Slightly New Sage.

Personality: Belial the kind of person to put his all into what he does. He seems to do his best to stay positive or optimistic in any situation even if it may annoy those around him. He is stubborn to a fault. So much so that some may wonder where his determination comes from. He never knows when to back down, even in a losing fight. He has a tendency to let his emotions cloud his judgement and act recklessly. Belial is the type who wants to give people a chance no matter what, but he is not quick to trust. However, for those he has grown close to and trusts, he puts an unbelievable amount of faith in. He has no doubts or qualms. He'll easily put his life in their hands.

Bel also has a bit of an obsessive personality towards magic, his own in particular. He wishes nothing more than to learn any and all fire magic accessible to him. If he meets a person with a fire magic he does not know, it is not unlikely for him to begin to pester them in hopes of learning the magic. In many cases he'll go as far as to try and replicate it. Above all else though, he is a loyal companion, who won't let go once he has developed a bond of sorts with a person. Don't break this bond, and you'll always have a willing friend and ally.

History: Belial was born in a poverty stricken village to a poor family. His father had chosen his name as a joke of sorts. That tended to get annoying sometimes. However, it wasn't especially hard. Actually, with his mother it was a fairly simple life. They barely made ends meat, but they always managed to get by. Bel's mother was everything to him. Then, there was his father. The man wasn't the type to provide. He hardly ever came through, which stemmed Bel's trust issues, and even when he did it was through questionable means. The man and Bel's mother were complete opposites.

She was always keeping optimistic. She would always tell Belial how important it was to do so. If he let things drag him down to far he would surely be unable to get back up. Still, as much as she tried things would one day take a bit of a turn. When he was 8, his mother broke her arm. She continued to try to work and he did his best to help, but ever so they just weren't making it. Why was his father even there? What did he do? Was it simply out of obligation? Questions riddled the young boy's mind, but he got over it. He couldn't dwell on that. He would just have to handle things with his mother if his father couldn't. Or so he thought.

One day his father came home with money to help keep them afloat. His mother questioned how he had gotten such a thing, but he brushed it off. He complimented her, bragging about how he told her he would pull through. Things seemed like they would be looking up. Surely they could get by until mom got better. At least, that was the plan. Had they known things might have never happened. Had they known, things would have been completely different. But they weren't. The village was attacked. Bandits and criminals. Some using magic, other's without. It was terrible watching as these men killed those who couldn't get away all in search of something. Something Belial's father had taken. That was how he had gotten the money. And now, everyone, not just him or his family, would pay.

In the mass of terror, Belial had been separated from his parents. He was left all alone. No clue as to where they might be and no home to return to after the attack and subsequent burning of his village. He was on his own. He didn't know how to survive. What could he do? He could try to steal... But then he would be just like his father... The reason he was even in this mess. Oh god, was his mother alive? He shook his head. He couldn't think that. Over the next year, he would begin to adapt to his situation. Finding placed to sleep. Stealing to survive. It was primarily food and water. Usually fruit or vegetables. He actually became accustomed to Tomatoes, Celery, Oranges, and Grapes. These to him would taste the best. They also tended to be the easiest to hide and avoid getting caught.

And yet, still, one day he was caught. He was just trying to survive, but the man who'd done it had no patience. He was not happy. He was cruel. He beat the young boy. He didn't leave him for dead or anything. But the pain was unbearable all the same. He wanted so bad to quit, but his mother flashed through his mind. Her face, her voice, the words she had spoken so often. He knew he couldn't. But he was going to need to defend himself. The next thing he stole wasn't food, or water. It was a book. A book on magic. Fire magic to be precise. He studied it. He learned it and began to use it. He wasn't an expert, and he wasn't especially skilled at first. But those who didn't know magic, like some of the shop owner would become much more docile towards him.

The next year progressed and he was finding it a bit more easy to live on his own. He was doing far better. Pretty well for a ten year old actually. But he was never aware of just how much would change on that year. It all started with a mark. A person he was planning to rob. They weren't much older than him. It shouldn't have been too hard. Not with his fire magic. But then again, it was because of his magic that he would be no match. This person was a mage. Isshum Wyvern. A man he would soon discover to be a Fire Dragon Slayer. He hadn't wanted this to become a fight. Luckily it didn't. Not for Isshum anyway. It was more of a kid attacking somebody older and more experienced and refusing to back down. He knew he should have. But after what had happened last time, he refused. He wouldn't go down.

Still, Isshum was too strong. Every once of fire Belial through at him was consumed swiftly and in the end he blacked out. He'd expended a good amount of magic. That packed with a small punch to the head put him out like a light. Isshum was there when he woke up, waiting for the authorities. All that came were few officials from the town he'd been staying at the time. They weren't very happy with him. They talked a lot. He didn't pay attention. Something about teaching the little thief a lesson. Didn't even wait until they were out of sight before they began to rough the kid up. He struggled but he was tired. This was definitely it. Until, that is, Isshum stepped in. At this point Belial was fading in and out. It was all a blur, but Isshum stood up for him. And somehow in the mist of a argument and near brawl he ended up being taken away by the Dragon Slayer.

Isshum explained everything when Bel next awoke. He would be taking him in. This couldn't be real though. Right? That was just nuts. And yet it was. He was speechless. Unsure for a time as well. But came to accept it. And over the next three years he bond with Isshum and his Team. He's learned so much more about magic. And because of his new family his interest in learning came to be about more than defense. It was a point of pride. He wanted to become as great as everyone else. He wanted to somehow become better. And so he decided he'd try and learn any and all types of fire magic possible and more if he could to become strong enough to stand side by side with Team Fireworks. Especially Isshum.

Magic: Fire Magic - Fire magic holds a wide range of capabilities. It is merely a base and spans off into multiple variations and types, such as Purple Flare or Rainbow Fire. Thus, to Bel it is perfect and as such he prides himself in knowing, studying, learning all forms of fire magic possible for him. And if he can't learn the exact magic, he tries to find a way to recreate it himself with his own twist. In addition, while he has access to most fire magic, Belial prefers to use his own as opposed to ones such as Hell's Prominence, Prominence Typhoon, or others. However, it is not unlikely to see him utilize such skills on occasion.

Other: Might add some stuff at a later point in time.

Name: Annabeth Justenfant
Nickname: "The Valkyrie"

Age: 46
Gender: Female
Guild: Wizards of Fiore
Rank: S Class
Personality: Annabeth is a very kind and caring woman, often the first to help a guildmate who has hurt themselves or gotten sick. She's one of the older members, and that makes her consider a lot of the others as her surrogate children, in a way. As such, she often does things like cook for them or clean or repair their clothing. And gods help anybody who hurts them on her watch...

History: Like many wizards of her age, Annabeth began the end of the X700s as a member of a Mage Guild that was pulled into the bloodiest conflict since the Trade Wars. She had always been against the bloodlust, and stuck out in her old Guild of Lamia Scale as a voice against diving into the fray. However, no matter how she spoke, the war eventually found her Guild's doorstep. A Dark Guild, eager for conquest, attacked the town where she resided. Lamia marshaled quickly and drove them back, but when the dust had settled there had been a key casualty; Annabeth's beloved husband, and were it not for a skilled medic her 12-year old daughter as well.

At that moment, something changed in her. What had once been a war far removed and kept that way on principle was now personal. As she stood over her recovering little girl with her husband's fresh grave not 40 feet away, Annabeth made that crystal clear. For those that remember the scene, the thought of the words and the tone she spoke them in still bring chills to this day. "They wanted to have a war. They're about to get one." When Lamia joined the fray, it was with devastating blows against any Guild who crossed them, with Annabeth herself leading many of the offensives. Already renowned and recognized for her glowing white wings and powerful elemental magics, she became a thing to be feared on the battlefield in no time at all. However, as the war raged on, many of her allies noticed a decline. Her wings did not glow as fiercely, nor did her magic strike as powerfully. Moreover, she would often lie awake at night, mumbling to herself as though trying to calm something within her. Those who knew her magic's nature knew what it was; she was overtaxing herself, and her control was slipping. Despite her insistence that she was fine, the evidence was there and the problems continued to mount. It all came to a head one fateful day in X800, when in the middle of a battle Annabeth's will finally faltered. Her magic ran wild, lashing at friend and foe and causing massive devastation, until her mana ran dry and she collapsed. Lamia was forced to retreat, and she was presumed dead.

But she survived. And when she woke up, she was in a cavern deep underground. A voice spoke to her, asked her questions; who she was, why she was fighting, and what had incensed her to fight with such abandon. When she finally mustered the strength to look for her questioner, she found it to be an ornate spear embedded in the cavern floor. Further discussion revealed the weapon's identity; it was called Gungnir, a magical artifact with a will and voice of its own. It sensed within her great power, power that it was keeping in check, but also great turmoil which prevented her from controlling it. "Long have I searched for a worthy wielder," it told her, "And now I have found you. There is a storm in your heart, a storm that I can help you calm. And once you have quieted your soul, we will ride together and put and end to this abominable war once and for all."

How long she stayed in the cavern training with the spear, she could not say. But Gungnir kept its word; day by day, Annabeth felt her troubled soul return to harmony. In time, she felt inner peace come to her, alongside masterful knowledge of Gungnir itself and the techniques she could employ with it. Taking the spear in hand at last, she burst through the roof of the cavern and back into the world proper. True to her word, she returned to Lamia Scale to lead them once more, this time toward peace. For the remainder of the war she fought with nothing short of absolute valor. Remarkably, nearly every single opponent who met her in battle lived to tell the tale; she refused to kill unless there were no other options. One report even tells of her defending a defeated Guild Master against her own comrades until he could be recovered by his allies. These actions, together with her new weapon and seeming return from the dead, earned her the moniker "The Valkyrie" which she carries to this day.

After the war concluded, Annabeth joined Wizards of Fiore and served as one of its senior members. Though offered a chance to be part of the new Council, she declined, saying only that she had a debt to repay to those she hurt. And that debt was best paid in service, not in rule.

Magic:
Sacred Spear- The majority of Annabeth's normal magic use comes from Gungnir, her magical artifact, in tandem with her basic elemental magic. Gungnir possesses several abilities that Annabeth can wield as she pleases, most notably;
--She can call the spear to her hand from anywhere at will, much like Ex-quipping it without the pocket dimension.
--The spear obeys her mind as easily as her hands; she can manipulate it telepathically if she desires.
--Gungnir can be charged with elemental magic of Annabeth's choice, granting it new attributes.
--She can rapidly spin the spear to create a circular magic shield that deflects attacks.
--She can charge the tip with raw magical power, increasing its power significantly when she thrusts or hurls it.
--Gungnir can lend its power to Annabeth, increasing her already formidable physical capacities by several levels. However, while this boost is in effect none of the other abilities can be used.
--Annabeth can reverse the spear's connection to her, allowing her to warp to the spear within a limited distance.
--She can conjure and manipulate multiple copies of the spear at will, each one possessing the same abilities as the original. An individual copy's strength increases the less there are.

The Guardian: What remains of Annabeth's original magic, sealed within Gungnir. If released, she ascends to a much more powerful form, but it doesn't last long and takes a massive toll on her body. Only used in dire circumstances.

Other:
Magical Artifact, Gungnir: An ancient and highly magical spear Annabeth found during the war. It's craftsmanship is untraceable, but clearly exceptional; the spear itself is nearly unbreakable, and it possesses a will of its own.