Konan375XD It is.
Rtron
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Oh good! Someone who hates Eli before he even met them! :p
and will attempt to do so before Shreckt (for reasons that will become apparent in my next post).Aww that's just cheating. Shreckt is bound by Eli to not interrupt the current convo. :(
Eli walked into the Pub, limping slightly. His armor and duster, while always dirty, seemed to be caked with an extra layer of grime today. Some of said grime appeared to be blood, especially around his left leg and his right shoulder, which Eli would wince and move experimentally from time to time. “Damn Varisie. Can’t they just ever let me do my job without a fight?” He muttered, primarily to himself. Of course, when you have roughly eight other voices in your head, talking to yourself almost never goes without a comment. Right on time, Shreckt spoke up. _You do keep choosing these missions, knowing the Varisie, who would have been your comrades had you not deserted, will attack you and likely try to prevent you from completing your goal. This is your own fault._
“Your point?” Eli replied under his breath, sitting down at the bar with a small groan of pain. _You can’t complain if you knew this was going to happen._ “The hell I can’t. Why did the bastard have to stab so hard? And why did he have to have such bad aim?” Eli complained quietly under his breath again, watching as the bartender made his way over, stopping to grab a bottle of his hardest whiskey(Black Velvet) and a shot glass. _That’s how you get a knife through someone’s armor joints and flesh and you struggle quite a bit for someone who claimes he wants to die._ Eli snorted before replying. “That was a rhetorical question, and if I wanted to just ‘die’, I’d just toss myself off the nearest tall building. I want to be killed in battle. I am a soldier damn it. I’ll die like one.”
The bartender had reached Eli and set down both the shot glass and the bottle, taking Eli’s coin in return. “So, where’d you go in Varisie territory this time, and what happened?” He said, eyeing the white bandage that could be seen sticking out of Eli’s collar. Eli gave a low chuckle. “Nothing too bad this time. We only went a few miles into Empire controlled territory. We, that is, the Errant Knights and Red Hawks working with me, were supposed to deliver some supplies to the resistance movement there. On the way, a couple scout ships found our ship, attacked and boarded. One of the bastards shot me through the leg,”
Eli gestured with the empty shot glass down to his leg, before filling it with the Black Velvet,” and then another got in close for sword work. Stabbed me through my shoulder, but failed to notice I had my own sword until it went through his stomach. We dropped off the supplies, but there were notably less of us on the way back.” He was silent for a moment, knocking back the burning whiskey without a flinch, before filling the glass up again. “Quiet time hmm?” He said, glancing around the bar. Most were regulars, Dancing Bard members. A few were unknown to him. The man in the corner, a Rider no doubt. They all had a certain…air about them. The Redhawk and his companion the…Eli cursed and looked away from the girl but it was too late.
_Was she Kusagi!?_ Shreckt practically shouted in his skull, causing a chorus of grumblings from the other spirits and Eli himself(though this time he refrained from speaking aloud. Nothing freaks out people more than talking to the voices in your head. ). Eli considered arguing what he knew was going to come, but decided against it. His arm and leg hurt too much and he didn’t want to add a headache to his list of complaints. _Fine. Get in here, but don’t interrupt their conversation. Wait until they’re done before you barge over._ Eli said, mentally sighing.
In the next heartbeat, Shreckt was there, sitting next to Eli at the bar. She swiveled her armored self to glance at the other Kusagi, a suppressed eagerness in her eyes. “I really need to get you to out more. See other people. More Kusagi. Because this, this is growing to be annoying.” Eli remarked, taking another shot of whiskey. Shreckt ignored him.
I'll get a post up tonight.
I hath arrived.
Things had finally settled down after the incident within in the kitchens, mainly Uicle's pranks, as Pyx recovered from her burning mouth. Rathel easily convinced her to settle down and resume her seat beside Khan, the demon's gentle and passive nature making it a rather easy task.Meanwhile, Khan found the tip about burning out the taste worked...mostly. It dulled Lucilia's medicine's after taste to a much more tolerable level, allowing Khan to enjoy the candied nuts more.
Every so often young Pyx seemed to look in Uicle's direction and thoughtfully think, highly possible she was considering ways to get even with the suit of armor who was a current teacher. Her appetite, namely for sweets, seemed to be on a legendary scale as she ate most of Khan's rather large porportion. Her teeth crunched and noisily enjoyed the nuts in a fashion that mildly amused him, glad she was enjoying herself.
The Headmaster didn't mind though. His fingers slowly eating his own fill between the student's reaches and enjoyed the sweet's strong taste. Meanwhile his eyes fixed on Uicle. He knew the teacher wouldn't let his secret go, despite him silencing Rathel, which was why he had to consider a way out fast. It would only be a matter of time before Uicle told Lucilia, and then even to Ovak if he had to. Not that the Headmaster didn't suspect the Archmage hadn't an inkling of what already happened. Sometimes Ovak's ability to see events were down right accurate to a dangerous degree.
When the plate emptied, Khan gripped his cane and rose. His head turned to Rathel with a gentle expression when he spoke. "Rathel, would you kindly escourt Pyx to her room? I think Uicle would like to have a chat with me."
Rathel looked at Uicle then Khan before he started to to usher the small snow elf away. Something told the demon things were about to become rather hot in a moment. Several seconds passed while the sound of Rathel's and Pyx's footsteps slowly faded. Now it was just the pair of them left.
"Well, I've got some paper work to still fill out. If you'll excuse me Uicle." Khan said then made to move past the teacher.
"A very good try Khan, I must admit. But you don't seriously think I'm going to let you just walk away when I saw something related to Kudd buried in that temptation of yours, do you?" Uicle said dryly, still standing. "Don't try to run for it, I'll just close the door and I don't think your cane gives you the speed advantage here." He turned his rather large and bulky frame, being a steel golem currently, towards Khan. "What in the name of the God are you playing with Khan? You [i]know[/i] messing with anything related to Kudd is stupidly dangerous, and you [i]know[/i] that if it looks like you can turn it to your advantage, you probably can't! What is it that you have, or that he offered?"
"Uicle. I'm perfectly capable of dealing it with on my own, I've not exactly forgotten my last encounter with Kudd. I lucky enough not be killed!" Khan said, his voice low and warning. His fingers gripped his cane tighter then started to direct his path around Uicle, his detour wider due to the Steel Golem's girth, in order to push past to the door.
"Now, buzz off."
Uicle took a small step to cut off Khan's route. "You know, that sounds familiar 'I can take care of it by myself'." Uicle mused, rubbing the steel Golem's chin as he did so. "Where did I hear that before...oh yes! Right before I became indentured to the God of Evil, and numerous times while I served him to make people's lives miserable, and in some cases, end. And every time they said that, they never could. 'I can take care of the fire by myself' said one of my burn victims, 'I can fix this jam in the millstone' said another of my victims, he was a miller until they had to amputate the crushed ruin of his arms. Terrible thing really, he and his entire family ended up starving to death. 'I can take these bandits by myself' I said that right before a knife got shoved into my stomach about five times, and I had to sell my soul to Aarem just to keep living. Word of advice, just let yourself die. Much better in the long run." He looked down at Khan, utilizing the golems massive size. "My point is, its never as simple as it looks, especially with Kudd. You need help, or better yet, you need to get rid of whatever he gave you permanently. You are lucky to be alive, don't go give that life to Kudd."
Khan paused, his head glanced upward and into the Golem's face. He wasn't very happy at being stopped, but as he seized up the creature, it was clear he wasn't about to win any physical war with the Golem. If anything, the new form Uicle was in had much more advantages then himself. He sighed. He had heard all about Uicle's history, namely from Ovak, from the moment the master mage died to his punishment from Aarem. Though the archmage never told the reasons he wanted the ex-servant to begin teaching at the College.
He leaned more heavily on his cane while he stayed standing. At the mention of life, Khan chuckled in a bitter tone, almost hollow. "Yes I am, but either way my life only lasts as far as my life span. Once its over, so is my soul. Or have you forgotten?"
The Eysire raised his rune carved hand for Uicle to see clearly. "I know what price choices can have, Uicle. This... these runes will end up erasing my soul in the most painful way when I finally die. I will never be reborn. I will never get a chance to take another path through life or even live another. I will merely cease to exist, which I'm not sure if I should be terrified or not. Despite the heavy price, I don't regret what I did for my brother...merely that I was unable to help him."
He moved forward a step. "Now, are we finished?"
"Well congratulations Khan, you've discovered the secret of the afterlife!" Uicle threw his hands wide, "When you die, if you're reborn, you won't remember any of your past lives! I could have been one of Eania's greatest kings in my past lives, but I don't remember any of them! You probably have a past life or two in you, but I somehow suspect you don't remember them either! Now would you kindly tell me what the difference between your soul ceasing to exist, and you not remembering anything about your past lives, thus making them null? And, believe me, I haven't forgotten that your soul is damned. Not when my own reminder never leaves my hand." He raised his staff, and shook it a little. "Aarem will get bored of this game one day, or maybe my luck will just end and the staff will break. Regardless, when it does happen, eternal torture at Aarem's hands. I must say, quite the fitting end." He shrugged, metal scraping against metal where it hadn't been fixed. "All I'm saying is that you need help. Tyrael if no one else. Preferably, you should destroy it so it doesn't hasten your end. I rather like having you around, believe it or not."
"Sarcasm will not help the matter, Uicle. It will make me wish you farewell much more and sooner." Khan sighed, a little tired of the Golem's understandable sacrasm and bitterness. He didn't want to impress or compare their histories and woes, even at the expense of being mocked at his childish reaction to hiding things. "No, there's no difference save the end will be painful and the souls will be cleansed. Doesn't make it any less meaningful in the end, Uicle. When people die, memories of them too are forgotten in exchange for the living but are they any less important when you can't remember them?"
"You can't be that tired of my charming personality, otherwise you would have already killed me." If Uicle had had a mouth, he would have been smirking. As it was, however, simple tone of voice would have to do. "Regardless, moving on from comparing whose life has been more horrid and who will die more painfully, memories of the dead are useful to only three people. Their loved ones, their enemies, and Necromancers. So, yes. If you can't remember your past life, it is the exact same thing as never having lived it. If through some stroke of luck or laziness on Aarem's part, I do get reborn, perhaps some day my new body will be reading about Uicle the Servant of Aarem and thinking 'what a despicable excuse for life. How could anyone do that?' never knowing the irony of it all." He stood aside to let the headmaster pass. "All I'm saying Khan is that you can't shoulder this burdern by yourself. Not this time."
"No, I can't say I am, but you're not the only person I enjoy mind you." Khan said but hadn't moved. Even when his way was clear, he hadn't budged and made his way into the doorway to leave this conversation behind him. His knuckles just whitened their grip on the top letting him lean heavily into the support.
"Nor can I live with myself if those I share this burden with end up dying for my mistake. If things..." Khan swallowed, his words stumbled a bit and were forced out with a bitter taste, "If things turn for the worse, I need to know someone will stop me. Either by force or death. That is why I have to shoulder this burden alone Uicle. It's not because I want to be self-righteous or believe I can handle it alone but to ensure there are those around who will stop me. That won't be at risk being stopped in their tracks when the choice has to be made. It's more a selfish matter then anything."
Uicle gave a sigh, or at least the best sigh a metal golem that was crushed in several different places could. "Or, and here's a crazy thought so feel free to mock me for it, we could just destroy whatever it is. Tell Kudd that we won't deal with his garbage, and move on with our lives. Or, what remains of them. We can beat the enemy without becoming the enemy Khan. Destroy it. Move on. Lead the College." Uicle paused, then seemed to scrutinize Khan. "When was the last time you had a midnight talk with Aramir or that monk girl?"
Khan shook his head at Uicle's suggestion. He knew it wasn't that easy and the fact Kudd had already contacted him once wasn't a positive piece of evidence that it was it going to be easy to destory the problem. Students, staff and guests all had suffered during the last feast and he felt the weight of the result heavy in his heart. He didn't want to repeat it again.
The headmaster gestured for Uicle to follow him while he moved past and into the hallway, his cane clicked softly during his walk. "He wasn't even on the mortal plane and he still wrecked so much damage, I only shudder to think what would happen if he was here in person. He's strong Uicle when I last tried to dominate him, not even laying a scratch on him. I thought these Runes would've helped but I was wrong. Saying it much easier then going about it in the end."
At mention of Aramir and Meirin, Khan nearly halted in place and gave the golem a stupidified expression at the surprising question. Instead his foot stumbled causing him to quickly catch himself before he fell on his face making him a rather humorous sight for a moment. "A while, actually. I think they still think of me as a headmaster, making them rather against breaking taboo when it comes to the traditional roles. I rather not force my company on them if they don't want. I would've thought you and the other teachers would've learned that by now."
By this time, two students tried to approach Khan at the same time. The first was a blond haired man, around his late twenties, and pretty scholar by the look of his thin frame. He bumped elbows with a lithe, dark haired girl who often helped Samuel within the infirmary. Both seemed to think his or her information was more important then the other's, elbowing and trying gain the head master's attention first. Their voices blended together causing Khan to cringe.
Uicle sighed, but dropped the subject of Khan for the moment. Instead he focused on the fact he hadn't talked to either of the students. "Force your company on them? Khan, Aramir rarely sleeps. If ever. Meirin only slightly more. They wander the halls at night, and other than my charming company, they have you. They may occasionally talk to eachother, but they mainly talk to you, I find. The only reason you haven't seen them in a while is because you've been shut up in your room with that damn artifact of Kudd's."
Before Uicle could go on, two students walked up. They began babbling together at once, and while Khan cringed, Uicle took a more...direct approach. He slammed his metal palms together as hard as he could, his staff more than resistant enough, the resulting metallic shriek as his shoulders moved, and the loud bang of metal coming togeter was more than enough to silence the students, both recoiling back from the sound. "That's better. Now you," He pointed at the girl, "what's your problem?"
They stopped their conversation instantly at Uicle's interruption. Two sets of eyes settled on the metal golem, studying him, before he spoke making it clear who currently possess the hollowed creature. The girl blinked, realizing she was first, then began quickly began to speak. "Samuel sent me to notify Khan there was a new student within the infirmary. He wants to register with the College and become a student, yet... Sam said when he found him, he was sick and unstable at first. Though there's no wounds on him, there's plenty of blood and his clothes appear as they were in a fight. He requests someone be sent to pick him up and help him get to Lucilia for the needed paper work."
Uicle then pointed to the male, who told his tale. "Another student arrived at the gates and was shown to an unused room as your own Khan is... well rather dangerous. He seems to be rather timid and an Orc. He also needs help registering as a student."
Khan inwardly groaned at one of his least favorite tasks. Paperwork, it still owned his office desk and he looked to Uicle. "I'll take the Orc, if you'll take the wounded? Seems I need to get those plants under control in my office again."
Uicle shrugged, causing another metallic shriek. "Right. Talk to the latest wounded person to stumble through our doors with no explanation what so ever. I wonder if I'll have to have Lucilia send a group of students after [i]this[/i] one too." He gestured to the girl, starting to move. "Lets go. We have to-"
He tried to move only to feel his leg get stuck. The tortured metal, naturally, gave away quite easily, and he fell down with a resounding crash only barely missing the girl. A stream of archaic curses exited from Uicle, and anyone who was from his time(before the whole, servant of Aarem thing) would have been impressed. As it was, both students just stared in confusion at him. "Khan. How would you feel if I had this nice young lady carry my staff for me too the nearest Golem?"
"Depends," Khan said, slightly worried at the effects of the curse as he had little knowledge of it, and continued. "Namely if the curse would hurt her and if you can stick to the staff or will you possess her?"
"If I said I wouldn't possess her automatically, can she take the staff? And I don't [i]think[/i] the curse would hurt her. Not if Ren was nice. Aarem, alone, undoubtedly would have her hurt. Maybe even killed. In a very painful manner, most likely." Uicle ignored the fact that the girl had gone white and took a small step back.
Khan let out a small breath while he decided. "Hold on, there's another idea."
[i]Zaad...
Yay, boss?
Take Uicle's staff.
Alright---Wait, what?!?
You heard me clearly Zaad.
I know what you said, but you can't be serious, The moment I take his staff, he'll go all poss...
Zaad, enough arguing. You're the only one I can be sure will deliver the staff without dying and if Uicle possesses you then he won't be out of a body quickly. Unless he pries, so don't argue with me. Either way you will do as you're told.
...Fine.[/i]
Shortly after Zaad's shadowy form appeared and formed just a short distance from the pair. His red eyes looked at Uicle with childish grudging, seemingly blaming him for his predictment and forced cooperation, while he approached to take the staff. His figure was nearly indestructible against almost anything. That and the fact he could easily recover would help Uicle to where he was going without too much delay, a reason Khan choose him. Though the demonomancer ensure not to show his discomfort at this alternative option. Should the teacher pry then so helped him, Zaad would make Uicle suffer if he ended up back into the Inferno cause Aarem's cult reject couldn't mind his own damn business. Part of him hoped this wouldn't work when he reached for the staff.
As soon as Zaad got a grip on the staff, and Uicle let go, the possession happened immediately. Uicle had no control over it. In an instant, after a brief bit of struggle with Zaad, the demon's eyes turned from red to green. [i]Hmm. This works on demons. I'm surprised, truly.[/i] Uicle commented, primarily to see who would all be listening. "Alright, time to go. Lead on lucky student who didn't get possessed!" He moved Zaad towards the direction the girl was going. "Lets see Aarem do his stupid little stone falling trick now." He muttered smugly, before rounding the corner.
Khan shook his head and spoke, showing he could read Uicle's mind through Zaad's link. "It might help these Runes aren't demonic in nature as well. So their influences can't clash as badly."
As Uicle rounded the corner, Khan delivered one last...message to the teacher. [i]Might to avoid prying into Zaad's mind. I would hate to force you to find another body Uicle when I banish him to the inferno, though knowing Aarem, he might allow you hitching a ride with him there as well. I rather not discover the result either.[/i]
UserName: Rtron
Character name: Althalus Marik
Age: 32
Mageblood type: Lues
Favoured Magic Class: Noxomancy(Shadows)
Previous Magic training: On the job training, so to speak. He's fairly quick at gathering shadows around himself to prevent horrid death.
Race: Human, Naersan.
Appearance: Armor:
The mask is nothing more than a scare tactic, having made a name of it(and thus, himself) when he worked as an assassin. Why fight when you can intimidate people? As a matter of practicality, his armor has runes of silence engraved(through Subscription) upon it all, combined with his, now unconscious, tendency to move in almost complete silence it gives him the unnerving(to some) habit of unconsciously sneaking up upon people, who only figure out someone is behind them through sound.
Face:
Althalus stands at five foot seven inches, a couple inches taller than your average Naerse human. He has golden eyes and a rather nasty scar going horizontally across his throat that gives his voice a slight rasp.
Short Bio: Althalus was born in Port Slaughter, son of a tavern owner whose wife was a rather skilled Vitalimancer who healed all the patrons who were injured. For a fee of course. For him, his older brother, and his younger sister born a few years later, it was a happy time. He had a caring father and a loving mother. Protection, warmth, shelter, food, and clean water. It wasn't so for a large amount of Port Slaughter. There are a few things one has to realize about Port Slaughter to appreciate how lucky Althalus was to be born to a Tavern Owner. There is only one rule that governs that town. Loyalty to Family. Whether they be adopted or related by blood, one doesn't betray, manipulate, cheat, or whatever else they do, their family, for any reason. Anyone who isn't family is a potential target or a potential victim. Most of the population is poor, and most of the population is tearing itself apart to survive. Muggings, scams. murders, thefts, the list goes on.
Althalus grew up in this world, yet he and his siblings were sheltered from it. A tavern owner had wealth, denizens of Port Slaughter liked to drink away their pain, and wealth meant power. Althalus's father was able to pay bodyguards to not only protect his tavern, but also his children. Still, his father taught them how to survive on their own. How to be ruthless, cold, efficient. For Althalus and his younger sister, these never really stuck. It wasn't that they [i]couldn't[/i] be ruthless, it was simply that his sister was too young(just having turned four a couple weeks ago) and Althalus preferred to be friendly, rather than terrifying. Respected and liked, rather than feared. Of course, that wasn't able to work in Port Slaughter, but he never stopped giving people at least one chance. The lessons stuck with his brother. Perhaps too well.
Althalus was 13 when he began displaying his aptitude for Noxomancy(rotting a coin, rather than someone's face thankfully), around the same time his brother(two years older than Althalus), began displaying an aptitude for Psychomancy. While their father began to search for a teacher for one or both of them, their mother began making sure they wouldn't accidentally do something stupid...like kill themselves by overusing their blood. She even went so far as to delve into the legends of Wild Magic. Much to Althalus's brother's interest.
In the following year his brother grew more withdrawn. Scribbling on a journal, talking, muttering, and snapping to himself, sneaking off at random times during the night(though only Althalus noticed this), he was jumpy, hostile, and seemed to be suffering from a decided lack of sleep. The family grew ever more concerned. He grew ever more withdrawn. The night of his fourteenth birthday(where his brother wasn't there) Althalus, overcome with curiosity, sneaked into his brother's room, determined to get a look at the journal. He had been lucky, and came at a time when his brother was gone. After a few minutes of dedicated searching, he was successful. Not the journal, but a page from it. Hidden behind the dresser, it appeared to be a list of names when Althalus unfolded it.
That's when the screaming began.
Shoving the paper into his pocket, Althalus ran too the noise, picking out the baritone roars of rage from his father, the shrieks of his mother, and the terrified wails of his young sister. The screams were coming from the Tavern, a purplish light glowing behind it. Just as Althalus reached the door, the wails were abruptly cut off, and the roars of rage and the shrieks grew louder, torn with grief. As he opened the door, he saw what should have been impossible. His brother, bloody sword in hand, over the still bleeding corpse of his sister muttering something Althalus was only able to make out part of. '-ld!'. In quick succession, the blade flashed again as Althalus stood their, frozen. Two more corpses hitting the ground. Every part of him screamed the need to run, to [i]flee[/i], before this purple eyed monstrosity that had become his brother noticed and killed him.
Too little, too late. Even as his feet began to move in retreat, his brother noticed him. And spoke only one word. "[i]Stay.[/i]" Althalus froze. His brother approached, slowly, blood still dripping from his blade. There were no explanations. No final words. No taunting. Just step, after step, until he was close enough to swing a the sword in a lazy arc towards Althalus's throat. To this day, Althalus has no clue what allowed him to break free. His own will? A mistake on his brother's part? Some small part of guilt? Whatever it was, it allowed Althalus to leap back. Far enough that he wasn't killed, but close enough that damage was immediately done. What happened next was a blur with brief moments of clarity. His brother, howling and gibbering as his body glowed with the purple light, twisting in inhuman ways. Stumbling out onto the street, looking for help. Collapsing in an alley.
A terrible mask leaning over him, a voice speaking to him in a strange accent. Then, darkness.
The mask wasn't, as it turned out, the person come to loot his corpse. Rather, it was someone to who Althalus was better off alive than dead. The man didn't give any name, didn't remove his mask, didn't do anything but be Althalus's mentor. "I need a partner. Getting too old to go alone on my missions. You're the lucky one who I decided wouldn't kill me later." 'Missions' turned out to be murdering people for money. Or, as Althalus's mentor insisted upon calling it, assassinating problematic people for a small fee. Though, he never did explain how a young girl could be 'problematic' to a young noble.
By the time Althalus was 22, he was good at his job. He helped his savior, and never even thought about betraying him. Name or no name. But, as the years had wore on, his mentor grew ever more paranoid. Till, the very night the man had been celebrating Althalus's birthday with him, he tried to kill Althalus. Althalus won, leaving the man gasping for breath with a knife in his ribs and his lifeblood pouring onto the ground. Althalus took the mask with him.
Ten more years passed, and Althalus made a living for himself. Even gathered a small guild of Assassins to help him out. But his brother was always a persistent one. Mages came. Mages came with their spells Althalus could do nothing to respond forcefully too, and killed his guild members. Althalus, barely escaping with his life, decided to run to the College of Mages. There at least, he would be able to learn how to use his long neglected magic.
Good Attributes:
Patient: Althalus is patient, very much so. It takes a lot to get him angry..or generally upset for that matter.
Career Killer: Althalus is fairly well versed in moving, and killing, silently, he's accurate with his throwing knives and competent with his array of daggers(hidden). He's killed at least one of the creatures on the face of Tien(Stretching from Naga, to Foreas, to even a Harmony). He can recognize most races and knows how to kill them quickly. Even if he's only had one of them as a target, he does his research. He's also quick to react and quick with his reflexes.
Optimistic: He always has an optimistic, slightly defiant, outlook on life.
Bad Attributes:
Procrastinator:Some, actually quite a few, would call him childish. Lazy.
Cheater: Due to his profession, open combat isn't exactly his style. He fights openly only when he has to, and even then he fights dirty and to get out of the open fight as quickly as possible. There's no such thing as a fair fight in his book.
Trusting: Despite everything, when you've earned his trust(after all, an assassin doesn't just go around trusting everyone he meets), he often refuses to believe that you would betray him, and makes emotional attachments quickly after.
Secret Word: Rebirth
UserName: Rtron
Character name: Uicle
Age: 195
Mageblood type: Obligatio/Aqua
Favoured Magic Class: Necromancy/Hydromancy(not by choice, by necessity. Those are the ONLY mageblood classes he possesses.)
Previous Magic training: A variety of Necromancy teachers, as the God Aarem is easily displeased, and Uicle had the unfortunate luck of having the teachers to do that displeasing. His Hydromancy training came from years of study in Twilight College. He is currently the Necromancy teacher.
Race: Yarosmere Human(Formerly)
Appearance: 
A cruel joke from Aarem. Uicle's soul is bound to the staff, but he can stretch it out to possess whatever, or whoever, is holding the staff. In this case, it's a suit of armor. The suit of armor is about seven feet tall.
Short Bio: Uicle was born in Yarosmere, roughly a 100, a 110 years ago. For most of his life he worked with his father and his mother, helping them run their general store. He didn't display his original mageblood of Obligatio until the age of 29. Rather than be forced into the military for his mageblood, he left to go to the Mage College. He made it across Yarosmere easily enough, but when he got to Djarkel things got considerably more...difficult. Uicle wasn't a soldier, he was a store owner. He didn't even have his own mageblood yet. So when some bandit's came and decided they wanted both his money and his life, well, he put up a paltry resistance, but he still ended up with a dagger in his stomach, bleeding his lifeblood out onto the ground. There were very few Gods one could pray to who would stop the natural course of life. The only one who came to Uicle's mind when he was dying was that of Aarem. Having no other choice, and not wanting to die, Uicle offered his soul to the God Aarem in return for his death being prevented.
Aarem granted his wish, though it didn't stop at preventing his death right then, it stopped his aging entirely. Uicle was immortal. And what was he to do with his new found immortality? Cause as much suffering to as many people as possible. For majority of his time as an immortal, Uicle shoved his morals and disgust at the actions back into his mind and did what he had to do. Hundreds, thousands, have died because of his actions. More have experienced days, months, years of intense suffering because of him. Poisoning wells. Burning down homes. Torture. Causing a local lord to crack down viciously on his subjects. Inciting a riot or a doomed rebellion. Causing a Snow Elf tribe to tear itself apart. Anything that would cause suffering, he did it.
Over the years, however, it became harder and harder to repress his self-disgust and guilt. But he managed to hide it. He'd seen what Aarem did to those who started regretting their decisions publicly. It wasn't pretty, and it usually happened to his Necromancy teachers, ancient men who had grown sick of their foul work. Regardless, as he continued on, he began moving more and more away from innocents, and more into criminals and people he classified as 'evil'. He grew more reckless, hoping for a death that Aarem could call natural and not suspect the truth behind it. At first, Aarem didn't notice, and Uicle remained frustratingly alive. Eventually, however, the God [i]did[/i] notice his actions, and demanded an answer. Uicle gave an honest, and very hateful, spiteful, and regretful, answer. Naturally, Aarem was...displeased, to put it lightly, with this revelation.
Still, he didn't immediately doom Uicle to a hellish existence. Uicle had been one of his most successful and longest lasting servants. Rather, he tried to 'persuade' Uicle to reconsider his decision. Which meant lots of pain and torture. Finally, when it became clear Uicle had resigned himself to his fate, Aarem just threw him away into one of his realms of eternal agony. Or, the god tried to at least. For reasons still unknown to Uicle, the god Ren intervened, saving his life...or what passes for life now anyways. Rather than letting Aarem throw Uicle into an agonizing existence, Ren forced the God of Evil to return Uicle to life. Perhaps he should have been a bit more specific. Uicle was returned to life, but as he is now. Trapped in a staff that used to be carried by a Hydromancer, whose armor Uicle now possesses. The Hydromancer was killed in Uicle's process of being returned to life. Aarem tried to cut Uicle off from his mageblood completely, but did something...peculiar by accident.
Rather than leaving Uicle a soul in a staff, he only cut off half of his mageblood, and gave him the other half of the poor Hydromancers. Uicle suspects Ren had more to do with the latter than Aarem, but hey. When you're given such a gift, you don't question it. Up until about fifteen years ago, Uicle wandered the land, righting his wrongs. Unfortunately, he couldn't rebuild the tribe, it being destroyed. But he could do more for those who he didn't kill or destroy. Rebuild their homes, give them money. Help them out anyway he can. Eventually, he had done all he could to help, he decided to learn his new found mageblood a bit more. Years of study followed and he was offered the position of Necromancy teacher, as the other one had died of age. He accepted, and has remained in the College till this day.
Good Attributes:
Painless: Do to the nature of his soul, Uicle doesn't feel pain, and what would normally be a killing blow isn't. One could chop off his armor's head and he'd still be alive and kicking, as long as he possessed the armor. This, however, doesn't mean he can use unlimited blood. That, in fact, is where his green glow comes from. The more blood he uses and the closer he comes to over using his power, the dimmer the light becomes.
Third eye: Uicle can have 'an eye in the back of his head', so to speak. He can be watching from the front of his armor, while at the same time facing the glowing green part of the top of his staff backwards, seeing through that as well. Therefore, sometimes it is rather hard to sneak up on him.
Restless Soul: Uicle can't sleep. At all. He physically cannot go to sleep.
Torturer:Don't have Uicle interrogate you. He will use very painful methods designed to cause a large amount of suffering. Aarem was good for something at least.
Bad Attributes:
Trapped: Uicle's entire existence hinges on that staff touching someone or something mobile. The second he's alone in the staff, he's useless. He can't manipulate liquids, or summon spirits from the Pit. If he's alone in the staff and someone breaks it...Uicle ceases to exist. No Pit. No rebirth. Just eternal torment at Aarem's hands.
Cursed by the Gods: Just because Uicle is no longer a servant of and can't be killed by Aarem, doesn't mean he still isn't punished by the God. Aarem, it seems, has made it a pet project to make Uicle pay for his betrayal. Uicle's life can be turned hellish in a second. To the casual observer he just has really, really, [i]really[/i] bad luck. The God of Evil is sometimes joined by others who don't feel a hybrid blood user should be walking around unpunished.
Secret Word: Rebirth
> [/hider]
UserName: Rtron
Character name: Aramir Ryk(generally does not give her last name)
Age: 22
Mageblood type: Lux
Favoured Magic Class: Pyromancy
Previous Magic training: None. She's amused herself by making sparks or small balls of fire, but that's about it.
Race: Snow Elf
Appearance:!
Standing at two feet 11 inches and weighing 45lbs, Aramir considered herself on the taller side for a Snow Elf, and she was a little bit proud of that height...until she finally met others than those in her tribe that is. She has [Ice blue eyes](http://content.photos-room.com/previews/Cold_as_Ice_by_lorency.jpg), and matching tattoos on her left and right arms and on the left and right side of her face(seen in appearance). The golden tattoos(marking her tribe) stretch from below her eyes down to the edge of her collar bone, while the tattoos on her shoulder(marking her place in the tribe) go down her arm(occasionally splintering off in a jagged pattern, in a likeness to cracking ice, but still following a major path), till they split into five smaller line tattoos that end just behind her fingernails(with that same, but much smaller, occasional jagged pattern). The design on the back of her vest identifies her family in the tribe. Most of her hair is usually in a long plait. She has a scar on her side, as if someone had stabbed her with a knife and twisted, and half a dozen of scars on her back, right over where her vest is sewn, as if someone had slashed at her back with a sword.
Short Bio: Aramir's earliest memories are that of struggle. Struggle to survive, to not be one of the ones yearly claimed by the Plains. To become a useful member of her tribe, She was taught from a young age how to handle a bow, her path as a hunter already predetermined by her family. She would have to earn her arm tattoos, straight lines that extend down to her wrists and stop on her upper shoulders in a hook, to mark her as an apprentice hunter before she could earn the additions to her arms that marked her as a fully fledged hunter, and then the golden tattoos that marked her as a full member of the tribe. However, she nearly never got the chance to earn those tattoos with a stupid mistake that she made when she was 8. She had been practicing her archery(at a snowman hastily constructed while the family prepared the camp for the freezing night), when the howling wind suddenly changed, sending her arrow far beyond and to the left of her her target.
Instead of telling someone where she was going, and keeping the camp always in sight, she set off to find the missing arrow. She couldn't afford to leave it, wood wasn't cheap to come by. She got caught up in her search, wandered too far, and by then it was too late. The eternal blizzard worsened, till she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. It was still largely day time, and all she could see was white. That didn't bother her. She saw unending white all the time. For what seemed like hours she walked in what she was hoping the direction she came from, towards the camp. Then, night fell. Aramir had always had an irrational fear of the darkness. Now it came straight to the fore. Time ceased to have meaning, and she couldn't have told you how long she walked. All she was aware of was sheer terror, sobbing, and frozen tears on her cheeks.
She finally collapsed from exhaustion, and the snow began to pile over her. Though she didn't know it at the time, her pyromancy was the only thing that saved her from freezing to death, though it nearly killed her in the process, as she instinctively overused her mageblood to heat the snow cocoon she had made. When she next awoke, it was to complete darkness once more, and she began to panic again, trying to claw her way out of what she thought was a snow tomb. Which is exactly when a pair of feet crashed through her 'tomb' and nearly landed on her head. Her heat had weakened the snow above enough that a snow elf from her tribe to fall down into her cocoon. After the joy and relief that she was alive was over, the scolding and punishment began. Aramir was too relieved to be alive and back with her tribe to be ashamed. She never did recover from the sheer terror of darkness she possessed.
At the age of 19 she finally gets her golden tattoos, three years after finishing her hunter tattoos. The year had been bad for the tribe. More members had died, all were hungry, and Aramir's group for the tattoo ceremony was the smallest that anyone could remember. There were mutterings that the tribe leader was leading them into disaster. Only from one or two members, the ones who felt the worst of the year. The next two years were successively worse and worse. The mutterings became talking. Then the talking became agreement. Finally the agreement became demands, shouting. The tribe began to divide into two camps. One still supporting the tribe leader, the other wanting him gone. Tension rose in the tribe, and shattered one night when Aramir and her friends went out hunting.
They came back with a good catch, and were in high spirits. This would be the turning point of the succession of bad luck that had plagued the tribe for years. They could feel it. The Tribe leader himself came to congratulate them. As he was doing so, violence erupted. An arrow sprouted out of the Elf's chest. For a moment that seemed to stretch to infinity, there was nothing but silence. And then the killing began.
Aramir had thought her friends calm, cool headed. She herself had disdained from picking either side, urging the two sides to reconcile in the face of the harsh Plains, and had thought her friends had done the same. They proved her wrong immediately when the fighting broke out. Before Aramir could even attempt to bring order to the chaos, someone tried to kill her, for nothing more than the markings on her vest. The howling of the blizzard masked the screams of the wounded and dying, the falling and overturned snow covered the blood and bodies quickly, and the nature of the Glacier Lands froze the hot blood that was spilled almost immediately. Aramir and a few others were the only survivors. The tribe had been destroyed. Her family, killed.Sometime during the fighting she had set fire to something with a blue ball of flames. Heedless of her wounds(a deep gash in her side, and half a dozen cuts on her back), she left taking only her bow, a quiver full of arrows, what supplies she could scavenge, and a couple of hunting knives, taken from the corpse of a friend.
She had heard of the Twilight College, down to the far south, out of the Frozen Plains. Maybe they could teach her to control her flames. Maybe they could help her forget.
It took her another year to find her way through the strange lands to the College. And while the physical wounds of her tribe's self-destruction healed, the emotional ones were only scabbed over, ready to break and bleed again at the slightest hint of over stretching.
Good Attributes:
Small:Though this can also be a disadvantage, she's very light, allowing her to go where heavier people are unable to follow.
Archer:She's a master with her hunting bow, having used it from the time she could draw it to hunt in the harsh Plains(though, it is considerably weaker than a war bow).
Hunter of the Plains:Aramir is also perceptive, a necessity when one is a hunter in the Glacier Lands, where the animals are all white in an unending white plain.
Agile:She's nimble and quick(quite handy when one needs to climb quickly, or dodge an oncoming snow ball).
Cold Blooded: She's comfortable in colder climates, used to the freezing temperatures of the Frozen Plains.
Bad Attributes:
Weak:Obviously, she won't be any good in terms of strength(which stretches from simple tasks that require brute force to fighting in prolonged melee combat, and everything in between).
Silent is the Night...:She's also very uncomfortable with silence or quiet places, used to the howling winds of the Frozen Plains.
...and the Dark hides it's terrors:She's terrified of complete darkness, barely tolerating shadows.
Cold Blooded:She's uncomfortable in hotter climates, used to the freezing temperatures of the Frozen Plains.
Peacekeeper: She dislikes arguments, and while not going out of her way to stop them, will either stop the arguers if they carry on for too long or leave abruptly.
Insomniac:She sleeps very little willingly, haunted by nightmares of her tribe tearing itself apart in front of her.
Secret Word: Rebirth
Standing at two feet 11 inches and weighing 45lbs, Aramir considered herself on the taller side for a Snow Elf, and she was a little bit proud of that height...until she finally met others than those in her tribe that is. She has [Ice blue eyes](http://content.photos-room.com/previews/Cold_as_Ice_by_lorency.jpg), and matching tattoos on her left and right arms and on the left and right side of her face(seen in appearance). The golden tattoos(marking her tribe) stretch from below her eyes down to the edge of her collar bone, while the tattoos on her shoulder(marking her place in the tribe) go down her arm(occasionally splintering off in a jagged pattern, in a likeness to cracking ice, but still following a major path), till they split into five smaller line tattoos that end just behind her fingernails(with that same, but much smaller, occasional jagged pattern). The design on the back of her vest identifies her family in the tribe. Most of her hair is usually in a long plait. She has a scar on her side, as if someone had stabbed her with a knife and twisted, and half a dozen of scars on her back, right over where her vest is sewn, as if someone had slashed at her back with a sword.
Short Bio: Aramir's earliest memories are that of struggle. Struggle to survive, to not be one of the ones yearly claimed by the Plains. To become a useful member of her tribe, She was taught from a young age how to handle a bow, her path as a hunter already predetermined by her family. She would have to earn her arm tattoos, straight lines that extend down to her wrists and stop on her upper shoulders in a hook, to mark her as an apprentice hunter before she could earn the additions to her arms that marked her as a fully fledged hunter, and then the golden tattoos that marked her as a full member of the tribe. However, she nearly never got the chance to earn those tattoos with a stupid mistake that she made when she was 8. She had been practicing her archery(at a snowman hastily constructed while the family prepared the camp for the freezing night), when the howling wind suddenly changed, sending her arrow far beyond and to the left of her her target.
Instead of telling someone where she was going, and keeping the camp always in sight, she set off to find the missing arrow. She couldn't afford to leave it, wood wasn't cheap to come by. She got caught up in her search, wandered too far, and by then it was too late. The eternal blizzard worsened, till she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. It was still largely day time, and all she could see was white. That didn't bother her. She saw unending white all the time. For what seemed like hours she walked in what she was hoping the direction she came from, towards the camp. Then, night fell. Aramir had always had an irrational fear of the darkness. Now it came straight to the fore. Time ceased to have meaning, and she couldn't have told you how long she walked. All she was aware of was sheer terror, sobbing, and frozen tears on her cheeks.
She finally collapsed from exhaustion, and the snow began to pile over her. Though she didn't know it at the time, her pyromancy was the only thing that saved her from freezing to death, though it nearly killed her in the process, as she instinctively overused her mageblood to heat the snow cocoon she had made. When she next awoke, it was to complete darkness once more, and she began to panic again, trying to claw her way out of what she thought was a snow tomb. Which is exactly when a pair of feet crashed through her 'tomb' and nearly landed on her head. Her heat had weakened the snow above enough that a snow elf from her tribe to fall down into her cocoon. After the joy and relief that she was alive was over, the scolding and punishment began. Aramir was too relieved to be alive and back with her tribe to be ashamed. She never did recover from the sheer terror of darkness she possessed.
At the age of 19 she finally gets her golden tattoos, three years after finishing her hunter tattoos. The year had been bad for the tribe. More members had died, all were hungry, and Aramir's group for the tattoo ceremony was the smallest that anyone could remember. There were mutterings that the tribe leader was leading them into disaster. Only from one or two members, the ones who felt the worst of the year. The next two years were successively worse and worse. The mutterings became talking. Then the talking became agreement. Finally the agreement became demands, shouting. The tribe began to divide into two camps. One still supporting the tribe leader, the other wanting him gone. Tension rose in the tribe, and shattered one night when Aramir and her friends went out hunting.
They came back with a good catch, and were in high spirits. This would be the turning point of the succession of bad luck that had plagued the tribe for years. They could feel it. The Tribe leader himself came to congratulate them. As he was doing so, violence erupted. An arrow sprouted out of the Elf's chest. For a moment that seemed to stretch to infinity, there was nothing but silence. And then the killing began.
Aramir had thought her friends calm, cool headed. She herself had disdained from picking either side, urging the two sides to reconcile in the face of the harsh Plains, and had thought her friends had done the same. They proved her wrong immediately when the fighting broke out. Before Aramir could even attempt to bring order to the chaos, someone tried to kill her, for nothing more than the markings on her vest. The howling of the blizzard masked the screams of the wounded and dying, the falling and overturned snow covered the blood and bodies quickly, and the nature of the Glacier Lands froze the hot blood that was spilled almost immediately. Aramir and a few others were the only survivors. The tribe had been destroyed. Her family, killed.Sometime during the fighting she had set fire to something with a blue ball of flames. Heedless of her wounds(a deep gash in her side, and half a dozen cuts on her back), she left taking only her bow, a quiver full of arrows, what supplies she could scavenge, and a couple of hunting knives, taken from the corpse of a friend.
She had heard of the Twilight College, down to the far south, out of the Frozen Plains. Maybe they could teach her to control her flames. Maybe they could help her forget.
It took her another year to find her way through the strange lands to the College. And while the physical wounds of her tribe's self-destruction healed, the emotional ones were only scabbed over, ready to break and bleed again at the slightest hint of over stretching.
Good Attributes:
Small:Though this can also be a disadvantage, she's very light, allowing her to go where heavier people are unable to follow.
Archer:She's a master with her hunting bow, having used it from the time she could draw it to hunt in the harsh Plains(though, it is considerably weaker than a war bow).
Hunter of the Plains:Aramir is also perceptive, a necessity when one is a hunter in the Glacier Lands, where the animals are all white in an unending white plain.
Agile:She's nimble and quick(quite handy when one needs to climb quickly, or dodge an oncoming snow ball).
Cold Blooded: She's comfortable in colder climates, used to the freezing temperatures of the Frozen Plains.
Bad Attributes:
Weak:Obviously, she won't be any good in terms of strength(which stretches from simple tasks that require brute force to fighting in prolonged melee combat, and everything in between).
Silent is the Night...:She's also very uncomfortable with silence or quiet places, used to the howling winds of the Frozen Plains.
...and the Dark hides it's terrors:She's terrified of complete darkness, barely tolerating shadows.
Cold Blooded:She's uncomfortable in hotter climates, used to the freezing temperatures of the Frozen Plains.
Peacekeeper: She dislikes arguments, and while not going out of her way to stop them, will either stop the arguers if they carry on for too long or leave abruptly.
Insomniac:She sleeps very little willingly, haunted by nightmares of her tribe tearing itself apart in front of her.
Secret Word: Rebirth
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