Name / Sex / Age
Fairly self-explanatory. If they're coming back from the dead, express age in both (Earth) years old at the time of their heroic exploits and a rough count of how long ago they died.

Appearance
A few sentences describing what your character looks like. It doesn't have to be a novel, as long as it gets the point across. You can add a (realistic) picture if you want, but you still need the written portion.

Personality
What makes your character act the way that they do? A couple of paragraphs describing their attitudes, beliefs, opinions, personal values, etc.

Background
The most important part. Describe, in at least a few paragraphs, any notable events of their lives. Outside of the general map and broad world-building strokes I've left things pretty vague, so you have creative freedom, but please run any particularly outlandish ideas by me first. Note: your character doesn't need to be one of the legendary heroes, but I encourage them to be. If you don't go for that route your character should at least be in a position of some amount of political or military power, so they have an excuse to take part in the RP.

Abilities
If you choose to play one of the heroes of the past, this is where you should describe what special things they can do. You should have one well-defined ability, and it shouldn't be overpowered. If I think yours goes too far or doesn't play well with the RP I'll deny it and suggest a fix.

Equipment / Other
If your character has any particularly special equipment, or you have anything else to add, put it here.

At the time that the RP is set, these are the major locations of the world. Far in the past, some were most likely different (aside from geographically, of course).

The Verdant Kingdoms
Perhaps the most 'civilized' realm on Terras, the Verdant Kingdoms are a loose alliance of feudal lords in control of the most populated and wealthy portion of the continent. The Verdant Kingdoms are full of rolling plains and flat farmlands, occasionally broken up by huge granaries or timber-and-stone keeps. Lately, the Kingdoms have been ravaged by pirates who dwell on islands off its coast, but this is hardly an existential threat.

The Free Castles
A region of rocky bluffs and high cliffs, the lands which currently make up the Free Castles are covered with centuries-old fortresses that would have been considered decrepit several sunsets ago. Many of these keeps are held tenuously by feuding barons and upstart mercenary bands, who feud amongst themselves (much to the chagrin of the area's commoners, who are often forced into one army or another). As the sun declined, a steady trickle of emigrants has flowed from the Free Castles to the Verdant Kingdoms.

The Ruins of Varras
Varras was, until the most recent nightfall, demonstrably one of the most expansive and powerful empires to stand proudly on the face of Terras. The high walls of their cities had weathered a good half-dozen nights without issue, and the continent's heroes had almost unanimously flocked to Varras upon discovering their abilities. It had seemed almost as if Varras would be the civilization to defy historical convention and stand as permanent as the mountains on its northern border . . . until the most recent nightfall, nearly a century ago. Varras was set upon by beasts of the dark more horrific than any before chronicled, and by the time that the sun rose once more it shone light on a ruined realm. The once-mighty cities of Varras are crumbled, home to vagrants and bandits, the realm's eastern border slowly absorbed by the Verdant Kingdoms and its southern vassal of Miremarch newly independent.

Miremarch
Miremarch, widely regarded as backwards culturally and technologically, is an independent realm situated in the southwestern marshes. In past days it was a loyal vassal of the Empire of Varras, but the doom that came for Varras left Miremarch largely unaffected, and so now the people of the March rule themselves. Though seen with disdain by the more 'advanced' Verdant Kingdoms and the proud Northerlands, the people of Miremarch are generally quite satisfied with their way of being (and the defensibility of their homelands).

The Iron Keep
The tituar Iron Keep and its small vassal realm is an oddity. Doubtlessly one of the most impressive feats of engineering on the continent, the Keep is (with the fall of Varras) the oldest-standing continuously-inhabited structure on the continent. Within its closely-guarded walls, it is said, are the histories of civilizations long eradicated from the world. Rumors claim that within the Keep foul rituals are practiced to bring terrible horrors upon the realm's enemies, but in truth the Iron Keep's scholarly ruling council maintain a polite (if isolationist) diplomatic rapport with the neighboring Verdant Kingdoms.

The Northerlands
Harsh and unforgiving, the Northerlands are (as one might guess by their name) are cold of climate and cold of disposition. The myriad jarls that rule its snow-covered cliffs and warmer forested valleys are in constant feud with one another, and the realm's greatest export is its famed mercenary bands (many of whom have settled in the Free Castles), followed closely by its meads. Though they have almost always entered into each night woefully underprepared, there always seems to be some remnant of their ways and their people to take up the northern mantle come daybreak.

The Far Swamps
Uninhabited but for foul bog-beasts and particularly foolish corsairs, the Far Swamps are a frigid marshy flatland that nobody would ever want to live in. While in the daylight the only things to emerge from the Swamps are foul skin-sloughing diseases and parasitic pests, the few lucky idiots to have ventured into the Swamps at night and returned to tell the tale speak of horrors beyond sane imagination.

The Viper Isles
The Viper Isles are full of wildife, but not particularly full of men. The only settlements on the Isles are pirate havens that prey on Miremarch and the few remaining towns on the coast of Varras. Few would want to live permanently on the Isles, in fact, as the salty and humid disposition of the islands is very non-conducive to the growing of any domestic food crops.

The Mountains
They're mountains. I'm sure you can picture what mountains look like.

Name / Sex / Age
Rust / Male / Died at age 29, eons ago

Appearance
Rust, though born human, has become something that cannot be entirely described as such. His figure is normal enough, with a tallish frame and a wiry, almost emaciated build. His features are sharp and regal, and his hair is thick and oily, a long mane of red-orange for which he is named. However, his skin is a sickly hue of pallid grey-green, and his eyes are pure black. His nails have lengthened into long, dark talons, and he bleeds thin black ichor instead of red blood. A discoloration like soot darkens his face, and his tongue is black, dry and smooth. Smoke belches up from his mouth when he speaks and breathes, and a metallic, acrid odor surrounds him. His only garments are a simple robe that covers his lower torso, and a cloak that hangs to his knees. Both are made from the leathery husk and scaly chitin of some creature, colored a darker hue of green than his skin.

Personality
Having been raised in a world of darkness, Rust is conditioned to survive against all odds. Pragmatic and resourceful, he can barely bring himself to comprehend such concepts as pride and greed. He is greatly self-sacrificing, as well as inherently trusting and communal in nature. The needs of the many outweigh the self, in his view, and the prosperity of future generations is more valuable than personal prosperity. Accustomed to loss and horror, he keeps a thick skin and though he easily relies on others, keeps from forming close attachments to them. Despite this, Rust is prone to bouts of loneliness and despair, possibly influences of the inhuman blood in his veins.

Background
Ages ago, the world was a far darker and more vicious place. The Long Nights lasted generations at a time, and the beasts that lurked within them defied human imagination. Mankind was so beleaguered by darkness and monsters that it could barely raise itself above the state of savage, squabbling tribes. These tribes could form and be wiped out over the course of a single night, their people never knowing the light of day. One such tribe, known as the People of the Stars, formed as most do; humans huddling together for mutual protection. They were so called for their traditions of navigating by the constellations of the stars, and shaping their culture to match the patterns and stories they saw in the skies.

A boy with hair as red as fire was born to the People of the Stars. They named him Rust, after the constellation of oxidized metal and tepid water. As with any child born in the Long Night, his life was one of hardship and sorrow, forced to fight unending battles against nightmares from the dark, endure ceaseless famine, and bury countless loved ones. As with all of his people, he looked to the stars for guidance, and was rarely led astray. One day, though, a falling star caught his eye, and he watched it as it fell all the way to the earth. In his youthful curiosity, Rust separated from his tribe and ran to find where the star had fallen, wondering what the stars looked like up close. He eventually tracked down the glowing crater, and was amazed to find what lurked inside: a dragon.

The beast howled in rage and agony, its membranous wings beating uselessly against the dirt. It had grown old and weak, and could no longer fly. Thus it had fallen to earth to die ignominiously. Rust, either brave or foolish, ventured forth to confront the dragon. The monster was horrifically powerful despite its imminent death, and energy rolled off of it in boiling-hot waves that blistered Rust's skin and grew sickness in his bones. Still he endured, and met the dragon face-to-face. The dragon told him that it was the last of its kind, and with its death, the stars would be empty and lifeless. Rust asked the dragon about the legends of his people written in the sky, and the dragon was intrigued by such figures as the two-faced Gambler and the repugnant Goblin. The dragon entrusted the legacy of the stars to Rust and his people, and commanded the boy to consume his heart.

Rust tore open the dragon's ribcage, its bones hollow and flesh papery, and extracted its glowing heart. He greedily devoured it, even as it blackened his face and burned his tongue. Rust sputtered and coughed up smoke as the heart burned him from the inside out, filling him with warmth and light unimaginable. His blood boiled and his bones melted, but he did not die, instead he emerged as something that was not quite human, and not quite dragon. When Rust regained his senses, changed, he found that he was filled with the dragon's cosmic power. He fashioned garments from the dead dragon's scales, his own robes turned to cinders by its power, and returned to the People of the Stars.

Monsters were little match for the raw power Rust commanded, and even rival human tribes had little choice but to submit to his might. Legends of this mighty figure spread, most knowing him by the epithet of "the Tyrant." It was not only fearsome strength that Rust had gained, but cosmic knowledge was well; the stars whispered secrets to Rust, of how to bend matter and energy to meet his will. He taught some of these secrets to his people, but most were ill-prepared to hear it, the knowledge boiling their grey-matter in their skulls. Those that endured were perhaps some of the earliest practitioners of the art of "magic," now all but lost to time.

Despite his changed form, his human body was too fragile to withstand the dragon's power. Over time, his flesh deteriorated, his bones turned to dust and his blood turned to poison. His cosmic power kept him alive, but in great agony, and his control over his strength quickly slipped from his grasp. Eventually he completely lost control, his body catastrophically melting down, unleashing all of his pent-up power at once. In seconds both he and the People of the Stars were wiped from existence in a pillar of starfire, leaving behind nothing but the glowing dragon's heart.

Abilities
Rust is the inheritor of the cosmic power of the last dragon. His body is filled with supernatural strength and vitality, as well as the overwhelming energy of the stars themselves. Rust can channel this power into blasts of starfire or waves of invisible, agonizing energy, but doing so causes a buildup of heat and energy in his body that his human form is incapable of withstanding. As his body heats up, it grows weaker until the heat naturally dissipates, or he unleashes the buildup in an all-consuming blast.

Additionally, Rust is a practitioner of some of the lost arts of sorcery, magic learned from the stars. By bending the laws of reality and the whims of destiny, Rust can exert power and force from a range, teleport short distances rapidly, generate structures of mystic obsidian, and can perform advanced incantations to bring about even more spectacular effects.

Equipment / Other
Rust's garments, made from dragonscale, are effective shields from the invisible waves of pain that his power brings. Along his travels, he acquired a long, silver spear, forged from skymetal, and fashioned according to designs divined from the stars. While a sturdy and effective weapon, it can also serve as a locus for his power.

When channeling cosmic or draconic energy, Rust's dragon heart glows white-hot, the illumination spreading through his veins as the power is sustained until eventually his entire body is glowing.