Vertigo

Hidden In the Woods

If you guys are still in need of more interested people, here's a +1.

The Long Night | Medieval Fantasy

Edit: Finished! Sorry for the... non-short short biography. I got him to Lutaire and realized that crap, now I need to figure out how he ended up on the streets, too. Welp, sorry parents.

Rylan Twyford

"These alleys are no place for a lordling. If milord is looking for trouble, might I suggest the woods beyond the city? They're just as dangerous, but at least the smell's more bearable."

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Name: Rylan Twyford

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Class: Scoundrel

Country of Origin: Tenebroux

Weapons:

♙ A simple dagger, not entirely untouched by the elements. The handle is worn and the edge rugged, kept sharp only by regular (amateurish) maintenance. Make no mistake, though; prime condition or not, a stab to the gut is a stab to the gut - and necessity gives Rylan quite an aim indeed.

♙ A crudely made slingshot. More useful for shooting down pigeons for dinner than injuring an actual person, but can at least provide a small distraction in a pinch.

♙ Rope. Good ol', plain rope. It's more useful than you'd think.

Appearance:

On most days, Rylan looks about what you'd expect from a kid who's grown up on the streets. Standing at 5'6'', the lack of proper nutrition has left him scrawny and short, even in face of all the physical activity he engages in every day. His hair is a tangled mess of strands and mud, his clothes torn and ditty, and the slums have left him with a distinct smell. Needless to say, he's not the most charming sight to behold on his worst days.

However, should there be a special need for him to look more presentable, he can - at least, if given ample time to prepare. Before fate thrust him onto the streets, he used to spend his days wrapped in scented silks and knows how to play the part of a someone more fortunate. He has a few articles of finer cloth safely tugged away in one of his many stashes, and though he knows selling them would fetch him many a coin, he figures they're worth more when worn. He can't exactly sneak into festivals looking like he usually does.

It should also be noted that while his physical strength is nothing to brag about, Rylan is incredibly nimble; a cat on two feet, he always seems to find a way to land on his proverbial feet. To the chagrin of many a past pursuer, the boy can scale a building or lose a guard with the best of them. He has an uncanny ability to squeeze himself into the smallest of crevices and disappear as if unto thin air if you so much as lose sight of him for a second. It may sound admirable - but really, anything less and he'd be long dead by now.

Personality:

Don't let the cocky grin and confident stride fool you - despite his casual smugness, Rylan is as craven as they come. Concerned first and foremost with his own well-being, loyalties mean little and promises even less when push comes to shove. It's not that he doesn't care about you - it's just that he cares about himself more. He's aware that his life is hardly one for the bards, but it is the only life he'll ever have and he intends to hold onto it tooth and nail.

Unfortunately for him (and certainly those around him) Rylan also comes packaged with a bitter sense of humour and a sharp tongue. Smartass at heart, it is only self-preservation that keeps Rylan's wit at bay most of the time. If need be, he knows just what to do to butter people up and has no qualms with throwing away pride for another morrow. As far as he's concerned, whoever said they'd rather die on their feet than live on their knees was a halfwit. He's lived knee-deep in rat droppings, and even that beats throwing your life away for some childish concept of 'pride'.

With all that said, Rylan isn't entirely an unpleasant person. He may not be one to throw himself in front of an incoming arrow to save your knee in a shocking display of courage, but if you are a perceived friend, he will extend a hand where he's able. He isn't purposefully looking to make enemies, and will most likely return a favour if you've done one for him. The world is already a shitty place, he isn't trying to make it worse.

Short Biography:

Though he's spent most of his life in Lutaire, Rylan's earliest memories are of a place far beyond the mountains and swamps - a place that lies across the endless ocean, under an eternal sun. There, as he recalls, everything was much sweeter; the weather, the scents, the words spoken to him by strangers. As a boy, he never understood the hurry with which his parents left. Now, he understands all too well.

Rylan's parents were lowborn. His mother was a foreign beauty, stolen away and sold to a local lord as his seventh concubine, and his father was a slave under the very same roof, convicted for crimes he never committed and stripped of his freedom. Their first meeting was happenstance; their next few were not. For years, they managed to keep their rendezvous a secret, the comfort they found in each other the only thing that kept them sane.

And then the news broke that she was with child. For nine long months, both lived in a state of constant fear. Many a time they contemplated escape, but an opportunity never did present itself. So all they did was pray, pray and pray that the child would not bear resemblance to their true father. The gods must've heard, because he did not. He had his mother's eyes, and her fair skin had made his a shade lighter than his peer's.

For years, life was... the same old, as it were. Rylan doesn't really remember much of it. He bore a different name and lead a different life, and it all feels as though it happened to someone else entirely. The only thing he can remember vividly is the day they fled; the sky was starless and filled with smoke. He had started to resemble his father too much as he grew. There were whispers. The fire in the northernmost tower was a sign from the gods.

Theirs would have been a tale for the bards; two lovers, escaping into the night with their child. If only they'd gotten the happily ever after they justly deserved.

The few years the couple spent in Lutaire were filled with hardships and strife. They were strangers in a strange land and eventually, that led to their demise. Bandits slayed them, attracted by the smell of sweet summer wines and tales of riches from beyond the sea. Big was their disappointment, when they found naught worth stealing in the couple's hut - except their young son. He ought to fetch a few coppers.

Rylan never did find out exactly how many coppers he fetched, but considering how grand the place of his new master was, he hoped it was a fine amount. For a time, he worked as a servant boy to a lord with a gaze that made his skin crawl. His tasks consisted mostly of serving wine and looking the part of an exotic trophy from beyond the seas.

That was, until one day during a boar hunt, his lord and company were attacked by sellswords, after the man's gold - and head. Being young, Rylan was spared the bloodbath by one of the mercenaries and dropped off to the nearest town with a few coins, a piece of bread and a 'good luck' for good measure. And for a foreign boy with no particular skills to his name, luck was indeed what he needed.

Almost a decade later, Rylan's come to the conclusion that Lady Luck's a bitch and he's better off without her.

Summary: If it looks like a street rat, sounds like a street rat and smells like a street rat, it's probably Rylan.

Other:

♙ Has a soft spot for animals of all kinds, and would love to one day behold a dragon up close. A dangerous affair, he knows, but it's not animals - even fire-breathing ones - that scare him so; it's people.

♙ Has spent time in a few other towns and villages besides the one he currently resides in. He often does his travelling with merchants or performer groups, working for free in exchange for protection from the elements. He's been in this village for a few years now, and leaving has crossed his mind. It's never a good thing to stay in one place for too long, lest you get caught and lose a hand or two.

星空 不朽 | Hoshizora Everlasting

Dumpster Fire Ahoy

Cirillo Bianchi

"Don't take life so seriously. 's not like you're getting outta it alive, anyway."

_Name

Cirillo Bianchi, but he's also used to responding to "Cyril", "Ciri" and "You little shit"

_Age

16

_Gender

Male

_Birthplace

PSR B1257+12 A/B, commonly Draugr, People's Union.

A small planet far from the stability of the Solaris Accord's core, Draugr is distinguished by its indistinguishability. It played a relatively small part in the war, and though it is recognized as an official part of the People's Union, it is far from the center of political discourse. It has traditionally been self-sustaining, and both immigration and emigration rates are low; those who were born there seem mostly content to stay, while residents of other planets are in no hurry to move to the quirky, distant little rock. Especially since Draugr comes packed with quite a reputation.

The planet contributed little to the war effort, but that did not mean its people stood united. Quite the contrary; conflict among citizens persisted far past the declaration of peace, particularly among the young and the able who felt robbed of a chance to fight for their beliefs. The planet teetered on the edge of a civil war. The circumstances gave rise to crime that grew more and more organized by the day; until Syndicates, as they were referred, engulfed the entire celestial body.

To this day, it is these Syndicates that hold all the real power within society, their influence undeniable and omnipresent. At the same time, it is these very organizations that uphold peace and order, swiftly taking care of those that seek to stir trouble or threaten the system. As such, organized crime and corruption are seen as regular parts of every day life. Sometimes, people simply disappear - it's a fact of life. Unfortunate for certain, but so are thunderstorms and floods; yet there is little anyone can do to stop any of them.

It is generally understood that as long as one keeps out of the shadier parts of cities and towns, does not involve themselves in anything illegal or try to show opposition to the powers that be, they are able to live out their days in peace. It is the loons and the fools that find themselves in trouble.

Incidentally, Cyril is the latter.

_Appearance

One need not hear Cyril speak to understand just what kind of a person he is - for better or for worse. Standing at a rather regular 5'11, he carries himself with misplaces confidence that doesn't quite befit a boy from a backwater planet. Worse, no matter the circumstance, you will rarely find his face in a frown - unless it's a heavily exaggerated one, most commonly followed by a snide remark or an attempt at a joke.

In fact, that's what life seems to be to him; a joke, not a thing to be taken seriously. Mischievous smiles, hands moving to the lazy rhythm of his words and a complete lack of posture; those are the cornerstones of what make up one Cirillo Bianchi, and you're entirely forgiven for finding it infuriating. He's like water; calmly flowing through life without a care in the world, yet never completely still. He does have a goal, after all. He just doesn't entirely care whether he reaches it today or next year. He's dead either way.

In short, he has quite a punchable face.

_Personality

Cyril is, essentially, that guy; the one that can't help but offer his commentary and crack unsolicited jokes at whatever topic is at hand, regardless of its gravity. Laid-back to the point it teeters on unnatural, he seems entirely unconcerned by things most people would find troubling. He's either unable or unwilling to read the mood, and seems to miss social cues many would consider obvious. Often, people simply label him an idiot and move on - and that is definitely not an inadvisable tactic.

However in truth, he isn't as stupid as he makes himself out to be (he wishes). Contrary to popular belief, he's actually quite perceptive; able to read people better than anyone would think to give him credit for. It's thanks to that, in part at least, that he's also able to be quite charismatic when the need arises. Yes, him. This guy.

Though he often wields them for stupid purposes, he does have a way with words, honed by years of practice. He can talk himself out of many a bad spot, and it helps that he has an uncanny ability to keep his calm even in the face of danger. He has no pride to be wounded, and his life is forfeit anyhow; what is there left to be angry or shaken about?

Unfortunately, this does mean that his sense of self-preservation is low and his priorities rather messed up. Underneath the laid-back disposition is a defeatist, a boy who's very much resigned to his fate. The dark humour is a coping mechanism, as is the devil may care attitude. All the same, it's a genuine part of him now.

To sum the boy up, if he isn't busy having fun, getting in trouble, joking or flirting up a storm, he's... probably asleep - or dead. Like, literally.

_Background

Cirillo's life could have been easy enough. He was born into an entirely average home with two hardworking parents and a family dog with the most pretentious name imaginable. The quintessential middle class home, one could say. Being the only child of a couple that had wished for kids for years, Cyril was spoiled to the extent his parents' salaries would allow. He wasn't given everything his heart desired, but there was no lack of love, toys or games during his childhood.

In retrospect, perhaps that was a bad thing. Perhaps things were made a bit too easy for him; to the point that on some days - weeks, months - Cyril was almost bored by the normalcy.

Either way, like most things in life, it did not last. Draugr was hit with recession, and it didn't take long for its effects to reach the Bianchi household. Cyril was around ten when his parents came home downtrodden, with furrowed brows and tired eyes. The plant they had been working in until then had laid off workers. In favour of magitek, many said in angry, hushed whispers, it's the very thing that sparked the war the last time!

But though rumours circulated, none dared try and ascertain the truth underneath Syndicate's ever-vigilant eyes. Instead, it was taken as simply another thing that happened and had to be overcome, not by fighting against it but by finding a way around it. Cyril's parents set out to look for new jobs, be that those were not an easy find at the time. They did eventually land something that paid a few bills, but the pay was only a small portion of what they'd earned prior. More was needed, if they were to uphold their quality of life. And it would need to be an endeavour shared by the entire family.

Though still young, Cyril was ushered to try and find a part-time job to help support the family. Reluctant at first, the preteen did as he was bid and set out, eventually landing a job as a delivery boy. The pay was as poor as could be however, and once his father fell ill and was rendered unable to work, the pocket money Cyril brought home was like trying to apply a band-aid on a gash. Cute, but effectively useless.

And yet, his mother was soon granted a promotion, and his father's condition was stable and not at all life-threatening. The financial climate was slowly changing. If only Cyril had stuck delivering food a few years longer, things could have perhaps returned to the way they were.

But the young boy was filled to the brim with impatience and frustration, and from those circumstances came the worst decision he ever made.

It happened one day on a bustling market as he returned home from work. Caught in the crowd and unable to push past all the people much bigger than him, Cyril found himself bumping into backs and pockets left and right, until someone's wallet threatened to spill onto the pavement. Thick and filled to the brim with cash, it was an opportunity all too tempting to pass up on.

Cyril brought home an exceptional sum of money that day; a bonus for work well done, he said. The next day, he brought home almost as hefty a sum, as he did the few days after that - though he'd stopped showing his entire haul in case it might rouse suspicion. And, just like that, gone were his problems. He could once again afford all the things his parents had bought him in the years past, be that some he had to buy in secrecy. He no longer had to go to work, when he could earn much more in a much shorter time.

For a long time, it was simply pickpocketing. Then it was counterfeits, sold with the most charming smile he could muster. And when that became all too boring, he trafficked illegal goods, broke into homes and menaced people he was paid to target, all for the sweet promise of money and excitement. He no longer needed the games and goods he'd originally missed so; he had something much more exhilarating now, a thrill unlike any other.

Then, one day, that thrill became a thriller.

To Cyril, the man had been but another target; just someone who wore an archaic gold watch that someone else wanted. He'd moved in with practiced charm and dexterity, smiling at the stranger one minute; gone with his belongings the next. By all means, it had been a success. The money the watch fetched him was exceptional, enough to support the entire family for... for years, he bet.

The warning bells did not ring in his head until a gunshot rung in his ears. The man had caught up with him, and slowly the gravity of the situation dawned on young Cyril. This was no ordinary Joe; this was a man held in high regard by one of the largest Syndicate families, and he was not pleased.

Cyril thought he would die there and then, but he did not. Not yet, he was told; he would not be going anywhere until he'd paid back the full sum of the watch he stole. Which, according to the man, was far greater than what he'd been told by his contractor. The watch had been a MAID; he would be paying back his debt for years until he'd be allowed the peace of a grave. If not through money, then through blood; of those, Cyril reluctantly chose the latter.

After three years of working for the Syndicate, Cyril was informed that he would be sent away. To where and for what purpose, he did not know - but he'd long since learnt that refusal was not an option. So, all he did in the wake of the news was cross his arms, cock his brows and ask with the deadpan tone only a dead man walking could muster: "Should I bring sunscreen?"

_Statistics

STR - ▰▰▱▱▱
DEX - ▰▰▰▰▱
CON - ▰▰▰▱▱
INT - ▰▰▰▱▱
WIS - ▰▰▰▱▱
CHA - ▰▰▰▰▰

_M.A.I.D.

Cyril's MAID takes the form of a ring, usually worn in his left middle finger. It's a fancy-looking thing of plated gold that paints him wealthier than he really is. Usually, his MAID allows him three distinct forms of attack.

1) By snapping his fingers (with the finger the ring is worn in, of course), Cyril can create a spark of static electricity that then gets picked up and amplified by the MAID and his own magical prowess. This allows Cyril to shoot out blasts of electric energy from his fingers with a snap. These blasts may stun targets or interfere with less complex electric devices upon contact (MAIDs are unaffected).

2) Similarly, by utilizing electric magic, the ring allows Cyril to essentially turn his hand into a railgun. He can pick up small objects such as rocks, and then with a snap of his fingers, fire them off at such high velocities that they essentially become makeshift bullets.

3) Finally, the ring is able to give Cyril's punches quite a shocking edge. Channeling energy into his very fist, the MAID can enhance the power of his punch and, upon impact, release magic straight into the target's body. Needless to say, this is particularly useful when he's forced into close-quarter combat.

_{Miscellaneous}

♟ He's kleptomaniac, and cannot help his impulses sometimes. It's best to keep your valuables close by - or if not, at least your weapon; so you can whack him when he tries to reach for your stuff.

♟ it's past 5 am but i did it i finished i hope it makes sense i need to proofread and maybe reword stuff later i'm half asleep gotta cra

星空 不朽 | Hoshizora Everlasting

Just wanted to give a heads up that I'm about halfway done with my CS (it's nearly 4 AM where I am, but I'm determined to get this done before sleep).

Freefalling with Vertigo ⍣

alessa

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Alessa Bianchi

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Character Summary

Name: Alessa Bianchi
Aliases: Lea, Ally, Allie
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Birthplace: Naples, Kingdom of Italy
Residence: Boston
Occupation: Nurse

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Appearance and Physical attributes

⊰Strength⊱ 35	⊰Constitution⊱ 40	⊰Size⊱ 55	⊰Dexterity⊱ 60	⊰Appearance⊱ 55	⊰Hit Points⊱ 9

Physical description
Height: 5'4''
Weight: One should never ask a lady that question
Build: Average, some definition in her arms
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Dark chestnut brown
Skin Tone: Fair
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: A scar running across her left arm, seems to have been made by something sharp
Personal Style: Classy, modest and feminine when given the choice, whatever best fits the occasion otherwise. Though she's a very clean person, she's notably not shaken by blood, dirt or grime. Saving lives can be messy, and dirty clothes can always be washed.

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Psychology and Mental Attributes

⊰Intelligence⊱ 85	⊰Education⊱ 65	⊰Power⊱ 60	⊰Luck⊱ 45	⊰Sanity Points⊱ 60	⊰Magic Points⊱ 12

Ambitious * Stubborn * Compassionate * Outspoken * Idealistic * Calculating

Sexuality: Bisexual, though unaware and closeted
Relationship Status: Divorced

Personality: First impressions paint Alessa an ideal woman of her time; soft spoken and polite, dressed modestly, willing to engage in small talk and laugh at unfunny jokes to save another's face. However, the more time one spends with her, the easier it is to see that she's not quite as demure as one might expect. The first hint is her tendency to maintain eye contact to a relentless degree, particularly if a topic interests her. And while she doesn't need to be part of every decision made, she's also not afraid to share her opinion when she has one - especially pertaining to politics or medical care. She doesn't shy away from debates or disagreements, either; in fact, she relishes in them, and isn't above banter. You will not, however, ever catch her raising her voice or retorting to insults. She believes that in the battle of wits, the one to shout is the one to lose.

Alessa has dedicated her life to medicine, wishing not only to study and apply it, but be there to bring it forward in leaps, particularly when it comes to mental health. She's ambitious and stubborn, far more interested in helping people than upholding laws, rules or regulations that serve to hurt them, and she will never turn down someone needing her aid - often at the cost of her own well-being, even. She dislikes violence, even in self-defense, and is far more likely to talk and reason herself out of a difficult situation than anything else. This, despite been gifted a gun by her father's old associates. With that said, she doesn't have a death wish, and she is not one to roll over and die if push does ever come to shove again.

Habits:

• Speaks very fast when agitated
• Looks people in the eye when talking
• Tends to talk with her hands to a distracting degree - to counteract this, she tries to purposefully keep her hands to herself as much as possible, often folded

Hobbies: Reading, jogging, swimming
Greatest fear: Hurting someone in her care - e.g. a patient
Likes:

• Reading
• Swimming
• Strong coffee
• Rain
• Homemade food
• Learning
• Sewing
• Debates

Dislikes:

• Being talked down to
• Violence
• Tardiness
• Alcohol
• Big dogs
• Lack of hygiene
• Being idle
• Prejudice

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Cards On The Table

Skills

Skills

• Accounting - 05%
• Anthropology - 01%
• Appraise - 05%
• Archaeology - 01%
• Art/Craft - 05%
• Charm - 15%
• Climb - 20%
• Credit rating - 9%
• Cthulhu Mythos - 00%
• Disguise - 05%
• Dodge - 65%
• Drive auto - 20%
• Electrical Repair - 10%
• Fast Talk - 05%
• Fighting (Brawl): Knives - 31%
• Firearms (Handgun) - 20%
• Firearms (Rifle/Shotgun) - 25%
• First Aid - 70%
• History - 05%
• Intimidate - 15%
• Jump - 20%
• Language (Other): Italian - 25%
• Language (Own) - 65%
• Law - 05%
• Library Use - 20%
• Listen - 40%
• Locksmith - 01%
• Mechanical Repair - 10%
• Medicine - 70%
• Natural World - 10%
• Navigate - 10%
• Occult - 05%
• Operate Heavy Machinery - 01%
• Persuade - 55%
• Pilot - 01%
• Psychology - 65%
• Psychoanalysis - 65%
• Ride - 05%
• Science: Biology - 20%
• Sleight of hand - 10%
• Spot Hidden - 50%
• Stealth - 20%
• Survival - 10%
• Swim - 35%
• Track - 10%

Weapons and Combat

Damage Bonus: +0
Build: +0
Dodge: 65

Weapons:

• Unarmed: 25 - 5 - Damage (1d3) - Range (N/A) - Attacks (1) - Ammo (N/A) - Malfunction (N/A)
• Scalpel: 31 - 6 - Damage (1d4) - Range (N/A) - Attacks (1) - Ammo (N/A) - Malfunction (N/A)
• Syringe: 31 - 6 - Damage (1d4) - Range (N/A) - Attacks (1) - Ammo (N/A) - Malfunction (N/A)

What Is On Your Person:

• Clothing - dress, heels, gloves, hat, undergarments, socks
• Wallet with US cash, ID, small mirror, make up, notebook and pen
• First aid kit - with its usual contents
• Surgical tools - syringes, gauze, scalpel, etc. though she doesn't advertise them.
• Medication - pain killers, relaxants, sedatives, etc. ditto the above, she should not be walking around with this after all
• Jewelry - earrings and a necklace
• Book on the anatomy of the human brain
• Sewing kit
• An old, worn postcard
• Address book

Residence:

• Research papers
• Medical books
• A stack of postcards and letters
• .32 Revolver - which she has never used
• Ammo for the above
• Bicycle
• Research papers on the topic of mental health
• Spare medical supplies
• Fancy Italian wine she was gifted years ago
• A lot of house plants

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History

What brought you to the detective agency, and why are you still there: Alessa has never fancied herself a detective, but it was the talk of unexplained bouts of madness and strange behaviour that caught her interest - both professionally, in her pursuit to understand the human mind, and personally, to perhaps finally find out what happened to her father.

Life before current day: Though Alessa was born in Naples, she has no memories of the city. She was but a toddler when her parents uprooted their family and moved across the world to the United States in search for a better life. They were faced with many new opportunities, but also many new challenges, and in the end her father ended up partaking in some less-than-legal activities to help support their new lifestyle. Growing up, Alessa was unaware of such things, and her parents liked to keep it that way. Her father's work, both the legal and illegal ones, necessitated travel, and so he was away for long periods of time. Despite that, Alessa was always her father's girl, and loved nothing more than to see him come home with gifts, stories and hugs in tow.

From a very young age, Alessa was always interested in medicine, so becoming a nurse was her third dream, after becoming a princess and then a model. By the time she was a teenager, the first two were all but forgotten. But it wasn't until a few years ago in fact, that she became interested in mental health in particular. It started with her father's sudden disappearance. He was gone for the better part of a week, and once he was finally found, he was acting strange. He claimed he'd seen a monster - and worse yet, it could still see him. It was here, in fact, with him. In his mind. It was during this time that her father's connections to organized crime came to light to her.

No doctor could make sense of what was wrong with him, and the methods they used - though widely accepted - seemed inhumane to Alessa. She watched her father receive no help, and ended up tending to him herself, to the best of her ability. Sadly, it wasn't enough. His mental deterioration was followed by a physical one, and eventually, he withered away. Alessa was overcome by intense grief and regret for her powerlessness, and decided no other patient should ever suffer what he had. She started to study the human mind intensely, challenging many a common-held belief. So ambitious and so outspoken she was in her research, that she ended up angering some big names in the field, and that, combined with lack of funding and the barriers put in place by societal expectations, made applying for medical school impossible.

But she wasn't willing to give up. She wanted to learn more, of medicine, or mental health, and was rigorous in self-study. Eventually, she ended up involved in the world her father once dealt in; organized crime. Or rather, tending to the people involved in such a life, even when no one else would treat them. She didn't condone their actions, but they cared little if she didn't have a license, and needed help besides. She worked as a back-alley doctor for a few years, though not without incident. Most notably, she once had to defend herself from a patient's unruly loved one to the point of needing to fight. What exactly happened is unknown, as she disappeared after, and refuses to speak of the incident even now.

Your belief in/encounters with the supernatural: Though Alessa has not personally encountered anything supernatural, her father used to speak of such things on his sickbed. In fact, his mental troubles began ever since he supposedly saw something not of this world. Alessa knows the things a troubled mind can conjure, but having treated her father for a long time and researched the topic at length, she isn't entirely sure everything he said was mere lunacy...

Ideology/Belief:

• "It is not just the body that can fall ill; the mind can, too, and should be treated likewise."
• "There might be something bigger than us out there. Whatever the case, I do not worship it."
• "I should let no one else tell me what I can or cannot be."

Significant people: Her mother. Though they often argue and haven't been in touch for a while, they only have each other now. One of these days, Alessa will call her.
Meaningful location: Her father's grave; she visits when she's able.
Treasured possessions: Postcards from Italy, sent by her father and her relatives there.

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Extras

Character Quote: "An apple a day might keep the doctor away, but nothing deters a nurse. Now let me see that injury."
Theme Song: tbd
Anything Else: Alessa is left-handed, but has learnt to use her right one due to necessity.

isekai dunk

DUNCAN STEWART

"The Dunk"

Identity:

The Dunk. Everyone in a small town like Kuroshio knows of the Dunk; how could they not? He's one of the few foreigners to walk its cramped streets, wide-shouldered and a head taller than anyone else. He plays basketball, because of course he does - with a back like his, he was practically born to do it! Now if only he would stop smoking. That stuff kills you, and it's illegal for a high schooler to boot. He's going to ruin his chances of a sports scholarship that way, and that'd be a shame; it's practically guaranteed he qualifies for one otherwise.

Known for his avid love of parties and bending the rules, Duncan embodies many admittedly unwanted traits for a Japanese high schooler. At least in the eyes of the adults; his peers, at least the ones he calls friends, tend to admire him for those very traits, calling him brave. He's loud, boisterous and usually found at the center of attention - seemingly his favourite place to be, if he can help it. He's outgoing and sociable with a tendency for pranks, and even his friends admit he can be a bit 'too much' at times; so focused on having fun that he forgets the feelings of others in the process. "He means well, though," his friends would quickly add if asked, "He just needs a slap back to reality sometimes."

For a basketball junkie, he talks surprisingly little about the sport - and even less about his home life. Apparently he moved to the city due to his mother's work, but rumour has it she passed away a while ago. No one knows what his father does. Come to think of it, Duncan has never mentioned his father. But he must be rich; Duncan's always dressed so well, and even treats his teammates to food on the regular. Who knows, maybe he is modest and just doesn't want to brag about his family's income!

Ha. That'd be a first.

Peculiarity:

🏀 The most outwardly peculiar thing about Duncan is his size, or rather, his height. At 6'7'', he stands heads above his Japanese classmates, and it's earned him a plethora of nicknames, stares and whispers over the years. Needless to say, it's made blending in impossible. Most everyone in Kuroshio has at least heard of him in passing; the foreign giant, always smoking in the streets.

🏀 Local basketball ace; the source of his nickname.

🏀 His mother was Japanese.

🏀 Smoker. Usually turns to the cig when he's nervous or stressed out in particular. Recently, that seems to be often.

🏀 Is hellbent on being chosen for the New Zealand trip. That alone surprises no one, considering how vocal he's been about hating the small town he's stuck in, but recently it's turned into a near obsession for him - which has raised more than a couple of brows. He's even said, though apparently in jest, that if he isn't chosen, he's gonna beat the spot outta whatever sorry sod stole it.

Fellwing

Fellwing

She/her | The Seer | black

Stats:

Charm: +2
Courage: 0
Cunning: -1

Virtue:

Creativity

House & Obligation:

Kebros, the House of Ruby: Mark a Shadow while engaging the Darkness.

Moves:

Hider

HAUNTING VISIONS: You are haunted by visions of the darkness. At the start of the session, roll +Charm. On a hit, you’ve seen a vision of the Darkness that will aid your Clutch’s efforts; learn something useful and interesting about the tasks at hand. On a 10+, you’ve seen the true face of the Darkness; ask the DM a followup question as well. On a miss, your vision is too dark to aid you; the future it foretells is grim and painful.
When you advance this move, mark a new feature for your visions. When you roll Haunting Vision, you may:
[] share your vision with a Clutchmate; take +1 forward to your Haunting Vision roll.
[] prepare your mind; ask an additional question (even on a miss).
[] guide your vision; tell the DM what aspect of Dragonia your vision will concern.
[] defy your future; offer a +1 forward to a Clutchmate to alter what you have seen.
Tell the DM which dragons helped you gain the strength to master your visions.

TOUCH THE DARKNESS: When you consume a piece of the Darkness, roll +Charm. On a hit, the Darkness gives you a vision and answers your questions. On a hit, choose one from the list below. On a 10+, choose two. The visions...
- ... are lucid and detailed; clear a Shadow.
- ... show you what you need to do; take +1 forward to do it.
- ... reveal the role a dragon will play in the events to come; give +1 forward to a Clutchmate.
On a 7-9, choose one from the list below as well. The visions...
- ... corrupt your soul; mark a Shadow.
- ... distance you from others; return a Gem.
- ... attack your weakened body, take -1 forward.
On a miss, you attract the attention of the Darkness itself.

Advancement:

Hider

Rawscale Drake (0 XP):
You start with a +0 bonus to calling upon the Moons.
[] take another move from your playbook
[] take +1 to any stat (maximum of +3)
[] advance your signature move

Winged Drake (0 XP):
You still have a +0 bonus to calling upon the Moons.
[] take another move from your playbook
[] take +1 to any stat (maximum of +3)
[] advance your signature move

Longtooth Dragon (0 XP):
You now have a +1 bonus to calling upon the Moons.
[] take another move from another playbook
[] take +1 to any stat (maximum of +3)
[] advance your signature move

Bearded Dragon:
You now have a +2 bonus to calling upon the Moons.
[] take a ritual of your House
[] advance your signature move

Elder Dragon:
You now have a +3 bonus to calling upon the Moons.
[] your house dedicates a stronghold to you
[] retire your character, arise as an Ancient or a Mystic

Moons:

(Cross of one moon every time you age up.)
- Liberty Moon
- Spirit Moon
- Stone Moon
- Storm Moon
- Void Moon

Shadow Track:

Hider

[] Anger
- Lash out at a friend.
- Break something valuable
- Escalate a delicate situation

[] Doubt
- Question a friend’s loyalty
- Steal something valuable
- Reject a tradition

[] Shame
- Blame a friend for your mistakes
- Mock or belittle someone vulnerable
- Seek isolation or solitude

[] Fear
- Hide something from your friends
- Avoid a difficult task
- Exaggerate the danger of the situation

Shadowself:

You are magnetic and persuasive. You know dragonkin cannot be trusted any more than the Darkness can; you may have to traffic in lies and backroom deals to get things done. Make sure your clutch knows you are willing to sacrifice their feelings to get the job done. You are the Seer. Return from your Shadowself when a friend convinces you to trust a dragon you do not know.

Fellowship:

___ is a fellow prankster, a lover of tricks and jokes just like you. Explain how they once got one over on you, and give them a Friendship Gem.

You know ___ looks to you when they want to get into trouble. Ask them how you exemplify their virtue and take a Friendship Gem from them.

___ gave you their trust and confidence at a time when you knew you didn’t deserve it. Ask them why they believed in you, and give them a Friendship Gem.

sawyer

"Right, the deal's this: I ain't need no Pokémon to beat your ass. So you treat your partners right, or I'll choose my fist."

MAIN PROFILE

Name: Sawyer Chahal, "Rotten Monk"

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Birthplace: Ballonlea, Galar

Appearance:

Sawyer is one of those people who looks like trouble even from afar. From his manner of dress to the way he carries himself and the irritable aura he seems to exude, many tend to give way when he approaches. Contributing to this is likely his height; he stands at 6'2'' with a lean physique - not that you'd be able to tell at first glance, considering his baggy clothing. Hidden underneath said clothing are a myriad of tattoos as well, most notably one that covers his entire back. Few have seen it in its entirety, so what it depicts is unknown.

He has fiery red, messy hair and golden eyes that carry a perpetually annoyed look. For some reason, his canines seem a little sharper than is normal. It's unclear whether he's had them since birth or gotten them sharpened in a deliberate attempt to look more edgy, though. His nose has been broken in the past, and it's not uncommon to see him bruised in more places than one at any given time - though less so nowadays.

Personality:

The general public knows Sawyer by many names, none of which are pleasant - or entirely undeserved. He's reclusive and enigmatic, rarely appearing in public or giving speeches - and when he does, he always seems disproportionately angry about it. Rumours pin him as unpredictable and even dangerous, having been involved in gang activity in the past. There is certainly truth to all that, and he is as rude as he is short-tempered, with violence a real, tangible threat if he gets angry enough. He's yet to punch anyone who didn't - in his own words at least - deserve it though.

Sawyer hates being idle, preferring any sort of physical activity to just lazing around. Due to that, his gym is very pristine even during the busiest of hours, and he never fails to cook his own meals. On the flip side, he can't sit still during meetings, and tends to engage in reckless behaviour to cure his ever-present boredom. Catch him wrestling a Bewear just because (he thought) he could - or because someone dared him to. He's very competitive, but doesn't handle losses well, even if he tries to pretend otherwise.

With all that said, those who know him the best have also seen a completely different side of him, one not known to the general public. The side that has him staying up the whole night to tend to a crying baby Pokémon. The side that turns him into a flustered, bumbling mess when anyone or anything cute bats eyes at him. The side that makes him throw himself into the fray with reckless abandon when someone he cares about needs protecting. That is to say, bad as he might be, it's not to the core.

He'll get angry if you point it out to him, though.

Likes:

- Everything cute
- Exercise
- Battling and fighting
- Spicy food (or so he claims)
- Challenges
- Cold weather

Dislikes:

- Rumours
- Technology
- People mistreating Pokémon
- Breeders
- Bureaucracy
- Waiting

Quirks:

- His face gets red very easily, whether from spice, getting embarrassed, angry, or otherwise hot. He's been trying to "train his face" (whatever that means) by stuffing it with spicy food on the regular, but so far all it's done is made him suffer needlessly.

- Owns an unofficial daycare for Pokémon abandoned by their trainers or, as is often the case, breeders looking for better specimen. Due to that, he hates breeders with a passion.

- Has an uncharacteristically good singing voice, but only sings when drunk.

- Stronger than he looks, has wrestled with Pokémon on multiple occasions.

- Can be caught trying to meditate on occasion, as his "monk" moniker would dictate. Also has prayer beads. It seems as though he's trying to use both methods for anger management, but hasn't had much success so far...

Short Biography:

Though he was born in Ballonlea, Sawyer's parents originated from Ecruteak City, Johto. They were a traditional couple who tried to pass on the virtues of patience, meditation, community and putting others first to their son, and for a few years, they seemed to do a fine job. But the older Sawyer grew, the shorter his fuse got - and he seemed particularly unwilling to put up with other kids who mocked his parents. The two did have accents, dressed differently from the people around them, and had habits that others found strange. Sawyer would often ask his parents to defend themselves from the hurtful words hurled at them, but they simply smiled and said they didn't mind. Sawyer didn't get it.

Sawyer's pent up frustrations came to a head during his teenage years, to a point even local news covered the incident. What exactly happened is unknown, but he was found assaulting a man while screaming profanities. No Pokémon were found in his possession at the time, though as he was dragged from the scene, a few baby Pokémon wandered after him, seemingly distressed. One small Azurill was particularly intent on following, so it was taken with him. The incident didn't make national news and remains something only a few local people can recall, but it did kickstart a spiral in his life. His parents would call it a downward one, but Sawyer? He found his passion that day.

He left home without a word, an Azurill at his side. What did he did after, no one's quite sure. There are verifiable reports of him being spotted among the shadier crowd at Spikemuth, but otherwise the next few years of his life are recorded only in rumours. Some insist they were mugged by him. Yet others recall seeing him tend to small, injured Pokémon on the side of the road. Some say they engaged him in battle or a fight.

Then, around age twenty, he emerged from obscurity with a full team of Pokémon and took on the Minor League - and then the Gym Challenge proper. It was unclear what had made him suddenly care about the challenge, but he seemed determined as ever to get through - and when interviewed as was custom for new challengers, he simply replied: "Need the money." He didn't get through the challenge on his first try, but returned as soon as he was able, trying to push himself and his team further and further - until suddenly, he stopped. The old man that had served as the previous normal type Gym Leader for decades retired, and for reasons none know to this day, offered the spot to Sawyer in particular. He accepted, starting with an overhaul of the entire gym and its surrounding area. Now, for some reason, people report spotting tons of small Pokémon running around on the backyard.

LEAGUE PROFILE

Type Specialty: Normal
League Ranking: Major
League Placement: tbd
Gym Location: tbd
Gym Description: tbd

POKEMON

League Team

[Pokemon #1]:

[Pokemon #2]:

[Pokemon #3]:
...

Main Team

Antagonist the Obstagoon (♂)
Got his name from a pun that teenager Sawyer thought clever. The two have been through thick and thin together, and their teamwork is a sight to behold in battle. Antagonist has an attitude and he loves to mess with people and Pokémon alike - sometimes too much. He doesn't have patience for lazy or shy creatures, and would much rather hang around with those that can take a jab, whether verbal or physical.


Teddy the Bewear (♂)
Teddy is a big teddy bear. A big, strong, terrifying teddy bear that wants nothing more than to hug whomever he comes across. Forever. As in, he won't let go if he gets his mittens around you. Ever. Maybe if you stop breathing, in which case he will try and slap you awake. With giant bear paws. Really he just wants friends, but few want to be friends with him. He's... a work in progress, Sawyer says.


Monarch the Staraptor (♀)
A noble sight to behold, Monarch can often be spotted sitting on the roof of the gym, observing all that pass by. She's a veteran of many battles as evidenced by her rugged appearance, but is not about to retire any time soon. She's ambitious and seeks to dominate the skies in particular, eagerly challenging all flying things in her sight. She has a habit of bossing other Pokémon around.


Mama the Wigglytuff (♀)
Happy, kind and caring are all words commonly used to describe Mama. She's well-respected among Sawyer's Pokémon, and she's known as quite the mother hen to everyone in her circle - hence the name. She's the first one you'll need to face if you ever hurt any of her babies outside of agreed upon battles.


Stewart the Indeede (♂)
A humble and compassionate Pokémon who's at his happiest when everyone at the gym is content and things run smoothly. He works tirelessly to that end, and seems to be in a constant hurry to fix, rearrange or clean something. He's also the one making sure things happen in a punctual manner. Stewart gets stressed easily, but far be it from him to complain.


Ruler the Slaking (♂)
Self-proclaimed king of the jungle, Ruler knows he's a powerhouse and uses it as an excuse to slack off most of the time. Most other Pokémon don't really like him, but Sawyer insists that Ruler fought hard to get to where he is, and has earned some rest from time to time. Just... maybe he could use a little less of it.

Benched Pokemon

Cutie the Delcatty (♀)
A Pokémon Sawyer has babied ever since her Skitty years. She's cuddly and affectionate, greeting everyone she sees with a headbutt and a purr. She's a bundle of energy however, and if she isn't running and playing around with baby Pokémon, she trains or battles - anything to burn all that excess energy. Is often switched in to replace Ruler.


Protocol the Porygon Z While many use Rotom for their everyday needs, Sawyer rescued a Porygon years ago and, after getting it fixed and virus-free, has it help him with his technological needs. It... doesn't really have much of a personality, and sometimes behaves erratically.


Her Royal Highness (♀)
With a name like hers, how could she not be full of herself? A spoiled little thing, she carries herself like an actual royal, expecting the whole world to bow down at her feet - and getting incredibly fussy when it doesn't happen. Though she's as lazy as they come, when she does fight, she does so fiercely.

Other

Zuzu the Azumarill (♂)
Sawyer's first and closest companion. Headstrong and stubborn, Zuzu shares his trainer's reckless nature, and never backs down from a fight. He's very protective of others, and will put up with no bullshit directed at him or his, though he's not prone to explosive anger like his trainer. Recently, he's given up battling in favour of caring for young Pokémon and teaching them how to battle and protect themselves instead.


Bane the Toxtricity: (♂)
Along with Antagonist and Zuzu, Bane is one of the original members of Sawyer's team. He was an enabler during Sawyer's few "musical" years, and still coaxes him to join him on occasion. Bane is chill, a very "go with the flow" sort of Pokémon that's content just watching others do their thing. He never had a passion to battle, so nowadays he does it less and less.


Glutton the Glameow (♀)
A young Glameow who seems to be attached to Sawyer's shoulder, refusing to budge for any reason other than food. And boy does she love food - hence her name.

+ a myriad of either young, injured or otherwise abandoned Pokémon he takes care of, but refuses to battle with.

RELATIONS

tbd

ayumi

P E R S O N A L

^{N A M E}

Murata Ayumi (村田歩美)

^{N I C K N A M E ( S )}

No one has dared come up with one yet, at least not to her face. You will address her as Murata-san

^{A G E}

26

^{G E N D E R}

Female

^{D A T E - O F - B I R T H}

January 10^th

^{H E I G H T}

160cm

^{W E I G H T}

50kg

^{F A M I L Y}

Murata Takeshi (father), Murata Himiko (mother), Murata Tarou (little brother)

^{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

Ayumi is a goal-oriented career woman and has an aura of such. She's a no-nonsense employee who lets nothing get between her and work well done, holding both herself and others to an extremely high standard. Expect no praise from her, no matter how well you do; at the end of the day, a cleared out to-do list is its own reward. Only children need constant reassurance. Besides, if she wasn't happy with your contribution, you would know about it.

She isn't one to follow rules just for the sake of following them, and doesn't care what people do during their free time. She's uninterested in engaging in a game of tatemae, and will readily share her honest thoughts of the people around her - unless it's a customer, of course. The customer is always right. If they disrespect her or hers however, the customer is right, and soon out of business.

Due to her assertiveness, she tends to trample over people who can't stick up for themselves. She's used to being in charge, but surprisingly enough doesn't mind taking a step back and letting someone else handle a situation if it seems like they're well-suited for it. In fact, if someone else is better than her at something, she is the first to bring attention to it. There is no greater sin than inefficiency; right tool for the right job, as they say.

She respects people who can think for themselves and don't just blindly follow bad ideas, but also expects people to show respect when and where it's due. Ayumi won't tolerate people breaking any rules that might disrupt workflow or prove an inconvenience for others. What you do in your personal life is none of her business, but if you're late for a meeting, you will find yourself defenestrated at her earliest convenience.

It should be noted that despite her coldness, Ayumi does have a sense of justice, and she is willing to protect her own fiercely. She will not let workplace bullying slide, and has been the last thing many corrupt higher ups see before they get reported from here to next week. Do your job and do it well, and you have a place under her wing.

 D E A L I N G

^{▶ V O I C E O F A U T H O R I T Y}

Ayumi's primary power lies in her voice. Ever since the magic sip, her already authoritative voice has been enhanced to a supernatural degree. Her shout can stun and cause pain to even the paranormal, and especially those with weaker wills tend to feel obliged to do as they're told, or at the very least, not act in direct opposition. She can only focus her base power on one target at a time, and the greater control she wishes to have, the longer she has to talk to them.

^{▶ C A F F E I N A T E D}

Depending on the type of coffee she consumes, Ayumi gains temporary boosts and alterations to her primary power. They wear off gradually until she consumes another cup. The biggest drawback is that she needs access to the various coffees she uses, and while she would like to think she can drink endlessly, even she has her limits...

• Black: Her voice booms out many times louder, creating destructive shock waves that can crush concrete. This is not discreet however, nor can she dictate what does and doesn't get demolished. Hope no one's antique vases were that way.
• Espresso: A shot of espresso and a quick whistle; those are the ingredients for a high speed, high accuracy sound bullet that travels faster than sound, striking a target even far away with deadly force. Double espresso allows her to fire two shots.
• Mocha: Her voice
• Latte:
• Macchiato: Ayumi's voice turns into a lure, attracting creatures both living and not towards her. This can also pacify and mellow out some hostile targets.
• Irish: Surprisingly enough, Ayumi has low alcohol tolerance. Just a little bit, and she starts speaking in tongues, intermingled with words that would make any grandmother shudder. Coincidentally, this power works on creatures other than grandmothers as well, filling them with a sense of dread that has them flee from her through any means possible.
• Water: It's not coffee, but everyone needs to hydrate. Water resets her powers, cleansing earlier effects.

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

^{O C C U P A T I O N}

Secretary at middle management

^{S K I L L S / A B I L I T I E S}

• Intimidating sort of charisma - when she talks, you listen.
• Has dirt on most of the employees - how? That's what you'd like to know.
• Did judo as a teen, still got it - you should've seen how that one creep flew.
• Resourceful - if there's a problem, there will be a solution.
• Can survive on 4 hours of sleep - shut up, she's fine.
• Access to middle management's files - they really should keep better tabs on them.
• Able to juggle three calls at once - it went up to four once.

^{E X T R A}

• Goes to yoga class just for the gossip.
• Rumour has it she has blackmail on the middle manager she works for and therefore has a lot sway on the department.
• Hates tea, it's just wannabe coffee with twice the hassle.
• Likes cats; they don't like her. Come to think of it, no animals do.
• Drinks her coffee black.
• AB blood type. You've been warned.
• Is a smoker. Go ahead, bring up how unladylike it is. She dares you.

master, mari

Name:
Titles: She doesn't have enough renown to be granted titles
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Objective for the Grail: Her wish is to no longer be wrapped up in the dangerous world of magic. Whether that means she wishes to rid the whole world of magic, or simply remove her own crest and circuits, she does not know yet.
Command Seal:

seal

Personality:

Mari has never been a particularly ambitious or hardworking person. It's not that she's lazy, but she's always been content with life's simple pleasures, and hasn't had the need to push herself out of her comfort zone.

Bio:

From the age of five up until recently, Mari's life was mundane enough not to warrant elaboration. She grew up in a middle class family, had friends, did decently in school, and most recently started to work part-time in a coffee shop alongside her university studies. For the longest time, her biggest problem was trying to juggle studying, work and social life, and her biggest wish was to get a cat - one of those breeds that don't cause allergies. To her, the name Norgaard meant nothing.

But she meant a lot to the Norgaards. Though few in number and on the brink of being wiped from history, they are an old family of magi with a questionable reputation. They originated from Northern Europe, with a family tradition of Gandr, divination (seiðr, as they themselves call it) and, if rumours were to be believed, experimentation with magic circuit transplantation.

Twenty two years ago, Mari was born into their midst - though at the time, she went by Maya. She was to be the heir of Norgaards' magical knowledge, and her parents wasted no time in starting the engraving and training process to make her such. They never managed to finish what they started, however. Theirs was a family of ill repute, and shortly after Maya had turned five, a divination practitioner of the family received a disturbing vision; their mansion was to be attacked in a matter of hours, the whole family wiped out by disgruntled rivals.

Wanting to hide their heir, the Norgaards used magic to seal Maya's memories and arranged for her to be sent to safety. Only, the carriage was attacked on the way. Though the Norgaards were not entirely wiped out, many of their members died or disappeared voluntarily, and Maya ended up in an orphanage with no known relatives left to care for her. It was the Norgaards' intent to come get her once it was safe to do so, but much to their misfortune, she was adopted by a half-Japanese couple - who then subsequently moved back to Japan. Her adoptive mother was a therapist, and worked hard to try and cure her of her amnesia, but to no avail. Though she remembered her first name and basic life skills, she had no recollection of her birth family - just as the sealing magic dictated.

And so, Mari lived a happy, normal life. That was, until two years ago, her past caught up with her. She found strange people at her door, demanding her to come with them. She refused, of course, but it mattered little. She was dragged away, the seal on her memories lifted, and her family threatened if she did not cooperate. It was then, on that dark autumn night, that she learnt of the existence of magic, magus, and her supposed fate as an heir to a family of them. She was forced to undergo training and the crest was finished forcibly - leading to one complication after another. Mari struggled, fought and argued, but threats towards her parents always quelled her anger. It was during those torturous times that a volcanic eruption shook the country. In the midst of the chaos that ensued, few asked if they saw her depressed, tired or difficult to reach.

Recently, she was told of a war, and that she was supposed to win it. To get her hands on the Holy Grail and wish upon it to restore their family to its previous glory. For once, Mari agreed. After all, se, too, had a wish.

Magic Circuits:

Switch: The smell of blood
Number of Magic Circuits: B
Quality of Magic Circuits: A

Elemental Affinity:

xxx

Magecraft:

projection
xxx

Crest:

xxx

Weapon:

saber: arthur

Name: Arthur Pendragon
Class: Saber
Alignment: Lawful Good

Personality:

A righteous knight in shining armour as some might call him, Saber has a strong sense of justice. He strives to do good, dislikes underhanded tactics and isn't one to fight simply for fighting's sake. If he draws his blade, it's for a purpose. Once he chooses to fight however, he isn't one to back down. To this day, he remembers his resolve to defeat a certain beast, though he's unsure if it lingers still in this world.

In general, he's protective and loyal, readily following his Master's wishes and going to great lengths to ensure their wellbeing. To a degree, that is; he will not stand to see evil acts committed in his presence if he can help it. He's known to keep secrets, particularly about himself - but not to the extent he'd downright lie. There is also a more somber side to him, complete with hints of nihilism after everything he's seen and been through. He was once forced to strike down a person very dear to him, and he wants to make sure such a situation doesn't repeat. To that extent, he does his best to be a moral guide and keep his feelings at bay.

With that said, while normally somewhat formal, he does also have a playful, teasing side to him. It mostly comes out during more relaxed situations. He enjoys peaceful moments over good food in particular, but does find it difficult to relax if he feels his duties aren't fulfilled.

He has no wish for the Grail.

Stats:

Strength: A
Endurance: A+
Agility: B
Mana: B
Luck: B

Class Skills:

Magic Resistance (A): He, who is in the Saber Class, is in possession of a high-ranked Magical Resistance Skill. It is generally impossible for modern mages to inflict damage on him.

Riding (B): It is possible for one to operate all vehicles and beasts freely except for Magical Beasts, Phantasmal Beasts and Divine Beasts.

Personal Skills:

Mana Burst (A): He is endowed with an extremely high-ranked Mana Burst Skill.

Instinct (A): At Rank A, it is essentially in the realm of predicting the future. Through this ability, it is possible to negate the penalties inflicted by visual and auditory interference to a certain extent.

Giant Beast Hunt (A): King Arthur fought tirelessly against the many Demonic Beasts that tried to trample Britain. This skill shows that he is experienced in battles against giant creatures.

Charisma (B): A natural-born leader capable of guiding armies. This Arthur specializes in battling against giant beasts. Whenever he battles against giant beasts, his allies cannot keep up with him, and so he never has the opportunity to fully demonstrate his Charisma skills.

Noble Phantasm(s):

Name: Excalibur Proto: Sword of Promised Victory
Rank: C-EX
Type: Anti-Fortress
Effects: A Divine Construct in the form of a golden sword, sealed by both Invisible Air and the Restraints of the Round Table. In the unlikely scenario that seven or more seals were released, the sword's true power as a Divine Construct to save the world would be released. Normally however, it's simply a powerful Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasm capable of repelling evil with a powerful beam of light. Even without releasing its True Name, Excalibur is able to release its slash of light that varies in strength, but is weaker than its Anti-Fortress attack. However, it can be further enhanced in its destructive power by his Mana Burst Skill.

Name: Invisible Air
Rank: C
Type: Anti-Unit
Effects: A sheath of wind that covers Excalibur and conceals its true identity, so that it and its wielder cannot be identified too easily. It is made up of multiple layers of wind compressed into super-high pressure air with a massive amount of magical energy, which distorts the refraction of light and renders what is inside completely invisible. The air constantly whirling around the blade is essentially a weapon, but lacks the capacity to annihilate the enemy like Excalibur. The wind increases the damage and cutting power of an attack however, and provides for an increased accuracy and defense against opponents unfamiliar with the nature of the weapon. It is possible to implement the barrier on something other than the sword as well, such as a quick defensive wall of wind, which can be kept active with magical energy for a number of minutes. Invisible Air also acts as one of Excalibur's seals.

joanne

J O A N N E "A N N" C L A R K E

She/her ❆ Student ❆ 18

Appearance: Art and Photos are grand for a visual aid but I need three things written in this section. Photos should go in a hider.
-How intense/emotive are their facial expressions normally?
-How do they normally handle their wardrobe? Is it identifiable in a provided visual or do they have more variety
-Are there any hidden aspects about their appearance, or notable past appearances? I.E. Do they dye their hair, have they lost a lot of weight, do they wear contacts? etc.

Personality: Ann is unlikely to make too strong a first impression. At first glance she's a quiet, faintly smiling girl that tends to mind her own business and speak very little. You might notice she's lazy and sluggish in her movement, almost as if she's never in a hurry to go anywhere, and that she tends to daydream a lot.- Maybe you'll catch her playing with or talking to her Pokémon, almost unaware that there are even other people around. You know, the usual stuff. And, depending how long a time you spend around her, it might be that you'll never see anything else.

However, be in her company long enough and you'll eventually find out that Ann's a curious girl with the self-control of a starving Morpeko in a curry shop. So while she might be completely reasonable one second, the moment something piques her interest or that invasive thought of 'what would happen if' crosses her mind, no amount of pesky common sense can stop her. She's impulsive and irresponsible, and doesn't second guess herself - even whens he should. When she decides to speak up or act, she's brazen - yet not any more energetic than usual, creating a strange dissonance between her weird actions and otherwise calm expression and demeanor. Some say it's unsettling, while many find her honesty and lack of tact jarring. Yet others view her as a naive girl who doesn't know any better.

She's not naive though, and she does know better - she just chooses the things she cares about very carefully, and the opinions of others or the consequences of bad decisions fall very far down that list. Sometimes she even enjoys rattling people and breaking expectations. It's all in good fun, though, and she isn't out to hurt or insult others. On the contrary; she quite loves people. She just wishes more of them could show their true selves instead of trying to act the way they think is expected of them. But, well, nothing to be done about that. Except leading by example, maybe? Mmm.

Nah. Sounds like too much work.

• + Positive Trait*
• + Positive Trait*
• + Positive Trait*
• - Negative Trait*
• - Negative Trait*
• - Negative Trait*

Digivolution Method:

Dreams: You can bullet this section as well if you'd like. What positive aspects of your character's psychology drives them? Is there an occupation that they dream of? Are they obsessed with the idea of a perfect partner? Or is it the simple things in life such as providing for their family? These should be strong motivations that effect the character's decisions to an extreme level, otherwise they belong in the personality section.

Nightmare: Inverse of the Dream(s) section. These are negative aspects of the character's psychology that prevents them from moving forward. What are their hang ups? Do they have actual re-occurring nightmares? Has something happened in their past that plagues them? Does the future scare them? Once again these should have an extreme effect on your character's decisions or else they belong in the personality section.

Sample: Here goes a writing sample that mimics your posting style and highlights your character's personality and inner thoughts. Careful what you put here, it may have story implications.

Prompt: Your character is in a dream. They are in an unfamiliar area and can hear the ocean. A strange figure (your choice) approaches them and offers them something they've always wanted. Your character wakes up before they can respond.

-If you have a digimon partner you can try to incorporate them but note you have not met them in the Digital World yet.
-The strange figure can be an NPC for me to use later, a family member, your digimon partner, or your Digital Form. It's up to your creativity.

Theoris of Lemnos

Freefalling with Vertigo ⍣

abel

Abel James Wyatt

34 | M | 7th November | 6'1'' | 178lbs

( Daughter: Isabella Astel | 4 | F )

Personality: Though once best described as impulsive and indulgent, Abel has thankfully mellowed out quite a bit over the years - recent years, in particular. Ironically enough, given his general appearance and the way he tends to conduct himself, many tend to mistake him for someone much older than he actually is. He certainly would describe himself as an old man, weary and tired from mistakes past and desperate to build something for himself. To his credit, he has somewhat managed to turn a new leaf over the past year or so, and things are looking up for him for the first time in forever. Now, he's holding onto that change with both hands, determined not to let go. He's figured himself out enough to know when he's about to do something stupid for the most part, and has worked to build replacement habits and ways to distract himself. Routine is his friend and savior, and to this day, he doesn't deal well with surprises.

As far as first impressions go, the Abel of today is outwardly a calm and collected man, who tries his best to think before he acts or speaks, even if it means several awkward moments spent in silent contemplation. He has a sense of humour, always has, though it's gotten quite self-deprecating as of late. He considers that a good thing; he used to get very worked up when insulted, feeling his pride was wounded, but nowadays he welcomes slights and laughs along. There are worse things in life than being insulted, he would know. He's curious about technology in particular, and loves a chance to fix or build something with his hands; it's cathartic as hell.

However, it should be noted that while he somewhat has himself under control on a normal day, he hasn't been under extreme duress for a while, and fears he might resort to his old ways if push came to shove. Impulsivity is still part of him, after all. And while he hasn't been with his daughter for all that long, he knows he already feels protective enough over her that it startles him at times. And while getting violent to protect someone is quite different from getting violent to prove a point or while giving in to anger, it's not many steps removed, and he'd rather not go down that path at all, anymore.

Phobias/Fears: Hurting people he cares about, alcohol relapse, losing control, growing old, ommetaphobia (specifically injury to/touching of eyes in general, and the feeling of being watched), being alone with his thoughts

History: If you were to ask Abel about his life so far, he'd describe it as one bad decision after another, starting from his choice of friends in high school all the way to a poor investment decision earliet this very year. He's always been the type of person to follow his urges and live in the moment, with little regard for his future - and, now that he's living in said future, he wishes he could go back and start over.

Abel's teenage years and early adulthood were marked by many vices, but while some he could leave behind over the years, alcohol always stuck with him in particular. It was what he turned to whenever life was too tough, even though he hated who he became while under the influence. It took what little inhibitions he had, and that led to many a fight with strangers and friends alike. Even sending a friend to the hospital - or being sent there in turn by an armed bar patron he didn't even know - didn't quite manage to make him quit.

Things weren't much calmer back home. In his mid twenties, he got into a long time relationship with a girl called Janette, who turned out to share his short temper. Fights were had, furniture was broken, and bad habits continued.

That was, until Janette got pregnant. Abel wishes he could claim his first reaction upon hearing the news was positive, but truth is, he was terrified. He didn't feel ready for the responsibility, and he assumed Jane didn't, either. Turned out he was wrong; while he was shaking in his boots, Jane put her life in order. She stepped up to become a mother for a child neither of them had meant to have, and watching her, Abel eventually swore to man up and do the same. And indeed, for a while, as they waited for their daughter's birth, things were stable, at the very least. They were building something; a home, a life, a family. Abel felt ready.

He was not ready. The sleepless nights, the stress, the financial distress, it all overwhelmed him in no time at all - and so, he turned back to old vices. And, realizing the sort of person he'd once again become, he left, figuring it would be better for the two. His presence would add little to their family but volatility and danger. It was one of the hardest decisions he made, and to this day he's unsure if it was also the worst, or the best. He didn't get to see Isabella grow up. She didn't have to see her deadbeat of a father.

Even when Abel finally managed to fight his way into sobriety again, jolted by the realization that he was getting older by the day and should've been able to leave the insanity of his twenties behind if he ever wanted to make something out of his life, he didn't dare contact his previous family again.

Until a few months ago.

Abel received a call that Jane had been in an accident, and though her condition was stable, caring for a toddler on her own would be extremely difficult. If Abel ever wanted a second chance at being a father, now was the time, and he'd better not fuck it up, was the gist of what he was told.

And so, he made what he hoped was a good decision, and decided to try.

Skills:

Physical prowess | Whenever Abel has managed to hold a job for any substantial amount of time, it's always been physical. Mostly construction, but he hasn't exactly been picky. That, along with his naturally large frame, means he's well suited for physical challenges.

Technology / IT | Abel knows his way around technology, and becoming a software developer is a longtime dream of his. He's never actually worked a job in IT before, but he's dabbled on his own time. It's one of the few things that has managed to hold his interest and keep his mind from wandering to unpleasant things.

Fighter | While he's certainly not proud of it, Abel's been in his fair share of fights, and usually come out on top. He'd... rather not go back to that sort of thing anymore, but he hasn't quite managed to shake off the reflexes or the paranoia, and does carry a knife with him to this day. Just in case.

In addition, while not exactly a skill, Abel absolutely loves dogs, and though one would be forgiven for assuming otherwise, they generally tend to like (and listen to) him too. No, he doesn't feel like he deserves it either.

Inventory:

↦ Lighter (but notably, no cigarettes to accompany it; progress)
↦ wallet (with his id, a picture of his daughter, some cash and a few stamp cards)
↦ doggy treats (a must, just in case)
↦ pack of nicotine gum
↦ a pack of regular gum too, in fact
↦ switchblade
↦ car keys
↦ cellphone
↦ water bottle

ayame

Name:

Ayame Sakanoue

Gender:

Female

Age:

879

Race:

Kitsune

Appearance:

Though Ayame isn't the tallest kitsune around, only barely reaching the height of 5'3'', she carries herself with the poise of someone grandiose. Her gestures and movement are graceful and deliberately slow. She'll have you know she isn't about to ruin perfectly fine heels by running or wrinkle expensive fabric by flailing about, so if there's a hurry, you'll carry her or wait. And while she speaks formally and politely enough, her tone makes it clear she considers herself the most important person in any given room.

Ayame's eyes are easily the most expressive part of her, and they readily offer glimpses of her real mood even when the rest of her face doesn't. They are deep brown in colour and often accentuated by red make up. She
has long, dark brown hair cascading down her back, featuring various decorations and hairdos, depending on the day. Though she used to dress only in traditional clothes, she's recently been persuaded to try some of the more modern, easy-to-move-in variations, and she's fallen in love. Unfortunately, for someone as fussy about her appearance as Ayame, she tends to not really understand modern fashion, and mixes and matches clothes at will with no regard to how they look as a whole.

Personality:

While Ayame looks kind and harmless, almost serene from afar, let not appearances fool you. The second she opens her mouth, you know she's a headache waiting to happen. She's fussy, bossy, and expects her every whim to be catered to. She loathes work, especially physical, and takes every shortcut possible to laze around, explore the human world at her leisure or indeed, just groom herself. She has no problem throwing away her pride and acting like a damsel in distress, even if she was fully capable of solving a situation herself, and tends to hold onto comfort tooth and claw. She's cunning as well, as foxes tend to be, and isn't afraid to use it to get what she wants.

With that said, there are things that can indeed get this lazy fox moving, even if begrudgingly. For one, she's morbidly curious. Having lived a very sheltered life, everything in the modern human world is a wonder to her, and she simply cannot sit idly by if something piques her interest. Unfortunately personal space or personal belongings aren't words she's awfully familiar with, so if she takes interest in something yours, it's now hers. She also loves to learn, and a good book is an effective way to get her to mind her own business for a time.

Ayame is also aware that with the contact she made, she did agree to put in work when called for. And while she might complain throughout, she isn't one to betray promises - much less let someone she has grown somewhat fond of die because of her. Come now, she isn't a monster! Besides, she isn't suited for living alone, and servants are difficult to come by in modern age.

Background:

Ayame can hardly think of anything more boring than truthfully recounting her almost nine hundred years of life. While one would think a mischievous fox could fit a number of adventures into an almost millennia of existence, Ayame spent most of that time living a sheltered life in a mountain village of her kin, praying to gods dictated to her by tradition and duty. Every few hundred years she managed to slip away unnoticed and cause mayhem in the form of a human woman, only to be forced to flee and hide away when a few people too many grew suspicious of her. There were times when the kitsune had such a bad reputation that even innocent women were accused of being one of them, and times when their existence was thought but a myth.

Ever since a particularly bloody conflict a few hundred years back, however, Ayame's clan withdrew deeper into the mountains and swore off all contact with humans altogether. Ayame, wounded from a fight, didn't argue for once. Being the daughter of the village chief, she found she rather enjoyed the way others worried for her and carried out whatever menial task she asked while she was recovering. She got used to being pampered, and used to living comfortably. And so passed the centuries.

Then, only a few decades ago, travelers found their way to the kitsune's haven. Youkai that told peculiar tales of a changed world, one in which humans and youkai had slowly learnt to coexist. They spoke of their travels and the wonders of modern technology, and Ayame's wanderlust and curiosity alighted anew. She listened, wide-eyed like a kit, and soon found herself sneaking out from the comfort of her home to see this supposedly changed world.

But where she was once as cunning and resourceful as they came, a life lived in lazy luxury had left her unprepared for... well, basically anything. She soon found she couldn't really take care of herself, being unfamiliar with both the concept of work and the world around her. That was when she met Karin, and entered a contract with her. Her powers, in exchange for a guide in an unfamiliar world. The two have their differences to say the least, but there certainly have been no dull moments in their travels.

Abilities:
Years of not really using her powers have dulled them to a great degree, but she still has command over the basics.

- Ayame is able to create and control lightning, as well as mold it into different shapes or imbue it into objects. This is her most offensive ability, and the pair's primary means of combating the Grudges.

- While she can no longer possess people outright, Ayame can still affect the minds of others. She can make them see or hear things that aren't there, give them brief visions or haunting thoughts, and even influence their actions to a degree. The target's own personality and strength of will affect how much she's able to do, and Grudges are immune to being influenced - though they can still be made to suffer from illusions.

- In a similar, illusive vein, Ayame can make herself invisible for a time. This doesn't mute sounds however, and the use of lightning will break the invisibility.

- Finally, she can turn into a fox. Just. A regular fox. With an exceptionally shiny coat.

Skills:

Nothing of particular note. On the contrary, you've probably never seen a person as useless at any sort of house work.

wager

Name ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Wager Age ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ 38 Gender ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ He/him Sexual Orientation ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Bisexual Languages ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ - Common - Infernal - Abyssal Specialties ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Wager specializes in subterfuge (deception, persuasion), assessing others (insight) and to a lesser extent, knowing bits and pieces of arcane lore (Arcana). But really, he'd say his real specialty is his dashing smile.

Warlock - Chaotic Neutral - Tiefling ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Wager is the type to look suspicious even when just breathing, and that seems to suit him just fine. He isn't one to worry needlessly - or even when needed, really - and takes most things in a stride. In his almost forty years of life lived to the fullest, he's heard every insult, faced every setback and survived impossible odds so many times he's earned his moniker. To this day, he lives for thrills and is disconcertingly willing to risk it all for a moment of adrenaline, fame or pleasure. He's hedonistic and changes his mind more often than his clothes - which says a lot, considering he owns more hats than one can count. But though he comes with a long list of vices, Wager isn't a bad person per se. He's sociable and pleasant enough a person to talk to as long as you don't try to engage in any serious topic that'd bore him. And though he is self-serving and irresponsible, he never sets out with the plan to cause others mischief or harm. On the contrary, he is willing to help whomever as long as there's something in it for him. Sometimes a thanks will do; other times he'll do it for the experience alone. If you've got a face he fancies, he'll help and treat you to a drink afterwards. Now isn't he a gentleman? Background ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Name any profession of ill-repute, and Wager's likely at least dabbled in it. From a decoy to a thief and a smuggler, he spent his younger years trying to get by through whatever means necessary. The older he got and the more connections he made, the wider his job opportunities - and the longer his list of enemies. Eventually, he grew tired of a life lived constantly on the edge, and made an earnest attempt at turning over a new leaf. For a couple of years in his mid twenties, he ran an honest business and managed to get on his feet as a respectable member of society. But old habits died hard, and he soon found himself missing the thrills of his previous life. His risk-seeking behaviour led him down a rabbit hole of gambling, and he soon found that he could make a better fortune playing cards and throwing dice than he ever could in his mundane day job. Especially if he, well, took some liberties with the rules. He found success, enemies, danger and glamour, making a name for himself in one of the land's largest cities - until a certain incident a year or so ago. A peculiar, drunken man out of coin decided to bet a small, ugly statuette of a misshapen man in lieu of cash, and Wager happened to win it. He had half a mind to throw the abomination away, but ended up finding out it was more than met the eye. Apparently, it was the prison of a Genie - an Efreeti, to be precise, and it had absolutely not been meant to be gambled away on a drunken whim. It didn't take long for it to dawn on Wager that he'd gotten involved with some dangerous lot, and so he took his belongings and skipped town before anyone could come chasing after him. Since then, partnership with a Genie has given Wager some new-found powers - and another surge of risk-seeking behaviour. Starter Equipment ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ - Hollow Statuette - Arcane Focus - Scholar's Pack - Leather Armor - Dagger x4 - Dice Set - Fine Clothes - Lucky Charm .................................................................................................................................................

Leifur, the Gunbreaker

"I'm here to save you. Now move. Or die; the choice is yours."

GENERAL INFORMATION

Name:

Leifur Guðmundsson

Age:

Almost 100, but he's not counting. Appears around 30.

Gender:

Male

Race:

Viera

Origin:

Due to the nomadic nature of his people, Leifur isn't sure where exactly he was born, nor does he feel more at home in one place over another. He's spent his recent years in Skael Garden, however.

COMBAT INFORMATION

Class:

Gunbreaker.

Weapon:

Eldgos, a long gunblade geared towards mid-range combat. It's capable of firing rounds as a rifle would, as well as cutting down enemies that manage to get too close. Not particularly sturdy, Leifur likes to keep his distance when able, only dipping into melee range for a moment, then triggering an explosion mid-slash to send himself backwards with the recoil.

Inventory:

➻ Potions [2] | Standard issue for any self-respecting Seed, ex or not. He used to have more, but a few were used recently to tend to injured civilians.

➻ Cockatrice claw [1] | A reward from the Garden for a past job well done, Leifur holds onto it for emergencies.

➻ Spare bullets | For Eldgos. Enough to last him a while; who knows when he's able to restock.

➻ Basic travel supplies | Contains rations, a tent, a waterskin, a sleeping bag, and so on. Though if it doesn't rain, he much prefers sleeping under the stars. Old habit.

➻ Assorted junk | Broken pieces of technology he's picked up along the way. He doesn't know what they do, or did when functional. He just likes to tinker with them.

Materia:

Speed plus | Needing to weave between melee and ranged combat requires speed, and though Leifur's long legs provide him with plenty, there's no such thing as going too fast. This materia helps him avoid attacks, be where he needs to, and catch enemies by surprise while at it.

Destruct | In lieu of - or in combination with - bullets, this materia allows Leifur to fire particularly heavy-hitting shots, or to imbue his slashes with destructive might. Particularly useful when faced with heavily armoured enemies, or those protected by barriers that regular shots have trouble piercing.

Limit Breaks:

The Hurrier I Go | Leifur moves fast enough to become a blur for a moment, quickly slashing a number of close by enemies, each hit triggering an explosion at point-blank range.

PERSONAL INFORMATION

Appearance Details:

Standing at 6'3'' without accounting for his ears, Leifur is tall even for a viera. Most of his height can be attributed to his long legs, and if one were to count the ears, they'd add another ten inches to his frame. The fur on his ears is short and rough, matching his hair in colour; jet black, though the latter also features red highlights. He typically wears his hair in a high ponytail to keep it from getting in his way.

Leifur is more muscular than many other viera men due to needing to survive on his own for so long, and can wield his weapon at ease even when in full armour. Granted, his armour isn't very heavy so as to not hinder his mobility or legwork.

He has often been told that his face isn't very expressive, and it is no exaggeration; you'd be hard pressed to try and read Leifur's mood from his face, which seems to be permanently stuck in a scowl. His voice is low, and he tends to mumble.

Personality:

Leifur is a man of few words, typically preferring to express himself through actions. A wise choice in most cases, as he tends to be blunt to a fault and often comes across as meaner than he intends to. Far be it from him to try and clear such misconceptions either. He knows well enough he'd just make matters worse, and it's hardly worth the trouble. He isn't that concerned with the opinions of others, anyhow.

Though it's difficult to believe, neither guilt, age nor years spent rigorously training and fighting have managed to rid Leifur of his natural curiosity. He will be the first one to scoff at any new piece of technology that's presented to him, but also the first one to listen in when such things are discussed, or to try and sneak a closer look when no one's looking. New things excite him, and to this day they drive him to wander. He's a surprisingly good listener even if everything about him might signal otherwise, and has an impressive memory - so be careful what secrets you might spill with Leifur as a witness. Not that he has anyone to tell them, mind.

To this day, Leifur feels guilt over the consequences of his reckless actions back home, but he's run too far and too long to turn around and check up on his tribe now, so tries to relieve his guilt in other ways instead. He's not the first one to jump into the fray to save another, but he is the one to do it if no one else seems willing, and he will accept no objections. He's not one to linger after his job has been done however. Leifur is a free spirit who feels no particular connection to any person or place, having joined the Garden more for the access to training and work than any sense of patriotism.

Biography:

Nothing of particular note happened during Leifur's first few decades of life - and that was precisely what started his downward spiral into vagabondry.

When young, he didn't think to mind the role assigned to him at birth. Like the rest of his tribe's men, he was content with following behind the women of their kin, only ever witnessing new lands once they'd already been deemed safe and hospitable for their stay. They were the second to face danger in the great unknown, the second to claim the spoils of unmarked territories, the second to everything. New discoveries only came in the form of tales told by the pioneers; the strongest and bravest of viera women, and that was fine.

Until it wasn't.

Leifur was always the curious sort, and as years dragged on, the lack of danger, excitement and discovery started to eat at him more and more each time news reached their half of the tribe - until, one day, the man could no longer bear it. Around twenty summers old, he was still young as a sprout by viera standards, and his recklessness was proof enough of that. With no real plan, he snuck away from his peers with the hopes of shadowing the women leading the expedition to new lands. He didn't manage to hide for long however, not from eyes and ears trained to spot hidden dangers. He was sent back to his peers with a scolding and told in no uncertain terms not to try such a thing again; his life could have been in danger, had the warriors shot before realizing who was tailing them.

But though Leifur had managed to see little of interest during his short stint as a wannabe scout, the exhilarating feeling he felt when sneaking about in forbidden territory stayed with him for a long while. So much so that he dreamt of doing it again, even if it was dangerous.

Then, one day, the tribe happened upon a sight that Leifur was told was common: a lone mystrel man, out and about fishing in a nearby river. He was no threat to the tribe nor the tribe to him, and so they let each other be for the most part. Leifur was fascinated by this strange new creature however, and the two soon ended up talking. Leifur was told that it was common for his kind to travel the world alone, and by the time the two parted ways as the tribe begun their trek anew, Leifur was smitten by the man's way of life. He wanted nothing more than to imitate it, but was told time and time again that viera were not meant to be alone.

Leifur left the tribe for the first time only a few months later. He didn't dare venture far, and he returned before sunrise, but the feeling of traversing a dark forest all alone, though scary at first, was enough to keep him awake for days on end. So he did it again. Each time he ventured further and further away, not towards the viera women who'd no doubt spot him, but towards the vast, expansive everything else. There were so many other directions to walk.

Then, one fateful night, he didn't return alone. He'd been followed. Worse, those that followed him meant his little tribe harm, and harm they inflicted indeed. To what extent, Leifur doesn't know. Like many others, he ran into the night and didn't look back. Ever since, he wandered the world alone, just as he'd wanted. It was more difficult than he'd ever imagined, but no less exciting. For the first time in his life, he felt free, if aimless and guilty for the way he'd earned such freedom.

Years later, jaded and penniless, Leifur ended up enrolling to the Garden. Backed by an instructor he'd saved during his travels and a made up backstory, there were nevertheless those suspicious of him and his intentions, and so tabs were kept on him at all times. He was trained in the ways of combat and espionage and became a sellsword, earning his coin by fighting whatever he was told to for years on end. He even took part in the war, even if he had no allegiances to either side. The things he saw - and did - there left him a changed man, however. Leifur always felt guilty for enjoying a freedom he got through a mistake that likely cost lives, and continuing to exist through the suffering of others felt altogether wrong. Not to mention the academy's attempts at limiting his freedom, always wanting to know where he was. So, once again, he left, becoming an independent bodyguard for hire instead.

Today, having long since graduated from the Garden, he only maintains a loose - and not always pleasant - connection to them. Every now and again he takes on a few particularly difficult missions for the good of the people, and for the past few years, most of them have had to do with keeping monsters at bay. Needless to say, he did not hesitate for long once he caught wind of Leonhart's plea, and neither did the Garden; they ushered him to travel to Edren posthaste.

Traits:

- Used to have overly sensitive ears, but due to being subjected to the noise of his gunblade for years on end, has learnt to tolerate loud sounds. High pitched ones still give him headaches, though.

- Is wary and distant (more so than usual) around other viera, but still addresses viera women politely out of habit. They're the only ones he extends this courtesy to.

- Should not be let near any sort of technology, as he has a habit of breaking whatever device he touches.

- Surprisingly fussy about his hair, and wishes he knew how to braid it - but is too embarrassed to learn, let alone have others see him do such a thing.

- Bad with money. Is probably in debt right now.

Relationships:

The Skógfæddur | Leifur's old tribe, whose whereabouts and status are unknown to him now. He likes to keep it that way; it means there's always a chance they managed to recuperate and prosper. The thought keeps the guilt at bay.

Tadej | A rival he met at the Garden, Tadej is a mystrel lacking both manners and caution, and the sole reason why Leifur's once undying respect for mystrel men has all but vanished. Their kind's freedom and bravery were wasted on this one, he reckons.

Isadora Sunsworn | Sollan weaponsmith responsible for Eldgos's maintenance, who treats the weapon as her baby. But then, that's what she does with just about any modern weapon. Leifur is exasperated by her boundless energy and annoyed by her insistence on the superiority of modern technology, but she's good at what she does, and he never leaves her workshop without learning at least something new.

Emma

Emma Badeaux

——————————————————————————————————————

"ℙ𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜; 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕝𝕦𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟.

𝕀 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕥."

—————————

There was once a young girl that feared the dark. Born among the neon lights of the wealthy inner districts, dark was not a constant companion to her. It did always lurk at the edges of her existence, patient, waiting, but it was only at night that it took over her entire world. Her parents knew not about her plight, all t er parents shut them off - but the absence of light gave way for monsters. Under the bed, in her closet, nibbling at her hands and feet if she dared dangle them outside the safety of her blanket. Her parents told her the supernatural exists, yes, but they are safeguarded against it and there is no need to worry. There are no monsters here. while The girl was at an impasse; she could not sleep s he only had to suffer from the dark at night, when Her parents were among the lucky few to be born in Outis' inner districts, and they lacked little. Looks, wealth, health and children so well-behaved that even neighbours would sing their praises upon passing by. There truly was only one thing the family did not have in excess, and that was time. Time was all X would have wanted. She was the second youngest of five siblings. Young enough to need parental attention, old enough to not be its primary r Light hurt her eyes, what the family didn't have was time - for you cannot She didn't know the stranger's intentions; not about the gun behind his back, not about his hopes for a ransom, nor about the car waiting outside. The monsters she knew didn't wear suits. She tried to warn the man of her monsters. She knew they'd attack. So certain was she, that the world bent to her will, and creatures that defied all logic poured out from the shadows to assail the man. His gun was of no help, for what sort of a bullet can pierce darkness? The girl's name was Emma. Is Emma, because in this story, the real monster didn't win. She's 22 this year, and no longer fears the dark. She's looked into its depths, seen all its horrors, and given them names. To this day, they come when she calls.

Armaments:

None; petite and untrained in the art of combat on her own, Emma has no skill in wielding any weapon, traditional or otherwise.

Abilities:

Emma is able to manifest the creatures she believes live in the shadows to sunder and devour whatever may stand in their way. Their forms are fluid, always shifting with the whims of her imagination and fears, but they resemble animals more often than not. They did originally spawn from a child's mind, after all, back when beasts were scarier than man. Though of late, some have taken a more humanoid shape, and can even outwardly resemble the types of immortals she's fought recently.

The strength of the creatures varies; in pitch black darkness they can be everywhere all at once, their number limited only by Emma's capability to output vitas. Under the blare of intense neon lights, she struggles to bring them forth anywhere except the darkest of corners.

Other:

- Emma has trouble befriending real life animals, as they tend to shy away from her upon approach.
- She is left handed.
- Always carries around a parasol, which many assume to be a blessed weapon. It's not; it's simply a way to "protect" herself from unwanted light.

Nadijah

( will try to find another pic later, I know that's fanart of Urbosa ): )

Name:

Nadijah of the Razordancers; second daughter of Farajah, the One-Eyed Watcher of the Sands. Or Nadi for short.

Race:

Gerudo

Gender:

Female

Appearance:

Nadijah is a striking sight to behold - literally, because she's liable to thrust a weapon your way before offering a hello. Dark skinned and built with lean muscle, she stands at an imposing 6 feet and then some, tall among her people, taller yet in the eyes of foreigners. As is expected of a proud Gerudo, Nadijah carries herself with the poise and pride befitting a warrior - most of the time, anyway. It doesn't take much to make her drop into a battle pose when startled, or down into a squat to pet whatever strange fluffy creature she comes across.

Nadijah's hair is a fiery red as is common for her kind, tied back in a messy ponytail. The deep bronze of her skin is contrasted by the green of her eyes; light, like saplings. Or so she's been told; saplings are a rare sight in the desert. She doesn't carry much in the way of clothes, her heritage ensuring that she needs little protection even in the hot summer sun of the desert. She does have a cloak on her person for when she needs to keep a lower profile or shield herself from the cold (or her understanding of cold, anyway - please don't let her ever see snow) but in general she finds armour and heavy clothing too restrictive. Anything that makes her movement less fluid must go. This does mean that the signs of battles past lay bare to the naked eye; burns from fire magic, cuts from claws and blades.

One would think that the many weapons she carries around would be more a hindrance than another layer of leather, but her priorities are rather set in stone. Her twin scimitars, bow, and dagger mean the world to her, and if she could have strapped her warhorse to her back to carry it around on her journey, she would have. No, really. She would have.

Personality:

Nadijah is first and foremost a warrior of her tribe, duty-bound to protecting her land and people come what may. She's prideful and matriotic, and has been known to react badly to any perceived insult towards her country or kin. Xenophobic and mistrustful of 'outsiders' - particularly those of voe variety - she is difficult to approach and even more difficult to befriend. Not that you'd want to befriend her based on first impressions anyway; she's stubborn, hot-headed and lacks the common courtesy not to voice unpleasant opinions out loud in polite company.

With that said, she's well aware that it's one of her own who's responsible for the world's current, sorry state, and the guilt has dulled her sharp tongue somewhat. After all, when outside the valley, she indirectly represents her people, and should strive to contrast Ganondorf's actions. She's-- just not always successful at it. Impatience is her greatest sin, and she wasn't blessed with much forethought; if she wishes something to happen, it ought to happen now. Consequences be damned.

But though she's ridden with faults, she is no monster. Nadijah's bluntness ensures that you will get an honest opinion should you ask for it, and it also makes her a poor liar. She fiercely cares for her own, and is willing to risk life and limb for a cause she believes in. And though she holds no love for foreigners, she at least holds an immense amount of curiosity towards them, being both willing and eager to learn about them and theirs. True, this willingness stems from the thought that one should know their enemy to best fell them, but could eventually, perhaps, lead to grudging respect-- maybe even friend-acquaintanceship.

Of course, as often is the case with Nadijah, she takes this curiosity a tad too far. Rude and intrusive questions aren't uncommon of her, and neither is downright poking, prodding or snatching things that she wishes to examine closer. So keep your fancy gadgets and especially unique weapons far away from her. She will get aggressively giddy over the latter and pelt you with questions until her curiosity is sated. This also goes for critters of the grasslands. Many of them she's only seen in storybooks, so don't worry if she tries to precariously pet a wolf. It's the latter that's in danger.

Background:

Nadijah was born among her fellow Gerudo, and up until recently, they were all she knew. Her mother was a renowned warrior, her father a mere flicker of a presence within a society not meant for his kind. Come with the dusk, gone with the dawn, Nadi never asked for his name - and her mother never offered it.

As far as Nadijah can remember, her early years were spent in normalcy. She played with others her age, practiced swordplay with wooden blades, shot dulled arrows at immobile targets and learnt to sit atop a horse without fear of falling. It never occurred to her to wonder why such things were important for children to learn, or for adults to master. At least, until she was old enough to understand what "war" meant - and that the tensions leading up to it had been brewing for a while. Nadijah did not fight in it herself, all too young to be sent to the frontlines at least among the first few, but she did experience its horrors second-hand.

Farajah had always been the xenophobic sort, and the war did nothing to make her talk of outsiders more fondly. As such, Nadijah learnt to resent and mistrust people she'd never met, and to believe that nothing good came out of associating with them. They hated the Gerudo, and the Gerudo ought to hate them in turn. Notably, her mother was also an avid supported of Ganondorf, believing that with his lead, they would reign supreme and claim more hospitable lands for their children and children's children.

They did not. When the war came to an end a little over a decade ago, its terms were anything but favourable to the Gerudo. Seeing Ganondorf bend the knee to a king that confined the Gerudo within a valley bordering a dangerous, haunted desert, was too much for many Gerudo to bear, and their opinions on him seemed to split. Some were disappointed, furious, claiming they would've preferred to fight to the death rather than surrender, yet others claimed he was wise to save what he could of their kind, and that he had other plans to rise to power yet. Farajah, and by extension Nadijah, seemed to go back and forth between the two extremes. Angry at what happened, hopeful that it wasn't the end.

The end of the war did not mean the end of Nadijah's training. If anything, Farajah became even stricter, determined to make her a fine warrior the next time a war broke out - which she hoped, believed, was soon.

But when Ganondorf finally took over, as he'd promised, the Gerudo soon learnt exactly what they meant to the man. Even with him at the throne, their life had hardly improved - on the contrary, they now had even more monsters to worry about, with no more land or food at their disposal than before. But though it was the final straw to many, and they were quick to denounce Ganondorf, only few rose against him - with no success.

Of late, Nadijah's mother fell ill. Exhaustion and hunger did her in, and it was then Nadijah's own anger and frustration reached a fever pitch. She was done just twiddling her thumbs. Her whole life she'd done nothing but trained. It was time to actually put it all to use. If no one else did anything, she'd go and meet Ganondorf herself and demand from him the aid the Gerudo deserved. They were his people! Gerudo had no one else - surely he'd understand. And if not-- she'd make him understand.

With that, Nadijah left behind her desert home and set out into the world at large. Her intention was to head straight for the castle - but she quickly learnt that it was easier said than done, and the state of the world she saw shocked her. Was this truly the kind of a world their king wanted? But why? What good did it do to anyone.

Recently, she arrived to Kakariko village both to take a breather and to try a more indirect approach to the castle, navigating her way through the eastern mountain range. She did not expect to find others there.

Likes:

↑ Horseback riding, especially when combined with archery. Challenge her if you dare!
↑ Climbing; the higher the better.
↑ Food. Any food. Just. Food.
↑ Any small, cute, or fluffy animal, whether they return the sentiment or not.
↑ Weapons, especially unique or finely crafted ones will have her frothing at the mouth.

Dislikes:

↓ Waiting - for things, people, anything at all.
↓ Cold weather; she cannot deal.
↓ Losing, and will try to talk any loss into a win, or at the very least a draw.
↓ Politics, she doesn't get 'em.
↓ Swimming, because she can't, and will sink, and that's embarrassing.

Skill:

⚔ Gerudo Warrior | Fighting, fighting and-- hm, fighting? A one-trick pony as far as skills go, Nadijah excels at combat and little else - but when it comes to combat, she shines like the desert sun. She's adept at archery, both on horseback and off, and can wield two scimitars as if they were extensions of her own arms. She's extremely nimble for someone her size, displaying a fierce kind of grace when she dances with a blade or two in hand, and can pull out a hidden dagger faster than most eyes can follow. Like the rest of her tribe, she's also used to surviving in harsh weather conditions, and is thus quite hardy and difficult to wear down, both in combat and outside of it.

I'Rajith

I'Rajith

Bladesinger Wizard^「lv3」| Noctem | True Neutral

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Personal

Gender: Male
Age: 16
Height: 4'10''
Weight: 100lbs

Speed: 30 feet
Size: Medium

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Stats

Armor Class: 13 | 16 (Mage Armor) | 21 (Bladesong)
Initiative: +3
Hit Points: 23 ^{[3 x 1d6]}

Strength: 9 ^-1
Dexterity: 17 ⁺³
Constitution: 16 ⁺³
Intelligence: 20 ⁺⁵
Wisdom: 9 ^-1
Charisma: 14 ⁺²

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Proficiencies

Proficiency Bonus: +2

Proficient Saving Throws: Intelligence, Wisdom
Proficient Skills: Arcana, Investigation, History, Performance, Stealth, Deception

Proficient Weapons: Rapiers, daggers, darts, slings, quarterstafves, light crossbows
Proficient Armor: Light armor
Other Proficiencies: Thieves' tools, disguise kit

Languages: Common, Noctish

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Attacks

Rapier | +5 | 1d8+3 Piercing
Dagger | +5 | 1d4+3 Piercing

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Spellcasting

Spell save DC: 15
Spell Attack modifier: +7

Cantrips (3): Green Flame Blade, Booming Blade, Prestidigitation
1st level (9): Magic Missile, Shield, Absorb Elements, Comprehend Languages, Disguise Self, Find Familiar, Identify, Mage Armor, Inflict Wounds*
2nd level (3): Mirror Image, Detect Thoughts, Invisibility*

* from Feat: Shadowtouched

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Features

The Ever Waking^「noctem」 Noctem do not sleep. Instead, they enter a trance nand require only 4 hours to complete a Long Rest. While in this trance they are incapacitated, blind, and deaf, but can be roused by touch. Noctem cannot be put to sleep by magical means. While in this trance they commune with others of their kind in a unique demiplane shared by all Noctem called 'The Conference of Minds'. This allows all Noctem to share in information, though the communal dialogue is ever shifting and no one topic is discussed or weighed for long.

The Conference of Minds^「noctem」 During a Long Rest and while visiting the Conference of Minds, a Noctem may draw upon the life experiences and insights of their kin. Until the end of their next Long Rest, a Noctem may choose a Class Feature (But may not designate a Subclass) of another class that they meet the multiclass and Level requirements for and gain its benefits. Spellcasting cannot be gained in this way, and if an ability requires a resource or scales with class level, use your proficiency bonus in place of the class level. Ex; For Unarmored Movement, a level 17 Noctem would be considered a level 6 monk because of their proficiency bonus of 6. Similarly if they gained Rage instead, they would be considered a level 6 barbarian for the rage table.

Rogue (lv 2): Cunning Action ^{「conference of minds」} Starting at 2nd level, your quick thinking and agility allow you to move and act quickly. You can take a bonus action on each of your turns in combat. This action can be used only to take the Dash, Disengage, or Hide action.

Superior Darkvision^「noctem」 120 feet; Greyscale

Abandoned by the Light^「noctem」 Due to a curse from a deity slighted by the (in)famous Noctem Scholar O'Sovoka, Noctem are vulnerable to Radiant Damage and may only be resurrected by a spell of 5th level or higher.

Feat: Shadow Touched^{「level 1」}Your exposure to the Shadowfell's magic has changed you, granting you the following benefits:

- Increase your Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma by 1, to a maximum of 20.

- You learn the invisibility spell and one 1st-level spell of your choice. The 1st-level spell must be from the illusion or necromancy school of magic. You can cast each of these spells without expending a spell slot. Once you cast either of these spells in this way, you can't cast that spell in this way again until you finish a long rest. You can also cast these spells using spell slots you have of the appropriate level. The spells' spellcasting ability is the ability increased by this feat.

Spellcasting^{「wizard 1」}

wizard spellcasting

As a student of arcane magic, you have a spellbook containing spells that show the first glimmerings of your true power.

Cantrips
At 1st level, you know three cantrips of your choice from the wizard spell list. You learn additional wizard cantrips of your choice at higher levels, as shown in the Cantrips Known column of the Wizard table.

Spellbook
At 1st level, you have a spellbook containing six 1st-level wizard spells of your choice. Your spellbook is the repository of the wizard spells you know, except your cantrips, which are fixed in your mind.

The spells that you add to your spellbook as you gain levels reflect the arcane research you conduct on your own, as well as intellectual breakthroughs you have had about the nature of the multiverse. You might find other spells during your adventures. You could discover a spell recorded on a scroll in an evil wizard's chest, for example, or in a dusty tome in an ancient library.

Copying a Spell into the Book. When you find a wizard spell of 1st level or higher, you can add it to your spellbook if it is of a spell level you can prepare and if you can spare the time to decipher and copy it.

Copying a spell into your spellbook involves reproducing the basic form of the spell, then deciphering the unique system of notation used by the wizard who wrote it. You must practice the spell until you understand the sounds or gestures required, then transcribe it into your spellbook using your own notation.

For each level of the spell, the process takes 2 hours and costs 50 gp. The cost represents material components you expend as you experiment with the spell to master it, as well as the fine inks you need to record it. Once you have spent this time and money, you can prepare the spell just like your other spells.

Replacing the Book. You can copy a spell from your own spellbook into another book-for example, if you want to make a backup copy of your spellbook. This is just like copying a new spell into your spellbook, but faster and easier, since you understand your own notation and already know how to cast the spell. You need spend only 1 hour and 10 gp for each level of the copied spell.

If you lose your spellbook, you can use the same procedure to transcribe the spells that you have prepared into a new spellbook. Filling out the remainder of your spellbook requires you to find new spells to do so, as normal. For this reason, many wizards keep backup spellbooks in a safe place.

The Book's Appearance. Your spellbook is a unique compilation of spells, with its own decorative flourishes and margin notes. It might be a plain, functional leather volume that you received as a gift from your master, a finely bound gilt-edged tome you found in an ancient library or even a loose collection of notes scrounged together after you lost your previous spellbook in a mishap.

Preparing and Casting Spells
The Wizard table shows how many spell slots you have to cast your wizard spells of 1st level and higher. To cast one of these spells, you must expend a slot of the spell's level or higher. You regain all expended spell slots when you finish a long rest.

You prepare the list of wizard spells that are available for you to cast. To do so, choose a number of wizard spells from your spellbook equal to your Intelligence modifier + your wizard level (minimum of one spell). The spells must be of a level for which you have spell slots.

For example, if you're a 3rd-level wizard, you have four 1st-level and two 2nd-level spell slots. With an Intelligence of 16, your list of prepared spells can include six spells of 1st or 2nd level, in any combination, chosen from your spellbook. If you prepare the 1st-level spell Magic Missile, you can cast it using a 1st-level or a 2nd-level slot. Casting the spell doesn't remove it from your list of prepared spells.

You can change your list of prepared spells when you finish a long rest. Preparing a new list of wizard spells requires time spent studying your spellbook and memorizing the incantations and gestures you must make to cast the spell: at least 1 minute per spell level for each spell on your list.

Spellcasting Ability
Intelligence is your spellcasting ability for your wizard spells, since you learn your spells through dedicated study and memorization. You use your Intelligence whenever a spell refers to your spellcasting ability. In addition, you use your Intelligence modifier when setting the saving throw DC for a wizard spell you cast and when making an attack roll with one.

Spell save DC = 8 + your proficiency bonus + your Intelligence modifier

Spell attack modifier = your proficiency bonus + your Intelligence modifier

Ritual Casting
You can cast a wizard spell as a ritual if that spell has the ritual tag and you have the spell in your spellbook. You don't need to have the spell prepared.

Spellcasting Focus
You can use an arcane focus as a spellcasting focus for your wizard spells.

Learning Spells of 1st Level and Higher
Each time you gain a wizard level, you can add two wizard spells of your choice to your spellbook. Each of these spells must be of a level for which you have spell slots, as shown on the Wizard table. On your adventures, you might find other spells that you can add to your spellbook.

Arcane Recovery^{「wizard 1」} You have learned to regain some of your magical energy by studying your spellbook. Once per day when you finish a short rest, you can choose expended spell slots to recover. The spell slots can have a combined level that is equal to or less than half your wizard level (rounded up), and none of the slots can be 6th level or higher. For example, if you're a 4th-level wizard, you can recover up to two levels worth of spell slots. You can recover either a 2nd-level spell slot or two 1st-level spell slots.

Training in War and Song^{「wizard 2: bladesinger」} When you adopt this tradition at 2nd level, you gain proficiency with light armor, and you gain proficiency with one type of one-handed melee weapon of your choice. You also gain proficiency in the Performance skill if you don’t already have it.

Bladesong^{「wizard 2: bladesinger」}Starting at 2nd level, you can invoke an elven magic called the Bladesong, provided that you aren’t wearing medium or heavy armor or using a shield. It graces you with supernatural speed, agility, and focus. You can use a bonus action to start the Bladesong, which lasts for 1 minute. It ends early if you are incapacitated, if you don medium or heavy armor or a shield, or if you use two hands to make an attack with a weapon. You can also dismiss the Bladesong at any time (no action required).

While your Bladesong is active, you gain the following benefits:

- You gain a bonus to your AC equal to your Intelligence modifier (minimum of +1)

- Your walking speed increases by 10 feet.

- You have advantage on Dexterity (Acrobatics) checks.

- You gain a bonus to any Constitution saving throw you make to maintain your concentration on a spell. The bonus equals your Intelligence modifier (minimum of +1).

- You can use this feature a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and you regain all expended uses of it when you finish a long rest.

Cantrip Formulas (Optional)^{「wizard 3」} At 3rd level, you have scribed a set of arcane formulas in your spellbook that you can use to formulate a cantrip in your mind. Whenever you finish a long rest and consult those formulas in your spellbook, you can replace one wizard cantrip you know with another cantrip from the wizard spell list.

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Background

Background: Criminal

I'Rajith did not grow up among his kin.

For all the knowledge the young man has gathered thus far, the fate of his biological family still eludes him. Those he came to call his parents said they found him wandering the wilds alone, but he's never been one to trust information from an unreliable source. If the Conference knows - and surely, they must - they don't consider the matter important enough to discuss.

From an early age, I'Rajith was an asset to his adoptive human parents, perhaps more so than they were to him. He spoke before he could walk, and by age two he knew magical theory. At three, he taught his parents mathematics. At four, he'd begun casting spells. His childhood, quick as it was to pass, was spent supplying his parents and their small band of criminals knowledge on all manner of topics. Tidbits from the past, present and future, strategies, tactics, the ability to decode messages not meant for prying eyes.

But though his adoptive parents sought to benefit from him, they did not treat the noctem boy poorly by any means. Quite the contrary; they provided for I'Rajith the best they could. He was their prodigy of a son, after all. The only thing they refused to grant him was freedom. I'Rajith was not satisfied with knowledge borrowed; he wanted to set out and see the world he'd only heard of in his dreamless dreams. His head was full with whispered warnings, with prophecies left unfinished, storied that lacked a beginning and an end. He wanted to craft his own tale - one only he knew before he'd choose to divulge it.

More and more, I'Rajith started to understand that knowledge was a double-edged sword. The tidbits bestowed upon him by the Conference were often incomplete, sometimes frustratingly so. Many a night he writhed in his bed, trying to solve puzzles with incorrect pieces, to connect dots that weren't there. Sometimes words eluded him; other times, there were so many he choked on them. And when his mind gave him respite, the outside world refused to; eventually other bandits caught wind of his existence, and wanted to seize his knowledge for themselves.

In response, his adoptive parents opted to hide the boy and offer him a distraction from his own mind. Their place of choice was a small, shady theater they had familiar ties to. They hid him in plain sight, covered by masks and costumes, and prayed it was enough. For a few years, it was.

It was in the threater the boy learnt to dance. Many noctem chose to weave their knowledge into stories or songs - I'Rajith, during all his studies, had grown sick of words. He chose to express himself with movement; to marry sword, magic and body. And so dance he did, until his little side show became a main act - and plain sight was no longer a safe place to hide.

The summons came at an opportune time indeed.

---

Equipment

PP 0 | GP 15 | EP 0 | SP 0 | CP 0 |

⇴ Rapier
⇴ Dagger
⇴ Scholar's Pack

⇴ Backpack
⇴ Book of Lore
⇴ Ink
⇴ Ink Pen
⇴ Parchment x10
⇴ Little Bag of Sand
⇴ Small Knife

⇴ Arcane Focus
⇴ Spellbook
⇴ Set of dark common clothes including a hood
⇴ Crowbar
⇴ Belt Pouch

Freefalling with Vertigo ⍣

Silje

_{W A R D E N}

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SILJE BIRGISDÓTTIR

22 | 4'10'' | 3RD CLASS

_{A P P E A R A N C E}

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For better or for worse, Silje doesn't exactly look the part of a super soldier, especially when compared to many of her peers. She's a diminutive girl, easily mistaken for someone a few years younger despite being among the oldest in her friend group. Her hair and skin don't do her any favours either, both so pale they make her look sickly. Needless to say, the sun isn't her friend, and her skin burns easily. Still, her apparent waifishness belies a surprisingly athletic and especially nimble girl, who pulls her weight when needed.

It should also be noted that it's not her paleness or her height — or lack thereof — that people tend to pay attention to the most. Rather, it's her peculiar body language; her gestures and expressions tend to always be a little off, even if you can't pinpoint exactly how or why. Exaggerated, fidgety, too still, using gestures not befitting the situation at all — she's been accused of it all, sometimes even to her face. It doesn't seem to have had much of an impact. At most, it's earned a grin and a thumbs up.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Silje is difficult to pin down, in mind just as much as on the battlefield. She seems to have a near-constant need to preoccupy herself with something, lest her mind wander off somewhere for extended periods of time. She can space out for hours on end at the worst of times, simply watching the Mist and idly painting a scenery only she can see with its hues.

Needless to say, she gets easily bored, and isn't afraid to voice it. In fact, she's rarely afraid to voice anything — not that you'd likely hear her utter a truly bad word about anyone. Extroverted and excitable, Silje very much enjoys the company of others, even of those that do not share the sentiment. Her behaviour alienated many of her fellow WARDENS during training for reasons she doesn't quite fully understand, and so she is particularly glad for those that did stick around. For them, she's willing to do anything.

While not readily apparent at first, Silje seems to have a somewhat limited, surface-level capacity for certain emotions — as well as understanding them, which can lead to her spurting out situation inappropriate things without any ill will. It is speculated this might be due to a Mist-related injury, but considering her body seems otherwise lacking in telltale signs of Mistburn, it is but a theory at this point. Either way, due to this, Silje harbours a deep-rooted desire to feel things, and goes out of her way to put herself in situations that might provide her with strong emotions. Unfortunately, some familiar examples of this are the fear of death and the exhilaration of a life narrowly spared; the very first things she ever remembers feeling, back when she was discovered wandering the fields alone.

When given the chance to follow them, Silje's whims, freedom, excitement and action are what guide her actions, and whatever caution she does practice seems to be more for the benefit of others around her than for her own sake. After all, while she might have been a loose cannon if left to her own devices, she is a WARDEN, a trained soldier, and she knows how to follow directions.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

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Silje's life as she remembers it began the way it's also likely to end: with an explosion. One noticed by Inquisitors returning from a holy mission of heretic cleansing. Upon investigation, they found a young girl in tattered clothes, clutching onto what appeared to be the remains of a beast of some sort. She was unable to recall who she was or what'd happened, but it was assumed her remote village had been attacked by monsters. Despite the clear remnants of magic lingering in the air, the girl seemed both unharmed and not suffering from signs of Mistburn. Suspecting her of being able to wield the Mist, she was taken, as many other orphan girls before her, to join the Maidens and learn to harness her powers for the good of the Gods.

It turned out she was anything but a Maiden, in any sense of the word. An unruly, wild child who nevertheless seemed to hold immense capacity for magic, the good sisters of the Order did their best to instill in her holy virtues that she then systematically failed to uphold. The peace she enjoyed, while no doubt soothing to many orphans who'd been through hell in their short lives, was unbearable for her. Her escape attempts were many, but only one of them successful. She was twelve at the time, so when she found herself part of the Government's grand survey, she was already two years older than her peers.

As it turned out, WARDEN training fit her much more than work at the Church ever had. She excelled at combat studies, particularly those relating to the use of Mist, and it was clear she would be classified as a Battlemage early on. However, lessons on strategy and the like never quite seemed to stick. So though her magical aptitude was — is — above that of most of her peers, she's far from a 2nd class classification, and is assumed to require direction on the battlefield to reach optimal results for some time to come.

_{C O M B A T}

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Combat Class: Battlemage, with some aspects of a Ranger

Combat Style:

In a word, Silje's preferred combat style is destructive. At her truest she is a cannon of magical prowess, primed to be aimed at whatever you no longer want to exist. Of course, wanton destruction is not always the most reasonable of approaches, and so Silje's had to learn to make-do. Her mastery over mist allows her to just as easily take down enemies in more controlled, concentrated bursts of magic from good distance away with whatever elemental flavour she happens to fancy. Sometimes she chooses none, and opts to choke those who get too close with pure, concentrated Mist instead.

Despite being an important target for the enemy, Silje doesn't don very heavy armour, if any at all. Rather, she focuses on being light-weight and nimble, using magic to keep herself from harm's way; be that by propelling herself away from potential attackers, or towards them to deliver an electric shock straight to the heart. Can't kill her if you're dead first! The tricks up her sleeve are aplenty, though despite what the Maidens tried to instill in her, she's never found herself practicing healing or shielding more than necessitated by her studies.

Needless to say, she has a tendency for recklessness that often has her paired with someone more cool-headed and rational in high-stakes combat situations when resources allow for it. She is capable of operating alone however, and has survived many a situation she wasn't expected to.

_{R E L A T I O N S H I P S}

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Specifically, your character's general impressions/relationships with other player characters. This section can stay blank until characters have been accepted.

_{M I S C}

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- Silje is unable to perceive colour. Whether it's something she was born with or the result of a sustained injury is unknown, but magic seems unable to cure it. As such, some have peculated it to be Mistburn related. Particularly since when it comes to Mist, she does, in fact, perceive it as dim hues in various shades. By harnessing Mist she can then make said colours more vibrant, and upon releasing bursts of it into the monochrome world around her, she can, if for a moment, enjoy an explosion of the most beautiful of colours. And probably intestines, if anyone happened to stand too close.

- While not many of the Order's teachings stuck, Silje does pray from time to time. Whether this is a sincere practice born out of genuine faith or simply a habit that stuck is unknown.

Cedric

Name: Cedric Astley
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Trainer Class: Wandering Trainer

Appearance: Cedric stands a little above six feet with long legs and a longer yet gait - at least, when his injury hasn't flared up and left him limping. He has messy black hair, blue eyes and a very expressive face, often twisted into a grin. He seems to exude impatient energy, and those that pay attention are quick to notice that staying still tends to make him fidget.

Owing to a life spent dedicated to sports, Cedric has an athletic build. You won't necessarily be able to tell by a glance though, considering how loose he likes his clothing. The bigger and more ill-fitting his jackets and hoodies, the better. In general, he has a rather... unique sense of style, born from a want to purposefully rebel against fashion standards. He loves weird accessories and trinkets and mismatching his clothes; you're very unlikely to find him wearing matching socks at any point. And no, it's not only 'cause he keeps losing half of every pair! You'll note, though, that his shoes are always the most expensive brand there is.

Hidden under his clothes are also old scars and scrapes from falls and tumbles, most notably a large, somewhat recent one that runs across his left knee. There is also one running across his forehead that few people dare ask about, but really, he encourages it. The story's pretty funny.

Personality: Hotheaded and stubborn, Cedric was built for action and noise. He's impatient, gets easily bored, and in his haste to get to a point or to move on, can sometimes slip out figurative Politoeds from his mouth without even realizing it. And though he isn't one to insult others on purpose (some snark notwithstanding), he is very poor at hiding irritation. Or, well, anything, really. He can often be read by a pretty open book by his face alone.

You would think serious injury would be enough to quell his adrenaline-seeking ways at least, but reckless remains Cedric's second name to this day. The best way to get him to do something is to tell him he can't or shouldn't, and he takes challenges and dares very seriously indeed. Promises too; when it comes down to it, he can be depended on to do exactly what he said he would, difficulties be damned.

When it comes to Pokémon, Cedric still isn't the biggest fan, which has ruffled some feathers in the past. Warden remains more an exception than a rule, and the contrarian in Cedric refuses to give in to the critters' charm that easily. With that said, he would never harm a Pokémon or let serious harm come to them, much like he wouldn't any person. He might make fun of someone in need of saving, but he would absolutely save them right afterwards, after all.

Background: Unlike his parents and shockingly many of his peers, Cedric never wanted to go on a Pokémon journey. He never wanted to go to Sinnoh either, but here he is.

Though originally born in Johto, his parent's obsession with catching every Pokémon out there has taken them - and by extension, him - through practically every region out there. Oftentimes he would live with relatives while his parents travelled the land, with one of them occasionally staying home for a longer period to look after him. His parents thought he wouldn't get lonely with so many Pokémon and relatives to keep him company, but if anything, Cedric grew up resenting Pokémon for, in his eyes, being more important to his parents than their own damn kid.

There was one thing Cedric had in common with his parents, though, and that was his love for adrenaline. But while his parents got theirs capturing dangerous creatures in distant lands, Cedric got his from sports. Anything that involved speed was his game, though his biggest love was - is - running. Yeah, it wasn't as exciting as some of the extreme things he'd tried and loved before and since, but it was the most freeing. His goal was always to go pro after graduation - until, a few years ago, he got into an accident that changed the course of his life. Cedric doesn't like to talk about it to this day, but it involved Pokémon and did nothing to quell his dislike of them. His knee was left injured enough to render him unable to walk, much less run.

Confined to his home - or rather, the home of one of his uncles - while recovering, Cedric felt as miserable as could be. His parents sent him an "exotic variation of a Growlithe", an apparent rarity, to cheer him up, but Cedric could hardly look at the pup without getting angry. He liked his uncle well enough, at least, even though the guy was odd and had some weird views about the state of the world.

It was by pure happenstance that Cedric learnt to give Pokémon a chance. He was running an errand when he happened to witness a strangely dressed man accosting a young trainer. Spotting Cedric, a potential witness and a liability, he immediately sent out a Pokémon to attack him - only for Warden to jump into his defense. A Pokémon battle ensued, and it quickly turned out that Warden wasn't exactly trained to fight. The poor pup was unsure what to do, biting and barking at random, and so Cedric stepped in to guide it. Whether he liked it or not, he grew up being taught how to battle, after all.

What he didn't expect was to enjoy it. Maybe it was thanks to the stakes of the battle, but he found himself getting an adrenaline rush after such a long time spent sedentary and bored. He was enjoying himself. Having fun. With... a Pokémon battle. No way, right?

Enjoying one battle hardly meant he'd like to become a proper trainer, but after graduating and still being unable to properly chase his original dream, Cedric wasn't really sure what else to do. And at least... Warden liked to battle. It liked to battle a lot, and during the past few years, the two had grown close. The damn dog had been with him night and day, and even protected him when things came down to it. So while Cedric figured out what he wanted from life, he might as well let Warden live a little.

Needless to say, his parents were thrilled, far more so than him.

Pokémon Team:

• Pokémon 1: (Hisuian) Growlithe
  - Nickname: Warden
  - Ability: Intimidate
  - Personality: Excitable, curious and prone to nibbling everything within reach. Warden shares his trainer's love for running and adrenaline, but can also appreciate a good nap better than anyone. That is to say, he can and will fall sleep anywhere and on anyone, at seemingly random. Protective and jealous, he never backs down from a fight, and is ready to follow his trainer wherever he may go. Loves battling.
  - How They Met: A companion Pokémon from his parents, given in a misguided attempt to cheer Cedric up. In the end, ironically enough, he did just that.
  - Moveset: Ember, Bite, Fire Fang, Rock Slide

Backpack:

• 5 Pokéballs
• 2 Ultra Balls (from his parents' stash)
• 1 Potion
• Treats and toys for Warden
• Poketch (turns out his Rotom phone doesn't really get signal in Sinnoh)
• Travel essentials (even he's not sure what everything his parents packed is...)
• Pain medication
• Map of Sinnoh (who uses physical maps nowadays, seriously)

Notes:
Will eventually end up interested in the Pokémon Triathlon games held in Sinnoh, combining Pokémon and sports.

noah

Human

Name: Noah Park

Age: 19

Appearance: Noah stands at an average 5'9'', though his attitude alone adds a few inches to his perceived height. Failing that, so do his combat boots. He's lean and tan with sharp, narrow facial features, further accentuated by the many piercings and tattoos scattered throughout his body. The most visible one, a large, roaring dragon, runs the length of his back all the way up to his hairline. He has tattoo sleeves on both arms, and tribal tattoos on his knuckles. Noah's eyes are brown, though they are a peculiar shade that teeters on red - or maybe he's just wearing contacts and not telling anyone about it.

Noah's hair, jet black, is styled in a sidecut with a high ponytail at the back. As uncharacteristic as it sounds, Noah is pretty fussy about his appearance - especially his hair, and hates anyone touching it. He doesn't own a lot of different clothes, but the few pieces he does have tend to be kept neat and stylish, all grey, black and red. Notably, he also wears black nail polish and red eye makeup. He dares you to talk shit about it.

People tend to say that Noah's face has exactly two expressions: a deep scowl and a shit-eating grin. Those who know him the best know there's a third, elusive option of a smile, reserved only for situations that really call for it.

Personality: The first impression you get from Noah isn't wrong, exactly; he is just as difficult to approach and prone to anger as one would expect, with no patience for pleasantries and small talk - particularly the deceptive kind. He has a violent streak and a giant chip on his shoulder for most of the general public, with a tendency to say the wrong thing at the wrong time and not stop to apologize for it. He is impatient, flippant and cocky, but much the same way a cat is; strutting around like he owns any given place, yet constantly on the lookout for things that might threaten whatever temporary peace he's clawed out for himself. He's fiercely and stubbornly independent, and has trouble accepting help.

What many don't know however, is that few of his vices are deliberate, and that he's fully aware of his shortcomings - even working on fixing them, little by little. It's not that he doesn't apologize after a rude comment because he doesn't care, it's because he knows he'd just make things worse if he tried. It's not that he wants to get mad, but it's just so damn easy. Much easier than trying to express himself through words.

Luckily, he's had better luck fixing his problems when around his friends - the ones that actually matter to him. Passionate about things he cares about and loyal to those he feels have deserved it, Noah's a somewhat decent person around his own. With them, many of his extremes mellow out; the fire that so readily burns strangers to a crisp turns into a more pleasant smoulder. Unfortunately for them, being close to Noah also means they're prime targets for him to mess with. But only for him to mess with; any outsider trying to start shit with his gang better be ready to pay.

History: It likely comes as no surprise that such a turbulent youth would have a turbulent past to match. Having lost his mother at birth, Noah spent most of his childhood in the care of various relatives. His father, until the man's grief for his wife turned into anger towards the boy who'd "taken her from him"; his grandparents, until they were too old to look after a troublemaking child; an aunt, until she grew too frustrated at the teenager who seemed intent on breaking every rule ever made just for the hell of it, and wanted him out of her house. Noah didn't even wait for her to stop screaming before he slammed the door behind him, never to return.

He went in an out of foster homes afterwards, and after being arrested for assault - fuck it, he was just defending a friend! - he eventually ended up dropping out of high school. A fact he claims doesn't bother him, but he's never been good at lying. Unfortunately, he hasn't stayed out of trouble since despite his best efforts.

Still, not finishing high school with his friends doesn't mean he can't share one last camping trip with them before they all go out there and live the way he never could. His various "homes" never made him feel like he belonged, but his tight-knit group of friends always did. Noah couldn't choose his family, but he could choose his friends - and he's pretty damn sure picking this lot was the only good decision he ever made.

Or would ever make.

Magic

Magical Form: Upon transformation, the most notable change is Noah's hair: not only does it turn a deep, bright red at the roots, it flares up and bursts into flames. The ambiguous red of his eyes likewise turns bright, sometimes even overtaking his sclera when he uses his magic enough. His skin turns more ashen, and he dons a black suit with dragon motifs.

Weapon: An ornate pistol of red and black (instead of the white in the picture). The fiery bullets it shoots explode upon impact.

Abilities: Though not a terribly versatile element, Noah's fire magic is good at what it's designed for: destruction. He can create and manipulate flames at will, provided there is enough oxygen to burn, as well as ignite things and cause explosions; including small ones to propel himself forward at immense speeds. He is also capable of heating and melting things with a touch; the longer he remains in contact with a surface, the hotter it gets. He's impervious to the heat and smoke his abilities generate, and so are his magical form's clothes (thankfully). As a side effect, after first receiving his magic, Noah is always very warm to the touch, even when untransformed.

Companion

Name: Muk (short for Dotori-muk, since Noah claims they have the same consistency).

Appearance: Muk takes the form of a tiny, dark red dragon about the size (and flexibility) of a cat.

Personality: Once a powerful, ambitious sorcerer capable of transforming into a mighty dragon, Muk retains little of his original personality. Cursed while in his dragon form, his human mind has slowly deteriorated, leaving him more an intelligent beast than an evil sorcerer. With that said, his ambition to take over the world and devour all in his path hasn't dwindled; it's just a lot harder to accomplish in his current body. As such, he's had to settle on devouring each and every edible (and sometimes inedible) substance in his path, so he might grow big and strong once more.

... But while he's waiting, he likes belly rubs.

wraith

Wraith
Wraith

T H E S K E L E T O N T H E S K E L E T O N _______________________________________________ "What is gone from sight should not be gone from mind. That is how fools lose their coin, and despots their life." T H E S K U L L T H E S K U L L N A M E ║ Whatever other name they once carried has been lost to time; now, he is Wraith. A G E ║ 23 - 99 982 TK G E N D E R ║ Him/they R A C E ║ Halfling S U B -R A C E ║ Provincial M A G I C ║ n/a T H E S P I N E T H E S P I N E T O W N ║ Terecél R E G I O N ║ Northeast of the Nordan Lengths P O P U L A T I O N ║ ~10k C E N S U S ║ Mostly humans, though the city sees a decent and surprising mix of folks from all races, united in their desire to learn. T R A D E ║ Home to one of the largest libraries left in Goan, Terecél's greatest exports are the many scholars it produces. N A M E S A K E ║ Said to be the opening words to an ancient incantation for prosperity. ✦ ✦ ✦ P A R E N T ║ Delajah Myrthworth (mother †) P A R E N T ║ Friedehar Murthworth (father †) O T H E R ║ T'haleus Thinebellow, a famous scholar, who once came to him with an offering L I M B S L I M B S W E A P O N 1 ║ A serrated dagger, with runes running along the length of the blade. Those in the know call it the Essence Reaver. Wraith calls it a dagger. It's safe to assume that whenever his hands aren't in sight, they're hovering near its hilt. W E A P O N 2 ║ Shortbow, made for his size. A R M O R ║ Leather armour, hidden underneath a black, hooded cloak. T R I N K E T ║A quill, with its ink long gone and its tips torn from travel. He has never been seen writing with it. C O N T E N T S P E C K S ║ 170 pecks; more when he next sees a pocket. B A C K P A C K ║ ///✦ Spare clothes ///✦ Crowbar ///✦ Ball bearings ///✦ Tinderbox ///✦ Small mirror ///✦ Lock picking equipment ///✦ Rations ///✦ Waterskin ///✦ Vials of poison ///✦ Arrows

T H E F L E S H & M U S C L E T H E F L E S H & M U S C L E 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖗 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖗 S U B L C A S S ║ Scoundrel Rules are only ever as solid as society's ability to enforce them, and scoundrels know how to make that task difficult indeed. Abandoned by goodwill, they live on the outskirts of cities and towns, skulk through shadows unseen, and make their living through any means necessary. Quick, nimble and unpredictable, they are not afraid to employ dirty tactics if it means they get to live another day. The good ones do their deeds before anyone notices anything amiss, their heists the topic of many a bardsong. The best ones are not sung about - for to this day, no one realizes their crimes took place at all. Those who have incurred the wrath of a scoundrel better fear every drop of wine, every loose sleeve, and every splotch of darkness that marks the alleys between here and home. ▮▮▮▮▮ ║ ▮▮▮▮▮ SKILLS BLINK AND YOU'LL-- ║ The winglings were once very powerful illusionists, and while they have lost their control over magic it's instead embedded itself within them. They can blend into their surroundings without so much thought They can be tactically invisible three times a day. Meaning they aren't entirely unseen, but they are far harder to perceive with normal means. A secret coin toss will decide this. TAKE ANOTHER STAB ║ If you mess up, you can center yourself and call upon steady hands and a clear mind to try a challenge again. Once a delve, you can reroll anything that required a coin flip. ✦ ✦ ✦ UNIVERSAL KEY ║ RANK 1 EXPERTISE ║ EXPLORATION ║ UTILITY Wraith is an expert at knowing where he isn't wanted - and going there anyway. Performs a quick feat of skill with their tools, such as picking a lock or disarming a trap. THE WEAPON OF COWARDS ║ RANK 1 EXPERTISE ║ ATTACK ║ RANGED/MELEE The only thing deadlier than a blade is a blade coated with poison - or wine spiked with it. For three rounds, the enemy must flip a coin at the start of their turn, taking 1 health damage on a failure. If by the third round they've taken no damage, they instantly take 1 health damage instead. LAST LEGS ║ RANK 1 EXPERTISE ║ AID ║ SELF More than once, Wraith has been likened to a cockroach. He thinks it a compliment; they are, after all, notoriously hard to kill. For the next round, anyone targeting the user with an attack or a harmful effect must flip an extra coin to succeed. Y O U R B R A I N & N E R V E S Y O U R B R A I N & N E R V E S S T U D Y ║ ///✦ THE STREETS OF TÉRECEL ║ The only place of study Wraith ever truly attended. The streets taught him everything he is and isn't, the difference (and the overlap) between should and could, and everything there is to know about the world that doesn't want him. /// 99982 - 100001 ///✦ THE EVERGLADE INSTITUTE OF MAGIC ║ t̸̷̶̵̷̗͉̰̯͕̗̬̑̃̈́̆ͦ̒ͯ̽̋̕̚h̴̸̶̶̸̶̷̢̼͈̖͙̲̥̭̦̳̪̱̠̬̠̊̓̂̌̽̈́̀̅̑̈́̈́͗̂͆̈́͛͜͟ͅȩ̵̸̷̶̵̷̦̻̬͓̯͇͎̗̪̻̻̃̒̎͒̆̉̌̈́̎́̇͌̕͝͠y̵̵̵̵̵̶̶̵̸̡̨̩̟̦̳̖͙̦͖̣̥͍̺͕̝̠̯͍ͥ͛̽̋͊̍̑̍͒͆͋̉͗̏̓̏̕͘͜͜͠͠͠͝͠͝ͅ ̸̴̧͚͓͙̩̬̌̾̃͘̚҉̸̸̶̴͎̼̪̜̹̺̤̳͔̅̍̑͛̀͒̀̕͜d̸̷̶̵̶̸̪͕̳̱͎͕̩̺̥͇̖̰̫̦͖̭̞̭̈́̀̈́͆̒́̐̄͑̏ͩ̈́̉̔͒̕̕͘͠͝͝͝i̴̵̵̵̵̶̶̢̛̼̣͎͇͍̱̦̦͕̜̟̺̮̜͍̠̳͔͍̎͑̐̀̌̾̂̓͋̈́̔̑͑͑̂̔̐͋̋͘͝d̷̵̸̸̵̶̸̷̢̨̖̙̠̻̜̰͎͙͈̠̰͍̤̹͖͖̜͎̱̽̽̊̽̎͗̊̋̌̀̈́̔̅̀̕͜͜͝ ̵̵̶̸̴̶̢̧̪̳͇̱͍̤͉͚̆́͌͂̓͛͋̽̒̒̋͐͗̒̍̕͜͝ͅṱ̷̸̷̸̵̷̴̶̢̢̛̘̗̙̲̲͎͚̥̱̬͓͚̖̭̣̘͇̠̞̑̑̽̅ͧ̈̓́͐̇̃̇͐͐̕͘̕͜͜͝ͅḙ̷̶̴̵̴̸̸̷̷̢̡̮͓͎̯͇͖̘̱̳̦͙̺̦̪̣̼̪̦̣̇̎̈́̄̉͊̃͗̓̂̾̄̒̈́̓́̂̈̕͘͜͜͠s̷̵̵̴̸̵̴̵̷̸̨̧̛̻̟̜͚̭̩̖̦̦̪̮͕̦̹̙̭͕̬̦͖͇͖̲̲̳̥̗̰̝̳̩̒̐̅̀͛͒̈́̉̀̈͌̒̄͒̄͌͛̆͘̚͝͝ţ̷̶̵̸̶̛̬͈̰̺̼̳͉̦̱͖̜̙͛̉͗̅̑̾͂̍̽̔͗͌̆͗͊̚͘͘͟͠͝s̴̵̷̵̴̵̨̧͙̱͙̤̺̠͉͓̹͍̗͙̃̅̒͋̊̔̽̈̀̑̏̔̔̒̓̚̕ ̶̸̶̵̵͕͇̳͇̪̼͍͓͑̅̈́͛̾̊̑͂̽̓̕̚̚͝n̴̷̷̯̞͉̙̯̜͚͇̋͑̅̏̎̔͛̌͡d̵̷̸̵̴̴̵̸̴̷̸̢͖͇̙̲̯̮̖̙̬̝͙̗̦̳̜̖͎̱̙̫̲̝̼̀͋ͧ̎͊̓̌ͩ̂̎͒̓̊̒̒̈̃̽͛͑̽͌̽͑̎̄͘̚͘͝͝ͅ ̶̶̸̵̶̶̴̸̡̧̢͔̻͎͎̰͓͎͔̯̟͈̖͙͒̇ͧ̍͌̐ͦ̐́ͮ̐̏̈́̈̎͌͛̐̌͛͝͝ẗ̵̵̸̸̷̶̶̛͙̥̠̦͉͉̙͇̰͍̘͙̦̯͖̳̉͛̿̽̇̅͂̒̑̿̐̓͛͐̕͝͝͠h̸̸̶̶̶̴̢͈͍̟͎̭̫̙̻͓̘̰̱̬͒̆̅̈́̑̒̽̊͒̃͛͐̕͘̚͜͝͝e̵̵̷̸̶̲̪̟̜̼͍̘̥͕͊̄̈́̽̎̾̓̈̂̒̀͢͝y̴̵̷̵̴̵̧͎͔͓̹͔͍̪̭͚̰̔̍ͣ̈̽ͩ̇̒͛̑ ̸̵̵̴̸̸̨̧̢̢̡̲͖̯͇̭̺͔͇̖̰̱̤̤͛͐̈́ͯ̈̏͂͌̃̄͊͗̈́̇̕͠ͅd̸̶̶̴̨̛̖̲̰̗̝̥̘̗̞̳̪̥̜̄̊̅́̅̇̽͆̅̚̕̚̕ḯ̸̵̝̺͍͈̩̳̊͗̃͘͝ḍ̵̷̷̷̖̱̱̖͇̤͇̏̂̑ͮ̋̑̎̽͗͗̅̽͜͝͠͝ ̸̶̷̯̩͉̼͈̻ͤ̾͑͗̏̕̚̕̕͜͏̷̎ń̷̸̸̸̴͓̜̝͚̦̤͇̹̻̺̣̔̏̿̋́̐̉̓̈̓́̚ơ̷̸̶̸̸̷̵̴̴̡̡̨̢̧̤̮̦̰̥̬̗̥̩̥̠̜̞̝͕̱̫̑̓͑̏̌̉̎͐̿̽̽͋̔̊̀̀́̚͜͝͝ţ̷̷̵̶̴̷̴̛̯̻̣̫̪̺̹̰̟̥̜͉̰̤̰̰̘̀̊ͣ́̒͐̍ͬ̀̽̒̈́̀̍̈̀̒͘͜͟͝͠ ̴̸̸̵̙̭̮̬̙̘̺̎͂̃̈́̍̀̓̐̔̀̋͠͝s̵̸̴̵̴̸̴̸̨̧̡̧̡̡̩̰̜̯̹̦̥͕͖̫͚͙̘̲̣̼̀͗̀͐ͬ͊̓̅̍̎͌ͫ̓̈́̊͌͛͌̑́̐͘ù̵̶̵̵̷̧̢͎͎̼̦͖̺͈̺͙̝͔̩̑̋̓̉̂̍̋̓̆̅̐̿͘͜͠͝͏̷͒c̷̭̫͙̈c̷̷̸̶̝̪̙̖̝̼̙͉̤̿͊ͩ̅̽̎̍͑ȩ̴̷̷̸̵̵̷͕̟͕͈̖̦͇͇͎̟͕̝̪̰̯̖͍̠̲͐͒̽͒̐̊̓̈͌̈̉͛̂͂̍̾̃̆̔̒͆̕͘̚e̷̶̸̴̶͎̻̱͎̗͈̱̯̣̜̿͂͑͐̾́͛͊́̅̊̈͗̊d̴̶̸̸̶̶̵̡̢̧̢̖̮̯̗͇̟͙̥̮̯̥̞̰̘̱́̑ͪ͑̏͛̾̄̋̌̏͛͆̓̔̄̆͆̀̀̚̕͘͜͜ ///100003 - 100003 E X P E R I E N C E ║ ///✦ A THIEF BY ANY OTHER NAME ║ To list every moniker given to him and every job he's ever performed would be an exercise in futility, but for almost as long as he's lived, he's worked. None of it honestly. ///99987 - 100001 ///✦ SAME JOB, DIFFERENT TOWN ║ For the past few years, Wraith has travelled the world, doing much the same he always has. Except this time, he's had a purpose other than survival; a search, still ongoing. ///100003 - 100005 Y O U R S O U L & H E A R T Y O U R S O U L & H E A R T ✦ RESOURCEFUL ✦ CUNNING ✦ ADAPTABLE ✦ SELFISH ✦ P E R S O N A L I T Y ║ Having long since learnt that knowledge is power, Wraith lets slip very little of himself or his intentions. Some things, however, can be surmised easily enough. For one, Wraith is reserved, keeping to himself in every sense of the word; he abhors physical proximity as much as emotional, and is at his most comfortable (which is to say, not very) when at an arms length away from others. What he isn't is shy; when he does decide to talk, he does so with deadpan confidence and the boldness of someone who never quite learnt how and when to stay his tongue. In a similar vein, insults from most others don't seem to bother him either, and though he can certainly display frustration, he doesn't anger easily. Curiosity is a vice Wraith has suffered from for the longest while, and try as he might, he cannot keep it completely under wraps. Some say cowardice is another, though Wraith considers it his greatest asset. It's his alertness and willingness to drop whoever might slow him down that has gotten him this far - and he isn't about to stop anytime soon. If you can trust anything about this halfling, it's his determination to see the morrow. ✦ GYTEUS ✦ ✦ GYTEUS ✦ D E V O T I O N ║ Though not the most devout when it comes to matters of faith, Wraith finds no harm in welcoming divine help if any is to be distributed. He worships Gyteus come the darkest hour of the night, whispering the secrets of others into shadows, so that his own secret may stay safe. M O T I V A T I O N & I M P E T U S M O T I V A T I O N & I M P E T U S A halfling of ill-repute has little hope for honest work, less so with a branded face. Ordel'ai welcomes all desperate enough to delve within, and promises riches to those who make it out besides - and sometimes to change your life, you must first risk it. T H E T R A P P I N G S T H E T R A P P I N G S A P P E A R A N C E ║ Short and unassuming even when compared to his kin, Wraith is easy to miss in a crowd - and that is by design. Standing a few inches short of three feet, he comes across as little more than a mobile pile of tattered clothes, scurrying from shadow to shadow. Even when standing still, his posture is poor and stance wary, as if the slightest sound could spur him into a run. Cloaked in hood and a mask, few are those who have caught a glimpse of the halfling's face - but those who have, cannot say they've forgotten. A past magical injury has branded him, carving blue veins into the skin below his eyes. They ripple as if made of liquid, an occasional shimmer giving them an eerie hue. Their shade is a turquoise similar to his eyes; sharp, unnatural, unnerving. Though Wraith comes across as unarmed at a glance, no self-respecting warrior truly assumes him to be such. Halflings always carry blades, the smart ones two, and the ones that live the longest as many as they can, each dipped in poison. Wraith intends to live long. I N J U R Y ║ INJURY MAP

chloe

Name: Chloe Whittaker

Age: 17

Gender: Female

Appearance: A little taller than average, Chloe stands at 5'8'' without heels — so, really, chances are she's at least a good few inches taller whenever you see her. Her fussiness over appearances has kept her physically active throughout the years, even long after she quit her various active hobbies, lending her a slender build. Her eyes are a striking purplish pink and hair blond with a red gradient towards the tips. Though her hair is very long, reaching past her waist, you'd be hard pressed to find a single strand astray on most days.

Partly by nature, partly by design, Chloe tends to be very expressive, sometimes exaggeratedly so, and you can usually read her mood well enough from her face. Though usually smiling and bubbly, once annoyed, her glares can freeze running water and scowls make grown Aggron jump. Or so her friends have described her, anyway.

Chloe is very particular when it comes to the image she portrays, and treats every jog and shopping trip like a modelling tryout. If she doesn't look her best, she isn't leaving the house, period. This means that whenever people do see her, she's a polished sight; neatly done hair, hand-picked jewelry, meticulous makeup and latest trends for clothes. With that said, she does prefer clothing she can actually move in comfortably, such as skirts and shorts. She saves long, beautiful dresses for contests and formal occasions, much as he loves them.

She will wear shoes with high heels at absolutely all times however, and no threat of broken ankle will convince her otherwise.

Personality: Despite her well-crafted appearance, Chloe can hardly be accused of being fake. Confident and outspoken, she wears her thoughts and emotions on her sleeve, letting you know exactly what she thinks of you at any given time, for better or for worse. And boy, can that wary from moment to moment. Her moods can fluctuate from one extreme to the next alarmingly fast, though never without reason — it's just that to anyone else than her, the reason might seem minor.

At her best, Chloe is upbeat and friendly, ready to talk your ear off if you give her the go, or to listen if you'd rather do so instead — to an extent, anyway. Extrovert to the core, she is far more comfortable talking and being the center of attention than standing at the sidelines, waiting for her turn. Or, well, waiting for anything, really, and it's when she wants something she can't have that you'll catch her at her worst. She's never had to learn patience, and doesn't take rejection or setbacks well. She hates being told what to do or being forced to dance to someone else's tune, and doesn't take insults - ones that actually manage to wound her, anyway - lightly.

With that said, her attitude does extend to her friends as well, as she does care deeply for those closest to her, and will fight for them the same way she does for herself if she feels someone's wronged them. Of course, the same goes for her Pokémon companion as well.

Though Chloe finds it hard to fathom a life without luxury nowadays, there is still a spark of that curious, adventurous girl who loved nothing more than visiting new places and seeing new sights hiding behind it all, and that's part of the reason she dared fly across the globe to a new region at the drop of a hat. She does still want to see the world. Just... nowadays, she'd prefer to do it from a ventilated tour bus.

Hometown: Goldenrod City, Johto

Background: Born as the only child to an affluent couple in the heart of Goldenrod City, Chloe grew up privileged and pampered, never left wanting a thing. Her father in particular treated her like a princess, catering to her every whim - which meant that by the age of twelve, she'd gotten to try a dozen different hobbies, owned a rare Galarian Ponyta at the local ranch, and gotten to ride the train to Saffron City in first class whenever she wanted to shop at Celadon City shopping center. Which, for the record, was often. Chloe was a curious, active child who loved seeing new places and trying new things.

Chloe's mother, a Pokémon trainer until the incident ten years ago that turned Pokémon against their trainers, was less accommodating to her daughter's whims, but also far busier than her husband and often not at home to put a stop to his coddling. The one thing she did insist on, however, was that she wasn't to be left alone with Pokémon without supervision. The only exception to the rule was the Snubbul which, over the years, had proven herself to be an able protector of her daughter, much as her mother had hated the thing at first.

Come her teenage years, Chloe's interest in her old hobbies and adventures waned, replaced by an admiration of various contest and movie stars, as well as the fancy life they lived. She had a lot of what they did, from money to fashion sense and looks, but what she didn't have was fame. And if Chloe had learnt anything during her formative years so far, it was that if she wanted something, she would have it.

And perhaps she would have, had her father remained in the picture. Unfortunately he, too, harbored an admiration for beautiful young contest stars, and it was one of them that he eventually left with. Understandably angered by the betrayal, Chloe's mothers wanted to hear nothing of contests or Pokémon in her house, the latter which she still feared. Chloe didn't take the new rule lying down. Argument after argument ensued, with Chloe insisting she wanted to get into a contest school, her mother declaring that she would not fund such an endeavor.

It was then she received the job offer from professor Camphor, who'd probably sent it to her due to her mother's reputation as an elite trainer back in the day. Or maybe the prof was simply one of Chloe's fans! Who knew? Who cared? Not her. Chloe saw it as an opportunity to stick it to her mother, prove that at almost eighteen years old, she was practically an adult who could make her own decisions, and to fund her contest career.

Besides, how difficult could filling a Pokedex or whatever be, anyway? Oh noo, she'd have to walk around the warm, picturesque region of Eidda and take amazing pictures for a few months! What an awful fate!

Sign her the up, like, yesterday.

Kind of Pokémon you like: Cute, pretty, tough, though she also has a soft spot for Pokémon others might describe as "ugly cute". Just keep anything creepy and crawly away from her, thanks.

Quirks/Talents/Aspirations/Other:
- Chloe's main aspiration, and the reason she left behind not only her hometown but her entire homeregion, is to become a world famous coordinator. To that end, she needs money, talented Pokémon and fans, all of which she intends to acquire on this trip. She's vlogging her adventures in hopes it'd garner her some pre-contest fame and buzz.
- Can, in fact, run in heels.
- Knows a few self-defense techniques, due to his father's insistence, and the help of his Hitmonlee.
- Has never slept outdoors — yet.
- Believes ghost Pokémon aren't real ghosts, because those do. Not. Exist.

Items: 1x Potion.

Pokédollars: 1000p.

Snugglebutt, or Snuggles for short

Species: Snubbull

Appearance: Nothing out of the ordinary, other than the giant orange ribbon between her right ears — and whatever other accessories or pieces of clothing Chloe has deemed look good on her at any given moment.

Level: 5

Gender: Female

Type: Fairy

Ability: Intimidate

Moves: Charm, Fire Fang, Ice Fang, Scary Face, Tackle, Tail Whip, Thunder Fang, Close Combat (egg move)

Personality and Nature: Don't let the silly, cutesy name fool you - Snuggles is as vicious as they come. She's ill-tempered, prone to barking and lashing out at everyone and everything she doesn't like. She does listen to Chloe however, and can be calmed down with only a few choice words from her. Treats help, as well; she's particularly keen on sweet foods and can eat a lot when given free reign. In fact, her first reaction to everything new is to take a bite out of it, as many unfortunate strangers have found out.

Quirks/Talents/Aspirations/Other:
- She seems to favour interacting with girls, and enjoys being petted by them. Guys? Keep your hands away if you want to keep them.
- Aspires to one day take down an actual dragon Pokémon, preferably a fully evolved one. Unbeknownst to Chloe, Snuggles was bought from a breeder specializing in producing Granbull for battles and hunting dragons after all, not performing at shows.
- Likes to watch others do battle. The more intense, the better.
- Leppa Berries are her favourite.

Held Item: n/a

Junwoo

Park Junwoo

Age: 16
Ethnicity: Korean
Favorite Color: Orange

Background (Noble) / Reason for being at Bullworth: Born to a rich and powerful family, Junwoo learned three things very early on in his life: that his parents expected great things from him, that he would never be able to rise to meet such expectations, and that, since his grandmother was willing to coddle him regardless, he'd never need to try. So, for all intents and purposes, Junwoo was that rich kid growing up. The one who could get away with increasingly alarming things simply by throwing money at it. He was popular, he was perpetually bored, he was living off of someone else's hard work, and he was very unapologetic about it all.

That was, until his grandmother passed away.

So, at the mercy of his parents and on the brink of being disowned, here he is now, at Bullworth academy. His parents have long since given up on trying to fix him, but perhaps what they can't accomplish, a whole institution dedicated to whipping youth like him into shape can.

Eh, probably not, if you ask him. But since he's here, he might as well have some fun.

Background Feature: Position of Privilege | Thanks to your noble birth, people are inclined to think the best of you. You are welcome in high society, and people assume you have the right to be wherever you are. The common folk make every effort to accommodate you and avoid your displeasure, and other people of high birth treat you as a member of the same social sphere. You can secure an audience with a local noble if you need to.

Belongings: The standard things one would expect (books, bag, wallet, etc.), just notably of very expensive variety, plus an iPhone, tablet, and earplugs. He used to have weed, but got caught with it. So far, he's managed to conceal a lighter.

Persona

Andraste

Race: Human
Tarot: Tower
Appearance: Andraste manifests as a towering knight clad in black armour that obscures her features. She carries a massive sword almost as tall as she is, swinging it with alarming ease.

Level: 3
Class: Echo Knight Fighter
Equipment: A set of fine clothes, a signet ring (expensive jewelry), a scroll of pedigree, Chain Mail (-75GP), Greatsword (-50GP), Longsword (-15GP), Dungeoneer's Pack (-12GP), Shield (-10GP), Javelin x6 (-3GP), leftover: 35GP (+25GP from Background)

Stats:

Strength - 17 (+3)
Dexterity - 10 (+0)
Constitution - 15 (+2)
Intelligence - 8 (+0)
Wisdom - 8 (+0)
Charisma - 16 (+3)

Skill Proficiency: Athletics, Deception, Intimidation, Persuasion, Performance
Equipment Proficiency: Simple weapons, martial weapons, shields, all armour, dice
Languages: Common, Celestial, Draconic

Racial Abilities:

Languages^{「variant human」}You can speak, read, and write Common and one extra language of your choice (Celestial)
Ability Score Increase^{「variant human」}Two different ability scores of your choice increase by 1. (STR, CHA)
Skills^{「variant human」}You gain proficiency in one skill of your choice.
Feat^{「variant human」}You gain one Feat of your choice.

Feats:

Telepathic^{「free feat」}

• Increase your Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma by 1, to a maximum of 20. (CHA)
• You can speak telepathically to any creature you can see within 60 feet of you. Your telepathic utterances are in a language you know, and the creature understands you only if it knows that language. Your communication doesn't give the creature the ability to respond to you telepathically.
• You can cast the detect thoughts spell, requiring no spell slot or components, and you must finish a long rest before you can cast it this way again. Your spellcasting ability for the spell is the ability increased by this feat. If you have spell slots of 2nd level or higher, you can cast this spell with them.

Heavy Armour Master^{「variant human」}

• Increase your Strength score by 1, to a maximum of 20.
• While you are wearing heavy armor, bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage that you take from nonmagical attacks is reduced by 3.

Class Abilities:

Fighting Style: Great Weapon Fighting^{「lv1 fighter」}When you roll a 1 or 2 on a damage die for an attack you make with a melee weapon that you are wielding with two hands, you can reroll the die and must use the new roll, even if the new roll is a 1 or a 2. The weapon must have the two-handed or versatile property for you to gain this benefit.

Second Wind^{「lv1 fighter」}You have a limited well of stamina that you can draw on to protect yourself from harm. On your turn, you can use a bonus action to regain hit points equal to 1d10 + your fighter level. Once you use this feature, you must finish a short or long rest before you can use it again.

Action Surge^{「lv2 fighter」}Starting at 2nd level, you can push yourself beyond your normal limits for a moment. On your turn, you can take one additional action.

Once you use this feature, you must finish a short or long rest before you can use it again. Starting at 17th level, you can use it twice before a rest, but only once on the same turn.

Manifest Echo^{「lv3 fighter: echo knight」}At 3rd level, you can use a bonus action to magically manifest an echo of yourself in an unoccupied space you can see within 15 feet of you. This echo is a magical, translucent, gray image of you that lasts until it is destroyed, until you dismiss it as a bonus action, until you manifest another echo, or until you're incapacitated.

Your echo has AC 14 + your proficiency bonus, 1 hit point, and immunity to all conditions. If it has to make a saving throw, it uses your saving throw bonus for the roll. It is the same size as you, and it occupies its space. On your turn, you can mentally command the echo to move up to 30 feet in any direction (no action required). If your echo is ever more than 30 feet from you at the end of your turn, it is destroyed.

• As a bonus action, you can teleport, magically swapping places with your echo at a cost of 15 feet of your movement, regardless of the distance between the two of you.
• When you take the Attack action on your turn, any attack you make with that action can originate from your space or the echo's space. You make this choice for each attack.
• When a creature that you can see within 5 feet of your echo moves at least 5 feet away from it, you can use your reaction to make an opportunity attack against that creature as if you were in the echo's space.

Unleash Incarnation^{「lv3 fighter: echo knight」}At 3rd level, you can heighten your echo's fury. Whenever you take the Attack action, you can make one additional melee attack from the echo's position.

You can use this feature a number of times equal to your Constitution modifier (a minimum of once). You regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.

wraith v edits

Wraith
Wraith

T H E S K E L E T O N T H E S K E L E T O N _______________________________________________ "What is gone from sight should not be gone from mind. That is how fools lose their coin, and despots their life." T H E S K U L L T H E S K U L L N A M E ║ Whatever other name they once carried has been lost to time; now, he is Wraith. A G E ║ 23 - 99 982 TK G E N D E R ║ He/they R A C E ║ Halfling S U B -R A C E ║ Provincial M A G I C ║ n/a T H E S P I N E T H E S P I N E T O W N ║ Terecél R E G I O N ║ Northeast of the Nordan Lengths P O P U L A T I O N ║ ~10k C E N S U S ║ Mostly humans, though the city sees a decent and surprising mix of folks from all races, united in their desire to learn. T R A D E ║ Home to one of the largest libraries left in Goan, Terecél's greatest exports are the many scholars it produces. N A M E S A K E ║ Said to be the opening words to an ancient incantation for prosperity. ✦ ✦ ✦ P A R E N T ║ Delajah Myrthworth (mother †) P A R E N T ║ Friedehar Myrthworth (father †) O T H E R ║ T'haleus Thinebellow, a famous scholar, who once came to him with an offering L I M B S L I M B S W E A P O N 1 ║ A serrated dagger, with runes running along the length of the blade. Those in the know call it the Essence Reaver. Wraith calls it a dagger. It's safe to assume that whenever his hands aren't in sight, they're hovering near its hilt. W E A P O N 2 ║ Shortbow, made for his size. A R M O R ║ Leather armour, hidden underneath a black, hooded cloak. T R I N K E T ║A quill, with its ink long gone and its tips torn from travel. He has never been seen writing with it. C O N T E N T S P E C K S ║ 170 pecks; more when he next sees a pocket. B A C K P A C K ║ ///✦ Spare clothes ///✦ Crowbar ///✦ Ball bearings ///✦ Tinderbox ///✦ Small mirror ///✦ Lock picking equipment ///✦ Rations ///✦ Waterskin ///✦ Vials of poison ///✦ Arrows

T H E F L E S H & M U S C L E T H E F L E S H & M U S C L E 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖗 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖗 S U B L C A S S ║ Scoundrel Rules are only ever as solid as society's ability to enforce them, and scoundrels know how to make that task difficult indeed. Abandoned by goodwill, they live on the outskirts of cities and towns, skulk through shadows unseen, and make their living through any means necessary. Quick, nimble and unpredictable, they are not afraid to employ dirty tactics if it means they get to live another day. The good ones do their deeds before anyone notices anything amiss, their heists the topic of many a bardsong. The best ones are not sung about - for to this day, no one realizes their crimes took place at all. Those who have incurred the wrath of a scoundrel better fear every drop of wine, every loose sleeve, and every splotch of darkness that marks the alleys between here and home. ▮▮▮▮▮ ║ ▮▮▮▮▮ SKILLS BLINK AND YOU'LL-- ║ The winglings were once very powerful illusionists, and while they have lost their control over magic it's instead embedded itself within them. They can blend into their surroundings without so much thought. They can be tactically invisible three times a day. Meaning they aren't entirely unseen, but they are far harder to perceive with normal means. A secret coin toss will decide this. TAKE ANOTHER STAB ║ If you mess up, you can center yourself and call upon steady hands and a clear mind to try a challenge again. Once a delve, you can reroll anything that required a coin flip. ✦ ✦ ✦ UNIVERSAL KEY ║ RANK 1 EXPERTISE ║ EXPLORATION ║ UTILITY Wraith is an expert at knowing where he isn't wanted - and going there anyway. Performs a quick feat of skill with their tools, such as picking a lock or disarming a trap. THE WEAPON OF COWARDS ║ RANK 1 EXPERTISE ║ ATTACK ║ RANGED/MELEE The only thing deadlier than a blade is a blade coated with poison - or a drink spiked with it. For three rounds, the target must flip a coin at the start of their turn, taking 1 health damage on a failure. If by the third round they've taken no damage, they instantly take 1 health damage instead. LAST LEGS ║ RANK 1 EXPERTISE ║ AID ║ SELF More than once, Wraith has been likened to a cockroach. He thinks it a compliment; they are, after all, notoriously hard to kill. For the next round, anyone targeting the user with an attack or a harmful effect must flip an extra coin to succeed. Y O U R B R A I N & N E R V E S Y O U R B R A I N & N E R V E S S T U D Y ║ ///✦ THE STREETS OF TÉRECEL ║ The only place of study Wraith ever truly attended. The streets taught him everything he is and isn't, the difference (and the overlap) between should and could, and everything there is to know about the world that doesn't want him. /// 99982 - 100003 ///✦ THE EVERGLADE INSTITUTE OF MAGIC ║ During his brief stint at the academy, Wraith wt̸̷̶̵̷̗͉̰̯͕̗̬̑̃̈́̆ͦ̒ͯ̽̋̕̚h̴̸̶̶̸̶̷̢̼͈̖͙̲̥̭̦̳̪̱̠̬̠̊̓̂̌̽̈́̀̅̑̈́̈́͗̂͆̈́͛͜͟ͅȩ̵̸̷̶̵̷̦̻̬͓̯͇͎̗̪̻̻̃̒̎͒̆̉̌̈́̎́̇͌̕͝͠y̵̵̵̵̵̶̶̵̸̡̨̩̟̦̳̖͙̦͖̣̥͍̺͕̝̠̯͍ͥ͛̽̋͊̍̑̍͒͆͋̉͗̏̓̏̕͘͜͜͠͠͠͝͠͝ͅ ̸̴̧͚͓͙̩̬̌̾̃͘̚҉̸̸̶̴͎̼̪̜̹̺̤̳͔̅̍̑͛̀͒̀̕͜d̸̷̶̵̶̸̪͕̳̱͎͕̩̺̥͇̖̰̫̦͖̭̞̭̈́̀̈́͆̒́̐̄͑̏ͩ̈́̉̔͒̕̕͘͠͝͝͝i̴̵̵̵̵̶̶̢̛̼̣͎͇͍̱̦̦͕̜̟̺̮̜͍̠̳͔͍̎͑̐̀̌̾̂̓͋̈́̔̑͑͑̂̔̐͋̋͘͝d̷̵̸̸̵̶̸̷̢̨̖̙̠̻̜̰͎͙͈̠̰͍̤̹͖͖̜͎̱̽̽̊̽̎͗̊̋̌̀̈́̔̅̀̕͜͜͝ ̵̵̶̸̴̶̢̧̪̳͇̱͍̤͉͚̆́͌͂̓͛͋̽̒̒̋͐͗̒̍̕͜͝ͅṱ̷̸̷̸̵̷̴̶̢̢̛̘̗̙̲̲͎͚̥̱̬͓͚̖̭̣̘͇̠̞̑̑̽̅ͧ̈̓́͐̇̃̇͐͐̕͘̕͜͜͝ͅḙ̷̶̴̵̴̸̸̷̷̢̡̮͓͎̯͇͖̘̱̳̦͙̺̦̪̣̼̪̦̣̇̎̈́̄̉͊̃͗̓̂̾̄̒̈́̓́̂̈̕͘͜͜͠s̷̵̵̴̸̵̴̵̷̸̨̧̛̻̟̜͚̭̩̖̦̦̪̮͕̦̹̙̭͕̬̦͖͇͖̲̲̳̥̗̰̝̳̩̒̐̅̀͛͒̈́̉̀̈͌̒̄͒̄͌͛̆͘̚͝͝ţ̷̶̵̸̶̛̬͈̰̺̼̳͉̦̱͖̜̙͛̉͗̅̑̾͂̍̽̔͗͌̆͗͊̚͘͘͟͠͝s̴̵̷̵̴̵̨̧͙̱͙̤̺̠͉͓̹͍̗͙̃̅̒͋̊̔̽̈̀̑̏̔̔̒̓̚̕ ̶̸̶̵̵͕͇̳͇̪̼͍͓͑̅̈́͛̾̊̑͂̽̓̕̚̚͝n̴̷̷̯̞͉̙̯̜͚͇̋͑̅̏̎̔͛̌͡d̵̷̸̵̴̴̵̸̴̷̸̢͖͇̙̲̯̮̖̙̬̝͙̗̦̳̜̖͎̱̙̫̲̝̼̀͋ͧ̎͊̓̌ͩ̂̎͒̓̊̒̒̈̃̽͛͑̽͌̽͑̎̄͘̚͘͝͝ͅ ̶̶̸̵̶̶̴̸̡̧̢͔̻͎͎̰͓͎͔̯̟͈̖͙͒̇ͧ̍͌̐ͦ̐́ͮ̐̏̈́̈̎͌͛̐̌͛͝͝ẗ̵̵̸̸̷̶̶̛͙̥̠̦͉͉̙͇̰͍̘͙̦̯͖̳̉͛̿̽̇̅͂̒̑̿̐̓͛͐̕͝͝͠h̸̸̶̶̶̴̢͈͍̟͎̭̫̙̻͓̘̰̱̬͒̆̅̈́̑̒̽̊͒̃͛͐̕͘̚͜͝͝e̵̵̷̸̶̲̪̟̜̼͍̘̥͕͊̄̈́̽̎̾̓̈̂̒̀͢͝y̴̵̷̵̴̵̧͎͔͓̹͔͍̪̭͚̰̔̍ͣ̈̽ͩ̇̒͛̑ ̸̵̵̴̸̸̨̧̢̢̡̲͖̯͇̭̺͔͇̖̰̱̤̤͛͐̈́ͯ̈̏͂͌̃̄͊͗̈́̇̕͠ͅd̸̶̶̴̨̛̖̲̰̗̝̥̘̗̞̳̪̥̜̄̊̅́̅̇̽͆̅̚̕̚̕ḯ̸̵̝̺͍͈̩̳̊͗̃͘͝ḍ̵̷̷̷̖̱̱̖͇̤͇̏̂̑ͮ̋̑̎̽͗͗̅̽͜͝͠͝ ̸̶̷̯̩͉̼͈̻ͤ̾͑͗̏̕̚̕̕͜͏̷̎ń̷̸̸̸̴͓̜̝͚̦̤͇̹̻̺̣̔̏̿̋́̐̉̓̈̓́̚ơ̷̸̶̸̸̷̵̴̴̡̡̨̢̧̤̮̦̰̥̬̗̥̩̥̠̜̞̝͕̱̫̑̓͑̏̌̉̎͐̿̽̽͋̔̊̀̀́̚͜͝͝ţ̷̷̵̶̴̷̴̛̯̻̣̫̪̺̹̰̟̥̜͉̰̤̰̰̘̀̊ͣ́̒͐̍ͬ̀̽̒̈́̀̍̈̀̒͘͜͟͝͠ ̴̸̸̵̙̭̮̬̙̘̺̎͂̃̈́̍̀̓̐̔̀̋͠͝s̵̸̴̵̴̸̴̸̨̧̡̧̡̡̩̰̜̯̹̦̥͕͖̫͚͙̘̲̣̼̀͗̀͐ͬ͊̓̅̍̎͌ͫ̓̈́̊͌͛͌̑́̐͘ù̵̶̵̵̷̧̢͎͎̼̦͖̺͈̺͙̝͔̩̑̋̓̉̂̍̋̓̆̅̐̿͘͜͠͝͏̷͒c̷̭̫͙̈c̷̷̸̶̝̪̙̖̝̼̙͉̤̿͊ͩ̅̽̎̍͑ȩ̴̷̷̸̵̵̷͕̟͕͈̖̦͇͇͎̟͕̝̪̰̯̖͍̠̲͐͒̽͒̐̊̓̈͌̈̉͛̂͂̍̾̃̆̔̒͆̕͘̚e̷̶̸̴̶͎̻̱͎̗͈̱̯̣̜̿͂͑͐̾́͛͊́̅̊̈͗̊d̴̶̸̸̶̶̵̡̢̧̢̖̮̯̗͇̟͙̥̮̯̥̞̰̘̱́̑ͪ͑̏͛̾̄̋̌̏͛͆̓̔̄̆͆̀̀̚̕͘͜͜ ///100003 - 100003 E X P E R I E N C E ║ ///✦ A THIEF BY ANY OTHER NAME ║ To list every moniker given to him and every job he's ever performed would be an exercise in futility, but for almost as long as he's lived, he's worked. None of it honestly. ///99987 - 100003 ///✦ SAME JOB, DIFFERENT TOWN ║ For the past few years, Wraith has travelled the world, doing much the same he always has. Except this time, he's had a purpose other than survival; a search, still ongoing. ///100003 - 100005 Y O U R S O U L & H E A R T Y O U R S O U L & H E A R T ✦ RESOURCEFUL ✦ CUNNING ✦ ADAPTABLE ✦ SELFISH ✦ P E R S O N A L I T Y ║ Having long since learnt that knowledge is power, Wraith lets slip very little of himself or his intentions. Some things, however, can be surmised easily enough. For one, Wraith is reserved, keeping to himself in every sense of the word; he abhors physical proximity as much as emotional, and is at his most comfortable (which is to say, not very) when at an arm's length away from others. What he isn't is shy; when he does decide to talk, he does so with deadpan confidence and the boldness of someone who never quite learnt how and when to stay his tongue. In a similar vein, insults from most others don't seem to bother him either, and though he can certainly display frustration, he doesn't anger easily. Curiosity is a vice Wraith has suffered from for the longest while, and try as he might, he cannot keep it completely under wraps. Some say his cowardice is another, perhaps even worse vice, though Wraith considers it his greatest asset. It's his alertness and willingness to drop whoever might slow him down that has gotten him this far - and he isn't about to stop anytime soon. If you can trust anything about this halfling, it's his determination to see the morrow. ✦ GYTEUS ✦ ✦ GYTEUS ✦ D E V O T I O N ║ Though not the most devout when it comes to matters of faith, Wraith finds no harm in welcoming divine help if any is to be distributed. He worships Gyteus come the darkest hour of the night, whispering the secrets of others into shadows, so that his own secret may stay safe. M O T I V A T I O N & I M P E T U S M O T I V A T I O N & I M P E T U S A halfling of ill-repute has little hope for honest work, less so with a branded face. Ordel'ai welcomes all desperate enough to delve within, and promises riches to those who make it out besides - and sometimes to change your life, you must first risk it. T H E T R A P P I N G S T H E T R A P P I N G S A P P E A R A N C E ║ Short and unassuming even when compared to his kin, Wraith is easy to miss in a crowd - and that is by design. Standing a few inches short of three feet, he comes across as little more than a mobile pile of tattered clothes, scurrying from shadow to shadow. Even when standing still, his posture is poor and stance wary, as if the slightest sound could spur him into a run. Cloaked in hood and a mask, few are those who have caught a glimpse of the halfling's face - but those who have, cannot say they've forgotten. A past magical injury has branded him, carving blue veins into the skin below his eyes. They ripple as if made of liquid, an occasional shimmer giving them an eerie hue. Their shade is a turquoise similar to his eyes; sharp, unnatural, unnerving. Though Wraith comes across as unarmed at a glance, no self-respecting warrior truly assumes him to be such. Halflings always carry blades, the smart ones two, and the ones that live the longest as many as they can. Wraith intends to live long. I N J U R Y ║ INJURY MAP

Freefalling with Vertigo ⍣

Amélie Tanaka

【Tanaka, Amélie - Raijin】

_{~"C'mon, put down the book - life's happening outside."~}

Character Summary

Name: Amélie Tanaka, also known as Raijin - nicknamed so for her spontaneous nature and bright blonde hair
Class: Average Human
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Member of: Third Year + Track Club + Tennis Club

Appearance

Height: 5'5''
Weight: 120 lbs
Build: Athletic, well-toned
Eyes: Emerald
Hair: Blonde

Psychology

Sociable * Stubborn * Protective * Insensitive

Sexuality: Bisexual; hasn't quite yet figured out that she likes girls romantically as well, though she finds them attractive.
Personality: One need not spend a long time with Amélie to realize exactly how she earned her nickname. Those closest to her liken her to lightning for a reason; she's unpredictable, spontaneous and quick, here one moment, gone the next. Bold and sociable, she has no problem inserting herself into the presence of others - sometimes to their chagrin - and striking up a conversation as if she's known them her entire life. Needless to say, there aren't many in the school who haven't heard of her, whether they like it or not. Now, whether she's unaware that her behaviour can be a bother to some people, or whether she realizes it and simply doesn't care is anyone's guess. When it comes to her, either option is quite viable.

With that said, though she knows a lot of people and never fails to offer them a smile and a wave when passing them by, whether she's actually friends with them is debatable. If asked, she would say she is - after all, she enjoys spending time with them and talking with them. Therein, though, lies the problem; for all her love of talking, Amélie isn't very good at listening - at least, beyond a superficial level. That is to say, though she is sympathetic, she isn't very empathetic and therefore doesn't really understand others' emotions. She's bad at comforting people, in particular - she has a tendency to inadvertently dismiss the presented problem, pretend not to notice or change the topic - or, if unable to avoid it, force a solution based more on logic than feelings. Anything to make the problem go away before she remembers her own issues or says something wrong and makes things worse. Due to this, most of her bonds, while maybe enjoyable on a surface level, tend to be shallow. She doesn't really know anyone, and no one really knows her.

Perhaps partly due to the above, Amélie always tries to make sure everyone is having a good time, and will quickly latch onto sad-looking people and make it her sworn duty to get them to smile. Also, while bad at comforting people, she isn't necessarily bad at helping them in all cases. If presented with a problem that can have a physical solution, such as someone being bullied or injured, things are quite different; Amélie makes sure to do her utmost to help, sometimes with a little too much vigor. Protective to a fault, she sees herself as dependable and has no problem walking up to someone twice her size to demand they stop bothering her friend. Truth be told, Amélie is reckless in general, and absolutely lives for adrenaline - to a point that long times without make her antsy. While her excitability - particularly when combined with her athletic prowess - mean she has energy to spare, it also means that she gets bored of things easily. Never leave her in charge of a mundane task; she will either do it sloppily or find a way to "spice things up" while doing it - which is code for disaster. Finally, she is extremely competitive, though she keeps a positive mood no matter the result. Just... don't be surprised if she's way more passionate about a perceived rivalry than you are.

Habits:

• When nervous or forced to stay stationary for too long, she starts to show various signs of discomfort. Most often, she'll start to tap her foot, constantly change her weight from one leg to another or, if able, even jog in place.
• Will start to hum or talk to herself if she's left in silence for too long and there's no one else to speak to. Music works, as well. The louder, the better.
• Laughs a lot. Be it chuckles, giggles or just small chirping sounds of amusement, her speech is dotted with them - particularly when she's excited.
• Sometimes, though rarely, inserts French words or exclamations into her speech. Sometimes they come by accident, such as when surprised or shocked, but other times she does it on purpose, since it amuses some of her fellow students. She doesn't mind being the funny foreigner, after all.

Hobbies:

• Running
• Swimming
• Tennis
• Collecting stamps
• Hiking

Fears:

• Silence - when there are no sounds to block them out, her thoughts get unbearably loud
• Something happening to her father or grandfather
• Being alone

Likes:

• Adrenaline
• Winning
• Steaks
• Surprises
• Competition

Dislikes:

• Supernatural things or people believing in them (this borders on a fear, but not a debilitating one)
• Chores
• Sweet things
• Being ignored
• Boredom
• Reading

Cards On The Table

Attributes
Strength: Average
Vitality: Average
Mobility: Forte
Intelligence: Average
Supernatural: Weakness

Skills:

• Move your body | From a very young age, Amélie has always been moving. She is agile and flexible and knows her own limits and strengths when it comes to physical exertion.
• Breathe in, breathe out | due to many of her hobbies (namely, running and swimming) depending on proper oxygen management and breathing technique, she is very good at controlling her oxygen intake and energy output. She can hold her breath for a respectable amount of time, as well.
• Not quite a medic, but! | Scrapes aren't uncommon for her, and she's seen a few even more serious injuries being sustained by her fellow athletes. She's by no means an expert, but she's studied a thing or two when it comes to nutrition and first aid - topics that only interested her due to their close correlation with her success in fields that interest her.

Equipment:

• Tennis racket - for tennis practice
• Water bottle - considering how much she exerts herself, she'd be dead by now if she didn't always hang on to at least one

Identity

Your Story Thus Far: Amélie was born in Lyon, France, to a Japanese father and a French mother, though she took after the latter quite heavily as far as appearances went - a fact that must've made the couple's eventual divorce even harder for her father. Amélie herself was young enough not to remember much of it, and her father never did seem eager to share their reasons. Either way, from there on out, it was up to her father to raise her alone - a somewhat daunting task, as Amélie was never an easy child. She was energetic to a fault, and seemed to love getting into trouble. It was only once she grew old enough to somewhat understand that her behaviour was making her father sad that she tried to control it - to a degree, anyway.

Then, towards the end of elementary school, Amélie's father made the decision to return to Japan. His mother was in poor health, and after such a long time spent overseas, he started to miss his home country. So when Amélie started middle school, she did so in a new country, in a new language, with people she did not know. A no doubt scary concept to many - but absolutely exhilarating to Amélie. She embraced the new 'adventure', as she called it, with open arms, both literal and figurative.

Only, her enthusiasm was one-sided. To her new classmates, she came across as... too much, in many ways. Too bright, too loud, too brazen; every step she took to try and befriend people, they took backwards to avoid her, unsure what to do. After all, they didn't even share a language.

It was a tough spot for her, yet she refused to talk about her troubles to her family. Her father had always been the type to bottle up his problems and try to keep up a strong, positive front for her - now, it was her turn to return the favor. He had enough on his plate, having to worry about his mother's health. The least he needed was to think that he'd caused her discomfort by moving here. As for her grandparents, well... they were kind, if eccentric. Very superstitious, they had decorated the house with all sorts of 'wards' against 'ghosts' and 'spirits' and whatnot, and quite frankly, Amélie was afraid they'd think she was cursed or something if she told them about her problems. Not to mention, they didn't share a language either.

Luckily for Amélie, she was born stubborn as a bull - and eventually, after months upon months of relentlessly trying to make friends, her labor bore fruit; after trying to brute force friendship onto half the school, she finally got a friend. A friend that was a bit reserved about her still, and who had trouble understanding her - but a friend was a friend was a friend. She wasn't picky. From there, things picked up for her. She started to learn Japanese quite fast, and with someone already associating with her, others started to dare venture closer to this strange foreigner as well. She got closer to her grandparents as well, enjoying their stories and especially their cooking. A little stereotypical, perhaps, but true enough.

Then, one day, her grandmother passed away - and even her father, always so positive and unaffected by grief, threatened to break down. Unsure what to do, Amélie tried to offer him comfort - by saying that she was sure her spirit would stay to watch over them. Wrong move. All she ended up doing was making her father and grandfather both even more superstitious - to a point that on more than one occasion, they swore they'd seen her haunt the hallways. Startled by what she'd caused, Amélie was too afraid to try and console the two (and subsequently, anyone else) again, out of fear of making things worse.

Today, things are slowly looking up. Her grandfather still has an obsession with his dead wife's supposed spirit, and her father is still trying his best to keep everything together - but at the very least, they aren't alone anymore. A year or so ago, other relatives that worried for the two men's mental health managed to convince the whole family to move over to Jitsuryoku-jima, where the rest of their extended family lived. A seemingly peaceful island with fresh air aplenty, they hoped it to be the perfect environment for rehabilitation.

If only they knew.

Relationships:

• 💜 Hase, Saki (bestie! If anyone out there knows about Amélie's tendency not to talk about her problems, it's this girl.)
• 😈 Minamoto Katsu (rival, or so she's declared. There can only be one bully-fighting, blonde exchange student in this school!)
• 💛 Kamei Azume (cute, cute, cute, she must get this cutie out of her shell! Honestly, Amélie's friendship is probably one-sided, since she's more a bother for the poor girl.)
• 👿 Tanimoto, Orochi (gah, a perv! And one that's hit on her friends, no less! Must be fought at all costs.)
• ♨️ Murai Chikako (occult club... stuff like that isn't real, so it can't be good for her. Ahh.)

_{*By submitting this CS in its completion I am stating I have read all the rules for this Rp and am agreeing to follow them to the fullest with respect and courtesy.}

garnet

Garnet Ironhearth

Forge Cleric^「lv1」| Verdan | True Neutral | Rival Intern

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Combat Stats

Armor Class: 16 (17 with shield)
Initiative: -1
Hit Points: 11 ^[1d8]
Speed: 30 feet

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General Stats

Strength 15 ^[+2]
Dexterity 8 ^[-1]
Constitution 16 ^[+3]
Intelligence 8 ^[-1]
Wisdom 15 ^[+2]
Charisma 10 ^[±0]

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Proficiencies

Proficiency Bonus: +2
Passive Perception: 10
Proficient Saving Throws: Wisdom, Charisma
Proficient Skills: Perception, History, Investigation, Medicine, Insight
Proficient Weapons: All simple weapons
Proficient Armor: Light armor, medium armor, shields, heavy armor
Other Proficiencies: Smith's tools, mason's tools
Languages: Common, Goblin, Dwarven, Elven

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Attacks & Spellcasting

Spell save DC 12
Spell Attack modifier 4

Mace | +4 | 1d6+2 Bludgeoning
Greatclub | +4 | 1d8+2 Bludgeoning

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Features

Inside Informant^{「rival intern」} You have connections to your previous employer or other groups you dealt with during your previous employment. You can communicate with your contacts. gaining information at the DM’s discretion.

Limited Telepathy^「verdan」 You can telepathically speak to any creature you can see within 30 feet of you. You don’t need to share a language with the creature for it to understand your telepathy, but it must be able to understand at least one language. This process of communication is slow and limited, allowing you to transmit and receive only simple ideas and straightforward concepts.

Persuasive^「verdan」 Your people’s lack of history makes you trustworthy and humble. You have proficiency in the Persuasion skill.

Telepathic Insight^「verdan」 Your mind’s connection to the world around you strengthens your will. You have advantage on all Wisdom and Charisma saving throws.

Black Blood Healing^「verdan」 The black blood that is a sign of your people’s connection to That-Which-Endures boosts your natural healing. When you roll a 1 or 2 on any Hit Die you spend at the end of a short rest, you can reroll the die and must use the new roll.

Blessing of the Forge^{「forge cleric」} At 1st level, you gain the ability to imbue magic into a weapon or armor. At the end of a long rest, you can touch one non-magical object that is a suit of armor or a simple or martial weapon. Until the end of your next long rest or until you die, the object becomes a magic item, granting a +1 bonus to AC if it’s armor or a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls if it’s a weapon. Once you use this feature, you can’t use it again until you finish a long rest.

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Spells

Cantrips (3): Guidance, Word of Radiance, Thaumaturgy
1st level (3 + 2*): Cure Wounds, Inflict Wounds, Command, *Identify, *Searing Smite

---

Personality

Personality Traits

My previous employer didn’t respect me, and now I’ll do whatever I can to gain respect.
I am tolerant of other faiths and respect the worship of other gods.
I'm confident in my own abilities and do what I can to instill confidence in others.
I work hard so that I can play hard when the work is done.

Ideals

Justice. I can’t stand people being treated unjustly. I do whatever it takes to stop injustice and those who flout the law.
Aspiration. I seek to prove my self worthy of my god's favor by matching my actions against
his or her teachings.
Charity. I distribute money I acquire to the people who really need it.
Independence. I must prove that I can handle myself without the coddling of my family.

Bonds

My family, clan, or tribe is the most important thing in my life, even when they are far
from me.
I owe a debt I can never repay to the person who took pity on me.
The workshop where I learned my trade is the most important place in the world to me.
My past mistakes cost someone else dearly. I have to rectify that.

Flaws

My piety sometimes leads me to blindly trust those that profess faith in my god.
I am too enamored of ale, wine, and other intoxicants.
There's no room for caution in a life lived to the fullest.
I hide a truly scandalous secret that could ruin my family forever.

History

Chaos; for as long as Garnet can remember, her existence has been governed by it.

Crafs was born a goblin, far from the luxuries of civilization, further yet from the services of Forgotten Realms' many organizations. For the longest time, all she knew was conflict and hunger. Families being torn apart by bursts of violence, siblings fighting over scraps, friends stabbing each other in the back come the first opportunity. Of course, Crafs was no different; she owed her continued existence to the conflicts, always managing to claw her way out a victor - or, at the very least, a survivor.

Then, one day, she came to know real chaos. To this day, she isn't sure what happened - but she knows exactly what happened after. She woke as a different person - a different creature, one that did not recognize the place she used to call home. Her tribesmen were alien to her as much as she was alien to them, and before she knew it, she had fled in terror.

Confused, alone and still unfamiliar with her new form, she found herself in the territory of a dwarven clan. While there, exhaustion claimed her. Had it not been for the kindness of an elderly dwarven couple, she would've likely succumbed to the elements. As things were, not only was she rescued, she was given a chance at a new life. The couple had no children of their own, and they were eager to adopt the wandering child as their own. They did ask questions - but upon noticing how scared she was to answer them, they pressed her no longer.

"Garnet", as she came to be known, was brought up as a dwarf. A... strangely green dwarf, with pointy ears and telepathic powers, who was prone to bursts of almost savage behaviour at times. But her parents stuck by her, and did their best to quell her worries. Garnet never told them that at times, she remembered her previous life - and all the bad things she did as a goblin, however. Instead, she sought redemption her own way - she came to revere Moradin, and whether on purpose or not, came to adapt some of the most fundamental dwarven traits: sense of justice, loyalty, and... well, stubbornness. She learnt the art of the forge from her father, and the art of the axe from her mother, and promised never to misuse either gift.

But though her life was good, Garnet felt as though she couldn't stay in the remote dwarven city forever. Her parents had raised her to be hardworking and ambitious, and so when she realized money was becoming tight, she offered to go earn her own fortune out in the world. She promised to send home both letters and gold alike, and that she would come visit whenever able - with tales of her adventures in tow.

The first employer she found was less than ideal. They were more interested in making a profit from Garnet's peculiar origins and telepathic ability than they were in respecting her as an employee and a smith - and it drove Garnet to anger. An altercation ensued, and at the end of it, she walked out. Hopefully, Acquisitions Incorporated would be a better match for her.

If not, well, there were plenty of fish in the sea - or rocks on a mountain, as her mother used to say.

---

Equipment

PP 0 | GP 10 | EP 0 | SP 0 | CP 0 |

⇴ Mace
⇴ Greatclub
⇴ Chain Mail
⇴ Shield
⇴ Holy Symbol
⇴ Explorer's pack

⇴ Backpack
⇴ Bedroll
⇴ Mess kit
⇴ Tinderbox
⇴ 10 torches
⇴ 10 days of Rations
⇴ Waterskin
⇴ 50 feet of Hempen rope

⇴ Ledger from previous employer containing a small piece of useful information
⇴ Set of fine clothes
⇴ Smith's tools

ann

J O A N N E "A N N" C L A R K E

F ❆ Galarian ❆ 17

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Personality: Ann is unlikely to make too strong a first impression. At first glance she's a quiet, faintly smiling girl that tends to mind her own business and speak very little. You might notice she's lazy and sluggish in her movement, almost as if she's never in a hurry to go anywhere, and that she tends to daydream a lot.- Maybe you'll catch her playing with or talking to her Pokémon, almost unaware that there are even other people around. You know, the usual stuff. And, depending how long a time you spend around her, it might be that you'll never see anything else.

However, be in her company long enough and you'll eventually find out that Ann's a curious girl with the self-control of a starving Morpeko in a curry shop. So while she might be completely reasonable one second, the moment something piques her interest or that invasive thought of 'what would happen if' crosses her mind, no amount of pesky common sense can stop her. She's impulsive and irresponsible, and doesn't second guess herself - even whens he should. When she decides to speak up or act, she's brazen - yet not any more energetic than usual, creating a strange dissonance between her weird actions and otherwise calm expression and demeanor. Some say it's unsettling, while many find her honesty and lack of tact jarring. Yet others view her as a naive girl who doesn't know any better.

She's not naive though, and she does know better - she just chooses the things she cares about very carefully, and the opinions of others or the consequences of bad decisions fall very far down that list. Sometimes she even enjoys rattling people and breaking expectations. It's all in good fun, though, and she isn't out to hurt or insult others. On the contrary; she quite loves people. She just wishes more of them could show their true selves instead of trying to act the way they think is expected of them. But, well, nothing to be done about that. Except leading by example, maybe? Mmm.

Nah. Sounds like too much work.

Biography: Born and raised in Circhester, Ann never expected to embark on any sort of journey further than the occasional shopping trip to Wyndon. Her family was well-known around the city, having owned a business there for generations. Just beyond the city's borders, they housed a large quantity of Piloswine and Mamoswine, arranging "snow safaris" on their backs into the brisk wilderness on and around routes eight, nine and ten. Their services were particularly popular among trainers and tourists, and though the Clarke family was by no means rich, they were quite well off - enough to expand their business to other winter activities over the years, up and including Rotom Snowbiking, ice fishing, snow camping and ice Pokémon tours for trainers looking to land themselves that special, rare Eiscue.

Ever since young, Ann helped with the business at her parents' request, be it taking care of young Swinub or, once older, guiding tours. She was always a carefree and somewhat irresponsible child, and though she did what she was told, she didn't do a thing more - and was often caught playing with the local ice types when her parents expected her to be helping. She loved the customers they got however, particularly those from other regions. She loved nothing more than listening in on their conversations or asking for tales from their homelands - places which she never expected to actually visit. After all, as an only child, she lived with the assumption that she would take over the family business one day - at least, until her younger brother was born and, years later, ended up expressing both better aptitude and deeper interest towards the prospect.

Ann didn't mind the thought of yielding the family business to her brother, though it did leave her with a sudden lack of purpose. Her whole life, she'd expected to live and die among the horde of 'swines, and now... well, she wouldn't need to. She could do anything. She could go and travel to all the places she'd heard from tourists over the years. She could visit her cousins in Alola. Or she could throw herself into an international league competition in a faraway land despite having no real experience in Pokémon battling or incentive to travel to the other side of the world for it.

... Hm. You know what, that actually sounded kinda fun.

She packed her bags less than a week later, traveling all the way to the distant Chromis region with naught but a tree, a bug and a demon in the shape of a shrew.

---

❄ Ice Type Trainer Bonus ❄

x 5 x 5 x 1

P O K É M O N

Rascal
Alolan Sandshrew ♂

A gift from distant relatives living in Alola. Supposedly, they rescued the poor ice type from the outskirts of their villa, half-dead from heat exhaustion. The more likely case is that they caught the mischievous little thing digging up their garden and, after multiple attempts to shoo it away and have local authorities help get rid of it, they shipped the bugger off to Galar to annoy someone else. Joke's on them though - Ann loves him in all his trouble making glory.

Slush Rush ❆ 3 Exp
Fury Cutter | Icicle Crash | Rapid Spin | Metal Claw

❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆

Snomelet
Snom ♀

Curious, naive, and very very small, Snomelet is a recently hatched baby who's yet to know the world beyond Ann's arms. Luckily, she's too young to cringe at her name - and so far from becoming a Frosmoth that Ann has a long time to figure out what to do once evolution renders the pun obsolete. No worries though, she's got plans. Snomelet can be often found hitching a ride somewhere on Ann's person; head, pocket, scarf - boot. Anywhere but a poké ball, they're scary.

Ice Scales ❆ 0 Exp
Powder Snow | Struggle Bug | Mirror Coat

❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆

Yuletide
Snover ♂

Yuletide is... is a tree. He's always been a tree. Once, he lived in the forests of Galar as a tree, alongside his tree family. Then came time for the holidays, and many of his brethren were caught and brought into humans' living rooms to sit pretty under layers of colourful decorations. Yuletide, however, was much too small, so he was left behind - until Ann found him, deemed him just the perfect size and brought him in. But when the holidays ended and all the other trees were released back into the wild, Yuletide refused to leave. To this day, he wears a star decoration atop his head to remember the day he became a very special tree.

Snow Warning ❆ 3 Exp
Razor Leaf | Icy Wind | Ice Shard | Leech Seed

❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆

sayako the oni

S A Y A K O *

* or just Saya for short; honestly, either one feels just as foreign to her

R a c e:

Oni

P e r s o n a l i t y:

Saya is not quite what one would expect from an oni. In fact, in many ways, she's the exact opposite, having retained large chunks of her personality from the life prior. Calm and reserved, she prefers to keep to herself and observe any given situation - or person, as the case may be - from afar until she can figure out the best way to approach it. Saya seems to consider every word carefully before letting it pass her lips, and has a tendency for needless formalities - much as she dislikes them, in truth. Somewhat of a pessimist, the list of things she genuinely likes is tragically short, and she isn't the warmest of persons out there. She isn't sure why, but it almost feels as though she's unused to both giving or receiving affection. Regardless, she will always try to solve any given problem with diplomacy first, provided she doesn't just try to ignore it in the first place. Her desire not to get involved with trouble runs deep, and she's become quite adept at simply 'not noticing' things she doesn't like.

However, with her new life, new body and new, strange blood running in her veins, Saya's calm, patient nature has started to show cracks here and there. While she used to keep all unpleasant feelings bottled up inside, where they could not cause any discord or trouble for her or the people around her, she's found it to be much more... difficult than she remembers nowadays. That is to say, when her feelings reach a fever pitch, they burst out violently - followed by literal flames. This has presented her with a dilemma; either she has to let her grievances show at the moment of experiencing them, or she must risk them boiling over and exploding all over the place at random. Neither option sounds all too pleasing, and she's yet to figure out which is the less of two evils.

A p p e a r a n c e:

Though she would prefer otherwise, it is her horns that people tend to take note of first. Long, sharp and distracting,, they protrude forth from her brow towards the sky. They're reddish brown in colour, and gain a deep red glow whenever she utilizes her magical prowess. They're also what cause people to make assumptions about her, and they make sleeping inconvenient at best, a hazard at worst. She hates them.

Apart from that, Saya isn't really all that memorable as far as appearances go. She's somewhat on the taller side, standing firmly at 5'7'' with a lithe build ideal for a martial artist. Which is weird, because something tells her she wasn't quite as physically active in her past life. She's somewhat curvy, though not really eye-catchingly so, and muscle makes her clock in at a heavier weight than one would expect. She has red eyes that seem to always be judging you or yours, and like her horns, they, too, flare up when she uses her fire magic. Her skin is pale and her hair paler, cascading down her back in long, white locks. She doesn't remember her hair having been this long either, and has some trouble keeping it out of her way.

When it comes to first impressions, Saya doesn't necessarily leave a lasting one. You'll probably notice the horns, assume she's a savage warrior from a tribe to the east -- and then quickly find yourself taken aback by her stiff speech and mannerisms. She'll probably get angry about it at some point and self-combust, and then you go right back to the savage assumption again. That is, unless you've forgotten she exists by that point. Despite everything, she blends into the background pretty easily, to a point she'd be pretty adept at surprise attacks. Is that another skill of hers?

B l e s s i n g - way of a million blades

Saya's blessing takes the form of a wakizashi, found on her hip upon spawning. Though unassuming in appearance, it is magical in nature and holds the capability to become whatever weapon its wielder wishes - provided they have witnessed the desired form before. That is to say, it cannot become an imaginary thing, or one of the world prior, nor something its wielder has only heard spoken of. Furthermore, it will only mimic the physical traits of whatever it transforms into, and cannot, for example, copy the magical traits of another weapon. There is no limit as to how often the wakizashi can change form, allowing for a number of combination attacks; from the stab of a spear to a few quick slashes and then a finishing blow by an axe.

While the wakizashi is the physical manifestation of Saya's blessing, there is another, purely magical component that accompanies it. After all, what would a weaponmaster be without knowledge of their craft? The first time Saya holds any weapon in her hands, she intrinsically understands how to use it - as if she had done so her entire life. She can wield her weapon as an extension of her body, and instinct can guide her where her mind cannot. This allows her to challenge a variety of opponents she would normally find herself instantly felled by. It also allows her to adapt to a variety of different fighting styles, going from a rogue-like stealth with a dagger to powering her way through enemies with a hammer.

At present, having just spawned, she only knows how to operate her wakizashi in its base form - as a simple short blade.

A b i l i t i e s - perfect flow

Though Saya doesn't remember having ever fought before, her body seems to know its way around a fight. Her movement in battle seem practiced and nimble, she isn't prone to exhaustion and the switch from one fighting style to the next seem impossibly smooth - eventually. Right now, all she can do is display some impressive side-stepping abilities and stab you with her tiny little sword over and over again.

M a g i c - dancing pyre

Unrelated to her prowess with the blade, Saya seems to have a strong affinity for certain type of magic. Namely, fire magic. However, her control of it is shaky at best, as it seems to be strictly tied to her emotions. Whenever excited, startled, angry, or experiencing other such sudden, strong emotion, fire bursts into life within her. Her weapon, being an extension of herself, can utilize these flames in all of its forms, from fire arrows to a burning blade - but Saya herself doesn't have much control of it, at least at present. Luckily, the flames don't burn her or her clothes, though her other belongings aren't quite as lucky. She probably should not be tasked with carrying any important papers anytime soon.

Whether she has potential for other similar types of magic, such as lightning, remains to be seen. More pressingly, she just wants to learn to control what she has access to now.

E q u i p m e n t - from one, many

Saya's only equipment, in addition to the clothes on her back, is her wakizashi. For some reason, she feels compelled to give it a name.

fedya

"Right, the deal's this; I ain't need no Pokémon to beat your fucking ass. So you play by the rules, or I'll send out my fist."

---

Name: Fyodor Kaschak

Nicknames: Fedya, Fifi (note: only use this one if you really want to die - or are cute enough to get away with it)

Aliases: Mad Dog, Rotten Monk, That Crazy Fucker, The Beast of the East

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Origin: Ecruteak City, Johto

Appearance: As is clear from a glance, Fedya exudes trouble. From the fiery red hair to the many piercings scattered throughout his body and the rather aggressive body language constantly on display, he doesn't strike a very friendly image. It's rare to catch his face in anything but an annoyed frown or an angry scowl - unless, that is, you happen to catch one of his shit-eating grins. If so, run for the hills, because he is coming for you, and he runs fast.

Fedya stands at a rather tall 6'4'', with broad shoulders (don't let the picture fool you damnit), long limbs and large hands, in particular. Some would call him a punk based on his appearance, while others would liken him to a musclehead - neither observation being too far off. Either way, it's rare to see him wearing anything remotely formal; usually, he either dons his - heavily modified - monk garb, or throws on whatever he happens to find at the time. Honestly, as long as there's chains in his getup, he's happy.

Personality: The general public knows him by many names, none of which are pleasant - or entirely undeserved. He's reclusive and enigmatic, rarely appearing in public or giving speeches - and when he does, he always seems disproportionately angry about it. Rumours pin him as unpredictable, scary, even dangerous, having been involved in gang activity in the past. There is certainly truth to all that, and he is as crude as he is short-tempered, with violence a real, tangible threat when he gets angry enough.

With that said, those who know him the best have also seen a completely different side of him, one not known to the general public. The side that has him staying up the whole night to tend to a crying baby Pokémon. The side that turns him into a flustered, bumbling mess when anyone or anything cute bats eyes at him. The side that makes him throw himself into the fray with reckless abandon when someone he cares about needs protecting. That is to say, bad as he might be, it's not to the core.

He'll get angry if you point it out to him, though.

Short Biography: The trials and tribulations of Fedya's life are enough to fill multiple books. And yet, the details known to the general public are few. Fedya seems to have been living with the good monks of Ecruteak city for most of his life - until he started a violent altercation and had to be pried off his perceived victim. No Pokémon were found in his possession at the time, though quite many seemed intent on following him as he was carried away from the site. Mostly baby Pokémon, many of which seemed rather distressed when he was removed. One Azurill was particularly intent on following, so it was taken with him. The incident didn't make national news and remains something only a few local people can recall.

Years later, he emerged in the distant region of Orre. He was involved in a series of violent raids in the local colosseums and underground establishments as a part of a small gang, and earned quite a fearsome reputation. Supposedly, he was a damn fierce fighter. Not when it came to Pokémon, mind, but in pure martial prowess. He also had a scary water Pokémon with him, though the records don't agree on which one. Many suspected it to be a Feraligatr, a Gyarados, or something equally intimidating. The gang was eventually disbanded, and Fedya disappeared with it.

After years of obscurity, he re-emerged across regions, taking on gyms and other similar challenges with a team of ragtag Pokémon. It was unclear what had made him suddenly care about Pokémon training or the gym challenges, but he seemed determined as ever to get far. He reached the Elite of a few regions, but then disappeared. Whether he had lost, given up or gotten in some sort of trouble that forced him to quit his challenge midway through, none knew.

A few years ago, new rumours surfaced. According to them, he'd fought his way into joining the Sinnoh Elite - where he remained to this day. Whether true or mere hearsay seems debated, as he rarely makes public appearances, and many that take on the challenge lose before ever reaching him. Still, there are sightings of him together with the other Elites - some even claim they've seen him smile! But those, at least, must be fake news.

Pokemon: Fedya's team mostly consists of cute or pretty Pokémon - or at least those that used to be such in their earlier forms. Though if you ask him, he'll have you know Missy the Incineroar is still the most adorable fucking kitten out there, thanks.

In addition to the Pokémon listed here, he takes care of a bunch of baby Pokémon, as well as a few injured or abandoned ones. They are, however, neither capable nor meant for battle, and technically do not belong to him.

Current team (will update accordingly as this changes in the rp):


Full team

Pokemon #1

Name: Zuzu
Species: Azumarill
Gender: Female
Ability: Huge Power
Appearance: Zuzu's ears are much longer than usual, and both of them flop down at the ends.
Personality: Headstrong and stubborn, Zuzu shares her trainer's reckless heroism, and never backs down from a fight. At the same time, very much unlike her trainer, she has an eye for detail and a strategic mind. She tends to be the strategist of the team, even if she does make Fedya think he was the one to come up with said ideas. She looks out for him, and is the first to jump to Fedya's defense if he's slighted. Same goes for the rest of his team, or anyone else she perceives to be weaker than her.
Move Set: Belly Drum, Aqua Jet, Body Slam, Bulldoze

Pokemon #2

Name: Missy
Species: Incineroar
Gender: Male, though the name might suggest otherwise
Ability: Intimidate
Appearance: Missy is fluffy; there's no two ways about it. While his species usually has short, rough fur, he is a bipedal ball of red fluff. Very cozy to cuddle, if you're alright with the beating that will inevitably follow.
Personality: Missy used to be such a nice kitty, always purring on Fedya's lap. Then he grew up. Even more short-tempered than his owner, Missy's one and only solution to most every problem is literally throwing his body at it. Repeatedly. If it doesn't work, he cloaks himself in flames and tries again. He's not the smartest cookie out there, but he has a good heart that is easily swayed by treats. Scritch his ears, and he melts into a puddle - and then probably melts you into a puddle afterwards. Fedya says it's worth it, though.
Move Set: Earthquake, Fake Out, Swords Dance, Thunder punch

Pokemon #3

Name: Her Royal Highness (or Highness, for short)
Species: (Alolan) Ninetales
Gender: Female
Ability: Snow Warning
Appearance: Highness is quite unusual in a number of ways. For one, she has an extra tail. Though it is technically a birth defect, she considers it a mark of her superiority and feels not a shred of shame over it. Her fur is also more a pinkish shade than blue [like so.]
Personality: With a name like hers, how could she not be full of herself? A spoiled little thing, she carries herself like an actual royal, expecting the whole world to bow down at her feet - and getting incredibly fussy when it doesn't happen. She abhors dirt and dislikes fighting, considering it barbaric. She can be easily coerced to fight if given enough compliments, though.
Move Set: Calm Mind, Dark Pulse, Dream Eater, Solar Beam

Pokemon #4

Name: Sage
Species: Reuniclus
Gender: Male
Ability: Magic Guard
Appearance: Sage is a standard Reuniclus in all manners but one; his expression never changes. Come what may, his face does not reflect it.
Personality: Does he have one? That's what many would ask when confronted with his silently floating form. Fedya knows better. A survivor of abuse, Sage had lost all emotion when Fedya rescued him. Ever since, he's gradually gained back bits of it, even if no one else but his trainer can tell. He's very contemplative and quiet, but very caring. He's always looking out for his friends and has a surprisingly good memory for details. He knows everyone's birthday, for one. So don't be surprised if you wake up on your special day with a gift by your pillow.
Move Set: Trick Room, Calm Mind, Focus Blast, Energy Ball

Pokemon #5

Name: Neenee
Species: Dedenne
Gender: Male
Ability: Cheek Pouch
Appearance: Species standard.
Personality: Childish, curious and always hungry, no pocket or bag is safe from Neenee's nosy little nose. He is a bit of a kleptomaniac, tending to nab everything that interests him - particularly food, but jewelry is a second favourite. He's mischievous as well, so don't be surprised if he purposefully paralyses you with a nuzzle so he can help himself to your belongings. He tends to sit atop Fedya's head, getting his fair all messy with cookie crumbles.
Move Set: Magnet Rise, Double Team, Super Fang, Attract

Pokemon #6

Name: Spunk
Species: Pancham
Gender: Male
Ability: Mold Breaker
Appearance: Spunk is tiny, falling several inches short of the species standard. His fur is also much darker, bordering on black.
Personality: As his name implies, Spunk is, well, spunky. Despite his small size, he's out there to take on the world. He really wants to be a fighter one day, and always yearns to prove his worth. The stronger the opponent, the better! ... Unless they're too strong, because then he'll have to make a strategic retreat. But it's only temporary, okay-! He's not scared, that stuff's for nerds.
Move Set: Foul Play, Gunk Shot, Rock Slide, Zen Headbutt

Pokemon #7

Name: Spook
Species: Mimikyu
Gender: Female
Ability: Disguise
Appearance: While most Mimikyu tend to wrap themselves in a cloth resembling a Pikachu, Spook has opted to wear one made to look like an Umbreon instead. She finds it better suited for hiding purposes.
Personality: Shy and reserved, Spook is nevertheless a very curious Pokémon. She loves to observe everything people and Pokémon around her do, yet gets very startled if someone actually approaches her. She's clumsy and tends to trip on the edges of her cloth a lot. She's also a bit of a crybaby, and has low tolerance for pain. Even so, she should not be underestimated; as a battler, she can pull her own weight.
Move Set: Destiny Bond, Curse, Will o Wisp, Swords Dance

Pokemon #8

Name:
Species: Espurr
Gender: Female
Ability: Infiltrator
Appearance: A regular Espurr with messy fur, the result of years of neglect.
Personality: Espurr isn't technically ready to be used for fighting yet, even though he's part of Fedya's team. She was a rescue kitty that was supposed to be given to another young trainer after she was done recuperating - but she refused to leave Fedya's side. To this day, she tends to always find her way to wherever he goes, silently watching his every move with her unblinking eyes. It's... a bit disturbing, even if she means well. Probably. Fedya isn't exactly sure what she's like quite yet, as she's yet to open up to him - or speak, in general.
Move Set: Skill Swap, Dark Pule, Charge Beam, Torment

Pokemon #9

Name: Bloom
Species: Meganium
Gender: Female
Ability: Overgrow
Appearance: The flower around bloom's neck is a darker shade of red, and its form resembles the petals of a rose.
Personality: Bloom is the mother hen of the group. Calm, responsible and never at a loss for an answer to any problem, she's the rock that keeps the team together - and Fedya in line. The baby Pokémon Fedya takes care of particularly love her, and she treats them all like her children. Bloom tends to take slights against her in a stride, but only to an extent. Her patience is overflowing, but not endless. And once it runs out, heaven help the poor soul responsible for it. Hell hath no fury like a momma Meganium scorned.
Move Set: Leech Seed, Leaf Storm, Heal Pulse, Substitute

Pokemon #10

Name: Caesar
Species: Dragonite
Gender: Male
Ability: Multiscale
Appearance: Your usual Dragonite, only littered with scars and bruises from fights past. A piece of his tail is missing, and the horn on his head has long since broken.
Personality: If Bloom is the mother of the group, Caesar is the grandfather. He's old and somewhat grumpy, yet has a soft spot for youth, be they Pokémon or trainers. He's packed full of stories from his life, some pleasant - and some too traumatic to tell with baby Pokémon in the room. He used to belong to a Pokémon poacher, and has done many a bad thing under his previous trainer's command. He tries to atone for such things nowadays, attacking wrongdoers with a particular vigor. He's one of Fedya's strongest fighters, and he respects the old dragon a lot.
Move Set: Extreme Speed, Stone Edge, Earthquake, Brutal Swing

Summary: Angry ball of anger with anger issues

Other:

- Carries a baseball bat with him wherever he goes. It's 'decorated' with nails and the signatures of his old gang mates - and though he always threatens to bash people's heads in with it when angry, he's yet to do so once. The bat's too precious - his fist will do just fine, anyway.

- Is disturbingly adept at hand to hand combat, as well as picking up random objects and swinging them around as makeshift weapons. Not that it matters much in the world of trainers; a hyper beam from a Dragonite tends to be much scarier than a punch from even the best martial artist out there. That is, if you own Pokémon. Oh, you poor bastard if you don't.

kiel

"Hmm, what's this now? Why the long face? You aren't a Ponyta, you know!"

---

Name: Ezekiel Miyamoto

Nicknames: Ez, Kiel

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Appearance: Few can pin Kiel as a Johto native, and the reasons why are apparent. He inherited a lot from his mother; her Kalosian facial features, the lime hue of her eyes, and her signature blonde hair. As such, until he opens his mouth and speaks fluent Johtonese with no trace of a Kalosian accent, many tend to assume he's a tourist. Once or twice, he's even been mistaken for a famous actor from Lumiose City. Most likely due to the way he carries himself; as if he was important, an actor on a stage, and the whole world was watching.

Perhaps in part for that very reason, Kiel likes to look good. He keeps himself well-groomed at all times and dons designer clothing whenever possible, along with matching jewelry, of course. Rings, earrings, necklaces; on a day when he feels particularly fancy, you can find him wearing it all. He always has sunglasses on his person, even if you can't seem them. They're there, somewhere, and he can whip them out at a moment's notice if the situation calls for it. The same can be said for his portable comb, made of the tusk of a Copperajah - a fact he stopped advertising once owning items made with it became illegal.

When it comes to height, Kiel has a surprising amount of it, standing at an above average 6'3''. He has long legs, which make him come across even taller - lanky, some say. It does make his confident stride that much more eye-catching though, for better or for worse. And while he hasn't done enough physical labour or weight lifting to earn a muscled physique, he does have strong legs - almost as if he's accustomed to running.

Personality: Kiel is one of those people who split the opinions of all that bear them witness. Some admire his carefree vigor and endless positivity, others find his shameless flirting and devil-may-care approach towards adversity obnoxious at best, offensive at worst. He's unapologetic and brazen, never hesitating to speak his mind - or others' mind, if he finds them having trouble voicing their thoughts. He loves to talk and he loves to joke, even when it would be best not to. Those in the know call it a coping mechanism; others might mistake it for lack of empathy. Kiel lacks many things in truth, but empathy is not among them.

The ones that do find themselves liking Kiel call him friendly - those that do not, superficial. He's both. Exchange a few pleasantries with him, and he's ready to treat you like his best friend. Favours and friendly gestures will be showered upon you in abundance, and if you do not explicitly forbid it, so will physical displays of affection. Come what may, he'll be there to pick you up, both in the figurative sense and literal. He's difficult to make enemies with too, as insults and dismissals don't seem to deter him - and he's yet to be seen lose his cool.

However, if you ever try to have a conversation beyond pleasantries and banter, you'll quickly find that Kiel is not quite as open as you thought. When it comes to genuine feelings and problems, he doesn't ask and he doesn't answer. You can keep your demons, and he will keep his. Those are the terms of his friendship. Infringe upon them severely enough, and he is as quick to drop your friendship as he was to announce it. It's better that way - you wouldn't like what you find behind the smiles, anyway.

Short Biography: Considering Kiel was born to a family with close ties to Johto's largest and most notorious criminal organization, his childhood was relatively normal. He spent the first five years of his life in Goldenrod, none the wiser of what his father did for work. All he knew was that he was loved and cared for, and whatever he wanted, he tended to get; be it a brand new toy or a favoured food. What little Kiel remembers of those years, he remembers fondly.

A little after he turned five, Kiel's family moved to New Bark Town at the request of his mother. She was originally from a small town in Kalos, and never did manage to grow accustomed to the bustle of Goldenrod. Her health had been deteriorating as of late, and she hoped clearer air and less stress might aid in her recovery. Worried for his wife and wanting to accommodate her, Kiel's father agreed to relocate - but had to travel to Goldenrod for business quite frequently. At times, he was gone for weeks on end.

Even so, for the next eight years Kiel lived an even more peaceful life than during the five prior. Kiel made friends with the local kids, had his first crush, got his first Pokémon - a rowdy little Meowth - and eventually, even became a big brother. Even his mother's health had taken a turn for the better. Whether it was really the fresh New Bark air that did the trick, no one knew.

If only things had stayed the way they were, perhaps Kiel would have grown up to be an entirely different man.

Alas.

At thirteen, Kiel's father took him along to Goldenrod. He had visited it many a time with his parents, mostly for shopping trips or seeing old friends of the family. But this time was different. This time, Kiel's father had something to show him. For the first time in his life, he was introduced to his father's business - and told that one day, he too would take part in it. He was spared the details of what the organization did, but the men and women he met that day were not the friendly sort, even if they did their best to smile at him. Kiel knew as much with a glance.

He was supposed to spend no longer than a week in Goldenrod, but while there, his mother's condition worsened - and eventually claimed her. So, what remained of the family moved away from New Bark Town, and that week became nearly a decade.

To this day, Kiel doesn't talk about his time in Goldenrod.

Some of the people that know him say they saw him during that time; just passing glimpses of a boy glad in the finest of clothes, accompanied by a redheaded boy his age with an unnerving smile. Some saw him accompanied by people far more sinister yet, with dark clothes and darker yet gazes. And yet, Kiel was rarely caught without a smile on his face. He was the happiest of all when accompanied by a little boy that looked much like him - his brother, some knew. The two were very close. Inseparable. Never one without the other.

When Kiel returned to New Bark Town some months ago, he did so alone.

Someone even claimed they saw him without a smile, once - but that must've been just hearsay.

Pokemon:

Ragnar Tanglebeard
Meowth (Galar) | M | Tough Claws

An absolute rascal, Ragnar is always looking for trouble. He thrives on attention, be it positive or negative, and pulls no punches in his attempts to acquire it. If he isn't trying to pick fights with other Pokémon, he's picking the pockets of unsuspecting humans or leaving his mark on public property. He has clawed his way through most of Kiel's furniture at this point, and has an unhealthy obsession with plushies. If he sees one, he must destroy it. No exceptions. The only way to truly calm him down is to pick him up and shower him with food, scritches, or both.

Like his name implies, he has an unusually long beard even for a Galarian Meowth. Ragnar refuses to let Kiel cut it, so he braids it to keep the cat from tripping all over it instead. His fur is messy, and there's a piece missing from his right ear.

Hiro
Phantump | M | Natural Cure

Hiro is... there are many things Kiel would like to say to and about Hiro, yet he never finds the words. Hiro is a shy but curious little Phantump, new to this world and everything in it. His curiosity tends to make him wander and float around things that interest him, be they people, Pokémon, or inanimate objects. Bright ligths scare him however, and he tends to avoid the sun. During daytime, he can often be found in Kiel's bag. He would not mind being recalled into a Pokéball either, but Kiel adamantly refuses to put him there. Hiro has also yet to be used in a battle.

The stump that functions as Hiro's body has two dates engraved onto it.

Reason for Traveling with Main Group: Kiel's reasons to travel are aplenty, though he doesn't readily share most of them. If asked, he'd cite boredom; New Bark Town is small and quiet, totally unlike the metropolis he spent his teenage years in, and he feels it's suffocating. What better way to fix that than a little adventure? He's definitely not running away from past deeds or "friends" of ill repute, nah, of course not.

Relationships:

Diana Miyamoto nee Clarity | _^Mother
Toushiro Miyamoto | _^Father
Tomohiro Miyamoto | _{^{Little Brother [deceased]}}
Dimitri Eliades | _^"Brother"

Other:

Kiel is left-handed, but can use his right one almost as well.
Is deadly afraid of certain ghost Pokémon, though he tries to hide it.
His dialogue colour is #e1ca6d.
Prefers cats over dogs.

leanna

Leanna Dewstep

Bard^「lv1」| Half-Elf | Chaotic Good | Guild Artisan

---

Combat Stats

Armor Class: 13
Initiative: +2
Hit Points: 9 ^[1d8]
Speed: 30 feet

---

General Stats

Strength 8
Dexterity 13 ^[+1]
Constitution 11 ^[+1]
Intelligence 9
Wisdom 10
Charisma 13 ^[+2]

---

Proficiencies

Proficiency Bonus: +2
Passive Perception: 10
Proficient Saving Throws: Dexterity, Charisma
Proficient Skills: Insight, Persuasion, Performance, Perception, Sleight of Hand, Acrobatics, Animal Handling
Proficient Weapons: Simple Weapons, hand crossbows, longswords, rapiers, shortswords
Proficient Armor: Light armor
Other Proficiencies: Flute, lute, harp, leatherworker’s tools
Languages: Common, Elven, Draconic, Goblin

---

Attacks & Spellcasting

Spell save DC 12
Spell Attack modifier 4

Rapier | +4 | 1d8+2 Piercing
Dagger | +4 | 1d8+2 Piercing

---

Features

Fey Ancestry^{「half-elf」} You have advantage on saving throws against being charmed, and magic can't put you to sleep.

Darkvision^{「half-elf」} Thanks to your elven heritage, you have superior vision in dark and dim conditions. You can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light. You can't discern color in darkness, only shades of gray.

Skill Versatility^{「half-elf」} You gain proficiency in two skills of your choice.

Bardic Inspiration^「bard」 You can inspire others through stirring words or music. To do so, you use a Bonus Action on Your Turn to choose one creature other than yourself within 60 feet of you who can hear you. That creature gains one Bardic Inspiration die, a d6. Once within the next 10 minutes, the creature can roll the die and add the number rolled to one ability check, Attack roll, or saving throw it makes. The creature can wait until after it rolls The D20 before deciding to use the Bardic Inspiration die, but must decide before the DM says whether the roll succeeds or fails. Once the Bardic Inspiration die is rolled, it is lost. A creature can have only one Bardic Inspiration die at a time. You can use this feature a number of times equal to your Charisma modifier (a minimum of once). You regain any expended uses when you finish a Long Rest.

---

Spells

Cantrips (2): Prestidigitation, Mage Hand
1st level (4): Cure Wounds, Detect Magic, Sleep, Healing Word

---

Personality

Personality Traits

I judge people by their actions, not their words.
If someone is in trouble, I'm always willing to lend help.
When I set my mind to something, I follow through no matter what gets in my way.
I feel tremendous empathy for all who suffer.
I'm driven by a wanderlust that led me away from home.

Ideals

People. I like seeing the smiles on people's faces when I perform. That's all that matters.
Free Thinking. Inquiry and curiosity are the pillars of progress.
Change. Life is like the seasons, in constant change, and we must change with it.
Aspiration. I'm going to prove that I'm worthy of a better life.

Bonds

My instrument is my most treasured possession, and it reminds me of someone I love.
I've been searching my whole life for the answer to a certain question.
My tools are symbols of my past life, and I carry them so that I will never forget my roots.

Flaws

I'm never satisfied with what I have--I always want more.
I am easily distracted by the promise of information.
The monstrous enemy we faced in battle still leaves me quivering with fear.
Once someone questions my courage, I never back down no matter how dangerous the situation.
I'm horribly jealous of anyone who outshines my handiwork.

History

By now, time has washed away most of Leanna's early childhood memories. All that remains are scattered sceneries and emotions, all from different times and places. She knows her family used to travel; she knows most of her days were spent on the road. But where they were going and what they had left behind, she does not know.

Her first clear memory is of a cold winter night. Her mother embraced her with trebling hands, repeating words of comfort like a mantra. She remembers the reek of blood, and the glint of metal in the moonlight. She remembers a beast, larger than any she's seen since. She remembers the soldiers that escorted them to the nearest town. She doesn't remember where her father went. All she knows is that she never saw him again.

From that night onward, Leanna and her mother no longer traveled. She can't recall if she ever asked why - or whether or not her mother answered. Whenever the topic of travel was brought up, her mother's smile faded and her features were overtaken by anguish. In time, Leanna learnt to fear the world beyond the city's borders, though she never learnt why.

With elven blood in her veins, Leanna grew up much slower than the humans around her. She was barely a woman grown when her mother left the mortal realm. And when her friends' hair begun to ashen and fall, Leanna remained youthful. Her godchildren grew from tiny bundles of joy to men and women like her, and then had children of their own. She saw the master under which she studied leatherworking grow old and retire, and before she knew it, she ended up a teacher herself. Though few said it out loud, it was clear she did not quite belong among the humans.

Then one day, her city was visited by a band of adventurers. They were a ragtag group from different backgrounds and races, united by a common cause. Leanna met a few of them as they came to buy her wares, and ended up listening to the stories they had to share in the local tavern. The more she heard, the more she was overcome by a peculiar sense of... she hesitated to say nostalgia, yet knew no other name to call it by. The scenery the adventurers described roused vivid, familiar images in her mind, stirring memories she did not even realize she'd possessed.

The world beyond the city... was it not, perhaps, as scary as she had thought? Would it have a place for her to belong? Or did she belong nowhere but the roads themselves?

Noticing her intrigue, one of the members of the adventuring group offered Leanna a chance to travel with them to their next destination: Waterdeep, a magnificent city far up in the north. If she truly wished to experience adventuring for herself, there was no better place to start.

Or so he said. Leanna could only hope his words rung true.

---

Equipment

PP 0 | GP 15 | EP 0 | SP 0 | CP 0 |

⇴ Rapier
⇴ Entertainer's pack

⇴ Backpack
⇴ Bedroll
⇴ Costume x2
⇴ Candle x5
⇴ Rations x5
⇴ Waterskin
⇴ Disguise kit

⇴ Leatherworker’s tools
⇴ A letter of introduction
⇴ Set of traveler’s clothes
⇴ Lute
⇴ Leather Armor
⇴ Dagger

rip wip

NAME MC NAMESON

| Like | Fear | Like | Fear |

Physical Description: Height. Weight. Hair colour. The usual.
Age:
Relationship with Hildon: Are you a local? A visitor? Do you have any connections to the reservation?
Occupation: What did you do, before the snow came down?
Useful Supplies: Between one to three items likely to assist you in this suddenly-frigid town. If you're unsure of what counts, ask me. Sample items might be winter clothing, firearms and cross-country skis.
Backstory: What brings you to Hildon, if you're an out-of-towner? How long have you lived here if you're a local? Has anything interesting happened in your life so far?

Freefalling with Vertigo ⍣

Character headers

ded

My Hider

N A D I J A H

Location
Time

C I R I L L O B I A N C H I

Location
Time

D U N C A N S T E W A R T

Location
Time

H I M I K O S U Z U K I

Location
Time

A E L I N O R K I A N D A L L

Location
Time

R Y L A N T W Y F O R D

Location
Time

alive

Freefalling with Vertigo ⍣

leonid

[Full Name]

Leonid Hector Sylmare

[Alias]

Leon

[Affiliation]

Cretus

[Starting Class]

Noble

[Status]

(Adopted) heir to House Sylmare

[Crest]

Minor Crest of Sylmare

[Age]

Seventeen

[Date of Birth]

27th of the Hallowed Moon, Divine Year 764

[Appearance Information]

Once an unmistakable product of the streets, the past few months have molded Leonid into the epitome of nobility - as far as appearances go, anyhow. Much as he dislikes tight collars, unnecessary gloves and stiff pants, he wears them like he was born in them, both in classrooms and beyond. And with an impeccable posture to match a confident gait, he doesn't seem out of place even in the most prestigious of gatherings. That is, until he's forced to speak. He can't quite pull off formalities like second nature, and seems to often get lost between what he wants to say and what he should say. Amusing to some, jarring to others - and a source of great concern for his new 'family'.

Standing average at 5'9'', Leon is more lean and lithe than muscular, yet fully capable of besting any noble who's never known hard work. He has a very slight tan that makes the scars scattered upon his skin that much more apparent, at least when unclothed. Most are around his arms and back, which formal attire hides quite conveniently. Something good comes outta the stuffy uniform, at least. Whenever given the chance, rare as those instances may be, he likes to slip into more comfortable and loose clothes - not quite the rags he once wore, but clean casual wear befitting nobility.

Leon's eyes are a reddish shade of brown, constantly carrying an observant, even sly look - as if he's always assessing everything around him; the places he goes to, the people he meets and the words they speak. Call it a survival instinct or paranoia, it's all the same to him. He has an expressive face, and though he's learnt to fake a polite smile quite well, his gaze rarely changes. Leon's chestnut brown hair is forcibly combed to some form of submission, but a few loose strands still like to stick out every which way no matter how many hours he spends taming them.

[Personality]

First impressions, as is often the case, are quite deceiving when it comes to Leonid. Though he looks refined and may come across as such at first, none of it comes naturally to him. In reality, Leonid couldn't care less for etiquette or manners, and sees them as a necessary evil at best. He's quite against the general view that some people are better than others through birthright alone, be it due to wealth, station or the possession of a crest, and he doesn't really believe in god or fate. As far as he's concerned, everyone should earn their place in the world - which is why he feels undeserving of his new title.

Everything he's experienced has left him bitter and somewhat cynical - both traits that tend to show through the cracks of his noble mask from time to time. Still, it's not as though he's purposefully antagonistic even behind his facade. He does tend to make quick judgments when he first meets people, if only because living on the streets and dealing with shady folk taught him it was a necessity, but he is also willing to change his views if proven wrong. He's alert and observant, and it's difficult to sneak up on him - in fact, it's more likely that he's the one to sneak up on you! Though he makes sure not to go too far and risk consequences from the Sylmares, he doesn't at all mind rattling up nobles, particularly pompous or arrogant ones - be it with his words or actions.

Though he usually appears calm enough, deep down Leonid doesn't have the longest fuse out there. He isn't one to resort to shouting or swinging his fists around, but he does get annoyed somewhat easily in certain circumstances, and that can lead to quite a sharp tongue indeed. He isn't a sore loser, and can even take some insults in a stride - but witnessing injustice or having to listen to nobles spout self-righteous spiels does get under his skin quite fast. Having to pretend to agree with them is even worse. As such, Leonid usually tends to avoid such situations; he knows that when angry, keeping up his act becomes that much more difficult - and his ability to care about being exposed lessens to a dangerous degree. He also has a soft spot for the downtrodden, and particularly hates seeing them mistreated.

On most occasions when interacting with others however, Leonid is amiable enough. He's talkative, and though his jokes tend to be a bit strange and some of the things he lets slip unfitting for a man of his status, he isn't looking for trouble - most of the time.

[Personal History]

If categorized, Leon's story would be of the "rags to riches" variety. Born as a nobody in the less fortunate parts of Cretus, most of his early life was marked by struggle and poverty. According to the tales his father used to tell, theirs was once a successful merchant business in the heart of Solitaire - but whatever wealth their forefathers had once accrued had long since been lost to time. Bad business decisions, bandits and untimely deaths had eaten away at the success of their business over generations, until naught remained but tales. 'Keep close ever penny,' his father always told him at the end of the story. 'Today's coin is tomorrow's dinner.'

At the dawn of Leonid's ninth Amber Moon, his father told stories no longer. Illness claimed him, and at the turn of the year, his mother followed. Devastated and alone, Leonid soon found himself on the streets. At first, he got by with help of strangers' kindness; neighbours who pitied his fate, townspeople who'd known his parents and wished to aid their son in his time of need. Sometimes, he was given food - other times a bed, even coin, a time or two. But kind as the townspeople were, their resources were not infinite. At the end of the day, they had their own families to care for - and the more time passed, the more forgotten Leonid's plight became. New orphans were birthed by the harsh living conditions, and alms were distributed to them in turn. Even when Leonid worked for his coin or spent the entirety of his day begging, the closer the winter came, the less people could afford to give. It wasn't just him; everyone was struggling.

Then, with the first snow, they arrived to town; traveling merchants, looking for a roof above their heads for a night. Leonid overheard them talk as he cleaned tables at the tavern, catching wind of their plans to head for the capital to sell their wares come morrow. The capital, Solitaire... a place where his family had once prospered, and where many a merchant had earned their fortune. Perhaps there, Leonid could start to accrue his own fortune. It wasn't easy convincing the merchants to take with them a stray boy, but free labor was free labor and Leonid promised he'd make a fine attendant and didn't have too big a belly. Scraps would suit him just fine.

Solitaire was as grand as the stories told, and from the moment Leonid first set foot onto its cobblestone streets, he was in awe. The city was big, beautiful and bustling, worlds apart from the quaint little town he'd called home. Leonid felt as though anything was possible here.

His glee did not last.

Not long after arrival, he realized that for a filthy boy with no coin in his pocket, Solitaire was no more hospitable than any other city. On the contrary, even; the citizens of the capital did not know him like his neighbours had, and they'd seen enough bastards, scoundrels and thieves that they had no sympathy left to spare. And then there were the unwritten rules of the street; where one could beg, sleep, or tread, carefully dictated by already existing gangs that had claimed parts of the back alleys to their name.

Leonid never wanted to steal. He'd heard his father speak ill of the bandits that partook in his family's fall from grace, yet winter was harsh and circumstances dire. It started as grabbing produce when no one was looking, then moved on to picking a pocket, two, three - until finally, he found himself stealing and conning the good people of Solitaire even when no direct need dictated it. He found a certain thrill in a successful gig - and it was only matter of time until it got him into trouble. Not with the locals themselves, nor even guards; certainly, he'd gotten a beating once or twice in his earlier years, but this was worse. He got caught trying to steal from a criminal much worse than him; a trained assassin, part of a guild of his kind.

Leonid ended up trading his freedom for a chance to live another day. He was still a boy of thirteen at the time, but the guild never had a shortage of little birds. They did not only deal in assassinations; espionage and information breaking were also part of their trade, and the younger their messenger, the easier they could slip by undetected. That is how he spent the next few years: acquiring, carrying and exchanging information the land over, until fate threw a yet another twist his way. He got caught a second time. But if the first had been a curse, this one was more a blessing.

The young criminal had found his way into the manor of the Sylmares - the second wealthiest noble house in all of Cretus. Perhaps in part due to the legalization of assassinations, the house was quite secretive, and so any information he could gather would likely fetch a fine price. Unfortunately, as many others before him, Leonid got caught in the act by the many guards of the estate. Unlike those before him, however, he did not meet his end as punishment. In the process of examination and interrogation, it was discovered that he, against all odds, was in possession of a crest. And not just any crest, either - but the Crest of Sylmare. Someone, somewhere down his line of ancestors, descended from Sylmare.

Judging by the look in the lord's eyes, the news bode well for Leonid. All he wanted was to keep his life. What he got, instead, was a new life altogether. As it turned out, apart from the current head herself, they had no one with a crest to inherit the family name. And so, a quick plan was devised to present Leonid as the heir proper. With the legal status of assassinations, it would not be unthinkable for the family to have kept a crest-bearing heir a secret out of fear of attempts on his life, after all. And with him being almost of age, now would be a good time to reveal him to the world - perhaps by sending him to the monastery?

Leonid was not thrilled, yet he found himself given little choice. And so, for the next few excruciating months, he was trained in the ways of nobility. Etiquette, dancing, proper manner of dress and address - he did his best to learn it all, if only to keep his head. And when the next academic year begun, he was sent off to learn the rest of the skills necessary for someone in his position.

[Preferred Fighting Style]

Sword

[Equipment]

Training Sword, Training Bow

[Learned Spells]

N/A

[Interests]

• Climbing
• Archery
• Cooking
• Storytelling

[Likes]

• Money
• Sweets
• Rain
• Nighttime
• Banter
• Naps

[Dislikes]

• Nobles
• Horses
• Fleas
• Hypocrites
• Etiquette
• Restrictive clothing

Efraim

Efraim von Kaiser

Age
25

Gender
Male

New or Been in Training
Been in Training

Other
Born as the third son to a renowned noble house, Efraim spent his youth breaking every rule he could. Being the third in line as far as heirship went, with two younger siblings to occupy his parents and servants, he very much felt like the middle child; not paid much attention to, in the good or the bad. That was, until illness claimed both his elder brothers, and the burden of inheritance and politics was suddenly thrust upon his shoulders.

To his credit, he did very much try to grow accustomed to his new role. He attended every briefing, every ball, and met every potential suitress his parents picked out for him. But though he could play the part of a proper noble well enough to fool most everyone, he never could get accustomed to the sheer weight of responsibility. It felt debilitating. And so, he devised a plan of escape. Efraim had once seen a dragon as a young boy, and been mesmerized by its beauty. His uncle was a famed rider, as well. As such, he argued that he would very much like to go and learn to be a rider himself - after all, that way he'd be better suited to protect his family, lands and kingdom. His parents agreed eventually, and Efraim travelled all the way to the Keep, while his younger brother was left to take care of political matters until his return.

And hopefully thereafter, if Efraim had any say in the matter.

Efraim has some affinity for magic, though he's unaware of it himself - he would need some teaching to be able to realize it.

Incandescence

Class of Dragon
Light

Gender of Dragon
Female

Strengths
- Perhaps owing, in part, to her multiple sets of wings, Incandescence is incredibly nimble and capable of many aerial maneuvers others could only dream of. She can twist her body as if a snake, and her wings allow her to make sharp turns with little delay.
- Though her scales are naturally a light pinkish hue, she is able to reflect light off of them - thus being able to appear as a different colour, or even slightly alter her appearance to look bigger, smaller, or even a different type of dragon - though only momentarily.
- Like some other light dragons, she can also turn completely invisible.
- She can fire plasma blasts and white flames, and also radiate similar plasma energy from her whole body. This can be used to relay signals, light the way in poor visibility and also blind an opponent, thus making it even less likely to land a proper blow.

Weaknesses
- Incandescence is a proud creature, fearing nothing and bowing to none. A dangerous flaw in the midst of combat, where teamwork and cunning are often necessary talents.
- In addition to the above, though Incandescence can talk telepathically with her rider as every other, for now, she has chosen not to.
- Due to her impressive evasive prowess, Incandescence is not used to taking hits. As such, her pain tolerance is quite low, and she's more likely to withdraw from battle after injuries that wouldn't necessarily bother some other dragons.
- When she isn't actively trying to hide herself with invisibility, Incandescence makes for a large, colourful target. A nimble one capable of dodging, yes, but there is always a danger of an attack she did not see coming.
- She has poor vision in darkness, and must keep radiating light or blasting out flames in rapid succession to light up her way if caught in poor lighting.

Other
Incandescence very much acts like a dragon version of a spoiled noble lady - pompous, prideful and expecting due respect when addressed. How and why she chose Efraim - or anyone at all - is anyone's guess.

ayame

---

P E R S O N A L ⋅ I N F O R M A T I O N:

---

Name:

Ayame Sakanoue

Gender:

Female

Age:

19

Race:

Renard

Appearance:

Ayame is a small girl with a big presence. Though she's been through quite a few trials and tribulations in her young life, her noble heritage runs deep - and it shows in everything she does. She carries herself as if she was trying to impress royalty, with each motion carefully planned for. There's a certain aura to her, one of tranquility and grace, that seems to come effortlessly.

That is, until she opens her mouth. While the words themselves are often formal and polite enough, there's a demanding edge to her tone - and if she doesn't get what she wants, she can get loud, shattering any illusion of tranquility that might've still lingered. When frustrated, her silent, graceful movements become forceful and stiff, and she has been seen to stomp her foot on more than one occasion...

She has long, deep black hair cascading down her back all the way to her thighs, with various decorations included in her hairdo. She likes big, puffy, loose-fitting and comfortable clothes, especially ones made of expensive material in vibrant colours. She adores jewelry as well, and can be often found donning excessive amounts of it. In other words, she--- hardly looks like someone that should be descending down into a monster filled dungeon. Thankfully, she has prepared for the trip a little, opting for a slightly less obtrusive getup. Her skin is well cared for, but has seen little sun; as much is obvious from how easily her pale skin burns.

Height: 5'2''
Weight: A lady should never be asked her weight
Eye color: Dark red
Hair color: Deep black

Personality:

As said, one would be forgiven for mistaking Ayame to a demure lady that tries her best to go unseen and avoid conflict. For all intents and purposes, that is how her parents tried to raise her - but not quite what became of her. In a word, Ayame is a diva that ultimately strives to ensure her own comfort above everything else. She's greedy, coveting riches that might grant her an "easy life" as she puts it, and gods help whoever tries to get in her way.

She's stubborn yet lazy, wanting things but not really wanting to work for them. When things get hard, she has no problem throwing away her pride and acting like a damsel in distress, even if she were fully capable of solving the situation herself. She dislikes hard labor, particularly if it threatens to get her hands dirty. Why do something herself anyway, if she can have someone else do it in exchange for a few cooing words and a wink? That's just absurd! Of course, if her little ploy doesn't work, she's quick to grow frustrated and let her true, less than pleasant colours show via demands, threats, bribery or simply constant, endless, vehement nagging.

Difficult as it might be to believe, Ayame is not without her good sides, however. For one, though she's not above flattery or manipulation to get what she wants short term, she ultimately doesn't want to retort to lies and deceit to make a living. She's seen how such things affect others, and while she seeks an easy life, she doesn't want to make anyone else's (too) difficult while attaining it. She will, if begrudgingly, work for her keep if the situation calls for it, and will absolutely come to the aid of anyone she sees requiring it. She just... may ask for a favor in return, but such thing is just common courtesy, is it not? She also has a soft spot for anything or anyone cute; children and small animals in particular. Except dogs. Hrr, dogs.

Ayame is also curious, and always willing to learn; particularly through books, her second love, right after jewelry. She's particularly interested in furthering her knowledge on magic, culture and history, and can often be found taking notes in her little book. She might not seem like your usual intellectual, oftentimes acting rashly or coming across as sheltered, but let not appearances deceive you; that's exactly what she wants.

Likes:

✾ jewelry
✾ riches
✾ history
✾ books
✾ compliments
✾ learning
✾ meat
✾ baths
✾ pleasant scents
✾ children

Dislikes:

✘ hard work
✘ dirt
✘ ugly things
✘ stupidity
✘ rain
✘ cold weather
✘ having her tail touched
✘ rude people
✘ thieves
✘ dogs

Hobbies:

‼ reading
‼ napping
‼ collecting shiny things
‼ bossing people around

Background:

Born to a noble family far from Orario, Ayame's early years were spent among riches and luxuries. She was an only child and the apple of her parents' eyes, all her needs taken care of and wishes heeded to. As one would expect, she grew up both sheltered and indolent, never having known the need to work for her keep. And once her parents found out that much like them, she had aptitude for magic, their praises all but doubled. If Ayame wasn't spending her days lazing around or relaxing, she was practicing magic or reading - skills that, while she never deliberately tried to lea, would prove useful years later.

Ayame was still a child when her home was ravaged by thieves, attracted to the family's wealth - or so the story told to her went, anyway. There were rumours that told a different tale; that her parents had earned their riches through fraudulent means, and that it had been their own vile deeds that had finally caught up to them. Whatever the real story, the end result was much the same; Ayame's parents perished and she was whisked away to safety at her uncle's house, far from her family's estate.

The new house she had to settle into was much smaller than the one prior, and the rules weren't quite as lax. For one, there was no such thing as idling around. Everyone that lived under Kotomine's roof had to contribute in some way - a concept that did not sit well with the young renard. Ayame was a turbulent teen and as stubborn as they came, so after a few months spent either bickering or begrudgingly preparing food, she finally gathered her things and bid adieu.

Only, as she would soon find out, she could not outrun the need to work. Without work, she could get no coin - and without coin, she couldn't eat. It was the simplest of concepts, yet it took actually experiencing it for her to fully grasp the absolute nature of it. But once she finally accepted that there was no shortcut to riches, she quickly found out that not having spent a day of her life actually working, she wasn't really... good at anything. She couldn't cook, her hands blistered after the slightest attempt to clean, and she had neither the physique nor technique to lift or carry things. All she had was little bit of magic and an empty stomach.

So, she ended up a street artist, performing small magic tricks for anyone that had the time to stop and watch awhile. It kept her eating, but wasn't quite the ticket back to luxury shed'd hoped for. It gave her practice in her craft, but even when her performance improved, her income hardly did. Even so, she stuck to her guns, stubborn as ever. Time and time again she came across shady folk on the streets, and just as many times she turned to face the other way, refusing their attempts to try and get her to join their little ploys. She'd seen what thieves did to people. She would not fall quite that low.

Then, one day, she got reason not to turn her head away. She overheard a little girl screaming for help, and found herself at the scene of a kidnapping. Unarmed and completely untrained in any sort of combat, she acted on instinct and did the only thing she could think of; for the first time in her life, she aimed her magic at another living being. She was in luck; her display of magic attracted the town guards, and the situation dissolved before the thieves could retaliate. The girl thanked her, and in her childish glee, mentioned something about her adventurers - and how she would make for a great one. Ayame brushed it aside as a child's blathering.

That was, until one day at the local inn, she happened to overhear a similar topic. She heard talk of a place called Orario, a labyrinth city where many gathered in hopes of making a fortune. Utterly tired of her daily grind, Ayame's interest was piqued - and a few days later, she found herself stepping unto the cobblestones of Orario for the first time.

Wallet:

- 1,000 Valis

---

P A R A M E T E R S & S K I L L S:

---

Level: 1
Achieved Floor: 0
Class: Mage
Affiliation: Athena

Equipment:

- expensive clothes
- decorative staff

Stats:

• Strength: I
• Endurance: I
• Dexterity: I
• Agility: I
• Magic: I

Basic Skills:

N/A

Development Skills:

N/A

Spells:

N/A

Jaroslav Moravec

Name:

Jaroslav "Jaro" Moravec, or as he's known among the racer crowd, "Blazer"

Age:

18

Crew Position:

Helmsman

Aspirations:

Truth be told, Jaroslav's ambitions aren't particularly noble or worthy of reverence. All he wants is his next fix of adrenaline. The small-time races back home just aren't doing it for him anymore. He needs to go harder, faster, and with something far more gigantic on his ass. Bonus points if it breathes fire.

Personality:

Jaroslav isn't a difficult guy to read - he's an open book with a detailed synopsis. What you see is what you get; a reckless youth that doesn't remember yesterday and doesn't worry for tomorrow. He's generally laid back and takes things in a stride, to an extent that some may find irresponsible. If he does have a problem with someone or something though, worry not; you'll hear about it. Though he usually doesn't have bad intentions, he doesn't really watch what he says or to whom, and it has gotten him in trouble more than once.

It's not like he has trouble with authority on a principle or something though, and he is fully capable of following orders and doing as he's bid - even if he might complain about it on the way. Similarly, while Jaro does hate boredom and menial tasks, he doesn't purposefully seek to cause havoc, and never intentionally drags others into his mess. Sometimes it just... happens, and he only notices it when everything around him is figuratively ablaze. He will always try to fix what he's broken, though, and is not a bad kid at heart. At the core of most of his problems is inexperience, and no doubt leaving behind the city is going to do wonders in teaching him a thing or two about life - and death.

Adrenaline is, without a shadow of a doubt, Jaro's greatest vice. It's what drives him to seek excitement where he should not - but it's also what gives him the drive to overcome whatever obstacle he encounters on the way. It gets him in trouble, and it bails him out. It's what awaits him at the top, and what threatens to pull him under. He's a junkie, through-and-through.

Background:

Jaroslav was born in the lower-middle class area of Baltimore, and for as long as he can remember, it's just been him and his mother trying to make ends meet. There is this guy that sort of looks like him in an old portrait at the back wall of the house, holding his mom's hand - but considering the bastard left before he was even old enough to speak, Jaro just knows the guy as "that dude with shitty mustache." Hopefully, wherever he is today, he's got a better sense of style. Yikes.

Speaking of things Jaroslav doesn't know, most of his family history falls into that category. His mother has been reluctant to talk about anything that happened prior to his birth, but he's managed to gather some bits and pieces over the years. Apparently his family lived in some place called "Europe", and his grandfather served in the war that fucked the world over. Oh, and his mom had a dog, but the thing would be dead by now even if Earth hadn't been taken over by abominations.

Growing up, Jaro was always a troublesome kid - though not on purpose. He loved his mother even before he was old enough to realize just how hard she worked to put food on their table, and would've never wanted to cause her worry on purpose. He didn't set out to cause trouble. He just... set out at the wrong time, to the wrong places, with the wrong people. Trouble didn't just find him, it attached itself to him by the hip and made him race through life three-legged. It certainly didn't help that he practically lived and breathed adrenaline, with no amount of punishment able set him straight.

But worry over his increasingly old and weary mother eventually did, somewhat. By the time Jaro reached his teenage years, he started to try and redirect some of his energy to small jobs here and there in an attempt to financially support his mother. It... didn't always work out. He was still an easily bored teen, too easily distracted and too quick to rile up. Needless to say, many of his jobs ended prematurely, with his pockets being none the fuller.

That was until he ended up helping some of the older kids fix up their gear for a sport that had been making the rounds as of late; air-racing. Just like the name entailed, it involved racing over the city walls with small, usually home-made airboats. The vessels were only big enough for one, and needed dedicated repair often - which was where Jaroslav came in.

But he could only watch from the sidelines so long.

The first time he rose above the walls atop a wobbly boat, he fell in love. He was supposed to be just a substitute pilot, there to get a participation trophy for the real deal. He came in fourth. When he joined his next race after months of practice gliding around the city, he came in second; and from there, his climb to the top but continued. He was already a famous racer, hailed as the hotheaded "Blazer" with dozens of wins under his belt, when that incident cemented his name onto everyone's lips for months to come.

It was the Summer Ignite, the biggest race out there. Air-racing wasn't an official sport sanctioned by the city, and those participating in it were often fined if caught - but considering the size of the Summer Ignite and its popularity among the youth, too much effort would've needed to be poured into stopping it. It happened on the walls in the less populous, poorer area of the city, anyway; away from the general populace's eyes.

Midway through the race, all eyes were watching.

With no warning, the race was interrupted by two manticores emerging from the clouds below, their fearsome forms two dark dots against the blue of the sky. They caught the racers by surprise, and had Jaro not turned around and sped down to distract them away from some of the slower contestants, more than one family would've likely ended the evening in mourning.

So, at only seventeen, Jaroslav not only crossed the finish line first, he did so a hero, with two manticores hot on his trail.

The city watch managed to take care of the beasts before Jaro's heroic story ended in a tragedy.

Jaroslav's celebration was intense, but decidedly short-lived. By the time the next race rolled around and he rose to greet the skies once more, everything felt uncharacteristically... dull. All his senses, all the sensations around him. The breeze against his face, the wind's howl in his ears, the vertigo of leaning over the boat's edge to gaze at the murky clouds below. None of it made him tingle.

He won the race, probably. He wasn't really paying attention.

It made no matter whether he was walking the streets or sliding atop the wall now; the city felt like a prison regardless.

But while Jaro was busy having an existential crisis, the news of his heroic deed kept on traveling. Eventually, it reached influential ears, ones that happened to be in need of a helmsmen for a certain vessel. And so, a few months later, with no education to justify such a decision, he was offered the position of a helmsman on the launch of a new frigate; The Drake. Fancy name for a simple vessel, but hey-- Jaroslav wasn't shallow.

Other:

He speaks fluent Slovakian, not that he knows it's what the language is called. It's his mother tongue, and the one used at home the most.

Evelynn, Jae-won Park

"I have a plan. Please... listen."

Or, "What do you mean you're 0/3, we're two minutes into the game!?"

---

Name:

Jae-won "Jace" Park

Age:

20

Gender:

Male

Occupation:

College student, aspiring pro-gamer

Champion:

Evelynn

Abilities:

Passive Ability: Demon Shade

After not taking or dealing damage for a short while, Jae-won turns invisible. He can be detected if he attacks, takes damage, or walks within five feet of someone. If he's at low health while in Demon Shade, he will also start to regenerate health at a rapid rate.

Ability #1: Hate Spike

With a flourish, Jae-won throws a dart that deals damage on hit. From there onwards, his next three attacks deal extra damage. Subsequent three casts have him launch rows of spikes that prioritize Jae-won's target and cost no prana.

Ability #2: Allure

At cast, Jae-won marks a target. If he attacks or otherwise touches the target right afterwards, he slows their movement. If he waits for a few seconds before doing so, he charms them instead. If he triggers either effect, the prana used for Allure will be refunded.

Ability #3: Whiplash

Jae-won produces two ethereal lashers that strike at an enemy. If he was in Demon Shade during or between casts, he pulls himself to his target and deals increased damage. In either case, he gains a small burst of movement speed after the attack.

Ability #4: Last Caress

For an instant, Jae-won's visage is replaced by that of Evelynn's true form. All those that are close enough to witness the horrifying sight take damage - and those that are at a very low health are executed. Jae-won is untargetable for the duration of this, and is flung backwards afterward.

Appearance:

Jae-won is diminutive in both posture and presence, easily blending into any given crowd - just the way he likes it. He stands at 5'6'' with a petite build and somewhat boyish facial features, making him look even younger than he really is. He has thick black hair; messy when he's alone, desperately combed to submission whenever he's forced to step outside. His eyes are dark brown, hidden behind the frames of large glasses. Round ones, unlike the ones in the picture. He has traces of past, teenage blemishes on his face, but he's rather apt at hiding them if need be. On most days, he doesn't bother.

Jae-won can often be found with a plain white face-mask on, even when he isn't sick. Preferably one that smells pleasant. The obscurity the mask brings is comforting, and the scent soothing. When it comes to clothes, his can best be described as "safe"; nothing too striking in terms of design or colour. You probably won't remember whatever he had on at any given time. At home, hoodies are his life. He owns so many animal hoodies that he could fill up an entire zoo with them.

Personality:

It's quite difficult to get to know Jae-won - or the real him, anyway. First impressions tend to peg him as shy, reserved and polite, always the one to avoid conflict and never utter a controversial word. That is, if you manage to get a word out of him at all; if given the choice, he much prefers to observe and go with the flow rather than speak up. However, unlike many might think, that isn't due to lack of opinions or things to say. Underneath his practiced calm, Jae-won is surprisingly short-tempered, and his thoughts are quite a bit ruder than the words that do leave his mouth. The same can be observed in-game: in chat, Jae-won is the most rational player imaginable, keeping calm and shotcalling no matter the circumstance. But oh, if only you knew the rage going on in his room...

It comes as no surprise that an awkward gamer like Jae-won is somewhat of a loner. Not necessarily because he would dislike the idea of friendship, but rather because he isn't very socially adept and doesn't really know how to make friends. Part of him fears that if he were to ever grow close to someone, they would eventually find out that he isn't as proper or polite as he seems to be - and fears their reaction. It's not that he's mean, but he is quite critical - and while that is mostly towards himself, it goes to a lesser extent towards others as well.

All his awkwardness is further amplified whenever he deals with the opposite sex, to a point that even his carefully crafted calmness shows cracks here and there. As such, he'd rather just say nothing at all and hope his aloof demeanor gets considered 'cool'. It never does.

Short Biography:

Jae-won was born in Icheon, South Korea, where he spent the first ten years of his life. At the cusp of his eleventh birthday, his parents moved to Toronto, Canada, for his father's work - a prospect which, while exciting at first, turned out a source of anxiety for Jae-won soon enough. Always a shy kid, he turned even more a recluse when thrust into a new country with new people, customs and language. And while he learnt the latter fast enough, he never did grow fully accustomed to the former. It certainly didn't help that despite the big change, his parents' expectations hardly changed. They still expected him to be the top of his class and retain his previous academic score. After all, they hoped he'd one day achieve a high paying job like his father and help keep the family's finances steady for years to come. Stressed, desperate and in his teenage years, Jae-won did something he'd considered unthinkable previously: he acted out and rebelled.

That was, until his parents' sudden divorce. Jae-won was not told any details, and he never dared ask. All he knew was that one day, his father no longer came back, and his mother was left with the tough task of raising him alone. Stabbed with a sudden jolt of guilt, Jae-won went back to being the perfect, polite son to the best of his ability, taking on what little jobs he could to help provide for the family. This did come with an unfortunate trade-off, however; his studies suffered. During all this time, League was Jae-won's secret escape, a way to let out steam and forget all his stress and responsibilities for a while.

Upon graduating high school, Jae-won focused on finding more jobs instead of furthering his education, a decision his mother found regretful - yet could not deny the need for. At least, until two years ago, she found a new love. He wasn't as well-off as Jae-won's father had been, yet he was a nice man and did take financial burden off the rest of the family regardless. Jae-won could not say he felt any particular attachment towards him, but he tolerated him well enough. And while vary of his new sister at first, after a few years spent as siblings, Jae-won has started to somewhat relax around her. He looks up to her determination and fire, she finds him cute, much to his dismay.

With his financial contributions no longer necessary, Jae-won finally applied for college. A little later than most, but later is always better than never, he supposes. As it has turned out so far, college hasn't been quite as taxing as he'd expected, either, and he now finds himself with a surprising amount of free time compared to a few years ago. He has dedicated all that freetime for League, and has quickly risen the ranks all the way to Challenger. Such success did come with a cost, however; once a game he played for fun, League has now become a prospective job. School and traditional worklife, Jae-won has found, are not things he enjoys or is particularly good at. So if he does want a job that brings in money... perhaps it's time to look elsewhere.

Summary:

Nerd with big dreams and a short temper.

Other:

- Has multiple accounts on both NA and KR servers, since he travels between the two countries often. He has made one in EUW as well, but the high ping has deterred him from playing on it much. His NA and KR ranks fluctuate between Challenger and Grandmaster.

- Mains jungle, with support as his secondary role. Sometimes, when he's grown too frustrated with soloq ADCs, he dabbles into that role as well - mostly on smurf accounts that people don't know are his, since he isn't terribly good at it.

- His favorite junglers are Evelynn and Elise, but he has a fair amount of expertise with many others as well. At one point, he played a lot of Camille in particular.

- In Canada, or with westerners in general, Jae-won tends to go by the name "Jace" to ease pronunciation woes. It has nothing to do with the champion called Jayce.

- When nervous, fiddles with whatever is available. Mostly his phone - whether it's turned on or not - but in its absence, pens, hair or sleeves will do.

Erin

Kawasaki "Erin" Joseline

Age: 18
School Year: Senior
Personality: Joseline is not the kindest individual you'll ever come across, but she is polite and tactful until given reason not to. Logical, calculating and not one to engage in idle chitchat, she speaks bluntly and formally, with little regard given to feelings or sentiments - though she can certainly pretend otherwise if needed. Manipulative and cunning, she isn't above using dirty tactics to get her way, either. With that said, her pride does prevent her from groveling in front of anyone, even if it would be useful for her. It also makes her come across as condescending, seemingly talking down to people even when it wasn't deliberate.

While she's calm and collected most of the time, she does have a tendency to carry grudges and become spiteful if her will isn't heeded or she's directly challenged. She doesn't yell even when crossed, but the sharpness of her tongue makes it clear enough when a line has been crossed. Ambitious to a fault, she hates the idea of following someone else's lead in matters where she believes she'd make a more suitable leader. At the same time, she is fully capable of recognizing and respecting talent and intellect around her, particularly in topics she's not well-versed in herself. She has no patience for idiocy or people she considers stupid.

History: The marriage of Eloise Belleau and Alexandre Chauvet was more a mutually beneficial arrangement than a vow made out of love, but it lasted for nearly two decades and spawned a successful family business, so neither side truly minded. Joseline was born in Paris at the height of the couple's success, and being an only child, it was expected that she would one day inherit the leadership of the company. Her opinion on the matter was never asked, nor did she think to offer it. From a very young age, she learnt to view her eventual takeover as something natural and inevitable - much like sunrise every morning.

Joseline was home-schooled, with particular emphasis put on topics related to business endeavours. As a child, she found the topics dull and her teacher duller, only sitting through her classes because she did not think she had a choice. Homework was abundant and her time to play outside limited, in both quality and quantity. She was not allowed to play with just anyone, and was rarely allowed outside alone.

The older she got, though, the less she minded her lifestyle and the more appealing her future position as a rich businesswoman sounded. The value of money became more apparent, as did the difference between her and the so-called 'poor folk'. Whether it was a natural development in her personality or the result of years of indoctrination, none could say, and she certainly didn't care either way. Regardless, she started to gain an interest in the family business, and the once-boring classes soon turned out to be something she thoroughly enjoyed. Ambition was in her blood, after all - or that's what her parents said, proud of her dedication.

Come time for high school, Joseline's parents decided to forgo home schooling in favor of improving her social skills and cultural knowledge. On her second year, Joseline went on exchange to North America - and it was while there that her life changed forever. Unbeknownst to her, both the family business and her parents' marriage had been going downhill as of late, until Alexandre and Eloise could no longer bear the though of each other. They divorced swiftly and professionally, with Joseline's father buying her mother out of the company; a deal that Eloise agreed to much more readily than Joseline. She had dedicated her entire life to this company, she was not about to leave it behind over her parents' whims.

Unfortunately, being underage and unable to live on her own, she had little choice. Though her father would've readily employed her after her graduation, with perhaps the chance of one day rising to the top, Eloise had other plans. By the time Joseline's exchange year was over, her mother had already begun arrangements to move to Japan, where she'd found the new 'love of her life'; another multimillionaire with a successful company. And so, Joseline never did return to France; she found herself sitting in a plane to the other side of the world, frustrated yet hopeful. Perhaps she could put her skills to use in her adoptive father's company. Supposedly, it was even more successful than her father's had been.

That hope soon died out. As it turned out, Mr. Yamahiro Kawasaki already had an heir for his company in mind; a son by the name of Hirokichi, two years younger than Joseline. To make matters worse, the boy was neither suitable nor interested in any sort of business, much less his father's. He was not a bad kid, but he was, in Joseline's words, 'dumb as a rock, and twice as quiet.' Shy, meek, and not leader material. Joseline could not fathom him taking a position that should be hers. No. She would see to it that she got her due, through any means necessary.

Quite conveniently, it turned out that Hirokichi was not only a fool - he was naive to boot, and made the mistake of trying to be friends with his new sister. That suited Joseline quite well; it gave her access to his trust and, by extension, influence over him. If nothing else, she could manipulate his opinions and decisions, essentially making sure her will was done, even if someone else did have to act as her mouthpiece.

And yet, for someone as ambitious as her, ruling from the shadows is the same as not ruling at all - and so, she remains dissatisfied. Perhaps she will figure out a more permanent solution come graduation - provided there aren't any... other surprises to distract her.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Weapon: -
Armor: -
Accessory: -

Arcana: The Devil
Arcana Bonus: +1 Mental Field, +1 Magic / Curse spells cost half, may cast magic spells for the MF/HP equivalent to the tier instead of SP / Cannot use Heal/Buff

Current/Max MF: 7/7
Current/Max HP: 10/10
Current/Max SP: 50/50

Persona: Lilith

Hider

Persona Lore: A demonic figure that has appeared in many legend, tale and religious text. Depending on the source, she's said to be the leader of the succubi, Adam's first wife, the mother of a horde of demons and so on and forth. Generally, she's seen as a seductress who preys on men at night.

Persona Stats:

• Mental Field - 2
• Strength - 1
• Magic - 3
• Endurance - 1
• Agility - 1
• Luck - 2

Elemental Affinities:

• Phys -
• Gun -
• Fire -
• Ice -
• Elec -
• Wind -
• Psy - Resist
• Nuc -
• Bless - Weakness
• Curse -

Persona Spells:

T1

[Curse/AOE] Maeiha: +2 dmg - 10 meter range / 10 meter radius / 10 SP
[curse/Kill] Mudo: 25% / 1 enemy / 15 SP

T2

T3

T4

---

caw

Caw

True Neutral | Kenku | Rogue 1 | Cloistered Scholar

"Caw"

Attributes

AC 14 • HP 09/09 • Speed 30

STR 08 (-1) | DEX 17 (+3) | CON 12 (+1)
INT 15 (+2) | WIS 12 (+1) | CHA 10 (0)

Saving Throws: Dexterity, Intelligence
Skills: Stealth, Sleight of Hand, History, Arcana,
Acrobatics, Insight, Investigation, Perception
Tools: Thieves' Tools
Languages: (Written) Common, Auran

Arms & Armour

Armour | Leather Armor
Weapons | Shortbow (20 arrows) | Rapier | Daggers (2)
Tools & Items | Thieves' Tools | Explorer's Pack | Writing Kit (quill, ink, parchment, penknife) | "Borrowed" Book (on magical theory)

Appearance

Age: 15 | Height: 4'5'' | Weight: 70lbs

A bit on the shorter side even for his species, Caw is a diminutive Kenku whose beak and colouration resemble a crow more than a raven. His beak is shorter and less curved, and his plumage lacks a coloured sheen. Quite a scruffy sight, his feathers are often ruffled (in a non-figurative way) and the dark robe he wraps himself in shows clear signs of wear and tear. All in a all, he very much looks like a product of the streets.

Caw tends to keep his face hidden, but when one does catch a sight of it, they'll see large beady eyes staring right back at them. He has a tendency to rapidly tilt his head around when listening or curious, the way a bird would - a habit he cannot control.

Personal Item (optional)

Name: Caw's Notebook | Age: ~5 years | Size: Small | Weight: 02lbs

As he fled the wizard's dwelling, Caw tried to take the man's expansive spellbook with him for safekeeping. However, it was much too heavy to carry and make a successful escape with, so instead he opted to snatch a study book on magic and, more importantly his own notebook. It's a worn old thing that doesn't have any complete spells on it, but it has bits and pieces of invocations, as well as other notes he's made. Perhaps not the most useful, but certainly holds sentimental value.

Personality

Main Mood: Cautious | Fave Food: Berries | Pet Peeve: Being taken for a fool | Style of Battle: Sneaky, careful

Caw isn't very talkative, owning to his "condition". However, that doesn't mean he's a recluse who's unwilling to socialize. On the contrary, he rather enjoys the company of people and even talking to them - he just hesitates to be the one to initiate small talk. Now, bring up the topic of magic or an urgent issue at hand, and he will do his best to contribute. He also has a tendency to mimic people or their manner of speech if he's been around with them long enough. Up until now, he's mostly been around illiterate folk; petty thieves and dimwitted minions. As such, even though the amount of reading he's done has left his writing eloquent and vocabulary extensive, he can only make rudimentary sentences with basic words, often with incorrect grammar. This tends to leave people thinking he's stupid, a fact that irritates him to no end. With that said, he does have a few more sophisticated phrases he picked up from the wizard. His invocations were always Caw's favorites to listen to.

Having attempted to turn a new leaf and leave behind his life of crime, Caw strives to do the right thing where able. However, being the craven sort, he does put preserving his own hide before anyone else's, and will flee if things get too dangerous. He also suffers from bouts of kleptomania, so used to picking pockets that sometimes his hand quite literally slips. He is a follower at heart though, having been one his entire life, so being told not to do something is an effective deterrent, at least for a time. If able, he does try to return the things he steals as well - unless the fellows he took from were the bad sort. Then it was just karma.

Finally, though he's read a lot about the world from the wizard's books, he lacks real experience in many aspects of life. He only got to see a limited portion of the world before he was taken in by the wizard and kept behind mostly closed doors, and the traveling he's done since hasn't been very vast yet. He's curious at heart, even if he is careful and cautious in his approach, and nowadays writes down his discoveries on the leftover pages of his book. A diary, if you will.

Origin

Born in the shadier parts of a small port town, it was only a matter of time before Caw ended up the newest recruit to an ill-reputable flock. An uncreative lot, their schemes were not very intricate, and for years they only found success in petty theft. They stayed afloat much thanks to their Master, an old and elusive Kenku with a good head on his shoulders. So when he passed away at the ripe old age of 57, the flock crumbled soon after; led by someone much younger and more reckless, they ended up following overheard plans of a heist and finding themselves severely outmatched. Some lived, some died, yet others slunk to the shadows and vanished.

Caw lived to tell the tale, but the bliss of survival was short-lived. Kenku were not creatures that thrived on their own - especially not ones as craven as Caw. So, scared, alone, and in need of a new home, he traversed the lands in search for a place to belong. Who found who is a debate for another time, but Caw did eventually end up on the receiving end of an offer he could not refuse. An elderly wizard with a dark beard and darker yet gaze was in need of an extra pair of hands, and had no real use for wit. From his demeanor alone, there was no mistaking him for a friendly fellow, but Caw was no stranger to the wrong side of law. And so, he found a new Master.

From then on he worked as the wizard's underling, doing various little tasks for the man. These included relying messages, making counterfeits, occasionally memorizing voices and, perhaps most importantly of all, copying spells from stolen tomes into the wizard's own, expansive book. It was tedious work that few wanted and fewer yet could complete on the level of perfection a Kenku could. It was no matter to the old wizard that Caw had access to his spells; he thought the bird as dim as a cave, and his head as hollow to boot. He was wrong. Though not very eloquent and definitely not charismatic, Caw had a knack for remembering things. He spent most of his time in the wizard's library, and once his tasks for the day were complete, he studied up on a variety of topics.

However, well-read as he soon was, his pool of memorized phrases remained rather limited. He didn't hear much speech during his days, only the occasional word or two from other minions, or the wizard reading out loud his spells. As such, since most of the auditory input he received for days on end were spells, he often found himself awake at night in his tower, gazing out at the night sky and muttering out loud invocations he'd heard. His words did nothing as far as magic went, but they brought him some form of ease. Somehow, the topic of magic in general did. After all, he'd seen spells like Levitate and Transmutation, and heard of magical boots and brooms that took their uses to the clouds. Eventually, it made him wonder... maybe if he were to learn magic, perhaps one day he could learn to fly as naturally as any bird and take to the skies. He wondered if his Master already could; to Caw, the man seemed able to do anything.

He'd soon be proven wrong. Before Caw could properly start to realize his dream of studying magic, his Master met his end in the hands of adventurers who had come to end his reign. His minions either fled, fought or died, and after gathering what little he could, Caw made sure he was among the former. Nimble and small compared to most, he managed to slip away unharmed - physically, at least. Mentally, he was distraught and once more, alone.

Kenku were not creative, but they were not stupid, either - and after losing his home twice due to the bad deeds committed by his Masters and companions, Caw started to wonder if the life of crime was really worth it. He was not bad at heart, and felt no particular attachment to misdeeds or hatred towards other beings. It was just that... following orders was the only thing he knew, and picking pockets was second nature to him. What other work was there for a Kenku?

He pondered on that, but as one would expect, could not come up with an answer - until his wandering hands came to pick the wrong pocket. Or the right one, as the case may be.

Writing Sample

How did NameOfChar meet NameOfTwin?

Start with 'How did NameOfChar meet NameOfTwin? I want you to write a short story describing the answer to this question, either full-third person or from the perspective of your character. This is how I will get an idea of your writing style. Cassandra wears green and white, and is a spellcaster. Sebastian wears blue and black, and uses a sword. Both wear a red cloak, and have brown hair and green eyes. Remember, Cayden's character sheet is HIGH END of what I expect.

Features & Traits

Racial Features: Kenku

Expert Forgery - You can duplicate other creatures' handwriting and craftwork. You have advantage on all checks made to produce forgeries or duplicates of existing objects.

Mimicry - You can mimic sounds you have heard, including voices. A creature that hears the sounds you make can tell they are imitations with a successful Wisdom (Insight) check opposed by your Charisma (Deception) check.

Kenku Training - You are proficient in your choice of two of the following skills: Acrobatics, Deception, Stealth, and Sleight of Hand.

Background Features: Cloistered Scholar

Library Access - Though others must often endure extensive interviews and significant fees to gain access to even the most common archives in your library, you have free and easy access to the majority of the library, though it might also have repositories of lore that are too valuable, magical, or secret to permit anyone immediate access.

You have a working knowledge of your cloister's personnel and bureaucracy, and you know how to navigate those connections with some ease.

Additionally, you are likely to gain preferential treatment at other libraries across the Realms, as professional courtesy shown to a fellow scholar.

Class Features: Rogue

Expertise - At 1st level, choose two of your skill proficiencies, or one of your skill proficiencies and your proficiency with thieves' tools. Your proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make that uses either of the chosen proficiencies.

Sneak Attack - Once per turn, you can deal extra 1d6 damage to one creature you hit with an attack if you have advantage on the attack roll. The attack must use a finesse or a ranged weapon.

You don't need advantage on the attack roll if another enemy of the target is within 5 feet of it, that enemy isn't incapacitated, and you don't have disadvantage on the attack roll.

The amount of the extra damage increases as you gain levels in this class, as shown in the Sneak Attack column of the Rogue table.

Thieves' Cant - During your rogue training you learned thieves' cant, a secret mix of dialect, jargon, and code that allows you to hide messages in seemingly normal conversation. Only another creature that knows thieves' cant understands such messages. It takes four times longer to convey such a message than it does to speak the same idea plainly.

In addition, you understand a set of secret signs and symbols used to convey short, simple messages, such as whether an area is dangerous or the territory of a thieves' guild, whether loot is nearby, or whether the people in an area are easy marks or will provide a safe house for thieves on the run.

Prepared Spells

Spell Save DC XX | Spell Attack Modifier +X | Max Spells Prepared X

Class Spellcasting

Rules Surrounding your spells

Cantrips

Cantrip Name Concentration Verbal Somatic Material (material component), range, duration. Effect.

Level (Slots)

Spell Name Concentration Verbal Somatic Material (material component), range, duration. Effect.

Other

- Color code is #8882be

nadijah - done

Nadijah

---

Name

Nadijah of the Razordancers; second daughter of Farajah, the One-Eyed Watcher of the Valley. Yes, the full title is very important

Species

Very aggressively Gerudo

Gender

Female

Appearance

Nadijah is a striking sight to behold - literally, because you will probably notice the weapon she's thrusting your way before anything else. Tan and built with lean muscle, she stands at 5'9'' and carries herself with the poise and pride befitting a warrior - most of the time, anyway. It doesn't take much to make her drop into a battle pose even when one isn't needed.

She doesn't carry much in the way of clothes, her heritage ensuring that she needs little protection even in the hot summer sun of the desert. She does have a cloak on her person for when she needs to keep a lower profile or shield herself from the cold (or her understanding of cold, anyway - please don't let her ever see snow) but in general she finds armour and heavy clothing constricting. And anything that makes her movement less fluid, must go.

One would think that the many weapons she carries around would be more a hindrance than another layer of leather, but her priorities are rather set in stone. Her twin scimitars, bow and dagger mean the world to her, and if she could have strapped her warhorse to her back to carry it around on her journey, she would have. No, really. She would have.

Personality

Nadijah is first and foremost a warrior of her tribe, duty-bound to protecting her land and people come what may. She's prideful and matriotic, and is liable to react violently to any perceived insult towards her country or kin. Xenophobic and mistrustful of 'outsiders' - particularly those of voe variety - she is difficult to approach and even more difficult to befriend. Not that you'd likely want to befriend her, anyway; she's callous, hot-headed and lacks the common courtesy not to voice unpleasant opinions out loud in polite company.

With that said, she's well aware that she is on a mission of reconnaissance at the moment, and knows that beheading random townsfolk for looking at her and her heritage with disdain is harmful to her duty. As such, she is attempting to tone down her violent tendencies and crudeness, lest she start another war. She's--- just not always successful at it.

But though she's ridden with faults, she is no monster. She fiercely cares for her own and is willing to risk her life for a cause she believes in. And though she holds no love for foreigners, she at least holds an immense amount of curiosity towards them, being both willing and eager to learn about them and theirs. True, this willingness stems from the thought that one should know their enemy to best fell them, but it is still arguably a better attitude than closing your ears and eyes from anything new or different.

Of course, as often is the case with Nadijah, she takes this curiosity a tad too far. Rude and intrusive questions aren't uncommon of her, and neither is downright poking, prodding or snatching things that she wishes to examine closer. So keep your fancy gadgets and especially unique weapons far from her unless you want her to repeatedly smash them on a wall to see whether they'll break. (If they do, she'll consider them boring and give them back, at least).

​

Background

​​Nadijah's story doesn't much differ from the others of her generation. She was a child born unto the doorstep of war, her mother a renowned warrior, her father a mere flicker of a presence within a society not meant for his kind. Come with the dusk, gone with the dawn, Nadijah never asked for his name, and her mother never cared to tell.

The young Gerudo's first few years were spent in normalcy that she cannot recall. Her first memory proper is of fire; in the sky, on the heads of braced arrows, and in the eyes of her mother and sisters. The world burned, red-hot with hate. She was handed a blade all too heavy for her hands and told that soon enough she, too, would become a part of the pyre.

And a part of the pyre she became.

Hers were menial tasks at first; practicing for the years to come, repairing weapons, gutting game, washing wounds, laying rest the dead - and taking shelter when the heavens exploded with sound and colour. But as the years grew, so did the scope of her responsibilities. There was blood on her hands before she saw her tenth summer, drawn from the arm of a man with hair as golden as the sun. A foreigner, she thought. An outsider, she was told as her hand was guided for another stab, unwilling to talk.

By the end of the night, he spoke plenty.

Years held little meaning in war, and at some point, Nadijah stopped counting them. She told time by births and deaths, by the amount of able warriors and the frequency of hot, dry winds that heralded a season of drought. The elder Gerudo would often shed bitter tears over loved ones lost to strife, lamenting the harshness of life in the Valley. Nadijah never understood. To her, this was simply life. The only kind she'd ever known.

And then, one day, the world stopped burning.

But she never did.

Weaknesses

Strike first, think-- actually, just strike again - Nadijah cares little for diplomacy, and even less for idle chatter. It's not that she is dumb, it's just that recklessness is carved into her very soul. She knows, in theory, how to plan out a quiet, stealthy assassination and carry it out with utmost care. She knows how to observe an enemy's weak spot before striking to avoid unnecessary injury. She does. It's just that... at times, once blades start to sing just so, she forgets - and throws herself into the fray with reckless abandon.

What sorcery is this - Magic is weird. Magic is creepy, and she would rather stay the hell away from it. And no, it's not because she discovered early on that she had absolutely no affinity for it. No, not at all. She definitely meant to burn her hair that one time, and the merchant's ware that other time; all she sold were crude counterfeits, anyway. With that said, she can conjure fire to this day - but you probably don't want her to, considering she has no control over it.

Me, myself and definitely not you - By teamwork, you mean the way a blade serves as an extension of arm and soul, yes? Oh, or perhaps you mean the unique bond between a warrior and her mount, carrying her off to countless battles? No? Wait, you mean, working together with another person...? Well, her Gerudo sisters are capable, so if need be, she would not min-- teamwork with outsiders?! Are you out of your damn mind?!

Curiosity killed the cat(ty) Gerudo - Though she doesn't like to admit holding any curiosity or interest towards the outside world, she... does. Badly. And she's entirely unsuccessful at hiding it. She's bound to stick her nose where it doesn't belong, prod at the wrong people or examine that one very suspicious lever that everyone keeps screaming at her not to approach, because how can she not. And when something bad inevitably happens, well, that's your fault for not adequately warning her.

Strengths

Float like a butterfly, sting like a motherfucker + Nadijah may not have been blessed with much of a strategic mind, but point her at an enemy you just want gone, and she's on the task like a flock of cuckoo scorned. Stealthy and fast on her feet with strength and skill to spare, she attacks like a bladed hurricane. At least, if hurricanes had a perpetual scowl and a foul mouth.

If it's sharp, it'll do + Some children play with dolls, swing wooden swords or chase after hapless hens. Nadijah's first toy was a dagger, and the first game she played was gutting game her elders had caught. She can utilize most anything as a weapon, particularly if the object is sharp. She may not always know the correct way to use a new weapon she has only just seen, but you can bet she will find a way to make it deadly in a matter of minutes.

Ultimate Edgelord + Throw her in a pit of bones or have her watch an execution up close; she will not so much as flinch. She was warborn, living and breathing blood ever since she was old enough to understand the concept of battle. She has seen things, heard things and done things that would make most grown men shiver or soil. Some would say her cruelty and callousness is a weakness - she doesn't understand how it could be anything but a strength.

Attributes:

Attack: 4
Magical Attack: 0
Speed: 5
Defense: 1
Intelligence: 1

duncan done moving this later

Duncan "The Dunk" Stewart

---

Gumption: 2 | Utility: 1 | Thought: 1 | Slyness: 1 | Athletics: 3 | Mechanic: 1

Experience: 0 Learning Experiences Gumption Learning XP: 0 Utility Learning XP: 0 Thought Learning XP: 0 Slyness Learning XP: 0 Athletics Learning XP: 0 Vehicles Learning XP: 0 Age: 21 Build: Athletic Height: 6'6'' Weight: 220lbs Link to your Dice rolls Status Effects Show/Hide Status name Status description Status name Status description Status name Status description Injuries Show/Hide Head: Minor: ( ) ( ) Minor: ( ) Torso (Front): Minor: ( ) ( ) Minor: ( ) ( ) Torso (Back): Minor: ( ) ( ) Minor: ( ) ( ) Left Arm Minor: ( ) ( ) Minor: ( ) ( ) Left Hand: Minor: ( ) ( ) ( ) Minor: ( ) ( ) Right Arm Minor: ( ) ( ) Minor: ( ) ( ) Right Hand: Minor: ( ) ( ) ( ) Minor: ( ) ( ) Left Leg Minor: ( ) ( ) Minor: ( ) ( ) Left Foot: Minor: ( ) ( ) ( ) Minor: ( ) ( ) Right Leg Minor: ( ) ( ) Minor: ( ) ( ) Right Foot: Minor: ( ) ( ) ( ) Minor: ( ) ( ) Strain: ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( )

Inventory Hands & Pockets Max Slots: 10 Cellphone Where would we be in today's society without one? Duncan, for one, would be late from everywhere all the time, as he was not blessed with any form of innate sense of time. Has a lot of numbers, half of which he doesn't remember the origin of - ditto for pictures. Wallet Contains the usual; ID, credit card, loyal customer card to his local sports store, a few various stamp cards to different restaurants some cash (around $20's worth). Keys Keys to his home, car, bike and another unknown location. Comes with a small dog keychain, which he has named Bruno. Bruno is a good boy. Chewing gum Sugar-free, peppermint flavour. Lighter Black lighter with a bulldog's head emblazoned on the side. The fuel container is half-full (or half-empty, whichever way one wants to see the world). Pack of cigarettes His biggest sin, love and addiction. He replenishes his stock often, so this one is two cigs short of full. Sports Bag Max Slots: 10 Towel Essential. Don't at him. Water bottle Hydration is important, he's learnt, and will never forget to bring water to practice again. Once was enough. Change of shoes Shoes more fit for the basketball court, they're considerably cleaner than his regular ones. Uniform The uniform he wears at practice; shorts, top and socks in the college's official trio of colours; blue, red and white. Basketball They were instructed to buy their own, so Duncan did - not that he uses it much outside practice. It's basically always in his sports bag. Comb His hair doesn't get stylish on its own, you know. Hair wax spray Nor does it stay that way. Sports drink When water is too boring and soda too bad an idea. Packet of energy bars (4pcs) Cranberry-chocolate-nut flavour, his favourite. He tends to always carry around a few for some quick energy recovery - or as a guilty pleasure snack when no one's looking. Portable battery charger In case he happens to run out of phone battery on the go. Carries it in his pocket if he doesn't happen to have a bag at hand. Appearance Clothing Torso: Varsity jacket in his college's colours with the letter "R" patched onto the breast as proper. Underneath, one can spot a white t-shirt with the logo of whatever brand happened to make it. Legs: His favourite pair of jeans, identified as such by the torn knees and washed-out colour. He doesn't mind though; some people pay good money to buy theirs ready-torn, you know. Feet: Pair of casual sports shoes, good to run in. Rumour has it they used to be white upon purchase, though they're more grey at the moment. Accessories Head: Wireless headphones, found either on his head or wrapped around his neck. Neck: Steel chain necklace, not as expensive as first glance would have you believe. Arms: Sturdy wrist watch. Supposedly works underwater. Probably doesn't. Back: N/A Waist: Brown leather belt, more for style than utility. Description The first thing people tend to notice about Duncan is his considerable height; standing at 6'6'', he's gotten told he was born to play basketball on more than one occasion. He has an athletic build as one would expect from a regular player, though some of his lazy habits outside the court have kept him from reaching his peak. He has broad shoulders and an angular face, with a prominent nose that apparently runs in the family. His hair is a thick mess of black, which he has to spend copious amounts of time molding into something resembling a faux hawk. His eyes are blue, and his skin moderately tan. Duncan likes to look good, and generally takes good care of his appearance. Unfortunately for him, he isn't exactly swimming in money, so many of the more expensive brands are out of his reach. To compensate, he tries to buy particularly convincing counterfeits, or claims that the whole 'torn jeans and cheap accessories' look is a conscious fashion statement. Hey, in the end it's all about the attitude anyway; not what you wear, but how you wear it. Biography Background Duncan's childhood was no fairy tale, but it wasn't exactly a horror story either. He was born to a fairly average household, or so he's told. He has no recollection of his mother, and would rather if he didn't have any of his father either. Gambler and a drunkard, Jason Stewart was more indifferent than malicious towards his son, allowing the boy to come and go as he pleased ever since young. Still, Duncan remembers more than a few instances of broken furniture when his old man drank one beer to many or lost too much money at once. Speaking of, for quite obvious reasons, the Stewarts were not swimming in money. Duncan had a roof over his head and food on his plate, but not much else. College was out of the question, for one, as was Duncan's biggest dream; a sports car of his own. He'd worked summer jobs at a local garage, fixing up cars of various kinds, and had fallen in love with them. High school was a big turning point. By the then, Duncan was already half a head taller than most of his peers, and quickly ended up being scouted for the local basketball team. Truth be told, he had no real interest in the sport, and just figured he'd try it out for the hell of it. As it turned out, though, he was decent enough- and before he knew it, it was a little too late to quit. He made friends with some of his fellow players, who practically dragged him to practice day after day. He ended up getting a reputation. There was no way to quit without losing face. So, basketball became his life, even ending up carrying him to college through a sport scholarship - further trapping him into the world of courts and hoops when really, he just wants to be a car mechanic or, hell, a street racer. That'd be cool. He has a decent enough car of his own now, and pretends to own many more. Because, uh, somewhere along the way, he might have kind of given off the impression that he came from a well-off family - and since he's lying about his interests anyway, might as well keep that lie up, too. He was on his way back from practice when, well, he found himself waking up... somewhere. Personality Loud and boisterous, Duncan is sure to leave some sort of an impression wherever he goes. Name a party - or any social gathering, really - and you can be sure to find him there. If not flirting by the pool, then making a name for himself at the dance floor or the beer pong table. Unless he's passed out under the latter, that is. You would think that the son of an alcoholic would not readily touch alcohol, but you would be wrong. While he tends to turn to the cig more often than not when nervous or stressed, nicotine isn't quite as good a mind number as alcohol - and leads to less fun. It's fine, he can control it, he doesn't have a problem, okay. As is quickly clear, Duncan tends to talk a lot. Whether to himself or others, he doesn't shy away from small talk, thinking out loud or throwing 'clever' one-liners where he sees appropriate - whether or not others might see it inappropriate. He's outgoing and sociable with a tendency for pulling pranks and teasing his peers - something that has caused undue conflict between him and some of his friends in the past. Admittedly, he can be a bit 'too much' at times; so focused on having fun that he forgets others' feelings in the process. Even so, he isn't a bad friend and will look out for those in his inner circle; sometimes he just needs a proverbial (or a literal) slap back to reality. However, despite his well-crafted 'devil may care' attitude and love for high speeds in particular, Duncan is, at heart, an escapist and a coward, just as hooked on attention and adrenaline as he is on nicotine. He's deadly afraid of losing face or ruining his established reputation. In the same vein, though he likes to establish himself as the leader of most groups, when it comes down to it, he is a follower. He does like to shock people, but on a smaller scale; to do something unexpected every now and again to spruce things up, not to go against the establishment to make a statement. His reaction to scary situations is likely to be the same as to most other problems; by vehemently denying it and making light of it - at least until it's no longer possible. This makes him reckless, too stubborn to prove his non-existent bravery.

cirillo - done

Cirillo Bianchi

"Don't take life so seriously. 's not like you're getting outta it alive, anyway."

_Name

Cirillo Bianchi, but he's also used to responding to "Cyril", "Ciri" and "You little shit"

_Age

16

_Gender

Male

_Birthplace

PSR B1257+12 A/B, commonly Draugr, People's Union.

A small planet far from the stability of the Solaris Accord's core, Draugr is distinguished by its indistinguishability. It played a relatively small part in the war, and though it is recognized as an official part of the People's Union, it is far from the center of political discourse. It has traditionally been self-sustaining, and both immigration and emigration rates are low; those who were born there seem mostly content to stay, while residents of other planets are in no hurry to move to the quirky, distant little rock. Especially since Draugr comes packed with quite a reputation.

The planet contributed little to the war effort, but that did not mean its people stood united. Quite the contrary; conflict among citizens persisted far past the declaration of peace, particularly among the young and the able who felt robbed of a chance to fight for their beliefs. The planet teetered on the edge of a civil war. The circumstances gave rise to crime that grew more and more organized by the day; until Syndicates, as they were referred, engulfed the entire celestial body.

To this day, it is these Syndicates that hold all the real power within society, their influence undeniable and omnipresent. At the same time, it is these very organizations that uphold peace and order, swiftly taking care of those that seek to stir trouble or threaten the system. As such, organized crime and corruption are seen as regular parts of every day life. Sometimes, people simply disappear - it's a fact of life. Unfortunate for certain, but so are thunderstorms and floods; yet there is little anyone can do to stop any of them.

It is generally understood that as long as one keeps out of the shadier parts of cities and towns, does not involve themselves in anything illegal or try to show opposition to the powers that be, they are able to live out their days in peace. It is the loons and the fools that find themselves in trouble.

Incidentally, Cyril is the latter.

_Appearance

One need not hear Cyril speak to understand just what kind of a person he is - for better or for worse. Standing at a rather regular 5'11, he carries himself with misplaced confidence that doesn't quite befit a boy from a backwater planet. Worse, no matter the circumstance, you will rarely find his face in a frown - unless it's a heavily exaggerated one, most commonly followed by a snide remark or an attempt at a joke.

In fact, that's what life seems to be to him; a joke, not a thing to be taken seriously. Mischievous smiles, hands moving to the lazy rhythm of his words and a complete lack of posture; those are the cornerstones of what make up one Cirillo Bianchi, and you're entirely forgiven for finding it infuriating. He's like water; calmly flowing through life without a care in the world, yet never completely still. He does have a goal, after all. He just doesn't entirely care whether he reaches it today or next year. He's dead either way.

In short, he has quite a punchable face.

_Personality

Cyril is, essentially, that guy; the one that can't help but offer his commentary and crack unsolicited jokes at whatever topic is at hand, regardless of its gravity. Laid-back to the point it teeters on unnatural, he seems entirely unconcerned by things most people would find troubling. He's either unable or unwilling to read the mood, and seems to miss social cues many would consider obvious. Often, people simply label him an idiot and move on - and that is definitely not an inadvisable tactic.

However in truth, he isn't as stupid as he makes himself out to be (he wishes). Contrary to popular belief, he's actually quite perceptive; able to read people better than anyone would think to give him credit for. It's thanks to that, in part at least, that he's also able to be quite charismatic when the need arises. Yes, him. This guy.

Though he often wields them for stupid purposes, he does have a way with words, honed by years of practice. He can talk himself out of many a bad spot, and it helps that he has an uncanny ability to keep his calm even in the face of danger. He has no pride to be wounded, and his life is forfeit anyhow; what is there left to be angry or shaken about?

Unfortunately, this does mean that his sense of self-preservation is low and his priorities rather messed up. Underneath the laid-back disposition is a defeatist, a boy who's very much resigned to his fate. The dark humour is a coping mechanism, as is the devil may care attitude. All the same, it's a genuine part of him now.

To sum the boy up, if he isn't busy having fun, getting in trouble, joking or flirting up a storm, he's... probably asleep - or dead. Like, literally.

_Background

Cirillo's life could have been easy enough. He was born into an entirely average home with two hardworking parents and a family dog with the most pretentious name imaginable. The quintessential middle class home, one could say. Being the only child of a couple that had wished for kids for years, Cyril was spoiled to the extent his parents' salaries would allow. He wasn't given everything his heart desired, but there was no lack of love, toys or games during his childhood.

In retrospect, perhaps that was a bad thing. Perhaps things were made a bit too easy for him; to the point that on some days - weeks, months - Cyril was almost bored by the normalcy.

Either way, like most things in life, it did not last. Draugr was hit with recession, and it didn't take long for its effects to reach the Bianchi household. Cyril was around ten when his parents came home downtrodden, with furrowed brows and tired eyes. The plant they had been working in until then had laid off workers. In favour of magitek, many said in angry, hushed whispers, it's the very thing that sparked the war the last time!

But though rumours circulated, none dared try and ascertain the truth underneath Syndicate's ever-vigilant eyes. Instead, it was taken as simply another thing that happened and had to be overcome, not by fighting against it but by finding a way around it. Cyril's parents set out to look for new jobs, be that those were not an easy find at the time. They did eventually land something that paid a few bills, but the pay was only a small portion of what they'd earned prior. More was needed, if they were to uphold their quality of life. And it would need to be an endeavour shared by the entire family.

Though still young, Cyril was ushered to try and find a part-time job to help support the family. Reluctant at first, the preteen did as he was bid and set out, eventually landing a job as a delivery boy. The pay was as poor as could be however, and once his father fell ill and was rendered unable to work, the pocket money Cyril brought home was like trying to apply a band-aid on a gash. Cute, but effectively useless.

And yet, his mother was soon granted a promotion, and his father's condition was stable and not at all life-threatening. The financial climate was slowly changing. If only Cyril had stuck delivering food a few years longer, things could have perhaps returned to the way they were.

But the young boy was filled to the brim with impatience and frustration, and from those circumstances came the worst decision he ever made.

It happened one day on a bustling market as he returned home from work. Caught in the crowd and unable to push past all the people much bigger than him, Cyril found himself bumping into backs and pockets left and right, until someone's wallet threatened to spill onto the pavement. Thick and filled to the brim with cash, it was an opportunity all too tempting to pass up on.

Cyril brought home an exceptional sum of money that day; a bonus for work well done, he said. The next day, he brought home almost as hefty a sum, as he did the few days after that - though he'd stopped showing his entire haul in case it might rouse suspicion. And, just like that, gone were his problems. He could once again afford all the things his parents had bought him in the years past, be that some he had to buy in secrecy. He no longer had to go to work, when he could earn much more in a much shorter time.

For a long time, it was simply pickpocketing. Then it was counterfeits, sold with the most charming smile he could muster. And when that became all too boring, he trafficked illegal goods, broke into homes and menaced people he was paid to target, all for the sweet promise of money and excitement. He no longer needed the games and goods he'd originally missed so; he had something much more exhilarating now, a thrill unlike any other.

Then, one day, that thrill became a thriller.

To Cyril, the man had been but another target; just someone who wore an archaic gold watch that someone else wanted. He'd moved in with practiced charm and dexterity, smiling at the stranger one minute; gone with his belongings the next. By all means, it had been a success. The money the watch fetched him was exceptional, enough to support the entire family for... for years, he bet.

The warning bells did not ring in his head until a gunshot rung in his ears. The man had caught up with him, and slowly the gravity of the situation dawned on young Cyril. This was no ordinary Joe; this was a man held in high regard by one of the largest Syndicate families, and he was not pleased.

Cyril thought he would die there and then, but he did not. Not yet, he was told; he would not be going anywhere until he'd paid back the full sum of the watch he stole. Which, according to the man, was far greater than what he'd been told by his contractor. The watch had been a MAID; he would be paying back his debt for years until he'd be allowed the peace of a grave. If not through money, then through blood; of those, Cyril reluctantly chose the latter.

After three years of working for the Syndicate, Cyril was informed that he would be sent away. To where and for what purpose, he did not know - but he'd long since learnt that refusal was not an option. So, all he did in the wake of the news was cross his arms, cock his brows and ask with the deadpan tone only a dead man walking could muster: "Should I bring sunscreen?"

_Statistics

STR - ▰▰▱▱▱
DEX - ▰▰▰▰▱
CON - ▰▰▰▱▱
INT - ▰▰▰▱▱
WIS - ▰▰▰▱▱
CHA - ▰▰▰▰▰

_M.A.I.D.

Cyril's MAID takes the form of a ring, usually worn in his left middle finger. It's a fancy-looking thing of plated gold that paints him wealthier than he really is. Usually, his MAID allows him three distinct forms of attack.

1) By snapping his fingers (with the finger the ring is worn in, of course), Cyril can create a spark of static electricity that then gets picked up and amplified by the MAID and his own magical prowess. This allows Cyril to shoot out blasts of electric energy from his fingers with a snap. These blasts may stun targets or interfere with less complex electric devices upon contact (MAIDs are unaffected).

2) Similarly, by utilizing electric magic, the ring allows Cyril to essentially turn his hand into a railgun. He can pick up small objects such as rocks, and then with a snap of his fingers, fire them off at such high velocities that they essentially become makeshift bullets.

3) Finally, the ring is able to give Cyril's punches quite a shocking edge. Channeling energy into his very fist, the MAID can enhance the power of his punch and, upon impact, release magic straight into the target's body. Needless to say, this is particularly useful when he's forced into close-quarter combat.

_{Miscellaneous}

♟ He's kleptomaniac, and cannot help his impulses sometimes. It's best to keep your valuables close by - or if not, at least your weapon; so you can whack him when he tries to reach for your stuff.

------

rylan - done

"These alleys are no place for a lordling. If milord is looking for trouble, might I suggest the woods beyond the city? They're just as dangerous, but at least the smell's more bearable."

---

Name: Rylan Twyford

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Class: Scoundrel

Country of Origin: Tenebroux

Weapons:

♙ A simple dagger, not entirely untouched by the elements. The handle is worn and the edge rugged, kept sharp only by regular (amateurish) maintenance. Make no mistake, though; prime condition or not, a stab to the gut is a stab to the gut - and necessity gives Rylan quite an aim indeed.

♙ A crudely made slingshot. More useful for shooting down pigeons for dinner than injuring an actual person, but can at least provide a small distraction in a pinch.

♙ Rope. Good ol', plain rope. It's more useful than you'd think.

Appearance:

On most days, Rylan looks about what you'd expect from a kid who's grown up on the streets. Standing at 5'6'', the lack of proper nutrition has left him scrawny and short, even in face of all the physical activity he engages in every day. His hair is a tangled mess of strands and mud, his clothes torn and ditty, and the slums have left him with a distinct smell. Needless to say, he's not the most charming sight to behold on his worst days.

However, should there be a special need for him to look more presentable, he can - at least, if given ample time to prepare. Before fate thrust him onto the streets, he used to spend his days wrapped in scented silks and knows how to play the part of a someone more fortunate. He has a few articles of finer cloth safely tugged away in one of his many stashes, and though he knows selling them would fetch him many a coin, he figures they're worth more when worn. He can't exactly sneak into festivals looking like he usually does.

It should also be noted that while his physical strength is nothing to brag about, Rylan is incredibly nimble; a cat on two feet, he always seems to find a way to land on his proverbial feet. To the chagrin of many a past pursuer, the boy can scale a building or lose a guard with the best of them. He has an uncanny ability to squeeze himself into the smallest of crevices and disappear as if unto thin air if you so much as lose sight of him for a second. It may sound admirable - but really, anything less and he'd be long dead by now.

Personality:

Don't let the cocky grin and confident stride fool you - despite his casual smugness, Rylan is as craven as they come. Concerned first and foremost with his own well-being, loyalties mean little and promises even less when push comes to shove. It's not that he doesn't care about you - it's just that he cares about himself more. He's aware that his life is hardly one for the bards, but it is the only life he'll ever have and he intends to hold onto it tooth and nail.

Unfortunately for him (and certainly those around him) Rylan also comes packaged with a bitter sense of humour and a sharp tongue. Smartass at heart, it is only self-preservation that keeps Rylan's wit at bay most of the time. If need be, he knows just what to do to butter people up and has no qualms with throwing away pride for another morrow. As far as he's concerned, whoever said they'd rather die on their feet than live on their knees was a halfwit. He's lived knee-deep in rat droppings, and even that beats throwing your life away for some childish concept of 'pride'.

With all that said, Rylan isn't entirely an unpleasant person. He may not be one to throw himself in front of an incoming arrow to save your knee in a shocking display of courage, but if you are a perceived friend, he will extend a hand where he's able. He isn't purposefully looking to make enemies, and will most likely return a favour if you've done one for him. The world is already a shitty place, he isn't trying to make it worse.

Short Biography:

Though he's spent most of his life in Lutaire, Rylan's earliest memories are of a place far beyond the mountains and swamps - a place that lies across the endless ocean, under an eternal sun. There, as he recalls, everything was much sweeter; the weather, the scents, the words spoken to him by strangers. As a boy, he never understood the hurry with which his parents left. Now, he understands all too well.

Rylan's parents were lowborn. His mother was a foreign beauty, stolen away and sold to a local lord as his seventh concubine, and his father was a slave under the very same roof, convicted for crimes he never committed and stripped of his freedom. Their first meeting was happenstance; their next few were not. For years, they managed to keep their rendezvous a secret, the comfort they found in each other the only thing that kept them sane.

And then the news broke that she was with child. For nine long months, both lived in a state of constant fear. Many a time they contemplated escape, but an opportunity never did present itself. So all they did was pray, pray and pray that the child would not bear resemblance to their true father. The gods must've heard, because he did not. He had his mother's eyes, and her fair skin had made his a shade lighter than his peer's.

For years, life was... the same old, as it were. Rylan doesn't really remember much of it. He bore a different name and lead a different life, and it all feels as though it happened to someone else entirely. The only thing he can remember vividly is the day they fled; the sky was starless and filled with smoke. He had started to resemble his father too much as he grew. There were whispers. The fire in the northernmost tower was a sign from the gods.

Theirs would have been a tale for the bards; two lovers, escaping into the night with their child. If only they'd gotten the happily ever after they justly deserved.

The few years the couple spent in Lutaire were filled with hardships and strife. They were strangers in a strange land and eventually, that led to their demise. Bandits slayed them, attracted by the smell of sweet summer wines and tales of riches from beyond the sea. Big was their disappointment, when they found naught worth stealing in the couple's hut - except their young son. He ought to fetch a few coppers.

Rylan never did find out exactly how many coppers he fetched, but considering how grand the place of his new master was, he hoped it was a fine amount. For a time, he worked as a servant boy to a lord with a gaze that made his skin crawl. His tasks consisted mostly of serving wine and looking the part of an exotic trophy from beyond the seas.

That was, until one day during a boar hunt, his lord and company were attacked by sellswords, after the man's gold - and head. Being young, Rylan was spared the bloodbath by one of the mercenaries and dropped off to the nearest town with a few coins, a piece of bread and a 'good luck' for good measure. And for a foreign boy with no particular skills to his name, luck was indeed what he needed.

Almost a decade later, Rylan's come to the conclusion that Lady Luck's a bitch and he's better off without her.

Summary: If it looks like a street rat, sounds like a street rat and smells like a street rat, it's probably Rylan.

Other:

♙ Has a soft spot for animals of all kinds, and would love to one day behold a dragon up close. A dangerous affair, he knows, but it's not animals - even fire-breathing ones - that scare him so; it's people.

♙ Has spent time in a few other towns and villages besides the one he currently resides in. He often does his travelling with merchants or performer groups, working for free in exchange for protection from the elements. He's been in this village for a few years now, and leaving has crossed his mind. It's never a good thing to stay in one place for too long, lest you get caught and lose a hand or two.

------

duncan - done

DUNCAN STEWART

"The Dunk"

AGE:

Sixteen

GENDER:

Male

PERSONALITY:

Loud, boisterous and usually found at the center of attention, Duncan comes across as the quintessential jock. Name a party - or any social gathering, really - and you can be sure to find him there. If not flirting by the pool, then making a name for himself at the beer pong table or the dance floor.

He's outgoing and sociable with a tendency for pranks and mischief - something that has caused undue conflict between Duncan and some of his friends in the past. Admittedly, he can be a bit 'too much' at times; so focused on having fun that he forgets others' feelings in the process. Even so, he isn't a bad friend and will look out for those in his inner circle; sometimes he just needs a proverbial slap back to reality.

But despite his well-crafted 'devil may care' attitude, Duncan is, at heart, an escapist and a coward, just as hooked on attention and adrenaline as he is on nicotine. He's deadly afraid of losing face, and though he likes to establish himself as the leader of most groups, when it comes down to it, he is a follower. What his older and cooler teammates do, he does after them - even if it involves bullying others or breaking the law.

In short, Duncan is a kid who never asked to be a big name - but since he turned out one anyway, he figures the only thing he can do is ride the wave until he crashes.

OTHER:

🏀 Stands at 6'5''

🏀 Local basketball ace; the source of his nickname.

🏀 While he seems to be soaking in all the attention and fame from his 'budding sports career', Duncan doesn't actually care much for basketball. He went to try the sport out in search of a mindless distraction, and somehow got coached into the local ace of his age group. Now, it's all too late for him to quit.

🏀 Lives alone with his father, but doesn't really talk about his home situation. Prefers to stay over at his grandparents' house whenever able.

🏀 Smoker. Usually turns to the cig when he's nervous or stressed out in particular.

🏀 Was among the first to be allowed on the trip. He isn't sure if his father remembers him asking, but he is sure his absence won't be noticed.

-----

himiko - done

Name:

Himiko "Hime" Suzuki

Gender:

Female

Age:

19

Occupation:

Idol

Alignment:

Chaotic Neutral

Personality:

The Himiko you see at first glance is much different from the Himiko you'll come to know with time. Her job in the entertainment business demands her to display certain traits even when the cameras are not at her back, and over the years she's learn to perfectly exemplify what a budding idol should be. Youthful, bubbly and too big a ditz to grasp complicated or difficult topics, she comes across as endlessly naive and twice as kind.

In truth, she isn't half as stupid as she would have you believe, and even her kindness comes with baggage. Above all else, she wants to be adored and cannot handle being viewed in a negative light or - heaven forbid - disliked. Obsessed with her reputation, her kindness is a means to get people to flock to her and to wish to be around her. That is to say, her kindness isn't disingenuous - but it isn't selfless either.

As or her being a ditz... well, there is some truth to that, be that the affliction is entirely self-inflicted. Being both curious and an avid reader, she would like to study up on current events and various academic subjects, but has simply forced herself not to. If she genuinely is not well-read in a topic, there is less chance of her letting slip something too intelligent, after all. To somewhat alleviate this, she has been studying languages. They're a 'safe' subject to excel in, and help her spread her fanbase beyond Japan's borders to boot.

Needless to say, Himiko is not at her happiest where she is now - though she would readily tell you otherwise. As far as she is concerned, this is the only path she can keep walking on. She could never stop being an idol. She couldn't live without the attention, much as it eats away at her person.

Skills:

Dia - Slightly restores one ally's HP
Hama - Attacks one enemy with light

-----

aelinor - done

Name:

Aelinor "Eli" Kiandall

Gender:

Female

Age:

23 (around 14 in human years)

Race:

Wood Elf

Personality:

Eli is an emotional person, in both the good and the bad - though it may not be apparent at first glance. Her parents always taught her that a hunter's greatest tools are a cool head and a brave heart, and she does her best to exemplify those traits to the best of her ability. Especially now that she no longer has her parents or townspeople to rely on.

As such, when you first meet her she likely comes across as disciplined, mature and dependable. Having been the leader in her group of friends and an elder sister to her sibling, she seems to have experience when it comes to leading, taking responsibility and looking after others. Indeed, she would like to consider herself levelheaded and logical, even wise beyond her years. But at the end of the day, she is still a teen - and all that it entails.

As said, she is emotional, very much so; all that she feels, she feels tenfold. Her usual calm belies a firecracker, easily ignited by many a thing. She's curious, quick to shed her ladylike exterior by the lure of an adventure or a challenge. Equally easy is to earn her scorn; you need not but underestimate her, treat her as a child or try to challenge her self-proclaimed authority and you've got yourself a conflict waiting to happen. And though she dislikes it, tears are not a stranger to her. Tears over cute things, tears over hapless things, tears over sad stories and beautiful love.

Perhaps the worst combination, however, are her stubbornness and pride. Fiercely independent and suffering from a 'big sister syndrome', she sees it as her duty to gather as much responsibility on her shoulders as she possibly can - only to eventually end up crumbling underneath the weight and stubbornly lash out as a result of it. And yet, her pride forbids her from asking or accepting help.

In short, underneath the exterior of a graceful young lady, Eli is a prideful firecracker with endless ambition and empathy - but also a lot to learn about sharing responsibilities and not trying to take on the world alone.

Fears:

➳ Losing face / failure- While most people probably don't like failure, Eli takes it to the extreme. She's a proud little thing who has set her mind on being independent and responsible - and will not allow herself to look anything but. She will deny help (even when it would be needed) to prove herself that she can do what she's set out to accomplish, and will assure you that 'she'll be fine' to the very bitter end.

➳ Fire - Ever since her forest home was set ablaze, Eli has been terrified of fire. Seeing it in a controlled form, such as on a torch, hearth or at the heart of a camp does little more than make her keep her distance. However, open fires or fire magic are quick to give her flashbacks and nausea.

Background:

Up until the tragedy struck, Aelinor led an entirely regular life. So regular, in fact, that for years she thought it boring and dull. Had she only known what the future held for her, she might've had more appreciation for the slow summer afternoons and brisk winter mornings of her youth.

Eli was born as the eldest of two children to a pair of Wood Elf hunters. Her parents were neither rich nor poor, and their name carried neither infamy nor power. They were a typical family of four, hunting game to sell on the market every afternoon. Since young, Aelinor was taught in the ways of the bow, oftentimes accompanying her father to hunting trips just outside town.

For years, she was just like any other child her age. She spent most of her days outside - playing, laughing, teasing her brother and at times, venturing into the forest to find berries and mushrooms for an afternoon snack. She was outgoing and wild, usually the leader of her group of friends - and always the first one to make it to the top of an apple tree.

At times, her parents would scold her for being too unruly, and eventually she would learn to balance out two Elis. One that combed her hair to perfection and smiled politely at the elders as she passed them by, a pinnacle of grace and beauty. And another that soaked her pretty clothes in mud for a slightly closer look at a passing-by curiosity of a lizard, unafraid to follow it up a tree or down a hill.

Then, one evening, things began to change. Eli woke up to the sounds of a skirmish just outside her home. Curious and worried, she hopped out of bed and tiptoed her way to the window, peering out into the darkness. She could make out the vague shapes of her neighbours, exchanging blows and profanities. In a few minutes, more people seemed to wake and step outside, though not in order to break up the fight - but to join it.

Eli's father pried her from the window, tucked her back in and promised it was nothing a child should worry her head over.

He was wrong.

The next day, it was the family down the street that found themselves wrapped up in a sudden conflict; as were the town's bakers, guards, and that funny old lady that used to read her stories whenever she paid her a visit. And unlike last night, it did not end only with a few bruises and bloodied noses. There were bodies, lying lifeless on the streets.

The details of the following week are a blur. Eli can recall the madness reaching her very house, and the fight that broke out between her parents. She can remember taking her little brother's hand and pulling him with away. And then she remembers the flames, red hot fingers tearing at roofs and trees until the entire world was ablaze.

One moment, she was holding her brother's hand. The next, she wasn't.

Eli cannot remember how or when she got out of the forest, but she must've done so. She can remember solitude, panic, fear, despair - and another pair of eyes, reflecting everything she felt. No, not just one pair of eyes; two, three, four--

Before she knew it, she was no longer alone.

Weapon of Choice:

➳ Bow - Aelinor's primary weapon, and the only one she can claim any proficiency with. The bow is made out of wood and carried around strapped to her back, close to her quiver.

➳ Dagger - A light-weight blade used more for carving wood or skinning game than actual combat. She can use it to stab or slash at someone in a pinch, but has no actual combat experience with it. Usually carried around on her belt, however she has been known to hide it in her boot from time to time.

Magic:

➳ Animal communication - When perfected, this branch of magic allows its practitioner to fully communicate with - and by extension, often befriend - most animals they come across, even some of magical nature. However, Aelinor is decades from mastering this ability, and can only communicate with animals on a rudimentary level. Misunderstandings may and do occur still, like that one time she accidentally insulted a bear...

Skills:

➳ Hunter - Though young, Eli has been hunting for many a year now, and that has honed her senses. She has sharp eyes, acute hearing, and she can both recognize and track many species of animals in the wild. Also, what she lacks in physical strength with her bow, she makes up with accuracy. She's a very good shot, even if she doesn't have enough strength to pierce the thickest hides with her arrows.

➳ Survivalist - Somewhat related to the above. Sometimes finding game could take days in the wild, with no settlements in sight. And while she was never on these trips alone without an adult, they proved useful in picking up various skills related to survival in the wild. She knows which berries and mushrooms are healthy and which dangerous, how to tell directions, find water and start a fire - at least in a forest. In open fields, deserts, cities and glaciers, she is as lost as any other child.

➳ Potionist - Though it isn't her forte, Eli has knowledge on a few basic potions. Provided she has all the necessary ingredients, she can create potions that may accelerate the healing process on an injured area, induce sleep, increase your ability to focus or perform tasks needing precision, and ones that can somewhat suppress pain. She needs the exact ingredients required for her concoctions however, and attempts to substitute one ingredient for another may end up in tragedy.

Other:

➳ The Kiandall family tended to use various birds of prey to aid them in their hunts. However, since Eli was considered much too young to handle a hawk or an eagle, she was given a smaller bird to start out with. Enter her pet sparrow, Elion. He's small and not very powerful, but he has keen eyes and has been taught to scout. Eli considers the bird her friend and adores him to death.

-----

Scrapped chars

vasilje

[V A S I L I J E ☣ M I L O Š E V I Ć]
[21] | [MALE] | [5'11] | [AB+]

General Information

NAME: Vasilije Milošević

ALIASES // TITLES: Vasil, "The Eraser"

SEX: ♂

AGE: 21

APPEARANCE:

OCCUPATION: (What did you do before the campaign? Or what do you still do? This can be held prior to the campaign or ongoing.)

CAMPAIGN TEAM POSITION: (Your position under Campbell. What do you do? See first post for various ideas.)

Psychological Profile

Trait | Trait | Trait | Trait | Trait | Trait

PERSONAL GOAL: (Why are you still around? What are you trying to achieve?)

CAMPAIGN GOAL: (Why did you link up with Campbell? What are you trying to do for his platform?)

PERSONAL PHILOSOPHY: (Who are you really? What morally defines you? What drives you?)

POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY: (What are your views on the world? While a partisan identity would be nice to include, feel free to define yourself outside of the five parties. This is important as Campbell will eventually have to choose a party to represent.)

SECRETS: (What are you hiding? What would it cost you if someone found out what’s behind the veil?)

FEARS:

Augmentations >

REPUTATION: To a man that prefers the sidelines, the best kind of reputation is none at all. The few that still remember his name are

LIKES: (Feel free to list a few.)

DISLIKES: (Same as above)

QUIRKS: (What makes you unique for better or worse?)

Background Information

”Character Quote”

the quintessential American dream.

Operative Information

AUGMENTATIONS: (What sort of Cyberware are you equipped with?)

EQUIPMENT: (What are you carrying on the job?)

SKILLS: (Feel free to list a few and elaborate a bit.)

FLAWS: (Aim for three or so. Equal or greater to your number of skills.)

NOTES:

--

haruto - for fate rp

Name:

Takahashi Haruto / 高橋優音

Age:

21

Gender:

Male

Height/Weight:

175cm / 64kg

Personality:

personality here

Character Alignment:

Lawful Evil ; His entire life, Haruto has been doing what others wish him to, with no thought spared for his own dreams or ambitions. Lately, however, he's started to second guess the path laid out before him. And in a society that places the needs of the many over the needs of an individual, his are inherently selfish thoughts.

Class Affinity:

Assassin

Background:

Bg here

Occupation:

University Student

Known Magic:

uhh some scholarly stuff

Special Talents/Hobbies:

He's a nerd

Ambition:

Hotaru's wish is as simple as it is selfish; he simply wants a life he can claim absolute control over, without needing to be concerned by the wishes and expectations of others.

Servant Cards

Nitocris

Parameters:

STR: E- (E)
AGI: C (B)
END: E (E)
MAN: B (A++)
LUK: C (B+)
NP: B ~ B+ (A+ ~ A++)

Noble Phantasm:

Anpu Neb Ta Djeser
Nether Mirror Thesaurus
Anti-Army, B+ ~ A++
-description-

Sneferu Iteru Nile
Cleanse the Impurities, Blue and Beautiful Nile
Anti-Army, B ~ A
A Noble Phantasm born out of bitterness and lust for revenge. It entraps enemies into a giant cellar with no means to escape, then mercilessly drowns them in the waters of Nile.

Include:

Including this Servant enables the use of an Example Include weapon!

Install:

Installing this Servant makes the user into a basic template of a character sheet, soon to be overwritten.

Install Skills:

☠ Affection of Horus E- / B / A+
☠ Imperial Privilege E- / C / B
☠ Egyptian Magic E- / C / A++
☠ Presence Concealment E- / B / A

Install Appearance:

Never the pinnacle of masculinity, Haruto starts to take on more feminine features and characteristics. Not that you would likely pay attention to his softened features and grown-out hair, when there's two perfectly visible bunny-like ears sitting atop his head. He also gets a free tan, not that he's able to find much joy in that.

Servant Biography:

The last pharaoh of ancient Egypt's Sixth Dynasty. Upon witnessing the murder of her brothers, her heart grew weary and bitter. She devised a plan to revenge the death of her siblings by throwing a bouquet for the people; trapping all those involved in her brothers' demise and then flooding them with the very Nile that gave the civilization its life. It is said that afterwards, with her revenge fulfilled, she took her own life.

However, that is only a part of the story. Unmentioned in that snippet are her dealings with the underworld, and the divine Mirror of Nitocris which she received from the beyond. Loved by Horus, able to call forth Medjed and commune with Anubis, she dealt with many a god and goddess in her day. Older than Solomon, the magic she practiced in the midst of the Age of Gods was closer to True Magic than Magecraft. However, here she manifests as an Assassin, one who lurks in the darkness like the evil spirits she controls.

Servant Personality:

Other:

Character Sheet

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Name

Kalevi Grigorovich Vasiliev

Age

22

Gender

Male

Birth-date / Location

January 2nd / City name, Republic of Finland (later USSR)

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Personality

Self-Explanatory

Relationships

tbd

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Classification

Marksman [ Пехотный снайпер «марксман» ]

Equipment

- Puukko | No self-respecting Finn leaves their house without one.

Experimental Gear

This will be thoroughly checked by me to see if it is plausible, but you can be creative with what you see. Requests for tweaks in its design may be asked for. Provide an image if possible, if not a good description of it.

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Background

The biography of your character. Keep fairly well made, making sure that enough is known about the character. Large details is optional.
This can be updated as the RP develops on more.

Experience

- Winter War, Finland's side [ January 5th, 1940 - March 10th, 1940 ]
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Family

Immediate
Father - Grigoriy Konstantinovich Vasiliev
Mother - Helena Annikki Vasilieva (née Leppänen)
Sister - Yekaterina Grigorovna Vasilieva

Paternal
Grandfather - Konstantin Jaakko Mäkelä
Grandmother - Nataliya Ivanovna Vasilieva
Uncle - Aleksandr Konstantinovich Vasiliev, "old Sasha"

Maternal
Grandfather - Tapio Samuel Leppänen
Grandmother - Ritva Leena Leppänen (née Virtanen)

Theme Song

Just a bit of fun, really. Optional at most.

Hider

Name: Viviana, The Maiden

Gender: Female

Age: 20

Race: Erune, with a large tail signifying her highborn status

Element: Wind

Dream: She has two, in fact. To find the land she originally hails from (and whether she has any living family there still) and to find repentance for her actions as The Maiden. They're selfish dreams, she admits, but by now she has accepted that she is not a selfless person.

Home: The island of Sanctilumia lies secluded far in the north, where few ships see reason to sail. It is a highly theist society, governed by an entity known as the Church of Asgargoth.

As tales have it, the island of Sanctilumia used to lie on the brink of ruin many a century ago, hanging so low that any morning could've been its last in the sky. It was the weight of people's sins that weighed it so, they say, and that had it not been for a select few with pure hearts, everyone would have paid for their wretchedness with their lives.

However, the Astrals took pity upon the pure few, and sent a Primal by the name of Asgargoth down to scoop the island up. He shook the island until all those with impurities had fallen off it, and then returned the island back to its rightful place.

To this day, Asgargoth is said to hold the island upon his shoulders. However should the weight of sin ever grow too grave, his grip might slip or he may abandon his duty yet. To prevent that, sacrifices are necessary; those who have committed crimes must be cast down from the edge of the island into the abyss to ease the Primal's burden.

... Or so the tales say, anyway.

Coincidentally, denying the Church's right to rule or disobeying its envoys is considered the gravest sin of all. And so, their power remains absolute and unchallenged.

Quite convenient, indeed.

Gimmicks: Wind fan stuff things

Personality: (How does your character act around others? Give a brief, maybe 1-2 paragraph summary of their personality as a whole, but make sure its something you know you'll have fun writing.)

Background:

Viviana was not born on Sanctilumia, though she might as well have; she retains only a few, fleeting memories of her life prior. She knows she used to live in a palace where the walls were white as snow, and the ceiling was so high that she thought it endless. She remembers her parents and brother - and she remembers the day the storm took them all.

It happened on her third winter. The lustrous ship that carried her and her family got caught in a storm and ended up terribly off-course, eventually crashlanding onto the shores of Sanctilumia. To the secluded locals, the ornate ship was a thing of miracles. The few ships that dared do business in this corner of the world were sturdy and dull, and there were no jewels adorning their masts.

And then, they saw Viviana. An Erune - and one with a tail, no less! There was no one like her on the island, and the Church wasted no time making use of people's awe. They declared her The Maiden, a descendant of the original pure few who summoned Asgargoth to their aid all those years ago. She was his apostle, they declared, and she was to lead the land to a new age of prosperity.

Those were the words she would hear over and over again for nearly two decades. And though it sounds so unbelievable now, she never once questioned the tale spun to her. The priests and priestesses that brought her up were her family, and the mysterious being known as Asgargoth, whom she never once saw or heard, was a creature worthy of absolute obedience. Why, because she was told so.

It was in the name of Asgargoth that she oversaw many a sacrifice, many an unfortunate soul cast off the edge of the world into certain doom.

It wasn't until
Inventory:

- A decorated fan, which she uses to channel her wind powers. And, you know, get some relief on a hot day.
- something priestessy

CS Skeleton

[ hr][ hr]

[color=???]Name[/color]

[ hr][ hr]

[color=???]Name[/color]

[color=???]Age[/color]

28

[color=???]Species[/color]

Tiefling

[color=???]Gender[/color]

Male

[color=???]Sexual Orientation[/color]

Bisexual

[color=???]Job[/color]

Crown Prince

[color=???] Appearance[/color]

Feel free to skimp on this if you provide a picture, or write several paragraphs. I’m easygoing. One mandatory inclusion: mention the appearance that their Mark has taken, and where it is on their body.

[color=???]Likes[/color]

• At least five things that they like.

[color=???]Dislikes[/color]

• Insubordination
• Boring people

[color=???]Personality[/color]

Give us a decent amount of detail here – who are they? What do they value? How do they treat other people? At least two paragraphs.

[color=???]Biggest Fear[/color]

Ill befalling his people, particularly as a result of neglect or instigation from the crown. He will inherit his father before his madness grows too big to handle, and he will see to it that he does not follow in his footsteps.

[color=???]Greatest Dream[/color]

To be able to traverse the world and see all the different species and kingdoms out there. A futile wish perhaps, but that's why it's called a dream and not a goal.

[color=???]Background[/color]

This is the big one. At least a few paragraphs about their general history, life story, and how they’ve come to participate in the Festival of Destiny. You can feel free to worldbuild here: if your character is the prince of the underground kingdom of the dwarves, then there’s an underground kingdom of the dwarves, or there’s a small town called such and such, or a distant island nation of so and so, or this kind of monster or this kind of magic and so on and so on. Feel free to collaborate with other players when worldbuilding as well! If you're unsure about something, feel free to ask me. Most of the meat of the CS should be here.

[color=???]Personality Questions[/color]

Answer these in as many or as few words as you like. (If you like, you can PM these to me separate from the rest of the CS, if they contain information you’d prefer other players discover through RP – it’s just stuff that’ll help me make the pairings. Or you can leave them in, I’m not picky.)
1. What is their worst specific memory from childhood?
2. What do they think of being Marked? Do they believe in it? Have they come to the festival in search of love, or for some other reason?
3. Spirit animal?
4. Thing they’re most proud of?
5. Thing they’re most ashamed of?
6. What motivates them?
7. What would they change about themselves if they could?
8. What’s most important in a romantic partner?

[color=???]Extra[/color]

Color Code: ???
Theme song: If you like.
Face Claim: If applicable.

jae

Jae-hyeon Park

Demeanor: Corporate

Blood: 1 Heart: 1 Mind: -1 Spirit: 0
Mortality: 1 Night: -1 Power: 0 Wild: 1

Demon Form:

Head: halo of smoke, flaming horns
Hands: claws
Wings: leather
Skin: misty
Eyes: empty, smoky

Demonic Jobs:

♜ Collecting Souls
♜ Assassinating your patron's enemies

Tainted Moves:

♜The Devil Inside
♜??

Drama Moves:

♜ Tainted Corruption Move
When you persuade someone on your patron’s behalf, mark corruption.

♜ Intimacy Move
When you share a moment of intimacy—physical or emotional—with another person, they give you a Debt they hold on someone else.

♜End Move
When you die, cash in all the Debts your patron owes you to come back. If you have none, your patron will ask someone else to pay the Debt for you. If they refuse, time’s up. It’s been a good run.

Gear:

♜ An apartment
♜ A car
♜ Smart Phone
♜ 9mm Beretta (2-harm | close | loud)

Debts:

♜ x
♜ x
♜ x
♜ x