Appearance:
Almost always seen wearing his armor, Albus stands at an impressive 6'3. Complementing his vertical greatness, Albus has impressive bulk. Not like that of say, a bodybuilder, or a barbarian, but enough to make most folk think twice about picking a fight.

Name: Albus Ecco

Age: 24

Class: Mercenary.

Race:Beorc.

Birthplace: Ibion, Aralea.

Personality: To Albus, it's not the destination, but the adventure there. Although he supposes the destination could be pretty important as well. Despite his age, he still has that childlike wonder. When acting like a person his age, Albus prefers to be around friends, and share stories of their travels. Albus could be called a hoarder. He loves old ancient things, almost as if they were trophies of past adventures.

Biography: Albus has always been on the road. Since his birth in Ibion, he's wandered around the country with his family. And their friends, of course. Traveling in a Nomad group, Albus simply had to know everybody. He learned everything there was to know about his friends, and was loved by all. During his time as a Nomad, he learned to live off the land. How to hunt for food. How to survive. Being a Nomad wasn't easy, but Albus worked hard to support himself and the others. One day, after a month long journey, they reached the top of an enormous mountain. Or, at least it was to him. Albus looked on at the view. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Years passed, and that view had still stayed with him. He was 20 years old now, and he decided to take on the world. He knew there were more spots like that all over the world. Just one more time. He wanted to see a sight like that just one more time. Wandering alone for a year, Albus trained with a sword. An Iron Blade to be exact. A heavy two handed double edged sword. He felt like a god of the battlefield, swinging around his fierce blade. As he explored, his enemies stood no chance. Bandits and brigands would crumple under the mighty cleave of his sword. Eventually, he met up with a band of adventurers. Yet this memory is so surpressed, he can't even remember their names. These hearty fellows would go all across the continent, looking for anything to explore. Ruins, mountains, caves, you name it, they were there. Until one night, his party was attacked by brigands. Ambushed, the party tried desperately to defend themselves. Yet the night was lost, and Albus only barely managed to escape with his life.

Broken, he wandered not for the adventure, but to seek out someone or something to help fix him. Then he remembered. The view. Making the journey once more up the mountain he and his Nomad friends had climbed before. He looked on at the view. It was just like he remembered. Reinvigorated, he set off once more. He continued to do what he always loved, exploring, and meeting new folks. The horrid memory of his past crew successfully buried, he looks for a new merry band to join.

Inventory: An Iron Blade sits in its scabbard on Albus' back. He keeps a spare, just in case. You can find it sticking out of the top of his bag. Speaking of which, in his bag, several baubles from his past adventures can be found. An ancient scroll, which probably doesn't say anything important, a small vial containing vulnerary, and the hilt of his first sword. The blade is stuck in some Bandit's chest. He also keeps a pouch full of gold coins in his bag.

Other: Albus can be a bit of a hoarder. Finders keepers, after all.

Name: Tiu Feir
Title(s): N/A
Age: 18
Class: N/A
Race: Cat Laguz
Birthplace: Mirivia

Appearance Description: Stands at 5 feet tall, is rarely seen without her cloak on and never seen without her armor. A portion of her old scars from her inprisonment that can be seen on her forearms, but most of them are covered by her gloves and shoulder guards. Beneath the hood she has short brown hair that seems to remain untamed at all time. Her Laguz form is quite large, standing at almost 3 feet at the shoulder and weighing in at almost 200 pounds.

Personality: Tiu is a very methodical and close to the chest type of person, as for the last portion of her life she's had to hide almost everything about herself from others around her in fear of being attacked or captured. Everything needs to be thought out, planned for and executed perfectly for her, as she refuses to let her freedom be taken from her. She dislikes violence and will only fight if she has to, or if someone she cares for is threatened. Even then she carries no weapons and fights with only her hands and feet, using her speed and strength from her Laguz blood to catch people by surprise.

Biography: Hailing from Mirivia, Tiu spent the first 8 years of her life quite happily, growing up in a small tribe that kept on the move, avoiding trappers and other groups that meant them ill. This quickly came to an end when the tribe moved too close to Cesadas' border and attracted the attention of a large trapper group. The attack was fast and brutal, leaving many of the older Laguz dead or injured and the younger ones captured to be trained and traded, Tiu included. After almost a year a buyer from Ibion took interest and purchased her to have as a slave maid, the traders promising that she had been broken in already. This was proven wrong as when the ship had almost reached the shores of Ibion, she managed to pick her cage lock, knock over a lantern and flee the burning ship, swimming to land before disappearing. Over the next 7 years, she struggled to survive with no one to help, no family to rely on or friends to speak of. She learned to hide everything about herself that might give her true nature away, from never making eye contact so others wouldn't see the slight glow to her eyes to eating in small bites to keep her sharp teeth concealed. Her hair was naturally unruly and easily covered her ears if she keeps them folded down while her tail was kept curled around her waist. However, on a chance encounter, she ran into none other than the Crown Prince Eli. While wary, a small part of her mind began thinking, becoming more dangerous as time went on and the two of them eventually met a number of times away from prying eyes, sharing some of her wanderings and adventures to the curious Beorc. While she never told him her full secret, she began trying to make him her friend, in hopes that when he some day ascended the throne, he might have a better outlook on her kind.

Inventory: Tiu travels light, only carrying around a set of lockpicks at all times, as well as a small purse of coins.

Other: Tiu retains a mild fear of direct contact from her year of 'training' by the trappers, as well as being afraid to let anyone close enough to touch her head in case they feel the odd shapes in her hair. This often has her sleeping in out-of-reach areas such as trees or rafters.

Name: Siran Vahramyan Arshakuni
Title(s): Though not formally nobility, Siran could be described as the princess of the Arshakuni clan.
Age: 19
Class: Nomad
Race: Beorc
Birthplace: Ibion

Personality: Siran was raised to be a prim and proper heiress of the Arshakuni tribe; to be polite and respectful as well as brave and fearless in combat. So many lessons and reminders and chastisements were heaped upon her that she developed a strong aversion to anything resembling formality or duty. While she puts on airs when anything is expected of her, Siran is usually blunt and plain speaking, unafraid to offend anyone’s sensibilities. While not lazy or negligent by any means, she absolutely hates to be obligated to do anything, and anyone that tells her she has a duty to someone or something will lose any respect she had for them. If Siran is to do anything, she prefers to feel that she has chosen to do so, rather than being shackled to it out of some mystical power of obligation.

What motivates Siran is a call to merriment and diversion; she has no great ambition, and she certainly loathes the idea of feeling a sense of duty to anything. Instead, Siran prefers to go where she might escape the drudgery of life and find something interesting to occupy herself with. She is not beyond being practical, of course, and won’t mind tagging along with some task she doesn’t entirely care for, provided she feels it will take her somewhere intriguing. Siran’s tastes can be broad; it doesn’t matter if it’s good food, a strange new game, or even simply going somewhere new, if she feels it might be interesting, she will follow up on it.

Biography: The Arshakuni clan hails from Ibion, though they have recently been chased from their homeland. For many years, the Arshakuni have been in a blood feud with the Bagratuni clan over an alleged horse theft, though whatever the truth was has been lost to history, and many in the clans do not even remember why they fight. The fighting had been fierce but sporadic, with times of tense peace existing between them, but during the reign of Siran’s father Vahram, the Bagratuni fabricated a damning crime on part of the Arshakuni; they claimed they had been consorting with the pirates of Seeker’s Bay. The Arshakuni were branded traitors to Ibion, and were hunted until they fled towards Estala. Fortunately for them, Estala was magnanimous enough to offer what remained of their clan asylum, and so they pledged loyalty to the kingdom.

Siran was 10 when she arrived in Estala. Since that time, her father and many others in the clan have spared no effort in impressing upon her the importance of training herself that she might serve Estala and one day take vengeance upon the loathsome Bagratuni clan. She heard so much talk about honour, duty, and vengeance that it made her sick, though Siran never openly rebelled against the path that had been laid out before her. As one of the most impressive horseback archers in the clan, Siran was offered as a companion for the prince’s expedition. Siran is in fact quite pleased to be free from talk of her sacred duty, though the look on her face would never betray it.

Inventory: Siran’s prime possession is her short bow, which is a common weapon among the Arshakuni. She also carries a necklace that identifies her as the clan’s heiress. If it could be described that way, she also has her horse, Karabakh, on hand at most times.