Name:
Nefrena Iseueret
Age:
18
Gender:
Female
Race:
Nem
Rank:
5 of Coins
Appearance:
Standing at a typical height of 3'5 for a Nem, Neffy isn't too different from others of her kind. Typically dressed in a black robe cloak during the day, and long stockings that cover her entire body, along with a hood to obscure her facial features and to protect from sunburn. She has short cut black hair, and can typically be seen carrying around a book in her arms. Often tries to pull her hood over her face and hide from people.
Personality:
An extremely curious soul, though this diminutive Nem's own massive amount of self doubt and her timid nature gets in the way of her life more often than not. When it comes down to it, she'd much rather flee than engage in anything dangerous at all, preferring to read and stay nice and safe, cooped up in a little room filled with piles and piles of books. Fighting ever hardly crosses her mind, and when confronted with such things, she often thinks of fleeing first.

Despite her fear of fighting, one would do well to always remember Neffy was trained in magical ability, and has skill in subterfuge, so while she is timid and prefers avoidance by nature, the Nem possesses an acute eye for detail and will complete whatever job she's on without question.

Often dozes off during the day and spends free time reading or just roaming the city looking for 'interesting' things.
Brief Backstory:
Born and raised in a Nem settlement with a particularly large temple dedicated to their patron goddess. Neffy herself, was taken in at an early age off the streets to be a priestess of Ila-Nem and spent most of her life until her departure living with the other priestess in the sprawling underground complex that served as their temple.

It was here she first learned to hone her magical skills, and where she fell in love with reading all sorts of books. She often found herself shirking work and other priestess like duties in favor of reading, and often sneaking away from such training in favor of spending time in the town proper, much to her elders chagrin. Her ability to memorize religious practices and the fact she was otherwise, a model student typically got her off the hook though.

Still, she never quite felt satisfied with her life there. The only two people who made it bearable, was a mischievous Nem who liked to drag her into all sorts of trouble against her better judgement, and an older Nem who she sometimes visited to hear their stories if she had sneaked out.

There was something Neffy, lacked. Conviction in religion and a desire to actually follow through with becoming a priestess. Have you seen what they wear! So embarrassing she'd die!. It was this lack of conviction and general dissatisfaction with staying put in the temple and a natural curiosity that eventually led to her leaving the temple for good after an incident.

Her friend had decided that it'd be a good idea to steal something from what seemed to be a mage they had saw in town. An exquisite, beautifully crafted sword. It didn't look like it'd be good for fighting with, but it certainly looked like they could sell it for a lot. Neffy tried telling her friend this was a bad idea, but they wouldn't have it, and Neffy for once, told them they weren't helping. Surprisingly enough, things went off without a hitch.

- until the owner of the sword showed up demanding that the thief be dealt with. Perhaps she was using this as an excuse to leave, but she decided that instead of letting her friend take the fall for it she took it from its hiding place. Taking the sword for herself, and leaving temple behind Neffy left. After a bit of traveling, a change of clothing to hide in. Wow tall people are scary. to protect from the sun, she eventually landed in Estival, where she soon joined the adventurers guild.

Equipment:
Her main equipment is her body-hiding cloak, obviously. Protects from the mean Yrrah as well as from scary people. She can just hide in it and forget they exist! Its obviously her most important and invaluable object.

Her real most invaluable object however, is likely her sword. An excellent bit of Nem craftsmanship, the exquisite looking curved sword seems to be less of a battle implement, and more of a decoration upon first glance. The sword is in fact, a magical catalyst strongly attuned to the element of Wind and Water. While it can work as a blade to fight things, its primary function is to shorten magical chant times and increase mana efficiency.

Skills:
Neffy is not an adventurer by training or trade, rather her skills were trained in stealth and magic, and it shows in a number of her mannerisms and skills. That is to say, when it comes to direct confrontation the Nem is not well suited for direct combat. She could reasonably hold her ground against a similarly skilled opponent, but when it comes down to it, Neffy's skill set is far more suited towards stealth, scouting, and silently taking out enemies and not giving them a chance to even react with guerilla tactics, eviscerating them quickly before they can react, or supporting an ally at a distance.

Further, she compliments her skill set with tricks of magic designed to aid in her sneaking, and is her main method of taking out and dealing with threats. Neffy's primarily focused around wind and water based magic, of the less flashy sort, typically used in helping her with her sneaking abilities and retreating in combat should she find herself in a direct confrontation. Usually, she prefers magic of the less flashy sort - more practical spells designed to efficiently take out targets. A favorite spell of hers is a simple spell that creates a thick, obscuring mist that she uses to help hide herself before attacking, or using a blast of wind to flee from opponents in order to reengage with guerilla attacks or disengage and look for an opponent to deliver a fatal blow while an ally engages. Support spells she uses on herself, could theoretically be applied to allies if she finds herself in the fray with them, though they aren't going to be as strong as a dedicated supporters buff.

Age: 24
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Rank: 6 of Swords
Appearance: Sieglinde is a pretty average girl when it comes to her height, but her chosen weapon makes her seem much smaller. At five feet seven (and a half!) inches she’s a little taller than another girl she might name in point of fact. Despite trying her best to keep her hair tidy a few tufts usually poke up here or there, combining with her earnest and friendly expression to create a somewhat vacuous demeanor. Her clothes (blue is fine for a Reonite, it’s her favorite color!) are always neat and orderly, though, and all of her gear shows her due diligence.

Her build is deceptively strong, undoubtedly from carting around her sword all of the time. She wears an archaic Reonite symbol wrought in silver around her neck.
Personality: Earnest, friendly, optimistic… And a little clumsy. And a little laidback. That’s not to say she’s lazy but she’s from a place so cold that the warmth tends to make her a little drowsy. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a nice fire, that’s her story and she’s sticking to it. And so what if she tends to get caught off guard by things on her left and trip? Or bump into them? Everyone can have a blind spot. Despite it Sieglinde “Sigi” Driessen is as sharp as they come, and she has a soft spot a mile wide. Anyone younger than her tends to inherit their own big sister figure after a fashion, even if they don’t realize that’s what they’ve done. Moral support, friendly conversation, and an all around supportive mentor whether they asked for it or not. And if she banters a little, that’s just her duty as a role model.

None of which changes that there’s a core of steel to the friendly figure, or that she’s not half as scattered as she acts. Sieglinde was born and raised in one of the harshest environments known to man, and her devotion to the goddess Reon is second to none. She attends service as often as she can and honors the goddess in the manner traditional to her home and strives to be a gentle soul. Even when she fights Sieglinde holds back wherever she can, both for the sheer joy of the challenge and to never inflict more harm than necessary. Not even to her friends does she admit to the extent of her ability.

But her kindness is not weakness, and her happiness is not naivete.
Brief Backstory: Sieglinde Driessen was born far to the north and saw little but snow for the first fifteen years of her life. Worship of the Goddess Reon is dominant there, for the locals believe that Mayon holds sway upon their land. She commands their respect and their devotion, but unfettered they would be unable to survive. Fire, from Reon’s blessing, sustains them. Warms their homes, wards off the cold and the dark with its light. Summer is a festival that does not end, not until the days grow short again. But the wastes are full of terrors. Monsters and worse, men, who retreated from civilization’s heart to the cold. The precious few who live in those far northern reaches have to be protected. Sigi’s father, his father before him, reaching back to the edges of memory have shouldered that burden with pride. Worshippers of Reon who have used her blessing to guard the innocent. It was this tradition that Sigi was raised into.

But the girl wanted to see the world, too. That land of ice would always be her home but she wanted to see what lay beyond it. Make her name, earn experience, see what the world had to offer beyond the village’s borders. So when she was an adult she headed south. She roamed on her own for a time, met people and fought monsters, but never quite finding the place to linger for long. Until she encountered the Adventurer’s Guild.

She thought the idea was just wonderful.
Equipment: Sieglinde carries around a simple bag, hanging by a strap on her right hip out of the way of her blade, containing basic supplies for someone on the road. A map of the land, a tightly wrapped sleeping bag, first aid supplies, whetstone, and preserved rations. Things of that nature. She does not bother with flint to start a fire. A dagger hangs on her left hip for utility or a holdout weapon. She wears something approaching half plate when she goes on a job with particularly notable gauntlets, robust enough to block blows and make for a mean hit if she uses her hands.

Most notably, of course, is the immense blade that rests on her back. The zweihander is about four and a half feet long with a well-worn lilly carved into the center of the crossguard and a beautiful sapphire set into the pommel. The sword resides within a metal sheath more worn than the blade itself, conforming to the weapon with a series of nicks and dents on its edges. A simple but unusual locking mechanism holds the sheath on unless released, and a strange leather wrapped handle is looped out of the sheath above the crossguard on one side.

The blade itself is well maintained, but clearly old. It lacks the parrying hooks above the ricasso common on later blades, and a series of archaic runes are inscribed on its spine. These runes enchanted the blade upon its forging for durability and greater cutting power. Anything that chooses to block it directly rather than deflect or evade stands a fair chance of being cleaved apart within a few hits.
Skills: A seasoned survivalist, necessary in the far north, and traveler. Sigi can make camp just about anywhere if she has to, and make food out of just about anything. And of course, her magic makes a campfire a breeze. She’s extremely well read as well, especially on matters of her religion and local myth. It doesn’t perfectly match up with the practices of Reonite worship further south, but she’s versed in those, too.

Sieglinde is also a skilled swordswoman, able hand to hand combatant, and okay medic in an emergency. Beyond her swordplay, however, her most notable skills are the magics passed down her family. She’s a deft hand with fire magic and its applications, of course, but cherished by her family is the Berserkergang. A dangerous magic, one she has not used since leaving her home, it deadens her sense of pain. In such a state Sigi will not be stopped by any pain nor wound, not unless it physically impedes her ability to function. The wound is still present and as soon as the battle ends she will feel it in its entirety but until the magic ceases she will persevere through all but the most grievous of injuries.

Name: Shir Anders
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Race: Human (The branches growing from her head are mostly a fashion statement constructed of shadow)
Rank: 4 of wands
Appearance:

Personality:
Shir was always a loner, even as a child she was more content to create games to play by herself out of shadows and her imagination. She likes comedy but is spare with her own words and dislikes those who speak thoughtlessly. Too used to being judged by her appearance, she has little patience for those that do so.

She has conflicted views about how she wished others to perceive her. One one hand she wants to be recognized for her actions and deeds instead of by her appearance. In other cases she prefers to simply go unnoticed. That isn't to say that she's shy. Shir is easily provoked when a remark is made towards her and will speak freely when she has strong thoughts about something.

Brief Backstory:
Born with the bleached hair and pale skin of an albino, Shir was always ostracized by other children. Born to a sailor father and an often absent mother, she quickly learned to be self sufficient. Growing up, she was often mistaken for a desert dwelling Nem and her small stature did little to change this as she grew older. At one time this made her resentful of the diminutive species but now she feels a bit of a kinship towards them.

As her magical potential developed, people seemed to avoid her more and more and she became increasingly self reliant. Eventually at the age of sixteen she slipped away from home in the dead of night to find a place to belong. She doesn't know if her parents missed her and doesn't have any intention of returning.

As a result of her albinism, her eyes are extremely sensitive to bright light and her skin tends to burn easily.

Equipment:
None

Skills:
Shadowmancy: Shir summons and controls beings and objects from shadows, with larger and darker shadows giving form to larger and more powerful creations. These creations are unthinking and are animated solely by her will. They can be banished or diminished by strong enough light, but even the darkness cast on her skin by her clothing is enough to maintain a small minion or a weapon.

Shadows directly connected to her are much more powerful and as such, she tries to keep her constructs close at hand. Shir has a limited amount of sensation though her shadows and can feel what they touch.

Name: Léon Reverdin

Age: 20

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Rank: 4 of Cups

Appearance: His normal appearance standing at 5'9", is more akin to that of a young Mayonite seminarian or scholar, rather than a hammer-toting cleric. When fully garbed in the attire of a shrine keeper, he seems like a different person.

Personality:
Having spent much of his life studying with the Mayonite church, Léon is personally familiar with hardship but not tragedy. He comes off as trusting and idealistic, but is not oblivious to the evils of the world, especially those that it is the duty of the Twin Churches to oppose. He isn't particularly adventurous or bold and perhaps is even a little apprehensive about stepping into caverns and dungeons, but it is Mayon's will, thus it is Léon's duty to carry it out even if it's not what he signed up for.

Brief Backstory:


Léon was born to a poor but devout family in Estival. When he was a child, his parents took him on a pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Pierced Skull. He was awed not only by the relic itself, but also by the helmeted, hammer-wielding warrior-clerics who stood vigil over the shrine and its contents, and the image stuck in his head for years. His parents were quite pleased with the though of their son joining the clergy, and worked hard to give him the opportunity to do so. Many of his younger years were spent serving as an acolyte for the church, and when he was old enough, he formally became a cleric novice. During his studies, he specifically requested to be assigned to the shrine that had left such an impression on him, despite it being effectively a backwater assignment with little opportunity for upward mobility in the church. After several more years of scrubbing the shrine floors, rigorous martial training, and theological and magical study, he was ordained and granted the arms and vestments of a shrine keeper.

After a brief period of service, Léon was called to perform an unusual duty- the local Mayonite clergy had asked the shrine to spare someone to assist the Estival Adventurer's Guild and as the most junior keeper, he was picked. His duties were to spread the light of Mayon, lend his skills as a cleric to the adventurers, and in the process search the dark corners of the world for evidence of Elionne or any relics connected to her. It sounded like a bit more excitement than he had expected for his station, but he couldn't let Mayon down, so he set out to join the guild.

Equipment:
When adventuring or on duty, Léon wears the protective vestments and helmet of the shrine keepers, and wields a war hammer, their iconic weapon. He also carries a scepter topped with a perched dragon, serving as his spell catalyst, and can double as a light mace in a pinch.

Skills:
As a cleric of Mayon, Léon is trained in the use of magic to aid others. He can close wounds, ward allies from various forms of harm, and strengthen them spiritually, mentally, or physically. His skill in this is only enough, however, to be ranked a 4 of Cups. A better fighter than a healer, Léon's forte is his martial skill as a shrine keeper. He is a capable fighter with his warhammer, able to swing the heavy weapon far more adeptly and deftly than his appearance outside of his keeper attire would suggest. He also has a formal education in history and theology pertaining to the Church of Mayon.

The resurrected corpse of a Knight who gave his explicit consent for her to be able to do so. He wears the best armour she could afford, while also wielding a sword that is heavy then what he wielded in life (to compensate for his increased strength as a skeleton) so the bodies muscle memory isn't thrown off. She can't risk her mindless protector shattering his blade after all. Raphael is not sentient and acts fully on the commands (Both audible and inaudible) of Mellifleur. As he cannot cast spells he functions as a incredibly durable swordsman. With Mellifleur using him as a powerful fighter on her behalf.

He is commonly dressed in full plate armour helmet included in order to conceal his true nature from the average onlooker. Though one may figure it out all too quickly should one lay a hand in anger upon the necromancer that holds his strings.

• Name: Nehir Rasim
• Age: 19
• Gender: Male
• Race: Nem
• Rank: 5 of Wands
• Appearance:
  At a standing height of 3'3, Nehir is actually on the shorter side of most Nem. He is often somewhat underkempt, clothes somewhat threadbare and cheaply made. He hates most shoes and would prefer to be bare foot when possible. However, the life of an adventurer often requires proper footwear, sadly all he can afford are sandals.
• Personality: Nehir is an ambitious and inquisitive mind, often sporadically hopping from topic to topic excitedly. He loves to speak and is always eager to waggle the ear of any soul kind enough to listen (or unfortunately trapped in the same space as him, depending on how you feel), especially those who, like himself, specialize in area of effect spells. Outside of work he is quiet the social butterfly, always happen to lend a hand or spare some coin to fix whatever broken odds or ends around the guild. He is also known for having a...unique presence in battle. Laughing with a mad giddiness as he rains down a veritable blizzard on the battle field. Given this record, it is common knowledge in the guild to never /ever/ allow Nehir to drink alcohol.
• Brief Backstory: Nehir was born in Estival and has lived within its boarders for all of his life. Initially his family (mother, two elder brothers and sister) made their home in a medium sized logging town two days west of Venne, his mother plying her trade as a merchant for a sizable paper mill in the area, traveling into and out of the capital on an almost monthly basis.
  
  Nehir never really had any interest in following his mother's footsteps, finding the idea of sales meetings to be deathly boring. In what few times he ventured to the capital with her for work, it was often a struggle to stay awake during most of her meetings. But there was a bright spot. The Mage's College of Venne was a long standing client of the mill and, to Nehir at least, the single most beautiful place in the world. He wanted nothing more than to drop everything and start the first time he laid eyes on its halls.
  
  His mother refused, neither wanting her child to enter what she saw as such a dangerous field of study and adamant that he should follow in the family business.
  
  Magic infatuated Nehir, far more than the idea of selling paper ever could. Over a few years he managed to cobble together the basics of the art through a combination of sneakily buying books whenever he went to Venne (a task easier said than done...) and his own experimentation by a creek near his home. By age 16 he had the basics down, if heavily unrefined. He knew it wasn't by any means prodigious progress. But he had hoped it was enough to worm his way into the college, running away from home in the dead of night, intent on only returning when he was an accomplished mage.
  
  It...it didn't work out. For a number of reasons. While they appreciated his enthusiasm for the craft they found his methods...lacking for a better term. To the point that what few teachers who would even look his way suggested (albiet kindly) suggested he perhaps give up entirely. What teachers didn't say that knew who his mother was and knew of her objections to his attendance and refused flatly on those grounds instead.
  
  Embarrassed at his failure and too stubborn to return home, Nehir spent the next few months idling in the capital, practically burning through what little money he'd managed to save in that time. One day, wallowing in his new poverty and long standing embarrassment, he accidentally wandered near the grounds of the Guild hall, the air suddenly rocked by an explosion.
  
  At first he thought it was an attack of some sort, but the thunderous laughter that followed quickly broke that illusion. Peeking through the iron bars he saw of the wisp of ozone and wavering air indicative a strong fire spell and the mage who casted it.
  
  That explosion probably saved his life. He practically begged the guild to give him a job, starting as a lowly scribe. For the next three years he spent much of his daylight hours doing the accounting work he spent the bulk of his childhood avoiding and at night he spent his time on the training field. Honing whatever limited talent he had, not into the refined elegant tapestry of the arcane that was taught in the college. Instead he trade elegance for raw, devastating power.
  
  When he finally asked for field duty, he was warmly welcomed to it.
• Equipment: As a mage, Nehir keeps his equipment load fairly light. He carries some modest camping equipment (Nem sized unfortunately for you taller sorts.) as a small assortment of pots and pans for cooking on the road.
  His most prized possession is his wand. A scepter of heavy brass intricately etched with runes and topped with a dendrite quartz sphere. The scepter was built to reduce incantation times for his spells enough to make them usable in combat while still being able to handle the strain of it's users rather....bombastic spell choices. Sadly, there was little room for any augments for accuracy.
• Skills:

Nehir has been in the guild to know enough of the basics to be passable at basic survival skills like making camp and cooking. But outside of combat a fair bit of his work is administrative; setting budgets for outings, haggling with merchants for gear or supplies, things of that nature.

In combat Nehir is a dedicated mage of Ice and Wind magic. With wind magic he summons cutting gales of wind, tearing bloodied swaths through enemy lines. Or, if allies are in the way, howling torrents to simply barrel through, tossing whatever is in its path to the side.

With ice magic he tries (and often fails) to be a little more precise, using it to summon walls for cover for backline fighters like himself to hide behind. Or simply sending a vast bulwark of frost to lock down an area (and anyone in it).

While he lacks much in the way of variety, its hard to say that it can't be terrifyingly effective when it does work.

Name: Ifrari Shievran



Age: 25

Gender: Male

Race: Dark elf

Rank: 5 of Coins

Appearance: Ifrari stands at an average 5'9, is fairly lithe, and is deathly pale. He has startlingly blue eyes and long, braided black hair with an undercut. On missions, he will tie it into a tight bun to prevent it from getting grabbed or otherwise obstructing his movements. Outside of adventuring, he prefers dressing flamboyantly, a dark blue jacket with a light blue furred hoodie one of his favourite items. On missions, he will adopt a practical, comfortable, if drab attire.

Personality: Somewhat of a hedonist and a free spirit, Ifrari desires to live an enjoyable life on his own terms. He is a curious sort, especially about different races, cultures, and lands. He's the type who can easily break the ice with a general kindness and affability. Ifrari likes to have fun, and can take a joke even at his own expense. Though he's open even with strangers, he doesn't trust easily and is extremely tight-lipped about what his life before he started adventuring entailed. When in a potentially dangerous situation, however, it's almost as if he's an entirely different man, becoming focused, quieter, and more detached. As swiftly as he can establish connections in peaceful environments, adventuring with a team is honestly often stressful for him, and his frayed nerves can easily contribute to a conflict. Due to a desire to be in control, he feels compelled (and sometimes even duty-bound) to take on the leadership role, a role that reveals him to be a harsh taskmaster. On the occasions that he can feel comfortable with someone else being a leader (those occasions being when he recognizes a person as equally or more capable than himself), he will absolutely want to situate himself as an advisor of tactics and strategies. Though he has high standards, he is not a hypocrite, and will put in more than his share of effort, more than willing to offer a helping hand to those who are honestly in need or show a desire for learning and improvement.

Brief Backstory: Born in the far, far north, in a vast underground dark elven complex within the Barukstaed region, Ifrari was the first child of an average dark elf couple; a hunter father and a priestess mother. At two years old, his younger sister Rielgi was born. His sister exhibited a great magical talent in her early years, and when Ifrari learned she was to be formally tested for the full extend of her aptitude, he convinced his parents to go along and be tested as well - just in case he had some powers too. His parents allowed it, and so the siblings were taken by their mother to a temple for the aptitude test.

Ifrari was found to posses some small amount of magic, just enough to learn a few minor support spells. Though he was pleased to have a bit of what his sister had, his success was overshadowed by the frankly genius level of talent and vast amounts of mana his sister had. Ifrari was jealous and disappointed, because he'd built an expectation that he'd do everything alongside his sister. However, Rielgi was seen fit to be formally and thoroughly educated as a sorceress,and Ifrari was not. Even though they were close, Ifrari realized they would have to tread separate paths. In the end, this separation was not quite as dramatic as Ifrari had imagined; they still shared a living space, had their general education in common, and spent their free time together.

And so, during the period Rielgi spent learning how to use her inherent magical talents, Ifrari had committed himself to learning his father's skill in hunting, though when it came to wisdom and social relationships, he tended to turn to his mother. Ifrari was taught cautiousness, the layout of their underground network, the dangers that lurked both within (rivalry and duplicity) and without (the beasts they hunted - or were hunted by), and once his theoretical knowledge was satisfactory, he began learning more practical matters, such as how to make and utilize traps, how to handle a weapon, how to prepare the prey he caught et cetera. Sometime in his middle teens, Ifrari began hunting with his father's team, and not long after, he found himself a tutor he could trust to learn some magic. The spells he learned were all of a sort that could help in the pursuit and killing of beasts.

Years passed, and he became an established hunter of his own. He would have probably spent many years longer underground - perhaps till his death - if not for his sister. Rielgi completed her training, education, and apprenticeship, and became one of the youngest recognized independent masters of her craft at 18. As it so happened, she had specialized in terramancy, and encouraged Ifrari to go with her take a look at the outside world above ground, where dark elves rarely ventured. There was not strictly any need for the siblings to do so in secrecy, but such a momentous event was not something Rielgi wished to share with anyone but her brother (nor did she want to have it interrupted in any way by another). And so, they planned their expedition in secret. A fortnight later, they sneaked out.

That night...was memorable, to say the least. The lands they saw were cold and desolate, empty but for the snow. The night-sky was covered by storm-clouds, no hints of stars or the moon. It was utterly dreary and bitterly frigid. Hardly appealing. Yet, the wide, seemingly endless expanses of land were something the siblings hadn't seen beforehand. The outside was hauntingly beautiful. They were the only two living beings up there for miles and miles around. As the wind bit into their skin, the air clawed into their very being, and snow relentlessly assailed them, they stood, still and silent.

Moments later, they returned, covering their tracks as they did so. The sibling headed to sleep, each with their own thoughts, and did not discuss the mater until the following night. Then, Rielgi told him, "I want to go south," and "We should be living up there! Just imagine!" some time later. Ifrari wasn't so resolute, but he did indeed want to see above-ground lands that were actually inhabited, lands they'd only been told or had read about, lands that were consistently described as always vibrant and full of life. There might have been warnings of potential treachery in those stories too, but then again, didn't that danger exist everywhere?

In any case, the siblings were struck by wander-lust. However, they needed time to prepare and lay the ground for their departure. A year passed before they set out again. This time, they travelled underground, using established pathways whenever they could, creating their own or going above ground whenever they couldn't. As they travelled southwards, they saw many new things, and meeting eye to eye with the first non-elves and their way of life was quite the culture shock. Nonetheless, they adapted, and explored various villages, towns, and cities, not staying in any one place too long.

Eventually, they arrived in Estival. Ifrari learned of the Adventurer's Guild, and thought this was right up his alley - they had scouting and hunting missions his skill-set fit rather well. There was also the promise of a stable income, the chance to settle but also travel and adventure regularly. Rielgi, on the other hand, had her sights set on studying magic and see how her skills measured up to the best of the best. Once again, the siblings' paths deviated, and though Ifrari still got the occasional visit from his sister, their days of practically being attached at the hip were finally over. When he had been a child, the prospect of independence from his one trusted companion had terrified him, but now, as an adult, he could accept that he and his sister had each their own passions, desires, and purposes in life. Since the time Ifrari had registered at the Guild at 22, he had gradually moved through the ranks, and continues his days as a professional adventurer to this day.

Equipment: His armour is comprised of leather, cloth, and silk, which allows for easy and near-silent maneuverability. Even with some additional enhancements, the protection it offers is relatively minor. Ifrari carries with him a spear, a dagger, a hunting knife, several throwing needles, and a spool of wire. His spear is the most expensive and best crafted piece of equipment, as it is his primary weapon. The spear is sturdy, well-balanced, and can either be used in melee or thrown at an enemy. The blade of the spear has been enchanted to hold five charges of a paralyzing spell, which the caster can activate any time with a key-phrase. The spear's shaft is carefully insulated so the user is protected from being shocked alongside the enemy. When the charges run out, Ifrari can replenish them himself (which he typically does outside of a mission). He carries the spear in his hand, though if the situation requires it, he can always tie a piece of rope on it and sling it across his shoulder.

The scabbards of his knife and dagger are enchanted so as to allow for soundless sheathing and unsheathing. His boots have a good grip, comfortable for climbing and running. Hanging on his belt are several easy to access support items: two smoke bombs, one small-scale explosive bomb, and a bag of poison-laced caltrops. For longer, dangerous solo missions, he may buy a vial or two of regeneration/invigoration potion.

Ifrari also carries some general travelling supplies packed compactly in an easy-to-carry travelling bag (which contains food, water, a spool of rope, bandages, herbal poultices, a pot, a piece of flint, a bedroll). A definite constant among his equipment is also his person a journal (and writing implements), which he uses to sketch explored locations and encountered beings, as well as to make various notes.

Skills: Stealth and observation are practically a habit of Ifrari's, since he has been rigorously trained that noticing details and blending in or remaining unobserved are keys to his survival. The dark elf is extremely meticulous on missions, taking scouting to a t, researching all there is to know about a location and the enemies within. He can make functional, detailed maps of locations and sketches of enemies, which is quite the worthwhile skill for the guild. One of his drawbacks is that his activities take a lot of time and planning. Ifrari doesn't even consider that cautiousness, just a matter of course, though some others might even go so far as to term it paranoia.

Ifrari is a trained hunter, and has successfully utilized his skill for adventuring. He is exceptional at locating specific things or beings, detecting and making use of their various characteristics. He takes exploring and research to an almost obsessive degree, noting any shortcuts, nooks, and crannies of a location. Given some time, Ifrari can discover any and all weaknesses of an enemy that can be exploited - and exploit them he does. Combat-wise, Ifrari specializes in removing single targets or, at most, small groups. He is also a good treasure hunter, as he can remove objects from dangerous locations while minimalizing danger to himself. He is most familiar with underground cavernous terrain, though he's learned how to survive off the land (by hunting, sometimes gathering) above ground as well.

While he might hold on in a one-on-one confrontation (at least long enough to manage to escape somehow), direct fights are definitely not his forte. Though Ifrari has proven to be a capable back-up to front-line fighters, he is very picky when it comes to team-mates, as he absolutely despises recklessness. Unfortunately, some missions are simply too enticing to leave alone and also require a team, so as needs must...

Ifrari has an inherent well of mana just large enough to allow him to cast a limited amount of relatively simple spells. He has a rather wide variety of spells considering he is not primarily a caster. However, he doesn't have a large enough mana pool to use more than two or three spells consecutively, after which he will need some time to recover.

Name: Jane Doe


Age: 27

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Rank: 4 of Swords



Personality:
Most Adventurers would know Jane as a quiet, timid and detached individual from the rest of the guild. She speaks very plainly and rarely about anything other than business. However, Jane has a noticeably different disposition when talking with complete, one-off strangers or when she's just representing the guild. She is more open and friendly in such times, bringing no shortage of confusion from her peers.

Jane also never takes off her helmet with the reason that she is incredibly ugly. Like, incredibly ugly with the claim that her birth went horribly wrong.



Brief Backstory:
Jane was from a distant land that shunned her horribly disfigured appearance, forcing her to journey all the way to Estival where she applied to be an Adventurer. She wanted to establish a new life in Estival and leave her past behind forever. She started first by disavowing her surname and taking on 'Doe'. Thus, Jane Doe the Adventurer was born.



Equipment:
Jane came to the guild with her signature armor, a pair of thin swords and a heater shield painted completely white.



Skills:
Despite the appearance, Jane was no remarkable fighter. Despite applying as a Sword, she could barely hold her own against Swords ranked 4 and higher. The guild trained her as best they could but Jane showed minimal progress.

Still, the guild could always use an extra pair of hands. She was mostly relegated to menial tasks in the guild like cleaning and cooking. She could also be tasked to do the easy jobs that the guild requires.