TheDarkTemplar

Knights of The Dawn Covenant: The Longest Winter

Zu'u fen veysun pah. Nii los hin dez.

Knights of The Dawn Covenant: The Longest Winter

I love ships, my favorite is either a schooner or a brig.

Knights of The Dawn Covenant: The Longest Winter

I'd have no problem with that, now if i could just get my english working I could hurry this along.

Knights of The Dawn Covenant: The Longest Winter

IC post is coming along, I'll try to get it out before night's end.

Knights of The Dawn Covenant: The Longest Winter

I'm not sure if I'll let everyone play villains in this one, by the time the main antagonist is revealed I will have come to a decision on that.

Knights of The Dawn Covenant: The Longest Winter

The Fallen

Apoalo

Prince Acaelus

Name: Prince Acaelus of Farendar
Appearance:

Pics

Armor

Sword1

Sword2

Acaelus

Age: 17
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Rank: Templar

Personality: Acaelus is a determined, stubborn, and adventuresome youth who does all he can to succeed no matter what. His whole entire life he's been told that he must be ready to help and support his brothers and his life he has done so. He has known nothing but service to his family and has dedicated himself to protecting not only Farendar as a Kingdom but his family, the Royal Family. Surprisingly and mainly due to the fact that Acaelus has been grown as a soldier he doesn't have the traditional Royal Attitude, the one that states that everything must be down according to their expectations and when it isn't problems tend to arise. He much prefers being just another soldier instead of a Prince with special treatment. Acaelus is never -truly- in his element unless he's in the middle of a fight with his sword and shield in hand. As such he enjoys the rush and thrill of battle more than anything in his young life. With his will to succeed and his dedication to protect his family and land, combining with his determination to be a good soldier, something his family can be proud of Acaelus is a young man with a ton of potential.

Biography

When the King and the Queen were wed, King Gregor told his wife as they were preparing the consummation that he never wanted to worry about heirs so she better be ready to enjoy sons. Tamara must have put his words to heart as over the years Altaia blessed her and her husband with FIVE sons and one daughter. Prince Acaelus the First of his name is one such son. Born the fourth son in line he was older than his youngest brother by four years and his sister by three. As a fourth born son Acaelus has been bred and trained to become advisor to his oldest brothers as every Royal continued to serve the family until death did them part. It was traditional for the three eldest to be tutored and taught by the Castle staff in all the ethics of court, how to court a Lady, and of course most importantly. How to Rule. But the fourth and fifth son were given other direction, the direction of military strategy, swordsmanship, horsemanship, archery, jousting, and tourney fighting. In fact Acaelus spent most of his childhood in the military meetings with his Uncle the brother of the King whose job Acaelus would no doubt take some day. He, of course DID get trained in courtship, dancing, and how to speak just as his older brothers were taught how to fight but it was apparent where each focus truly was. Indeed, Acaelus would spend hours studying books on military strategy, taking notes on various Generals and why they did certain things.

At the tender age of eight he was accepted (no one disobeys the King after all) by the then Champion of Farendar. A position in which Acaelus absolutely thrived. He was quite studious watching the Knight in everything that he did, watching his Knight fight and then spending entire days going over said fight, picking out every flaw he or his opponent gave away. He was taught how to care for armor, how to fletch his own arrows, how to clean a sword properly, reading the townsfolk, reading opponents, and of course how to pray to Cadeniere for guidance on how to carry out the laws of the Kingdom, and to judge those that broke them correctly.

As he passed into Squireship he was also passed along by his father into a marriage proposal with the Southern House of Sunderland, Acaelus being a potential and favorite choice for husband to Evelyn Sunderland, despite her being much his senior. Acaelus wasn't really sure how he felt on such a thing but it was just as well as Evelyn developed magical abilities and was sent to join the prestigious Order of The Dawn Covenant. With the match over Acaelus was brought back to the capital and court where he was then Squired to a well known Blademaster who took over the title Champion of Farendar, representing the Kingdom and King in not only war, but jousts and tourney's as well. Acaelus once again thrived in his new role and it was quickly apparent that the boy possessed a natural ability for warfare and strategic planning. He was far above and other squire in the capital, a city that was well known for the quality of Knight it produced.

With such in mind, when Acaelus was found to be able to harness magical abilities during the end of puberty the boy with his father the King's blessing requested and was accepted into the Order which he would be bride joined. He departed the Capital at once, accompanied by nothing but a single servant and a Castle Forged Longsword. When he arrived at Starwatch he tried and succeeded (for a time) to hide his true background. In fact it wasn't until a mock battle between two different groups of Acolytes that his Senior Officers realized that they had someone special. Acaelus was a whirlwind on the field mowing down anyone that dared go against him until a combat instructor decided to dim his ego a bit. What a mistake for that poor instructor, Acaelus not realizing it was a member of staff disarmed and incapacitated the instructor quickly and hoisted the flag that was his teams target into the air. It was at this time that he was recognized and the insufferable bowing began everywhere Acaelus went. It was honestly frustrating beyond belief and with desperation the boy wrote his father, explaining what happened to which his father replied that it was to be expected. Exasperated Acaelus declined every single offer of advancement and instead earned it like every single other member of his squad until on the day he turned 16 he graduated into a full Templar.

His Father made a celebration of the achievement and Acaelus found himself once more in the Capital feasting and drinking, and jousting with Knight's from all over the realm. When it was time to leave the next day his Father presented him with a series of gifts. First, was a War Stallion bred in the Stables when he had first began Squireship. It was a magnificent beast and Acaelus named her Snowfire due to the white and grey mane she boasted. Second was a Elegant Longsword, Dwarven strengthened and crafted the blade was known as the Sword of Princes and generally always went to a second or in this case fourth born son who took it up in defense of his elder brother or brothers. Third was a full suit of armor again Dwarven Crafted and designed with plenty of protection and room to move, the gorgeous design made it Acaelus's favorite gift by far. Fourth was a Elven Longbow which the King traded for with the Wood Elves, Acaelus wasn't that good of a shot with the bow but he promised his father he'd learn which meant even more practice. Fifth, and finally was a recently refurbished and rebuilt shield with the emblem of Farendar beside the Royal Families crest. It was the Bastion of the Crown, a shield that was wielded during the once time Champion of the Human Kingdoms in the first and second wars. Overwhelmed Acaelus thanked his father, bid farewell to his brothers and sister, kissed and hugged his mother, and set back out for Starwatch, where he was to be given. Much to his surprise, to none other than Evelyn Sunderland's Regiment.

Weapons: Primary: Longsword of Farendar, sword of Princes.
Secondary: Bastion of the Crown
Tertiary: Elven Longbow

Magic: Illusion- Psionic Blast/burst: Acaelus can localize a burst of Psionic energy to render a group of enemies incapacitated. May also be used on smaller groups of individuals as a burst.

Illusion- Terrorize: Able to make a wall around himself or an area that causes enemies that cross said barrier to instantly cower in fear, terrorized and assaulted by their worst nightmares.

Other: Often called Cae or Caelus by his friends.

Post Example: I'll get one to you if the History wasn't enough.

Theme Song: He has two.

Dream Evil - The Chosen Ones

Hider

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MM_c_avPlx4

Globus - Preliator

Hider

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDm9rqE8730

RadioactiveRat

Jeremiah Mason

Name: Jeremiah Mason
Appearance:
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Rank: Knight-Corporal.
Personality: Jeremiah is a caring and faithful commander and companion, a loving father and stalwart protector of humanity. He has a calming aura to his presence, a soothing voice and a deep understanding of people. He's naturally trustful and accepting of others, unbiased towards other races and polite even to his enemies.
Bio: Jeremiah's destiny was to become a priest of the faith, serve the people, tend to the sick and aid the poor. He was born to the caste of clergy, taught from childhood the very meaning of live - compassion, acceptance and love. He would have become a great priest, had it not been for a savage assault of beasts against the monastery where he grew up in, which killed nearly all of its inhabitants. Jeremiah escaped with a younger desciple under his care and took the road to the capital to spread word of the incident.

During his travels he was exposed to the real world outside the domain of his parish - the pettiness, cruelty, arrogance, fear and loathing of the common man of anything strange. The murderous jealousy, the avaricious nature of man and the hatred flowing through the world. It both disgusted and inspired Jeremiah, and formed the basis for the reason of his ascension in the order of the knights of the dawn. He believed in changing reality to fit a better world, and teaching through example - that men can lead a life of charity, compassion and forgiveness even while fighting against the most vile mindless beasts of the dark abyss. He continues to fight despite, and mostly because of his family - every foray into enemy territory may leave his wife and son alone in the world, but he chooses to risk it all to keep them and humanity safe from harm.

Weapons(Primary, Secondary, Tertiary): - Sword of Fear
- Shield of Inspiration
- Crossbow of Purity

Magic:
Restoration Adept - War-cry: A Rallying war-cry which puts bravery in the hearts of his companions and prepares them for battle.
Field-Surgeon: Advanced healing capabilities, used when immobile.
Calm: Relaxes both foe and ally, either to drive an enemy into apathy or help an ally regain their composure.
Pyromancy Apprentice - Eternal Flame: Sets a weapon on fire, making a pretty light-show in the process.
Other: N/A
Post Example:
Theme Song(optional): TBA

Rotten

Donovan Redpath

Age: 23
Gender: Male
Race: Dark elf human hybrid
Rank: Templar

---

Appearance
He stands an average 5'10" and weighs in at 170 pounds of lean muscle. Being half dark elf, Donovan has an unkempt mane of white hair atop his head along with red irises, but these features are usually concealed by magic; in their place are untangled black tendrils and viridescent eyes. Possessing a refined nose, pointed ears, and and an angular face, the knight's elvish descent very visibly crafted his face. Complementing his good looks is his porcelain skin. Among his few blemishes are the scars all over his body, either originating from combat or the use of blood magic. When unoccupied he can be seen chewing on the herbs he loves so much or playing with his nails.

Donovan's usual attire consist pieces of leather armor, jackboots, and battle gloves. Adorning the warrior's body are his weapons: a knife sheathed at the his waist, a knight's sword by his side, plus his bow and quiver on his back. His most prominent garb is his white leather mask that displays a zipped toothy smile which stretches from ear to ear and two black dots where his eyes should be; however, the mask's appearance can be altered to whatever he could imagine it to be. In his usually full pockets are poisonous herbs, candles, and a tinderbox along with a small container of flammable liquid. He conceals it all under a black cloak.

Personality
Defined by his two contrasting upbringings, this templar is evidently the offspring of a man and a monster. From his father Donovan gained his humanity and his mother his ferocity. Like his old man, he's kind and generous by default, and loves to make friends to be loyal to. He's an adventurous dreamer who likes to assume the best outcome is possible and that every human is kind.

Until familiarity breeds contempt. He is unmistakably a dark elf when in combat, doing whatever it takes to win, be it biting into your enemy's throat or gouging their eyeballs out. His bow, sword, and combat gloves display his versatility and ability to adapt to whatever situation he is in, this combined with his cunning and dauntlessness making him a formidable foe. The power-hungry, ruthless man doesnt seem like much of a knight, being suggestible and having no strong moral code. His other unchivalrous traits are his seeming vanity, boastfulness, and desire for glory and fame.

And if there is anything that could match his ambitions it would be his fears. Among the is his fear of becoming as deplorable as his mother outside of combat, the dark elf marauder gang his mother was in, losing, dying, loneliness, and being inadequate.

History
Donovan's story begins with his mother's hedonism. Lilith Redpath was a deplorable woman, most of her time being spent pillaging and playing with her beloved prizes, and support in the form of a band of marauders made self-gratification even easier. After once another victory, the bandits were looting the corpses while Lilith looked through the leftovers for any particularly handsome human bodies that lusted for angels; her promiscuity extended to all races and ignored things like whether or not someone was alive. However, the poor soul of her picking hadn't quite departed his body yet. Using his illusion magic the pulverized templar tricked his attacker's senses into continuing to believe he was dead. Following the ordeal, the savage continued to wreak havoc until the growing baby inside of her forced her to be pushed to sidelines. Believing the pregnancy to be the result of an encounter with the head of the gang, Lilith played with the idea of having a child.

There were no problems with the pregnancy and its result was an exceptionally strong kid. Donovan was raised like any other dark elf, minus any free time. From the moment the dark elf human hybrid was born, he lived and breathed combat. Lilith raised him to be her own little soldier and trained him to do everything she told him without question. The boy would fight other elf children in the marauder camp, for victory meant glory and loss meant condemnation. With mother's approval on the line, the little one fought like a beast, and as reward he would receive lessons in training the Redpath's hereditary branch of necromancy. Everything was relatively violent for a while.

At the age of 9, a group of templars led by his father raided the temporary settlement. The knight got his revenge and decapitated Lilith before immediately being assaulted by a much weaker Donovan, but the boy could not better his dad in combat. It is during this fight that—despite his racism and being constantly reminded by the event— Kaiden learned to love his son. He convinced the child that he was his father before scooping him up and taking him to the human world.

Donovan was raised within a new human family which consisted of a nicer mother, a father, and a little brother; the latter being his first real friend. On his 14th birthday, the naive boy decided it would be a good idea to go adventuring, and in the end his little brother pays when a monster disemboweled him; in return he brutalized the creature. Afterward, his father enrolled him into the covenant, believing that he had a talent for killing monsters, but the 14 year old saw it as his dad wanting to get rid of him over killing his one wanted son. He knew damn well how many people died in the convenant, seeing as how he is an ex-templar. His father offered him the family sword before he left, which Donovan denied. Following many years of training, he finally became a templar.

Magic

• Necromancy-Blood Magic: Dead Matter manipulation- A hereditary branch of necromancy that allows him to manipulate the dead parts of a being he killed/dismembered. Be it making the corpse explode or making its blood pierce through its skin and into and unarmored opponent, Donovan can do it.
• Necromancy-Conjuration: Capable of reanimating corpses and summoning demons that wont kill him if he is lucky.
• Illusion: He owns a mask that boosts his almost nonexistent skill in illusion magic. Without the mask he can change what the color of things look like. Yup. That's about it. With the mask Donovan can entirely change his visage.
• Necromancy-Mad st00pid magic-Purposeful Possession: Not so much of a magic skill as it is suicide. This magician has played with the idea of allowing a demon to control his body and destroy anything around it, be it his opponents as well as his allies. Never actually performed it and he doesn't plan on doing so due to the risks.

Other:
-He is ambidextrous
-Has incredible spitting prowess

Theme Song: The Deadman's Waltz

ChristaEinheart

Maria Blazeheart

Name: Maria Blazeheart
Appearance:

Hider

Age(20 and up): 23
Gender: female
Race(Human, Wood Elf, Dark Elf, Dwarf): Human
Rank:(No rank higher than Knight-Lieutenant): Initiate
Personality:
Maria is a quiet and gentle lady, being one of a lack of desire to harm unless it's to protect others. She's very friendly with people, but can be a little easily intimidated at times. She's getting tougher and stronger, but Maria's definitely a work-in-progress. Pretty down-to-earth, Maria tends to be the one to calm people down and mediate fights and such.
Bio:

Hider

Maria grew up in a poor household, in the capital of the Farendar kingdom, but she was Apprenticed into a small Carpentry guild. Unfortunately, she was sent away by her parents to be an Initiate in The Order. The girl was raised by powerful warriors, but she tended to lean towards magic. She never really liked actual fighting and they went ahead and let her grow as a Mage. As she trained, she learned she was pretty good at Geomancy and she's been doing pretty good in her work.

She's currently working on a new project in her Magic, trying to figure out how to make gems out of dirt. She was doing badly til she wandered the city, looking for a good place to think. She found an interesting book and quietly bought it, using her small Allowance and brought it back and started reading up on it.

Weapons(Primary, Secondary, Tertiary): Bo-staff, Bow and arrows and several throwing knives.
Magic: Geomancy
Other: She's a little on the artistic and music obsessed. Loves to draw and sing, most days, but only when alone.
Post Example:

Hider

Maria frowned softly and tilted her head to the side. She was reading in her room by a magic crystal she'd put light into, thought it was not easy. She was having a hard time understanding all of this, but she was slowly working through it all. She closed her eyes and hummed a gentle tune to herself, one she'd heard the night before in the dining hall. The tune was bouncy, but she was slowing it down for her own purposes and was trying to think of how to handle the problems in this book and her project with the Gems. Opening her eyes again, she took a deep breath and started reading again.

When the dawn broke, she yawned and rubbed her eyes before standing and muttering sleepily. Stumbling off to clean herself up for her lessons for the day, she realized she was going to have a hard time concentrating today. Shaking her head, the girl softly chuckled to herself and stretched.
"I...wonder..." the small girl muttered to herself, frowning deeply in thought.
Turning back to her desk, she turned the page on the book and read the next paragraph, then smiled brightly and ran out of the room, leaving her book and her door open as she headed as fast as she could to the gardens outside. Crouching in the dirt, she grabbed some dirt out of the ground and started chanting to herself.

A glow covered her hands and the mud in her hands and when it went away, there was a small, rough gem. It was translucent and a pinkish-red color. Maria cheered, jumping up and hopping up and down, before getting heavily dizzy and fainting.

Theme Song(optional): https://youtu.be/Jhxl5XkDrUc

Dynamo Frokane

Halen Vayne

Name: Halen Vayne-Claymore
Appearance:
Age: 78 (around 26 in his half elven life span years)
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Elf
Rank: Hired Mecernary Initiate
Personality: Halen's viciously tough life has shaped him many times. Born with resentment in his heart and always touted as an outcast he learned very early that he would have to look out for himself. Also in his storied career as a beast hunter has made him somewhat animal like in nature, being very in-tune with his natural surrounding and having to think like a beast to track them. Recently though he has found relative peace in his heart since getting married to his new wife

Malorie Vayne

4.bp.blogspot.com/-1eUOe52f-iw/UQGHeXi..

whose name he took proudly. So as a husband who is now thinking of starting a family he carries himself in a more respectful and humble manner although the nasiter sides of his personality will rear their head occasionally.

Bio: Halen was born in land (or realm) much different to the one he currently finds himself in. He is the illegitimate offspring of an Elven Queen mother and a Beserker Human Father. The circumstances of his conception are widely known to be rape (when the beserker came and attacked the kingdom). The Queen decided to keep the child and give birth to half elf boy who the kingdom hated, not just for his human blood (humans were forbidden from the realm) but for the horrible event which his very existence represented. Because of this his mother was forced to exile him and her first son and Halen's older brother Redswift (who was meant to be king) Decided to leave in disgust of the elven kingdom's politics and find his own way and maybe also reunite with his brother. Halen had a long and storied career after being outcasted that cant be covered here but he became a very famous and powerful beast hunter and occasional mercenary and was able to come to terms with his half elven heritage and once meeting his also Half Elven wife Malorie he decided to carry his heritage with pride.

Now he wants to find his brother Redswift who is on a personal journey to learn more about the elven people from other lands other than the closed off community he was born in. Redswift had traveled to Talmaria as a royal envoy to speak with the politicians at the Relastmina din Unadine for more information and the possibility of forming a relationship with his own secret elven kingdom which he left to build bridges with other elfs for a brighter future.

Halen has now offered his skills to the Templars as a hired initiate. He hopes to not only bring peace to his soul by doing righteous work but also to locate his brother along the way.

Weapons:
-Large 2-Handed Claymore Sword forged by Chaos Dwarves

-Elven Bow with special beast-killer arrows

-Brass knuckles made from Orca scales

Magic: Cryomancy Expert (the only magic Halen has ever learned and practiced)

Other: Halen is still a hunter and carries many tools and traps to catch any animal and most beasts, this includes nets, poisons, rope, snares, and bait. Halen has been hunting beasts for nearly 60 years and has basically killed or captured every mythological, rare or dangerous creature you can think of which has given him an encyclopedia style knowledge on all living things and how to handle them.

Theme Song:

Quiet Half-Elf Pride

IcePezz

Madelyn Thorne

Name: Madelyn Thorne

Age: 27

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Rank: Templar

Personality: At first glance, there is nothing spectacular about Maddy. Despite being the tom-boyish typical girl next door, she is quite average. Kind-hearted, outspoken, perhaps even a bit reckless at times. But there is also a darkness inside her. Something a bit deeper than just a haunted past. If you ask her about it, she'll actually shy away with shame and fear. It's for this reason more than any that she has not taken any position above Templar.

Bio: As a toddler, Maddy wanted nothing to do with dolls, or any other girly toys. She had one older brother whom she idolized, and often could be found poking around his room.

Even as a child, Madelyn had a temper, it was as if she had been completely possessed by rage whenever pushed far enough. This only grew as she got older unfortunately. She was known as the underdog, always standing up against bullies. But her rage wasn't always unleashed upon the guilty. One unlucky day, her rage got the best of her. She was just a child, who had no idea how to control herself - the surge of adrenaline, the powerful strength she possessed.

At the age of 12, her parents sent her away, somewhere to atone- somewhere she could never harm another. It was here that she received her training, both as a warrior and as a berserker. And when she was of age, she set upon a path that would change her life forever. The blood of her past is always with her, but by joining the Covenant, she looks towards a better future.

Weapons:
Primary A long sword on her back.
Secondary A pair of kukri that hang off each hip.
Third Brass Knuckles

Magic: none

Other: Berserker Abilities;
Rage: While in battle, her rage grows. She pools together all emotions, allowing them to fuel her attacks, making them inhumanly strong.
Just a scratch: Maddy will often fly into battle, head held high, sword in hand. Any injuries are barely felt. She also is extremely durable, so not only would she not feel most attacks, most will also do little damage.
Berserker Strike: As she gains strength, she becomes adaptive to her opponents moves, improvising new techniques to bring them down.

While Maddy may be faster and stronger than most, she fades very quickly. Unless of course she controls the rage and paces any increase. Controlling it however, is easier said than done.

When she can afford the quiet time she'll usually spend it reading. And if she's really lucky, the one act that calms her nerves is dancing. While she's not exceptionally good at it, there is grace and depth in her movement. It provides structure and rules, discipline and clarity. All of which she's yet to master in her daily life.

Post Example:

Sample

She awoke to the noise of a clocktower. The boat had been docked already for a few hours, but she was in desperate need of sleep and no one seemed to notice her still on the boat. She slept with her axe firmly planted in her hands...perhaps that was why no one bothered her.

She losed a breath, finally making her way to her feet. Strapping the axe firmly to her back, she continued to fix herself up enough to greet the world she had stumbled upon. Slowly and cautiously she wandered off the boat and onto the docks. Her hood was pulled back just enough that she could properly study the setting before her. She glanced over the horizon, then settled on the wonders that were Waeldeshore. There were shore men yelling orders, still pulling shipments off the dozens of boats that were docked. The street shops seemed busy and the square was quite crowded. She counted the number of guards positioned on the docks and throughout the square. “What are they expecting, a siege?” she muttered to herself, a smirk edging its way on her lips. She checked herself before hopping into the street, patting her pockets and pouches, her fingers gliding slowly over the hilt of the dagger stationed on her belt. “All ready to explore the heavily guarded town” again muttering to herself as her gaze drifted over the crowd.

There was a man yelling at a shopkeeper, something about ‘anti magic’ … "note to self - stay away from him”, a splash in the water as someone fell nearby. Elsewhere in the square, a pretty boy and what seemed to be a short one were picking on a kid, “tsk tsk” she shook her head slowly. She pulled a flask from a hidden pocket, subtly took a sip and put it away. Tugging her hood back over her face, she decided to meander through the crowd, hoping no one would notice her. Who in the world would notice the woman covered head to toe in dark leathers and cloths?!

Theme Song(optional): Pull Me Under- Dream Theater

Mega Birb

Lucien Jakorian

Cleric Lucien Jakorian

Age: 35 47, with approval of the correction.

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Rank: Knight-Sergeant

Personality: As a Cleric, Lucien is bound by his prayers to heal his allies and punish his enemies in the name of the Holy one he prays to. Thus, he is deeply religious like most Templars. He despises demons, though does not mind half-bred demons, as the few he has dealt with had wished to forsake the pact that made a parent a demonic sorcerer. He tolerates Necromancers, though silently despises them, as they raise the dead to fight again. Overall, he’s a jolly individual with a stomach of steel, having once won a drinking contest by downing half-a-barrel of ale and managing to remain upright. Ask him about that, he somehow remembers the story through the drunken haze he was in. Quite vividly, as a matter of fact.

Bio: Born to a poor family in a small village far from any major city in the kingdom of Farendar, Lucien Jakorian grew up in the bubble that was his home. He lived contently, helping his father in the fields as he grew, praying faithfully to a God he knew very little of. Therefore, he assumed such an enigma to be all-powerful to have drawn such a following.
He was wrong. Around age twelve, Lucien’s village was sacked by orcs and was burned to the ground. The men were killed, the women raped, and the children sold into slavery, Jakorian was no exception. Carted away from the life he once knew, he muttered a prayer to Cadeniere, knowing only that he presided over justice.
His prayer wasn’t answered until six years later, when the encampment he had toiled in for ages was finally attacked by the Dawn Covenant. Lucien was almost killed in the aftermath, a knight nearly mistaking him for a Shriek Orphan in a cage, based solely on how badly emaciated he was. Obviously, he was not killed by his saviors, and now serves the Order faithfully, sparing the innocent and killing the monsters that once imprisoned him.
He’s slowly risen through the ranks, killing the monsters that he fears, but will never admit to it. For obvious reasons, he protects the weak, hastily running into battle where innocent victims are present, and usually expending too much energy inflicting harm on those he deems threats. On a lighter note, he loves food. He’ll eat just about anything you put in front of him.

WEAPONS
Primary: Banishing Buzdygan
Secondary: Holy Talisman of Just Actions
Tertiary: Candeniere’s Crossbow

Buzdygan

Crossbow

Magic: Advanced Restoration- With the Gods on his side, Lucien is a healer that has come close to mending fatal wounds. In other words, an arrow in the chest is fixable, given the slim chance that no organs were pierced and said arrow is neither barbed nor fletched properly.

OTHER
-May obsessively clean his talisman if nervous about anything.
-Among the last people you want cooking for you.
-Has gone two months since last shaving.

Post Example: Lucien, having stayed more towards the castle wall through the fighting and healing the injured, looked out towards the left flank… and it was collapsing. If he was gonna bust some heads, now was the time. He muttered a quick prayer and removed his mace from the loop in his belt, raised his talisman, then bellowed a rallying cry. “FIRST ROUND OF ALE’S ON ME FOR WHOEVER HELPS TO FORTIFY THE LEFT FLANK!” His loud voice dominated the immediate area, drawing the attention of a large band of soldiers.
Unorthodox, yes, but it worked. With the cleric leading the charge with a haphazardly large amount of excess soldier close behind, he raised his mace to the air and yelled, his gruff voice being faintly heard from even the front lines. “ALTAIA, INVOKE ME!” He cried, then proceeded to slam the heavy end of the weapon into an oncoming creature’s face as he broke through the stagnant wall of allies, essentially killing the beast on impact. His one hope was that he had good aim today and didn’t have to save someone’s hide with a crossbow bolt.
He only had so many of the damn things, after all.

Theme Song: Drunken Lullabies, by Flogging Molly

Aara1112

Lloyd Castellans

Name: Lloyd Castellans
Age: 32
Race: Human
Rank: Knight-Lieutenant


Personality: An ambitious man, with words he is blunt and direct; rarely does him use flattery to win others over. For him, lip service is as good as kissing a mule’s arse for action speaks louder than words. As a realist, though he is sworn to uphold his duties as Templar, he will break his oaths if need be if it is for the greater good. Lloyd puts himself first, everything else is secondary.

Background:
The fifth son of a wealthy landowner, this meant that Lloyd’s share in the family coffers were next to nothing when his father died. This along with him being bullied by his older siblings caused Lloyd to seek other means of strength. With little prospect within his family (much of the money was being spend on his older siblings and he loathed the idea of working for them), he left his home to join the order at the age of 15.

Thus, he arrived at Starwatch, the Order’s Fortress as an initiate. With a zealous fervor he studied both magic and swordsmanship. It was very hard in the beginning for he had no formal training in either of them but the anger that raged inside him, the idea of coming back home only to be mocked at for being a failure, only made him focus more intensely on his tutelage. His hard work paid off and at the age of 23, he was formally inducted to become a Templar.

He continued to train himself in the art of war and as a Templar, he opted to wield both the staff and the sword. This proved to be his signature fighting style and he continued to improve it throughout the years.

One of the Knight-Captains saw great potential in Lloyd and took him under his wing. With guidance from Jord the Gallant, he learned a great deal. Jord found the young man to be brash, confident and eager to learn. Yet he also sensed an inner darkness within him and tried to chisel it away by teaching him of humility and compassion.

These teachings were of little interest to Lloyd but he was grateful. Jord felt like the father he never had and for this, he was thankful. When it came time for him to leave them to depart, Lloyd cried for the first time in many years. He came to realize he did not have to live in the shadow of his family’s name and perhaps compassion was something beautiful. He had the strength to carve out his own destiny and was no longer beholden to the past.

At the age of 30, he became a knight-lieutenant, 3 years after the split.

Weapons:
Lloyd was said to be fearless in battle as he fights with both the sword and the staff. This sort of fighting style, the seamless weaving of magic and swordsmanship into one is one of the hardest to master and few take it up for it requires immense concentration on both ends.

Rod of Good Fortunes
Steel Sword

Magic:
Cryomancy Expertise: His repertoire of abilities include sending water at high speeds, creating a frost armor enchantment, and crearing a frost nova by slamming his staff on the ground and some more.

Ace of flames01

Ruinil

Name: Ruinil
Appearance:

Eye color

Age(20 and up): 27 years
Gender: Female
Race(Human, Wood Elf, Dark Elf, Dwarf): Half demon half wood elf hybrid
Rank:(No rank higher than Knight-Lieutenant): Knight- Corporal
Personality:Her childhood has left Ruinil with a quiet and reserved personality. This gives others the impression that she is cocky or arrogant when in actuality she just has a hard time trusting others. Once you have gained her trust; she is actually a very kind and gentle person.
Bio:
Ruinil is the result of a elf woman being raped by a demon. Her mother died during childbirth and Ruinil's demonic side was sealed away with silver earrings. Since Ruinil was half demon; she was shunned by almost everyone, including the church.

For most of her life, Ruinil lived in an orphanage where she was often physically abused by her peers and the managers of the orphanage.

At age of 17, Ruinil began her training to become a Templar on her quest for bitter revenge against the dark magic that not only created her but is also the reason for her suffering.

Being half demon not only made it hard for Ruinil to enter her training but to graduate as a Templar. Her training lasted long 7 years and it took another 3 years for her to be promoted to Corporal.
Weapons(Primary, Secondary, Tertiary):
Primary: long bow
Secondary: elfin sword
Magic: Pyromancy: Ruinil can create small fires and shoot fire balls at enemies
Restoration: Ruinil has the ability to heal her allies and her self. However, it can only heal injuries that are not fatal or heal fatal wounds to the point where they are no longer fatal.
Other: Ruinil's name means "Red Fire"
She has incredible agility, speed and endurance
Post Example:
Theme Song(optional):http://youtu.be/n-Dh3ftkRAs

Catchphrase

Varrus

Name: Varrus Blood-Shield

Appearance: Average height and build. Red hair and blue eyes. Tattoo of wolf on chest, whip scars on his back. Clean shaven with short hair. Wear armour that looks like a Roman Legionary, except he wears pants underneath and uses boots with metal grieves built into them. His armour is made of polished steel and boiled leather. Always has a smug, arrogant smile and a cheeky look in his eye.

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Rank: Templar

Personality: Calm under pressure, quick thinking and hard to aggravate. He is cautious and has a good sense of humour as well as a quick wit. Is ruthless in combat and lacks compassion, he will do whatever it takes to get the job done, get paid and then get drunk.

Bio: His parents both died when he was very young, leaving him with his family armour, a good sword and shield, and in the capable hands of his uncle. He never learned much about his parents, except that they were proud fools as his uncle puts it. His uncle raised him on the road, the only places they stayed were wherever they were getting paid to work, at inns or at brothels. His uncle was a mercenary for hire and taught him how to well and fight dirty. Uncle was killed in a bar brawl when he was 16 and he headed out on his own. Fell in love with a whore when he was 20, married him in secret and adopted three kids. Buried him and the kids when his lovers pimp found them. Killed the pimp, his crew and anyone he thought was involved. For two years he wandered around, becoming a drunk and taking jobs, no matter how bad paying, whenever he could get them. At 22 he was recruited and only recently finished his training. After he finished training he became a bit more pleasant to be around, but was no longer like the man he used to be, instead becoming a remorseless killer, waiting for an opponent to best him.

Weapons: Gladius with steel core and silver edges with a wolf engraved on one side of the late and an eagle on the other. A square shield which covers him from neck to shin, made from triple folded steel on top of wood with silver and gold engravings on it. Is proficient in unarmed combat.

Magic: Never used magic, never will

Post example: Varrus sat in the corner of an old rundown inn. He was getting drunk off of cheap, foul tasting ale, still mourning the loss of his family. He took a long gulp of the swill and sneered at anyone who looked in his direction. He took another gulp and looked down at his mug, "I'm sorry," he said to himself, "it's my fault you're dead. I'm sorry." He heard someone pull out the chair across from him, and without looking up, growled at them in an attempt to make them leave him alone.

"Oh quit that stupid noise man, it makes you seem more pathetic and animalistic than you do already." Varrus looked at the man opposite him in the eye with a look that said 'I've killed for less'. "You don't know who you're messing with kid!" He snarled at the man, "Leave me in peace, and I may forgive you."

The man laughed, "But I'm hear to offer you work," he said, "but if you rather I left." He was halfway up from his chair when Varrus held up his hand, "Stop! What's the job? And it better be worth it, for your sake." The man smiled, "Oh, it's worth it alright. How'd you like to be a Templar?"

And thus began the journey of Varrus Blood-Shield from a drunken nobody, to a monster slayer. Right after he sobered up and bathed himself for the first time in a year.

Cuccoruler

Cythlla

Name: Cythlla Lorry
Appearance:
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Rank: Templar
Personality: Cythlla is a very easy going girl for the most part, atleast until she starts talking about her work. Cythlla is firstly and foremost a necromancer. As such many people have said that she is the least sane of anyone working as a Templar. She poor’s too much of her own life into her work. Off the record Cythlla has even used the bodies of dead Templars in her experiments. Cythlla also loves a good drink.
Bio: Cythlla was born into a rather poor family. She was eventually sold of as a slave to elves. For the most part she acted as a servant to some elven nobles, she hated it though. Around the age of 10 she started to read up books on magic in secret. She took a liking to necromancy the most though, at the age of 14 she escaped her enslavement and continued to study necromancy in secret.
At around the age of 17 Cythlla summoned her first spirit successfully after years of failures; she was even able to bind this spirit to a bear she had captured. The spirit has since been living as the bear and even helping Cythlla continue to improve her necromancy. The Spirit’s name is Melcor, however Cythlla calls him Henry. Why she calls him henry is anyone’s guess.
As Cythlla continued her experiments she slowly started to lose her mind more and more, as it is she has used enough of her own life force that she will live to see 50 if she’s lucky. Finally at the age of 18 Cythlla entered the Order and has worked as a researcher as well as going into the field occasionally, mostly due to her expertise in magic.
Weapons: Cythlla uses a shovel for the most part as a weapon, She has a dagger for a secondary weapon but otherwise she uses magic for the most part.
Magic: Necromancy- Conjuration
Other: Cythlla has a bear that has a spirit bound to it. She calls this bear Henry, he often fights along side Cythlla as she casts her spells. Cythlla is also a masochist.

Henry

Name: Melcor (goes by Henry)
Appearance:

Bear Form

Human Form

Age(20 and up): The Bear is 16 years old. The spirit however is much older.
Gender: Male
Race: Possessed Bear
Rank: Familiar to a Templar
Personality: Henry is very wise, and also very protective. Henry acted annoyed at his masters insistence on calling him Henry. But eventually he got used to it. So long as no one hurts Cythlla he will be fine. When it comes to his past life as a human he tends to not let others know about it.
Bio: Henry was originally a human, that was until he was cursed to become a spirit. Eventually he found himself drawn to a site of a ritual. He found a magic circle with a bear in the middle of it. Cythlla was there as well performing the ritual. Before Henry knew it though he had the body of a bear. He had become a familiar to Cythlla the necromancer. Ever since he has been protecting Cythlla. Though lately he has been working with Cythlla to find a way to lift his curse, maybe even return him to human form one day.
Weapons: He claws, teeth, and his own weight(wrestling moves)
Magic: Illusion (only used to project images)
Other: Henry is the familiar of Cythlla

Knights of The Dawn Covenant: The Longest Winter

TheTwistedOne

Camilla Thorton

Name: Camilla Thorton
Appearance:

Appearance

Camilla stands at 5’9”, muscular and toned.

Armor and Weapons

Age: 27
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Rank: Knight-Corporal
Personality: The type of woman that never loses sight of her duties, she’s strong willed, and often mistaken for stubborn. Despite trying to convince the world of her hard exterior at the core of her being she is kindhearted, and merciful; a woman that would sacrifice everything, and anything, even her own life for those close to her heart. She has a strong sense of integrity, but is not afraid to hold her tongue for anyone.
Bio: The daughter of a fisherman and the only girl of five, it came as no surprise that Camilla shared the same wild imagination as her brothers, and most young boys; being a mighty warrior capable of slaying any beast, or a champion of justice praised throughout all of the lands… a life full of dangerous and daring adventures, however, being the only girl her parents had different expectations of her, and although it was not unheard of brave woman fighting for their kingdoms and its people, they were old fashion and already with four boys and no need for their only daughter wanting to follow in her brothers footsteps.
Camilla struggled constantly at trying to be the young girl her parents wanted her to be and the truth was it left her feeling caged. Having realized how unhappy Camilla was they came to terms with the fact that their only daughter would not be tamed and that she would be reckless and hard-working like her brothers. Thus she was, she hunted big-game with her eldest brother, and became skilled in spearfishing alongside her father.
At nineteen she found herself at the steps of the Covenant. She’d grown into a strong young woman both physically and mentally and wanted more out of life.
Magic: Restoration--- Resistance Aura--- Camilla is able to channel her energy to manifest a protective barrier around herself or her allies in combat; however, the larger the barrier the more fatigued she will become both mentally and physically leaving her extremely vulnerable in battle.
Post Example: [Getting around to this >.>]
Theme Song: youtube.com/watch?v=J16lInLZRms

TheTruthWhale

Valerie Zylcan

Valerie Zylcan, Wraith Slayer

Credit to artist Stevie Cole (rui-shi.deviantart.com)

---

Age: 28

Gender: Female

Race: Half-Elf (Wood Elf Father, Human Mother)

Rank: Templar

Personality:
Valerie is quite a compassionate individual, so much so that she worries constantly about the weaknesses of her allies being exposed or exploited. She also understands her own weaknesses very well, and will sometimes insist on doing things alone, simply to not endanger others due to her own shortcomings. Her mind is incredibly analytical, seeing things and connections that most people either miss, however, this means that she is often overly critical, and quite blunt, despite only wishing to be helpful. As a result, she generally keeps quiet, unless directly addressed, or she feels the need to speak up. The exception for this, however, is when talking to herself, or under her breath, where she can be as snarky or as blunt as she feels, without hurting another's feelings. She has an innate fear of a total failure, in which she will lose everyone she cares about, and, as a result, will not accept a rank that requires her to command others.

Bio

Valerie Zylcan is the only daughter of the male wood elf, Elvara Zylcan, and a female human, Samantha Zylcan. Not only was she an unusual half-elf for having a human mother, her mother and father were also married, and lived as textile merchants in the human kingdom of Farendar. Though there were some obvious hardships, especially with the racial prejudices found throughout the kingdom, Elvara and Samantha made a decent enough living, using the elegance of elvish design to create clothing and decorations that were as functional as they were beautiful. In fact, their living was decent enough that they decided to have a child, and, thus, Valerie was born into the world, and would remain one of the few half-elves that were not bastard love-children, abandoned by both parents, but, instead, was raised with love and affection that only caring parents could give.

It was quickly discovered, however, that Valerie was not made for the textile industry. She had always seen things a bit differently, obsessing over the flaws and weaknesses that each individual piece had, and seeking near-perfection in everything she tried to make, leading her to take months on a single piece that should have taken a few weeks. Disappointed that their daughter's quirks would mean their business would end with them, they began to search for a different form of apprenticeship for Valerie. For a while, she apprenticed under a local hunter, and she seemed to fit within that job rather well. The planning, the trapping, and the hunt all seemed to flow well for Valerie, so much so that her parents asked the hunter to make her a permanent apprentice. Unfortunately, he refused, not only because of what she was, but because he was leaving to more prosperous grounds, and knew that he would become unfavorable if he apprenticed a half-elf. It was only a short time after that the Covenant approached her parents about taking their daughter in to train her there.

Though younger than most other initiates, Valerie was able to hold her own on the archery range, but that was about it. It would take her several years before she was comfortable with a sword, and it was quickly understood that putting her in the heavy armor that Knights generally wore would only hinder her more. When it came to magical studies, she was weaker in that area as well, finding that, while she could manifest magic, but, the moment she tried to cast spells against targets, they fizzled before they ever left her person. She was, instead, taught how to coat her weapons in magical energy through a process called enchantment, although, as far as her training went, she was only able to add elemental damage to her weapons. This was because the majority of her training was to increase the efficacy of her hyper-analytical mind to be used as an advantage on the field. They labeled this type of training "Slayer Training," and focused on the understanding and exploitation of weaknesses, be it human, mer, or monster.

Eventually, she passed her trials, and was made an official Templar, only to be kept within the general vicinity of Starwatch, having her aid the people about the city, and never really send her on a hunt. That is, until they received word of an alleged Ice Wraith in the North, and determined that it would be a perfect opportunity to "field test" Valerie. It was here that she was given her sword, the yet-to-be-named Reaver, and sent off to dispose of the Wraith. She did so, and returned to find that they wished to promote her to a higher rank, to which she promptly refused. She knew all to well that she could not handle leading anyone, as she would over-analyze everything, and lead to just as much inaction as she would success, which was not something, she believed, the Covenant could afford.

Fast forward several years, and she is now under the command of Knight-Sergeant Draxis, and although she is neither his most trusted or his first, she is the analytical mind of the group, as well as the spellsword, and the scout. She has never accepted a promotion, though, she highly respects her Knight-Sergeant, as he lived through what she feared the most, and came out better for it.

---

Weapons:

• The Reaver: A special, quasi-physical blade forged in a far-away land. This weapon, brought to power by an experienced Necromancer, affects both incorporeal and ethereal creatures as if they were fully corporeal. It does not, however, do anything special against corporeal targets. It's sheath, however, contains a powerful field of negation, making the blade appear and function as if it were non-magical until drawn from the sheath.
• Frostwood Bow: A bow crafted in the North, and possesses a natural Restorative magic within the wood, allowing it to self-repair from almost any damage. This allows it to fire enchanted arrows without the string being damaged or destroyed by the properties of the arrow, and prevents the bow from being affected by the arrow notched against it.
• Carving Dagger: It's a Carving Dagger. It's designed to carve monster hides. Back-up weapon if she becomes disarmed. Nothing special here. Move along.

Magic:

• Elemental, Enchantment: Valerie can coat her weapons in the magic of one of the following elements: Fire, Ice, Water, Electricity, Acid. This causes the weapon to do additional damage based on what element it is coated in, and can even allow her weapons to harm usually-intangible enemies (such as a water spirit), so long as the element would harm them. However, in addition to being the only form of magic she has learned, it seems to be the only type of magic Valerie is capable of. She cannot sling spells, and can only channel her magic through her weapons. She is currently working on a way to combine non-opposed elements, as well as learning how to coat her weapons in other forms of magic, such as a Necromancer's Energy Drain.

Other:

• Light Armor Training: Valerie prefers the use of lighter armors (studded leather is her personal preference) to the bulkier sets of full-plate that the other knights wear. She always felt they were too restrictive. As a result, she is generally more agile, and can perform acrobatic feats without penalty. She also doesn't sink like a rock if put into a situation where she has to swim.
• Slayer: Valerie's specialized training and skill as a Slayer allows her to survive in solo mode, as well as when working with a team. She has done extensive research on the weaknesses of all manner of creatures, and can understand the weaknesses of opponents simply by engaging with them, although this is not instantaneous, nor is it supernatural in nature. The drawback to this is, unfortunately, she can never simply "turn it off," and is in a near-constant state of awareness, and makes her wholly unfit to ever lead a team, especially from the sidelines.

---

Post Example

The frosted winds of the northern mountains had been blowing quite hard this evening, pelting the region below with chilling temperatures. It was only luck that no snow or ice had begun falling, though, the evening light was growing dim, and soon, the cold of night would set itself upon the denizens of this village. However, it was not an issue for these villagers, as they were among the proudest blacksmiths that could be found. They used the colder-than-average temperatures to temper iron in a unique way, allowing for the forging of iron weapons and armor that were rumored to be more effective against the Mer. The heat and light of the forges, ones that burned throughout the night, would keep the village safe, for the most part. However, there was the occasional creature that made itself a threat, and that is why Valerie was here.

There were more than a few rumors of this creature's appearance: an Ice Wraith. While not technically a damned spirit from beyond the grave, it was an incorporeal creature that moved with bone-chilling cold surrounding it's very being. They are fiercely territorial, and, beyond that, they drained the heat of creatures around them for sustenance, making them almost impossible to fight in a prolonged battle. The best way to kill them was with a strong source of heat, and the forges usually repelled them, but not this winter. It had been colder than usual, and the forges could not burn as bright, which resulted in this Ice Wraith moving it's territory closer and closer to the village. Fearful, and rightfully so, they contacted the Knights of the Dawn, and asked for someone to deal with the problem. They had chosen to send Valerie, the 24-year-old Templar that had shown incredibly skill in hunting down "monsters."

"This cold is nearly unbearable," she said, huddling within her furs for warmth. She was stationed in a watchtower closest to the mountains, where she was to keep alert for any and all suspicious activity. The Wraith had yet to be confirmed, and it could simply be a Frost Troll, something that was far more manageable. Looking down at her sword, she began to get a flashback of what had transpired before she came here...

"We're sending you on your first real solo mission. It's not something we normally do, but, it's also not something we can spare an entire squad for. It could be nothing, but, given your aptitude in your training as a Slayer, it has been decided that you should investigate."

"It would be my honor, Knight-Lieutenant. What, may I ask, am I hunting?"

"It could be anything, but, eyewitness reports seem to suggest that an Ice Wraith has been making it's way towards a village in the North."

"... An Ice Wraith? I mean no offense, Knight-Lieutenant, but, why me? Even with my ability to enchant, my magic is relatively weak, and their natural aura would even further negate my fire. Shouldn't you send a mage?"

"No. This will be a perfect test of your abilities in a solo environment. However, we are not sending you there completely unprepared. Consider it your reward for completing this mission, paid before it is done." With that, the Knight-Lieutenant had waved his hand, and two Initiates brought forth a sheathed blade, set it before Valerie, and left, allowing the Knight-Lieutenant to continue. "This is a very special blade. We still don't know all the details of how it's magic exactly works, but, it will allow you to defeat the Wraith. We've not much use for a single weapon like this, and it's power is not valuable enough to be locked away with our other relics. Consider it your payment, in full."

"But, sir, how will a magical sword help me defeat a Wraith? Even magical weapons have their effectiveness reduced, if they even connect at all."

"This weapon, Templar Zylcan, is not your usual magical sword. It exists as simultaneously physical and ethereal, and, according to the mages that have examined it, it should cut through incorporeal creatures as if they were solid. Now, enough questions, your official orders are sealed in this envelope, and you depart for the North immediately." With that, Valerie took the envelope, and the blade, and began to leave the office, only to hear as she departed, "Oh, and bring some furs with you. It might get a bit chilly."

... Her mind snapped back into the present, the temperature of the area having plummeted, and she felt herself shivering, even beneath her furs. That's when she saw it, or, more accurately, saw that which surrounded it. The very air about the creature was frozen and freezing, giving the creature a false form. She knew that, beneath that ice, there was nothing physical. If she was a mage, this would be over quickly, but, she wasn't, and it wouldn't be. Valerie climbed down that watch tower as quickly as she could, and landed on the frosting ground, holding the sheathed blade in her right hand as she approached the creature. As the creature spotted her, her left hand quickly drew the blade, and immediately felt the difference. The weight of the blade was almost non-existent, and it seemed to be almost transparent, as if it was a poorly made illusion. However, the very presence of the blade seemed to agitate the Wraith, who became immediately violent. Draining the heat from her seemed to no longer be it's priority, as it formed the ice about it into many daggers, and began firing them at her.

Thinking quick, Valerie dodged to the right with a quick roll, more of a half-flip than anything else, skidding to a quick stop, before rushing at the Wraith. She had to end this incredibly quick, otherwise, she'd be forced into a hypothermic state, and die. The fading blade became coated in fire, and although it's flames were dim, their purpose was served as she extended her left arm out to her side, using her speed to substitute for the strength, and sliced through the Wraith. She had felt as if she had missed entirely, or, perhaps, the blade could not function while enchanted, as she felt no resistance as she carved through her opponent. However, her fears were quickly dispelled, as the area itself began to increase in temperature, and, as she turned about, she saw the ice that had enveloped the wraith was in two halves, and melting rapidly. Smiling to herself, she sheathed the blade back into it's scabbard, and immediately felt the weight of the blade again.

"How strange," she told herself as she began walking back towards the village, tightening the furs around her as she shivered.

"It's still too damn cold."

---

Theme Song(optional):
youtube.com/watch?v=XYKUeZQbMF0

Credit to TheDarkTemplar for layout idea.

LeoricAquila

Draxis Felwind

Name: Draxis Felwind
Appearance:

Armor,Primary Weapon and Face

Age(20 and up): 26
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Rank: Knight Sergeant

Personality: Draxis is, at times, a gentle man, a kind man, and a generous man. But in the heat of battle, he is vicious and unapologetic. He is night and day when it comes to protecting his countrymen. Sweet to his brother-in-arms, but a beast when protecting them.

Bio: Draxis was born into nobility, afforded a good education and the best military training as a young man. He was taught to be proud of his heritage and to be proud of all the men and women who had laid their lives down in order for there to be lasting peace. Draxis spent
much of his life after his 18th birthday working to prove himself to the Knights of Dawn that he wasn't just a privileged noble brat, trying to prove that he deserved to be among their ranks. He fought outside the walls with the Knight-Corporals and Knight-Sergeants, defending his countrymen from the great beasts that would regularly assault the walls of his home city. Draxis rode into combat as he rose through the ranks, proving his might to his superiors through repeated victories, until his first, and most devastating defeat. He suffered a great loss as he was leading his team into battle against a group of ogres that threatened to destroy the wall if he didn't intervene. Draxis knew this would be dangerous, but he also knew that if there was a breach in the wall, all manner or beast could invade the small town he was stationed in at the time. He decided to bring his team directly into the field to handle the problem, disregarding how inexperienced many of the Templars under him were. The walls were painted with blood by the end of the week and Draxis was the sole survivor on both sides of the skirmish, finding himself atop a pile of ogre corpses and the bodies of his fallen brothers and sisters in arms.

Draxis bore this shame and this defeat on his shoulders until he was promoted from Knight-Corporal to Knight-Sergeant. It was an event that was never forgotten by any in the ranks of the Knight of Dawn, a massacre that earned him respect, and admiration from some, but also earned him a certain reputation for being foolhardy. His might was not questioned, but his strategies and his ability to lead were often brought into question. Draxis was broken, but he had not given up on his belief in mankind and in the peace with the elves and dwarves. He still carries the weight of the loss on his shoulders, using it to embolden him in the face of danger and grant him the will to protect his brethren. Draxis continued to prove himself to his superiors by adapting his leadership style and his approach to training with the lower ranked members.

Weapons: Primary: Blade of Radiant Dawn
Secondary: Bulwark of Justice
Tertiary: Scabbard of the Blade of Radiant Dawn
Magic: Geomancy - Mainly creating and rebuilding walls with the. He uses this power to protect cities and in a more likely situation, to protect his allies.
Other: He only has a tie to his family's ancient history set in stone at the end of the first era. There were tales that the first to take the name Draxis Felwind, died in battle and came to be known as a warning in his family. The body was never found, but legend speak of a terrifying undead.

Post Example:

"HOLD THE LINE!"
Draxis lifted his shield up to deflect the incoming blow form an ogres club. The resulting crash and thud of the
club with the earth to the left of Draxis shook his balance, causing him to stumble back a few feet even though he had parried the attack. He gritted his teeth as he heard the wails of ogres in pain from the attacks of his Templar, and the cries of his own men suffering mortal wounds from crude weapons wielded by the ogres.

"Sir Draxis, We cannot win, We must retreat to within the city, funnel them into the streets to protect our men!" A voice yelled to him from behind him.

Draxis glared back at the young Templar and shouted back. "No. We fight here. We cannot risk them hurting the citizens, the wall cannot fall." He was determined to keep innocent casualties to a minimum. Even if he had to sacrifice himself to keep the walls standing, he would, but there were so many ogres. Draxis knew this was a problem, normally the ogres came in packs of two or three, never more. But this was more than a dozen at once, as if they were forced to march together by some dark force.

'This isn't normal. They should be at each others throats, not working together to fight us. What is causing this...'

The battle raged on, and more of his men had fallen, and more of the soldiers aiding him died in their attempts to fend off the great beasts. It looked bleak, but Draxis needed to push on, he needed to fight on and defend his countrymen. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as it seemed like an eternity passed in just seconds. Blood splattered on his blade and his armor, his face covered in mud. Draxis ached everywhere, feeling as though his body was about to give up after four days of constant fighting. There needed to be an end. This needed to me his victory.

Theme Song(optional):https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ZgNpboHPMI

RomanAria

Alyssia Rosethorn

Name: Alyssia Rosethorn

Appearance: A woman who is quite short, about 4 feet 11 inches tall. She is rather thin, as would be expected of a woman who grew up on the street. What is surprising about her is that though she isn’t “big” in any sense of the word, she is strong and her muscles are toned. Her skin is tan and even in hue; her dark brown hair is usually pulled tight into a braid, with a strap of leather with spikes on it woven through it, to discourage people from grabbing her by the hair. Her ears are noticeably pointed, and so are her teeth to a slight degree; her slightly slanted eyes are a very pretty dark green, though if the light angle is just right it seems like they flash almost reddish…

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Race: 4/8 human, 3/8 wood elf (with 1/8 of dark elf (her great grandfather was one))

Rank: Templar

Personality: A levelheaded, calm woman who knows how to survive and run a family, something you wouldn’t expect from a barely-twenty-year-old. She cares mostly for her own survival and but will help others whenever she can after her own needs are met. She has often been known to give a large portion of her salary to the hungry beggars on the street, having a soft spot for them, because she once was one of them.

Bio (wall of text warning!)

Alyssia was born to a human prostitute and… well, she’s not exactly sure who her father was. Obviously a travelling elf, but there were so many of them going through the tavern that they couldn’t exactly figure out which one was her dad. Alyssia’s mother was sixteen years old when she was born; it seemed that Aly was going to be killed, as any infant would be. But then the house owner noticed how beautiful she was, even as a mere infant, and decided to keep her as a “future investment” of sorts.

It was one day, when Aly was ten (and already quite a fair young lady), that raiders stormed the tavern. Apparently, the owner had cheated one too many times and he was going to pay in blood. They killed everyone inside; Aly herself was only spared because she had been sent to the market.

As she saw the wreckage of the tavern, and thus everything that she knew, tears sprang to her eyes. There was a little tug on her belt and she looked down to see a tiny girl, she couldn’t have been more than five, who asked, “Mum, ken I has a copper? I be hungee, and my sisters be too.”

“You’re very brave, to ask someone like me for help. But I think I can give you more than a copper. I don’t have anywhere to go myself, so I might as well help you.”

Over the next eight years she learned skills from other kids on the street. How to pickpocket, and steal, and most of all how to fight. With fists, with daggers, with a rusty screw, with a stick. She learned how to cheat, and seduce men for a little extra pocket change.

Then when she was eighteen years old, she happened into the wrong place at the wrong time. Four elvish “travelers”, who wanted to strike a deal of sorts. She was to travel with them, be a companion, and provide “entertainment”, until they tired of her… “service.” In return they would teach her how to shoot and fight like an elf, not like a dirty human streetchild. Of course, if she refused, they’d kill every beggar in the city, they said.

And she believed them, so she went along, for two bitter, painful years. They did make good on their promise to teach her, and did not mistreat her so badly as she was mistreated as a kitchen girl. What was different, what hurt her now was the… type of service they requested. The last time she had ever served she had been a little girl, and now she found that, being a woman, it was extremely different.

They traveled along the country for two years, the four rowdy elven men and their demure little maid. In that time she never learned their names, never learned what they were doing. (and they somehow concealed any “business” they might have done in the towns from her) Then, they left her at the gates of her home city with no further explanation, but a substantial gift of money, and were gone.

Now twenty years old, and confident in her abilities, the young woman’s first stop was the Templar’s office; she volunteered herself for service. And though the recruiter was somewhat taken aback by the short woman, either the archer’s gear or the multitude of concealed daggers must have convinced them that she was serious.

Weapons: Daggers, longbow

Magic: A bit of restoration magic—she has a lot of raw power but no training at all in how to use it. Usually it’s only use had been in healing cuts and scrapes from sparring matches and ensuring that an accident wouldn't cause her to follow in her mother's footsteps.

Other: N/A

Wraithblade6

Damien Varomere

Name: Damien Mithias Varomere

Appearance:



Age(20 and up): 27

Gender: M

Race: Human

Rank: Soldier

Personality: Split between a patient, obedient, disciplined, and caring young man, and a less often loosed darker side of paranoia, fear, hatred, and distrust. Either way, Damien keeps quiet most of the time, but acting independently, without asking for permission or communicating appropriately beforehand. It's difficult to tell if he hates others, or hates himself. Fortunately, he seems to enjoy hating the enemy, and is well able to stay focused on that.

Bio: Damien started in an orphanage. He claims to have taught himself necromancy, but there is no doubt he had some kind of outside influence. He's been an adult long enough to have learned such magic, but it's strange to find one so young so adept in this particular field. Necromancy is not so popular among the civilized and noble.

In short, he was different than the other children, even the older ones who had more wretched dispositions. Religion was half-beaten into him, and inwardly, he rebelled. His primary grounding in sympathy, Mother Luna, passed away right before he was forced to leave the orphanage. He never actually got adopted. He distrusted most everyone and lived as a rebellious skeptic until a woman softened his heart. She was of course promptly murdered by gangsters for supposedly being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They hadn't been married long, and Damien still wears her ring around his neck on a chain. He'll kill anyone who touches it.

He searched for her killer, but was never able to find him. In his depression, he turned to blood magic and seriously fucked up his mind, hence the split personality. He focuses on killing monsters in general now to placate himself. Nobody knows about his past illegal use of magic or why he dabbled in it. "Don't judge me."

Weapons(Primary, Secondary, Tertiary): Damien's primary weapon is his magic. Secondarily, he is fit and can fight with a sword, but he's not very practiced. He carries one in case the need would ever arise, and it has a few times. Tertiary, he has a couple daggers.

Magic:

So necromancers seem to be characterized by the raising of temporary, powerful, undead minions, and he can do that. He can call on spirits, speak to ghosts, and sense souls like a second sight with a little concentration. But what good is a necromancer that can't use his magic to directly defend his own corpse? In this endeavor, Damien has learned to cause fear, cause sickness, and cause weakness at a short distance, and to drain the lifeforce out of his assailants with his touch. He can use some of that drained life energy to heal himself, but it's not very efficient. He can of course control undead, destroy them, and torture them should they try to resist him. He is resistant to cold and needs little sleep. He learned to cast a weak lightning spell as a ranged attack, but hopefully, his minions will be doing most of the fighting.

Other: Damien really.... really, really hates dark elves.

Post Example:

The Edge of Anarchy

I wrote this collab with a friend 3 years ago. It's a sample. Enjoy.

At the moment he found her, time stood still. The sun ceased crossing the sky and his heart beat no more. All that he had been had died within, his spirit vanquished in a merciless instant, leaving behind a body that could only be described as an empty shell. Vacant, despondent, the same moment never ticking over for him for weeks, Damien Varomere was wasting away. Friends had abandoned him to his grief, calling him hopeless. Every moment, he saw her blood, her beautiful face... The images forever burned into his eyes. Waves of tears beat him raw, locked away in the home that had once been theirs. It was starvation that eventually drove him out.

Mindless, like an animal, or rather "souless," to be more accurate, the grief-stricken widow
had walked the streets. Breathing was familiar, sunlight was too, but Damien inwardly cursed the world for coldly continuing on without her. It was nothing to him without her, and as fierce as his denial was, reality remained unmoved. That is when he saw the ring.

No one in the universe may know what brought his eye to that jewelry stand, but he saw it. Lifting it up in complete disbelief he confirmed it was in fact hers. The very ring he had wed her with shortly before her murder. Suddenly, time rushed forward in a blur. Every moment he had ceased to exist rushed to catch up to him, colliding with him mentally with such force it was practically lethal. He lunged at the vendor, grabbing his neck and quickly drawing the attention of the law. He made the vendor tell him who sold him the ring, and only after that was he able to collect any shred of composure. The vendor was not his lover's killer and not his target. Damien, the crazed maniac, was forced away. Unfortunately he could not have afforded to buy back the ring even if he hadn't been arrested, but from that moment on, his mission was clear. The flame of vengeance blazed like a bonfire over his sorrow. He would find the murderer who took that ring off his wife's dead hand and kill him. No threat of pain or death would stop him. Thus it was when he turned to darkness.

Damien knew no good god would have supported him in his murderous endeavor. He blamed them, all of them, for his foul fate and the persistence of wickedness and chaos that randomly took his beloved's life. He sought to profess himself to the other side, to plead with the supreme forces of evil and order to support his cause, to lend him aid. There was only one deity that suited him. To him, Damien had constructed a meager alter beneath his home where he offered prayer and worship. Time went by and Damien learned more of this newfound faith, but he drew no closer to finding his target. Truth be told, he had fallen far during his despair. He had already had a childhood fraught with difficulty. Without Saria, he had no shield or hope against a word that hated him for his bloodline. She had been the blessed one, leading him and others to the light of good. How she was everything to him. The fact she had been taken from him was a clear demonstration of how meaningless it had all been, that faith and hope were pointless and powerless. Their goddess was either careless... or powerless. Thus, he bared his vengeful desires to Asmodeus.

One night, Damien had a strange and powerful dream. In the dream, he was at his secret altar when a sense of dread came over him, and a shadowy figure with horns reached out a hand to him. He awoke with a start. Once he had calmed himself, he got up and went down to his shrine. Seeing nothing, he lit several candles and knelt down to meditate on the dream, pondering its meaning. Had it been a premonition? And omen? or was his sleeping mind merely envisioning his true heart's desire? After a few moments, the hair stood on the back of Damien's neck inexplicably. Without knowing why, he felt like he sensed a presence in the room with him. The air became heavy, the flames on the candles began to flare up, and the energy in the air was palpable. Something was directly behind him.

Fearful, yet excited with his heart racing, Damien turned around sharply. He saw the horned figure from his dream, clearly present and glaring down at him. This was an agent of his god. He was terrified, yet eager to prostrate himself before it. His body literally trembled all around him. He waited, cowering, until it would speak, or for whatever it would do to him.

The figure stepped out of the shadows and spoke in a soft velvety voice "There there child, your master has heard your pleas." The figure puts one foot on Damiens shoulder and kicked him onto his back. "The Father of Lies will have none of that pathetic groveling you call a proper prayer!"

Now on his back, propping himself up on his elbows, Damien got a good look at her. She was about 6 foot, with red skin and blonde curly hair that framed her face. The tiefling had horns that came from her forehead and swooped back, piercings all along both ears, a voluptuous body, and wearing a very loose, scant robe. A single dagger hung at her waist. He stared at her in awe, fear, and readiness. "Teach me, master. I beg of you."

"The Father of Lies is not without his mercy, he has sent me to guide you, but first you must prove worthy of my guidance. 'Beg.'You say? Well then..." She crouched down and cupped Damiens face in her hands. "I will teach you how to truly beg. Then, you know how to make others do the same." As she said this, she got right in his face, straddling him, and kissed him. Pulling away, she stood back up. "You will call me Mistress Revin, and you, my pupil, will do well to please me. For pleasing me is pleasing our Master."

The kiss was stolen from his lips without his consent, and thus Damien first realized that she could take whatever she wanted from him at any time. ...and he would give it to her. "Yes Mistress. I will obey you. Give me my vengeance, and I will give my soul."

A smile parted her thin lips. "Good boy, but you are a far way from vengence on anyone. You are to soft. I will break you of that. Asmodeous has no need for those who hesitate. Now, be a good pet and guide me to the nearest bar. I need a drink."

His heart filled with twisted gratitude and alacrity as he rose before her. Damien was at least her height, yet he felt is if she were far above him. This was a blesing of unparalleled magnitude and for Damien, it marked the point of no return. He knew he would do anything she told him. He craved this path, wanted the control that would be the end of the crimelords who were responsible for his beloved's death. The lesser evil that they were needed to be eliminated.

Upon enetering the bar with an attractive woman, most of the crowd stopped and stared. Men dropped their drinks. Womens jaws dropped, and to some of them this woman was the finest thing they had ever seen. It wasn't long after they sat down that a fumbling serving boy clambered over to their table and asked for drinks and returned promptly. The tiefling drank four drinks before she turned to Damien, "Tell me what is it you can do, exactly?"

Damien refused any drinks but took water. He was too intent upon his mission to exhibit any weakness and mental dullness. "I have magic in me, Mistress." He looked down and reached his hand toward her slowly to touch her skin. "And, this is its nature." With that, he showed her his bloodline power, causing an abhorrent chill to shriek its way into her body. He had no idea how she would react, but he meant to be direct despite the risk of rebuke.

"Oh how cute. You thought a little display of power would impress me." She snickered. "Let me show you what I can do!" With that, she stood up and walked over a wealthy bar patron. Without even touching him, he fell to his knees and began kissing her boot. Seconds later, another patron gave her his full coin purse before kicking the other man off of her. She promptly returned to the table with a sack full of coins. "All that, and without a drop of magic. Perhaps it is more then magic I should teach you, my lovely pet." She kissed Damien's lips.

She had kissed him again, and this time Damien was irritated at himself for being completely unable to resist. He felt no love for her, only admiration and devotion... but no. He was denying the obvious. She ignited a feeling in him that had been dead, murdered along with his wife. It was pure lust. He did not deny it as he contemplated a reply. "Your ability to manipulate and control is truly astonishing. I am eager to learn." Damien tried to reign in his growing passion. He heaved a breath. "You know you have me completely in your control. Please, do not seduce me further. I cannot concentrate."

"Oh but that is your first lesson." she retorted pleasantly. "Our emotions give us power. Had I been angry, instead of having that man kick the other off my boot, I would have had him run him through. Had I been feeling a bit more playful, I could have had that man take me right then and there, but these are things you must learn." She jabbed him in the chest. "Your rage burns deep within your heart, but that is not the only emotion you have. They are all still there, even love, as pitiful as a notion that it is." Revin tossed her hair and grabbed Damien's hand and pulled him up, just as the tavern erupted with the sound of music. "Come! Dance with me. Forget your sorrow and grief for one night. For tomorrow, the real training begins." A smile crossed her face, one Revin rarely gave, one that was sincere and almost warming.

Dance?? The notion was like a foreign language. An inanity! All out war ignited inside Damien as he fought with himself internally. he was in no mood to be dncing. still, she said he had to use his emotion, that he still had the capacity for love. Everything within him resisted her command, as she pulled him up and toward the dance floor, but he knew he had to obey. He had to finally wrest his will to cave in to despair and sulking and prove his ability to stand up and fight. Sorrow was for the weak. And so he began. Her smile was actually warm, mimicking the smile he had once loved. He would find his feet and dance, for her, for revenge, for his dark lord.

The crowd parted as Revin led Damien out onto the dance floor, and to anybody watching it was obvious she was leading. With fluidity and grace the tiefling made the dance seem like nothing more then a cake walk, others approached and began to ask her to dance she politely turned them away always with the same reason "I'm here with my lover." It was a lie but they didn't need to know that, she knew Damien was still centered on vengance but he still had far to much to learn. After the song ended she pulled him outside, it had started to rain, as they walked to Damien's home she asked a question she knew would catch him off guard "Tell me about you wife?"

It was either the newfound emotional strength that his mistress had instilled in his heart, or a coldness to his former emotions that she had given him, but in either case, it was enough to allow Damien to answer her question. His eyes became unfocused as he walked. "Her name was Saria. She was loving and joyous, innocent, yet surprisingly capable. She was a follower of Iomedae, leading others to the light. She was my heart."

The human's mental stability trembled.

Revin cringed at the mention of Iomedae, she wasn't a huge fan of any of the "good" gods. She could feel her companions sorrow, his grief and his grip on sanity failing, she pitied the man but at the same time she knew she had a job to do. The tiefling gripped his hand tight and held it all the way home, still giving off the appearance of lovers, upon reaching his home she turned to him, stroking his face before embracing him "I'm sorry for your loss, but their is hope, if you do well you will see her again. However, there is a threshold you must cross. Are you willing to do so?"

"She was murdered pointlessly, but brutally." He grimaced. "I found her body in an ally, the ring I gave her was stolen. She was a causality of the crime in the city, merely caught at the wrong place at the wrong time. I don't care what it takes, but I will give anything to avenge her. Iomedae be damned."

"So be it. I will teach you what I know. Once your vengeance is complete, payment will be due." She pulled him tighter thinking what would have happened if she had met a man this dedicated. "You need rest." she stroked his face once more. "I must warn you the training will be brutal and strict. Are you sure you want to do this? The contract still has not been made."

Damien bowed. "I do not care what becomes of me after this. I am already dead. I will serve no god except Asmodeus. I foresee his victory. I long for him to ascend and subjugate this pathetic world. For this, he shall ever have my loyalty. Do not underestimate the heat of my desire, mistress. I have lot all sense of mercy and will not desist in my training."

The cleric was slightly taken aback from all of the, usually people didn't come over to the following of Asmodeous without some more prompting, but this man came willingly, much as she had many years ago. But today Revin felt odd and out of place. This man who she had only known a breif time was already far more powerful then she was. She didn't know how it could be possible. There was something about him. The first kiss she gave him was just her normal playful self. The second was different, and as Revin kissed him a third time, she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time from herself, passion. She abruptly pulled away, thankfully her skin was red to hide the blushing. What had this man done to her? "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend, I should go now." Revin turned to go but deep down hoped Damien would stop her.

Damien did not stop her. He was cold as ice.

So, he didn't stop her. Soon she would change that. In his heart, he lusted for her. That much Revin knew, but the real question was, did she lust for him as well? Was it something else? The rain was pouring as the tiefling walked the streets. Several inns turned her down either because they were full or they didn't like her appearance. She could have worked her magic but she didn't waste her time, after a hour of wandering she returned to a familiar house, fulling expecting to find its occupant asleep. She opened the door and quietly shut it behind her, she supposed Damien wouldn't mind if she lit a fire and warmed herself up, after all where else was she going to go, back to Hell, the flames of Hell didn't give off the heat of a real fire, or a lover for the night.

Damien returned home to find his place... which used to be Saria's place, unexpectedly warm and lit with a fire in the hearth. The house was a disaster, as one might expect would result from severe depression. Without caring what intruder might lie within, he walked past the corner to see his mistress by the fire. He approached, and knelt beside her, staring at the flames. Her presence was irresistible. "Mistress. I have one request." He turned to her, placing his hand down to the floor before her wanting nothing but to surrender to her physically. "Please, teach me to pray."

"Very well, but first I must get out of these wet robes. Do you think you have anything to fit me? If not I'm no stranger to being naked in a strange mans home, especially one as promising as you." She winked at the young man before removing her robes and letting them fall to the floor with a loud plop. Revin looked back at Damien, by now he would have noticed the tail, "well of course hes gonna notice it" she screamed mentally "your using it to pick up your dagger after all." The cleric knelt beside Damien and began to show him the way she had been taught to pray, drawing a few drops of blood from each of them she led him in a prayer to Asmodeous, after she was done she passed him the dagger. "Now, your turn."

Seeing her perfect, naked body was painfully driving him, yet the love-lost human dared not move from his position. Damien had completely forgotten she had asked about clothing as he stared at her. He watched her kneel, entranced. He gave her his hand. Only the pain of her dagger pricking him seemed to shake any sense back into him. He blinked as he watched the red rivulet flow. With their blood together, they prayed, and Damien felt ever moreso in communion with his dark deity. He accepted the dagger from her and this time cut himself of his own volition, near the cut she had given him. The act of bleeding himself willingly held spiritual meaning. It gave weight to his words when he was nothing more than a weak mortal convert. It was willingness to sacrifice, willingness to die in service. He felt a power suddenly fill him and he opened his arms, lifting his head back, to accept it. "My god!" He gasped.

Revin was pleased, she could see the same devotion she had gained when she went through her first ritual. She had noticed his eyes linger over her body. She didn't mind, for she knew what she was. Besides a cleric and sorceress, she was a woman, and a whore at that. When he had settled from the ecstasy of the ritual Revin beckoned him over. "It is no crime to look, my pet, no crime to enjoy the sights before you. I don't bite...much." The tielfing winked at the young man.

The two consummated their lust for each other.

Theme Song(optional):

Mag Lev

Abigale Freshen

Abigale Freshen

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Age: 21

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Rank: Initiate

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Personality:

”A woman of noble birth considers the world ending on her first bleeding, I simply saw it as another inconvenience.

Abigale, or Gale as she is simply called by her comrades, is a pragmatist at her core though she masks this rather disheartening trait with a simple cover of realism. She is not one to care much for the emotions of others when she makes a decision which tends to distance her from others. Though, Gale does her best to avoid insulting or causing more pain to those who have already suffered in the cruel world. In fact, Gale considers herself quite merciful when it comes to dealing with people as she never lingers on a subject which is sensitive to the being whom she is conversing with. Neither will Gale ever fight another person without the intent to kill or injure them to the point of which they can no longer fight, with the exception of training spars.

History:

The Life of Abigale Freshen

The only child of the coupling of one Theren Freshen, a blacksmith of lesser renown, and Maria Louaise, a simple woman whose most notable trait was that of her beauty, Abigale was destined to become a blacksmith or marry into wealth, the latter of which was less likely. As such, Abigale was made to watch her Father as he smithed simply things such as the blades of hoes and arrowheads for the village huntsmen. Theren was no artisan though he was also no man whose craft could be called sub-par. Rather, Theren made enough money to provide for his wife and daughter a comfortable life, at least one which could be called comfortable in their small village. Abigale lived a rather normal life for the first twelve years of her life. She loved a local boy, or at least thought she did, and played in the fields collecting flowers with other little girls whom she called friends.

That is, until her little town happened to become the unfortunate victim of a crop disease leaving the entire populace short on food. One would be surprised how people act when food becomes scarce. People become far more willing to take more than a little from others so long as it means they are able to feed themselves.. Abigale was one of the many whose food was stolen, an act which her Father would not stand for. It was one fateful night when the dense man Abigale called a Father killed a townsmen who he thought had been stealing his bread, though the truth was that the man was simply there to ask for the crafting of a skinning knife. The mob which resulted ran Abigale and her mother out of town while Theren was left to be lynched.

The life of the young girl who was Abigale was left behind as she took to shortening of her name, Gale, and walked with her mother many miles to another town, hoping to be able to make a life there. All they pair found was poverty and the cat calls of many men whose minds were solely on the idea of getting with the beautiful Maria, though some were also likely intent on getting with the maturing Gale, whose womanly form was coming into shape around this time. The wandering women survived off of scraps which were thrown their way and what little coins they could gather from the peasant folk. There were times when Maria questioned whether to sell herself, and brand herself a harlot in the process, for Gale so that they may eat but decided against it for, no matter how hard their life was, in no way was Maria willing to lower herself to the level of a whore.

Abigale was never one to believe in fate until she and her mother wondered into the village established around Starguard Castle at the age of eighteen. It was around this time that Abigale began to notice odd happenings whenever she was around water such as its movement when ever she really focused on it. Occasionally, she froze the water in the glass simply by touching it. It was by chance that such an event happened outside a tavern in the village and a Templar had seen her skills. He invited her to join the Covenant and have a purpose in her life while making cash to provide for her mother. Gale jumped at the chance to earn a place in the world for her and her mother and went into the service. Despite having been in the Covenant for three years now, Abigale’s sword work is still below what is required for her to become a full Templar though her wit has proved to be her strongest attribute.

---

Weapons:
Primary: Standard Issue Short-sword
Secondary: Small wooden buckler
Tertiary: Crossbow

Magic:

Cryomancy/Icy Touch: With her training in the Covenant, Gale has managed to become skillful enough to freeze something she touches on command so long as it has water in, on, or around it.
Cryomancy/Water Control: Gale can manage to move a small amount of water and often uses it in tandem with her Icy Touch in order to coat an opponent in small amount of water and freeze it.

Other: None

---

Post Example:

Posting

”Oi, a pretty face like yours shouldn’t be on a battlefield nor wearin such heavy armor there little miss. Why don’t ya let me take off for ya we can a peak at yer assets.”

The call came from a rather brutish man, most likely one in his late thirties and deep into his drink for the night, who sat a mere few feet behind the brunette in full plate. Despite the lack of a telling facial expression, it was easy to discern that the woman had been greatly annoyed by the brute’s display of foolish confidence. Yet, she held her tongue for she knew that to argue with a drunk was like arguing with a troll and this was one ugly troll to argue with. Her comrades in plate simply looked at the drunkard in disgust, muttering their own curses towards him, as they talked of the training they had done for the day. It was the first time in nearly months that Gale had managed to feel like leaving the camp after training and she already hated the experience she had been subjected to. She, an Initiate of the Dawn Covenant, was hollered at by a man whose own appearance was akin to that of a ghoul by her standards and who smelled of sweat and ale. All would have went well that night had the man not made such a foolish error to approach Gale afterwards as if she had warranted such a harassment.

’Come now pretty lass, why don’t you just slip it all off for one night and we’ll see just how well you like my Knight’s Lance.”

The man had brought about his own downfall as, in his drunken stupor, was unable to stay standing as Gale swept about him and brought his arm behind his back, pressing his face into the solid floor with an audible thud. Anger clearly marked the face of the Initiate while the others simply watched on in amusement at the man’s fate. He had chosen the wrong lass to harass

”Normally I’d consider this punishment enough for your drunken ramblings but I must say that, while my face may not have a place on your battlefield of glory, neither should a mother have the blood her of her firstborn on her hands. But the world is not all glory and beauty my drunken captive. A mother’ll hold her firstborn in her hands knowing he was not to live for he was stillborn. Such is the way of the world and such a world I live in that I can say I belong on the battlefield more than a fool of your caliber who would do nothing more than swing an ax and hit an ally. Now leave with your dignity you fool.”

Gale stood as the man crawled away and stood up with a look of drunk embarrassment on his face. The brute quickly ran out the doors and into the cold of the street where his drunken stumbling overturned a cart. After a few moments of quiet, the entire bar erupted into such a laughter that it was sure to be heard hundreds of feet away. Gale simply sat back down and drank her ale in silence as her comrades praised her for being so bold and teaching the man a lesson.

Theme Song: Love the beat for her.

Groompy

Gavlan

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Name: Gavlan Bitterstout
Age: 230 Years Old
Gender: Male
Race: Dwarf
Rank: Templar

Personality:
The manners and charisma of a mountain dwarf, if he's not busy drinking himself silly or punching the guy in the seat next to him, he's probably either buried in the ground or busy putting something or someone else in the ground. Like most Dwarves, Gavlan is stout, and trustworthy, but incredibly stubborn. He'll hold onto a grudge longer than he can even remember why he had it in the first place. Not to say his memory is terrible, in fact, it's quite accurate, but if anyone lived a lifestyle like his, they would find they had a shit list a mile long. A stalwart battle companion, Gavlan is capable in almost any situation, except sea battle because he despises water. He is a dwarf of few words, if not well chosen ones; in his line of work, the less said the better. His solitary life is devoted to hunting down the fiercest creatures in Miras. He does not back down from any bounty or claim, and has maimed, burned, slashed, punched, hacked, smashed, and, on one occasion, bitten his way to glory. It's impossible to keep this Dwarf down.

Anyone that spends enough time with Gavlan will quickly note his deranged humor, and strange behaviors. Hunting in solitude for over a hundred years does that to a person.

Bio:
Gavlan was born high in the most northern mountains of Miras, as is such, he grew up in the harshest environments, which made him even more sturdy than most Dwarves; this would come in handy later in life for him as a bounty hunter. Although, he was the model Dwarf in the eyes of his mother and father, he was quite bored of their lifestyle. He did not share in his brother's or father's love of blacksmithing, or mining, but preferred to be outside the mountain, exploring the landscape. He would conquer mountains and hunt down beasts in the wild, all in solitude. As this was, he was not around in the halls of his mountain when tragedy struck; the merciless mountain trolls that inhabited the area had banded together for a surprise attack. Their sheer numbers wiped out his entire tribe and family. They had fought valiantly, but for ever dwarf there was another ten trolls. When Gavlan returned from his hunt, his home had been reduced to rubble, and the stench of blood filled the air. The extreme grief and pain he felt was only matched by his desire for revenge. Taking out his sharpened greatsword he roared with denial in the face of his fallen homeland, and, with ruthless conviction, he bathed the the destroyed halls of his heritage in the blood of its killers. He hunted down any last surviving troll, driven by an endless fury, repaying their cruelty in kind even their beastly nature could not match.

He was now truly alone. The only thing to accompany him in his long journeys was his grief, and the bitterness he felt at the world. He spent many long years as a rover, living off the land and living by the bottle. Any gold he acquired was quickly and predictably spent on spirits. It wasn't until he had finally hit the lowest point in his life that he was directed to the The Knights of the Dawn Covenant by a friend of his who was concerned about his stench and his dirty, matted hairy face. Although, his original reasoning for joining the covenant was purely based upon monetary gain, he learned to appreciate aspects of their values; specifically, how quickly they bring vengeance to their enemies. His interpretation of vengeance is a little more brutal than most hold, but most certainly effective. His preference to work alone is not adored by his superiors, but they cannot deny that he is an invaluable asset to the covenant. His experience with the covenant has spanned fifty years, despite his comrades constant assurances that his next mission would be the one to finally end his miserable old life. But time and again he would prove them wrong, and before the door would even so much as shut, he would be marching back out into the war driven world with a steely gaze, and his hands clenched around the familiar warmness of Naptime.

Weapons:
Throughout his years, Gavlan has used almost every weapon under the Sun, but none could match his love for his tried and true battle axe. He claims to have found it deep within the catacombs of a remote mountain, and that it's over a thousand years old; however, if you asked anyone else, they would tell you that he swindled it in a fixed bar bet. His name for his weapon is Naptime, although, most people he introduces it to take more than a long nap.

Naptime

Magic:
He's about as magical as a rock to the face. "Hey you! CATCH!"

Other:
- Scars on nearly every part of his body.
- Cares very little about his safety, but cares a lot about the job at hand.
- Would have been able to retire years ago, but still spends every gold piece he gets on liquor.
- Probably wouldn't have wanted to retire anyway.

Post Example:
Noting the obvious footprints left in the dirt, Gavlan heaved his satchel over his shoulder, and gazed off into the distance. "Can't have gone too far..." He whispered under his breath. Nothing now could prevent his prey's brutal incoming demise; once he had their scent, no obstacle could stop him. A hill giant had been terrorizing the local populous: stealing their livestock, crushing their crops, and, quite recently, destroying their town hall. If it had been a brighter giant, though none such exist, it would have kept to the small annoyances as to not evoke the wrath of the covenant. As it was, Gavlan was now on its trail. "Ah, yes." Gavlan noticed a large opening in the side of the mountain that would suitably fit a giant that the trail lead off to. Climbing up the steep rocks, making sure not to make any noise as he did so, he readied himself to surprise his foe.

Peering over the ledge, hidden from view by rocks, he saw his prey clear as the sweat dripping from his beard. It was sitting, sharpening what was once an entire tree in front of its cave, and humming to itself. Even while sitting, it still towered over any human, or elf, muscles making it look quite like the boulder it rested upon. Gavlan took a quick sip from his flask, and began to skirt along the edges of the flat piece of rock the giant called home. Through clever maneuvering, he was now directly above the giant, axe poised and ready to strike down his immense foe. Letting forth a mighty cry, Gavlan plunged off his perch. The giant immediately looked up, and immediately regretted it. If not for the giant's tough skull, Gavlan's axe would have tore its face vertically down the middle and continued onward. As it was, the axe was jammed into its face, handle sticking up into the air. The giant gave a cry of pain, echoing across the valley, as Gavlan landed near its feet. The giant swatted at the ground blindly, as blood rained from the gash in its face. Easily dodging every face crushing swing that the giant sent his way, Gavlan took out his hunting dagger, and jammed it with all his might into its calf. Buckling over in agony, the giant gave a wail pain, and was now bent on the ground trying to pull the axe of its blood soaked face. "Here, let me help you with that, ya' stupid brute." Gavlan shouted with battle rage running strong through his blood. Picking up a sizable rock off the ground, and with all his muscles flexing, he slammed the rock into the flat side of the head of the axe, breaking the giant's grasping hand, and shoving the blade mercilessly through its skull. With its last breath, the giant let out a long groan and collapsed on the ground in a bloody heap. Chuckling to himself, Gavlan took out his flask, again, and downed it entirely.

After excavating his axe from the giant's mangled head with a few choice swear words here and there, Gavlan reached his hand inside its mouth and yanked out a tooth as a show of proof. If not for inconvenience he would've taken its entire head along with him, but the journey was long, so a simple tooth would be good enough. His tunic drenched in blood, he doubted many would question the validity of his claim, anyway. Turning to face the view from the mountainside, he began his climb back down.

"There had better be an empty seat at that tavern."

Theme Song:

Knights of The Dawn Covenant: The Longest Winter

@RadioactiveRat
Didn't I say it was accepted? I probably forgot but yeah I accepted yours, Jeremiah is in the characters tab already.

Knights of The Dawn Covenant: The Longest Winter

The Heroes

TheDarkTemplar

Evelyn Sunderland

Knight-Captain Evelyn Sunderland

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Age: 29

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Rank: Knight-Captain

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Personality
Denied of any real bond her parents, Evelyn tends to put the needs of others above her own. In some situations she's gone so far as to risk her own life to protect the innocent, an ideal she adopted after spending her first months in the order patrolling the less protected regions of the kingdom. However that does not mean she is a naive, overly optimistic individual. In fact Evelyn is quite a focused and composed individual with genuine care for those under her command. Above all things she hates those who prey upon the innocent however she does tend to offer them mercy as her ideology follows closely the teachings of Altaia, the goddess of compassion.

History

Hider

First born and only daughter of Lord Theran Sunderland and Lady Irea of House Naermont, Evelyn Sunderland would know only adversity throughout her life. From birth it was fated that she'd inherit her father's title as Wardeness of Southern Farendar. All the land from The Red Shores in the South to The Southern Mirastian Mountain Pass further north would be hers to rule upon her father's death. With such responsibility to be bestowed upon her from the time she could walk Evelyn was trained to take on the mantle of Wardeness. Her entire childhood would be comprised of training in court etiquette, trade, politics, warfare strategy, combat, all the qualities need for a Lady of the South. Ever since its founding House Sunderland has defended the Southern half of the kingdom from countless Nalrokar incursions along with various Talmer bandit raids. The Great War proved to the realm that House Sutherland was more than just a shield for as the Nalrokar advanced inland along the eastern shore, southern Farendar held for the entirety of the war.

Evelyn knew not what it meant to be a child, to enjoy the company of other children and the joys of youth. Her whole life was for the realm and her life's purpose was taken from her upon the birth of her younger brother, Lord Damen of House Sunderland. Evelyn's birthright had been stolen from her, her purpose for being was wiped from existence. As a result, Evelyn was left to be used in the more traditional fashion, a bride to secure an alliance with neighboring lords. For years she argued viciously with her parents and it wasn't until she was nineteen was her salvation realized. Evelyn had an affinity with magic, because of this her parents revoked their original plan of marrying her off. Instead they gave her to The Order of The Dawn Covenant in the hopes she'd bring honor and glory to her house.

In truth The Order was anything but a gilded guild of warriors. These brave men and women fought, some their entire lives, in defense against the numerous abominations across the continent. If not battling monsters The Order would protect the innocent from those who'd do them harm, care for any unfortunate soul in need or aid, investigate any magic related crime, and so much more. When Evelyn arrived at The Order's Fortress, "Starwatch", she was immediately thrown into training. Fortunately her childhood being spent practicing such things gave her an edge and by the time she was twenty-one she had completed her training a year ahead of her peers. At first she was merely an acolyte but after years of service Evelyn would reach the rank of Knight-Captain at the age of twenty-seven. Recently she'd been the Knight-Captain of The Gate, commanding a force of several hundred Templars stationed at the central Mirastian Mountain Pass. Currently her position is at Starwatch in the north where The Order prepares for war.

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Weapons

• Sword of The Knight-Captain
• Shield of The Dawn
• Dagger of Justice and Mercy

Magic

• Electromancy/Chain Lightening- When cast causes a surge of electricity to leap from one enemy to another, amount of jumps depends on magicka reserve levels.
• Restoration Magic/Healing Hands- Heals the damaged area of wherever the caster has placed their hand.

Other

House Sunderland

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Post Example
The sun had just risen over the horizon when Evelyn finally finished collecting her possessions. Her life, who she was and where she'd come from, had to fit all in one pack. Traditionally there'd been a feast the night prior to wish good fortune to the departing but for Evelyn there had been no feast. The halls of her family's castle were silent and echoed only the footsteps of the guards on patrol. Yet for Evelyn, she felt no sorrow as she watched the sun rise with its blood orange rays streaking across the partially cloudy sky. Instead she felt a sense of hope amidst the fear that was forming in her heart. "This will most likely be the last time I see the sunrise from this window...", she spoke but there was no one to hear, there never was anyone to hear. Just then the door to her chamber slowly swung open to reveal a young boy with tears rolling down his face.

"It's my fault you're leaving...", he said as he tried to hold back further tears from being shed. Evelyn quickly walked over to her brother before wiping away the tears from his cheeks. "Who fed you such lies little brother?", Evelyn hugged Damen hoping to comfort him in their last moments together. It only made Damen cry more as he sensed this would be the last time they would see each other. Though he struggled, the young lord managed to control his sobbing long enough to speak, "I heard Master Oeric last night, he said you were to be Wardeness until I was born. He said I stole your birthright and now you're being sent away because of me". At this point Damen as once again on the verge of tears but before he could continue Evelyn hushed him before hugging him again once more.

"Master Oeric is not one to think before he speaks. Remember when House Lorinth visited us and what Oeric said to the lord's son?"

Damen smiled slightly through his tears as he answered, "He said he looked like a half shaven boar"

"And father spent the rest of the night convincing Lord Iedan that Oeric was drunk. Keep that in mind next time you hear him say things like that"

"Why are you leaving then, Evey?"

There was a momentary pause as Evelyn thought of a reason other than the truth. The truth was that Damen did steal the throne from her and it was true that she was being sent away to be of some other use to the family. "Father and Mother want me to join the Templars so I can protect our family", Evelyn answered trying to sound genuine in her response.

"Why can't you protect us from here then?", Damen asked as he rubbed his eyes.

"Because then I could only protect you from bad men nearby, those we already know about. What happens when bad men from far away come to hurt our family? We won't see thm till it's too late. That's why I'm leaving to join the Templars, so that I may protect you till you become Lord of House Sunderland"

"I don't want you to go, if you go then I won't see you..."

"Fear not little brother, we'll see each other again", Evelyn hugged her brother one last time before heading down to the courtyard where her Templar escort awaited.

---

Theme Song: Agent of Justice

OtomostheCrazy

Kaathe Oolacile

Kaathe Oolacile

Appearance:

Armor

Age: 34

Gender: Male

Race: Dark Elf

Rank: Knight Templar

Personality: In a word: Pessimistic. Due to a traumatizing experience earlier in his life, he had forced almost all sense of caring out of his mind. Though he thinks logically, and would still attempt to help someone when needed, he has resigned himself to allowing fate to go whichever direction it wishes. The deaths of others-and even the thought of his own demise-slightly amuses him, as it only proves to him that he may have been right to discard that caring.

Bio: Born in one of the cities of the larger islands of Nalrokar, Kaathe was expected to grow to become one of the strongest in their city. Unfortunately, that was not what he was. Physically, he was weaker than most, and as such, he was constantly berated and beaten. More than once, he found himself in a dispute that left him limping and bleeding after it's resolve.

When he was younger, he tried to get stronger. Learning all that he could in order to prove that he was strong. Of course, his losing streak would not be deterred by this determination. Still, he continued to move forward. Going on with his futile goal.

Eventually, he had gotten into such trouble that he was dying on the ground, a failure. It was at this moment, where he took a look at his life. What had he done? What was the point? Why was he so afraid to lose? Was it death? Was it because he would find himself in a situation just like this one if he hadn't gotten stronger? Well, there he was, and he didn't care.

It was all idiotic anyway. Why try to do something when fate clearly meant for you to do something else? It was a waste of time. His life had been a waste of time.

He survived that little experience, but now he had lost all manner of caring. He would do whatever would normally do, only this time just on a whim. He accepted anything that happened, and simply moved on. It was in the Past anyway. It wasn't his problem anymore. The next time he found himself in a fight, he won. Apparently his new outlook on life had granted him a calmer mind, and a clearer sight. He easily overpowered his opponent with what he learned. Funny how fate works. When he wanted to win, he lost. Now that he could care less, he tastes victory...and it tasted like the air he had been breathing from the moment he was born.

As all others from his near-death experience onward, he joined the covenant on a whim. It was because of this, he had never gone up in rank. Not that he would care, anyway.

Weapons:
PRIMARY:

Spear

Decorated Crossbow

TERTIARY:

Dagger of the Crestfallen

Magic:

• Illusion/Nostalgic Moment (Creates an illusion out of the memory of the user. It lasts for a maximum of two minutes)
• Cryomancy/Freezing Imbuement (imbues an inanimate object with freezing properties)
• Cryomancy/Liquid Tendrils (Creates up to 4 tendrils of water that extend to a maximum of 7 feet, provided there is a significant source of water nearby to craft them out of)

Other:

Opinions on Others

None yet!

Post Example:

Here's your example

The squires, the pages, the initiates...they walked onward in the light of day, going about their training and duties. As one would expect, a majority of these youths were excitable, and fantasized about slaying beasts and monsters becoming heroes and legends. How innocent of them. Even when enduring their training and lessons, they dream of how they would earn such titles.

One of these youths was simply making her way, when she had noticed a Dark Elven knight, sitting alone. Curious, she approached him. Her curiosity only grew when she noticed that the knight had a conflicting look on his face. His eyes were half-closed, with a look of melancholy shadowing over them. However, his mouth was slightly curved into a small grin. The girl was confused, as the two expressive looks seemed too incompatible to simultaneously exist on the same face.

Intending to satisfy her curiosity, she looked at him and asked,

"Excuse me, milord. But may I ask you something?"

"What is it?" replied the knight.

"It's just that, you seem to be hiding your sorrow. Why is that? What happened?"

The knight looked at the girl for a moment, and then chuckled quietly.

"You think yourself a good judge of character, child? You seem to have missed your mark this time."

The girl was even more confused.

"It's just these new knights I had passed earlier. They were talking to each other about how they were looking forward to combating strong monsters...How inexperienced. They'll likely meet their deaths once they find how powerful beasts can be. It's a shame really. They might have been dreaming about a chance like this all their lives. Oh well. Whatever happens to them happens, and they will return different than when they leave."

"Sir, why would you say such things?" said the girl, astonished.

"Because it is the truth. There is no guarantee of safe return, and dreams of glory will only hinder them in their little battle. Dreams have no place where they will go. Still, the inexperienced and the foolish will go. Some will die, and others will be broken, but they will move ever onward, I suppose."

The girl looked down. She was regretting ever coming into contact with this knight. The dark elf saw this, and spoke again.

"If you wish to be a knight that survives battles, you must accept the fact that you may die. You must take on the gravity of every battle you have fought, are fighting, and will fight. You will be hurt, placed in bleak situations, and even face your death, but this is a given. Accept them, and you may live through your battles. Cast a blind eye, and you will certainly meet some sort of end. Whatever the case, it matters not to me. Do what you will. Whatever happens will happen. It's no concern of mine."

The girl, now with something to think on, thanked the knight for his time. As she began to leave, she had found that she had not asked his name. So she returned to him and did just that.

"Does it really matter? I'm one of the less memorable knights...fine. My name is Kaathe."

The girl tilted her head at the strangeness of his name.

"Now go. I've a headache from this one-sided conversation."

The girl nodded, and walked off, back to her duties. Kaathe simply continued to look down, and think to himself once more.

Theme Song:

Majula

ShaggyDoo0

Glodin Stonequarry

Name: Glodin Stonequarry
Age(20 and up): 75 (equivalent to human age of 20)
Gender: Male
Race: Dwarf
Rank:(No rank higher than Knight-Lieutenant): just plain Knight
Personality: Hard headed, gruff, strait to the point.
Bio: The Stonequarry family were esteemed blacksmiths, some say they were the best in the land before Torin, Glodin's eldest brother, became head of the clan. He took the clan in a more mercantile direction and made the clan pretty wealthy, at the loss of the prestine craft of their forefathers and the secret of runic smithing. Before Glodin's father's passing, he passed down the clan and house to Torin, but he passed down his hammer and journal to the very young Glodin.

Years later after the forge in his home was converted into an oversized stove/heater, Glodin stumbled upon his father's journal once again and decided to read it. Using his father's forge, tools, and notes his father left; he learned how to smith metal into weapons, armor, and jewelry. Without the guidance of his father or a mentor, his skill has only just reached a point above standard. Since his start at smithing he had been trying to regain the former reputation of the clan and it's skill in crafts. He had joined the Knights with the hope of making a name for himself and reviving the old ways of the Stonequarry family.
Weapons(Primary, Secondary, Tertiary): Glodin's main weapon is his father's trusty Dwarven Thrower, its a warhammer that returns to the owner after it is thrown. His secondary is of his own handiwork, his heavy pick that he keeps on his back.
Other:Glodin is an above par and self trained blacksmith and has been practicing his trade for the past thirty years.
Post Example:

My Hider

Glodin sat down on the bar stool still in his full plate with his hammer on his hip. "Give me yer strongest drink." His voice was deep and failed to hide his disgust. "I need it after dealing with my good-fer-nothin' brother..." As he spoke he dropped the coins on the counter, not bothering to count if he had overpaid. It was all he had left before he was paid at the end of the week but he didn't care that all of last weeks pay went to nothing but alcohol. Not only was his family pushing him away for sticking to the old ways, but he knew he would never climb in ranks because of his tendancy to be too stubborn to listen to some orders. Glodin was stuck in a rut that he felt he would never climb out of.

Theme song: m.soundcloud.com/sekhil-dev-p/temple-o..

boomlover

Argus Starcrusher

ARGUS STARCRUSHER


Age: 47

Gender: Male

Race: dwarf

Rank: Templar

Personality:
Ah Argus Star crusher what can you say about him? Well first of if there is a bar fight you can be 100 procent certain that Argus is in it. Fighting exploring and drinking are these dwarfs favorite things to do. However being a Templar has made the first two a bit harder to do. Something which annoys him to no end. And when he gets the change will complain constantly complain about. He has great respect for those who can Prove there worth and if you befriend him. He would follow you to the gates of hell if need be. He is however a tad arrogant and likes to really show-off. Which is basically the reason why he gets in bar fights all the time. Argus
Can also be somewhat greedy sometimes. He also has the same beliefs as his people.

History:

Argus was born in an old dwarven ruin. This was because his mother and father where one of the most bravest explorers there where. And just as his Father and mother. Argus was just as much an Explorer as them. However It would be some time before Argus would see the old ruins again. This was Mostly because his parents wanted him to have a normal upbringing. In the years that followed Argus would learn everything about his race and culture. He also realized that he loved fighting. So most of the time you could find him practicing his skills with his hammers,axes,spears and morning stars. When he turned 18 it was his first time to go Explore the ruins of old. For months they traveled through caves and old dwarven cities. And then One day while Argus was doing some exploration of on his own. Argus found an ancient armory untouched for centuries. He found a beautiful hammer which was enchanted with powerful runes. He called his hammer star crusher in honor of his family name. He also found a small dagger which seemed to be crafted from strange metals. This dagger was Not enchanted. Overjoyed with pride he ran back to his parents to show the things he had discovered. But when he had reached the campsite. He was horrified to see the mutilated remains of his parents. This enraged Argus into a fury and for months he tried to track down the killer. He then finally found the murdered which seemed to be a cave troll. He killed the beast which such
Ferocity that after the battle was done nothing but pulp remained. Argus them tried to find his way home which took him a year because the maps they had used where partially damaged. He then returned tired and broken. He did not feel at home anymore. The memories where still to fresh. So Argus sold the house in which he was raises bought some armor and set of to explore the world outside of the mountains. He did this to try to forget his parents death. And to maybe make a discovery that would do his family honor. Needles to say he did not come very Far. When he had come out of the mountains he saw a different world. His mind was somewhat at peace
Until he was knocked unconscious by a group of bandits. Rather than robbing him on the spot they used him as a slave to work for them. This went om for at-least 13 years. Until one day when he was saved by the knights of the dawn covenant. He was
So thank full of this that he offered his services to the order. Before taking back his weapons and armor from the bandits. The order accepted this and soon after Argus was a Templar. He would never move from this position mostly because he was horrible at leading.

Weapons:

. The star breaker. Is enchanted with powerful fire runes. That can melt peoples skin of. However if the user of the hammer gets very angry. The better the runes will work.

. The dagger of fury. The dagger is made out of an ancient metal that makes it almost unbreakable.

Magic:

. Pyromancy. The hammer is enchanted with fire runes.

Other: none

Post example:

He was running through the snow small branches wiping him in the face. He could hear them howling in the distance. He was surprised how fast they had caught up with him. He could already see flickering shadows coming closer and closer. The snow was knee deep yet he was able to outrun them. He just needed a clearing. Somewhere where he could use his hammer. He almost fell over a fallen tree and
Narrowly escaped on of the dire wolfs attacks. He then finally made it to a small field. He ran to the middle and catches his breath. He then looked around him and saw that the dire wolfs had surrounded him. Argus grabbed his Hammer and awaited the first attacked. His hammer had a dim reddens to it. Like a campfire that was almost out of wood. Then the first dire wolf attacked. Argus readied himself and as the dire wolf jumped at him he swung his hammer and hit the monster in the face. The dire wolf flew a few meters away before crashing into the snow. Its face was half on fire and small bone parts stuck out of his head. Argus then looked at the other dire wolfs who readied themselves. "COME ON THEN YA MONSTERS!!"

Theme song: http://youtu.be/BEm0AjTbsac

Snarfulblast

Karl Shadowthorn

Name: Karl Shadowthorn
Appearance:
Age:23
Gender:Male
Race: Wood elf
Rank:Templar
Personality: Karl is as good hearted and caring as you can get. He will help anyone and everyone if he can as long as their intentions are not for evil. Karl only talks when talked to or if he gets completely smashed off his arse. But like all good people Karl has a dark side, if any of his fiends are killed in front of him Karl loses all sense of control going into a berserk rage.

Bio:Karl's past is dark and terrible. His parents killed while he was young, leaving him orphaned and alone. The orphanage Karl lived at was horrible, he and the other kids where worked, beaten, and starved. One day at the age of 13 Karl being one of the older kids in the orphanage watched as a group of drunkards wandered into the orphanage and in a drunken stupor raped and killed three eleven girls, outraged Karl attacked them, but his attempts to fight he was beaten,knocked down,and nearly killed, but in his rage and a termination to avenge those girls he rose and tackled one of them men grabbing a broken bottle that had been dropped by one of the drunks Karl stabbed the man he had tackled until the man lay dead, the other men saw this and ran terrified by what this malnourished half dead child was able to do. After that Karl was kicked from the orphanage forced to live in the streets, found by a kind old lady Karl war nursed back to health. After living with the women for seven years Karl had heard about the Order and made it his goal to join and become a force for good and right. It took him three years but finally Karl was able to reach the rank of Templar although it was the lowest rank Karl knew he was on his way to becoming that which he wanted most to be, a solider for good.

Weapons: Long sword, Short sword, Crossbow.
Magic: Restoration
Other: Karl gets nervous to women he finds attractive, especially red heads.

Theme Song: N/A

Kylie Bronzeblade

Name: Kylie Bronzeblade
Appearance:

Age(20 and up): 27

Gender: Female

Race: Dwarf

Rank: Knight-Sergeant

Personality: Always wearing a smile, and always ready to fight, Kylie is the very model,(of a modern major general.) of kindness, mercy, and loyalty. Very rarely does she rise to anger, which most people mistake for her being soft, and everyone of them has been "dead" wrong. Kylie is like a mother bear, kind and gentle with her "children",while still viscously protective of them.

Bio: From a young age Kylie always dreamed of joining the Order. And her dream was brought to fruition a lot sooner than she had planned, when a kest hive decided that it wanted to live in the town where she did. So at the age of 10 Kylie was rescued and unofficially brought into the Order. After going through the rigorous initiation process, and becoming a Templar Kylie rose through the ranks and became a Knight-Sergeant. Many years pasted and Kylie was leading her small group through to Thanamere Keep, but she never reached it. Ambushed and barely escaping with her life, Kylie lost her self in the nearby woods, when she saw the fires coming from the direction of Thanamere she knew she had to find her way back to a place where there was some semblance of The Order left.

Weapons: Runed War-Axe, Runed Two Handed War Hammer, Runed Shield.

Magic: Uses armor enhancing runes on herself and others. Most of the runes increase the durability and sturdiness of the armor worn by the person the rune is used on. She also uses runes that can silence the noise made by armor, to allow for stealth tactics. She also has runes that will increase the magical resistances of armor.

Other: Loves kittens. Is a really good armor smith, but she doesn't work the forge near others.

Post Example: "Now when forming a shield wall you want to stand shoulder to shoulder with your fellow soldiers, and keep your shield held...", a quick tap from the haft of her hammer pushes the tower shield up and level with the other shields in the line," Level with the others in the line." The short blonde, smiling dwarven woman shakes her head lightly at the templar whose's shield she had to push into place."Sergeant Kylie, a word." Turning the dwarf looks at the Templar who just ran up behind her,"Yes what is it? I've got training to do.","That will have to wait message from the Knight Commander all members of the Order, to report in at Thanamere." "Well looks like we'll be moving out. Let's go soldiers, best no to keep the Commander waiting." The trek to Thanamere was long, but not that difficult for Kylie and her troops. Upon reaching the forest around the Keep, Kylie sensed something was amiss. Her suspicions confirmed when her and her troops are ambushed by cultist, Kylie never said word but her troops knew what she wanted forming a circular shield wall around the archers. What feels like hours pass, and there standing alone amongst the fallen bodies, of her troops and around a hundred cultist, turning her gaze towards Thanamere where smoke can now be seen in the far off distance. Swearing under her breath Kylie turns towards to where the Capital is, making it her mission to find what Templars are in the Capital and inform them of what she had seen.

Theme Song(optional): N/A

PrettyWalrus

Aundair Ivellos

Name: Aundair Ivellos

Appearance: Slightly above average height, Aundair boasts fair skin, strong jaw and a built frame. This is quite deceiving as he is quite young. Dark blonde hair cut thin on the sides and longer up top match well with his storm gray eyes. Considered handsome, but not as much as to send people swooning. Broad shoulders and arms move with a flowing grace, strange as he tends to be quite clumsy when not fighting. He has a loud but light voice. His armor is humble but efficient. Dark leather jerkin and legs with steel strips across the upper chest. A gray hooded cloak and a black belt grace this ensemble. His helm however is quite the opposite of humble. When his father died, Aundair took his meager fortune and commissioned himself a helm to be remembered after a battle. Bright, burnished steel with a round back and top, the faceplate is the most impressive (for lack of a better word). The large eye holes exhibiting his grey eyes, are emblazoned with celtic style knotwork. Below this is a solid piece of metal sliding down and ending just after his jaw at a point. The helm face has a crest that begins at the point so that the middle of the helm's front is a vertical ridge. (I found a picture of what I wanted for the helm, not sure how you wanted the image given, all rights reserved, i claim no ownership for this in any way shape or form.)
s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals..

Age(20 and up): 20
Gender: Male
Race(Human, Wood Elf, Dark Elf, Dwarf): Human
Rank:(No rank higher than Knight-Lieutenant): Initiate

Personality: Jolly and always ready to crack a joke, Aundair is rarely seen without a smile. He is bold, brash, eager to prove himself, and dedicated to upholding his family's honor. He is the first to grab a beer and the last to surrender. Almost to a point of fault.

Bio: Born in a small human town, he was always a happy child. His mother died in child birth of his younger brother Ricard, so the brothers grew up with only their blacksmith father and the town to raise them. Aundair grew up on tales of heroes and maidens. Kings and queens. Chivalry and honor. At a young age, Aundair decided to become one of the many men that he had heard of. "Some day, songs will be sung about me!" He would always say. He was quick to make a friend and held onto them for a long time. His brother Ricard was .... less inclined. Ricard was always looking for a fight and this got the two into a good number of scraps. Mischief turned to misdemeanor as Ricard took bigger and bigger prey and, as always, Aundair would bail him out. More than once Aundair caught himself dueling a noble who felt slight after Ricard caught the fancy of a handmaiden or two. After a while Aundair became quite well known in his small town as a champion for those who couldn't defend themselves. Unfortunately Ricard became worse and worse until he fell into a debt that he couldn't repay. When the men came to collect, the only one at their family's cottage was their father. Upon returning home, Aundair and Ricard found their father slain upon the floor. The two brothers set upon the group of men and got their revenge but at a terrible price. Nearing the end of the fight, Ricard was shot by a crossbow bolt and died on the spot. Engorged with rage, Aundair hung the archer from a nearby tree and left his home, never to return. Soon after leaving, he found the Knights of The Dawn Covenant and joined up with little questions. He has been a part of them ever since

Weapons(Primary, Secondary, Tertiary): He has a long steel (similar to a rapier, but thicker) with a swept hilt sitting on his left hip and a short steel with a crossguard on his left, common in dueling communities. A throwing dagger is in a sheath on his right boot.
Magic: He has never had much interest in magic and instead throws himself wholly into sword play
Other: A recognized bard, he plays his lute around fires to warm the hearts of his friends

Post Example: A group of initiates were telling ghost stories around a campfire when they heard the sound of a cracking branch behind them
"Umm what was that?" asked Rune, the youngest of the group
"That isn't cool. Don't play games with me right now." replied Burke, the oldest of the initiates. "I'm trying to tell a story, and you're freaking me out."
"OOGLY BOOGL...!!" A hooded figure jumped from behind a tree and began to shout but apparently his trick surprised Burke more than he had expected. The wildly swinging fist crashed into his stomach and the hooded man crumpled to the ground momentarily
"Holy heck, you've got an arm" laughed the hooded form
Burke rocked back on his stump roaring in laughter and the other initiates joined him soon after "Aundair, you must know that sometimes I really hate you." Burke managed between gasping for breaths and expelling huge hearty laughs "I nearly spilled my ale"
"Oh shut up, you were telling the tale of Grimwald, there was no way that I could let that opportunity pass" Snorted Aundair, pulling his hood down and standing up. He nodded to the new initiates and brushed off a snowy log to sit down. "Besides, you're telling it wrong. This, is the right way to tell it." He smiled as he leaned in and began to talk. The wind howled through the trees, but kinship and joy were the only things felt at that fire on that night.
Theme Song(optional):

LiverisGod

Tabetha Lockwell

Character:
Name: Tabetha Lockwell [human], Sindri Thalawen [Elven]

Appearance:

My Hider

Age: 26

Gender: Female

Race: Half-elf (human father)

Rank: Knight-Corporal

Personality: A gregarious and chatty lady, she enjoys exploring what lies beyond the horizon. Though she knows that as a Templar she must conduct herself accordingly least the Templar's name be sullied, she is more than willing to dirty her hands to get things done. Her experiences in Talmir taught her that sometimes it is a necessary evil to break the rules even if the act itself is just.

Bio: Tabetha was born to an elven mother and a human father. According to her mother, a geomancer of some reknown, her father died soon after the day of her birth. She grew up in Kal'ras, a city-state of Talmer. It had no laws forbidden inter-marriages but such an act was looked down upon by the community at large. As a child born from this marriage, Tabetha grew up ostracized from her fellow peers. To remove herself from this pain, she immersed herself in books, a number of them dealing with the world outside.

At the age of 10 she, like all other children in Kal'ras had to learn basic self-defense courses as well as navigation skills needed to move around the densely forested areas of Talmer. To the surprise of herself and those of her peers, she was exceptionally competent at this endeavor. When it came time to learn magic, she demonstrated an affinty with geomancy. It was decided then that her mother would teach her geomancy as she was the best in the city.

Tabetha made her first friend who was impressed by her abilities. The elf girl was named Leande, the daughter of a statesman. As part of the elite, Leande was top of her class and she found it amusing that Tabetha was able to best much of the class despite being a half-elf. Her curiosity stroken, she decided to stick around her to observe her. However, Tabetha was none the wiser and was simply glad to have someone her age to talk to.

This unlikely friendship grew and Leande came to admire Tabetha's resiliency and strength; that despite all the harassment Tabetha received, she always managed to crack a smile and move foward. Likewise, Tabetha came to admire Leande's confidence and was striven to be more confident and assertive in herself.

The next 10 years were the better part of Tabetha's life. She wasn't looked down by others anymore (for the most part) and she had people that she could call dear friends. Graduating from her studies of self-defense, she continued her training into the arts of war, hoping to be one of the Wrenvelin. However, on the eve of her 21st birthday there was a major incident with regards to Leande. To save her dearest friend's honor she became the willing scapegoat. This caused her exile from Kal'ras.

Though she was still free to go to other city states in Telmer, painful memories lingered within these borders. As such, she left the forest and went to the lands her father once hailed from; the Kingdom of Farendar. It was here as a starving vagabound that she was picked up by the Order. Given a choice to stay or continue on her way, Tabetha chose to stay for where else can she call a place home?

Weapons(Primary, Secondary, Tertiary): Spear, Short-sword, Bow

Magic: Geomancy - To call upon the power of the Earth requires one to attune oneself to their surrounding and draw upon the power of the land. With elvish blood on her mother's side who herself was a geomancer, Tabetha Lockwell has an affinity with the Earth. She has acquired the ability to "hear" the voice of the earth and to call on it to aid her in times of need. Currently, her magic allows her to call forth an earthern barrier to shield herself or to use it to impede or even hurt her adversary. She has imbued her spear so that it can never break nor dull (or so she hopes). A particularly high skilled magic she hopes to master and is currently learning is to create earthen copies of any persons.

Other: She does not subscribe to the Order's belief, rather she chooses to stay as it is currently the only home she knows and it is a sort of replayment for taking her in. Though she has learned some things about the outside world with the help of the Order, she is not as well versed in social ettiquetes of humans as she'd like. She can play the flute.

Post Example:

Theme Song(optional)

Zelosse

Marcus Kiln

Marcus

Marcus "Dead-eye" Kiln

Age: 35

---

Gender: Male

---

Rank: Knight-Lieutenant / Watcher Hierarch

---

Personality: Born and raised in the swamplands he is a quick judge of character and has a foul mouth. Disagree with his opinion you had best be ready to pay the consequences or have a strong and well thought out explanation to your own actions. Though he sticks to the rules of the Dawn Covenant almost to the letter there are times when his judgement must be called into question for some truly do not deserve the fates written for them. Prove your worth and you may earn your life, but betray your brothers and the only thing you will earn is the blinding flash of light that ends your existence for good.
Valorous is a word some have coined for his actions when it comes to his party, or traveling companions, who serve him with integrity and loyalty. His job is taken seriously, every peasant or king under his care is given the same respects.
Though that does not mean he is without a thirst for vengeance. Every death under his care fuels a need to send those fallen souls to heaven with a taste of it on their lips. Ten dead foes for one life lost is the price, and he never fails to pay.

---

history:Born and raised a scholar, Marcus was quick to abandon his family and seek his fortunes in the wider world. Exploration yielded him little in terms of monetary value beyond access to the dawn covenants records of the swamplands that he called home. Years of wandering turned him to a solitary wanderer and found him with a mercenary company known as the 'Shining Silvers' so named for their ornamental silver weaponry.
Marcus earned his keep with his hunting skills and deadlier aim, often finding heavy targets right in the eye at astounding range with just a longbow. He was nearly 25 when the shining silvers found disaster in a long abandoned dwarven home. Not a fancy temple or a grand kingdom but a settlement with the most unusual of prizes. During some routine scouting he'd fallen into a cavern that housed dozens of houses, and a fair share of angry denizens. Luck found Marcus alone in one of the houses laying low in the form of a hidden cellar that had gone untouched for an unfathomable amount of time. Deep in the cellar was peculiar texts of rune augments and a strange weapon, its handle was was made of polished metal and curved at the handle, wrapped in unblemished leather despite the dust. The tomes explained it was capable of firing magic via runestones inserted into the weapon.
Almost a week after his ordeal, Marcus had escaped the cavern to find he had been left for dead by his mercenary crew.
They had proven to be a good trial run of his new weapon.
Each time you activated it, the weapon fired a concentrated beam of light that seared a hole through nearly anything in its path. So ended the Shining Silvers.
So began the tale of Dead-eye Marcus.
Not long after his ordeal with eradicating the mercenary company he began his new career as a member of the Dawn Covenant, forgoing the standard initiate phase by besting the trainers in single combat along with completing many other tasks in an alarmingly short time. His time as a knight was a short lived experience as the upper crust decided his skills at combat and tactics were being wasted serving others instead of others doing as he said but even that proved of no challenge to the capable fighter. His quiet recruitment by the watchers was not unexpected. Kidnapped in the middle of the night and dumped like refuse in front of yet more tasks to complete, Marcus rose above and beyond his station once more within the Dawn Covenants elusive Watchers. It only took him a few years to earn their trust and loyalty and was given 'the test'. Poisoned, sent on a nigh impossible task fated to fail, but snatched victory anyways, he was reborn as one of the elite members gifted with powers beyond his own. His was the path of revenants, information gathering had been his strongest asset and the gifts granted his ascension made him doubly so.
Though he is still a high ranking member of the Watchers he maintains his recently renewed service to the Dawn Covenants military operation as a promise to keep the order pure and free of outside dominance that might risk its foundations. Only those of high rank know for sure if Marcus Kiln is a Watcher or not. Others find out in the dead of night as he ends their life.
For the Order.

---

Magic: Marcus is possessed with the skill of the Revenant from his completion of the watchers test, allowing him to possess another creature and subject his will upon them. Those who fail to break free are forced to do as he tells them. He is also capable of turning to smoke and teleporting short distances and rendering himself invisible from sight thanks to the Watcher Revenant teaching. Though he will rarely use these skills in combat or otherwise.

---

Other: Possesses both a strong distrust and affection for Lady Tyr.

---

Zetsuko

Forossa

Name: Landeel Forossa
Age: 53
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Rank: Knight-Lieutenant
Personality: Landeel still struggles between the Pantheon of old gods and the ideals of the Dawn Covenant. This struggle eats away at him at times, causing him to appear distant and stoic. His often calm demeanor is usually broken in combat in which he fights with vicious, dogged determination.
Bio: Landeel joined the order with his sister, Khana, when both of them were 16. They had been nothing but street urchins before, with no knowledge of their parents or a home for shelter. The two of them proved to be an effective pair achieving the rank of Knight-Lieutenant at the ages of 30 and 32 respectively. They served under an ambitious Knight-Commander Ghislain who dreamed of the return of the old gods. Ghislain convinced Landeel, Khana, and most of his command to join him against the Dawn Covenant and restore the old gods. Landeel and Khana were among Ghislain's best officers during the rebellion, as two of the three "Dread Lieutenants".

The rebellion was leading a rather successful campaign, holding an even footing with the Dawn covenant. However, Landeel and Khana had begun to get doubts about their cause, about following Ghislain. These doubts continued to grow until they turned away from the rebellion and turned on Ghislain. Their betrayal lead to the rebellion's defeat. Landeel and Khana returned to the Dawn Covenant to seek redemption for what they had done. Fortunately they were seen as valuable and their defection was enough for their plea to be answered. The two were split up with Landeel being sent to Thanermere keep
Weapons:

Forossa's Greatsword

Secondary: Ornate Shortsword
Tertiary: N/A
Magic:
-Mana Purge: Landeel releases a pulse that negates and supresses magic in an area around him

-Anti-Arcane Aura: Landeel can sape magic from people and objects he touches and can easily break through Arcane barriers. This aura can be extended onto his Greatsword.
Other:
Post Example:

Example

Landeel stood upon a hill overlooking the aftermath of his latest conflict with the Dawn Covenant's forces. He watched as his troops, Templars with darkened armor and sashes bearing the sigil of Ghislain's rebellion, picked over the battlefield bringing their wounded to the healing, looting things of value, and either rounding up surviving enemies or executing those to wounded to move. The tip of his greatsword was embedded in the earth and his hands rested upon the hilt. He remained in his silent overwatch until a voice came from behind him. "Do you not revel in this victory?"

Landeel did not even turn his head as a woman in armor similar to his walked up beside him and looked over the scene before them. "you know i take little pleasure in this war"

"and yet i saw you so Jovial earlier"

"Am i meant to look crestfallen and lost in front of the men?"

She turned her head slightly toward him and gazed at him from the corner of her eyes through her helmet "What is it that ails you brother?"

he cast a short glance in her direction "i've had...doubts, dear sister, we have turned against our comrades and for what?" he paused for a moment "what is it we fight for?"

Khana turned toward him now "we fight with Ghislain"

"but are the old gods he cheers for worth following?"

"..."

Marco

Full Armor

Face

Name: Marco Du Montagne

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Rank: Knight-Sergeant

Personality: Marco is a cheerful man, it's fairly difficult to get him down and he has quite a bit of patience when dealing with taunts or insults. He's very trusting, almost to a fault. He inherited his father's sense of strategy and may occasionally play loose with orders or use an unorthodox method to achieve his objective, though he is not above outright disobeying an order if he thinks it necessary.

Bio: The third son of Jean-pierre, Marco joined the Order by the time his father was a Captain and even trained alongside Landeel for a time. The revolution had started soon after he'd achieved the rank of Knight-Corporal, instead of joining it however he remained with the covenant. He led his team rather effectively, performing hit-and-run attacks and engaging in light skirmishes most of the time. He was promoted to knight-corporal after playing a pivotal role in the defense of a fortress from Sir Arko's company. He is still know as one of the only three Knights to have held their ground against Sir Arko one-on-one, the others being Landeel and a man named Wledic. It was him that Landeel surrendered to when he defected. After Ghislain retreated into hiding and his rebellion broke he was tasked with hunting down the remaining rebels, he was reassigned in the wake of the Defeat at Starguard and Sar'than's attack.

Weapons:

Primary: Arm-Mounted repeater crossbows

Marco wears one of these weapons on each arm. When they retract a blade can come out to be used as a claw weapon

Secondary: Two-Handed Axe

Magic:
-Illusion: aside from decoys and causing hallucinations in his enemies, He can become temporarily invisible.

Other:

The Emperors Blade

Taegan Skalanis

Name: Taegan Skalanis
Appearance:

Taegan

He stands at about six feet and one inch, with a strong athletic body worn by decades of war, and fighting. Scars crisscross his body though he has managed to keep them away from his face. He is also missing his left pinky.
Age(20 and up): 132
Gender: Male
Race(Human, Wood Elf, Dark Elf, Dwarf): Wood Elf
Rank:(No rank higher than Knight-Lieutenant): Knight Lieutenant
Personality: Passionate, brutal, merciless, these words can all be used to describe Taegan as he takes much pride in the work he does, and does it without question as he fights against the darkness and evil that corrupts the world. He feels only a loyalty to the Covenant and that of the light, as he places a strong emphases on purging evil at all costs. He also has a thing for birds. He loves birds. He is also haunted by his past as the people he killed in the past rise up from the dead to meet him constantly whispering in his ears and speaking to him.
Bio: Taegan has seen and lived through many things others might have lost their minds doing. He grew up in a rather small wood elf village, and when he came of age joined the Ranger Scouts so as to help any time he was needed to help his people. It was during this time he moved to a village closer to human civilization and met his wife a human woman by the name of Nirna. He loved her and treated her like she was the most valuable treasure in the world. Several years after their marriage they had a daughter, Taegan named her Kasaya after a flower that grew wild around his village that was used in festivals.

He spent the years with his wife and child well loving them daily when he could, and going out on patrols with his elven brethren for days on end at times. It was during one of these outtings he found out Nirna was sick. Hurriedly he returned home to find that she had contracted a virus that caused the blood to build up iron to incredible levels and slowly suffocate the veins. It was called the black veins for the coloration the veins took on as the virus spread more and more. He held her hand tightly as her skin got more and more pale, her eyes becoming bloodshot as veins burst from the strain of the virus. He kissed her lips as they turned black her body covered in swirling black lines that were once pumping such precious lifeblood. It was later he found out that this virus was actually created by a necromancer and released upon several elves who then spread it around to other villages including to Nirna and several others in the village they lived in. That was when he decided to join the Dawn Covenant.

He spent plenty of time in the Dawn Covenant fighting the darkness back from mankind, but with each mission each monster, or being set on a evil path he became more jaded. The care for life that used to reside in him began to fade and was replaced with a care only for the retaining civilization and the light. He began to feel the need that any life was expendable if it was for the greater good. After a mission he returned home, to find his house a mess it had only been a month but it looked like it had been overgrown for a year. Upon entering the house he found his daughter sitting at the kitchen table a strange growth throbbing from her ear, and a witch he had been hunting for the better part of a year. The witch made Kasaya attack him and without hesitation he removed his daughter’s head from her body. “The evil within you was not your own doing.” he said softly to her, and as he descended on the witch her screams could be heard for what seemed miles in every direction.
Weapons(Primary, Secondary, Tertiary):

Elvish Pole Sword

A base weapon for any elf on the field of battle, with a distinctive reach, and a blade sharper than a razor when used by a dextrous warrior it can slide in and out of the smallest unprotected areas on a enemy, with more than two feet of blade to pierce the enemy with, this weapon is extremely deadly when used as a slashing and stabbing weapon.

Elvish Broad Sword

The elvish broadsword is the go to back up weaponf or a elvish warrior, it is sharp durable and light, letting a user make constant success with his dexterity to move the blade around a opponents defenses and if not out right kill them with a slash, slowly wear them down with a thousand until they die of blood loss.

Elvish Short Bow

This bow is made from the antler of a Hokka a beautiful white stag that is not allowed to be killed and is only able to have it’s antlers harvested when it has died of natural causes. Bestowment of a weapon made from Hokka antlers is extremely rare and usually considered a sign of great respect.

Magic: Cryomancy, specifically in creating temporary walls, or projecting his freezing abilities through his spear and into impaled enemies to finsiht hem off. He is also capable of making spikes of ice rise from the ground in a defensive measure.
Other: He rides upon a giant bird known as a “Kawika.” it’s flightless with long legs colorful feathers and sharp talons. Mostly resembling a Cassowary.
Taegan wears his old armor from when he was a Ranger and scout warrior for the Wood elves, the green light plate armor that overlaps better complimenting his fighting style than the heavier armor of the Templars. Although he wears his old armor he does wear the templar cloak so that he can pay homage to the order.
Post Example: Leather boots clad gently in a light dark green plate sloshed through the muddy streets of the village, small bits of wet dirt strewn to harden upon the shin guards of Taegan. He stopped next to two others of the Covenant who were at the moment executing a pair of women they had found hiding in a cellar. He watched as blades plunged into their chests and their bodies began to shake before suddenly stopping as the blade was plunged deeper and pulled out with a spray of blood. “Good work men. We do the work of the light here, we cannot allow the curse to spread, and so any who live here must die. Their very presence in this village may have claimed their soul for the darkness.”

His head turned to look at a door that was guarded by two more covenant members and moved easily across the mud towards it his hand on the grip of his sword as he pushed the door open with a creak. Inside the house was barely lit with only a few flickering torches. His eyes flicked over to where a man and woman were tied to chairs, their naked bodies glistening with blood and sweat as a torch hissed above them as it ate away at it’s fuel. He stopped in front of them and looked to the soldier who had been acting as torturer. “Have they spoke yet?”

“Yes they have Taegan. It seems that a witch came here and offered to cure several ill children in exchange for them taking upon a task for her which included them taking on a curse that would cause many of them to change into dangerous beasts.” He stepped slowly away from the Elder and his daughter to allow Taegan closer inspection.

Taegan tilted his head slightly as he looked into the eyes of the Elder and then into the eyes of the daughter. “Where is the witch now?” He as he picked up a fork off a table and began to slide it through the flesh of the elder’s hand between his fore and middle finger knuckles, twisting the utensil back and forth the scraping and cracking of bone audible throughout the home.

The agonized scream that erupted from the elder’s throat made Taegan wince visibly, but even in his pain he managed to speak. “I don’t know! She went west! Her name is Serana! That’s all I know I swear!” The grind in the knuckles suddenly stopped, but the feeling of the fork stuck in the elder’s hand was still there while Taegan had walked over to the elder’s daughter. “Don’t touch her! She didn’t do anything wrong! She’s not even cursed! It was a condition of the pact!” Then he couldn’t speak any more the slash of the blade had been so quick it was barely a glimmer of metal in his eyes, but he felt his own blood running down his chest from his throat. The blade had cut deep and as he coughed for air his head tumbled backwards hanging on a few strands of straining flesh before toppling to the floor with a thud as blood poured down the dead elder’s body the folds of fat flesh catching the crimson liquid and causing it to rivulet down to pool under his body in the chair.

Taegan’s attention turned back to the daughter and stared at her as well. “You remind me of my daughter. Young, beautiful, vibrant, full of energy and life. It was a rather hard day when I had to kill her, but there can be no hesitation in the face of evil.” He grabbed her jaw and lifted her head back looking her over. “Is what your father said true? Are you not cursed?” She nodded into his palm and he gave a sigh. “Then if that really is true.. I am sorry about this.” A gasp was all that was heard as his sword slid into her stomach, right above the navel and slide upwards under her ribcage, he knew he had hit her heart, as the blood poured more steadily around his blade than before. Slowly he removed the sword and stood up. “Burn this village… And all the bodies. We head west after Serana.”
Theme Song(optional): Theme Song

Knights of The Dawn Covenant: The Longest Winter

@ShaggyDoo0
Gunna have to make some changes; there is no paladin rank, the dwarves have no gods, lastly this is my fault for forgetting to add it but dwarves are incapable of using magic which is why they use enchanted weapons and armor.