Skills/Magic: Chres is a Tempraisionist, touch based magic which uses body heat as a fuel. He has a knack for fighting and protecting. He doesn’t do much protecting anymore though.
Appearance: Light brown hair with a few wisps of grey. Grey eyes. No Axe. Wears a Metal Glass pendant and gloves.
Bio:
Chres Sansus had everything he could have ever wanted. A loving wife, a baby on the way, a cozy home in the Nation of Touch and a job as the head bodyguard for one of the land’s most highly proclaimed traders, Seilent Mercaido. His job allowed him to travel to all five of the land’s nations.
Unfortunately, Chres’s job meant he was away from his wife quite often. Some jobs would leave him away from his wife for months at a time, with only a few days to spend with her when he returned home. If it weren’t for his job, then perhaps misfortune would have never found Chres. If it weren’t for his job, perhaps he would have been a father. If it weren’t for his job Chres would have been able to live his life happily, blissfully unaware of what would ultimately end up breaking him.
It was during one of his business trips when Chres’s entire life began to crumble before him. He was on his way to The Broken Isles with High Trader Mercaido. The Cult of Insight had reached out to Mercaido to discuss a business proposal. Mercaido had never been a fan of The Cult, but money was money, and they were offering plenty.
Chres didn’t really think much of this business trip. To him The Cult was just another group of people who believed in another deity that Chres didn’t believe in himself. In Chres’s mind, The Cult’s beliefs may just be more justified than everyone else’s, at least going by the stories he heard of The Distortion.
None of that was important to Chres. Chres never really cared what other people believed in. If there was one thing that Chres was looking forward to about this trip, it was seeing The Distortion in person. A place where the sky was black and the sun was green? Now that would be an interesting sight to see. Sadly though this trip would not be the quiet business trip that Chres was hoping for.
When Chres arrived at the city occupied by The Cult, a city by the name of Kaltem, it was still early morning. As such, when entering The Distortion, the change in the land was sudden and quite noticeable. The sky immediately turned pitch black. The sun itself shifted from the east to the north, as quickly as an eye could blink and turning green as it did so. Additionally the shadows of all living creatures stretched towards, not away from, the light of the rising green sun.
Chres was in disbelief and awe. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it for himself. “So the stories are true.” He said. High Trader Mercaido simply nodded. Apparently he had seen The Distortion before.
As they entered the town of Kaltem Chres couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of wrongness. The people felt off in this town. From time to time, a few people would stop what they were doing and look at Chres and High Trader Mercaido. Their heads slightly cocked. A smirk slowly appearing as if remembering a funny joke. Their gaze following them until disappearing from view.
It put Chres on edge. At any moment he expected someone to jump their caravan. Yet, nothing happened. High Trader Mercaido met with The Head Sightless, Vetius, without a single problem. Mercaido was able to successfully secure a very generous trade deal with The Cult. They then were shown around Kaltem, wined, dined and provided with luxurious rooms with quality comfort.
Still feeling uneasy. Chres didn’t go to sleep immediately. He set up guards around High Trader Mercaido’s room and led the first watch of the night himself. Chres spent several minutes of the watch staring out a nearby window at the green moon in the purple night sky. Except for a sudden thump down the hall spooking them, the watch went by without any issues.
The guards Chres assigned for the next shift did not arrive immediately. After about an hour or so finally one of the guards, Fen was his name, showed up for relief. The other one, Tarn, was missing. The one who showed up looked slightly nervous and jumped when Chres called his name. When questioned, Fen told Chres that Tarn had went off to a nearby brothel as soon as they woke. Chres was unable to get a straight answer from Fen for why he looked so disturbed though.
Chres shook his head. This wasn’t the first time Tarn ran off, he always came back but this was one time too many. Chres would need to let the man go after this. Chres let Fen take his post, went to the room provided for himself and fell asleep promptly. That’s when everything went wrong.
Chres had a vision that night. The vision brought a bout of euphoria with it. Its contents, however, shattered Chres’s ignorance and bliss forever. In his vision he saw that the baby his wife was pregnant with was not his. His wife had cheated on him with a man Chres knew very well. High Trader Mercaido. Apparently, the man had been secretly wooing Chres’s wife for some time now, right under Chres’s nose.
Chres woke that morning in a fit of rage. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew the vision to be true. He stormed off to Mercaido’s room. He pushed past a startled Fen, Tarn still hadn’t arrived at his post, and burst into Mercaido’s room. The moment he opened the door, a crossbow bolt whistled past his head.
“Blast.” Mercaido’s voice. The man was sitting on a chair facing the door. A now unloaded crossbow in his hands. The man stared at Chres calmly. “I never was a good shot.”
Mercaido put down the crossbow and got to his feet. “I saw myself die a few minutes ago. You killed me yourself.”
“You bastard! Mercaido, you slept with my wife?!” Chres roared in anger. “The child. My future child. Is it not mine?”
“I did. Quite often actually.” Mercaido said calmly pulling out a knife. “And no. The child is probably not yours.”
Chres yelled in blinding anger as he felt his body heat leave him. Compressing his body heat into a small, glowing, dull, red ball, Chres threw the Heat Construct at Mercaido’s body. The heat construct exploded on impact, in a burst of force. The blast sent Mercaido and his knife flying. Chres dashed forward, catching the knife in midair and stabbing it into Mercaido’s neck.
How long had Mercaido been sleeping with his wife? What did he do to make his wife betray him like this? So many questions flashed through Chres’s head as he watched the light leave Mercaido’s eyes. Chres felt a tiny itch at the back his neck. Another vision could answer the questions streaming through his mind. Perhaps if he…
“I killed Tarn.”
Fen’s voice. Chres turned to the wide eyed bodyguard. The man hadn’t moved an inch to stop Chres. The Head Bodyguard in him had half a mind to lecture Fen about that. Except he didn’t feel like lecturing right now. Hell, if anyone needed a lecture, it would be Chres. Did he seriously just kill the man he was supposed to protect?
“Who?” Chres asked not fully comprehending.
“Tarn. I killed him. Stuffed the body in the washroom. I had a vision… I had to, Sir. I had to do it.”
Chres put his hand to his head. What was going on? Could this be the Insight he’s heard stories about? Chres lowered his hand and brushed past Fen in a daze.
“Where are you going?” Fen asked.
“Home.”
Fen nodded slowly. “I think… I think I’ll stay here. I have questions that need to be answered.”
Chres just nodded grimly and went to his room. He packed his belongings quickly and left the town of Kaltem.
A week later, he came home. His wife surprised him with a gift. His birthday had just passed. Chres said nothing and opened it. Two pendants of Metal Glass. Familiars. One for her. One for him. Chres looked his wife in her beautiful eyes, unable to confront her. Perhaps his vision was wrong and Mercaido lied.
“I would have had Birthday sweets had I known you would be back so soon. Usually you write ahead of time.” She said to him in her sweet voice. “How was the trip. How is Mercaido doing? We should have him over for dinner again soon.”
Suspicion returned to Chres. Mercaido so calmly admitted to sleeping with Chres’s wife. “Dead.” Chres said.
A sudden wash of grief crossed her face. “What?” She gasped. The words barely audible.
Chres got up and headed to the door. He knew now. He knew the truth. “He’s Dead.” Chres said again. “I killed him.” Chres opened the door and slammed it behind him.
He went to the nearby tavern that night. Got drunk. Came home. Got into a fight with his wife and passed out. He woke up the next morning to find his wife beaten to death. Her dried blood on his hands.
Chres’s heart raced. Tears pouring down his checks. “Wh… what have I done...” he whispered barely able to get the words out. Stricken with grief he collapsed to his knees. Staring motionless at his dead wife’s body.
He must have been there for hours before thought returned to him, as it was already dark out. He had to leave. He realized. He had to run away from this lie of a life that was his. There was a tiny itch at the back of is neck as he thought that.
He got to his feet and packed. Food and supplies. Once ready, he headed towards the door and was about to open it before seeing the two Familiar pendants on a small round table next to the door. Chres hesitated before grabbing them both. Then he left.
Personality: Lately his outlook on life has been pretty grim. Since his life altering event Chres has never been the same man. He still wears his ring, and will call himself a married man if asked. He doesn't drink anymore. He no longer trusts himself to drink. He has a bit of a dry sense of humor.
He’s become a bit suicidal since the event. Always putting himself in fights and situations to try to get himself killed. In his mind he deserves physical punishment for his crimes and he keeps trying to find humiliating ways to die. His plans to die are always thwarted though. A part of him still wants to keep living.
Quirks: He carries a flask containing flavored water in it. He also keeps looking for ways to get himself beaten up or killed.
Weaknesses: The cold. His disire to put himself in dangerous situations.
Equipment/Items: Chres carries a knife in each boot and a dagger at his side. Usually he’ll shape the weapons he needs with his magic.
Other items of importance includes his two Familiar pendants. The one his wife bought him he wears around his neck it’s active. The other he keeps in his pack.
Chres’s Familiar will switch between the form of a female fairy like being to a tiny ferret. Curious about the world and mischievous too. Chres calls her Sil.
Bio: Atticus early childhood isn't worth noting much, it was spent mainly training to be a Witch Hunter. His family has long since served as hunters and he wasn't going to be the first to disappoint. Training consisted of swordplay, marksmanship in both bow and crossbow, hand to hand combat, and lore.
At the age of 19, Atticus was graduated his training after many long years. It wouldn't be till many months later when he was on his first case. A noble womans son killed in some magical ritual. Atticus was sent to figure out what happened and why. Upon arriving at the scene of the crime, Atticus was able to determine that the child was killed by a nonreuglated magic user who was attempting to use the child as a fuel source. With the knowledge at hand he was on the hunt. It wouldn't be till a few months later when the second murder happened. By this point he was closing in on the suspect. When he finally caught the murderer, Atticus learned that he had succeeded in using his victims as a fuel source. The murder was able to increase his strength to inhuman levels from the rituals. The fight that happened between the two was very taxing on Atticus. He had to constantly dodge his opponents attacks while waiting for opening. Luckily his opponent overextended his reach allowing Atticus to run his through with his sword.
This is how his life for many years, the only exception being the occasional break or training. Luckily the group he works with are a neutral part unable to take part in war, unless one of the sides is using magic to corrupt or is using those that have fallen. Then and only then.
Personality:
Distrusting- Magic users can't be trusted because they either burn out or turn bad. During his year Atticus has learned to watch his back never know when those you travel with or work with will turn.
Loyal- Those that have earned his trust will find someone that while help them through thick and thin.
Quiet- Being a Witch Hunter, Atticus has learned that holding ones tongue can save their life, every action you do have a equal and opposite reaction and more often than not its a that reaction is something bad.
Quirks: Atticus does enjoy smoking a pipe here and there maybe the occasional beer. Is an avid reader.
Skills/Magic:
Swordmanship- Many years of training has made Atticus has become a very well rounded swordsman often fighting with a finely crafted steel blade given to him upon completion of his training
Marksmanship- One of the many tenants the learn during training. Witch Hunters employ a unique weapon to them a hand held two shot crossbow. Atticus considers himself a decent shot with it.
Antimagic Combat- Witch Hunters are expected to be able to combat all types of magic. Shadow metal eye covers, ivy hand cuffs, sap mouth gags, skunk bombs and wax ear muffs. Plus other deterrents
Has a special mixture that all Witch Hunters are taught that is only known to them. Said mixture is able to act as a general deterrent. Concoction is made of a mixture of salt, iron, silver and oil. Applied to blade or crossbow bolt when needed
Hunter- Witch Hunters are taught to use all their senses to find where their target has gone
Adept of Sight- Atticus is able to see what others can't. Spotting very minuscule details, ie footprints many days old, finger prints, etc. Is able to get a lot of information just from looking at fresher tracks.
Weaknesses:
Magic- Despite being trained in antimagic combat Atticus is still weak to magic attacks That is if opponent is able to get the jump on him
Knowledge- While some would consider this a positive trait. There is such a thing as knowing to much knowledge. Things that are not supposed to be known. Atticus constantly search old tomes, forbidden and nonforbidden for any sort of information on how to better steel himself.
Camaraderie- Used to traveling alone or with one other. Atticus has difficulty working in larger groups and will often isolate himself since he has learned that only people you can trust are other hunters.
Octavio was abandoned by his mother at an orphanage near a college for bards. It was during this time in his childhood when he began to take after them and see them as his idols. He dabbled in everything related to the world of entertainment before settling into the role of a lute player, out of being criticised repeatedly for his at the time cynical personality, one that developed from growing up in a competitive and emotionless environment.
As he grew older he held a grudge against the rich and the eager way in which they wasted resources on attempting to impress each other. Initially he began with petty thievery, but as the years went by he slowly began to fine tune his charisma in order to take a more direct course of action. He is now what one would call a "gold digger", attempting to approach and woo older socialites with the help of his above average appearance and a stolen and luxurious familiar.
Octavio, at first glance, is a man who revels in all things dramatic. From the things he says to the way that he says them everything is romanticized and exaggerated to the point where reality becomes interchangeable with fiction. He is a womanizer of sorts and will not turn down the opportunity to “charm” the opposite sex should it present itself. Underneath this extreme personality is a less dramatic and more grounded individual. He is still a talkative extrovert, albeit one with more restraint.
He is charismatic, swift, and typically tends to know less than he lets on. In combat his familiar takes on a support role rather than directly engaging targets, while Octavio himself makes up in speed what he lacks in physical strength.
He admires perfumes and colognes for the aesthetic qualities in their colors and containers. His sense of taste and smell are both poor and he envies those who are able to enjoy pleasant scents or foods to their fullest. He is also fond of paintings.
His lynx familiar is never used in combat. They argue frequently.
Homosexual.
Octavio´s past experiences in music are red herring for his true abilities in sight based magic. His tendency to attempt to charm and swindle those wealthier than him are supported through the illusion based nature of summoning magic. His familiar is a flashy silver lynx who is used in helping his owner blend in during his attempts to infiltrate high society rather than combat.
The lynx belonged to a duchess as a mistreated ornamental pet. His metal glass was stolen by Octavio and he now finds himself accompanying the rogue through various shenanigans. The lynx has been given countless pseudonyms and is simply called Lynx when not in front of targets. Lynx is brooding, stable, and quiet, a direct contrast to his owner´s personality. He puts up with Octavio´s lifestyle only because he slightly prefers it to his previous owner´s.
Octavio has a relatively strong mental fortitude and can resist magical manipulation attempts better than most.
Octavio has a hard time acting seriously and will normally offend and confuse level headed members of the working class. He has a toxic view on human relationships due to his upbringing and will emotionally shut out anyone who attempts to crack his shell.
Even with the support of lesser familiars in combat Octavio is far from being the best fighter. He is suited to fighting magicians or opponents in stealth situations but suffers when fighting anyone wearing armor.
A small and light leather bag, a short sword and a dagger, cologne, two earrings meant for standard combat summons, expensive wine that he refuses to admit the origins of.
Name: Good question! I have many! Here's a few I like to give:
Wendil Senne Chiliphe Sally... wait that's a girl's name. Silly, me. Yeamen Gin Xilim That annoying jerk who refuses to stick with one name Daxil Ulimn Milt Pezz570 - I stole this name from the one who thought me up!
If you must insist on something to call me, then call me The Being of Many Names.
Gender: Male last I checked.
Sexuality: Hmm... I wonder?
Age: Hmph! How dare you?!
Home Nation: Pezz's Imagination
Appearance:
Now there's a handsome face!
Bio: Unimportant for now.
Personality: I like to talk. I like to trick. And also trip unwary fools. I like to disappear and reappear. Look! I was there and now I here! I like to confuse and be meta. You see, this world is one big joke. Some curse me, others praise me. Care I do not, for it's all just a game.
Quirks: My existence is one big quirk! But I do like to stir the pot.
Skills/Magic: I'm quite skilled in my disappearing act. Oh! And showing up when I'm not wanted.
But the most obvious of course would be my ability to crack the forth wall.
Name: Álmos Air-Swimmer Gender: Male Sexuality: Asexual Age: 25 Home Nation: Touch Appearance:
Bio Raised in an ascetic order, Álmos has been deprived of human touch for most of his adult life, thanks to his extensive training in sensory focus. He knew his parents, for a time, but his abilities made it difficult to focus when they were in his presence.
So, he continued to live in solitude, until he learned to control his senses. By then, however, they had passed away. His training continued, though it now included a stronger focus on reigning in his emotions.
Consequently, Álmos will seem distant to most. However, he is quite capable of emotion and empathy - he simply doesn't allow them to guide his hand or reveal themselves.
Personality Álmos is a peaceful man, preferring quiet contemplation and diplomacy to violent action. In fact, even his forms of self-defense and attack involve as little contact with aggressors as he can manage.
He finds many people to be quite agreeable, usually based on the quality of their conversations or thoughts, but he is uneasy when it comes to more personal relationships. As an isolated individual, he finds it difficult to consider forming romantic relationships, and his abilities lend to him finding the concept of a physical relationship to be somewhat disgusting.
Quirks • Álmos doesn't like to bathe too frequently, and when he does, he tries to do so in tepid water that has had soap dissolved in it beforehand. • Álmos maintains a liquid diet as strictly as circumstances allow. • Álmos is almost always heavily clothed. He never goes barefoot, if possible, favoring thick-soled, fur-lined boots, gloves, and face coverings. He becomes visibly agitated when his skin is exposed. • Álmos avoids physically touching other people, unless they require assistance (first aid, help standing up, etc.) and he is the only one nearby. Whenever accidental contact is made, he recoils from the point of contact.
Skills/Magic • Anatomy Expertise: Having spent quite some time immersed in medical texts at his relatively isolated monastery, Álmos has a near-encyclopedic knowledge of the human body, as well as various methods that might be used to repair (or inflict) damage to it. • Meditation: Extremely well-versed in meditative techniques, Álmos can find peace in nearly any circumstance - given enough personal space. • Kinesthesia: Thanks to his highly-developed sense of touch, Álmos is extremely cognizant of his own physicality. He is acutely aware if there is ever anything amiss, his bodily orientation, and so on. • Touch Magic - Air Current Divination: The highest achievement of his Touch magic, Álmos can detect and respond to disturbances in the air around him. In much the same way as a fly escapes a swatting hand, he can use this ability to avoid injury or attack, find his way in conditions of darkness or limited visibility, and read the movements of those around him. This ability is troubling to Álmos, and is often too much for him to endure for long periods of time. The pressure of air on his skin often causes him discomfort, and submersion in water or other, denser mediums is almost terrifying to him. • Self-Defense - "The Dance of Dust and Water": Due to his ability to "read" the atmosphere around him, Álmos is capable of using it to his advantage. His primary method of self defense is through dancing, his hands trailing debilitating poisons (either liquid or powder-based). It is a spectacle to watch, and the agents used somehow always find their way to the intended target (typically eyes, noses, or mouths).
Weaknesses • Weak: Álmos does not go out of his way to exercise. His musculature has developed little since he began to master his abilities. • Pain-Intolerant: His heightened sense of touch makes any discomfort or pain seem amplified. A good slap is often enough to cause full-body recoil.
Equipment/Items • Coverings: The attire Álmos typically goes around in. This consists of thick boots, gloves, snug-fitting leggings, a face and neck wrap, a hood, and a long-sleeved tunic and cloak. They are all a light tan color, and his monastic symbol is displayed prominently. • "Dust and Water": Special blends of paralytics, blinding agents, irritants, and nausea inducing compounds, these powders and fluids are intended for very specific circumstances, and only ever for self-defense or the defense of others. His order is somewhat well-known for this aspect of their conditioning, and he thus tends to get little to no harassment over this from the authorities.
Name: Hark Lorie Gender: Male Sexuality: Straight Age: 24 Home Nation: Sight
Bio: Hark was born and raised in Shimmer Town his mother, a skilled weaver, and his father, a guard for the town's lord. He never quite had the eye for art like his mother and he often found himself frustrated when all of his childhood friends were making beautiful pieces of cloths and artwork and all he produced was mediocre at best. He was often bullied for not being able to create nice works of art and ended up getting into a fights. During his fights he realized he had a natural eye for combat and it was almost like he could see his opponents move before it even happened.
When he became 16 he totally gave up on ever become like his mother and turned his eye to his father. Soon after he would beg his father to teach him swordplay and he found he had a natural talent in combat. He would spend all his hours dedicated to learning how to fight so he could one day become apart of the royal guard in the nations capitol.
When he became the age of 20 he officially joined the Shimmer town guard after defeating every opponent during testing and quickly rose through the ranks because of his ability to see peoples moves before they happened. He also discovered his fighting ability was not just natural talent and he was an Adept with the slight ability to use Precognition magic.
In the early days of the war a portion of the Shimmer town guard was called upon by the capitol and they were assigned to intercept and destroy scouting parties form the Nation of Touch. He served with his father and they were quite successful in the first year dealing high casualties to enemy scouting parties. However their good luck didn't last long and soon it seamed the scouting parties always knew how to avoid them or even counter ambush the group. It wasn't just them either even the main force seamed to always get flanked or outmaneuvered.
Not long after the Nation of Touch started taking over more and more territory. Hark's father died in his arms being struck by an arrow in an ambush, his best friend was crippled and dismissed from duty, and his mother was killed when her caravan was ransacked on their way to deliver clothing to the capitol. After his losses Hark found a deep hatred for the Nation of Touch and took an opportunity to try out to become a member of the Emperors royal guard. He excelled in the tryouts and has spent the time since then in the royal guard carrying out special missions for the Emperor and honing his almost 6th sense ability.
Personality: Hark is fiercely loyal to the Nation of sight and hell bent on revenge for his parents and has a deep hatred for the Nation of Touch. All his spare time is spent with his men training them up in combat or working on ways to better enhance his precognition magic. He always wears a stern emotionless look on his face and hardly has a sense of humor.
Quirks: Hark wont turn down a game of five-finger fillet
Skills/Magic: Sight based magic, he is a Adept and uses precognition magic
Weaknesses: Magic- Hark only anti-magic technique is his precognition magic so as a result he is more vonerable to magic attacks
Precognition fuel- His precognition magic is fueled by his energy levels so the more exhausted he is the less it works
Equipment/Items: His equipment varies by mission but his favorite weapon is a battle hammer and he always wears a silver energy ring to help keep his energy up.
Harks precognition magic allows him to see what other people are going to do before they even do it.
Limitations: - He can only see what peoples moves are going to be in a 30 meter radius - He has to looking at a specific person to see what they will do and has to activate his precognition - His precognition only allows him to see - Precognition doesn't increase his physical abilities so even if he sees something about to happen this doesn't mean he is fast enough to react to it - His fuel for precognition is his energy(which is why he wears an energy ring to give him an extra boost) - He can only see what someone does a maximum of 6 seconds before they do it(How far he can see depends on his energy)
Hark uses the energy ring to give him an extra boost during combat so he can use his limited precognition magic longer. If he were to use the ring nonstop it would only give him an energy boost for 30 minutes before it would be drained and it requires a 6 hour recharge.
Rings: different rings give the user different abilities and affect the user differently. While some rings only require a recharge delay more powerful rings can take a toll on peoples mental health or reduce their lifespan. Rings are also quite rare and as a result only wealthier people or higher up military members can afford them or are entrusted to them. Hark acquired his after a battle and he found it on a dead Nation of Touch scout commander.
Penetrating green eyes, a delicate and elegant face and immaculately white skin and hair give Karina quite the unique and exotic appearance. Her body although small and apparently delicate hides a surprisingly agile, dexterous and flexible frame, fruit of her training. Usually wears an military style uniform with her hair tied and a cap. On formal occasions she unties her hair and prefers to wear dresses.
Bio
Karina was born out of the unusual union of a scholar from the Nation of Hearing and a general from the Nation of Touch. By the choice of her father, she went to live on together with her mother on her home nation as he wanted her to have a peaceful life, away from the chaos of war. On the Nation of Hearing, Karina would show her love for knowledge as her and her mother often passed their time studying together. But unfortunately, having a life away from the was wasn't something that Karina would be able to enjoy for much longer... When she was only 10 years old, her mother fell ill with a very serious, contagious disease. Without any other option, Karina had to go to live with her father on the Nation of Touch.
There on the Nation of Touch, Karina's father became cold and even more distant, dedicating his entire time to his work trying to forget the pain from losing his loved one. Karina on the other hand was literally raised amongst soldiers and other high patent officers. Her education was already very good, in fact, it was better than most people, since she was herself the daughter of an scholar, but there were some things that her mother couldn't teach her in the pacifist Nation of Hearing. It was only natural that being so instructed and intelligent, she would learn certain military knowledge fast as she heard her father talking with other officers. But another one of those things was Fencing. After seeing two high patent officer sparring, she immediately fell in love with the Rapier. It didn't resemble violence, it was almost a dance. The way the officers moved almost effortlessly through the room, their rapiers singing as the edges kissed themselves... It was the perfect balance between violence and art. Since that moment, fencing became another one of Karina's hobbies, other than studying and debating with other officers about military strategies & etc.
As she grew older, as the General's daughter and after proving herself to be knowledgeable enough that not giving her a patent was deemed an absolute waste of talent, nobody dared to mistreat her. Known as the 'flower' of the military due to her beautiful looks and because she was always walking around the headquarters, either reading, talking with seasoned officers (often surprising her due to her intellect) or practicing her fencing, her influence grew both by her father's position and her patent.
Maybe because of her mixed blood or maybe due to her spending half of her life on the Nation of Hearing and the other half on the Nation of Touch, when Karina turned 15, a very unique magic awakened on her. Completely the opposite from the usual Tempraisionism magic that was common to the Nation of Touch, Karina was able to use the humidity and the cold on the air in various forms. Incredibly dangerous against other Tempraisionists due to her strength being their weaknesses, it was almost an irony that an officer from the Military of Touch having such magical talent... After that fact became known by the others on the Nation of Touch, she started being referred by some people as "The Ice Flower of the Nation of Touch".
Personality
Despite her nickname as 'The Ice Flower', Karina is actually not that cold when around friends. Enjoying a good conversation and often seen with a mysterious, but enchanting smile on her face, she is a real treat to look at.
Despite her quiet demeanor, she certainly has a very strong personality, maybe due to her father or to the fact that she was raised in the military, but her enchanting smile can turn into a real cold stare when angry and her cold but firm words are famous around the army for being able to frighten even a seasoned soldier.
When amongst other soldiers or in a combat situation though, Karina is almost a completely different person. Really living up to her nickname as the Ice Flower, she is practical, logical and cold both regarding strategizing or fighting herself.
Quirks:
Karina has a soft spot for sweets and hot beverages such as hot chocolate.
Skills
Fencing: Karina developed her own style of fencing. More agile and elegant than the normal fencing, it's characterized by it's high mobility, deadly lunges, feints and extremely fast movements. While it lacks brute, raw strength, it more than makes up with agility and dexterity. Hence why the Rapier is the perfect weapon for her.
Adept of Hearing: Just like her mother, Karina is an adept of hearing. Unlike her who used it for music and to distinguish the small difference in musical notes, Karina uses it in a much finer and complex way. By concentrating herself, she can go as far as hearing someone's heartbeats or their movements in order to be able to react much faster than she normally could.
Natural Resistance to cold: Due to her magic and the fact that she trains so much with it, Karina developed a certain resistance to cold. Enough to allow her to use her magic for some time before she needs to stop.
Magic
Cryomancy:
Using the surrounding air temperature, or even her by lowering her bodily temperature, she can create ice in a myriad of ways. Be it creating blades made of concentrated ice to control through the air and cut her enemies, lowering the air temperature in order to counter Tempraisionists or even by lowering another person's bodily temperature in case she hits them with one of her ice blades or with her rapiers. Coupled with her fencing, it is incredibly dangerous as she can overpower opponents much stronger and tough than herself by lowering their bodies' temperature with each cut.
The drawback is that if the air temperature is high, she will have to resort to lower her own body's temperature and depending on how much time she does it, she can even pass out with hypothermia. Using clothes that preserve the bodily temperature like gloves, coats & etc. can allow her to use her magic even when the temperature of the air around her is a bit higher than the necessary for her to use her magic. In the other hand, when the climate is cold, Karina can use her magic almost freely.
Weaknesses
Heat: Exactly the opposite from normal Tempraisionism, if the air around her is too hot (for example... if she is around a fireplace or something like that) She will need to use much more energy than normal to use her magic.
Brute Strength: Karina is not that heavy or tall. In a contest of brute strength, she will most likely loose. This also means that if someone pins her down, she won't be able to get out by herself without resorting to magic.
Too many blades: When creating concentrated ice blades, Karina can only create and maintain a maximum of 4 blades at the same time.
Equipment
Almost a piece of art, this rapier's blade was forged with an special method. It's dark red colored blade has an intricate pattern, formed naturally due to the way the steel was forged. It was a gift from her father when she became an officer. A little something he did trying to redeem himself for being such a distant father.
Name:Dirty Bastard Gender: m Sexuality: Age: Twenties Home Nation: Taste Appearance:
His skin is somewhat brown due to where he grew up as well as his continuous exposure to the outdoors. His clothes are simple and we'll worn. There is an earthy scent to him. He has several drinking containers on him, mostly gourds.
Bio: The man reffered to as "Dirty Bastard" life is a mystery known only to him and perhaps to people from his past. What is known about him is he hails from the nation of Taste. During his journey he had come to have learned martial arts somewhere in the mountains. He is a wanderer who drifts to wherever the winds dictate.
Personality: He is headstrong and free spirited and enjoys misleading others by appearing to be foolish and being tricky. He can be quite charming, but he's also possesses a fiery temper and a penchant for verbal abuse.
Quirks: Likes drinking Likes spicy food
Skills/Magic: Martial arts: Drunken boxing: A unarmed fighting style that emulates the staggered,swaying, and unpredictable movements of someone who us drunk. Dirty is also one of the few talented enough to effectively use this while actually drunk.
Dog beating staff technique: A curiously named staff fighting style attributed to a legendary beggar who developed it in after many conflicts in back alleys. Its method of fighting is something intuitive to his nature. Also he likes using this style more due to the reach and usefulness of using a staff as a weapon.
Brewing: As befitting of his nation of birth, Dirty is a skilled brewer who procures fruits to make simple wines he carries on his body. In spite of the lack of proper tools and the improvised nature of his brews they come nice and a bit strong.
Panhandling: Beggars gonna beg Outdoorsmanship:It is necessary to be knowledgeable in this when he travels into the wilderness. Legerdemain: very useful for pocketing things that aren't his. Sneakiness: What good is breaking the law if you get caught?
Weaknesses: -Occasionally pissing off someone tends to lead to complications -Being a dirty vagrant means he probably won't be getting into certain places -Being a wandering martial artist means having to deal with people who want to fight him.
Equipment/Items: Stick: It is an incredibly durable and flexible bamboo stick with a gourd tied to one end Bottles and gourds: Filled with various liquids, mostly fermented or fermenting drinks Bracelet: A bracelet made of colored rocks worn on his left wrist
Name: Týfurkh Gandjar Gender: Male Sexuality: Asexual Age: 27 Home Nation: Hearing Appearance:
Týfurkh certainly has not the most bulging of muscles, but what he has, including his bones, is very dense, sturdy and strong. He's clearly V-shaped and at no less than seven feet five inches a very imposing presence. This has been caused by the medical condition of giantism.
Bio: Týfurkh was born in the village of Mavaughal, a small settlement at the western shore of Lake Echo, north-east of Symphare. Aside from the fact that it quickly became obvious that his body grew much larger than usual his early youth can be considered quite uneventful. He has his younger brother, Madawc, had to do the field work their aging parents could only do to a lesser and lesser degree. They were far away from any real trouble: No unexpected plagues, no invasion, only the occasional brawl in the local tavern which Týfurkh excelled at again and again.
It was at the age of 16 when he broke one of his thighs in an accident. Somewhat immobilized and left in insecurity if he'd ever make a complete recovery, he had to spent his time in the village with Madawc caring for him. During this time, Týfurkh met a rather mysterious man that called himself Haljot. He claimed to be some kind of medic and magician without going into details. He looked at the rugged mess that had once been Týfurkh's leg, but he didn't offer any bandages, salves or herbs that at least could relieve him of the pain, but a small crystal attached to a thick leather strap. He told him to tie it carefully around his leg, let it do its work and be patient. Týfurkh did as requested, hoping for some miracle to take place. The thing started to vibrate gently, no, it purred just like a cat. He didn't notice it at first, but the constant exposure to this kind of movement indeed massively boosted the healing process.
Haljot never came back to retrieve the crystal after it had done its work, but he had told Týfurkh to come to the town of Symphare if he'd 'be interested'. Inspite of not knowing what all of this was about he was, so soon he stood at what turn out to be the small entrance to the Order of Canor. At first it appeared to be a very peace-loving society of what one could call monks, but Týfurkh was told that his stature would make him very well suited for a warrior. The order proved to know how to do marketing so to speak. They gave him several demonstrations of what could be achieved after years of training and openly asked if he'd be willing to join. They'd be in need of people like him and that the encounter with Haljot in the local tavern had not been entirely random after all.
Týfurkh agreed. He first had to deal with all of the familiy business though. Luckily for him his brother Madawc was a lot more attached to his native soil than he was. Maybe both of them, along with the Order who apparently was to eager to make him one of its members, also could already sense the growing anxiety of war in Saencila and how the political system was destabilizing. Maybe Mavaughal would stop to be a peaceful, unharmed and innocent village one day, and in case of that a warrior could be of help.
Training proved to be hard and quite frustrating at first, but the constant telling that this was nothing out of the ordinary kept Týfurkh at bay. He has been a member of the order for eight years by now and with experience and some rank came freedom. He has been tasked to be an agent, someone who heads out, gathers information about the state of the different parts of the world and reports back to those listening posts who are still active despite all the turmoil. He can go whereever he wants as long as he sticks to a few rules of how to behave, doesn't tell everybody about the order and keeps them roughly informed about his status.
Personality: He's a calm dude, at least in most situations. To make him truly angry could be considered a considerable achievement, to make him lose his head in the metaphorical sense due to external stress as well. He can accept the opinions of others if he's convinced of their superiority, however he's also rather direct and outspoken when it comes to criticism. He won't hold back with his own thoughts almost no matter what. Týfurkh is not used to large numbers of people, instead he prefers to stay with few or on his own if there's the possibility. If he feels overwhelmed, he prefers taking a more shy stance than usual. Quirks: Skills/Magic:
A Heading based magic system Unregulared Requires Da'quar crystals dissolved in alcohol as a consumable fuel source.
The art of Canor is the art of generating and utilizing sound directly as an offensive or defensive means in combat. Other applications exist as well, but they are rare and rarely used for the lack of opportunity. They, so far, are more theoretical than practical.
Many spells of Canor exist, but the typical follower of this art does only know a relatively small fraction of them. For Týfurkh, the following applies:
Resonance chamber This spell is extremely dependend on the environmental circumstances. Open spaces are the worst, close quarters with rigid walls like hallways the most advantageous. The concept is to build up and concentrate the energy of sound at a specific point that is not one's own, but the one where the enemy is or will be without knowing. The user of this spell starts shouting, singing or whatever kind of noise he deems suitable. Frequency and direction matters in dependence of the situation -- the experienced user knows what to do when and where the waves will build up in constructive interference. One doesn't truly hear this small spot in the middle of the room coming, in fact other spots nearby will remain completely silent. A direct collision can result in a broad variety of injuries ranging from temporarily impaired hearing up to a broken skull and ruptured veins. It depends on the time of buildup that has been available.
Oscillator Sound can not only travel by air, it can also travel inside solid bodies of any kind. One can temporarily 'imbue' a solid item with this hidden kinetic energy that doesn't result in obvious movement, causing it to vibrate violently. Upon contact with other bodies the item will immediately start transferring this energy to a more or less large degree. The vibrations start to diminish due to dampening effects rapidly after the charge has been set, so quick usage is required in order to be efficient. Therefore Týfurkh uses this to make the bolts of his crossbow more effective and not truly to lay down traps.
Directional wave Every thought that you'd hear voices noone else can hear ? This nightmare can become true if you have an artist of Canor made your enemy. They can point a stream of soundwaves at an arbitrary point in their direct sight, though the effectiveness will naturally decrease with distance. The wave is sufficiently focused not to be heard by anyone else except if that one crosses the direct line of sight. One can transmit messages to allies, but also distract enemies and maybe even lure there to a more advantageous spot -- for oneself, of course. On short distances one can also shout so loudly that it will cause injury, but not the same degree as the resonance chamber.
Weaknesses: At his size he's not exactly dextrous, not even very fast despite his immensively long legs. His weight more often than not also is the root cause for issues of various kinds, some hilarious, others very serious.
Equipment/Items:
Massive crossbow and a quiver of bolts of very high quality. However it is not enchanted.
Full-body armor made out primarily of leather but with some large metal parts included as well.
Food and water for one or two days without resupply.
She is a sturdy and strong woman from years of hard labor and gardening. Curvaceous and freckled. Her hair is a wild mess of frizzy curls that defy any attempt to pin it up so she lets it hang down her back or might bind it at the back of her head. She wears simple clothes, light, and easy to remove. She is also very small, standing at about 5'0". Wears her metal glass pendant at all times.
Bio:
She was born a simple garbage rat on the streets. She picked pockets and stole bread in order to survive. Millie lived with the other children and did not have a name at the time. Mostly got called Girl. Davin took her in and trained her in the finer points of being a barmaid. As she grew older she excelled at it, taking no sass but knowing when to be flirty and smiley. She was simply called Davin's Girl up until her 12th year when she decided on her own name.
She also began to grow into her gifts and was then taken in as an apprentice to the local healer. She learned the secrets of herbalism as well as the magic of a Touch Healer. Around 19 was when the healer kicked her out to make her own way and so she has traveled the whole of the world, plying her trade and gathering information from other healers in the other territories.
While visiting the Nation of Sight she was called to heal a very sick child. She spent three grueling days in the Healing Tent. It left her fatigued but the child was safe. The Aristo who was her father gave her a Familiar. Three days of his own life had gone into the pendant. It was a fair trade for three of her own. The familiar it called was a large, white tiger named Kitty. He was meant to help keep this traveling soul safe. In her travels, she also obtained a garbage rat who she calls Girl Child. Where she is from and what she can do is unknown. Mostly she helps in the Healing Tent and providing Millie with hard labor.
Personality:
She is a strong, independent woman who takes no sass. No nonsense and always to the point. Her words may be blunt, direct, and harsh but she also has a motherly side to her. She takes care of anyone and everyone who would come to her. She might cut them with her tongue but her gentle, calloused hands soothe.
Quirks:
If annoyed she may smack the back of your head... or sic Kitty on you. Has a penchant for keeping things clean and tidy. Loves hugs but will rip your face off if you pat her on the head. She claims to belong to no nation.
Skills/Magic:
As a healer, she has a great knowledge of plants and how to turn them into potions, poultices, and salves. She is also skilled at creating her own bandages and clothing. She can stitch up a wound as was done in the old ways as well.
As a Touch Healer (Unregulated), she can use heat to completely seal a wound. Or force her hands into a body to heal what is broken inside. The more damage the more heat it needs. Hence the Healing Tent. It is a stick structure that is round and covered in leathers and furs. Inside a pit is dug to hold rocks heated over a flame outside. Water is poured onto the rocks to create steam and it is from this the healer draws power for greater healings. Herbs are also burned inside of the tent. This healing can leave the healer incapacitated for up to a week, depending on how strenuous the healing is.
Weaknesses:
She is a major grump without her coffee in the mornings. Will heal anyone, even a proven enemy. Children and youngsters appeal to her heart. And she is a romantic beneath her thick, rough exterior. Kind words, compliments, and flirting can knock her off-kilter.
Equipment/Items:
She carries her Healer's Tent lashed to her Gypsy Wagon. Inside is her home which she shares with a large cat and child. Cooking pots, food storage, bedding, the works. She also owns two draft horses which pull the wagon.
Either cannot or will not speak. Is about 8-9 years old.
A scar runs through Ferris’ left eye, which is a pale white that contrasts with his brown right eye.
Background:
Born in the once-stringent Nation of Smell, Ferris showed signs of being a regulated magic user from a young age, but under his father’s encouragement Ferris avoided magic use for much of his childhood. His father, Hagan Talese, was an unregulated magic user himself, and her served as a trusted advisor to one of the nation’s new Mistress of Merchants. When the secret of Ferris’ magic first came out, the Mistress did not sentence Ferris to exile for fear that his father would follow. Instead, by suggestion of her other advisors, she sent assassins after them in order to silence the man who at this point had become more of a liability than a friend. Though Ferris’ father died, having placed too much trust into his friendship with the Mistress, he died defending his son, buying Ferris the time he needed to escape.
After his flight from The Nation of Smell, Ferris found himself a wanderer, and he was eventually adopted by a group of bounty hunters who found his abilities lucrative. As individuals willing to sacrifice their lives for a pretty penny, the hunters had no such reservations about regulated magic users, some of them even wielding it themselves. With them, Ferris learned to wield his magic and control the progression of his mental decay, fine-tuning his skill set for hunting down other magic users. Coming to The Nation of Sight was just another stepping stone since any nation, weakened or not, would make for good support when he plans to overthrow the Mistress of Merchants that ordered his father’s death.
Personality:
Ferris is out for himself and himself alone, at this point. He has little care or loyalty to anything not deemed useful to his future goals, an attitude mainly facilitated by his impending mortality. That said, he does his best to uphold promises and do what is ‘right,’ and though he is not above breaking the rules, Ferris does try to follow a loose moral code. As such, he’s slow to open and trust, intrinsically wary of others, believing people to be selfish on principle and therefore unreliable.
The effects of Ferris’ magic usage, though relatively minor at this stage, are visible most when he is stressed. Under duress, Ferris has a tendency to be unreasonably stubborn and wary, sometimes convincing himself of things without much evidence to back it. When he calms down, he is generally able to sort these thoughts out, but he sees it as a necessary sacrifice given his circumstances.
Quirks:
Despite being an adept of smell, Ferris’ sense of taste is virtually nonexistent. Other than being able to tell spoiled food apart, Ferris is relatively uninterested by food in general, seeing it as a means to survive only. On the other hand, while he is perceptive of scents, he lacks general appreciation for them, perhaps as a result of working with so many so often. He generally keeps his nose covered as a means to keep his nose fresh for when he needs to tap into his talents, seeing scent as a way to keep track of people and thus disliking perfumes and similarly ‘false’ scents. Atop Ferris’ head is a hat, frayed at the edges after so much wear and tear. This is mostly a stylistic choice, though he’d be hard-pressed to admit that.
Skills:
Broad Weaponsmaster || As a bounty hunter, anything could be a weapon as long as it fell in open hands, so Ferris is broadly versed in wielding blades, bows, and anything else he’s been able to scavenge or loot. It should be noted, though, that this does not mean he is proficient in all weapons, just that he’s likely had experience using them.
Bladesmaster || Of the weapons Ferris has used, he largely prefers bladed ones, large and small, because they’re easy to replace and work best when combined with his magical enhancements. Broadswords and daggers alike can often be found on his person, provided they don’t break or dull.
Hand-to-hand Combatant || Given Ferris’ magic arsenal, his natural, most basic talent is hand-to-hand combat, enhancing himself as he fights. Many a scuffle end with Ferris’ hand or foot instead of blade, and Ferris isn’t above utilizing dirty tactics when the need arises.
Tracker || As a bounty hunter, Ferris has honed his ability to find and follow trails. Perceptive of details may offer a clue as to where his target went, Ferris’ list of completed bounties is testament to his ability.
Adept of Smell || Ferris’ adept skill manifests as the ability to detect scent from lingering magic. Each type of magic has a different smell:
Touch: musky, almost pine-like
Taste: floral
Hearing: minty
Sight: pungent, sour, like vinegar
Smell: acrid, burnt, smokey
The strength of the magic used and time since used affects the scent’s strength, which can range from muted to sharp, then to putrid or unbearable as the strength increases and time since decreases. This ability is also what earned Ferris his nickname since he quite literally sniffs out his bounties, thus making him a hunter specialized for magic-wielders—a dogged “Hound” able to sniff out invisible trails.
Magic — Odos Augaision:
Ferris wields the regulated magic of Odos Augaision, which uses scents to activate different enhancements to a target of Ferris’ choosing, if not himself. These activators are kept on his belt under his cloak, bottled in metal flasks. Before a battle, Ferris dabs a bit of each scent onto the inside of his mask, ensuring that he has enough scent to carry him through the conflict. By focusing on specific scents, he is able to tap into the aspects of his power without having to rely on his vials in the midst of the fight. Generally speaking, though, Ferris prefers to do this with a maximum of three scents at a time since any more makes picking out specific scents take more time. The scents and their corresponding enhancements are as follows:
Chemical || (vinegar, alcohol, rubber) enhance automatic reflexes
Doesn’t activate with skunk spray
Offensive || (sickening, putrid): enhance healing
Doesn’t affect illnesses
By combining different scents, Ferris is able to achieve better results. For example, enhancing both speed and mental processing can lead to enhanced agility, and enhancing both physical strength and healing can lead to better recovery rate around muscle tissue.
Weaknesses:
As someone who largely specializes in close-combat, Ferris’ only counter to ranged attacks until he is able to close the distance is to dodge, meaning that if he is unable to or unaware of such a threat he would be an open target. As for countering his magic, though his fuel source is, in a way, “unlimited,” Ferris’ abilities themselves are limited. His abilities offer a burst, almost instantaneous advantage, but when fighting other magic-users Ferris is generally left to rush his opponents down or be regulated to a supportive role. Thus, Ferris relies on surprising and overwhelming his opponents since he is unwilling to—and in a way unable to—play the long game.
Equipment:
A multitude of metal flasks line Ferris’ belt, many repeat scents to ensure that he won’t run out before he is able to restock. He also carries one or two blades depending on how well-equipped he is at the moment as well as multiple daggers scattered on various edges of his garb as to always have a blade to fall back on. Wrapped around the lower half of his face is a dense, lightweight cambric scarf that Ferris uses both to keep out and keep in odors depending on the occasion. It serves as mediocre protection against common scents and is fairly permeable to allow for decent breathing. He also carries some pieces of magical deterrents, including skunk spray as a last resort against a like-skilled enemy. However, because of the expensive or rare nature of some of the deterrents, Ferris only purchases them when he intends on using them, leaving him only reliably equipped with an untuning fork, numbing ivy oil, and skunk spray.
Minus the neck ribbon and blood under her eyes. Her irises are dark brown instead of yellow
Bio:
Tayla never knew her mother. The woman died giving birth, leaving Tayla with a father who resented her. Her father, a simple carpenter, drowned his sorrows in alcohol. His resent gradually turning abusive.
The abuse started with neglect, then turned verbal before ultimately becoming physical. Before long, the neighbors started taking notice of Tayla's ever growing bruises, her bleeding lips and her increasingly skittish nature. They began to talk behind her father's back, and that only made things worst.
Her father blamed Tayla for his worsening reputation. At age 14, he began locking her in their house. Shackling her ankle to an anchor point on the wall. There she remained for a year. Unable to run from her father's rage. Unable to fight against his overwhelming strength. Her lucky break came only by chance. On a night where her father left her beaten and bloodied. On the floor she lay. Cradling ankle that swelled tightly against the shackle that held her, Tayla trembled alone in the darkness. The salty taste of blood thick in her mouth.
She carefully tried to adjust the shackle's tight grip on her ankle. Oblivious to the magic potential the taste of blood upon her tongue held. She focused fruitlessly on adjusting the chain, when suddenly the metal shackle softened and crumbled like charcoal beneath her grip.
Tayla sat there stunned. Unable to comprehend what had happen. A single thought ran through her head. 'Run'. Tayla hobbled her way out of her prison. Robbing her passed out father of coin. She ran from the town with a limp, at the dead of night. Stopping only after passing out from exhaustion. When she awoke, she found herself among a traveling caravan, that had found her passed out in the middle of the road.
In the days that followed, the caravan cared for her and tended to her wounds. They many questions about Tayla such as: What was her name? How old was she? Where she come from? Where were her parents? Where did she get those bruises? She fielded the questions with care. Habit drilled into her by fear when the neighbors questioned her about her father.
"I don't know." She would say. "I can't remember." She would answer.
Taking offense Tayla's unfriendly nature, the caravan quickly lost interest in the child. After caring for her wounds, they arrived at the capital of the Nation of Touch. There, they sent her on her way. Though not before charging her for the food and supplies they wasted upon her. And with that, Tayla found herself penniless in a foreign city. Her only belongings being the clothes upon her back.
Tayla spent the next several years as a street-rat, begging for scraps in the streets. It was during this time that Tayla began to grow wise of her magical abilities. She learned that the taste of her blood could harden and soften a material at will. Though she remained ignorant as to why or how it work.
It wasn't long before Tayla began using this ability to break holes in various containers and steal the food or valuables from within. She began to grow bold. Stealing from increasingly dangerous targets. This is what led Tayla to Sightless Syella.
At the time Syella had yet to become Sightless. She spent much her time looking for new recruits among the street-rats of the land's many cities. On a hot summer day, Syella caught Tayla stealing from her. Recognizing Tayla's talent for what it was. Syella spent the following days befriending Tayla and gaining her trust.
Frome there. Tayla joined the Cult. There she learned more about her abilities, and rose up in the ranks. And the rest, as they say, is history.
Personality:
Tayla doesn't trust easily, especially when it comes to men. She has a temper built up from history of issues she has left ignored. She fears getting to close to anyone and has a habit of pushing them away before they can hurt her. When confronted with her problems, she gets defensive out of fear of facing her weaknesses head on.
Quirks:
Being the daughter of a carpenter, Tayla has picked up a few tricks of the trade. She will often whittle away a piece of wood when when needing something to do with her hands.
Skills/Magic:
Gustum Hydraision (Taste Magic)
Weaknesses:
Tayla has a temper that can often become a hindrance. This temper will often lead to rash actions on her part.
Equipment/Items:
Tayla wields a duel swords that are custom made so that the blade is melded with the handle on the hilt. This way she can use her magic to warp the sword without touching the actual blade.
In addition to the swords, she wears a belt holding bags of seasoned cotton tufts, which she pops in her mouth to trigger the various effects of her magic. She also carries a bag of coins which she uses as projectiles when fighting with her magic.
