The following people have first dibs on spots in the Campfire.

The Current limit of players for this RP is 10

Vash (GM)
Demontongue (Co-GM)
Rae Zur
Guilty Spark
Deadpixel
Konia
Yojimbo

Use each CS as it applies to you. You don't have to use all three.

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Species Name: Illian
Species Appearance: Illians look like humans from a distance but have several defining features which differ from humans. All Illians are born with four long ears with tufts of ear on the ends. The long ears extend three inches out from the side of the head for the big ears and two inches for the small ears. The upper parts of the ears of females curve inward and slightly down from their base to a half inch out though this is mostly from softer caritlage falling down. The second, smaller set of ears connect directly to the inner ears of the first set. Illians can slightly rotate their ears up and down to better recieve sounds. Illians also have short, hairless tails until the very tip where there is a tuft of fur a shade darker than their actual hair. Their noses are tipped with the sort of leathery nostrils that you see on a cat.

Male Illians do not grow beards nor mustaches and instead grow sideburns and elbow hair. All Illians have bushy eyebrows, though males generally grow thicker eyebrows. Males typically wear their hair in short, high ponytails on top of their typical hair cuts while females wear their hair in four long braids at the end. Males stand anywhere from five feet and four inches to six feet and two inches weigh anywhere from a hundred and sixty pounds to two hundred and thirty pounds. Females stand from five feet to five feet and eleven inches as well as weighing anywhere from a hundred an twenty pounds to a hundred and seventy pounds. Illians are born in pairs or some times triplets.
Location in the World: Illians are semi-nomadic with the occasional tribe building houses around rivers. The huts which Illians build are easily collapsable and can be set up rather quickly. Their houses are built from skins with a central support pole and skins lain on the ground.
Species History:The history of the Illians is a convoluted one. History is a verbal one for Illians and has never been allowed to be written in any form and may only be told to other Illians. Some Elders say that their people came from the southern continent across the land bridge many eons ago to Lydia. Other Elders say that their people had been on Lydia long ago, before even humans came about. The majority of nomadic Illians believe that they had come across the Erbethan Landbridge while the Illians who are stationary believe that their ancestors were born in Lydia. The one thing both sides agree on is that the early Illians were extremely violent. Tribal wars against each other were not rare and many souls were lost before they called down. The tribal wars lasted for nearly a hundred years before the tribes became more peaceful.

Though, this does not mean that the tribes didn't still war. Wars just began to happen less after the hundred years after. Marriages became often between two different tribes to lessen the tension between the tribes. Eventually, each tribe became entwined with each other in some way. Over many centuries, the Illians have become more peaceful and some have begun to turn towards a sedentary life rather being nomadic. Illians who live a nomadic life trade wood and antler carvings for grains, which are the staple of their vegetarian diet. Illians typically eat grains, berries, and fish as a part of their diet. Sedentary Illians typically grow and fish their own food but will occasionally trade for more grain if the harvesting season didn't go well.

Overall, the culture of the Illians is unknown to outsiders. Illians do not trust outsiders in their villages and those who do come to their villages to trade are required to stay outside the walls while all the items agreeded upon are gathered. All Illians are taught from birth to never harm any animals without good reason. Even the fish caught are quickly killed in the most humane way they know. The antler carvings which Illians produce are from shedings produced yearly. Illian children aren't allowed outside of their villages until the reach the age of twenty and even then, Illian children are required to travel in pairs and return after a year to determine if they will stay or leave. Those who choose to leave are allowed to come back whenever they wish but still must never tell anybody about their life before leaving. Illians typically wear clothing which is very loose fitting and thin even in the colder portions of Lydia. Light colors are typically found in their clothing and pure black is extremely rare to find. Illian males are trained how to fight from an early age so as to protect the tribe or village.

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Species: Snowdrop Dragon

Name: Minim

Age: 6 months

Appearance: Despite bearing the name of 'Dragon', a Snowdrop Dragon is actually a mimicry of a dragon. Snowdrop Dragons are lizards which have a pair of leathery wings like a dragon which are capable of flight but do not grow as big as dragons nor do they have the typical scales of a dragon. Minim is no exception. She's a white-green color of Snowdrop Dragon having been born in the forested area around Juri's home. She is a mere two feet long and her wings aren't fully developed yet for long flight but they extend out a foot an a half from the tip of one wing to Minim's body. She stands at barely a foot tall. Snowdrop Dragons grow to be a mere eight feel tall with wingspans of ten feet and a length of thirteen feet at the age of two.

Equipment: Minim has a personally made set of hardened leather armor. The leather armor covers her back and underside while allowing a rather long range of motion. The leather armor also attaches at the base of the net and runs up to cover the top of Minim's head and lace behind her ears. A set of leather laces lightly over her wings with a piece of sharpened metal attached to the end facing her head for combat. The final piece of Minim's armor is a piece of leather which laces around the end of her tail and has small pieces of metal sown into the leather, sort of like a gauntlet.

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Age: 22

Gender Female

Appearance: Evia is unusual for her people for she has red hair rather than the normal blonde and brunette. Her hair is long with the ends of her braids reaching nearly the middle of her back. The tuft of fur at the end of her tail is a dark red, nearly scarlet, in color. Evia has undersized ears to the rest of people with them only extending an inch and half, from base to tip, for the first set and a half inch for the second set. Evia is taller than most people in her tribe at an impressive six feet and two inches while weighing a hundred an eighty-six pounds. Her lithe figure should not be taken as weak as the majority of her weight is pure muscle.

Armor: Evia's armor was made for her by her father before she left the village. It is a simple set of hardened leather three layers thick with each layer a third of an inch thick stitched together. All pieces of the leather were collected from the dead animals on their island who had died naturally. Evia wears a cuirass, two bracers, and two leather greaves. As part of her village's custom, Evia's armor has scales collected from fish sewn onto it giving it a blue-green coloration.

Clothing: Evia has four sets of blue, cotton shirts which lace up at the front. Her pants are made of cotton and are light green in color. She often wears a pair of gloves made from woven cotton to cover the tattoos from her tribe on her hands. Her shoes are made from wooden flats with woven cotton wrapped around them and in the form of closed-toe shoes.

Weapons: Unlike most of the females from her tribe, Evia is untrained in the use of a spear and instead uses two swords. Well, technically she uses a short sword with a two feet long blade and a sword with a with a three and a half feet long blade. Even though Evia knows how to use a bow, she doesn't actually carry one with her.

Miscellaneous Items: Evia carries everything thing she owns, excluding her swords, in a knapsack she keeps slung over her shoulder. Inside she has a thick, cotton bound book with nearly two hundred pages, twenty of which have been written on. She also carries with her a bottle of ink, three quills, and a seaweed wrapped sack of grains and fish. She also has two loaves of wheat bread with dried nuts mixed in.

Biography: Evia was not born in the normal city of her kind in Lydia. Instead, her tribe had taken their isolationism to an extreme. The Illian tribe of Hasi, which Evia was born into, had left Lydia fifty years before Evia was born to live on an island further north where they could be entirely sure their secrets would be safe. The Hasi tribe established a small settlement on the island they came to call Ilpa. Ilpa was a small island with a mountain at the northern end and high cliffs all around the island. A small river lead up to a lake between the cliffs on the west side. Further inland were forests of evergreens and plentiful amounts of deer.

The tribe settled around the lake and, with the wheat and corn seeds they had brought with them, established their farms along the river. Many fish lived in the lake as it seemed the lake was a sort of breeding place for the fish in summers. Wild walnuts and pecans grew throughout the island which the Hasi made use of by mixing it into their bread. This small, isolated society was one which Evia knew well. Her father was the chieftain of the tribe, a young Illian of thirty-two years, and her mother a cotton weaver, she was twenty-two years old. Evia never knew her mother long for she had caught a fatal illness the winter following Evia's birth.

Evia would have been raised to use a spear as most females in her tribe were if she hadn't been the chieftain's child. But, since the child of the chieftain will take over his position when he dies, she was trained in the use of swords as weapons as well as bows. She would sit through the lessons, the beatings when she failed, and the long history lessons led by her Elders. Evia was taught the rules of her people including never telling about their history nor about how she was raised on Ilpa. She was a slacker though and would often spend her time in the forests around the mountain which her tribe had come to call Ulism. It was Evia who first encountered the Snowdrop Dragons which were native to Ilpa.

Most of her tribe feared these Dragon-like creatures for they believed that they would consume them like an actual, feral dragon would have. But the snowdrop dragons were peaceful and not even actual dragons. Instead, the snowdrop dragons occasionally descended from Ulism to hunt deer, fish, and occasionally give birth to new eggs. When everybody noticed that the snowdrop dragons were peaceful, they began to accept them and realize they were not dragons. Evia had a knack for caring for snowdrop dragons and would occasionally bring fresh fish to feed to them when she could. She, of course, got in trouble for this as it often meant she was giving away fish that could have been eaten.

Like many of her race, Evia left her village when she turned twenty with her friend Limea. The pair sailed to Lydia and traveled along the coast. Evia was amazed by the beauty of the world outside of Ilpa and decided to begin writing about it. After buying a book, quills, and ink at the market, Evia wrote about everything she had seen and heard while she and Limea were outside of Ilpa. But, Limea wasn't as excited about Lydia as Evia was. Limea wanted to go back to Ilpa and stay away from the strange culture of the lydians. She would stay with Evia until they had to come back but she would only ever stay outside of cities at their camp while Evia wandered the city.

A year later, Evia had filled an entire book with the things she had found in Lydia. She handed the book to her Elders and told them that inside was everything she discovered about the people in Lydia. I was obvious to everybody that Evia had chosen to leave Ilpa not to long after having come back. So, for four months they rushed to ready supplies for Evia including a thick book and armor. During this time Evia met a small snowdrop dragon, one which she has come to call Minim. Minim was unique for she was born a white-green color unique only to a few snowdrop dragons born on Ilpa. Minim's egg had been abandoned in the forest when Evia found it and decided to raise the egg. Three weeks before Evia left, Minim hatched from her egg to meet a happy, young Illian who was more than willing to keep her.

Evia left with Minim on her shoulder and all the supplies the village had put together for her over the four months she have been on Ilpa. She left the island with only two things to tell her father, "I will come back but I will learn as much as possible about the outside world before I come back." Evia had promised her father that she would be back no matter what and that she would indeed take over the position of chieftain when she came back. So, Evia and the three week old Minim set out to travel through Lydia. She once again took to writing about what she saw and heard but added to it a study of animals and plants she found in Lydia. Nearly six months after Evia left Ilpa, she happened upon a poster calling for people to become a person's guard. Evia decided to do it simply to see what she could learn about these places she had never heard about. Not too long after, Evia arrived at Lenaya asking for directions to the Golden Guar.

Extra: Evia is a tad bit too trusting of people. As she has lived among her own for most of her life, Evia doesn't understand that most people in Lydia are likely to mislead her or trick her for coin. Because of this, Evia doesn't actually have any money with her since she spent the last of her money on a severely overpriced bottle of ink to replace her empty one.

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Name: Tahira Misra

Title: Disciple of the Outlander, Mystic of the Valishul

Age: Mysterious

Gender: Female

Armor: Scale-Cuirass

Clothing: Hooded robes of varying lengths, colors and styles and sturdy leather sandals.

Weapons: A Kukri, which she keeps sheathed on her lower back, and her magic constructs.

Miscellaneous Items:

• Sacred Dyes: Although she has run out of Gurkara sap, she still performs the rites over more conventional dyes which she uses in their place when marking her skin.
• Whetstone: For sharpening her kukri, a ritual dagger among her people.
• Medicinal Herbs: Used for making ointments and balms for a variety of purposes.
• Rations: A weeks worth of food for her and her companion... he does most of the carrying.

Biography:

On the fringes of Helsath, to the south and east, there is a great desert which only the well-prepared can survive the crossing of. Beyond this desert dwell the Valishul tribes, on a chain of islands strung along the coast. These islands are known as the Sand’s Teeth, and they boast an exotic and twisted landscape compared to the rest of the continent. Born the daughter of a Valishul tribal shaman, Tahira’s childhood was spent learning her people’s hidden ways. The most important of these was the reading of the stars, the Outlander’s sacred language through which the Valishul believe the past, present and future are all unveiled.

When she came of age she learned the rituals to prepare the fruit of the Gurkara, a tree native to their isles with unique properties. When consumed properly, it enhances the strength of the Valishul warriors, but if it is eaten without being prepared by a shaman then its effects are fatal. After centuries of religious consumption, the Valishul have become capable of surreal feats of strength, even unaided. It is said that a warrior of their tribes can split a bronze-sheeted shield with a kick, or snap the haft of a spear in his hands. The sap of the Gurkara tree is also used to mix sacred dyes. Using the dyes, Valishul tribesman paint the paths of their tribe’s stars along their bodies. For each tribe, the meaning is different, and Tahira learned the secrets of all of them.

As she grew older her magic began to manifest, something that wasn’t unheard of among shamans of the Valishul. Despite the connections to the Outlander which pervade their myths, the tribes did not understand magic. The elders did not know whether to accept it as a gift, or destroy it as a perversion, and so instead of choosing either they sent those who manifested magical abilities out into the world to seek an answer to their question. Was this the Outlander’s will? Out of the dozen or so magic users who had been born in the last few hundred years, none had returned to the Valishul tribes after their pilgrimage. Tahira intends to be the first.

She survived the journey across the Great Ajanak Desert, and made a companion out of one of the vicious and cunning Kjolun apes which dominate the desert cliffs. It was the runt of a littler and had been cast out from its nest, but through some kinship Tahira chose to save it, and nursed it to health with the last of the prepared Gurkara she had brought from the isles. Although he was once small enough to sit on her shoulder, over the years since she left the Sand’s Teeth he has grown several heads taller than her and she sometimes finds herself sitting on his shoulders now.

The closer she got to the hub of the continent, Lenaya, the more she learned of the Holy Church of the Outlander, a supposed den of warlocks and demons to some, or heretics to others. Yet they boasted abilities not unlike her own, so she chose to approach them. The Church of the Outlander worshiped the comet just as devotedly as the Valishul did, and they seemed to believe the power of magic was granted to them by the Outlander. Among their ranks, she discovered several of the Valishul shamans who had disappeared, commanding fire and lightning with their will and determination, and imbuing items with power.

It seemed she had found her people, but had she found the answer? She could not know, so she learned of their holy scriptures, becoming a Disciple of the Outlander as the other shamans had, but it was there she stopped. Traveling the land with her companion, she spreads knowledge of the Outlander wither her own Valishul twists on its meaning, and seeks those who know more about these powers than the humans. On her journey across the continent, she came across a flyer seeking brave souls to cross the land bridge on a quest for gold. Although she has little interest in wealth, the description of the city’s protectors caught her attention and she seeks to track down these Black Wardens for herself.

Extra:

• Since she went years before receiving magical instruction from the Church, Tahira has a unique magical skill that she developed on her own. Through a form of telekinesis magic, she can manifest constructs which mirror her people's ancestral weapons. Although they require concentration to maintain, she can even pass these to other people temporarily.
• Valishul myths say that the Outlander's arrival, thousands of years ago, heralded the end of a war that brought their people to the bring of annihilation. They have spent all the time since preparing to resume the war when the Outlander leaves them. These "Black Wardens" match the description of the shadowed titans of their oldest legends.

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Species: Desert Kjolun

Name: Galal

Age: 5-6 Yrs.

Equipment: A knapsack in which he carries Tahira's things, a few shiny baubles Tahira strung along his belt (because he liked them), and a battered club.

Name: Jen-Tai
Title: Amazon Warrior
Age: 27
Gender: F



Armor:

• chain-mail cuirass (hidden under clothes)
• steel gauntlets

Clothing:

• furs & skins
• boots
• cloak

Weapons:

• Broadsword
• Wooden Shield
• Chakram

Miscellaneous items:

• comb
• spoon
• bandages

Biography: Born in a hilly green village, her youth was filled with sheep herding, fishing, and yam farming. Its was a simple life, where people value fresh seeds and mounds of soil over mounds of gold, but it was a rewarding life. But as soon as it started her life was stolen away. Slavers, minions of the Warlord, razed the country side in search of breeders; for the Warlord desired an heir to his throne. Houses were burned, cattle slaughtered, and women shackled. Those that survived the storm of blades died of their wounds and grief. All save for Jenivere. Hidden under a pile of freshly sheared wool, she watched her people die. With everything destroyed, she gathered all she could and journeyed south to the great blue. It was after passing thru the moon-glazed forest (named so for its faint glow gifted by the Outlander) did she find the vast ocean, and the Amazons.

The Amazons, a Chiefdom of 7ft tall woman warriors, or so the stories go. But myths and tales have a way of exaggerating truths, you see. In reality the so called "Amazons" were not all warriors, only a handful were. They were not a race of giant women, they were mostly Lydians in fact. And they didn't have a secret kingdom hidden in the forests, they were a nomadic tribe; more of a band really. The Amazons started some years ago, when a group of enslaved women freed themselves. Lost and not knowing who to trust, they roamed the countryside surviving off the land. They taught themselves to fight and fend for themselves. Their favorite prey was slaver caravans, isolated and easily ambushed. Every time one was defeated, their ranks bolstered with newly freed slaves. At the apex there was fifty-some members. Numbers never remained high however. Most of them either returned to their homes or found a new comfortable life in some village or city. These were the ones who told the world the stories of the Amazons, the fierce heroic women who saved them. But there were always a few that remained. The hardened ones. The warriors.

Jenivere became one of them. She was given a new name, Jen-Tai. Raised with love and compassion, taught strength and defiance. When she became old enough, she followed her sisters into battle. But the time of the Amazons were at an end. Slavers, bandits, warlords and the like knew the stories. They dared not cross the countryside where the Amazons roamed. Without caravans to raid or slaves to free, the Amazons dwindled in number. One after another left in favor of a quieter life. And the more passionate ones now rest in a better place. And then there was one. Jen-Tai's past life is but a faint memory. The Amazons is all she has, all that she is. She will proudly die as an Amazon.

Extra:

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Species: Sniivere
Name: Ravaatra
Age: 5

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Age/stats: Renault is a thirty two year old adult male that weighs in at two hundred and ten pounds. Comprised almost entirely of muscle due to the heavy weight of his armor and shield building his physique over the years. His armor and weapons are balanced but weighs in at a hefty ninety four pounds, resulting in him weighing at a total of three hundred and four pounds. He is six feet, eleven inches tall.

Facial appearance:Underneath his shoulder length dirty blonde hair, his slate gray eyes are constantly scanning the countryside, watching for danger. His small nose picking up on the scent of creatures nearby, picking out the magical scent he was taught to recognize. A heavy blonde stubbly beard-stache covers his square jaw, ending in a slight point on his chin, above his moderately thick neck. Wrinkles from stress over his family and years of hardship make themselves known underneath his slightly recessed eyes. The occasional pockmark dots itself on his cheeks and if one looks closely, they may see a dimple on his chin, underneath the stubble.

There is a scar on his lower lip from being split at some point in his life, just as there is another scar on his right nostril and across his left eyebrow. His thin, smooth, eyebrows are often furrowed either with worry or combat readiness.

Armor: He utilizes a several-hundred-times repaired Heavy Templar armor gifted to him on the day he was recognized as a Templar Elite. Specially shaped to deflect sword blows and arrow impacts, he is the equivalent of a brick wall when he takes a solid stance. Carries and uses a large Templar tower-shield that sits on his arm lengthwise to make use of his whole arm to absorb impacts of all types and still grant him the freedom of easy movement when the need arises.

Clothing: When he is not in armor, which is rare for him as he feels more comfortable in it, he wears a dark blue tunic and black cloth pants. He has a pair of leather boots as well for if he needs to scout around.

Weapons: Renault uses the sword of his father, a Templar Elite Longsword that has been tempered and sharpened to near perfection by master Yenanin smiths several times over the years. It has never let him down. Finally, he presents himself a danger to even distant foes with his Heavy crossbow. A standard for most Templars, his is no different. On his upper right shoulder, he has strapped a small bolt quiver that is filled to the brim with 40 steel bolts.

Miscellaneous Items: He has a tan wolf-hide satchel that rests on his tailbone that holds many of his survival items he needs to live. Flint, tinder, his clothing, hunting knife, bread and a canteen of water. Around his neck is a steel chain that holds a small pewter medallion depicting an ancient wolf on the front. On the back the words "I Love you, Renault. Stay strong, for you are always in my heart. - Cynthia" are carved into it.

Biography:"So, Renault, What's your story?" Tara said, breaking the silence that had taken hold of the camp that evening. The Templar was silent for a time, his gray eyes peering back and forth slowly. As gazes started to turn towards him, he finally relented and started to speak. "I hail from Yenanin to the far West. I was one of their Templarious Sudum. Templar Elite. My order was directly responsible for the culling of magical entities and creatures within the country. My particular group was known as Monstroso Aquiline, Monster Slayers.

"I was wealthy, had a wife, a son. Lived in the cloud district among the rich and well off. A good life, until a fell beast called the Ragnarorin was sighted at the slaughter of a once peaceful hamlet on the border regions. A massive monster as large as three horses that could conjure lighting with nary but a thought. It terrorized the countryside. It moved faster than my compatriots and I could track it. When we had finally gained ground and cornered it, it had destroyed and slaughtered seven more cities. It had come to it's end at the crux of a main trade route. A large city that had well over two thousands people occupying it's walls. Merchants from all over the land passed by the city on their way to the outlying hamlets and bergs. We had arrive a few hours too late to save the city, but the monster was still within. We charged in and attacked the beast. It was heavily armored, it's bones protruding from it's scaley skin. It looked like a Truuvan, but morphed. It had shot lightning at us with it's command over the magical elements around it. Every time it did, we felt weaker, as if it sapped our very life force with it's attacks. We had used all of our arrows, spears, and bombs on it, but it had held up against every attack we could muster. It was a full three hours before the dust could finally settle and the dead were laid to rest."

The Templar shifted in his spot as he noticed that the others had leaned in to listen to his story. He was growing nervous. "W-We had taken the beast down, losing all of the hunters besides myself and one other. The casualties were immense and, instead of praise, we were punished severely. As the only elite, the blame was cast onto me for their deaths. My compatriot was executed and I was cast into exile. I was to be burdened with the shame of surviving the ordeal, I was separated from my family and friends, never to see them again. My fortune was confiscated and my family was thrown into the poor district to suffer. For months I had received only a few letters from my wife that had to be delivered by old friends. They had adjusted well enough to survive but In the last letter, she had told me that my son had passed away from plague born from the rats that infested the poor district. Even though friends from outside the city had pitched what they could and finally opened their doors for her to live in, I had decided to venture here to Lydia to seek my fortune and pay for my wife's passage from Yenanin to here...thus is why I'm putting my life on the line for this sage." He grew silent for a time, obviously reflecting on his family still in Yenanin. What's left of them at least. He started to idly twirl the pewter medallion around his neck, mired in his memories.

Extra: Renault is a typically nervous man by nature. He is wary of those around them, enjoys his solitude, and dislikes being watched for extending periods of times by those he is not conversing with. He has severe trust issues. Not because he finds himself above those around him, which he doesn't, but because he is in a land that is at war with his homeland. Many times in the streets he recognizes family members of those he has killed in the past. Regardless of his trust issues, he still recognizes himself as a knight and a Templar. He will always defend the weak against those that with to harm them and will always listen to those in need. However, as a Templar, those with magical abilities are subject to his prejudice. He would not come to their aide unless they meant something to them.

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Name:
Tara

Age
18

Gender
Female

Appearance
Tara is five feet two inches tall and well muscled. She has brown hair which is usually a mess and full of braids and trinkets. Her skin is sunkissed and she has blue eyes. A blue pigmented and slightly faded tattoo adorns her chin and her lips and is made up of mostly lines and dots in geometrical patterns. The same kind of tattoos trail down the back of her neck, spine and shoulder blades. Random tiny symbols can be found tattooed on various parts of her body in the same faded blue pigment.

Armor
She only wears armor when she knows she will be working or fighting. The rest of the time she simply opts to stay in her normal, light, leather and cloth garb. The armor she does wear when working consists of steel shin guards, a set of strap on boot spikes, heavy steel guantlets and pauldrons that cover the entire arm and shoulder. Depending on what she is doing she may or may not wear a leather bib or chest piece.

Clothing
Skin and furs and woven materials. All of the things she wears as clothing were made either by herself or her Nema. She wears either a simple set of leather wraps on her bare feet or a long pair of leather and fur boots in cold weather or harsh terrain. Around her torso and legs is a long leather tunic that doubles as a skirt when belted. Another set of woven skirts and short leggings is under that. When it gets too cold she wears a fur half cloak on her shoulders. When it is too hot the top of her tunic can be dropped and she opts to wear a simple band around her chest.

Weapons
A well loved hand axe is her weapon of choice in a pinch or a close quarters fight. When going after huge jobs or nastier armored enemies she has an assortment of jagged steel hooks, chains, and ice pick like weapons. Most come in pairs and with links for said chains. She also caries a skinning knife and dagger, but she doesn't really consider them proper weapons, just tools.

Miscellaneous items
A pair of climbing tools similar to tekagi. Flint and steel. A lot of rope. Miscellaneous tack for her duvara. A bed roll. All of her extra weapons, tools, armor and items are packed and carried by the duvara.

Biography
The girl clutched her shoulder and scowled into the flames in the hearth. It was a chilly autumn night and the windows were uncovered but she was drenched in sweat. An elderly woman, brown skinned, silver haired with deeply set black eyes and a tattooed face sat next to her. She was wrapped in furs and had the girl's mangled and half bandaged arm across her lap. Blood and salve had already soaked through the first layer of the wrap. The little finger was missing from the second joint, those remaining were broken, much of the skin was missing, torn away by something sharp. The girl hissed and jerked once and then let it flow into a deep breath, trying to hang on to her resolve.
"You let him have his head before you were in position," the old woman scolded quietly.
"I know," the girl groaned.
"You're lucky he didn't take your arm or your head or shred you to ribbons."
"I know, Nema!" she snapped.
The girl's grandmother glared at her with more heat than than the flames could ever have. The silence was broken neither by the insects in the fields outside nor any of the livestock nearby. Only by the timid crackle of the embers and the bubbling of the salve in the kettle.
"'M sorry, Nema," the girl whispered, "I made a mistake. Won't make it again."
"I hope not. You only have so many body parts to get bitten off."
"Don't wanna do this anymore."
"Don't be dramatic, Tara. You'll be back out there tomorrow."
"No."
Tara's grandmother sighed as she finished wrapping the splint around her hand.
"'M scared," she continued, "Old wounds are startin' to hurt again, people think I'm touched by demons... An' this job is different. It don't want to listen, it don't want to hunt, don't want to be free, don't want to be safe, don't want to move on. It wants to kill and wants to horde. I saw into his eyes up close an' all that was in there was death."
"Some creatures are like that. Many dragons are like that. Some go mad with old age. You may not be able to be gentle with this one."
Another long silence followed. Soon Tara was given her arm back. She cradled it and bowed her head with shaking breaths. Her eyes wandered from the hearth to pile of equipment on the floor by the entrance to the farm house they were staying in. The jagged hooks and chains she used to work with creatures of this size were tangled with her armor, spikes and axe where she had dropped them all in a hurry. They were charred, dirty and spotted with her own blood.
"I can't put 'im down," she whispered.
Her Nema stoked the fire and added more wood. When she was done she stirred the kettle and sat back on the blankets before lighting her pipe and taking a long drag off it.
"If you don't, then we don't get paid, we don't buy supplies for winter, this village continues to be attacked, people continue to die and the road eventually closes. The King's men won't deal with the beast, that's for sure."
Tara didn't answer.
"You're different child. These cityborn people behind their walls and knights and senses of superiority will never understand people like us. The tribals will always cast us out as users of blood craft and blasphemers of their gods and spirits and what have you. Humans of all kinds struggle to dance with the creatures we live with and instead opt to cower or conquer. With you there is harmony and understanding and an unspoken language. I barely had to teach you the craft some days. You always seemed to know what to do. You may be touched, but not by demons. It's a gift... And a curse. When any other man would kill, you try and reason and dance, even when you shouldn't. Some would call it stupid, others would call it mercy. As long as you remember to survive like they do, I call it the way things should be.'
'Tara, I leave this up to you. Whatever you decide, decide it quick. Either way we'll be back in the depths of the wood among the ancients and the beasts and the tree house again soon."
Tara nodded slowly, but continued to stare off into nothingness.
"Now," the old woman grunted as she stood, "Your Nema's bones are cold. I'm going to bed. Be a good girl and tend to the fire if you stay up."

***

The dragon slammed into a rocky outcrop above the village farmlands the next morning. He spread his leathery wings and tore the ground with his talons when he moved. His tail flattened the brush and he let out a scream that could be heard well over a mile. His hide was the color of sandstone with black streaks stained over his backside. Thick and jagged growths and scales protruded from his overly-bulky form. He hissed and drooled and coiled and sputtered. While his one blind eye looked off at an angle his good eye locked onto the little thing that was causing him so much anger.
He circled and arched his back, flapped his wings and twisted his neck as he let out another terrible scream. A show to put his enemies in their place. And this one was the worst kind. Tenacious. The little bitch of a human girl he had maimed the day before was back in his territory. She stood calm before his posturing, with her arm guards, face paint and boot spikes back on. One vicious, painful, hateful three foot steel hook in on a chain was clutched tight in her right hand and a set of climbing claws was forcibly strapped to her bandaged left arm. She looked him right in the eyes. How dare she?
The human girl bared her teeth stomped the ground and let out a rasping scream of her own. He would not stand for this! She would die where she stood! The dragon lunged at her.

Extra
She has a history of being socially backward, awkward and easily confused by other people, but she is very good with animals. By more civilized people she is often viewed as dirty or even filthy and smelly.

---

Age/stats: Nalia is a twenty six year old woman, weighing in at a lithe one hundred and thirty five pounds, most of which is muscle. Thirty pounds is added by her armor and weapons to make her one hundred and sixty five pounds. She is five feet, eight inches tall.

Appearance: With long brown hair that reaches down to the middle of her back, slightly pointed ears, and angular features, many could say that Nalia is the representation of one of the mythical elves from storybooks, in reality, she is as human as they come. Lithe and athletic, she is relatively clean in complexion and features save for the multitude of scars dotting her arms and legs from various wounds she sustained from her time in the deep woods. She is toned and her veterancy in the woods show in her muscles and eyes. https://i.imgur.com/KPLeYUs.jpg

Armor: She utilizes a light leather armor that she created and stitched together herself. A few engravings are spread across each piece, representing oak leaves and ivy. She keeps her cuirass hidden underneath her shirt, but places her pauldron on her shoulders in addition to her vambraces, placing them in such a way to protect her wrists while she utilizes her bow. She makes frequent use of leather thigh plates that she has strapped onto her legs as well as leather boots that come up to just below her knee and a pair of leather knee pads.

Clothing: Above her cuirass, she wears a white and gold embroidered cloth tunic, allowing plenty of room for her body to breathe yet concealing the armor underneath. She wears dark gray cloth leggings that hug her body tightly, not restricting her movement in any way.

Weapons: Nalia keeps her golden oak longbow close, etchings of her family tree are decorated all over it. She couples it with an identically colored leather and gold topped quiver with 40 steel arrows sitting comfortably within. She has two swords on her left shoulder, housed within their respective leather and metal sheaths. A steel longsword she specifically uses for animals and wildlife so as to make their deaths quick and painless, and a second, enchanted, sword attached to it via leather belts. With the power of the coldest of ice within it, she specifically uses this frosty sword for human enemies, especially those that threaten the denizens of what she calls her forest.

Miscellaneous items: She has a small pack full of survival gear, up to and including

[*} A bedroll
[*} Several days worth of rations
[*} Spare fletchings and arrow heads
[*} Tinder and flint for fires
[*} A whet stone for her swords

In addition, she has a small pouch full of medicinal herbs on her left hip, a small carving dagger on her tailbone, and a secured jar of poison on her right hip. All of which are fastened by a leather belt.
Finally, stuffed in a front pouch of her bag, are several wolf treats for Kita.

Biography: Nalia was born in a small hamlet a few dozen miles east of the capital. She was born into a family of adventurers. Her mother and father being retired military scouts that had been the pair of soldiers that had discovered the existence of the Yenanin kingdom to the west and had warned the kingdom mere weeks before Lydia was attacked by the now rival kingdom. They had then become adventurers and delved into multiple ancient towers and ruins all over the country. Nalia's sister was an ambitions woman that had seen most of the kingdom before she had turned ten years old. Nalia grew up in their shadow, but had done so proudly. Aspiring to be as adventurous as them, she often got herself lost in the woods, mingling with animals and creatures of all shapes and sizes. It was at an early age that she decided that she wanted to spend her life out in the forest, protecting them as best as she could. She wanted to see all the forests of the world and, when she matured into a young, experienced, woman, she had told her family that she was leaving to see the world.

They were barely affected by her leaving, expecting it their entire lives. They had simply asked to to check in once a year and wished her good luck. She set off on her own and was determined to live life to the fullest out in the forests. For years she taught herself the tools of the trade, leather working, fletching, archery, sword fighting, medicine, toxin mixing. She had spent ten years learning it all the hard way. She preferred it this way, the traditional way. She had made herself a small tree house and, one day, stumbled upon her would-be companion. A wounded dire-wolf pup. Even as a puppy, it was as big as her stomach was and it had been snared in a bear trap. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, she had nursed the poor creature back to full health and adopted it into her care. The pup had become attached to her quickly, becoming loyal within a year and regaining it's strength enough to be able to protect her more than she was protecting it. This wolf that she had named Rita had become her best friend and was the life of the party at family reunions.

As she had become a veteran in the Ranger and Tracking arts, she had also sadly become stagnated. She had heard stories of the golden city of the deep south and, one day, she had received a flyer from a courier. She took it as a sign and took off for the Golden Guar, wanting to see this strange place for herself and live up to her family's reputation.

Extra: Nalia is a bubbly, friendly woman that tries to make friends quickly. She becomes defensive of said friends rather easily and will put their needs above her own.

The Chemist

---

Name
Sorgen Q'aiwyr Dea Rhedikar

Age
40

Gender
Male

Appearance
Eight and a half feet tall with a slender build, but well toned. Blue-ish skin and dark grey markings and longer fur, black hair and bright yellow eyes that sort of glow with reflected light. Has black hair which he wears somewhat long and partially shaved. Grows a goatee of the same shade. Part of his left ear is missing a chunk out of it.

Clothing
He likes black. Thinks it's professional. However he can't seem to keep the shades very cohesive and usually winds up with a hodge podge of dark colors. He wears a heavy garment that resembles a cross between a scarf and a robe that he belts down around the waist. This is over the top of a thief's body suit that is open in the back save for four buckled straps holding it together. This is so his mane doesn't get tangled or too hot under a normal shirt. Shorts match the top of the suit with a space for his tail and buckle up both sides. He never wears shoes or gloves for apparent reasons.

Weapons
Long daggers if you want to get up close and personal. At the end of the day, though, he'd rather just blow your sorry ass up with one of a dozen different kinds of explosives, grenades, combustible sludges, acidic concoctions and other horrible things he comes up with... If it comes down to the wire he has extremely sharp claws as well.

Miscellaneous items
Three gunpowder flasks, full to bursting. A heavy pack full of mysterious and quite dangerous things as well as more mundane supplies. A rolled cloak for bad weather or sleeping. A very long thin pipe and weed for said pipe.

Biography
"We know you got coin, ya' little rat!" the fat blond boy and his friend towered over him after pushing him into the gutter. He scrambled backward but the alley only lead to a dead end. There was nowhere he could go.

"I don't!" the little human pleaded.

"You're such a liar! I know you got some! I seen you begging off sweet old hags and them merchants all day! Hand it over," the other boy yelled at him.

"No I don't!" he said again.

He crumpled in half after a hard boot was thrown into his stomach. Another found his arms, then his face, again and again and again.

"We'll find it when we're done then!" the fat one hissed.

Amidst the haze of pain and the pressure flooding into his head and drowning his thoughts he heard a rough, "Excuse me."

The beating slowed then stopped. He managed to open his eyes and through the tears a dark scarecrow like figure stretched over them. Glowing yellow eyes squinted down. It seemed to stagger and sway a bit as it put a clawed hand on each of their shoulders.

"Do you kids know a good place to dump a body or two... or three... or a lot, actually? Because there are going to be rather a lot of bodies."

"N-n-... NO!" one of the boys stuttered, "Let go you freak!"

The first boy wrenched away from the monster and bolted out of the alley. He was quickly followed by his friend. The small human found himself beaten down and alone with this beast. It stumbled backward under the weight of a massive back pack hanging from his shoulders before stooping down and looking him over with a jagged sneer. He quickly recognized the figure as one of the few Essanga that roamed through the town from time to time and frequented the markets. It's tail swished and it snorted. The stench of smoke, sweat, mildew and alcohol wafted over him.

"What about-- Stop crying!" he paused to make a noise in his throat, "What about you?"

The boy sniffled and shook his head. He didn't know what was going on. He just wanted to get away. To hide.

"Hm, no matter. I may have fudged the exact nature of clean up detail anyhow," the Essang said.

"Um..." the boy started quietly, "Can I go, please?"

"Go? Go where? You don't look like you have anywhere to go, if you don't mind me saying so. I'm sorry, sometimes I'm too forward... Wait. No. I'm not sorry. Anyway, where do you live?"

The boy found it hard to respond. This thing was making his head spin, "I don't live anywheres, sir. I just try'n get enough coin for food and what have you. Please don't hurt me. I wasn't doin' nothin'."

"Of that, I'm sure. Poor thing. I've joined your ranks of the homeless as of late and I find it rather uncomfortable to say the least. You have my--" the thing let out a loud belch, "sympathies. And speaking of recently becoming homeless, I do have a mission to get back to. Of course, I could use.."

He scratched his mane for a moment and glanced to the main street.

"You want coin is that it?"

After a hesitation, the boy nodded.

"Then let's talk coin," the Essang grinned.

It was late afternoon and the pair of them walked down a narrow street lined with apartments and spotted with merchants booths, criers and people hustling to unknown destinations. He struggled to keep up with the Essang's long strides even if he did have a slight limp holding him back. All of them spared a glance. The boy knew this area well. He often panhandled and begged here as this was a path many of the upper class or people with money at all tended to walk and they were walking in the direction of a more wealthy area of the town. All the while the drunken man-beast had been talking, though it was mostly to himself. At least the boy thought that's what was going on.

"You'll learn," he hissed, "When somebody wrongs you they do not get away with it. Nobody throws you out on the street, beats you, steals your belongings and leaves you with nothing. That was my house and my lab damn it! Renovations for a tavern. Pheh! I'll renovate something! I'll show them! I mean... You. You'll show them. For trying to take your money. Right. Do not let them... those bullies, get away with it. Do you hear me?"

The boy looked around in confusion and then nodded.

"You wait for them to be unaware, they can't see you coming, do not let them see you coming. There is no honor in war or battle, kid. A lot of you humans get your kicks in fighting 'worthy opponents' and going down in a 'blaze of glory,' 'honorable death,' all that stupid shit. If someone declares war, you do not make it enjoyable, you do not make it worthy, you do not show mercy. It is not a game. It is putting down the monsters. It is taking back-- Wait. Wait, wait. Where are we. I thought we passed-- There's the place with the fence, so then..."

The man-beast trailed off into nonsense and stood on his toes, looking up the street and then down a side path. He scratched behind his ears which were swiveling away.

"AH HA! It's the next street over. My apologies," he bowed and then started off again.

The two of them arrived at the rear of one of the largest human structures in the town. It was a mere four stories, dwarfed by many of the buildings in Lenaya, but here it stood above the rest.

"I know where we are," the boy chimed in quietly, "This is the offices for the Martelle family."

"Owners of half the buildings in this cesspool and the new owners of a once home, soon to be tavern. Brutes, extortionists, murderers, filthy, money-loving, cock-sucking, whores. Now if I remember correctly there's our two friends guarding the back entrance here and two at the front for the better half of the night," the Essang grunted while readjusting the pack, which was now straining to hold its own weight, "That just wont do."

The boy looked up the street to the two guards and then back at his new companion, "What you mean?"

"I believe what you are trying to say is 'What do you mean.' Children," the Essang shook his head.

He quickly dug around in a pouch on his belt and fished out a small, slightly crumpled piece of paper with several stains on it. He examined it and then looked down at the boy with a deeply unimpressed expression.

"Improvisation is the gateway to genius. It'll have to do," without another waisted second he limped off toward the guards.

"Evening!" he cried.

"Evening..." one of the guards sized them up, "Past hours, whatever business you have will have to wait until tomorrow."

"Ah, that's unfortunate. I was very afraid of that. We don't really have business, as it were, but we are couriers and come with a letter for the Martelle offices," the Essang presented the dirty paper with all the flourish of delivering a royal notice, "I don't suppose we could entrust it to you? It's nothing too urgent or official after all."

They guard was taken aback, but slowly reached out for the paper after exchanging a glance with his partner, "I suppose."

He took it and snorted. The snort turned into a chuckle and he shook his head, "What is this, some kind of a joke?"

His other hand came off the hilt of the sword to unfold the paper. The Essang's curled talons slammed into his face with a lightning fast punch that left the guard crumpled on the ground. The boy fell backwards and missed much of the chaos in his hurry to get away. When he was able to focus again, the Essang had a very long knife pressed to the other guard's neck and was leaning down into him.

"Let go of the sword," he threatened.

The guard did as he was told and put his hands up, "Alright. Alright!"

As fast as he had done the first, the man-beast slammed the man's head into the building and left him laying there with his partner. The boy was in shock. He felt a lump in his throat welling up and fear suffocating him. He stumbled to his feet and started to sniffle.

"Don't start that again," his companion whispered, "we have to move fast, you hear? Remember that coin."

He dug the keys out of one of the man's pockets and was through the door.

"Come now," he ushered the boy in.

Once inside he dropped his pack on the floor with a loud, THUD and hurried to open it. Out of it he pulled a thick spool of strange wire with a handle on either side and handed it to the boy.

"Start in this corner," he pointed, "Leave a trail of this wire along the base of every outer wall on this floor. Outer wall means the walls that form the outside of the building. Understand? When you are done continue the trail up the stairs to the next floor. Once you are there, do the same. I will meet you on the last floor. Be quiet, do not touch anything, do not tangle the wire, do not jerk the wire, do not snag or cut the wire. Be very gentle with it is what I'm trying to say. Kid, you do not want to make this stuff angry."

The boy nodded but stayed to watch as the man-beast pulled one of many small, square, paper-wrapped bricks from his pack and set aside a strange device with a crank, many, many toothed gears and a wheel with some numbers etched crudely into it.

"What is--" the boy started.

"Move!" the Essang hissed.

***

Night settled in quickly, but not before they had made it out of the building via the rooftop. The boy sat on a hill over-looking the sleepy town's southern side. He envied the rich people who lived there. At night their lanterns sparkled in a way that looked like stars among the houses and trees. He ripped another bite from the leg of meat his new friend had hurriedly purchased for him as they made their way out of town. It was heavenly. And his stomach was begging to protrude. He couldn't remember the last time he felt full. He settled in now against a tree and relaxed. Or at least tried to. The Essang hadn't stopped moving since they got here. He limped back and forth until he made a trail for himself in the grass. On each pass he would look out to the town, look at the stars, then to the horizon and then count backwards on his claws a few times. Then he would nod and continue the pacing.

"Are we in trouble?" he finally piped up.

"No. Not right now," the Essang whispered, "You probably will escape any sort of trouble what-so-ever if you keep your head down."

"We did something really bad, didn't we?" he asked.

"Well... yes... No way around that. But you're eating aren't you? And you have money in your pocket don't you?"

There was an awkward silence between them.

"I never said I was a good person. I only said you would get paid."

More silence. The Essang sighed and continued his pacing.

"You're weird," the boy said through another full mouth, "Why'd ya bring us out here?."

"Hmpf," the man-beast smirked, "A leg up on my escape for one... and for another... You like fireworks do you?"

"What's that?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter what they are. The point is you're in a good place right now. I remember doing this with my family when I was a child. Setting up the shows and then watching, that is. Those were some of the best years of my life. They were artists obsessed with pushing their craft to the limits. New compounds, new colors, new patterns, new timing, new fuses. Every combination produced something wonderful. The more complex the combination, the more exotic the result. But it was flawed. So very, trial and error. No efficiency, no end goal, no purpose, no motivation. I couldn't do it. I'm no artist. I need my work to have a more definite nature."

A BOOM erupted from the depths of the town. A brilliant orange flash lit up the hill they sat on. BOOM BOOM BOOM. Three more followed in rapid succession. Dust was blasted up into the air in a large cloud that sat where the Martelle offices used to be. A stream of fire thrust itself upward into the sky before disappearing. Only to be succeeded by several gigantic bursts of gold and red.

A deep, soft, calm laughter came from beside the boy. He looked up. The Essang's eyes were lit up like flames and he grinned from ear to ear.

"Fireworks," he said, "Well, it was a pleasure working with you but now I leave this wretched town forev--"

Another smaller but still very notable blast went off a short distance from the epicenter and caused a fireball that burst up and caused a shock-wave that reverberated in both of their chests.

"WOOPS! Damn it all. Delayed charge. Still can't get the damn timers right. Useless materials. That would have been the flour mill next door... Anyway. Don't spend all that coin in one place, kid."

Before the boy could speak again, the creature had disappeared into the trees for good.

Extra
He walks with a bit of a limp but is able to move very quietly and quickly when he has to. He always seems to reek of pipe weed and tree sap.

---

Species Name
Essang. Essanga when used in the plural form.

Location in the world
They are a prolific species and have the numbers to spread to many of the forested areas of Aeon. However they prefer to live in small clans in either small townships built into the trees or rock faces or in nomadic groups. Most of the population is on the border of the Tsurask bogs where they have been warring for ages. They have a massive capital city built into a cave system to the north of Leneya. They are hesitant to talk about the location with other species though it can be found on some maps or located by those with better educations or a knowledge of the lands. The routes to the city are not usable in the winter due to the passes being snowed in almost constantly or other bad weather. Younger Essanga have a difficult time staying in one place and tend to move around quite a bit even if they do not belong to a nomadic clan. Often times they can be found hanging around human cities or on main roads. However other species are not so welcome in their settlements.

Species Appearance

They are a humanoid race with undeniably cat and sloth-like traits. A fine layer of hair covers the entire body and is longer in some places than others. It is most notably shorter on the face. They come in a variety of colors, most being dark, such as blues, violets, grays, blacks and reds. Albinism has been seen but is rare. Males average between eight and nine feet tall with a seldom few ever reaching ten. Females average around seven or eight feet. They have a very slender build and long limbs. A mane starts at the back of the neck in the hairline and grows down the spine to join with a long tail. The mane is naturally thicker in males. The hair on the spine will stand on end or fluff up when the Essang feels threatened. They have very long ears which can swivel in a multitude of directions. Their teeth are all pointed and very sharp like a shark's. When a tooth is broken or lost another takes its place. This has a tendency to give them very unattractive smiles. Being a nocturnal species they have large, reflective eyes. Their eyes are so reflective that during the daytime or under any sort of direct or saturated light they appear to glow. Myths have spread that they do not have pupils, but this is due to most humans only ever seeing them in the day when the slit pupil closes so tightly it is only a sliver in the center of the iris. While they have excellent vision at night it is rather bad during the day. They are extremely agile, fast and limber creatures and while they excel at athletics, those with intellectual skill are held in higher regard among their culture. Their life span tends to be somewhat longer than that of humans. If in good health, they can easily reach 150.

Species History
For centuries they have been warring with the Tsurask over resources. With the bog spreading into their territory they are losing hunting ground and prey. Out of spite both species engage in guerrilla skirmishes all over the border. The animosity runs deep and the two species will often attack each other on sight regardless of where they are or if there is any reason to do so. The Essang claim to have been on Aeon long before any other species, but evidence to support this is non-existent. The Essang only started keeping written record roughly 1000 years ago while other species have more extensive histories. In times before the capital city was established they consisted of hundreds of smaller clans that were suspicious and unfriendly toward each other. Through many skirmishes and much diplomacy the clans were brought together and a courier system was set up in order to keep a patriarch aware of the movements of all of his clans. The tradition continues today, though it is made much easier with the use of writing and the Patriarch is merely a figurehead these days. He presides only in ceremony over a council of clan representatives.