- Name:
Varrus Volkanon
- Class:
Mercenary
- Age:
23
- Sex:
Male
-

- Equipment:

Iron Sword
2x Concoction

-Weapon Ranks:

D Swords

-Skills:

Patience:
_{+10 to Avoidance when an enemy initiates a battle}

Calculating:
_{Doubles the effects of Negative debuffs on target while in combat}


- Personality:

Very matter of fact and blunt, this man comes across as one of the most honest- if not abrasive- souls many have ever encountered. Though his loyalty lies truly with his family, his service to the Church has been steadfast and zealous- some would say even cold hearted. In combat, he's like a statue, standing erect and ever still; his eyes ever scanning the battle before shouting orders to his house guard that accompanies him.

However, as sinister as this man seems, he cares for his men. He'll never send his troops into a situation where they have no chance, and does not execute prisoners or surrendering enemies. Though he has raided a few cities of the opposing faction, he has a surprisingly low amount of civilian casualties- punishing any soldier that dares to step out of line. If spoken to in private, one will find it near impossible to garner any secrets he does not openly speak of; an unwavering stare unnerving many that find themselves in it's gaze.

- Biography:

Fourth born heir to the Volkanon family, a noble house located in the Kingdom of Valm, he was offered to lead a contingent of his families house-guard under the banner of the church by his father. Though having no personal opinions on the matter, Varrus was quick to take up the charge in an attempt to bring honor and power to his family name. Though possessing a strong position as they were, the Volkanon's patriarch had grown power hungry and saw a chance to bolster his standings even more at the cost of a distant heir to his title.

As both the boy and his father's figures came into view, both were seen seated at the opposite ends of a rather large and lavish display of food and beverages spread across the table in the family keep.

"So I take it you've heard already?" The boy's father stated, reaching across the table as he drew a piece of bread from a display before him, "It's to be expected. Seems every secret spoken these days spreads like wildfire."

"Yes, father. Though I've forgotten the name of the person divulged the information," Varrus offered, glancing knowingly over to a female servant now fidgeting in the corner. Though she offered him a subtle smile and bow of her head in thanks, he'd fail to acknowledge it as he looked back to his father, "So, you'd send me to the front."

"Yes, yes- but merely as a figure head, and nothing more. You're to lead our troops in whatever endeavors the Chuch lays before you. Though I doubt you'll be anywhere close to the fighting." Spoke Lord Volkanon, his thinly veiled attempt at a lie all but ignored by his son.

"I see. So what has the church promised 'us'," Varrus spoke pointedly, "In return for our loyalty? Something worth the cost of your men and blood, I hope."

"... That is no concern of yours," The narrow eyes of his father pointed like daggers in his son's direction, though maintaining a half-hearted smile as he did so, "Just do your family proud, and you'll see your loyalty rewarded."

"Very well, Lord Volkanon. I'll see to the perparations at once. Gods willing, I may actually return." And with an empty bow, the boy turned and left, earning an even harder sneer from his father who now openly displayed his disdain. No more words were spoken, no more lies told; Varrus simply rallied the company of men his father promised, and marched them with all due haste to the church to awaiting his new life... A soldier on the front lines.

-Name:
Roark 'Reaver' Desman

-Class:
Barbarian
-Age:
42
-Sex:
Male



-Equipment:

Iron Axe
2x Vulenary

-Weapon Ranks:

D Axes

-Skills:

Gamble:
_{Decreases Accuracy rate in exchange for an increased Critical rate.}

Bloodlust:
_{Temporary increase to Str/Skl at the cost to Def when damage is dealt in combat.}

-Personality:

A cold, quiet, mountain of a man, Roark stands head and shoulder above many in the Kingdom of Valm. Known across the land as the 'Reaver', this once legendary Axeman had settled down in the service of Lord Volkanon as the court's executioner. Though seeming completely devoid of any sort of emotion, the man revels in the prospect of combat, and is only loyal to whomever offers him the next fight.

-Biography:

Born as a 'servant' to a devilishly cruel and ruthless Lord, Roark grew up knowing only the hardships that were forced upon him and his family. Serving as a whipping boy for the Lord directly, it was said his station was the result of punishment upon his mother and father- who had conceived the boy without permission of their betters. As such, he received many beatings and other abuses that threatened to break the young boy at an early age. However, when his body began to grow and change over the years- into a rather formidable form- the Lord grew scared of the boy and turned his punishments back onto the mother and father. It didn't take long for this to strike a nerve with Roark- having grown wise to his own strength. So the day that slavemaster grew too zealous and murdered the boy's mother and father, the same boy took an axe to his 'Lord's' skull and cleaved it in two.

It was said that the battle for this keep lasted five days, in which Roark led his fellow slaves against their masters, showing no mercy to any noble within the keep- no man, woman, or child. It was this bloody display that earned the man the nickname, Reaver, and saw him lead his band of slaves to become some of the most feared bandits in Valm. Though this continued for several years, eventually the Kingdom of Valm sent in a contingent of their own military in to deal with the problem. After another bloody battle had been fought, Roark was now upon the losing side. Subdued and captured, Roark was set to be executed for his crimes against the nation, but Lord Volkanon had other plans. He offered to keep an eye on Roark in such a way that he could never be in that position of power again, but able to reap all the poor souls his heart could desire. Being no stranger to bloodshed, his new master set him to work almost immediately as the court's executioner.

It wasn't until he was called to work for the boy under the banner of the church that Roark protested. Why should a mighty warrior like him play second-fiddle to the bosses brat? Yet, when Volkanon threatened to remove his 'hospitality', Roark reluctantly accepted his new charge. Now serving as an informant for his master, Roark stands beside Varrus in combat, ready and willing to feed his axe.

Name: Abra

Appearance:
Class: Mage

Age: 23

Sex: Female

Weapon Rank: Tome - D

Equipment: Elfire, Vulnerary (3 uses)

Skills:
-Magic +2: Self-explanatory
-Cursed with Awesome (custom): When attacked, her opponent suffers a "hit" and "damage" penalty because her "eyes are up here".

Plot subjective: Yes.

Personality: When someone first meets Abra, that person would describe her in one of two ways. One person might describe her as peppy and carefree, trying to look at the bright side of life. Another, on the other hand, would say that she is very studious and has a thirst for knowledge. While these two personalities might seem to class (“Don’t waste a single hour of the day” vs. “I want to read this thousand page book!”), both of them, to a certain extent, are only fronts that Abra uses to hind the pain that she has experienced in her life. Otherwise, she probably would break down crying.

Abra was extremely close to Helike (the kind old witch who raised her). If she happens to lose any memorabilia of her foster mother, Abra might become rash in her attempt to retrieve said item. Her witch’s hat possesses a priceless value for Abra, as it was Helice’s last gift to her before Abra’s foster mother died. Trying to stop her usually would be fruitless, unless one could either physically or magically can restrain her from putting herself into harm’s way. And if she could not retrieve it, well, Abra probably would not be in such a chipper mood.

Once someone has earned her trust, Abra will be loyal until the end. However, once must first earn this near-unbreakable trust. However, until that level of trust has been reached, Abra keeps at least one eye open, looking out for anyone who wishes to take advantage of her, either for her intelligence or anything else.

Biography: 23 Years ago, an infant was exposed in the forest (Greek Mythology style). Nevertheless, some of the forest animals took pity on the child and placed her on the doorstep (Santa Claus is Coming to Town style) of a kind old witch named Helike. The kind old witch took in the child and raised the child on her own (using her magic to compensate for her growing age).

Once Abra was old enough, Helike began to teach her some basic, almost harmless magic, like making objects levitate and such. What was surprising to the kind of witch was not that Abra caught on, but at the pace at which she learned. When Abra had exhausted all the spells and incantations that the kind old witch was comfortable with teaching the young lass, Helike had to resort to throwing theoretical books on more advanced topics to hold her over until Abra was old enough to do some more advanced magic. And from time to time (more often than not as she was running out of things to give her young apprentice), Helike would take Abra down to the nearby village so that the young girl could interact with real people lest Abra grow up without any social skills whatsoever.

Once Abra had turned 16, Helike finally decided that it was about time to allow her young pupil attempt some more potent magic (of course under the kind old witch’s supervision). Nowadays (I mean modern day Earth), 16 year olds would get excited about getting their driving permit and being able to drive. This would had been the same amount of excitement that Abra felt when she finally was allowed to advance in her magical training. For her whole birthday, the young girl practiced and learned the new material. By the end of the day, she had entirely wore-out Helike, who immediately retired to her sleeping quarters.

However, Abra was too excited to go to sleep yet. Therefore, after the kind old witch had went to bed, Abra snuck down stairs and picked out one of the spell books that had been previously off-limits until that day. Once she reentered her room without making a sound, she peeled open the book and began to look for a spell to try. However, as she looked through the book, none of the spells in it looked familiar, or at least her foster parent did not show any of them to her.

After taking some time sorting through some bizarre hexes and spells, Abra finally found one that looked somewhat normal. She placed an apple on a plate and tried to make it grown. However, after the first and second tries, nothing happened. She then looked back at the tome and looked over the spell again, double checking to make sure she was not doing anything wrong. When she made a third attempt, something did finally happen. For a brief second, a bright, white light enveloped the young girl’s room. For the next few minutes, she just sat there, listening to see if her light night activities had stirred awake the kind old witch. But fortunately, all the work that they had achieved the past day had worn the old woman out so much that even that flash of light could not wake her up.

When Abra noticed that the apple had not been affected whatsoever, she quickly (yet quietly) closed the book and returned it to Helike’s library and returned to bed. The next morning, when she woke up, Abra felt weird. There were not any physical changes, but something just felt off. When she went out for breakfast, Helike was already busy at work making a hearty meal, knowing fully that they both would need all the energy they could get in order to get though another day of teaching and learning. But at the first mention of magic, Abra burst into tears, admitting everything that happened last night. Helike consoled her, telling the young girl that there was no such thing a complete failures, but accidents that allow for personal growth.

As the years slipped by, Abra found herself taking care of the old witch more and more as her condition slowly slipped away. For six years, the young apprentice had to go to town to get supplies for the one person who had spent the last several years raising her. The trips began to become more common as the years piled up.

Or they did until recently. One night, Helike was bedridden and Abra fell asleep keeping watch over her sick foster mother. Before she passed away, Helike, using the last bit of strength she had, repaired her own witch’s hat, as if it were brand new, placed the hat upon her young apprentice’s slumbering head. With this final gift, Helike took her final breath. Once Abra finally woke up the next morning, her heart was drowned with pain and sorrow when she saw her foster mother lying peacefully in her own bed. What broke her heart even more was that Helikes’ final gift. Finding the hat on her head, Abra knew that Helike was thinking about her when she passed away.

Name: Marius

Appearance: As the Class section briefly mentioned, Marius falls under the ‘Red-Cavalier’ archetype and therefore dons a suit of red armor (I personally prefer the FE7 armor, but if I need to use the Awakening armor, so be it). His physical build is similar to Sain and Kent (from FE7), although his hair and eyes do not match his armor, like the previously mentioned cavalier-pair. Instead, they are dark brown and blue, respectfully. Furthermore, unlike the previously mentioned cavaliers, Marius has trimmed facial hair, which has a slight reddish tint.

Class: Cavalier (Red)

Age: 24

Sex: Male

Weapon Rank: Lance - D, Sword - E

Equipment: Iron Lance (40/40), Bronze Sword (50/50), Javelin (25/25), Vulnerary (3 uses)

Skills:
-Discipline: Earns twice the weapon experience as usual.
-Regi Patriaeque (custom): If supporting an ally, ally suffers less damage and has more evasion.

Plot subjective: Yes.

Personality: Marius is a serious and dedicated knight of Ylisse. While he does possess a softer side of his personality, he usually masks it with his seriousness and dedication, which sometimes makes himself seem cold to others, even though he has the best attentions in mind. In war, one’s mind must be focused on the task at hand and Marius follows that philosophy to the dot of an ‘i’.

Marius is also a pious follower of Naga. It sickens this knight of Ylisse to fight against fellow worshipers of Naga, but he also cannot stand by and watch the will of Naga be bent to the whim of mortal leaders. With more and more blood of the followers being shed, Marius must console himself that such violence shall prevent an even greater evil.

Beyond this, Marius is a loyal friend and ally, even if his serious and focused nature might make it seem otherwise.

Biography: Marius was from a long line of lesser commanders of Ylisse and he chose to follow in his ancestors footsteps. Once, when Marius was still young, the knights of Ylisse had in their stables a great horse that would not allow any mortal man to mount it. However, one day, the men found Marius with that great horse and they were surprised at how calm the horse was. They were even more surprised when it allowed Marius to climb onto its back. From that day on, Marius called the horse Bucephalus.

In the present day, Marius, along with his steed, Bucephalus, served in the knights of Ylisse. With the aid of Bucephalus, Marius proved to have great potential for advancing through the ranks of the knights of Ylisse. Once the news broke out about the crusades declared by the Church of Naga, Marius held disdain in his heart against this decision. How could humanity know the whims of the gods? But due to his nature, he hid his disdain under his dedication to the state, standing by one phrase: regi patriaeque.