Gossk Quor-dek is a fairly intricate but conflicted Dracodile. Throughout his youth, he was taught extensively to embrace his aggressive emotions (such as ambition and avarice). Unfortunately, he would always watch quietly as his older siblings expressed them freely with wanton abandonment, and that was a mistake; Savage discipline was doled out to quash anyone's heretical actions. Even when he tried to fall in line, it never felt right to him, nor would he be lauded for his progress. On top of this conundrum were the appointed times that the Dracodiles would be permitted to display scale-friendly emotions (such as love and sadness) towards one another, their chosen friends, and family ties. Those time frames eluded Gossk's understanding too, and, despite the seeming simplicity of the tribal order, he found it all to be very irrational and inefficient. Truly, this repressive paradigm on emotions was not a lesson that seasoned well in Gossk.

But that tumultuous upbringing still changed him, and brewed in his psyche the rawest onion of entrapped feelings.

Like most Dracodiles, Gossk considers his word his bond, and very rarely does his kind renege on promises and oaths. They are still coldly pragmatic and ruthless, though Gossk manages to be very eerie about it, at least in the eyes of his own kind, even those closest to him. The reason why is that he remains staunchly unaffected by the same emotional and irrational impulses of his tribesmen, or even other races for that matter. In the chaos of a battle or the haste of a hunt, a deadly calm and patience saturates his demeanor and guides his every action; He is all but immune to panic even when severely wounded. This kind of temperament is rarely seen among the Dracodiles, and it is often treated with superstitious jeers and wary stares.

In practical applications, Gossk has always felt that he was a little different; Always having to attack the problem in a different way. Although he is incredibly strong and robust compared to other races, he was born smaller and scrawnier than his more gifted peers. He envied the ease in which they exercised normal Dracodile prowess. So, he decided instead to learn how to observe; Not merely look, but absorbed wholeheartedly. He'd watch his prey for hours, and never eat them. He'd study other predators' ways, and never interrupt them. He'd guess what they'd do each and every time. After he'd gathered enough information, he would attempt to develop similar methods that would bring him success. In only a few months, Gossk tasted a victory unlike anything he had felt before. And although he doesn't know the words themselves, he had in fact begun to resort to more than just stealth and ambush to take his prey, but also smooth deception, psychological trickery, and outside-the-box tactics.

Without a doubt, Gossk is a thinker, and a deep thinker at that. He even realized how far he had fallen from his god, Illorassk the Devourer, by using such shameful, perverted ways. These smarter strategies made life a lot easier and consumed less energy, but still would feel unnatural to him, at least at first. Those who had chastised him said he would never grow up big and strong if he continued like this. He had spitefully disagreed of course, and continued to feel more and more like a rebel. He decided that if he must become a heretical criminal hellbent on committing every sin in order to live and thrive, then so shall it be.

Gossk is not the only thinker of his tribe, there are many others who feel the same as he does. But with the majority favoring bulking brawn, unfettered ferocity, and public declarations, the smart game would be to keep one's head down and think about it. The status quo is certainly a powerful state for the Dracodile tribe in the Wilds, but a few shamans who had ventured out and experienced other kingdoms know that their kind (that is, Beastman) are discriminated against, and that if they merely chose to, human foreigners alone could wipe out their tribe's way of life. They learned well the heavy feeling of despair, for they might have to lament the destruction of their race, all for a lack of wisdom and diligence.

Upon learning this fact from those shamans, and soaking in the deep meaning of it all, Gossk began to, for the first time, experience what he would later learn were vivid dreams, of the horrendous prophetic variety. He didn't understand the images, the sounds, or the message, it almost drove him mad--whereas very little, if anything, actually gets his scales sliding. He did understand one thing though: He needed to leave and he required power. He must grow in all ways and a conquest was on his horizon. It was certainly not here in the familiar swamps and marshes that he would gain such power. He would no longer merely survive as a skulking exile on the outskirts of all he's ever known.

No. It was time to move on and embrace the great unknown, with tooth, claw, and all, as they say.

These mental abilities are derived primarily from Gossk Quor-dek's personality and way of thinking, but are possibly boosted by the draconic heritage of which he is ignorant. While these abilities are few, they grow stronger every month as he continues to experience life and overcome obstacles and challenges that are unsolvable by physical means. All abilities listed below are capable of growth and should be considered roots that encourage eventual creation of new mental abilities.

-STEEL TRAP-
"Careful, Gus... Look a'eet! ...Not scared at all, that one. Watchin' us all cautious like. Them eyes... ye can tell he's figurin' us out."

Like his great maw that rends flesh, seldom does anything escape Gossk Quor-dek's vigilance; If he experiences it, he can recall the memory at will, and quite vividly. However, it does not mean he will always understand what he remembers; It takes time to digest the truth. Whether this ability is due to his own personality or draconic heritage, he doesn't know, but he does thoroughly enjoy having such an empowering and sober grasp on his mind.

The next stage in this mental advancement began to quicken his thinking. For if you are unchained by the weight of recalling convoluted memories or sifting the accuracy of minor details, there is no need to dwell on the past all the time, lest you forget it. Thus, Gossk can almost always rapidly analyze his present situation with the speed of a diving falcon and decide his next seven moves ahead of time. This ties in well with his Adaptive Fighter ability described below, as it helps him offset his relative lack of agility and land speed.

Another stage developed recently, and is one that Gossk is keen to hone; His spatial discernment is slowly expanding his awareness of his surroundings by sharpening his hearing and smell. In fact, those senses have already started to compensate for his eyes in identifying threats and objects outside his line of sight; Thus, he's becoming acquainted with a 360-degree arc of perception that, even if he's blinded, can still feed him details so long as he can smell or hear his enemies and the environment. Practical examples include recognizing a sneaking person's telltale scent and marking their exact distance by the sound of their passing; Scanning a small area and marking in his mind exactly where every tree and shrub is rooted, the location of rocks, and angles of the ground. Having done so, he could navigate through it, eyes closed, and never bump into anything or anyone.

-Mimetic Vogue-
"Oi, Beastman! What're you doing, poachin' mah dead buddy's buttons? Git outta 'ere now!"

Despite his strong and ever-growing mental aptitudes, Gossk Quor-dek is not immune to being snared up by absurd ideas and beliefs. His tribesmen firmly believe in bedecking themselves with grisly trophies taken from their slain foes, or fashioning repulsive fetishes to ward off evil presences or weak usurpers, and he is no different. It is unclear if these methods actually work, but the psychological terror that it has on other sapient beings is quite evident.

In his youth, Gossk has always been subtly fascinated by the various baubles, instruments, and adornments worn by other races. Weapons and armors were daily projects that he knew very well, but those things, what manner of dead creatures did those people craft them from? Now well into his exile, Gossk has examined those puzzling things up close (on dead bodies, no doubt) and has become rapturously prone to seizing them whenever he can. He believes that by mere possession and donning of these accessories, he's acquired a variety of supernatural charms that enable him to steal small portions of his enemies' power, which would weaken them.

Mimetic Vogue is more a knack than a true ability. For better or worse, Gossk is empowered by, and vulnerable to, whatever social impacts that his polarizing presence might make on other people, whether it be glorifying awe or stark ridicule, or something in between. Few people would dismiss the arrival of a giant, bipedal dragon wearing a crude vest garnished with decayed skulls, but they'd likely wonder why is he also holding a pocket watch, wearing a couple shiny bracelets, and sporting a top hat and a monocle?

This IMAGE expresses the general look of Gossk Quor-dek, but requires further embellishment to create a suitable impression.

Standing proudly at a towering 9-foot height, Gossk's massive frame weighs 877 pounds and is flanked by a 6-foot long tail. This makes him fairly hard to miss and there's no mistaking that his is an intense presence that demands attention and respect. Small things tremor and topple as he passes by; His gait resembles that of a proud nobleman, upright and tall, each step carefully placed. His scaly hide, which paints him a muddy brown with black stripes and verdant spots, barely hides the rippling muscles underneath. Small, menacing spikes adorn his head and backside, the largest of which was forcefully broken off of his head a long time ago. The rest of them stretch out from the back of his neck and travel down to the base of his tail and begin to thin out towards its tip; They match the color of his claws, which are blacker than coal and abide on his feet in threes, and on his one thumb, three fingered hands. His large, pearl-white teeth jut up and down outside the line of his protruding jaw. More intriguing than all these features is the color of his eyes, a deep purple likened to amethyst, and is thought to be a foreboding omen, the likes of which had only been witnessed and recorded one time before in his tribes' oral history.

Dracodiles don't wear clothing to cover their shame or to keep warm. Nudity, while acceptable, is considered a young one's prerogative and even the weakest of Dracodiles can peacefully sleep naked while exposed to a raging storm and harsh waters. However, apparel, along with armor and weapons, does have its place in their society by serving as a canvass for one's status, ambitions, positions, achievements, and history. Young Dracodiles must study, and eventually master, a shaman's fastidious methods to weave plant matter and interlock them with bones and animal skins. Once they have mastered this art, they are considered on their way to adolescent responsibilities.

For Gossk, he wears a belt, loincloth, vest, and cowl, all of which are made from plants and animal skins and secured with tiny bones and rope. Coated with the stains of ochre, there are various red markings all across them, some large and others small; A single solitary black mark dominates the back of his vest. These symbols have meanings only known to Gossk and those who made them. A grisly collection of fully decayed human and animal skulls hang from his vest and belt. Per his mental ability Mimetic Power explained above, Gossk wears additional collection of odd curios that are not of his tribe. A long, woolly sock covers his left arm (its toe suffers from a hole) while a couple of ornamental copper bracelets cover the wrist of the same arm. Two silent pocket watches with chains dangle together around his neck. An assortment of buttons, of many colors and designs, have been crudely sown into his vest.

Gossk Quor-dek is primarily a physical combatant. Decades of hunting, rivalries, and fighting off predator packs will do that to you. The first eight abilities listed below are derived from his nature and prowess as a Dracodile. They develop with age and become deadlier as he hones his skill. As a sapient being however, his last ninth ability, Adaptive Fighter, was created solely through his commitment to better defend himself in a world that he has never known. While all of Gossk's abilities are capable of growth, as his most developed group of abilities, there is not much else that can be added here, but life is full of surprises.

-Caloric Longevity-
"No, man, I'm tellin' ya. That's the same beastie that killed my gramps. See his purple eyes?"

Like an army that marches on its stomach, Dracodiles grow and age on theirs. As long as they suffer no debilitating injuries that prevent frequent consumption of prey, there is no hard limit to how large and strong a Dracodile can become. However, this means that with increased size comes a greater appetite. In Gossk's tribe, they believe anyone who reaches such gargantuan proportions will prompt Illorassk to descend upon that individual and simply take him away, presumably to the Great Feast beyond the stars. Whether this is true or not, a simple fact remains: once a Dracodile reaches beyond 50% of their adult size, the required caloric intake per day becomes impossible to satisfy. Therefore, a Dracodile will lose body mass at some point, for no hunter is that successful.

-Great Physique-
"What the hell is that thing? Ye, o'er there, climbing that oak tree. Come, let's go see..."

The physique of a hunter is the foundation of his greater assets. Naturally, Dracodiles will always enjoy great strength and toughness, but to ensure that he stays lean and flexible, Gossk has pushed himself far more than the average Dracodile. By seeking out new physical challenges on a weekly basis and conducting high intensity burst training daily, he's come to understand the limits of his strength and endurance, and how to break out of any plateaus that halt his progress. At the moment, with only a half-hearted effort, Gossk can overturn a goods-laden wooden cart completely over while fighting off a swarm of town guards. Additionally, his endurance and pain threshold are quite high, thanks to his Flesh of Steel ability, but he's also periodically subjected his body to pain in a controlled fashion in order suss out any weaknesses that escaped his notice.

Speaking of which, he's keenly aware of his inherent lack of agility and land speed, a vulnerability that begs caution in battle. However, he is by no means sluggish and cumbersome, for he has an acute sense of proprioception and his 4 foot stride can close the distance like a stick of dynamite. On flat land, his top speed of 30 mph is reached in 6 seconds, albeit he can only sustain this velocity for a matter of seconds, and a few vigorous sprints will wind him for the hour. In the water though, stamina isn't a real issue and his tail can double his speed and triple his acceleration.

Dracodiles are actually warm-blooded, unlike their lesser animal counterparts known as crocodiles. Therefore, while Gossk can withstand extreme temperatures for a few hours, he will start to suffer health issues if he doesn't somehow bolster his tolerance.

-Gnawing Hunger-
"See my cow bits there, Steve? Best bait ever, I reckon. No lizzies can resist 'em, you'll see."

Dracodiles are rapacious eaters and seldom practice restraint when it comes to food and any opportunity that comes their way. Their hunger bites at them harder than any rival, so they must feed on some manner of flesh every 4 waking hours. If they don't, their bodies will begin to suffer increasingly detrimental effects on their willpower and clear thinking. Once a full 24 hours have passed, a Dracodile will become fully bestial and utterly frenzied, and will attack anyone and anything if they think it is food. Gnawing Hunger isn't regarded as a weakness by Dracodiles, but rather a fact of life that strengthens their drive and connects them to Illorassk. There is one minor positive perk to be gleaned: A Dracodile's body will gradually unleash hormones and stored energy during their decline, effectively increasing their speed, strength, and stamina to a maximum of 10% until they are satiated.

-Natural Weaponry-
"Just surround him already, we got more weapons, and better. He's only got a stupid club!"

Dracodiles choose to wield weapons and armor, and can master them like other races; While this gives their natural weapons a backseat, it would be foolish to consider them inferior. Gossk's claws are smaller than average, but are still powerful enough to scratch into solid stone about 1/4 inch deep. Without magical assistance, this is the limit, but not everyone is walking around in stone armor.

Next is his most iconic weapon, a 1-foot long jaw. It may seem small but its 66 conical, peg-like teeth grants Gossk the power to rend flesh with impunity. Additionally, a secondary jaw joint is responsible for making his bite absolutely bone-shattering. When his teeth snap shut, the joint spreads the full force of his bite across everything, so that nothing can twist or lose a grip; Simply put, limbs will be torn right off. Fortunately, the powerful muscles generating this downward force come at the cost of weaker muscles which open his mouth, an exploit that keen-eyed opponents might dare to take.

The last weapon is an unsuspecting one, especially to the uninitiated. Dracodiles rarely use their tail offensively, and may do so in a pinch. They just don't see their most powerful swimming instrument as a weapon. But Gossk has long viewed his tail as a reliable, long-reaching tool in his arsenal. Like a quarterstaff in the hands of a disciplined monk, it can keep advancing enemies at bay and, if timed carefully, easily sweep multiple foes off their feet. Cloth and exposed flesh are likely to be slashed by the various spikes on the tail. Now, as versatile and powerful as his tail may be, should it be thoroughly damaged, it will put Gossk in a bad way. He loses a valuable weapon, cannot reach his top swim speed, and loses a great amount of balance in his locomotion and posture on land.

-Flesh of Steel-
"Shoot him! SHOOOOT HIIIM!! ...Oh confound it all! You, give me that crossbow!"

Metaphorically speaking, a Dracodile's hide is dense and extremely tough. It might as well be steel to the basic scratches and bumps of ordinary animals and feeble creatures. Of course, full steel plate does not find its equal in a Dracodile's scales, albeit it could be argued that the Dracodile can take more punishment anyway. Due to the oblique angles of the scales, arrows rarely find purchase, making the penetrating power of crossbow bolts a far more attractive choice. The blades and points of swords, daggers, spears, and halberds are effectively reduced by 20%. They'll still work, and are obviously better than nothing, but it will take time to whittle down that rough, squamous armor. It's best concentrate on one spot and dial the damage in repetitively, if you can. Lastly, the scales themselves are sharp, and if rubbed carelessly, blood will be shed. But that's okay, Gossk doesn't like to hug people.

-Darkvision-
"Yes, I know, ...just keep the light on 'em. I'mma sneak around, kay? It'll work."

Although they are not nocturnal creatures, Dracodiles still prefer to hunt at night. When the night life surges, the world surrenders its colors and their vision adopts the spookiness of black, white, and shades of grey. A Dracodile actually matches the eyesight of the average human during daylight, but at night, chances are that potential prey will find it harder to spot him lurking about. Unlike their lesser counterparts, the crocodiles, their eyes do not see all around, nor can they track different targets, or be retracted for safety. Adaptation has granted Dracodiles a superior depth perception by bringing their eyes closer together and pointing forward, ideally at their intended prey. Lastly, using a bright, intense light in an attempt to blind a Dracodile or negate his Darkvision will only earn you one thing: a chuckle.

-Water Breathing-
"C'mon, Jim, it's been over an hour. He's long gone by now, so let's get to fishin'."

It is not a very well known fact that Dracodiles breathe underwater, and that they navigate any body of water regardless of salinity levels. People of other races tend to view them as giant versions of crocodiles, who can hold their breath for up to 15, sometimes 20 minutes. On the contrary, since Dracodiles enjoy the benefits of having both powerful lungs and efficient gills, they may remain submerged for as long as they see fit. Most Dracodiles have three pairs of gills, starting on their lower neck, then over their lungs, and finally on their sides. They are hard to spot among their dark scales and in fact, a sheathing organ armored with scales will cover their gills after they've been on land for a few minutes.

It is worth noting that the secret of these gills, and that they are vital weak-points, are ferociously guarded by the Dracodiles. In the distant past, entire settlements of other races were wiped out because their hunters displayed their glorious catches and bragged about their story. Dracodile shamans would quietly investigate this using their secret ways and depending on how their slain kin were killed, their report could mean an all-out war. Put another way, it would be unwise to assault a Dracodile's gills unless you intend to kill him and burn his body to ash.

-Acid Breath-
"What the—MY HOUSE! What're these holes—oh dammit, it burns?!"

Even more secret than their gills is the draconic evidence that all Dracodiles can spew a stream of lethal corrosive acid, just like fire dragons that breathe immolating flames upon its enemies. In fact, it's so reclusive an ability that most Dracodiles are uneducated about its existence, believing only certain shamans and champions have the power to use it. In Gossk's case, he was taught how to utilize it shortly after his exile by one of his friends, a shaman named Jikaa-Jigar. It was a trade in exchange for her life debt, for Gossk had saved her a long time ago from ravenous wolves. She taught him the truth, and that not only were they immune to acid and corrosion, one can learn different projectile techniques or even combine the acid with ingredients for potion-making. Gossk thanked her for the crash course and quickly bid her farewell, lest she be caught associating with him and sully her reputation.

Acid Breath actually has a slightly magical nature due to its draconic origin; Therefore, it owns a few enhanced properties that are beyond that of natural acids and bases. This grants the ability extreme versatility and potency, but also makes it complicated and hard to master. An untrained (or unfocused) Dracodile can take a moment before generating a narrow, cone-shaped stream (2-foot radius, 16-feet range) that can potentially affect many targets in a clumsy hit-or-miss fashion. Metals and stones take time to dissolve, but flesh will have issues right away, especially the softer tissues and organs.

With diligent practice and commitment, a Dracodile can use his breath more often and spontaneously, but also exercise better control over many other factors such as: projectile type (stream, spray, orb, spit), size (radius, range), projectile speed, solubility (controls its lethality), viscosity (controls its sliminess), and even its color. At the moment, Gossk is untrained and can only use his breath 3 times a day, but is on the cusp of controlling his projectile type. It has been a love-hate relationship with his breath, as he loves how effective it is, but hates how it turns his meals into soup. Gossk dislikes soup.

-Adaptive Fighter-
"No, wait, wait. S-Stop, Jane. ...I—I've nevah seen a lizzie do that before. We should leave."

The crowning achievement of his arsenal and a skill developed all on his own. As a fruit grown from Gossk's own worldview and philosophy, this fledgling ability has transformed his battle capabilities and retains the potential to grant him a level of dominance that he's never known before. The seed was planted with the realization that he could not always defeat sapient beings using his tried and true hunting method (wait, ambush, drown). Some prey are actually better hunters themselves, better than he can imagine. And as he ventured farther out into the world, he knew that, when he least expects it, he could be cornered, outnumbered, and overwhelmed by superior weapons. His environment could bode ill for him and a boon to his enemies! He would have to stand his ground and defend himself. For certain he could fight valiantly with great strength and ferocity, in typical Dracodile fashion. But that is what they would expect, and that gives them power over him. So therein lies the blooming beauty of his epiphany: Just as all hunting is based on deception, so it is with both dueling and warfare.

Having no formal training in martial arts or dueling, Gossk has long been reliant on the familiar rough-and-tumble world of grappling, biting, and slashing that permeates the Wilds. He's pushed himself beyond this primitive state with constant reminders that he mustn't act like a base animal and never follow the expectations of his enemies. At its core, Adaptive Fighter discourages all-out onslaughts and constant evasive maneuvers, both of which would fatigue him quickly. Instead the ability stresses having patience to wait and carefully watch for the most opportune moment to counterattack. Simply put, endure their attacks, evade when possible, and then decisively strike at them with such precise force that they are rendered helpless, if not outright destroyed. In this way, Gossk would be able to reserve his stamina and kill his foes as efficiently as possible.

A long term aspect of this ability is understanding that his enemies are also his teachers; Hence, keen observations of their tactics and strategies are crucial to expanding his own repertoire. It is no different than when he learned how to enhance his hunting strategies in his youth. So, without question, Gossk loves this style of fighting as not only does it feel so natural and proper, it has wonderful synergy with his Steel Trap mental ability. Overall, this physical ability has garnered Gossk more confidence to step into the civilized world. Given enough time, he might even adapt socially on a scale greater than he ever had back at home in the Wilds.

Gossk's spells are few and supplementary, only unleashed when required. He is not magically inclined, so being winded by copious use of mana goes against his battle philosophy. However, these three spells were sparked by necessity due to problematic situations during his travels. Powered by arcane incantations of varying length, these spells (and about magic in general) were taught to Gossk during the early years of his exile by certain shamans, some who had taken pity on him and others he'd bribed with prime choices of food. As the least developed arsenal at his command, he can certainly learn new incantations and, with rigorous training and proper study, his current spells can become more effective, flexible, and less costly. However, that kind of growth is unlikely to happen unless he is motivated by some pressing need. Lastly, all of his incantations have a brief delay for they cast their spells, and if a magical incantation creates an upkeep spell, it simply means that casting the spell initially will cost more mana than it does to maintain its duration.

-Swamp Pit-
"Once we get there, I'll—hey... this place wasn't here before... Charles? Where'd you go?!"

A Dracodile's greatest advantage is not his strength, endurance, or speed, but his ability to launch a surprise attack when you're least expecting it. Such is the profound wisdom of the eccentric shaman, Kijj-tissk, who instructed Gossk how to enjoy a home away from home. An upkeep spell with 2 incantations and a medium mana cost, it temporarily changes terrain and can be placed up to 30 feet away from Gossk. Once the incantation's last syllable is uttered, the center of a 45-foot area of effect (AOE) is instantly conjured within his line of sight. Night time is unnaturally simulated around and in the AOE, which is made up of three zones: a 30-foot diameter swamp pit in the center, which is surrounded by a 10-foot wide bog, which is bordered by a 5-foot thick fog.

The fog isn't dispersed by wind and prevents the magical scrying or detection of anyone's location within the AOE. It is also magically dense and prevents line of sight, as well as hindering the accuracy of range attacks passing through it. Next, the bog is incredibly mucky, which will slow people down and possibly cause them to sink; However, the bog does contain various forms of concealment and cover, such as dead trees, broken logs, and large bushes. Finally, the swamp pit is extremely murky and odiously sickening, as though miasma was present. Its slimy slopes descend gradually to a 30-foot depth at its dead center. Two other points of interest exist in the swamp: four large columns of dense rock that stretch up to just under the surface, and four large tunnels that lead out of the swamp pit and exit somewhere into the bog.

Swamp Pit has a few details worth mentioning:
* With magical aid, the AOE's presence can be sensed or detected before running into it.
* The AOE can be dispelled rather easily, but just prior to removal, Gossk will be alerted immediately to the image and location of the person responsible for doing this.
* Supernatural manipulations of the elements (water, earth, etc.) within the AOE is more difficult and costly than usual for the caster because Swamp Pit is an upkeep spell, meaning Gossk's mana is being drawn slowly but continuously to maintain his complete control over its design and current structures.
* If Gossk exits the AOE and leaves it alone, the AOE will gradually disappear over 5 minutes and leave no trace; However, if Gossk is killed, knocked out, or wills its removal, the AOE will vanish instantly.
* When the AOE disappears, any sunken objects or people in the bog's muck will be pushed up gently to the level of original surface; However, in the swamp pit, the same will instead be quickly rushed up to the level of the original surface. The greater the depth, the greater the velocity that things will be flung. Fall damage may become a sudden issue.

-Far Stride-
"Alright, we're ready now, Mister Gossk sir. Lead the way, we're right behind ya..."

The world is large and full of interesting locales, evident by its history, flora, and fauna, all of which enriches a hunter's journey, for he could spend a lifetime mastering them all. This spell was taught to Gossk by his friend, the shaman Jikaa-Jigar, who encouraged him to conquer the unknown world and embrace his destiny. A simple 24-hour spell with 2 incantations and a large mana cost, it lessens the detrimental effects of extensive, fast-paced travels. For an example, a power walk is no more taxing than a slow, cumbersome walk, and your running stamina will be doubled. In fact, your stride even seems a few feet longer, cutting the trek's distance down by a respectable fraction. You are not as bothered by extreme temperatures as you normally would be, though lethal temperatures are still dangerous. Next, the climate and environment will not deteriorate your clothes, nor will your shoes wear out. Although Dracodiles don't wear shoes, their feet will not become sore. These same effects will assist beasts of burden and mounts, including their gear. Lastly, the decay of food and drink is greatly lessened, though food already on its way out will probably rot, and extreme temperatures will neither freeze nor evaporate food and supplies. Far Stride continues even when taking a break or camping for the night, so it's advisable to travel for as long as the spell will last.

-Sunder Clout-
"Haha, we got him now, boys! Oi, get the wagon over here an' we'll---WHOA!! What was that!?"

Few things are more terrifying to a young hunter than the epiphany that he has suddenly become the hunted. Having once barely escaped a vicious ambush by a pack of half-beastman snakes, Gossk was guided by tales of his youth to seek out the elusive shaman Tassaar, whose powerful mysticism raised the bar for all Dracodiles pursuing shamanship. He found him on his death bed and after humbling himself, he convinced the shaman to pass on what knowledge he would. Inked claw at the ready, Gossk eagerly recorded Tassaar's diction and gave him a proper burial shortly afterwards.

A tricky spell with 4 incantations, a medium mana cost and two phases that Gossk must go through as he speaks their one-word incantations. The first phase is a kinetic energy (KE) gathering phase, which can last up to 6 seconds, and the second phase is a KE releasing phase, where Gossk can unleash sweeping shock waves and energy blasts that take the form and velocity of the body part that he releases it through.

During the first phase, his own body will begin to shimmer as he becomes a receptor and storage for internal and external sources of KE. Gossk will charge up by using his own bodily movements (internal) and absorb most enemy attacks and environmental hazards (external). While there's no maximum to KE gathering, hoarding his own KE doesn't slow his movements, nor does absorbing attacks reduce the damage done to him.

Once the second stage is triggered, Gossk must unleash all of the hoarded KE as rapidly as possible; Failure to do so will cause internal injuries while repeated failures eventually causes a mana backlash that temporarily renders Sunder Clout unusable. His KE blasts take on the properties of the body part. Energy claws and tail swipes are sharp and cut things as though he had cut them himself. Blunter parts of his body (feet, elbow, knees, head, etc.) will cause concussive damage instead. Another use are shock waves, which don't travel as far or as fast as his energy blasts, but they can knock down multiple enemies at once. These are unleashed by stomping, slamming his tail down, or body-slamming the ground. Lastly, Sunder Clout can boost Gossk's leaping distance, which is achieved by timing his jump as the KE exits his feet.

* Primitive Club: Crafted from bone and hardened wood, and bound by strong plant bindings, this brutish weapon can inflict massive blunt trauma, especially in Gossk's hand. The club is clearly well used and is larger than the human-sized version. A critical hit can easily knock out a target for several minutes. However, against weapons and armor made of finely forged metal, this club will not last very long.

* Wooden Shield: Made of hard, chiseled wood encrusted with with rib bones, this shield is more of a buckler and has three jagged bones sticking out on the end that could penetrate flesh. It is braced via straps to Gossk's right arm. One might wonder why a naturally armored Dracodile would bother carrying such a weak shield, but then they might see that the rib bones have been worked on so as to try to catch melee weapons that strike against the shield. The shield is replaceable but making an opportunity like that in battle is priceless.

* Two 3-dose Potions: A pair of strange, filthy looking concoctions brewed by Dracodile shamans. Made of thick glass, the potions are large in the hand of a human and hang by tough straps attached to Gossk's belt. One potion, called Lurker's Patience, is a deep green color and one dose will greatly suppress Gossk's hunger and thirst for a 24 hour period. However, one side effect is that when Gossk breaks his unnatural fast, his first meal's nutrients won't be absorbed very well. The second potion, called Venomward, resembles actual blood and is an antidote that helps cleanse the body of normal toxins. It is normally imbibed but can also be used to clean a poisoned wound. For an hour after drinking, Gossk would be highly resistant to toxins in whatever form they might come.

* Large Satchel: A simple but sturdy bag made from the stomachs and hides of various swamp creatures. Inside are the following items:

* Shaman's Tome: A large collection of treated bamboo bark with weird scratches and marks on them. The bark slide smoothly into each other, making them compact. The tome primarily depict the words and images of Gossk's incantations that he is learning to master. The tome also teaches about magic in general but also knowledge of their people.

* Herbalism Kit: Gossk has rudimentary knowledge in herbalism and can reliably (given time) brew the two potions described above. This kit contains a rugged mortar and pestle, bone saws, knives, files, twine, needles, hooks, skinning tools, and myriad sacks and oiled pouches for storing organs and flesh. There's also a bag of various herbs and roots and woven plant bindings.

* Spyglass: A 18-inch long hollow metal tube containing two glass lenses that when viewed through makes objects appear three times as large. It can also collapse and telescope down to 10 inches if needed. Picked off of a foolish explorer, it took Gossk a month to figure out the true purpose of this tool. He often uses it to spy on a town's inhabitants a day or two before he ventures inside.

* Bag of Game Call Whistles: Gossk wasn't the only one around waiting for prey to come by. Driven hunters, desperate to attract game, would often use whistles to call their game, which often prompted Gossk's curiosity to seek the hunters out. He is utterly fascinated by the whistles' ability to deceive simple animals. He's still figuring out which whistle's intended game.

Gossk's background is long and complex, as it takes place over several decades. Dracodiles have extensive life spans, full of hardships, and therefore write their history in chunks that are most significant to them. These are often depicted on their clothing and in their homes. Gossk's story is one of rebellion and isolation, of ridicule and exile, of prophetic dreams and a quest for power as he meets his destiny. His experiences has led him to one conclusion, an inversion of truth that defiles everything: Something is not right, in fact, something is horribly wrong. Why is the world like this? How can it be fixed? Or are we all better off being... devoured?

Upon hatching and taking his first and only innocent breath, Gossk, like many Dracodile younglings, had to endure an elimination process upon hatching. Entire clusters of eggs would be put in special pens and left to their own devices; Only the few strongest Dracodile babies would remain after a few days and would be pulled out to be cared for by selected brood mothers. Gossk was a runt, in fact, he had accidentally been buried in the struggle and only found two days later by a egg-less mother who took him in.

The first year was horrible. Gossk struggled to keep up with his older siblings and peers, and never received praise for his efforts. The stark difference between him and the other younglings was strong enough to earn him a nickname 'Plum Rat,' for his eyes were a strange purple and indeed, was no bigger than a wild rat. No amount of discipline could straighten him out, leaving most of the caretakers at their wits end. The shamans got involved and took him aside, as theirs was a gentler claw, albeit not by much

To the age of ten, Gossk learned all the basics of his tribe's religion, customs, and primal ways. He excelled in simpler things, such as crafting, brewing, and magical incantations. But he had to endure ridicule from afar, as his peers soared past him in physical attributes and sport. His first hunt was coming up soon and, as a rite of passage, he would not be accepted if he didn't return home with food. Three years later, not only did Gossk return from his first hunt alive, he had captured a breeding pair of wild boars in a cage and explained to the chieftain and his council that they could raise the pigs as a backup food source when hunts proved scarce. Only a few Dracodiles at the time silently respected his ingenuity, but the beating that Gossk received for his impudence and outside-the-box thinking left him in his bed for a month. Still, he was allowed to pass his rite of passage.

From that point on, all the way to the age of twenty, Gossk kept to himself and the few shamans who befriended him. He put in minimal effort to contribute to his tribe and seldom did he partake in any festivities or social gatherings. The majority of his years then were spent in the Wilds, mostly lurking in the rivers and lakes. It is here that his thinking prowess developed greatly, as his power of observations led him into insights that, while inspiring and useful, would lead him to get into trouble once again.

It was on his 25th year that, as a mature young adult Dracodile, Gossk and all of his peers were allowed to express their scale-friendly (as in, non aggressive) emotions, mainly in the form of praise and recognition of their chieftain and his shamans, as thanks for all the things they had done. It is also a time for grievances and concerns, but nobody did that. Except Gossk the Plum Rat; Of course Gossk the Weakscale had something to say. In fact, the ceremony had purposely been scheduled when Gossk was not around, so as to exclude him. Fortunately, his closest friend, a shaman named Jikaa-Jigar, was able to inform him in time. As per ceremony rules, the chieftain could not retaliate while anyone spoke before him and everyone had to remain seated and attentive. Gossk proceeded to go on for 6 full hours, talking gently and respectfully, about all of his concerns about how the tribe was run by the chieftain; He listed all of their major events, showing his comprehension of their tribal history, and demonstrated with facts and numbers that all the failures and causalities that had happened was due solely to the chieftain's lack of understanding logistics and his thirst for war, that his council (most of whom were old shamans) were nothing more than yes-men. Gossk explained that their words were paved with good intentions but seldom rendered any advice that led to good decision making. Gossk concluded his speech, by simply stating that he does not hate them or think they are worthless, nor that he should be the chieftain. It was merely an observation.

The silence, a rare phenomenon in Dracodile society, lasted for five full minutes before the chieftain rose from his seat and towered over Gossk by a solid 5 feet. The chieftain stared Gossk down, the latter not daring to make eye contact, at least until the chieftain bid him to do so. Gossk's purple eyes took in the full image of the chieftain's face, and suddenly felt his first horn grabbed, pushing his head back down. Gossk understood this gesture, it was the precursor to an execution!

The chieftain then said that Gossk is to be killed, that he is a bad omen that should have been done away with years ago. In that moment, by the power of those words alone, Gossk experienced a rage unlike anything he had ever felt—he broke free and roared at the chieftain. This immediately caught him off guard as Gossk reached up as high as he could and blinded him in the left eye. Unfortunately, the chieftain still had his wits and instantly counterattacked by clobbering Gossk, resulting in his horn being broken after all.

A few shamans and several members of Gossk's family had to pull him away and shield him as the rampaging chieftain attempted to cleave him in twain with his massive jaws. They pleaded with the chieftain, 'Exile! Exile!' before he relented and ordered his head shaman to mark Gossk with the black claw. Confusion and disbelief consumed Gossk's mind as he endured this fate and no sooner had his vest been marked, he was escorted to the outskirts of their village and beaten to an inch of his life.

The next morning, once again, his friends—his few friends—tended to him and nursed him back to help, albeit they had to do so in a cave with an underwater entrance. For if they were caught associating with him, let alone helping him, they would be put to the fire.

For the next 16 years Gossk would experience the pain of solitude, for as a social creature, he was not content with simply feeding, hunting, and resting for days on end. For certain he would meet with his family and his shaman friends, and learn new things, current events, and be given supplies in exchange for freshly caught game. But as weeks turned to months, and then months to years, the visits began to cease, prompting Gossk to risk venturing closer to his old home in hopes of seeing them. He had been caught a few times, having barely escaped each time, but the consequence rendered him a wanted fugitive to be killed on sight. This forced Gossk to move farther and farther out until it would take a few days to reach home—it was at this point that he began to notice people of other races, which he'd had seen before when they came to trade with his tribe or desire safe passage through their territory.

Then, at age 41, Gossk happened to catch a group of shamans, some being his old friends although he almost didn't recognize them due to their scars and disfigurements. He had no idea what they were doing this far out, and moving with such a disciplined pace. He was excited, but afraid, afraid that interrupting them would end his life. Instead he followed them, and eavesdropped on their conversations. Apparently they had been doing this—whatever 'this' was—for the last two years, but they must do something about it. It was at this point Gossk took a chance and revealed himself, because Jikaa-Jigar mentioned him by name, saying that Gossk would know how to fix this. The strength of their welcome overwhelmed Gossk and put a flaming hope deep in his heart, assuring him that everything would be okay.

But everything was not okay. These shamans had been inspired and encouraged by Gossk's actions years ago and over the course of spying on neighboring kingdoms, towns, and even bandit lairs, they had discovered a plot to enslave the Dracodiles through seemingly peaceful trade negotiations. They still didn't know who was behind it all, but they asked for Gossk to give them his thoughts. They knew that he would have much to say. But they were wrong.

Gossk had long ago given up on his tribe and cared very little about what would happened to them. He did not care to explain himself, why should he? But their gaze made Gossk feel as though he was broken and useless, but he was surprised when they ignored his quip—they instead explained to him an ancient story about one other Dracodile who had purple eyes, very much like his own; He was a powerful warrior whose very word inspired countless Dracodiles (and other creatures) to his cause, his power was so great that Illorassk himself was said to dwell in his scales. They believed that Gossk was, in fact, a reincarnated form of the legendary hero.

Gossk, needless to say, didn't quite believe them, but again to his surprise, they suddenly left, each one going a different route. Frustrated by this turn of events, he yelled after them, claiming that he was his own person and not some expendable pawn to be used in some cosmic game of fate. He scolded himself for being weak, for talking to them and thinking things would turn out better. They were all fools doomed to die, just like him, and so would his entire kind someday, he thought. He knew the world was changing, but he had become complacent in his exile, just waiting to be killed and devoured.

Later that very same night, Gossk experienced a most vivid dream, in which the whole world was small and laid flat before him, so that he could see everything and everyone. Yet at the same time, his understanding was dulled, for the experience was painful and his vision blurred red as he tried to perceive what little he could. Then he would wake, each time crying out like a sick youngling. These dreams haunted him for months, making him utterly restless and anxious to the point of being unable to hold a rock in his hand. He could not stop thinking about the dreams, even as he went about his daily routines.

Each subsequent dream would reveal a little more, and a knowing voice would become clear enough for him to hear. It was speaking in a strange language that on one hand, Gossk couldn't repeat its words and on the other, he could feel the meaning of the words. At some point, perhaps as he turned 42, Gossk's dreams began to talk about him instead, laying bare everything he had done and failed at, just as he had did to the chieftain long ago.

Now, five years later, Gossk has steeled his nerves and prepared to venture out into the great unknown. His quest is simply to conquer anything, everything, and all things; He will suss out and usher all power unto him, devouring every foe. He doesn't know if he's now on a fool's errand, but his resolve has never been stronger—and that can't be wrong, can it? He knows that he has to save his brethren, somehow, before they become extinct. He could no longer afford to be lax and weak, nor could he ignore those damned dreams. So, with all the help that his true few friends could muster for him, Gossk will face his destiny and discover the truth.

But will he embrace the truth when he finds it?

- Gossk has a pet reed cat named Licks. Raised from infancy, Licks follows Gossk rather loyally for a wild animal. But truth be told, theirs is a symbiotic relationship, where Gossk feeds her reliably (and lets her clean his teeth for even more meat scraps) and she serves as an extra pair of eyes and ears, not to mention her silent companionship and commentary on his actions provides the driest humor Gossk has ever known. Licks got her name from her habit of not only licking herself and making that annoying klech sound, but also invading his nostrils when he's asleep.

- Dracodiles are draconic Beastmen, having some kind of lineage from ancient dragons. However, Dracodiles don't even call themselves 'dracodiles', and ignorantly view themselves as completely unrelated to dragons or crocodiles for that matter; Instead, they believe they are the divine spawn of Illorassk the Devourer, who is often depicted as a giant crocodile-like creature. Among themselves, they are known as Rasskarr, 'Sons of the Mouth.'

- Gossk's homeland, Rasskadia, is located on the northwestern coast of the Crystal Sea, bordering the Lost Woods' eastern treeline. It is a vast swampland, full of bogs and trees, with very few creeks. A few small islands hug their coastline, but they seldom venture out farther than that. Being quite distant from civilized folks, even that of other Beastmen, the Dracodile tribe known as the Rasskarr has very little experience and contact with foreigners outside of trade and other services, and has effectively remain unchanged by the times. They are highly religious and worship the beast known as Illorassk the Devourer, who is viewed as a deity of war, strength, dominance, order, and hunger. Thus, the Rasskarr are known for their anger, ambition, hunger, avarice, and aggression. Very seldom are they allowed to exhibit emotional displays of affection, love, mourning, sadness, depression, and submission. They are also purists and don't tolerate 'mutt' versions of their kind to exist within their villages.

- Gossk is considered small for a Dracodile, as his race commonly reach 10 to 12 feet in height and exceed 1000 pounds.

- Since Dracodiles do not have lips, they cannot pronounce certain sounds that are used in the common tongue, such as b, f, m, p, v, or w. They tend to substitute different letters that sound close enough when they speak a word. This actually makes their common speech sound very weird to those who speak it naturally.

- All of the quotes that are listed in the abilities section are actually famous last words.

Name: Tyrael Marchrosias

Age: 25

Race: Orc

Appearance:


Personality: A serious, rather no-nonsense type of orc. Though he can be aggressive and often times vindictive, he generally keeps a cool head and tries his best to take command of a situation if no one else does. A type of person who can easily find himself bossing other people around, who is smart enough to figure out people's talents and abilities, but doesn't understand their feelings well and can often come across as cruel or uncaring to people's own faults or issues. Tyrael can be kind, and often tries, but in a very aloof manner, as he doesn't want to let others consider his compassionate less they think there is weakness within him. Tyrael is the type of person who would gladly give to the needy, but isn't bothered by stealing from them either.

Bio: Tyrael Marchrosias is actually the son of an orc chieftain, and his true name is Kharn Urab Vorinclex of the Green Smoke tribe. Their tribe are known for their powerful shaman and totem warriors, but recently suffer from a schism in their religion, one that Tyrael unknowingly ends up making worse in his future. As a youth, Tyrael was but one of the many chieftain's sons, and thus had no real expectations to serve as either the chief, war master, head shaman, or any other important roles that weren't already fulfilled by his brothers. He often spent his time working in the forge but generally making personal projects as oppose to arms and armor for his tribe, though his teachers did praise him for his natural ability for metal working. When he wasn't working the forge he could often be found fishing, and rarely even takes up hunting, as he doesn't care for chasing down his prey.

As he grew older his family pestered Tyrael to at least seek a wife and provide children for the tribe, but even then he was unconcerned. He has always lived in the shadows of his father and brothers, and knew any orc woman that choose him only do so as a consolation price, knowing that any actual courtship is entirely political on behalf of his family. And thus he gave half-hearted efforts to ever really appeal to orcish women, having never really bothered to distinguish himself as a warrior or shaman. He knew it wouldn't be long before his family may try to cast him out for his laziness, but he never truly cared until one day the tribe did something he never thought they'd do.

They created an alliance with a mage college, offering the college safe passage through their lands as well asn an exchange in lore, and in return they would teach the orcs magic. In order to provide the college a form of collateral to ensure any mage's safety in their lands, Tyrael was volunteered to attend the mage's college. This not only allowed him to get away from his tribe, but also ensured that should anything happen to any mages in Green Smoke lands, Tyrael would be a bargaining chip that the orcs could afford to lose.

It was more politics as far as Tyrael was concerned, but it was one that he at least consented with. He didn't mind learning at the mage's college and figured it would be an opportunity to see new things and stand out. And indeed, Tyrael was quite an exotic feature at the college for a short while, as orcs were rarely ever seen especially in an academic setting. Tyrael grew to like the new environment, and had eyes for the various ladies that were more lithe and graceful compared to the brutish and bulker orc women he's familiar with. However the allure would soon fade as the harsh reality of college life began to settle in.

Compared to his kin Tyrael is quite intelligent, and was quickly able to pick up various bits of lore and magic at the mage's college. But his keen intellect could not compare to even the humans who came into the college practically masters of their crafts, and in comparison Tyrael's knowledge was infantile. His ability with magic could barely pass as an apprentice, let alone as a mage, and soon rumors began to circulate about Tyrael's purpose here. That he was only here due to the benefits of his family and now due to his own ability, that he was less of an equal, more of a show piece. He wasn't here for any academic purpose but just to show off to the rich nobles what an orc looks like, as he was passably attractive and docile enough not to seem barbaric.

Desperate, Tyrael started to focus on his studies more to prove his worth. He gathered lore and academic books to try and figure out how to use magic, but despite what little he could retain, he simply lacked the spark inside of him to cast even the simplest of spells. He could barely activate magic objects, even ones purposely made to assist in channeling a novice mage's mana, and he grew more and more desperate. He was considering quitting for the sake of honor when one day, as he sat alone in his room, he was visited by a raven.

In the Green Smoke tribe every orc is attuned to a magic beast. Many of the strongest warriors are attuned to creatures such as bears, wolves, or boars, while the wisest are known to have creatures like hawks, snakes, or foxes. For Tyrael his spirit beast was the crow. A small black bird, not as fearsome as the hawk but at least not as pathetic as the chicken. The raven represented cunning: the intellect brought about not by study or academia, but a keen wit, a willingness to exploit knowledge or the lack thereof, and a quick mind. The raven told Tyrael about the power that was within him, which only needed to be drawn out with the right ritual. While most mages learn via years of study and practice, someone like Tyrael who lacked that experience could easily gain magic more quickly and efficiently using traditional orcish rituals, ones that he never bothered to do as he was not a shaman. But desperate to prove his worth in this new environment, Tyrael didn't hesitate to enter into a pact with this mysterious being, gaining powers that he never quite learned the origins of until much later.

And just like that, overnight Tyrael learned magic. Though his skills were comparatively less proficient than his contemporaries, he was finally able to show that he could preform magic spells. This allowed him to be seen as an equal among his peers, and his careful use of magic allowed him to make up for his weak proficiency. Now that he could use magic, he began to devise more clever means to handle problems utilizing his spells and other mundane workarounds that he could convince other people is actually magic. While he would never become the best mage at the college, he could now say that he is one.

This new found acceptance allowed Tyrael to befriend people more genuinely, and in doing so he began to interact with more people and learn an outsider perspective on things he never really questioned as an orc. He learned how other cultures handled things, debated topics of politics and ethics, of military and economical tactics, and learned of lore that made Tyrael wonder more about the history of his own people. Namely, the existence of demons. One day Tyrael had begun classes studying demons, devils, and other fiendish creatures, and learned how they could influence even divine people via deception and careful wording. But the more he learned, the more Tyrael began to think that demons were not all too bad: often times the fault was in those who accepted their bargains without knowing what they signed up for. And just to prove this, one day Tyrael made sure to find his Spirit Animal and talk to her earnestly.

It was here that Tyrael learned the truth. His spirit animal transformed into an imp, a minor devil who correctly informed him that his magic was due to a pact that he had inadvertently made with the imp's Archdevil. Instead of copying the folly of many others an attacking the imp out of anger, Tyrael and the Imp spent some time getting to know one another and clarifying the nature of his agreement with the devil. It was fortunately not as bad as Tyrael thought: he simply needs to heed his patron's demands as the situation warrants. When or how would be conveyed through either dreams or the imp itself, who's name was Zastriel. Naturally, his soul would also belong to the Archdevil as well, but only after his death, and he is encouraged to further develop his power independently so that she gains more after he perishes. Additionally, Zastriel informed Tyrael that he does have a latent bloodline for magic, likely stemming from an ancestor long ago who may have struck a similar bargain for power as Tyrael did now.

With this new knowledge in mind, Tyrael continued to study at the mage's college, and one day would return to his tribe's lands to tell them what he had learned. But this is where things took a turn for the worse. Tyrael had began to court a young elven woman who had shown him kindness before, and using his new magical talents he would continue to court her and assist her in her endeavors, hoping that their relationship would blossom as time grew on. But soon Tyrael learned that she was also being courted by another man, a mere human squire who was about to leave for an adventure, one which smitten the elven maiden. In a jealous fury Tyrael went to confront this man and challenged him to a duel for her hand. But in that same fury, Tyrael slew the man in single combat. The duel was not to the death, and because he had spilled noble blood, Tyrael was exiled from the college and a bounty was placed on his head by the noble family.

He was forced to flee the city and return to his people, having brought some dishonor, however when he explained his situation his tribe was accepting. He had challenged the man to fair combat, and it had simply resorted in an accidental death, which was inevitable in such circumstances. Though this damaged relationships between the mage college and the orcs, they were tenuously able to maintain an alliance as Tyrael was forced to lay low until the whole thing blew over. Until then Tyrael found himself as a shaman of sorts, teaching others what he learned alongside his brother who was the head shaman. Though he was not formally a shaman by tribal law, his knowledge and expertise allowed him to teach the younger generation. For a short while, things were good. Until it wasn't.

Tyrael had made the mistake of earnestly telling his people, his family, of his magical origins, and where his tribe's powers come from. But such words were heresy: the tribe did not worship demons, they do not engage in foul blood sacrifices or any cruel rituals that would consort demons. However Tyrael's words still managed to convince some people, causing a schism in his tribe until finally his father laid a curse on Tyrael. He blamed Tyrael's thoughts and feelings on that elven woman that he had fallen in love with, accusing her or causing Tyrael to believe in demons and bring shame to his family. And as a curse, his father turned Tyrael into a woman, so that he would suffer from only being able to love himself, since he never thinks about how his family or loved ones truly felt, and exiled Tyrael or would suffer death.

Shamed, Tyrael fled his tribal people, leaving the lands behind with nothing but the scrape hides he could wear as clothes, and the demon spirits who grant him his powers. Now a woman, Tyrael has abandoned his old name, trying to take on a new life away from his past, and hopefully make something new and better with himself.

Equipment:
Ironwood Bow - A Greensmoke specialty. A bow made of a wood as hard as iron, allowing for far greater penetration than a conventional longbow, but requires great orcish strength to draw. So powerful Tyrael has to use arrows made with thick wooden shafts just to withstand the force, and the arrows are strong enough to pierce metal armor and stone, even tear off limbs.

Ironwood Club - A deceptively simple looking bludgeon, but it's actually quite effective against most forms of armor and enemies. Sturdy yet lightweight.

Hunting Knife - A simple multipurpose steel blade. Can be used to cut or carve wood, skin or kill animals, and even chop food.

Wooden Shield - A simple shield made of wood. Tyrael tends to go through a lot of shields as he uses it for offense and defense, and he's looking for a really good shield that'll be able to withstand his abuse.

Abilities:
Skilled Warrior - Tyrael is a skilled orcish warrior who uses his club and shield just as effectively as he can use his ironwood bow. A very brutal type of fighter who can also do some cunning things with his magic.

Demonic Magic - Tyrael channels demonic magic through his familiar, allowing access to powerful magics. Though he can't use them in quick succession, he recovers magic easily. His particular specialties involve summoning and controling minor demons such as his imp familiar Zastrial, fire based magic, and transformation magic. Common ones include enchanting his equipment with fire to burn or melt his enemies upon impact, or turning his skin into stone to make it as if he's wearing a suit of heavy armor.

Metal Smith - Tyrael's education and training has made him quite a skilled metal smith, and he also knows a thing or two about wood working as well. At the moment he doesn't have much in the ways of fancy weapons, but he intends to upgrade his equipment with given time and materials.

Extra notes: Tyrael makes it no secret that he is an orc cursed to be a female, nor does he particularly care to reverse it. Mainly because doing so involves killing his father, a task that is difficult both literally and emotionally, though he is working on a way to make a functional workaround his curse. Tyrael doesn't know his patron and Zastrial isn't telling him, not that he particularly cares either. All he knows for certain is that his patron is a woman and a war goddess, but hasn't otherwise told him to do anything or vow to any creed or oath.

Tyrael also has an innate ability to see in the dark, and thanks to his pact with a demon, he can even see through magical darkness. He is able to telepathically communicate with Zastrial as well as see through her senses. Zastrial herself is capable of flight, turning invisible, and transforming into three different animals (A crow, snake, or cat) while also being immune to fire and poison, though she's notably weak to silver weapons and more divine based magics. She's not a very capable fighter even if she can poison her enemies with her stinger (Or bites in animal form), but she can still assist in combat as a distraction. Her relationship with Tyrael is largely professional.

The bounty on Tyrael is still active, though only around the mage guild. So far no one Tyrael knows has gone after him but he knows that the family will likely still want him dead for killing their son, but he doesn't plan on either dying or asking for forgiveness. He doesn't regret what he did. Though he also doesn't know what happened to the elven woman he was courting and thinks it's best that if they never meet again especially under the current circumstances.

Name: Elena Adarlan
Age: 23
Race: Half Isoli - Half Demon

Appearance:
Standing in at barely over 5 feet in height, its relatively easy for Elena to be displaced in a crowd. Her face is pale and round, and she has clear, clean skin, soft and perpetually cool to the touch. Along with her long icy white-blue hair, its easier to notice Elena's Isoli heritage. Her eyes are a soft purple, and seem to glimmer with even the slightest shift in the light. Her small frame, while appearing dainty and light, belie a surprising amount of raw strength and fortitude.

Notably, a pair of small reddish horns protrude from the sides of her head, revealing the other half of Elena's heritage. Elena takes extra care to hide these, and will often wear hoods or headwear to cover them. Since Elena, like most of Isoli heritage are more or less indifferent to colder temperatures, most of what Elena wears tends towards dainty and lightweight clothing, in styles reminiscent of Lady Lonnette. Elena is often seen with a large Red Saints cloak over her frame, hiding her horns and noting her as a member of the order.

Personality:
A bit of a wallflower, Elena is in general fairly quiet and soft spoken, preferring to stay in the background, though she tends to be more playful and outgoing around her friends. While actually rather intelligent and perceptive, Elena has a habit of missing details, is somewhat clumsy and can be generally regarded as a bit of an airhead. Friendly and amicable, Elena's demeanor is generally cheerful, and though she is timid, she is neither meek nor cowardly, and her displays of anger and determination can be surprising.

As a part of her somewhat closed upbringing, Elena is a rather curious individual. Not to the point of poking her head where it doesn't belong, but Elena does possess an innate adventurous streak. Having grown up as a ward of the Red Saints, altruism and charity are also core parts of Elena's very being, and appear to have been ingrained in her nature. As a result, Elena tends to be over-trusting, believing in the goodness of others. Not completely gullible, Elena does have the sense to know when something is wrong- though it often doesn't stop her from getting into trouble before it happens.

Surprisingly brave for someone so small: Elena, while not violent by nature, can be exceedingly protective over those she finds in her care, fussing over their wellbeing, and quickly rising to their defense when necessary. Despite her protective nature, Elena considers herself a non-combatant, and typically avoids conflict when possible. When spurred into conflict, Elena can be a truly vicious opponent. Elena is keenly aware of a more sadistic, bloodthirsty side of her that seems to appear when she fights- and fears it, typically attempting to end fights as quickly as possible so as not to allow it to overtake her.

Bio:
Elena was born to demon father and isoli mother. As a child, Elena was found half buried in a snowdrift several miles away from Midrill, her mother and the remains of their raided caravan not far away. While they were rescued by a small group of Red Saints on their way to Portea from Midrill, Elena's mother would ultimately die as a result of her injuries. Taking pity on her child, the Red Saints took in young Elena, taking her back to Portea where she would become a ward of the Red Saints.

Elena's earliest memories are of running up and down the halls of the Lonnette Church of Sandrine in Portea. Most of Elena's childhood was spent in relative peace- she didn't have her parents, but the Church of Sandrine was a stable presence, and the members of the Red Saints were always good to her. Courtesy of the Lonnette family, Elena was afforded a high quality education. In return, Elena assisted the members of the Red Saints in their various tasks and businesses from a young age- particularly Mother Esper.

Mother Esper had noticed Elena's demon heritage long before her horns had even begun to grow in, and was quick to take Elena under her wing. As Elena grew older, Mother Esper was ever by her side, guiding her through life as both a demon, and a member of the Red Saints. Elena learned how to utilize- and more importantly how to control her demonic abilities from Mother Esper. During these formative years, Elena's Isoli side also began to bear fruit. Elena discovered she possessed the ability to cast Isoli healing magic in her early teens. In the next few years, Elena would join the ranks of the Red Saints in earnest, healing and protecting those in need- though never being allowed to leave Portea.

Another constant presence throughout Elena's life, aside from Mother Esper, was the Lady of the Lonnette family herself, Cinclaire. Being so close in age, it was unsurprising that the two girls quickly grew close, becoming nigh on inseparable at one point in time. While never part of the Lonnette family herself, Elena came to view Cinclaire as an older sister, and became an adoring and ever staunch supporter of Cinclaire's role as leader of the Red Saints- despite whatever the naysayers might have said.

By the time Elena turned 18, she had already become a regular fixture in and around the Lonnette districts of Portea. A well known member of the Red Saints, Elena earned a small amount of attention as one of the Saint's preeminent healers, and her powers were regularly sought out. While the popularity brought in no small number of donations to the Church, it also attracted on occasion negative attention as well. After more than a few close calls and run ins with danger, Mother Esper saw to it that Elena began learning how to protect herself should another future situation arise.

Now 23, Elena acts as Cinclaire Lonnette's eyes and ears outside the Church and Portea, a trusted confidant and sister. While Elena is loathe to leave Cinclaire's side, her inability to leave the walls of the church itself necessitates Elena's excursions beyond Portea. Word that the Calibris family had begun making moves in Kalla have reached Cinclaire's ears, and as a personal, private favor, Elena has been asked to investigate their movements on Cinclaire's behalf. Now under the guise of a traveling Red Saint, Elena journeys to Kalla, hoping to uncover whatever plot the Calibris family is planning, and put a stop to it if necessary.

Equipment:

• Elena's Staff [+]

  A gift given to Elena by Cinclaire on her 20th birthday. A finely crafted, if simple staff of wood and metal with a round crystal at its crux. Though the staff itself is quite heavy, in the hands of the Red Saints, it feels surprisingly light. This staff serves as a focus for most of Elena's magical abilities and can manifest a scythe blade that Elena uses while in combat. The size and strength of the scythe blades are influenced by the amount of mana channeled into it. The staff can also use mana to propel itself through the air, allowing Elena to ride it as a mount. Travelling across the ground at low altitudes requires a sustainable amount of mana. Flying through the sky is considerably more taxing
• Red Saints Garb - A set of clothes and cloak enchanted by spellcasters of the Red Saints to be more durable than average cloth. The enchantments don't provide any additional protection, but merely prevent the clothes from ripping and soiling through regular wear and tear. While her typical clothing is light and somewhat revealing, she usually wears a hooded cloak over top to cover her horns. When attempting to appear more inconspicuous, the red and white cloak is traded for a plain traveler's cloak.
• Knapsack - A small backpack for carrying travel supplies. Elena will typically carry a small amount of traveling rations, a waterskin, as well as mundane medical supplies such as clean cloth, a needle and thread, herbal ointments, and strong spirits.
• Lyre - A finely crafted, but otherwise mundane lyre.
• Writingale - A magical piece of parchment bound to a pair of bracelets that messages can be whispered to or written on. Once signed, the parchment folds into the form of a bird and flies to the opposite bracelet. Elena possesses one bracelet, Cinclaire the other.

Abilities:

• Healing Expertise - Like many Isoli, Elena is a very competent healer, capable of casting potent healing magics. Additionally, through years of education within the Red Saints, Elena is also very knowledgeable about mundane methods of healing. Elena stands among her compatriots as one of the order's most potent healers.
• Polearm Adept - Elena is talented combatant, capable with a variety of polearm type weapons: from sturdy strikes with her staff, to powerful sweeps with her scythe. Though the Red Saints are not a militant order, the ability to defend oneself and others comes paramount, and many of its members train in different schools of combat. While not as proficient in martial combat as career soldiers and veteran mercenaries, Elena's prodigious strength allows her to adequately defend herself against most foes.
• Half-Blooded Demon - Though her parentage is unknown, Elena possesses the blood of demons in her veins. While not to the degree of a full demon, her strength and speed are greater than that of an average human, and her body is hardier and tougher. When in danger, her body automatically causes her fingernails to elongate like claws and burn as the cut.
  
  While the lion's share of Elena's mana comes from her natural reserves and regeneration, she is also capable of drawing small amounts of mana from those she causes pain to. While the amounts aren't substantial enough for large feats of magic and healing, they are enough to fuel her combat abilities. Drawing mana in this manner causes Elena to feel a mildly euphoric sensation, causing Elena to become more aggressive the longer a fight extends.
• Magical Abilities - In addition to her healing magic, Elena is capable of casting a variety of minor magical spells. Moving small objects, small bursts of fire, flares of light and other small cantrips make up the bulk of her magical abilities outside of healing.
• Novice Musician - Elena is capable of playing musical instruments, particularly the lyre. She is neither amazing nor mediocre with it, and is capable of carrying a soft, peaceful tune.