Abandoned, dead or deceased characters:
What's your name? Alví Freydísardóttir
Just what are you anyway? Thirsty. Thirsty for blood. Preferably human. Yes, that means vampire! Now be silent and give up your blood!
Seeming age: 21
Actual age: 1010(ish)
Alignment: Neutral Evil
What do you look like? Model not done yet.
Height: 150.55 cm
Weight: 40 kg
What's your story?
Alví has been around quite a while. Over a thousand years, to be exact. She was born to Freydís Eiríksdóttir in one of the vinland colonies, sometime early in the first milennium. The calendars from those days were not very specific, so it is uncertain which year exactly it was. She certainly doesn't care much about it herself.
While her mother was pregnant with her, she had a small altercation with the people called skrælingjar, or as they are known today, native Americans. Something her mother did scared them and their medicine man cast a curse upon her. The exact portents of the curse have been lost to time, but some of it passed on to Alví, eventually resulting in her being turned vampire. Again, the exact way this came about is unknown. However, it is known that while Freydís eventually returned to Europe, Alví did not.
For some six hundred years, she moved throughout the americas, somehow keeping herself out of the sunlight, feeding off the natives. With the return of Europeans she eventually started feeding off them, finding them rare treats in comparison to native Americans. With the Europeans there naturally came other supernaturals, especially vampires. For the first while she kept away from them, knowing that they would have too small a community for her to sneak into undetected.
Eventually she did assimilate herself into it, even if she found herself at a disadvantage with her lacking understanding of european cultural developments of the past six hundred years. Some time after its founding, Alví found her way to LA, where she took up long-term residence.
She doesn't care much about the politics of the supernaturals, both because she is somewhat of a loner, a habit that not even four centuries have broken her of, and because she is quite a bit older than most of them.
Alví will on occasion get involved, but only when she has a reason to. Her allies are just as expendable as her foes, making most less than eager to work with her unless they are absolutely certain about her goals.
What can you do?
Standard Vampire abilities: Unnatural strength, increased speed, improved senses, durability, blood-drinking.
other Vampire abilities: Good at finding safe places to hide in daytime, master at lying & ___________
other abilities:
Fluent (if extremely rusty) in Old Norse.
Moderately skilled in several native american languages.
Almost fluent English (recently learned).
She may also know other languages, but she doesn't make a point of them.
Weapons: Beyond her body and a single dagger, she doesn't have any weapons.
Weaknesses: Direct sunlight, big crosses, decapitation.
Primitive, outright plans confuse her. She always thinks there's some deeper plot.
European ways of thinking can unsettle her, as she has severely limited understanding of such.
She either wont, or cant, read anything written down.
Name: Kel Blothtekur Ravenous
Age: 35 (looks 20ish)
Species: Vampire
Looks:
Neck-long golden-blond hair, icy blue eyes, prominent fangs protruding from her mouth. About 175-180cm tall.
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/h...el-vamp002.jpg
Weapons:
1.5-handed, single-blade axe. 1.2m long, 13.28 kg.
hands with hard, sharp nails, bordering on claws.
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/h.../th_Axe001.jpg
Empire: Shadow Empire
Kingdom: East
Alliance: Vampires
Powers: Unparalled night vision. Can hide well in shadows.
Personality: Bloodthirsty, easily angered and generally not good at thinking ahead. Perhaps a tad flighty.
Weakness: direct sunlight. Blood depravation. Elaborate plans. Missing ten years worth of memories.
Blood spilled when she is not prepared for it. If that happens, the blood frenzy could hit her.
Background:
Compared to most Vampires, Kel is practically an infant. She was turned less than fifteen years ago by a lesser member of the Ravenous clan. The exact circumstances of her turning are not quite known and since she spent the first ten years of her vampiric life a raving monster without any thoughts beyond the next meal, she can't enlighten anyone upon her past.
She has shown to have quite decent skill at fighting with a war axe made from tool steel & Zebrawood. While human, she would barely have been able to carry that axe, let alone wield it with precision.
Name: Jutha
Family Name: Durinnsdóttir
Age: 19
Favored Weapon: Dagger to the back. Short sword to disembowel.
Reason for being invited to the Knight Academy: Jutha's Mother was a fairly noble lady, nowhere near the ruling elite, but neither was her family poor. While traveling cross-country to visit some relatives, they had to pass through a deep, lawless forest.
As is common with forests like that, it was inhabited by numerous bands of outlaws. As one can expect, the trip through the forest was not uneventful. Their road was supposed to take them through the forest in about a week, but by the forth day, their party had been assaulted by more than nine bands of outlaws. Her honor guard was slowly whittled away. Eventually, the few remaining guards were defeated and Jutha's mother, along with her entire entrouage was captured.
The band of outlaws that captured them was not the ransoming sort, living instead for the thrill of the captures than the money it could bring. The few surviving male servants were worked to death within a month, and the women were repeatedly taken by the outlaws, all against their wills. Though her family searched, they could not find the band that had captured her. Within a year, Jutha was born and claimed as the daughter of the leader of the outlaw band.
Jutha was raised in the ways of the outlaw band, trained to kill from the time she could walk. Though her father's band had little honor, he raised her responsibly. She was trained to kill her enemies effectively, no flourishing style. Her manner of fighting reflects this, both from the way she tends to disembowel her foes and by how she has no qualms about stabbing someone in the back. Dead is dead, is how she recons it.
Though she has an outlaw's view of the world, she long yearned for something more. perhaps it is a small inheritance from her long-dead mother, perhaps it is something else. Eventually, some sixteen years after her mother's capture by the outlaws and some twelve years after her death, the knights of the academy had a campaign to eradicate the outlaws. This campaign destroyed three quarters of the outlaw bands, upsetting the balance of power, causing the survivors to fight not only the knights, but also each other.
The band of her father, Durinn, was a victim of such infighting. In the fighting, the entire band was defeated. Owing to her small stature and innocent looks, Jutha was not considered a fighter. Even her poorly fitted green leather armor was mocked. They took her sword away, missing several of the daggers hidden throughout her clothing. Jutha was understandably upset over the murder of her only family, so she spent her time the next few days planning her revenge. The first three died of severed spinal columns. Only small stab wounds indicated the cause of death. SOme five days later, she had killed off the entire band of outlaws.
A few hours after the last one died, a band of knights caught up with her. They had for days been following the fresh graves of the men and women killed. Upon being questioned on the deaths, she denied nothing. The knights were thoroughly surprised that a girl as small and young as her could kill off more than twenty well-armed outlaws. They might not have liked her style, but they could not deny the effectiveness of it all. Because of this, they invited her to the academy.
Reason for joining the Knight Academy: Jutha wished to learn what knightly honor was, she knew how to act among outlaws, but not how to act among other people. Since knights are allowed to wield weapons in public without comment, she decided that it would be worth checking out. Perhaps it might give her the feeling of satisfaction that her earlier life had not given her.
Personality: A bit naive, she has no experience with higher society, but good understanding of the way things work for those not strictly on the right side of the laws. Having lost her mother at a young age, she's been raised much the same way a boy would have been, which has affected her personality. She can be quite blunt.
Appearance: Though she has reached her adult height, she is often thought of as younger than she is, attributing to her seeming innocence.
Her body is fairly thin and shapely, though this is concealed by her clothing, in particular the armor.
She's got pale blue eyes, somewhat tanned but otherwise pale skin. Her hair is short enough to be covered by the hardened leather helmet.
She is usually dressed in a green leather breast plate that is too large for her and doesn't really fit. At the waist there are several metal plates attached, as well as a pair of gray-brown loose leather pants with red stripes down each leg. On her back, she has a black woolen cloak.
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/h...h_Chara003.png
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/h...h_Chara004.png
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Name: Sigrún "sigga" Eyvindardóttir
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Age: 18
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Gender: Female
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Appearance: 141cm tall. Weight: 40kg. relatively thin, otherwise average. chocolate-brown hair, mid-back. pale, blue-green eyes. Fond of non-descript heavy-duty clothes.
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Personality moved down to below background as it makes more sense there.
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School of magic: Conjuration
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Class of Magic: Shapeshifting
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How she discovered magical powers
Bad associations. Sigrún was part of an old family. It had been in the same place for centuries and was rather wealthy. It was also set in its ways. New ideas were only reluctantly accepted. This meant that she was raised in relative isolation.
As such, it was expected of Sigrún to marry young. Before the wedding, she never did meet her husband. Her parents took care of that. At the time of the marriage, she was fourteen years old.
Sigga's husband was several years her senior and had his ways with her. Because she did not know better, she accepted anything he did. Within the first month, she was pregnant.
Her husband kept her in isolation from that point, supposedly to protect her "delicate" condition. She did not see anyone but a very few handpicked servants and had no communication with her family for the entire nine months of the pregnancy.
During her pregnancy, it became clear that her husband had less than savory hobbies. Unfortunately, Sigrún had lived such a sheltered life that she did not know what to do about it, nor just how depraved he was. Although he kept her in isolation, he treated her with utmost respect.
Each month or so, she was brought down into a ritual chamber deep beneath his mansion, where she watched as he committed animal sacrifice of some sort. At first, it was small vermin, then with each month, it increased in size. By the seventh month, it had gone from a single rat to a wolf cub. Each time, she felt some sort of tingling that she could not quite place.
It was only after the hard and time-consuming birth of her twin children that she learned the true depravity of her husband. At first, he showed true love for them. For several months, they grew both in size and health. as with the preceding months, her husband continued with his sacrifices. by their fifth month, it became clear that her husband was building up to some sort of climax. on the two-year anniversary of her marriage, she thought that nothing could surprise her about the sacrificial rituals. She could not have been more wrong.
As before, the servants tied her to a throne-like chair, placed at the head of the blood-stained altar. She wondered slightly on what the sacrifice would be this time. A pair of moose, she thought jokingly.
In the end, it turned out that jokes did not belong. Her husband appeared, dressed in ritual clothes far more elaborate than before. No moose were brought in. Instead, her husband drew out an obsidian-bladed sacrifical knife. It looked to be sharper than a razor.
Then, to her horror, servants came back in, carrying their twin children and placing them upon the altar. They were quiet, even as her husband started chanting incomprehensible words. He stood there chanting for a long time, even as she pointlessly struggled against the bonds. Nothing she did loosened them even a bit.
The light changed, darkening. Only then did Sigga understand just how evil his magic was. She had thought it strange before, but not evil. Even as she helplessly watched, her husband killed their daughter, dissecting her meticulously. He looked pleased, his eyes gleaming darkly. Sigga was dazed at first, the loss of her daughter incomprehensible. then she felt anger. Unreasoning anger. As he plunged the knife into the chest of their son, she felt something snap. The anger obliterated everything else in her mind. she knew the leather bands needed to be cut to take revenge, but she had no knife.
As she thought that, she felt her arms burning, twisting. When she looked down, she did not have hands, but instead had sword-like blades where her lower arms used to be. She cut the bonds easily, then struck out at her dumbfounded husband. He had clearly felt power being used, but he had been too caught up in his evil sacrifice to react. Her blade-hand caught him in the stomach, stabbing upwards. she felt her hands return, then grab his heart, ripping it down and out.
He dropped to the floor. Dead.
She turned back to the altar, but saw that it was too late to save the children. They were both dead. The anger, previously like a candle-flame, blossomed into a full inferno. She screamed in pain and anger. Then she threw herself over his body, ripping it to shreds, her limbs occasionally and uncontrollably changing shape.
That was how the founders of the academy had found her several weeks later, having tracked the residue of the immense power unleashed. They knew she was in mourning, but little did they know that a small part of her had died that day those weeks earlier. The soul of her daughter had been claimed by a demon lord as payment for some favor her husband never received. Her son's soul was on its way to the same demon when she slew her husband, then lost its way. This loss left a slight wound in her soul, a crack in her natural shield against evil.
The founders brought her to the school and kept her in isolation to help her mend. Physically, she mended in a matter of days, the uncontrolled shape-shifting limited by the spells placed near her. Mentally, she did not truly recover. The anger, once a foreign thing to her, became part of her nature, sometimes obvious, other times muted.
Upon learning of the fate of her husband, her family had at first wanted her back, intending to marry her off again. The academy founders stepped in, using their authority to keep her with them instead. This made her family angry, but they could not do anything about it.
She stayed at the academy for two years, still untrained but in the care of the best healers they could find. The founders had no idea what to do about her for all that time. She clearly was unsuited to releasing back into society, both because of her times of inexplicable insanity and because of her family, who would snatch her and use her as a bargaining chip in some deal.
When the founders decided to open a school of magical teaching, they decided to enroll her.
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Personality: A bit unstable. Not entirely in control of her powers. often angry at herself, others and the world. At times she is quarrelsome. She is vindictive, taking revenge when it is least expected, hiding the festering anger beneath a cold and neutral exterior. The loss of two children in a demonic sacrifice left her soul wounded, open to suggestions from those capable of such. Thus, on a good day, she is a model student, whereas on a bad day, especially a day when some demon or other feeds her anger, she can be truly dangerous. Only the spells upon the academy keep her from slaughter on such days.
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What's your name? Alví Freydísardóttir
Just what are you anyway? Thirsty. Thirsty for blood. Preferably human. Yes, that means vampire! Now be silent and give up your blood!
Seeming age: 21
Actual age: 209
Alignment: Neutral Evil
What do you look like? Model not done yet.
Height: 150.55 cm
Weight: 40 kg
What's your story?
Alví has been around quite a while. Not nearly as long as most, but a while. She was born (as a human) on Iceland in the year 1803 in a remote settlement. She had a fairly strong tendency towards taking risks and getting into trouble in her youth. Never any serious trouble, but as she only cared for rules when they were convenient, she did not get well along with her elders.
Eventually, sometime in her twentieth year, a vampire had come to that region of Iceland. Though the vampire did not make itself known as such, it too tended to ignore certain rules, which automatically made it interesting to Alví. As one can expect, the curiosity proved her downfall. At first, the vampire merely used her as a minor snack, taking a little blood here, a little blood there, all while she was oblivious to it, but eventually, as a twisted birthday gift for her twenty-first birthday, the vampire went all the way, turning her.
As should be reasonable, that served somewhat as an eye-opener for her. Whatever means he had used to keep her unaware of her status as a meal previously broke down. She did not really appreciate having been used as food for several months.
The vampire kept her reined in somewhat, but as he tried to enforce rules upon her, he found that in her vampiric state, she cared even less for them. In fact, she made a point of breaking the rules in obvious fashions. She became somewhat of a creature that moved from temptation to temptation. After her master had taught her most of what she had to learn, that vampire abandoned her. Whether that vampire thought her a failure or just too great a risk, is uncertain. Feeling abandoned, Alví reined herself in somewhat, taking greater care to avoid discovery. Sometime in the early nineteenth century, she moved to the Americas, eventually ending up in LA.
Unlike her previous homes, she suddenly found that the master of LA, Prince Lestrand, did not care for lone wolf-behavior. He kept her firmly under his thumb. Having been vampire master of LA since its earliest years, he is not only older and more powerful than her, but also more experienced in getting people to do what he wants.
Alví tried to flount his rules early on, but learned the hard way not to do that again. Since that time, she has slowly grown more adept at intrigue and breaking rules, but never does so openly, having learned that lesson well.
What can you do?
Standard Vampire abilities: Unnatural strength, increased speed, improved senses, durability, blood-thirst
other Vampire abilities: Born liar, animal talk/sight (imperfect).
other abilities: She can defend herself, but she's no born fighter. If she can, she'll much rather stab someone in the back than fight them openly. She has skills in 3D modeling, but no forensic skills.
Weapons: Beyond her body and a single dagger, she doesn't have any weapons that she can really use.
Weaknesses: Direct sunlight, big crosses, decapitation. She may also be illiterate, for she does not like reading anything. Her words can at times be a tad provocative, causing her to more easily get into conflicts.
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Name of house: Banímyrkr
Crest:
http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/h...r/crest002.jpghttp://i258.photobucket.com/albums/h...r/crest003.jpg
It is a Shield-like background, surmounted by a wolf head placed over the blue of the sea, indicating the nickname of banímyrkr raiders, the Sea Wolves.
The family words, "Feel our Bite!", are meant to portray the nature of how the family treats anyone who hurts it in some way or other.
Description of Fief:
The duchy of the Banímyrkr family is located on and around the northern coast of Galenave, both on the mainland and on nearby islands. It is north of the duchy of [Ender Wiggin's duchy] The ducal seat itself is built upon a forbidding rock of an island some distance off the coast.
All cities are walled or fortified in some manner, as a common passtime for a good portion of the civilian population is piracy.
The standing moral of the Banímyrkr is that function overrules form, making the cities fairly grim places.
Rather than work to eliminate the piracy, thieves coalitions and the murderer's guilds, something which would never succeeed, the Banímyrkr work instead towards limiting where they do things.
Major settlements:
Vesall rock (capital) [island, very inhospitable]
Eikinskialdi Hold (fortified trading port) [mainland]
Primary source of income is trade. Food comes mostly in the form of whatever they harvest from the bountiful seas, supplemented by small amounts of wild game and produce from the poor farmland on the mainland.
Exports include both meat and fish from the seas, salt and granite. Much of the granite export goes to the capital city, where it is used upon the king's fortifications.
Of those in honest businesses that do not involve fishing or trading, a good amount are stonemasons. The Masons of the duchy are among the greatest in the realm, often sought after for their skill.
House Family:
Sigbjorn Banímyrkr (Duke): A tough man in his late forties. Unrelenting and slow to forgive. Doesn't like the other dukes, and is generally not well-liked.
Wife: Hallveig Banímyrkr - A woman some nine years younger than Sigbjorn. Rarely seen in public, but known to keep iron-hard control over the servants of the capital fortress.
Five sons of ages 9, 14, 17, 22 & 23. Sveinungr, Korpúlfr, Haki, Geirmundr & Jóarr
Four Daughters, ages 12, 16, 19, 25: Hjordís, líf, Eyja, Ása.
Two brothers, six sisters. Even larger extended family.
Vassals:
House Aurvang - Seat: Geirr Gaman (port town, infamous for its pirates and thieves, who prey on each other) [Island]
House Dvalinn - Seat: Steinnkaupa Keep (inland fortess city, primary produce: Granite)
House Eitrfeld - Seat: ójafnask Hold (city in marshlands near a major rivermouth)
Family culture, tradition:
Victory through any means. House Banímyrkr shies few, if any, means to achieve their goals. Though never proven, they have been suspected of more than one assassination. The family is close-knit, rarely having any infighting. For generations their family has ruled the duchy, never giving ground against their enemies.
All members of the family, even the girls, are trained to fight, the latter mostly with daggers and other small weapons, while the former train more with axes and maces. As a result of the training, they tend to go about armed with at least one dagger each at all times. Some say they even sleep with them.
There are many theories as to there being considerable contact between the various assassin guilds, theieves' coalitions, pirate crews and the ruling family, but there is no evidence that ever proves it.
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Character Name:
Máttug (or Máttugr)
Age:
19 (137, of which 118 were spent in the egg)
Gender:
None of your business!
Race:
Dragon
Profession:
Wild Dragon
Rider's Name:
No rider
Color:
Browns and Greys
Special Characteristics:
Fairly large for his age. Curious about the ancient language. Willing to help riders learn. Decent flier.
Personality:
Stubborn. Independent. Proud. Curious. Competitive.
Máttugr is the epitome of a wild dragon. Only serves its own whims, and those of its kindred, when that proves suitable, yet he is of intrigued by the fledgling riders and rarely stays away from them long. he is extremely proud of them and wishes them to succeed. While nothing like Saphira in expertise, Máttugr is a good flier, making up for the lack of skill in persistent competitiveness. Like all wild dragons, Máttugr is hard to bend to the whims of anyone when he has made up his mind.
Preferred weapon:
Claws, teeth, fire.
Appearance:
Máttugr is a brown-gray dragon, fond of hiding, especially in desert sands. Máttugr's scales are surprisingly dull-colored for a dragon, aiding in that challenge of hiding. There is no count of the number of brown and gray tones present in the scales, much like Saphira has all the tones of blue, only with grey and brown.
Compared to many, especially younger dragons, Máttugr is huge. At twelve years having reached a size more common for dragons around twenty years.
History:
Máttugr was not the first of the wild dragons to hatch in the new home, but he did hatch within the first year. As such, his personal independence and protectiveness of those not yet hatched were quickly among his primary interests. Although he has complete faith in the riders, he personally would never give up his independence for another, particularly not one of the two-legs. He does often comment, or at least think, that rider dragons are "lesser" than wild ones, though he will never scorn them to such degree as to not teach them what they should know.
Because his egg was laid before the fall of the riders and hidden within the Vault of Kuthían, Máttugr had plenty of time to absorb some of the wisdom offered by the many Eldunarí
also hidden therein. While most of the eggs did not listen, he did, learning many things from them. As such, he is wise for his young age, though he does not always reveal it. Like all dragons, he can wield magic, though like them, he too lacks active control. He does, however, have a burning curiosity about the Ancient language, eagerly trying to wheedle out more words in it, and teaching them to riders who are ready, as well as the first rider, Eragon.
As such, though he may occasionally claim otherwise, Máttugr has shown time and again to be a staunch defender of the riders, especially younger, less experienced riders. He is also a staunch defender of all younger dragons, wishing for them to reach their full potential as early as possible. He is also eager to rediscover many of the habits once practiced by the dragons prior to the fall, spending days with the Eldunarí. Private roosting ground somewhere in the nearby mountains, though just as often found buried in the sands of a nearby desert, claiming that sandbaths are very good for the scales, something many other dragons agree upon, even if they do not like burying themselves in the sand for hours on end. Máttugr's claims that mudbaths are just as good are generally disbelieved. They generally are careful to watch out for suspicious bumps in the muddy riverbanks if they should land there, having been surprised by Máttugr there more than once. Some even claim the dirty-looking, dull color on Máttugr's scales come from these baths, despite evidence to the contrary.
