Nerdy's Closet of Characters

[Closet Nerd]

FIRST RULE!!! If you are not me and you take one of my COPYRIGHTED characters, I will find you and take you for all you've got! And not the burglary kind, either.

SECOND RULE!!! DO NOT FOR ANY REASON STEAL ANY OF MY CHARACTERS!!!!!!!!!!!

Third rule is don't send me any hateful PMs because of the first two very reasonable rules.

Fourth rule, don't post here. Ever.

There are no more rules, go about your day.

[Closet Nerd]

Character Sheet #1: Zhymos RP

Tűz Szánt Halál

[tooz shant ho-lal]
[Destined for Fiery Death]

Race: Human borne Kolyok

Gender: Male

Age: 49, Physically 26

Appearance: What is not seen in the photo is that there is a cluster of crimson veins climbing the right side of his face, spreading out at the jaw and ending at either the eye, or hairline or the mouth. The main red mass on his right arm ends when it encompasses his shoulder and as shown in the picture, that mass of mutation is much more vascular than the rest of Szant's body.

Personality: For ease of writing, let us just say that Szant is a little... Unstable... When he turned Kolyok, he began growing insane. As the red mutation of his right arm began to steadily climb upward, so did his insanity. It all stopped when the mutation reached his shoulder and then shot a bout of crimson veins toward his skull, and that is where both the mutation and the instability ceased to increase, but both were still very prominent.

Szant has the unique tendency to see anything violent or evil to be good. A pile of bloody entrails spread along the floor, to him, is a lush garden of the finest lilies and roses. A village burning to the ground with screaming women and children trapped inside their houses is a beautiful sunset with two rainbows striking at each other's heels.

He does have is bouts of partial sanity however, simple become aware of the darkness of his actions in past tense. When there is time for action, he becomes swept up in it and has no time to think about his karmatic standing on this planet. But even when he does become aware, his remorse remains nonexistent, never feeling responsible. Those times are rare though, since Szant is the kind of person who lives in the present and cares not about worrying or any sense of morality, as those are shackles to him.

Though besides the obvious mental issues that are entirely abundant in his case, Szant is actually rather intelligent. Granted, his recklessness often gets between him and rationality but when he needs to be he can maintain a low profile. Even though he did not get his reputation from stealth.

History: Before turning into this horrible, insane, bloodthirsty monster Szant was... Relatively tame to say the least. He was a fisherman of the Mainland, living a quiet life with his family and the rest of his small port village. There was so much peace in that little slice of perfection that there was never a need for hostility or distrust. That ultimately proved their downfall when something beyond their worst nightmares flashed before them.

Szant was eighteen on this night when from beyond the fog came bustling in a mysterious steamboat. The village was given no word of visitors and so were overwhelmed with sudden curiosity and approached with open arms. So to speak. The answer to such hospitality was an Imp blade to the stomach as the villagers watched their own entrails spill from their bodies. The Imps came with overwhelming speed and brutality, blocking all exits before the villagers had a chance of leaving their homes. At length the buildings began to burn to the ground. The elderly were torched, the women were raped and the children were eaten like chicken.

The fit and the young among the men were beaten down and dragged to the steamboat while the rest of the Imps finished having their fun and pillaging what was left of the town's food and currency. Those that fought back were beaten further still and then tortured after having been smuggled onto the vessel. There was much abuse of many kinds coming to them during the ride to Cthonian shore and the long, stifling walk to the Implands. Yet when things couldn't seem worse, halfway to their destination they were ransacked by a band of Undead and their unholy Mistress, the Demoness of Előholt. Imps, being the swift cowards that they are managed to scamper out of the Demon's way. The captives were chained from wrist to ankle though, as such they were victim to the Demon's tortures, even more gruesome than those of the Imps they were previously suffered against.

The Demoness slowly cursed every prisoner one by one while the rest were beaten and bloodied and set against all kinds of foul magic. All those treated by the Demon were made Undead, forced to live as a servant of the damned. When it was the turn for Szant's brother to join them, he unleashed a primal rage, lashing his tongue at the Demoness and daring her to curse him. She was happy to oblige, but only after this important person was made her slave and forced to torture Szant for hours. When it was finally his time, the Demoness buried her unholy talons into his skull, slipping the curse into his very soul.

The pain was unbearable and seemed to last an utter and dire eternity. Szant could feel his life and soul draining from his body, being filled with emptiness and a confusing trust of the Demon clouding him. However, somewhere along the enchantment the Dark magic failed. Szant did not regain the bits of his soul that he had lost, but that was soon being filled with fire. A deep burning rage and hatred boiled inside of him and he regained his will. The Demoness was stubborn enough to continue as Szant began to leech off her power, giving him strength to steal even more. When she finally backed off, it was too late. She was hobbled, and had created a twisted being of animalistic rage worthy of rivaling even the Tainted. Szant had become a beast of black flame, incinerating all of his fellow captives with a dark inferno. He lunged forth toward his Mistress, claw extended when her servants knocked him off his feet. She fled while Szant fended off against the abominations, taking a few to the grave in which they belonged.

Equipment: Gravwraith Armor A light and sparse armor put together from many sources. Szant has thrown out the helmet and ripped off all of the right sleeve and the plates that go with it. He found a tattered cape which he uses to cover his arm when he needs to, and a hood to hide his face and eyes. It is all too easy to be found out when you have large and obvious scars throughout your body. There is not much armor in it, mostly the left arm, a chestplate, some shoulders and light greaves under the waistcoat.

Demon Axe of Hellmoot As the name suggests, the weapon is Demonic. It is said to hold the power of the blackest flames and that is why Szant set out to acquire it. It is large and two-handed, heavy enough that when he does not use magical strength boosts he cannot hold it correctly with one hand. When using his magic he can wield it easily in a single hand.

Horseman 7Z-5s An Ascentian blade made with a Lance type shotgun in the middle of the sword. The crystal canister holds enough energy to fire thirty rounds. The shotgun has heavy recoil and a cooldown time before Szant can shoot it again without letting it burn out. If he were to shoot more than three rapid rounds the weapon would break. He nicked it off a Dwarvish merchant with a boot to the throat a few years past. It is large and two-handed like his axe and can only be wielded in one hand through the use of magic. The recoil is strong enough to push his body back unless his stance is very wide and braced, especially without help of magic.

Theme Song: The Ultimate Song of Crazy Killer Badassness

Other:

[Closet Nerd]

Ruthan o Paramythás

Race: Elven Human

Gender: Female

Age: 26

Personality: Her most prominent and wholly obvious trait is wanderlust. She cares not of her destination just as long as it holds mystery or opportunity. The wood thrown to the fire is the fact that her father, the Ice King Vasilias, strives to contain Ruthan. She escaped her chamber often enough that guards were stationed all around the room and she still manages to stroll out. Ruthan commonly wonders what adventures and people lie on the outside of her noble's prison. More often than not she wonders if she would be able to end her loneliness by leaving and never returning.

Ruthan's only companion in life is her servant Automaton named R3G1N-LD, or Reginald for Common Speech. Since he was delivered to her as a gift they were inseparable. Even still they chatter on as if friends since birth. Since Reginald is so helpful to her, she often finds herself asking him to help her escape and lie to her father when he asks if he did so. When she was little she would ask this constantly.

Another all too obvious trait is her abhorrence of her family, excluding only her mother. The sole ruler of this area of her hatred is her father, the product of most of her emotional turmoil. He believes that his only daughter should never be seen by others unless there is the occurrence of a feast or ball, where she must attend. There is also the fact that he will never let her nurture her talent for magic which presented itself at an early age. Vasilias thinks that only his sons may be able to serve the kingdom, one of the many reasons why Ruthan despises them as well. All she is allowed to do is sit in her room and comb her hair.

The severe and utter boredom that this produces is why she is always found outside her room attempting to steal a book from the royal library. A few bits of magical lore managed to enter her chambers where she hid them in the walls. She has memorized every paragraph from cover to cover, even learning bits and pieces of water magic from doing so. One of her favorites of her meek collection is a book on Volshebniyi Skazki, a piece of history and philosophy attempting to make a single dent in the explanation of this incredibly confusing people, one of the reasons why she can be a little off at times. She also has a few volumes of the History of the Elfennol, curious of her own foreign heritage. The last of her collection that is not a simple training regiment is about Amras Annare itself where she learned about the incredible institution of Akomikai. The first day she read on this she was interrupted by the many loud stomps of her four horrible brothers.

Ruthan's brothers are not hated by most of the the castle-members without good reason. Aside from their constant pranks when at home, they are the most insufferable bunch to have ever entered their walls. And the King simply ignores all of the charges and commends them for any halfway decent act they have done! And instead of wasting time by listing all of the tiny wrongdoings they have made, which are more than most scholars can attempt to count, I will say some of their worst acts to shed light on the situation. They once poisoned the castle's water supply with laxatives for a week before they were eventually caught, that being after Vasilias quarantined several areas of the castle attempting to quell a plague. They also combined their magic to to knock over a tower on the west wing of the manor, nearly killing many residents there. As well as a personal attack on their sister where they shaved her head, stripped and tarred her before tossing her into the mud pit with the hogs. They cursed at her, calling her a pig-loving hag more than once. Then they actually set her on fire in a crowd where luckily she was doused before she could obtain any scars that the court physician couldn't help with.

History: The happiest years of Ruthan's life was her early childhood. Those were the only years that she was able to see her mother, Xotchitl. Ruthan's earliest memories were of how sweet she was and apparently how just the Vasilias used to be. That was when everyone seemed partially kind. Her mother would always seem to bring out the best in people, no matter how low their spirits were. But then that all ended when Xotchitl left.

Ruthan's parents only married to seal a treaty between the Frost Duchy and the Crewr Dwar, back when Vasilias was a Prince and Xotchitl a Princess. There were many years of that before Ruthan was even born. Eventually, the constant lack of concern from the King sent the Queen into the arms of another man. Xotchitl was too brokenhearted about this one act to keep it secret and confessed, but the honesty was not much of a relief to the Ice King. He had the man executed and banished his wife to her lands, considering that recompense for her honesty. Ruthan was always told that her mother died, even when she had a half-repressed memory of Xotchitl being pushed away from her by the guards. It was a very little memory that she naively thought was untrue. However, she recently found evidence otherwise in the records held at the royal library.

The wanderlust had always driven her to leave, it was a singular desire that lingered in her mind and compelled her, gnawing at her will with every related thought. But this was the last straw for her. She was sixteen years of age, and she took what books she had and decided to perform one last escape act. Reginald took her to the exit of the castle and was told to leave and find a safe place and never return, and to never let anyone know that he was ever a royal servant or knew of anyone residing there. Then she took her last few steps through castle grounds to Akomikai with enough gold in pocket to take her six year attendance there under the name of Lamia in Rigas.

Equipment: The equipment she carries in her picture is what she carries now in life. It was given to her by her teacher of Frost at Akomikai, who became her favorite and most helpful teacher as she was his favorite and most enlightened student. What is not seen in the photo is her long, metal waistcoat hanging from under her dress. She often uses a hood to hide the back of her head and sleeves to keep her unnoticed in a crowd.

Ruthan also caries a token given to her from her mother before she left. It is made of Ascentian crystals to amplify magic and placed in a brace to be wrapped around her wrist. It was the only thing that helped her when she first started learning real magic.



Theme Song: Everybody's Fool

Other: Ruthan has a crippling fear of rabbits. Being in the presence of one causes her to breathe rapidly and eventually faint. The trauma that causes this is unknown.

[Closet Nerd]

R3G1N-LD

Or otherwise Reginald

Race: Automaton

Gender: Male, if indeed an android can be considered male.

Age: Body; 163 AI; 24

Personality: As Ruthan's servant, he is to do whatever is asked of him from her and to protect her from any danger. That is his sole piece of programming and lives by it with great strictness. Otherwise he is rather sarcastic and nonchalant, even going so far as snarky at times. While he teases his Mistress, he knows his bounds and would never attempt to harm her emotions. Or her well-being, and would go to great lengths to shield her from harm, and has voiced several times that his loyalty extends to where he would likely die for her safety.

Equipment: Reginald is equipped with an array of smart-thrusters on his back, capable of flipping and rotating to change direction with great ease. The propulsion system used is optimized to use the least amount of crystaline power it can and still have a decent amount of power. It is capable of dishing out large boosts which drain the batteries rapidly but get him and anything he carries out of the area with fantastic speed.

The arms Reginald is equipped with are capable of many modes of electrocution. They are able to shoot projectiles with many different charge rates, fire an electrified tether as well as send a current from his metallic fingertips. There is a great amount of control with all this as there must be in his case. He usually does not use his weapons unless he must.

Theme Song: Robot Rock

[Closet Nerd]

= OC

http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs70/i/20...ix-d5l4em3.jpg = Former BioTek patient, first human patient. Was blind and mute before procedure and lived a full 24 hours after. Overall a success

http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs70/f/20...e_by_delya.jpg = OC's wife and colleague [Evlogis Sofí Kyría] with even more ambition than he and became one of his human Chimera subjects. She is with him still to this day.

http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/20...c5-d59qd4m.png = OC's wife after 'operation'. A mix between her, a battish Wyvern and a snake. Over time, a few changes were able to be made for convenience and effectiveness, as the photo is the first result. First off, he made her look more feminine. They made her wings jointed so that they could fold forward toward her shoulders and made the outer edges lined with sword-like bone. He then managed to make the tail into a long, large venomous snake with no mind of it's own. Finally, after much hard work and discovery the OC made his wife's mind dominant over the other two, which was especially difficult because they were already melded together as part of the process of allowing the chimera one head instead of many. They had willed the result to look more like this: http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs70/f/20...an-d3dz47q.jpg

Name: Raibelus Dikéfalos

[Righ-bell-us Dee-kay-fell-ohz]

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 53

Appearance: The picture above portrays Raibelus in his mid-twenties, selected due to the fact that his likeness is not easily found at a time later in his life. There really isn't much different now besides the typical wrinkles and the gaining of some weight, which was luckily not much, as well as a slight calm in his hairstyle due to it's shortened length. He also bears a series of permanent slashing scars scattered across his back and left arm as well as a bite mark on his right shoulder.

Personality: It is the most obvious trait that is carried by this man Raibelus than can easily be coined in a single word and is as evident as the midsummer sun at high noon and as often found as drops of water in a tsunami. This word is ambition, so abundant is it in Raibelus that he has suffered several tragedies and has only recently begun to calm his ever-growing love for discovery. Ever since he was a young boy he has strove to explore the heights of the shadows beyond man's knowledge and mark the course for others to follow.

History:

Equipment:

Family History:

Theme Song (Lyrical):

Theme Song (Instrumental):
Other:

[Closet Nerd]

Name: The Wraiths

Appearance: Their appearances are based on two breeds. The first belongs to a creature draped in a sickening aura of blackness and evil. Their limbs are bent unnaturally and thin as bone. Their arms dangle low and long, leading up to their constantly overshadowed face as if the air around them covered them to spare the watchers eyes from the horror. The Wraiths' skin is dark but not naturally black, instead a shade of amethyst cloaked in the cloud that surrounds them. Those that have seen their eyes tell of a deep abyss, a swirling darkness that strives to reach forth and grab hold of their victim. The eyes are empty, with no life or emotion just a deep pulsing gaze. If one locks into their eyes, they are thrown into the very abyss they are staring into, surrounded in total pitch darkness. Most who have found these Wraiths and lived to tell without choking down the memory dared not gaze into the holes, though they were more flat and yet endlessly deep the same, they instead studied the thinness of their bodies. Like malnourished skeletons and still as menacing as a man's deepest fears sprung to life. But these stories are the most rare and usually borne of the mouths of madmen. Many have though seen one of these kind of Wraiths once in their lifetime, but disregarded them as shadows in the trees or a flicker of fancy in the night. But they always feel as if the figure they see is calling out to them. Calling for help.

The others are much more widely known and with much more malice. They bear themselves low to the ground, clad in white tatters. Their swift movements and white clothing give them the appearance of a haunting spirit in the shadows. They steal themselves away along the walls as swift as a crazed and starving hawk swooping in on an innocent salmon. They are stout in breadth and great in height, though they only show this when ready to kill. Their bodies do however seem almost mangled though they function at a higher level than that of a man. Their cold, white hands stretch out far with clawed fingers. But their most chilling feature is their face. Their skin is ghostly in color, though eerily it seems to absorb light rather than reflect. Their eyes are bordered in jet and as ritual their faces are carved with grotesque cuts and their eyelids are burned away to forever stay the unreadiness of slumber. Their eyes are menacing and bulge dry and lifeless. The dying see nothing during their final breaths other than this wretched face staring back at them. Laughing at them as they slip into their eternal sleep.

Capabilities: The first breed mentioned is known as the Tall Ones among Wraiths. They are capable of hiding incredibly well, especially in shadow. The darkness around them is an aura of magic, an eternal spell cast upon them at birth that gives them the gift of shadow, a gift to protect themselves or create fear. This is what gives them most of their power. Power such as strength when attacked and swiftness when hidden. As well as the power of fear when seen. Their sight is the reverse of ours. There is no color in their world and light is darkness where darkness is light. Those of them that are capable of using magic are capable of manipulating their shadow like some solid, fell substance as bendable as skin, dark as night and deadly as daggers.

The others are the aggressive Wraiths, known to themselves and the Tall Ones as the Sleepers. They possess more physical talent than their skiddish counterparts. They are swift of foot and strong, desperately so. They are capable of scaling the walls like a spider crawling it's web toward a strung fly. Their features alone can make someone go insane if overexposed, but Sleepers are violent and it is impossible to see their faces for very long. Their inherently sadistic nature and seemingly invincible stature adds to the fear of their victims. They also become in pain if their desires are not met in time, and become fragile to their own psyche, whatever it may be. But no matter how deep they fall into the pits of their own madness or despair, they are still natural born killers. After all, that's what comforts them most.

History:

Other:

[Closet Nerd]

Name: The Witch of the Woods, the Black Horror or the Devil of Adamsville to others. She once called herself Barieva.

Age: Young but of age by human standard.

Race: Wraith, Tall One

Appearance: There is no existing photo of this woman, if you can stomach calling her that. She will not allow her visage captured. Her most obvious feature is her height. She is over six feet and three inches tall at a straight posture. Her slender frame does nothing but increase it to others. Barieva has few feminine features and most are subtle, her long black hair being the most prominent. The strands look like splintering ropes of string and wave as if she had been recently drowned in a swamp. Her skin appears incredibly dark behind her transparent cloud of despair. When the veil is tossed aside it is revealed that she is in fact pale as a corpse, and that her face is evidently gone. Simply lost in some hellish cave beyond perhaps. Or more accurately put, her face is etched out from sight and memory. Even to herself. The only remotely facial characteristics she has is the basic outline and the eyes. Though they are not eyes but holes. Endless, hopelessly dark pits of... Well, nothing. It is chilling how empty they look. Not a trace of emotion or any feeling at all. Although anyone that genuinely looks into her eyes will feel her despair, they will feel just as trapped as she is. Like a fly caught in a hungry spider's unearthly web. No possible way to escape the horrific fate that awaits them. Not many have gotten any further than that.

Personality: Barieva is in short troubled. In many was she is indeed stuck in a pickle one might say. You see, she has a gentle soul. Yes, this must come to quite the surprise to you. "How could a Wraith possibly be gentle?" you may ask. Well, she is actually not much of an exception. Being a Wraith is a curse you see and the curse is that each one is eternally convicted to murder. Whether or not they want to it does not matter. They can't control themselves. Barieva is one of many who are forced to watch themselves commit horrendous acts to any kind of living creature. This has forced her into a state of mental anguish which she can only bottle for short whiles. Eventually it explodes into a torrent of her own fear, rage and despondence. She can hardly believe the monster that she is. To be imprisoned in the body of such a horrific thing is... Unbearable.

There are other factors to her being however. Like most Tall Ones she is afraid of crowds. She can be thrown into fits if cornered into one without some form of drapery about her. She genuinely wishes to become interactive with some few people, not everyone of course, but her fear is that everyone will see her for what she is. But there is another side to that as well. Barieva can be rather obsessive of people who have made prolonged social contact with her. This has only happened once but she did secretly stalk a man for years after giving him one or two human organs as gifts. She lost herself in her infatuation with this man and completely forgot of how much she hated that other side of her. All she wanted was to please him in whatever way she could think of, and her thoughts were clouded entirely with gore. However, this was only because of coincidence that he would find her multiple times where she normally would have hidden or better yet ran. She is usually quite shy. In her own sense of the word.

Magical Style: Manipulation of Ghastly Shadow. The permanent black veil about her is at her utter disposal. It is her tool, her hand, her essence and her weapon. She can twist it into any form she wishes and even transform it into a solid substance. The most vague shapes however are the easiest. She is quite proficient with tentacles due to their lack of continuous shape. This style is capable of many things including causing fear, poison, sickness or hallucination and any manner of dark things along with it. However, she is not very proficient with much else. Constitutional magics the least.

Equipment: She carries nothing but dark rags and the occasional grey robe in case of crowds. As a reminder of her true self however she carries a Sleeper's tooth in her pocket. She has no need for shoes.

History: Much of Barieva's life, even to herself, is a mystery. Most of her memories have been blurred away forever as they were too mind numbing. One of her earliest memories though was of a Wraith supposedly her father. She never did figure how Wraiths were born though. He was surrounded in bodies. Piles of them. Some already decomposed into bones. Blood was dripping from the walls. Some of it was growing putrid green things just adding to the sickly aroma about them. The Wraith turned slowly to Barieva with his empty eyes fully exposed. "Save me" he said. Then everything was blank.

A few years went by and she was nine. She fooled her way into a school. An actual human school. Of course she had to wear a mask and many other things to keep her identity secret but for the longest time in her life she felt somewhat normal. Though she was picked on a lot, yet less severely than she was used to as she was now just a tall freak who never took off her mask. She never had many friends. What eeked out to purpose the memory though was this one boy met during lunch hour. Will was his name. He said he didn't mind the mask and that is was what made her unique. Something his mother told him he said. This wasn't the same one she had stalked for five years, no, instead it was her crowning achievement during childhood. He was her first kill.

One day they were walking out after school. The crowd outside had bothered her a bit but Will was there to comfort her. After a few minutes went by they were mostly alone and were walking through the town to Will's house. They were having a conversation about how he had never seen Barieva's house. She denied as best she could the significance of it, not wanting him to know that she really lived alone in a cave eating rotting beef in the cold dankness. That was when a few of the local children walked up to them and ripped off Barieva's mask and hood, catching her for once off her guard. What they all saw disgusted and terrified them. All they could all see were those deep, somehow penetrating pits on her empty face. Something snapped in her and she tossed Will onto the ground. She proceeded to stomp hard on the back of his head against the stone path again and again until his flailing arms finally dropped to the ground. Why he was first Barieva never understood. The rest of the children had ran screaming, and Barieva ran for it. Within the course of the next few weeks she was successful in driving every single one of those wretched boys utterly insane for the rest of their natural lives.

From there her memory fades in and out with shades of trees, dark corners and libraries and... Even more rotting flesh... From what she can tell Barieva had apparently escaped almost all social activity and lived in the forest. There was one blurry memory of fire everywhere and she assumed she was hunted out of her cozy little cave. There was one large tree the fading memories would revolve around and she had remembered vaguely that that was once her home.

When she was sixteen she tried the hidden social act again. This time as a budding young artist. Of course she was limited to paintings and stories of murder, tragedy and many other things of this nature. Directly before this is one of Barieva's most cherished memories, as it is of saving a baby from being eaten from a deranged Sleeper. She carries the creature's tooth to this day as a memento. This was around the time she had met the man that she had haunted for so long. Towards the end of what she still considered a 'relationship' the man had told everyone in the city she lived in that she was a witch after she had revealed herself to him out of love. As well as a few fifteen other mutilated body parts scattered about. She was ran from her home once more and since then cursed to live among the gloomy yet kind trees. She had not kept track of her own age since.

Quite recently though, she has been considering having another crack at the social life.

Other: Tall Ones are technically half ghost, meaning they are also half dead. This is the aura about them at all times.

[Closet Nerd]

Name: Saraeca

Environmental Traits: The mother country is centered in vast grassy plains with hilly regions on the outskirts. There are a few mineshafts scattered about, but the single largest one starts inside the crater made by Akadimia's ascension. Huge underground tunnel systems create the city of Azria both above and under ground. Closer to the center of Saraeca is the capital, Haslam City. It is filled with gigantic feats of machinery and architecture. The amount of steam power used has somehow erased winter within the city.

East of the motherland is the Sarciatic Sea, holding two of Saraeca's main colonies. The southern coasts are occupied by the farming and fishing colony of Gryland, with their main export being cotton and tobacco. The northwestern coast is to Harelfeld, a mountainous mining colony. There are quite a few more settlements scattered to the east that are too small to note.

Government: The top of their government is a monarch with near absolute power. However, this monarch is elected to serve five years and is allowed to be banished by ostracism if a great number of citizens vote for this in a year. There is a group of officials that go throughout the country and colonies meant to inform the king of anything of importance. Due to mercantile systems, they manufacture products and resources excessively and export their good to any nation able to pay the toll. Valay purchases mining equipment, Vendrana purchases raw materials and Akadimia imports materials for Alchemic purposes.

Groups and Culture: There are two different races that maintain the main populace of Saraeca. The humans usually stick to city life, often making their money off of trade and science. Cities with a large human population usually contain large machines for various needs of life. Because of this they tend to dominate the aristocracy, being much more well known political figures than most.

The Feythen are the other half. Physically they are at average a foot shorter than humans, knife-eared as with all elves and have bright, unnatural hair and eye colors. Their most evident trait is the bright greenish yellow glow to their skin caused by the substances they breathe. Poison. Any kind of gas that would kill a human is what the Feythen live off of. This habit also causes their eye and hair colors, which are reminiscent to the bright colors adorned by poisonous animals as a warning. This to them and many other dwellers of Saraeca is considered a skill, one which they do not waste. Their lower classes work the mines of the nation, almost all of which eek all matter of harmful clouds. Feythen consider these mines cozy. The higher class invented modern Alchemy. Though the reason for this is a bit of a history lesson, therefore it fits there. They are also greatly interested in tinkering and any kind of adventure that doesn't mean their end. Just like the human inhabitants. Though they often leave the zeppelin rides to their neighbors though, great heights aren't quite their idea of fun.

Military: Saraeca is very peaceful, and that is their greatest defense. They have created a huge barrier of guarded land around them through their diplomacy, never having to sacrifice a life within their borders. They aren't entirely helpless though. Their army is made entirely out of mechanical golems. Some are manufactured and programmed by alchemy, some are maintained by their tech alone. Recently they have been making the system more efficient to where a single engineer can captain a squadron of 12 golems. There is also a huge variety of these golems as the experimental nature of Saraecan manufacturers has created a state of constant evolution for their technology. It is not uncommon to never see a golem like one you have seen before.

Their navy and air force are both nearly identical. One to three engineers, depending on the size of the ship, each have full squads of lightweight golems as their crew. There are cannons stationed at the sides of most ships, the smallest use only one cannon and a few harpoons to intercept with footsoldiers. Some of the largest zeppelins have cannons on the sides on three different floors and a row of very large cannons lined downward on the bottom acting as an artillery system.

History: As this is an entire nation it may be a good idea to have about three paragraphs.

Other:

[Closet Nerd]

UserName: ClosetNerd

Character name: Rosette Fleurale

Age: 20

Mageblood type: Natura

Favoured Magic Class: Herbamancy

Previous Magic training: On magic, only a few books and those don't always take the right effect for something this delicate. Much of the knowledge she carries with her is from her love of animals, ushering several forms of study over the years.

Race: Human

Appearance: The photo isn't entirely herself. Normally she has bright blond hair at shoulder length and deep, innocent blue eyes. She stands at 5'7" with a slim frame given by her young age, but is not entirely lacking of curves. The green in the eyes and hair on the photo can be explained because she is in the middle of a transformation in the picture. Whenever using heavy spells of Herbamancy, Rosette turns green. Her hair shuffles out at full length to her lower back while the leafy green crawls upward. Flecks of emerald scatter across her eyes until they bloom into full green gems. There really aren't any other physical changes in that state except for her being tense, but that is just from the heavy spell.

As for her clothes, it wouldn't really be accurate to say they were skimpy rather than very close. Close with nature is her explanation. Usually rather thin but long fabrics drape her and she hardly wears anything other than that. Sometimes she adorns herself in plantlife. Besides her magical inclination, this is her most hippie trait.

Short Bio:

Good Attributes: (Any knacks, skills, etc. That could benefit the Character.)

Bad Attributes: For whatever reason, maybe due to the sparse remnants of her father, she has a deep desire to harm others which she suppresses due to morality conflict. The only outlet for this is her questionable and somewhat brutal methods of magical combat.

Secret Word: (Hint: Read the RULES!)

[Closet Nerd]

UserName: ClosetNerd

Character name: Enrigo Nyvara

Age: 29

Mageblood type: Lux

Favoured Magic Class: Vitamancy

Previous Magic training: None at all. He isn't even entirely sure what Vitamancy is. The closest thing to it is his practice, which contains nothing but willing his hands into some form of weapon.

Race: Human

Appearance:

He is usually a bit more disheveled than this and of course his skin isn't gold. He is tall and has an overly muscular build as if he devoted every day to growing. He has achieved it through his magic, one of the few tricks he managed to pick up. One cannot tell through the picture that his eyes are a stabbing blue. The white hair is from an accident while practicing his tricks.

He doesn't really have a locked down sense of style, he just throws on whatever he currently owns. The only piece of clothing he cares about enough to not let it be stained, torn or burned is a black rawhide jacket than runs down to his knees.

Short Bio: His childhood was nothing to gawk about and his parents were rather normal and to be honest, a little dull. Enrigo was a bit out of place in the family because they were content sitting around the house during their free time where he was striving to get his energy out somewhere beyond. The first interesting thing to happen to him was at age seven when he met a girl his age named Carlita. Lucky for him she was a great source of fun in his life since that day. And they had a great enough bond that at age ten they 'married' each other.

Skip ahead six years and they are still sweethearts. On this year, Carlita becomes pregnant. Enrigo was panicking a bit at first of course but within a week he got a hold of himself and assumed responsibility, one of the few times he has tried to exercise this trait. However, when the baby began to show, Carlita's parents jumped town with her leaving behind only a note saying that she was leaving with the baby and that she will never love Enrigo. This is his largest failure in life.

From there he began to drink ale profusely. For the first two years it was under secrecy, though it was still apparent when he would come home drunk each night. He bathed in a pool of wine and self-pity for five years after the incident. It was only until he became twenty two that he cleaned up. And it was difficult to do so. But now he has the issue of self-destruction whenever a woman grows too intimate with him emotionally. But at least now he is back to a cocky attitude instead of depression.

He discovered his magic late at age seventeen when his fist turned to stone in the middle of a barfight. He never practiced until twenty three when he thought it may be a good idea to have some self-protection. During that training he hasn't picked up a single book on the subject, they're too expensive. He just goes by instinct and flexing. From this he has learned very wrong techniques and may not be able to use healing magic for quite some time.

Good Attributes: He is quite strong, as you may have guessed. His magic has a unique style of 'shapeshifting', though it isn't as glamorous as one would think. Specializes in the offensive property of Vitamancy, and can use it as a defense in the form of hardening his flesh or growing an outer layer of bone (the latter is more effective but incredibly painful as he must use his inside bones as a source). He's certainly not slow.

Bad Attributes: Mental issues. Inability of decent healing. Drinking problem. Attitude problem (at times). Reckless combatant.

Secret Word: Faded

Other: A stray cat came up to him once and he accidentally shifted half of it's body into a bat-like shape. He took it to someone who could stitch it's wounds. Somehow the 'cat' decided to follow Enrigo after that and not he has a pet bat-cat named Twoface.