Name | Clarence Chaunce Veill
Age | 15
Gender | Male
Level/Tier | Adept 1
House | House Phantasma
Appearance/Attire | Clarence stands at 5 foot 6, a little short for the males in his family, which is something he developed a complex about. He has red hair and soft brown eyes, and although he tries his hardest to glare, the most serious looking he can get is mildly focused.

Alignment | Companion

Personality/Habits | Clarence tries to keep a collected expression at all times but it is only there to hide the soft interior underneath. Clarence is a rather anxious individual, and he gets stressed easily. He begins to worry about assignments and deadlines more than a week before they would normally matter. L'Mordryn is less stringent on assignments but ultimately tests give him more grief. He's always afraid of his secret being exposed, and losing the footing he's tried his hardest to reach with his own power.

Background | The Veill family is a relatively young noble family. However, in recent years they have come beholden to many strong Invokers. They had success after success, until finally it came down to Clarence. The story of how he came to deal with such pressure from his family is a story for another time, but just know that the pressure was there when it comes to the story of Mort.

Clarence showed his talent by summoning a familiar before he had even entered L'Mordryn. A possessed hammer with an extremely strong link. The Veill family felt right to send him off to L'Mordryn when he became of age, where he quickly gained the rank of adept.

Mort wasn't what he had told his family his familiar was named. He told them it was named Orewing, which wasn't a falsehood. Orewing was what he named the hammer. He had summoned neither the hammer nor the spirit possessing it from a realm.

On a rainy day they had met.
--
"What's your name?" A slightly younger Clarence asked.

"I don't know," The spirit replied.

"Where did you come from?"

"...It's not a place to come back to." He sounded melancholic.

"…What should I call you?"

"…Mort."
--
The word Mort was the only thing left on his tombstone. He awoke as a spirit bound to the realm. He knew he had once been alive, and now he was not alive, but he knew nothing else. He knew his body was there because he had risen from it, but there was nothing else for him there, so he left. And he wandered. And then they met.

The rest is history. Clarence, for once in his life, found he had the desire to do something for someone else. An earthbound spirit was something he'd never heard of, and something he could find no information on when he looked in the library. But how about the Realms? Could he be recognized by another familiar?

House Phantasma may hold the answer. And so he tries his hardest to hone his skills. Sharpen his vision. To find the answer to the question he had asked, and so the deception may one day meet its end.

Favorite Summons | Mort/Orewing
Orewing is a steel war-hammer with a vastly shortened grip, only just enough for two hands to wield. It is adorned with a face on one side, and wing motifs throughout. Orewing is not special in any way other than perhaps the unique design, Clarence had it forged discretely, and the design was to attract attention to make the ruse less conspicuous.

Mort is an earthbound lesser spirit with the power of possession. Once an object is possessed, Mort can manipulate the object by moving it around, similarly to a poltergeist. Mort cannot possess anything larger or heavier than Orewing at this current point in time, but weight and size don't affect Mort's manoeuvrability much while possessing an item. He is able to fly with ease, and can even carry Clarence if Clarence is holding on to Orewing.

Mort feels like a sort of mentor to Clarence. Clarence knows more about the world, but he has a tendency to second guess himself and his knowledge. Mort knows little but is firm in what he knows, and he knows Clarence isn't all fakery and bluster. He can see the potential Clarence has, and though it may never reach the heights Clarence imagines he must reach, Mort will help him until he no longer can.

Name: The Nidhogen
Alignment: Dynamo
Class: Wood Elemental
Species: Overgrowth

This class of Elemental is usually a mass of plant and fungal matter capable of reaching truly gargantuan sizes. Sometimes dubbed, Forest Kings, these beings are believed to be at the center of most large and healthy forests, having grown them over the course of centuries, and hosting a multitude of other like minded spirits to maintain it. The Nidhogen seems to defy this classification by the fact that it is more compact, and much more mobile. Perhaps a sub classification. More research is required.

Summoner Pact: Nettle, House Phantasma
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. Its plant like creations can quickly become choking weeds that infest an area.

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 other worlds with their spirits elude it somewhat, only understanding how a child would. To it, death is just that something stops moving and then just fades and becomes flowers, mold, grass and trees. Nothing to get upset over.

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 of strange beings, but it cant even begin to describe nor conceive of them.

Powers: The Nidhogen is a walking nest of other wood elementals. Spirits of plants, growth, decay, life, death, flora, fauna, all are 'birthed' into being from inside its tangles of wood and vines. Even diseases can be created here, as bacteria is naught but invasive life. It can't leave a bit of itself behind in its creations. They grow like fungus, like cancerous tumors. The Nidhogan itself is formidable. Its arms are tree trunks, its feet pile driving stumps, all its vines and thorns animate to make its foe feel like it fights a forest.

History: WIP

Name: Grandpa Ringar Hierophox
Alignment: Diplomat
Class: Undead
Sub Class: Lich

The lich, considered the mightiest of the undead. In life these men and women were scholars, magicians, inventors whose quest for knowledge at all cost caused them to make the ultimate sacrifice. Live on as a horror for immortal life.

Summoner Pact: Unclaimed

Personality: Immortality has its downsides. You become jaded, lose touch with humanity. Sometimes you get bored. Very bored. So bored you start to get desperate for something, anything to do, and that makes you go mad. Sometimes you go mad in a good way, like wanting to make the ultimate library.

Ringar is a bibliophile, a seeker of knowledge great and pointless, and he likes nothing more than to teach it. Constantly using his magic, he's a walking receptacle of facts, stories and theories. Almost manic in his need to share the knowledge, one who can get over his horrible appearance will find him quite pleasant.

Pleasant, but scattered, forgettable. He'll go off on a tangent for minutes on end before realizing and forgetting what he was originally talking about. There's a reason why former summoner sometimes called him Grandpa.

Powers: A spell caster, and one of great power but his incredibly forgetful nature makes him kind of a wild card on that front. He might bring with him a book from the future that uses theoretical physics to create solid state objects, or he might carry a history book or tome of parlor tricks. Best make sure he has the right notes before expecting him to do anything specific.

History: WIP

Name: Cogsworth XSL
Alignment: Judge
Class: Personal Servitor
Sub Class: Sentinel

This subclass of automaton is advanced, potentially non human in origin. These models were used to be constant companions for their owners. The hardware supports a carbon mesh chasis with dozens of built in features and functions with additional slots for upgrades and expanded versatility, mostly in a defensive capacity. The most impressive feature is the speed at which its logic trains process and advanced adaptive personality cores. The Servitor can socialize and even displays a modicum of charisma, wit, and humor.

Summoner Pact: Margarett Leslie Abbot, House Machina

Personality: Cogsworth fancies himself a butlers and a gentlemen, liking nothing more than making things easy and pleasant for his ward. He finds pride in his work and there is no job that is too mundane, too unimportant for him to show off nothing but absolute perfection. It comes across as complete arrogance though, as there is no way an organic can compete with a perfect machine.

Still the uncivilized meat bags might learn by example...

His service and commitment to his ward is absolute, even to the point of adopting a profession in order to better engage with them. For now, his ward fancies herself a bit of a private eye. He takes on the guise of a fellow investigator and confidant, steering her in the right direction so that she could crack the case, and then cheers her accomplishment.

Anyone that seeks to delay, detract, or heaven forbid try to harm his ward will face a perfect machine, cold, calculating, deadly precise and efficient.

Powers: Cogsworth's combat capilities are centralized solely in the omnidextrous tendrils that telescopic from his back. He's got six in all, two dedicated to ranged combat, and four dedicated to melee. He generally does not like using his arms and legs as any marring or scratch may diminish his perfect demeanor. His head is dedicated to all manners of detection and has a fallback weapon of blast of solidified light. The amount of sensory equipment is because of his ward's propensity to investigate, and he must support them.

History: WIP

Name: Siraki, The Demon of the Shattered Land
Alignment: Enforcer
Class: Minotaur
Sub Class: Quar Gore

The Minotaur races are raiders, wanderers, migrant tribes that travel the land, stopping when following their herds of cattle they use for skins and meat. They engage in honorable duels with each other but other cultures view them as monsters to be slaughters. In desperate times against overwhelming enemies, some allow themselves to be conduits of spirits, being possessed by demons to become the monsters others truly fear they are. Quar Gores are berserkers, living for battle, even at the cost that they are out casted and shunned even by the tribes they protect.

Summoner Pact: Unclaimed

Personality: Siraki seems a simple being, of simple design, and simply pleasures though that doesn't make him stupid. Siraki only wishes to engage his passions, mostly through bloody duels and tests of strength. Left to his own devices, he will constantly be seeking outlets for his boiling rage and seeking to become a better fighter. He can however be convinced to turn his attention and outlets to other avenues, and seeks challenge above all else.

Provided he has that, Siraki can be amazingly social, as if he is hungry for the kinship and interaction that comes with having a tribe. He cracks vulgar jokes, makes insinuations, instigates, insults, and supports those that strive for greatness and are reckless in their action. He is loud, crude, obnoxious, quick to anger, quick to forgive, and truly unapologetic. He requires a firm and strong summoner, for those that attempt to dominate him will find themselves swept in his own passions and ambitions and while treated as a clan's man, may not survive the challenges this beast sets for himself.

Powers: Siraki is a melee combatant of brutish capability. While lacking in subtlety and flare, he makes up for in ruthlessness and a fighting style that is almost poetic in its savagery. He himself seems to shrug off most wounds and hardly seems to react to pain, smiling more often then not to a blow well struck. His voice, his shouts also hold a hint of magic, sowing panic into those that face him or temporarily giving him greater capability.

History: WIP

Name: Black Dog
Alignment: Terrorist
Class: Kitsune
Sub Class: Kukan

Kitsune are known for their ability to bewitch. Whether is fanning the flames of passion, blowing the winds of desire, kitsune prey on humanity. Sometimes their attentions are benign, even symbiotic. Sometimes exactly the opposite. Kukan pick at the minds of their prey, sowing doubt, despair, paranoia, turning them into mind factured giggling masses. The Kukan seek to laugh with those broken individuals. Misery loves company.

Summoner Pact: Unclaimed

Personality: Black Dog is a player of tricks, an instigator, mischievous and malign. He is a creature of destructive chaos and always with the hands of another, but despite watching the world burn, he is perfectly content to prolonging that eventuality for as long as possible. He delights in seeing others give into their vices, indulging in life's pleasures, and almost exclusively at the expense of someone else. He'll roar with laughter then, egging them on to greater and greater heights of cruelty. He'll isolate and whisper potential betrayals, pick at the strings of uncertainty, and see that a person ends up with him as his only friend.

The fact that he offers to do this to others for a summoner should be a good indication that Dog shouldn't be trusted.

Powers: His shadowy form is meant to hide, to sneak. He won't fight if he doesnt have too. His words are his weapon, his laughter causing the very reality around him to grow cruel, cold, and not to be trusted. In his laughter, words and commands twist into something venomous or directly leading someone into danger. One can't trust their eyes, ears, even smell. It brings back memories of dark times, making those who hear it profoundly melancholic or unquenchabley wrathful.

History: WIP

Name: Bask, Singer of Seven Dreams
Alignment: Defender
Class: Coatyl
Sub Class: Storm Serpent

The Coatyl are the embodiment of gods for a culture that honors the spirits and gods through devotion and sacrifice. The Coatyl of the sky are the servants of sun, moon, the stars, and its in their care and mercy that they bring the rains and change the seasons. Its the cold winds that promote communities to band together to survive, its the lightening that brings them fire, its the rain that feeds the soil. Everything needed for life, comes from the sky.

Summoner Pact: Unclaimed

Personality: Singer has always been a stickler for the rules. Always worked to maintain the rightful way of doing things. Always preached a life of love and respect for your peers and community. Its for that reason, Singer is a social butterfly. Supportive, positive, a friend in flying snake form.

There's something about his compassion and empathy for the world that makes one almost immediately trust him. He's wise enough to understand your problems, old enough to have experienced them, and kind enough to help you through them. Indeed he gets joy and validation in seeing a bit more of the world brought back into the light.

That isn't to say hes a pacifist, far from it. Anything worth creating is worth protecting, and thus Bask is more than happy to test his newest spell on anyone foolish enough to give him reason to. However he is too nice for his own good, and being merciful to those who might just cause more trouble later.

Powers: Always flying, Bast is not a fighter but a capable mage. His long sinuous form is able to dance the movements to weave the essence of air and season, his beautiful voice is able to call the astral and ethereal forces, and thus channeling the mana he can cast magic of weather, lightening, illusions, healing, and dream are made manifest. As a fall back he himself uses his shocking breath attack and protrusions on his tail capable of whipping out like a club. The venom of his fangs is a tranquilizer, rending those bitten into dream hazed torpor. Recovery is actually faster in this state and nearly all victims wake up feeling profoundly refreshed and in a state of ecstatic well being.

History: WIP