Full Name: Illuria Dianne Nariul
Titles/Nicknames: Twilight's Harlot, Last Lady of House Nariul
Age: 26
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Combat Role: Trickster Mage

Hair Color: Raven black
Eye Color: Deep blue
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 98lbs

Appearance: Illuria appears nothing like what a true gladiator should, quite the contrary actually. Her posture is proper for any born into the aristocracy: upright and as tall as her short frame allows. Her hair, styled in a bob cut, is as dark as any other Venatrian's, just as her skin complexion is ordinary in the Western Realm, albeit slightly paler. Though the garments she wears are finely made, they tend to be more revealing than any self-respecting noblewoman ought to be wearing, leading a good majority to judge her as nothing more than an upper class courtesan.


Overview: Illuria is an anomaly, characterized by her crippling alcoholism and her willingness to do anything to sate her addiction. As a person, she's carefree, whimsical, and quite the chatterbox. Her friendliness knows no bounds and she apparently lacks an understanding of personal space. Anybody that she feels any sort of attachment to can be expected to be subject to her clingy nature, which only worsens when she drinks. Drunk Illuria also gets incredibly flirtatious and touchy, much to the chagrin to any companions she might have. Due to her past travels, Illuria has come to like most people, though she is notably afraid of bestial races and those hailing from Torguren due to their supposed brutish natures.

Illuria hopes to one day restore her noble lineage and the former wealth her family had. Well, and to sustain her dependence. She's hardly a warrior, but her strength lies in her magic, something she's quite aware of. In fact, she loves to boast how great of a Shadowmancer she is, only ever admitting that her brother was greater than her. Her arrogance has earned more than a few rivals in the past, and she expects to only earn more in the arena. Despite her insistence on spreading the word about her magical might, when it comes down to it, Illuria isn't a brave soul. When faced with someone that clearly outmatches her, she will turn tail and run, if that's an option at all.



Strength: 1
Dexterity: 3
Intelligence: 5
Cunning: 6
Magic: 8
Willpower: 2
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 7

Weapons of Choice: None. She's not particularly adept at close quarters combat. However, Illuria does carry a fanciful, golden dagger at her side, mostly for show. It can be a the difference between life and death though, especially if she manages to get the drop on her foes.

Armor/Combat Apparel: Illuria dresses herself in a regal, yet impractical leather robe, if could be called that, complete with an elegant hood, styled shoulder pads, and spindly gloves. The bottom of half of her armor is almost non-existent, save for a single greave and a pair of reinforced boots. Her armor certainly looks glamorous, but it shows quite a bit of skin at the same time, contradicting the entire point of armor. As her raiment stands right now, it protects most of her right side while leaving ample amounts of her left undefended.

Fighting Style: Illuria relies on her magic, charisma, and cunning to get her through a fight rather than any physical set of skills. To put it simply, her fighting style is chaotic and unpredictable, sometimes entirely dependent on if she's sober or not. For the most part, her tactics involve distracting her opponent in a myriad of ways, ranging from her spells to even her body. As a mage, she does anything to avoid close combat. If she's sober (a rare occasion), Illuria will clearly suffer from serious withdrawals and make questionable decisions in the heat of combat. However, her command over magical abilities seem much more potent when she's sober. A good majority of the time though, an inebriated Illuria will focus on the thrill of the match and entertaining the crowd, win or lose. However, she seems to function with greater clarity when she's out of her mind.

Magical Affinity: Shadow Magic

• Mirror Image - A classic defensive spell. She manipulates shadow stuff to summon forth four copies of herself. These copies mimic her actions, but disappear when attacked.
• Dusk Shroud - A type of invisibility wherein Illuria blends into the shadows around her. Extremely powerful in dark arenas, but completely negated by any bright light.
• Shadow Tether - Just before an enemy strikes her, a cloak of shadow envelopes Illuria and pulls her just out of striking distance. While potentially a life saver, this spell requires more energy due to its hastened casting. Currently, she can only cast this once per battle, lest she risk total exhaustion.
• Shady Tendrils - A large mass of tentacles made from the essence of shadow attempt to grapple, disarm, or strike at her enemies. Very potent against other mages and weaker targets, but not super effective against strong types.
• Void Spear - Illuria casts a hardened spear of darkness at her enemy. If it hits, the spear explodes and eradicates most or all of the victim's body, usually resulting in a shower of body parts. Particularly powerful foes might be able to resist the death effect of this spell, but typically end up losing a limb or two in the process.
• Shadow Sculpture - A complicated spell that allows the Shadowmancer to create anything they can imagine out of shadow stuff. While they are tangible, items created in this manner usually disappear within an hour or two. Masters of the spell can manifest large objects, such as a heavy crate or two-handed sword, with little impact on their fatigue levels. Illuria can presently only create smaller objects. This spell isn't very useful in combat, but it can find creative uses.

Place of Birth: Tarracina, Venatria
Social Status: Former noble.

History: Everybody knows about the fall of House Nariul, everyone who's anyone in Venatria anyway. It all began when Illuria's brother, Herodius, took up the title of Lord after their parents died in suspicious circumstances. Her brother, a masterful merchant and even greater Shadowmancer, had always been overly ambitious, always intent to seize more than he had, and for the first few years of his reign, things went quite well for the Nariuls. Illuria, still a child, enjoyed great wealth and was honored among the Venatrian elites. Her brother even taught her a great deal about magic. There were very few things she went without under Herodius' guidance. However, Herodius had been a strange sort of man, bordering the realms of insane. He cared nothing for laws and paid no heed to legalities, especially when it came to fulfilling his own dark desires. The young Lady of House Nariul accidentally stumbled upon one of Herodius' abyssal secrets, a horrible chamber that reeked of death. The image of disfigured bodies, some still living, strapped to eldritch devices burned a terrible scar into Illuria's memory. Worse still, Herodius stood there in the room, a wicked grin on his face, and beckoned his young sister to join him in the torture of a young nobleman. Needless to say, Illuria fled from the sight, but she said nothing on the matter.

It was only a matter of time before the authorities caught up with Herodius, and when they did, he did not go peacefully. What followed next still haunts the city of Tarracina. The master mage unleashed a great onslaught that devastated not only the Nariul estate, but also the authorities meant to apprehend him. Since he was quite aware he was going to die, he strode onto the main streets of Venatria's capital, slaughtering as many innocents as he could to sate his own sick desires. Only when his body could no longer manifest the arcane did Herodius fall, and with him, the reputation and prestige of the once great House Nariul. Following the news of her brother's death, Illuria hastily left the city on horseback with as much gold as she could carry, presumably enough to last a typical person their entire lifetime.

Following her departure from Tarracina, Illuria traveled the world and developed a dependency on alcohol to forget her brother's insanity along the way. There was no where else for her, save for the next tavern and the brew that awaited her. Sights she thought she'd have never seen before blessed her eyes, from the endless desert of Sariya to the sprawling plains of Markoth. The only realm she dared not venture to was Torguren, for fear that the brutish barbarians there might tear her apart if she set one foot upon their soil. As expected, her travels and the purchases she made on them have ended up nearly wiping out most of her money. Upon hearing of the tournament on the coast Venatria and the possible fortunes she could obtain as a gladiator, she immediately set out that way. Life as a gladiator was a noble profession, one that might even be able to restore her family's tarnished name...

Full Name: Elain Vahrot Lux
Titles/Nicknames: Paladin Lux
Age: 22
Race: Venatrian Human
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Combat Role: Guardian

Hair Color: White
Eye Color: Green
Height: 5'10
Weight: 180 lbs

Appearance: Elain is rarely seen outside of his armour - a sign of how guarded he has become. However, when it isn't required - by his standards, of course - he will wear simple clothes that are better suited for travel than fashion or formality. He stands proudly, but not arrogantly, and never makes an accidental move. Some have mistaken him for a mercenary, but he has quickly corrected them.


Overview: Elain tends to keep to himself, speaking only a few words in conversation. Any more than that is only those he knows well - but he doesn't do it for hostility's sake, and opens up easily. He is loyal to Loreia Valens, given an oath he swore long ago, but he also tends to worry about her - and is determined to keep her safe. He is devout to his faith, and would take offence should someone slander his, or indeed, any, god/s. He can charm someone easily, but someone who looks might notice that it isn't always genuine. And no matter what, he is never too far from his sword.



Strength: 6
Dexterity: 6
Intelligence: 6
Cunning: 3
Magic: 1
Willpower: 4
Endurance: 6
Charisma: 5

Weapons of Choice: A long-sword that can be held in both hands, or used alongside a shield. He also keeps a dagger behind his back should he be disarmed, or if drawing his sword would be too obvious. He may also use a spear, but it is not his best weapon.

Armor/Combat Apparel: Elain’s armour is made from a light steel, typical of paladins, and thus it doesn't slow him down as much as a normal knight’s would. It guards the majority of his body, however, and so in the arena, to appease the crowd, he bares his arms and shoulders, wearing only his bracers to guard his wrists. He may occasionally forgo his helmet as well, to cast a winning smile in the direction of the crowd.

Fighting Style: : Elain can fight offensively on the front line, or he can defend those who tend to be a little weaker. Either way, he always finds himself fighting those among the strongest of the opposing team. Thus, he needs to be quicker than the strong to avoid their crushing attacks, but strong enough to fend off the quick who can dart around him. But armour alone does not protect against magic, leaving him vulnerable to spells.


Place of Birth: Venatria, Apulum
Social Status: Ex-noble of low status. Gave up his title in order to serve.

History: Elain was born into a family of low nobility, not too far from Apulum, the lands of House Valens. As a child, he always had a talent for fighting, like his grandfather before him. And so, when his parents ‘gave’ him to Lord Lucius as a symbol of loyalty, he was entered into the Valens’ Gladiatorial School. Angry at the people he no longer called mother and father, Elain began to disrupt lessons, damage training equipment, and just generally make trouble in an attempt to get expelled and thus break the alliance. Eventually his antics caught the attention of the lord, who summoned him.

After some strict reprimands, the Lord Valens was called out on business. It was then, wandering in to see the strange boy in her father’s office, that Elain first met Loreia. At first hostile and brash, he eventually opened up to her about how he didn’t want to leave home, and he’d rather be defending people than fighting for some fat merchant’s entertainment. He mentioned the possibility of running away. Then, young Loreia, with some quick thinking, realised and told him that he could defend people just as well by bearing arms in the area as he could on the field – because a renowned gladiator’s name bears great influence, and the money earned could go towards helping as many people as possible. These words inspired Elain, and when he returned to the school, it was as a changed student.

Forswearing his title as a member of House Lux, he dedicated himself to the craft. He exceeded in his lessons, learning much of what it meant to be a gladiator and a warrior. His progress and talent was unrivalled by any of his peers, and while this success isolated him, he didn’t let his loneliness show, not even to Loreia, who visited occasionally. He eventually graduated the school early, and up to now, his last sight of Loreia was during the ceremony, not a word exchanged between them. And when he swore the oath of loyalty, it was with determination in his heart. He eventually departed from Apulum, with leave from Lord Lucius, in search of something – what, he couldn’t say. And then he found it – religion.

Elain had never been religious, but when he had begun his journey vastly under prepared, and had found himself starving and weak near the border of Markoth. To his surprise, he was ambushed by a trio of mongrels. Even in his weakened state, he was still capable, and managed to take down two of them before collapsing. He uttered a futile prayer to the Guardian, a last bitter hope, before succumbing to a deep sleep as the mongrel approached. He woke in a bed, being tended to by a priestess of the Guardian. When he asked if he was dead, she told him no. And when he asked why he was still alive, she told him that a Markothi Hobgoblin had brought him to the doorstep of the shrine. Believing that the Guardian had helped him in his hour of need, Elain began to recover his health and strength at the shrine, and eventually began a tutelage under one of the swordsmen there. He began to settle in his new life. And then, word reached them of the fall of House Valens after Lucius’ death. It all came rushing back. Most of all, his oath. With the blessings of the priestess, he packed up, and set out back home, to find Loreia, to honour his oath, and also to enter service as a Paladin of House Valens.

And along the way, he came across a group of Mongrels savagely attacking a group of Hobgoblins, with one sole defender, the rest barely trained. Thinking of what Loreia would do, and of the mysterious Beast who had saved him once before, he leaped to the aid of the Hobgoblins, aiding their defender. When the battle was said and done, the trained Hobgoblin looked at him curiously, and then asked him why he had helped. Elain told them why. The Hobgoblin looked to their companions, and then, asked if Elain would help escort his charges to safety. When Elain refused on the account of having to track down Loreia, the Hobgobliin offered his assistance in finding her, and unable to truly refuse, Elain accepted. Now, a full year after he left House Valens behind, he finds himself in the coastal town of his upbringing. He and his companion had heard rumours that Loreia had returned to Apulum, ones with substance, and they were here to find out if they were true.

Full Name:Hakim Al-amir Iqbal
Titles/Nicknames: Hakim, The Owl Prince
Age: 28
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Combat Role: Technical Hybrid

Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Brown
Height: 5’11’
Weight: 175 lbs

Appearance:
Hakim has all the bearing of a Sariyan noble from the way he walks, to the way he speaks, sits and dresses. While he may not have the towering height of a Torguren, Hakim stands at above average height for many of the people hailing from his home of Anan Sol. The ever so slightly lighter skin tone and the set of his jaw give away the fact that his mother was one of his father's foreigner brides.

Despite being his time in other lands Hakim largely refuses to alter his style of dress keeping with the patterns, style and colors of his home land. In addition to this Hakim maintains his deep black beard and shoulder length hair carefully. More often than not his beard is oiled in the tradition of his home land.


Overview:
Much as his retainers name for him indicates Hakim is a man of few worlds preferring to listen to his advisers, conversation partners and enemies when they chose to speak. When he is in his role as a noble or patron Hakim’s bearing brooks no argument or slight; those foolish enough to cross him find that the Sariyan noble has a sharp tongue that he uses sparingly to deal with imbeciles.

Slow to anger for the most part Hakim is however not about anger, ration decisions, or a petty response to those who get a rise from him. One of his few weaknesses is a tendency to respond swiftly and often violently to those who would insult his status as an exile. The nature of his absence from his home land is often a touchy subject in conversation and those who wish to stay in Hakim’s good graces do well to tread lightly around it.

To those who know Hakim on a first name basis and have the opportunity to hear him speak openly find a young man who is still trying to find his place in a world where he is far from his people, his god, and the life he was groomed for. Hakim is warm, intellectual and candid with those he sees as friends or trusted companions. Never given to the politicking of his siblings or other family members, Hakim rarely allows those around him to mince words long. In addition to this the handful of people who get a glimpse of Hakim in his most private moments find a deeply devoted and spiritual man. Much of Hakim’s worship of Akzum is done well away from prying eyes and rarely does he speak of it with anyone besides Muziri, Hakim’s tutor, household mage, and spiritual guide.

Hakim is driven by a burning desire to return to his home. What precisely happened to him is not clear save to those closest to him. The Sariyan noble longs for the glare of the desert sun and the hot winds that roll of the rolling sands just beyond the cool balm of the Golden river. Any mention of Anan Sol is often enough to send Hakim back to a time when he had less worries and life was easier for his entire household.



Strength: 5
Dexterity: 6
Intelligence: 7
Cunning: 4
Magic: 1
Willpower: 5
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 7

Weapons of Choice: In the tradition of his people Hakim makes use of paired scimitars wrought with silver and the finest steel from the mines of his home land. Fully capable of using the blades as a pair or as a single weapon with a shield or other traditional weapons.

In addition to his swords Hakim has a personal penchant for the weapons of the clergy including: The Ijeeri: a braided steel and leather lash, The Khecate: a flexible white staff with hooked blades on either end, The Alun: flat metal bands that fit of the knuckles and terminate in hooked blades below the base of the fist and The Noorzi: thick double sided blades designed to be thrown from the palm of the hand or from between the fingers.

Armor/Combat Apparel: The prince rarely dawns any armor besides the woven leather armor of the Clergy. This consists of a vest of woven leather that terminates at the shoulders, a set of heavy shin guards that terminate above the ankle with triangle bars of steel sealed within the leather to given the kicks of the wearer a concealed edge when they strike with the shin, and a set of leather vambraces covered by burnished steel with a taper along the center to more easily deflect baldes. Besides this Hakim also favors a stylized owl mask of blue steel though now he rarely finds a need for the mask and armor.

Fighting Style: As a noble Hakim practices a style of martial arts, An’Shak, designed for personal defense as well as for dealing with multiple attackers swiftly and simultaneously. Within the line of Iqbal and more specifically within the Cult of the Blue Sun, a derivative of typical Akzum worship, the royalty practice a specific form of martial arts. As the first son of the Iqbal line Hakim was also trained in the Ka’Shak the style of martial arts reserved for the soldiers of his family. This style focuses on throws and locks in order to neutralize armored opponents. Within the last three years of his exile Muziri has begun the process of teaching Hakim Si’Shak, the martial style of the clerics. This style is focused on strikes, redirecting an opponent's energy, targeting pressure points and internal organs. Traditionally forbidden to anyone save the second son of the ruling line and the Clerics, or Siris as they are traditionally called, of the Blue Sun. Muziri has made an exception for Hakim as he is no longer considered the first son of his line.

The combination of martial arts makes Hakim a fearsome combatant against a single opponent or while holding his own against multiple opponents. While Hakim holds the advantage of knowing three of the four style of martial arts his region practices (The martial art of the noble females, Za’Shak, is kept a secret even from Hakim) Hakim still has much to learn before he is a master of Ka’Shak or Si’Shak and he has only recently completed a full induction into the mysteries of An’Shak before his exile. Adding to this Hakim’s physical prowess is rarely tested as he is not a gladiator. Though few would be foolish enough to test his prowess as more likely than not it would truly be to the death.


Place of Birth: Anan Sol, capital of the Hitar providence in Sairya
Social Status: Heir presumptive of the Hitar Sheikh, First born Prince of Anan Sol (exile).

History:

Hakim was born in the Hitar providence of Sairya, some one hundred miles up river of the capital, Meroa. Anan Sol is usually referred to as the City of Steel as it exports something close to thirty percent of the entire realms iron and forged steel comes from Anan Sol. The city and surrounding geography are high in silver and iron deposits. In addition to this Anan Sol produces a unique alloy of steel which they claim is a gift from their version of Akzum: The Blue Sun. The steel is appropriately named Blue Sun Steel. This steel has an incredible resistance to shattering while still retaining incredible cutting power and flexibility.

The Hitar providence is home to the Cult of the Blue Sun. The people of Anan Sol and their surrounding villages believe that Akzum turns its eye upon Anan Sol once every decade in the form of a strange upper atmospheric even which turns the sun light blue in the Hitar providence for two weeks. The time is always a festival and time of worship for the providence. In addition to this the city of Anan Sol doubles the number of Gladiator matches it would normally host and the victors are gifted with weapons of Blue Sun Steel often inscribed with powerful magics. This is also often a time for the raising of dead relatives during which the necromancer Clerics of the Cult are sought for their assistance in returning the dead to life for a final reconciliation. Anan Sol practices a strange form of ancestor raising in which ancestors or friends are not always raised permanently but may be raised to hear final confessions, thoughts and wishes from their family members or associates.

The aristocracy of Hitar is an extensive royal family and advisor clans which all answer to the Sheikh of Hitar, ruler of Anan Sol. The Sheikh himself answers to the Sultan of Sairya without question. Hakim belongs the Iqbal family which is the predominant royal line in Hitar, his father is the Sheikh of Hitar and originally Hakim was set to inherit the position from his father. In addition to the royal family of the Hitar providence the Cult of the Blue Sun has a parallel line of advisors and spiritual rulers. The Clerics of the Blue Sun are responsible for enforcing both governmental and religious law with all of them answering to the Shiu, the Cults leader who in turn answeres to the Sheikh who is seen as the combination of spiritual and governmental leader. The Shiu is seen as the ultimate advisor of The Blue Sun’s will to the Sheikh, in addition to being responsible for the organization, and administration of the cults Clerics. Often the Second Prince will be trained as a Cleric of the Blue Sun while the First Prince is trained to assume the mantle of the Sheikh. It is not unheard of for a Second Prince to assume the role of Shiu during a siblings rule. Occasionally particularly favored royal families will see a First Son or Daughter Rise to the rank of Shiu. The Ecclesiarchy is not gender bias however the line of the Sheikh is gender biased unless the firstborn and second born children are female; in which case Anan Sol has a Shiekha.

When Hakim was born he was born to his father's fourth wife, a woman from Venatria who was married into the family as a means of Neema’s father courting the favor of the Sheikh. Much to the Sheikh’s first wife’s displeasure. When the Sheikh’s first wife bore a child the child was the Sheikh’s second son. Vashiera, the Sheikh’s first wife quickly turned her full power to putting her Son, Azeem, on the throne of Anan Sol. Hakim from the moment he was born became the center of a political plot which spanned the first twenty five years of his life. When Hakim was 20 he was married to a daughter of one of the advisor clans that held sway over many of Hitar’s silver mines. The marriage was an arranged one and from the beginning Hakim was bitter as his wife, Leeta had grown up a constant source of irritation for Hakim.

After the marriage Vashiera sought to leverage Hakim’s dissatisfaction with the marriage. Few know what happened thereafter but the result was Hakim’s exile from Anan Sol and the Hitar providence.

Full Name: Parisa Azadeh (formly Bardeh)
Titles/Nicknames: Risa, Witch of The Snap Deceit
Age: 29
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Combat Role: Magical Offense

Hair Color: black
Eye Color: dark green
Height: 5’8
Weight: 137

Appearance: Risa has a face that’s all angles and high cheek bones that sets her smile into a lopsided, dimpled smirk. Her dark eyes spark mischievously beneath expressive and mobile brows and her naturally Saryian sun-kissed skin stretches tautly over a lean and narrow, reasonably toned physique. Straight, side-swept dark hair falls in choppy layers down her back. She’s adamant in her refusal to shear it short, and so, for pragmatism’s sake, she twists the majority of it back in a long braid. What’s allowed to hang freely maintains a windblown, perpetually tousled quality. Her posture if more often than not lax and slouched, though her standing defiantly hipshot is far from rare.

Risa’s style of dress is fairly simple. Out of the arena she enjoys wearing woolen pants and silken tunics belted low on her hips and dyed bright colors with calf high, flexible leather boots for most day-to-day activities, but is known to enjoy wearing dresses on occasion. She has a fondness for things that complement her figure, so fitted bodices and skirts that flow with her wind and graceful movements are something not uncommon to see her wearing to lounge around in or during social occasions. When the weather gets a bit colder her clothing is supplemented with deep hooded cloaks and jackets with puffed sleeves and lots of shiny buttons.


Overview: Parisa is extremely extroverted. She walks with the swagger of someone accustomed to ship life and her patented crooked smirk and laissez faire countenance are almost a constant. Her sense of humor tends to be rather wicked and she has an odd habit of calling everyone by a nickname; kind of like a bawdy older sister. A liberal dose of sarcasm is present in most of her speech, and she enjoys engaging in witty banter and teasing. Despite her generally friendly -if not somewhat smarmy- nature, she has quite a few sly undertones about her that lend her a sense of slipperiness. In turn, there are few people she trusts farther than she can throw them (without magic, because that would ruin the point of her metaphor; she can throw people pretty far with her winds, you know). Especially nobility. Of course, this probably stems from her projecting her own life of a less-than-stellar citizenship onto others. She does sometimes develop soft spots for certain types of people, though she’d never admit to it.

She doesn’t change much in combat. Her insolent strut, bright clothing, spinning glaive, and swirling blue magics immediately draw the eyes of the crowd and enemies. She somehow always seems to be smiling despite the chaos of the arena and she feeds off the energy of the crowds. Her school of thought seems to be that she may die in the arena, but she’ll get better.

It might not seem it, as she does an admirable job of hiding behind snarky bravado, but Risa is someone who doesn’t know what exactly she wants. She went from a life of basically gilded slavery to one with no boundaries in the proverbial snap of a finger; one extreme to the other. So now she lives, but she doesn’t know to what end. Maybe it sounds foolish to most, but up until a few years ago she never had options.



Strength: 1
Dexterity: 6
Intelligence: 1
Cunning: 7
Magic: 8
Willpower: 3
Endurance:3
Charisma: 5

Weapons of Choice: Parisa carries a glaive into the arena with her. It’s pointy end is wickedly shaped and has a small chain hooked to the base of the blade and loosely wrapped around the shaft and connected to the buttend. It’s also has a magical rune, one of her own making that took her years of arduous trial and error to get right, that makes her weapon seem far lighter to wield without sacrificing any of the umph of getting hit by it. That’s it. The weapon is largely there to act as a conduit for her lightning magic, though she can and will use it.

Armor/Combat Apparel: She usually wears a silk tunic of a bright color, blues and teals being among her favorite, that is belted low across her hips. Over top she has a lightweight, sleeveless leather jerkin and vambraces that are of a surprisingly good quality and have whirling designs. Lastly she wears a pair of cream leggings and leather boots that crest the tops of her calves.

Fighting Style: Sylvi’s is a mage, so she prefers standing in the back and twiddling her thumbs… or fingers and glaive, as the case may be. If she can get off a spell of two without having an arrow in her thigh or a sword swinging at her face, she’d be pretty happy. Her magic is a powerhouse, though, and her swirling blue winds can rip through enemies with devastating effect if she’s afforded enough time to build it up. If push comes to shove, Risa will step to the line and fight, but she’s far more effective with her magic than her glaive.

Magical Affinity: Storm Mage
The Four Winds - This spell was the first Risa ever learned, and also the most versatile in her arsenal. By pouring her own magical energy into the air around her, she grasps hold of the winds and gathers them to her before releasing them at her own discretion. As long as she has magical energy, she can keep weaving the spell into something more complex and dangerous. She’s used this spell to do anything from the most mundane, like pushing along tiny toy sailboats across a fountain (a few quick flicks of her fingers), to the most extreme where she can send enemies careening great distances into walls and holding them there until they’re crushed (which takes a couple minutes to build before casting).
Akzun’s Breath - Named after the Sariyan Patron God, this spell requires very precise control and concentration. Hands moving like a puppeteer on strings of shimmering air, Risa can slowly pull the air from opponents’ bodies and maintain a pocketed void in their face until they suffocate to death, or until she’s interrupted. Even if she doesn’t kill them outright, she makes them easy prey for others, and it is not a pleasant experience to feel both lungs shrivel and collapse.
Lightning Tempest - When the sky begins to darken and rumble ominously, and Risa’s glaive starts whirling in a dizzyingly quick, sparking pattern… well, you know you’re in for a treat. It’s her most complex spell to weave, as she has to not only create a storm out of nothingness (unless by happenstance there’s already one conveniently present) and then force the building electrical energy to strike her. She acts as a human lightning rod and contains the electricity with her body in a spectacle of angrily sparking blue storm. Then, and only then, will Risa ever willingly enter the fray. If she can make contact with an enemy before the spell being disrupted, she will transfer all that lightning to them in one deafening crack.


Place of Birth: Sariya
Social Status: Smuggler, runaway house mage
History: