Drawn by rivaan <3


The original

Stories are often told of knights in shining armour, appearing in the darkest times to fight for any who are in need of aid. Such heroes are always selfless warriors, fighting evil simply because it's what they believe in. Stories like these, would make Calieo gag.

A knight of unknown origin and faction, Calieo seems to have appeared out of thin air, first being seen in the Cherinok Mountains but moving on since then. Word of a gold clad 'monster hunter' spread through the tribes of the Cherinok quickly, Calieo recklessly slaughtering any beast she came across as she slowly moved South. Stopping for nobody, anyone she met would be treated much the same way; first, a speech proclaiming the glorious might that she herself was. Next, an offer to aid her, or move out of her way. Then finally, depending on the individual, she would move on either freshly blooded, or without a scratch. The nature of her rampage largely unknown, when confronted on the subject her response is often along the lines of, "The fate of your world depends on my success."

After leaving a trail of blood leading out of the mountains, Calieo has managed to find her way to Falke. The first large settlement she's encountered on her journey, she seeks direction for her quest, as well as companions to aid her in it.

And one by rivaan <3

The Piñuran badlands are widely known as one of the harshest, and most unforgiving places to navigate. Huge mesas worn by time into variable stone labyrinths, these islands in the sand blow in and out of existence with the shifting of the dunes. Here the tribes of the northern deserts take refuge, moving between the natural shelters as they are uncovered and buried in a constantly changing cycle.

Tirñea was born into one of a few remaining nomadic tribes, and for many years all she knew was sand and stone. Each time the dunes threatened to consume their current abode, her tribe would pack away their lives into rope bound bundles, and march out into the desert come morning in search of another mesa. Time marched with them, and as Tirñea grew older the world around her began to feel static and plain. Only 10 years of age, the young girl was constantly on the lookout for anything to break the mold of her reality. Anything new or different she would embrace in an instant, exploring every mesa and curiously chasing small insects about. Every rock was worth showing to someone, and each time the dunes shifted on the horizon she’d look for shapes to describe. Still though as she grew older such practices began to grow stale, and it wasn't until she turned 13 that she found something truly unique.

Her tribe marching across the desert one morning, Tirñea stumbled upon a stone buried just beneath the sand. The object had tripped her and prompted investigation, it looking like any other rock aside from the oddly uniform, oval shape. The dull and gritty surface reminded Tirñea of sandstone, and a few short knocks revealed that it was somehow hollow. Despite it's weight Tirñea scooped up the foot long stone and carried it with her across the desert, too intrigued to simply leave it behind. When her tribe had finished relocating that day, Tirñea sat with her rock and began knocking on it once again. The sound was soft and empty, and Tirñea rapped her knuckles against the rough surface in an attempt to play it like an instrument. Without much else to do, the rock became an obsession- it's uniqueness all that it needed to keep the little girl's previously short attention span. Any time she was bored the rock sat in her lap, and calmly she’d knock out whatever rhythms she felt that day. It brought her comfort amid the harshness of the desert, and one could only imagine the pain she felt when she returned to her tent one afternoon to discover it in pieces on the floor.

That was the day Tirñea discovered Sierpe, a ‘dune wurm’ as the tribe's shaman described it. Somewhat rare but an impressive and fearful sight to behold once full grown, nobody had ever seen one smaller than 10 feet long before. After hearing the story of how she found the egg, Tirñea was subjected to a number of tests and rituals over the next few days. It was a blur of strange dances and medicines, but by the end of it the shaman had unlocked the beginnings of a magical power within the young girl. From that day forward Tirñea became the shamans apprentice, learning of her new magic, and how she could control it. For the first few years her focus was bonding with a familiar, the infant dune wurm the shaman's somewhat forceful suggestion.

As Sierpe grew, so did it's hunger, and helping her new companion hunt was how Tirñea spent many of her days. The two managed to bond over the activity, and the older Sierpe became, the more the beast began to understand it's companion. At first communication was difficult since Sierpe had no eyes and simply refused to listen to commands, but through trial and error Tirñea managed to impress upon Sierpe by banging against the ground rhythmically like she'd done to his egg. Over a few years the two refined their communication skills, Tirñea received the staff she still uses to this day as a gift from her mentor, and Sierpe had finished going through whatever initial growth spurt he'd needed.

At the age of 19, when Tirñea was originally meant to take over as her tribe's new shaman, she was left feeling empty inside as adulthood loomed overhead. Though Sierpe had been a welcome distraction from her dismal desert life, Tirñea knew there was more to the world, and wasn't ready to take up such a mantel yet. The night before her ceremony, she explained her wishes to her mentor and was met with surprisingly little resistance. Though transporting Sierpe would be a somewhat difficult task, the shaman wholeheartedly agreed with Tirñea's dreams, and showed her maps of a land beyond the northern shores of Piñura. Many dangerous and feral beasts were known to roam the Isles, the perfect place for Tirñea to grow her power and train. After a few months of preparation a boat had been chartered to deliver the apprentice beast master to a city on the Northeast shore of Abbaden, her familiar on board both to protect her and offer companionship in this new land.

"He is like a... big, dog. With many teeths" ~Tirñea

Name: Veronica Crescent

Age: 24

Race: Human

Appearance: At six feet and three inches tall with the well-built physique of a warrior, Veronica often seems imposing to those who do not know her well, especially as she channels magic through her armor to wear it more like some sort of bizarre powered armor than any contemporary suit of metal. She carries herself with a degree of finesse, however; Her large helmet hides inquisitive blue eyes and a head of well-kept crimson hair that goes down to her chin. Her features are often displayed in a stern expression, focused on what trials might lie ahead.


Attire: Favoring proper preparation and an imposing impression for her journey, Veronica dons a simple brown cloak over her armor to conceal it when it isn’t needed. The armor below it is simplistic in its appearance, with steel and silver plating covering almost every inch of her body outside of her helmet’s visor and the mail-clad neckline below it. Its modest decoration conceals innovative design choices that carefully protect the joints while allowing magic to flow efficiently throughout, a testament to Orion’s skills as both a designer and craftsman. She wears a dark green sash around her waist, decorating her armor in a similar fashion to her mentor's kimono. Under the armor itself lies a simpler set of form-fitting clothes made of comfortable, breathable, and magic-enabling fabrics meant to prevent chafing. She wears a demon’s fang around her neck; a gift she cherishes greatly.

Bio:


Inventory:

• Maugris [+]

  A special weapon known as a Hunter’s Hammer; an incredibly large fusion of both a maul and a hooked battleaxe. With origins as an early hunter’s weapon, the hooked axe side was meant to be pulled around legs or otherwise slash open tendons of larger beasts while the hammer side was meant to either smash in kneecaps or deliver a finishing, skull-smashing blow to a crippled monster. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that any human that got in its way was in for a bad time. This particular specimen contains enough silver to be used as a somewhat unwieldy catalyst for spells, as superstitious hunters believed that the beasts were weakened by the metal.
• Sally [+]

  A plain longsword with The Choir’s insignia faintly inscribed on the pommel. Not outstanding in any way, but its versatility has earned its place at Veronica’s side since she started fighting.
• A small steel dagger.
• A flask filled with water.
• A pack filled with essential supplies such as a tent and cooking wares.

Skills:

Combat Training: Instructed with the wisdom of both Aegea and Serena, Veronica can prove that her equipment isn’t just for show. Though the way she decisively swings Maugris can seem rather brutish at first, it conceals a calculated element of grace and flexibility that can catch one off guard if they take it for granted. She wields her longsword with much more restraints, while she adopts a simpler style when unarmed, preferring to send her opponents packing with heavy blows that she puts most of her weight and magic into.

Mage of Force: From childhood, Veronica has demonstrated a magical control over the redirection of force, and has not neglected the chance to build upon this gift. As long as her magic flows through her armor, she can use it to reduce its restrictions against her movement as well as increase her strength and redirect the force of most pedestrian strikes back against themselves, causing them to glance off as if striking solid rock. This requires some degree of awareness however, with sneak attacks and blows in particularly chaotic battles impacting as if they were against a normal suit of armor. She can also use this magic to create a circular shield from the palm of her gauntlet that redirects attacks if additional defense is needed, and missed strikes from her hammer can be sent along the ground for a short distance and redirected upwards to throw opponents off balance with a fraction of the strike’s original power. She also knows a very simple flame spell meant to cast light and start fires, taught to all soldiers in The Choir who can cast it.

Geology and Structural Analysis: The wisdom that can be gained from a family known for its stake in the mining industry is not lost on Veronica. She could tell more than most about metals, ores, and gemstones, including appraising them. She can also tell how sturdy a given tunnel would be.

Cooking: A skill that Veronica acquired in her youth, though not very well-developed. The food she prepares is at least edible, though one would have little reason to prefer it in favor of a decent alternative.

Languages: Aballic.

Current Location: Tour de Rouge

Growing up, Jaimie fully embraced the hunter ethos, throwing himself into each fight with an almost suicidal vigour. It was his mother who gave him his runes, she herself being a skilled rune smith, and she instilled his curiosity and his desire to learn more. As he began to craft his weapon, she aided him with knowledge of the correct symbols to inscribe and the correct way to pull the magic through the blades, though of course, he did the work himself. The weapon that he crafted was one that he had always wanted even as a boy, when he fought with nothing but a long stick. His father called it a double-glaive, a thick metal haft with sword blades at either end, (You, like those things some elves use on LotR) Jaimie's also split in half to form two short sword. Despite it's tremendous weight, he has fought with it long enough to know how to use it properly. He first kill was a huge golem which had been driven crazy by a wild magical force, it was ten feet high and crafted of stone. The fight went on for hours, and it is said that they fought for so long that the runes on his blade grew hot enough to slice through the golems stone body, and this was how it was defeated. This much is true.
At the bidding of his mother, whom desired that he also should learn how to craft runes, lest there be none locally when she died, he set off for Nether Gate in order to improve his craft, aged only fifteen.

Upon arriving there, he apprenticed with a demon hunter named Marik, who was well known for often going out alone to hunt demons, and returning with more heads than many parties could hope for. It took much cajoling, fighting, and a life debt before he agreed to take him on, but he soon found that the boy was an apt learner, and soon they were discussing runes as practically equals, as opposed to student and teacher. Jaime made quite a name for himself as an accomplice to the legend Marik, establishing one of his own.

Completing his 'apprenticeship', Jaimie bid farewell to Marik, vowing that they would meet again soon. Journeying back to his native village, as he promised his mother, he returned to the life he'd led before, hunting, fighting, working, he even began work on an runic chainmail suit, every link being individually inscribed with the desired runes, but he still hasn't finished it. It just wasn't the same, back home. He missed the thrill, the adventure of Nethergate. So he left. Now he's in Tour de Rouge, looking for someone to share in his adventure.

Jaimie's aptly named bright flame glows with the power of the runes used upon it, which allow it to slice through even the hardest of mundane metals as if they were butter. As the fight goes on, the runes become more powerful as they begin to heat up with the current of magic passing through, and more than a few times, flame has manifested itself on the blades. It can be wielded as a double glaive, or split into two short swords.

Jaimie's leathers, as well as having a strength akin to plate, are completely flame retardant, and ehance the strength of the rune on his skin to the point the he could stand in a bonfire and barely feel a prickle.

Name: Denise "Thunder child" Le Rouge
Age: 32
Race: Half-Succubus, half-human

Appearance: Her eyes have an unnatural look to them. Her pupils are tiny in their normal state but expands to cover up to half of her eyes when she gets excited about something. Her hair is fiery red but is most often covered with soot, oil or other impurities when she buries herself in work. She has an eerie appearance due to how she dresses and looks and thus most avoid her.

There aren't too many who can look at her face for too long without feeling uncomfortable. Probably due to how she looks at people. She looks at them like they're food, or subjects to study or play around with. She carries herself with a light, playful demeanor, almost skipping forwards as she walks.

Attire: Her armour is another quite distinguishing feature about Denise. While it doesn't offer the best protection in her abdomen area the rest of her body is quite protected by the armour. Encrusted with runes and gems which offer protection way beyond what the leather and metal ever could do.

She has intentionally given it a daemonic appearance to scare off people who might make a fuss around her shop or around her person. Besides, she isn't too fond of people to start with.

As for her clothing, the rare times she is not wearing her armour....is nothing or a red, silken nightgown in general, sometimes other thin fabrics that feels nice to the touch.

Bio: Denise doesn't know who either of her parents are. All she knows about them is that both of them are dead. Her father was killed in an expedition into the wastes while her mother was captured, and bred. A daemon with an interest into mortals was conducting an experiment to see if it was possible to cross-breed. Indeed it was, and Denise was born, or Azaerielle as she was named by the daemon. Her mother though did not survive the birth as it tore her apart, her life feeding Denise.

Azerixar, as the daemon was named took her into his care. Teaching her how to use magic, carve runes and use her daemonic powers. The daemon kidnapped more women and bred them, creating a total of five additional children, for reasons unknown. He treated them with love and care along with protecting them against the dangers of the world until they were old enough to care for themselves.

However after a couple of years he demanded that the children would fight each other until just one remained or they would all be destroyed. Denise was one of the first that took action, running a fanged hand through her sibling's heart. As she did one of the gem's on her armour lit up.

After the first kill she was filled with an unnatural bloodthirst as she descended upon her siblings. One of her brother's had already claimed one before she took his life, causing two more gems to light up. In the end there was Denise and one of her sister's still standing. Both of them were covered in wounds from the fierce fighting. They launched against each other and fought hard and long, but in the end her sister was laying on the ground, bleeding out.

Just when she was going to deal the killing blow their father intervened and transferred the glowing gem from the defeated to the victor. He then started carving runes into Denise sister's body. Slowly the girl started changing, growing in size, turning into stone. Soon after the body coursed with red, infernal energies as it was brought into life.

Her father turned towards Denise. He told her to go into the world of the mortals. Live with them, study them, if possible breed with them. She had accepted before her father added that her sister, the newly created golem would follow as her guard and that she was not to return without accomplishing her tasks.

Denise however, had no intention of ever returning. Instead when she made it to Nethren port she set up shop there. She took over a workshop from some old man and made it her own and started working on her own experiments. Unlike her father though, her own was based around magitek devices and runes.

She gained her nickname when she blew up a nearby hill when she was trying out a new device that was launched from a catapult. Mostly because she had been jumping around like a little child when it tore the hill apart with a thunderous crack.

Nowadays she mostly makes different devices for daemon hunters and other adventurers. Everything from a rune encrusted musket to high-explosive bullets, to a tea maker. Her plans are to get filthy rich from the civil war in Abbaden, selling weapons to both sides if possible. But who knows, things might change.

Personality and Aspirations: Denise is a bit of a special child. The experience of killing her own siblings has turned a few screws..a bit more loose. She takes delight in explosions and mayham, but she's not the kind to just randomly blow things up. However she'll never say no when someone asks her to.

She is somewhere between a childish mind and a devil's. She can be jumping around all happily while blowing people up. Fuzz over small things, but then be very mature about other things. Perhaps she just wants to see the world go boom?

Inventory:

• Rune carving tools.
• Blacksmith tools. A simple anvil, hammer, bucket, pliers, normal stuff.
• Essential supplies, including a waterskin, tent, bedroll, ect
• Helvyra, her trusty golem which carries most of her things, and most often Denise is riding somewhere on the golem. The golem has a big backpack and a 'saddle' on it's back and shoulders for carrying things.
  The golem itself is not too remarkable. It's what you'd expect from a golem. It's very strong and sturdy. It has the capability to shoot firebolts with it's mouth. The thing that makes it special though is that it'll keep reviving, no matter how much you seem to kill it. As long as the soul gem remains intact, it'll keep coming back.

Skills:
Combat skills: While she doesn't use any weapons part from the claws on her armour she knows quite well how to make good use of them. While relying on long range magic to fight but when they close in she uses a mixture of claw attacks along with magical attacks and the support of her golem to come out ahead. Thusly she is mostly trained in agility and hit and run strikes.

Infernal magic: Her daemonic roots gives her plentiful control over the infernal magics of her people. This mostly manifests in the ability to use and control fire and darkness but also in mind manipulative spells like seduction or horror. These spells are but suggestions at her current power. Seeming more attractive or alluring, making people feel more calm around her. Or make herself look like a nightmare to give the children a good scare.

Along with a rare power to manipulate souls and drain essence from her succubus heritage. Denise can drain life-force from living things by touching them. A quicker way is by kissing, or very quickly by getting intimate. The poor soul of her victim can either be used to feed Denise and heal her of wounds, or can be stored in gems that she carries. These souls can be used to empower her magic or feed them to herself, or Helvyra to unlock more and more powers, or so her father said at least.

Runecrafting: The ability to craft runes into items, and people. Most of her designs revolve around making things go boom or help things go boom. Like improving the power of a cannon to shoot flaming projectiles, or exploding ones. She can do more 'mundane' carvings as well, but she considers those to be quite boring. She knows the 'forbidden' art of carving souls into the runes, empowering and making the runes more stable. Or if the victim is alive, create a minor golem. She is by far not able to create another golem like Helvyra, hers deteriorate quite quickly.

Languages: Barazhad (language of daemons), Abbalic and Neath-scratch

Current Location: On her way to Falke, a day or so away.

Name: Serena Hazetaka

Age: Appears to be in her mid-twenties

Race: Half-demon

Appearance:
Standing at six feet and one inch tall, Serena towers over most other women from her native Foji. The bangs and sidelocks on her jet-black, waist-length Hime hairstyle frame more olive skin tones and soft facial features that are easy on the eyes, most noticeably her soulful brown eyes, tinged with a hint of red. Her body is slender, but bares the toned muscles needed to both hit hard and stay agile. On her stomach lies an old yet very large and noticeable scar, formed in a way that suggests a horrible, deeply puncturing wound. Though she normally acts and moves in a way that projects a warm, kind aura, the light of the full moon reveals the shadow of a different creature entirely.

When Serena channels demonic power, her appearance changes drastically. Her skin becomes dark as soot, her eyes and hair glowing white, with the former wavering like an open flame and the latter taking on a texture akin to feathers. A very dark and visible aura surrounds her in this form, in a way that can send shivers down one’s spine.

Attire: Serena wears a dark green dress made in a style similar to kimonos from her homeland, but with various design concessions made to allow greater flexibility in battle. A sash dyed a darker shade of green is tied around the waist, and she wears high leather boots for travel. When she isn’t wearing her plain white mask, it’s usually either stowed away or put over her shoulder like a shoulderpad. She wears a golden pendant inset with a curious black gemstone around her neck.

Bio:


Inventory:

• Noh Mask [+]

  A plain white mask made of cypress indigenous to Foji, possessing no features other than holes for the wearer to see out of. Masks of this type are traditionally used in plays and festivals throughout Foji, meant to represent a faceless youkai. It ironically serves Serena well in allowing her to appear inconspicuous while she channels the power residing within her own mixed blood.
• Bloom of Embers: [+]

  A sword made in a style traditional to her homeland, though with a weak enchantment that causes the blade to generate heat and greatly increases its power. It can only retain this in the sheath, however; it quickly dissipates otherwise, making it best-suited to quick-draw attacks.
• A naginata of average length, constructed of steel and oak wood. Though it has no special tricks or enchantments, it remains a practical weapon, and its large blade aids in directing wind.
• A wakizashi bearing elegant engravings of a serpentine, feathered dragon on one side and cherry blossoms on the other. Even from looking at it, one could tell that an extraordinary amount of care went into maintaining it.
• A small dagger, balanced for throwing.
• Various supplies, such as a flask, spare sets of clothes, bandages, and a tea set with ingredients, kept in a bag slung over her shoulder.

Skills:

Lady of Battle: Serena has spent many years in both battle and honing her own skills, and as such is both proficient and deadly with any of her weapons as well as her bare hands. She mixes techniques taught to her by others with her own self-taught skills, and can quickly switch between multiple fighting styles to suit the situation. Of these, she prefers to use a low-risk style with her polearm involving quick swipes and deft movement, a fast yet brutal iajutsu style with her katana involving strong advances and devastating quickdraw attacks, a more animalistic style with her wakizashi, and a mix of reversals and throws alongside surprisingly strong blows with her fists. She also commands a small number of miscellaneous talents, such as knife-throwing.

Lady of Embers: Through her connection with The Forno, Serena commands and directs the wind around her as if she were the eye of a storm, using it both to disorient opponents and aid her own movement. If she feels that her situation has grown dire enough, she can increase this connection, experiencing the form and power of her heritage for the briefest of moments. In this form, the wind can be turned into smog and embers, and her strength and speed are increased astronomically, but only for a couple of seconds. Her attunement with this other half increases the closer she is to the wastelands near Nethern Port, though she remains incredibly vulnerable to celestial magic.

Lady of Taste: Serena is somewhat famous in the upper echelons of The Choir for her skill in cooking, and especially in making tea. Though her recipes are a closely-guarded secret, each cup tastes as if it was made specifically to honor a cherished memory.

Languages: Serena is fluent in both Abbalic and Foji, as well as some Neath-scratch and a good deal of language spoken by demons.

Current Location: Tour de Rouge

Name: Rebecca Crescent

Age: 23

Race: Human

Appearance: Standing at five feet and three inches with a somewhat thin physique, Rebecca by no means embodies the look of a warrior. Her pale skin tones and demure features suggest someone that does not spend much time outside. Her mousy brown hair goes down to her shoulders, but it is usually either kept in a ponytail or in a bun, leaving her clear blue eyes unobscured. Her muscles are hard to discern, merely possessing the strength of one who is occasionally expected to move machinery about when assistance isn’t handy.

Attire: Rebecca wears clothing tight enough not to get caught in any mechanical devices she may be working on, more specifically a grey shirt with long sleeves and black pants. Most of her outer layer of clothing, specifically her coat and boots is made of leather tanned and cured from the hides of demons, the material’s strange properties protecting against the raw magical energies that she often works with. Her boots are tall and sturdy, designed for a somewhat dangerous working environment, but also serving well for travel. Her coat is black, long, and trailing, with a texture akin to a more traditional leather coat and toting many pockets to store whatever tools may be especially useful at the moment. Metal is rarely used in her clothing, in fear of accidentally conducting any magic or otherwise altering experiments, but when it is, such as in buttons on her jacket, it is generally iron, or any similar metal that insulates against magic. Her most favored accessory is the hat she earned upon being accepted as a researcher. While her clothing is normally adorned with various markings indicating her as a member of The Choir’s research and development team, these were removed prior to her mission. As researchers rarely leave the recesses of Tour de Rouge’s laboratories, almost none know of their uniform in Falke.

Bio:


Inventory:

• Resonance Theory Prototype Launcher 01 (RTPR-01) [+]

  Rebecca's finest invention, this truly bizarre weapon makes use of both magic and machinery that defies both explanation and expectation. Taking a form similar to a combination of different brass musical instruments, The force rune and launching mechanisms are controlled by a timing mechanism near the “keys” on the side. By breathing into the device, a projectile is created and launched forwards, independent of gravity, and lands against a target, on which point it bursts into kinetic energy, knocking both people and objects caught in the blast radius away. The pitch of the “note” created affects the behavior of the projectile. Higher notes will impact and detonate sooner afterwards, while lower notes will reverberate and spend more of their energy bouncing off of surfaces before detonating. The weapon works on a system of “measures,” with the projectiles detonating at the end of each one. The size of the projectiles depends on how long the note is held and therefore how much of the measure it takes up. Attacks can be released with a series of small impacts akin to a decent punch (sixteenth notes) or one with the force of a charging bull (whole note). Though projectiles are all launched at an incredibly fast speed, the loud noise and slow activation make heavier strikes unwieldy. The vast excess of energy created by the device is released as sound and heat. The device is unfortunately still a prototype, and is vulnerable to explode if wielded incorrectly as well as to water, unable to function even in rain. To counteract the latter flaw, it is typically carried in a sturdy, locked case on Rebecca’s back. The case itself is reinforced against almost any form of attack, making it both an effective shield and a surprisingly powerful impromptu weapon for anyone who would underestimate her enough to be caught by it. The launcher has a safety mechanism that, when turned on, allows it to be played like a normal instrument.
• Tookit [+]

  A satchel case filled with a variety of tools and maintenance devices that would bring envy to any aspiring tinkerer. Though they’re mostly used for maintenance concerning Rebecca’s own creations, the tools are versatile enough to be used for many different machines. Some can be used for defense in a pinch, even if they aren’t a match for a true weapon.
• A small, magic bottomless bag, the opening large enough to contain a partially filled journal and a quill enchanted to never run out of ink.

Skills:

Magitech Developer: Rebecca is one of the premiere developers of stable magitech, despite having no magical ability of her own, and as such is incredibly knowledgeable in the sciences of both magic and machinery. There’s hardly a spell or machine that she couldn’t pick apart and dissect on the continent, given enough time.

Big Band: As the creator of her RTPR-01, she is perhaps the only one who could wield and maintain it without destroying it. Her de facto fighting style is based around it, using her projectiles to chip and blast away at the enemy, knocking around loose objects in their general facility, and generally causing havoc from a distance. She is far less useful in close range battles, however; her options are limited aside from creating more distance or a powerful but unskilled and unwieldy strike from a tool or the launcher’s case.

Languages: Abbalic

Current Location: Falke

The badlands of Piñura see activity almost solely for their iron rich veins and occasional hunting of the creatures deep in the desert. But there are those who call the dusty wastes home, the tribes who have embraced the civilized land's interest in their home and the natives who have shunned such involvement and stay in the deeper regions of the land.

One such group of natives thrived solely through strength and blood lust, lacking any true knowledge to sustain themselves with crops and water they resolved to attack and pillage travelers and other tribes to survive in the desert. The tribe's name has long since faded from history but their attacks and maniacal painted warriors are still talked of as a common tale around campfires. Their attacks would begin with a blood curdling screech as they would surround their prey and relentlessly attack until their targets surrendered and were killed or died before then.

One member was a young man with awkwardly cut black hair and the same paint as his brethren, though he preferred to take a calmer more strategic approach as opposed to his brethren who would charge into the slaughter with reckless abandon. Because of the young man's more mindful approach and far less bloodthirsty demeanor he was shunned as being weak or cowardly, it was not until he had turned eighteen that he was begrudgingly added to the regular group of pillagers, as a standard sword bearer who was more for canon fodder than anything else.

With a few close calls the young warrior seemed to adapt but his skill with a sword was never up to the standard of his comrades, a fact which eventually led to his near death. Whilst attacking a caravan the tribe was driven off after their prey proved to be surprisingly effective in combat, whilst some fell the majority managed to flee and regroup elsewhere in the desert, the young warrior was not so lucky, taking an arrow directly to his shoulder he had fallen to the ground and lacked the strength to preform the standard tribe response of ripping the arrow out and continuing the fight.

Through some miracle however the caravan of traders took some pity on the tribesman after he attempted to surrender in his native tongue. Whilst he was not welcomed with open arms they did treat and bandage his wounds as well as allowing him some of their food, though he was still closely monitored throughout his stay. After being shown kindness he had not received at any point in his life the young man stayed the night with the traders, his hands restrained for safety but he spoke with one of the night guards very amicably, where he learned some about the world outside of Piñura.

The experience was short lived however, during the conversation where the guard talked to the tribesman about his fondness and eagerness to see his family again a spear was thrown directly into the side of his head, surprising the warrior and covering him in the guards flecks of brain and blood. His tribe had returned, in greater numbers and resolving to attack at nightfall, the caravan was slaughtered almost effortlessly as the surprise left them unable to effectively defend themselves. The tribe ransacked the caravan and left their disgraced comrade bound and shivering on the floor, coated in the blood of the only people who and treated him with any decency.

For most of the night the warrior lay silently in the fetal position, the look of surprise still etched clearly on his face. Eventually however he struggled to his feet and hobbled over to the guardsman now half buried in the sand, he took the keys and undid his restraints. Like a zombie the young warrior shuffled into the direction of his tribe's encampment.

The sun had rose on the tribe's camp, but no one stirred. The rug floors and sand were coated in the blood of its inhabitants, the majority of which seemed to carry only a straight gash across their neck. Certain members however carried several vicious marks in their chest and stomach, but no member seemed to show any sign of struggle, it was as if a creature in the night had simply swept through and extinguished the denizens without hassle.

The camp and its tribe has since been claimed by the sand, another relic amongst the foundations of the desert. The warrior himself stumbled away from the deadlands without purpose, without vindication. Those who had shown him kindness were dead, those who had shown him hatred were dead. He himself had partaken in their raiding and had then slaughtered all of them, families and warriors alike. The young man had been shown firsthand that nothing truly matters in this world and that all anyone knows or values can be removed in nothing more than a few hours. He was changed, a husk that still breathed.

Years later rumors began about a living shadow that would kill without discrimination quickly and efficiently, as though the arrows were guided by demons he would strike down anyone, for the right price.

Referred to simply as Cain the assassin would be contacted by nobles of varying standing and class all for the simple task of bringing in or erasing someone that they needed dealt with. As an emotionless killer Cain's employers generally prefer not to speak to him for prolonged periods of time, some because they find his calm manner disturbing and some plainly find him describing his emotions very annoying. Even still he has proven to be worth the money and whilst relatively unknown in the underworld of hired killers his skills come highly praised.

Cain operates primarily in Falke where the bright banners and upstanding churches provides a much needed blanket for the assassin to operate in, after all who would suspect a masked assassin among the yelling in the market and the warm insides to family and noble homes. Whilst he can't be everywhere at once and does indeed miss contracts entirely due to the travel time it is knowledge among those who commonly call upon his services that the best way to contact him is through the shady underbelly of Falke.

When everyone is expendable including yourself, feelings tend to become an antiquated concept. It would be easy to assume Cain simply kills for the money and nothing else, but deep down he cares for nothing, killing only because it is what he has been bred to do and what he feels is the only thing he deserves to do until he is bested and shown no mercy the second time around.

Gen grew up under the care of his loving father and mother, and was an only child. He had heard tales from his father of a land not too far away, where he had fought monsters and giant trees. His mother spoiled him often, taking him out to see the trees even if he wasn't at an age to remember them. Gen soon became interested with the strange object they had kept on a mantelpiece in their home that he hadn't known yet was a sword. At the young age of 5, his father taught him how to use a sword using wooden sticks at first after Gen had attempted to sneak off the family weapon, and graduating from there. Gen trained every day with wooden swords as well as academically with his father and mother, though he didn't get quite as many lessons with his mother as he wanted. As he grew, Gen saw less and less of his mother, his father stating that she was "going to see the trees" every day. Gen grew frustrated as time went on, as each time he wanted to show his mother his growing skills as a swordsman, she was nowhere to be seen. She only came home around night time.

At the age of 10, Gen followed his mother in secrecy one night, as she went into the nearby forest. Watching from behind a bush, he heard her speaking to seemingly no one. "Please, I must live to see my son a full-grown man," was all he could make out. Gen had no idea what she was doing, but it sounded as though she were praying. He attempted to run up and ask her a question, but his mother disappeared. Soon, his mother was gone for weeks before coming back. Then months, and then Gen never saw her again, blaming his father for never being with her. Gen and his father constantly fought for the next two years before all his father did was cry every time he had brought it up. His father grew not only more depressed and illogical as time went on, but also somewhat deranged as well. Gen stayed with him to ensure he was taken care of, having to sell some of the families belongings to stay afloat. One year later at 13, Gen's father passed away from an illness he thought was his manifestation of heartbreak. With no family left, Gen traveled with his father's sword in tow, which he spoke about dearly. Doing the occasional odd jobs in a nearby town and gaining strength and wisdom for three years.

At 16, Gen was found by a group of thieves passing through his town, who took him in as a cook due to theirs dying only a few months before. Gen slaved away every day, making meals for the crew of ten he was not fond of in the slightest. They gave him bad ingredients, with a time crunch no sane man could work with and still provide a decent meal. The captain was a lazy sort, lying about as he ordered the crew to take small jobs and pocketed more than his fair share of the money. Gen soon had enough, and poisoned a bowl that was specifically for the captain of the crew. With him dying that night in his sleep, Gen rose from being a mere cook, to becoming a genuine thief, going out into towns and taking valuables and sometimes useless items he saw as mementos. As he did larger and larger jobs, Gen became the right hand man to the captain of the crew at the age of 18.

Gen grew more ruthless as a thief, becoming wretched and greedy far beyond what his father would ever have wanted or allowed. There isn’t much Gen wouldn’t do for the right money. Infamous, hated, and notorious for taking things too far. Gen made sure to then poison the then captain after gaining his trust, becoming captain himself at the age of 19, to the shock of some of his crew members. Gen made much larger scores for his crew, requiring all of the members they had to work together as compared to separately.

Instead of merely raiding caravans, or pick-pocketing in the streets of smaller towns. Gen had managed to pull off a score at the edge of Tour De Rouge at a lesser known Foji noble's home, though gaining a massive scar across his back due to it, and wanted to be more ambitious. He entrusted his second-hand man Noren with plans to take as much goods and money as they could by attacking a treasury in the Twilight Fields. Halfway through the job however, Noren pointed the crews swords at Gen in an attempt at a coup. Forced to retreat, Gen was forced to run from the Twilight Fields into Cinder, where he waits and hides, trying to find news about Noren and what happened with his crew so that he could exact his revenge and get his money back.

Although she does not know this, Viridis was born on the day that one of the great forest’s fell, but for a purpose. Fae are not born like humans. They are first the essence of magic gathered between two fairies in love, who then give an offering of their own magic to the forest to create a child. However, Viridis didn’t come into the world because of two Fae’s love, she was simply created from the essence of an abundance of magic that traveled from the newly dead forest, and compacted to create a child somewhere else. Due to this, she possessed a far greater affinity for magic than any other fae, as well as a purpose. Born of a dying forest to no parents, the elders of the village she was born into knew she was special. She came to become the next guardian, as their current one was nearing the age at which they were being forced to become one of the spirits of the forest, and she was clearly there as the mark of the end of an age.

Viridis grew up in a smaller fae village than most in a forest the humans call the Whispering Wilds, with little to no influence over the forest. As a child, she found herself doing far more adventurous things than most other fae, never having friends because of her brash nature. At the extremely young age of 8, she was chosen to become the new guardian, as a recent tragedy in a forest not too far away had scared most of their own forest. Wondering if the ways of the old were starting to become ineffective, the village elders devised a new way for the girl to become a guardian. Instead of training under the previous guardian, she would instead learn from the humans nearby.

Considered sacrilegious and crazy, she was sent off to the nearby town to study under a man who was above proficient with magic. Bestowed with the protection and benefits of the forest, Viridis could not grow old, and became immortal. Although she could still die to sustained injuries or illness, Viridis was to prepare herself under this magician to defend her forest. Learning various magic over the years, and even outliving her master, Viridis learned to love the humans and vowed to protect both them and the forest.

Come the age of 40, Viridis was warned by the forest spirit that she needed to prepare extensively, as it grew more and more weaker due to the industrialization of the humans. Told that once it came down to the wire, she would need to decide between the two worlds she loves so dearly. Viridis honed her magic so that she could accomplish both no matter what, spending the next ten years in the solitude of her once master's home and training herself with his books.

Vridis discovered many hidden things in her master’s home over those ten years, clearly meant for her after he passed away. A staff for holding charged spells, advanced spell books, even grimoires for learning how to create magical snares and runes. Viridis was not at the level yet required for these spells, but aspired over her years to work towards them. She worked day and night, going outside only to test her abilities on practice targets.

When Viridis’ 50th birthday arrived, she was given gifts from the townspeople, but also a message from the forest. It told her that her journey was to begin if she was to have the humans understand the forests so that she could have both worlds. He spoke to her of a young man, whose father was once in contact with a great forest, and carried a pendent of a leaf containing some of it’s power. If she wanted to grow stronger, Viridis would need to find this man and somehow get the pendent from him. The forest did not know where this man was however, only that he sensed the pendent on the land.

Viridis prepared herself to set out, taking her staff, her many books to study from, and her eagerness, and set out from her home the day after her birthday. Viridis said her goodbyes to the people in the small town and went out to gather information, asking exclusively for anyone who had seen a man with a leaf pendent. Though she was mostly ignored due to her stature and odd clothings.

When Viridis reached a place called the Twilight Fields, she heard of people talking about a thief, and saw interpretations of what he looked like. Most noticeably, a few of them had the man wearing a pendent that very vaguely looked like a leaf. She saw it as a good enough lead to go on, and found out through thorough questioning that he had a crew in the town of Cinder. Viridis immediately set off towards this town, unaware of what it was like.

Upon reaching Cinder, Viridis was met with cold stares and harsh words, where she wondered where to start. Armed with her wits, staff, and resolve, she started to look through the town for signs of a wanted thief with a leaf pendent.

Magic is a force that twists the world into creating an effect not ordinarily present, and its use leaves a stain. Though the magical energies do exist naturally in nature they do so in balance with the world around them. When sorcerers twist nature out of balance nature itself has a way to bring itself back into balance. Often times plants, or animals, whom live in the shadow of such twisted places absorb the ambient magic thereby removing the stain. In many cases the load is distributed over many parts so that no one must carry the whole. In these cases the magic is stored in, and passes through, the creatures normally. However, when that is no the case--when one creature absorbs so much ambient magic as to become twisted by it, they become what is known as "Weirds".

Tsukumogami refers to an object that is cared for by a living being (typically a human), who pours their heart's ambitions into the object through out that care, and over the course of their lives until it one day awakens. Depending on the strength of the source soul, and their ambitions, the time this process can take may vary.

Jumper is a combination of these two ideas into one living object. Originally created by a wizard for the purpose to serve as a receptacle for an astral projection, Jumper's name is his purpose. However, the wizard who created the magically inclined frame was since embroiled in a conflict and destroyed. Given that the wizard must be powerful indeed to project astrally and possess objects to give him form there is no surprise that the site of his demise would be drenched in magical energies. Energies that infused into Jumper as a Weird, but with them came the will of all those involved in the conflict, as it too leaves a resonance on a battle site.

The latest in technological advantages created to advance a brutal and unforgiving war between two brothers, Jumper is a prototype that never saw the light of day. At least not while his creators yet lived. Despite being mortals of nearly god-like power, whom had amassed a literal mountain of followers, they too had amassed as many enemies and were not long for the world after their philosophies became known to other mighty religions.

Though it is possible that Jumper is not the last surviving remnant of the brothers' once mighty claim to the world, a considerable effort had been undergone to purge the world of their memory. In the centuries that followed the disparate tribes of the Obivec Isles have since organized into factions and nation states, and The Brothers Delthus have been forgotten: a relic lost to time.

In that time the great and mighty citadel that was once the base of power for the Brothers Delthus has fallen to ruin and erosion. It sank in shifting earth, being slowly buried over time till even it's central spire looked little more than a mere mage's tower. In time that too has come down in a geological event that woke the misbegotten child: Jumper.

Few souls worship would be gods, especially those slain in their hubris, but still their remains a loyal lineage or two whom still pay tribute. The wealth of knowledge and power left in their wake was never truly tapped again, but an elderly scholar did regularly pay visits to what was once the highest spire of knowledge, and sanctuary to the Delthus Wizard.

It was here that the scholar found Jumper awake, but inactive, and retrieved him thinking that Jumper was perhaps the greatest potential source of information from that lost age. To his disappointment, however, Jumper remembered nothing of the legacy that ended at his beginning.

Jumper was then taken back to the man's home where he studied and was studied in earnest for all the remaining days of the scholar's life. It was in this way that the language of Abbalic was impressed upon him, and the language of the Ancients was retrieved for the scholar. After the scholar's passing Jumper's wanderlust beset him once more and so he set out in the world to see all that it had come to be.

Quirky and childlike, Jumper is full of contradictions and finds himself desperate yet unable to rationalize them. Jumper is both young, and old. His form has existed for a hundred of years before finding sentience, yet his sentience is still new... still underdeveloped. Jumper has an affinity for the arcane, like the creator of his physical form, but has absolutely no talent in its use. Likewise, he has an affinity for nature, being a part of its balance, but again no natural talent in wielding nature's power. Jumper has the heart of a warrior but his body is a prototype and lacks the armaments and stature of a true battle droid.

Jumper's most defining aspect, however, is his oldest. He has an innate childlike curiosity about everything. Jumper's body--his initial frame--was originally designed for exploration and as such wonderlust is at the core of his being.

Worn:
Standard attire for a human child, plus a cloak with cowl, and gloves.

In Travel Pack:
Hunting Knife - A sturdy knife initially made from polished and preserved bone that has long since turned to ivory. The ritualistic carvings along its blade are too faded to make out, and is one of a few relics recovered from the broken tower where Jumper was found.

Length of Rope (25 ft) - This rope, and the travel pack it is in, was recovered from the body of a dead adventurer who met an untimely demise while scavenging the ruins Jumper was laid low in.

Incorporated:
Note - Damage to Jumper's body may result in damage to any incorporated or internally stored equipment or items and vice versa.

Light Repeating Crossbow (In right arm). Jumper has a weapon designed for integrated self defense and is rarely implemented. Rather than using a bow-arch like a traditional crossbow, Jumper's integrated crossbow uses gears and a fly-wheel to generate the power and force necessary to fire its projectile. The internal mechanisms automatically reset once used and can sustain continuous fire for up to seven shots.

Wire wench with Grappling hook (in left arm). The grappling hook is operated the way one does a mechanical crossbow of similar design. Once fired it must be reeled in manually (in the default frame). Jumper may incorporate magitech to upgrade this process to be automatic later.

Smuggler's Storage:
Several storage places of various size are incorporated into Jumper's body. Most are for the purpose of holding tools or oils appropriate to his maintenance and repair, while others are for more nefarious purposes.

At 5' tall, on the button, Autumn's size can quickly be established as "small" for a Human. Her body is lean, and her curves mostly modest with exception of her hips and rear. Her athletic, toned figure is quite trim, her modest C-cup bust fitting her torso nicely. A thin waistline giving way to larger hips, the girl's shape can roughly be described as "Pear". Her skin is soft and pale, splashed across the nose with freckles that run down her shoulders, arms, upper chest, and even her legs. Her hair is cropped short at a rough angle, high in the back and just shy of her shoulders in front. Coppery-orange with an almost metallic sheen to it. She keeps most of it pushed to the side over her right eye, two stubborn strands hanging down on the left. Her eyes shine a brilliant blue with an almost piercing quality to them. A few minor scrapes and scars mar her otherwise unbroken skin, and the only piercings across her entire body are a pair of silver rings piercing the upper portion of her ears, just barely larger in diameter than the width of her ear itself.

As far as Clothing is concerned, Autumn dresses simply. A pair of mostly form-fitting cotton leggings, dyed black with loose bottoms that she typically keeps tucked into her boots. Her boots are a rough dull gray leather with more polished orange accents along the hem and at seams. For a top she wears a black sleeveless silk top with a mid to low cut exposing her upper chest. She also tends to wear a pair of finger-less linen gloves, dyed black, as well as a cotton cloth bandanna that she she ties loosely around her head so that it covers from just below her eyes on down like a mask, trailing down to a loose point in front of her chest. Whether this is to ward off sickness or mask her identity is anyone's guess, but she almost never takes it off. She is often also found wearing a traveling cloak with a hood. Dark linen and able to drape around her form easily.

Autumn is seldom seen out of her armor. The leather cuirass that covers the front of her chest and back is stained dark. The sides are open and the front plate is strapped to the back by a series of leather strips that run up along her sides. She has similar hardened leather pads adorning her thighs and forearms. All of it stained dark and accented around the seams with little orange-dyed accents. Over her upper chest, she layers a slate-blue cotton top with short sleeves for an extra layer of protection against slashing weapons, but more importantly to bundle against the elements. She wears a thick leather belt with pouches and holster straps for carrying her gear. The final piece is a pair of iron pauldrons on her shoulders, trimmed with dark leather and stained dark to keep the metallic glint from shimmering in the light. The pauldrons have strips of leather that hang down over the upper arm to act as light protection to the otherwise un-covered area.

Born to a couple from very different backgrounds, Autumn's mother was one of the Cherinok mountain folk, whereas her father was from the fertile rolling hills of the isle of Foji. Her mother, an explorer and adventurer, had traveled all across Abbaden. Finding fascination in the Foji for their culture and idealism, she traveled the island for a few years before finding, and eventually falling in love with Autumn's father. A farmer with an eye for the exotic. Autumn grew up on her father's farm and helped with the harvest when she was old enough. Growing up as the child of a 'mixed blood' was difficult. People did not trust her mother- and by extension, her. Her family's farm was far away from the city, out past the outskirts of protected territory.

Tragedy befell her family when Autumn was the age of 15. Raiders, and a few outlaw sorcerers were roving through the area and attacking farmsteads along the way, pillaging them for food, tools, weapons, magical reagents, and anything else they could get their hands on. Autumn's family was harboring a few of the displaced families of nearby farms, and the rag-tag group of honest workers meant to make a stand if the bandits showed up. Sure enough, they attacked the farm, setting fire to the fields with outlawed spells. The farmers took up arms and a battle broke out. Autumn's mother handed her a few precious heirlooms, including a set of her old daggers, and urged her to flee while she still could. Obeying her mother, the young girl ran and found an old hollowed tree to hide within. Peeking through a knot-hole in the remains of the tree she watched and listened as the sounds of death, chaos, and smoke rose over the horizon. When she returned to her farm, the bodies that lay strewn about were so badly charred with ash she couldn't even tell friend from foe. Not even if the bodies were of her family or not. As far as she was aware, she was the only survivor.

Autumn spent the next several months scavenging the ruined farmlands in the wake of the roving band. As the group settled in she took to picking off strays from the group and stealing from their supply stashes when their numbers were absent. Eventually the group grew wise to her tricks, and lured her into a trap. Making a 'plunder stash' near one of their road blockades with a few guards hidden up in the trees above. When the little red-head appeared to pick through the plunder she found herself suddenly surrounded. The group meant to taunt and torture her for being such a pain, surrounding and attacking her as she tried to fend them off with the daggers her mother had gifted to her. She held off the first few attacks but she was not trained. She would have surely died that day if a passing adventurer hadn't walked right up the road next to the fight. The group, not having any trouble with the girl turned on him for being a witness. Much to their surprise did they discover that he wasn't just an adventurer- but a master of blade and shadow. Quickly and efficiently he dispatched the group and stood over the girl huddled on the ground. He told her to follow him and led her deep into the forested mountains on the northern end of the isle.

Taking the the leery young girl into a secluded home tucked into the mountainside, he turned on her and pressed an attack. Testing her. Defending herself out of instinct, she drew dagger and parried more by chance than skill. He pressed his attack again, pushing her back but not actually landing a hit on her. Autumn stumbled over a stone and fell onto her back. As she was on the ground, he moved to stand over her. He then sheathed his weapons and offered her a hand. Confused, she took it and he helped her up as he said simply, "So be it. Come." Without much more word than that he took her inside and set up a place for her to sleep. He told her to rest- and that he'd wake her early to start teaching her. Confused, Autumn obeyed and slipped off to sleep in the offered bed.

The next 5 years were spent working for and training under the man that became her Master. He insisted she refer to him as "Sep", rather than master. But she would never know his full name. She would tend to the home while he was away- but some of her days were spent training in the basics of martial and armed combat. She only saw one other man while she was with her master. A portly man that seemed as mysterious as her master. He would make occasional visits, bring news and letters to Master Sep.

When she was 18, she had taken a letter for him from the portly man, she called for her master, but did not find him. The portly man departed and told her to give his regards to her master. Looking down at the letter she hesitated to take it inside before she couldn't take it any longer and moved to carefully peel the letter open without crumbling the seal. Before she knew what happened she felt herself grabbed by the long strands of hair that reached down to her hips. She was hauled to the ground and dragged into her master's study. Harshly, her master struck her as he snatched the letter from her and as she saw him draw a blade. She thought surely she was going to die. When his arm fell, she felt a tug on the back of her head, the blade slicing clean through her hair and severing the beautiful locks from her head. As she was cast to the floor and scolded he walked off with the letter in one hand and the bulk of her hair in the other. As he reached the door he pulled it closed and latched it shut- leaving her in the pitch black room for 3 days. She has kept her hair short ever since.

After that day her training was much harder. Each lesson painfully stricken into her body. It was tough. Her Master would lock her in rooms without light and attack her from the shadows. He would assault her unexpectedly when she was doing chores to insure she was never caught off guard. He would often spar with her until she was barely capable of standing- but he would always nurse her back to health as he taught her. He showed her how to meld with shadows. To fight in the pitch black of night. And even how to move through shadow to reappear wherever she desired. He started to take her with him on jobs. Spying, scouting, even as an extra set of eyes for an assassination.

When she was 21, Master Sep took her on a mission, not telling her what it was. She kept pressing him to fill her in, but he remained silent. He led her to the city of Tour de Rouge and slipped into the crowds in the marketplace. She turned for a second and blinked and he was simply... gone. She spent a week scouring the city, desperately trying to find her master, sleeping in the alleys and each day finding little gifts left for her, but no return of her master. The gifts ranged from parcels of food and coin, to bits of adventuring gear. The most noteworthy of these gifts were a pair of blades made from elemental crystal. Then one day, the gifts stopped. She was left alone to fend for herself with nothing but the gear she had on hand and the gifts left to her by her Master. She never saw him again.

Over the next 6 years, she took up jobs as an adventurer and scout. Bounty hunting became a hobby. And she picked up a career as an adventurer and sell-sword. Throughout her travels she has picked up trinkets and weapons to add to her collection, trusting only a few weapon and armor smiths from lesser known towns. She now finds herself in need of a new job. A fresh contract. Anything from guarding a low-time traveling merchant to scouting ahead of armies or assassinating snobbish nobles. It matters little to her as long as she gets enough coin to make it through the next several months.

Autumn is very reclusive. She doesn't like sitting and chatting over the fire. She likes taking action. Never one to sit still, she is cold to those she doesn't know, often only polite enough to pass as a common adventurer, keeping to smaller groups or even on her own. She has no love of magic nor the practitioners of it. Her trust is hard earned, but once gained she grants unshakable faith and loyalty to those who do right by her. She lives in a moral gray area where lives are traded for coin through bloodshed. She does have a strong sense of justice about thievery, refusing to do so. She isn't sure yet what she wants from life. Everything she has ever known has been taken or hidden away from her, and she is not quick to trust a hope that any new venture will bring her the meaning she's looking for in her life. For the time being she's simply happy to make coin as an adventurer and hone the skills she was taught as a younger girl.

Name: Sage

Age: 22

Race: Human

Appearance:


Sage's eyes are an odd shade of yellow, which is weird because he's sure they were blue when he was a kid. He also has a number of geometric tattoos covering his forearms, and one in the form of a serrated spiral over his heart. He's also a little shorter than most people his age, standing at about 5'3.

Attire: Sage wears an oversized, baggy hooded robe, coloured a full grey-brown. It seems plain in very way. However, it has belonged to each Sage across generations, so it probably has its share of secrets like everything else. Underneath it he wears a tighter fitting tunic, which he prefers to use when he fights.

Bio: From the moment he was old enough to start forming memories, Sage was aware that there was something off about his life. For the most part, human contact was practically non-existant. The only person he ever met was his teacher, an old man whose name was also Sage. They lived together with Sage's familiar, a young wyvern named Tarfal, and the older Sages familiar, a ferret named Argo, amongst the hills in the southern area of the Western Grasslands.

Over the years, he learnt magic from the old man, who while always helpful, could be incredibly difficult to deal with. Still, the man was ridiculously powerful, and the skills Sage learnt from him gave him the power he needed to defend himself from any creatures and dangerous spirits he encountered. In this way, he would prove himself worthy of taking the name Sage, just as the old man had done when he was young, and take up the cause of every generation of Sage, defending the innocent, communicating with good spirits, and warding off or sealing away malicious ones.

And then one day, when he was seventeen, the old man vanished, the only evidence he had ever existed being his robes. For months, Sage searched for him, but had no luck. He was gone. It was around this point that his eyes changed from blue to yellow.

After a while, Sage decided to commit to the old mans wish for him, and set out with Tarfal to travel the country, helping those in need. All the while, he trained his magic and combat skills, doing his best to live up to his name as the next Sage. However, it has become exceedingly clear that even with his current efforts, the war will only continue to make things worse for the citizens of Abbaden. Along with that, he realised that if he let the arms race between both sides continue, it could lead to the creation of new, recklessly dangerous magic. Therefore, he decided he would end the war before too much damage could be done.

Personality and Aspirations:
Sage can be a rather... difficult... person to get along with. He is a big fan of speaking cryptically and forcing people to come to the right answer by themselves. In addition, he enjoys irritating people, finding it amusing to get reactions out of people. However, in the end, he is also somewhat naive, hoping for the best in the people encounters, and even making excuses to avoid killing whenever he can.

Even with his naïveté however, he also takes his task as a Sage quite seriously, doing his best to teach magic to those he deems trustworthy, destroy or seal away dangerous magic, and assist people whenever he deems it necessary. This in turn leads to him looking for a way to end the war, before one of the factions can make the decision to turn to dark magic for a trump card.

Despite his abrasive personality, he is extremely protective of the people who actually manage to make enough of an impression for him to consider them friends. This is particularly strong in the case of Tarfal, who comes above just about all else in his mind.

Inventory: A simple staff, seeming little more than a simple tree branch, and a large book full of his notes on magic, which he keeps strapped to his back on a sash beneath his robes.

Skills:
Example 1: Sage is an extremely talented mage for his age, having been learning magic pretty much since his birth. While there's a lot that he knows in theory, he is very good at magic that incorporates barriers and plant based magic. Most of his spells are initiated through short songs in ancient languages, as is tradition for the magic of the Sages.

His main uses of plant magic involve manipulating leaves flowing through the wind, or causing plants to grow at incredible rates in the way he wills them to. His barriers, on the other hand, have a multitude of uses. While the standard uses involve deflecting physical or magical attacks, some more advanced forms can suppress, or even siphon magic, strength, willpower and stamina. However, more advanced barriers tend to require some form of runic supplement in order for them to be effective, and even then, he is not very skilled with them yet. This forms the basis of the traditional sealing spells used by the Sages, which generally involves creating a prison of a certain element, a willow tree in our Sages case, and weaving in a number of barriers and physical runic seals into the creation of said prison.

Unfortunately, Sage is still not as adept as his predecessors at his sealing spell, and using it can be very draining, and even dangerous to his health.

Example 2: Sage is very agile, being something of an acrobat from learning to make his way around the environment quickly. This also lends itself to bring quite skilled when it comes to using his staff as a melee weapon.

Example 3: Sage has an almost instinctual mutual understanding with Tarfal, having been together practically since birth. Both Sage an Tarfal can understand and follow even the most subtle clues in each others body language, working off these signals to become stronger than either could be alone. Not only this, they have a bond through magic as well, as Tarfal is Sages familiar. This allows the two to sense each others presence, even when they cannot see each other.

Tarfal:

Currently, Tarfal is about the size of a Clydesdale.

Tarfal is Sages oldest companion, and his familiar. Sage first found Tarfal amongst the hills when he was just a hatchling. Not even the older Sage was quite sure how he got there, but he told the young boy that if nothing was done, the newborn wyvern would most definitely not survive. Being the friendly young boy he was, he quickly made the decision to take care of Tarfal himself, the hatchling imprinting on him over the next months.

From then on, the two were nearly inseparable, and it wasn't long before Sage took Tarfal as his familiar.

Tarfal, much like most wyverns, is capable of sustained flight, and can breath fire in short bursts. However, he still doesn't even come close to the power of a fully grown wyvern, let alone a dragon.

Current Location: Twilight Field