Prosaic

Legends of Carnation Island (SHELVED)

@hero

It was in full force, the night full of laughter and shouting. He could see people chasing each other across the sand, he could hear talking beneath the hum of the music. It was just as extravagantly extra as he had come to expect from Rachel and he let himself take it in. This was his favorite kind of atmosphere, when the air was heavy with excitement and people couldn't keep their voices down. He settled himself to enjoy it for a moment longer as a spectator and not a participant. At least, he thought. Not until I've finished my cigarette.

He lit a cigarette, he inhaled deeply and he exhaled smoke into the warm air of the night. Smoke swirled off into the darkness, lost from where the light no longer touched it and he shut his eyes for a moment. He listened to the music, relaxed into the familiarity that was as good as home for him. A few more drags, a moment more of relaxing and he was in the swing of things. He flicked the cigarette down, ground it out beneath his sneaker, and headed to the tent.

It didn't take much to get in but he gave the bouncer a little shit anyway, mostly for the sake of appearance. He didn't want anyone to go thinking he'd lost his terrible sense of humor. He entered the tent with a confident stride, taking in what it had to offer. He could see that the space was already pretty full but that was fine, Quinn loved company, whether he knew them all or not. The point of parties was mingling and nobody liked a guy who couldn't mingle.

"Now this is where it's all happening," he said enthusiastically as he made his way forward. He greeted the people he knew, fist-bumps and big grins. He hugged a girl or two, people he didn't spend time with outside of parties but he knew by face enough that he couldn't shake them off without acknowledging them. He got dragged into sharing a joint with one of his party friends, topping off the soaring feeling that he was already wandering through.

A joke here and there, some laughter that went on too long. He was in his element and he was loving it. He was starting to crave a drink though and he knew the bar would be good. So, waving off his "friends", he eventually found his way to the bar. There was a small group there already and he offered a grin in place of a greeting.

He made his way to a seat, leaning across the counter. "Mind if I get a whiskey sour?" He took in the bartender a moment, resisting the urge to lay on one of his famously awful pick-up lines. He could only imagine that his pick-up lines would be even worse while he was high as a kite. No, probably best to keep his mouth shut, or, mostly shut. Quinn wasn't good at shutting up entirely, "Good party, crowded as all hell though."

@Melo

Zeke was floundering.
All the mental preparation in the world couldn't have possibly prepared him for the grandiose display of Rachel Ashford's party. He liked Rachel with coffee and the quiet murmur of people in a cafe, he liked her with the clinking of mugs and the clicking of hipsters with their laptops. He liked Rachel when they were one on one and he had no social expectations aside from asking for the orders of contrived cafe-goers. He liked Rachel when he didn't feel so crowded that he was pulling his shoulders in to avoid people hurrying around him.

Zeke was floundering in this environment and he didn't want to spend his whole night trailing Theodore like a lost puppy. So, after Rachel had ushered Theodore into the VIP tent, Zeke had unceremoniously ditched the main event. He had grabbed himself a beer and he had wiggled his way through the crowd to get away from it all. So, sue him, he wasn't really a party person anymore. He would ask Theodore how his night went later and he'd write about that in his journal because it would assuredly be better than anything he planned to do.

He didn't know where he wanted to go, he wasn't ready to turn in for the night and he didn't want to wander around awkwardly until the night ended. It was by chance entirely that he wound up hearing the sound of violin on the night air. It put him off a little because he wasn't prepared for it but he recognized the talent behind it. So, he did what any sane and terribly socially awkward person would do, he followed the noise to the cove where the guy was playing.

Brunette, blue eyes, looked friendly enough from a cursory glance and- oh fuck, he's probably alone for a reason. Anxiety shot through Zeke and he awkwardly raised a hand in greeting to the stranger. "Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt." His voice betrayed the awkwardness, one hand clenching tightly over the can in it. "You're good at that."

The Marchand Academy of Sorcery

Sanitary mask. Rubber gloves. Hand sanitizer.
He was technically ready for anything that this school could throw at him but he was a bit nervous nonetheless. The room was bigger than he'd expected for some reason, though he hadn't had many expectations. He could see many interesting faces, some that already seemed engaged in conversation.

He walked carefully, his gaze scanning over the walls as he took in the strange decor. The skulls were a little bit of an odd touch, the colors were kind of atrocious and the layout was very weird. He wanted to know what the interior designer had been thinking when they'd set the place out, perhaps they'd been on hard drugs. Maybe they were just eccentric. He didn't think he'd ever really know the truth. Perhaps he'd ask a professor about it someday. That might prove interesting.

He walked carefully to an open seat, ignoring the breakfast options. The smell was tantalizing but he didn't really want to stop and eat any of it. He didn't know what everything was made of and accidently setting off an allergic reaction would be a horrible first impression. He tried not to picture it. Sometimes he was sure that his body was a ticking time bomb and that it was constantly ready to explode.

Grimacing, the dark haired boy twisted a chain around one of his fingers. He was so uncomfortable, he was surrounded in strangers and he didn't know what to say or do. He was hoping to better his aquamancy here, to maybe meet some of the other families but he couldn't help feeling so awkward. There was so many of them.

He was glad to be here, despite his discomfort. If was different and it was exciting. He just had to get through his first day jitters, he didn't take to new environments very easily. It often made him feel like a fish out of water when there were so many strangers around him. They were so varied, he wanted to know more about them but he was also terrified by that prospect.

The Marchand Academy of Sorcery

It was the first day of school and he was hungover.
The night before had been spent emptying a bottle of scotch in his bedroom while his mother pounded on the door and tried to reason with him. He knew why she was sending him there, it was like the wards, she wanted a break and she was too polite to just fucking say it. Keandre was no stranger to beimg sent places to ease his mother's guilty conscious and this was no different.

Late summer in America was painted in warm tones, the leaves hadn't changed yet for the onset of fall but the warm air was loud with the sounds of insects in the trees. He could ear the raucous cries of crows as he stepped from his plane, their anxiety was his anxiety. He tried to soothe their worries as he made his way into the building. An airport was an airport, no matter what language they were speaking though he was much less at ease to hear friendly people speaking English in his ears. Perhaps a product of his bad mood and his growing headache, he decided to only speak to them in confused French until they left him alone.

Using the minimal cash that his ex-step father had given him, he booked his cab to the school on his own. He stood and waited for this cab alone, keeping his eyes set forward. A man with an Italian accent made a joke at him in Italian, he responded in French. The look of confusion on the man's face had made all of the waiting worth it. Eventually his cab showed up and he wordlessly slipped inside, only offering a few vague "yes" and "no" answers to the man driving him around.

This is absolute shit, he thought as the cab took him from the airport to the school. His head was pounding, a dull and throbbing sensation that he couldn't quite shake. He knew that he should have perhaps been more tactful woth his decisions the day prior but spite was a very powerful beast. He was still ridiculously angry at his mother for being so alright with sending him off to this hellscape of a school. She was so tired of dealing with him that she'd sent him to an entirely different country.

He wanted to blame Adriano, naturally, who had always had it out for him but he couldn't help blaming her too. It took two to send your teenage son off to America to "improve his magic". Fuck that, he thought. Holly never cared about my magic before. When the cab pulled up outside the gates, he passed the money along to the driver and he hopped out to face the security outside. They let him through after a cursory check and he made his way into the building.

The common room smelled strongly of breakfast and hormonal teenagers, he wasn't one to turn down breakfast but he could do without the teenagers. Human public school all over again, he thought disdainfully. He grabbed himself a plate, spotting Dawn by herself. He knew that mage, at least, and he offered her a wave as he went to find himself somewhere to sit.

It had been a long day. It was going to be a long school year.

The Marchand Academy of Sorcery

Santora Residence - Earlier

They had been all too eager to get rid of him. He remembered the day the letter came in and he remembered thinking that his parents wouldn't possibly send him off to some unknown school in the middle of absolutely nowhere. He'd been wrong. His dad had brightened at the prospect, perhaps envisioning a future where a professional actually managed to teach his son corporeal necromancy. Maybe Nolan couldn't blame him, maybe he could, but now he sat at the dining room table on a very tense first day of school.

His dad was at the other end of the table, picking at a pancake breakfast that was steadily growing cold between them. Viktor Santora was a stately man with a headful of golden hair that was steadily growing streaked with white. He had the same pale blue eyes as Nolan and an often unsmiling mouth. He speared a strawberry and swirled it through runny whipped cream without looking up to meet Nolan's eyes. "I just don't know what you want me to say," said Viktor before he bit into the strawberry at the end of his fork. " I've said everything I possibly can. You know why this is important to us."

"No, dad," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I don't, would you mind runnin' it by me for the hundredth time this week?"

It was worse somehow that his mother hadn't even stood up for him when it came to the Niklaus nonsense. She wasn't often quiet when she disagreed with his father but she'd been very quiet about this. He was equally angry at them both, he couldn't shake the growing resentment as he watched Viktor meticulously saw off bits of pancake and eat them. He knew his outburst would be disregarded but he couldn't help but spit it out anyway.

Viktor chewed thoughtfully before finally glancing up and settling his gaze on the red stone resting at the hollow of Nolan's throat. "Need I bring up that silly amulet that you insist on wearing?"

Nolan could feel his face grow hot at the mention of Niklaus' amulet. It was a noble old thing, the golden fixtures were brassy with age and the chain was quite brittle. The stone itself was a dark and fathomless red, it held no other shades and the facets glittered when the light hit them. He brushed his fingers over it before tightening his hand around it.

He knew what the family thought of his insistency on wearing it, he knew what other necromancers must think but his grandmother had given it to him on her deathbed. She had worn that amulet her whole life and everyone had assumed she'd intended to be buried in it but no, she'd taken Nolan's hands in hers and given it to him. He hadn't taken it off since that day. It seemed wrong somehow to dishonor the memory of someone so dear to him by refusing to wear what she'd gifted him.

"Grandma Arcadia gave it to me," he reminded him, keeping his hand on the stone. "Y'want me to just toss it aside like it means nothin' to me?"

"I want you to grow up, Nolan," responded Viktor. "I want you to get your shit packed and ready to go."

He hadn't complained after that, feeling hushed by the razor edge to the words. He had quickly gathered his things, leaving a note for his mother to send in the rest and without so much as a goodbye from his father, he'd boarded the bus.

Marchand Academy

The ride on the bus was treacherous, each bump made his teeth grit and his nerves were on end. He couldn't bring himself to focus on any of the books he'd brought, frankly staring at the white pages had started to make him nauseous. He had settled for staring out the windows and tracking the colors of the cars that they passed. He almost couldn't hear his own thoughts over the cursing of the driver, he almost couldn't so the entire ride fretting over potential meetings with other necromancers.

Only recently had the Santora family come to power in the council, it had been a landslide victory in a turnout that had taken many necromancers off guard. Nobody had expected the Santoras to win and yet, they had. A history as littered im bones as theirs should have ruined their chances but somehow Viktor had come out on top with flying colors. Before this victory, they had been terribly reclusive, keeping to themselves and avoiding conflict.

This reclusiveness had been all that Nolan knew for seventeen years, it was surreal to imagine something outside of it. When he arrived at the school, he tried to keep his posture as open and friendly as possible. He didn't want to scare anyone off by walking with hunched shoulders or scowling avidly, so he made his way to the common room with a smile on his face and an easy gait.

He made himself a plate heaped up with all sorts of goodies and he got himself a glass of orange juice. He didn't really have the stomach for food after the tense meal he'd had with his father but for the sake of image, he started to choke down some pancakes. He hoped someone had the mercy to sit with him but he was content to wait.

Legends of Carnation Island (SHELVED)

Cheeky bitch, he thought to himself as he picked up the card on his bed. He had really only meant to stop in for a moment, just to change his clothes but he'd paused at the sight of the white envelope resting across his pillow. His name was scrawled across the front and he was much too nosy not to pick it up. He wasn't surprised to find a letter from Rachel, one telling him where to find a ridiculous stash of weed.

He still wasn't surprised when he actually did find the weed, tucked away in a little brass box beneath the bed. He was almost unable to keep himself from laughing at the impression he'd made on her to get himself sent a stash of weed. It was all still so unbelievably extra but at least he'd be high as a kite while indulging in the excess. Rachel had a strange way of just knowing what to do, it was one of the things he found endearing about her.

He wasn't about to spend another moment marveling over her majesty though, he took the glass pipe from his bag and packed it before taking a hit. A few hits later and he finally made his way to the shower, washed the smell of cigarette smoke from his hair and swapped out his outfit for another. Black and gray plaid, sleeves rolled to the elbows, black jeans, black converse. It wasn't a far cry from his last outfit but c'est la vie, he'd never claimed to be a fashion icon. He forced a brush through his hair, splashed some water on his face and set out for the bonfire.

He was in good spirits, humming to himself as he walked. Most things were better under a bit of a weed haze and he was excited. He could already see people starting to gather and the fire was being started, it cast a ruddy illumination over the sand. It all just screamed summer, and he was more than ready to get the party started.

He caught the flash of Theodore's grin when he approached, unable to keep himself from grinning back. "Alas, I somehow managed not to throw myself overboard before we hit the island," he intoned devilishly. "Every time it passed my mind as an escape from all this partying, I had to wonder what you'd do without me." He was joking, of course, he'd been just as excited for this as anyone else. Ezekiel may not have been a frequenter of parties into his older years but he'd been growing weary over the last few months. Rachel had offered him an out from the mundane droll.

He had to give it to her for being able to see how tired he truly was. They spoke nearly every day at the cafe and he'd always been so sure that he'd covered up the bone-deep exhaustion, apparently not. He'd have to thank her sometime in person, but for now he was content to bask in the time spent with his best friend. Theodore was not someone who was heavy and being around him was as easy as breathing.

Theodore's hand thumped Ezekiel's back and he couldn't help but laugh, shrugging. "Yeah, I'm settled enough, and the guys were-" he mused, the guys were assholes sometimes but not assholes he was unfamiliar with. He'd been sure to hide his journal securely between his mattress and his bedframe, paranoia and old habits really did die hard. "-the guys. Don't start expecting extra out of your bandmates now." He said, voice bordering on playful.

He was handed his water from the pretty blonde behind the bar, paper flower and all. He took a sip from the glass, nudging the little carnation away from his mouth with the tip of his finger and trailing his gaze over the growing group. Everyone knew Theodore, he recognized a few people but not all of them. It was steadily becoming a game of putting names to faces in case they addressed him. Despite this small anxiety, it was nice, unfamiliar but nice. It was almost nostalgic, highschool parties with Theodore had wrought some of his best memories.

"She always does seem to go the extra mile," he mused, turning to get a good look at the bonfire being started in the near distance. It really did feel like summer with a proper bonfire going, he almost wished he'd brought his journal so he could more properly wax poetic about it. He'd have to write something tonight, he made a mental note before continuing. "Does she ever get tired of being the best? That's a hell of a title to hold onto."

The Marchand Academy of Sorcery

Isaiah Parrish

---

Cyncism isn't wisdom, it's a lazy way to say that you've been burned. | You were the child who was made out of glass, who carried a black heart passed down from your dad.

Name

Isaiah Ichorus Parrish.

Nickames

Isa, Ichor.

Age

16.

Gender

Male.

Sexuality

Bisexual.

Relationship Status

Single.

Primary

Aquamancy.

Secondaries

Toxins, Levitation.

Appearance Details

Isaiah is very tall, standing around 6"2 and he's very scrawny in build. His frame is so skinny, that he may appear a bit malnourished and his shoulders are very bony. He has knobby elbows and knees. His skin is ghostly pale, though it's a bit blotchy and discolored in some places. There's pale scars that streak his flesh in various places.

His face is debateably handsome with a sunken look to it, he has very deep cheekbones and a hard jaw. His nose has a very prominent bump in the middle of it and it hooks down slightly over his philtrum. His lower lip is full while his upper lip is thinner and sharper. He has ice blue eyes that are a stark contrast to his very dark hair and eyelashes.

He's most prone to wearing all black, preferring to dress in a gothic sort of style. He likes chains and spikes and they adorn a lot of his clothing.

Personality Traits

Talking to Isaiah can be a bit odd, he seems to often struggle for the right thing to say. He can be a bit too wordy, or a bit too quiet and there's never a healthy in between. He speaks in an almost overly formal manner, addressing people without use of nicknames and often accompanied by a "Miss" or a "Mister". He also lacks effect in his speaking and it can be hard to gauge when he's surprised or angry.

He loves to do things on his own, following his own whims wherever they may take him. Guidelines and rules don't seem to stick with him, he struggles to do what authority figures demand of him. He often lands himself into trouble by just downright refusing to do as he's told.

In friendships, he can be a bit pushy. He doesn't seem to understand boundaries and will try to nudge his friends into doing what he's doing. He can be very understanding though and will listen to whoever needs him, he just won't seem to actively lend a hand.

Skills

- Fighting, though he is very frail of frame, he can hold his own in a fight.
- Studious, one would find that he takes his studies very seriously.
- Emotional restraint, he maintains a lot of self restraint and tries not to act on emotions but rather on thought.
- Teamwork, he's good at working with a team and will try to put everyone's skills to use.
- Good listener, he's willing to listen to anyone who's willing to listen to him.

Weaknesses

- Asocial, he lacks proper social skills and it can be hard to connect with him because of that.
- Immunodeficiency disorder and allergens and asthma, he suffers from an immunodeficiency disorder, asthma and many, many allergies which can lead to him appearing very sickly and frail. He lands in the infirmary very often.
- Individualist, to the point of extremity, orders may as well be suggestions.

Upbringing Synopsis

The Parrish bloodline dates back to Medieval England, it is a bloodline that most mages tend to know though they tend to know it with a sense of disdain and begrudging respect. This bloodline was wrought from cruel nobles, they were excruciatingly rich and most who knew of them knew of their highly valued money. Most who knew of them, knew that they had spent years trying to build up their worth and that money seemed to matter more to than aquamancy. Despite this fact, they birthed generations of very powerful aquamancers and they had little question by means of authority, most who knew of them wanted to have them in their good grace.

The Parrish family was strangely obsessed with "survival of the fittest", had developed their own way of testing which children were worth keeping or good enough to be seen beneath their name. They developed a system of drowning their toddlers to test their proficiency in aquamancy and their ability to manipulate their way out of the water before they lost air to their lungs. This went as badly as one might expect and ended in the tragic death of many of their children.

This challenge developed with the passing of the years, though the cruelty of it remained. It became less dangerous, as the parents were likely to pull their child to the surface before they drowned completely but it became more cruel as the parents were likely to disown a child who failed them. They developed a kind of marking system for those that failed the challenge or completed it, the child would get a middle name based on their profiency and their profiency alone.

Isaiah Parrish was born to a pair of parents who barely wanted him, a sickly child with a near crippling immunodeficiency disorder. He resembled his father down to his bones with very dark hair and eyes that were ice blue in shade, he lacked any resemblance to the very red-headed Irish genetics of his mother. He grew more and more sickly as he aged, developing more allergies than his parents knew what to do with and landing in the hospital far more times than anybody would dare to count. The kid was born a step behind most Parrish's and this was very disappointing for his father.

When his powers were tested, he drowned, he damn near died, and absolutely infuriated his father. He was christened with the middle name "Ichorus" to account for what he had failed to accomplish. His family would have never been the typical and loving type of people but his failure to complete his challenge just made it much, much, much worse. He was often viewed as a liability, less of a son and more of a trinket that could be ignored or viewed as they pleased and this lead to him developing a very odd approach to his emotions. He often felt as if he weren't supposed to have any at all.

His father was obsessed with maintaining business and taught him into a very stiff and overly formal way of speaking. He was often dragged along on business ventures, though it was expected of his father's colleagues to ignore him or pretend that he didn't exist at all. When he was spoken to, he was to be referred to as "Ichor" and nothing else, sometimes it drained on the young man though he did well in not speaking out on the matter. It was expected to maintain emotions in the Parrish family, it was unseemly to be seen as anything other than strong.

Marchand was a perfect chance to get him out of their hair and so they shipped him off to practice his aquamancy, he is rarely spoken of by his parents at all anymore.

Misc.

IDR | black
- Isaiah is prone to immune attacks.

The Marchand Academy of Sorcery

Professor Baines

---

Before we meet, we stand out on the sidewalk as it pours, swappin' one addiction for another. | Time stands still, but I cannot. I should strap myself in bed, I guess I'll sleep when I am dead.

Name

Aldridge Cedric Baines.

Nickames

Al, Bones.

Age

38.

Gender

Male.

Sexuality

Heterosexual.

Relationship Status

Single.

Primary

Necromancy.

Secondaries

Illumination, Familiar Conjuration.

Appearance Details

Aldridge is about average as far as height is concerned and clocks in around 5"11, he's built with a fair amount of muscle and he has very broad shoulders. He's slender in form with long legs and strong arms. Many pale scars mark his skin, layered through years of small scuffles.

He's got very unkempt brown hair and very intense brown eyes. His face is considerably handsome with a shapely mouth and fine features. He tends to be fairly scruffy and unshaven. He is often found in casual, comfortable clothing.

Personality Traits

Aldridge is a friendly but firm kind of person, while he is not downright harsh with his students, he will not allow them to step all over him. He tries to guide his students carefully, focusing on their strengths rather than their weaknesses. At times he can be a bit soft but he makes up for this by never being afraid to correct a student who speaks out of turn. He takes knowledge very seriously and expects his class to do the same, at times he can be a bit much when it comes to his lesson plans and they can drag on to suit his mood that day.

He's been known for his bravery and willingness to leap head first into whatever comes at him. He is very tactical, a born strategist, able to formulate plans at a moment's notice. He can hold his own in most bad situations, able to quickly think his way out of it but he becomes very stressed when there are no seeable solutions. Stress often leads to temperamental behavior from him and seething comments that he doesn't know how to take back later.

He finds it easy to hold conversation most of the time and will be willing to talk about most anything.

Skills

- Necromancy, he is an extremely talented necromancer and finds it fun to show this off whenever it suits him.
- Very skilled in illumination and familiar summoning, he especially finds the illumimation fun to use shamelessly.
- Tactical planning, he's great at working out solutions, no matter how hectic the situation has become.
- Fighting, he has a particular skill in combat though he's unlikely to engage in a fight without reason.

Weaknesses

- Thoughtful, while this not intially a bad thing, Aldridge rarely ever acts without thinking things through and this can make him very slow to the draw.
- Stubborn, he only wants to do things a certain way and will often not compromise.
- Judgemental, if you are not of his circle, it's likely that he will have extreme opinions of you.
- Drugs of any kind will send him into an unexplainable fit.

Upbringing Synopsis

The Baines name dates back into old England, known for a particular succession in corporeal necromancy. This is a family that does not have much to speak of when it comes to historic figures but they have been known for their open-mindedness and general good grace with the public.

Aldridge Arthur Baines was a fairly ordinary child despite being born to a rune-caster mother and a necromancer father.

His parents were the overbearing type, invested in ensuring that their son didn't dare to fall behind in his studies. This approach to parenting fostered a son with a bright mind, it also fostered a resentment that only grew as time passed. It became common for the young man to disagree with his parents as he got older, fights became a common theme in the Baines household.

He simply couldn't stand being pinned down like he was and he started making that apparent by the time that he became eight. It came to a point where he had been so sheltered that he barely knew of anything outside of his home. His parents were in control of every section of his life. They chose what he wore, what he ate, what he watched, what he read. There was nearly no room for individuality in his home and that began to wear down on him, he had no friends outside of his cousins and he was slowly getting more and more fed up with it.

By the time he turned twelve, his sister was born which seemed to inspire a new reign of terror throughout the house. His parents cracked down even harder, hoping to set an example for the newest addition.

As Aldridge grew older, he started to test the limits of the distance that he could between him and his parents. He started finding excuses not to be in the house, he started finding excuses to wander and see what the world had to offer beyond this home.

Though, this didn't stop him from trying to be a good brother to Jessica. That was the only person that he cared to put any effort into and he spent a lot of his time trying to help her through the overly structured environment that she had been born into. He was a model older brother, he would take her places when his parents weren't dictating his every move and buy her things, he enthused about her runic work and he would become genuinely excited to see her work with her secondaries.

He offered a gentle voice where his parents only ever offered punishment or impersonal approval. He did everything he could to help assure that she didn't grow to have the same feeling of loneliness that he had. That was until the start of the war where an opportunity presented itself that he would have been a fool to pass up on. He joined the forces, fighting for a cause that he believed in and giving himself the freedom that he had so desperately craved for years.

He became the strategist of his squad, mapping their attacks and making sure that things ran smoothly. In active battle, he became quite known for his use of familiars. He had made a name for himself for his strategic mind and his proficiency in summoning.

When the war came to a close, Aldridge bought himself a home away from his parents and contacted his little sister. He lived a fairly quiet life until Marchand came about, he was glad to help teach a new generation everything that he knew about familiar summoning and necromancy. He was glad for an adventure away from the mundane again.

Misc.

IDR | sandybrown
- Baines has insomnia and night terrors.

Professor of Necromancy and Familiars!

The Marchand Academy of Sorcery

Keandre Roux

---

---

I'll make it through this if it kills me and when it kills me, I'll come back. | Had a trumpet, but you lost it, thought that music could make you whole but it only made you feel more alone.

Name

Keandre Artus Roux.

Nickames

Kea, Pyro.

Age

18.

Gender

Male.

Sexuality

Homosexual.

Relationship Status

Single.

Primary

Terramancy.

Secondaries

Toxin Production, MWI.

Appearance Details

Keandre is a tall male with an athletic build. He's quite lean and absolutely covered in freckles, just about every inch of him is coated in a dusting of freckles. Amidst the freckles that cover his flesh, one may note the marbled burn scars that spiderweb over his hands and arms.

A handsome face with high cheekbones and a straight nose is deterred by a glaringly obvious flaw, his right eye is entirely blind. His right eye is a milky blue opaque while his left eye is a standard pale green in shade. His hair is a vibrant and natural ginger and has a bit of a wave to it though it's not often that he has it unstyled.

He can frequently be found in a brown suede jacket, usually carrying a beige messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

Personality Traits

To put it kindly, Keandre is very blunt by nature and doesn't believe in talking bullshit. He often says what he thinks and doesn't consider the consequences of saying that, this can make him seem unapproachable. His unflinching honesty is complimented by a sharp sense of humor, a tendency towards quips that can come off as quite mean.

Unnervingly unreactive at times, it can be hard to distinguish his emotions at any given moment. He doesn't give much away in his expression or his voice, this can make him seem rather monotonous. He's not easily impressed and he can be very authorative, almost dictatorial. He's not happy unless he's in charge in some manner or form and he will often make that very clear.

It can be noted that Keandre has a terrible temper and at times he may absolutely blow his top. He's prone to small rants and pacing rampages and once these have began, it can be very hard to make them stop. Strategic and intelligent, he’s a thinker and a planner. He's likely to follow his head before his heart in any given situation.

Of course, this does not always apply. His loyalty can outweigh his thoughtful nature in some cases. When he devotes himself to someone, he often devotes everything to them and nothing can shake him from this.

Skills

- Quick to the draw, as they say. He often will jump straight into the action without hesitation.
- An intensive knowledge of chemistry, especially relating to corrosive chemicals and explosives. This makes his toxin production near impossible to best despite his age.
- A limited knowledge of combat and how to hold his own in a fight.
- Willing to do whatever it takes to survive, not easily shaken from his tasks.

Weaknesses

- A bit of a self admitted alcoholic, often sneaking drinks in.
- Loyal to a fault, will follow those he trusts into anything and everything.
- Often loses control when he's angry, leading to him lashing out violently.
- Terrible depth perception.

Upbringing Synopsis

Keandre was raised in a bit of a hectic household with an absent father figure and a mother who didn't really know what to do with him. He was quite loved by her, treated with all of the kindness in the world but he could never seem to quite live up to her expectations and dreams. The bright young man that she saw in him was buried in his own self doubt and a growing kind of darkness that made him unreachable.

As he grew older, she began to notice signs that he wasn't handling his problems in a way that she deemed healthy. He had started to set fires, obsessing over flame as if it were something magical. It wasn't until a terrible accident happened and he lost all the vision in his right eye that he was going sent to therapy in hopes of "fixing him".

This did not end up helping him much his impulse control disorder spiraled out of control, when they received his invitation to Marchand, she sent him off without hesitation.

Misc.

Bastien Bonizec | #a0410d
- Keandre suffers from pyromania and schizoid personality disorder.

Nolan Santora

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Am I saying the wrong thing? Am I wearing the wrong thing? Am I saying the wrong thing while wearing the wrong thing? Oh no. | Take it from me, I've been there a thousand times, you hate your pulse because it thinks you're still alive.

Name

Nolan Nicholas Santora.

Nickames

Nol, Nicholas.

Age

17.

Gender

Male.

Sexuality

Bisexual.

Relationship Status

Single.

Primary

Necromancy.

Secondaries

Blood Magic, Familiar Conjuration.

Appearance Details

Nolan stands out around 5"9 with a very slim build, he doesn't seem to maintain much muscle. He has naturally wide-set shoulders and fairly long legs. His hips are rather narrow, making him seem slightly delicate. The boy is very pale, though not to an extent that one might find him sickly. His skin is nearly flawless, maintaining very few scars, though it's smattered in freckles. There is one prominent, large scar that marks the flesh on the left side of his neck, disappearing behind his ear.

He's conventionally attractive with a pretty proportional face, a hard jaw and a nice mouth. His eyes are set beneath low, thin brows and they're a cornflower blue in color. His hair is a glossy wheat blond and usually appears very ruffled, he tends to slick it back at times.

He most often wears very fashionable clothing, preferring to follow trends with a good eye. He doesn't stand out when it comes to clothing but he can almost always be found in a pair of old, worn, converse. He has a necklace with an old red amulet that he wears constantly as well, though he tends to keep it tucked beneath his shirt.

Personality Traits

This boy could be considered something of an oxymoron, he's mostly friendly. He seems to have a natural love of life, often embracing the world with arms wide open. He can be a bit of a class clown at times, cracking jokes to make things less awkward and being generally disruptive. This friendly persona is what the majority of people see of him, just a happy-go-lucky type guy that lives to impress.

There is another part of him that can come off as downright rude. He seems to have almost no filter, speaking thoughtlessly and without really weighing what he says. He can be argumentative and temperamental, he's quick to speak his mind and that can get him into trouble.

He's not very good with emotions, he doesn't seem to understand other people. It's hard for him to connect with them, he also doesn't open up very easily. He can't seem to talk about his own problems, if he's put on the spot, he'll almost always bow out of the conversation. It makes it hard to really know much about him.

Though this isn't to say that he isn't empathetic in his own way. He will go out of his way to make people he's close to feel better. He also has a penchant for anxiety, often a nervous wreck and he can be a bit cowardly.

Skills

- As if to amount for what he can't do, he is an intensely good incorporeal necromancer. It takes a lot of exertion before it wears him down and he is able to draw large groups of spirits forward at a time and interact with the physical world, he is also able to draw forth stronger spirits.
- Blood Magic, the boy has started to acquire a proficiency in blood magic.
- Taxidermy, this is a skill that his father passed down to him and he is far prouder of it than he probably should be.
- Sewing, he can sew fairly well.
- Photography, he loves to use a camera and he's quite good at it.
- Quick thinker, he's able to act quickly most of the time and he tends to gravitate to smart actions.
- Responsible, most of the time, he can be trusted to make responsible decisions if other parties will be directly affected.

Weaknesses

- Corporeal Necromancy, try as he may, he just can't seen to do it very well.
- Fighting, he's particularly bad in a fist fight or any fight.
- Squeamish, despite choosing blood magic as a secondary, large quantities of blood often makes him very squeamish.
- Selective hearing, he tends to tune out things that aren't important to him and it can often end in him missing important details and being overall weaker for it.
- Pacifist to a fault, he likes to side with pacifism but that isn't always good.
- Quick temper, though he strays from fighting, his temper can be very quick and volatile.
- Curious, infinitely curious and willing to wander into danger to staunch that curiousity.
- Power driven, he has a huge insecurity about his inability to learn corporeal and it leads him to seeking out power, his ambition could easily lead him to shambles.
- Iresponsible, in regards to himself and his own well-being.

Upbringing Synopsis

A name amongst mages that often goes unremembered is the Santora name, though it was forgotten for good reason. If one is to look far enough through their history, they would find that the Santora's are amongst some of the oldest and greatest necromancy bloodlines. A name that went into use in the depths of ancient Greece, these necromancers were polished in their art and good at both forms of it.

They had a proficiency in being proficent at both. It wasn't uncommon to hear them suggested when someone needed a necromancer and it wasn't uncommon to have them show up whenever they were needed. They were the type to dabble in the darker parts of necromancy but they were never the type to go overboard. They were amongst the most influential necromancers for years.

It all changed in the 1400s when Niklaus Santora was born.

Niklaus was like any young mage, he wanted to learn his craft and he wanted to be as good as his parents before him. It became clear very early on that he couldn't seem to learn corporeal necromancy. That struggle to learn caused him to begin to feel out casted amongst his own family. Everyone expected him to learn it but he couldn't seem to do it and this ended in a lot of teasing and putting him down for what he found to be impossible.

So, his anger grew steadily and it became a beast inside of his heart. It was a rage that gripped him and he decided that if they thought he was weak for what he could not do then he would show them that he was strong for what he could do. He became invested in drawing forward demons and malicious spirits, he became invested in all forms of forbidden magic that he could get his hands on.

And so, he spiraled.

The start of the great Santora Cult was in his name, he had made himself as powerful as he could get and that drew the attention of some other unsavory types. There were followers of different bloodlines and followers of his own bloodline as he sought a very personal war with other necromancers that he thought had slighted him. His followers were seemingly invested in all that he said and they committed terrible acts in his name.

It became evident that he had to be stopped but the only way to stop him was to kill him. His cult came crumbling down after it was infiltrated and most of his followers, and a lot of his family were caught in the crossfire. Niklaus, himself, wasn't found until much later. A frail and dying man, driven mad by forbidden magic and wearing a shining amulet upon his neck. He put up a formidable fight despite his terrible state but was soon killed, that amulet was removed from his corpse by unknown sources.

Years later, after all had seemingly been forgotten, the Santora family remained reclusive because of these events. For years, there was never another Santora with the same deficiency in their magic as Niklaus and it was taken as a sign of hope. They were actively working to make it up to their fellow mages, what they had done had been unspeakable and they didn't expect to ever be forgiven. Without another Niklaus though, maybe forgiveness was possible.

Nolan Nicholas Santora was born.
In every way, he was a Santora. Golden hair and bright eyes, a smile that was never wavering but his magic fell short in the form of corporeal necromancy. He didn't know the implications of that issue but his father did and so they pushed him harder than his sisters to try to learn what he just couldn't seem to grasp. It wasn't until he was six that his father spilled the beans in a fit of frustration.

Nolan Santora had what they liked to crudely refer to as "Niklaus Syndrome".

Nolan had always known that his sisters bypassed him in proficiency, that hadn't made him want to stop trying but in light of this new information, his dad's frustration was finally making sense to him. It sort of made him angry that his father had made this broad assumption that he would end up like Niklaus. This sparked a rebellious streak as the kid got older and the longer he went without being able to learn corporeal necromancy, the more obsessed with Niklaus he became.

He became obsessed with old texts description of his ancestor, even seeking out his diary at the age of ten. He poured over these diaries for months, empathizing with Niklaus' struggle with being taken seriously and starting to see him, unfortunately, as kind of a misunderstood anti-hero. At the age of eleven, on her deathbed, his grandmother gave him the amulet that Niklaus had died in.

Nolan took it without hesitating.
He wore it and he never took it off. It wasn't until he turned seventeen that his dad was offered a chance to get him away from Niklaus' diaries and his odd obsession. Driven by superstition and a worry that his son might head down a dark path, he was shipped off to Marchand in hopes that he'd learn corporeal necromancy.

Misc.

Luke Volker | #8dc73f
- Nolan can be found wearing the amulet belonging to his ancestor.

Professor Baines

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Before we meet, we stand out on the sidewalk as it pours, swappin' one addiction for another. | Time stands still, but I cannot. I should strap myself in bed, I guess I'll sleep when I am dead.

Name

Aldridge Cedric Baines.

Nickames

Al, Bones.

Age

38.

Gender

Male.

Sexuality

Heterosexual.

Relationship Status

Single.

Primary

Necromancy.

Secondaries

Illumination, Familiar Conjuration.

Appearance Details

Aldridge is about average as far as height is concerned and clocks in around 5"11, he's built with a fair amount of muscle and he has very broad shoulders. He's slender in form with long legs and strong arms. Many pale scars mark his skin, layered through years of small scuffles.

He's got very unkempt brown hair and very intense brown eyes. His face is considerably handsome with a shapely mouth and fine features. He tends to be fairly scruffy and unshaven. He is often found in casual, comfortable clothing.

Personality Traits

Aldridge is a friendly but firm kind of person, while he is not downright harsh with his students, he will not allow them to step all over him. He tries to guide his students carefully, focusing on their strengths rather than their weaknesses. At times he can be a bit soft but he makes up for this by never being afraid to correct a student who speaks out of turn. He takes knowledge very seriously and expects his class to do the same, at times he can be a bit much when it comes to his lesson plans and they can drag on to suit his mood that day.

He's been known for his bravery and willingness to leap head first into whatever comes at him. He is very tactical, a born strategist, able to formulate plans at a moment's notice. He can hold his own in most bad situations, able to quickly think his way out of it but he becomes very stressed when there are no seeable solutions. Stress often leads to temperamental behavior from him and seething comments that he doesn't know how to take back later.

He finds it easy to hold conversation most of the time and will be willing to talk about most anything.

Skills

- Necromancy, he is an extremely talented necromancer and finds it fun to show this off whenever it suits him.
- Very skilled in illumination and familiar summoning, he especially finds the illumimation fun to use shamelessly.
- Tactical planning, he's great at working out solutions, no matter how hectic the situation has become.
- Fighting, he has a particular skill in combat though he's unlikely to engage in a fight without reason.

Weaknesses

- Thoughtful, while this not intially a bad thing, Aldridge rarely ever acts without thinking things through and this can make him very slow to the draw.
- Stubborn, he only wants to do things a certain way and will often not compromise.
- Judgemental, if you are not of his circle, it's likely that he will have extreme opinions of you.
- Drugs of any kind will send him into an unexplainable fit.

Upbringing Synopsis

The Baines name dates back into old England, known for a particular succession in corporeal necromancy. This is a family that does not have much to speak of when it comes to historic figures but they have been known for their open-mindedness and general good grace with the public.

Aldridge Arthur Baines was a fairly ordinary child despite being born to a rune-caster mother and a necromancer father.

His parents were the overbearing type, invested in ensuring that their son didn't dare to fall behind in his studies. This approach to parenting fostered a son with a bright mind, it also fostered a resentment that only grew as time passed. It became common for the young man to disagree with his parents as he got older, fights became a common theme in the Baines household.

He simply couldn't stand being pinned down like he was and he started making that apparent by the time that he became eight. It came to a point where he had been so sheltered that he barely knew of anything outside of his home. His parents were in control of every section of his life. They chose what he wore, what he ate, what he watched, what he read. There was nearly no room for individuality in his home and that began to wear down on him, he had no friends outside of his cousins and he was slowly getting more and more fed up with it.

By the time he turned twelve, his sister was born which seemed to inspire a new reign of terror throughout the house. His parents cracked down even harder, hoping to set an example for the newest addition.

As Aldridge grew older, he started to test the limits of the distance that he could between him and his parents. He started finding excuses not to be in the house, he started finding excuses to wander and see what the world had to offer beyond this home.

Though, this didn't stop him from trying to be a good brother to Jessica. That was the only person that he cared to put any effort into and he spent a lot of his time trying to help her through the overly structured environment that she had been born into. He was a model older brother, he would take her places when his parents weren't dictating his every move and buy her things, he enthused about her runic work and he would become genuinely excited to see her work with her secondaries.

He offered a gentle voice where his parents only ever offered punishment or impersonal approval. He did everything he could to help assure that she didn't grow to have the same feeling of loneliness that he had. That was until the start of the war where an opportunity presented itself that he would have been a fool to pass up on. He joined the forces, fighting for a cause that he believed in and giving himself the freedom that he had so desperately craved for years.

He became the strategist of his squad, mapping their attacks and making sure that things ran smoothly. In active battle, he became quite known for his use of familiars. He had made a name for himself for his strategic mind and his proficiency in summoning.

When the war came to a close, Aldridge bought himself a home away from his parents and contacted his little sister. He lived a fairly quiet life until Marchand came about, he was glad to help teach a new generation everything that he knew about familiar summoning and necromancy. He was glad for an adventure away from the mundane again.

Misc.

IDR | sandybrown
- Baines has insomnia and night terrors.

Isaiah Parrish

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Cyncism isn't wisdom, it's a lazy way to say that you've been burned. | You were the child who was made out of glass, who carried a black heart passed down from your dad.

Name

Isaiah Ichorus Parrish.

Nickames

Isa, Ichor.

Age

16.

Gender

Male.

Sexuality

Bisexual.

Relationship Status

Single.

Primary

Aquamancy.

Secondaries

Toxins, Levitation.

Appearance Details

Isaiah is very tall, standing around 6"2 and he's very scrawny in build. His frame is so skinny, that he may appear a bit malnourished and his shoulders are very bony. He has knobby elbows and knees. His skin is ghostly pale, though it's a bit blotchy and discolored in some places. There's pale scars that streak his flesh in various places.

His face is debateably handsome with a sunken look to it, he has very deep cheekbones and a hard jaw. His nose has a very prominent bump in the middle of it and it hooks down slightly over his philtrum. His lower lip is full while his upper lip is thinner and sharper. He has ice blue eyes that are a stark contrast to his very dark hair and eyelashes.

He's most prone to wearing all black, preferring to dress in a gothic sort of style. He likes chains and spikes and they adorn a lot of his clothing.

Personality Traits

Talking to Isaiah can be a bit odd, he seems to often struggle for the right thing to say. He can be a bit too wordy, or a bit too quiet and there's never a healthy in between. He speaks in an almost overly formal manner, addressing people without use of nicknames and often accompanied by a "Miss" or a "Mister". He also lacks effect in his speaking and it can be hard to gauge when he's surprised or angry.

He loves to do things on his own, following his own whims wherever they may take him. Guidelines and rules don't seem to stick with him, he struggles to do what authority figures demand of him. He often lands himself into trouble by just downright refusing to do as he's told.

In friendships, he can be a bit pushy. He doesn't seem to understand boundaries and will try to nudge his friends into doing what he's doing. He can be very understanding though and will listen to whoever needs him, he just won't seem to actively lend a hand.

Skills

- Fighting, though he is very frail of frame, he can hold his own in a fight.
- Studious, one would find that he takes his studies very seriously.
- Emotional restraint, he maintains a lot of self restraint and tries not to act on emotions but rather on thought.
- Teamwork, he's good at working with a team and will try to put everyone's skills to use.
- Good listener, he's willing to listen to anyone who's willing to listen to him.

Weaknesses

- Asocial, he lacks proper social skills and it can be hard to connect with him because of that.
- Immunodeficiency disorder and allergens and asthma, he suffers from an immunodeficiency disorder, asthma and many, many allergies which can lead to him appearing very sickly and frail. He lands in the infirmary very often.
- Individualist, to the point of extremity, orders may as well be suggestions.

Upbringing Synopsis

The Parrish bloodline dates back to Medieval England, it is a bloodline that most mages tend to know though they tend to know it with a sense of disdain and begrudging respect. This bloodline was wrought from cruel nobles, they were excruciatingly rich and most who knew of them knew of their highly valued money. Most who knew of them, knew that they had spent years trying to build up their worth and that money seemed to matter more to than aquamancy. Despite this fact, they birthed generations of very powerful aquamancers and they had little question by means of authority, most who knew of them wanted to have them in their good grace.

The Parrish family was strangely obsessed with "survival of the fittest", had developed their own way of testing which children were worth keeping or good enough to be seen beneath their name. They developed a system of drowning their toddlers to test their proficiency in aquamancy and their ability to manipulate their way out of the water before they lost air to their lungs. This went as badly as one might expect and ended in the tragic death of many of their children.

This challenge developed with the passing of the years, though the cruelty of it remained. It became less dangerous, as the parents were likely to pull their child to the surface before they drowned completely but it became more cruel as the parents were likely to disown a child who failed them. They developed a kind of marking system for those that failed the challenge or completed it, the child would get a middle name based on their profiency and their profiency alone.

Isaiah Parrish was born to a pair of parents who barely wanted him, a sickly child with a near crippling immunodeficiency disorder. He resembled his father down to his bones with very dark hair and eyes that were ice blue in shade, he lacked any resemblance to the very red-headed Irish genetics of his mother. He grew more and more sickly as he aged, developing more allergies than his parents knew what to do with and landing in the hospital far more times than anybody would dare to count. The kid was born a step behind most Parrish's and this was very disappointing for his father.

When his powers were tested, he drowned, he damn near died, and absolutely infuriated his father. He was christened with the middle name "Ichorus" to account for what he had failed to accomplish. His family would have never been the typical and loving type of people but his failure to complete his challenge just made it much, much, much worse. He was often viewed as a liability, less of a son and more of a trinket that could be ignored or viewed as they pleased and this lead to him developing a very odd approach to his emotions. He often felt as if he weren't supposed to have any at all.

His father was obsessed with maintaining business and taught him into a very stiff and overly formal way of speaking. He was often dragged along on business ventures, though it was expected of his father's colleagues to ignore him or pretend that he didn't exist at all. When he was spoken to, he was to be referred to as "Ichor" and nothing else, sometimes it drained on the young man though he did well in not speaking out on the matter. It was expected to maintain emotions in the Parrish family, it was unseemly to be seen as anything other than strong.

Marchand was a perfect chance to get him out of their hair and so they shipped him off to practice his aquamancy, he is rarely spoken of by his parents at all anymore.

Misc.

IDR | black
- Isaiah is prone to immune attacks.

The Marchand Academy of Sorcery

Nolan Nicholas Santora

☆ Nolan Santora ☆

N I C K N A M E S

Nol, Nicholas, Sylvester, Santora.

A G E

17.

G E N D E R

Male.

P R I M A R Y

Incorporeal Necromancy.

S E C O N D A R I E S

Of interest: Blood Magic, Familiar Conjuration.

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D E S C R I P T I O N

Nolan stands out around 5"9 with a very slim build, he doesn't seem to maintain much muscle. He has naturally wide-set shoulders and fairly long legs. His hips are rather narrow, making him seem slightly delicate. The boy is very pale, though not to an extent that one might find him sickly. His skin is nearly flawless, maintaining very few scars, though it's smattered in freckles. There is one prominent, large scar that marks the flesh on the left side of his neck, disappearing behind his ear.

He's conventionally attractive with a pretty proportional face, a hard jaw and full mouth. His eyes are set beneath low, thin brows and they're a cornflower blue in color. His hair is a glossy wheat blond and usually appears very ruffled, he tends to slick it back at times.

He most often wears very fashionable clothing, preferring to follow trends with a good eye. He doesn't stand out when it comes to clothing but he can almost always be found in a pair of old, worn, converse. He has a necklace with an old red amulet that he wears constantly as well, though he tends to keep it tucked beneath his shirt.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

This boy could be considered something of an oxymoron, he's mostly friendly. He seems to have a natural love of life, often embracing the world with arms wide open. He can be a bit of a class clown at times, cracking jokes to make things less awkward and being generally disruptive. This friendly persona is what the majority of people see of him, just a happy-go-lucky type guy that lives to impress.

There is another part of him that can come off as downright rude. He seems to have almost no filter, saying things that can be belittling under the guise of it just being a joke. This slightly nasty edge to his personality often drives people away from him, though that's not to say that he's unpopular. People seem to like him, most of the time.

He's not very good with emotions, he doesn't seem to understand other people. It's hard for him to connect with them, he also doesn't open up very easily. He can't seem to talk about his own problems, if he's put on the spot, he'll always bow out of the conversation. It makes it hard to really know much about him.

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C R U S H

N/A.

S K I L L S

- As if to amount for what he can't do, he is an intensely good incorporeal necromancer. It takes a lot of exertion before it wears him down and he is able to draw large groups of spirits forward at a time and interact with the physical world, he is also able to draw forth stronger spirits.

- Blood Magic, the boy has started to acquire a proficiency in blood magic.

- Taxidermy, this is a skill that his father passed down to him and he is far prouder of it than he probably should be.

- Sewing, he can sew fairly well.

- Photography, he loves to use a camera and he's quite good at it.

- Quick thinker, he's able to act quickly most of the time and he tends to gravitate to smart actions.

- Responsible, most of the time, he can be trusted to make responsible decisions if other parties will be directly affected.

W E A K N E S S

- Corporeal Necromancy, try as he may, he just can't seen to do it very well.

- Fighting, he's particularly bad in a fist fight or any fight.

- Squeamish, despite choosing blood magic as a secondary, large quantities of blood often makes him very squeamish.

- Selective hearing, he tends to tune out things that aren't important to him and it can often end in him missing important details and being overall weaker for it.

- Pacifist to a fault, he likes to side with pacifism but that isn't always good.

- Quick temper, though he strays from fighting, his temper can be very quick and volatile.

- Curious, infinitely curious and willing to wander into danger to staunch that curiousity.

- Power driven, he has a huge insecurity about his inability to learn corporeal and it leads him to seeking out power, his ambition could easily lead him to shambles.

- Iresponsible, in regards to himself and his own well-being.

H I S T O R Y

A name amongst mages that often goes unremembered is the Santora name, though it was forgotten for good reason. If one is to look far enough through their history, they would find that the Santora's are amongst some of the oldest and greatest necromancy bloodlines. A name that went into use in the depths of ancient Greece, these necromancers were polished in their art and good at both forms of it.

They had a proficiency in being proficent at both. It wasn't uncommon to hear them suggested when someone needed a necromancer and it wasn't uncommon to have them show up whenever they were needed. They were the type to dabble in the darker parts of necromancy but they were never the type to go overboard. They were amongst the most influential necromancers for years.

It all changed in the 1400s when Niklaus Santora was born.

Niklaus was like any young mage, he wanted to learn his craft and he wanted to be as good as his parents before him. It became clear very early on that he couldn't seem to learn corporeal necromancy. That struggle to learn caused him to begin to feel out casted amongst his own family. Everyone expected him to learn it but he couldn't seem to do it and this ended in a lot of teasing and putting him down for what he found to be impossible.

So, his anger grew steadily and it became a beast inside of his heart. It was a rage that gripped him and he decided that if they thought he was weak for what he could not do then he would show them that he was strong for what he could do. He became invested in drawing forward demons and malicious spirits, he became invested in all forms of forbidden magic that he could get his hands on.

And so, he spiraled.

The start of the great Santora Cult was in his name, he had made himself as powerful as he could get and that drew the attention of some other unsavory types. There were followers of different bloodlines and followers of his own bloodline as he sought a very personal war with other necromancers that he thought had slighted him. His followers were seemingly invested in all that he said and they committed terrible acts in his name.

It became evident that he had to be stopped but the only way to stop him was to kill him. His cult came crumbling down after it was infiltrated and most of his followers, and a lot of his family were caught in the crossfire. Niklaus, himself, wasn't found until much later. A frail and dying man, driven mad by forbidden magic and wearing a shining amulet upon his neck. He put up a formidable fight despite his terrible state but was soon killed, that amulet was removed from his corpse by unknown sources.

Years later, after all had seemingly been forgotten, the Santora family remained reclusive because of these events. For years, there was never another Santora with the same deficiency in their magic as Niklaus and it was taken as a sign of hope. They were actively working to make it up to their fellow mages, what they had done had been unspeakable and they didn't expect to ever be forgiven. Without another Niklaus though, maybe forgiveness was possible.

Nolan Nicholas Santora was born.
In every way, he was a Santora. Golden hair and bright eyes, a smile that was never wavering but his magic fell short in the form of corporeal necromancy. He didn't know the implications of that issue but his father did and so they pushed him harder than his sisters to try to learn what he just couldn't seem to grasp. It wasn't until he was six that his father spilled the beans in a fit of frustration.

Nolan Santora had what they liked to crudely refer to as "Niklaus Syndrome".

Nolan had always known that his sisters bypassed him in proficiency, that hadn't made him want to stop trying but in light of this new information, his dad's frustration was finally making sense to him. It sort of made him angry that his father had made this broad assumption that he would end up like Niklaus. This sparked a rebellious streak as the kid got older and the longer he went without being able to learn corporeal necromancy, the more obsessed with Niklaus he became.

He became obsessed with old texts description of his ancestor, even seeking out his diary at the age of ten. He poured over these diaries for months, empathizing with Niklaus' struggle with being taken seriously and starting to see him, unfortunately, as kind of a misunderstood anti-hero. At the age of eleven, on her deathbed, his grandmother gave him the amulet that Niklaus had died in.

Nolan took it without hesitating.
He wore it and he never took it off. It wasn't until he turned seventeen that his dad was offered a chance to get him away from Niklaus' diaries and his odd obsession. Driven by superstition and a worry that his son might head down a dark path, he was shipped off to Marchand in hopes that he'd learn corporeal necromancy.

O T H E R

- He hates any mention of his family's history and thinks that it's tedious to bring the past up. Though this is mostly him being extremely defensive.

- It's a rarity in his family to not be able to eventually learn both forms of necromancy.

- The amulet is an heirloom, believed to date back to the 1400s. It's known in his family that Niklaus was once the proud owner of it.

Amulet

It looks a bit like this, though it's chain is a very old and brassy gold and the letter "N" is carved into the back of the stone.

Niklaus Santora

☆ Niklaus Santora ☆

N I C K N A M E S

Nik, Nikky, Nikki, Klaus.

A G E

43.

G E N D E R

Male.

P R I M A R Y

Incorporeal Necromancy.

S E C O N D A R I E S

Blood magic, Healing.

D E S C R I P T I O N

Niklaus is of average height, standing in around 5"10 and built very thin. He has a reedy sort of built but he is broad-shouldered in a way that is often familiar of Santora men. He would resemble his descendent in more than one way, with a fairly proportional face and a hard jaw, though there is something very off about the creases in his skin. He seems to have been lined with stress very severely.

His eyes, green in shade, are hollow-looking and heavy-lidded. His skin is dappled in faint scarring, it marks his arms and hands mostly but there can be some found in his neck and face as well. He has dusty brown hair, very light in shade despite his Greek heritage and a prominent aquiline nose. His lips are thin and sharp and often pulled into a grin that is far too pleased.

He is always found to wear the brightly colored robes of a nobleman from ancient Greece.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Niklaus has reached a special point just beyond unhinged. A mind addled by forbidden magic, he can be spoken to but he will often come off as threatening or defensive. His mood swings can be rapid and unplanned, they're extremely volatile and violent. He is bright and friendly but it's a friendliness that borders on creepy at times, he has an unnatural cheerfulness about him that shines through vibrantly. He is prone to making jokes and happy commentary.

He is an extreme sadist, relishing in the pain of others, especially those who are defenseless. He thrives on suffering and loves to be the cause of it, he tends to lash out violently in arguments, often going overboard. It can be extremely hard to convince him that he is wrong and at times it is best to just agree with him and stroke his ego. That ego is massive and he has a tendency to display it in grand displays of power or surrounding himself in large and beautiful things.

He can come off as childish at times, easily distracted or confused. He seems to have little to no sense of identity. When asked about himself, he will often have no answers. His memory is heavily faulty though it's only displayed in things relating to his identity.

S K I L L S

- Incorporeal Necromancy, arguably one of the best incorporeal necromancers in history, Niklaus can do just about anything with his ghosts. He has built this skill up so high that he seems to use it seamlessly, at times it's kind of scary to witness.

- Forbidden magic, a marked talent for the forbidden arts, he can tear souls from the bodies of people without having to touch them.

- Fighting, many years of practice made for an excellent fighter in most forms of combat.

W E A K N E S S

- Corporeal Necromancy, he is completely incapable of doing corporeal necromancy, it's a genetic trait that renders his magic useless in that area.

- Inability to focus, a fleeting concentration, he often can't focus on things for very long.

- Dependent, he is highly dependent on Richmond Durmont.

- Unadjusted to the new world, he doesn't understand this world as it is now.

H I S T O R Y

Niklaus Santora was born in the 1400s to a family who had built themselves a legacy amongst the necromancy community. The Santora family were old and powerful Greek necromancers, they were known for a proficiency in their work and they were a very vain group of people. They often were called upon when summoners were needed and they relished in their small bit of fame.

Niklaus was the first son of a prominent member of the family.
Narkissos Santora was a very proud man and he sought to teach his son to be as talented in his necromancy as himself. From an early age, Narkissos became aware of a fault in Niklaus' magic.
He could not seem to learn corporeal necromancy, no matter how hard he tried.

Though the Santora family had late bloomers in the past, Niklaus was showing an incredible talent in incorporeal necromancy. Narkissos refused to be deterred by his son's apparent lack of skill for corporeal and instead called in an old family friend from England in hopes that his older son could help Niklaus learn.

The Durmont family sent their oldest son Richmond to live with the Santora family. Richmond was a polar opposite to Niklaus, a shadow to his sunlight. He was a tall and quiet young man, dark haired and dark eyed. Despite the contrast of their conflicting auras, the two became close friends. Richmond seemingly took the role of an older brother for Niklaus and the two became inseparable.

They grew up alongside each other and though Niklaus could never learn corporeal, Richmond taught him many other things. He taught him blood magic to use as a secondary and he taught him how to stand outside his family. He taught Niklaus that he could define what the Santora name would become for future generations.

Niklaus loved Richmond, clung to him for advice and guidance but despite his close bond with the other boy, it couldn't seem to stop a certain awfulness that was creeping in. Narkissos Santora was not a patient man and when his son showed no improvement, he took to physical punishment as a way of encouraging him.

It began to spread amongst other necromancers that a Santora had been born with a deficiency in his magic, it made Narkissos feel shamed. Though Narkissos had a younger son, no one could get over the fact that his eldest son had still yet to learn corporeal. This made Narkissos act very harsh to Niklaus which further discouraged the young man from learning corporeal.

Richmond could see that his adoptive brother was growing weary of this and so he formulated a plan. It was on one rainy night that Niklaus stumbled home with a bloody nose and swollen eyes that Richmond conferred with him. At first Niklaus was hesitant, loyalty for the man who hurt him outweighed everything but it didn't take long for Richmond to convince him of what he needed to do.
Niklaus slit his father's throat that night.

Richmond took hold of their property in Niklaus' stead, promising to raise Niklaus and his younger brother. He had no plans of staying in Greece however, having never been a fan of the place that his father had sent him to all those years ago. He made plans to return to England with the two Santora boys after the funeral for Narkissos. The locals had long since grown suspicious of him.

While Niklaus prayed at the alter, Richmond brought this idea up to him. Niklaus wasn't interested in leaving Greece and the two were close to engaging in an argument when a friend of Narkissos' burst into the church and hurled accusations at Richmond for the murder of his dear friend. Richmond quickly ended this by removing the soul from the man's body. Niklaus immediately wanted to know how he'd accomplished this, Richmond eventually gave into teaching him.

The two stayed in Greece at Niklaus' insistence, becoming tangled in forbidden magic and feeding off the negativity of one another. They lived in the Santora estate and eventually seemed to forget about the existence of Niklaus' younger brother, driving him to seek out the comfort of other family.

Niklaus became fixated on revenge, planning and writing these plans down in his journals. Richmond became fixated with his desire to return to England, he had become a pariah in his Greek home. In their mutual fixations, the two began to drift and in a desperate attempt to free himseld, Richmond tried to kill Niklaus. Niklaus, surprisingly, came out on top. After nearly collapsing Richmond's skull, Niklaus made it evident that no one would be leaving unless he deemed it so.

It was decided in that moment that he would start a cult in his name. An idea that the man had been cooking up for months, obsessing over every detail. The Santora Cult rose with Niklaus at its head and Richmond as his second in command. It was a small cult at first, people were hesitant to follow the words of the eldest Santora son. He found a common ground with people who had been shunned for their lack of talent or treated like they were less.

He became a voice for the outcasts of mage society, the ones who had never felt as if they were good enough. He spoke passionately and he was driven, before anyone knew it, his following had become huge. A mixture of mages of all cultures and magics, a group of likeminded individuals who hung on his evert word. He became known for his cruelty as well as his kindness.

It would not be recorded in time but Niklaus Santora was empathetic towards the members of his cult, he considered them family as well as friends. The attrocities committed by the Santora Cult were many, including mass genocide of certain necromancy families, murder of those who scoffed at Niklaus' beliefs and depicting icons of their leader throughout Greece.

This senseless bloodshed and worship went on until it was decided that Niklaus needed to be stopped.
It was around this time that he and Richmond devised a plan involving an amulet.

The entire cult was targetted and eradicated, leaving behin the husk of a leader. Niklaus had become so consumed in power that by the time he was found, it was a wonder that he managed to fight for himself at all. He was ended in the same way that his father was, a blade through his throat. He went down, bleeding onto the amulet that Richmond had acquired for him.

Richmond fled the scene through the use of shadowstep and was not found until two years later. By that time, he had an infant daughter and a fiancé. His fiancé was killed in the struggle to take the infant and Richmond was captured and tortured until he managed to goad the interrogator into cutting out his tongue
He slowly bled to death through that wound.

The last of the Durmont bloodline was his infant daughter who was later handed off to be raised by the Ciervo family.

O T H E R

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The Marchand Academy of Sorcery

Please hold for Nolan.