Eye colour: (Heterochromia) Green with blue invading around the left pupil.
Hair: long brown
Physique; athletic
Clothes: Simple natural clothing.
Tattoos & body mods:
[/hider] [hider=Personal details] Personality: To say Averius was an odd child would be an understatement, to assume he had out grown it would be gravely inaccurate. Just as genius can be found in the misfortunate and mad, the inner workings of Avey's mind was both a mysterious blessing and a curse. He is very kind and gentle but often lost in his own world. Future Specialisation: Master of skies Summon(s):
Backstory: Avey grew up on a simple farmland, his busy parents loved him dearly but his aloof attitude proved to be more of a hindrance then help. A few bad seasons saw the crops wilt and flocks die. Life became harsh. They feared for their child's health. Knowing he was different and quite unique they sent him for his summoner testing, hoping and preying he would pass and be given a better life.
Personality: Valask was once a selfish, overindulgent, judgemental, elitist snob. Nearly all that has been beaten from him by the cruelty of fate. Nearly... Still learning lessons, Valask is in the process of becoming more empathetic towards others. He is untrusting of strangers at first, always aware, and may appear shy or conservative until he is comfortable, then he can become quite loud and passionate.
abilities
Skills:
Hunting, tracking & trapping
Cyborg surgery
Stealth
Cooking
Traits: None Class: Monster hunter
This is very much a striker class. Using skills and magic to gain the upper hand, Striking from concealment suddenly and hard hoping the foe will fall quickly.
Job: Cyborg surgeon Soul Spells/Abilities: Soul tech aids these abilities, they are about as easy to use and as draining to him as holding his own breath. Quick activation, limited time,
Fade into shadows.
(Visual disorientation field) Become harder to see, works best in darkness but also in light. An invisible disorientation field that compels the mind to pass over and ignore the disturbance. The blur in your peripheral, that one corner of the room you just haven't looked at. Amplified by actual stealth skill and hiding.
Sound suppression.
As expected, manipulates the air so any sounds created within a tight radius are muffled out and suppressed. Loud noises escape at a softer level. External sounds still enter, they are softer but still recognisable due to fully surrounding the suppression bubble.
Eagle eye.
Increases sight by enhancing focus, attention to detail, peripheral and distance. Soul tech connects to the brain to enhance the processing speed of identifying and analysing the images. Reasoning for limited time use.
Elemental efficiency.
While gaining no elemental effects, Valask draws on the ferocity of fire, the swiftness of air, the versatile flow of water and the stubborn solidness of earth for a short burst empowering and enhancing his attack and combat reflexes.
Metal soul.
Valasks soul extends into the metal he touches for a brief time giving him some extended control over it and an enhanced awareness of it and it's surroundings. Useful for his chain whip, metal traps and soul drain.
Soul Drain.
To fight off the physical decay of his dying body Valask must continue to absorb fresh souls. New to the process it requires strong physical contact and concentration.
As close as good will get is Selena. Sister to the previous owner of the body he now occupies. She dislikes him greatly and her mannerism and attitude proves that consistently, but she took the time to teach him how to fight and survive. Regardless how sad, angry or unhappy she is about the situation, she still see's part of her brother and reluctantly helps in little ways.
bad
Un-accepting of her husbands fate she accused the creature of breaking and entering, theft and murder. Using all his own resources against him she put out an arrest warrant and bounty on the decaying horned mans head.
They find his cybernetics to be a betrayal and insult to their customs and ideals.
indifferent
Traders, interested in parts from the animals he hunts and his skill as a cyborg surgeon, they have a thin mutual beneficial relationship.
Proven to be less bias then most living creatures.
History: Valask was born a Purist, an only child to well off parents. They devoted everything to his success in life and died of age in his middle years.
Valask's success ended the day he became one of the Decaying. Taking the body of a horned person to escape his own he has since continued his profession and cyberized it.
He is now a rogue beast hunter. Hunting monsters for their souls to sustain his own. Unwilling to drain humans.
In generalisation he is an outcast from most other civilisations. Even when his 'Decaying' status is hidden, he is shunned by purists for his horned body. Out right hated by other horned people for his cybernetic implants and attachments. The elementals seem to be savvy of his decaying nature and spare him no trust.
He has forgone his previous luxuries and now fights just to survive.
Valask once had it all, the beautiful wife, large central apartment, renown reputation, friends in high places, enough credits to squander. He was important and respected. Life was good, life was easy. In his past life he was a cybernetic surgeon, and a good one at that. But somewhere in his career he saved someone that other people didn't want saved. He saved many lives with cybernetic implants but unfortunately there are those out there who feel strongly against the practise and even those who weren't too happy to become cyborgs, preferring instead to just die. Either way his expertise in his field of work and lavish lifestyle eventually lead him to deal with a few unsavoury characters, and for reasons still unknown one day he vanished into a black bag and later woke up beaten and dying in a shallow muddy grave.
Left for dead it was a horned man who was digging him out. It was unclear what happened next but he will forever remember that look deep within the eyes of that majestic creature. There was a serene acceptance, a silent wisdom, a humble forgiveness. Next he was looking into his own bloodshot swollen eyes as he held his own half buried lifeless body in large new muddy hands.
He had never thought much of the naturist horned people, simply dismissing their ideals as primitive and weak. He considered them less advanced. Technology was the future, technology was power. But now, he was one of the horned people, and something more... Or less.
He was unlike other decaying, something the horned one had done. He also had no interest or intent in stealing any other body but the one he was in now.
In his new form he was unstable and weak of strength. He stumbled aimlessly for days slipping in and out of consciousness. Eventually there was noise of civilisation and it drew him towards it. At first sight upon realising he had stumbled upon a settlement of horned people he was gravely disappointed. Remembering he was now one only worried him more.
{prologue: meeting Selena}
Soon he discovered he could harness life from other creatures and he began working his way up the food chain. Along the way he trained in martial weapons and hunting tools. All the whilst he was also adapting to and training his new mind and body.
Back at full strength he tried to return home. He was less than welcomed. He was abused, berated, accused of lying and worse. No one would accept his story or could accept him. Back in civilisation there were few animal souls to satisfy his decaying hunger and his masquerade fell as cracks began to show.
Things became complicated, violent and very messy! Minimising injury to others he took a lot of damage to himself. His new body handled it surprisingly well but still he lost some functionality. That's when he returned to what he knew best. Cybernetics... Hidden away in a forgotten lab he worked on himself tirelessly. Time after time again. Many attempts being unsuccessful until he cracked the secret for integrating tech into a decaying horned one.
Shunned from his past life he tried to return to his new, but now with cybernetics he found they wanted no part of the creature he had become. His very presence was an insult. Barely tolerated before, now they wanted his death. Selena only just managed to pardon his execution opting for permanent exile instead.
So he left, a lone wanderer, an abomination, a monster hunter. Then the call of the child came and without reason he answered.
Prologue:
A voice sweet, smooth and sturdy, broke the silence of the hundred judging eyes surrounding him. It was strangely filled with a nostalgic familiarity yet remained unrecognisable as never before herd. "You!" It demanded with an odd gentle assertiveness. "What is your name?" She spoke expecting and demanding obedience. "Valask" Valask dryly replied without thought, dazed and confused. He thought somehow he had answered wrong or simply his answer displeased the exotic horned woman. Her hand found his throat and she tightly lifted him off his dirt stained knees to a standing position with surprising ease. So drained and tired he didn't know if he could stand on his own but this woman's confidence was intimidation and her aura inspired fear into Valask's heart. So he found the energy to stand. "Abomination! I ask you again, what is your name?!"
Valask answered again giving his name more loudly this time. She reciprocated with a sharp blow to his stomach that sent him hunching over to the floor in pain. Picking him up she questioned him again. "Horned one, tell me your name!"
Valask tried to answer with his name, he tried to answer with explanations, he tried to answer with truths and lies but every time he was simply viscously struck down, lifted up and re-questioned.
"Avarius Elthandeir" In his last moments of death filled fear the words slipped out on defeated sobbing breaths. The beatings stopped.
"Just you remember that. Now come, follow me and remain silent."
Valask's mind was full of confusion and questions. He soon learnt better than to openly voice them. As long as he stood by the name 'Avarius Elthandeir' he would live, he would go unharmed and be spared shelter and food.
It was rare that she ever spoke to Valask, but she continued to try talk to her brother Avarius. Valask simply listened and learned, obeyed and followed. Through that she taught him of the creature he was now, of his condition and how to fight to survive.
Azerus can manipulate natural energies, of himself, nature or his foe. At low levels it burns like white flames, traveling through and empowering parts of his body. Higher vibrations cause erratic energy that arcs and can be thrown around like lightning. Stilling or absorbing high levels of energy cause a freezing effect.
Basically he can power up his physical attacks with fire lightning and ice. That's using his own energy and the energy around him.
Lightning can arc and be thrown. It also speeds him up. White flames can ignite things, burn those that's touch him and gives him a boost to str. Cold is slower acting and moving, he can bolster his defence or freeze things he touches.
Lastly Azerus can draw energy from a foe (usually unexpecting) it leaves them feeling lethargic and tired. Weak even. It takes a while to suck out someone's energy and Aspeth favours to do it prior to battle secretively or by drawing out the fight knowing the longer it goes the weaker they will slowly get.
Appearance:
Color and location of symbol: White with black outline, left ribs on his side
Quotes:
“Life is black and white, there is the powerful with right to rule and the weak bound to follow”
“Those that fear the dark haven't seen what the light can do.”
Bio:
Azerus was born into a dark guild. Both his parents esteemed members. Before his birth Azerus was held to high expectation, which he had lived up too. Having been a prodigy at the age of seven they began weaponising him earlier then any other. He had both a lavish and strict upbringing. Expenses were never of any concern yet he hadn't the luxury to indulge in his own thoughts or concerns. He was told exactly what to do, when and how to do it. His young body forced to endure long hours of training and punishment and despite exceeding most others, his efforts were always met with cold disappointment. He was but a child when he started working. A cold upbringing creating a cold wizard.
Personality:
Malicious and spiteful Azerus is extremely arrogant believing himself fit to rule. He is ambitious and power hungry only to be out done by his father. His arrogance and cocky nature often get him into trouble but his sharp wit and ruthless ferocity see him out of it.
Reason for joining:
The dark guild was eventually shut down and Azerus parents imprisoned for their misdeeds leaving the child all alone. Azerus who still wanted to grow stronger and prove himself sought out the toughest guild by name. Fairytail.
Name: Vallen Harlaw Culture: IronBorn Age: 22 House/Affilitation: House Harlaw Overlord: House Greyjoy Favoured Weapon: Throwing axes Religion: Drowned God Vallen claims favour from the drowned god due to his webbed toes that have served to make him an excellent swimmer. (Also led to his survival when abandoned to the sea.) This has not stopped him from witnessing and participating in dark magics while on Basilisk Isles. Appearance: [img]
FAMILY Mother: Arelle Wynch
Father: Unknown Harlow (supposably)
Biography: During reaping Arelle fell pregnant without a husband, after returning home and Vallen's birth it was accepted that his father was a Harlow who died at sea. Many discussions, deals and pacts were had in secret prior to that knowledge going public or being accepted. Vallen was a bridge between two powerful families but his position and circumstances made him many enemies.
From early on Arelle fretted for her sons safety and spent every spare moment training him in the ways of ironborn. Her love was tough as he needed to be tougher. Her ambitions consumed her and all plans of glory depended on her son.
In 380 AC Vallen traveled to the Basilisk Isles with his close friend/rival young. During the trip home, a spiteful plot against Vallen saw him cast out to sea and left to drown. However the Drowned god decided it was not yet his time and Vallen survived the impossible swim back to shore which left him stranded on the isles.
During Vallen's childhood, his enemies often looked at ways to hurt and hinder the favoured child so he was often challenged in the game of Finger Dance. Even at a young age he adapted quickly to the skills and expertise needed to be formidable, if not a master of the game. It didn't come without cost however, he wears scars from his failings and is missing most of his right pinky finger.
It was a horrid survival on the Basilisk Isles but his skill in the game and close intensive combat training from his mother saw him through the horrid years until he managed to get himself smuggled to Westeros.
Most of Vallen's story takes place on the basilisk isles. From his life in the wild, to slavery on a pirate ship. From an axe entertainer to a pit fighter. Vallen did what he must to survive. He fought for his survival and clawed against all odds every step of the way. Eventually, overtime he killed all those that berated and used him. His ruthlessness, savagery and wit, coupled with his determination, persistence and fearlessness made him a formidable opponent and great bodyguard.
It was only after he shed the blood of an invading Ironborn ship reaping the isles that he realised how far from his rock the tides of fate had taken him. He took that ship, and just enough crew to man it and set out to sea.
One of the surviving thralls spoke of ill happenings to his family in the many years past and warned of the disaster that awaited should he return. So instead Vallen navigated to Westeros, the drowned god claiming the souls of most his men and once again nearly Vallen's as the ship was destroyed upon a rocky outcrop.
Vallen later awakens on an unknown shore, once again with very little possessions and no friends or family. Just the blessing from a dead god, the blood of an Ironborn and two axes that thirst for blood.
No longer a boy, now a man, Vallen would carve out his destiny on his own terms. With the skills he was good at, fighting, killing and surviving. Even as he sells himself as a sword (axe) for hire he would not forget the lessons learnt on the basilisk isles. He continues to practise blood rituals in secret.
Eye colour: (Heterochromia) Green with blue invading around the left pupil.
Hair: long brown
Physique; athletic
Clothes: A modern high tech tight armoured under-suit hidden beneath primalistic furs and feathers.
Tattoos & body mods:
Personality: To say Averius was an odd child would be an understatement, to assume he had out grown it would be gravely inaccurate. Just as genius can be found in the misfortunate and mad, the inner workings of Avey's mind was both a mysterious blessing and a curse.
At certain times he not so much lacks empathy but is totally void of even the notion of it. His humour is often dark and his thoughts commonly unfiltered and unrestrained. Most the time he appears light hearted and aloof. Despite his oddities he is quite shy and quiet.
Bio:
The EVOS;
Long ago just as men began to forget of the Great War, as it slowly slipped from minds and history alike, like a dying faint breeze rustling amongst fallen leaves. There were still those that had been born under the ideals of ancestors whom rejected and regretted the choices that were made and despised the new world they had created.
These were the original Evos, born to those emphasising with the behemoths, abandoning civilisation, technology, social structure and political law to live wildly on and with the stolen land. Respecting that which came before them and the mystical energies that were still present.
That oppressive angst travelled deep within their blood and bones and while the stories would eventually be forgotten, their nomadic natural beliefs would be passed on through generation and generation for the many more to come.
Eventually and then on continually this free living was challenged and interrupted causing them to continually flee and travel further away. Finally one day they stopped, finding their haven in the far desolate corners of the planet high amongst dangerous yet beautiful jagged sheer edge cliffs.
It was a harsh dangerous life but one they adapted too, more so as each decade passed. Eventually they re-integrated with the ever expanding civilisation and were pardoned from many laws to allow them to continue their wild mystical ways. Much of their ancestry began to wash from their blood as new unions bred it out. Ideals became complicated as they stood against new fallacies under the shallow guise of necessity.
Desire and laziness slowly won over ideals and traditions and the Evos was again integrated into civilisation, it became more the location then the people. But the thing about ideals is that they don't always die with the people. A hidden secretive organisation rebuilt the Evos decades later in a dramatic romanticised vision of cunning wildness, beautiful ferocity, and mystical acuity.
Amongst a classroom of 12 Avarius was born. Stolen from his family for his long hidden lineage he was raised as a puppet warrior. When his skills and aptitude out ranked all conceived expectations, his tutors pride, vanity and greed saw him flaunt the ability of his pupil.
Reason for joining:
Weapons: Body blades; While named 'body blades' for the many concealable and retractable knives and blade edges, the weapon is actually the entire suit. Developed to suit the terrain and lifestyle of the Evos, it meant they were always armed and prepared with a weapon they could never drop and was always ready for use, no matter what limbs were free or desperately hanging onto a cliff edge.
While the origins were a simple defence and climbing aid the suit soon became a lethal weapon. Overtime there became multiple variant styles of body blade suits with individuals customising them to suit their preference or skill by substituting certain knives and locations with other spiky sharp means of death and decapitation.
Avey's suit was not built to preferential design, ease of use, trends in style or to match his at-the-time skills. It was built purely for efficiency. An efficiency that has taken a long time to hone and master.
Combat style: Close quarters; Favouring speed, agility and misdirection Avey's style also encompasses momentum and joint manipulation. He is ruthless in combat, he has no qualms exploiting his opponents weaknesses, nor does he believe in a fair fight. He fights smart and calculatedly using every advantage at his disposal. Elemental affinity: Air Magic: Detail: Uses:
Character you have created: Conscious light. Light Manifest Alias: Entity Speech Color:Italic black (please excuse the lack of color but it is tricky to apply from my phone.) Character Alignment: Walking the line. (Indifferent/unknowing) Identity: Known. (One identity) Character Personality: Light Manifest is a quite, calm, patient entity. He is curious about much and is happy to learn through observation. He has little concept of good and evil or emotions such as fear hate and love. Entity is quite straight forward and a more logical thinker lacking compassion and empathy. He is slowly discovering such things, especially with Ella, even if he doesn't understand it yet. Uniform/costume: Having no true physical form Light Manifest can , and often will for the ease of those he interacts with, create a physical light image of a male human. It is void of any fine detail or defining features and often has a soft glow to its unique unilateral color. The flat color of the image often depends on his mood and the surrounding light. Origin Info/Details: Light cannot recall the day he found consciousness or what event or experiment transpired to bring it to be so. He only knows that for as long as he can remember he could only see in the way a blind person see's, through his touch of light. For a small eternity he simply watched, he cannot even remember all the things he has seen, it all seemed inconsequential to an existing thought, a being with out reason or the ability to act or interact.
Hero Type: Energy (Light) Power Level: C, World. Powers: Light manifest is a formless conscious that can manipulate light. His level of manipulation over the energy is so extreme that when surrounded by enough light he can slow and condense it to form physical constructs. Mainly a human body. He is not made of light and instead needs to use it. He cannot exist without a source of light and will slip into an unconscious sleep. However he can condense light into physical form and recycle much of that energy to travel through darkness as it slowly dissipates. Should he wish it and if he is willing to relinquish his physical manifest, he can travel around at the speed of light without form. He can see in a wide arc everything that the light touches around his location. It is not like normal vision though.
He is an expert illusion creator, going so far as being able to create the illusionary image in the targets eye. Invisibility is also an easy task for him to grant to others.
Attributes (Select one at each category):
Strength Level: Normal human Speed/Reaction Timing Level: Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: N/A Agility: Intelligence: Fighting Skill:
Resources: Weaknesses: Darkness, morality, understanding. Supporting Characters: Ella, a lost little girl whom he first spoke too. Meeting her as just a little child together the two learned to form sounds and speak. By solidifying invisible light the entity could imitate and create vocal cords, first he pushed air past it then adapted the design to soft light vibrations. Entity didn't poses the natural affinity for language that the young girl did but with patience, determination and the absence of distractions that all innocent curious children are consumed by, he kept up with her. If only just. His relationship with her is the closest thing he has to a bond, with anything. She is now a bright young girl who has suffered many many long hours in the therapist's chair. Her odd friend has caused her to be an outcast amongst other children her age. He didn't learn to manifest until she was already 14. Then Ella went from a therapist to an exorcist.
Tired of the mental and emotional punishment of his naive innocent presence she finally told him to go away.
Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?: What happens if I say no? Sample Post:
Vallen is tall with dark hair, a short neat beard, a well trained smile and piercing green eyes. He has the firm lean form of an acrobat and the sharp mind and tongue of a haggler. Standing in at 6'2", Vallen is quite tall. Once used to a lavish life his skin is soft and clothes clean and proper, if not a little eccentric and elegant.
Name: Vallen Coridarr Age: 21
Personality: Vallen enjoys the simple pleasantries of life. He has strong social skills but hides his true self behind a figurative mask and therefore never truly gets close to anybody. He prefers to be independent and won't allow himself to rely or depend on anyone or thing.
Despite his casual carefree demeanour he can be quite stubborn at times. He is passionate about only a few things, but will fight fearlessly to the end for such rare things.
He has grown to care little of others opinions, unless he needs it to earn favour. Number one priority is himself.
Backstory: To truly know and understand Vallen's story one must first know of his fathers. Lief Coridarr, Born a simple peasant to humble yet struggling parents his childhood was a constant endurement of unfair and unjust conditions. Unhappy with the life he was dealt he forged a new one. Although fate threw everything within its power to oppose him Lief found his calling. From the dirt he rose, forging his new path from behind the forge, creating unrivalled masterworks from the rarest materials the earth could offer. Although there were many who opposed him and wished to tear him down, Lief eventually rose to the ranks of a Royal Smith.
His weapons an jewellery beyond mere mundane craftsmanship.
Or so these are the tales Vallen was told. It is not the man Vallen remembers. Somewhere amongst the highest of heights when his father was overwhelmed by his reputation and glory he fell prey to the devils playthings. Drinking, Gambling, Whores, Drugs.
His addictions crippled his time, then his mind, then his body and lastly his fortune. In a small time he destroyed everything he had built for himself. With shaky hands and an inability to focus or concentrate there was no going back for him. Everyone slowly shun the man as he slipped back to the gravel he once came from. His once favoured women dumping his children on him as his fortune dwindled.
Vallen was one of those children, one of seven. Stuck somewhere in the middle. A burden, unwanted, rejected, inconvenient. He learnt to fend for himself on the streets, hide from others and his father and how to overplay a beating to end it sooner. Little did he know these were the base skills that would see him through life, had it not been for the development of his magic.
By the time he understood his limited ability and could use it to help provide for his siblings he had already lost four of them. The eldest ran away, two died and one sister just vanished. Things got better for a little while, Vallen's magic helped him hide, distract others and came in useful in all sorts of ways.
Young and naive he didn't take the precautions to hide his gift that hindsight now teaches. A traveling trope of entertainers and jongleurs passed his town, curious and inquisitive Vallen was caught stealing from them. After seeking out his father they returned with some mixed news. Vallen would never see his family again, his father could not pay (or would not pay) for Vallen's crimes but instead the trope paid a handsome fee and bought young Vallen. Paying enough money so his family would be alright for quite some time. How was Vallen to know they were lying, he was not overly gullible but how he wanted it to be true, free from the burden of his abusive father and reliant siblings and swept into a world of excitement and travel.
But truthfully he was kidnaped, taken for his magic, trying to work off an imaginary debt, only a few ever knowing or questioning the truth. Vallen was put to hard work, but from where he came he did not mind it. His abilities grew at their demand. He aided stage shows, adding glitz and glam, replacing expensive alchemical ingredients. After he scrub the floors hard and tended the performers every whim.
Not all of them were bad, Vallen learnt many skills. Juggling, knife throwing, music, dance, acrobatics and acting. He also learnt of love and betrayal, first through story and then experience.
To cut a long story short, one night after a string of failing shows, when frustrations and tempers were high and the cheap watery wine of a dingy tavern flowed freely, truths were exposed. It's safe to say Vallen left them that night never to return, taking with him only three parting gifts. The clothes on his back, a broken heart and his fathers greatest masterpiece.
Skills and Abilities:
Professional illusionist- As an entertainer his magic was directed towards entertaining, dazzling and misdirecting. There are skills he learnt from a time prior and skills inherited from his father (imbuing) that he has began relearning.
Journeyman theif- the skills he relied upon as a child have once again become important, while a little rusty he has new experiences that aid in the art of stealth, pick pocketing and sleight of hand.
Journeyman small blades- throwing knives especially. It was an encouraged hobby and past-time, a fun game and method of self entertainment.
Novice Entertainer-
Novice dancer-
Journeyman acrobat - While not as enjoyable as his knife games, acrobatics was a must. Vallen was not to travel around crowds normally but do so with cartwheels and summersaults. Also on various occasions when the stage did not permit a hiding location, he was expected to perform his magic from less then ideal or safe hiding positions.
Journeyman lute playing - Taught by one of the few true friends he had so he could impress the girl who would later destroy his heart.
Equipment:
Performers Lute, Worn. - An old lute that Vallen managed to trade for. He worked and bartered desperately to gain it even though playing only brings back memories that lead to heart ache.
Lief's masterwork Throwing daggers. - These 6 daggers are of unrivalled quality. Reaching the extremes of mundane creation. Hilt-less it has a heavy black Adamantium core. The pink sheen of Orichalcum lines the razor sharp blades while bands of Mithral run around the handle and stretch down the flat of the blade like a silver serpent. Their balance is perfect and they look amazing when admired but even more spectacular when thrown.
Regular old throwing knives. - Picked up cheaply, will do the job.
Entertainers concealed leather knife holster. - Part of a knife throwers charm and display was the unexpected way he could pull a knife from seemingly no where. Vallen was familiar with the tricks and methods of concealing the versatile blades and has adopted it into his own leather holsters.
Iju, Pet ferret. - Vallen's stolen pet ferret. (Best and only friend)
Backpack contents: A waterskin of wine, a small pouch with money, a tinderbox, a hunting knife, a few days worth of dry provisions, a warm blanket
Name: Kain Dresal Age: 19 Appearance: Tall, lean, with messy dark hair. Beneath his peculiar styled clothing his skin is spotted with tattoos and odd piercings.
Lone wolf, rebel, anarchist. His family was posh and well off but the uptight life didn't suit him, when his younger sister fell sick and eventually died, nothing held him to his home and Kain ran away to live on the steers instead. He can be arrogant and rude but it's all a defence to hide his fear of emotional attachment. 'People always let you down in the end.'
Metal infinity. (Think magneto but with a touch requirement) Kain slowly discovered his powers working ridiculous hours as an apprentice mechanic for less then minimum wage. He developed a connection to the cars and bikes, at first being able to determine faults then slowly rectifying them without lifting a tool. He is afraid and curious of his ability so keeps it secret to himself but has learnt that just by touching metal he can control and manipulate it into any shape or form. (Even liquid) He loves to experiment and push his limits and test his powers boundaries.
Since acquiring his powers Kain thinks himself a bit of a daredevil rock star. Slipped into a life of crime. Currently wanted for burglary, theft and evading arrest. (Handcuffs can't hold him) Father works for some big evil corporation - his testing made Kain's sister sick - secretly may not be dead.
August 27th.
-"Hello? Is this thing working?" "This is Pyro, in Chicago. My partner and I are under attack. I need help, please, whoever can make it. Again, this is Pyro, calling for help in Chicago." -
Kain let out a slow painful sigh as he rolled his eyes. "Now it's even on the TV..." his words sifted like acid in the cool nights air.
Kain then turns away from his view of the old TV through the open curtain drapes and with slow careful strides heads toward the garage once again. He frowns as the roller door opens to his touch. He didn't feel the security measures protecting this pride and joy were enough, but they would never be no matter how much someone may try to convince him otherwise.
He steps inside and carefully closes the door behind him. The automatic lights flicker to life and Kain is embraced by the still empty silence provided by the rooms thick sound dampening walls. The garage was large, larger then it needed it to be. It made Kain wonder what they might have intended to build or work on when they constructed the building.
Those thoughts fell aside when he came to stand next to a hidden car beneath a large cover in the far corner of the garage. He trails his fingers slowly across the fabric for a short distance before suddenly stopping and dropping to his knees. He reaches up under the skirting and smiles as his fingers find the sleek cool metallic surface.
Kain closes his eyes and his conscious sinks into the machine. He can feel every groove and part, all the varying types and densities of metals. He measures the aspects of the motor. Tinkering with it bit by bit. After enough focus, thought and time the mechanical beast beside him had practically been serviced and fine tuned without Kain so much as having to lift a tool. Not that it really needed one anyway.
"Well now that we are re-acquainted" he whispers with a devilish smile as he stands up.
Kain found a serene comfort in the nostalgia and familiarisation that came with working on cars. He knew and understood their inner workings far better than he could understand other people. That is perhaps what led him to underestimate the people he should fear the most. Perhaps that's why his senses were not sharp enough to notice the footsteps of people marching around the building, encroaching on his position, surrounding him.
It wasn't until the exact moment when the doors and windows suddenly burst open and the once still silent room exploded with commotion as security flooded the floor that Kain realised perhaps the security system was more efficient than he first thought after all.
-----------------
A few hours later the BMW OHV V8 engine of the 1958 507 series 2 roadster spurred to life. It ran so smoothly and purred with a dormant power. To Kain this machine was art.
1958 BMW 507 series 2 roadster
With a broken and bruised hand Kain awkwardly shifts the gear stick before wiping away the thick wet blood pooling from his nose around his mouth. Through a swollen eye he looks back at the carnage of the garage behind him as a wave of fresh air sweeps in under the roller door slowly winding open.
As the car rolls out, Kain awkwardly shifts in the seat, leaning his head out over the door he spasms in a deep revolting wet cough as he sprays an atrocious splotch of bile and blood across the pristine driveway. He looks back at the closing garage door one last time. "What a damn shame dad." his voice filled with resentment and a spiteful sarcasm. "What a damn shame!" It could have been interpreted as a trap but Kain knew better, this was a test. With a short press on the accelerator Kain takes off down the street, leaving behind the merciless rent-a-cops that nearly beat him to death, the large empty garage and the building he grew up in.
Now more than ever Kain needed the Shamans help. He hadn't seen Levy for quite some time and the last meeting didn't end too well. But he almost didn't have any other option, he just couldn't use the public hospitals. His wrap sheet was too large and there was always the case of the copious amount of metal running around in his body. No he would make amends with the Shaman.
With a groan Kain reaches into his jacket and pulls out an old flip phone, opening it with a flick of his wrist. He thumbs in the unused speed dial for the Shaman and puts the phone on loud speaker. The cold nights air was rustling heavily through his hair, it burnt against his warm skin, swollen bruises and bloody open wounds. He couldn't get to the shaman fast enough but luckily he had a pretty good idea where he might be able to find her.
Kain floored the car all through the night to arrive in Chicago by mid morning.
While they seem complete opposites these brothers were once really close. Events in their early teens separated them and now for the first time in years they are within the same town.
Clayton 'Clay' Radshaw
Bad Ass Lycan
44" in height, 7.5' in length at 180lbs, he has Heterochromia iridium, one eye is a pale blue and the other hazel. He is a lean and agile wolf.
"'Ain't nothing come for free' " Clayton is 6ft 180lbs and is naturally fit and muscular due to his lupine blood.
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Species: Clayton is human Werewolf (He despises and neglects his wolf form which stirs the beast within him.)
Personality: Clay, while a bit rough-around-the-edges is pretty care free and easy going guy. He can be a little arrogant and over confident and extremely head strong and stubborn at times. He is pretty quick to resort to violence or at least threats, the strike first ask questions later type. Character flaws aside he has a generally good heart and will make sacrifices for others. Behind his arrogance he doesn't really believe he is worth dirt, often denying his own happiness believing he must suffer for mistakes of the past. He's the kind of guy that trouble is attracted too.
Biography: Clayton is currently on the run from only 'god knows what' but that darkness always follows him. So Clayton runs and runs, only stopping to drink, fight and fuck before hitting the road again.
Likes: Whiskey Women Motor bikes Leather Fighting Tattoos The number 13 (Roughly in that order)
Dislikes: 'Intellectual' conversations Politics Wimps Sleeping His past Cats Constraints
Weaknesses: Short temper Pretty women Rejection to self happiness Low self worth Being trapped (claustrophobia)
Occupation: What ever pays; from bar tending to muscle work or mechanical repairs.
The bright light of a rising morning pieced the thin flesh of Clayton's eyelids. Groggily he shook his head trying to hide from the sun as the cool crisp outside air ran along his skin. Shit, he was outside...
It seemed to have gotten much brighter by the time Clay opened his eyes again, he squinted as he looked around trying to assess his location and situation. He was by no means feeling ok, but there had defiantly been occasions before were he had woken up feeling much worse.
His head was splitting with a pounding headache, he had poor recollection of the night before, the strong residual smell of whiskey hung on his breath and he had the faint taste of blood on his lips. No there was nothing unusual here.
Despite all reasonable logic and indicators he still prayed to find himself in a large soft bed with luscious white sheets and an exotic strange girl wrapped in his arms.
As his eyes adjusted to and filtered the piercing painful light he quickly looks around and lets out a deep loud long disappointed sigh, reality hit him hard and confirmed the initial thoughts he wanted to hide from. Clay lay outside amongst a rubbish heap in a dirty small back alley. Surprisingly, even though the odds were against him, he was still both saddened and disappointed by this, as it meant there would be no breakfast or morning sex today.
With a groan he picks his battered, bruised and injured body off the floor and recollects the night before....
Last Night unnamed pub
There it was, once again, that all too familiar taste of blood swelling within his mouth.
"Mother fuc" he had began to slur before another fist came violently crashing into his face. His head snapped across sending the growing pool of salivate blood splattering across the floor. There came a deep guttural growl from the back of his throat in reply. Clay slowly lifted his head back up so that this punk may see the predatory rage burning within his eyes. "Not a smart move" a maniacal smile of perfect white teeth follow his words.
Clay who was kneeling on the back of some big up-tight tavern regular, releases the the mans head to fall to the floorboards with a heavy thud. Only moments ago Clay had been pounding his head into the ground and now the mans face was silhouetted by a smeared pool of his own blood. Clay turned all his focus to the punk kid who blind sighted him. Ignoring the man at his feet and the other laying on the pool table clutching his leg as he grunted in agony over the half protruding broken pool que.
Had there been the only three in the tavern that day, Clay would have walked out a happy man. But NO. Not even nearly. At least sixteen people had squeezed themselves into this little corner pub to celebrate some sporting victory, and nearly all had enough comradery to get involved instead of watching a few of their team mates get the shit kicked out of them. Well at least it felt like all sixteen of them to Clay.
-------
Broken bruised and bloody he came crashing into a pile of rubbish as he was thrown out the back door into a dirty old alley way. "Fu'en puthies" he yells back defiantly through a broken jaw, at what must have been the teams pitcher. The coffee pot that came flying at him next was thrown hard enough to have him seeing black. With a sputter he painfully laughs at his own misfortune before passing out.
Dorian Radshaw
Tavern owner
"You do not know of the darkness in which I have walked."
This man is swathed in mystery and seclusion, much is always happening behind those deep intense eyes but that's where his thoughts stay. Dorian is quite tall, his clothes are always in pristine condition and he takes great care to ensure his appearance is always at its best.
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Species: Dorian is human, at least he believes himself to still be. Some bad deals were made with powers that should never be met, let along bargained with, some time ago.
Skills: Diplomacy Patience Observation Accounting
Personality: Dorian is actually quite shy and reserved, if not needed he would happily hide away in his office but unfortunately he is also a control freak, needing to keep an eye on the tavern floor.
Biography: 'Nothing comes for free' the lesson Dorian has learnt from a lifetime of loneliness, clawing against all odds and misfortune to be where he is now. If destiny is truly predetermined then Dorian believes himself to have already defied the fate that the cosmos had laid out for him long ago. He lives his life expecting that at any second the grander powers that be will rectify his defiance.
Likes: Order Even numbers Fine suits Expensive drinks Control
Dislikes: Chaos Odd numbers Flaws in his appearance Cheap drinks Being drunk
Weaknesses: Emotional instability Need for order and control Gambling and debt
“Those that fear the dark haven't seen what the light can do.”
Personal Information
Full Name: Azerus Thorn Gender: Male Age: 19, Appearance:
Background Information
History: An orphan, Azerus was raised in a very strict and religious birding school. Emotional Bond: One of rivalry and competition. The constant struggle to achieve and surpass. Partner:
Information Focus: The divine spark manifest; Holy electricity. Spells:
'Spark Step'
small range teleportation.
'Swift Justice'
imbuing himself or another with arcing strands of electricity the target's speed and agility is enhanced and their weapon deals more damage as it sparks with bright holy energy.
'Static Field'
a light blur static field surrounds the target, it has 4 uses. 1 repel metal 2 attract metal 3 zap invaders 4 zap escapees
'holy bolt'
Azerus can throw a powerful bolt of holy energy
'Heavens strike'
Azerus can call down a terrifying bolt of lightning from the heavens
'the divine spark'
stave of death, restart the heart, prevent fatal wounds from ending a life. It has low healing power but prevents death and gives a renewed energy.
Miscellaneous Information
Height: Weight: Likes: Dislikes: Hobbies: Character Theme: Other:
“Those that fear the dark haven't seen what the light can do.”
Personal Information
Full Name: Azerus Thorn Gender: Male Age: 19, Appearance:
Background Information
History: An orphan, Azerus was raised in a very strict and religious boarding school. There he learned to fight and developed his angst for authority. Running away he spent some harsh years on the street and grew to resent the rich and privileged.
For reasons still unknown Azerus was eventually taken in under the tutorage of an insightful elder monk, while he could not live at the monastery he could trade work for food scraps and teaching.
At first the young boy was reluctant to work, or worse, conform. But as time passed and the difficulties of street life caught up with him, in his own time he soon took to the offer. First he worked just for the essential food, then as curiosity took hold of him he became hooked on their philosophies and learnt much more of religion and combat.
However, it was still no place for a child. Many of the monks took the vow of silence, and the others had little interest in games or conversation. To Azerus they were all really old or really slow. There patient ways and humble lifestyle bored him, there was very little 'fun' to be found.
It was after an awakening lesson on empathy did Azerus stumble across a pompous boy around his own age crying on the streets. Had he met him a day sooner he would have either scoffed, berated or robbed him. Perhaps all three.
Wanting to practise the lessons he had been taught Azerus put aside his biases and started the notions that would forever change his life...
Albert Archibald. The boy held dearly to a stray dog he wasn't allowed to keep, instead of releasing it back where he found it, Azerus would look after it and Albert would visit near daily. Both the young teens idolised the dog, the same could not be said about each other. There meetings usually consisted of comparative stories trying to out do the other, arguments and even on many occasions childish brawls. But they always returned.
Promises of how great they would one day become were made to each other, and every time they were Azerus would stay up late that night either training extra hard or reading something new. Preparing himself for their next meeting.
Times changed and the boys grew, even long after he left the monastery and even after the dog died, the boys met at the same place, the place they buried the dog, and compared stories, talked of the future, argued, fought and even laughed.
Right up to the day Archibald called on Azerus to be his partner in a celestial bond.
Emotional Bond: One of rivalry and competition. The constant struggle to achieve and surpass. This is not a bond where their strength comes from one supporting or carrying the others flaws, but of both members equally striving for perfection and giving all they have. From that excitement of reaching new heights. Their energy is on equal levels and they both refuse to fall behind the other. Partner: Albert Archibald (@SaberClass4242)
Combat Information
Fighting Style: Azerus is agile, fast and unpredictable. Well trained, he often uses his opponents momentum and weight against them. He favours unarmed combat second to only his personalised Kusarigama. He is an expert at disarming, tripping and distracting. Equipment: Having grown up in poverty Azerus holds few possessions dear to him. He has the clothes on his back, a few spare rags, a bed roll he calls home and Iju. Weaknesses: Impulsiveness, confidence, his desire to push and test his limits. Competitiveness.
Celestial Gear
Name: Iju (named after deceased dog) Type:Kusarigama Appearance:
Function: Tremor sense. While Iju is in Azerus's hands he can feel the vibrations in the air and ground around him. It growls softly to only him when an enemy or fight is near. Striking an object will give him a sense of its density. Striking the ground will let him locate hard minerals. Last resort: Spirit Bah-Iju Zorn, Summons powerful earth/gem creature with burning with dark flames lapping from its mouth.
Azerus doesn't know his true parents, he was abandoned as a tiny child on the doorstep of a small town church. The church saw fit to try and raise this child but due to the disturbances of his appearance and the rumours it raised they found more then enough reason to send him out of town to a strict, labour intensive orphanage before his presence hindered their reputation. Even here amongst the cruel punishing work and long draining hours of slavery did the young Azerus still manage to create a ruckus. He developed a strong hate for authority and wouldn't let the other children or adults bully him. It was harsh times, many skipped meals and beatings, but they couldn't break his spirit. All alone he began speaking to invisible voices and imagining little pets, little did he know then that he was on the brink of summoning.
There were no question's when one day an offer was put on the boys head. Glad to rid themselves of him Azerus was sold off cheaply without concern. It turned out to be to a small devil worshiping cult, due to his horns they decided they wanted his blood. Azerus was kept alive as a prisoner, as a blood bag. From his dark dirty cell he watched over and listened to their many rituals and spells. There was not a lot of magic or power between the lot of them, their pronunciations were poor and motions lacking. Azerus's voices told him this. He almost felt sorry for the cultist's. Each driven to darkness by sever desperation, lost loved ones, vengeance, hate, sorrow, pity. He overheard glimpses of each of their plights and could almost understand the drastic measures of the otherwise helpless.
During one of the many occasions were Azerus found himself teetering on the edge of consciousness after being bled, when the halls of the underground cavern were dimly lit by the dancing flame of flickering candles, Azerus sung along to their song, he repeated the foreign words but in the way the voices told him to.
Then he passed out to the screams that followed... When he awoke his cell door was torn open and bloody bodies filled the halls. Azerus didn't stick around, he fled! He ran as far and fast as he could. The next few years were difficult, finding food and work as a begger and theif. Azerus travelled around, avoiding overstaying his welcome, when he herd of the grand mission. Azerus had seen first hand the greed of power and it's consequences but that didn't change his reasoning to peruse the sword.
An eccentric free thinker with a gentle heart. To say Averius was an odd child would be an understatement, to assume he had out grown it would be gravely inaccurate. Just as genius can be found in the misfortunate and mad, the inner workings of Avey's mind was both a mysterious blessing and a curse.
At certain times he can seem to lack empathy, but those worrying occasions are rare. His humour is often abstract and his thoughts commonly unfiltered and unrestrained. Most the time he appears light hearted and aloof. Despite his oddities he is quite shy and quiet.
Avarius has taken a Vow of Non-violence wich he follows very seriously, often relying on Vallen when situations become rough.
History: Little is known of the young prodigies past. Questions are often quickly deflect but if one can bring him to ponder on his past for even a moment, his eyes fill with a mix of emotions, crippling him socially. Equipment: Having adopted a minimalist lifestyle Avarius holds few possessions dear to him. He has the clothes on his back, a few spare rags, a bed roll he calls home and thats it. Class Taught: Wind~elemental/mental flow
Vallen
The Silent Monk,
Age: 28 Element: (no longer using elemental magic, it is unknown what power he once possessed) Personality: Vallen keeps to himself and his work at the academy. He avoids conversation and confrontation. In class he is firm yet fair. 'Tough love' he is also very protective of his mentor and students. History: Vallen grew up in a prominent conjuring family that held him to high expectations. His magic never lived up to their esteem. What he lacked in elemental affinity he made up for in combative skill. Years of rigid and strict training from self serving proud parents produced a troubled teen. After near expulsion from the academy he was taken on by Avarius as a permanent personal assistant and pupil.
He has since began bettering his ways by respecting his elemental affinity more and not using it for the advantages that it brings. In the past he miss-used and took it for granted, so now he is trying to atone. He still recognises his gift and connection and will even meditate on it but he has learnt that it put his life out of the greater balance. That is the lessons Avarius is teaching him.
“Those that fear the dark haven't seen what the light can do.”
Personal Information
Gender: Male Age: 18, Element: Lightning Personality: Kain is highly energetic and competitive. He has a way to see the positive side of things and always moves forward. He is eager to learn and grow although not always the brightest student. Since becoming attuned to his abilities he has grown in arrogance and confidence. He is a loud daring personality, not shy nor worried of others opinions at all. History: Kain grew up in a foster family, never knowing his own. But his new family was good to him, they looked after him. They were not rich but did ok. When Kain showed signs of being attuned to an element his foster family could not stand in the way of his desire for adventure or his endless ambitions. They aided him as best they could for his journey. Equipment: Concealed throwing knives Clothes and favourite coat
DOB: 01-01-1810 Biography: Takasugi grew up a poor child far from his home land. Always on the move just him and his mother. She taught him as best she could of their heritage and culture but he would come to learn and understand it on a much deeper level the following years on his lonesome. His father finally tracked them down, in his mothers defence Takasugi cut him down from behind, but the man was seemingly possessed, unwilling and unable to stop or die until he had done what he came to do. Kill his wife, Takasugi's mother.
Takasugi studied what he could of demons and continued to learn how to fight. He also continued to travel but this time he was not running away. He came to accept that was not his father that day but a demon spirit that had been haunting and tearing his family apart, preventing him from having a fair normal life, making him witness things no child should have to see. No Takasugi was not travelling as a way to run and hide, he was searching out knowledge and strength so he may seek vengeance upon this dark spirit.
Equipment: A pendant with a picture of each of his parents at a younger age. An ancient samari demon face mask (family heirloom) A herb pouch with mystic components.
Weapons:
Otanto - one handed - quick & light
Kurasigami - two handed - medium
Shuriken - medium range - small & light
Katana - one/two handed -medium
Khopesh - one/two handed - heavy
Skills: Takasugi is a skilled swordsman and martial artist,
NAME: Uurohgak Krul RACE: Blackborn APPEARANCE: Krul is thin for a Blackborn tribesman, his large wide skeletal frame awaiting the nourishment he requires. His growth impeded by the broken jaw he currently carries. His scarred face is hidden beneath a skull mask, both protecting and hiding his shameful injuries. Two large canine fangs piece the lobes of his ears. His shoulders and chest are built up by a thick dark fur poncho, lined by clay plates. Protruding bone, tusks and antlers woven together make for a large sharp intimidating shoulder pad reaching over his upper arm and onto his chest, sitting on top of the furs. Leather straps spiral around and down his arms. A makeshift claw is tightly bound to his left wrist and hangs ready for easy access. That same hand is missing it's pinky finger and half of the one next to it. His right forearm is circled by bone shards over tight bound thin fur. Sinewy thick ropes bind a circular metal plate to his stomach, it has been fashioned by markings of his tribe. Around his waist hang his two weapons amongst the thick lavish furs of a rich skirt like long loin cloth. Beneath that simple loose pants reach down to tight dirty leather boots.
Clan: Shurum Kha-raul Wolf companion: Aze-Resh Gruul (Reshy) Description: Reshy is a large old wolf, the once midnight black fur now fading with streaks of silver and grey having lost all its majestic shine. His senses are not as sharp as they once were and his movement has slowed. Reshy did not originally belong to Krul, but when his partner died trying to save Krul's wolf pup from a mutated beast, Reshy saved Krul, the only survivor, and took the young tribesman back to camp where he is now frowned upon for fleeing.
Weapons: >list][*]Hand axe - offhand [*]Short sword - main-hand [*]Short spears - med range [*]Khopesh - two handed [*]Claws - honourand ceremonial
The finger dance is a game played by the blackborn of the Ghath-Rhul tribe. The finger dance is played by at least two people and consists of throwing a hand axe at each other. One must catch the axe or leap over it without missing a step.
Race - Tiefling Age - Appears late teens / early 20's Personality - Azerus is often considered quite arrogant and selfish. He has a short attention span and often acts impulsively on his curiosities.
He hates being told what to do, he seeks freedom, adventure and excitement. And aims to fill the mundane spaces between with every type of ale ever made.
Brief Backstory - Azerus would tell you he has had a simple yet troublesome life living on the streets and bouncing through orphanages, abandoned by his parents for his unusual 'features'. And that's all he will tell you of that.
Azerus is living proof that some of the most respected and highest influential ranking nobles of Conra have had 'unholy' meddling's in their past, or at least carried knowledge of. His painstakingly obvious tainted linage a fearful adequate case to bring detriment and ruin to reputation and family name. For that reason Azerus has had no family name, living a hidden secluded life unaware oh his true parents.
Azerus was never abandoned, that was too risky, nor could they kill a child. Things were put in place that saw him have a very lavish up bringing with the best tutors and entertainers, but it came at a costly price of strict rules, discipline and heavy confinement. However all that was put in place began to crumble at the death of the queen. Azerus felt his presence become more and more of an unwanted intrusion as time passed, he was becoming an increasing inconvenience and liability, his life growing ever at risk as those with ill will conspired behind hidden doors.
Current Events - Yearning for adventure Azerus fled the city, directionless he chose to accompany a young friendly woman.
Skills - Azerus's physical skills far supersede that of his social. He is an adequate musician and acrobat as well as being adept at wielding pole arms and small blades. His true passion however lies in mastering the sword.
Gear - Azerus has the weapons of a warrior and the armour of a mud wrestler. This is only partially due to circumstances and mostly to do with his arrogance. Although it's not an arrogance misplaced, his lightning reflexes do give cause for this confidence, his desire to move unhindered fairly warranted.
Spells -
Ect - If you have anything else you want to share!
Age: 19 Race: Human(?) Gender: Male Arc name: The weight of words Arc bio: (for GM eyes only) Power or ability:Gravitational manipulation
Arden has the ability to alter, bend and reverse gravity within a limited capacity and time. This ability is similar to a frequency effect and produced from his lungs and guided by his hands. It may appear like a breath attack, yet the affect is not in the space of his voice/breath but where it hits.
Personality: Arden never speaks. Ever. For this reason he often comes across as shy and reserved. He is quite cautious and timid around strangers. When he is comfortable around others they will learn he is highly curious, if not somewhat eccentric.
To say Arden was an odd child would be an understatement, to assume he had out grown it would be gravely inaccurate. Just as genius can be found in the misfortunate and mad, the inner workings of Arden's mind were both a mysterious blessing and a curse.
At certain times he not so much lacks empathy but is totally void of even the notion of it. This can be discomforting coming from someone who's hard to read with their thoughts forever locked away.
Most the time he appears light hearted and aloof. Despite his oddities he is quite caring and prone to sharing an honest smile.
Bio: Born the way he is, he had an inclining of his powers with glimpses of what he could do but it wasn't until his abduction by a secret government agency that his powers fully came to fruition. Arden's parents where hysteric at his loss. With no leads to go on, the police were helpless in his recovery. Years passed yet their resolve never faulted and their search never ended. Suddenly one day, for unknown reasons, Robin stepped in and got personally involved in this families mundane missing persons request. Arden was soon rescued from the institute. He quickly reunited with his family but despite all their love and happiness, his awkward ways and new found abilities were not suited to assimilating into a normal life. Realising he was a burden Arden, with his parents blessing, sought to join the Titans.
Weapon: A mystical cloak.
THE TRUTH OF THINGS UNTOLD
Arden's life is filled with half truths and secrets. Little does he know that the people who raised him are not his true parents at all, nor does he know the dark truth that he was born into a demonic ritual.
It was there deep below the ground in a hidden cave, illuminated by candles and decorated in unholy cursive's that Arden was discovered, mid ritual, shortly after his birth, by Blue Devil.
Blue Devil had been tracking down the mysterious unnamed cult for some time who were relentlessly trying to unleash horrifying evils upon the world.
Supposedly saving the new born child, the occult ritual was interrupted and a vicious gate opened up, tearing the fabric of realms, sucking all the occultists down to hell before Blue Devil managed to shut it just in time to save the child and himself.
Sensing no evil from the innocent new born, Daniel Cassidy took the child and the cloak he was wrapped in to the most caring and loving people he knew, his cousin Vera Cassidy and her husband Andrew Vaude. Unable to have their own child they were overwhelmed and took him in, raising him as their own. (Little did anyone realise at that time that it was no ordinary cloak that the child was wrapped in.)
------
Vera (Cassidy) Vaude. Aka VV / Vee-Vee
Distant cousin to Daniel, a special effects make up artist, she held the family name until marrying Andrew Vaude.
Andrew Vaude, a safety director, once a practising circus acrobat, had an accident that left him in a wheel chair or crutches at the least.
Andrew once worked with the flying Greysons and that connection to Robin is why he got noticed and the Titans sought to help find his missing (adopted) son.
----------
Deeper secrets still to reveal within his story arc.
THE ARC Organisations within organisations.
Arden's abilities are by no chance coincidental, or at their full potential and purpose. Arden is the result of years of demonic pacts and conniving scheming.
His true 'purpose' is to be a conduit for demonic spirits. Through his ability dark spirits can reach out and posses the living. The gravity manipulation is but a side effect of his true purpose.
It was Arden who tore open the hole that saw the occultists dragged to the other side, but even that was part of the plan to a seclusive few. The demons they worship would not settle for just any vessel, most normal humans couldn't contain the demonic powers they possessed.
Their end game is to posses supers.
Arden's ability was developing slowly, so under the guise of a different organisation the remaining cultists infiltrated the government and set to kidnapping Arden to boost his power and push him in the direction of using it.
Meanwhile the cultists present at his birth, set things in motion from the other side. The more Arden uses his power on someone, and the more fierce his intensity and focus, the closer and closer that person comes to sharing their body with a demonic entity.
At first it might be slight bad thoughts, or evil whispers. Then moments of uncontrollable anger or bouts of black outs. At first they might struggle with the intrusion or may even embrace the new power. But eventually bit by bit the demonic entity will take over its host.
In 1115, Peter Abelard "the keenest thinker and boldest theologian of the 12th Century" a medieval French scholasticphilosopher, theologian and preeminent logician. Son of knight Berengar, moved in with a canon in Paris named Fulbert and his ward and niece young Héloïse d'Argenteuil who he tutored in exchange for the accommodation. Like Fulbert he himself became a canon. Despite all this an affair took place behind Fulberts back and beneath his roof, the results of the illicit affair was baby Petrus Astralabius, who would later be known as Jon Lytton.
Abelard had to move Héloïse away from Fulbert and sent her to his own sister in Brittany when she showed signs of pregnancy. Ongoing situations eventually caused Abélard to place Héloïse for her own safety in the convent of Argenteuil where she became prioress. After some grisly affairs Abélard himself eventually became a monk in the Abbey of St Denis in Paris. Neither parent around to raise their young son.
It wouldn't be until his later teens that Jon would formally meet his parents and continue to on occasions for moral guidance. In the meantime and to their death, letters under secret aliases kept them connected.
Early years:
Jon Astrolabe Lytton was raised by the Guardians in which his family had close ties. He trained with his grandfather and travelled with his aunt. Growing up with the descendants they became his extended family, but they were something more. Crown Jewels of humanity carrying the greatest gift of God. Deserving of protection and preservation they were the ones with the ability to lead humanity to a new golden age. He was a good kid who studied and trained hard, always being at the ready to help the guardians change the world for the better. This was his purpose, this was his call.
From teen to war
At the age of 18 Jon became caught up in England's civil war later known as The Anarchy It was a messy lawless time. Jon did things and witnessed events that at the time he would rather forget. But now such petty things no longer weighed on his soul. He never saw the war to the very end. He fought heart and soul with his life to support whatever cause the guardians saw fit to give him. Believing in the wisdom of the descendants reincarnation.
After King Henries passing The guardians supported the deceased's nephew Stephen of Blois, for political reasons and their ties to Henry of Blois, Bishop of Winchester. Meanwhile the king's daughter Empress Matilda had ties to the covern and had her own interests in immortality. While history claims it a war of succession it was much more than that. A personal vendetta between two ancient organisations. Both side petitioned for the innocent to rally behind their false fronts, recruiting others to their will through means of coin or intimidation if required. It was a bloody and horrible time, the weak and poor the first to suffer the travesties of war as both sides tried to limit the supplies of the other. Chroniclers described the period as one in which "Christ and his saints were asleep"
Love, death, betrayal and order.
1141 Jon first met Matilda as she was on the verge of being crowned queen, where he and the order forced her to retreat from London as a hostile crowd. It was the following year 1142, Jon now 27 and a fierce grown man, did he start to question everything. He had read all the books of his father, specially those of morals and logic. He had been at war for 9 years and the chaos consumed his heart, worst of all, in Matilda's brief presence her words had poisoned his ear.
Jon was a romantic deep at heart just like his father but his continual rebuffed affection towards Swanhild de Deoraby drove him to a moment of madness. One war torn day, with blood already on his hands, he killed her. That singular action altering his fate immensely as it expunged him from the guardians and made him an enemy of his former family. The same year the war almost ended during the siege of Oxford, but just as the Empress was almost captured Jon aided her to escape from Oxford Castle across the frozen River Thames to safety.
Jon believed all this drama and trouble was the results of the descendants immortality. The witches pursuit would never end and innocents would continue to die. It was then he decided they had to die. Secretly aligned with Empress Matilda (closer than he should be with a married woman) he used his connections with the churches and the rebel Barron's he had mustered and sought out a new faction to bring order amongst the chaos. Simply known as the 'Order'.
For the next few years the order secretly grew and integrated itself more strongly into the church. The six were hunted as demons. Innocent people were burned as witches and chaos was the result, but the order had its mission. The battle for England no longer their concern they focused their attacks towards the guardians where ever they could. With Jon's knowledge of their workings he weakened and exploited their shortcomings.
By early 1147 the order had gained enough influence to lead a holy crusade against the guardians. During it Jon and his order sidetracked for their own personal agenda. Jon lured out his old friend Alexandros into a trap and murdered him. Soon after he led skirmishes that killed many guardians. With the full support of the church and the holy roman empress Matilda behind him. Jon took his forces and broke into a guardian hideout where he was able to kidnap Xanthippe. He also almost had Korinna too but she was defiant and almost caused him to be apprehended, instead he assaulted her with an alchemical concoction, permanently blinding her, and escaped just as guardian reinforcements arrived.
On his own with a trusted few Xanthippe was the subject of much experimentation, bordering torture. Jon acted independently to his benefactors, keeping the results and experiments to himself. There his greed broke him, he was occasionally torn in his ways of treating her. Sometime being nurturing and apologetic as he tried to rationalise his actions, other times he was empty and hateful, committing himself to the path he had chosen and deliberately pushing himself beyond necessity to be cold and empty as he shrugged of compassion and empathy. Regardless of his mood, this was still his sister. There was no turning back. At times he hoped to find an easy answer to immortality and be free and able to let her on her way. But as days turned into weeks and those weeks into months, he knew he would never be the same again. In the end, enraged and spiteful, he delicately opened her chest and ate her still beating heart...
Born again he was now something more. Eager to share and test his findings they captured Korinna a few months later and she underwent a similar yet shorter ordeal to Xanthippe, this time his loyal follower Agnes bearing the gift of the supposedly stolen immortality.
Now they were some of the very abominations to god that the order swore to rid. So they left and travelled to Ireland.
After death - grudges
The guardians begin to investigate ways to defend themselves. The blast furnace for the smelting of cast iron is imported from China, appearing around Lapphyttan, Sweden, as early as 1150.
Betrayed, Empress Matilda refocuses her attention to the vampires and consults with the remaining England guardians. * 1153: The Treaty of Wallingford (Treaty of Winchester, Treaty of Westminster), effectively ends the civil war between Empress Matilda and her cousin King Stephen of England fought over the English crown. Stephen acknowledges Matilda's son Henry of Anjou as his heir. * 1154: On December 27, Henry II is crowned King of England at Westminster Abbey. * 1155: Pope Adrian IV grants overlordship of Ireland to Henry II of England in the bull Laudabiliter. He continues his mothers wrathful pursuit of the vampires.
* 1168: The vampires retaliate through King Valdemar I of Denmark who conquers Arkona on the Island of Rügen, the strongest pagan fortress and temple in northern Europe.
* 1169: On May 1, the Norman invasion of Ireland begins. Richard fitzGilbert de Clare ('Strongbow') makes an alliance with the exiled Irish chief, Dermot MacMurrough, to help him recover his kingdom of Leinster. The vampires the driving force behind it trying to push out Matilda's influence.
* 1170—The Christian notion of Purgatory is defined as described by Jon.
* 1171: On November 11, Henry II of England lands in Ireland to assert his claim as Lord of Ireland and continue his mothers search for Jon. The vampires are forced to flea and eventually settled back down, but it didn't last long.
* 1189–1192: The Third Crusade is an attempt by European leaders to wrest the Holy Land from Saladin.
Tired of the crusading army. * 1190: On June 10, Emperor Frederick Barbarossa drowns (with assistance) in the River Salef, leaving the Crusader army under the command of the rivals Philip II of Franceand Richard I of England, which ultimately leads to the dissolution of the army.
The long chase
For the next 5 centuries the vampires play a giant game of cat and mouse all over the globe with all of the different factions, the order, the church, the guardians, the witches, whilst simultaneously hunting down the reincarnated descendants and growing their small circle death by death.
Separation
The originals had since learnt how to make their own vampires and eventually split into 3 groups and spread throughout different parts of the world. Jon had taught them discretion and how to influence the world from the shadows. How to pass on their gift and to worry of the strength of united enemies.
Jon and Agnes were in France where they had become a bit careless and indulgent. Not living to his own lessons. Eventually the French Revolution drove them from their large extravagant lifestyles of France, and they slipped into Britain where he capitalised on the early industrial revolution.
After that
After that the world quickly grew smaller. Borders became harder to cross, proof of identity a constant requirement, the 'order' through means of the church took a powerful role in the influence of future things and it made the world a very difficult place for immortals.
The originals eventually further split and lived through their puppets. Each stealing as much influence as they could, building networks and infiltrating society through lawyers, politicians, businessmen, thugs & mobsters. Anything they could get their hands on. As for Jon, he disappeared completely, while the other covern were attacked, moved and rebuilt, nothing was ever heard of Jon. Until now.
Creating a trainer: Important Note: Once you have finished your 'character sheet' please post it under the OOC tab in a hider and tag any/all GM' and Co-GM's for approval, Thankyou.
Name: John Doe Age: 24 Starting Location: (Choose a location from list below. Note: the location will alter what starter Pokemon are available, see 'getting started') Rank: Beginner Organization: (Leave blank for now) Occupation: (Here to add flavor. What is your character's job or source of income. "Pokemon Trainer" isn't a job and you may need a way to buy those non-TP essentials.) Appearance: (Description if you have no image.) Biography: (Tell us a little about your character's past.) Personality: (A short description.)
Feel free to add extra info:
Pokemon Party:
(These are the Pokemon that you are currently carrying. Max 6)
[b]Name:[/b] John Doe [b]Age:[/b] 24 [b]Starting Location:[/b] [b][color=6ecff6]Rank:[/color][/b] Beginner [b][color=6ecff6]Organization:[/color][/b] [b]Occupation:[/b] [b]Appearance:[/b] [b]Biography:[/b] [b]Personality:[/b] [b]Pokemon Party:[/b][list] [*] [/list]
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