Name:
Tania Dearcadh

Appearance:
Not even a foot tall, and weighing in at just six pounds, Tania is a fairly typical example of her kind. Small and overall physically unimpressive, while boasting extremely powerful magical aptitude. The small fey creature has beautiful porcelain colored skin, flawlessly made and free of any natural blemishes. Her blue eyes sparkle with an impish mischievousness, and her mouth often is turned up in a suggestively playful smirk or grin. Her white hair is typically kept short, and tied neatly into a pony tail with her elfin ears easily noticeable. Beautiful blue butterfly like wings extend from her back, usually fluttering idly in boredom.

As for clothing, Tania is a lover of luxury and fine silks. Her typical wear consists of a simple and elegant sleeveless black dress with a low cut in the back to make room for her wings. Fine silk gloves are worn on her hands, decorated with frills and lace, with her heels and stockings following a similar style.

When grown to a larger size, she stands at a simple five foot three, and maintains her proportions and other traits.

Age:
112

Race:
Aetheri

Personality:
A hedonistic, selfish little imp who likes harassing elves in all the worst ways.

Tania at her core is a selfish, crass little thing that has a tendency to shove her foot in her mouth. Born from a noble lineage, she has that stereotypical nobility attitude that yes, she is indeed, better than all of you and she wants you to know it. Proud, mildly vain, and more than a little arrogant she's difficult for a lot of people to put up with. Not to mention her seeming constant need to make fun of people. As one might expect, this often ends up with her not having much of a social life. Or friends. Or people willingly associating with her. Not that she minds. Loneliness isn't something she feels.

Better to be alone, than with people who don't accept her.

A bit of a jokester and prankster, Tania goes out of her way to get a laugh at the expense of others with benign pranks. Doodling on someones face with ink, swapping someones expensive ring with a fake one. Putting alcohol in someones non-alcoholic beverage. Those sort of harmless impish pranks that she thinks are pure genius. She has a tendency to latch on quite quickly to anyone who puts up with both her attitude and pranks.

On the more positive side, the Fairy is a bundle of positivity and encouragement. A lover of life and pretty much everyone around her, Tania is quick to befriend and grow to like people. Especially if they're the sad or depressive sort - those really irritate her. You're alive, so live goddamn it! She dislikes morose or melancholic people, and will often do what she thinks is best to cheer them up. Her methods can be a little...harsh, but she likes to think they're the most effective.

Often times likes telling stories, embellished with her illusion magic.

History:
Born 112 years ago to Aetheri nobles Mab and Finvarra Dearcadh, in a hidden Aetheri city in Crimmole, Tania was their first child of three, Tania has had a rather difficult life due to the circumstances surrounding her birth and the abilities she has natural attunement for. Illusions. The art of mischief and deception, rather than the natural elements the Aetheri are known for. A trait that was evident very early in her life, and quickly earned her a place on the fringes of Aetheri society.

Most of her early life consisted of being alone, her parents more or less content to ignore her and let her do as she pleased, as long as she didn't get into too much trouble. The only hard rule, was that she wasn't allowed to practice her illusions. It was seen as unnatural, or at least unpleasant and not something to be done in good company. Being a child of course, she didn't entirely understand, but she complied with her parents wishes for some time. But with such a long leash and the only involvement her parents having in her life being the occasional fancy dinner, eventually something was bound to happen.

The first occasion was when she was playing with other kids, and she accidentally created the image of fire on one of them after one of them made a snide comment about her affinity. She was harshly reprimanded for such an act, and confined to her room for a week. The second was when she knowingly and willfully used her illusions to cause the illusion of a small puppet of her father to mock him after getting in trouble. That went well. Several smaller incidents occurred, and most were accidents. Slips of the tongue, control, what have you.

Bored one night, the Aetheri sneaked out of her room to cause some small mischief. Take a few cookies from the cookie jar, so to speak. She hadn't intended to do anything more, but something caught her interest. The sound of singing, music, laughing and...dancing? Coming from right outside her house, no less! Tania was immediately enthralled, the enchanting sounds causing her to forget what she even left her home for in the first place.

A festival! That's what this was! There was singing, dancing, and all sorts of things going on! A friendly looking fey was even telling stories! She was completely enthralled by the atmosphere. The setting, the scenes. All of it. Compared to the seeming stuffiness of her home, the festival was amazing! She spent hours there that night, among the other commoner Aetheri. Listening to stories - oh and the singing! This is definitely where she developed a love of singing and the arts. She wanted to help him tell his stories, too! She tried using her illusions to try and bring his tales to more life! But it wasn't something they seemed to like, either. Dejected, Tania returned home to angry parents, and her little acts of mischief began growing worse and worse, and her parents had no idea how to deal with any of it.

After a particularly heated argument when she was seventeen, Tania left her home, heading into the thick forest surrounding the hidden city for some peace and quiet. It was there, she met an Elf. A rather funny, clumsy High Elf who seemed to favor a large claymore and heavier armor over her kinds traditional magic and agility. The perfect target for some mischief. Except, when she performed the mischief, the Elf simply laughed, seemingly both amused with both her and her illusions.

Tania didn't know how to respond. No one had ever told her anything positive before. Needless to say, the two hit it off and became fast friends. The two often met up in the forest, over the course of the next decade or so. Happiest ten years of Tania's life, if she had to say. The first actual friendship she had, and they two have more or less been together ever since. The elf was apparently from a commoner family, and he had no talent in magic and was too much of a klutz to have anything dealing with her races supposed natural agility - so hehad decided to do what she could. And that was learn the use of sword and armor.

When the elf said they were leaving to join a group of mercenaries as a soldier, Tania came with her. Didn't tell her parents or whoever where she was even going. Just upped and left. She had no attachments to that place anyways. Her brothers and sisters, despite how well she got along with them didn't need her for anything. The others in her family certainly didn't.

When they both decided the merc life, wasn't for them, they decided to study in Altamea. They separated here, for some time. The elf quickly realized no amount of magic study could help, but Tania was fascinated all the same and quickly took to studies. After she graduated, the two met back up and became simple travelers. Albeit, well equipped travels and one of them with a very strong sense of justice.

This naive sense of justice, would eventually separate them.

Stupid argument over something stupid. Involving some demons, undead, and a cult. The elf couldn't overlook them, even if she wasn't a paladin or some divine warrior. Tania told her it was stupid, that they'd get hurt. They should actually go get help from people that should actually handle this sort of thing, but the elf refused. Unable to leave her alone, Tania went with them to try and help as best she could, but to what end? Tania doesn't know.

There was a fight. She remembers that much, she got slammed with a spell, protecting that elf. The spell nearly killed her, collapsing a part of the cave. What happened to the elf and the rest of the cult? She doesn't know, but she has the feeling it turned out alright in the end. That stupid, naive, adorable elf would be too stubborn to let something like that kill her.

In the end, she's spent the last five years looking for her. Perhaps she'll find her among the sanctuary while she takes a break from life...

For now she'll take it easy. Maybe cause some mischief. Relax a bit and not take life too seriously.

Magic:
Manipulation:
Alteration & Illusion

An odd quirk, perhaps due to some rare lineage, Tania doesn't have the typical Aetheri Affinity for elemental magics. Rather she has been blessed with a potent affinity for Illusions, and some minor skills with Alteration. This has caused her no end of trouble in her life, as among the Aetheri this is considered both a rare, and unwelcome trait. Even so, coupled with the Aetheri's natural talent for magic she has set about refining her skill to impressive lengths.

Illusion: Master
As far as her abilities for illusion based magics go, she typically uses it as a visual trick. Hiding the fact she's an Aetheri for one, and tricking people into thinking she's a kid so she can get free stuff or otherwise get away with some small mischief. Other applications include messing with ones sense of direction, causing sensory effects and other similar effects.



Alteration: Novice
Recently having found she is able to channel Alteration Magics, Tania is eager to try and explore this path, though she's made little progress. You can be certain she'll use it for mischief.

Skills:
Aetheri Fencing
While it is unarguable that the Aetheri are a physically weak race, it should be no surprise that some of them at least, have taken interest in martial abilities. While not useful against the likes of larger races, learning how to use their weak frames and smaller statures to their advantage in close quarters is the basics of Aetheri Fencing. Tania has been practicing since she could flutter her wings, and knows how to easily deflect, redirect, and otherwise protect herself from blows with her rapier when fighting on even terms as a human.

Aetheri Songstress
Being royalty, she was trained in many forms of higher arts - her favorite, is that of song. Possessing both an enchanting voice, and the ability for illusions she was quite popular in certain Aetheri circles before she left. Doesn't mind putting on a show every now and then, either.

Deception
The key to any good illusionist. Deception. Being able to lie and get away with it, something Tania thinks she does quite well. While it can be called into question sometimes, there's no mistaking she can tell a good story.

Education
Tania loves magic. Plain and simple. She spent some years in Altamea studying, and is a graduate student of 𝙻𝚞𝚜𝚘 𝙿𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚎. While there she went to great lengths to both understand many aspects of magic, be it theory, practice, or anything else. Knows how to read, write, and speak several different languages.

Musician
Tania is able to play a variety of instruments with some skill, from drums, string instruments, to flutes.

Extra:
N/A

NAME:
Rynia Veranieth Ly’staris

RACE:
Vampire

AGE:
Nearly two hundred years, with the apparent age of one in their early-thirties.

BIRTHPLACE:
City of Amaranthine | Dremorian Empire

RELIGION:

APPEARANCE:
At just over six feet of a petite, yet lean build, Ryn’s stature is relatively short in comparison to the average female of her species. Still, her presence is generally never missed, even when she would rather remain invisible, especially due to the massive scars across most of the right side of her face. Marks to remind her of just how cruel and savage the world was. Or perhaps, still is. The wound also caused a severe vision impairment in her right eye, the pigment inherent to her race faded to a colorless and milky wash allowing only muted colors and hazy, blurred lights and images to enter.

Her midnight hair, once long, elegant, and reaching past her waist, was now short and scruffy. Out of sheer willingness to rid herself of a lineage she could not conform to, Ryn cut most of it off.

A tattoo of a runic symbol branded into the underside of her forearm showed that she is, and will forever, belong to House Ly’staris.

Wearing charcoal grays and blacks mostly, Rynia dresses modest enough not to attract the wrong kind of attention, showing very little skin, save perhaps her head and hands. Even so, the scar along the right side of her face is a point of contention and she tends to keep it covered if possible to thwart any awkward questions or unwarranted stares.

Her leather armor, which is indicative of the influential gothic-style architecture from its origins within the Dremorian Empire, is form fitted, flexible, quiet, and elegant in its design.

PERSONALITY:
At first meet, Rynia tends to come off as brash, with little regard for those around her, using sarcasm to hide emotional baggage from past lives. But, once the hard shell of insecurity is breached, she can be more bearable to have around, perhaps even confiding in another. Although she very rarely talks about herself, if mention of her past ever came up, she would quickly snuff out the topic. Of course, if the person in question persisted, then it would be seen as outright disrespect and a challenge to her virtue and character, especially if coming from another of her kind.

SKILLS, STRENGTHS & TALENTS:
A duelist by nature, Rynia has gained substantial skill and knowledge of swordplay, specifically with the rapier-style of weapon and an off-hand parrying dagger. She specializes in calculated defensive techniques, in order to wear down her opponent and leave them open for a winning strike. She could be considered above average, with much room to grow with the right instructor...

Unarmed combat, while skilled, is very much second rate comparatively, and is focused more so on defensive and disarming opponents.

Hunting and tracking were staple disciplines within her family, and she is considered above average in these skill sets, as well as building and maintaining traps for particular targets.

WEAKNESSES & DRAWBACKS:
Racial Weakness - Craving human blood, but through the right mental exercises she can overcome the urges.

Impaired Vision - Her right eye was badly damaged in a duel, resulting in very poor peripheral vision from that side, and some level of difficulty gauging distance overall.

Guilt - Regardless of who was to blame for the incident that resulted in her being exiled from Amaranthine, Ryn still feels as though she failed her family, knowing that they may experience hard times because of her actions.

Trust Issues - being betrayed by a true friend cut her deeper than any blade ever did, making it tougher to get close to others.

MAGIC:
▷ Foresight (Psychic) - Can see an event happening seconds before. Only passively active within a few meters of her location. It’s most practical application is during combat, which allows her to counter an attack much quicker than normal, even those flanking.

▷ Mind Maze (Psychic) - The ability to disorient as well as distract another’s mind who lacks the willpower to resist. The effect lasts only a short time and varies depending on the species, humans typically being the easiest to manipulate.

▷ Shadowmeld (Illusion) - Allows her to virtually disappear into a shadow. The darker the shadow, the more successful the deception.

WEAPONS:
Rapier, secured in a leather belt sheath, and two daggers, crossed and secured in the rear of her belt. One of the daggers is used for parrying if needed.

PERSONAL ITEMS:
Rynia isn’t much for attachments or sentimental items, save for the Grimoire that her father had given to her before she left her homeland. All she really knows of the leather-bound arcane book, is that it once belonged to her mother (one of Jaroh’s many wives) who was proficient in spell casting, and that a note written on the page entitled “Shadowmeld” recommends that she seek out a proper teacher of that particular discipline as it is one of the most difficult spells to learn without guidance.

HISTORY

The youngest of sixteen brothers and sisters, Rynia Ly’staris was anything but the child that could one day become heir to the House of “Stone and Black Ice”, albeit a lesser status house within the city of Amaranthine. Birthed by one of Jaroh Ly’staris’ numerous wives, it had been several years since a successful conception had taken place, with previous attempts resulting in miscarriages, much to the dismay of those women who had to carry the guilt with them for the rest of their lives. Of course, none would ever assume it could possibly be Jaroh himself who was to blame, but even so, there were those women who the melancholy hit hard enough that they simply took their own lives, as though begging for atonement for the death of their husband's unborn child. But soon enough, a light reignited within the family as the first successful birth took place in countless years, bringing with it renewed vigor and hope, and the blessings of Lord-governor Encel Armenis, which increased his view of the Ly’staris lineage and it’s Patriarch. However, while the miraculous birth of their newest addition was a blessing, the favouritism being shown to her by Jaroh could not be ignore by many of his children who had spent most of their young lives vying for the attention -and frankly, the adoration- of their father only to feel more like sheep milling aimlessly about than his flesh and blood. Regardless of the justifications for his actions, discord was slowly being sown amongst at least half of his offspring, while the other half either defended their father’s actions or stayed out of it completely, caring little for the petty squabbling over an infant girl.

Time passed and much of the sibling rivalry and general uneasiness from years prior had simmered down. The eldest children, once coming of age, began taking on more responsibilities throughout the Empire, while others were given permission to leave their home and join merchants or travelers, thereby forging their own path in life. By this time, Rynia was being inundated with the best education available to her -which in the case of House Ly’staris, wasn’t as much as it could be- in both academics as well as combat, and was given little time to dwell on adventures beyond Amaranthine, let alone the tall, thick walls of her home. Granted, she enjoyed the freedom given to roam the city, however going beyond its borders meant being escorted by the city guards, whom she daily tried to evade only to be dragged right back behind the gates. For whatever reasons her father had for his overprotective mannerisms, it made life within House Ly’staris that much more difficult. No matter how the Lord of the manor saw it, his youngest daughter was still a little girl who simply wanted to play and was in no hurry to grow up.

Academics were not taken lightly, as each of the children were not only taught the vast history of their great vampiric race, but of other races, species, and geographic locations to the best of the Dremorian scholars knowledge. So much of Alskyra was still unknown, which made it an even more dangerous yet intriguing place. Without ever really admitting it though, Rynia enjoyed her studies even though she would much rather be out exploring the places learned about from the ancient textbooks and scrolls.

As per tradition and culture within her family and Dremorian society in general, combat was just a way of life, whether for sport, education, or defending against those who would tear apart the fabric of society. It was simply in the blood. Not to say they were a violent people, but rather recognized that physical fortitude and mental resolve in its raw form ruled over most other virtues. As soon as she could grasp a sword in her tiny hands, Rynia’s arduous training began, which took her down a new path of thinking, applying her academics with both ranged, melee, unarmed combat, and practical uses of magic. Eventually, she leaned toward the lighter, faster rapiers, using her supernatural reflexes and innate magical abilities to defend and counter each attack with almost perfect precision. Going along with tradition, Rynia competed in dueling tournaments, which pitted each House against the other for profit, respect, and honor. The abilities unlocked over her time of training were a rush of euphoria, and something she used to replace the ever nagging urge of the bloodlust...

Nothing could be more of a struggle than the insatiable blood-thirsty beast living within each of the vampire species. And for a child still learning to deal with the day-to-day pressures of pre-adolescence, Rynia also had to learn to curb the lust for the one thing that could potentially destroy her. A step too far in the wrong direction would mean madness and the downward spiral into something worse, but the necessary precautions were there, passed down through generations of those who walked the line between beast and civilized behavior. If anything, to resist something as deadly as the lifeblood of another was, in essence, a character builder. It allowed her the necessary tools to defeat just about any temptation as time went on, including those that would one day tear her away from all that she knew, and the family she loved.

Late adolescence came quickly as the years cruised by, especially while the girl busied herself in the daily workings of life and assisting those siblings who had the privilege of working within the upper echelons of society in whatever was needed. Friends and colleagues of various races throughout Amaranthine came and went, mostly those fledglings of other Houses she had grown up with, spending much of her childhood freetime -what little there was- with them at play or events hosted by various leaders in the community. Bonds were well established, although more so with the young males, due to her interests in combat and hunting, which seemed dominated by them. Either way, Rynia enjoyed the company, the break from her endless duties, and the monotony that seemed to follow. What the girl hadn't expected, however, was a quick shift from friend...to foe, where years of cultivating what she saw as real was only a mere facade, and the means to an end that would unsettle the balance she so desperately sought to uphold.

J’ekobi was his name, a generally high-spirited lad, third from the youngest of House Morishar, and one of Rynia’s closest friends for much of her childhood, even against the wishes of their families. The petty disputes over title and prestige mattered little to them, as they vowed to never allow such things to tear their friendship apart.

But all things come to an end.

One evening he had invited her over for dinner atop the highest tower within House Morishar, a gesture that was not unusual within their otherwise platonic relationship, however things turned rather awkward for the young girl as J’ekobi proposed to the one who he admittedly loved in secret for so many years. As touched by his words as she may have been, Rynia simply did not share the same feelings and rejected his offer with as much grace and respect as she could for her good friend. However, it had become abundantly clear that the young man would not settle for anything less than what he felt he deserved and spat back with insults and demands. An argument erupted between the two, and in an attempt to head for the stairwell leading out of the tower, the girl was grabbed from behind and pulled back into the large room, tripping over her attackers foot and onto the stone floor.

“What the hell, J’ekobi?” She screamed in their native tongue, her mind split between anger and terror as she was unable to comprehend the events that unfolded quickly. “This isn’t you!”

But apparently it was. A creature so blinded by lust, and fueled by hate propaganda that had been pushed on him for years by his own House. The voice of his father bearing down on him in the back of his mind, considering him the weaker of his children by associating with a “lesser being”. He hated his poisonous words, yet the boy thought it wise to restore things by marrying Jaroh’s youngest daughter, thereby bringing some semblance of peace between House Morishar and House Ly’staris, but her rejection and his own wounded pride didn’t allow much recourse. J’ekobi’s heated anger bested his better judgement, and the beast erupted as he overpowered Rynia after several moments of a struggle, pinning her up against an adjacent wall, and threatening to sink his razor-sharp fangs into her pale neck. For the first time in his presence, she had felt a rush of fear and helplessness wash over her mind, rattling her nerves to the point of paralysis. She wanted to fight, but could not, as apprehension and confusion gripped tightly, while her attacker slowly tore the long black dress -picked specifically for the dinner party turned nightmare- with every intention of violating the “virgin princess", as he mockingly called her. She didn’t know him anymore, the one she loved as a brother and dear friend disappeared before her very eyes, replaced only by a husk full of hate and resentment.

But it all ended rather abruptly as the tapered point of a seven inch steel hairpin entered through his ear, penetrating the skull, and piercing the fleshy brain matter. J’ekobi’s body went rigid, his eyes looking on in horror at the young girl as quick flashes of memory came and went. Images of a childhood friend who had always been there for him in his time of need. One who he could confide in, laugh with, play pranks amongst the House nobles, and simply enjoy being together. A girl, he loved, cared for, and ultimately betrayed.

“Forgive mm-...” He breathed, as his body crumpled onto the floor like a ragdoll before uttering another syllable, his blood covering Rynia’s hands, clothes, and face as she stood against the cold wall in tears.

A Day of Reckoning.

Both Houses were enraged with the events that transpired; Morishar bringing the hammer of justice down hard, calling for the girl’s immediate public execution and her vampiric lineage to be shamed, whereas Ly’staris fired back with their own arguments against House Morishar's “rapist” offspring and his deserving of death for attempting to violate their daughter. In either case, any further action was postponed and Rynia was held in the bowels of the city dungeon while deliberations were in order, prohibited to see any family member. A decision, however, was eventually made to settle the matter in a most traditional and honorable fashion: a duel to the death. Rynia, the accused murderer of Ulric Morishar’s son pitted against his champion, a master swordsman and acclaimed hunter, who also happened to be the brother of J’ekobi…

The fight itself took place at just after midnight in the courtyard, which settled in the heart of the city, surrounded by countless torches lining the perimeter and spectators of various races and Houses. Blood would be paid in blood, and for many, this was an event worth attending. Both duelists stood at their respective sides, prepared to meet their fate head on. Ulric’s avenging son Hanstadh, brandished his finest blade and burgundy-stain leather armor. Rynia carried her prized rapier and wore the very armor her father had specially made on her sixteenth birthday, which at that time was well over one hundred and fifty years ago. Regardless, form-fitting and light, the black leather and hide pieces fit together perfectly as they did the day it was received, covering her from neck to toe in sleek elegance and protection.

The Morishar and Ly’staris patriarchs both stood on opposite sides of the courtyard, eying each other with contempt as they prepared to watch their own children fight it out until one was left standing.

To say it happened quickly would be an understatement as both charged to the center, exchanging attacks, parries, dodges, and everything in between. Hanstadh, the taller and stronger of the two, relished in pummeling down onto the younger girl whom he despised, hissing profanities toward her with every thrust and swing of his saber. After some time elapsed, Rynia began to recognize many of the fighting styles employed by her opponent. It was the very technique used by his brother J’ekobi, and one she was quite familiar with, which helped her keep pace and sustained counter-attacks. It was only when the unexpected (or perhaps it should have been expected) happened that caught her off guard.

A silent poisoned dagger pulled from under Hanstadh’s metal bracer sliced across the girl's exposed face with one swift stroke, causing her to fall to the ground in agony as the alchemical agents burned the affected area across most of the right side. Using the distraction to his advantage, Hanstadh repeatedly kicked the other, first the ribs, then the head, again yelling curses and insults. Rynia wanted to die at that moment, for the torment and lies to end, and for the guilt and trauma of what started all the chaos in the first place. Her opponent, however,was in no mood for a quick fight, but rather to drag out her suffering as long as possible, allowing the physical beatings and public humiliation to destroy the girl's spirit before bringing the hammer down for the final deathstroke.

“You're pathetic, fledgling...” He hissed, kneeling down next to Rynia and pulling her head up by her hair as he whispered one final time. “You and my brother would have been great together, as he was just as big of a disappointment to House Morishar as you have been to this entire city. J’ekobi’s love for you was his weakness.”

How it happened, the girl never knew, nor could she tell you to this day, but in that moment she had mustered enough strength and resolve to wrap her fingers around her sword and thrust several inches of the blade up and under Hanstadh’s chin, ending the terrible creature’s rhetoric as blood gushed from the open vein and his body fell across hers. The moments that followed were utter silence, as even the crowds were unsure of what happened, and all went dark for the girl as both sight and sound faded.

A Reprieve.

The following day, Rynia awoke within the cell she had been in previously, her body achy and stiff, and her face partially bandaged and packed with healing herbs where the large gash was slowly scarring over. Time was not on her side, however, since an ultimatum had been given to Jaroh Ly’staris that after twenty-four hours has passed, his daughter was to be banished from not only the city of Amaranthine, but from all regions within the Dremorian Empire, blindfolded, transported miles from the border, and tossed out into the wilderness never to be allowed to return again.

And the final hour had fast approached.

Goodbyes were cut short by the guards, and a rucksack full of her personal effects were dumped into the awaiting carriage set for the long road ahead. Hands bound at the wrist by iron shackles, Rynia was escorted to the open wagon where she sat in the rear while the guard fastened her chain to a floor hook. All the family from House Ly’staris stood along the path leading out of the city, and many wept, while others looked on in utter confusion as to how all of this transpired in such a short amount of time, shaking their fist at the injustice. The carriage headed out along the path, and it was her father, Jaroh, that walked along with it carrying a leather bound grimoire which he tossed into the rear where his daughter sat, giving her one last smile.

“I’m proud of you Ryn, and don’t you ever forget that.” He said, holding onto the side of the wagon even as it’s pace picked up slightly. “This was your mother's.” He motioned to the thick book now sitting at her feet. “Before her passing, she wanted you to have it, and said you would know what ‘secrets’ it kept.” Jaroh shrugged. “You two always had a special bond that I’d never understand.”

The driver snapped the reigns and the carriage sped up causing Jaroh to release his grip from the side of the wagon as it passed through the tall dark gates. “Memento vivere!” He yelled, his voice echoing through the chill air as the wagon and its occupants turned the final corner and were gone from sight forever. Rynia turned her attention back to the towering gothic buildings of her home city, the only place she’d ever known, and yet she couldn’t help but smile through the tears that welled up in her eyes, wondering what fate truly had in store for her. And oddly enough, the moment following perhaps did steer her in the right direction, for when she sat down next to the leather bound book and opened it up, a folded piece of square parchment fell from it’s pages, written by a familiar friend of the family...

Rynia, m’love. I have gifted you freedom. First from the executioner's blade and then from a life that would do you no good. There is a place for you far beyond the chaos of these lands. It will take time, but if you stay your course, you will reach a place by which is simply named The Sanctuary. Follow the clues I have included within your precious Grimoire, and soon you will have a new home.

With love and adoration,

Catherine St.Claire

Name: Mirithal the Nidhogan

Appearance:
As it can change form, it does adopt a few consistent depending on what it faces. It also can make a smaller more approachable avatar, see the Manipulation Magic below.





Personality: A gentle giant. Wise as it is childish. Strong as it is fragile. Destructive as it is innocent. Approaching with hands open, the Nidhogan will claim you as a creature worthy of life and protection, tending to your needs for life. Attack with the fires of rage and fear, and it will be as if the very earth itself will rise to snuff out the embers. The Nidhogan is a creature of extremes, and it knows not of restraint, save for its infinite mercy and forgiveness for the ones who let their fury subside. Indeed, the Nidhoggan has no memory of such grudges, instead indulging in the love and joys of life itself. How it does so is potentially dangerous to those nearby.

The Nidhogan is completely alien to most other civilized species as it does not seem to have the same mannerisms, motivations, and cultural identity, more or less deciding things on a whim. It has habits of trying to understand and mimic other cultures but utterly fails to understand the subtleties. As a being of life, the concept of death and heavens and even the gods are difficult for him. Even when something stops moving, it just fades and becomes flowers and grass and trees

Additionally, the Nidhogan is unpredictable. It seems to react like a dog would. Against rage, anger, fear, it responds in kind. Against gentleness and compassion, it responds with affection. At times it seems distracted. Other times it seems to talk to itself before wandering off on some errand. It claims that it hears voices and knows the names of very prominent gods and demons but fails to grasp what they are exactly.




History: The creature was not born. It was made. Maybe it was a tree given life and sentience. Maybe it is alike an elemental. Maybe it is but a golem of wood. Who can say really other than Nidhogan itself.

What it believes happened was that something created it. Its faded, but it was something with hair and two legs. That's what it thinks. And when its creator finished with it, the creator seemed to not really know whether Nidhogan was what it wanted and so, it abandoned the Nidhogan, leaving it more or less to its own. At that time, it was more a beast. It grazed, it hunted, it chewed on trees, and it swam in lakes. It was an aimless monster, at many points running into the other civilized races and attacking them. It became a creature of myth. It chewed at the Roots of the Tree in Salern before being driven off. It tried to smash the machines of Arkon before they burned a forest to kill it, only to see it douse the flames with dirt and root. It fueled stories and became just another reason not to go in the woods at night.

One such event in its life, the Nidhogan approached a plume of smoke and stumbled upon a camp of soldiers. The siege camp of some crusade that had reaped the land of life in their petty war and fire. The nation and the peoples, unknown to the Nidhogan. These squishy races were to be feared, feared as they attacked the creature. Now, it watched, it watched as hundreds of souls smelled the red of hate and anger. The Nidhogan lost control, it roared, bellowed across the forest, its truest power unleashing as the forest itself followed it in a tide of wood and thorn. The army was slaughtered. The survivors spoke of the forest attacking, and the only rational explanation was that some sorcerer of their enemy made this happen. The war and crusade escalated elsewhere, but when the forest reclaimed the land on that bloody battlefield, the Nidhogan’s rage subsided.

During the battle, the Nidhogan braved walls of fire and fields of metal thorns. Its wood burned, its bark lashed with blade, yet it fought like the elements have come alive in fury. It fought with the forest behind it right into the heart of the army, right towards the sorcerer priest that had led this bloody campaign. Their battle was a clash of titans, and at some point, the Nidhogan had received a terrible wound by the priest's enchanted staff jabbed into its neck but ultimately the giant felled him, crushing the priest's unholy body under its bulk.

The Nidhogan changed that day. The staff lay still embedded in its form, its shaft woven impossibly among the creature’s girth. Through it, it heard whispers. Through it, the Nidhogan felt other colors. It had other thoughts. The Nidhogan as a dumb animal heard those whisper and learned things over the decades. It attempted to copy what it heard. It went to places, using might and magic to destroy or create at its whims, incidentally answering the prayers of one person or another.

Eventually the Nidhogan began to understand civilization and itself as a person, of sorts. But finding no home among others. It experienced loneliness but its power allowed it to grow and manipulate life. It experimented with this power. It made things of plants, with voices and minds all their own. With no concept of family, sometimes these early Veidish went on their own, other times they stayed together. There was no purpose to them nor was their great wisdom to guide them. The Nidhogan only made these beings cause he could and being not much more intelligent than the beings it created, despite its longer life and divine voices. It was the blind leading the blind. They were like a gaggle of children, creating, watching, playing, learning, together with no supervision. At last, the Nidhogan was no longer truly lonely.

Yet the voices continued, and so did the Nidhogan grow as it has always done. It desired what other creatures had. It desired a place among them, it desired great homes, be surrounded by ‘family’. It wanted to be hear the colors of green and yellow. It wanted to know what gods were, and magic, and love. But still, despite going to places in need of a miracle, the creature of brambles was met with only red and purple. Thankfully other Veidish, being smaller did not have the same trouble.

It suddenly had a great idea. The Veidish should make a city! A great place where they can grow and grow and grow. Then the other creatures will accept them. And then they'll make friends. And those friends will make friends. And everything will be good and happy and fun. The Nidhogan finally made an order and all the Veidish it could find all loved this idea. They needed somewhere safe though. Nidhogan still remembered the terrible red he saw when he crushed that army, and it didn’t like it. So they all agreed to search for a home.

They split up, traveling all corners of the world. Most Veidish in their innocence forgot what they were looking for, but Nidhogan, it just grew, getting smarter and egg’d on by the voices in its head. It didn’t forget its goal. Find a safe place to build a home.

Magic:
Elemental Wood: Master
To the Nidhogan, the Element of Wood, the Element of Life is its purview and domain. Reacting more as instinct than actual spell casting, Nidhogan can make nearly anything happen as it portains to plants. Trees will swing their branches, thorn bushes grow in a moments notice, before bursting in a shower of thorns. Fungus will grow to incredible sizes and shower the land in noxious and coughing spores. Roots entangle. Moss devours. Grass slices. Herbs tangle themselves as living bandages. The list goes on, and its more than welcome to teach the Element of Life to prospective students.

Elemental Earth: Novice
As the Earth is so tied to the life of plants, The Nidhogan has slowly learned some of the spells that effect the earth. This is very limited, cracking the ground, pushing it up, smoothing it out. It uses this more for landscaping than anything considered attacks or defenses, but it does have its utilitarian uses. Shaping stoneworks for one.

Manipulation: Limited
Not really magic, but more of a way of interaction. The Nidhogan can take on multiple forms. All of these forms are limited to something inherently plantlike, either looking to be made of leaves, vines, wood, flowers, or some combination of the plant matter. Invariably these forms are mimicry of something else the Nidhogan wishes to embody. Out of its body of wood, a blossom will emerge and step out. While the husk remains inert, the blossom will unfurl into the form the Nidhogan wishes to interact as. This form is further enhanced by a type of pollen or spores which have a slight hallucinogenic effect as well as pheramonal. It allows those afflicted to perceive the plant as something more approachable. For example, the forms below,


-will be more easily accepted as what it is trying to mimic, giving its form a more accepted quality, maybe even a semblance of beauty. Nidhogan uses this to interact with other creatures. It can only change when stepping back into its bulky husk.

Conjuration: Unique
While the Nidhogan has absolute control over plants, causing them to grow, bend, and act at its will, something rather extraordinary happens when the Nidhogan is grounded in a place long enough. Materials that it works on, a process described as both garden, cultivating, and pruning gain a semblance of sentience. The Nidhogan has been known to surround itself with creatures that are not quite Veidish and act more like elementals of wood and earth with their own goals, will, power, demeanor, and even intelligence. It is currently ever curious about what it can create, and has claimed that it has 'grown' or 'birthed' other Veidish in its life. With a below however it can summon these creatures, beasts, and other spirits of the forest to its service. It has only done so in times of war and great jubilation.

Skills:
Gardening, Cultivating, Wood Carving, Stonework, Medicine, Basket Weaving, Topiary, Farming, Cooking, Sewing
The Nidhogan seems a creature that hungers for the skills and talents that create. It has been asked to grow homes and build furniture with admirable gusto. It will sit itself down in sewing circles. It has constructed statues and seeded farmland. The creature is fascinated with what happens with life, love, and some other bits and bobs come together

In the hidden pockets of The Wasteland the cycle of life continues. Amidst the deserts nomadic beings of inky fur and marble eyes barter goods and baubles amongst one another, intertwining and stirring underneath the night sky, their dark bodies moving like shadows. The Anubis are a race of mysteries, and even to their own do they keep secrets. Travelling along the sands in exotic caravans clad in glimmering fabrics and jewelry, the few outsiders that have met them have likened them to the everchanging night sky.

Among the uncountable nomadic caravan societies lay a smaller one, a star among constellations. The Great Iqa's Caravan of the Heart, organized by a clan of magicians making a living through their various services devoted to the weaving of emotions. Carrying tarps the color of crushed violets and enchanted baubles engraved in the symbols of organs, they had managed a healthy stream of clients.

Ar'oa Aqalb was one of the youngest apprentices to enter the fold as a weaver and had the potential for greatness from the direct blood connection with the clan´s most powerful magicians. Unfortunately, his magic had never risen to what was expected of him. He had spent his life laboring twice as hard to achieve half of the results of his brothers and kin, and had become distraught at his inability to heal the minds of others.

Success had flowered for their clan with the discovery of several new artifacts that could heal an ever broader range of ailments, and for a time it seemed as if it their prosperity would continue. However, to live in The Wasteland is to know that nothing truly thrives in the desert. An attack from one of the many vicious creatures of the land had occurred quickly and without warning. A sand wyrm the size of an adult dragon had sprung and ravaged its surroundings in a mindless frenzy. In only minutes half of them had been wounded or dead, black silhouettes sprawled against the floor of a landscape that threatened to swallow them up forever if the vile creature didn´t consume them first. In the midst of the carnage, Ar'oa unfurled a howl of longing and misery at the full moon. One by one, the once mortally wounded victims of the attack began to stand and stare in horrified silence at the apprentice before them. Their bodies had become whole once more.

After the ordeal had snuffed out, his elders recognized him as a physical healer rather than a mental one, and introduced him to the trials that would be necessary to grow in his craft. Throughout these conflicts a horrible secret had been imparted to him. His clan had been cursed by a powerful ethereal long ago for having desecrated sacred land, and death would pursue them to the four corners of The Wasteland for as long as they continued to live. Attacks like the one that nearly tore his bloodline to shreds would surround them for eternity unless the curse was lifted.

He understood what his true role in the clan had been all along. Gathering the enchanted tools that he had amassed over the years, Ar´oa set out to rid their burdens once and for all.





Ar´oa Aqalb´s upringing has led him to become an empathetic individual. He is aware that everyone is a unique individual with their own burdens to carry, though this does not make him a pacifist. To survive in The Wasteland and its cruel deserts means to be just as vicious as the twisted fauna that inhabit it. Ar´oa, like most of the anubis, will avoid unnecessary conflict but will readily fight through any means necessary when pressed for combat.

He is quiet and soft spoken, treading lightly around conversations and being careful not to ever reveal too much. The anubis honor each other´s secrets, and Ar´oa respects what people choose to keep to themselves. His ability to read the emotions of others is lacking as well, further adding distance. Ar´oa is fascinated by the social recklessness and arrogance of the other races and is eager to participate in conversations with them, partly to observe emotions through a more honest lens and partly to not be so deliberate himself. His amicable and extroverted personality is in no way false. There is an enjoyment to be had in assisting others.

Throughout his journeys in The Wasteland he has come to the conclusion that life is miraculous but easily disposable. The world is cruel and not every wound can be mended, nor can every beast be tamed. A friendly approach to life is ideal, but never to the point of jeopardizing oneself.

He is aware that his quest to rid his clan of their fatal curse may very well result in his death, but has come to terms with the reality of it for the most part.



An Anubis likes to wear several gaudy accessories and have no shame in displaying them to any and all near. Be careful, as this is more than just cosmetic. Having so many baubles that look enchanted will keep pickpockets and opponents guessing and unaware.



On the battlefield, Ar'oa is a shooting star of fortune and unpredictability. Having spent his entire life under dangerous circumstances he has managed to combine healing and mobility under one combat style. Unlike other anubis he wears relatively simple robes and is drastically more suited to healing rather than fighting. Most of his trinkets are tightly fastened to his body underneath the cloth.

(Dark elemental magic and magic engineering).

Shift - Strongest
Ar'oa melds with the shadows and teleports a short distance. This ability strengthens at night or away from light sources. This is the most basic ability taught among magic proficient Anubis and is their equivalent to carrying a dagger around. In an environment riddled with sandstorms and creatures that use the confusion of the shifting sands to their advantage, being able to escape quickly is what separates an Anubis from a corpse with a canine skull.

Spirit Orb - Strong
An offensive spell that is considered typical among the anubis. An orb of smoke and stars that explodes upon contact, leaving behind a shroud of dark smoke. Ar´oa is able to see through the smoke and moves much quicker when engulfed in it.

Flourish - Strongest
Heals the target gradually. Grows in power the closer they are to each other. Effectiveness varies based on the severity of the wounds and Ar'oa's own energy. Can be used on himself.

Purge - Weakest
Removes diseases and poisons from the target. A difficult and laborious procedure that requires the use of various artifacts.

Rest - Weak
The only spell pertaining to mental healing that Ar´oa is proficient in. The target is put to sleep. It will only work on severely weakened targets, or targets that have given mental consent.

Miscellaneous Abilities

- The anubis are known for having an impressive physical strength. Ar´oa is one of the weaker members of his species, but is still able to overpower average members of other races.

- The anubis are proficient in survival and endurance from their environment, and he is no exception.

- A capable runner, like most anubis who have devoted themselves to the study of magic and have an increased need to avoid damage.

- Ar´oa has learned to howl the strange ancient language of the anubis, used for communicating with others in emergencies and casting rituals related to the purging of illnesses.



Ar´oa stands at a height of 8´4, considered gargantuan for many of the other races but small for the anubis, who average at around nine feet. His frame is also much more lithe than the average anubis, a clear result from his studies in magic. Anubis also have a lifespan that is slightly larger than those of humans, making Ar´oa a young adult for his race.

Appearance:

Vilkas appears as either a tall slightly tanned humanoid with a dark beard and short spiky hair. A tattoo of the draconic runic symbol of strength rests on his right shoulder. his eyes are a burning gold color, that seems to swirl when looked at directly. His dragon form is a smaller red and black dragon. His wingspan stretched out ten meters in either direction and he can hold two fully plated riders.

Age: 183

Race: Dragonkin

Personality:
Vilkas is a very active person. He likes being around people, yet often fears his lack of shifting control will hurt them... as a massive dragon is a bit hard to deal with. He is a collector, collecting various geodes and crystals. He has a strong will and is incredibly stubborn. He also gets angry when met with failure. In his studies, he learns quickly, trying to absorb as much information as he can, to learn about himself and maybe even figure out how to advance the world around him.

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Alteration/Runic Writing

Wyrd: The ancient magic only a few dragons and certain beings have been able to use. Drawing upon the power of Runes one can summon the effect directly into reality, calling fire or storm, depending on how the rune is used. Drawn runes are stronger and more draining, with blood being the strongest as it draws it's power directly from one's lifeforce.- Apprentice level

Dragons Breath: He breathes dragonfire, a type of fire that cannot be quenched by anything less than water or ice magic at it's level. Can burns as long as he tells it to. Only usuable in dragon form.- Mastery



Advanced Combat training: Journeyman Vilkas has training in the sword, staff and the bow. From his time working under his mentor and his father he proved to be a natural with the blade, earning the nickname Bladedancer.

Multilingual: Expert Has studied several languages and dialects, can interpret many different types of runic languages.

Wilderness Survival: All dragons are trained in this, as it's a bit expected they know how to hunt and take down prey. Knowing what food is good to eat and being able to survive off the land as they have done for centuries. Vilkas showed himself a bit more on the cunning side with his trapmaking and using his superior dragon senses to track his targets.

Bardic Skills: Vilkas took this up when he was young, as he wasn't into the fighting like the others were. This made sure they still liked him as his songs were how he first found out about his magic. He can play the lute, flute, and sing. Drawing upon his magic he can set up simple harmonies using the wind.

Artificer Apprentice: Vilkas is an aspiring magical artificer. It was part of his learning enchantments by his Grandfather. He is an Adept in enchantments of Light, Fire and Air.

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