Name: Kiyara Sorjumi
Description: Standing at only about 5’5” Kiyala is relatively short for an average Toyla. She is built the same as many other female Toyla, a heavy emphasis on agility and speed yet not quite matching that of the Lynsera. Her features are rather plain, that of a warrior and not of a beauty queen, and yet still her natural feathers resonate a sense of beautiful elegance. The feathers that hang off of her ears go from being short, almost down feathers at the start to so long that they hang almost past her shoulders even when her ears are standing up. The longest feather on either is decorated to resemble that of a wing feather on a Red Falcon, her tail feathers are left as their natural pure white coloration yet a single speck of dirt or blemish has never been seen on any of her feathers.
Profession: Travelling Mercenary
Equipment: Kiyara carries only what is necessary for her travels. She has a small pouch of coins that is nearly always empty attached to her belt on her back-right side, safely guarded under her tail feathers. On the opposite side of her hips is a long saya containing an elegantly designed katana from her homeland, the blade of which is always kept extremely well to prevent it from becoming too dull or rusted. Alongside her saya is a much smaller scabbard containing a less elegant Tanto dagger. As she prefers to travel lightly Kiyara only carries one relatively large water skin and a small sack of food both of which are kept on her right hand side along with her money pouch.
Bio: Kiyara Sorjumi comes from a village that is even small for Toyla standards, home to barely even 50 people. Her father was the village’s leader, and the most skilled swordsman, so growing up she was put through rigorous training. As a rule set for her by her father, at the age of sixteen she would undergo an exam in the form of a duel between the two and it was made very clear to her that failure to pass could very well mean death. Kiyara trained daily, sparring with as many people in her village as she could and occasionally against her father as practice. Every time she sparred with him she was overpowered quickly, even after she had bested everyone else in the village so many times that they refused to spar with her further he still would defeat her in seconds.
When Kiyara turned fifteen, she knew the exam was nearing ever closer. The thought of failing her family, and more importantly the fact that she may be slain, drove her to practice more. As she was practicing her form in the woods one evening, a man she had never before seen approached her. He explained that his name was of no importance, and that she wasn’t the first child to have been born to her parents. She had a brother long ago, she was barely a newborn when her father cut him down before the entire village during his exam. She was told that her father practiced an art that he would not teach his children for he feared that they would one day rise and take his place.
The news shocked Kiyara, at first turning away in disgust at what must be lies. What this man was telling her was blasphemous. Her father was an honorable man, one who would fulfill the code she had been taught at a young age. Yet what she had been told is that her father was the very thing that the Code sought to destroy. Quickly turning away from the man she rushed home, speeding through the woods and charging into her father’s study. Out of breath and in a panic she confronted her father about her brother, the accusations made against him, and begged for them to not be true. Kiyara remembers his expression to this very day, the look on his face as he slowly rose and drew his blade his actions telling her that everything she was told was true.
He charged at her in a panicked form, and she barely had time to react as his blade came down at her. Rolling away she drew her own sword, noticing how quickly her father’s fighting style had changed when he was panicking Kiyara remained calm and took up her own form. He came at her again, his blade swinging up at a right arch, she jumped quickly before the blade had time to rise and easily avoided the careless and slow strike. The next thing she remembers is the scream, the blood curdling scream of pain and fear, and standing in her father’s study in a pool of his blood. It wasn’t long at all before the villagers were there, blind to reason they threw Kiyara out of the village as they mourned their slain leader.
Now on her own, she wandered for years. She was seventeen, and in a strange foreign land that tolerated her presence only because she was a skilled swordswoman. She made her living taking on mercenary jobs or helping those in need, often barely making enough to survive. The biggest job she had done was received as she entered a small town. A man, covered in blood and scorch marks was begging others in the town for help. They all seemed to ignore him, instead packing their own things and fortifying buildings, Kiyara was the last person he approached before he collapsed from his wounds. He explained that his town had been raided by another race, barbarians from a distant land he had said, he begged on his hands and knees for someone to help his friends and family before his own life quickly escaped it’s mortal body.
The Toyla’s code compelled her to assist the man’s village, and she set off in haste. As she sprinted down the road it wasn’t long at all before she reached what was once a village, now just a burning bonfire. Massive figures were looting things, slaughtering what few people she had seen, and eating any food they came across. They were huge, some of them up to three feet taller than her, yet she swallowed any fear she had and braced herself. Her blade was drawn swiftly, the glorious steel appearing to be made of the flame itself as it shimmered and mimicked the blaze. The battle didn’t last long as the barbarians were large but also extremely slow compared to Kiyara’s tiny frame. She easily out maneuvered them, striking at vital points and crippling them one at a time before finishing them off. She stood there, in the center of the town amongst the corpses and flames her tail feathers fanned out as far as they could appearing like an angel of death. It wasn’t long before five more of the brutes arrived, Kiyara quickly took to her fighting stance cutting them down with ease. There was a soft whimper left, coming from the corpse of one of the brutes it was a noise that only a child could make.
She approached to corpse, noticing that the whimpering was also the only survivor of the village; a small child tied to the back of one of the most recently slain brutes. Kiyara quickly cut her free and sheathed her blade, she gave the young child her freedom and from that moment on the child’s been stuck on Kiyara like glue. They’ve spent years travelling together, and now they find themselves in the heart of the Neutral Territory, specifically in the town of Soul.
Description: Small, just barely 4’ tall, a runt with golden eyes. Her hair is jet black, as are her floppy ears. A thin streak of white runs down the middle of both ears, the two streaks extending clear down to the end of her hair which extends to the base of her shoulder blades. Her tail is much the same design, the majority of the fur is jet black while the tip is pure white, four streaks of white, one on each side, stretch from base to tip of her tail. A thin layer of black fur covers her hands and forearms, gradually fading away to tanned skin midway to her elbow, same goes for her legs, ending just short of her knees.
She is very slender, by looking at her you’d think she was malnourished, mostly skin and bones. But she’s just light on her feet… Swift and silent.
Profession: None officially… But as a pup she developed the skills of a thief, and as she aged acquired decent medical skills as she was no longer required to steal to survive.
Equipment: She carries only the bare essentials with her most of the time. Flint and tinder, a dagger, a satchel of makeshift medical supplies… Various herbs, plants and so on. A small bedroll, a handful of spark crystals and the components for a special “Magic” trick (flash powder).
Bio: Ni’al’s life was a living hell from birth… The runt of the litter, her parents were ashamed when she was born… Her father wanted to cast her aside the moment he laid eyes on her but her mother fought him tooth and nail to protect her pup, which was eventually her undoing… Nobody was willing to help her… many times refusing her service, as if afraid being around the runt would stunt their own pups.. They were always hungry… left sleeping in the street or the woods, nothing to keep them warm except for each other and as her mother’s heath degenerated, Ni’al was forced to learn to care or herself early… and by the time she turned five, she was all on her own…
Now, she was all alone… Nobody wanted anything to do with her, as Runts were barely a step above the diseased and dying. More than once, she had been jumped and beaten to an inch of her life and just left to bleed out in a ditch… But she got right up, bandaged herself up, and learned from her mistakes… She quickly adapted to her situation, learning to turn her small size to her advantage. She started out just stealing food from vendors when she was absolutely desperate, more than once she was caught and had to run for her life, learning to squeeze into the smallest gaps to escape. As she aged, the skills were more and more fine-tuned, learning to not only just steal food without being caught, but also becoming a pick picket. Yet the pup showed surprising restraint, only stealing what she absolutely needed knowing that to take too much would get her caught.
Then, after five years of struggling to live, she finally had to truly fight. They came in the middle of the night… A group of Celchin found their way into her town… Whether it was a planned raid or pure coincidence, the destruction was all the same… Ni’al had been taking shelter in a storage shed behind the general store… And was one of the first to see them… The hulking figures making their way through the alley, five total, their bulk easily smashed down the door to the general store and they stormed in… The store owner’s screams rang out through the night as his blood splattered the windows and the Celchin’s roars followed shortly after as they barged out into the streets the shop already ablaze.
The screams of pain and terror rang out through the night… the streets painted red with blood as the Celchin sated their blood lust… looting whatever they felt they could use and burning the rest. Once the Celchin were out of sight Ni’al fled, sticking to the back alleys doing her best to avoid the attackers… But she didn’t see them until they were right on top of her… While half the raiding party assaulted the village, five more patrolled the outskirts, picking off anyone who tried to flee… They caught Ni’al as she ducked into the woods… As much of a curse as her size had been the rest of her life… Here, it was her only blessing… As the monsters found they would get more entertainment from keeping the small canine, rather than just outright killing her… They bound her arms and legs, one of the Celchin just throwing her over their shoulder, carrying her around as they continued their rounds… forcing her to watch as they slaughtered everything in sight…
That was when they heard it… The roar of pain, unlike anything she had ever heard… It made her captors freeze in their tracks, and as the sound bellowed out again, they threw their heads backed and bellowed their own cries before charging towards the village, Ni’al still slung over the one’s shoulder… her insignificant weight barely noticed by them as they storm their way into the village only to be greeted by the sight of their allies sprawled in the street, blood soaking the ground… And that was when they saw her…. The pristine white feathers glowing orange in the reflection of the flames as she turned to face the monstrous men… The runt couldn’t register any of what happened… all she remembered was the sword flashing, looking as if flames were dancing across the blade… falling… lying in a pool of blood... And beside her was the corpse of her captor, with the rest of the Celchin sprawled around the street… It didn’t take long for her savior to find her and free her… But the runt had nowhere to go… her home was destroyed, she had no family or friends... And she begged the Toyla to allow her to travel with her… And from that point on, the runt followed the swordswoman around like a lost pup, rarely leaving her side.
Description: Vitani isn't exactly the runt of the little but she was smaller then most of her people standing at about a good 5'4 she even knew people smaller then her. Her hair silver like but cut short to about her shoulder and sorta scruffy. Her ears are small, almost stubs but still good for there hearing as they were pure white with bits of gray hue within them as did it match her tail. Speaking of her tail it was medium length and sort of jagged looking not like the usual bushy tail you would usually see, but she liked it all the same. Her eyes seemed like they could pierce within the soul with a golden color to them with a just a little bit of orange mixed in with it. She was skinny sure but that only made her quick and light on her feet for her profession and no she wasn't malnourished she just rarely ate but that was her choice. She had tufts of white fur coming from just the back of her ankle and all the way up to mid way of her thigh as were there tufts around her elbows that easily faded with her pale skin.
Profession: Vitani is one for offensive types of professions and as you would of guessed she's a swordsman that was always quick with the draw no matter the size blade she had if it wasn't for her father she wouldn't have learned how to seeing he saw potential in her as a pup.
Equipment: With her it's mostly bladed weapons and bare essentials such as medical equipment, the usual healing herbs and spices and such.
Bio: Vitani was born from a large litter of pups, but her father saw she had some potential in her seeing she was always the roughest of the bunch. Though father seemed to tend to her most, last of the little meant daddy's little girl i suppose but it wasn't fair to mother that he wasn't paying no mind to the other pups. Though Vitani was usually never allowed around other pups for fear her rough housing would somehow rub off onto others not even her siblings would come near her, even fearing her. At one point Vitani had run away feeling as if nobody even wanted her around but her own father knew her well and she was found shortly after and he told her that he wanted her around, even if no one else did. From then on Vitani stuck by her father even helped her train and use her aggression for something else.
Though she never thought that her aggression would get the better of her it was like her rage got out of control one night. Some others were teasing her for some reason and picking at her and she just lost control and beaten one of close to death, since then she was marked as nothing but a monster. Even her own mother had hated her for doing such a thing, but her father still loved her and wouldn't leave her alone for anything. Vitani rarely thinks about that day and if she was shunned as a monster so be it, doesn't make her any less proud about who she was or what she does for her kind. As she grew she only got better at what she does, able to lift the heaviest blades and swing them like they were nothing and fastest out of most of her people. Her father has taught to control her anger, the usual meditation and drinking of his special brew of tea nothing like that has ever happened since, but I guess no one will ever forget it.
Vitani still looks back upon the raid that has happened to this village when there was a raid upon her village and she lost the one person she loved. Vitani was hunkered down within her home as her father had told her to stay put and promised to return when it was over. She knew when he spoke that it was a lie and she couldn't stand to be cowering like this. So she took part in the fight witch was her greatest mistake, she fought side by side with her father even though angered that she didn't listen she never realized that the rest of the family and her mother were at the house as well, she was suppose to protect them. It was to late her siblings, her mother they were all slaughtered and laid scattered among the floor drenched in there own blood and her father....her father though a great man was taken down as well she couldn't save any of them even if she wanted to.
She never suspected the only one being orphaned, but she vowed to protect her people and others she had come across whether they wanted her to or not. Still to this day people avoided her, feel she had failed in a way though she never again lost her temper with people. She continued with her training and her meditations drinking the occasional tea every now and again. She built herself a new home since her own was burned to the ground and wreaked of her family's blood witch still stains her today and now lives deep within the woods all by her lonesome though she was quite used to the peace and quiet. She's learned to manage on her own caught her own food, made her own medicine everything that her father had taught since she was a little pup.
Description: Zanix is tall, tall for even a Celchin. Standing at 9ft 7in, he isn't exactly easy to miss. He is built like most Celchin, gray skin, small ears. His eyes however, his eyes are quite different. They are a bright, startling, purple. One scar goes over his left eye, and another goes across his face, diagonally from the top right of his head to the bottom left of his jaw, crossing over his nose, and barely missing his mouth. One of his ears is ragged and torn, as if something had raked it's claws across it. Accompanying the ragged, torn ear, is a set of four scars, evenly spaced and measured, like claws. He's bald, and with more claw like scars on his head. Zanix is also missing one finger. His hands are calloused, as if from years of work, and his teeth are, unsurprisingly, far from perfect, several being shattered or broken. He's also heavily muscled, also as if from years of work. There is a scar crossing his throat where a blade struck, and a scar across the back of his knee as well. A direct result of the scar across his neck is the rasp of his voice.
Equipment: Zanix carries a mace (that if one had enough time to observe it without it being swung at them would be able to see that it was rather well cared for shining as if polished nightly and daily) and shield with him, along with a small war club (By his standards, and it is also well kept) attached to his hip. He carries a surprisingly small pouch of coins, considering his profession, and at least two relatively large water skins, and a bag of food with him at all times.
Bio: Zanix is more intelligent than your average, barbarian smash, rape, pillage, Celchin. While he does not possess an intelligence to rival Sheathal, his intelligence is enough to control a large horde of Celchin raiders efficiently. For years, Zanix lead his raider horde to loot and glory, living like a minor lord off what they raided. He lead a raid on a Feralen village, with only a few trusted raiders as the town was small and resistance was expected to be very little. And that was how it went. At first. Zanix had picked up a runt trying to run into the woods, when a bellow of pain was heard. Zanix and the others gave their own bellows, and moved in to find the person responsible for the roar.
They found a Toyla standing over their fellows. Instead of thinking rationally, Zanix let his blood lust and anger overcome him. They attacked, and since the Toyla was thinking rationally, she rapidly cut them down. Zanix lasted the longest, but the Toyla slashed the back of his leg, then his throat. He sank into unconsciousness. He awoke to the rest of his band fighting desperately. The Sheathal empire had also launched a raid, and found the town. His men were cut down, and he was taken prisoner, to be a slave.
Many years of hard, brutal, merciless work followed. All throughout it, the only thing that kept him going was the thought of freedom and revenge against his captors. He had learned from his battle against the Toyla. Strength was nothing unless accompanied by speed and rational thought. So, whenever and however he could, Zanix trained his speed. His rational thought in trying times was trained daily, as the overseers weren't shy about using their whips. Indeed, they seemed eager to. They let Zanix do his strange training program because after all, what could one, apparently broken, Celchin do?
Eventually, Zanix felt he could escape, and waited for his opportunity, gathering support for a rebellion in secret. A massive rainstorm hit, and Zanix seized his chance. Quickly, he and his compatriots overpowered the guards in the rain, grabbed what gear they could, and ran for it. The guards caught up with them in the seventh day of being on the run. A pitched battle ensued, of which Zanix was the only survivor, and even then, only just. A few more years of wandering and minor banditry found him in the town of Soul.
Name: Thiannon Silvermane
Description: Thi is one of the Silvermane, a long and proud family of the Feralen. And as the name says, all of their males in their line of blood all had silvery coloured hair on their backs and chest, a characteristics for them. And so do Thi, unlike the female Thi is very big and very masculine, however he is quite larger then the normal Feralen male, He stands up on his clawed feet about 6'5" feet tall, built like a brick wall almost. He simply looks huge. He has seen extremely many battles since he was a pup, as the Silvermanes are one of the more famous warriors of the Feralen, his body and facial area are scattered with scars. However the thick fur covers up most of the scars except for the really deep ones. He has been trained almost his whole life for fighting and there for he has a lean body but still a muscular one. He is almost the perfect Feralen warrior. But still he has a serene look about himself, he always looks peaceful in some weird and twisted way, he does not look like the aggressive type even considering his height and muscularity.
Equipment: Thi carries a large hide backpack when ever he is out for battle, or travel. There is a basic kit for making fire and bandages and such. He wears simple leather piece around his crotch area and carries a large double sided halberd along with a crude and barbaric blade.
Thi almost always saw himself above the normal aggressive and barbaric Feralen, he is calm in himself and considers himself wise in that way. Of course he knows how to fight and have been trained to fight his whole life, but that does not mean that he resolves in brawling with the other males or fighting each other for fun. He does train almost every day but aside from that, since he was a pup he was different, he always seemed to stay in the shadows when it came to being with the other males. He always was a fan of just taking it easy and he rather meditate then to fight and squabble. And since he grew past the others in size, not many picked on him for doing so. Thi had a great patience and all, but even the bullies got him mad. And when you got Thi mad, you better run like hell or you would be pretty dead.
He has spent countless years fighting for and guarding the Feralen lands, that was his duty and the reason he was even born. He has no sisters only brothers, but most of his brothers were older then him and already spread out guarding the borders. His parents were long dead and Thi was alone in the small town he grew up in. But he was always determined to make his ancestors and family proud, wherever they where. They would hear of his heroic deeds for his own country and race. But he also despised fighting in one way, of course they had to fight for their own freedom and had. But unlike most he thought there was a different way out of some of the confrontations he had through life, then violence. This was were his and his superiors disagreed and this lead to him in many battles going against his superiors orders, and therefore he was punished often. And got whipped into blindly taking orders.
The times between the callings for him to go out for war or to guard his country, Thi spent his time in the small village where he grew up, helping out as much as he could. But one night, when he was very much younger. While he was out in the forest he was attacked by a large group of predators, half the size of Thi but they were a whole pack. Wolf creatures, about the size of a dire wolf but had huge teeth going from one side of their jaw to their other side of their jaw. For the first time of his life he found himself fighting for his life. Something snapped inside of him, something happened that never had happened before to him. His fury was awakened, his very survival instincts were woken and he would use them to the very last breath to survive this. He for the first time in his life saw what he was made for, what the beast inside of him could do. The beast inside of him did not show mercy or any sign of common sense at all. He clawed and he bit until there was nothing more then pieces of meat and blood flying through the air. This was the first time he got afraid of himself. And many recall him coming home to the village he lived in as a changed man, he didn't speak any more. He spent his time outside the village doing god knows what, he was changed.. Maybe forever...