be eventful. Since only the firstborn son could inherit The Crimson Blade, or even to go to battle, Nianxi was doomed to female things, like arranged marriage, taking care of her children, etc. She received exceptional education, and her teachers saw great potential in her. She was very charismatic and charming, enthralling everyone with her presence - a perfect delegate and a diplomat. Though she was happy to rise above being just a wife and a child bearer, Nianxi craved for adrenaline and excitement. She often wandered off on her own, or practiced her fencing with her brothers, much to the disdain of her parents. Quite quickly she gained her reputation both as a charismatic diplomat and a good duelist, further reinforcing her role as THE representative of House Serilya. Even a ceremonial armor was custom made for her, which she was to wear to her brother's wedding.
And then the demons attacked. Her family was butchered, her armor covered in demonic flame. Nianxi retrieved Serilya, the Crimson Blade from her brothers corpse, wowing to avenge her family. One of the six namesake weapons of the Great Houses, the sword was superior to every other sword known. What happened to the other 5 during the city's fall is not known, though their enchantments are known to only permit the respective bloodlines to wield it. Nianxi's soul was also damaged, twisting her magic.
And now she seeks to cleanse her beloved city of demonic taint, avenge her family and revive the House Serilya. To do so, she joined various mercenary bands, which had people Nianxi was not used to seeing. Even then, working together with savages and barbarians was the only way to avenge her family...
Equipment:
Other:
Age: 28
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: Red eyes with black lining, and a few other black spots
Profession: Void Knight
Appearance:
Bio: A girl born to the noble house of Serilya, Nianxi's live wasn't intended to be eventful. Since only the firstborn son could inherit The Crimson Blade, or even to go to battle, Nianxi was doomed to female things, like arranged marriage, taking care of her children, etc. She received exceptional education, and her teachers saw great potential in her. She was very charismatic and charming, enthralling everyone with her presence - a perfect delegate and a diplomat. Though she was happy to rise above being just a wife and a child bearer, Nianxi craved for adrenaline and excitement. She often wandered off on her own, or practiced her fencing with her brothers, much to the disdain of her parents. Quite quickly she gained her reputation both as a charismatic diplomat and a good duelist, further reinforcing her role as THE representative of House Serilya. Even a ceremonial armor was custom made for her, which she was to wear to her brother's wedding.
And then the demons attacked. Her family was butchered, her armor covered in demonic flame. Nianxi retrieved Serilya, the Crimson Blade from her brothers corpse, wowing to avenge her family. One of the six namesake weapons of the Great Houses, the sword was superior to every other sword known. What happened to the other 5 during the city's fall is not known, though their enchantments are known to only permit the respective bloodlines to wield it. Nianxi's soul was also damaged, twisting her magic.
And now she seeks to cleanse her beloved city of demonic taint, avenge her family and revive the House Serilya. To do so, she joined various mercenary bands, which had people Nianxi was not used to seeing. Even then, working together with savages and barbarians was the only way to avenge her family...
Equipment:
Serilya, the Crimson Blade - The namesake weapon of one of the six Great Houses, it is more powerful than any other sword currently known to exist. Named after the noble house of Serilya, it can only be wielded by one of Serilya blood. With each cut it drains the blood of it's victim, storing it within itself to heal it's wielders wounds or unleash powerful attacks.
However since she was not the intended successor, her mastery over the sword is all self-taught, and as such, she currently can use a small fraction of the sword's power, quite literally. Without special training, the sword itself will not be as sharp or light as it could be, and at Nianxi's current mastery level, it is barely better than a generic broadsword with minor and very inefficient healing capabilities (draining one opponent of all blood would heal a few cuts at best).
However since she was not the intended successor, her mastery over the sword is all self-taught, and as such, she currently can use a small fraction of the sword's power, quite literally. Without special training, the sword itself will not be as sharp or light as it could be, and at Nianxi's current mastery level, it is barely better than a generic broadsword with minor and very inefficient healing capabilities (draining one opponent of all blood would heal a few cuts at best).
Charred Battledress - A ceremonial armor not intended for battle, Nianxi was wearing it during the tragedy in Veiron. While she was relatively unharmed, the armor was charred, smoldering constantly when demons are nearby. It also gained remarkable resilience, especially against heat. Nianxi refuses to wear anything else to battle.
Other:
Touch of the Void - The tragedy at Veiron - the Mark of the Demon, afflicted a small part of Nianxi's soul, the part responsible for magic. Instead of magic, she can release a black mist that will ignite when near sources of magic. The demonic flames will try to use that magic as fuel for itself, and unlike regular flame, do to not need neither oxygen or any flammable materials to spread, only sources of magic. Though it can be potentially deadly against spell casters, it is not yet strong enough to overcome their defenses. So far, it can be used to burn off minor magical locks and barriers.
Seth of Valeria:
Name: Seth of Valeria.
Age: 36.
Race: Human.
Mark of the demon: The skin on his right arm is black, like it s covered in soot.
Profession: Traveling swordsman/Mercenary.
Appearance:
Bio: The house of Valeria was once strong and influential. We were noblemen, rich, beautiful, powerful. Then the demons came. First they laid siege to the Capital of Veiron, ending all communications with the outside world. We endured the fear.
They climbed the walls, killed the soldiers. We fought with them.
They ran through the streets, slaying civilians with their claws and fangs and horns. We defended the weak.
The killed the king. We fell into despair.
I remember it like it happened just yesterday, even though I was only a boy. 16 years old, not yet a man. I was engaged to a beautiful woman, Elena. We were in love and was to be married later that year, when the leaves turned red. But the demons broke the walls and stormed the city. My father was among the first who fell, my brother came next. My master drew his sword and rushed head first into the advancing horde. His every strike, stap and sweep felled an Orc or a demon, to him it did not matter. His blade kept moving even if it had to cut several of the beasts in one swing. A truly magnificent sight. But i had no time to enjoy his swordsmanship this day. He had attacked so furiously for only one reason, to buy me some time to get Elena out through the secret passage.
But they found it first.
As I gently lowered my beloved down into the hidden tunnel that would take her to the edge of the city, to safety, she was pulled down into the darkness. I heard her scream echo in the darkness. With my father’s sword, the blade of Valeria, in my hand I went in after her. The tunnel was big, dark and empty, so I ran. I knew the maze by heart and ran for the exit as fast as I could. Suddenly I heard steps up ahead and the whimper of my beloved. I held my sword high and yelled “Let her go free, fiends! Face me!”
Then they came at me. I couldn’t say how many they were, I just started to cut them down. Like my master had shown me, I kept the blade in motion, I let it cut through the enemy without hesitation and spilled the blood of many fiends that day.
When the Orcs and imps were slain I looked around for my beloved. I found her dying further along the tunnel. The beasts had put a blade through her chest. We were alone, i could hear the chaos above, people running, screaming, trying to get away, but we were truly alone.
I tore a piece of her dress and tried to stop the bleeding. I sincerely believed that if i could just keep the blood inside her we’d find someone who knew what to do outside the tunnel.
The bleeding wouldn’t stop. I tried everything, but the blood just kept coming. After a while she reached up, touched my cheek and whispered. “My savior.” Then she was gone.
I carried her lifeless body out and away, didn’t stop until we came to the closest village, Buant. They helped me bury her under a tree, She’d always loved trees.
There was nothing more to do. I went back to Veiron a few days later, but the city was in ruins. Bodies everywhere, even those of the Stormbringers. What could I do? I was a nobleman, I had no skills that would earn me money to stay alive. I had my sword and my hatred of the demons, I became a mercenary, taking every mission I could that involved slaying orcs or aiding those in need. I’ve paired up with some of the nastiest people imaginable to reach my goal. The death of every single demon. The goal of our king.
Long live the king!
Equipment: His clothes, some money, a longsword and a dagger. He wears no armor except for his gauntlets which are made of full plate and quite capable of stopping a sword.
Other: Even though he was born a noble Seth has long ago been forced to give up any dreams about himself. He sees himself as no better than anyone else.
Age: 36.
Race: Human.
Mark of the demon: The skin on his right arm is black, like it s covered in soot.
Profession: Traveling swordsman/Mercenary.
Appearance:
Bio: The house of Valeria was once strong and influential. We were noblemen, rich, beautiful, powerful. Then the demons came. First they laid siege to the Capital of Veiron, ending all communications with the outside world. We endured the fear.
They climbed the walls, killed the soldiers. We fought with them.
They ran through the streets, slaying civilians with their claws and fangs and horns. We defended the weak.
The killed the king. We fell into despair.
I remember it like it happened just yesterday, even though I was only a boy. 16 years old, not yet a man. I was engaged to a beautiful woman, Elena. We were in love and was to be married later that year, when the leaves turned red. But the demons broke the walls and stormed the city. My father was among the first who fell, my brother came next. My master drew his sword and rushed head first into the advancing horde. His every strike, stap and sweep felled an Orc or a demon, to him it did not matter. His blade kept moving even if it had to cut several of the beasts in one swing. A truly magnificent sight. But i had no time to enjoy his swordsmanship this day. He had attacked so furiously for only one reason, to buy me some time to get Elena out through the secret passage.
But they found it first.
As I gently lowered my beloved down into the hidden tunnel that would take her to the edge of the city, to safety, she was pulled down into the darkness. I heard her scream echo in the darkness. With my father’s sword, the blade of Valeria, in my hand I went in after her. The tunnel was big, dark and empty, so I ran. I knew the maze by heart and ran for the exit as fast as I could. Suddenly I heard steps up ahead and the whimper of my beloved. I held my sword high and yelled “Let her go free, fiends! Face me!”
Then they came at me. I couldn’t say how many they were, I just started to cut them down. Like my master had shown me, I kept the blade in motion, I let it cut through the enemy without hesitation and spilled the blood of many fiends that day.
When the Orcs and imps were slain I looked around for my beloved. I found her dying further along the tunnel. The beasts had put a blade through her chest. We were alone, i could hear the chaos above, people running, screaming, trying to get away, but we were truly alone.
I tore a piece of her dress and tried to stop the bleeding. I sincerely believed that if i could just keep the blood inside her we’d find someone who knew what to do outside the tunnel.
The bleeding wouldn’t stop. I tried everything, but the blood just kept coming. After a while she reached up, touched my cheek and whispered. “My savior.” Then she was gone.
I carried her lifeless body out and away, didn’t stop until we came to the closest village, Buant. They helped me bury her under a tree, She’d always loved trees.
There was nothing more to do. I went back to Veiron a few days later, but the city was in ruins. Bodies everywhere, even those of the Stormbringers. What could I do? I was a nobleman, I had no skills that would earn me money to stay alive. I had my sword and my hatred of the demons, I became a mercenary, taking every mission I could that involved slaying orcs or aiding those in need. I’ve paired up with some of the nastiest people imaginable to reach my goal. The death of every single demon. The goal of our king.
Long live the king!
Equipment: His clothes, some money, a longsword and a dagger. He wears no armor except for his gauntlets which are made of full plate and quite capable of stopping a sword.
Other: Even though he was born a noble Seth has long ago been forced to give up any dreams about himself. He sees himself as no better than anyone else.
Rinic Arderas:
Name: Rinic Arderas
Age: 25
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: His eyes are solid black, he often wears glasses to conceal that.
Profession: Arcane Battle Mage/Mercenary.
Appearance: (Never to be Seen)
Bio: Born of a warrior father, and an arcanely gifted mother Rinic possessed what seemed a bit of both worlds: skill in both martial training and arcane magic. However, he was incapable of casting the healing spells of other practical spells outside of battle like his mother, nor was he successful with anything other than a sword or dagger. None the less he was considered to be immensely gifted in the ways of both practices.He lead the troops, which he recruited himself with the help of his Machiavellian sword's abilities (a gift from his mother and father on his 18th birthday), to each battle at the front, and returned victorious each time.
The pride of his life, however, was not his skill. But his wife Maria. They married at the age of 19 and 18 living a happy life together for the time being. However, the collapse of the kingdom took his wife driving him mad with anger and sorrow. He set off creating a band of mercenaries either skilled in martial combat or arcane magic. As a last vow to his wife he took an oath to provide aid to those in need, for a low enough price so that poor towns could afford...
Equipment:
Other: Rinic is quick to anger, arrogant, but honorable and trustworthy.
Age: 25
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: His eyes are solid black, he often wears glasses to conceal that.
Profession: Arcane Battle Mage/Mercenary.
Appearance: (Never to be Seen)
Bio: Born of a warrior father, and an arcanely gifted mother Rinic possessed what seemed a bit of both worlds: skill in both martial training and arcane magic. However, he was incapable of casting the healing spells of other practical spells outside of battle like his mother, nor was he successful with anything other than a sword or dagger. None the less he was considered to be immensely gifted in the ways of both practices.He lead the troops, which he recruited himself with the help of his Machiavellian sword's abilities (a gift from his mother and father on his 18th birthday), to each battle at the front, and returned victorious each time.
The pride of his life, however, was not his skill. But his wife Maria. They married at the age of 19 and 18 living a happy life together for the time being. However, the collapse of the kingdom took his wife driving him mad with anger and sorrow. He set off creating a band of mercenaries either skilled in martial combat or arcane magic. As a last vow to his wife he took an oath to provide aid to those in need, for a low enough price so that poor towns could afford...
Equipment:
Fireball: A blast of fire with a spread area of a 5 yard radius. Measures at 500 degrees Celsius. (casts per day: 5)
Empowered Fireball: A blue fire ball with a spread area of 10 yard radius. Measures at 1000 degrees Celsius.(casts per day: 1)
Arcane Crush: A pure blast of energy raining from above applying as much as 600 pounds of force to the target. Crushes like an anvil, but can be controlled to not kill. Radius: 5 yards. (casts per day: 1)
Frozen Ray: A ray of ice capable of freezing it's opponent or creating lesser ice object. (casts per day: 3)
Mass Bulls strength: Increases the members of the party's strength by 1.5 times. (casts per day: 1)
Mage Armour: Strengthens the target's armor to diamond hardness for two minutes (casts per day: 1)
Overland flight: allows the user to spread the wings of an angel or demon (depending on their alignment) and fly for 7 minutes ( casts per day: 2)
Enchant sword: Rinic's blade pulsates with lightning delivering a minor shock of electricity to the opponent when struck. (casts per day: 3)
Empowered Fireball: A blue fire ball with a spread area of 10 yard radius. Measures at 1000 degrees Celsius.(casts per day: 1)
Arcane Crush: A pure blast of energy raining from above applying as much as 600 pounds of force to the target. Crushes like an anvil, but can be controlled to not kill. Radius: 5 yards. (casts per day: 1)
Frozen Ray: A ray of ice capable of freezing it's opponent or creating lesser ice object. (casts per day: 3)
Mass Bulls strength: Increases the members of the party's strength by 1.5 times. (casts per day: 1)
Mage Armour: Strengthens the target's armor to diamond hardness for two minutes (casts per day: 1)
Overland flight: allows the user to spread the wings of an angel or demon (depending on their alignment) and fly for 7 minutes ( casts per day: 2)
Enchant sword: Rinic's blade pulsates with lightning delivering a minor shock of electricity to the opponent when struck. (casts per day: 3)
- Machiavellian blade: A one and a half hand sword giving it's wielder the power to persuade others with less effort than usual.
- Mage Mail: A shirt made of enchanted chain mail to be as light as a simple shirt.
- Diamond brigade gauntlet: A high density pair of gauntlets with very slight regenerative powers.
- Dagger
- Money
- Spell components.
Other: Rinic is quick to anger, arrogant, but honorable and trustworthy.
Urisk Deilano:
Name: Urisk Deilano
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: His teeth are pointed but interlock normally, and his canine teeth are long enough to poke out over his bottom lips with his mouth closed.
Profession: Witch
Appearance: Failed Image
Bio: Born to a family of practicing witches, he had an innate talent for the art of witchcraft. His family was a coven of benign witches who helped the citizens of the village they lived in, healing them of disease and blessing them with good luck if they asked, charging only a small fee to be able to live on. When the purging of witches happened around the country, the villagers attempted to defend them from The Inquisitors when they arrived, explaining how they had done nothing but help them. The Inquisitors refused to listen, and went after his family anyway. Knowing that they were going to be taken away and killed with no means of escape seeing as they didn't know any magic to defend themselves with, they sent him to Veiron to live with his aunt at age 2.
He lived in Veiron with his aunt, secretly practicing witchcraft, unbeknownst to even his aunt. He slowly grew in skill, having to learn on his own seeing as any and all witchcraft tomes found were destroyed, seeing as witchcraft was still seen as the magic of the devil himself. Unlike mages, who were allowed to practice their magic in the open, witches were continually repressed. Many people saw it as a mage's magic was natural, but a witch's magic was often believed to come from a deal with the devil or a demon, or from dark and evil forces. Around the time he turned 23, the demons attacked Veiron, killing his aunt and everybody else he knew. Afterward he swore vengeance on the demon that killed his aunt, and vowed to find and destroy it.
Magic: General witchcraft including the following:
Strengths: Can cast powerful magic both in and out of combat, can protect himself in most situations just with magic. Able to provide the group with food by enthralling animals to kill.
Weaknesses: Cannot practice magic in public for fear of execution, has no skill whatsoever with melee weapons, magic takes time and materials to prepare, some of which are very hard to acquire, most magic isn't very helpful in direct combat, wears no armor.
Equipment:
Other: Gay, very insecure about some issues, easily embarrassed, warms up to people quickly. He is often afraid of people finding out he's a witch as well.
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: His teeth are pointed but interlock normally, and his canine teeth are long enough to poke out over his bottom lips with his mouth closed.
Profession: Witch
Appearance: Failed Image
Bio: Born to a family of practicing witches, he had an innate talent for the art of witchcraft. His family was a coven of benign witches who helped the citizens of the village they lived in, healing them of disease and blessing them with good luck if they asked, charging only a small fee to be able to live on. When the purging of witches happened around the country, the villagers attempted to defend them from The Inquisitors when they arrived, explaining how they had done nothing but help them. The Inquisitors refused to listen, and went after his family anyway. Knowing that they were going to be taken away and killed with no means of escape seeing as they didn't know any magic to defend themselves with, they sent him to Veiron to live with his aunt at age 2.
He lived in Veiron with his aunt, secretly practicing witchcraft, unbeknownst to even his aunt. He slowly grew in skill, having to learn on his own seeing as any and all witchcraft tomes found were destroyed, seeing as witchcraft was still seen as the magic of the devil himself. Unlike mages, who were allowed to practice their magic in the open, witches were continually repressed. Many people saw it as a mage's magic was natural, but a witch's magic was often believed to come from a deal with the devil or a demon, or from dark and evil forces. Around the time he turned 23, the demons attacked Veiron, killing his aunt and everybody else he knew. Afterward he swore vengeance on the demon that killed his aunt, and vowed to find and destroy it.
Magic: General witchcraft including the following:
- Doll Magic: A type of witchcraft in which dolls are used as effigies to represent a person or animal. The dolls are stuffed with various magical ingredients to achieve a desired effect on the target of the doll.
- Circle Magic: Also known as magic Rites, these are rituals performed by a single witch or a coven of witches. These are usually more powerful than most spells, but are more difficult to cast and take time and effort to prepare.
- Brewing: A well known skill of witches, brewing magical potions to different effects. Some are drunk, some are applied topically, and others are put into easily broken bottles to be thrown at targets to splash in an area.
- Dream Weaving: Magic that allows the caster to manipulate the dreams of others, allowing them to have contact over long distances or for other purposes.
- Infusion: A special type of Circle Magic that imbues an aspect of the world into a person, object, or animal, granting them powers related to the aspect.
- Hexing: Another of a witch's most iconic types of magic, a spell that creates negative effects on a target, sometimes even fatal or highly debilitating.
- Spellcasting: A talent only seen in some witches, the ability to cast certain spells like a mage. Unlike a mage however, it doesn't take the magical energy from their own reserves, but from reagents and the magical energy found in nature.
Strengths: Can cast powerful magic both in and out of combat, can protect himself in most situations just with magic. Able to provide the group with food by enthralling animals to kill.
Weaknesses: Cannot practice magic in public for fear of execution, has no skill whatsoever with melee weapons, magic takes time and materials to prepare, some of which are very hard to acquire, most magic isn't very helpful in direct combat, wears no armor.
Equipment:
- Staff
- 3 small dolls for effigies
- 2 herb pouches (currently with belladonna and ground mandrake root)
- 1 circle talisman
- 2 taglock kits
- 1 white arcane chalk
- 1 golden arcane chalk
- Small bottle of holy water
- 1 Athame.
Other: Gay, very insecure about some issues, easily embarrassed, warms up to people quickly. He is often afraid of people finding out he's a witch as well.
Mahtan Fëfalas:
Name: Mahtan Fëfalas
Age: 134
Race: Northern Elf
Mark of the demon: Both of Mahtan's eyes are tainted with black veins instead of red, the same goes for his iris; black.
Profession: Assassin
Appearance:
Bio: Mahtan was born into the Northern Elves' family. He was supposed to ascend to the throne of the forgotten race, but that changed when he witnessed his first murder. Another elf, Faelin, had been skinning tigers for food when a masked stranger came from behind in the dead of the night and cut Faelin's throat. Mahton hadn't known Faelin personally,but something inside him changed when he witnessed this event. This happened in Mahton's first 100 years. During these years he grew up with the rest of his Clan and Family, doing hard manual labor and singing their buildings into shape. It was a gift that the Elves had, they could bend nature to their will with but a simple song. However, it could never be used for bad, as the user would be immediately exiled to the Human lands. This is where the second half of Mahton's life comes in. He had found the murderer, and had encased him in a tomb of ice for all to see in front of the Ice Palace. A mixture of stone, steel, and ice, it was quite a beautiful sight. Everyone knew why the young Prince had done it, but the time that had been put into such a beautifful death had frightened them. Underneath the supervision of his parents, Mahton attended a rehabilitation course, which was enturing south of the Mountains to the Human Lands to live out a sentence of 3 years. It wasn't an exile, but Mahton knew that he would never be welcomed back. He faked his death by removing the head and limbs of another Exiled Elf, and placing his own royal pendant upon the man's dead body. He knew that the Northern Scouts were at least a day's ride behind him, and knew they would find his body. At this point, Mahton had become quite the skilled fighter, as his death happened near a year after he was sentenced to a Human life. Taking down the Exiled was not hard, and the man was carrying almost everything Mahton would need for his journey to continue. Mahton already carried his Royal Longsword, forged by the Master Smith at the palace, but he also aquired a bow and War Axe, which appeared to be Dwarven made. The Bow however was made by an Elf, it looked sung into shape, along with some sort of thin yet extremely tough vine used at the string. That was odd, seeing as how the Elves usually used horse hair. This gave Mahton the idea that he should finally descend all the way down the mountains and into the Human World, instead of living like some scum on the Mountains.
* * * * *
It had been 10 years since Mahton left his home, faked his death, and started on his journey to become an Assassin. Business was good, and life was slowly getting better. Unfortunately, during one of his contracts in Veiron, Hell itselff descended onto the city and laid waste to it. Mahton was barely able to escape with his life, and sustained temporary blindness due to a n Ancient Demon that appeared in the Capitol, an enormous bright light surrounding it's form. Mahton managed to dart through the main gate, without any blood on his hands. This was difficult as both Demons and Humans alike were attempting to slaughter him. It appeared the Humans had gone into a frenzy and were blaming anyone that they saw fit to blame, making them no more ciivlized than the Demons. Mahton wondered if it had anything to do with the Demonic presence in the city. Outside the walls was not much better, as many Humans and Elevs alike were busy hauling dead beloveds here and there, attempting to bring their love back to life. To his right, Mahton saw what looked like a nobleman, running towards the woodline with a woman in his arms, to his left, men and women alike were being thrown into a mass grave.This began his new journey, he once again had to evolve into a new being. What he would become he didn't know. Little did he realize, his change had already started. As he was making his way to the nearest town, travelers and refugees along the road kept giving him weird looks, which he brushed off easily. It wasn't until a small child pointed directly at his jogging form and said one word; "Demon! Mommy, there's a Demon!"
The child's Mother swung around and lifted a logging axe above her head, ready to bring it down upon Mahton's head. The Elf was barely able to dodge in time as the metal embedded itself into the dirt near his right ankle, causing him to stumble a bit. His legs propelled him into overdrive as he darted into the nearest set of woods and continued on his journey from there, with the faint cries of "DEMON! MONSTER!" echoing behind him. Why would they say such things? It's true they had never seen his race of Elf, but was that a reason to call him a Demon? Mahton kept this on his mind as he journeyed forth, not knowing what laid before him. The only thing he had planned was to find out what was wrong with him, and to stay away from the Humans for as long as possible as their reaction to him seemed hostile. 'This is what it feels like to be truly exiled' he thought to himself 'this is what the world shall always be like.'
Equipment:
Other: Mahtan doesn't prefer the company of either males or females. His many years on this cruel earth has taught him only one thing; Kill. He wears a mask of emotion that hides his true self, which only comes out in battle. He enjoys wine, the sound of swords clanging, and the screams of Demons and Orcs as they lay slain beneath human or elven warriors. Not that he has slain any himself. Among these things, he especially loves Tavern minstrels. They always comfort him while he's preparing for a kill, singing about the lands before the Demons and how prosperous they were, filled with joy. Mahtan doesn't remember these days, as he was born in The North, among the ice-hut dwelling Elves.
Age: 134
Race: Northern Elf
Mark of the demon: Both of Mahtan's eyes are tainted with black veins instead of red, the same goes for his iris; black.
Profession: Assassin
Appearance:
Bio: Mahtan was born into the Northern Elves' family. He was supposed to ascend to the throne of the forgotten race, but that changed when he witnessed his first murder. Another elf, Faelin, had been skinning tigers for food when a masked stranger came from behind in the dead of the night and cut Faelin's throat. Mahton hadn't known Faelin personally,but something inside him changed when he witnessed this event. This happened in Mahton's first 100 years. During these years he grew up with the rest of his Clan and Family, doing hard manual labor and singing their buildings into shape. It was a gift that the Elves had, they could bend nature to their will with but a simple song. However, it could never be used for bad, as the user would be immediately exiled to the Human lands. This is where the second half of Mahton's life comes in. He had found the murderer, and had encased him in a tomb of ice for all to see in front of the Ice Palace. A mixture of stone, steel, and ice, it was quite a beautiful sight. Everyone knew why the young Prince had done it, but the time that had been put into such a beautifful death had frightened them. Underneath the supervision of his parents, Mahton attended a rehabilitation course, which was enturing south of the Mountains to the Human Lands to live out a sentence of 3 years. It wasn't an exile, but Mahton knew that he would never be welcomed back. He faked his death by removing the head and limbs of another Exiled Elf, and placing his own royal pendant upon the man's dead body. He knew that the Northern Scouts were at least a day's ride behind him, and knew they would find his body. At this point, Mahton had become quite the skilled fighter, as his death happened near a year after he was sentenced to a Human life. Taking down the Exiled was not hard, and the man was carrying almost everything Mahton would need for his journey to continue. Mahton already carried his Royal Longsword, forged by the Master Smith at the palace, but he also aquired a bow and War Axe, which appeared to be Dwarven made. The Bow however was made by an Elf, it looked sung into shape, along with some sort of thin yet extremely tough vine used at the string. That was odd, seeing as how the Elves usually used horse hair. This gave Mahton the idea that he should finally descend all the way down the mountains and into the Human World, instead of living like some scum on the Mountains.
* * * * *
It had been 10 years since Mahton left his home, faked his death, and started on his journey to become an Assassin. Business was good, and life was slowly getting better. Unfortunately, during one of his contracts in Veiron, Hell itselff descended onto the city and laid waste to it. Mahton was barely able to escape with his life, and sustained temporary blindness due to a n Ancient Demon that appeared in the Capitol, an enormous bright light surrounding it's form. Mahton managed to dart through the main gate, without any blood on his hands. This was difficult as both Demons and Humans alike were attempting to slaughter him. It appeared the Humans had gone into a frenzy and were blaming anyone that they saw fit to blame, making them no more ciivlized than the Demons. Mahton wondered if it had anything to do with the Demonic presence in the city. Outside the walls was not much better, as many Humans and Elevs alike were busy hauling dead beloveds here and there, attempting to bring their love back to life. To his right, Mahton saw what looked like a nobleman, running towards the woodline with a woman in his arms, to his left, men and women alike were being thrown into a mass grave.This began his new journey, he once again had to evolve into a new being. What he would become he didn't know. Little did he realize, his change had already started. As he was making his way to the nearest town, travelers and refugees along the road kept giving him weird looks, which he brushed off easily. It wasn't until a small child pointed directly at his jogging form and said one word; "Demon! Mommy, there's a Demon!"
The child's Mother swung around and lifted a logging axe above her head, ready to bring it down upon Mahton's head. The Elf was barely able to dodge in time as the metal embedded itself into the dirt near his right ankle, causing him to stumble a bit. His legs propelled him into overdrive as he darted into the nearest set of woods and continued on his journey from there, with the faint cries of "DEMON! MONSTER!" echoing behind him. Why would they say such things? It's true they had never seen his race of Elf, but was that a reason to call him a Demon? Mahton kept this on his mind as he journeyed forth, not knowing what laid before him. The only thing he had planned was to find out what was wrong with him, and to stay away from the Humans for as long as possible as their reaction to him seemed hostile. 'This is what it feels like to be truly exiled' he thought to himself 'this is what the world shall always be like.'
Equipment:
- (1) Bone Bow
- (20) Bone tipped, Swan feather arrows
- (1) Elven-made longsword
- (1) Dwarven-made War Axe
- (2) Thigh Pouches, containing:(2) Flasks of Elvish Wine(3) Bandages(1) Poisoned Dagger(1) Small Sack, filled with 20 Blood Vials [Belonging to his Victims](2) Poison Vials
- (1) Backpack, containing:(1) Week's worth supplies(1) Arrow Crafting Kit, with extra bone fragments and swan feathers included.(1) Quill, ink well, and 4 pieces of parchment(1) Firestarter kit(1) Bed Roll
- (1) Elven Cold Weather Cloak
- (1) Set of Elven Ranger armor
- (1) Bandit mask
Other: Mahtan doesn't prefer the company of either males or females. His many years on this cruel earth has taught him only one thing; Kill. He wears a mask of emotion that hides his true self, which only comes out in battle. He enjoys wine, the sound of swords clanging, and the screams of Demons and Orcs as they lay slain beneath human or elven warriors. Not that he has slain any himself. Among these things, he especially loves Tavern minstrels. They always comfort him while he's preparing for a kill, singing about the lands before the Demons and how prosperous they were, filled with joy. Mahtan doesn't remember these days, as he was born in The North, among the ice-hut dwelling Elves.
Susanna Grace:
Name: Susanna Grace
Age: 23
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: When she becomes angry or scared her eyes shift to a dark black, quite often this is when Lilith’s power surfaces. The back of her neck bears the demonic rune meaning "First One" in the form of a branding. This is the symbol of a terrible demon that hasn't set foot on the earth in ten thousand years. Many hellspawn consider it a god.
Profession: Bounty Hunter/Wanderer
Appearance:
Bio: Susanna was happy once, but who is she kidding that was another lifetime, another girl. Her father was a foot soldier in the army many years before Susanna was born. When he was discharged for his services he was granted a small plot of land. It was by no means big but it grew enough for them to live and sometime a little more that he could sell on market day. Susanna’s mother died giving birth to her making her, her father’s only child. With no eldest male to take over his legacy Susanna’s father taught her what he would have his son. He taught her about the world, to tell right from wrong, to fight with her hands or with a quarter staff. If they had the money for a sword he might have taught her that skill as well but the only sword in there house was the one that he had brought back from the army and it hadn’t been unsheathed in several years.
One day he delivered her the most exciting news she’d heard. He had been saving money over the last several months and had decided that they would spend it on a road trip to trading city of Veiron. Susanna had never been to the city before but she had heard of it from the local town’s gossips and drunks and it sounded exciting. Two weeks they road on horse and cart to reach the city and it was everything that Susanna had imagined, gleaming towers and fountains, and luscious fruit hanging in stands. That was until a great and terrible sound split the air. No one who stood there that day could adequately explain exactly what the sound was but it filled everyone right down to the rats with dread. Then a wave of black red smoke burst from the palace tower where the king resided. The smoke rolled all the way through Veiron before it dissipated and when the mass touched Susanna she felt so much evil push past her all around. This wasn’t just smoke. It burned and battered her like a stormy wind. She dared not breath but the smoke that covered her felt like fire and in moments she fell to the ground spasming unable to move for the pain. At last she could stand it no longer and she took a breath of that evil air. The moment the smoke entered her body Susanna knew she had made a grave mistake. Something was invading her body, her mind, her soul. She started to jerk more violently than before for it wasn’t just the smoke of normal fire. This was the smoke of hell and all it contained, demons. She could feel it. Her muddled brain told her that she was lying there for centuries and many times she begged and pleaded with the thing inside her to let her die. She didn’t care if her soul was so unclean that she went below she just wanted it to end.
The essence filling up her being, teaming through her mind just laughed and she felt herself wishing that her father hadn’t taught her to be so strong. So many other people she could just see through the smoke had burst into flames but not her, they were the lucky ones. After what felt like eons the pain finally cleared. Susanna stood up but it was not her that had ordered that command. “Hello dearie,” said a voice emanating deep inside her being but coming from her mouth. Susanna realized with horror that her body was no longer her own. This demon owned her now.
“I’m surprised you survived, so many humans burst into flames. It’s really irritating.” Who are you? Susanna tried to say but her voice became lost somewhere in her throat. The question appeared to have reached the demon’s ears though because it answered with a laugh. “Me, I’m Susanna Grace and I’m sure no one will have a dispute with that when I’m cutting their throats. You however, you’re clearly too strong to be banished to the furthest corners of this mind so you might as well have something to scream when the guilt collapses on you. Call me Lilith.” She said still laughing. Her laugh was unlike anything that Susanna had ever heard, unlike anything that had ever come out of her mouth.
“Lilith…” Came a gasping voice from not far away. Susanna and Lilith turned as one to face it. Partially buried under some debris was Susanna’s father. Susanna gasped inside her cage but she could do nothing to stop what happened next and worse still she knew it. Lilith walked slowly over to Susanna’s father. His face was broke and his eyes were red. Is he… Susanna asked Lilith the silent question. However horrible Lilith might be at least she was honest. “No he’s not possessed merely a mark from having a hundred demon’s swarming you. It’s a pity to waste a strong vessel but I guess he was too old for any of the others.”
Lilith walked slowly towards Susanna’s father and placed her boot on the old man’s throat. “You can fight her dear, you have too. There’s no telling what she will do if she gets loose.” Susanna’s father choked and coughed the words out struggling against the boot on his throat, the boot he’d crafted himself. Susanna pushed as hard as she could against Lilith’s grip but to no effect. There was a snapping sound as the boot pushed down and Susanna’s father lay still. NO! Susanna screamed but even this did not reach her mouth. “Keep it down girl, can’t you see I’m trying to enjoy myself.” Lilith said with that evil smile on her face.
Lilith and Susanna walked away from Veiron, the land of scorched earth that day. Over the next six years Lilith performed unspeakable acts with Susanna’s body, murder and torture and seduction and destruction and through it all nothing Susanna did could stop Lilith, not when she slit the innkeepers throat and made a cocktail with his blood, not when she cut the limbs one by one off a group of triplet children not even when Lilith hacked apart a convent and all the sister’s in it. Lilith had a thing for showing up the clergy. That was what finally led her to her incarceration and Susanna’s freedom.
There was a monastery outside a large village and the villager’s spoke of it in awe. After butchering three or four of them Lilith walked to the monastery to kill everything inside in the most painful ways possible. Lilith knocked on the door and a spy hole opened. “State your business.” said the monk simply. Lilith who was still covered in blood from the town’s folk used Susanna’s voice, the voice that Susanna had used when the cart had fallen on her, the voice of terror.
“Please sir the village was attacked by bandits. I barely got out alive, they need your help.” Lilith said shakily in her most convincing matter. The monk closed the spy hole and opened the door. Lilith walked in shakily. Susanna knew that she was waiting to get all or most of them together before she struck. The monk took her to a central chamber.
“I will return with the council. Wait here.”
Lilith stood in the center of the chamber laughing to herself. It wasn’t long till all twelve monks came into the chamber and sat down in chairs around Lilith.
“What is it you need girl?” asked the eldest of the monks.
“You’re head on a pike would be a good start.” said Lilith dropping the scared farm girl routine. Lilith waved her hand expecting one of the wall brackets to come loose and impale the eldest monk but nothing happened. “We thought as much.” said the old monk tiredly. “No villager in her right mind would come here for help. They would rather be killed by bandits. Now look above you.”
Lilith looked up and was shocked and frightened to see a circle with a pentagram inside. On closer inspection the white lines were made up of tiny ruins. “A ruin trap?” said Lilith real fear filling her voice for the first time. The fear woke Susanna who though awake for the whole six years had sunk back into a state of apathy to deal with all she had watched her hands do. Susanna watched excitedly not saying a word. “How long do you think till I figure a way out of this, and you know I will.” Lilith said it with gusto but she was scared.
“Most likely a couple of hours but you don’t have that long. Monks prepare the circle of obliteration.”
You finally bit off more than you could chew Lilith. This is where you pay for everything you forced me to do. This is my revenge.
“Shut up you insignificant fly, I have more things to worry about than a silly girl still thinking she can make a difference.”
The monks around the circle froze and all turned to look at the eldest for instructions. “The vessel lives.” He said simply. He nodded at his brothers and they changed their tactic, moving into a different formation and aiming their magicks at the ruin trap rather than at Susanna and Lilith. A light shot from each of their hands and converged over the ruins. It filled the room with a golden light that caused Lilith to scream. For the first time in a long while Susanna found herself present, not just an onlooker. “Thank you, thank you. I can never repay you for this.” Susanna’s voice burst forth and for once in the last six years it was truly her own. “This is not permanent child. What is your name?” said the eldest monk.
“Susanna,” she said barely able to breath for the tears trailing down her face. “Does this mean that she’ll come back?” “Yes,” said the monk slowly “once you leave this light she will return.” “Please, please,” Susanna begged. “Cast her out, I can’t go through that again.” “She had been there far to long, the act of untangling her from your soul would be very painful and most likely kill you and set her free. None of us want that least of all you.”
Susanna looked at him the hope draining from her eyes. “Then kill me. Destroy us both like you were going to. Better one girl dies than a hundred villages.”
“There is another option Susanna. We could swap your roles. We could bury her in your soul and give you control leaving her with perhaps slightly more control than you had in the same position.”
“Do it.” Susanna said without hesitation.
“Susanna, this is not something done lightly she could make your life a living hell. You may come to curse us before your life ends.”
“She’s already led me through hell and back. She murdered my father with my hands and countless other people. So do it, push her down. Give me my life back.”
The eldest monk looked at her sorrowfully “As you wish my lady.” He and the other monks lowered their beams of light till they converged on Susanna and Lilith. The scream that escaped their lips was a mixture of Lilith’s hideousness and Susanna’s pain. This hurt them both but when the light cleared Susanna could move her arms again.
Over the next four years Susanna wandered, never staying in one place for too long, scared of the harm she might do to people. Lilith’s power was still inside her and so was the demon, tempting her like the dark side of a conscious. It worked sometimes. Susanna strangled a man who owed her money and slit the throat of a thief who tried to rob her. Lilith was like an impulse that Susanna struggled to control. She never stayed anywhere too populated for fear of Lilith’s tempting words and her powers.
Equipment: Dresses simply and carries a quarter staff that she uses as a walking stick most of the time. Many years later she retrived her father's sword which still lay with his corpse as even bandits did not want to disturb the dead of Verion.
Other: Lilith and Susanna's souls are so intertwined that she could possibly pass as a demon to other demons if she played the part right.
Age: 23
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: When she becomes angry or scared her eyes shift to a dark black, quite often this is when Lilith’s power surfaces. The back of her neck bears the demonic rune meaning "First One" in the form of a branding. This is the symbol of a terrible demon that hasn't set foot on the earth in ten thousand years. Many hellspawn consider it a god.
Profession: Bounty Hunter/Wanderer
Appearance:
Bio: Susanna was happy once, but who is she kidding that was another lifetime, another girl. Her father was a foot soldier in the army many years before Susanna was born. When he was discharged for his services he was granted a small plot of land. It was by no means big but it grew enough for them to live and sometime a little more that he could sell on market day. Susanna’s mother died giving birth to her making her, her father’s only child. With no eldest male to take over his legacy Susanna’s father taught her what he would have his son. He taught her about the world, to tell right from wrong, to fight with her hands or with a quarter staff. If they had the money for a sword he might have taught her that skill as well but the only sword in there house was the one that he had brought back from the army and it hadn’t been unsheathed in several years.
One day he delivered her the most exciting news she’d heard. He had been saving money over the last several months and had decided that they would spend it on a road trip to trading city of Veiron. Susanna had never been to the city before but she had heard of it from the local town’s gossips and drunks and it sounded exciting. Two weeks they road on horse and cart to reach the city and it was everything that Susanna had imagined, gleaming towers and fountains, and luscious fruit hanging in stands. That was until a great and terrible sound split the air. No one who stood there that day could adequately explain exactly what the sound was but it filled everyone right down to the rats with dread. Then a wave of black red smoke burst from the palace tower where the king resided. The smoke rolled all the way through Veiron before it dissipated and when the mass touched Susanna she felt so much evil push past her all around. This wasn’t just smoke. It burned and battered her like a stormy wind. She dared not breath but the smoke that covered her felt like fire and in moments she fell to the ground spasming unable to move for the pain. At last she could stand it no longer and she took a breath of that evil air. The moment the smoke entered her body Susanna knew she had made a grave mistake. Something was invading her body, her mind, her soul. She started to jerk more violently than before for it wasn’t just the smoke of normal fire. This was the smoke of hell and all it contained, demons. She could feel it. Her muddled brain told her that she was lying there for centuries and many times she begged and pleaded with the thing inside her to let her die. She didn’t care if her soul was so unclean that she went below she just wanted it to end.
The essence filling up her being, teaming through her mind just laughed and she felt herself wishing that her father hadn’t taught her to be so strong. So many other people she could just see through the smoke had burst into flames but not her, they were the lucky ones. After what felt like eons the pain finally cleared. Susanna stood up but it was not her that had ordered that command. “Hello dearie,” said a voice emanating deep inside her being but coming from her mouth. Susanna realized with horror that her body was no longer her own. This demon owned her now.
“I’m surprised you survived, so many humans burst into flames. It’s really irritating.” Who are you? Susanna tried to say but her voice became lost somewhere in her throat. The question appeared to have reached the demon’s ears though because it answered with a laugh. “Me, I’m Susanna Grace and I’m sure no one will have a dispute with that when I’m cutting their throats. You however, you’re clearly too strong to be banished to the furthest corners of this mind so you might as well have something to scream when the guilt collapses on you. Call me Lilith.” She said still laughing. Her laugh was unlike anything that Susanna had ever heard, unlike anything that had ever come out of her mouth.
“Lilith…” Came a gasping voice from not far away. Susanna and Lilith turned as one to face it. Partially buried under some debris was Susanna’s father. Susanna gasped inside her cage but she could do nothing to stop what happened next and worse still she knew it. Lilith walked slowly over to Susanna’s father. His face was broke and his eyes were red. Is he… Susanna asked Lilith the silent question. However horrible Lilith might be at least she was honest. “No he’s not possessed merely a mark from having a hundred demon’s swarming you. It’s a pity to waste a strong vessel but I guess he was too old for any of the others.”
Lilith walked slowly towards Susanna’s father and placed her boot on the old man’s throat. “You can fight her dear, you have too. There’s no telling what she will do if she gets loose.” Susanna’s father choked and coughed the words out struggling against the boot on his throat, the boot he’d crafted himself. Susanna pushed as hard as she could against Lilith’s grip but to no effect. There was a snapping sound as the boot pushed down and Susanna’s father lay still. NO! Susanna screamed but even this did not reach her mouth. “Keep it down girl, can’t you see I’m trying to enjoy myself.” Lilith said with that evil smile on her face.
Lilith and Susanna walked away from Veiron, the land of scorched earth that day. Over the next six years Lilith performed unspeakable acts with Susanna’s body, murder and torture and seduction and destruction and through it all nothing Susanna did could stop Lilith, not when she slit the innkeepers throat and made a cocktail with his blood, not when she cut the limbs one by one off a group of triplet children not even when Lilith hacked apart a convent and all the sister’s in it. Lilith had a thing for showing up the clergy. That was what finally led her to her incarceration and Susanna’s freedom.
There was a monastery outside a large village and the villager’s spoke of it in awe. After butchering three or four of them Lilith walked to the monastery to kill everything inside in the most painful ways possible. Lilith knocked on the door and a spy hole opened. “State your business.” said the monk simply. Lilith who was still covered in blood from the town’s folk used Susanna’s voice, the voice that Susanna had used when the cart had fallen on her, the voice of terror.
“Please sir the village was attacked by bandits. I barely got out alive, they need your help.” Lilith said shakily in her most convincing matter. The monk closed the spy hole and opened the door. Lilith walked in shakily. Susanna knew that she was waiting to get all or most of them together before she struck. The monk took her to a central chamber.
“I will return with the council. Wait here.”
Lilith stood in the center of the chamber laughing to herself. It wasn’t long till all twelve monks came into the chamber and sat down in chairs around Lilith.
“What is it you need girl?” asked the eldest of the monks.
“You’re head on a pike would be a good start.” said Lilith dropping the scared farm girl routine. Lilith waved her hand expecting one of the wall brackets to come loose and impale the eldest monk but nothing happened. “We thought as much.” said the old monk tiredly. “No villager in her right mind would come here for help. They would rather be killed by bandits. Now look above you.”
Lilith looked up and was shocked and frightened to see a circle with a pentagram inside. On closer inspection the white lines were made up of tiny ruins. “A ruin trap?” said Lilith real fear filling her voice for the first time. The fear woke Susanna who though awake for the whole six years had sunk back into a state of apathy to deal with all she had watched her hands do. Susanna watched excitedly not saying a word. “How long do you think till I figure a way out of this, and you know I will.” Lilith said it with gusto but she was scared.
“Most likely a couple of hours but you don’t have that long. Monks prepare the circle of obliteration.”
You finally bit off more than you could chew Lilith. This is where you pay for everything you forced me to do. This is my revenge.
“Shut up you insignificant fly, I have more things to worry about than a silly girl still thinking she can make a difference.”
The monks around the circle froze and all turned to look at the eldest for instructions. “The vessel lives.” He said simply. He nodded at his brothers and they changed their tactic, moving into a different formation and aiming their magicks at the ruin trap rather than at Susanna and Lilith. A light shot from each of their hands and converged over the ruins. It filled the room with a golden light that caused Lilith to scream. For the first time in a long while Susanna found herself present, not just an onlooker. “Thank you, thank you. I can never repay you for this.” Susanna’s voice burst forth and for once in the last six years it was truly her own. “This is not permanent child. What is your name?” said the eldest monk.
“Susanna,” she said barely able to breath for the tears trailing down her face. “Does this mean that she’ll come back?” “Yes,” said the monk slowly “once you leave this light she will return.” “Please, please,” Susanna begged. “Cast her out, I can’t go through that again.” “She had been there far to long, the act of untangling her from your soul would be very painful and most likely kill you and set her free. None of us want that least of all you.”
Susanna looked at him the hope draining from her eyes. “Then kill me. Destroy us both like you were going to. Better one girl dies than a hundred villages.”
“There is another option Susanna. We could swap your roles. We could bury her in your soul and give you control leaving her with perhaps slightly more control than you had in the same position.”
“Do it.” Susanna said without hesitation.
“Susanna, this is not something done lightly she could make your life a living hell. You may come to curse us before your life ends.”
“She’s already led me through hell and back. She murdered my father with my hands and countless other people. So do it, push her down. Give me my life back.”
The eldest monk looked at her sorrowfully “As you wish my lady.” He and the other monks lowered their beams of light till they converged on Susanna and Lilith. The scream that escaped their lips was a mixture of Lilith’s hideousness and Susanna’s pain. This hurt them both but when the light cleared Susanna could move her arms again.
Over the next four years Susanna wandered, never staying in one place for too long, scared of the harm she might do to people. Lilith’s power was still inside her and so was the demon, tempting her like the dark side of a conscious. It worked sometimes. Susanna strangled a man who owed her money and slit the throat of a thief who tried to rob her. Lilith was like an impulse that Susanna struggled to control. She never stayed anywhere too populated for fear of Lilith’s tempting words and her powers.
Equipment: Dresses simply and carries a quarter staff that she uses as a walking stick most of the time. Many years later she retrived her father's sword which still lay with his corpse as even bandits did not want to disturb the dead of Verion.
Other: Lilith and Susanna's souls are so intertwined that she could possibly pass as a demon to other demons if she played the part right.
Cylus
Name: Cylus
Age: 52
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: the palm of his right hand is blackened.
Profession: Sword Instructor
Appearance: This is what he looked like when he was at Verion. Now his hair is greying and his skin is aged.
Bio: Cylus' early life is not all clear to him, he knows he was born in the east. Not long after he was born his village was raided by marauders. During the attack his immediate family was murdered. He was not unlucky to be found and adopted by a traveler who went by the name Vilgor. Vilgor was from the west and was regarded for his skill with a blade, he had aided the village in running off the marauders before discovering a child of just a few years in age among the rubble of a demolished home. Vilgor adopted the child and named him Cylus but gave him no surname for in the east tittles take the place of surnames.
By the time Cylus had reached twelve years in age Vilgor had told all of this to him. After hearing what had happened to his family and most of his village Cylus resolved to learn all he could in order to defend what he cared most about. He requested an apprenticeship from Vilgor, who by that time was a swordmaster, to which Vilgor accepted.
Cylus spared with Vilgor for five scattered hours a day for the next ten years of his life. At which time he left his home and moved to the west where he joined the military. His military life was droll, he taught swordsmanship to new recruits and took bow lessons from another instructor. He had only been in a few skirmishes this all changed when news of what was happening at Verion reached (the city in which the military is based, I realize that I don't know which one it is?).
Cylus never lived in Verion. He wasn't there visiting either. He was a soldier twenty years ere, a ranger. He was skilled with a bow, but it wasn't his weapon of choice. He followed the way of the sword, not for lust of battle or a greed for power but rather a means to protect the things he cared most about. This eventually lead him to join the military, his skill with a blade was recognized and he was tasked with instructing soldiers in swordsmanship. He had seen little battle until the twenty year Verion conflict. Cylus was sent, along with other soldiers, to aid Verion in their battle with the demon and orc hordes.
In twenty years of battle many soldiers had gone mad with hell-spawn tormenting them in their nightmares if they were fortunate enough to sleep. Cylus had managed to keep his mind but acquired many scars to prove his involvement.
The last day of the battle was both relieving and terrifying, the battle had waged for hours that day, the rhythm of battle was all too familiar to him; parry, lunge, sidestep, roll, swipe... The war had no hope from the beginning twenty years ere. But on that day, the final day, what little hope the warriors had had been burned. The King was slain and moral broken, the commanders ordered a retreat, but that didn't mean the battle was over.
Cylus had been near the front lines of men defending Verion when the order was given. The horde did not relent but surged forward to purge the city. Sword drawn Cylus fought his way to escape. A sword is an extension of myself, not a tool, not a weapon, but me! Thoughts raced through his head while he fled as they had throughout the entirety of the battle. The high ground has the advantage. Use my surroundings to my advantage. Duck, parry lift, drag, lunge, back-step.
An officer was knocked off of his horse. Cylus swiftly mounted the beast and rode away from the battle. He didn't stop until the horse could no longer ride. He later found that the palm of his right had was burned.
Equipment:
Clothes
- Cotton shirt and pants
- Leather bound sandals
- Dark grey cloak
- Steel armor that remains in his home on a stand, unused in years
Weaponry
- Straight Sword
- Long bow with quiver of arrows on his belt
Misc
- Small medicine pouch on belt
Other: Currently Cylus resides in Astoria teaching swordsmanship to those he deems worthy. Most of his equipment is for travel.
Age: 52
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: the palm of his right hand is blackened.
Profession: Sword Instructor
Appearance: This is what he looked like when he was at Verion. Now his hair is greying and his skin is aged.
Bio: Cylus' early life is not all clear to him, he knows he was born in the east. Not long after he was born his village was raided by marauders. During the attack his immediate family was murdered. He was not unlucky to be found and adopted by a traveler who went by the name Vilgor. Vilgor was from the west and was regarded for his skill with a blade, he had aided the village in running off the marauders before discovering a child of just a few years in age among the rubble of a demolished home. Vilgor adopted the child and named him Cylus but gave him no surname for in the east tittles take the place of surnames.
By the time Cylus had reached twelve years in age Vilgor had told all of this to him. After hearing what had happened to his family and most of his village Cylus resolved to learn all he could in order to defend what he cared most about. He requested an apprenticeship from Vilgor, who by that time was a swordmaster, to which Vilgor accepted.
Cylus spared with Vilgor for five scattered hours a day for the next ten years of his life. At which time he left his home and moved to the west where he joined the military. His military life was droll, he taught swordsmanship to new recruits and took bow lessons from another instructor. He had only been in a few skirmishes this all changed when news of what was happening at Verion reached (the city in which the military is based, I realize that I don't know which one it is?).
Cylus never lived in Verion. He wasn't there visiting either. He was a soldier twenty years ere, a ranger. He was skilled with a bow, but it wasn't his weapon of choice. He followed the way of the sword, not for lust of battle or a greed for power but rather a means to protect the things he cared most about. This eventually lead him to join the military, his skill with a blade was recognized and he was tasked with instructing soldiers in swordsmanship. He had seen little battle until the twenty year Verion conflict. Cylus was sent, along with other soldiers, to aid Verion in their battle with the demon and orc hordes.
In twenty years of battle many soldiers had gone mad with hell-spawn tormenting them in their nightmares if they were fortunate enough to sleep. Cylus had managed to keep his mind but acquired many scars to prove his involvement.
The last day of the battle was both relieving and terrifying, the battle had waged for hours that day, the rhythm of battle was all too familiar to him; parry, lunge, sidestep, roll, swipe... The war had no hope from the beginning twenty years ere. But on that day, the final day, what little hope the warriors had had been burned. The King was slain and moral broken, the commanders ordered a retreat, but that didn't mean the battle was over.
Cylus had been near the front lines of men defending Verion when the order was given. The horde did not relent but surged forward to purge the city. Sword drawn Cylus fought his way to escape. A sword is an extension of myself, not a tool, not a weapon, but me! Thoughts raced through his head while he fled as they had throughout the entirety of the battle. The high ground has the advantage. Use my surroundings to my advantage. Duck, parry lift, drag, lunge, back-step.
An officer was knocked off of his horse. Cylus swiftly mounted the beast and rode away from the battle. He didn't stop until the horse could no longer ride. He later found that the palm of his right had was burned.
Equipment:
Clothes
- Cotton shirt and pants
- Leather bound sandals
- Dark grey cloak
- Steel armor that remains in his home on a stand, unused in years
Weaponry
- Straight Sword
- Long bow with quiver of arrows on his belt
Misc
- Small medicine pouch on belt
Other: Currently Cylus resides in Astoria teaching swordsmanship to those he deems worthy. Most of his equipment is for travel.
Weapons lost long ago and never to be recovered. Their existence is remembered for historical purposes.
1.Serilya, the Crimson Blade - a sword made of what appears to be some kind of crimson crystal. The sword drains blood from the wounds it inflicts, absorbing and storing it somewhere inside. That blood is used to active the special powers the sword can unleash, the most basic being healing. If it has no blood within it's reserves, it will draw it from it's wielder. Powers unleashed with own blood are dramatically bolstered in power, as well as increasing the "bond" with the sword. However, careless use of own blood can lead to a quick and stupid death. It is said that the original owner of Serilya was able to unleash, what was called, a Blood Storm.
2.Sigaros, the Shimmering Bow
- A bow made of what seems like glimmering steel, it launches arrows with unprecedented precision. With a bit of bonding, one can summon arrows of pure light to fire. It's power is just that, various tricks including searing light and arrows. It said the great hero wielding this bow shot a single arrow into the sky, only for thousand bolts of light to land.
3.Grax, the Obsidion Greathammer
- A rather mundane looking Greathammer, it has no bloodline lock on it, as it requires massive strength to pick it up, let alone to use it as a weapon. With it's brute power, it can and was used a siege weapon, shattering walls with ease. It's dominion is over earth (shocking, I know). It is said that the great hero who first wielded this weapon was able to send an earth-shattering shockwave towards the approaching undead army, scattering them and burying them within the ravaged ground.
4.Erina, the Fiery Scythe
- a staff which can become a scythe, with a "tail" at it's back that can be used as a whip. Extremely versatile and unpredictable weapon, it has dominion over fire, death and disease. The scythe the most complex of all the relic weapons, requiring both a lot of practice to master it and learn all it's tricks and powers, and lot's of "bonding". Though it may lack the sheer power of the other relic weapons, one can adapt to nearly any situation with it. The grand wizard who first wielded this weapon was known for his ability to create a tornado of flame, which reanimated all it slain as his servants.
5.Malus, the Azure Spear
- an extremely light spear which is capable of extending at the will of it's wielder, without gaining any weight in the process. It contains powers of wind and thunder, allowing the wielder move at extremely high speeds, delivering lightning-fast strikes, literally. It is said that the original owner of Malus was able to strike about a hundred opponents in a blink of an eye, at the same time.
6.Renele, the Glacial Shield
- At first glance, it looks just like a random formation of ice, extremely brittle. It is, however, extremely durable, as well as able to absorb the kinetic energy of the blows it stops, allowing the wielder to block attacks from creatures far bigger or stronger. The spikes are extremely sharp, and are the weapon part of this shield. It can also be thrown with ease as well, making into a deadly projectile weapon, which can be recalled at any time, provided the wielder has bonded with it enough. The shield has dominion over cold and water, and the great hero using it was able to protect his friends from harm by raising massive pillars of impenetrable ice around his friends to protect them from harm.
2.Sigaros, the Shimmering Bow
3.Grax, the Obsidion Greathammer
4.Erina, the Fiery Scythe
5.Malus, the Azure Spear
6.Renele, the Glacial Shield
