Each syllable was punctuated by a plume of ashes and embers, funneling from the unseen mouth of Gahris Ghal. He could feel them struggling against the paralysis that had gripped them, each piteous soul ensnared by a spell he had woven into their very essence while he had spoken to them as a tortured poet. It seethed and pulsed, spreading tendrils of his malefic will into their bodies, calling out to the brimstone he spoke; beckoning the ashes to take them in whole. They were such simple creatures, bereft of the resolve of their ancestors; made fierce by their pride and weak by their arrogance. He lifted a clawed hand to the throat of the immobilized King, taking a long moment to stare deeply into the shallow pool of his soul; through the clouded windows of tear swollen eyes. The Black Stone Wielder saw little of use, little of consequence and little of what he had hoped for.
"Callow and soft; weakness thrives in the absence of fear. "
The smoldering cloud had gone beyond their periphery, though it was becoming emboldened with each passing moment licking the high curve of the immaculate stone ceiling; tearing away the images of vaunted heroes and long dead kings. As the flecks of their history fell, a tattered tale of their mortal struggle, the ashes spread, creeping down the wall; forming a bloated veil that surged and frothed over the floor. Some struggled against his influence, he felt, their souls attempting to purge the crippling corruption that held them in stasis; it was an amusing spectacle. The Black Stone Wielder chuckled, another stream of twitching, writhing flame into the air. The rattling of steel accompanied the chuckle, empty armor clamoring to the ground where the King's most trusted guards had stood before; only a growing wall of insidious ashes . Wails of terrific woe burst forth from the soul-pregnant miasma...and ended just as they had begun. Terror blossomed in the room; a silent, still, perfect terror. Gahris grinned, a wall of ivory daggers visible to those who were forced to gaze upon him; a blackened tongue darting between the yellowed spikes for an instant. The adumbral cloud swelled against his back, the faces of their countrymen roiling amidst the inky obfuscation; trailing up Gahris Ghal's outstretched arm, a small serpentine undulation of the stuff approaching Xade with a deliberate slowness, spreading to mimic an open hand as it reached out for the King.
His body convulsed as the ashes flooded into him; invading through the spaces between his clenched teeth and tightly shut eyes. Flesh sloughed from bone, becoming a dripping, rancid stream of desecrated animation. The ashes chewed their way from him, tearing through flesh and cloth with vile teeth; screaming echoing from within the withering form. The frantic working of phantom mouths apparent as his skin tore into great bloated ribbons; long tendrils of ash creeping back into the air. The immortal watched, for a moment, holding the convulsing wretch aloft with a single hand as he turned his piercing gaze onto the crowd.
"Your kind has ever been meant to serve. Even a king must kneel before God."
Yes. That is, indeed, a continuation of the bit from the Interest Check. Hope you enjoyed it, at least a little bit. Oh, also! The In Character thread is up!
Anyway. Welcome! One and all! Welcome, again, to the next iteration of The Black Stone; which is, of course, the Out Of Character phase! This is where characters will be placed, plots and ideas will be discussed...it will also serve as a platform for storing whatever important story/setting information deemed necessary for the story. For now, though, m'going to copy a few important bits from the Interest Check.
Expectations; I, as a 'GM', expect a few things from my players.
- Consistency; This is an obvious one. I want the story to be cohesive, despite the freestyle nature of this thread and for the group to be involved with one another. I enjoy for characters to mesh and actions taken by said characters to make sense.
- Literacy; This goes for grammar, punctuation, etc. I'll also be expecting about four paragraphs per post. .
- Questions; I love getting questions. I love answering questions. Whether it be via PM or posted in this thread; I would absolutely love to hear any questions you have.
[COLOR="#DDA0DD"][B]The Bloodstar shines down a crimson light on Molundias. Throughout the land, those of a lesser fortitude are being slowly twisted by its appearance. The giantess-maggot has been slain, only a single life claimed in the combat. The heroes are left, with a defenseless Prince Rynph and a brief moment of respite; their adventure only just beginning.
Elsewhere, Queen Tana has been sent to the generals of Gahris Ghal; to endure whatever vile acts they will inflict upon her.
Statement About Magic: Magic is a fairly common thing, capable of amazing feats of power; however, this power must be practiced extensively...making it a strenuous art to master. That is, again, only the more complex effects. Nearly everyone is capable of using magic, except, perhaps, those born without the capacity to use it, but few are able to use it beyond a few simple spells unless they have devoted a sizable portion of time to the craft.
This is not D&D based, so, while certain things will be very similar; I expect creativity in terms of magic and abilities. That is not to say that you can not draw on such sources for inspiration, I've done so myself with Staugh, but I do want to limit certain types of magic. Since there are no alignments stated on character profiles, there are no such spells to detect these things. Smite Evil or Smite Good, or other such alignment based spells will not exist in this thread. Sensing Magic will substitute for these things, but only give a sense to the strength of the magic at play; not what school or 'color' (i.e Black, White, etc) the magic is.
Name: Self explanatory.
Title: If applicable.
Race: I'll be accepting most fantasy races, other than mythical beasts, outlandish hybrids and divine or extraplanar beings.
Class: What archetype suits your character best? If using a D&D prestige class or some other such similar basis, please include a link to your source material.
Gender: Self explanatory.
Age: Self explanatory.
Birthplace: Does not have to be a place in Drasil. Be creative. Explain a little bit, if you want.
Appearance: Image is fine, so long as a description accompanies it.
Personality: Just a general feel for how your character acts and thinks.
Equipment: Swords, shields, axes, armor, etc. I will be allowing one magical item per character. However, I will be monitoring this for potential abuse.
Skills: Magical abilities, for those inclined to such tasks. Mundane abilities, otherwise; including things like styles of weapon fighting, lock picking, tracking, etc. Again, will be monitored carefully to prevent imbalances.
Strengths: What your character excels at. State three.
Flaws: Things your character is inept at. State three.
History: Self explanatory. Two paragraphs is the minimum.
Name; Self explanatory.
Title; Also self explanatory.
Faction; Who they are aligned with.
Class; Intended to give a general idea as to what the NPC is capable of.
Race; Self explanatory.
Age; Self explanatory.
Gender; Self Explanatory
Appearance; An image or description will suffice.
Originally Posted by ANMC
Sir Staugh, the Unyielding.
Stormguide Keep, Torpor's Shores, Bay of Caughdlan.
Staugh is a staunch, imposing figure, towering over most of those he encounters; being somewhere close to eight feet tall. His construction is meticulously humanoid, mimicking creatures of flesh and blood, albeit with an unmissable composition of sleek metal intended to designate his function; absorbing damage. Thick of limb and neck, and broad of chest, the armor-like appearance of his body gives the Golem a particularly heavy frame; one that weighs just over six hundred pounds. His face is carved into a perpetual expression of grim contemplation; low brows situated over eyes of obsidian that emit a faint white glow from their center. A thick, even line denotes his unmoving mouth; a blunt, heavy chin situated below. It is often noted, by others, that he only has four fingers on each hand.
Personality: Calm and just, but prone to lengthy deliberation; Staugh is a creature who takes his time in many things. He addresses others with respect and expects much of it in return. Bearing an avid interest in literature, poetry and the mortal perspective on life; Staugh often finds himself chewing over the philosophical implications of the events occurring around him. Despite being an animated hunk of iron, he is very proud of himself for achieving so much during his relatively short lifetime...and is not above regaling others with his tales of valor. He is an apt listener and conversationalist to those who find the time to engage him in such a way.
Equipment: Stuagh wields a two-handed claymore tailored to his large size, measuring at ten feet, including hilt and pommel, with a blade length of seven feet and nine inches; weighing around eighty pounds, enchanted to be nigh unbreakable. Beyond this, the Golem carries nothing.
Magical Resistance: Golems are inherently immune to the effects of most damaging magics; excluding acid or rust based spells. He can not be lulled to sleep, become paralyzed or poisoned, nor have his mind affected by any form of magic. However, being crafted of iron...high intensity fire spells can threaten to melt Staugh into naught but a puddle.
Runescribed: Sometime, during the process of his creation, Staugh was imbued with a Rune of Earth; enhancing the quality of his body. This increase in resilience has allowed the Golem to suffer more impressive amounts of damage while retaining his structural integrity for a longer period of time while engaged in combat. The Rune emits a faint yellow, pulsing glow and emits a steady...if miniscule flow of ethereal energies; allowing creatures or foes with a keen sense for such things to locate Staugh with little effort.
Sword Proficiency: Despite his large size and ponderous gait, Staugh is well versed in the art of swordplay; preferring to engage in straightforward, technical methods of attack. While he is incredibly strong and resilient, the Golem is considerably slow; relying on his hard body to absorb attacks while he searches for an opening.
History: Commissioned by a crippled, lesser known Lord of Drasil to be a personal bodyguard; Staugh's construction was a lengthy and expensive affair. The Artificers of Stormguide Keep, an industrious and ambitions group of Magi were overjoyed at the contract. However, due to the Lord's condition and frail constitution...payment was never received for the completed project. Staugh was kept by the Artificers as a guard for their grounds; often relegated to intercepting creatures attempting to infiltrate the stronghold and eliminating them. This continued for the first decade of his life, ceasing only when an offer came in; similar to the one responsible for his creation. Staugh was shipped off to Drasil, without fanfare.
Upon arriving, Staugh was escorted to his new charges; the Sielen royal family. It was here he began his growth as a sentient creature, receiving the necessary magical alterations to allow him the gift of speech. He devoted himself to learning of the ways of mortals, observing and absorbing what he could; learning much during the brief and bloody rebellion that earned him his title as a Knight of Drasil; as well as his monicker of "The Unyielding", standing as he had...alone against dozens of attacking soldiers. Recognized as a valiant warrior and valued ally of the crown, King Xade knighted the Golem before the entirety of his court; making Staugh the first artificial Knight in the land. Since the King's death, Staugh has been commanded by Queen Tana to accompany those she has summoned to her court; assisting them in their noble quest.
Originally Posted by ANMC
The Black Stone Wielder
Gahris Ghal still retains his humanoid stature, despite the drastic changes The Black Stone has wrought on the rest of his physiology. Elongated arms end in vicious, bladed, prehensile claws; each around eight inches long. His face is obscured behind an ancient porcelain mask, bearing a serene expression. He is tall and thin, narrow of shoulder and chest with a long neck. Lambent yellow orbs serve as his eyes, though they bear no visible pupil or iris. His teeth are long and stained with the ages, resembling narrow blades.
Gahris Ghal is a madman, through and through, most would say. While it is true that The Black Stone Wielder is a malicious and vile creature ; he is not quite consumed by throes of madness as some would claim...the truth is entirely different. He is motivated and meticulous, a quick and thorough observer and capable leader at that; relying on his clarity of judgement and innate ability to assess most situations. While his words can be constantly caustic, he does enjoy mincing words with those he intends to kill...at least a little bit. He is a capable strategist and tends to carefully plot out every action, making him somewhat secretive to those under his command.
The Black Stone; The solidified essence of myriad dead Gods, this artifact has been a scourge against the realm since before the times of antiquity. It is about the size of a human heart and is contained with Garhis' body. This artifact seethes with malice, perverting the flesh and minds it comes into contact with; empowering the twisted with power beyond that of any mortal creature. It is the source of Ghal's immortality and has become an integrated part of his being.
Despite being inert, until recently, the Stone is expeditiously reclaiming the power that had seeped from it during that time; making Gahris Ghal more and more formidable as the days stretch on. Obviously, it is a potent focus for magical abilities and tends to draw errant seekers of magical energies to it.
Fel Magic; A particular type of magic that focuses on deconstructing an enemy, and using their vital essences to strengthen subsequent spells. It consists of creating soul-swallowing plumes of ash, conjuring nightmarish entities, curses, soul stealing and beyond . Usually this type of magic drains the life of the caster as well, so foul as it is, but, in the case of Gahris; it seems to have done little to diminish his vitality.
Transience; Gahris Ghal is a master of escape, the preparation of illusions and ethereal movement. He is adept at teleportation, scrying and astral projection. He utilizes a variety of spells to achieve his goals of information gathering; often suppressing the immense aura of The Black Stone to infiltrate more magically secure places.
Vacuous Presence; The Black Stone thrums and pulses withing Gahris' chest, calling out with an unending hunger; when its aura is not suppressed by The Wielder's will. Where he treads, catastrophe follows, the threads of corporeal reality plucked at by his every step.
"When the eyes of the world fell upon Gahris Ghal, they could do naught but weep."
It is said that he was born under a sinister star, a blackened heart beating in his infantile chest; though this way of thinking was brought long after Gahris had begun his vile mission. The truth is quite a far cry. Gahris Ghal was born as any other man, in the little known settlement Isilidaii in the long forgotten war-like realm of Letaneha. He was raised by a community of primal warlocks and ferocious warriors; learning before he knew speech, how to slay a man. He was a keen observer and devout practicioner of magic, at a young age; aspiring to become a chieftain to his tribe.
Antiquity consumes the rest, bizarre claims filling the gaps where history averted its eyes. While it is largely unknown how he came to be the Wielder of The Black Stone, it is certain that acquiring the malicious artifact led Ghal to devastate his homeland; casting his kin into the abyss of death before sweeping out over the neighboring lands of Aasilia (currently known as Drasil) and the untamed, barbaric lands that had yet to find their place in the world. Ubiquitous fate places his death at the hands of a well-known hero, though there are various interpretations of which landed the killing blow.
Recently, he has reappered, after a two hundred year absence from the eyes of the world; resurfacing to raze a small fishing community, Stonebrook, and then to assassinte the King of Drasil and a large number of his court.
Originally Posted by DelphianName: Xaxa’zahafi
Title: The Usurper King
Age: 2856 years
Birthplace: The Shaded Glades, Kingdom Of Aberralith
Tall, lean and hoary, Xaxa’zahafi looks like the pinnacle of a hardened elven war general. He has long, pointed ears amongst flowing silver hair; like many elves, he possess lengthy features and prominent cheekbones. His stance is balanced and powerful, but not lacking in the elegant grace which marks his race. He bears a grim, stern expression at all times—furrowed brows, slight grimace, and look of solemn consternation.
Personality: Xaxa’zahafi lacks the charm any others leader possess, and thusly he has not been able to attract many to his cause through diplomacy. Many insist that his rigid and unpopular personality made him a terrible ruler, though most of these are rivals. His closest allies, on the other hand, respect his brutal honesty and serve him with total devotion. He may be dour and unlikable, but there is no denying his formidable stature. Compared to other kings, he forgoes wearing a crown or any other royal artifacts—instead opting for a very utilitarian and militaristic garb over gold, gems and lavish furs. After his exile, Xaxa’zahafi grew bitter and impatient. He loathes his title as the Usurper King, and despises those who insist on using it. Humans, especially residents of the Empire of Drasil—which conquered Aberralith during his exile—,repulse him.
Equipment: Twin cross-hilted elven blades, an elven longbow, elven scale mail, cloak, boiled leather boots and gauntlets, War Mantle of Leadership (magical item which generates an Aura of Courage, preventing allies from fleeing).
Skills: Swordplay, archery, destruction magic (fire bolt, fire breath, flame cloak, fire storm), military strategy, reading, writing
Strengths: Strategy, leadership, swordplay
Flaws: Quick to anger/impatient/easily slighted, middle agedness (stiffness, slowness), racism
History: Xaxa’zahafi was born to a plebian house of Zahafi, a wealthy family of ignoble merchants and bankers. He spent his youth studying under the tutelage of former general, and family friend Jinurop’iopa where he learned to read and write. Working as an apprentice and assistant to the famous General Jinurop’iopa, Xaxa’zahafi spent most of his time copying manuscripts, maps, and military strategy. By the time he reached puberty at 150, he had a deep and natural understanding of the art of war. He enlisted in the military, only to have the First Elven War draw to a close. This marked the banishment of dark elves from Aberralith and the beginning of a long era of uneasy peace called the Great Shuddering.
Xaxa’zahafi secured himself a job in the castle as a royal scribe; he spent this time writing about the growing threat of humanity and the pressing need of increased military fortifications against the aggressive barbarians. While much of his writings fell upon pointy, deaf ears, Xaxa’zahafi’s words stirred a concern hearts of prior armed forces, particularly General Jinurop’iopa. The general pleaded with the current king—who was considered elderly by even the immortal race of elves—to listen to Xaxa’zahafi’s warning. King Kinka’aberralith requested that the young scholar join his royal counsel and the two became swift but shaky colleagues.
Though Xaxa’zahafi constantly begged the king to reinforce the kingdom’s infrastructure and almost negligible defenses, Kinka’aberralith was not convinced. He was worried that the king had gone senile in his old age, and was throwing away the contents of the nation’s coffers on frivolous festivals and galas. In an attempt to appease Xaxa’zahafi, the king appointed him as Commander and General of the elven army. With his newfound power, Xaxa’zahafi overturned the Aberralith royal family and threw Kinka’aberralith into the dungeon under the premise that he had “committed crimes of omission against Aberralith and endangering her citizens.”
In the Zahafi family’s short rule, the Usurper King removed the décor of the castle, melted down the crown, and used the profits (and wealth of his already prominent family) to subsidize his growing army. Instead of parade floats, King Xaxa’zahafi fortified the kingdom’s walls. Instead of throwing lavish balls, King Xaxa’zahafi trained a cavalry. Once his army had been forged, the general swept across the countryside—executing or enslaving every human civilization he encountered. He scorched the earth in his wake, and the babes of man trembled at the sound of his name.
But his empire would not last. The citizens of Aberralith had grown fat and content with the parties of Kinka’aberralith, and the Usurper King’s harsh policies offended their delicate sensibilities; they revolted. Without the aid of his agricultural and economical allies, Xaxa’zahafi’s army began to wither. His starving army rebelled, freeing old King Kinka’aberralith and throwing the Usurper King from the city walls. Aberralith entered a second era a peace, but that, too, quickly faded. Man had grown into a fearsome enemy. Within a few short centuries, Aberralith was conquered by Drasil.
During this time, Xaxa’zahafi was silent, but not gone. He spent his time forging an alliance of like-minded outlaws, and kept a safe distance from the empires of man.
Originally Posted by SayuName:
[Official] Commander Ayshford of The Order of the Silver Shield: Besirioth, Vallake division
[Nickname] The Iron Imprisoner
I'm using spell-sword since she does not fit into really other archetype well, she wasn't designed to be any specific class either so makes it harder. If anyone has a better class name for her, I'd love to her it
“I am a girl, a fucking girl. Not a young lad, a grown ass woman. I’m sorry for not dressing like a harlot to make it easier for you to figure it out”
Merrifort, Merriweather Lake, Vallake, central Drasil.
A woman who stands at 5’8 with no noticeable curves or truly womanly features, a fact that has brought angst since adolescence, though she cannot be mistaken for a grown man she is often if not constantly confused for a “young lad” or a “pretty boy”. The small curves and chest she does possess is always draped under her baggy uniform that is designed for movement rather than sex appeal. Many wonder why Adelene with such a rage against the gender confusion does not grow out her chin length sand blonde hair, her response time & time again is that women with long hair become damsels in distress in fights and that it is just “fucking stupid” to risk having someone grab your hair. Her eyes are a stunning hazel which still does not gain her female status in those who do not hear her smooth voice, deep but distinctly feminine. Adelene walks with no sway unlike the women who enchant men with a hip dance, surprisingly though if one cares to look she does have a distinct waist; her gait is instead filled with confidence yet normally relaxed. Her clothing on a daily basis consists of her order’s uniform, a thick white blouse with loose sleeves for movement with a chainmail tunic underneath. Over the blouse she wears the order’s tunic royal blue with accents in a stunning gold, contrary to her order's name of "silver shield" however one notices that the lower ranks do indeed sport the silver and that the gold is simply for her a mark of her higher rank among her peers. Around her waist she ties a golden belt which generally hangs her signature weapon: The Chain of Veridian, a precious object she never leaves the young lady's side, along with that she often has a standard issue broadsword that is to go with her shield that holds the order's insignia though this shield is rarely brought used. Her tunic reaches around her knees but under it she wears blue pants(much easier to run in than a skirt) with the continued golden accent down the sides.
Her soldiers call her "the chain bitch of Besirioth" and they have a right to. She has a volatile personality, short tempered and considered harsh by many and even more frequently called a "bitch" though she doesn't mind, at least they got her gender right. She is honest and speaks her mind, not jumping awkward bushes in conversation. Though she is strict with her soldiers and takes no mistakes formality is not something she seems to be familiar with, it is just pointless words that make you gravel in her mind, what's the point? Due to this frame of thinking most think she is even ruder than she is. Generally though unless you hit one of her many nerves, she will treat you in return in how you treat her though it will be her own "messed up" version of such, those without thick skins for poking fun and sarcasm and the like may wish to steer clear of this woman as even in her nicest frame of mind she can still seem vile to those not accustomed to her ways. To her soldiers she may be harsh and the chain bitch of Besirioth, they know she is a strong leader who is working for what is considered a righteous cause and her heart is in for those causes. Those who see her temper may think she resorts to violence and is one where in every battle "killing is an option" will be surprised at her strict morals, killing is a last resort to her and violence besides a slap or a punch is just violence that will not solve whatever is the issue at hand.
To summarize Abelene: She's a loud volatile woman with essentially a "heart of gold".
Abelene carries with her an array of equipment. She wears a chainmail tunic under her uniform, like most of the order as well, along with a sturdy pair of boots. Among standard issue items include her broadsword, a weapon that doesn't get much action and generally stays at her waist or in hyperspace, along with her shield. She also carries a halberd with her incase she is forced into close combat and is rather good at it, more so than her sword and it is sometimes paired with her shield. An item most believe to be magical in some way or another are her glowing earrings...they're not, she just thinks they're pretty. Her one thing of mention and that which has made her infamous is her speciality weapon: The Chain of Veridian
Non-lethal fighting style: Her job is to arrest criminals and outlaws, to bring in those lawbreakers and bring them to justice not kill them as such her fighting style was developed to be non-lethal, it does do damage but it is designed to inflict wounds and to capture enemies. She has become an expert at this art and it is her signature style, her crowd control abilities and ability to make literal cages from The Chain of Veridian is how she has earned her title of "The Iron Imprisoner"
Telekinesis: The ability to control & manipulate objects with the mind. A skill Abelene seems to have been born with and has trained throughout her life, she can manipulate many objects at once currently but she has a number of restrictions. She is restricted in what she can manipulate at once, in the heat of battle though she can control a horde of chains she must be able to see them which does not even factor in how she is manipulating them(eg all doing the same thing, different groups doing different actions or all independent? The last course would be the most difficult & mind numbing of possibilities). When allowed to concentrate on one specific task she does not need to see, able to more "sense" what she is working with. Her strangest restriction is that she cannot affect other"living" things, humans, animals and even sentient creations like golems she cannot touch. It is unknown why sentient but quite "alive" creatures are included but it thought to be a loophole in whatever entity wrote the rules for her power. A similar loophole lets her still affect such creatures via using other items to control them. Not so much a restriction as a better way to cope in battle but for many moves involving the chain of Veridian need pre-battle planning and is what has gained her a list of named moves.
- Self-buffs: While she cannot affect other humans she can use her power on herself to basically give herself short timed buffs. She can make herself faster/more agile, hit harder among other uses to manipulate her very own body.
- Barriers: A higher form of manipulation than simply stopping a sword inches from her face. She can create a translucent but visible barrier around herself and others though is unable to use any other of her telekinesis powers with it as it takes all of her concentration.
- Mental defenses: She has limited defenses against those who would try & tap into her mind, mind readers, controllers and illusionists beware she will be a difficult target to control.
- Detection & Lock picking ectera: Due to being able to "feel" what she is doing when she is left to concentrate on one specific task she is able to pick locks & the like though she cannot detect magic spells put on such rigs. For detection it is a wide range "feel", letting her sense everything within an area even in the darkest night. This type of skill cannot be used in combat due to her being unaware of the rest of the world while in use.
- Combustion/Explosions/Crushing: A skill she rarely uses due to the violent and unpredictable nature of the outcome, however she knows how to do it from her days of experimenting with her skills.
The Chain of Veridian: A weapon she ordered special before joining the order, crafted by her father & mother and then enchanted by a man in Besirioth. The chain of Veridian is unique or so many believe, it is actually molded after an epic hero's weapon who it is named after. Lady Veridian lived several generations ago and was praised for her magical prowess and ability to mix it with weaponry, a style Abelene has obviously tried to copy from her hero. Though she is not the first to use such a weapon she has made it her own. The chain is simple on inspection, 4 ft long with a large arrowhead crafted onto the end the other is ended with a simply round ball that is less than half the size of her palm. The weapon has had a multitude of spells weaved into it including hardening and such, making it near unbreakable. When a fight begins the small ball extends and wraps around Abelene's wrists and from there the oddities continue. The chain can extend indefinitely it seems and actually multiplies itself, new heads branching off of the main chain and then continue branching from others in a never-ending cycle that Abelene controls. The chain is not enchanted to float or levitate which makes many wonder how Abelene can fight with such a weapon as in any other's hands it is useless, it was designed to be used with her innate gift for telekinesis. The "clones" of the original chain are not unbreakable like the original and so can be destroyed during battle, when they are destroyed they crumble away. It should also be noted it takes some magic from Abelene herself for every new chain created however it is a small burden to her to make as she has trained herself in it for years.
- Iron Imprisonment: Essentially making a cage of sorts to trap enemies however it can be switched for defense by "traping" Alebene herself.
- Puppetry: As she cannot control living creatures she has found a loophole, controlling them through puppetry. Using the chains she wraps an opponent and has the heads stick into the body, paining the victim into submission and to allow the chains an anchor. From there she can manipulate the body like a doll however the mind is unaffected and enemies can fight back though the pain can cloud the mind and make fighting back a difficult task. Additionally it has something of a time limit as Alebene does not wish to bleed to death her puppets so she is unable to use them for hours on end. This move is mostly to force an opposing side's ally into an enemy and force a draw of sorts even if they do not surrender she can use this chip to her advantage to capture her other targets.
- Gilded Labyrinth: Creating a maze of chains, the exact shape & look change with the battlefield and situation but generally put everyone at a stand still or helps control hordes. The walls of the labyrinth may spike out and attack. It is a move that can take time to prepare and execute though in it's most effective form she creates the labyrinth in a matter of seconds which can exhaust her. Often mixed with Iron Imprisonment to seal herself at the heart of the maze to allow herself to "sense" all within and attack accordingly. It has many variations and is mostly an umbrella term for when she summons many chains and makes them stationary on the battlefield in some way.
- Wall of The Defender: Exactly what it says on the tin. She creates a thick wall of chains.
Minor Healing Spells: Abelene is no proper healer but cannot argue the usefulness of the talent and has been study healing spells for several years. She has only achieved average results, she can stop the flow of blood and heal flesh wounds but internal damage to the organs or broken bones are beyond her. Even if she is able to stop the blood and close up a serious wound she is unable to guarantee they will live for another day. This magic takes time and is so best done after battle instead of mid.
Spearmen-ship/Swordman-ship: From a young age she had played with weapons, swords, staffs, spears of all kinds due to her parents both being blacksmiths. She would often help her brother in testing the weapon for balance and other factors while practicing her skills with him. The training to join the order increased her knowledge and she has become a formidable opponent with spear or blade though she is not a master and does prefer spears due to being able to keep an enemy at more than arm's length away.
Strict moral code, she will not kill unless it is literally the only option
Negotiations, she generally has other soldiers relay messages for her as in person it can get ugly quite fast.
Merrifort, a quiet & peaceful city on the Merriweather lake. Here is where Abelene grew up, running around her parent's shop or through the city streets. Her childhood was uneventful, no murder or injustice sent her crying to the Order of the Silver Shield to seek revenge on criminals. Her childhood was fairly normal: An older brother by 2 years, both her parents were blacksmiths who were fairly wealthy for their trade so her life was simple and had not the issues of poverty or the demands of royalty. People's gender confusion about her started at a young age, owning dresses and gowns she refused to wear as they were hard to run in and as such she ended up wearing her brother's hand-me-downs. One wonders if she had worn the dresses if her life would of played out different, if she would of ended up a rich housewife ... Abelene's dominant personality make her parents scoff at the thought though. With parents who could afford it both her brother and herself were taught basic academics including math & alchemy and all areas they thought needed to know to run the family business. Though reading & writing came with no troubles to the girl she was never fond of them, instead relishing in math and learning the blacksmith's trade specifically handling the weapons. Her brother on the other hand though considered a prodigy with a sword was the one with a love of books and at thirteen he set down the path of the scholar, eventually heading to the capital of Grayseal to study alchemy.
With puberty setting in Abelene finally took note of her tomboyish nature, not caring for her personality she was more outraged with how whatever damned gods decided to make her look like a young boy and it seems the Gods thought it was such a rich joke as for the gag to continue running to this day.
Going down the path of the blacksmith was obviously something that was never going to happen and without much hassle she was able to sign up for the Order of the Silver Shield at twelve years old. Her reasons for joining were simple, it was what all heroes do, the stories she had been told as a little girl had gone to her head and to do what was righteous to her was the obvious choice. Books and training later she was heartbroken to find she was not adapt at the elemental magics... or rune magics... or.... it felt like anything. After a year finally though something clicked and her path down to become a strong telekinetic user was set as it was the only magic she seemed to tune in with(She is still somewhat annoyed at this little fact as her hero Veridian was a mage with a large range of spells). Her fighting style was developed with training and trial & error, at fourteen she was finally allowed to actually work in the field and proved that her oddball style was perfect for a main aim of the order: Capture of wanted criminals so they may be prosecuted. The rest is history it seems as she claimed a reputation among Merrifort and was eventually assigned to the large city of Besirioth where people are always coming & going as a commander there. It took time but she gained a foothold in Besirioth as well, gaining respect despite the fact many of her peers wished to also slap her. As commander she has grown somewhat attached to her soldiers and to the fast paced city of Besirioth but one cannot ignore the queen's summons, even if you really don't want to go... which would be a lie to say as she jumped at the chance before she even finished the letter.
Originally Posted by ANMCName:
Ruins of Dyr, Tyvll
Savian favors his red cloak and solemn, strange mask. He is of an average height, standing close to six feet, with a medium build. Long of limb, slender, denoting his somewhat Elven heritage, kept fit by his constant days of traveling. Despite this fitness, one can notice a certain weariness in his motions and sluggishness. Behind his porcelain and golden mask, he is handsome; if haggard, his face being more smooth than one would expect, nearly devoid of errant stubble and bearing unremarkable proportions. His eyes are an electric blue that cast a soft glow from within the confines of his scarlet cloak coat; a cloak and heavy tunic worn over the light clothes he prefers. Covering his legs are loose, crimson trousers tucked into boots of gold. Golden, also are the plates on the back of his fingerless light gauntlets.
Savian is a quiet, thoughtful man. Not by choice, but by the inability to control his words. He is often at odds with the whispers in his mind, mistaking some of their whisperings for his own thoughts. However, that is not to say that his morals are ever in question. He is a helpful, considerate soul, who wishes to help those in need. An apt judge of character, he tends to despise those with excessively selfish desires. He is devoted to the little-revered goddess Phoranth.
Numbing Mask; This solemn mask is intended to numb him to the whispers in his mind, creating a kind of barrier between himself and his prophetic gift. It is a device of his own design, consisting of two separate parts; the first being the mask, which numbs the intensity of the voices...and the gold, which is a simple adornment. It is not enchanted beyond this and is an essential item for Savian to function without being overwhelmed. He considers it a part of himself and is rarely seen without it.
Prophetic Whispers; Maddening and ever present, Savian has learned to become a keen listener to the voices in his mind; picking up the information they divulge with eagerness. These voices, while muddled, often do not tell of events to come in the immediate future, but, instead, speak of times far ahead; every omen a portent into a future that may never exist.
Devoted Healer; Savian has spent much of his life employing the more positive facets of magic; using his ability to heal wounds and mend the broken. He is prodigiously skiled in this regard, capable of invoking and producing near miraculous effects in those that he tends to. He is capable of raising the recently deceased, but never engages in such a task; believing that a life ends when it is supposed to. Beyond this, he has little talent in any other form of magic.
What Is Lost; Savian slips further into the throes of his gift every day, losing pieces of himself as he is filled more and more with the whispers of coming doom. It torments him, degenerating his spirit and sanity. While he is currently in command of his faculties and actions, there may come a time where stress may force him to relenquish control; becoming a vessel for whatever forces guide him forward.
History: Tyvll is situated to the north of Drasil, separated from the Kingdom by a long expanse of flat, barren, some would say 'cursed' lands. It is a quiet, propsering place, despite the gloom that constantly looms overhead. It was just inside the lips of this land, in the Ruins of the Elven city of Dyr where Savian was born. An unfortuitous occurance, it seemed, his parents seeking shelter from an oncoming storm in what most locals refer to as the Ghost Hive; a place thick with the residual energies of the partially departed. Within, during his birth, again, an unfortuitous coincidence of circumstance, they were beset upon by the ravenous, life starved wraiths; his parents drained of their energies and left, lifeless husks, before the mewling babe.
When the morning came, he was taken by those who had come to pay their respects to the deceased; finding himself a secret orphan, taken in by a kindly couple...who discovered something rather disturbing about the boy as he had grown older. During his studies, he often commented that he felt strange whisperings in his mind; voices loud and soft, mingled in a cacophony of mixed instructions. His foster parents were disturbed by this information and had him examined by a local, well reputed wizard. It was suggested, by the mage, that the boy had been gifted with prophetic whisperings; and, perhaps, even visual clairvoyance.
Strangely, knowing the wizard's assessment, Savian did not leave his home for quite some time. Capitalizing on this peaceful period in his life to apprentice himself to the ways of healing and mending, strengthening and imbuing. His affinity for magic continued to grow, worming its way to the surface; giving his eyes a bright, ethereal cast, charged with bountiful energy. Things began to make themselves known to Savian; such as the fate of his parents...and the dark tides rising throughout the world. Though the information concerning what great threat loomed over the land was vague at best, whispered in Elven, Savian set out into the world; searching for answers he felt he already knew.
Since that time, he has grown into a capable wielder of 'white' magic; a potent healer and...some would say miracle worker. His prophetic gift become more unstable with each passing day, sometimes luring him into a deep trance; from which he is unshakable. Finding himself in the heart of Drasil, a land deceptively peaceful by nature, has left him with an unending supply of work and mystery as he attempts to unravel the tangled threads presented to him. It was there that he earned his monicker, gifted to him by the people of the Empire; mostly due to his uncanny gift and the sermons he preaches on the return of ancient, feral Gods...though he realizes that most consider the title to be a serious honor, he does not feel comfortable accepting that it is the entire truth. He is untrusted by the Drasilian nobility, having lost his good standing with them after proclaiming that he would not heal one of the Queen's dying children. Thereafter, he set about the far reaches of the lands; seeking to do what little he could to aid those in need.
He returns to Drasil with a sense of dread heavy in his heart.
Originally Posted by KayJay
Daughter of the Stormgod; called "Godsfire" by her people
Desert elf -- They Who Dwell At the Spire; a Wastedweller
Elementalist / Shaman / Druid
1587 years of age
The Erimikos Wastes - the Spire, Naropolis
To a large extent, Liadan is what one would expect when envisioning a Wastedweller. She carries herself well, her back straight and her movements graceful. Though generally she wears a patient, somewhat disappointed expression, she is quick to laugh, smile, and so on if the mood strikes her. Her voice is accented by the Wastedweller's tongue, and her long, pointed ears are pierced with the hoops and chains of her station. Dark eyes, skin, and hair leave little question to her heritage. Likewise, her hands are stained with the sacred white ink which marks her as a shaman of her people.
When thinking of the Wastedwellers, many people think of the hostile, cryptic, and stoic demeanor that 'dwellers have. To outsiders, Liadan is your average 'dweller. She speaks and carries herself with the grace and aloofness of a queen, giving the impression that she's lowering herself to converse with you. Her two thousand years of experience lends additional weight to her words, and her lack of worldly knowledge is outweighed by her nearly perfect knowledge of her people, and the magic she practices.
Among her own people Liadan's persona is much more approachable. She is the wise and gentle mother-leader, guiding her students and obediently heeding the words of her masters. Though dedicated to her own pursuits and studies, she makes time for those that seek her aid.
To her friends, those that she isn't a mother-leader or student to, her 'true' self shines through. A quicksilver temper - generally held under a tight rein - is allowed to have its head, and she doesn't hesitate to speak her true opinions. A voracious need for knowledge of all kinds, regardless of the taboos and beliefs about that knowledge, consumes her, and there is very little that she won't do to obtain what she wants. An iron will manifests, and she becomes a scholar, curious about everything that the world has to offer.
- Ceremonial hex blade
- Apothecary equipment / potions
- Kosmi-stone scythe
- Magic wielder ;; Having spent the past one and a half thousand years studying the magic of her people, Liadan is a fully realized shaman of the Wastedwellers. Her name is inscribed upon the walls of the Naropolis, and her hands are stained with the sacred inks. She can dominate the wills of animals, forcing them to obey her, look their their eyes and hear through their ears, and even take animal form herself. The elements bow to her will, and she can conjure fires and whirlwinds, move earth and water with only her will (and a reserve of mana).
- Apothecary ;; Though familiar only with the hardy plants that survive the wastes, Lia is an accomplished apothecary, well versed in the theory of creating potions.
- Mochi ;; The forms used by the shamans of the wastes, Mochi is a largely ceremonial martial art, used to compliment the meditative magics. It can be used in self defense, but Liadan is not well practiced in using her scythe in any form save for ceremonies.
- Wildwoman ;; Even without her magic, Lia is an accomplished horsewoman, falconer, and hunter. She has bred her own stock for nearly her entire life, and as such has a good knowledge of horse-, bird-, and dogstock. Growing up on the Spire meant that she spent much of her childhood clambering up and down the rocks, learning how to spot a snake hole, where the hawks and eagles nested, and so forth. In the Wastes, she not only survives - she thrives.
- Magic usage
- Extremely good control of her temper
- Largely ignorant of the world outside the Wastes
- Wary of / unfriendly towards non-Wastedwellers
- Lacks martial knowledge
Liadan Alear was raised as most orphans of the Spire were - her mothers were the shamans of the Naropolis, her siblings the other orphans. Her youth - all eighty years of it - was spent as a wild thing, going where she desired and doing whatever struck her fancy at the moment. Though the Daughters - the group of elder shamans, the teachers of the Spire - did their best to discipline her, Liadan was a less than willing student. She did learn, though slowly at first. By the time that she became a 'teenager' at the age of 120, her days wandering about as she willed were replaced more or less entirely with days spent reading, breathing, living the knowledge of the Daughters. The turn around was mostly attributed to her learning to read; once she discovered that she actually liked studying, her teachers were hard-pressed to keep up with her.
It was clear from a young age that Liadan would follow the path of the Daughters; when she was nearing her two hundredth year she received the mark of a novice shaman - the Skymother's rose on her right palm, the Earthfather's crescent on her left. From then on she was assigned to the various duties of a student shaman. Her first decade was spent in the gardens of the Spire, learning herblore and simply how to garden. The second and third decades were dedicated to the infirmaries of the Naropolis. After two more decades working with the herders that lived at the base of the Spire, she finished her fifty years of service and became an apprentice - adding a star to the crescent, and a thorn to the rose. Another one hundred and fifty years of dedicated work and she finally received the full intricate tattooing of a realized shaman. Her name was carved upon the wall of the Naropolis, and she began her service to the people.
That was how the next thousand years or so passed, more or less. She left the Spire, occasionally continuing her work with the herders, but never the Wastes. Instead she devoted herself to her people, and to her studies. Though wars were won and lost beyond the Waste's borders, it did not concern her or her people. The Spire was protected both magically and physically, and even if there had been an army capable of crossing it without Wastedweller guides - guides who would never allow an army to reach the Spire - they would find an army of shamans ready to call upon all of their considerable knowledge and magical ability to defend the Spire and her people.
The circumstances of her life changed some twenty years ago. A neighboring country decided that, difficulties or no, using magic and agricultural know-how, they would begin cultivating the Wastes. The Wastedwellers, like any other cultural group or country, took offense to their land being invaded. Liadan joined the resisting fighters, leaving the Spire behind to work magics against the invading, would-be settlers. For close to seventeen years she fought alongside other 'dwellers, utilizing her magics to sabotage the progressively heavier defended settlers and their farms. The only shaman among the fighters, she became recognizable in battle, taking the forms of the Waste's formidable predators. Against incredible odds she and the other 'dwellers have stalled the process of the settling effort. It's a slow fight to push them back, but some fifty-odd Wastedwellers are not much compared to a battalion of the invader's best.
Originally Posted by Rytak
Name: Kaahl Yidohuls (Caall Yee-doe-huls)
Race: Dark Elf
Class: Shadowstalker (Archer, Shadow Magic)
Birthplace: Maelsi, Principality of Houlmiiron
Appearance: Kaahl stands at 5'11, weighs approximately 160 lbs; this leaves him with a wiry, agile physique. He has fairly low body fat which leaves him with well defined, if somewhat slim, muscles. Like the majority of his species, his skin is an ashen blue and his hair is silver; generally he keeps his hair cropped to a few inches long. His eyes are amber colored. His facial features are smooth and soft instead of being sharp and angular. Most of Kaahl's clothing is human made. As a result it is significantly more modest than traditional dark elven attire.
Personality: The stereotypical dark elf is a stern, grim individual with little taste for humor or leisure. Kaahl is none of these things. He’s friendly, personable, comedic, laid back, and rather hedonistic. Many would call him lazy, as it generally requires delicious food, fine alcohol, beautiful women, or ample amounts of coin to motivate him into taking up a task. Even then, Kaahl is generally unwilling to perform strenuous physical labor.
However, there is another side to Kaahl. And that is an extreme level of pragmatism and very, very little morality. While he generally avoids unnecessary bloodshed, he has no qualms about utilizing murder to protect himself from threats, present or future. Over his lifetime, he has committed many gruesome crimes for his own benefit. Most don’t know this behavior; those that two find a very chilling difference between the willing murderer and the seemingly amiable comedic relief.
- One wooden recurve bow of dark elven origin. Stained black.
- One leather quiver, reinforced with iron.
- Thirty arrows. Ten steel broad heads. Twenty iron bodkin tips.
- Two small, hooked daggers. Black handles, white ivory embellishments on handle.
- One short side, similar to a rapier.
- One leather and steel brigandine vest. Burgundy in color.
- Leather armor with boiled leather reinforcements. Dark gray in color.
- Numerous leather pouches. Assorted objects
- Incendiary bombs. Readily ignites tinder, can burn skin.
- Smoke Bombs. Greenish smoke. Foul odor.
- Iron Caltrops. Very sharp.
Archery: Kaahl is a proficient archer, capable of hitting a non-moving target at 80 yards roughly 95% of the time; a target moving perpendicular will be hit roughly 70% of the time. When required, he can fire an arrow roughly once every 6 seconds.
Melee Ambushes: As a skilled ambusher, Kaahl can blind side a target and strike a killing blow before they can retaliate so long as he maintains the element of surprise. While extremely deadly, heavy armor poses a significant obstacle for this ability. Full plate armor is extremely difficult to bypass and, in many cases, make instant kills impossible.
Agile: Kaahl is incredibly agile and is capable of impressive acrobatics, such as scaling and vaulting walls with surprising ease. While this affords him great mobility in ranged combat, it also makes him quite difficult to hit in melee combat.
Fletching: He is capable of making his own arrows if provided with arrow heads. However his arrows are generally inferior to that of a professional Fletcher due to a lack of practice and proper tools.
Black Arrow: This allows Kaahl to infuse a physical arrow with malignant shadows, which will attack enemies that it hits, or hits near to. The shadows attack by binding an trying to choke their enemies. These shadows can be stopped by dispersing them. At present, he is capable of firing about five black arrows before being unable to meld shadows any further.
Cloak of Darkness: This ability allows Kaahl to surround himself in a silhouette of black energy. This has the effect of making Kaahl almost impossible to see while hiding in a shadow, as both his shape and color are masked. Standing still, this ability can last up to ninety seconds; firing arrows, around thirty; and if in a dead sprint, the ability will overtax Kaahl’s concentration in about seven seconds. At his current level, this ability is useless without a pre-existing shadow to hide in.
Engulfing Veil: Kaahl creates generates magical shadows that fill the area and obstruct line of sight for everyone, incuding himself, caught within as well as generating concealing noise. While within, Kaahl can use the shadows to feel enemies and objects that the shadows touch as well as restoring them should they be dispersed. If Kaahl leaves the shadows, they will quickly fade.
Shadow Decoy: By using Cloak of Darkness and then create a second silhouette of darkness, Kaahl can create a rather effective decoy. The decoys can be programmed to do simple commands, such as running in a certain direction or pretending to attack at melee range, however they cannot be reprogrammed. Physical attacks do nothing to these decoys as they are entirely intangible and they cannot physically interact with material objects or people. Additionally, they don’t generate normal sounds, such as footsteps. Magic can be used to disperse them and destroy them.
Malignant Decoy: Extremely similar to Shadow Decoy in use and functionality, except they are made up of the same shadows as Black Arrow and Void Arrow. They can be used to bind and attack targets at close range instead of simply providing a distraction as well as firing Void Arrows. This ability is significantly more strenuous than shadow decoy and maintains the same limitations as its parent skill.
Empty Arrow: Appears similar to Black Arrow or Void Arrow in appearance, but cannot deal actual damage. It's much cheaper than having Decoys use Void Arrow and can be used to trick the enemy into focusing on the wrong target or to fool them into a false sense of security.
Void Arrow: An upgraded form of Black Arrow that doesn’t require a physical arrow to manifest itself too. In effectiveness, it is almost identical to black arrow, save for the fact it doesn’t require ammunition, can be fired by shadow decoys, and can be fired in volleys.
Shadow Walk: Kaahl’s ultimate melee ability. By combining Engulfing Shadows and Multiple Shadow Decoys, he can quickly throw an enemy off balance long enough to deliver a precise strike to one or many enemies. This attack is extremely difficult to stop without magical assistance. However it is extremely taxing on Kaahl as it utilizes two extremely difficult techniques in quick succession. Additionally, it is easily countered outside, as the opponents can simply retreat from the shadow. In cramped interiors, however, this ability is devastating.
- Weak Melee (Except Ambushes)
- Weak Armor
- Specialized Abilities
History: Kaahl Yidohuls was born in Maelsi, a small dark elven town that was located in the Kingdom of Houlmiiron. The first century and a half of Kaahl’s life is mostly unknown, but it’s known he was taught archery and some magic fundamentals by his parents. Around 180 years ago, Roulaethus, a neighboring dark elven nation, declared war on Houlmiiron and invaded in force. During this so-called “Dark Elven Civil War”, Maelsi was razed to the ground by the invading army.
With his home destroyed and most of his friends and family dead or captured, Kaahl immediately enlisted in the Houlmiiron Army as a marksman; a role that quickly earned him in the hatred of Roulaethus after slaying more than a dozen of their officers. However, despite the valiant efforts of Houlmians, the war was lost and the capital was sacked by the invading army. Despite the war’s end and the kingdom’s annexation, neither Roulaethus’s officials still desired revenge on Kaahl. Facing the possibility of death or torture, he committed one last act for his country by assassinating the new military governor of Houlmiiron, along with his young son and daughter, before fleeing for human-held lands.
Over the next (nearly) two hundred years, Kaahl freelanced himself as a mercenary of sorts. Sometimes he killed bandits, sometimes he rescued children, sometimes he preformed hits for organized crime. With very little in the way of a moral compass, Kaahl simply did was brought him coin.
Originally Posted by Mammon
Name: Ankou Badbh
Title: Banshee of the Wailing Sand Rocks
Race: Undead, formerly a desert elf
Gender: Female (though she considers all undead to be innately genderless; gender is for the fertile and the living)
Age: 1700 years dead, though she lived to be 382 prior to her rebirth
Birthplace Deathplace: The Wailing Sand Rocks, Hatavori Desert
Since she has long felt the cool embrace of death, the Banshee of Wailing Sand Rock has a similar form and smell to that of a mummified cadaver; clinging to her skeleton like rotten fruit, her flesh is dry and wrinkled. Ankou's eyes have long since rotted away--the eyes being so full of life and fluid--leaving empty black sockets occupied only by the glow of her undeath. The lich's hair is ravendark and dry--unwashed for nearly two millennia. However, this is merely her corporeal body.
As she is unbound by physical form (save the amulet which anchors her spirit to this realm), she can leap from body to body. Her spiritual form retains all of her former beauty and supple appearance, much to her dismay; in actuality, this is intangible. Despite her hatred of this ghost-like manifestation, she frequently uses her ethereal loveliness to attract unsuspecting victims to her lair.
Personality: She is callous and cruel; the Banshee takes great delight in the suffering of others and herself. Her sadomasochism is limited, however, to nonsexual exploits; she considers it an abomination for the dead to partake in any actions reserved for those of reproductive capability. This extends not only to the dead, but to all those infertile or not yet of sexual maturity. Despite her complete asexuality, she frequently uses the captivating appearance of her incorporeal spirit to lure men into eternal undead servitude (though she finds this disgusting, she does what she must). Selfish and immoral, she frequently enjoys the misfortunes of others, and is slow to help even her closest of allies unless there is sufficient benefit to her. Ankou Badbh has a deep-rooted possessiveness and obsession with maintaining her physical body; even the slightest risk to it sends her into a flight of rage and panic. She is weary of leaving her lair for even the most important of tasks, and leaves most of her undead minions behind to guard her body. The Banshee has never used her own physical form to depart Wailing Sand Rock, instead possessing another undead minion for the duration of her adventures.
- Twin steel war scythes
- Embalming tools and supplies
- Scrolls and tomes of necromancy
- Bronze chestplate
- Chain-mail shirt and underskirt
- Purple cloak and skirt
- Ravenfeather mantle
- Gemmed circlet and necklace
- Bronze and hardened leather greaves and bracers
- Leather sandals
- Amulet of the Banshee Lich [magical] - Binds her soul to the corporeal plane; she cannot be killed unless the amulet is destroyed
- Sirensong: entices all men who hear it to blindly follow her
- Banshee wailing: deafens, stuns, or causes enemies to flee in terror
- Intangibility [passive]: cannot be damaged by physical or elemental attacks, or even touched by them
- Flight [passive]: can glide swiftly over or through any surface that is not protected by holy magic
- Soul Scrying: can see through the eyes of ghosts, undead, or other like spirits (though can only see physically, not sense motives or emotions)
- Possession: Can possess the physical bodies of the undead or a willing live host
Ankou Badbh's physical form:
- Necromancy: can raise the dead
- Undead strength [passive]: possesses inhuman strength when using her own body
- Command of the undead: can persuade most undead to fight on her behalf, including zombies, mummies, ghosts, and other spirits
- Scythe mastery [passive]: is proficient in using and wielding scythes
- Mace mastery [passive]: is proficient in using and wielding maces
- Undead [passive]: immune to diseases and poisons
- Spellcasting: can learn and cast magic spells
+Shadowbolt - hurls a bolt of shadowy energy at an opponent
+Curse - curses an opponent, giving them the effects of severe old age
Possessed minion form:
- Clouded mind [passive]: prevents others from detecting her presence while possessing a body; this also makes it harder for her to focus
- Spellcasting: can learn and cast magic spells
+Shadowbolt - hurls a bolt of shadowy energy at an opponent
+Curse - curses an opponent, giving them the effects of severe old age
- Scythe mastery [passive]: is proficient in using and wielding scythes
- Mace mastery [passive]: is proficient in using and wielding maces
- Unbound by morality
- Sadomasochistic (even toward allies)
- Loathes hypersexuality
History: Ankou Badbh was born into a nomadic tribe of desert elves which inhabited ancient Hattavori. Her life was spent working as an apprentice to a singer and spellcaster by the name of Ytriri Scoll. Young Ankou had always had a bizarre fascination with death and the occult, and it wasn't long past her 100th year of life when she began to experiment in necromancy. In spite of her families' strong distaste for her work, Ankou Badbh began the tedious job of mummifying and burying the dead. After she successfully resurrected her fallen lover, an act punishable by death by her people, she was sentenced to stoning at the mere age of 382. They carried her--kicking and screaming--to the top of barren mountain, re-slayed her love, and buried her alive under the weight of exactly one thousand stones. Fortunately, the young necromancer had the foresight to bind her soul to the amulet she wore around her neck. Instead of merely dying, Ankou continued on in a state of undeath, buried and shrieking, for hundreds of years.
Her screaming and writhing attracted the attention of none other than Gahris Ghal, who exhumed her corpse and required her undying servitude as recompense. He put her to work raising undead monstrosities to fortify his horde, and gifted her with various scrolls and a necromantic grimoire. Gharis and Ankou departed ways, but not before he vowed to return her to his service should the need arise. The Banshee of Wailing Sand Rock set herself to constructing fortifications for her home, breathing unholy life into dead servants. Beneath the very rocks under which she was crushed for so many years, she built a crypt: a sandstone and brick fortress which houses her corporeal body, and the dust of her long-deceased lover. It focused as the beginnings of an undead army, an army she was building for none other than the Gahris Ghal who had freed her so many centuries ago. She trained her mind and her body to be a weapon, as well as the supernatural voice she learned to wield.
Originally Posted by RytakName: Yala
Title: The Bloodthirster, Berserker, The Juggernaut
Class: Blood Knight, Berserker
Age: Mid teens, appears approximately 20 years old.
Birthplace: Albiren, Northern Drasil
Appearance: Yala stands around 5’5 and weighs roughly 140 lbs. Despite what the numbers would otherwise suggest, she is quite skinny, yet shows considerable muscle development throughout her body. Her pale completion is covered in several dozen scars of various origins, including welts, burns, and cuts; all of which are several years old. She has black, often unkempt hair that reaches her shoulder blades. Her irises are red and she has faint bags beneath her eyes. Her facial features are generally considered rather pretty, however her unsedated bloodlust often make for a terrifying visage. She has unusual prominent incisors for a human.
Her attire is specially suited for hand to hand combat. It incudes a white, short-sleeve tunic; a tan vest that reaches below her hips; near-near length, black tights; ankle high, leather boots, and a black collar around her throat. In addition, she wears specially designed braces on her elbows and knees that protect her joints from both blows and overflexation. In addition, the elbow braces provide an anchoring point for her arm shackles. When sedated and restrained, she is generally made to wear an iron mask to prevent biting, two large steel shackles that encase her entire forearms and restrict the use of her hands, and ankle shackles that limit her step. To prevent unwanted attention, she’s usually covered with a large brown cloak that hides her bindings and face.
When sedated, Yala is quiet and withdrawn. She will generally sit or lay in one spot and curl herself into a ball unless otherwise restrained. During these times, it is generally safe to be around unless a strong stimuli is applied, such as being touched by someone she isn't fond of or seeing blood. In this state, she will follow very basic commands like stay or follow. However she's incapable of completing tasks that require any thought; such as finding a location. When the sedation is at its maximum, in which case she'll generally appear to be convulsing and will be completely unresponsive to any outside stimuli. While effective, this level of sedation is taxing to her mind and body and necessitates rest. As such, it is ill-suited to long term sedation.
However, when Yala isn't sedated, she is overwhelmingly violent and consumed with bloodlust. She has an intense urge to kill, an urge that is only tempered in the rarest of situations. Yala revels in dealing and receiving pain. As a result, not only does she drag out her fights to prolong the euphoria, her fighting style is based around causing immense amounts of pain before death. She will readily break limbs, crush organs, or mutilate opponents before letting them die slowly from blood loss. So great is Yala's bloodlust that she'll even attack her handler when there isn't anyone to fight.
In combat, Yala exhibits strong cannibalistic tendencies. Part of this is practical, as her Blood from Mana technique allows her to rejuvenate her mana stores. However it is readily apparent that she takes some level of enjoyment from the act itself. Most commonly, Yala will bite into her opponent’s jugular vein, allowing her quick access to blood in addition to inflicting an often mortal wound. However she doesn't limit herself to this; eating an opponent’s eyes, heart, or face is not uncommon for her. Rarely will she consume muscles.
Rarely, Yala will develop an obsession with certain adversaries. The triggers are varied and are known to include smells she finds pleasant such as blood or holy incense, blood she finds delicious, or a level of strength capable of matching her in battle.
Yala has unusual behavior regarding physical touching. Even sedated, she dislikes being touched by men with a few exceptions. However in contrast, she will often touch her enemies, or more commonly her victims, rather inappropriately regardless of their gender. On numerous occasions, she has embraced her victims as they bleed to death. In the case of female opponents, she seems almost compelled to touch them inappropriately in what appears to be learned behavior.
When she is not with her handler, Yala is sedated, restrained, and kept locked in a reinforced cell. She has, throughout the years, killed a dozen of the House's men and women, including few previous handlers.
Equipment: As a result of her bare handed, berserker fighting style, Yala has no real equipment. The only recognizable items she is seen with are her restraints and her control collar.
The restraints are heavy steel shackles that enclose her entire forearm, weighted shackles around her ankles, and a slotted mask that is bound to her head with a leather belt.
However the real restraint is her control collar, which can either paralyze her with intense agony or sedate her with physical pleasure and mental euphoria. Generally, the former is used to stop her while the latter keeps her manageable outside of combat. However, her arm shackles, can be used as weapons to increase the damage of her hits at the cost of being unable to grab anything.
Because she enjoys the pain she receives in battle, she refuses to wear any sort of armor.
The magical rod used to control her collar is a simple, black cylinder with glowing green runes. One end of the rod can be turned. Squeezing the rod will cause incredible agony, enough to cause Yala to lose control of her body despite her masochism. Turning the end of the rod controls Yala's sedation level. Her handler's rod is tuned specifically to her collar, although the House has several Universal Rods that work on all collars within a limited range. Yala's rod, however, can work even miles away.
Barehanded Fighting Style: Yala’s fighting style is heavily oriented around upper body techniques, such as punches or throws, over kicks or holds. Her style shows very little refinement and only rarely does she dodge strikes, instead preferring to block or take the blow, or use techniques like arm bars. Instead she uses her brute strength and incredible speed to overwhelm opponents. Although she is very capable of killing enemies outright in a handful of blows, Yala’s sadomasochism invariably leads to her dragging out her fights by slowly crippling enemies. She readily breaks bones, ruptures organs, and cause immense agony on her opponents.
Sadomasochist: Yala is addicted to both giving and receiving pain. She enjoys making her opponents suffer and her combat style reflects that. To her, even the crippling pain of her control collar, which causes the body to stop responding, is pleasurable to her. Only being physically crippled will cause her to stop her assaults.
Self Regeneration: In order to prolong her ability to fight, Yala has very potent self-healing spells. She can rebuild crushed organs in seconds, reattach limbs, and regenerate torn muscles near instantly. However, this ability is expensive magically and the nature of her fighting style leads to her utilizing it often. She can regenerate limbs, if need be. However the process does not copy the runic inscriptions on the bones and is extremely expensive magically. If the limb is reduced to just bone, she can still regenerate it the muscle and skin. Assuming she remains conscious and temporal lobe isn’t destroyed, Yala can regenerate parts of her own brain. However, information lost to the damage is not and cannot be restored. Should the damage to her brain, chiefly the temporal lobe, be catastrophic, Yala’s personality and memory could be completely erased.
It should be noted that Yala does not understand the mechanisms of her regeneration abilities. Her knowledge of the techniques is entirely based upon muscle memory. Therefore she cannot teach or refine these abilities. Lastly, none of her healing abilities work on others.
Runic Empowered Skeleton: In order to make her harder to kill, her bones were physically imbued with magical runes that make them incredibly hard to break; significantly stronger than steel in fact. In the event that they are broken, they can be effortless returned to their original state. It is virtually impossible to shatter her bones into shards, although they can snap with sufficient force.
Mana from Blood: By consuming the blood and flesh of her living enemies, Yala is capable of restoring her own mana levels. Mages and elves are generally more effective at doing so than regular humans. This effect isn’t instantaneous however, it may take up to five minutes for the mana to be restored. Additionally, Yala is picky and will generally refuse to drink “disgusting” blood.
Self Regenerating Heart: In the event that her heart is damaged, it will begin self regenerating without her intervention thanks to a rune tattooed on her heart. Additionally, her heart will automatically resume beating even if it is impaled or she is unconscious. However, it cannot remove an object imbedded in it and while it will still beat, it will do so at greatly reduced effectiveness. This is negated if her heart is physically removed from her body or if the entire runic tattoo is incinerated. Although Yala can still regenerate her heart without the rune, her ability to do so is limited by the amount of time she can stay conscious without blood flow to the brain.
Berserker’s Rage: Generally, Yala has mental restraints on her physical strength; in order to prolong her battles. However, should she become enraged, her mental limits are lifted and her strength and speed increase massively. She loses her sadistic nature of inflicting pain and slow death on enemies; instead she finishes them with quick, brutal blows that devastate the human body.
- Extremely powerful melee combatant
- Incredible healing abilities give great durability and battlefield staying power
- Excellent physical strength, speed, and endurance
- Refuses to wear armor
- Sadomasochism leads to prolonged battles
- Insane and extremely violent. Must be watched by a handler and sedated outside of combat.
- Easily stopped with her control collar and control rod.
- Gives no thoughts to tactics. Easily drawn into traps and ambushes. Charges head long at enemies regardless of odds.
- No offensive abilities aside from fists.
Yala was born in Albiren, a small town in northern Drasil. According to House of Inorad, a secret organization responsible for child soldiers and human trafficking, Yala murdered her parents at age six in an early fit of bloodlust. Sensing a potential asset, the House faked her death and covered up the murder with a house fire. Under the care of the House, she was physically and mentally abused until she was indoctrinated into loyalty towards the house by a man she refers to as Master. While the acts committed upon her are unspeakable, her behavior offers insight into what might’ve occurred. For the next several years she was taught how to fight, how to kill, and how to heal herself.
After a rapid and precocious puberty was forcibly induced, which caused her to reach physical adulthood at the age of nine, her bones were physically engraved and her heart was tattooed with runes in order to bolster her physical form. Various philters were used to rapidly condition her body with immense strength and endurance.
By the time the process of modification, teaching, and indoctrination was finished, Yala had become a monster in mind, body, and soul. However in the eyes of the House of Inorad, Yala is a failure. She is loyal only to her trainer, whom she calls master, instead of the House itself. Additionally, her stalwart refusal to utilize weapons or armor hampers her combat effectiveness in their eyes. Despite this, they consider her an incredibly powerful asset despite her flaws. However her unstable behavior has been somewhat costly to the House. She has killed two of her previous handlers and mutilated at least one of her room guards. Because of this, she is kept restrained and sedated in a reinforced cell whenever she isn’t being utilized by the House.
To the House, Yala is a human weapon; a monster to be unleashed when everything needs to die. For whatever purpose, they have allied themselves with the ancient Gahris Ghal. As a symbol of their alliance, they have given him access to their many human weapons, including Yala.
Ways of Defeating:
Her regeneration makes her very hard to kill, however it isn't perfect. She still requires a beating heart to stay conscious and an intact brain. If she isn't conscious, she cannot heal herself. Brain death cannot be reversed for her. Therefore, the following methods are useable to kill her.
- Physically annihilate her heart or remove it from her body. Destroying the runic tattoo is also effective if the damage to the heart cannot be regenerated before she loses consciousness.
- Destroy her brain. Without conscious thought, she will be unable to regenerate tissue. Even if regenerated by external means, traumatic enough brain damage could cause personality and memory loss. However, like the rest of her bones, her skull is extremely strong. Additionally, significant damage to her temporal lobe may cause her to lose her muscle memory and make her unable to use her regeneration. This however is unreliable given the chance effects of such an injury.
- Render her unconscious long enough for her to bleed to death. This requires blood flow to the brain to cease.
- Drain her mana reserves with prolonged combat. Without mana, she cannot regenerate injures or restore her stamina. At this point, standard forms of damage will kill her.
- Although extremely difficult because of her steel-strength bones, cutting off all her limbs is enough to stop her from attacking. This is unlikely to kill her, as she can stop the bleeding via magic. However she will likely be unable to reattach her own limbs.
- Trap her in a high level barrier. She has no magical dispels or cancellation abilities. If she cannot break it with raw strength, she will be trapped without her handler’s assistance.
- Acquire her control rod or a universal control rod effectively stops her in her tracks, allowing her to be sedated with ease.
Originally Posted by AttilaName: Kovgor Tuvr'heim
Title: Slayer of Kal-Shal-Vordor, Scourge of the North Barrows, Bane of Orcs, Honorary Centurion and General of the 95th Dwarven Auxiliary Brigade
Birthplace: The Dwarven capitol of Grozkorod
Personality: Kovgor applies the no-nonsense methods he had learnt in the dwarven military to much anything in life. Speaking in a laconic, riddled with the lingo of his trade, he fervently believes that anything and everything can be overcome, given the right kind of nudge in the right kind of place. Sometimes a bit more than a nudge; liberal application of violence being one of his pride joys in life, Kovgor actively looks for opportunities to apply his craft -either as a threat, or as practice. He is the silent dog that prefers to bite instead of bark, but he will never gloat or succumb to vainglory, as he holds that like his weapons and armor, he too must be kept tempered and sharp lest he break.
Equipment: 4 Throwing Axes (can also be used in melee); 1 Pick Axe (one side axe blade, one side pick); 1 Dwarven Tower Shield; 1 Maul.
[magic item]: Enchanted family heirloom phial, containing a semi-sentient liquid that, when poured on a metallic object, will mend any metal and reforge it before returning into its phial. It doesn't seem to take any of the required materials from anywhere, but it is somehow able to tell what the material is that it needs to perform its task, and then creates that material in the required amount. However, it only seems to do this no more than once a day, becoming rested after each dawn, before which time the spent liquid will refuse to be removed from the phial by all means.
- Smithing - able to craft, repair and maintain most forged arms and armor.
- Axe Training - able to wield hatchets, axes and great axes.
- Hammer Training - able to wield maces, hammers and mauls.
- Shield Training - able to use round, kite and tower shields.
- Heavy Armor Training - able to wear, move and fight in plate armor.
- High constitution and general resilience against the elements
- Excellent tactical awareness, able understand a situation and immediately find openings
- Has training in applying and resisting torture
- Bad at judging distances, therefore all ranged weapons and particularly siege weapons get a malus
- Runs out of breath sooner if he has to run (as compared to a human)
- A lot of time at the anvil rendered him partially deaf
Kovgor was born the son of Strovas Tuvr'heim by Yngvitt, his fourth wife by name. The Tuvr'heim are a clan of renowned smiths and craftsmen that trace their lineage thousands of years and are counted among the dwarven noble houses. By tradition, he spent his early years mastering the craft of his clan, learning smithing, casting, forging as well as prospecting. By age fifteen, he could reliably craft, mend and repair practically any item, his hands had developed a fine aptitude for working with metals and his eyes could easily distinguish the finest of motions needed at just the right time and temperature.
He was then apprenticed under Paragon Hrulmn Tuvr'heim, his father's cousin, twice removed. Upon completing his apprenticeship of seven years, Kovgor forged his first masterpiece, which he presented to the High Seat of Smiths: a richly adorned, yet incredibly sturdy shield, embellished with the long history of his noble family. The High Seat anointed him as a certified dwarven smith and the shield went on to decorate the wall of Kodras Tuvr'heim himself. Kovgor then went into the service of the dwarven warrior caste, supporting the troops with his craft throughout the Baelm's Hold, Tyr's Onslaught and Skadi's Redoubt campaigns in the North Barrows. Occasionally, the enemy would strike behind our lines and Kovgor would be found fending them off with freshly-forged weapons, curbing any attempt to loot the dwarven caches and biding time for our counterattack. Repeatedly, Kovgor demanded to be stationed closer to the fighting, but his requests have been continually denied.
Finally, it was during the final battle of Skadi's Redoubt, when Skadi Ulnirsvarr himself fell, that Kovgor Tuvr'heim's skills as a commander came into play when he rallied the demoralized troops who then held the line until they ultimately routed the enemy's forces. After this report, the Dwarven Council decreed that Kovgor be instated as a Combat Officer, circumventing the traditional promotion from the ranks of a foot soldier. This caused an uproar among the senior members of the warrior caste, but his family and many of the men of his unit successfully lobbied to account this as an extraordinary circumstance, as without Kovgor, the Skadi's Redoubt would have fallen and dwarven campaign plans would have been set back by a year or more.
Kovgor, in his new position rapidly ascended through the ranks, preferring to lead from the front; his aggressive tactics not having gone unnoticed. He claims that his keen eye helped spot vulnerabilities in the enemy's ranks, which he then quickly exploited with overwhelming force. By then, he had completed his first tour of duty, and as he was an officer, he was assigned his first unit: the 95th Dwarven Auxiliary Regiment. Calling it a regiment was generous, as was calling Kovgor its general. It would take time to form the unit, however, which Kovgor made use of by enrolling in the best military academy the dwarven realm had to offer -Stozvar Korad. Located atop the highest peak of the dwarven lands, students here would study in isolation, learning the deepest secrets of warfare, derived from millennia of collected dwarven knowledge. Kovgor made an announcement that he is to publish a book on his tactics and how they fit into existing dwarven combat strategic paradigms.
When the news from the queen of Drasil came, the Dwarven Council decreed that they should send and envoy to represent their interests, in the hope that their involvement would garner greater political sway in the human court in the future. The noble houses drew straws and Tuvr'heim drew the shortest. Kodras Tuvr'heim, the head of the house, went home dejected, but upon seeing the beautiful shield Kovgor had crafted for his graduation as smith, was struck by inspiration. He bid his second eldest son, Strovas Tuvr'heim. Strovas then bid Kovgor Tuvr'heim, as he was the second son of his fourth wife, instructing him that he is to undertake this quest on behalf of the dwarven realm.
Kovgor accepted, though begrudginly, as this meant that he would have to discontinue his studies for the time being, but he did as he was bid for he knew that his prowess was sufficient so as not to bring shame upon the dwarves; and he was also expendable enough should he fail.
Name:Originally Posted by HekazuLemir
Spellsword, as in a sellsword with spells
Male, although sterile
In a small cave in the general vicinity of Bellecoast
Lemir is a sight nobody expects to see daily. At first glance he looks like a human with a rather bad posture, but if you look at him for a second longer you start noticing things. First of all, his hair shines constantly and sticks to itself, always looking wet. This is due to the fact his neck-length light brown hair is constantly slimy. His face appears normal enough, if not the exceptionally large light blue irises that take up almost all of his visible eye. No beard or moustache has ever grown on his face, and likely never will. Under the clothing he wears, Lemir is slightly muscular in appearance and he has fins growing on some parts of his body, most notable being the three larger ones that cross his back vertically for some reason (no merman has them, so why does he?). Other fins worth mentioning include the ones between his fingers and how his legs look like he'd be wearing flippers all the time, the latter taking away the possibility to pretty much ever wear shoes. As for his clothes, he usually dons a belted light brown tunic that seems fairly normal even against his slightly shiny and green-ish skin, his pants being plain white trousers out of cheap cloth. Even though he has had the money to invest in clothing, Lemir has never done so, as unsurprisingly most of his 'jobs' take place in or near water, a place where clothes are only a hindrance.
Also, I wanted to give you all the possibility to hear the voice I've thought would fit him! So here you go, a few voiceclips to demonstrate how he sounds in different situations:
As someone of a whole different breed to the people around him, an abomination, Lemir didn't exactly grow to be very social. Instead, he prefers to keep contact with humans and mermen in bare minimum. He is also quick to judge whole races by the first thing said by the first encountered individual of said race... or in other words, he places way too much pressure on the first impression. So far, he has found (regular) elves to be more tolerant than anything else he has met so far.
But when it comes to solving things, Lemir usually tries his best to dodge such things, asking as many questions as possible beforehand. If problem solving is absolutely needed, he is on the same level as your average human, but only under high pressure as otherwise he won't bother to try.
Tradewind - A magical cutlass that carries some of the properties of saltwater enhanced, for example repeated strikes made with this weapon will cause metallic equipment to rust quickly and wounds made with the weapon WILL hurt for a good while. Salt in wounds isn't a saying for nothing!Lemir cannot actually cry himself as his lachrymal ducts do not bring out enough tears for that (barely enough for keeping his eyes hydrated), but the sword will start "crying" for him on those moments, as drops of saltwater will roll down the blade, appearing from within the magically imbued metal.
In addition to tradewind and his clothes, Lemir only owns a small lucky talisman he obtained while gambling during his first twenty years. Any kind of value in said trinket is more than likely sentimental. No other specifications of the talisman are given, as it'd be fun if someone wanted their character to recognise the talisman as a symbol of something... PM me if you want to collaborate something on that! (Assuming I'm accepted)
Water manipulation: Most of Lemir's magic is focused on water and the manipulation of said substance. While this makes him an extremely dangerous opponent in middle of sea, he isn't too big of a threat in dryer environments. However, he is perfectly capable of pulling water from within the ground (not through solid rock of course!) to cause geyser-like bursts that knock his opponents off their feet if not more... assuming there is water to be found there, the range of his 'pull' is not limitless! How long it takes to perform these spells depends entirely on the time it takes to collect water from the surroundings. He has practised this art of magic extensively for all his lifetime after his 32nd birthday, with the peak of his prowess being an upside-down whirlpool on the deck of a ship he was hired to help sink. Even though mostly used destructively, nothing stops Lemir from calling some water to quench the thirst of people.
Lemir's magic relies heavily on gestures to work. This is evident when you see him casting spells on dry land, as Lemir repeats a pulling gesture like he was dragging something, and then spins his arm from the peak of this pull in a circle behind his back, rising it palm first in front of him. That is when the burst of water will erupt from the ground. As for other spells the gestures vary, but they always look like he'd be giving directions to water or alternatively forcefully moving the water in a way he wants to. Once one has seen him perform a couple spells, they usually become aware of what's going to happen next/soon. While casting spells Lemir also keeps repeating a few chants in his mind, which change depending on the type of water (seawater, saltwater, groundwater, springwater, etc.). If he gets the chant wrong, nothing will happen. Also, Lemir needs to estimate the amount of water he has collected so far as there is no way of seeing that, causing him to need a little practise in new environments before reaching his full potential.
Swordplay: Lemir has a different fighting style when compared to the most, but the main difference is something as trivial as to have him hold his cutlass in a slightly tilted position, unable to wrap his hand around the handle completely. Due to this, he has a few extra straps on the handle to keep the blade within his grip. The attacks he uses consist mostly of quick but accurate slashes wherever he gets an opportunity, not favouring any body parts in this process, causing his versatile style to bring the weaknesses of his enemies defence into their attention... but rarely do they survive to improve their style. Lemir also prefers to stay as stationary as possible, having lots of experience in parrying so called 'gapclosers' and then punishing his enemies for this. On the other hand, he has not really encountered enemies that wanted to fight like him, so his style has developed against a rather small group of people and although highly effective against them, won't do much good when the enemy fights differently.
Swimming: Well, that's a no brainer... as a half-merman with fins around his body, Lemir is an excellent swimmer and a diver, this further enhanced by his water manipulation which lets him to travel 'downstream' all the time. He can easily hold his breath for two minutes, add a half on top of that to find his absolute limit, but with his speed that time is usually more than enough. In addition to his quick speed whilst underwater, Lemir has no trouble keeping his eyes open in any kind of water, granting him the much needed eyesight in the great speeds he travels. His current speed record sits at 44km/h, although the pressure it had on his body and most notably eyes was uncomfortable.
- Defensive combat
- Movement is sluggish on solid ground
- Extremely vulnerable to/in dry environments
- Offensive combat
Before we can even discuss the birth and life of Lemir, we will have to take a look at how this kind of a mutant/abomination/whatchamacallit could have born in the first place. Quite frankly, the surprise was not received well by either race. It all started when a human wizard of questionable intentions had taught a well known bandit the spell of breathing underwater for a considerable sum of money. Said bandit went off to hide from the law, retiring from his shady business now that he had obtained everything he could possibly want... although we can question all the talk about retiring as he still robbed a multitude of buildings to keep himself satiated, as diet of seaweed and (mostly) raw fish was not up to his tastes. But no more focus on things mundane, as we are here for Lemir. Well, the bandit decided it would be a fun way to spend time trying to woo a mermaid, and eventually he actually succeeded. After one night, the contents of which I cannot possibly write onto this page, the life of the creature we'd later know as Lemir started. Nothing was noticed at first, but once the mermaid started having rather odd symptoms she told her kin about this one night, and was exiled. The bandit didn't get off the hook either, as the next time he traversed too close to the nest of the mermen he was ruthlessly executed for the act he had committed. Lemir's mermaid mother gave birth to him near the surface in one of the caves that have an underwater entrance near Bellecoast, to make sure her child could breathe whatever it wanted. And Lemir somehow managed to turn face-up on the surface, and take his first raspy breath.
Never meeting his father, Lemir lived in the cave for several years, sometimes taken outside to see the sun above the surface by his mother. Food was brought in by this same creature, and she taught Lemir to swim, even though it was an odd experience to both of them as their limbs were so different. At the age of fourteen, one day Lemir's mother told him she could not keep this up anymore. She told Lemir that she wanted him to have a life of his own, not to be a part of this exile's nightmare, and a couple of days later with Lemir's reluctant acceptance she brought him near Bristport to live like he wanted, yet away from the chance of returning easily to his mother's care. The streets were harsh to the being, and it didn't help nobody had seen something like him before, causing many to stop and examine the kid rather roughly. But Lemir survived, and even learned to speak by listening to the flow of people moving past every day. The speech was far from fluent, but it was something and it led him away from the status of an animal he had been in the last years. Managing to find work at the age of 21, Lemir started blending into the society as well as he possibly could as an errand boy for the city guard. Far from glorious, but it brought in a steady flow of money that led to his next success: The gamble that decided the direction of his life.
It was his 31st birthday, almost exactly ten years from the beginning of his job as he made a special gamble in a tavern against a drunken sailor. They claimed Lemir couldn't possibly be as good a swimmer as he said, despite the fact he had fins, and even bet his magical sword on it. Lemir accepted the bet, being fully aware that the sailor's judgement was heavily blurred and easily won the bet. Now holding the sailor's family heirloom, the cutlass named Tradewind in his hand, the sailor made one last desperate attempt at getting his blade back: he wanted to play a card game with 50/50 chances of victory... or so he said. If he won, he'd get his blade back, and if he lost he'd give Lemir his magical talisman as well. In fact the game he proposed only had a 1/3 chance for Lemir to win, and luck was on the half-mermans side, leaving the sailor devastated in defeat. Turns out the amulet was not magical and that Lemir almost got scammed, but in the end the odds had favoured him.In their game, four cards were placed face down on the table, one of each suit. If Lemir got two of the same colour, he'd win. The sailor exclaimed that he could get two blacks, two reds, one black and one red or one red and one black, therefore resulting in a fifty-fifty chance. While this sounds true, once you've picked the first card you only have 1/3rd of a chance to get the correct pair for it, resulting in the illusion of better chances.
Now having a blade, Lemir decided to train in actual swordplay, while he had no intention to join the city guard, he managed to get the permission to train with them for a while for all his earlier services to them. The while was shorter than planned once they found out what the enchantment on the blade actually was though, as it destroyed lots of good equipment... The city guard decided they'd need to put the feller in jail for this, and surrounded Lemir on the docks. There was the first time when Lemir hoped he had a connection with the water through his merman blood, and surprisingly managed to stir some waves. They were nothing of a threat, but they provided him a good enough distraction to break free from the circle and jump in the water to swim away. He didn't actually head far, only down south to Stonebrook. There he continued his swordplay alone, to find a merchant needed extra blades on deck for this one special trip with extra valuable cargo. He almost turned Lemir down on the sight, but changed his mind when Lemir pointed out a person like him won't be hard to find if needed, like if he stole something. This trip was the start of his career as his cutlass seemed to be a reliable asset to have on one's side. As the job offers came to him one by one, he accepted any if the price was good enough. It didn't matter whether it was to protect, to rob or to kill, money spoke louder than morale. Eventually he even paid his debt to the Bristport guard.
That's how his life has went on, mostly. Taking jobs that pay well when he feels like it and practising his magic on spare time and sometimes also on his jobs, Lemir was highly intrigued when the summons came to him. "They best pay well" he thought and set onto his journey.
Originally Posted by agreyloonName: Zazil-Ha (Tuun Kiisin for "Bloody Beast's Maw)
Title: The Exile-Chief
Race: Tuun Kiisin Human
Class: Think Transoxanian warriors, or any advanced steppe tribe.
Birthplace: Kimen ichKeeh (Dead Man/Donkey's Eyes/Face), Tuun Kiisin Plains
Appearance: Zazil-Ha is not a tall woman. She stands at five and five inches tall, but her features are thick and potent, even without armor. Longer arms, and bandy legs are notable, stiffly muscled and well-proportioned. Across her body are torture-scars from her history as a "worshipper" of the Warrior's God, before her successful conquest of the former tribe's Chief, Chimalney. Her flesh is windswept, weathered, and well-tanned. Piercing scars run up her arms and legs from ritualized suspension. She possesses a slight limp in one leg from a break, during her exile. Her fingers are short, but her knuckles are scarred from fighting.
Zazil-Ha's face is tall, narrow, sharp-chinned and hook-nosed. Her eyes are predatory and almost permanently narrowed, her brow remains furrowed, as if there was a knot behind it, holding it together. A few creases run across her darkened face, and her lip is smeared in scars. Her hair is generally greased back, behind her head, with two bent segments that look like a great beast's fangs. Each ear has a triangle of flesh ripped from it near the bottom of the lobe. She has blazing red hair and dark eyes.
Personality: A devoted follower of the oft-neglected Chief's God, Zazil-Ha has an extremely difficult time accepting someone else's claimed superiority. Her style is to dominate, destroy, and maim. Intolerant and cruel, Zazil-Ha prefers to punish harshly first, and kill on the second offense, often slowly and tortuously. Unable and unwilling to doubt herself, Zazil-Ha pursues everything with diehard ferocity and unrelenting fury. Zazil-Ha is an island who refuses to rely on others. Instead, they must submit directly to her and be under the constant threat of mutilation and death. She will just as soon, once having secured the submission of a foe, destroy everything so that if they leave her, they have nothing. Driven by uncontrolled anger that she feels so intensely she vomits, Zazil-Ha is one of the most feared warmongers who has ever lived, at least among her people. Among others, it is the terrifying cruelty she has displayed to her enemies that is known, while her name is an unknown quantity, she being a barbarian without any civilized accomplishments. Among those close to her, it is her sheer inability to calm down that strikes them most.
Equipment: Asymmetric composite bow, a quiver of fifty arrows slung at her waist, each barbed, eight foot steel spear with hooked shaft, thirteen foot long lance, melted down and scaled elven armor, bronze-rimmed round shield, carving and skinning knives, pots for cooking, flint and steel, assorted needles, iron saber, morning star, six throwing maces, seven eagles, five mares, a personal Death-Mirror, bull whip, a wagon wheel, hammer, pick and chisels, various segments of rope for lasso and restraint, so much honey, calipers and tongs, whetstone (Kept on her five horses).
Skills: Spear and Lance, Mounted combat, hand to hand fighting, Throwing weaponry, Mace/Axe/Sword (Most talented with mace), torture, berserkergang
Strengths: Mounted combat, Berserker combat, Instinctive combat analysis
Flaws: Rage, Subtlety, Clearness of Mind
History: Zazil-Ha was born to the people of Kimen ichKeeh 34 years ago, and it was obvious from her conception that she was a uniquely spirited child. Born with a blood clot in her mouth that kept her jaw from closing and her cries from ceasing, she was very early on considered a boon, and a liability for her family. As she grew older her quickness to violence made her mother proud and worried, as she seemed unrepentant and never-doubtful about whom she attacked, be they an adult, child, from a strong family or a weak one. She spent long hours away from the camp, fighting and defeating goblins and gremlins from the age of 8, and collected their bones in a heap. As Zazil-Ha's mother watched her, the elder Yayaz-Baloc (Snapping Fangs) trained her daughter's gifts of aggression and dominance, knowing full well that her daughter, if set on this path, would either conquer her chief or else die. Yayaz-Baloc assumed that in time, Zazil-Ha would see that subtlety, as well as unyielding fury, were necessary to control a tribe.
Zazil-Ha never saw that. Even as a girl, Zazil-Ha was singled out for bloodletting rituals in an effort to staunch her thick-spined attitude. When it was apparent to Yayaz-Baloc that Zazil-Ha would not survive a certain ritual, she offered herself in her daughter's place, solidifying the mother's own feeling of inferiority to her strong-willed, eleven year old daughter. Yayaz-Baloc died pale-faced and screaming for mercy.
Zazil-Ha's bitter fury became utterly impossible to manage past that point. Instead of staying with the tribe during her rages, she would go elsewhere and snap the necks of wildlife. All emotions seemed to transfer into anger for Zazil-Ha, as her heart was a black rock and she began to spit black bile when she became thoroughly enraged. Shamans knew not what to make of it.
Eventually, Zazil-Ha gained some small measure of control, but never showed a proper gesture of submission to her chief. Knowing that Zazil-Ha was distrusted, it was assumed she could never form the alliances necessary to take control of the tribe and despite her talent for war, it was not necessary to give her a higher rank, and thus a closer watch by the chief. This was a good assumption, but it did not stop Zazil-Ha from growing her fury.
On a sacred night of the People's God, when the public mood of the Tuun Kiisin moves from vendetta to cooperation, Zazil-Ha kept her spirit aside from it all. While the tribe was enthralled by the public image of the People's God before them, breathing with them, Zazil-Ha walked towards her knelt chief and feigned a trip over her back, and then grumbled to herself at "the dog".
Chimalney, the chief, did not relent for a second. Quickly shaken from her reverie, the embittered chief slashed her knife across Zazil-Ha's flank, and Zazil-Ha returned the gesture in kind, by dropping into brutal fistfighting. Choking and attempting to gouge at one another, Zazil-Ha eventually swung her broad shoulder against her chief's chin, grasped an offerings-chest, and smashed her chief's skull open like a grape. After repeated strikes, that grape became goo.
Zazil-Ha had won her tribe out of audacity and terror, and through a means not based on alliance and protective security, but through sheer will. Engifted by the Chief's God, Zazil-Ha had a decreed month of time to rule the tribe before moves could be made against her. In that time, she broke the spirits of every possible competitor.
Her reign as Chief was brutally strict, extremely harsh, utterly regimented and completely cruel. She accepted nothing, absolutely no action without express desire on her part. She tortured her warriors, their men, their children nigh-to-death, and sometimes, to death. She dragged slaves behind her horse, grinding their bodies until they were only bones after many miles. She brought the worship of the Chief's God to a new level, not a level of vigilant observance, but one of unrepenting dominance. Former chiefs viewed the affairs of men as beneath them, preferring to deal exclusively in the women. Zazil-Ha took her women's husbands as essential captives, making it evident she was willing to kill them all. Those most cowed by her and who sought to emulate her, or those who saw her view of the Chief's God, were drafted into an elite guard. In every camp, it was those of her guard who would sleep just outside the now-segregated tents. Women would sleep outside the camp, thereby offering nighttime protection. Men would sleep inside, ringed by Zazil-Ha's loyal guards. If any effort were made against Zazil-Ha, who slept in the very center, the guard would simply slay as many men as they could. Zazil-Ha had discovered how to make people obey her.
Taking her people to other tribes, she subdued one after another and continued on until she had a force she thought mighty. After some brutal raids against other Tuun Kiisin she did not regard well, Zazil-Ha launched raids on the Wastedwellers, reawakening the knowledge that magic flows off a Tuun Kiisin's skin like water. Crossing the Wastelands after she was sure her army was disciplined, she began to lay waste to cities in lightning raids. The ways she slaughtered inhabitants is the stuff of legends, with words of streets slick with human mulch, and kings burnt to death, slathered in the breast-fat of their own concubines. The awareness of the Tuun Kiisin had returned to many nations who had since forgotten.
Zazil-Ha in her time as Chief accepted virtually no action without her express consent, or those of her generals. When one of her armies made a tactical retreat, Zazil-Ha noted that she had not granted them the right, nor had any representative. Their husbands and children were lined up, and one in ten was murdered, another two in ten mutilated, and three in ten made to fight each other to the death.
The short-lived Tuun Kiisin Dominion had had enough. It was one thing to threaten to enact such things against husbands and children. It was something else entirely to actually go about it. With those loyal to her forming their own tribes that declared her dead (so as to avoid conflict with the entirety of the Tuun Kiisin nation) and the rest of the nation banishing Zazil-Ha and making a collective effort to forget her name, her deeds, and her entire life (a more thorough punishment than death, they considered, though they truly wished to keep Zazil-Ha's soul from joining with the Chief's God and altering it forever), the Tuun Kiisin have moved on.
Zazil-Ha yet wanders, and when foreign barbarians seeking the infamous are looking, Zazil-Ha rides to their homeland, intent on proving herself to the world at large.
Originally Posted by KayJay
sArra' -- full name is written sArra'Rrahja
Warrior / tank / ranged / monk
Jan'galah, the City on the Cliff
Standing at 6'6 when fully erect, Rrahja is a person that you notice. His lanky build still tends to be a large one, if only because of his height. Battleworn features include a missing eye and a torn ear, as well as miscellaneous scarring across his face, torso, hands, and feet. His hands are similar to those of humans, there is webbing between the fingers up to the first joint. His eyes are somewhat large for his face and have an odd quality to them - a muted intensity, as though he's focusing on you but from a distance away, inside his mind. In addition to his size, flexibility, and natural weaponry of his teeth and claws, he additionally has a large, curved claw in place of his large toe on both feet.
His base fur color is a rusty orange-red, fading to a cream-white on his palms, feet, his chest, and along the bottom of his chin as well as framing his nose and eyes. Stark black markings stand out against the orange-red, the markings covering all of his body. Sandy-gold eyes are split by a vertical pupil. He speaks the common tongue with a rolling, graowling accent - partially because of his mother tongue, and partially because of the shape of his mouth.
A thick layer of fur provides warmth and a measure of modesty - to traditional human, elvish, dwarf, et. al. standards - and while among other cultures he deigns to wear some type of clothing - normally rough trousers with a hole cut into the back to allow his tail the freedom of movement. When left to his own devices he prefers to wear the bandoleers of his people, his sling tied around his waist, a pouch tied to his upper thigh. Earrings adorn his ears, the right having four loops and a stud, the remains of his left ear having two studs.
A bit of a joker, Rrahja is nonetheless a normally quiet individual. For all his size and his battle prowess he prefers a quiet gathering with people he knows relatively well to a boisterous party. His quiet nature makes it somewhat odd then that he is, essentially, a ruthless creature. His is the will to dominate, ensure that none are more than he. Whether with words, intimidation, or physical violence, he has a need to have the respect, if not fear, of those around him. Those who attempt to belittle or command him will find themselves the target of Rrahja's slow-burning rage. Revenge is a certainty with him, no matter the time it takes to extract said revenge. He is no brute, though, well capable of holding his temper and tongue when it is the more beneficial. He is also very capable of subtlety, and often uses his natural stealth and the assumptions people tend to make about his size to further his own agendas.
- Serpent-tooth dagger
- Basic travel supplies (flint, rope, waterskin, etc.)
- Quicklime base
- Greek fire base (can be mixed into proper greek fire to be used with his sling)
- Sling usage ;; lighter than an arrow, he can send rocks and other small projectiles a respectable distance.
- Unarmed combat ;; having been instructed since he was very young, he's a master in his race's form of martial art.
- Stealth ;; despite his size, Rrahja is capable of moving almost silently.
- Sailing ;; having been a part of his country's pirate-navy, he's as comfortable on a ship as he is on the earth.
- Basic alchemy ;; can create greek fire and quicklime, as well as basic healing tinctures and such.
- Physical strength
- Martial arts
- Needs to be dominant
- Size (can prevent him from going through doors, etc.)
- Never lets go of a grudge (until he gets revenge)
Born in the cliff-city of Jan'galah, glorious jewel of the Khaalsavi theocracy, Rrahja was raised to be a good Khaalsavi. At the age of four, as all cublings, he was enrolled in the martial-school of his home-city. Aside from learning sums, writing, and so on, he also began lessons in the unique martial form of his people. He quickly grew into a strong young male, exceeding the expectations from his birth-status. When he was seventeen (when his people, on average, achieve sexual maturity) and required to serve his time to become a fully realized adult-citizen, he chose to go into the pirate-navy of his people, earning the title Arra'. Like any other whelp he started on the docks, loading and unloading ships, cleaning and repairing the schooners and raid-ships that came into dry-dock. After paying his dues as a dock-rat he earned a spot on the Vrah'Sijaah, the Dragon's Maw, a raiding ship that was renowned for her speed and kill record.
Through brute strength and a mind for plotting and scheming he climbed his way through the ship's ranks, making it to the position of Third Watch Captain (similar to lieutenant commander) before being transferred to the Mnah'Nizzah, the Rat's Tail. Compared to the Vrah'Sijaah she was a terrible post, permanently assigned to the dock-fleet. Rrahja was twenty-eight by the time he saw action again, pure luck forcing the Mnah'Nizzah to take the place of a raiding ship. By then Rrahja was the second-in-command of the ship, having dedicated the previous years to forcing his way into the position. He was in a wonderful position, then, when luck and courage and the element of surprise resulted in the Mnah'Nizzah taking an Elven warship captive. By being the one to bring the ship into harbor, and the efforts he contributed in the battle to win the ship - efforts that resulted in the loss of an eye and half an ear - he was able to gain the recognition that finally earned him the respectful s added to his title. As sArra'Rrahja he took command of his own ship. She was small, but her crew was vicious, she was a fresh ship, and with a name like Rakash'Ja - Godking's Lightning - she felt like she could take on any ship.
Rrahja successfully commanded the Rakash'Ja for several years before being promoted once again, taking the illustrious position as captain on his old post the Vrah'Sijaah. He spent five years commanding the raiding ship before the troubles in Drasil began. In response, the Godking of the Khaalsavi sent out the Vrah'Sijaah as an ambassadorial ship. Because the Khaalsavi do not have permanent ambassadors, Rrahja assumed the position of ambassador. His reputation as an extremely successful raider, and his relatively unflawed service record, as well as the blessing of the Godking, are the qualifications he claims, and he is eager to further his reputation even farther with this upheaval.
Originally Posted by Skyswimsky
Name: Youn Resan
Birthplace: Hattavori Desert
Being just 10 years old Youn is everything else but a grown up woman. Her 1.45 meter high body weights around 36 kg and shows signs of athletic properties. Often exposed to the sun her original lighter skin is tanned. Besides her unusual hair color Youn hasn't that much of Tiefling features, making her sharp teeth the only other indicator for her non-human origin.
Youn is a mistrusting girl who, thanks to her thirst for vengeance and thus the wish of a quick way to gain power, could easily be led onto the 'dark side'. Her moral values are twisted and yet honest alike, since no one punished her parents murderer, and continue living as an orphan, Youn thinks living by 'the law of the jungle' is acceptable. The small girl is by no means a bad person though, she is still a child that has yet a lot to see and learn: she is honest most of the time except to herself, laughs and smiles about 'childish' things, can't read the mood and thinks the world works easier than it actually does. Usually seen in a happy and light mood there are still moments where she sheds a lot of tears for the loss of her beloved ones.
Youn is more of an outdoor child and not ladylike at all, she has a lot of energy and stamina and is rather fearless and a survivor kind of person. Since very young age she suffers from occasional random headaches, resulting into some difficulties like studying. Her parents made sure to educate the Tiefling child well, but thanks to her trauma, the few years in the orphanage and her headaches there is a certain lack even for her age.
- A musical pocket watch as a memento from her parents, playing this melody.
- A wooden practice sword with weights that make it even heavier than normal swords.
- A lighter, smaller metal blade especially made for her more agile orientated wishes.
- The Dark Gifts of Asphyxious
To be able to fulfill her duty Youn was gifted with a set of abilitys that help her to accomplish those in the first place.
- Mana Link
As the name implies, Youn links her own Mana with another source upon body contact, giving access to a few abilities. As for now she unintentionally boosts another persons magical power but once better control is attained more traits are unlocked.
- Voice of The Dark One
Gifted with the immunity against mind-based attacks, Asphyxious itself is able to influence Youn's mind. While not directly mind control the Tiefling girl feels a great urge to do whatever he may command; as for now her strong headaches are the only countermeasure against it and Youn isn't even aware.
- Force of Will
Accompanied with the Mana Link, Asphyxious is able to attain all the knowledge of the person he touched, finding most of this useless however it is simply forgotten and only magic that may benefit his goal are stored inside Youn's mind. This basicly means Youn is able to cast magic of other people she once touched without any training. However, besides the fact of The Dark One 'throwing' most of it 'away' Youn isn't aware of this gift either. This results that the knowledge she attains is rather something on a subconscious level and may just greatly assist in learning the spells by natural means and so far she only learned a basic heal from her mother.
Studying under Artanis has already thaught her some basics of magic, but being only a short time under his care she can't use more than his circle drawing spell yet.
- Hand-to-hand combat
Of course Youn's young girl body and 'experience' does not match any fighter at all, but her desire to get stronger and past gave her a level of profession that puts her at least above drunken bitter good-for-nothing males.
This is actually something she practices more intense at castle Gyros but also playing around with sticks at the orphanage. Again, since she has only picked it up recently Youn would be no match for any kind of fighter but her knowledge still surpasses the ignorant.
Those are all kept with her age in mind
- The Dark Gifts of Asphyxious
- Physical strong
- Headache sufferer
Youn is the daughter of the Merchant Saya Resan and Farel Resan, born in the middle of nowhere she had no real place the Tiefling could call her hometown. Her father was an experienced fighter and they pretty much moved around half the continent, making a living from trade. Because of that, she never had any 'real' friends nor a real childhood, but still, she was enjoying her live. While her mother taught her grammar, math and alike, her father was there for more practical stuff.
Her live was going well until the day they met Scar, a person she sworn to torture and kill. Scar, the man who killed her parents, they met him while traveling with a trade caravan; no one would expect that an unarmed man capable of such deeds. What looked like just a stranger passing by turned out to be a homicidal maniac who enjoyed butchering nearly everyone in the caravan. Despite being outnumbered they stood no chance and the images and blood are still fresh in Youn's mind, recalling it daily so she would never forget. Youn together with a few others managed to flee and survive; now she was 'homeless'.
Youn pulled off to survive on the streets, as it was only until later that she, thanks to the Baron of Lorn, was put into an orphanage with many other people like her. The experience of having other children around her for extended time was something Youn treasured, still, she could not allow herself to forget nor to feel real happy.
It happened as the Tiefling girl displayed an impressive feat of magical talent: saving the live of another orphan as he fell down some high grounds while playing. Without any magical education, Youn not able to give any real explanation for why she could do that and the Baron being a nice man, she became Artanis Kiryae's apprentice. Instead of skyrocketing from an orphanage into a castle, Youn still decided to stay at her old home as even she could not deny the love she experienced. Her magical training was without much progress, besides the one spell she was able to pull of it actually looked like she hadn't much talent. However, things soon changed as the Baron found out, via coincidence, that the Tiefling had yet another great ability: boosting the barons own magic. With new motivation born in the nice man he even got so far to allow the girl her own weapon and receive training from his brother if she would cooperate and move into the castle. And with Youn doubting magic could beat her nemesis, she gladly accepted.
Originally Posted by RytakName: Nizhoul “Lenora” Tsiilus
Title: Yala’s Handler,
Race: Dark Elf
Class: Dark Cleric, Agent, Handler, Terrorist
Birthplace: Maelsi, Principality of Houlmiriion
Appearance: Lenora is rather tall, standing at around 6’1, and weighs around 154 lbs. Her hair is long, silver, and styled into a single braided ponytail with lose side bangs. She has rather grayish skin with a tinge of blue. Her right eye is silver, her left eye is covered with an eyepatch. Her left arm is missing below the elbow. She has a large scar across her face, crossing her left eye. Her body has numerous scars of various origins. In her youth, she was a beautiful woman. But years of guerilla warfare and black magic has left her scared with a gaunt face, darkened eye sockets, and with pale skin. The veins around her missing eye are black and visible beneath the skin.
Despite living in Drasil for thirty years, Nizhoul continues to wear traditional elven clothing. She retains some elements of her old battle gear which consists primarily of chainmail and steel plates. The only intact part is cuirass and the mail beneath. The armor of the right leg and left arm are completely gone and the gauntlet on her right hand as been modified into a bracer. Both pauldrons are missing as well. Despite the damage, it still offers excellent protection, although combined with her damaged knee and motor control it makes her rather ponderous and slow to run. Wearing the armor is mostly symbolic to Nizhoul.
Her right leg is covered with a metal and leather leg brace that is worn outside of her clothing.
In her youth, Nizhoul was an energetic, friendly girl who was well liked by her peers at Maelsi. Now, a hundred and eighty years later, Nizhoul is a cold, ruthless, but ultimately intelligent woman who has long since discarded any shred of remorse, pity, and mercy. A century and a half fighting the Roulaelthus Empire has left her completely unfettered. Once her goal was simply to liberate Houlmiriion but now, following the destruction of the Usvek Souluska, she has abandoned this goal. Now Nizhoul has taken to worshipping The Great Devourer, Zhahlgos, in a desire for vengeance against the whole of the Dark Elven people. She has allied herself with the House of Inorad and Gahris Gahl.
In contrast to Kaahl, a former friend and compatriot whom she now loathes as a coward, Nizhoul is far more ruthless, dedicated, and amoral. Whereas the former would only commit horrific deeds to protect himself, Nizhoul will commit atrocities to further her own goals. During her leadership of the Soluska, she willingly used dark elven children as pawns in her war against Roulaelthus; including assassins, suicide bombers, or soldiers. Anything that damaged the empire, for the cause as she called it, was considered a viable tactic in her book. Nizhoul is not above petty cruelty either.
Although she now works for a human organization, the House of Inorad, she has little allegiance to them or their ally Gahl. Her loyalty only extends to similar goals and methodology. In fact, Nizhoul is privately disdainful of humanity. She views them as a pest race worthy of only enslavement to her kind and the Great Devourer. Ironically, this racist idealogy is the extremely similar to the sentiments shared by senate of the Roulaelthusar Empire.
Despite being a human, Nizhoul has a rather decent respect for Yala. This is primarily because of the girl’s insane strength and incredible usefulness. She pretends to show affection for Yala, since it generally makes Yala easier to control. In truth, Yala is just another pawn to her.
- Dark Elven plate and mail armor. Damaged, some parts missing.
- A leg brace on her right leg.
- Yala’s control rod. This is kept on a chain wrapped around her wrist at all times.
- Numerous belt pouches.
- Regeneration Potions
- Mana Potions
- Vials of black ichor
- A simple surgical kit that includes a scalpel.
The Eye of the Great Devourer: Nizhoul’s left eye has been replaced with one provided by her God. This eye has a black schelra and a glowing, golden iris. It provides several abilities, but requires her to drink vials of black ichor in order to utilize them. These vials must be restored with rituals. The ichor is toxic and its power must be consumed by the eye, otherwise it will poison Nizhoul.
Sight from the Void: When the eye is "disabled", it still sees magical energy as tangible light. This allows her to see through most forms of magical deception (such as Kaahl's Decoy) but not magical screens (like his Shadowscreen). This ability can see through cloth and wood, but not rock or metal. When the eye is activated, this ability is greatly reduced but not entirely disabled.
Gift of the Worldeater: When uncovered, this eye grants a massive increase in her mana reserves even without using the vials of ichor, but at the side effect of causing the user to become more and more mentally unstable. Utilizing the eyes special abilities increases this insanity and mana reserve effects.
Consuming Mass: Fires a writhing, tendriled mass of energy from her eye at a surprising speed. These black masses will latch onto targets and begin to drain their life force, returning it to Nizhoul. However they only last for about fifteen seconds after hitting a target. They continue to exist after hitting an object, even if it is inanimate. Making them useful for short term denial. They cost around one vial for ten orbs.
Sacrifice: Nizhoul's most dangerous technique, without exception, is he ability to use her soul, and the souls of others, as a catalyst to draw a fraction of the Great Devourer's strength into the mortal world. If this technique is used, Nizhoul's soul will be erradicated and her flesh will become the vessel of Zhahlgos' avatar. The more souls used as a catalyst, the greater the fragment that can be summoned. Note that the Devouring Avatar will not take a human form, it will mutate it into something far, far more horrifying.
Black Gaze: For a few brief moments, Nizhoul can link her target’s mind with the Devourer’s. This culminates in a psychic assault that fills the target’s mind with intense malice, hatred, and fear. The weak willed individuals will be effectively mind raped by the Devourer, while the strong willed will experience negative emotions. This ability requires half a vial of black ichor and the user must maintain eye contact with the user. Blinking does not stop the effect, but closing the eyes or turning away from Nizhoul for three seconds will. Only one person can be under this effect at any given time.
Arcane Barrier: Although barriers are traditionally a supportive and defensive ability, Nizhoul has transformed them into her primary ability. She can create sheets of hardened arcane energy that are extremely resistant to physical attacks; strong enough to weather blows from someone as powerful as Yala. The barriers regenerate themselves quite rapidly at a cost to the user. Magic is rather effective against these barriers, as a sufficiently powerful attack will pierce the barrier.
Nizhoul has several uses for these barriers, as they can be used to attack, defend, and trap enemies. However the range is limited to around twenty yards around her. Additionally, the area of her barriers cannot exceed twenty square feet. Smaller barriers are stronger than large ones. Lastly they can be angled to make them stronger. Barriers larger than twelve square foot generally cannot be moved without losing their cohesion, limiting the abilities usefulness against groups of enemies.
These barriers provide the ability to contain Yala in a worst case scenario.
Runic Inscription: As Yala’s handler, [name] must be capable of repairing any and all damage Yala sustains in battle. This includes engraving her bones with the inscriptions necessary to make her bones stronger than steel; as well as retattooing her heart to regenerate should the need arise. Her knowledge is purely memorization however; she understands little about the actual process and cannot improve upon it.
Magical Healing: In the event Yala is unable to heal herself, her handler must be able to heal the damage for her. This includes regenerating tissues, eyes, skin, and organs. Unlike Yala’s innate mastery of the skill, Nizhoul’s is significantly less advance but far more versatile. Therefore it is more expensive and more time consuming to use. These abilities work on herself as well as others but, like magical dispel, it requires close proximity to the intended target.
Magical Dispel: Because Yala is vulnerable to magic effects such as barriers, prisons, and damage over time abilities, Nizhoul is capable of dispelling most of these effects. Some, such as magical afflictions, take longer to remove from Yala while simply bindings may be broken with just a touch. The limitation of this ability is its range; she must have her hands within six inches of the target to use.
Touch of the Devourer: Nizhoul can imbue an ally with the power of her god. This provides around a twenty percent increase in physical strength and a fifteen percent increase in speed for around ten minutes. This ability can be dispelled and provides little bonus to spell casters.
Iron Flesh: This ability enchants a person’s flesh to become as strong as iron for roughly five minutes. This ability has a reduced effect against magic attacks that don’t utilize kinetic impacts. (The skin maintains its cohesion, preventing it from being easily blasted away, but can still be burnt, shocked, or frozen.) Additionally, it does not nullify pain felt by the user. It does not, however, make the user implacable in any way. Strong blows will still stagger or knock them down.
- Powerful supportive abilities
- Adept strategic planner regarding clandestine operations.
- Lethal synergy with Yala
- Must stay with Yala at almost all times, as even sedated she is a dangerous psychopath.
- Physically crippled. Poor agility and mobility.
- Extremely expensive offensive abilities.
History: Two centuries ago, Nizhoul was a friend of Kaahl Yidohuls and an inhabitant of Maelsi before its destruction. Like Kaahl, she and dozens of others joined the Houlmiriion army. During her service, she proved herself to be a powerful combatant capable of using sword and spell to bolster herself, her allies, and single handedly turn the tides of small battles. She and Kaahl remained close friends throughout the war despite serving in different capacities.
However, the friendship ended with the war. Kaahl, seeing the situation as hopeless, assassinated Govenor Nivek and his family before fleeing the country. However Nizhoul, along the majority of the Maelsi survivors and hundreds of others, began fighting the occupation with guerilla warfare under the organization called Usvek Souluska, the Eight Daggers.
After fifty years, she became the effective leader of the resistance. Her period of leadership is marked by an increase in terrorism acts against Roulaelthus. For the next century, the organization slowly declined as members were slain, captured, or excommunicated from the group for disagreeing with Nizhoul’s violent rhetoric. Thirty years ago, when the organization had shrunk to less than two dozen men, Roulaelthusar agents managed to lure her and her remaining brethren into a trap. The ensuing battle led to the death of everyone but Nizhoul; including the agents who had set the trap in the first place. Nizhoul, however, was crippled by the fighting. Her left eye had been destroyed, her left hand cut off, the nerves in her right side were severely damaged and left her with reduced sensation and motor control, and damage to her right knee left her with a permanent limp. With the Usvek Soulska destroyed, herself crippled, and agents still looking for her, Nizhoul did as Kaahl had done centuries earlier and fled for Drasil. During her quest, she prayed to the fallen god of the ancient dark elves, Zhahlgos, for vengeance.
Eventually she was found, on the verge of death, by the House of Inorad. They nursed the dark elf back to health he best they could. However, since her injuries had already started to heal naturally, they were unable to replace her eye, her arm, fix her knee, or repair the damage to her nerves. With little options left and a burning desire for vengeance, Nizhoul offered her services to Inorad. In return, they agreed to help her destroy Roulaelthus when the time came. Given the codename, Lenora, Nizhoul became a handler for the House.
Nizhoul is Yala’s third handler and the first female of the bunch. She earned this position after the first was torn apart by an enraged Yala and the second was mutilated for attempting to touch her without her permission. Given that two male handlers had been grievously harmed, House Inorad has decided to entrust Yala to a Nizhoul, their most experienced female Handler.
Originally Posted by SignName: Alabaster Winsyech
Title: Shaded Elf
Class: Lightning Thief
Birthplace: The Shaded Glade
Alabaster is somewhat of an oxymoron when it comes to elven standards, he stands at a measly five foot, three inches. He's got light-almond colored skin -- riddled with tiny nicks and scars from the years past. His hair is a deep, dark brown color, twisted into braids so that it might reach his uppermost vertebrae. His build is stout, yet muscular, cut proportionally to his body. His eyes resemble his hair, reminiscent of a cup of coffee because his pupils seem to blend in with the black-brown of his iris'. His eyebrows curve in such a way that gives his face the appearance of intense concentration. He is usually caught wearing a white A-shirt, and at times a muscle-shirt with a hood, along with a baggy pair of pants, who's color varies from tan, to black. Usually he wears comfortable shoes -- a modern day version of a jika-tabi.
Personality: Alabaster is an infrequently spoken individual, comical, but not overly so, and serious when need be. He is sly and cunning, constantly thinking on his feet, while giving of a pretty much laid back demeanor, and he LOVES a thrill.
Equipment: Basic Survival tools; rope, portable shelter, collapsible pots and pans, wide array of ointments and salves
Metal gauntlents, with claws -- generally used for climbing.
Alabaster has in his possession the likes of a small sword ( no more than twenty inches of blade). As well as overt durability; tiny holes streak down the middle of these swords, these are all capable of deploying a white (almost invisible) web with the durability of any sword, these webs can be extended and retracted at will. the sword's hilt is embroidered in white and gold, and is usually kept in concealed carry. These webs have a stickiness proportionate to super glue to all but Alabaster, unless he wishes it so.
Skills: Cooking, fighting, evading, planning, herbology,botany, stealth, enchantment
White Lightning: Alabaster is charged with the ability of become living, white, lightning, giving him the ability to travel at ultra-high speeds, damage those who touch him, and enter an ethereal state. This effects him -- as well as the extremities in his possession (Clothes, weapons, items he holds in his possession etc.) This lasts for no more than 10 seconds, and must be initiated by the phrase "White Lightning".
Light Expedite: A pillar of light comes down and teleports all within a ten foot radius of Alabaster to a location where an akin pillar of lightning strikes down. These brilliant trunks of light emit an omni-directional concussive blast that serves to knock back and deafen those who are outside of the "light-zone" upon touch-down.
Light void: A pillar of lightning rains down from the sky, encasing all within 10 feet of Alabaster. This isn't just one strike of light but hundreds of bolts piling down onto the same spots -- and in layers, which serves to incinerate anything it touches. The sky lets loose booming cries to those on the outside, while all sound not originating from within the shield is mute. This constant lightning rain, acts as a shield -- making its offensive power an awesome defense. This can with stand most anything, it magically rips and sears other magic as they come into contact with it and it does the same to most physical objects. Generally if it isn't destroyed by the shield, it is forced downwards, being crushed by the rushing light. This lasts for no more than sixty seconds.
Lightning gun: Alabaster is capable of creating rods of lightening in his palms which can shoot out at any direction he wishes at the general speed of a lightning strike. This can also be used as a contact weapon -- even to electrify his fists, or weapon of choice, so long as it lies within his hand.
Lightning sight: After enriching the air with frazzled electrons, in the area Alabaster is given an increased spacial awareness -- able to see, or rather feel the radical change in the air and ground around him, even those things that move at tip top speeds, or hardly at all.
Solid strike: Alabaster is gifted with the ability to manifest solid constructs of lighting limited only by his imagination, this causes burns and electric shock to all but him if touched, these also move at lightning speeds.
~Kailei: Alabaster practices a hand to hand style much like dim-mak, which means disbursement of impact and using an opponent's movements against them. Kailei makes use of a various amount of blocks and parries, it can be incorporated into night any weapons style, as well as hand to hand. It also involves radical ground work, B-boy type spinning, and impeccable wrestling skills.
~Zyzask: A style of movement akin to modern day free running, a series of vaults, and a method of climbing, that makes escape easy for him.
Strengths: Quick thinking, Stealing, Drinking, Fighting.
Flaws: Puzzles, Socializing, Keeping still, Losing
History: Alabaster was born in the crystal caverns of The Shaded Glade, Super natural structure, that was said to be of mother earths wrath (a result of repeated lightning strikes). On the eve of his birth, the improvised structure was hit yet again by the sky-light, mystically altering any magical abilities he might have had. Alabaster was raised in a small elven colony, on the outskirts of the town -- where they lived comfortably. It wasn't long after that a civil war among the elves tore his life and family apart, taking his mother with it. Since then, he and his father lived Nomadic lives, stealing from the rich -- giving to the poor, that type of thing with Alabaster as their secret weapon no enemy left them un-checked. It wasn't until one day that Alabaster's father perished in his sleep, they were widely known as thieves which meant enemies, deadly ones.
After being left on his own Alabaster committed to keeping his identity a secret -- only making use of his abilities when need be. He again began to travel -- sprinkling a various hideouts all over their nation, accruing treasures and currency by the pound without ever getting caught. The next hundred of his years were spent wandering, in search of nothing in particular. He took these things yet nothing made him feel whole. To this day he has found no cause or item, or food, or amount of sex that could cure his overall boredom with life. At the time of the attack Alabaster was within the royal palace, trying to steal away with his weight in gold when he heard it. Crashes and screams of terror the likes of which he was no stranger too, invaded his ears, the kicker was -- where one would expect for shouts of terror, came nothing but a faint voice that should have been booming due to the distance he was from the main chambers in the palace, along with more distant cries -- something was wrong.
Originally Posted by ANMCName:
Queen of Drasil
Slender and tall, Queen Tana bears her royal burdens with a constant sense of grace and dignity. Her face is smooth and rounded, possessed of full, rose colored lips and a diminutive nose. Eyes of dirtied green sit beneath thin eyebrows and a high forehead; long, cascading waves of flaxen hair trailing down to the middle of her back. Long of leg and narrow of waist, though this is rarely seen beneath her voluminous royal garb. Her stomach is flat, her chest much the same. Small, dark bags have begun forming under her eyes; wrinkles of worry ever present on her forehead. Though her ears are often covered, they are small and somewhat pointed.
Tanaphei is a woman much attuned to the world, most of her thoughts being logical and oriented around problem solving. However, that is not to say that she is devoid of mystic or esoteric contemplations; gifted as she is in the ways of magic. Generally patient, but quietly passionate, the Queen is a woman devoted to making things work for the betterment of those around her. Working with others is something she does well; capable of negotiating and maneuvering around most problems with oratory skill. She takes her position as the current ruler of Drasil very seriously and expects the respect that should be given to one of her station.
Stalwart Moon; One on each hand, these intricately decorated silver loops are imbued to contain one spell apiece. At will Tana may release the stored spell, emptying the ring. Once a ring is emptied, it must be charged gain; a process that takes an hour per ring and requires complete concentration. Limited to abilities that she knows, the rings often contain defensive spells.
It is possible to return the rings to their original form, by interlocking them with one another; though, doing so will release both spells at once when activated and will render this item inert for an entire day.
Silver Wrath; Contrary to what is most commonly seen in Drasil, Tana is a servant of Scoroves that employs 'holy' magic...not to heal, but to drive back and destroy the fiends of her realm. The spells from this domain are brutally effective against creatures born of magic, capable of deconstructing them in their entirety, afflicting their senses or assaulting them with variants of fire or kinetic arcane assaults.
Silver Shield;Utilizing Runes, Queen Tanaphei can create barriers resilient to physical or magical assaults. While it is possible to create a shield against both, to do so is very taxing for her and leaves her little in the way of mobility. These Runes can be dispelled by a powerful opponent, or after taking sufficient damage. This ability can affect only one target at a time.
Quick Casting; With practice, comes capability. Tana is not reliant on verbal or physical components to activate her spells; making her a fastidious magical opponent. Runes are created in an alacritous display and spells are instantaneously utilized.
Strong of will.
History: Stralth was a former Drasilian outpost, situated in the deep shadow of the Maker's Spine, before their expansion into the cruel Hattavori desert. It was there, that Tanaphei Coldue was born; the second daughter of the Coldue family, who were the nobles in charge of maintaining the growing city. In her early years, Tanaphei was exposed heavily to the religion of Scoroves; God of Law and Order. Though she took the lessons to heart, she, even at a young age, realized that there was little just about much of what happened around her. Despite this reservation...though some would call it a lack of faith...the young half-elf decided to join the Order of the Silver Shield; a group of healers, paladins and battle priests.
This small affliction carried with her through much of the rest of her life, as she began to train her magical talents in The Order. While she valued the ideals of law and justice, she knew that those who employed such laws and dealt such justice were rarely concerned with views of the condemned. That was not her way. Idealistic and brash, Tanaphei devoted herself to redeeming the corrupt; or, if their corruption ran too deep, cleansing them in the eyes of her god.
It was here, in Stralth, that she witnessed the horrors of the world beyond the relatively peaceful Drasil. Desert nomads, beasts of the Hattavori, swept in on a calm night, far more organized than ever before, intent on putting Stralth to the torch. In a city of merchants and military men, she was one of the few wielders of battle magic in the area; aside from the desert sorcerers. Though she was young, hardly beyond her twenty fifth year of life, she distinguished herself in battle by assisting to repel the heathens and extinguishing the spreading fires with the exertion of her will.
In her thirtieth year she was wed to King Xade Sielen, shortly after his coronation. The details of their engagement are touchy, with few knowing how the two had ever even come into contact. Some claim that Tanaphei's father, Brutuc Coldue, an aging veteran of the former King's guard, was owed many favors by the newly crowned King and wished his daughter to sit upon the throne; ensuring a prosperous future for his family. Despite the odd nature of their arrangement, the two found themselves enamored with one another.
Beyond ruling alongside her husband and birthing their son, Rynph Sielen, Tana spent much of her spare time practicing her magic and making visits to The Order of the Silver Shield's headquarters in Grayseal; though she is no longer a member of the organization. The last thirty eight years have been peaceful, with the exception of raids from the Hattavori and, more recently, Gahris Ghal's return.
Originally Posted by OnigumoName: Anasazi Azikiwe
Alias: Rowan Thomas, Cleric for the Order of the Silver Shield
Title: The Doll Maker
Age: (twenty prior to his ascension to immortality) Two-thousand
Birthplace: Isilidaii, Letaneha
With chocolate skin and chalky white hair, Anasazi possess a wild and unusual look. His pale mane is messy and ends in points, exaggerated in their length. While fiery red pools overshadowed by the mass of locks sit below. Always watching, they seem to radiate an unnatural calm. And yet despite their jarring contrast with his skin, they are an oddly fitting addition. Their appearance also serves to draw attention to the flawless condition of the man's face that despite his age wears not a single wrinkle or scar. The old soul's head is thin, revealing a strong jaw line leading to a narrow neck. Slender arms hanging from equally malnourished shoulder blades frame the halfling's body. His chest is equally underwhelming, but appropriate for someone who appears so young.
Personality: Held captive by an incurable madness, Anasazi drowns his sorrows in hedonism. Whereas most suffer from phantom voices or crippling deformities, Anasazi bears a “unique” misfortune. Befitting the childlike build of a Halfling, adult desires and instincts find themselves forever in conflict with infantile ones. The priority of plans to reduce a town to cinders are forever contested by a compulsion to suck his thumb, or nap. Fortunately, she who has bestowed this “gift” upon him rarely allows for those childish impulses to win out. Anasazi; nevertheless, walks a mental tightrope betwixt these alien thoughts and his own wishes.
Faux benevolence and calmness define Anasazi’s interactions, robbing most of whatever suspicions his appearance invites. A long-lived soul, centuries of experience has instilled within him, the virtues of deception and patience. Rarely will an ill word slip his lips, opting instead for a cooperative and relaxed demeanor. Well aware that humanity is a more compliant beast, when greeted with a smile than a blade. Threats are a last resort, or to be used sparingly, at least according to Anasazi. Unsurprisingly, the albatross that is his curse is at its worst when he performs his “priestly duties”. And while decades of practice have prepared him for these times, the mage still finds himself at the mercy of this strange affliction.
Beneath his cellophane goodwill, lurks a piggish and brutish fiend anxious to devour all in his path. Treasures, peoples, or lands, he seeks to covet them all. The son of conquerors, the gluttonous man possesses a powerful inborn instinct for plunder and subjugation, leading him on empire building escapades. Until the day his personal goals are realized, he bides his time, by torturing the weak and ostracized. People who cannot fight back and wield no political power, to be exact. In spite of these cravings, he is a restrained and methodical planner. Every action is mulled over and deliberated down to the letter, ensuring the success of some elaborate plot. And for those seldom seen moments when Anasazi’s plans failed, he always has a backup. Anasazi is not without his flaws; however, because at times it is this overly cautious nature that has cost him in the past.
Beyond his villainous machinations, Anasazi is a man possessed by a love of vice. Be they romps in brothels, gluttonous rampages, or, frequent visits to the nearby gambling hall. In fact when he isn’t parading around as a holy man, or scheming, Anasazi can be found in the arms of a sexual conquest. Being the deviant he is; however, Anasazi will often sneak in trips to the local bar whenever he can. It is these times that he is at his most relaxed and seems almost like a normal person.
Despite the gluttonous pleas of his psychotic inner beast, he is a pragmatic man. Knowing full well that peaceful means will benefit him over violent ones, Anasazi is quick to offer such. Because of this trait one could call him a political in a sense. He isn’t above violence, however; and is quick to administer pain if it advances his agenda. He knows when and who to align his loyalties as well, making him a firm ally. To this end he will side with whoever is the strongest, even if they were former enemies.
Equipment: Clergy status and duties demand that Anasazi keep an unimpressive array of minor comforts and supplies. Common shirts, pants, and, a few books mingle innocuously amongst more elaborate robes and gowns. His daily attire consists of a common shirt, pants, and, a pair of shoes. In Clergy fashion, Anasazi carries a perpetually neglected holy symbol around his neck. Lastly, the immortal possesses a tiny item hidden on his person at all times.
A Fragment of Eybese: Resembling a hammered coin with an indiscernible scribbling etched into its copper surface. This strange artifact nullifies any and all magical or mental attempts to scan his person. This protection likewise extends to devices or magic utilized by Anasazi. Its secondary task is to act as a mental barrier against the various inner fiends that plague him.
Skills: Strategic, Deception, Leadership
Summons: Anasazi is a powerful summoner capable of calling upon terrifying creatures. The weakest of these are monstrous phantoms he employs for simpler tasks. Stronger fiends see combat as opposed to the trivial tasks of their lesser counterparts.
Golems: Mockeries of life born through perverse experimentation. Anasazi gives rise to these living marionettes through a wedding of necromantic rituals and alchemy.
White Magic: Heavenly energies sweep across ruined flesh, replenishing spent cells. Anasazi is adept at holy magic and specializes in the defense and regenerative nature of the craft. Whether it is erecting powerful barriers or mending the wounds of a fallen ally, he is up to the task.
Fel Beasts: Wretched and nigh uncontrollable the immortal wields this fearsome power with an unsteady hand. Realizing that calling upon these energies sucks away his vitality. They are to be used only as a last resort. Because of these energies duplicitous nature, he has relegated use of this magic to use by the flesh golem that serves as him.
Mundane abilities: Leadership, Academics
High Magical Proficiency
Flaws: Physical combat
Anasazi lacks direct attack magic and depends on his summons and monsters.
History: Born in sun stricken lands beyond Drasil, Anasazi was the youngest child of a central Nguni tribe’s family. The son of Abeeku, an arrogant man who sought to create his own kingdom, young Anasazi lived a life steeped in bloodshed. The young boy’s father waged endless wars in his bid for domination, most of; which lasted for months, and sometimes, years. A powerful and intelligent man, few stood against Abeeku and his growing army. Fortune would not shine on the boy’s father for long; however, as they eventually became the conquered. Defeated by another tribe and unable to cope with the consequences that came with surrender, Abeeku committed suicide. The wife and brood he left behind would follow shortly after that, save for Anasazi. Unlike his mother and two brothers, the youngster fought off his would be executioners. Unfortunately the youth’s valiant efforts would only serve to amuse his attackers.
In spite of his failure, the boy’s captors were impressed by Anasazi’s desire to live, if only slightly. Anasazi was spared a swift death only to instead be sentenced to a slave’s existence. This new life of servitude would see the lad forcefully recruited into the ranks of his father’s killers. Life was harsher than it had ever been for the boy; days consisted of backbreaking labor and constant hunger. Even as a boy Anasazi refused to show any weakness no matter how much pain he felt. The loss of his family and home may have weighed heavily on the lad, but he wouldn’t give his captors that satisfaction.
From there Anasazi seems to simply vanish from history.
Title: Anasazi, Lord of the Legion Vast
Race: Flesh Golem
Appearance: Tattered wings and a thick beard frame his face. Forever frozen in a demonic snarl, his very gaze unnerves even the most fearless of men. Twin sockets illuminated by a blinding white light serve as his eyes. Beneath the sharp beak that is his nose rests a pair of sharpened fangs jutting from his maw. A powerful frame clad in silver armor serves as his body.
Personality: Powered by a portion of Anasazi’s soul, the flesh construct is capable of limited sentience and autonomy. True to its appearance, the beastly thing’s actions are often shamelessly cruel and without remorse. Unrestricted by the eyes of civil society, this darker half is free to fulfill Ghal’s agenda. Hundreds of children have found themselves the subject of sick mutations; newly made converts for his master’s army. Villages, towns, and, kingdoms have all fallen to ash and rubble beneath the weight of his leadership. Nonetheless, this vile warlord is, but a puppet subject to the commands of the true Anasazi.
Equipment: Sword and board are cast aside for cursed plumes of soul eradicating smoke. An echo of its creator, the flesh golem prefers to crush its enemies with supernatural energies. Aware of the sinister power’s duplicitous nature, this grotesque imitation of Anasazi dons a special suit of armor. Forged from precious metals, whenever he unleashes the ravenous power of fel magic, the metallic wardrobe instinctively steals surrounding life energy.
Fel magic: Anasazi exerts this monstrous dark energy with ruthless indifference. Be they man, woman, or child, none are spared from the nightmarish entities brought forth from fel magic.
Strengths: Physical Endurance, Magical Resistance, High Magical Potency
Flaws: Vulnerability Fire and Acid magic, Low Mobility, Helpless without his magic
Originally Posted by agreyloonName: Charil Ustnskil
Race: Half-Orc, Half-Elf
Class: Mystic, Monk
Birthplace: Felchley Cove, Drasil
Appearance: Charil is built naturally V-shaped, but is slim and wiry, with compact, dense muscle. His waist seems almost surreally thin. He does, however, have very, very little body fat, making his joints seem a touch knobby. Greyed hair wings off at his temples but his hair line is not receding. He has a somewhat forward-set face, with strong brows and a long jaw, and the slightest hint of lengthened incisors and canines, traits of his Orcish heritage. His eyes are small and dark, full of future mourning. His thick, fat lips are pressed forward and his ears have the slightest bit of a tip to them. His skin is an off-canvas, almost yellowish color. Charil is very tall, with slender arms and legs, and wears very little clothing, generally limited to a pair of sack-cloth trousers and a cloak.
Personality: Trained to notice the world, Charil never seems to be paying attention to any one thing, person, or object. He has a strangely spastic manner to his actions. When he does focus on things, it is regretfully an overcompensation for his perceived failings. The weight of his inability despite his martial prowess bears heavily upon his soul and leaves Charil full of constant self-doubt. Knowing what is right, he pursues a path of righteousness, but knowing how much there is to do with such power as his, he pursues distraction in alcoholism. His path is one of solitude and he seeks to rectify his power with his deeds in meditation. Secretly, he thinks that perhaps he seeks solitude to take the burdens of his gifts from him.
Equipment: Small amount of food, water, three extra sets of clothing, and his own sack-cloth trousers and cloak. A walking stick, as well.
Skills: Grandmaster Ustnskil is proficient in multiple martial arts and the current grandmaster of the Way of The Small World, a martial art that focuses on utilizing magic to visualize all single objects as "small worlds", each with their own cruxes, fractures, fissions, strengths, and weaknesses. Through the Way of the Small World, Charil can focus on a target and sense its failings, striking it just so, at just a certain point (using magic-wrapped hands if necessary, and extending his magical energy along entire axes of an object in the least-energy destruction route) and cause the target to collapse. Charil has reliably and with a moment's focus managed to shatter two-ton boulders and clear rubble in minutes, or create a chasm in the Earth after three minutes of mental probing. By manawrapping his hands, Charil can also strike upon magic and deflect it, though if he cannot focus on striking and must do other general movements, he must strike more weakly.
His mundane feats are no less impressive. His hands are toughened enough to drive them through doors and stone, and he can move his arms and legs with focused energy, at such immense accelerations as to destroy objects with less than an inch of space to increase speed. He has been known to tap someone in the forehead, at an acceleration that results in a cracked skull. Familiar with esoteric moves, he can drive his fingers through one's skin, or kill with a touch. His ability to catch arrows and sword-strikes especially confound his opponents. He can also use his hands and striking abilities to enact an acupuncture-like healing on torn tendons, muscles, cramps, etcetera, and is handy with massage.
Through meditative dedication and self-analysis, Charil has been able to have extreme control over his autonomic functions. From breathing and heart rate to metabolism, Charil can moderate his body's automatic background processes with ease. This ability is based on the abilities of long-term meditative type people or whatever they're called.
Strengths: Perception, Emotional Control, Martial Arts
Flaws: Alcoholism, Vow not to Burden others (Charil is incapable of accepting gifts, rewards for good deeds, or generosity of any kind), Cannot satisfy his needs until the needs of all others around him are met. Failing either of those vows results in him being so distracted with guilt that he cannot focus on anything and withdraws. He's also a poor at relating himself to others and has no skills aside from his training, including medical, survival, or any other form of knowhow. He has a hard time contributing to others for this reason, and relies, oddly enough, on the charity of others to help people. Charil does not even know how to prepare food and his knowledge of mundane needs and how to satisfy them is extremely limited. He has difficulty at times discerning between cooked and uncooked food, for instance.
History: Charil Ustnskil was discovered in the monthly gift of food from the people of Felchley Cove to the Monastery of the Small World. The peasants would feed the monks, who could then focus on their training without need of earthly help. The greatest monks could forego even this.
It was assumed that the young Ustsnkil (his name written across a sheet of papyrus left atop him, with a loaf of bread above that) was a child that was a shame for his parent(s), given his half-elf, half-orc lineage. Therefore the monks brought him up in a place that would be safe from judgment and Charil trained with them, mimicking their movements from a young age. During bandit attacks upon the villages under the Monastery's protection, Charil grew to be a dedicated warrior as he aged. The monks watched with resolute pleasure at the boy's resolve. He learned immensely quickly, considering his elven lineage, and grasped concepts well.
It wasn't long before he was considered among the best. However, he became troubled. The Small World doctrine held that all things must be considered individually and uniquely, as motes amongst many, and that to experience the whole was impossible and meaningless. Small World practitioners sought to find meaning in tinier, and tinier levels of objects, until one could barely discern between parts of one thing, much less parts of the world. Their minds shrank to accommodate it, and the end result was generally a withdrawn, noncommunicative man or woman.
This didn't suit Charil Ustnskil, who always felt that the "training" that protecting the villages was referring to was actually an important service, a bond between the people and the monks, and worth focusing on. The Small World doctrine was in opposition to this view, as in the end it was about one's self, and even the constituent parts of one's self. He kept these thoughts to himself, however, but retained a much more proactive stance than the other monks. Despite this, his skill and talent and ability to perceive the intricacies of things eventually made him Grandmaster.
Rather than truly accepting, Charil left that very day, and has wandered ever since. He developed many problems in the world, trying to rectify his Small World view with the fabulous intricacies of the uncloistered expanse of Molundias. Trying to envision the world as a contiguous whole left him terrified and he turned to drink, unable to know how he could use his talents to contribute to something so much greater than himself. Periodically entering heroic phases, he would withdraw when the attention and demand became too much, only coming out of that withdrawal when he had found resolution to continue his path. He now walks the path of the mystic, seeking to discover the ultimate truth, and communion with the entirety of the universe.
New Character Sheets are no longer being accepted. Those wishing to join must PM me for consideration.
Delphian is now serving as co-GM.
In Character up.