Name: Kaze
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Race: Lizardman

Appearance:


Height: 7'4
Eye Color: Gray
Hair Color: Black Horns

Personality.
Kaze is a very practical being in full control of his emotions...for the most part. A lot of people see him as a cold and emotionless being due to his reptilian nature. But that's what he lets the public see. When he's not in large crowds he's far more open, laughing, teasing, messing with others. He was probably just shy since so many eyes tended to be drawn to him, either his size, his coloration, his build, the big honking sword on his back.

Unfortunately every light makes a shadow. He's a willful headstrong warrior with some...anger issues. He's used to getting his way due to his experience in the harsh swamps, he doesn't take no very well, and if his fuse is lit its best to stay out of his furious way.

History:
Kaze was hatched and raised in the southern swamp-lands. The humid water-table had numerous names but the one that stuck to it most Dark Wetlands, mostly because the trees and the moss that hung from their branches blocked out so much light. It was almost always twilight in that muck filled area. Here he grew up, in the darker areas with little to no dry ground.

Living in such a harsh environment, poisonous plants and animals, vicious boars, and who knew what else, made for a hard people. Food was plentiful if you knew what you were looking for, or built your resistances to poisons. Kaze, already a pretty big lizardman, thrived in the environment. He seemed to have started earlier than others, already resistant to poisons and diseases. The elders assumed it was because of his white color, so unnatural among the greens and browns of his brethren.

During some scouting in the swamp Kaze stumbled across some decomposing corpses of a creature he had never seen before. Bipedal, clothed, strong armor, better weaponry. He had found human corpses, rifling through their stuff, all too small for his people except for children, he found a strange parchment. It had a huge picture on it. It was a map, his own people had made a crude one to show the territories of the other tribes. But this one showed so much more, a massive landmass with his homeland in a small corner of it.

Kaze of course brought everything but the bodies back and showed it to the elders. Everything would find a use except the books really, none of them spoke the human tongue let alone read it. Kaze kept the map though, looking it over whenever he had a minute to himself. He huge being was getting a sense to explore, was it youth? Curiosity? Maybe a sense to expand and conquer? Only he really knew, and so he told the elders of his tribe his plans.

To explore, learn, and bring back knowledge to better the tribe. Already the newest clutch of younglings have emerged from their eggs, ready to be raised and bolster the tribe. So with that they let him go, on the condition he'd come back every year to help the tribe in the wars with other lizardmen. It established hierarchy among them so it wasn't an all out slaughter-fest.

With their blessing he left, off to explore the world! That was several years ago. His gained knowledge has strengthened his people, he basically became their champion. His gear and technique helping make him the strongest lizardman in the Dark Wetlands. But still he explored outside of his homeland, he wanted to see the world and he had plenty of time to see it!

-----
Level: 20
Class: Barbarian Monk
Profession: Metal Worker: Able to do basic repairs and upkeep on low tier metallic equipment. Materials like copper, bronze, iron, and steel.

Stats:
Strength (STR): S
Vitality (VIT): B
Dexterity (DEX): C
Intellect (iNT): D
Wisdom (WIS): C
Charisma (CHA): E

List of immunities:

• Poison: Immune to poisons of all sorts

Resistances:

• Disease: Swamps are full of nastiness, he's been sick more than his fair share which has built up his system so it's harder for him to catch anything.
• Fire: He's a reptile, he likes a good bit of warmth! So fire damage is lessened on him since his body naturally absorbs some of the heat.
• Physical Damage: He has taken a lot of damage over the years, so his body has toughened up so some physical damage is mitigated.

Weaknesses:

• Cold: Being of a reptilian nature he has a big weakness to the cold. Going into hibernation, and eventually dying from prolonged exposure.

Equipment:

• Shocking Big Sword: A rather large well crafted sword that can be used two handed or one hand thanks to his impressive strength. He has had it imbued with some shocking element
• Open Armor: A set of armor that's very open in the torso while protecting the limbs with thick plating. Offers good defense without sacrificing too much mobility.
• Half Necklace: a strange necklace that wraps around the back of his neck with two glowing gems at his throat. Each gem is imbued, one increases his Strength, the other gem increases his Dexterity.

Skills & Spells:

• Smash: Channeling energy into a strike he makes it his nearly three times harder, whether it's a weapon or his body.
• Combo Blows: He assaults a single opponent relentlessly, combing multiple strikes to deal more damage.
• Frenzy: When he gets royally pissed off he flies into a murderous frenzy, boosting his Strength and Vitality, but making him reckless and sometimes friendly fire happens.
• Sunder: A classic melee move, it charges a weapon with energy that lowers the armor class of an opponent, sometimes even breaking the struck gear entirely.
• Defensive Stance: He covers his vitals more, making damage on him lessened and also making his own attacks weaker.
• Invulnerable Body: Increases his natural defenses by 1.5 times, making his body feel like someone was striking and iron block.
• Pace of Wind: A boost to move speed, increasing his pace by 1.5 times.
• Flow Acceleration: Affects the nerves so he reacts faster, attacks faster, and moves faster. Stacks with other buffs and increases the reactions and speeds by double.
• Critical Eye: A 'passive' ability that improves his chance to get a critical hit by a little bit.
• Dark Vision: He can see in low light as if it were day. In complete darkness he can see as if it were low light.

Name: Atua, Bright Atua.
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Race: Elf.

Appearance:
Height: 5’10
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Black

Personality. She is warm and carefree despite the nature of her job. Whether her allure is a guise to lure a bounty close or a genuine expression of care, only she knows. She is an optimist who believes in actualizing the best outcome by whatever means necessary, not because she always thinks one’s circumstances will work in their favor in the end.

She invites all manner of people to her and is (mostly) not discriminate of racial or geographical differences--because if you pay her enough, she will cross all those chasms to fulfill her duty. She doesn’t like goblins or were-anything much, though. There is some contempt for nobility in her make, she believes them all out of touch and despises the subconscious haught that comes with their socialization as inherently better than those who do not have the same upbringing.

History: In the East, among old groves and under winding trees who’ve nestled generations, there exists a civilization in the bosom of the evergreen. From birth they learn to hunt: animals, people, monsters. They do it all in the name of Imare, their Goddess of Creation, who, in their legends and written tales, sought to capture Mr. Death but was tricked by an old woman who hid Death in her infinite locs. Effaced and laughed at by the other gods, Imare sits and for many years reads from the Imigitabo, the Blessed Book, which observes all the creatures in the land: their debts and deeds, sacrifices and defeats, and numbers them all.

And in the age of industrialization, where people become oligarchs and nature is supplanted by commodification,and beast people wield blades forged of dark magic, she finds her champions. Imare turns to the forests and anoints many green-dwellers with her primordial blessings--if she cannot capture Death, she will chase it away forever.

And it is from one of many of these forest folk, these named the I’wali, that a group of prominent hunters arise. Born and raised in the midst of the I’wali stalkers, Atua lives most of her young life high in treetops. She forages, learns to cook, and begins learning how to carve and reinforce wood no sooner than she can walk on her own.

The concept of ‘parents’ and the nuclear familial unit is moot among the I’wali, and their villages--interconnected via vines which extend above and below the entire skyline of the forest they inhabit, which they named Ama--are not divided by class or race. Instead, all young I’wali are paired with an older hunter from another section of Ama to begin their ingratiation as a hunter no later than the age of 6. It is during this time that Atua is taken under the wing of a village elder and she spends the rest of her formative years developing natural survival skills.

At 13, she undergoes the Trial of the Blessed, a rite of passage all I’wali undergo in which they pledge themselves to Imare and--should they pass--are bestowed her power. The conditions of each pact is different for each I’wali and is often discovered over the course of one’s life. It is, loosely put, their fate. Atua sets out from her village at 18 to discover what her Blessed path is.

Level: 20
Class: Ranger-Warlock
Profession: Woodworker

Stats:
Strength (STR): E
Vitality (VIT): D
Dexterity (DEX): B (primary)
Intellect (iNT): C
Wisdom (WIS): C (secondary)
Charisma (CHA): F

List of immunities:
None

Resistances:
High resistance to poison.
Mild resistance to scrying.

Weaknesses:
Particularly vulnerable in close quarters melee combat.
Vulnerable to fire (especially enchanted fire).

Equipment:
W’Amaraso: A recurve bow hand crafted by Atua herself. It is carved from cheche wood, otherwise known as White Thorn wood, found in the far west side of I’wali territory. It is a 54’’ bow with a draw weight of around 45 pounds.

Umugote & Umurabyo: These are twin daggers which rest on her hip. Etched on the flats of both blades are vines that homage Ama and remind her of home.

Utukara: A quiver with 30 recurve hunting arrows with replaceable heads. The body of each arrow is painted white and each tip painted black. Atua prefers using broadhead arrows but she keeps other tips in pouches on her thigh.

Skills & Spells:

Imare’s Hand: Empowering two arrows in the quiver until both are used in combat, these arrows can break through thick stone and wood cover. Additional damage is dealt to plate and chain armor. It does not ignore full cover.

Nature’s Call (passive): Years of training her senses to their peak--alongside Imare’s boon--has heightened her ability to smell and hear with greater intensity than the average human. She can hear pitches low as 15 hertz and sounds high as 25,000 hertz. Her sense of smell is heightened so much that she can parse a singular and very faint scent in a room of 20 people. As an elf, her natural eyesight is superior to the average human’s, allowing her to see up to a distance of two and a half miles.

While certainly a boost, Atua cannot stand extremely loud places for long and thus she avoids things like city centers and major compact urban areas as much as possible. If she must go, she finds the quietest place she can to conduct her business. And though her vision is superior, she cannot see through magical darkness.

Luck of the Bow-Dancer: Honing her focus to a pinpoint, she can extend the maximum range of her next three shots an additional one hundred feet while halving penalty to accuracy or damage. She can do this twice a day and then she must rest for at least four hours before she can do it again.

Elaith’s Sight (passive): She can see in total darkness as though it was dim light and in dim light as though it were fully lit. She cannot pierce magical darkness of any kind with this ability.

Appearance: Slender with an ample bosom, Cecilia stands proudly at 5’10, her very countenance exuding the sense of someone who’s accustomed to being noticed. Her pearly complexion and vibrant amber eyes can frame her appearance as either cute or mature depending on her expression, and her hair, a pale lilac that turns silver in the right lighting, is left long enough to trail down to her waist.

Height: 5'10
Eye Color: Amber
Hair Color: Lilac

Personality: In a word, Cecilia is forceful. Though technically a runaway now, she still has the presence of a daughter of nobility, overbearing and accustomed to getting what she wants. Her emotions show freely on her face, because she fears nothing at all (except for the eventuality of being caught by her parents' knights and being dragged back home). Bright ideas come to mind easily, and her personality is such that she works to get everyone else on board with her when she's gotten interested in something. The more the merrier, and Cecilia doesn't particularly mind who's on board, so long as many are on board. A natural socialite, it seems odd at first that she would have escaped the ballrooms and opera houses of the aristocratic elite to muck it out in the mud as a solo adventurer/fashion designer, but there is a thread there still.

There is nothing natural about being a socialite in high society; Cecilia has only felt free and unemcumbered when chasing her dual dreams of wearing fancy dresses and slaying evil monsters. If she can accomplish the former with her own efforts, there isn't exactly much reason for her to stay around the mansion, no? She does miss her friends though, even if they were probably only pretending to be friends in order to curry favour with the Tonitrus family. Ah well, life's a journey, and a solo one at that.

History
The Oligarchy of Illiserev stands at the center of the world, not because of any divine ordnance or kingly command, but because they were the ones who drew the best maps, the ones who established the most illustrious Cartographer’s Guild on the continent. Adventurers know Illiserev as the Forge of Explorers. Merchants know Illiserev as the End of All Paths. The grand Cephora Mountain Range upon which Illiserev’s capital city is built at the base of feeds a network of rivers that stretch out towards the rest of the continent, and this forms the backbone of Illiserev’s trade. With well-paved roads leading towards the kingdom and fast-flowing rivers leading out from the kingdom, the merchant-aristocrats of Illiserev boast wealth that would make the nobility of other nations green with envy, and the dozens of trade agreements Illiserev has between various kingdoms and principalities has shielded it from military conflict. Though various religious or knightly orders may be displeased with the cutthroat machinations of the wealthy merchant-aristocrats, no one has yet to truly act upon their displeasure: some small evils can easily be overlooked in favor of the pleasures and novelties brought forth in the wagons of Illiserev’s wagons.

Cecilia Tonitrus, thirdborn daughter of the illustrious Duke Sarkuz Tonitrus, was never all that interested in the schemes and politics of her peers, however. Charming and generous, with a penchant for reading heroic tales, the young lady was pampered by her servants and guards growing up, taken on excursions throughout the nation. Her father didn’t particularly care; he focused his attention on his heirs, Cecilia’s older siblings, leaving her to do as she wished. So long as she didn’t bring shame upon her family, the thirdborn was allowed to indulge in whatever her spoiled self desired. She threw grand tea parties, learned arts both martial and arcane, decked herself in beautiful dresses she’d discard the day after, ran amok through the estate grounds, and was generally the weirdest mixture of a dainty lady with fine taste in clothing and a rambunctious tomboy who thought herself as invincible.

That changed, though, when the Tonitrus heirs were slain, assassinated. The culprit committed suicide rather than risk capture, and suddenly, Sarkuz decided that he could not be so lax with his children. Before the grieving period had even passed, the amount of guards that oversaw the protection of his children practically tripled, and suddenly, they weren’t able to go anywhere beyond the walls of the main estate. Cecilia hated that. She hated it even more that the whole business of the assassination was swept under the rug by her father, who still valued public opinion enough that he chose to keep quiet, rather than appear as an incompetent protector to his peers in asking for their aid. As those emotional wounds became scabs, scars, Cecilia’s sense of suffocation grew and grew. The freedom in her childhood was no more, even though she should be more free as an adolescent, and she yearned for it enough that she wanted to scream.

Instead, she waited, watched, memorized, reconsidered, and pulled everything together. Her freedom was selfish and inconsiderate, an act that would only cause her father's hair to whiten further, but she would pursue it anyways.

One night, she slipped away from her estate and ran as far as she could.

She never stopped.

Name: Vani Silverstream
Age: 57
Gender: Male
Race: Wood Elf



Personality. When someone thinks of a paladin, the last person they might think of would be Vani. In place of chivalry he holds revelry to be his core tenement, seeking enjoyment wherever he goes. He's a lover of wine, women, and boasts, holding the firm belief that any adventure is worth having so long as its enjoyable. He may shirk duties that he finds loathsome, but when it comes to having a swordarm at your back, worse than Vani exist out there. He is loyal to those who show him respect, and despite his negative qualities at least understands that a paladin exists to protect people from evil. If Vani suspects that he can help with a problem, he'll offer his services immediately, boasting that it would likely pose no threat to a man of his caliber.

...Put simply, he's a pain in the neck.

History: Wheras most paladins enter their service through tenements of fate, Vani entered it from a childish fit. At the ripe young age of 46. Born the son of a blacksmith and without a mother figure beyond his third year, Vani always resented the simple life that he was born into. As such, he'd try to escape from under the thumb of his father as soon as he worked up the nerve. The simple village of Marinkarn was one that had a rich store of iron present in its mines. Simple farmers, miners, and a few merchants made there home there. It was an idyllic, simple little village...which made it terribly dull to one with such grand ideas of adventure and wanderlust as Vani. He'd admittedly come to love the place, and later in his life would regret leaving in the way he did. But, for his ends, he abandoned it as soon as he had enough money to ensure that he could travel.

Running away with one of his father's swords, Vani would enter the service of the church of Lolan, Goddess of Celebration, Storms, and Weddings. It was a simple enough procedure, but it would create a rift between Vani and his father that has lasted for years to come. The reason he chose this church is, frankly, the most selfish one can imagine. As the Goddess of Celebration and Weddings, Lolan's followers are not barred from the usual prohibition placed on clergy for its members to marry and have children. It was a very selfish reason, but Vani always figured that someday he'd settle down with a nice girl after he got the adventure out of his bloodstream. Maybe get stupid rich and famous while he was at it. While Vani had always been a bit of a vulgar and lazy sort of person, the sheer contempt he held for his noble "betters" in service of Lolan drove him to better himself...at least, in terms of ability. Born lame in the brain, Vani would instead focus all his talents on swordplay and training, seeking to become a man worthy of being knighted in full as a paladin.

Sadly, due to a mix of his own loose tongue and his inability to master some of the more intermediate paladin spells, he was passed over for the Rite of Advancement. Left behind by his brothers and frustrated with himself, Vani would leave the Church on an unofficial pilgrimage, feeling that he had wasted ten years of his life, and wanted to finally go out and seek adventure on his own terms. Strangely, despite leaving the church improperly he is still capable of using the spells of their order. Perhaps it is because he never lost his faith in her, but rather the tenements of her followers, Vani is still considered to be under the watchful eyes of the Storm Queen. Now, having wandered around for a year on his own, Vani has accumulated a bit of adventuring experience at his own pace.

...Of course, now he was shunned by his brothers, not welcome back home due to leaving his father high and dry, running tavern tabs out on towns that he couldn't afford to drink in at the first place, but...y'know...at least he's killing a few goblin nests here and there. And so the fool of a paladin would march on to the beat of his own drum, unbound by his church, and lacking any home to call his own.
-----
Level: 19
Class: Paladin
Profession: Blacksmith

Stats: Stats are rated by a letter-system, with worst to best being as follows; F, E, D, C, B, A, S. An 'average' adult human, with no martial training and no proper education has rank F in generally all their stats)
Strength (STR): B
Vitality (VIT): A
Dexterity (DEX): D
Intellect (INT): F (Technically an E in terms of actual education, but he's a bona fide idiot.)
Wisdom (WIS): C
Charisma (CHA): B

List of immunities:
Sleep, Magical Charm

Resistances:
Lightning

Weaknesses:
Necrotic, Illusions, Physical Charm

Equipment:
Steel Longsword: A basic sword the likes of which you could find just about anywhere. The handguard is custom however, having been forged by Vani's father. Any future sword that he would recieve, he would put this handguard on it.

Kite Shield of Lolan: A shield emblazoned with the holy symbol of Lolan, Goddess of Revelry and Storms. There's nothing really exceptional about it, but its clear from looking at it that it has been well-maintained and treasured by the one who uses it.

Paladin's Ensemble: A mixture of chainmail, tabard, plate gauntlets, and pauldrons that show that Vani is well armored. He would have a helmet, but in anime land helmets are just a friendly suggestion.

Ring of the Apprentice: A ring traditionally worn by fledgling mages that enables one to regenerate their MP faster. It was gifted to Vani by his mentor to..."help" with his inability to cast more than a few spells before running dry.

Amulet of the Storm: A holy symbol worn around the neck that provides a boost to the user's lightning damage spells.

Skills & Spells:
Thundering Smite: A wreath of electricity is called down from the heavens to the user's weapon, imbuing it with holy power for a short number of strikes. Because of Vani's relatively low mana pool, he enjoys using this in short bursts during combat as it ends the fight a hell of a lot faster if the other guy is a smoldering charred mess.

Lay on Hands: The most basic of healing spells. Paladins are not clerics, and as such generally are not taught much of the healing arts beyond this spell. The user transfers a bit of their stamina into healing magic that must be delivered via direct contact. Vani scarcely uses this.

Challenge of the Adherent of Thunder: A technique learned by the defenders of mirth that is effectively a taunt. Except really loud.

Duelist: Vani is relatively skilled at swordplay, and is more than capable of going toe to toe with someone of similar strength compared to him.

Personality

Defeatist and shy, Ciel has a strict line between his friends and his enemies, acting quiet and aloof towards those he does not know. Unless Ciel has an especially strong stance in terms of morality or decision making, Ciel will act conflict avoidant in terms of decision making. He has trouble speaking and will stutter a lot, which is partially why he stays silent for most of the time. However, this does not mean that Ciel is not expressive or cold, as Ciel will do his best to help others he views as friends. Ciel is easily flustered and although he will appreciate compliments, doesn't actually know how to handle attention. Ciel is industrious and gets restless if there isn't anything to do, even if it is menial tasks. Most of the time, this means scouting nearby places or eavesdropping on others to see if he can help them without being noticed.

However, Ciel is surprisingly vengeful and will viciously hunt down all those who betrayed him, the Crown and the Lalunes alike, and especially those who came from his original town of Naravini. When enraged, Ciel's usually calm disposition will turn into a clinical cruelty, aiming to tear enemies apart both emotionally and physically. Personal morality mostly hinges upon trying to find the best for the people he has decided to care about, even if it means he has to do morally questionable actions to reach that end. Ciel is painfully aware of his amorality, and beats himself up over his need for vengence; but in the spur of the moment, he can't help but let his suppressed temper rise.

Ciel longs to feel like a part of a group, even if he tries to convince himself that he's better off alone. He has a complex about his skin condition that makes him difficult to feel tactile sensations and pain in general, and will pretend that he is able to feel things more than he really can. Ciel is good at keeping up appearances and insist everything is fine, but deep inside he knows that something fundamental died within him.

Ciel's hobbies usually involve going up to the highest vantage point and gazing out at the landscape or the stars. He's heard that apparently the stars were supposed to represent tales of epic battles and flawless heroes, but has never gotten a chance to hear them. Perhaps out here Ciel would be able to find someone who does know.

History


Ciel was born into one of the most turbulent times of port city of Naravini, stuck between the war between the Crown and the criminal underbelly. Perhaps had he been born into a kinder environment, his natural talent for arcane magic and curiosity could have been fostered; but instead, it became a curse that painted him as a candidate for the Lalunes. Abandoned at birth due to the dire cirumstances, he was inducted into the Lalunes as a responsive measure against the arcane attacks of the Crown magi.

Dropped into a world of desperate competition but naturally disposed to concede than fight, Ciel grew up being content with the smallest share and instead seeking affirmation and belonging. Ciel was blindly loyal to the guild, throwing himself into the most dangerous attacks against the Crown forces in service of a guild that had apparently saved him from the streets. He didn't care how cruel or how degenerate his actions were, as long as there was a clear distinction of 'us' and 'them'.

However, when his group was ambushed during an attack against a Crown stakeout, he was trapped within a cave and blockaded by the Crown forces. At first he awaited rescue as he had ensured a message was relayed back to the Lalunes. But when a message of a blank note was returned to him, it became apparent that the Lalunes had abandoned him. Ciel realized that the Lalunes were never the saviors that he had fantasized, nor was he any better for serving them. Ciel was just a pawn and a disposable blade now past its usefulness.

Heartbroken and betrayed, Ciel quietly allowed himself to be captured by the Crown forces. The judge took pity on Ciel and instead of an execution sent him to nearby quiet cities to serve his peonage. Recently released early for his good behavior, Ciel doesn't quite know what to do. Ciel was aware of his past crimes and was aware that he can't ever go back. Naravini was still in gridlock and there was little Ciel could do to exact vengence on anyone either. Ciel has been serving menial jobs in local military troupes, as well as help out local farmers in penance. But the walls of Naravini were always in the back of his mind, daring him to enter again.

-----
Level: 18
Class: Assassin (Arcane)
Profession: Scout, Herbalist

Stats:
Strength (STR): D
Vitality (VIT): C
Dexterity (DEX): B
Intellect (INT): B
Wisdom (WIS): E
Charisma (CHA): F

Resistances:
- Pain, especially tactile senses
- Minor Cold
- Minor Darkness (nightvision to a limited extent, can't see past artificial darkness)

Equipment
Fey & Fel: Twin daggers Ciel received from a local blacksmith when he helped them get rid of bats from a cave. They're plain daggers with casting ambers in their hilt, doubling as arcane tools. Aside from occassional rust and wear, the blade is relatively well-kept.

Minor Herbalist Kit: Tools and small bandages to allow basic salves and poutices to be made from scavenged herbs. The toolkit itself is mostly improvised from various tools from other kits.

Shortbow w/ Arrows: A plain wooden shortbow with a handful of arrows for long range combat.

Lalune guild badge: A small copper badge with a flying owl. Has no uses since Ciel was effectively disavowed by the guild, but he has since kept it for sentimentality purposes.

Blank messaging paper: A grubby, little scrap of paper used by Lalunes to message each other. Similarily kept for sentimentality purposes, in spite rather than fondness.

Skills & Spells
Mark: Single out a target and set a corrupting Mark on them. Gain armor penetration and critical hit multiplier against a Marked target. Marks persist until the marked target disengages, either the user or the target is defeated. A maximum of 3 Marks can be maintained. This skill has a Mana cost.

Vanish: Disappear from detection with a camoflaging spell. This can be used out of combat to increase stealth effectivity, disappearing nearly entirely from visual detection for the user only. This can be used in combat to disengage an enemy and escape combat. Fails against enemies with high detection skills, and is ineffective against arcane or thermal detection. This skill has a Mana cost and Cooldown.

Execute: Attack with the intent to kill, targeting existing wounds to ensure a kill. Deal bonus damage against opponents under 50% HP, scaling with critical hit multiplier. If used against a Marked target, consume the Mark to recover large amount of stamina, and immediately reset cooldown of Vanish. This skill has a Cooldown.

Silence: Within a small field, suppress hostile magic. Completely negates effects of weak magic, but has reduced effectivity against magic stronger than the user. The user may completely concentrate on Silence to increase effectivity at the cost of continuous Mana drain and inability to react to incoming attacks. This skill has a Mana cost and Cooldown.

Hidden Fangs (passive) : The user deals bonus damage when attacking from stealth or when using concealed weapons against unaware targets. Against Marked targets, deal additional armour piercing damage and recover mana.

Dynamism (passive): The user is especially focused against their Marked targets, and gains increased dodge chance against attacks from Marked targets. Becomes more effective over time, but is reset when attacking unmarked targets or when focus is disturbed via status effects.

Details:
Palagria is a hereditary monarchy, located south of the Forgotten Ruins and the unclaimed wilderness surrounding it. It's a temperate nation with many forests and rolling hills, flanked to the east by a large lake which has a river flowing out of it to the east-southeast. It has a northern european-esque tone to it. The country is egalitarian, though practices first-born hereditary traditions. The royal family rules the capital and surrounding areas,, while noble families and local lords/ladies rule the outer provinces.

Capital: Syrdenon
Total Population: 1,000,000~
Inhabitants: Humans (primarily), Dwarves, Elves (rare)

People of Note:

Details:
The Galanon Empire is the largest nation on the western side of the continent, spanning a tremendous amount of land and territory. In fact, it might just be the largest nation on the entire continent as a whole. With such a vast territory under its control, the Empire has a very diverse array of biomes and ecology, ranging from mountains to plains to forests to swamps and deserts to steppes and beyond. The country is well-known for having conquered many of its rivals and neighbours, as well as subjugating supposed allies. A country that takes what it needs, or wants, by force and military might, the Empire is not well liked by the rest of the continent's kingdoms and countries. It also practicies strict cultural assimilation, forcing those they've conquered to adopt their own customs and culture, as well as eradicating and stamping out any native customs or traditions.

Capital: Diraq
Total Population: 10,000,000~
Inhabitants: Humans (Dominant), Numerous other races

People of Note:

Appearance:

Standing at 5’ 5”, Artemisia is about average height of a girl of her age. Her otherwise unremarkably sized bust is accentuated by her slender figure and a proper posture. Raised from birth as aristocracy, with the confidence to match, she is often dressed in dapper fabrics and cloaks, giving her a mature appearance that exceeds her diminutive size. Her hair is often done up with long, asymmetrical bangs with an unconventional ponytail, but on occasion her hair can be found simply let down.

Height: 5’ 5”
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Light brown

Personality.
Artemisia is a person that has seen far more than she should for a noble girl of only twenty-seven summers. From a land once prosperous, torn by war and disease, she has a tendency to become cynical, sometimes bitter. At face, she has a hint of sadness in her air. Nonetheless, she is a person that strives to be virtuous despite her failings, seeking to uphold her morals and her interpretation of noblisse oblige. Formerly rather arrogant and prideful, she can still be smug and still holds a good sense of self-worth despite being beaten down by her past. Influenced by her upbringing, she is yet still a sociable person; while not to the strictest definition of ‘friendly,’ she is possessed of a certain charisma and guile that can captivate many of those that she meets.

Artemisia has a steady, unyielding quality to her and can be stubborn as an ox. She upholds her bargains, and expects others to uphold theirs. Once she takes hold of a grudge, she will take it to the grave.

She has a great love for food, wine, and luxuries, despite her newfound circumstances. Dressing well is her particular weakness; in no uncertain terms does a traveling merchant adventurer –spice peddling or not-- dress in silk, gold clasps and finery. Artemisia does, and looks all the better for it. It does give her a bit of the occasional problem on the road, however.

History:
The United Provinces of Vruchtland, at best, can be described as a state in the business of keeping up appearances. A small nation, occupying the size of land a larger empire might call a province, it is a country of coastal lowlands, levees and costly reclaimed land. A nation of ports, a century ago, it was a maritime empire, ruled by the elite merchant-nobility class. After a hundred years of poor politics, expanding neighbors, and a following twenty years of siege and war, Vruchtland’s prestige was barely held together by the slowly unraveling glue of an aging navy, a strong currency, and the natural defenses of floodable lowlands. The port Neuben dictated the flow of many goods into the continent, and stood as the stalwart guardian of the Laagare River, the gateway to the rest of the country and its upriver trading port, Estiegnac.

Artemisia de Chauret was the fourth child of Fernand de Charuet, the marquess of Estiegnac, and a member of the merchant elite. As a member of a noble house in declining Vruchtland, Artimisia was groomed to take a position in the country’s political and economic sphere. Immersed in a life of politics and trade, she slowly integrated into the family’s affairs. At first, she sat in at discussions, threw parties with peers of her age at her family estate. Then, her responsibilities grew towards matters of state. Finally, as a merchant, she broached trade proposals, brokered agreements, and handled disputes in the name of her father. For a noble, she traveled well.

When the armada was destroyed, betrayed by Vruchtland’s closest ally, when the fleet’s captured remnants sailed up past the silent forts of Neuben and into the heart of the country, it heralded the beginning of the end. The country, which had been so hard to take from the frontlines, stood no chance attacked from within. In a few months Estiegnac was under siege. Another couple months later, it was hit by yet another disaster.

Artemisia and her family were caught in the siege. A few months later, plague wracked the city. Vruchtland dealt well with plague, but the ravages of war and a dearth of supplies soon reduced even the most practiced of cities. Artemisia, like many others, sought solutions to slow the death. In her own effort to turn back the plague, she dived into books, researching at first the esoteric, and then, as the situation grew more desperate, with her family dying around her, found herself going to the depths of the forbidden as the morbid circumstances drove her research into necromancy with an equally morbid curiosity.

Despite her own efforts, little worked, and hardly stemmed the bleeding of the city. In the following months, four fifths of the population perished. The reduction soon forced the city’s surrender; by the grace of god, what remained of the population was allowed to walk out. By the end of it, Artemisia was the new head of her family seat, but one in exile.

-----
Level: 20
Class: Necromancer
Profession: Merchant

Stats:
Strength (STR): E
Vitality (VIT): D
Dexterity (DEX): C
Intellect (iNT): B
Wisdom (WIS): B
Charisma (CHA): B

List of immunities:
N/A

Resistances:
Necrotic
Disease
Poison
Hunger

Weaknesses:
Holy
Close quarters combat

Equipment:
Ceremonial Sword – A small, thin, gilt weapon carried more as a dress weapon than as a weapon for personal defense. Nonetheless, the 90cm weapon functions perfectly fine as a self-defense sidearm.

Dagger – A simple well-crafted 30cm blade. It serves as a backup weapon in the direst of situations.

Artemisia’s Attire – Simple, well-made, but elegant. This often consists of a white blouse, dark skirt, boots, and a gilt black cape with a golden chain and clasp. More subtly, the buttons have her family’s coat of arms.

Ring of Estiegnac – A gold signet ring engraved with the Estiegnac coat of arms, belonging to the head of the house.

Inigo – Artemisia’s horse. Sturdy, reliable, but not the fastest. Fitted with a leather saddle and outfitted with a variety of bags for goods and traveling supplies, as well as an always handy to have change of clothes.

Leather-bound Journal – Notes, spells, grocery lists, whatever. Probably a grocery list for exotic food.

Skills

Diplomacy (Passive)

Deception (Passive)

Spells
Cure Wounds – Restores minor to moderate wounds to one’s self or another over the course of several seconds.

False Life – Fortifies one’s self or another with an imitation of life, temporarily boosting vitality.

Minor restoration – Cures one disease or condition.

Equilibrium – Saps and transfers the life force of one target to another, dealing minor damage while healing the secondary target.

Lesser Animate Dead – Animate a corpse with a mimicry of life. Raises a minor skeleton or zombie that follows Artemisia’s commands. The spell lasts for a day before the target reverts to a corpse.

Fireball – A very straightforward spell. Fires a ball of fire at a target.

Bog Strike – Unleash a bolt of negative energy that ensnares the target, dealing minor damage and encumbering them for a small duration.

---

Name: Annabelle
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Race: Human

Appearance:
Height: 5'6
Eye Color: Red
Hair Color: Black

Personality. Annabelle learned in her short history to be quiet. Words are special, and finely placed in conversation. To that end, she is a woman of few words, and out of deep-seated reverence never fails to be polite with them. It is difficult to rouse her from anything but a flowing and calming but brief experience. She keeps friends easily thanks to her predisposition towards amicable social behavior, and is reliable perhaps to a fault. While certainly selfless, she will still vocalize her displeasure of being taken advantage of (calmly, of course).

While her words are soft and personable, her actions are anything but. She is swift and decisive, brutal and unforgiving. She is a fighter and explorer and little else, and her inhospitable upbringing lends to a ferocity when fighting that seems barbaric and pitiless. Annabelle will claim it is without emotion that she acts in this manner, but the gleam in her eye might speak to others of a lingering fear that's never left her.

Overall Annabelle can be a bit innocent and unguided, making it hard to understand some of the finer details in life. She is quick to try no matter how behind the curve she is, nevertheless, and if given the chance to prove herself will even more quickly prove her dedication along the way.

History:


You wander far to the north in search of your prey -a herd of elk trampling the snow into a dense sheet beneath their hooves. You have been here before, but this is the edge of the world. Out here there is nothing but you and the untamed wild. Your expertise and wisdom have guided you through the taiga time and time again, given you both life and the means with which to pay for it. This is just another season of hunting, trusty bow slung around your shoulders.

The elk are wandering far this time, giving you trouble. You've made a few mistakes, but now they have nowhere to run besides a dense wood across the snow plains. You chase them there. A few stragglers will inevitably dart into the trees where it is easier for you to hide and approach. They make a run, and you follow. Your boots trudge across the field, sapping your stamina, but it is no different than any other day. You're built for this, and the cold stinging in your throat only invigorates you further.

An elk springs into the treeline, disappearing behind a prison of pines. Its tracks are easy to follow, and it will inevitably stop to consider its situation before returning to the herd. Deeper and deeper you go into this nameless forest. A place that no man, living or dead, may have ever set foot in before. You think for a moment that you might be the first thinking creature to ever touch the bark of these trees or their ancestors. It is desolate, but it is yours and yours alone.

You draw your bow, readying yourself for a shot that you hope will down the beast with less trouble than you've been given thus far. One in the chest, right for the heart or lungs. It has stopped in the woods, and you tread carefully, not making a sound. From beside a trunk, you find your mark. The beast cries out, staggers, and drops. It yet lives, but finds not the strength to resist the skill you have employed. You wait a moment for it to truly settle, and approach. Pulling out a knife, you waste no time in finishing the creature off, and set to work amassing the meat of your capture.

It is dark.

You stop your work and look up to find that you can no longer see anything. An all-encompassing blackness has enveloped you. Pitch-blackness -the sort that shrouded your very hands held in front of your face. You struggle to prepare your lantern without even an inkling of light of help, but eventually you bring it to life.

The snow is gone, but the trees and carcass remain. You are crouched over a path. A man-made one. As you stand to meet the barely-illuminated darkness with your lantern, you find that you are not in the woods you once were. Not truly, anyways.

The dead elk can wait. Were you to saddle the bounty over your shoulders, you do not think you could find your way home indefinitely. Magic was afoot, and you do not know if it is the kind you can escape. You push the wet chunks of the elk meat into a couple bags slung around your belt. At the very least, you have something to cook for a time. You set foot down the path with only your lantern to guide you away from stumbling and falling. The path is well-worn, and eventually you come upon an old road sign.

Holzwand

You have never heard of such a place, and certainly not here in the north. You carry on, hopeful that this location will be able to right your confusion. The path continues on for some time, winding through the unending forest. It doesn't take long for you to realize that there is neither moon nor star in the sky. Nothing to orient you upon the land. There is a rustling in the foliage beside you, off the path. You stop and throw your light its way.

From the darkness creeps a chattering congregation of maddening figures. Twisted faces of half-beast forms slag and melt, constantly righting themselves into more distinct shapes, only to fall away again. Their bodies float across the blackened earth... towards you. Distorted claws of shadow and flesh grope at the air where you stand, hungry for something you cannot fathom.

You draw your sword, and fight for more than your life.



Annabelle awoke upon an island of dim light, surrounded by a sea of darkness. She knew not her past. Not her origins, nor her reason for being here in this forest. She had no one, nothing, and not a clue where to begin changing any of that.

It did not take long to learn of the place in which she was now trapped, this 'Holzwand'. By the grace of something unknown, she was given reprieve from what would otherwise be utter darkness. Sight blessed her path, showing her what she needed to make do initially. This was an evil place lost to time, now bereft of any hope of cleansing. No man remained save herself, this wood-surrounded castle city populated only by three things: the various natural fauna of the land, somehow surviving in a desolate, malevolent place, the Wraiths, and the Twisted, as Annabelle came to call them.

The Wraiths, Annabelle thought, were once human beings, now turned into single-minded things hellbent simply on adding to the menagerie that is the Twisted. Half-man half-beast abominations stuck in the crossroads of life and death. She felt for them, but they knew only hunger for something she did not understand. All the beasts which died here became Twisted, and, she assumed, so too would she.

It took some time before she found her footing, learning of how to survive in the Holzwand. An ancient kingdom dilapidated but stuck frozen in time in a sequestered-off realm. She knew not how to escape it until an encounter with what she presumed to be the reason any natural creature could yet live.

A spirit of the land, defiant of the cursed air which plagued its stomping grounds, came to her in time, and offered her reprieve from the prison of darkness. With sunless years did she learn under the forgotten landgod until she was bade to leave Holzwand for the wider world. While the spirit could not leave its domain, it could send another out to seek aid. Annabelle often wondered if she was summoned simply for that purpose, but she yet remains unsure.

With her purpose clear but the path hazy, she broke free of the cursed realm, and set out into Oublioth in search of a cure to the ancient plague where her journey started.

---

Level: 20
Class: Spellblade
Profession: Survivalist

Stats:
Strength (STR): B
Vitality (VIT): B
Dexterity (DEX): D
Intellect (INT): B
Wisdom (WIS): F
Charisma (CHA): F

List of immunities:
None

Resistances:
-Druidic spells
-Natural cold
-Fear

Weaknesses:
-General magic

Equipment:
-A greatsword named 'Therio'. Serves as a focus through which she can also summon an attending spirit at the cost of blood. Takes on an arcane nature when empowered in such a way.
-A ritual dagger, utilized for any number of preparations, as well as general hunting.
-Longboots that have seen better days. Annabelle attests that she's seen deeper mud than most anyone she's ever met.
-Her jacket is enchanted, granting her a perpetual warmth. Thank the gods given her scant attire otherwise.

Skills & Spells:
Summon Spirit (Crimsig) - Manifests a bound nature spirit to her side, possessing of high Magic Power and Resistance, and negligible Strength and Dexterity. Crimsig cannot physically interact with the world except in minor ways including producing light (visible) and being unable to pass through objects (tangible). It can shift small objects, and cannot speak or otherwise communicate. Crimsig can cast generic druidic spells with a Blood Element tinge.

Control Familiar ("Carpenter") - "Carpenter" as 'he' is named, is a blood elemental controlled by Annabelle. As it is a conglomeration of her own vitality, she has full dominion over it, and any attempts by other actors to sway the actions of the familiar with their own magicks will be met with a high resistance. Carpenter can morph into shapes maintaining current mass including additional melee weapons for Annabelle to wield, but can also act as an independent physical combatant with moderate Vitality, Dexterity, and Magic Resistance, but low Strength and no magic-casting ability.

Calm Animals - Compels natural animals with low intelligence (D or lower) to be calm, eliminating aggression or fear.

Sacrificial Empowerment - Annabelle can, at the temporary expense of vitality, undergo ritual bloodletting to empower herself or appropriate equipment. Empowering herself slightly enhances Strength and Magic Resistance, while empowering equipment bestows a curse effect that deals heavy damage to afflicted individual's MP pools and magic strength.

Name: Yinha Karathros
Age: 76
Gender: Female
Race: High Elf

Appearance:



Height: 5'9"
Eye Color: Darker Pink, with white irises
Hair Color: Blonde

Personality. A deeply kind and well-intended soul who wholeheartedly seeks for the best and to make the best, even if what she feels is the truly 'right decision' tears away at her inside. She is an empathetic individual who can be a shoulder to patiently cry upon if needed, but for whom certain subject matters or types of negative actions/behaviors can cut right through her usual patience like a hot knife through butter. She is intelligent, having been well-educated in her days and learned a good bit, but still applies this knowledge with a sense of personal dedication and raw hard work ethic. However, she can be stubborn on occasion...especially the more set she is in a particular task or decision. Even if she is hurting terribly, though, she is the type to still try to put on a smile and try to keep a positive face for others. When it comes to dealing with or being around the undead in battle, especially in number, she tends to act more mechanical and stoic to a distinctly notable extent...as if hardened against something she can't sincerely bear to let come out. Yet despite the thoughts of some of her kindness being a sign of 'naivete' or being 'gullible', she does at least possess a level of life experience and understanding that makes her generally competent and able to be properly cautious and aware.

History:



A High Elf girl born from humble means, being the daughter of a pair of Noble mage-scholars who (like their numerous fellows in the High Elven nation of Karisathmar) sought to further push the developments, studies, and applications of magic. From a young age she generally was exposed to the magical studies and work of her mother and father, and from there generally took an interest in the area of magic like how a curious child might take an interest in what their parents do at work. In the end she wound up spending hours with her parents, as they eagerly spoke of theories and applications and formulae that spurred on an interest in the magical arts for her. This in turn eventually led to becoming the apprentice of an older Angelic Mage, a colleague and longtime good friend of her parents, who noticed her potential when he came to visit one day. From here came discussion, leaving home, and going to her teacher’s grand home in the High Elven capital of Alimar to be trained and drilled and educated.

Between her already studious nature, as well as the demanding and busy style of her teacher, the many years to follow were ultimately filled with a mix of bonding and rigorous practice and experience to hone her. A couple of times a year she would be allowed to return to visit her parents, as well as two new siblings who were eventually produced during her apprenticeship, but even so she was isolated in her work otherwise and pushed to her very limits to ‘maximize her potential’ as her teacher so worded it. It was ultimately a privileged life in ways, and she was ever chided and reminded of that by her mentor/teacher. As he once told her: “To remain humble is to be like a great mountain, holding fast and remaining grounded against the buffetings of time and the world until we are refined to be our best selves. To be prideful, however, is to be like unto a brittle and vain pillar that collapses and crumbles the moment its world is shaken”. Such was the advice she took to heart.

Yet, eventually, her world itself was shaken to its core when word of a plague in her home city came. The border city of Valentis, her very home, had been magically and mundanely quarantined off along with all contact. Then in the following days came worse news, in that the plague that had erupted there was beginning to transform citizens into shambling undead that infested the streets. The fear eventually pushed at Yinha, until eventually she could not hold back any longer and stole away in the night to return to her home.

But as she walked those old streets, heart thumping in her ears after sneaking past the barricades and anti-undead measures, her heart sank. Cries for help echoed around street corners like a banshee’s wail, as evacuees were still being found and cleaned and led out by blood-stained Paladins and Clerics. Streets were lined with slain corpses, a disgusting black ichor of long-decayed flesh rotted away in the gutters with the awful stench of decay and rot, and even she had to defend herself against the shambling corpses of former friends and neighbors...and even her own mother. When she finally arrived home, her own father nearly burnt her indiscriminately with a mighty fireball and a look of pure, abject terror on his face. It took all she had after that to, begging and pleading, convince her remaining father and younger sister to gather their things and let her help them out to safety.

After it all, her family would resettle in Alimar itself as relatives and grandparents came to their aid after learning of their survival. Eventually her father would also remarry, and her younger sister would become the apprentice to an arcane mage. Yet none of them, even Yinha herself, would be able to shake the scars of that time period. At least at first, her dreams were filled with fire, the stench of death, the cries of the dead and dying, and the visage of familiar faces twisted in undeath...whilst seeming to look through her very soul. Some of these times she would wake up in a cold sweat from it all, shaking and tears already running down her face. Other times she might jolt up in bed with a spell at the ready, her heart racing and ready for battle. Healers in Alimar did their best to help her and her family members heal, to lessen the strain of the pain they felt and the scars they had, but no amount of magic or a return to training seemed to stop it. Something else had to change. She had to change.

In this Yinha would make the fateful decision to go out on her own, to leave beyond the borders of Karisathmar and all she had ever known...all to find herself. Somewhere out there, there had to be some kind of path for her. Some kind of life for her. Some kind of way for her to progress forward, and to make something of herself. A fate that lied beyond the horizon.

-----

Level: 20

Class: Angelic Mage

Profession:

-Alchemy [Journeyman]

-Medic [Journeyman]

Stats: Stats are rated by a letter-system, with worst to best being as follows; F, E, D, C, B, A, S. An 'average' adult human, with no martial training and no proper education has rank F in generally all their stats)

Strength (STR): F

Vitality (VIT): D

Dexterity (DEX): C

Intellect (iNT): A

Wisdom (WIS): B

Charisma (CHA): D

List of immunities:

• N/A

Resistances:

• Holy
• Charm/Enthrallment/Sleep

Weaknesses:

• Physical
• Poison

Equipment:

• Enchanted Knife - A well-made metal knife of elvish-fashion, bearing a solid blade with some curve to it and isn't too heavy to carry or wield. Just a simple personal defense kind of weapon, really, though it also has general out of battle uses too. Enchanted to always retain its sharpness and never go dull. Her family crest, a pair of crossed wands on the background of a magic circle, is imprinted masterfully into the hilt.
• Magical Bracers - A pair of enchanted bracers inscribed on the inside with arcane lettering and holy sigils, making them moderately good catalysts and foci for her spellcasting.
• Traveling Supplies - A bedroll and other basic, lightweight travel supplies and rations for camping in the woods and traveling.
• Alchemy Kit - A simple traveling-sized kit for alchemical work, purchased in Alimar before she left on her journey years ago. Includes flasks and vials and corks and general tools. Has been well-maintained.
• Rings of the Journeyman - A pair of rings that each enable the wearer to regenerate their MP faster, each once worn by her birth parents as their wedding rings.

Skills & Spells:

• Knife Wielding: General average competence with the use of, in and out of battle, a dagger/knife.
• Summon Lesser Angel: User summons a lesser angelic being.
  
  
  • Cherub: A lesser type of angelic being, which takes the form of a large golden eyeball (like basketball sized) with two sets of wings. It is capable of scouting with a special magic vision, relaying what it's seeing back to the mind of its conjurer (akin to a live video feed) and being able to see through things like fog and a basic smokescreen. They can also holy energy blasts from their singular eye-body.
  • Authority: A lesser type of angelic being, which takes the form of an animated suit of armor filed with holy light and wielding a weapon. This weapon can take the form of a white chain, shield + flaming sword, or angelic-language-inscribed halberd. It is useful for attacking enemies, buying time, and supporting/protecting the caster as well as allies martially. Good at physical combat, but has no magic to cast.
  • Guardian: The lowest and most basic type of angelic being, taking the form of a pure white sexless humanoid akin to stone or porcelain with a single pair of white wings. Focuses upon casting a variety of lower-tier holy magic.
• Holy Restoration: Removes a single negative status condition/debuff from the target, and applies a moderate healing-over-time effect for thirty seconds as well.
• Heavenly Cascade: An AoE healing spell that applies minor to moderate healing over a 30 foot radius around the caster, healing allies and the caster themselves.
• Magic Missile: The most basic offensive mage-class-type offensive spell that fires 6 arcane magic projectiles at the target. Very cheap to use, but also the most simple and low-tier kind of spell.
• Holy Bombardment: An improved ‘magic missile’ specific to the Angelic Mage class. Fires 2 stronger holy energy projectiles at the target. Not as cheap due to being higher-tier than Magic Missile, but is more powerful.
• Purification (AoE): The AoE version of Purification, removing up to 2 debuffs/negative status effects for all allied targets (including the caster) within a 30 foot radius.
• Truth Seeker: A holy spell that allows one to detect if others are speaking the truth or not for 15 minutes, unless the spell is canceled before the time limit runs out.
• Metamagic (Prob doesn't much use at the moment, but knows it, since her spells are still pretty low tier. EDIT: 4/22/20)

Custom Class Overview:

-The Angelic Mage is a magic caster that draws upon a heavenly plane for holy power, conjuring angelic beings or holy constructs as familiar/summons, casting holy energy attacks to smite enemies and strike down foes, purifying/healing areas and places and things and themselves and even others, achieving flight, conjuring barriers for defense, cast spells for calming others and numbing pain and removing things like debuffs and status effects from allies or enemies, and even exercising spirits. It is a kind of Mage/Wizard equivalent to something like a Paladin or a Cleric, yet unlike those classes does not dedicate or assign themselves to the whims of a deity or holy being or the ilk. They aren’t even clergy. Instead, Angelic Mages draw upon the Heavenly Plane and its angelic denizens outright for their power.

Affinity for this class is less common than those who can become Paladins or Clerics, but among the many kinds of mages in the world are a general and uniquely specialized minority.

Name: Nettle.
Age: 12.
Gender: Female.
Race: Human (Changed).

Appearance:

Her skin is pale unto the point of looking almost undead due to just how little sun one sees when living in Stranglesun Swamp. Despite the vaguely deathly looking state of her skin it is without blemish, smooth and clear with nary a fault. Though she always tends to keep her head down and wear a mild-mannered expression her slim face tends to bring out her eyes that possess a deep dark nephrite green colour. Her hair which hangs down to the middle of her back curves with a modest wave and is a rich yet dark moss green colour.

She is a rather thinly built person. Her physique would make a quail seem buff in comparison. She is not as wholly feeble as she appears but she is no physical powerhouse by any means.

For attire she typically dons long dark brown robes, the darker color being ideal for concealing the many stains it has accrued both in the swamp and throughout her crafts. It has a big hood which is handy in rough weather. Her long abundance of hair is mostly tucked into the back though her front bangs hang out the front of the hood, covering her face for the most part when she has her hood up. For footwear she wears big hide boots that look several sizes too large on her feet. They were a gift from one of her fellow orphans, sewn together from the hide of a giant dead rat that was strangled to death by Stranglebriar Vines. Hanging from her shoulder by a hide strap is a large bag crafted from a portion of the stomach of a massive boar. She typically carries a long crook with her wherever she goes, this wooden tool having been treated with a special resin to keep it from decaying.

Height: 120 cm.

Personality.

Having grown up as an orphan in Stranglesun Swamp she was bound to be a strange sort. With thanks to the Caregiver she along with eight others survived in a wild region where close to everything was poisonous and somewhat on the larger scale when compared to species found in tamer wilderness. The Caregiver however was not a being with a terrifying lot in common with more... Common societies. She's been raised with a great knowledge of plants, the swamp and other less tangible presences but in exchange she's learned nearly nothing in regards to civilized society.

What some see as being distant and spaced out others might see as simply being a rather reserved individual. Both would probably be correct to some extent as far as that's concerned. She is quite mild tempered and takes most problems in similar stride. She prefers to think her way through situations rather than power through things. Nettle is not very outspoken either and she tends to remain distant in most matters. This attitude is not out of a fear of confrontation but rather her tendency to get absorbed in her own thoughts, often preferring to dwell on matters that pertain to her pursuits rather than on tangential matters. Some might accuse her of being antisocial but her lack of socialization with others is not out of an aversion to social interaction but rather an unfamiliarity with societal norms.

With having spent pretty close to her whole life in the Stranglesun Swamp she's most at home in the natural world. She's somewhat distrustful of the civilized world given what she's been taught of man by The Caregiver. Even still she's willing to brave any danger should it lead her closer to The Caregiver.

The Caregiver gave her and the fellow orphans care. She will do nearly anything to bring it back.

History:

Abandoned as an infant she was found and taken in by a strange entity known only as the Caregiver. She along with eight other orphans were taken and given shelter from the swamp by this being. For most of the day the Caregiver would be absent leaving the children to their own devices. From time to time throughout the day the Caregiver would descend into their reality where it would brew strange stews or tell it's stories to them. It taught them pretty much everything they knew and it's stews bestowed subtle changes upon them. Whenever one of the orphans was hurt or ailing a taste of the brew would heal them right up in short time, leaving them good as new.

After many years on a diet of such stew they found themselves less susceptible to the hazards of the swamp. The new organs that had grown within them mixed their blood with a strange milky yellow sap-like substance that would eat away any unwelcome poisons and diseases that found their way into their bodies. In addition their irides had developed strange properties which made their sight more sensitive to the presence of the spiritual life surrounding them. Evanescent wisps, drifting shadows and ripples on the fabric of reality before them were all hints to a deeper layer of the world that laid before them.

Each of the orphans learned to survive in the swamps, each taking their own path in adapting to the struggles such life offered. In tree houses and home stumps they dwelt, living off the land and practicing their strange magic.
_
The children might not have had an easy life but thanks to the Caregiver they had made the most of what the land had to offer. In truth the children were quite happy with what they had, strange as they might have been. Just as with any tale however change was in the wind. When the orphans were capable of living on their own the Caregiver ceased to appear within it's hut. They were greatly confused and concerned by this.

After all no more Caregiver meant no more of it's tasty stew and no more of it's bizarre but captivating stories but most depressingly of all it meant there'd be no more of it's words of loving care. It was as much of a mother and father to them as they had ever known and now it was gone, nowhere to be found.

After a period of mourning in their respective ways some of the orphans simply returned to living as they did before, albeit with an air of melancholy stealing the spring from their step. Others, Nettle included, did not take the loss of the Caregiver laying down. Each one of them was determined to find a way to bring the Caregiver back so their family could be whole again. Each one of them went about the challenge in their own way. Nettle's way was to set out into the world and seek her answer beyond the swamp's borders.

-----
Level: 20.
Class: Witch.
Profession: Herbalist.

Stats:
Strength (STR): E.
Vitality (VIT): F.
Dexterity (DEX): C.
Intellect (iNT): S.
Wisdom (WIS): B.
Charisma (CHA): F.

List of immunities:
- Diseases.
- Poisons.
- Parasites.

Weaknesses:
- -20% Max HP.

Equipment:
- A wide variety of herbs for many uses.
- A skin of combustible salamander spit made from it's stomach.
- Magical mushrooms that can cause the one who ingests it to grow large and tall for a time.
- A thin needle-like thorn with a hooked end that's paired with some vine fibers spooled around a wooden rod.
- A blowpipe and twenty wooden blow darts.
- A stone dagger with a sinew-wrapped handle.
- Several wards, charms and dream catchers she's enchanted to ward off malevolent spirits.
- Candles & incense.
- A breathing reed for traveling beneath the water's surface.
- A bladder full of leftover stew from The Caregiver. The stew bestows remarkable healing qualities, even in small doses.
The rest is just basic traveling supplies.

Skills & Spells:

|Lancing Thistle| - When cast a jagged dark purple light jets forth from her fingertips. Upon contacting a solid surface a thistle flower will germinate beneath it's surface. Spurred to grow by the magic that bore it the thistle will erupt forth, tearing through said surface and spreading it's roots into it as though it were soil. The process is excruciatingly painful for living creatures afflicted as it's thorns tear through the skin and it's roots dig a shallow distance beneath it. Worse still is the pain and damage incurred trying to remove the thistle once it's taken root.

|Mark of The Serpent| - With this spell Nettle summons forth a snake spirit. At her command it will envenom it's target before returning to it's home. The venom causes damaging necrosis in the living, killing cells as it courses through the victim's body. This will continue until either the venom runs it's course, the curse is broken or the victim dies.

|Rising Briars| - This spell summons forth Stranglebriar Vines when cast. These tough sinewy vines coated with wicked thorns erupt from the earth, winding about until they settle in a large patch of deadly briars. These plants respond to objects moving through them by lashing about violently until their thorns can find purchase in the intrusion's form. Once it's found purchase on it's victim it's lashing quickly turns to constriction as it's tough fibrous length winds about until it's victim is immobilized in it's thorny grasp. It will continue to squeeze, digging it's thorns in to bleed it's victim dry, until whatever it is remains motionless for a long enough period of time before it relaxes.

|Concealing Mists| - This spell conjures a dense white mist which fades into existence, obfuscating a large area within it until the wind eventually disperses it. The more still the air in it's area is the longer the mist remains.

|Prayer Unto Htzhasohs Rains| - This is a ritual taught to her to bring about a miracle from the rain spirit Htzhasohs. When cast the skies will start to darken as grey clouds gather overhead. Over many kilometres a downpour will begin, raining heavily in a great storm which will last for hours. This ritual takes about thirty minutes to cast, complete with chanting and a dance.

|Nature's Tongue| - This spell when cast allows Nettle to bypass the need for physical speech, allowing her to communicate directly to the spirit of any beast or plant in her presence. These wild life forms are not required to heed her words but can choose to do so if they are so inclined.

|Ward vs Spirits| - Nettle is able to make special sigils which are imbued with a magical ward against spirits. These wards protect an area within a reasonably wide diameter, barring entry from any spirit, ghost or other variety of spectral entity which fits such classification. She is able to craft charms featuring these sigils and she can also draw them when necessary. Naturally the wards are only as strong as the caster who made them so spirits stronger than her would still be able to break through.

|Wild Life| (Passive) - Nettle has spent most of her whole life in the wilderness. While she is most at home in swamplands she is rarely out of her element in the woods. While traveling through unpaved & untrodden forests she is virtually unimpeded by all but the most untraversable of obstacles like a cliff or a lake. She also has little difficulty in basic day-to-day survival such as finding food or shelter. Having avoided civilization for so long has had it's drawbacks such as a minimal understanding of her own race's culture and illiteracy. What she lacks in civil education she possesses in worldly experience and the teachings of a strange mentor.

|Low Profile| (Passive) - Life in Stranglesun Swamp has taught Nettle that going unnoticed is a key component to survival. She has practiced stealth for a long while, learning how to get around while avoiding detection from a variety of methods. Tracking her in the wild would be a great effort for even experienced trackers. She's less familiar with going unseen in cities but her small stature and light frame still help her evade detection when necessary.

|Gift of The Caregiver| (Passive) - The stews that The Caregiver had fed her and her kin possessed strange properties, bestowing upon those who fed upon it long enough physical changes which, though subtle, alter their biology in unusual yet fairly beneficial ways. Within her body a new gland has grown which secretes large amounts of strange milky yellow sap, pumping the goop all throughout her blood stream. This strange yellow sap binds with harmful substances and organisms, breaking them down so her body's immune system can properly identify and dispose of them. This protects her from all varieties of diseases, viruses, poisons and parasites. In addition her eye's lenses have been altered, allowing her to see spirits & ghosts. While she can perceive them when they'd ordinarily be invisible to anyone else everything else that applies for a spirit or ghost still functions normally.

Custom Class Overview: The Witch class is sort of like a druid but with more focus on spirits and curses.