Lawful Newtral

Torn Realms (High-Fantasy) (Mid-High Casual) [ALWAYS OPEN]

@Scyntell Probably breaking Lark's limbs to ensure he never steals again. Alive doesn't equate to unharmed.

Torn Realms (High-Fantasy) (Mid-High Casual) [ALWAYS OPEN]

@Silver Carrot

---

They often said that the work of a sellsword never ceased, for as long as gold and hatred of mortals for other mortals existed, mercenaries would forever be employed. That said, Gellert thought that was a load of shit; a sellsword was only as tireless as he let himself to be. Right now, he was stoically sitting on a discarded pile of empty crates. Tracking down a thief required said thief to make the first move, and thieves rarely struck shortly after a previous heist. The urchins of Wellborough seemed to be reluctant in pointing the Grey Wolf to his prey as well. No doubt they of all people would provide asylum for the thieving bastard. Which meant that he was mostly on his own.

Stirring him from his rest, Gellert caught the unpleasant scent of onions (and...blood?) and amidst it, a strangely familiar presence. Looking up, he witnessed a small girl-a miniature woman, if you will-approach him. Undoubtedly a Fae, she offered him an 'apple'. Apple, his ass. The Grey Wolf took the 'cleverly' disguised onion and pulverized it with the just the curling of his gloved hand into a fist.

"Nice try," Gellert uttered, his voice dry as the Wasteland itself. This would-be prankster's face didn't register anything in his memory, but he was sure he had caught her scent once before, but when and where? Frustrated at his time-weathered memory, the Grey Wolf lived up to his name and let out a low growl of irritation. If this Fae was smarter than him, she could make the connection between his wolf-like demeanor and the scent of blood about him.

Torn Realms (High-Fantasy) (Mid-High Casual) [ALWAYS OPEN]

@Soragoku Thank you! Now if only someone IC could remember his birthday. ;-;

So Gellert is a wolf, owl and frog shapeshifter. Would it make sense for him to 'inherit' notable traits from those animals (enhanced smell/hearing, improbable head-turning and whatever frogs has going for them)?

Torn Realms (High-Fantasy) (Mid-High Casual) [ALWAYS OPEN]

---

A few hours ago...

The unimaginably vast forests of Terra was home to all manner of wildlife, most of them benign and passive creatures. Despite the ever looming presence of war, Terra never ceased to feel...safe. Perhaps that was a sort of magic in itself; a land of everlasting sanctuary staring war right in the eye. Unfortunately, no small amount of nefarious individuals have taken advantage of the forest's sheer size. Criminals of every breed have been known to create encampments, temporary or permanent, deep in the secluded corners of Terra's woods. There, they hid from the strong arm of the law- Nephilim, guardsmen and bounty hunters-and planned their next moves carefully.

One such criminal was Glover 'Strong-Arm' Jackdaw. A petty thief turned murderous brigand, he was wanted for numerous counts of theft, murder, graverobbing, assault and battery, fraud and (most recently) attempted rape. The lowlife had narrowly evaded the guards after trying to get his hands on a poor farmer girl and was now laying low, awaiting a chance to strike again. His bounty had probably risen to ludicrous heights by now, what with his last crazy stunt. Sure, it meant more incompetent guards and idiotic bounty hunters would be on his tail, but Glover the Strong-Arm could take anyone on! His hands could kill men with but a grasp! His aim was truer than any man! Let the best come for him, for no one could ever best-

The sound of a twig snapping came into earshot.

Glover immediately grasped for his crossbow and looked for whatever piece of shit animal made that sound, hoping to kill it for breakfast. "Who's there?!" the man cried out. "Don't come any closer or I'll skin ye alive! You hear me!" Nothing replied, only the sound of distant flapping wings. He must have scared it away, the mongrel. "Yea, that's right, run along! Filthy critters..." He turned round to his slow-burning campfire...

...and was met with the leaping maw of a dire grey wolf that pushed him down and tore his chest open with its fangs. The immediate clearing was filled with the gruesome sounds of justice dealt, the desperate shrieking of a dead man as the wolf disemboweled the lowlife named Glover Jackdaw.

---

Gellert Formonde, feared bounty hunter and sellsword, slowly walked the streets of his hometown Wellborough, the mangled carcass of Glover Strong-Arm in tow, dragging it along like it weighed nothing. Citizens parted a way for the fearsome Grey Wolf and looked down and then away in disgust at the horribly gutted body he brought and the literal trail of blood he left. It felt like a disservice to his neighbors to do such a macabre thing within the city, but the proof of bounty had to be delivered, and if there ever was a way to send the message that crime never pays, this was it.

The Grey Wolf reached the Guard Barracks, the men of the law staring at him with equal parts respect, fear and admiration. At the risk of sounding overconfident, he has gotten used to such gazes. He called for the nearest Guard Captain and set the body at her feet.

"Glover Jackdaw, thirty one year old Humani male. Wanted 650 gold pieces alive, 500 dead," Gellert stated simply, his voice low and...ominous. "I want my payment, Alfie." The Guard Captain sighed at the pigheaded old man's antics and handed him the promised gold, placed in a convenient pouch that fit into his existing pouch for gold.

"There, I hope you choke on it, you old oaf," she said in an evidently exasperated tone. "You know, you could've brought us his head like a fuckin' normal person. Instead you do this. What are we supposed to do with a criminal's corpse?" She never failed to make an old man smile. Captain Alfie Tersk was not like most guards. For one, she saw Gellert as not an admirable and intimidating figure, but a nuisance. And that made pissing her off all the more satisfying.

Maybe...bury it like a normal person?"With nothing more than that, Gellert left the Guard Barracks, leaving them to deal with that bastard's corpse as they saw fit.

The Grey Wolf was next seen in the Markets, eyeing the many stalls and their offered wares. Most sold food, some peddled tools and trinkets, others still offered weapons. He has little need for more weapons; Dire and Kelen served him well enough and he was yet to find arms that could compare. Gellert notes the presence of a commotion, the remains of one anyway. A man at a fruit stall stood slumped, dishearted and probably angry to boot. The Grey Wolf approached this man, trying not to look intimidating....and failing at it.

"Blessings to your day, friend," he greeted with a smile that looked more like a grim sneer. Something seems to have happened recently. Do you know anything about it?"

The man slammed his fist into the stall in anger. "It was that damn Lark kid! He stole my money, right out of my pocket!" Ah, the Lark fellow. Gellert knew Wellborough had a thievery problem, mostly concerning one thief. How the Guards let him get away with it was beyond him. Maybe it was time he put a stop to it.

"I'll see what I can do." Gellert left the stall just like that, leaving the merchant confused, but he knew that he had encountered the Grey Wolf, and he was on the hunt. For there was a new bounty at hand, one long overdue. Lark Sylvsson, wanted alive. Reward irrelevant.

Always wondered what magpie tasted like.

Torn Realms (High-Fantasy) (Mid-High Casual) [ALWAYS OPEN]

Gellert the Grey

Basic Information

Full Name: Gellert Formonde
Age: 47 (so he claims)
Gender: Male
Birth Date: 01/01
Race: Humani
Alignment: Neutral

Appearance

Hair Color: Grey
Eye Color: Beady blue
Face Shape: Square, chiseled, a light stubble covering his chin and lining his jawline
Skin Tone: Pale olive
Height: 182 cm/5'9"
Weight: 75 kg/165 lb
Body Type: Muscular, battle-worn
Natural Markings: None
Scar(s): A singular gash across the left side of his lips, several old scars on his chest and back
Tattoo(s): One on his right shoulder; black outline of a lidded eye lined with inverse pentagramic spikes (img)

Personality

Gellert is nothing but a mysterious figure. Often coming as swiftly as the rain and vanishing without a trace just as fast, he's demure, mysterious and strictly professional with his dealings. No matter how hard you try, you'll find it almost impossible to get into his head. His thoughts are a mystery to everyone but himself and only the most perceptive can outline a pattern in his seemingly erratic and unpredictable judgment. Usually a quiet man who keeps to himself and doesn't let anyone pry at his past, Gellert has a penchant for wit and sarcastic remarks whenever he is stuck into a conversation. Generally, he doesn't go around and pick fights with people he knows to have no quarrel with. Despite his known profession as a shady mercenary and bounty hunter, he's quite peace-loving out of the job and a pleasant man all around. Just very, very intimidating, even when he doesn't mean to.

3 Words: Witty, Unpredictable, Scary
Like(s): The woods, kids, good music, magic (sleight of hand, not sorcery), money, alcohol
Dislike(s): Minstrels, criminals of any sort, wanton destruction, swimming, arrogance, being disrespected

Want(s): Family, home and a peaceful life
Fear(s): Drowning

Favorite...

Color(s): Grey
Time of Day: Evening
Food: Roasted river mackerel on a stick
Animal: Wolf
Place in Terra: Norione Village

Skills and Attributes

Skills

Special ability(s): Gellert wants to keep this under wraps as much as possible (for the shock value), but he is able to shapeshift into a number of various animals. Specifically, a wolf, an owl and a frog. Transformations take about a second at most and last indefinitely as long as he has energy and consciousness.

Good at...: Swordsmanship, primarily. Gellert is an exemplar fighter and can overpower most opponents in an honorable one-on-one duel. His stay at Norione Village gave him the knowledge of water magic. He is also good at simple cooking, stealth, lying and combat acrobatics.

Bad at...: Archery. Gellert has always been fascinated the rangers of the wood and wanted to emulate their masterful marksmanship. However, he never could get the hang of aiming and eventually abandoned that aspiration for simpler bladeworks. He's also notably incompetent at flirting, penmanship (his handwriting is sloppier that chicken scratches), dealing with thirst and also putting thoughts into words.

Traits

Good Habit(s): Gellert has tremendous respect for nature and its children and it shows in his day-to-day life. He also has peerless diligence and work ethic.

Bad Habit(s): He's unfortunately quite antisocial and detached, detesting having to interact beyond what is rational (in his eyes). Gellert also likes to binge drink.

History

The Past

Little is known about the origins of Gellert Formonde. He is an unreliable storyteller and rumors about his past are equally dubious. What is certain, however, is that he's lowborn, the son of peasant workers from Wellborough. Both of his parents were shapeshifters and he inherited their ability, able to shift into his favorite animals (wolves, owls and frogs). His life was modest and wasn't filled with much troubles. Not much fortune, either. Some time before he came of age, his father began teaching him how to properly handle a sword, himself being a former brigand that turned a new leaf when he found love with a brothel worker, leading of course to Gellert. As it turns out, he inherited his father's combat savviness; the sword flowed so easily in his arms. He could easily duke it out with his father at such an early age.

At his parent's suggestion, Gellert took up the work of a sellsword, lending his fighting skills where the money was right. He found steady work and camaraderie with the Rogue Knights. They were a mercenary company, primarily consisting of humani, that fought for any side given the right price. Though they styled themselves knights, they were anything but knightly. Each member was given the title Sir as well as an epithet (for example, Sir Dayne the Brave). Given his rapidly graying hair even before he reached his twilight years, Gellert wqs dubbed Sir Gellert the Grey. He racked up a respectable sum of gold fighting with the Knights, but committed no small number of crimes in the process, mostly out of peer pressure. He was given the idea that the world was inherently dark despite its beautiful exterior and the only way to survive was following the nature of it.

Twenty years Gellert spent with the Rogue Knights, becoming one of their most senior members. A turning point came when the company was ambushed by the opposing force. A bloodbath ensued, heavy casualties suffered on both sides. The Knights were forced to retreat, but Gellert was picked off in the rout, thrown into the raging river rapids and left for dead. He would've drowned under the current and died were it not for the kindness of an itinerant water spirit who pulled him out of the current. Given his condition, said water spirit brought her to her home in Norione Village to care for him (with the help of trained Fae healers). He recovered in no time and was invited to stay in the Village for a while. Gellert learned many things in his stay, chief among them water magic, taught by the water spirit that saved his life. The peaceful, serene environment and proximity to the beauty of nature also proved beneficial for his physical and mental health. His faith in the world was restored after being corrupted.

Eventually, his stay came to an end and Gellert was implored to return to his people, but not without given a gift first. The people of Norione Village were not people of warfare, but they have ancient weapons in case they come under attack. He was given two such weapons. First, a short sword (Fae longsword) of enchanted steel that is especially potent against creatures of the dark. The second was a dagger (Fae shortsword) that can conceal the wielder in shadows when held. The two blades are named Dire and Kelen, respectively. They would prove useful for him in future adventures.

The Present

Gellert is now back on the path of a mercenary. Though a resident of Wellborough, he often wanders the land to seek out bounties and troublesome monsters to slay. He aims to help the prosperity of Terra's people and thinks he has no place in the Raziel-Alithe conflict. Rather, Raziel and Alithe have no place here and should take their magical war elsewhere.

Lately, that conflict has raged more than he had ever known. It seems likely that he would be pulled into it. Yet Gellert wants none of that life. If need be, he will destroy both Alithe and Raziel, not in that particular order, to ensure the world stays in peace and freedom.

Cindy Eversong

Basic Information

Full Name: Cyndia Eversong, affectionately called Cindy
Age: 1105
Gender: Female
Birth Date: 08/20
Race: Elf
Alignment: Neutral (aligned with Raziel on principle, I guess?)

Appearance

Hair Color: Jet black, a rarity among elves, long and straight
Eye Color: Purple (they were once a simple dark color)
Face Shape: Oval
Skin Tone: Olive with a deathly pale complexion
Height: 177 cm / 5'9¾"
Weight: 120 lb / 54 kg
Body Type: Curvaceous, lithe
Natural Markings: None
Scar(s): A small crack-like scar on her forehead that sometimes fades out of sight and sometimes doesn't.
Tattoo(s): One depicting an intricate line (similar to those in this very CS) on the very base of her back

Personality

First and foremost, Cindy is one hell of a driven woman. No matter what the world throws at her, she always sticks to the bigger picture and everything she does will always be in the service of furthering her plans of salvation. Cyndia knows how to make the best of any situation, how to exploit anyone and anything, that they may be of use to her in the now or later. For her part, this mostly involves her mastery of charisma, manipulation and charm. Even without the aid of Nerzar's magics, she is dangerously alluring. Few men could resist the charms of Cyndia Eversong.

While on the outside she may walk and talk confident, inside she hides a lot of inner conflicts, doubts and even madness. The burden of a Herald is unthinkable and it strains the mind like nothing ever could. If left to her own solitude, her inner contemplations rage out of control and can even make her pass out due to how much stuff is going on in her head. This is why she'd like to surround herself with company. As distraction. And to spread the message.
3 Words: Resourceful, Determined, Temptress
Like(s): Balance, compassion, fine dining, when people listen to her, cold temperatures, torture (guilty pleasure)
Dislike(s): Excessive chaos, excessive order, when people ignore her, heat, confinement, holier-than-thou attitude

Want(s): The endgame for Cyndia is world salvation. Nerzar speaks of a world with absolutely no violence, no conflict. Where people are freed from darkness and act for the betterment of all. A utopia of peace. As his Herald, she will make that happen and that end requires the complete purging of Alithe and her Revenants. So says Nerzar. So he commands.
Fear(s): The fear of failure is something plaguing her since even before her elevation as Herald. When everything is at stake, it breeds a new level of insecurity. Can she truly save everything? Can she uphold that kind of responsibility? The fate of the world hangs on by a thread. If Cyndia cannot exact Nerzar's will, it is forever doomed and life itself would be scoured off the face of Terra.

Also, she is claustrophobic.

Favourite...

Color(s): Shades of black and purple
Time of Day: The dark before sunrise
Food: Any manner of Elven cuisine
Animal: Octopus
Place in Terra: Volkungthad

Skills and Attributes

Skills

Special abilities: Cyndia is the most recent Herald of Nerzar, the Sacred Nightmare. This entails her to hidden powers never before seen in the face of Terra. She can manipulate shadows to her heart's content, creating tendrils and tentacles to harm her foes, move swiftly across short distances or create flawless copies of herself to deceive them. Much like her Lord, she is also able to manipulate the mind with whispers. By completely shrouding a person with whispers of doubt and madness, Cindy is able to subjugate them to her will. Or break theirs altogether. This can lead to illusory magic most potent, tricking the minds of the weak.

However, the whispers take effect only as much as the victim wants it too. The strongest minds are impervious to temptations and doubts, thus she must resort to weakening their resolve through other manners. Her affinity with the shadow makes her weak against light and fire magic. Her eyes are very sensitive to any form of strong light, forcing her to don hoods while in the sun.
Good at...: Deception, trickery, persuasion and womanly charm, wine-tasting, archery (to a certain extent)
Bad at...: Handling her inner demons, literally every other type of magic

Traits

Good Habit(s): Determined and driven, able to see the bigger picture and understand why this or that needs to happen instead of doing the mythical 'right thing'.
Bad Habit(s): Chronic backstabbing disorder; Cyndia makes little to no attempt at convincing people that trust in her is not wasted. Also a compulsive liar, but she's a trickster so.

History

The Past

Cyndia's memories of her past and beginnings weren't the most reliable. If she wanted to know what happened when, she'd ask her parents, but they're dead. What she knows for sure to have happened goes as follows.

Cyndia Eversong, daughter of elven rangers Tywin and Ellery Eversong, was born with black hair. Considered to be an ill omen where she came from, it brought her nothing but ill luck to the days of her childhood and beyond in a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. Not as quick on her feet as the other kids and bearing an abnormal shade of hair for an elf, she remembered being ridiculed and teased. Very often. She also recalled having bad dreams almost constantly the moment she reached adolescence. Cindy dreamed of a world covered in the flames of war. Forests burned, people slain indiscriminately, chaos reigning as the so-called enforcers of order turned to it themselves. Heavy dreams for a kid. These dreams irregularly and often times she'd stay up all night in fear of these horrible dreams. Cindy didn't know what they were supposed to be! Why was she being shown this?

Over the course of her maturity into a strong and proud defender of elven land, Cyndia's dreams never stopped, but there happened a widening of scope. As fire and brimstone beset the world, hope shone on the fallen horizon, but not a hero she'd expect. Darkness and shadow swept over the land and expelled chaos, reversing the damage done and ushering in a new age of prosperity. Later on, she would dream more of this shadow, learning more about its shape, form and power. Understandably curious, she ventured to vestiges of knowledge in humani land to learn more about this shadowy being. One particularly ancient grimoire identified it as Nerzar, Old Lord of Dreams. An entity thought to be evil by ancient civilizations, he was imprisoned in both an underground prison and a dimensional prison. But Nerzar was a being of purpose and it was hellbent on saving the world, for he saw in his dreams a world ruled by chaos. Chaos which he hoped to avert.

The more Cyndia read about this Nerzar, the more she was enthralled by his vision and mission. A dark creature who desired world salvation? Seemed contradictory to what she had been taught. And the more she knew about him, the more often the dreams came, until there came a point where the Old Lord himself made contact. Whispering to her in the dead of night, he beckoned her to his prison deep beneath the ancient caverns. It all made sense. The dreams, they were signs. He had chosen her and now she would answer the call.

Venturing down into Volkungthad, Cyndia found the entrance to the old cavern system leading to the prison of Nerzar. With an incantation learned to her by the dreams, she broke open the prison and...was transported into a long sleep. The Long Sleep, to be precise. The Sacred Dream personally took her to his realm, where he enlightened her on his vision, what she must do from this day forward and the true purpose of the world. The Lord of Dreams sought a world of peace, balance and free will, but the foolish progenitors Raziel and Alithe were stopping him from that path. Eventually, great wars would rise between their followers and the world would be shattered. But not if his Herald, being Cyndia, could save them from themselves. Nerzar would allow her to wake when the time was right and to that end, The Long Sleep lasted an entire millennium. When she woke up, she was a different woman in a different time. As predicted, the tensions between the Nephilim and Revenants started to grow out of proportions.

A Herald of Nerzar, Cyndia now strove to save the world.

The Present

After awakening from the Long Sleep, Cyndia now wanders the land, discreetly spreading the word of doom, that the people may know what the future holds if they don't act now. With her elven knowledge of the lay of Terra, she travels between place to place swiftly and under the shadow of the great trees. Very useful knowledge since she is always under the threat of hanging or burning at the stake for her 'mad words'.

Spinning her web of shadows like a spider, Cindy carries with her the same nightmares of doom that once plagued her as a child. Where she sleeps, everyone close to her sees the forsaken future. If they would not listen to the words of his Herald, Nerzar himself would speak to them.

Torn Realms (High-Fantasy) (Mid-High Casual) [ALWAYS OPEN]

Sorry for doubleposting, but I have finalized my CS. Hopefully it'sof sufficient quality.

Hider

Basic Information

Full Name: Gellert Formonde
Age: 47 (so he claims)
Gender: Male
Birth Date: 01/01
Race: Humani
Alignment: Neutral

Appearance

Hair Color: Grey
Eye Color: Beady blue
Face Shape: Square, chiseled, a light stubble covering his chin and lining his jawline
Skin Tone: Pale olive
Height: 182 cm/5'9"
Weight: 75 kg/165 lb
Body Type: Muscular, battle-worn
Natural Markings: None
Scar(s): A singular gash across the left side of his lips, several old scars on his chest and back
Tattoo(s): One on his right shoulder; black outline of a lidded eye lined with inverse pentagramic spikes (img)

Personality

Gellert is nothing but a mysterious figure. Often coming as swiftly as the rain and vanishing without a trace just as fast, he's demure, mysterious and strictly professional with his dealings. No matter how hard you try, you'll find it almost impossible to get into his head. His thoughts are a mystery to everyone but himself and only the most perceptive can outline a pattern in his seemingly erratic and unpredictable judgment. Usually a quiet man who keeps to himself and doesn't let anyone pry at his past, Gellert has a penchant for wit and sarcastic remarks whenever he is stuck into a conversation. Generally, he doesn't go around and pick fights with people he knows to have no quarrel with. Despite his known profession as a shady mercenary and bounty hunter, he's quite peace-loving out of the job and a pleasant man all around. Just very, very intimidating, even when he doesn't mean to.

3 Words: Witty, Unpredictable, Scary
Like(s): The woods, kids, good music, magic (sleight of hand, not sorcery), money, alcohol
Dislike(s): Minstrels, thieves, wanton destruction, swimming, arrogance, being disrespected, monsters

Want(s): Family, home and a peaceful life
Fear(s): Drowning

Favorite...

Color(s): Grey
Time of Day: Evening
Food: Roasted river mackerel on a stick
Animal: Wolf
Place in Terra: Norione Village

Skills and Attributes

Skills

Special ability(s): Gellert wants to keep this under wraps as much as possible (for the shock value), but he is able to shapeshift into a number of various animals. Specifically, a wolf, an owl and a frog. Transformations take about a second at most and last indefinitely as long as he has energy and consciousness.

Good at...: Swordsmanship, primarily. Gellert is an exemplar fighter and can overpower most opponents in an honorable one-on-one duel. His stay at Norione Village gave him the knowledge of water magic. He is also good at simple cooking, stealth, lying and combat acrobatics.

Bad at...: Archery. Gellert has always been fascinated the rangers of the wood and wanted to emulate their masterful marksmanship. However, he never could get the hang of aiming and eventually abandoned that aspiration for simpler bladeworks. He's also notably incompetent at flirting, penmanship (his handwriting is sloppier that chicken scratches), dealing with thirst and also putting thoughts into words.

Traits

Good Habit(s): Gellert has tremendous respect for nature and its children and it shows in his day-to-day life. He also has peerless diligence and work ethic.

Bad Habit(s): He's unfortunately quite antisocial and detached, detesting having to interact beyond what is rational (in his eyes). Gellert also likes to binge drink.

History

The Past

Little is known about the origins of Gellert Formonde. He is an unreliable storyteller and rumors about his past are equally dubious. What is certain, however, is that he's lowborn, the son of peasant workers from Wellborough. Both of his parents were shapeshifters and he inherited their ability, able to shift into his favorite animals (wolves, owls and frogs). His life was modest and wasn't filled with much troubles. Not much fortune, either. Some time before he came of age, his father began teaching him how to properly handle a sword, himself being a former brigand that turned a new leaf when he found love with a brothel worker, leading of course to Gellert. As it turns out, he inherited his father's combat savviness; the sword flowed so easily in his arms. He could easily duke it out with his father at such an early age.

At his parent's suggestion, Gellert took up the work of a sellsword, lending his fighting skills where the money was right. He found steady work and camaraderie with the Rogue Knights. They were a mercenary company, primarily consisting of humani, that fought for any side given the right price. Though they styled themselves knights, they were anything but knightly. Each member was given the title Sir as well as an epithet (for example, Sir Dayne the Brave). Given his rapidly graying hair even before he reached his twilight years, Gellert wqs dubbed Sir Gellert the Grey. He racked up a respectable sum of gold fighting with the Knights, but committed no small number of crimes in the process, mostly out of peer pressure. He was given the idea that the world was inherently dark despite its beautiful exterior and the only way to survive was following the nature of it.

Twenty years Gellert spent with the Rogue Knights, becoming one of their most senior members. A turning point came when the company was ambushed by the opposing force. A bloodbath ensued, heavy casualties suffered on both sides. The Knights were forced to retreat, but Gellert was picked off in the rout, thrown into the raging river rapids and left for dead. He would've drowned under the current and died were it not for the kindness of an itinerant water spirit who pulled him out of the current. Given his condition, said water spirit brought her to her home in Norione Village to care for him (with the help of trained Fae healers). He recovered in no time and was invited to stay in the Village for a while. Gellert learned many things in his stay, chief among them water magic, taught by the water spirit that saved his life. The peaceful, serene environment and proximity to the beauty of nature also proved beneficial for his physical and mental health. His faith in the world was restored after being corrupted.

Eventually, his stay came to an end and Gellert was implored to return to his people, but not without given a gift first. The people of Norione Village were not people of warfare, but they have ancient weapons in case they come under attack. He was given two such weapons. First, a short sword (Fae longsword) of enchanted steel that is especially potent against creatures of the dark. The second was a dagger (Fae shortsword) that can conceal the wielder in shadows when held. The two blades are named Dire and Kelen, respectively. They would prove useful for him in future adventures.

The Present

Gellert is now back on the path of a mercenary. Though a resident of Wellborough, he often wanders the land to seek out bounties and troublesome monsters to slay. He aims to help the prosperity of Terra's people and thinks he has no place in the Raziel-Alithe conflict. Rather, Raziel and Alithe have no place here and should take their magical war elsewhere.

Lately, that conflict has raged more than he had ever known. It seems likely that he would be pulled into it. Yet Gellert wants none of that life. If need be, he will destroy both Alithe and Raziel, not in that particular order, to ensure the world stays in peace and freedom.

Torn Realms (High-Fantasy) (Mid-High Casual) [ALWAYS OPEN]

Backstory is still a work in progress, but tell me what you guys think of him now! ^.^

Hider

Basic Information

Full Name: Gellert Formonde
Age: 47 (so he claims)
Gender: Male
Birth Date: 01/01
Race: Humani
Alignment: Neutral

Appearance

Hair Color: Grey
Eye Color: Beady blue
Face Shape: Square, chiseled, a light stubble covering his chin and lining his jawline
Skin Tone: Pale olive
Height: 182 cm/5'9"
Weight: 75 kg/165 lb
Body Type: Muscular, battle-worn
Natural Markings: None
Scar(s): A singular gash across the left side of his lips, several old scars on his chest and back
Tattoo(s): One on his right shoulder; black outline of a lidded eye lined with inverse pentagramic spikes (img)

Personality

Gellert is nothing but a mysterious figure. Often coming as swiftly as the rain and vanishing without a trace just as fast, he's demure, mysterious and strictly professional with his dealings. No matter how hard you try, you'll find it almost impossible to get into his head. His thoughts are a mystery to everyone but himself and only the most perceptive can outline a pattern in his seemingly erratic and unpredictable judgment. Usually a quiet man who keeps to himself and doesn't let anyone pry at his past, Gellert has a penchant for wit and sarcastic remarks whenever he is stuck into a conversation. Generally, he doesn't go around and pick fights with people he knows to have no quarrel with. Despite his known profession as a shady mercenary and bounty hunter, he's quite peace-loving out of the job and a pleasant man all around. Just very, very intimidating, even when he doesn't mean to.

3 Words: Witty, Unpredictable, Scary
Like(s): The woods, kids, good music, magic (sleight of hand, not sorcery), money, alcohol
Dislike(s): Minstrels, thieves, wanton destruction, swimming, arrogance, being disrespected, monsters

Want(s): Family, home and a peaceful life
Fear(s): Drowning

Favorite...

Color(s): Grey
Time of Day: Evening
Food: Roasted river mackerel on a stick
Animal: Wolf
Place in Terra: Norione Village

Skills and Attributes

Skills

Special ability(s): Gellert wants to keep this under wraps as much as possible (for the shock value), but he is able to shapeshift into a number of various animals. Specifically, a wolf, an owl and a frog. Transformations take about a second at most and last indefinitely as long as he has energy and consciousness.

Good at...: Swordsmanship, primarily. Gellert is an exemplar fighter and can overpower most opponents in an honorable one-on-one duel. He is also good at simple cooking, stealth, lying and combat acrobatics.

Bad at...: Archery. Gellert has always been fascinated the rangers of the wood and wanted to emulate their masterful marksmanship. However, he never could get the hang of aiming and eventually abandoned that aspiration for simpler bladeworks. He's also notably incompetent at flirting, penmanship (his handwriting is sloppier that chicken scratches), dealing with thirst and also putting thoughts into words.

Traits

Good Habit(s): Gellert has tremendous respect for nature and its children and it shows in his day-to-day life. He also has peerless diligence and work ethic.

Bad Habit(s): He's unfortunately quite antisocial and detached, detesting having to interact beyond what is rational (in his eyes). Gellert also likes to binge drink.

History

The Past

Little is known about the origins of Gellert Formonde. He is an unreliable storyteller and rumors about his past are equally dubious. What is certain, however, is that he's lowborn, the son of peasant workers from Wellborough. Both of his parents were shapeshifters and he inherited their ability, able to shift into his favorite animals (wolves, owls and frogs). His life was modest and wasn't filled with much troubles. Not much fortune, either. Some time before he came of age, his father began teaching him how to properly handle a sword, himself being a former brigand that turned a new leaf when he found love with a brothel worker, leading of course to Gellert. As it turns out, he inherited his father's combat savviness; the sword flowed so easily in his arms. He could easily duke it out with his father at such an early age.

At his parent's suggestion, Gellert took up the work of a sellsword, lending his fighting skills where the money was right. He found steady work and camaraderie with the Rogue Knights. They were a mercenary company, primarily consisting of humani, that fought for any side given the right price. Though they styled themselves knights, they were anything but knightly. Each member was given the title Sir as well as an epithet (for example, Sir Dayne the Brave). Given his rapidly graying hair even before he reached his twilight years, Gellert wqs dubbed Sir Gellert the Grey. He racked up a respectable sum of gold fighting with the Knights, but committed no small number of crimes in the process, mostly out of peer pressure. He was given the idea that the world was inherently dark despite its beautiful exterior and the only way to survive was following the nature of it.

Twenty years Gellert spent with the Rogue Knights, becoming one of their most senior members. A turning point came when the company was ambushed by the opposing force. A bloodbath ensued, heavy casualties suffered on both sides. The Knights were forced to retreat, but Gellert was picked off in the rout, thrown into the raging river rapids and left for dead. He would've drowned under the current and died were it not for the kindness of an itinerant water spirit who pulled him out of the current. Given his condition, said water spirit brought her to her home in Norione Village to care for him (with the help of trained Fae healers). He recovered in no time and was invited to stay in the Village for a while. Gellert learned many things in his stay, chief among them water magic, taught by the water spirit that saved his life. The peaceful, serene environment and proximity to the beauty of nature also proved beneficial for his physical and mental health. His faith in the world was restored after being corrupted.

Eventually, his stay came to an end and Gellert was implored to return to his people, but not without given a gift first. The people of Norione Village were not people of warfare, but they have ancient weapons in case they come under attack. He was given two such weapons. First, a short sword (Fae longsword) of enchanted steel that is especially potent against creatures of the dark. The second was a dagger (Fae shortsword) that can conceal the wielder in shadows when held. The two blades are named Dire and Kelen, respectively. They would prove useful for him in future adventures.

The Present

Gellert is now back on the path of a mercenary. Though a resident of Wellborough, he often wanders the land to seek out bounties and troublesome monsters to slay. He aims to help the prosperity of Terra's people and thinks he has no place in the Raziel-Alithe conflict. Rather, Raziel and Alithe have no place here and should take their magical war elsewhere.

Lately, that conflict has raged more than he had ever known. It seems likely that he would be pulled into it. Yet Gellert wants none of that life. If need be, he will destroy both Alithe and Raziel, not in that order, to ensure the world stays in peace and freedom.

Memories

He remembers vividly his first transformation
[Can be in dot points]

Torn Realms (High-Fantasy) (Mid-High Casual) [ALWAYS OPEN]

Just when I was in a fantasy mood, too. Placing my interest here!

【Bleach: Souls Adrift】

Daigo Serizawa

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The Shinigami exiles' resident Wild Animal waltzed into the usual watering hole, an abandoned mansion once filled to the brim with Hollows (only to be filled again by more souls in the form of Shinigami). By waltzing in, we mean violently crash in like a human-shaped wrecking ball, soaking wet from the rain. Was there a reason for such a move? Was he blown back by some sort of force? Not really, he felt like making a cool entrance. Thankfully, few had arrived before him so in turn, few could be pissed off by it. Daigo gave everyone present a casual wave, as if he didn't just rocket through the door, probably breaking it. Again.

"Rest easy, boys, papa Daigo is in the building," he declared in that off-putting, twisted voice. "As always, fashionably early." There was a reason for it, of course. Daigo wished to sit where the captains would normally and despite the nasty looks he's been getting for it, his ass had succeeded in resting itself near the top of the stairway. All to better listen to the Cap-Commander's speech, after all.

As the day moved on towards noon, more and more of the exiled Shinigami answered the summons until eventually, the 'abandoned' mansion filled and young Yanagi found it fit to start his speech. A rousing speech, basically a call to arms. Looks like the brat has finally found the balls to reclaim his 'lost honor'. Now, in Daigo's respectable own opinion, he would personally prefer to move on with what had happened in the Court of Pure Souls. Soul Society no longer welcomed them and they were on their own and that has never been a bad thing for Daigo Serizawa. Sure, if the Cap-Commander gave the orders to fight for the glory of what once was, he'd do so for that was duty. Didn't mean he had to like it in particular. As madly warmongering as Dai set himself up to be, fighting to claim the (un)life of a fellow Shinigami left a bad taste in his mouth.

Good thing, then, that today Yanagi sicked them on Hollows. A hunt for a Hollow! That meant slaughtering a whole bunch of them and seeing who survived last. Great fun! And he made it look like a competition, too! Daigo would enjoy this greatly because the next best thing to seeing Hollows fall like flies was seeing the looks on his buddies' faces when they lose. Most Shinigami loved to win. Not Dai. He loved seeing people lose. For this task, the Cap-Com split the motley crew up into strike teams. Scarface got partnered up with Special Snowflake, the same went for Hot Potato and Red Carpet. Purple Punk and Chinatown were assigned to the latter team while Tighty Whitey and the Speedy Bitch were stuck with the former. The Cap-Com himself called for Snoozefest, Fist-for-Brains and Daigo himself for his personal team. Between the literal Captain Commander paired up with the (self-professed) most interesting man in the world, their team would handle this in a cinch.

Daigo moved to be with his teammates. Snoozefest and Fist-for-Brains were predictably already at each other's behinds. He could feel himself giving in to the temptation of rolling his eyes.

"Ladies, ladies, please. Get a room before I put you in mine," he casually said, slapping a rough hand on both of their shoulders. Comically, he had to jump to get into that position. "And Sleepyhead! An insult stops being an insult when it is factually true. Then it becomes a statement and this pretty boy here-with a head like a mop!" He rubbed said mop hair for emphasis."-is protected under freedom of speech. It's what makes this world free and great. Now, are you just gonna sit here or are we gonna follow the big boss who has recently Flash Stepped out of sight and capture ourselves a mother-FUCKING Hollow?!"

The Mundane [Small-Town Superheroes]

Location: Verona Cemetery -> One Thousand Pages
Interacting with: Her father -> Huxley the Cat -> Teddy Foster @HalfOfLancelot

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The cemetery in which most of Verona's departed were laid to rest was framed in a cold winter's silence. Few found it convenient to pay respects to their dead in such weather. So the father-daughter twosome of Jacqueline and Emile Desmarais were left alone with the residents of the graves, the latter aided in standing with an antique walking stick. The two stood in front of the gravestones of Jackie's birth parents, Jasper and Emilia Lacroix, deceased twenty three years ago in a car accident. It was said accident that left her in Verona and in the care of her current adoptive father Emile.

It seemed weird to Jackie how paying respects to her deceased parents has lost some of its emotional impact due to how routinely she and her father have been doing it. Every Sunday morning after church mass since she could walk, he took her here and have a small session of prayer. So surely after the first two decades, she'd see this as more of a chore. And it would seem her father had yet to take notice of it. Until today.

"You don't always have to follow me here every morning, you know," Emile said in a low, but steady voice. "You're an adult now, Jacqueline, you're free to stick to your own routine." The girl rested her head lightly on her father's shoulder.

"Well, I'm glad you've finally came to that conclusion, Papa. Took you long enough," she replied playfully, a catlike smirk on her face. "But I don't like the thought of you being alone here without company, especially when the days are getting this cold and dry." This statement elicited a rough and hearty laugh from her father.

"Nonsense, child! Don't think that just because of these seventy years I can't handle some cold." This stubborn old man was always priding himself on strength that was way past his time. It made Jackie worry for him more that she already did, but also couldn't help just trusting him. Back then, their roles were reversed; Jackie was the stubborn one way over her head and her father was the worrywart doubter.

"You're sure about that?" she asked again. Sure, she really wanted to just get out of here, but better to calm her conscience first and make sure she didn't regret leaving him here.

"Papa doesn't say anything unless he's sure of it, child. Now run along, and do whatever you youngsters do!"

"Yay! Love you, Papa." Jackie leaned down and affectionately pecked her father's cheek. "Do I take the car?"

"Sure, sure, go ahead. I'll, uh, hitch a ride home with Sister Marianne or something." To reaffirm this, he reached into his pockets and handed her the keys to the family car, a 27 year old 1972 Ford Gran Torino, his father's sole personal luxury. It was arguably the most famous car in town; any local townie above high school age probably knew this banged-up beauty of a car belonged to the humble Emile Desmarais and his lovely daughter.

"Awesome, I'll see you back at home. Again, love you!" Another kiss on the cheek and Jackie was off for the parking lot. The man stood alone before the graves of the people that unknowingly placed him in where he currently was in life.

---

What in God's name happened to the town center?

Everyone was gathered here, helping out to fix what appeared to be the aftermath of mass vandalism. Windows were broken, every single one on Main Street. Madness, pure and simple. Thankfully for sort of lazy Jackie, the townsfolk seemed to have just about settled the mess by the time she drove around the place. Not to imply that she wouldn't help out, but ehh. This was a bad day for physical activity. They'll understand.

The Gran Torino parked in front of the One Thousand Pages, Jackie's workplace. Getting paid to regularly talk to people and be around books was a no-brainer. It would seem that not even Verona's sole bookstore was spared, but people have naturally boarded it up already. Her neighbors were such dears sometimes. Jackie got out the car and approached the couple of ladies standing near the boarded up windows.

She brought them her usual smile and chipper tone. "Morning, misses. Looks like even the windows here got smashed, huh?"

"It sure did, Jackie," one of them replied with a nod. "Whoever or whatever did this, it was thorough. We took care of it, so you and Teddy don't have to. You're welcome." Jackie rolled her eyes, the smile turning into a smirk.

"Yes, yes, thank you, ma'am. I'll gladly make it up to you whenever I can."

"Well, you do know we're gonna keep that in mind. One can't have too many favors," the other lady remarked. "Anyway, we're going to Simone's now to get us some morning Joe. Teddy actually went there earlier, if you're wondering where he is in all this. Take care, J." The two walked away with their things and after giving them a parting wave, Jackie was free to enter the shop and get ready for the day. Not more than three steps in and Huxley the cat was at her feet, purring at her sweetly. Though not a cat person, Huxley remained attached to Jackie like it did with her boss Teddy. It circled around her legs like it was a scratching post and Jackie found it best to just leave it to do its thing.

Sitting behind the counter with phone in hand, the girl couldn't help but return to the questions bothering her since she got here. The windows in Main Street, all broken without anyone realizing. How could this happen? They bugged her so much, she could barely manage browsing Instagram. They continued to persist until she was forced to remember about her newfound gift.

The power of backtracking.

Peering into the past of an object. It seemed an innocuous ability, but it fit the situation perfectly. If Jackie could get her hands on a shard of glass, everything would be crystal clear. Unless the nature of the event was super supernatural. Then nothing really was. She stepped out of the store to seek a piece of broken glass closest to her. She found it from a glint of light; it lay forgotten near the curb. Reaching down to gently hold it in her fingers, Jackie closed her eyes and focused. And focused. And focus.

When she opened her eyes, her vision becomes all gray and the windows are all intact. The streets are empty, not a soul is venturing outside. The lack of color makes it hard to discern the time, but the sun is starting to rise, it can't be anytime past seeven. Everything seems calm in Main Street, but then suddenly and without any sort of provocation, the windows shatter. In unison. Broken glass litters the pavement. Nothing more happens and she presumes that it will stay that away until everyone wakes up into this mess.

This was enough information. Jackie willed herself out of the vision. What a surreal happening. Nothing had made the windows shatter, they had done so on their own, but that was simply impossible. Nothing changed without something pushing it to change, a lesson from her father and a basic principle of how objects function according to physics. This should understandably unnerve her, if not scare her, but she was mostly interested. Jackie headed back into the One Thousand Pages and sat back behind the counter. Perhaps she should contact Teddy.

To: Theo F.

Bon matin, boss. Enjoy your coffee and bring me some on your way back :D

I'm at the store now, in the assumption that we're still open despite a coming storm

and this shit with the windows

speaking of which btw i think something real mysterious is afoot. I'll tell you more l8r