Origins: Laraleia came of age in a coastal town in the east called Anqua, a place with warm, tropical, and often idyllic weather, but a sparsity of natural resources, one that prevented the town from ever growing too large. Anqua is among the smaller Saldonian nations, one that has been fortunate enough to remain mostly untouched by the war, though their people have long since traveled away from home to help where they are needed in the conflict. This has always been Laraleia's fate, one that she has embraced.

The people of Anqua specialize in seafaring, travel, and trade, and the town's most notable industry is in textiles and dye, particularly a lavender-purple color that is difficult to find anywhere else on the continent. They are not a traditionally warlike people, though the years of conflict around them have made it prudent to train the youth for the future, and indeed many join up with the Saldonian military to help defend the continent from the invaders.

Mages from the coast typically specialize in various forms of water-based magic, useful in sea professions and in all aspects of life, but many mages of Anqua choose to leave the town behind and seek out more populous areas, where teachers of the craft are easier to find, and their skills can be put to greater use. In all, Anqua is a quiet and peaceful place, not well suited to those with adventurous hearts.

Magic: Water and Ice Magic

Laraleia has some talent with water magic, but she's still a fledgling mage and has never really had a proper teacher to help her hone her abilities. That said, she has learned a number of useful techniques. Her water has minor curative and cleansing properties, and is excellent for cleaning wounds and accelerating the mending process. She can't heal herself or others instantly, but she can protect against infection, and with her knowledge of traditional healing means, she can effectively treat injuries. She can conjure limited amounts of clean drinking water, or purify natural sources of water that she finds to make them safe for consumption.

One side benefit of her magical abilities is that Laraleia is resistant to temperatures extremes both hot and cold, comfortable in most environments without the need to find specialized clothing.

In combat she can freeze her own water spells for more effective self-defense. Her most basic spell is an inaccurate, close-range spray of frost that will slow enemies, or even freeze them in place if she expends a great amount of energy. She can create a lance of ice similar to a spear which she can hurl at enemies, though this ability is inefficient on its own. While effective against soft targets, the lance takes a significant toll on Laraleia's stamina, and will break against heavily armored targets. It's much more effective in tandem with other magic however, and can easily pierce or shatter armor that is heated or weakened by another mage.

Overall Laraleia is still a novice mage that needs more training and experience to be effective in battle, and her reserves of magic are as of yet too small to be able to sustain casting through a prolonged fight. She needs to choose her opportunities carefully and make the most of them if she hopes to survive in combat. Until then she's best used in support of others.

Appearance: Laraleia stands at 5'6", with a svelte figure and long, vibrant red hair falling in waves to the middle of her back. Her eyes are a bright, clear blue, her skin pale and altogether unblemished saved for the violet marks upon her forehead and brow, the symbols of Kealana family of Anqua. Though her family is not particularly well known beyond her hometown, the marks identify her as highborn, and she carries herself as such, with pride and grace and excellent posture.

Her short, pointed ears identify her for her race, and at twenty-six her face still has an extremely youthful appearance to it. While she is in good physical condition for travel and the like, Laraleia lacks the strength and toughness of a warrior's build. It's something she was working to achieve before the defeat at Knife's Edge, but she's still far from it.

Personality: Laraleia's a genuine spirit, energetic and fierce, with a perpetually optimistic nature. That doesn't mean she's bubbly or eternally happy-go-lucky, but rather that she refuses to ever stop moving forward. She has as many doubts and fears and misgivings as anyone, but she doesn't allow them to slow her down or stop her from doing what she feels is right, both for herself and for others. Laraleia's courage has the potential to get her into trouble, especially in the war torn lands she finds herself in, but as of yet it hasn't killed her.

Around others she tries to be kind, generous, and empathetic, something that has won her friends and allies over the course of her young life so far. She also tends to be overly trusting and take people at their word, a side effect of her optimism and wanting to see the best in people. Laraleia's averse to conflict and prefers to work things out verbally, acting as a peacemaker whenever she can. She's particular about her appearance, but knows when to prioritize more important things, and isn't afraid to get her hands dirty, or the rest of her for that matter.

She does have a slight rebellious streak, and will be willing to bend or break rules or orders if she feels it will be beneficial to someone in need that she cares about. The horrors of the defeat at the fortress hit her as hard as anyone, but she hasn't let it change her in the days that followed. Laraleia keeps her head held high, determined to do what she can to make it right.

(In response to rule 4, Laraleia keeps a pretty level head, and doesn't make a habit of responding to taunts or threats. It's difficult to get under her skin.)

History: The ninth of ten children born to the ruling Kealana family of the coastal town of Anqua, Laraleia is technically royalty, but her position in the line of succession and what she currently stands to inherit is so minor it renders her standing not much better than the average noble. Still, that's a lot better off than most grow up with, a fact Laraleia has always been keenly aware of. Her seven brothers and two sisters were quite spread out in ages, and Laraleia doesn't know some of the older few all that well, considering they'd already moved on from the town while she was still a child. She preferred to spend her days out and about in Anqua, anyway.

Her magic became apparent at a young age, a watery gift, but Anqua lacked any real master to teach her. She learned what she could where she could and was a diligent student, becoming proficient but never prodigious at her new craft. Anqua was far from the fighting engulfing many Saldonian nations, and it was a peaceful town altogether. It was only a matter of time before Laraleia began to yearn for more.

With no real responsibilities and a desire for adventure, it was inevitable that Laraleia ending up joining her people's modest armed forces, and after completing a basic training regimen, she left Anqua behind for the wider world as second in command of a small squad, due to join up with larger forces elsewhere. Her position was largely gained due to her high birth, but Laraleia quickly earned the respect of her comrades through hard work. Her goals were twofold: to help her people fight back the invading Empire however she could, and to find a master capable of helping her reach her full magical potential. So far, she has achieved neither.

Laraleia found herself posted at the Knife's Edge fortress for only a limited period of time before it fell. While there, she spent most of her time on duty in medical tents, trying to save the lives of wounded soldiers with her magic. It proved to be an eye-opening experience for the young woman, who had never really understood what the war was like until she experienced it first hand.

She nearly lost her life a few times during the fortress's fall, but all of her fellow soldiers from Anqua were not so lucky. In the chaos, Laraleia found herself caught up in the escape with a new commander and several other survivors. Shaken but not broken by her terrifying new reality, Laraleia's determined to fight on, and make the sacrifices of her friends mean something in the end.

Equipment:

-Sword:
Laraleia wears a slender, elegant, curved sword at her left hip, a gift from her mother, the blade as of yet unnamed. She has basic training and some skill in its use, fighting with one or both hands upon the hilt, in combination with her magic or without it. She can fight with some grace and effectiveness in single combat against a common enemy, but her experience in real battle is extremely limited. Lara is not a strong melee fighter as of yet, and would be heavily outmatched if left alone against multiple enemies, or a single elite. Her best hope would be to use the sword defensively, and try to survive long enough for help to arrive.

-Dagger:
A standard-issue sidearm knife sits in a small leather sheath strapped to Laraleia's right thigh. The blade is straight, double-edged, and sturdy, but it's something she'll only turn to in truly desperate situations, when all other options have been exhausted.

-Attire:
Laraleia's clothes consist of the royal military attire of the Kealana family, a variation of the standard uniform of Anqua. Her jacket and leggings are well-fitted, white trimmed in a pale green, with a flowing, velvety half cape of a soft lavender color. She wears a sash of the same color tied around her waist, beneath her sword belt. Her boots are tall and durable leather, good for traveling. As a whole the outfit is comfortable and easy to move in, but offers her no protection in battle. Currently her clothes are partially covered by mud and dirt, and while Laraleia could clean them with magic, she simply hasn't had the time or reason to do so.

-Pendant:
She wears a thin pendant necklace with a small, inlaid amethyst. It's kept concealed almost at all times beneath her uniform.

-Pack:
Her small pack is unfortunately light of late, carrying only a few changes of light clothes to wear underneath her uniform, an always-full canteen, and some dwindling food rations.

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Name: Gwendoleen Andulian
Gender: Female
Age: 21

Origins: The mountains of the frozen North, in sight of the dancing Northern lights

Magic: Light Magic: the ability to control and manipulate light. Has a natural talent for it that she's been honing with some instruction. It's a source mostly of illusions that disappear with a hit, misdirection, and blinding of foes as of now. However, she's starting to learn how to focus light into an offensive attack (aka a laser) and then could be on her way to making temporary structures using the light (aka hard light and force shields). Right now though, her magic is basically distraction-oriented.

A physical bonus she gets though is that she is more capable of handling rapid changes of light.

Her stamina is average, higher than would be common of her age, but average in terms of overall magic users.

Appearance: Around 5' 8" with long, golden hair matching a mixed white/amber complexion that reaches her back and grey eyes in a diamond-shaped face with pointed ears. Healthily muscular both in her arms and her legs. Her appearance is cared for, but nothing noteworthy or special done to it.

Personality: Tends to be silent and calculating, thinking out what to do and the possible outcomes near constantly. Gwen prefers to watch and learn, figuring out the best way to strike or overcome a challenge through what she's observed. Works well with others, but doesn't let them get to know her easily. When she's alone though, she loves just playing with some of the light patterns she can cast and learning more about how to use her powers.

History: Gwen's early years were a pretty solitary existence, living only with her mother and father as they survived in the land, learning to hunt and live, sometimes selling hides and furs in the nearest town. It was a peaceful life though and she'd been content, especially when she could play with her lights and try to make them like the Northern ones that was fire in the sky. Her parents taught her as much as they could, but she sought to know more. And so, her parents saved up to get her into an school of study for her magic. And though she was sad to say goodbye to them and never got use to her fellow classmates and civilization, she was content to be learning more and seeing all the marvelous things that could be done yet. When war broke out, magic users were in high demand for the fight and so Gwen ended up becoming a soldier, taking back up the bow and arrows she use to use to hunt. She just hopes that her parents are alright as she tries to snatch more learning between battles.

Equipment:
-A light grey/white battle robe
-A bow with arrows
-simple short sword and dagger
-Books on advanced light techniques and exercises
-Pack of supplies and rations

Name: Rolt Eloras
Gender: M
Age: 35

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Origins:
The Tals clan can trace its origin all the way to Voralt Tals, the original leader of the Northern Lands and owner of the Girdle of the Charging Ox, a magical relic that can store the wearer's strength. With the Girdle, Tals conquered the squabbling tribes in his area and started to make a slightly more unified North. When he died, his successor was chosen not by birthright but by accomplishment, and that tradition continues down to this very day.

From a developmental standpoint, most of the Tals clan is rather underdevloped. Hunting, rather than domestication, tends to be how the Tals people acquire their meat. Their homes, while functional, usually lack the comforts of those futher south. Furs and skins are the clothing of choice, rather than woven or spun cloths.

By no means, however, are the people of Tals unintelligent. As a result of years upon years of internal warfare, the war leaders of Tals posses keen strategic minds and an incredible sense for battle. Culturally, the people tell stories to keep track of history. The prominence of oral storytelling has led to the development of a rich collection of tales and fables as well as an overall love for language and its meaning in the Tals clan.

Magic users in the Tals clan tend to use Earth or Wind magic in ways that complement their fighting styles. While using magic for utility is not unheard of, the people of Tals still tend to see it as a resource for war, not peace.

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Magic:
Wind and Air magic, with an emphasis on mist, fog, and smoke. He can create large amounts of those three obscurants quickly, and make them last for a fairly long time. He can also create decently strong gusts powerful enough to knock a man over or propel himself further. Finally, he is able to deflect crossbow bolts and other projectiles to a certain degree, making his light protection irrelevant at a range.

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Fighting Style:
Rolt, in contrast with his great size, fights using stealth. His primary way of assault is to fill an area with an obscurant, usually fog. He will then isolate enemies and ambush them from the depths of his clouds. His light armor serves a dual purpose as a result: First of all, its light coverage allows him to generate and expel fog more quickly from his body. Second, it allows him to move much more silently than if he were covered in metal.

Rolt is able to tell where his enemies are by the movements they generate in the air, coupled with his incredible hearing. Once he locates them, he sneaks up and attacks quickly and efficiently. He carries a number of weapons, but is still strong enough to tear some men limb from limb. When he has to get through armor, he favors poisoned daggers; otherwise, he uses sharp metal gauntlets to engage. If worst comes to worst, he can generate smoke and asphyxiate men in armor. If the enemy doesn't move and stays perfectly silent, however, Rolt is forced to seek them out in the fog instead. Other wind mages can also dispel his obscurants.

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Appearance:
An absolute mountain of a man. 202cm and built like a bull. Dark skin and white hair. Contrary to its appearance, his hair is quite soft. It's dyed white- his actual hair is black. Wears the Girdle of the Charging Ox, his family's symbol of power. Doffs the chestpiece if he needs to be extra stealthy. Deep-set eyes and a strong jaw give off the impression of a dullard, but Rolt is no idiot.

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Personality:
Although he is strong-willed and forceful, Rolt places respect for others above all else. Only when someone is truly useless will he talk down to or ignore them. Even then, he will always give opportunities to those around him to earn his respect. His logical way of thinking is slower than most, but he always reaches the correct conclusion given the facts. Rolt displays a profound love for poetry and language, though he himself is no wordsmith. Likes puns, and will often make them himself. The results are usually less than stellar. If you called him stupid, he would probably laugh and agree before demonstrating exactly why you shouldn't have underestimated his intelligence.

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History:
The leader of the now-dead Tals clan, Rolt Eloras was born in the lowest caste of his martial society. After clawing his way up through childhood hardship and pain, Rolt eventually challenged the leader of his clan for leadership rights. The contest not only involved trial by combat, but also a leadership test and grueling endurance challenge. Rolt triumphed in all aspects, and won the position by clan vote. He led for five years before he and his entire clan set off to defend the Knife's Edge fortress, leaving only the elderly and youngest children behind.

Every single man and woman who went with Rolf perished in the fall of the fortress. As the only leader of his clan, Rolt now seeks to make his way back home and protect those he left behind.

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Equipment:
-Traveling Pack: Contains lots of jerky, waterskin, and light camping gear.
-Metal Gauntlets: His favored weapon. Can trade blows easily with swords. Forged from the finest material.
-Poisoned Daggers: His last resort weapon.
-Girdle of the Charging Ox: A relic and symbol of his now-worthless chiefdom. A magical item that stores the wearer's strength when not in use to be called upon later. It cannot be used to enhance the wearer's body past its normal limits. Rolt usually uses it to extend his endurance far past that of an ordinary man.