The only characters that should be posted here are the ones that have been accepted!



Interest Check | OOC/IC

GM: Mizuho
Co-GM: TaroAndSelia

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Name
Celosia Alesea



Age
19

Appearance
”Beauty is fleeting”

Perhaps Celosia would be considered beautiful by many people who have the chance to lay eyes upon her, not that she takes notice. Her raven hair falls to her waist, and she’s most often seen with her hair flowing down freely, not particularly making effort at all. However, during battles she occasionally ties up her hair in a ponytail to keep it out of her way. Celosia has wide brown eyes, often reflecting her emotions clearly. Although her eyes are usually filled with warmth and acceptance, there is an underlying sorrow within them if one looks hard enough. Slender and short, Celosia appears to be rather frail. That assumption is a valid one, due to her pale skin tone and the lack of scars that accompany most travelers.

She’s usually seen donning a traditional traveler’s clothing for females, consisting of a tunic with a loose corset spanning her midsection. She has a pair of fingerless gloves that she pulls on sometimes in preparation for a fight. There is a pair of knee-high brown boots on her feet.

Styles and Levels
”Power is subjective”
Healing Magic lvl 5 | Combat Magic lvl 5 | Summoning lvl 2

Current Abilities
Level 1 Healing Magic

Serenade
By singing a sweet melody, Celosia can heal minor injuries such as burns, scrapes, cuts. Capable of making worse wounds a little bit better. This also has a soothing effect.

Valor
Increases a person’s physical strength for a short period of time.

Purify
Capable of acting as an antidotes to poisons, or to heal an infection of sorts. Also effective against “curses”, supposedly.

Barrier
Protects a person from physical attacks and lessens potential physical injuries. (If protected by Barrier, if an enemy slashes at you the damage wouldn’t be a deep gash, it would perhaps be a smaller cut)

Swift
Boosts someone’s agility and speed for a short period of time. While under the effects of swift, a person is also capable of jumping higher as well.

Weapons
”Wielding and using are two different things”

To make up for her lack of physical fighting styles, Celosia has made it her goal to familiarize herself with various weapons. While she is proficient in many different weapons, she lacks the strength to pack a punch, but her technique relies on swift, lighter attacks.

Sword, Bows and Arrows, Daggers, Metal Fans, Rods, Staves



Personality
”The iceberg is more massive than you think”

There’s always that one person who has the ability to light up the room. That person is Celosia. She has a bright, shining aura that alerts people to her presence, and she is rarely seen without a smile on her face. Her energetic nature is often contagious to the people around her, and she has that special something that draws people to her. It’s not difficult for people to become close to her, and they won’t be disappointed. Loyal to a fault, Celosia holds the people important to her close to her heart, and refuses to let go.

Although Celosia is very easy-going, she is also very stubborn and headstrong. Her will is unbreakable, and she has been known to charge ahead, despite opposing opinions to do what she believes is right. She means the best, but at times this trait has proven to be more destructive than constructive. Emotions tend to get the best of her, and in her haste she can become reckless, and exposes herself and others to harm. Her sense of justice is very strong, and wrongdoing is something she won’t overlook, but that doesn’t mean she’s powerful enough to actually do something. When she takes a bigger bite than she can chew, Celosia has trouble dealing with it. Celosia isn't necessarily the strongest person ever, especially when she can't count on her magic to save her. This gets her into trouble obviously, and even though she hates not being able to save herself, it's more often then not that she needs a person to bail her out. When she was younger, her brother was always there for her. Now that she's alone and traveling, who does she have?

Her optimistic view of the world has cooled down a little, giving herself a more of a realistic aspect due to her past trauma. The world was not as beautiful as she once believed, and that has affected her in more ways than one. She's able to see the ugly side of the world now. However, she doesn’t let that stop her and carries herself as she normally would, with kindness and compassion. Those are two things she never wants to let go of. However, if one is willing to look beyond her benevolent outer shell, they will observe a deep sorrow and a flickering flame of burning determination.

History
”Keep looking forward, don’t look back.”

Celosia Alesea was born in the small village of Lurais, lovingly brought up by her father and brother. Her mother died in childbirth, but Celosia never really missed her that much, finding ample comfort in her remaining family members. Her brother, Alistair was gifted in the art of combat, while Celosia was more frail, weaker and not as striking. She idolised her older brother, always in his vicinity. Alistair was her protector, her guardian. Her father was also a more combat-oriented person, lacking the magical aptitude that his children shared. Celosia was the Mage in the family, and the men in her life helped her to grow in the physical aspects of fighing to better protect herself. Surrounded by friends and family, Celosia's childhood was a merry one.

Until one day... A stranger crept in to the village, attacking the small band of people. As the village's protector, Alistair stepped forward to take on the attacker. It seemed that the attacker's target was Alistair himself, so their father stepped forward to protect Alistair. Unfortunately, the two were slain, leaving Celosia alone. It seemed that Lurais was doomed, but strangely the attacker left as soon as Alistair's blood stained the ground. At the time, Celosia was no match for the stranger, and she vowed to get revenge.

Three years have past since then, and Celosia is a traveller, wandering from village to town, kingdom to kingdom, all the while gathering information about the stranger and progressively getting stronger. Though she has nothing to go on but the attacker's name, she refuses to give up, still seething at the mere thought of him: Dhoulen

Miscellaneous
Celosia is a descendent to one of the Zenithian Six Sages, but doesn't know it

Her last name is pronounced as "Al-eh-SAY-uh"

She's secretly a romantic at heart who wants to be protected.

She's terrified of bugs.

[centre]Name: Nathimys Bayias
Age: 19
Appearance: (I did this one last. It was the hardest. u_u)
Nathimys stands slightly taller the average height, and is under the average weight. He is a lean man, travelling many miles on foot just to get to the next inn, twice or three times a week sometimes- it shaves a lot of weight off of a man. He is almost always seen in a white cloak, generally unbuttoned with the hood down, with incomplete magic symbols sewn into it in several places. He wore simple black trousers, and a black leather vest over a white, cotton shirt. It was thin with ruffles at the end of the sleeves, and had wooden buttons from the middle of the shirt up. His face was worn from wind and weather, his joking, teal eyes occasionally straying away from the person he may be having a conversation with. He wore leather sandals, and even in the coldest season, is seen with the same sandals on.

Style/Levels:
Healing/Support Magics: 5 Weaponry: 4 Strength: 3.
Current abilities:
Support/Healing Magics - Level 1
Etra One:
Mending Flow. This Etra calls upon a vial of water Nathimys keeps in his jacket, using it as a way to channel magic into the wound without the risk of infection or damage from the outside world. The water creates a film over the wound's surface, allowing the immune system to clot blood at a much increased rate. This also works on minor injuries, rendering them healed back to normal. Cool down of several minutes.
Etra Two:
Rejuvenation. Nathimys's magic heals not only the body and physical pains- but the spiritual and mental pains, as well. When this magic is used, the target feels refreshed, despite being tired before hand. However, after it wears off, the target is left twice as fatigued as they would have been. Cool down of fifteen minutes.
Etra Three:
Purge Nathimys can stop medium-strength poisons altogether, and stop strong poisons from spreading around the body of the poisoned for up to thirty minutes, depending on the strength of the poison. Cooldown of thirty minutes.
Etra Four:
Thorny Presence. Nathimys can lay a spell on an ally, causing anything to do physical damage to his target to take equal amounts of damage, if not less than.
Etra Five:
Panic! Nathimys casts this on a nearby ally, making them move visibly faster if an attack has hit them, or is coming towards them.
Weapons:

Nathimys is modest about his skill with weapons, commonly telling people he can hardly work his way around a knife. Truth to be told, he is experienced with his weapons- lacking proper training, but still showing potential and skill with them. None of his weapons are very visible at all times, except for the one bow he carries across his back, the quiver tucked neatly behind it. The quiver is filled with black-shafted arrows with white feathers, and steel tips meant for piercing it's way into any target present. The bow itself isn't all too amazing, being simply a dependable, sturdy bow whenever Nathimys needs it. Which is rather often, since trouble always seems to find a way to get to him.

Nathimys's most used weapons are the two claws he has on either side of his waist, clipped onto a belt hand-made for carrying the two claws. these claws are completely different from each other, one being a glove with a handle just before the tips of the fingers, allowing them to curl easily around the smooth, steel bar. this is for extra grip when holding the claw specialized for stabbing. The blades are doubled-edged, flat, and extend from holes just above every knuckle in the leather. Each blade extends into a sharp point, the base of each blade connected to a sturdy steel bar which is connected to the finger bar, allowing for the claws to not simply slip out of the glove. This glove sits on top of a chainmail glove with cotton underneath, and underneath that a layer of thin cloth which is wrapped around the hand from the wrist.

The other claw is a strange, foreign looking weapon. More foreign than the idea of claws being used for weapons. In this claw, Nathimys's arm lays sideways, gripping on to a leather-bound handle which connects to the top of the claw, which covers the top of the hand. (Think of the grip on a gun, except the arm holding it is sideways.) A metal blade extends from the left side of the claw, longer than the average dagger, slightly shorter than the average short sword. The top of this blade is serrated, the top sharpened to a razor-sharp point and side, the blade alone made for slicing and sawing. The outlandish blade only got more strange- the right side of the blade sporting four, wickedly curved blades. The blades were straight, curving at the end, almost into a circle. It was made for latching on to a target, so that the other hand could stab freely. The curved portion of these blades is roughly 270 degrees, the curls facing away from the hand.

Personality: "As far as I'm concerned, one does not have a skill as long as no one else recognizes it." Nathimys muttered to himself, beating back the part of his brain that was telling him to gloat about his recent successes to his client in front of him. "What was that?" His client asked, looking back at him. "Nothing. Let's keep moving. What do you need for service, again?" Nathimys asked, walking down the dirt road, jogging for a few steps to catch up to his client and then walking beside him. "My son is in great pain. I need you to help." He repeated for almost the fifth time, furrowing his brow. "Ah, yes, that's right..." Nathimys said, having forgotten already. "What are his symptoms?" Nathimys asked. "As I just said-" The client said through gritted teeth. "He has a fever, he has been throwing up almost twice every few hours, and his body is covered in rashes." He said, unlocking the door to his house with a key, gesturing Nathimys inside, and closing the door behind them. Instantly, the repugnant smell hit them like a hard blow, and Nathimys stumbled back a bit as he smelled it. It was truly awful. Nathimys followed the man up the stairs, where several lanterns were. On the bed was a boy, no more than his own age- who was violently scratching his body. "Stop that!" His father yelled, and the scratching ceased. Nathimys stepped forwards, not touching the victim. He had no need to see if it was contagious or not. "Don't worry, there's only a high chance of you dying." Nathimys said with a grin, which was hidden, as his back was to the father of the son. "How long has your son been like this?" Nathimys asked. "Weeks." The father responded. Just as he said this, the boy suddenly stopped moving, and his head drooped to the side. Deciding to take his chances, Nathimys checked the boy's pulse. Dead. "Right then, forget the payment- I'll be off." Nathimys said. "Oh- and burn the body. We don't need a plague spreading." He said heartlessly, closing the door to the house behind him before the man could object. Or take his money back.

Adventurous at times, Nathimys is able to make jokes out of any situation. And turn it into a positive light- at least for him. He is overly modest, and is a wild card at times, getting a bloodlust when in battle, almost losing his sanity as he violently rips through anything in his path, regardless of personal harm. However, when having not been in a battle for many days, he calms down, and becomes an entirely different person. He sounds wiser, and is more easy to give your trust to, taking on a kinder persona. Of course, would you want yourself to trust him?

History: Nathimys only knew one thing about his father, living under a lie to this very day. As his mother had always told him- "Your father was a great man." His mother had died at an early age, sharing with him many of the medicinal discoveries she had made during her lifetime. He willed himself to study the books religiously, day in and day out. He created medicinal cures for common colds and diseases, selling them, barely scraping by on the money he could make. He made a few advances in medicine, soon studying healing magic. He continued to save money, buying weapons to protect himself as he became the age to travel. He travelled from town to town, looking at exotic diseases and trying to cure them. He succeeded in some cases, but in most of them, the patient died- just like his mother. Whenever he failed, the memory would resurface, and he occasionally drank his sorrows away. He continued travelling for the exotic diseases, knowing that, despite the pain he had been through, and the irony of his mother's death, he would recognize the disease when he saw it, and would create a cure for it, no matter what. Even if there was no one left to receive it, he would hold it as a great achievement- a great personal goal.

Why are you on this journey?: To travel and see the world, just for the slight chance he may find someone inflicted with the disease his mother had contracted and make a cure for them.

Miscellaneous: Nathimys is fond of mushrooms, and can be seen talking to them frequently. Always wears sandals. [/centre]

Name: Joscelin Voclain

Age: 19

Appearance: Her long, bright red hair is in a near-perpetual state of messiness, and strikes a contrast with her clear blue eyes. She is usually wearing an eclectic collection of perfectly functional light armor pieces intermixed with an oddly colorful outfit that certainly helps her to stand out in a crowd, and she is almost always either grinning or wearing an expression that looks like it wants to be a grin. Keeps both of her swords sheathed on the same side of her body.

Style/Levels: Weaponry Level 5 (Swords), Combat Magic Level 5 (Wind), Fisticuffs Level 2

Current Abilities: Weaponry Level 1 (Swords)

Etra One - X-Slash: Joscelin brings both swords swinging powerfully down in an 'X' shape at her opponent. (Deals three times the damage of a single slash, because double would make this move redundant)

Etra Two - Flourish: Joscelin attacks her opponent in an unusually flashy manner. If she manages to defeat them with this strike, any remaining opponents are at least partially, if not totally demoralized, dependent on how powerful the opponent she defeated was. (If no other opponents remain, she just looks cool as heck to her friends)

Etra Three - KO Strike: Joscelin strikes her opponent's temple using the hilt of her sword, potentially knocking them out if they are sufficiently weak. Useful for taking prisoners, or showing the mercy that a hero should. Not very effective on monsters.

Etra Four - Fury: In exchange for doubled offensive output, Joscelin halves her regards for her defenses, making her more powerful but also more vulnerable. Able to ignore the sting of superficial wounds until the fighting is over.

Etra Five - Stance: Joscelin has an innate sense for the perfect stance to maintain when using a particular type of sword. This mysterious Etra appears to be missing four crucial components.

Weapons: Principale (Primary Sword), Faible (Secondary Sword)

Personality: Relentlessly upbeat, known to be a bit mischievous, but has a strong sense of justice and is undyingly loyal to her friends. Has a childlike obsession with heroism.

History: The second-born of her father, a powerful mage, and her mother, a well respected knight, Joscelin grew up on the tales of ancient heroes of might and magic. When she discovered that she, like her older brother Milo, had inherited a proclivity for both might and magic, the two of them began training together in secret. While she made good progress in learning the basics, it always seemed as though her brother was one step ahead of her. She always felt a strong, if one-sided, sibling rivalry with her brother, but still felt as though the two of them were close. One day a few years ago, she and her parents awoke to find that Milo had disappeared without a trace. Utterly devastated, a few days passed before Joscelin went out to the spot where they used to train together... and found a note that he had left behind. Just one word, and just for her.

Joyeuse

At that moment, everything clicked in her head. The tales of Joyeuse, the legendary sword said to contain the spirit of an ancient god of war. Once, she remembered, her father had told her that she was a descendant of the only hero who had ever been able to wield it. Standing there in that field, she then knew what she had to do. Barely a week passed, and she too ran away from home, in pursuit of her brother, the legendary sword, and an adventure worthy of all the old tales.

Why are you on this journey?: To reclaim Joyeuse, and use it to become a true hero.

Miscellaneous: Afraid of the dark.




* * * * * * *

Secondary Character Sheet



Name: Milo Voclain

Age: 23

Current Abilities: Weaponry Level 5 (Swords), Combat Magic Level 3, Healing Magic Level 2, Fisticuffs Level 2

Weapons: Gram (Longsword)

Relationships: Joscelin Voclain (Sister)

Name: Zico al'Sorna

Age: 24

Appearance: Devilishly handsome with tinted, olive skin. He has fiery hair the color of a diminishing sunset and eyes of piercing amber. His angular face is accentuated with sharp cheekbones and a defined jaw. Of shorter height than an average male, his body lithe and slender. He walks and moves lightly like wisps of air, each step a graceful glide of his figure. Each ear is punctured with a silver earring that twinkled as bright as his eyes. He's usually seen adorned with the regalia of the aristocrats: an elegant overcoat of fine satin that envelops his nimble stature, and underneath that he wore a leather vest and breeches that protected his silky button-up and undergarments. But regardless of his flashy attire, Zico's presence is that of a ghost: insubstantial and illusory. One minute you see a man of glowing jewels and silk and the next thing you know, you're staring at a passing carriage horse shitting.

Style/Levels: Combat Magic V --- Support Magic V --- Stilettos I --- Fisticuffs I
Combat Magic I










Weapons: Hidden, ornate stiletto hidden in a secret pocket of his leather vest. Though lacking in physical strength, Zico is very familiarized with knife fights, and intermediate hand-to-hand combat. Not strong enough to overtake and opponent bigger than he is, but quick and smart enough to either slip and slice, or to buy enough time to cast his magic or better yet, disappear.

Personality: The epitome of a gentleman. Well mannered and educated. Very charismatic and silver-tongued, but extremely sarcastic. Intelligent, but impulsive. He's the type of guy that thinks and ask questions DURING a problematic situation rather than analyzing it from the get-go. But that does not make him reckless; his impulsiveness makes him quick on his wits and feet and he's calculative even when under pressure. His ability to keep a calm composure regardless of any situation is what makes him a great liar. He is, after all, nothing more than a con artist. His lack of empathy combined with his devilish charms are his ultimate weapons when it comes to adopting various guises to swindle and embezzle the Zenithians of their wealth.

History: An orphan, left abandoned on the streets of the slums. With no where else to go, Zico was initiated into a gang of ne'er-do-wells and thieves. During his time within the criminal underworld, his vagrant abilities began to bloom, and eventually they blossomed into defiled talents. He learned how to swoon women of their purses (and much more) through the use of his charms. He acquired the knowledge to trick men into emptying their pockets for diluted liquor that he promised to be rare, century-aged wine imported from an unheard of island recently discovered by explorers. He wasn't just a thief, he was first and foremost, a gentleman. He self-educated himself from books that he stole, he learned the delicate art of etiquette, he spent hours mimicking the attitude of nobles and aristocrats until he can perfectly insult a lowly beggar with the superiority of an asshole. As the years passed, so did his arsenal of personas. From wealthy merchants to holy priests to bankrupt noblemen, Zico was able to adapt to each guise with perfection and, when a job has been accomplished, is able to disappear entirely by the simple method of disposing one of his many personas into a roaring fire. In time, was able to accumulate himself a vast amount of wealth that could officially rank him as a lowly noble, which he then use to fuel the creation of new characters through the purchase of expensive accessories and costumes. He does not steal because he needs to. He steals because he can, meaning that he's never going to stop until he has robbed the wealthiest man in the world of Zenith.

There was one incident however, the first of it's kind that was able to thoroughly disrupt Zico's way of life. It involved an older gentlemen, a con gone wrong, and Zico being the one swindled out of millions. It was absolutely, terribly humiliating. That certain, despicable and loathsome individual was never seen again but his features and physique are forever burned into Zico's mind, and that little thought-form was enough to rile Zico to the point of frothy-mouthed anger when it escapes the depth of his complex, mental prison once in a blue moon.

Why are you on this journey?: "Time to entwine my delicate fingers with the opportunistic affairs of adventuring!"

Miscellaneous: He dislikes cats.

Name: Mayaquen note: not his real name
Age: twenties
Appearance: A sharp dressed man from way outta town who proudly wears his group's uniform. That being: A matching midnight blue jacket with a white shirt and pants embroidered with an natural elemental motif and with some silver decorations on the latter end of the sleeves. And most importantly a hat worn low that gives off that sexy and mysterious wanderer vibe.

The man himself is clearly foreign as indicated not only by that warm latte skin tone but also his accent which has been muddled to keep it ambiguous. He is a man of average height and in good physical condition due to his prior training. He carries little aside from a black rectangular box strapped with rope on his back and his sword in an elegant scabbard.

Style/Levels: Sword 5,
Weapons: Sword & limbs
Sword etras:

Oh yeaaaaaaaaaaaah!:
Allows him to cut through various substances most normal blades would not, which allows for pretty flashy lock picking and dynamic entries. Unfortunately it seems to operate on some sort of dramatic momentum leaving it unable to break through most weapons most of the time.

Wall of steel: Tightly controlled series of swipes good at keeping the pressure at a foe or for a solid parrying ability.

Steel brush; crimson ink:
Multiple target ability specialized in several pinpoint attacks or looking cool like gunkata with swords

Smite: A straight forward heavy strike meant for staggering.

Personality: Naturally passionate and fickle like the winds he's grown a bit distant and aloof due to his prolonged questing. That isn't to say he's directly rude, just not exactly openly friendly or talkative.

History: Hailing far elsewhere in a sunny place, he's made his way through the lands as he continuously tracks down the thieves that stole a priceless artifact of his group. But what does that even mean? Well rewinding back he was just a regular kid playing around until one day he saw the warrior musician sect of his country. So not too long after he'd join in and things were good, he excelled in his training and got his own personal clothing making him a full fledged member. Things were all sorts of rosey until the sacred pilgrimage to retrieve the sacred bars, which are more a form of tablets. That is until the bandits attacked and stole their relic in the middle of the night. Now he's been piecemealing clues on to their direction and slowly recovered three of the eleven sacred bars. However his vow to never to return until he has them all back and the continuous travel has had some negative effects which in short has made him into a bit of a jerk.

Why are you on this journey?: bandits took muh tablets and now I got to take them back
Miscellaneous: "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?"

Name: Jythrel Arbrick
Age:53
Appearance: At 7'3" and an impressively large muscular composition, Jythrel is in all definitions a large man. He has aged well, still looking around his mid 30's despite his age and can handle himself better then most mid thirty year old men. His hair is a bright silver mane falling down past his shoulders as adventuring leaves very little time to cut his hair. His face is wide with a heavy set jawline and a rugged beard growing a good two or three inches from his skin. his eyes twinkle with a hazel colour and given the right angle can often seem as golden as the contents of a treasure chest. His smile is wide and childlike a great gift of his that seems to resonate with others splashing warmth in their souls. He wears loose clothing which is quickly associated with the lower class of the world despite his large wealth from his years upon years of adventuring. He carries two hand axes on each side of his pants clipped into his belt. each axe is easily as large as what one person would carry in two hands and both are ornately carved, the first having "Ayri" written on it's outer side, the other has "Yanna" written. These were made by a friend of his, a blacksmith just as old as him.
Along side that he carries an 11 foot Halberd which stretches along his back via a large battle harness which with a strong lift from the bottom of the halberd would immediately release and be free to use. Over his shoulder he carries a large pack which seems only half full. Finally, he has an over sized case he carries containing the last of his weapons, a fierce greatsword with a spear like spike at its hilt.

Style/Levels: Fisticuffs Level 5, Weapon - Axe Level 1, Weapon - Halberd Level 1, Weapon - Greatsword Level 1, Healing magic Level 2, Combat magic Level 1, Summoning, Level 1,
Current Abilities: Level 1 Fisticuffs

Feint Strike: Jythrel motions his body into a kick, immediately stomping down on the opponents foot and using a heavy back handed swing to connect with his opponent's head. The goal of the etra is to cause the opponent to open up their guard for the strike to the head. When the hit connects it causes blurry vision for a short time.

Cascade: Jythrel spins his hands and lowers until one crashes heavily into the ground, this creates a dual attack, a crack into the earth which causes the opponent to be off balance and then a small shockwave with which topples them over. Jythrel has been known to use this on even allies as while it does not actually hurt someone. It is often enjoyable to watch people fall over like a drunk.

Lapse: Jythrel makes a pin point fisted strike at the heart with a single knuckle extended, When the hit connects it causes a sudden irregular heartbeat causing a physical stop within their muscles and thus a complete stop in movement for a short duration. It has been said by one who lived a fight with Jythrel that it felt as if a frozen hand was holding their heart while they were paralyzed.

Force Punch: After a short windup, Jythrel makes a strike at the opponents chest and a powerful force is released at that time causing internal damage rather than external.

Dislocation: Through sheer force of will and pure strength and correct positioning, Jythrel pulls on a body part dislocating the particular appendage and rendering it practically useless unless it is reinserted into its original position. When people said hand to hand fighting against a sword is about disarming someone, Jythrel took it to heart

Personality: Cheerful and pleasant to be with, Jythrel embodies that of the old man you wish was your grandfather and then promptly regret that decision. He is a diligant worker and often seems content with going about day to day business. He can be extremely chatty at times, often talking about whatever comes to mind at the time. It is a shame though that most of what comes to mind is the closest woman around him as he is first and foremost a lecherous and inexcusable old man bent on being all women's plaything. Alongside this is his rediculous habit of collecting various things from thousands of body parts of fallen enemies to the most exquisite wines one could imagine to autumn leaves and strands of hair. If he isn't trying to flirt with women half his age knowing full well they might mistake him as a younger man, he is sticking all sorts of things in his large bag.

History: "The swan of adventuring" His old friend has called him, and for good reason. Jythrel has spent countless years adventuring and one small chat with him shows just how much adventuring he has done. From caves to forests to the snow capped mountains, Jythrel has spent his entire life traveling and collecting and experiencing a lot of the world, but prior to that he farmed his own land, and helped his father with the daily jobs that was required so that his family could feed themselves and live happy enough lives.

His parents are long gone now and Jythrel has come to understand that this is the way of the world. Despite this, he truly wishes to live much longer as he wants to forever experience the world. He has come to love the land he lives on and has never thought less of it even if humanity has it's wars and it's thieves.
One such person came to mind as he was reliving his past. He cannot remember the man's name but he had attempted to con the man out of money with a false item to fill his collection. Alas, the conman had underestimated the wits of Jythrel; he had caught on to the conman's game and used money that, despite looking almost a perfect copy of the true coin, was indeed fake. He chuckled lightly his mind wandering and speculating how the conman must have felt having been tricked himself.
Needless to say Jythrel took his leave from that city on that day lest he be hunted down by the con.

A year and a half has passed since then, and Jythrel has continued his adventurous lifestyle, it is no doubt that he would perhaps tell you a story over a night's campfire reliving his journeys just as much as he might express them to you.

Why are you on this journey?: Why to collect all sorts of things and for the sake of adventure, also someone has to take care of these women.

Miscellaneous: Jythrel owns a eternally large bag, no matter what is put inside nor the amount, the bag is never full. His years of adventuring has filled the bag with all sorts of items which has rendered the bag practically useless for storage as once an item is put inside the chances of finding the exact item you were looking for is slim. Of course, none of the party knows that the bag has no limit to inventory space.

Jythrel will probably hit on every single one of the females.

Good looking characters!

Name: Tyrell Varn
Age: 17
Appearance:
Tyrell has fair skin and a lithe body. From the right angle, an onlooker might make a remark about how pretty that girl is. If Tyrell heard, he would promptly punch that man in the face and dare him to call Tyrell a girl again. He keeps his hair trimmed short and has some muscle mass, but he really is borderline feminine.
Style/Levels: Weaponry (dagger) - 4; Summoning (fairy) - 4; Combat Magic (twilight) - 2; Support magic (twilight) - 2
Weapons: Dagger, back-up dagger, spare dagger, boot knife

Personality: "Let me put it this way. About a month back..."
Tyrell quietly stepped through the gate into town, his cowl back so he could feel the sun on his face. A pair of men, their breath stinking of alcohol and their bodies just stinking, stopped him not ten meters in.
"Well now, wuz a preddy lady lak you doin' travlin' alon?"
"Maybe you'd like a bit o' comp'ny?"
Tyrell's face twitched. His arms did a little more than twitch.

A short time later, Tyrell found himself in the guardhouse, face to face with the captain of the guard.
"Come on! They were askin' for it! A pair of scumbags like that, botherin' travellers as soon as they enter town? If you ask me, you should be thankin' me!"
"You bit a man's ear off, and the other has a stab wound in the leg."
"Heh. Wouldn't a' been his thigh if your man hadn't interrupted me."
"You pulled a weapon in town. In addition, these are not your coin purses."
"They owed me some compensation! What are you mad at me for? They started it. I was just cleaning up some trash! If you did your job properly, I wouldn't a' had to do it for you!"

Tyrell picked himself up and sighed. That could've gone better. Well, sometimes that's how the dice fall. He brushed off some dirt from where he'd landed after being literally tossed out of town and started off down the road. At least he'd managed to snag the three coin purses when the captain had lost his temper. The two drunks had practically been broke already, but the one from the captain felt somewhat hefty. He whistled a merry tune as he walked on.

History: ^ That's about how his life has been recently.
Previously, Tyrell worked as a part of a children's gang. He spent his childhood stealing food and picking pockets to feed himself and his friends. When he was close to being a teenager, a rival gang appeared and destroyed them in a turf war. Tyrell made it out, as did a few others, but the gang was dead. They moved to a new city and joined up with the gang there. To Tyrell's astonishment, anyone who didn't know him assumed him to be a girl. It got to be rather dangerous for him, so he learned how to use a knife from an older gang member. He soon proved rather good at it, and rumors of the demon girl sprang up around town.
When that gang made trouble in the wrong place, the army was brought against them. Again Tyrell ran, but this time he ran alone. He's been on his own since, about two years now. He steals to stay alive, and sometimes just for the thrill of it, but that's hardly a lifetime occupation. Even a guy missing a moral or two wants something more in life, y'know?

Current Abilities:
Summoning 1 - Fairy
name: Elizabeth
Appearance:
Etra:
Lv 1 Zip - Liz moves at three times her normal speed for three seconds.
Lv 1 Cry - Liz screams long and loud, temporarily deafening those nearby and attracting any dogs nearby.
Lv 1 Dagger - Liz always has her little dagger and the skill to use it.
Lv 1 Flutter - Liz mutes the sound of her wings for five minutes.
Lv 1 Shadow Ball - Liz launches a small ball of darkness, doing magical damage and numbing whatever part of the target she hits.
How they became your summon: Technically, Tyrell stole her. But he really never would have brought her if she hadn't asked. He was taking a few unused items from a house that had many such valuables. Liz was bound to an artifact; he grabbed it; she appeared; he was surprised and dropped it; it shattered. She's sticking with Tyrell now.

Name: Ava Zayan
Age: 16

---

Style/Levels: Puppets - 5 | Summoning - 5 | Weaponry (Crossbow) - 2

Weapons: A small crossbow attached to each arm, hidden by her sleeves. The arrows are coated with poison. Her glass earrings contain poison as well, and smashing them releases a cloud of deadly fumes. The antidotes to all of her poisons is inside the fake diamonds of her rings.

Current Abilities:

Puppets - Level 1

Etra One:
Puppet Strings - Attaches invisible strands of wire to objects and people through touch. She can change the length and elasticity of the wire. The wire originates from her fingertips.

Etra Two:
Scorpion Puppet - A metal scorpion puppet that Ava controls. It can be made quite small, making it easy to carry around, but it becomes quite large for combat purposes. Ava usually has it stuck to her back like a creepy backpack. The scorpion has many deadly weapons, most of which also involve poison but are not magic in nature.

Etra Three:
Pyrrhic Victory - Destroying the scorpion puppet to the point that it is no longer able to function activates its fail-safe. Deadly poison gas is released, enough to fill a large hall full of people and leave no survivors.

---

Personality: Ava couldn't care less about you're existence. If you serve no purpose to her, then there is no reason for you to exist, and she would gladly see you dead. It's a good thing she's too lazy to go about killing everyone she wishes dead, because she honestly puts no value on any human life that isn't her own. Ava is empty on the inside, and that terrifies her. She needs something to fill her. She needs to feel something, anything. She thinks she might feel something, something small and buried deep for sure, but something nonetheless, as she watches the life leave another human being, but at the same time, that terrifies her as well. If she does nothing, she is empty, but she isn't sure she wants to fill herself with the blood of the innocent, no matter how insignificant they are in the grand scheme of things. Anger, fear, apathy, cruelty, and sadness: those are the things Ava is made of.

---

History: Daughter of a wealthy aristocrat, Ava could have had it all. If only she had been born whole, she would have had it all. But Ava is a broken soul, full of an irresistible hate and need to act on it. First it was a woman who made advanced on her betrothed, and then it was her betrothed when he made advances towards her. Her father came later. She'd actually had a reason for killing him though: she'd wanted his money. A foolish little girl holding that much wealth was quick to attract the vultures, and they tricked her out of every cent of her father's wealth. That was a mistake on their part. They'd seen a little girl as easy prey, but when they looked again she had become death. She got most of her money back by simply taking it from the dead. A few since have tried to cheat her, all meeting the same ends. No one ever tied any of the deaths back to her though. Her poison left no traces, and besides... she was just one little girl.

---

Why are you on this journey?: To find something that will make her feel, whether that be love, death, or simply a new drug she hasn't tried on herself yet.
Miscellaneous: Ava hates you and wants you to go kill yourself.

---

Name: Freya Yates

Age: 29

Appearance:
With traveling clothes

In normal clothes
"I'm usually addorned With oddities. To many, my pants, boots, and gauntlets look normal enough, but I wear strange armor and an even stranger helmet. My armor is covered in various trinkets I had collected over the years. These trinkets range from antique medals to various scales from previous monster attacks. The only other thing on it is a sheath to carry my knife. Even I would say that my helmet is the strangest item in my possession. It is a unique horned helmet with a marking at the eyes that resembles glasses. There are two slits on this marking that allows me to see. It also has a single slit near the mouth for me to breath and speak easily. It is not uncommon for people to mistake me for a unique monster when they see me. It's also not uncommon for them to mistake me for a man when I wear my armor! It's quite entertaining to see people's faces when they hear my voice. When traveling, I carry a large blue cloth, which acts as a bag to carry a seperate, rare set of armor and a greatsword.

Style/Levels: Puppets 5, Healing Magic 4, fisticuffs 3

Weapons: a small knife, and technically a greatsword that his puppet uses.

Personality: "Hmm...I would say that I have a generally upbeat attitude towards others. The only moment I show annoyance is when others touch my puppet. I have a love of odd items, often attempting to collect those items if no one else claims them, or if they are of no particular use to anyone. My eyes have grown accustom to viewing the smaller details, which helps me see silver tongues and whatnot. When it comes to fighting, I tend to act according to what I think would get me to walk away alive, rather than what I can do to defeat my opponent. That is, only if I don't think I can prevail. I only resort to survival actions when I'm in a pinch. That isn't to say that I would be cowardly enough to strike deals with intelligent enemies in order to save myself. One trait of mine that I expect people to dislike is the fact that I will loot a body if it has something that interests me. The one thing that will enrage me is when a person touches my little sister's doll. It would take a considerable amount of time for me to get over it. I wouldn't go so far as to let them die or anything.

History: As a child, Freya had always admired travelers. She loved the different types of clothing they wore, she liked the stories that some of them would tell the her and the other children, and she especially loved the foreign items that they brought with them. She would gaze at them in awe as their foreign beauty amazed her. She would dream of Travelling, and seeing all those foreign objects up close. Of course, her interest in collecting oddities did not entirely stem from this. It was also a result from her younger sister's interest in foreign items. They would often attempt to create their own strange items, similar to the ones travelers show to them. Out of all their attempts, however, only one item they crafted gave them the same interest they had toward the real items. It was a doll, one unlike anything they thought they could make.
This doll was the only toy they kept as they grew.
Freya eventually became a traveller, though not because she wanted to. Her sister had fallen ill with a disease that no one in her region knew how to cure. Freya thought that she could find a foreign cure for her. Along her travels, she collected various trinkets that she thought her sister would like. As she traversed the other regions, she would eventually find herself in a ruin. She had heard from a doctor that there was an herb that could help her sister heal. She not only found the herb, but also found her current armor and helmet.
With what she found, Freya hurried to return to her sister. When she did return, she found her gone from her bed. At first she thought she was dead, but others informed her that a Travelling doctor had arrived and fell in love with her. He helped her back to health using the same type of herb that Freya had found. Freya was glad to find that her sister had joined the doctor on his travels.
Leaving the oddities and trinkets she had collected back in their room, Freya set on her path again to travel. This time with the full intent on finding interesting objects. This journey would teach her the basics of puppet magic. Learned how to do this in response to finding a rare set of armor and a greatsword that was like nothing she had ever seen. She knew how to shrink and increase the size of the armor, but wanted to keep its original size, so she would wrap it in a blue cloth she bought, and physically carry it's full weight. This slowed her travels down, but when she used it, it did not disappoint.

Current abilities:
Etra:
Puppets 1 - Large puppet
Armor Puppet: Freya animates the armor set he carries, and manipulates its assembly for a moment. When the assembly is finished, the armor wields a greatsword in one gauntlet. Freya manipulates its movements for battle. When Freya isn't concentrating on the puppet, it disassembles.

Assembling Dash Attack : Freya dashes toward a foe while carrying her armor puppet, then jumps, using momentum to push her forward. She releases her grip on the armor and reassembles it, while also manipulating a gauntlet to a) grab the greatsword and slash at the foe, or b) send a punch toward the foe, all while assembling Into its full puppet form.

Puppet Sky Assault: Freya shrinks the armor and throws it toward her foe, then returns it to its original size for an aerial attack.

The Armor Puppet

Armor Puppet Etra:
Shockwave Crush: the puppet jams the greatsword into the ground, using enough force to cause a shockwave to knock foes down. The shockwave range is 1 foot away from the puppet, 360 degrees around it.

Heavy Sword Thrust: Puppet dashes a small distance, thrusting the point of the greatsword with strebgth from the momentum.

Spin Attack: Puppet spins, while swing the sword.

Why are you on this journey?: "I am a collector of sorts. I collect various items that others consider strange. I wish to find more on my travels."

Miscellaneous: Freya carries her sister's doll hidden on her person. He will do absolutely anything to prevent it from being damaged.

Name: Azelius Dural

Age: 20

Appearance: Long reddish brown hair, eyes of almost the same color, a lean muscular build, and above average height. He wears a simple gray tunic and light brown boots. Azelius is also always seen wearing his gauntlet on his left hand.

Style/Levels: Weaponry: Level 5 | Fisticuffs: Level 4 | Combat Magic: Level 3

Current Abilities: Weaponry Level 1 (Resonance Gauntlet)

Armor Breaker

Azelius simply touches someone with his gauntlet and as its name implies, breaks apart whatever armor the enemy has on. Exposed flesh will obviously fare no better. This works not by pure brute force, but by resonating with the material's inner structure, which results in its destruction. In a way, the material falls on its own "willingly" instead of being overcome by superior power. However, sufficiently durable materials can resist this process for a period of time, at least enough for a combat situation.

Resonance Blasts

Azelius fires bluish purple blasts of energy at his foes, which causes the same resonance effect described above. However, this is not as efficient as directly touching them.

Resonance Field

Azelius surrounds himself with a dome of the same energy he can fire. This forcefield is intended to break down any weapon that comes his way, but like with the Resonance Blasts, the process isn't as efficient as direct contact.

Weapons: His Resonance Gauntlet

Personality: Azelius is generally brash, blunt, and outspoken. He is confident in his abilities, perhaps overly so, which can be seen by others as arrogance. He's also not the type of person to work with others if he can help it and prefers to do things by himself without being bogged down (in his point of view) by other people. Azelius doesn't like to be associated with a pack of any kind. His most defining trait is his thrill-seeker attitude in regards to battle. Azelius refuses to wear any sort of protective gear and instead relies on his gauntlet and his quickness. In his mind, fights aren't exciting if the enemy can't end you in a single blow.

History: Born in a small village somewhere in Farecia, Azelius once dreamed of being a knight at the age of eight. He usually practiced with mock weapons his father, a renowned weaponsmith, made for him to foster his interest. Azelius also challenged other boys to fights constantly, and most of them couldn't even land a single hit on him. He eventually became known for his quick feet in the village and while his parents weren't quite fond of their son's habit of picking fights, they couldn't deny his talent.

When he came of age, Azelius signed up for the Farecian military. While his aptitude for pure combat is high, Azelius is unable to work with others and unwilling to follow orders. He eventually gets kicked out and returns to his village. Azelius tells his parents he couldn't quite make the cut. He was disappointed in himself, though his parents thought no less of him, despite the rejection.

Days later, news was heard of a group of monsters heading for the village. Farecian troops were going to be sent to deal with them, but they would be too late in their arrival. Azelius took matters into his own hands and darted towards his father's forge, taking his masterpiece, the Resonance Gauntlet. Everyone tried to stop him, but Azelius was far too determined to back down. He arrived at the outskirts of his village and fought the beasts. His formidable speed and agility ensured that not one of them touched him while he in turn destroyed them in a few blows, thanks to his gauntlet. It was there that Azelius realized the thrill that comes with putting himself in great danger and discovered the excitement of a battle where any hit can mean death. He never wanted to be a knight for the honor or prestige, no, he merely wanted the adrenaline rush from life or death situations. Azelius returned to his village as a hero and his father acknowledged him as the owner of the gauntlet. Two days later, he tells everyone he knows that he'd be leaving the village to fight more monsters, taking the gauntlet with him. His father offered to make some armor for him, but Azelius refused, saying he'll be fine as is.

From that point on, he journeyed throughout various parts of the kingdom and even outside it, taking various odd jobs, most of them related to extermination of monsters or killing off gangs of criminals. Azelius wandered from battlefield to battlefield, seeking thrill after thrill, and lived life as close to the edge as possible. He of course gained monetary compensation for his deeds, but those were merely means to keep himself in the game.

Why are you on this journey?

He's in it for the thrill he gets from fighting.

Miscellaneous: Azelius sometimes spits on the ground whenever he hears something he dislikes.

Name
Beatrice Fendbane

Age
31

Appearance
underneath her armor lies a light build of muscle. Her skin is tan, and her hair is brown and somewhat short.

[Center]Styles and Levels
Combat Magic 5, Weapon (bow and arrow) 2, Weapon (sword) 1, summon 4

Current Abilities
combat Magic 1

Etra 1: Diseased Flame
An orb of fire forms in Beatrice's grasp, and she throws it. If the target is hit, then the orb will create a small explosion of flame that lingers for 5 seconds before disappearing. This flame releases a poison that causesslowly eats away at the target unless cured. The price of this spell is that the arm used to execite it is burned. The more the arm uses the spell, the worse the burn gets.

Etra 2: Life Siphon
Beatrice throws an orb of magic at an enemy. If hit, the enemy will suffer some sort of small injury (cut, bruise, etc.), while Beatrice regains stamina. The price of this spell Iis to suffer 3 times the pain of the injury inflicted on the target.

Etra 3: Gamble Mass
3 orbs of magic levitate behind Beatrice. When commanded, one, two, or all orbs are launched at one or more targets. Each orb randomly chooses the effect of one of her other spells, witht the exception of "Circle of Injury." The price of this spell is 10 minutes of pain at a random time after usage.

Etra 4: Frozen Lightning
A lightning bolt froms in Beatrice's grasp, which is thrown. If it hits its target, it is frozen in place by ice. After 5 seconds the ice disappears and the rarget is able to move again. The price of this spell makes the arm that was used to cast it limp and useless for a minute.

Etra 5: Circle of Injury
An orb of magic takes form in Beatrice's grasp. When thrown, it passes through flesh and hair. When the orb touches the ground, a 5-foot large circle appears where It hit. For 10 seconds anything In that circle is quickly inflicted with minor injuries that can grow into more serious injuries unless it exits its range. It's price is a broken bone after usage. A detriment is that people can move out of the circle with ease. [/center]

Weapons
An Estoc, a silver shortsword, and a longbow with a quiver of arrows

Personality
She. HATES. Deities. The way she sees things, people who worship gods never seem to think for themselves. Most of the time, they watch their actions in fear of their gods, and do kind actions in love of them. Beatrice sees people like that as "less than human", using the argument that they never think for themselves and follow the command of someone who never gives direct orders and is never physically there.
Years of being locked up in a prison had taken away the sense of caring in her mind, and any chance of her joining a religion was immediately destroyed. She gained violent tendencies made in response to violent devotees that were plentiful In her village.
She still hesitates to hurt someone that she dislikes, though she will feel a strong urge to do it. This is because she chooses not to be a fool and make more enemies. Though that reason is also used as an excuse to kill people that she feels threatened by.
Aside from being antisocial, she will often speak in an annoyed manner. On some occassions, she will become crestfallen, and attempt to not to speak.

History
Some would say that herhatred of gods stems from thr loss of a loved one. This would be incorrect. Her hatred stems from something more impact than even that. As a child, she grew in an extremist village, a village that was overly devout to their gods. Every action the villagers did was done in a way that they thought would please their idols. Anyone who sinned, however slight, was severely punished, being imprisoned within a tower for a tine period based on how severe the sin was.
Beatrice was an unfortinate child. Although she was taught the same beliefs as the other children In her village, she was too curious about the way their gods worked. Her questions, however childish, angered the adults. Her questions were not enough to get her punished, but it fueled the flames of hatred that would worsen her punishment that led to her own. All she had done was trip and break a statuette of a god, and yet the adults were so infuriated that they beat her and sent her to the tower. The adults were clearly overreacting, but no one disagreed with the decision to keep Beatrice locked away until she was a teenager. Her parents were the ones who had proposed It.
All throughout her years of imprisonment, she had to suffer a fate worse than the torture of the uncountable moans and cries of other prisoners. She had to suffer the feeling of time coming to a halt. Prisoners were forced to keep quiet or risk getting beaten in their cell, or having their stay extended. Their cells were windowless, and separated from others. The guards only appeared to a prisoner under three circumstances. To feed them, to beat them, or to free them. The feeling of lonliness was strong, and may cause mental damage, but you cannot feel time move, then you can go insane.
Despite her circumstances, her questions grew in number. Why did they do this? What point is there in this punishment. Why is this inhumane punishment even done on children? She would think and think and think, until she came to a solution. It was their gods' fault. Their mere existence had led her village to such inhumanity. She got it into her head that all they do is sit on their thrones and laugh as their followers do foolish and depraved actions in their name.
She harbored and nurtered that hatred as her sentence continued. By the time she was let out, her intentions were to oppose them. But she was smart. She spent the next few years learning how to use combat magic from the mages of her village, and the years after that making attempts to modify them to do things that they were never meant to do. The modifications had come at a price. The unnatural effects forced the spells to be too strong for her body, giving painful after effects after each use. Beatrice didn't care about the price she had to pay, however. She had the ability to right the wrongs done to her.
After stealing a suit of armor from the village elder's home, she began to use her spells against her village. In her eyes, her people were too inhumane to let live.
It took her one night to destroy the village, and she spent 5 months recovering. After all was done, she set out on a journey to defile altars to gods, and break people free from their grasp...After long years of work, she had little impact on others. Many times was she locked up. Many times did she have to run or fight warriors devoted to their gods. She was tired. Oh so tired. Now crestfallen, but still strong to her hatred, she searches for a place where no god or devotee would bother her.

Why are you on this journey?
"I only wish to live in peace, in a place where gods and their devotees will not bother me."

Miscellaneous
Beatrice tends to lean on things rather than sit.

Name:
Anneka Lavelle

Age:
22

Appearance:
Anneka is considered a beauty, with her bright eyes and even brighter hair. She sticks out mostly because of her hair, a pink-orange shade usually tied into pigtails, and despite her unimpressive height, her slender figure keeps her from appearing pixie-like and cute. Her skin is tanned from all of her loitering and exploring in the sun, and she has a couple of faint scars from getting attacked by thieves a few years ago. She dresses strangely, obsessed with beads and bangles and looking pretty. She wears a pink bralette and a brown skirt with a belt that contains various bags to hold her money and other strange trinkets.

Style/Levels:
Fisticuffs 5 // Healing Magic 4 // Weaponry (Bow and Arrow) // Combat Magic 1

Current Abilities:
Level 1 Fisticuffs - Anneka is strong enough to fight and inflict major injuries, lift heavy things, and carry on throughout her journey without getting tired as easily as others, but has little skill and/or experience actually fighting.

Scream - With a single scream, her strength is increased, the amount by which she is strengthened changing with the vibrations and frequency of her scream. The higher it goes, the stronger she gets - and the more pain she inflicts, on both the victim's body and ears. The extra strength persists for the duration of her scream.

Palm - Whether it be a slap to the face, a pat to the bottom, or a shove to the chest, her palm releases power with extra strength.

Strike - Anneka's accuracy is increased for one blow, and the blow she chooses to inflict is one that inflicts nearly no external damage but a completely internal one. However, it requires more preparation than other etras and is harder to use during actual combat because of her inexperience and the lack of time allowed.

Grip - Once Anneka wraps her hand around a certain body part, her opponent is unable to move it for a few moments, varying depending on the strength with which Anneka grabbed the opponent and how long she was able to grip it. It is said to feel like an invisible hand literally crushing the bone. However, she is only able to use the grip when the opponent is already significantly weakened.

Block-Blow - Once close enough to her opponent, Anneka blocks all attacks and lands a single punch to the chest, causing the victim to lose their breath for a few seconds

Weapons:
A bow and a bag of arrows that Anneka stole from her father when she ran away. She's been practicing and she's able to hit her target about 70% of the time. It's rather inconvenient to carry around a bow and arrows on her back as she travels, but Anneka is determined to master it.

Personality:
Anneka is... a handful. She's bright and eager, impulsive, curious, and almost always excited about something. She acts on her emotions and impulses, often jumping into various situations and even conversations without completely understanding going on. She's a little ignorant of the world's evils, and although her naivety can be charming, it can also be unsettling and even foolish. She's eager to help others, and even more eager to be useful to someone, anyone, but her innate desire to please everyone around her usually ends in disappointment on her part. Anneka is extremely loyal and likes everyone she meets, finding them interesting at the very least. She's childish, laughing often and playing often. She prefers to be silly than to be serious, and when she is expected to calm down, she gets quiet and introspective, reflecting on every word she says before she actually speaks. She's rather maternal and tries to look out for everyone, whether her help is needed or not. She's passionate and feels everything with great strength, but is rather fickle and easily persuaded to think otherwise.

History:
Try growing up under an oppressive father who won't let you leave the house alone even when you're 22. Anneka grew up painfully sheltered, shielded due to being the fourth child of the Lavelle family, but the first to stay alive after the age of four - mostly because her mother was a little insane and tried to 'burn away the impurities' of her children through the flames when her husband wasn't looking. By the time Anneka was born, her father knew better. He sent his wife to another home faraway, and raised little Anneka, his Annie, on his own. That is, he hired maids and governesses to look after her. The Lavelles had a long history of wealth, and Anneka was by no means lonely. She became everyone's favorite. The cook made special treats for her, the maids let her jump on her bed even as they were trying to straighten the sheets, and her governess helped her cheat on her homework. They did their best to keep her down to earth, but regardless of their best efforts, she grew up headstrong and insistent, overly curious, a little rude, but always sweet enough to balance everything out. The older she became, the more she longed for some adventure, some actual fun, but her father was very clear on her staying home, where he could keep an eye on her. With a pout, Anneka obeyed, but her friends at home were getting older and eventually, most of the people she had grown up with were either passed away, or they had been fired. She was bored, and lonely, and worst of all, impulsive. She had a few friends but she never saw them, and was therefore the 'strange girl,' who had almost no street smarts, knew nothing about how to live on her own, and was practically useless. She knew how to get along with adults, but her peers all routinely rejected her, again and again. She was too eager, too enthusiastic, too curious and too expectant to have any real friends, and most of them thought she was strange. Thus, Anneka grew up alone.

She figured things would be easier if she had a real mother, but she had no idea who her mother was, or where she was, or what had happened to her. She had been biting her tongue for a long eighteen years because she was afraid to bring it up, for fear of hurting her father, the only man in her life, but the question burned on her lips and she finally blurted it out, a frenzied falling of words like rain from the sky. Her father looked at Anneka and told her, plainly, the truth, without feeling, as if he had grown used to the cold emptiness of his bed after the years. Shocked, appalled, and overwhelmed, impulsive Anneka ran to her room and stayed there, thinking, refusing to cry or mourn her mother, only processing the information. She had been kept close to her father because of a woman who was already far away. Although Anneka wasn't extraordinarily clever, she was quick enough to realize how strange the overall situation was and decided to venture out on her own anyways. She packed up her things, stole a few things from the house that she reasoned her father wouldn't miss, and left. Not just because she had lost her sense of family in the world, but also because she figured a nice adventure would be fun, too. And didn't she deserve it, after so many years of restrictions?

It wasn't hard finding people who wanted to help Anneka; people were drawn to her like a moth to a flame, she burned so brightly and her smile glowed even brighter. But there were always strange men on the roads, too, and although it took her quite a few unfortunate events, Anneka figured out how to survive on her own - just barely.

Why are you on this journey?:
"It seems like an adventure to me!"

Miscellaneous:
Anneka's extremely sensitive about her family and her past, thinking people will find her strange again if they know how sheltered she was.