"Knowledge unchained, boundless horizons. Progress will always triumph over tradition, such is the truth of the universe."

A born-explorer, Ilannaq takes after her adventurous father more than her bookworm mother, although she does inherit her intelligence. The half-Eskandish half-Rettanese girl embodies the spirit of ancient Eskandish adventurers, one who embraces dynamic change over the boring stagnancy of the status quo. She has little issues in learning new information and adapting to progress, be they mundane or magical. In fact, she easily gets bored if her studies are restricted, especially if it's due to some silly notion such as tradition, "Oh it's forbidden because some wrinkled old fart says it's dangerous... boo hoo", what a bunch of horseshit. Which brings us to the other side of her personality, her boundless curiosity and strong ambitions combined with a lack of life experience make for one reckless young mage with a rebellious streak. Much like a cat, telling Ilannaq that she mustn't do something - especially if it's by an older figure - will just make her want to do said thing more.

A candle burning bright, but as the saying goes, the candle that burns twice as bright will burn half as long.





Standing at 155cm (5'1") tall, the adolescent girl is around average height for someone of her age and her penchant for arduous explorations keeps her body athletically slim. Born to an Eskandish father and North Rettanese mother - both people of the subarctic climates - leads to her possessing extremely light hair to the point of being silver-white and the fairest skin complexion that a healthy human can naturally have. She may justifiably be mistaken for an albino, but two things set her apart from true albinos: one, her skin - while very pale - still possesses a level of creamy hue that albinos don't, and two, her deep blue eyes that signify the presence of melanin in her irises whereas real albinos will have reddish or pinkish eyes due to their ocular blood vessels giving color in lieu of their transparent irises.

Anna usually clads herself in garments that are quite functional and show her status as a middle-class individual. Her favorite outfit is a set of white blouse, brown vest, and knee-length magenta skirt (which is considered quite risque for Revidian culture among others, but she couldn't care less), and when outdoors, she dons her dark brown magus robe and hat. The latter two are enchanted with moderate protection against wear, tear, and heat in particular due to the fiery nature of her magic.



Due to her heritage, Anna is fluent in three distinct languages; Eskandish from her father's side, Rettanese from her mother's side, and Avincian from both. She's equally fluent in all three languages, but can't understand, speak, or write anything else.



Ilannaq's introduction into the world of magic was rather... unusual to say the least. Unlike most mages, she wasn't actually born with a high RAS potential. Sure, when considering the whole population of the world, she's among the lucky 6% to be able to perform parlor tricks, something she found out during one of her father & daughter travels in which she made a candle's fire swayed like a snake charmer to his cobra, much to the amusement of other sailors on the ship. In that moment, it seemed like Anna's path in life would be a merchant and explorer, just like her father, little did the young girl know that fate would take her elsewhere.

One day, Anna was happily diving into the sea in search of underwater trinkets to collect; corals, clams, and the like, then she noticed something highly unusual at the corner of her eyes. Upon turning her gaze there, she saw what could only be described as a pitch-black coral. As big as she's tall, the object stood like a sore thumb as unlike its vibrantly colorful fellows, this particular coral seemed to reject light itself, being a void of coral-shaped darkness. It was ominous, exuding an aura of eldritch fear as even sea critters steered clear of the thing.

However, being a curious young girl with perhaps too much courage for her own good, Anna approached the thing... and touched it. At that very moment, the shadow coral seemed to vanish into her hand, seeping like gas infusing itself into her body. She panicked for a split second, but the primal fear of drowning settled her mind as she surfaced into land first before trying to analyze just what in the name of the Pentad just transpired. In the end, she still couldn't make sense on what happened and decided to keep the incident to herself since it was so strange, she assumed no one would believe her anyway.

That very same night, Anna dreamt of being visited a... man? Well, he vaguely looked like a man... except made out of shadows, just like that coral. The umbral figure drew close to her, gently whisked locks of her white hair, and lovingly caressed her neck, tingling her, then he put his mouth right beside her ear, whispering sweet nothings into her before he locked their lips together. She whimpered as pleasurable tingles caressed her adolescent body, not yet an adult but had already experienced puberty, then they laid, just like a husband and wife would.

The following morning, Anna woke up all sweaty and bothered, but most importantly, she felt heat in her very soul, practically begging to be released. She surrendered to her instincts and unleashed a jet of flame from her hands, casting an Arcane spell before she even knew what an Arcane school of magic even is. She was dumbfounded... then followed by a jolt as her mattress caught on fire.

It was an incredibly unusual dream and furthermore, though most of them are impossibly difficult to recollect, Anna still vividly remembers that specific dream to this very day. It must be a sign from the gods, from Eshiran-Zept specifically. The Bringer of War had blessed her, empowered her, and it's her duty to seek more of his blessings. That day marked Anna's new path in life as she started seriously pursuing magic as a career. Her parents are of course proud of her, that their only daughter had The Gift even though both of them are just ordinary folk. They showed their support by hiring a personal tutor for her.

It was through the tutor that Anna learned that she possessed a 'Redblood' primary mana type coupled with a 'Fireblood' secondary, making her naturally talented at offensive magic that revolves around fire and heat. Well, that certainly explains everything. Furthermore, she found out that she has a knack for the Arcane and Chemical schools of magic. All of these discoveries reinforce her belief that she's indeed empowered by Eshiran-Zept, after all, isn't that what the clergy say? "Eshiran empower you." Although she keeps her divine encounters with the The Destroyer a secret from everyone, believing it'll sully the god's blessing through arrogance.

Over the next few years, Anna's knowledge and competence over her two chosen schools grew, and while not an outright genius prodigy, she's quite intelligent, enough to make her reliably progress in her studies without major setbacks. In between her lessons, she continued regularly exploring the world under the guise of field studying, and while not a complete lie - she really was field studying - she had an ulterior motive of searching for more of "Eshiran's Blessings". She felt them calling to her and it's only her god-given duty to fulfill her pilgrimage.

As it turned out, she did find more of those umbral entities, they took many forms, often mimicking mundane objects and people aside from their pitch-black texture. Each time she touched them, they vanished inside her and then she'd get another vivid dream with Eshiran-Zept. What always comes next is an increase in her RAS value, something that befuddled her tutor as he believed that it was unheard of for a Redblood to have a rapidly growing RAS. Of course, Anna knew why, but she didn't need to tell her mentor that.

In fact, it was this perceived rare talent that pushed the tutor recommend Anna for enrollment at Ersand'Enise because someone of such talent shouldn't have anything less than the best magical academy in the world. Safe to say, she managed to nab herself a spot amongst the student body.

Indeed Ersand'Enise is undoubtedly the finest academy for aspiring mages, but Anna also found it an oppressive establishment that clings to useless traditions and hinders progress by placing unnecessary restrictions on learning, who are they to stand in the way of progress?

Heh, no matter, by her own hands under the guidance of Eshiran the Destroyer, she'll destroy the status quo and usher a new age of unchained knowledge, of boundless horizons!



Ilannaq firmly stands on the side of progress and views tradition as nothing but ill-fated attempts by the old to maintain their status quo. She believes that the so-called 'aberrations' that she met are actually Eshiran's physical manifestation and that she has been chosen - empowered - by the God of Destruction to bring about change by dismantling the old so the new may prosper. She has been given a divine purpose in life and by the Pentad, she's going to fulfill them.

Her greatest fear is being chained, confined with nowhere to grow. She abhors following rules that she herself doesn't agree with and stuffy ceremonies and rituals are nothing but suffocating. Due to said belief of being 'chosen', she thinks quite highly of herself and thus hates being belittled.



Most notably from her personal possessions are two arcane foci, a magus' tools of the trade. The first takes the form of a broom, except it's actually a staff and the 'broom' end contains pockets of phosphorus powder in which she can ignite to provide both heat and rapid chemical reactions for her to draw from and eventually cast her spell through it. The second one is a wand, but with a thicker grip than average, it's functionally similar to her staff in that it contains powdered phosphorus for her to use as a Drawing and Casting aid.

Aside from these items, she loves to collect various trinkets and souvenirs from her travels and those sent to her by her parents. She keeps a journal to record personal notes and sketch things she saw. She isn't the type to flaunt wealth much so she rarely carries a lot of money on her person, just enough for her to get by while she stores the rest at Ersand'Enise's local bank.

" Knowledge is key, but what have you sods done with it? Hoarded it all to yourselves, treasuring it for generations like the wyrms of yore my father told me about.

So, help me by Shune's light, if I have to hear one of you snobs preaching at me again about the sanctity of magic, I'll shove my bascinet up your arsehole."

With the assistance of his heirloom pig-steel bascinet, Onarr easily reaches the shoulders of the tallest adolescent bachelors in the Ersand'Enise. Without his bascinet, however, Onarr is liable to drown himself at the shallow end of any pond if he is not cautious enough. He compliments his most emblematic fashion accessory with a yellow-dyed leather cloak, a linen shirt and rawhide leather boots. When he's not in his mage apparel, Onarr typically wears simple practical vestments made of cloth, camel leather and roughspun flax

Underneath his helm, Onarr believes he looks likes the spawn of a fishmonger and an emaciated moose. However, the reality is far less horrifying for this adolescent than he truly believes. Onarr's dark skin is pocketed with burn scars and raised welts from his childhood misadventures involving the unlimited power of lightning. His left eyebrow has been completely singed off alongside his right sideburns and most of his hair, leaving a solitary chestnut mop in place. His dimpled smile and mischievous grin still remain, however.


His time spent under the tutelage of the local Stresian order in Joru and operating his father's smithy has bequeathed him with the budding talents of an multi-linguistic. He is fluent and well-versed in his local dialects of Joruban alongside two or three common dialects of Belzaggic. No matter his attempts at trying, Mezogolese has escaped his grasp, only having managed a rudimentary intermediate level consisting of a creole of several dialects. Additionally, he has academic understanding of various Avinician dialects, although he prefers to use the most common form used throughout Constantina.

Onarr doesn't prefer to admit this to anyone but he also knows various swear words, slang, insults, innuendos and profanity picked up from his father's customers in over a dozen languages from Yasoi to Rettanese.



Onarr's talents lie in the school of magnet magic, being considerably more versed and creative in its use than other students of his age, thanks to his blessed Thunderchild lineage from his mother and a decade of practice underneath the tutors of the Stresian Order and a six moon apprenticeship under Dioha, the Magnet Master of the local Joru Mage Guild. He prefers drawing on chemical and arcane sources to perform his magnetic magic and can draw on ambient environmental charge in a pinch if he needs to.

His most accomplished recorded feats in the Joru Stresian Order are his ability to mimic other schools of magic through ingenuity and application of scientific theory. His most famous (and often destructive) discovery which earned him entry into Ersand'Enise is what he refers to as "The Phlogiston Pummel". His other, less memorable (but no less academically important to the annals of Stresian journals) feats include increasing the temperature of objects by focusing current through them, managing to levitate 1 feet in the air courtesy of his helmet and manipulation of his own skeletal muscle neurons via conduction of bio-electricity.

However, in spite of his aptitude in magnet magic, no one has ever seen Onarr throw a visible bolt of lightning or channel any lightning spells since he was 8. The excuses provided by Onarr are always changing and always performed with a stretched smile that nobody can see.

Onarr's other preferred school of magic is the art of Chemical Magic. He does not possess a natural talent for it but thanks to countless drills enforced by him in Dioha and endless nights of sifting through dusty tomes, he is what many in the art would consider an excellent user. he mainly focuses on applying it in a utilitarian manner in most of his experiments and for his own cooking. He is woefully out of practice, much to his embarassment, when it comes to the art of applying chemical magic in combat.

His father has also attempted to impart some of his talents in Arcane magic to Onarr, much to both of their frustration. He has only managed to learn several basic cantrips which were rudimentary enough to assist his father in the smithy.





Somnes the 24th, Dami-Zept 53

Finally, I have some time to myself to reflect in peace. Dahoi always told me that a good mage always writes at the end of the day, but, alas steady decks are impossible to find when you embark on the Constantin seas. Being on land is far more preferable to suffering from sea-sickness.

The road to Revedia is a long one but perchance, I found a yam farmer willing to ferry me to the border of where Ersand'Enise is supposedly located. There were many reasons that factored into my decision: namely, the sturdy breed of famed albino Revidian steeds that he has tamed, the excellent craftsmanship of his ride and miraculously, his recipe for baked sliver yams that I must try again on the morrow once I finish writing.

I find myself in recent times reflecting on where it all began. It is important that I retrace my steps now, lest, I lose sight of my past at Ersand'Enise. I reckon too many mages forget where they came from and how they became who they were now.

Father tries to deny it but the blood business of war bade him to travel from Eskand to the ports of the Republic of Joru. He gambled his savings and I suppose it paid off. Lucky him. Most people of his station would have died had they attempted that endeavor. Volu, a principality of Jeru, had fallen to a combination of Belzaggic economic pressure and hired sell-sword companies. The carrion fields, rich with steel and sliver, were ripe to be reforged by blacksmiths and were in demand by the various principalities of Joru. Joru was not the Joru it is now. It was untamed, feral with new ideas that blossomed into the embers of the revolution, rich and stoked by the aggression of the Belzaggic neighbours. This flame, wild and intoxicating, attracted various groups like moths to candle-light.

It was how my father met my mother. She was a Stresian philosipher from East Constantina and was part of a missionary group to Joru. My father won't tell me much of the details but their first encounter, if I remember correctly, was a theological argument over the existence of Shune. What followed after that were more vigorous arguments in the privacy of their bed-chambers.

And that was how I and eventually, Aldrr, were born.

I scarcely remembered when I first manifested the Gift. Mother says it was on the midseason of Stresia, on a rainy day, that I cried and a lightning bolt split the willow tree in front of our house in twain. Father says it was when he tried to spank me for being a little shit for trying to touch the coals and I sent him to the apothecary with a headache.

Needless to say, I was attracted to the art of magnetry. I wouldn't discover why until I visited a sanctioned body chemist mage in the Stresian guild but it was the primacy of it, the chaotic energy flowing and ebbing all around me. I moved my first nail when I was five and eventually graduated to anvils at the seven. Father wanted me to be enrolled at the Iluran Public Academy in Joru whilst Mother wanted me to study under the Stresian Philosiphers. One was worried I was going to end up becoming a preacher whilst the other was worried that I was going to be lost in a tide of other gifted children like me.

So, I chose both.

Past that decision, I remember little but cherished memories that I have. I can't tell which ones were my favorite. When I wrote my first disassertion of Kurtz's theories of ferrous magnetism at nine? When I won my local Ziggurtal spitting competition? When I kissed an apple farmer's daughter and was chased out of her father's orchards? If I were to write them all, it would take several days.

I wish Aldrr

Ersand'Enise took immediate notice of my publications when I was 13. They sent one of their Zenos to observe me and within a year, I received my invitation to study at the academy.

The rest is history and that is how I am currently stranded halfway across Revedia with the present company of yam farmers.

Supper awaits me now. I wonder how they make those baked yams so chewy.....




Onarr's motivation is the progression of science underneath the auspices of the Five Magics and using its developments to assist and enlighten the people of Constantina, no matter the cost to himself. He believes that the hallowed halls of Ersand'Enisem, its parties, its ancient tomes and the local Zigguretal spitting scene will help him in his endeavor to help both his family and humanity as a whole.

He has considerably mixed feelings towards the institutions of the Quentic Faith, viewing those of Shune in a fairer light than those of the others. In his own words, most Quentic religious institutions are "barmy cults of the Old Gods made anew who only serve to pilfer gold from those who have little and prop up the satchels of the unfaithful".



On his person, Onarr's always wears his triple-forged fabulous steel cone bascinet which acts as the primary focus of his magnetic magicks. Many attempts have been made by his tutors and his family to replace the helmet with a traditional rod of castle-forged steel or brass that magnet mages use but Onar stubbornly refuses, claiming that the dimensions of his helmet help in the conduction of ambient currents (Or whatever excuse he wants to make). Other foci that he uses are a oil wick lantern for the Arcane School of Magic and a elm spoon for the Chemical School of Magic.

Onarr's other belongings include.....

- A bag of Zigurattal seeds, freshly harvested and cured.
- A set of smithing tools
- A poultice of whale oil
- A pickled salmon wrapped in clam cloth
- A Shune phycaletery necklace given to him by his Mother
- A personal journal with charcoal
- Various tomes about the natural sciences and the Five Magics
- A pouch of sea salt, red pepper and dried Joru root
- A set of magnifying glasses








*THE RULES OF ZIGURATTAL SPITTING ABRIDGED

Zigurattal Spitting is a sport originating from the ancient tribes that originally formed Belzagg and has since been modernized, changed and has split into various sub-types across the continent of Severa. The gambling scene on Zigurattal Spitting rivals that of ostrich jousting and the Alchemist's Award. Several prominent Belzaggic nobles have promoted the sport and have engaged in it. The Republic of Joru has attempted to ban the sport on more than one occasion but after the appearance of illegal zigurattal spitting scenes, numerous protests and various letters of concerns from apothecaries about exposure to toxic crops of zigurattal, the republic has since legalized it.

Zigurattal spitting revolves around the Zigarattal bean which is grown in the south of East Severa. It is notoriously fickle to grow and can only be harvested once a year. The bean is heated to remove the outer shell and a striped green seed is removed from the core. This is the Zigurattal, the core of Zigurattal spitting, and has several properties which distinguish it from other seeds. Of note by scholars, Zigurattal seeds possess a mixture of elasticity and brittleness, having parallel capabilities to that of a rubber ball. However, upon reaching a certain number of bounces, Zigurattal seeds lose this property and become extremely fragile, breaking upon impact. It has been the subject of scholar's debate for centuries over what causes this to occur. Due to its small size, the only way to achieve locomotion with the Zigurattal seed is to use one's mouth to launch the seed.

Zigurattal Spitting is typically operated with a total of 3 competitors standing 20 paces away from a series of 50 differently colored wooden posts. Different colors correlate to different amounts of points, with red being the lowest and gold being the highest. Players must take turns spitting and hitting these posts to collect the most amount of points. Skilled players are able to bounce their seeds between multiple posts. However this runs the risk of breaking the Zigurattal, leading to what is known as a "crack". Therefore, players must manage the durability of their chosen Zigurattal and how many points they want to accumulate.

You want confusing? I was a farmboy not even two weeks ago, now I'm the heir to a nobleman!

A young man of simplicities, Bongo is happy with little in his life. A drink and friends to laugh with, reasons to keep busy, Bongo knows what he wants out of life and how to get it. Bongo likes people to be comfortable around him, and is always there to listen to those who need an ear. Though he might not always understand things, he tries his best and rarely is discouraged by the results. He loves his family, his friends and is willing to give his father a chance.


A mountain of a young man, Bongo is not just tall, but wide as well. He has a strong, cut body of muscle built over years of physical labor that is covered in a patchwork pattern of scars, ranging from accidents to brawls. His skin is reasonably tan from work in the sun, and his hair has yet to have been cut even since his birth, leaving him to often tie it away from his face in a loose ponytail. He has a kind smile and is extremely animated, often moving and gesturing with every other word. He prefers durable clothing meant for work, but his recent noble status has added to his closet. A strange young man to see, especially given his ethnically different appearance from many in East Severa, though the fact he takes very heavily after his father who is Torraggonese, and his mother his is also of mixed race and of a lighter complexion.

He wears two rings and a necklace at all times. The necklace comes from his mother, one of the more expensive things she owned before being risen alongside him to noble status, and a gift to her son. While simple, the silvery necklace is something he holds dear. The first ring is simple, and made of iron with a cheap gem embedded in it's surface. The ring had been a gift from him to who had once been his betrothed, all he had been able to afford at the time, the ring had been little more than a show as at the time they both knew she would not survive the illness. The final and third ring is much more expensive, made of gold and with a sizable chunk of obsidian in it's surface. A gift from his father once he had been discovered... "For my new heir, and a physical apology for not having known your childhood."


Azjulish: Fluent
Avincian: Passable
Torragonese: Learning


Though he is a blueblood and a Leadvein, Bongo has not even thought of the use of magic since his birth, he had been far too busy for that. Though now that he has a place at the school, he finds two things interesting. He designates his primary focus as Kinetic, making great use of his ability to change his own momentum and increase the force of his physical attacks, with everything else being a bonus. Binding also gave him great interest, able to aid people through creation and healing. Bongo is a very durable young man, Leadvein making him just that harder to put down, not to mention his defensive usages of both Kinetic and Binding magic.


He was raised a commoner, of no specific trade and destined for a life of hard labor and farming. However, unknown to him his mother's refusal to speak of his father would eventually catch up with them. Bongo was the bastard son of a nobleman, something he would learn years later, after becoming a known figure in his village and after losing his childhood love to sickness. Though he holds a few grudges about the man now calling him son, Bongo had never been able to hold onto things like that for very long. His father seems kind enough, and more than happy to find he had a son not only of such impressive physical form, but of magical aptitude, something Bongo himself had been surprised at as well. As the world opens up around this simple young man, he almost wishes it would just close back up again and let him pretend that things aren't as complicated as they really are.


If Bongo is to be known as a nobleman's heir, he will do as he always has, and try his hardest. He seeks to perfect his magic, and later his ability to lead others. He wants to help people with his newfound power, both magical and otherwise. Outside of this he has little other motivations, other than a drink and a laugh.


Iron Ring / Silver Necklace / Obsidian, gold ring

Sweetie
Kinetic Trained Raven
The last thing you hear before a cup flies across the room and hits you.

With an RAS level of around 4.8, (impressive for a bird) Sweetie knows only a handful of magic from his school, but the first few early years of his life spend around the school paired his intelligence and curiosity means that he knows those few things by heart.

Capable of using Solid Telekenisis, Siphon Momentum and Impart Momentum all at low levels, While he isn't a real mage by any definition of the word, he can be extremely annoying to find paired alongside Mara.

He posesses little of else value save the jewelry he keeps on him so often, save perhaps his journal. A confusing mess, it contains everything from short passages on important events, to recipes and even shortstories.








Anything not covered above goes here. You can leave this blank if you like.

You do not deserve what you cannot protect.

Vyrik comes off as quite a simple mind. He says what he’s thinking and does what he feels like. He is strongly driven by his emotions more than careful thought, or any thought. Despite his own hardships he holds a positive outlook on life, always pressing forward, moving on. Some might consider it avoidant or running away. He is friendly and kind hearted to nearly all. He grew up on the docks working on sailing ships, meeting people from all nations. He genuinely enjoys helping others. He holds little malice in his heart except towards Eskan nobility.


Vyrik likes to adorn himself with trinkets. He puts them in his long dark hair. Ties them to his many belts. Is always wearing loose flowing scarves and many other unnecessary accessories. Why pick one thing when you can wear them all? Not that ‘all’ was ever much for him. Like the sailors he admires his shirt is always open.
He is slightly taller than average and of a lean build. There are muscles hidden beneath his loose clothing. His infectious care-free and daring attitude only adds to his well practiced charming roguish grin. But it’s the eyes that draw people in. Those piercing orbs containing an unusual red hue, the colours seemingly shifting or undulating within through shades or crimson and maroon on their own accord.
He has a tattoo of a bird on his left shoulder/arm and often wears the feathers he has found.


His native tongue is Revidian, with a working knowledge of Eskandish and the lingua franca: Avincian.
His reading and writing are passable, Avincian his strongest, Revidian not far behind but Eskandish is a slow struggle.


Vyrik barely got into the school. Beyond his natural gift for ‘slow-falling’, his magical talent doesn’t seem that great nor are his grasps on the basic concepts. His step mother tried to pass on a little of what she knew but it didn’t really stick.
So far he has had most luck in drawing from sound or his own momentum.
Right now only utility magic is available to him. He has managed to use kinetic energy to move slightly faster, change direction quicker or enhance a sound when absolutely needed. He is now currently focused on trying to learn how to ‘dull’ a sound in a controlled calm environment.

He knows a few little alchemical tricks spawned from his step mothers teachings that can only be obtained with assistance from correct and measured chemicals. He creates minor childish nuisances like smoking pipes, clapping stones or sun sticks.

His most proud trick, not just for its utility but its complication and execution, also his highest level of demonstratable skill involves a mix of magnetic and kinetic as he uses the two to unlock a door from the other side.
He shows absolutely no aptitude for anything beyond those three schools.
Kinetic, Chemical, Magnetic


Vyrik grew up in the ports of Revidian but he is likely the first of his family to do so. Not that he knows much about his true family or the complicated matters that brought him to be. He is blissfully unaware of all the dark secrets that surround his past. All he knows, and all he cares about is that he was raised by an Eskandish woman who was always the mother to him that she claimed to be, that is until some Eskandish soldiers came and took her away.
He knows he is a little different to others, and he believes his mother when she told him that it was because his father was a sailor from an exotic land and had to go back.

It was those lies that moulded Vyrik’s childhood. He developed an obsession with the sea, wanting to meet and talk to every sailor that came on by. Counter intuitive to the hiding his mother always did. They lived the simple life of peasantry. Never quite starved but always with room in their stomach for more. All their clothes were simple and none without tears or holes. Life was just what it was. Vyrik saw many less fortunate than himself.

Vyrik got up to much trouble and mischief, for a time he grew greedy and ran with some pickpockets and thieves, as did most kids in the slums. Only he was good at it, really good. But he had some close calls and saw how much it hurt his mother. It was always her expressed dream that he would one day go to Ersand'Enise. It was never his dream, and he couldn’t imagine how he would get in anyway. No amount of optimism saw an entry path. They hadn’t the money, fame and he definitely didn’t have the skill. Yet a week after his mother’s unruly abduction two letters came. One was passage and entry to the school, the other a note begging him to go saying that she would find him on his 21st name day.

It left Vyrik with many questions but knowing not what else to do, he obeyed.


Vyrik lives in hopes of seeing his mother again. He wants to do well to make her proud, also if he gets kicked out of the school he has nowhere to go.
Besides that he needs to get stronger so he can protect those important to him. He has to undo what he considers his greatest failure. If his mother does not come to him by his 21st birthday he will go and get her.

He likes to aid those who are different or grieven with misfortune. He also likes to indulge in new experiences and collect shiny things for trade and gamble.



Tattered coin pouch possessing a menial amount of worthless coins.
A filleting knife in a makeshift belt.
A hidden small dagger strapped to his shin.
A coil of fishing wire and a few hooks.
A few lock-picking pins.
A satchel of spare clothes.
A flint and steel
A sleeping bag
Hooded cloak
2 items of jewellery
One belonging to his step mother
An Eskandish book on chemical magic and chemistry.
2 sun sticks (used to make a bright chemical flash)
1 smoking pipe (used to unleash a chemical reaction that produces a lot of smoke.)








Things the happy go lucky Vyrik doesn’t know.

-Vyrik is of really rare blood. Probably the first and only half Yasoi, sky walker mooncaster.
-Vyrik was kidnapped at birth.
-His real mother is a cruelly ambitious Eskandish high noble.
-He has a twin sister that he doesn’t know about.
-Vyriks Yasoi father was a prisoner of his real mother.
-Vyriks step mother worked for but betrayed his real mother because she cared for his father, becoming wanted and hated by the Eskandish nobles.
-Vyriks stepmother traded her freedom to get Vyrik into the school. Telling only only one person in the school of his true lineage and letting them claim the bounty on her head.

You will never freeze in Ersand'Enise. In fact, I've found you're unlikely to sneeze. You might even think that it's not a big deal, but if you were Eskandish, you would know how I feel.

Marlijn is the oldest daughter of an Eskandish viscount and has a twin brother, Owain, who she's older than by half an hour. He never hears the end of this. In general, Marlijn is much for clever quips and quick comebacks. She plays the cultured young lady quite convincingly and is well-heeled enough to understand her duties and ultimately, with some grumbling to confidantes, abide by them. She's a bit of a wild child deep down, though: not quite a tomboy, but treads right on the edge of that. She has a soft spot for animals and spends as much time out in the forest or putting her horses through exercises as is socially appropriate. Then, she returns to her studies with perhaps less diligence than she should. She's the kind of person who tends to fall right in the middle of the pack academically. She isn't dumb; she just can't be bothered to jump through all of those hoops with any real enthusiasm. She saves that for the physical and social sides of things.

Though she's a quick talker, good liar, and a bit of a charmer, Marlijn isn't much for gossip and even less for people who talk down to her. Being a low-middling noble is not always easy. Those below you look up jealously and seek to challenge your authority and those above you are the most snobbish sorts who enjoy looking down on you. The world is annoyingly complex and, though Marlijn usually feels as if she's up to the challenge of it, it's oh-so tiring at times and she'd rather things just be simple. Her facade of demure noble feminine virtue is less-than-perfect in these moments and she has the reputation of being a serial eye-roller. She once told her brother, only half-jokingly, "I'm over it, you know? All the being a show pony and smiling and curtsying and talking to people who don't really wanna be talking to me either. Just like... let me find a decent husband who isn't twenty years my senior or smells like turnips and sweat. Set me up with a nice little keep somewhere not-awful. I'll pop out a few kids, get deep into my cups with the other local ladies, yell at my servants a bit, and then just get to do the things I wanna. That'd be nice. That's a happily ever after, right?"


Simply put, Marlijn is very pretty and, in her less insecure moments, she knows it. She's tall and slim, with bright blue eyes, long auburn hair, and a light dusting of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She looks a couple of years older than she is and most people are surprised to learn that she's only sixteen. There's usually a twinkle of something mischievous in her expression, and you sometimes wonder what must be so funny in her head. Spoiler: it usually isn't what you think.

When she doesn't have to be presentable for others, Marlijn dresses for comfort: a simple tunic and loose, light ankle-length skirt in earthy tones. The ensemble is completed with a cloak and riding hood held together with a gold clasp in the shape of a bee, some sturdy boots, and a belt with pouches. Her hair is usually draped over her shoulder in a loose braid or double ponytails. Of course, Marlijn all dressed up aims to impress. While she isn't much for frilly dresses and prefers clothing that leaves her unencumbered, she'll happily wear ostentatious jewellery. She likes bold and striking patterns, particularly in her house's colours of sapphire blue, gold, and white.


Marlijn finds sitting with a tutor and learning languages to be just about the most tedious thing in the world. She's fluent in her native Loh Eskandish, of course, and passable in Avincian. She's also picked up a few Revidian and Perrench words and phrases from her regular visits to the port of Pesperdam on family business. That's about it. Secretly, she feels a bit intimidated by the northern nobles with their flawless Avincian and self-conscious about her accent and less-than-perfect way with the language since she's used to being quite clever with words in her native tongue.


Marlijn is above average but not exceptional in terms of The Gift, kind of like she is with most things. She prefers drawing from kinetic and arcane sources and favours two styles of magic: the practical things that'll help her look after her horses, make her life easier in small ways, and allow her to augment her performances, as well as illusion magic. She shares a tutor with her brother and, for reasons unknown to either of them, finds it the most amusing thing in the world to just appear in places or pop out of nowhere and scare the living daylights out of people. It's not as if she has any ambition to do sinister things. Being able to alter what people see and turn literally freakin' invisible is just cool, she supposes. As long as Marlijn stands still in a place where the light isn't changing too much, she can actually already go invisible. How awesome is that!? For what it's worth, she isn't bad with Magnetic casting either, because lightning is cool too.


Marlijn sometimes feels as if she's not even the main character in her own life. Her upbringing has been, for the most part, utterly unremarkable. Her father is a typical lower-middling noble (a viscount) who looks after his lands, holds court twice per week with the commons and representatives from Pesperdam Town's guilds, and has various little projects going. He complains at not being high-ranking enough to be invited to the college of electors, and tries to petition a friendly great house every once in awhile to bump Pesperdam up to full County status. He funds port improvements when he's had a good harvest and tightens the purse strings when he hasn't. He goes hunting and riding with some of his knights and men-at-arms and, in a non-traditional move, sometimes brings not only Owain, but Marlijn along too. She's quite good with a snaphaunce, able to take a rabbit reliably from 100 yards, though she secretly thinks that bunnies are kinda cute.

Of course, the viscount makes up for that bit of a break from the expected by maintaining a regular search for suitable suitors for his daughter. He hopes to have her marry up as part of his long-term project to get into the college of electors (spoiler: the poor guy has no chance). To serve this ambition, Marlijn spends a considerable amount of time on her needlework, sitting and chatting with her ladies-in-waiting and the neighbouring baron's daughter, Tannifer. She's also expected to maintain musical interests and it's here that she actually has some passion. While, secretly, she prefers tunes more like the bawdy ones that she heard when her party stopped by a tavern in Pesperdam Town one evening a couple of years ago, the viscount had a harpsichord imported at great cost from Perrence for her to play. Marlijn is indeed passable on the 'Scalloped Beast' as she calls it, but she much prefers the lute and making up clever little rhymes to go with her original compositions. While she doesn't stand out as a player, her lyrics are considered quite amusing by most, and she has quite the performer's flair.

In terms of important formative experiences, Marlijn's had few that stand out. There was a pilgrimage to the Verdant Throne when she was eight years old, where she began climbing the tree before being fished out with one of the fruits already in her mouth (she actually lost a baby tooth while biting into it). She also traveled to Ersand'Enise when she was twelve and it was apparent that she and her brother were fairly strong in The Gift. Marlijn decided that she wanted to go there. It sounded ever so much more exciting than her everyday life in Pesperdam: repeating Avincian phrases and practicing calligraphy with her tutors, gossiping with Tannifer, needle and thread in hand, or slamming away at a harpsichord for hours to sheet music brought over from Revidia. In light of this, perhaps it's not surprising that being accepted to Ersand'Enise means a helluva lot to Marlijn Vaanse. She doesn't come from a bad place. In fact, her life is quite privileged and she knows it. She doesn't have a pain or trauma-filled past, and she's never really even been particularly unique or special. What this place is, though, is agency. She wants some of that, deep down, more than anything else.


Um... I may have actually answered this under 'Background'. Oops? Basically, Marlijn's a bored, smart, slightly underachieving creative type who prefers to either be the centre of attention or to be left to her own devices, with little in between. At the end of the day, she wants some agency and control over her life and to be able to chart her own course towards a 'happily ever after' with, perhaps, a not so small dose of fun and adventure along the way. To her, Ersand'Enise represents her first step on that path, and she's both nervous and excited.


Marlijn regularly carries a small notebook to write down her wittier ideas and was gifted a big, pretty, gold-winged staff as a going away present. She twirls it when she's bored and uses it to help her cast. She also has quite a bit of jewellery, two nice gold chains, and multiple pairs of shoes and boots. She has a satchel full of focus words for illusory spells that she's trying to master and dozens of pages of sheet music. There is a fine lute and a less-fine lute leaning against her night table or slung over her shoulder at times and her wardrobe is packed full of dresses organized from 'really fancy' to 'plain Jane'. She'd kind of like to train and keep a bird since there are so many here and it's kind of a tradition. She finds magpies rather adorable little pests. Perhaps she'll add an animal familiar at some point.




Marlijn's just honestly pretty good at being a competent young noble girl, likeable, and morally somewhat decent despite herself. She's often been only half-jokingly described as 'a little bit above average in everything'. In particular, though, she's good with illusion, animals, and music, and usually pretty socially put together.




Marlijn can be a bit of a suck. If she's not good at something or doesn't enjoy it, she doesn't really try. She also tends to seek external validation and likes to be a bit of a performer, but only on her own terms. In a practical sense, she sometimes overestimates her own competence and can embarrass herself or get into hot water. Her most common response is to react with stubborn pride, hold it together because Eskandishwomen don't cry, and then go home and ball her eyes out while having a near-anxiety attack. Finally, while she's not a snob, she's still more or less a typical young noble with much of what that entails.


Marlijn will simp for pretty boys. She'll never admit as much and act indignant if you accuse her of it but, deep down, she's a typical thirsty teenager.
Colour Code: D2691E

"I admit to being more than a little distracted by the...wit and depth of the conversation at this table."

"It seems mother wishes to turn me into some sort of lifelong penitent for sins I've not committed."

Most of Penny's life has been defined by being the family disgrace. She was born without a left leg and with a moderate form of ectrodactyly in her left hand and this was cause enough for her superstitious mother to see her birth as divine punishment for the sins of her and her husband. This would be quite a bad state of affairs in most families, but is only magnified due to the fact that Penelope's parents are King Rouis XI of Perrence and his wife, Queen Mathilde. Unallowed to attend balls, public functions, or even to venture past the palace gardens, Penny is a young woman stifled. She reads, she paces (crutch in hand), she grows things and draws and writes. She pretends to hate those formal family dinners when both father and mother are home, but secretly, she loves them. She is a forgotten middle child in many ways, with no prospects for marriage despite her station and no hope of amounting to much, so she is not one to hold back on pithy observations and cutting commentary and it is oh so amusing (often not only to her). The Gift is sometimes her plaything. When she's bored or sucky, she uses it to play tricks on her siblings, particularly if they're being obnoxious (at least one always is). A laugh at someone else's expense is still a laugh. Besides, they deserve it.

However, deep down, beneath many layers of snark and resigned cynicism, there's a curious, big-hearted girl who has dreams of seeing the world, meeting new people, and being valued instead of either pitied, stared at, or avoided with whispers, stolen glances, and sad shakes of the head. Because you place your right hand on your left hip, pointing to your left leg when you honour Oraff (the creator) while making the sign of the Pentad, religious superstition holds that Penny's missing limb is a mark of that God's disfavour. She does not believe it. She refuses to. She has a private tutor and she practices Binding Magic for hours on end, quietly determined to prove that she isn't what they say she is. On some warm Dorrad nights, though, as she lies awake in bend, staring at the swirling patterns on her ceiling and wishing for sleep, she worries that they're right and that she'll fail. She wonders why she couldn't just be whole and normal. She tries to dream that she is, but even in her dreams, she remains stubbornly the same person who she knows and does not love.


Were it not for her birth differences and their prejudices, most people would consider Penelope quite beautiful. Tall and statuesque, with a light dusting freckles, bright green eyes perhaps just a bit too large for her face, and a resting smirk, she is the spitting image of her mother. Her hair is a rich copper-chestnut brown and, when not styled in the fashion of the courts (even though she does not attend them), can usually be found pulled back in a Perrench braid. Since she was young, it has displayed a remarkable resistance to maintaining any sort of cohesive style or form for long and appears almost preternaturally tousled.

Penny wears long, light dresses. They vary in colour and she has many - some, hand-me-downs from her older sisters. She likes things that are lacy but feel solid and protective, so lacy hems and collars abound but not much else. She enjoys buttons, for whatever reason, and will often fiddle with those running down her sleeves. She also wears gloves. The left one is modified to fill in the gap in her palm and it has a dummy finger attached by a thin string to the one beside it. Out of habit, she does not take her gloves off unless sleeping or bathing. She has a pair of crutches (a handful of pairs, actually), but doesn't like how they fill her hands. As a result, she often gets around with only one. She's rarely in a hurry anyway. There's nowhere to go and not all that much to do.


For a noble lady of Penelope's station, languages are a must. For her, they're also something to do, and she has numerous correspondents all across the twin continents who she writes to. She is fully fluent in Perrench, Avincian, Revidian, and her mother's native tongue of Kerreman, and at least conversant in Eskandish, Torragonese, Joruban, and Belzaggic. Once you learn one language from a family, the others come easily. She sometimes practices her calligraphy and is looking to correspond with someone in Oiyac or Mycormi, but yasoi are so much more reticent in real life than they are in all of her old books.


Penny approaches prodigious levels in her use of the Gift - unsurprising for a blueblood of her pedigree. With little else to do but read, write, and learn, she also trains all day, memorizing focus words and inventing little spells of her own that she gives funny names to. While she's practiced with all five canonical schools, it is Binding that she puts most of her effort towards. She spends a considerable amount of time on Arcane as well, mostly the illusory branch, works with Kinetic to help ease the difficulty of walking long distances, and with Magnetic because it's her tutor's favourite and there's something peacefully destructive about watching fingers of electricity writhe and snap. Guiltily, she dabbles in internal Chemical spells and tells herself it isn't so that she can make people like her. That's what a madwoman would think. Penny isn't mad and will not let herself go mad. She simply won't. Besides, Binding Magic is her preferred school. If she can't heal herself, she reasons, she can at least heal other people. Then, she cringes at the thought of how melodramatic and self-indulgent such a statement would sound aloud.


Penny remembers the looks most of all: the first looks when people see her or the second ones when they make sense of her. It first really registered when she was around four years old. Until then, she was blissfully unaware of her differences and what they would mean. She grew up playing with her siblings - there were many and they were close in age. There were servants' daughters and cousins too. They always told the most wonderful stories and she used to like to hear them until she realized that those were stories of a world that was being kept from her. They're now a weird, resentful kind of addiction. She still needs to hear them, but they no longer bring her joy.

When she was seven, her parents attempted to arrange for her a marriage with the second son of a Torragonese lord, but instead of making arrangements by proxy, he decided to visit. Penny played with the boy and they laughed and smiled and she teased him that they'd be married someday and that he should listen to his wife. Then, he and his father left.

One time, when she was ten, there was a ceremony at the Cathedral de Ste. Defrois. She rode in a carriage through the streets of Relouse, listening to the clatter of the horses' hooves and the church bells ringing. She remembers leaning out with her little tiara and waving with her right hand at the commonfolk. They were loud and dirty and shouted, and she was a bit scared, but they waved back, and there were kids her own age in there too.

She hasn't traveled since. She hasn't done much of anything since and wasn't going to be allowed to. That is, until her brother Arcel intervened. She is to attend Ersand'Enise under an assumed name, as the invented daughter of an unremarkable merchant paid a sum by her brother. She is to be his agent there. She is to meet with people and exchange letters with them. She knows Arcel: he is not vile, but he is ambitious and underhanded. Penelope - Penny Pellegrin now - doesn't much care. It's a species of freedom, at least, and she'll take it, even with all of the risk and the fears.


More than anything, Penny wants to spread her figurative wings. She wants to live an actual life. She wants to prove to herself, at least, that her mother is wrong about her. There is a deep well of bitterness there, though she shakes her head to clear it and simply tries to appreciate that she has never hungered nor wanted for any physical need a day in her life.

Penny is eager to be at Ersand'Enise and to make something of herself, but she is deathly afraid of the real, actual, wild people out here. How will they react to her? Will they laugh at her jokes? Will they just see her: Penny - a girl from Perrence, or will it be pity, awkwardness, or avoidance? She knows it will. It'll have to be, like it always is. What if anybody finds her out - or learns of whatever her brother is up to? Will she be able to play a merchant's daughter convincingly? She feels like a fraud when it comes to life. She hasn't lived very much and knows it. Still, sometimes she takes a deep breath and counsels herself that she can do this. She is a princess of Perrence. Her forebears earned the crown at some point. They were capable people. So is she... she hopes - she really, really hopes.


Penny almost always carries a satchel slung across one shoulder, with some basic jewellery, a small journal, letters and wax, and a comb (partly as a joke) inside. She uses one crutch the majority of the time, to keep a hand free, and two when she knows that she'll have to do a lot of walking that day. They're made of light, lacquered wood with soft pads on top for her armpits. She'll never be found using a wand or staff as a focus object, having practiced freecasting from a young age. For spells absolutely requiring one, a crutch is very much like a staff when held a certain way. Penny's recently taken to wearing a spare garter even though she already has one to hold up her stocking. She uses it as a strap to tuck secret correspondence for her brother into and spends the next while paranoid that it'll slip out and Black Rezaindians will come for her in the night.




At the end of the day, Penny falls on the side of being a good person. Her acerbic comments are more than just a cover, but also not her entire story. She's well-heeled and it shows. She can wield etiquette like a weapon if need be and generally has very good recall for obscure trivia and details. This carries over into languages and the written word, where she can speak seven languages, at least to a degree...at least usually.




Penny's upbringing and the constant feeling of being unwanted has done a number on her mental health. She's not a wreck or a basket case, but she struggles with intense flashes of anxiety and self-doubt. She worries about how people will perceive her and tends to assume the worst, though she actively counsels herself not to. She can be a bit of a stepford smiler at times.


Penelope of Perrence is here incognito, as a lowly merchant's daughter named Penny Pellegrin. It would be unusual for anyone but the high-ups in the school establishment to know who she really is. Also, see here for a demonstration of how she walks on one crutch. Beware that I may have had to go into the weird part of YouTube to dig this up.
Colour Code: F7976A

When asked by a member of the Aesthetic Society, "What do you feel when you shoot some poor mage?" his reply was, "Recoil."

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Manfred is a consummate professional. Despite his parents' doubts about his chosen path, or perhaps because of them as well as his experiences in war, he's dedicated himself to his craft with the utmost conviction. In his approach to others, Manfred will always treat them with decency and professionalism unless they have done something to deserve differently. However, practically speaking, to those who don't know him, this behaviour can come across as cold and, in all honesty, it often is. Manfred isn't a shell of a man, but he's seen things that most people his age haven't and he doesn't feel much connection to his peers as a result. Besides, he knows that these are all monsters in the making and he doesn't have the energy to try to save them all. If he knows someone well, that would be another matter, but he prefers not to get attached. Things are less complicated that way and he doesn't like complications.

Manfred also prefers people who are what they claim to be. He has little time for liars, manipulators, and decadent types. Being honest and useful and maybe subtly stroking his ego without seeming sycophantic is the path to getting Manfred to like you. If he catches you in a lie, he won't hate you. He'll just stop trusting you and you'll never see any side of him beyond the professional. Betray him and, for all that he seems cold, this is one of the few things that tends to make his blood run hot. Manfred will appear to shrug it off. He'll wait. Sooner or later, he believes, Dami-Zept balances everything out. He will take his revenge and it will be decisive and deserved.

In general, Manfred is a devout Quentian, who carries a pocket-sized copy of the Ruhrich (the Menana) on him at all times, but he also appreciates the wisdom of the Angic Philosophy of Rettan. Despite being a member of the nobility, he views the regular lording of their powers over ungifted people and the violent and unaccountable excesses of most mages with deep distaste but, in the name of his faith, he counsels himself to keep an open mind. It isn't easy and it's only getting harder.



Manfred is slightly taller than average height for a Kerreman. He has dark brown hair usually tied back in a short ponytail and grey-brown eyes. He's not bad looking, but doesn't stand out as exceptionally handsome. He's old enough that he's grown a but of stubble and has to shave. As a member of the nobility, he has access to fine clothing and will dutifully wear it when appropriate, taking pride in his appearance. However, he prefers a simple doublet and vest of quality materials, with a leather belt, breeches, and sturdy boots for his everyday wear. His clothes often show evidence of cat hair, despite his best efforts to keep them clean. He has four of the exact same outfit and a fifth, slightly more styled, for the day of worship. He launders his clothes on the fourth day of the week and lets them dry on the fifth. He believes in doing this himself and will only hire a washerwoman if she's especially pretty his schedule is especially busy. Manfred can also sometimes be found in a uniform of military cut, complete usually with a coat in the Navy Blue of the Kerreman Crown. When in the field, he wears a bandoleer with ammunition pouches, a rapier at one hip, a wheel-lock pistol at the other, and a marksman's rifle slung over his shoulder.


Manfred speaks Kerreman as a mother tongue, as well as fluent Avincian. He knows Perrench as a matter of practicality and can understand some Holmanian because it is more or less mutually intelligible with his native language. Besides, it's useful to know the tongue of your enemy. He'd like to pick up some yasoi too, for similar reasons. Unfortunately, it's hard to find a tutor these days.


Manfred's use of the Gift is rather pedestrian. Technically, he falls within the lower average range for a magus, but his family has a strong martial tradition and, as a second son, he is expected to take an officer's commission in the army. The problem is that he would rather be anything but a mage and, even if he were to be one, he'd be only a middling mage at best. The graveyards of Constantia are full of middling mages. To this end, he has decided to eschew tradition and train as a magusjaeger. In this capacity, Manfred's use of the Gift is wholly practical. His primary school is Kinetic, which helps him guide bullets, provides an abundant drawing source, and can help stop incoming projectiles. He has enough capacity to function at a higher defensive level than the average magusjaeger. His secondary schools are Arcane and Magnetic. The first is for the magnification, stealth, and low-level illusion abilities, which he is quite good with. In a dim space and if he's more or less still, Manfred will be effectively invisible. Meanwhile, Magnetic provides some manipulation of metals - useful on a battlefield - as well as protection against internal chemical spells and an alternative way to alter the course of his shots and others'. He has precisely zero interest in magic beyond what it can do for him in a practical sense. He has grown up around practitioners of the Gift and is inured to its uses. He finds no wonder in it - just a tool.


Manfred comes from a long and distinguished line and, while none of his forebears have been famous mages, many have been respectable or even notable. His family are Reichsgrafs (imperial counts), outranking all other nobility with the exception of dukes, and hold stewardship in the Queen's name over a large swathe of mostly rural farmland in Meckelin-Thandau. It is good and rich land and a portion of it is reserved for the estate that Manfred grew up on and its surrounding hunting grounds. From an early age, Manfred enjoyed hunting with his two brothers, Jurgen and Klaus, and his wolfdog Fritz. They would spend hours outdoors in the warm months, often on horseback and sometimes joined by their sister, Nina.

Manfred grew up, in many ways, as a normal boy of his country and station. Then, the Holmanians attacked. Seeking to take advantage of Kerremand's distraction, desperate, bony bands of yasoi launched raids over the border as well. Jurgen was old enough to be attending Ersand'Enise up north, Klaus was but a boy, and Nina a young girl, but Manfred had entered his teens and joined his father on the fields of battle. Only beginning to develop his talents at that age, he was given a largely ceremonial posting as morale officer.

It started simply enough. He would go out to meet the troops in their camps or on the march and speak with the non-commissioned officers - sergeants, corporals, and the like. He'd encourage them, sing some marching songs while they politely watched, and go report back to the higher ranking officers - most of them magery or cavalry. Then, the army saw battle. It was against the Holmanians under General Gerd Von Mikkelstern of Albesatz-Zuber: the Iron Duke, and they outnumbered his forces by double. Yet, Manfred could do little but survive and hope. The heavens crackled with thunder. The air reeked of blood, shit, and ozone. Did you know that human flesh, when slightly cooked, has a sweet smell? A sickeningly sweet smell? Manfred will never forget that smell. And so he watched mages fling thunderbolts across the sky. He watched knights roasted alive inside their armour by Arcane magic. Great chains, their iron links caked with rust and old blood, scythed across the battlefield, breaking human bodies. Soldiers - men he knew - who he had sung and marched with, who'd called him 'little lord' and laughed and patted him on the back after giving him a swig from their flasks... he watched them fed into the meat grinder of the enemy's magery - and their soldiers fed into his.

And nobody gained an inch of ground. A soft rain began and the two armies retired from what had been a grassy field and was now a wasteland. All night, he heard the voices: calling for their mothers, praying for Oraff-Zept to save them, for Ahn-Eshiran to take them, crying. Grown men were not supposed to cry and Manfred couldn't take it. He wandered out of his tent in the darkness, right to the edge of the battlefield, and there they were: crawling and dragging torn, boiled, and ravaged bodies through the muck. Manfred recoiled. His heart beat faster and the pressure mounted in his eardrums. Grey Rezaindians shuffled along, lanterns swinging in the blackness, gathering the dead. It did not matter whether they were Kerreman Grey Rezaindians or Holmanian Grey Rezaindians. They were all Grey Rezaindians. The wails rose, carts shambled past, and eventually, the greys gave way to White Rezaindians who drifted in like ghosts in a fog. A lick of flame it'd be. Every once in a while, they'd stop and there would be a wail, and brief, intense burst: Ahn-Eshiran's gift to the maimed and the dying.

The armies met the next day. Manfred huddled by his father in the magery. The cavalry was dispatched to distract the enemy mages and there was a twinkle in the graf's eyes when he told his son 'you won't want to miss this, my boy." The magery of Kerremand eliminated the King's Own Lassanzee Fusiliers in less than a minute and, with it, almost every grown man from the Holmanian village by that name. There was scarce time to celebrate. The enemy had not been idle. A pair of Internal Chemical Mages had light-bent to slip behind Kerreman lines and he saw people melt from the inside - their eyes bubbling out of sockets, the skin sloughing away in sickly colours, and a foul yellow gas seeping like death across the battlefield. Then, one looked at him and he felt the start of a pinch and knew that, at age fifteen, it was time to make his peace with the gods.

Only, it wasn't. The cruel grin on the mage's face froze in a mask of shock and he fell face-first, dead, a smoking hole through the back of his head. Moments later, the second mage fell. Nobody saw the magusjaegers who'd done it. They worked silently. They did not ask for accolades. They just did their jobs, and that had saved Manfred's life.

For the very first time, the Iron Duke lost in open battle. Truly, it was a Pyrrhic victory, for he had bled the Kerremans just as dry as they had bled him but, around that time, Kerremand had a bit more than its neighbour in the way of young men. That night, Manfred joined the commanders of the army in the general's tent, drinking, feasting, and singing songs about how Holmanian women are whores and how their men make good fertilizer. Most of them were mages. They weaved their hands through the air as they described how they'd cut this guy in half or blown that one's head up like a firework. At some point, pumped full of beer as a sort of mascot, they boy excused himself from the tent on the pretense of having a piss. Some of the soldiers were singing and drinking too. Some were not. The ones who were dead certainly were not. There was one particular group that drew his attention, though: small, aloof, and dressed in dark clothing. They sat in silence in the night, the embers of their pipes and tips of cigars burning like fat orange fireflies. The magusjaegers were cleaning their rifles. They spared glances out at the battlefield, already preparing for their next fight.


Manfred is at Ersand'Enise out of obligation. As a Hohenfelter, he was signed up for the school from the moment the previous cohort entered, and there was never any option not to go. He hides his utter hatred for mages and what they represent behind a mask of cold professionalism, ever worried about slipping back into the comforting normalcy of a decadent noble lifestyle. He still feels a sense of duty to his family and country, however, and will do nothing to shame or disgrace them. Regardless, aside from what he can learn of light-bending and countering internal chemical magic, he would rather be just about anywhere else.


Manfred has a chest full of clothes. He carries a ring with the seal of House Hohenfelter, a quill, some ink, and a small journal. The customary coin purse is there, and his is well-stocked. Try to sneak up on Manfred and pickpocket him. See what happens. Finally, he carries a magnifying glass on him. This item serves two purposes: one is for practice with light-focusing and the other is as a light to amuse his cat. A large orange Ragamuffin, Kürbis is given free reign of whatever Manfred's current living space is and is an excellent mouser. Aside from his wolfdog Fritz, who is quite elderly now and could not travel with him, Kurbis is also just about the only thing that you will ever see Manfred show affection for. Also, he has guns - lots of them, and they are very good ones. Swords and knives too.

I don't think I'm better than other people. I know it.

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Jomurr's a second son and he has complexes. He's powerful, rich, and handsome, but he's a second son. His father is an arch-conservative duke under Emperor Jobanzaggah IV and the mindset has rubbed off on him. To some degree, his snobbishness is reactionary and a response to the threat of the other classes' rise. A lot of it stems from a genuine belief that Dami chose people like him to govern, though. Jomurr looks at himself and rightly perceives that he's better at magic than 99.9% of the population. He's healthy, he's smart (even if it's more due to a good education), he's good-looking, and he's physically capable, perhaps even more so as he gets older. In a sense, he feels as if Ersand'Enise is a battleground where the lesser classes are trying to challenge the nobles' right to rule and that, if they win, the consequences for society will be genuinely disastrous. It is also a place where he can let loose. He can learn and unleash his full potential without restraint or compunction, and he can prove himself the better heir to his father. Zemon's RAS is only 7.82, after all.


Belzaggic: native
Avincian: fluent
Joruban: fluent
Perrench: fluent
Revidian: passable
Azjulish: passable


Look at the pic. There's your answer. He dresses in light, loose cloths, like most Belzaggic people. He'd show off his muscles if he had a bunch, but he's still a bit scrawny. Impeccably dressed, though. He just screams 'noble'.


Jomurr is a prodigy with the Gift and has the goal of either becoming an Arch-Zeno someday or returning to his house and usurping his firstborn brother to rule over the Duchy of Zowenga in his stead. Jomurr practices with all schools and knows the fundamentals of all. However, his favourite is Chemical and he's learning Atomic from a Zeno hired to be his tutor. He also has a thing for Kinetic because it's just so damned fun tossing plebs out your castle window with but a flick of your finger. Alas, this school only allows for two specializations. He should have his father talk to the Zenos about that. Arcane is pretty dope too. Binding? Hah! Binding magic isn't used for offense, and who needs healing? You have some pleb to follow you and heal you, of course!


Jomurr's a second son and he has complexes. He's powerful, rich, and handsome, but he's a second son. His father is an arch-conservative duke under Emperor Jobanzaggah IV and that mindset has rubbed off on him. To some degree, his snobbishness is performative and a reaction to the perceived threat of the other classes' rise. A lot of it stems from a genuine belief that Dami chose people like him to govern, though. Jomurr looks at himself and rightly perceives that he's better at magic than 99.9% of the population. He's healthy, he's smart (even if it's more due to a good education), he's good-looking, and he's physically capable, perhaps even more so as he gets older. In a sense, he feels as if Ersand'Enise is a battleground where the lesser classes are trying to challenge the nobles' right to rule and that, if they win, the consequences for society will be genuinely disastrous. It is also a place where he can let loose. He can learn and unleash his full potential without restraint or compunction, and he can prove himself the better heir to his father. Zemon's RAS is only 7.82, after all.


"I wanna be the very best, like no one ever was!"

In all seriousness, see the above bit on 'background'. Basically, like everyone else, Jomurr's here to become the person he's going to be for the rest of his life. He's also here to flex, though.


Tons of outfits, a coinpurse full of Kizans, Coronas, and some Neskals because that's what all of the cool kids are paying with. There's no bigger flex than rolling up to some merchant, purchasing a papaya, and asking if he can make change for your Great Neskal. Jomurr also carries the signet ring of his house and a Teddy Lion that he sometimes sleeps with.








Unless they're from Belzagg and/or a high noble from at least a neighbouring region, other students are unlikely to know that Jomurr is a second son.
Colour Code: 800080

"It matters not what someone is born as, but what they grow to become."

One wouldn't find it surprising if Carmillia was a princess, given the way she carries herself. Carmillia appears to be a model noble: elegant, soft-spoken, and well-mannered. It is clear she is conscientious of her outward appearance yet others can't help but fall for her charming nature. People are often surprised when they realize she isn't even a noble, much less a princess, and actually of the merchant caste. However, this tends to aid her charm instead. Instead of coming off as pretentious, Carmillia instead exudes dignity. Despite being of the merchant caste, who tend to be a tad bit unscrupulous, she's all but that. As if this wasn't enough, Carmillia tops it all off with her intellect, not only academically but wise in the ways of the world as well.

In reality, the real Carmillia is far from her outward appearance. It wouldn't entirely be accurate to call her outer personality entirely fake as it would be closer to consider it a rose tinted lens placed upon her real personality. Instead of being eloquent and charming, Carmillia is instead... persuasive and beguiling. Those that have caught a glimpse of her with her facade down have all immediately realize how terrifying it can be to cross her. Instead of for good, Carmillia prefers to use her intellect to scheme and plan to her own benefit. The only trait she has that is entirely false would be her seemingly generous nature. Carmillia doesn't believe in helping others unless it's ultimately for her own gain; for people who can't climb out of the holes they've dug themselves, don't deserve a helping hand.







Carmillia is fluent over multiple languages, a necessity for any merchant who has intentions of rising through the social ladder. She's best in Avincian and Perrench. She was able to pick Torragonese easily enough with it's Avincian similarities.

With the Empire of Belzagg being a trading powerhouse, Carmillia has learned several of the more common dialects. In terms of Rettanese, Carmillia can only speak a single dialect but she's found it to be more than sufficient to communicate with traders. As for Eskandish, she has limited working proficiency with it but as of yet has no intention to further practice the dying language. She has a similar fluency with Inipori but unlike Eskandish, she intends to improve her proficiency.

As much as she would like to improve her Yasoi which could be considered at an elementary level, the scarcity of Yasoi language tutors and the various dialects make it difficult.

On a scale of 1-5 (1 being able to ask simple questions and 5 as it being akin to your native language):
Avincian: 5
Perrench: 5
Torragonese: 4
Rettanese: 3
Inipori: 2
Eskandish: 2
Yasoi: 1



Carmillia is redblood with a RAS score of 4.8 and no secondary mana type. She also suffers from a below average drawing range even when compared to other practitioners of similar scores. The one upside is that she possesses a prodigious amount of control.

Under normal circumstances, even within the chemical school of magic—the most energy efficient school—a magic practitioner with such a low RAS score is unable to accomplish much. However, that is when you're accessing one's capabilities using conventional means. Take one of the rudimentary spells of the chemical school; Blessing of Joy. A conventionally skilled magus would employ it to send their target into a stupor of happiness even against their will. Carmillia is unable to execute the spell to such a degree. Nonetheless, execute it she can. Taking advantage of her superior control as well as innately low RAS score, Carmillia is able stimulate the production of hormones such as dopamine or endorphins but at much more diminished level, allow her to gently push or pull on an individual's emotions. A fitting analogy would be that of picturing a standard magus as a ten-meter tall giant. Now trying picturing that giant trying to pick up a small cat without harming it. Whereas Carmillia can do so with no difficulty whatsoever.

Though such a feat might initially sound meagre, a tool's worth lies in how you use it. By carefully drawing the most miniscule amounts of energy and manipulating it at a high degree of efficiency, Carmillia is able to influence the emotions of others without their knowing. She is able to avoid detection from all but the most skilled of mages and even then only if they were paying close attention.

Such a basic spell. Such a small effect. And yet when combined with either her charm or guile, the merchant Carmillia becomes a silver-tounged devil that always gets her way. She uses it to form connections with established and more powerful noble families. She forces other merchants to willingly give her favorable terms. She even uses it casually just to make people like her more. Her employees are completely loyal and constantly motivated to be of use to her. None of her victims any the wiser.

What are emotions if not simply the ever changing balance of one's own hormones? Happiness, sadness, fear, disgust, anger and a plethora of other more specific emotions such as motivation or shame. Carmillia is able to play with your emotions without you ever even knowing. The worst best part? Without knowing the possibility of foul play, consistent interaction causes one to admire, respect or fear her even more as everything is attributed to her natural charisma.

---

Though hormone manipulation is her specialty and honed over years of use, Carmillia is capable of other spells. Despite her shortcomings, her prodigious control means Carmillia is able to pick up magic extraordinarily fast. The downside is that their effects are often negligible. Take for instance the arcane spell Lich's Touch; Carmillia is unable to siphon any significant amount of heat from the target, causing them to feel chilly at most instead of weakening them, let alone killing them.





When she was orphaned at thirteen, young Carmillia had nothing other than her Gift. Though there was some semblance of her wit and charm that the current day Carmillia possessed, at the time she was nowhere close to being the silver-tounged charmer she would come to be. In order to survive on the streets of Perrence, she joined a thieving crew of young kids managed by a local gang; The Crimson Hand. Though she was initially inept at pickpocketing, she came to realize she could cause her victims to be more easily distracted through manipulating their estrogen levels, causing them to be more easily distracted. It did not take long her to become the most 'skilled' in the crew and for her to catch the eye of her handler.

She was introduced to the main gang within the year. The Crimson Hand specialized in organized theft though they dabbled in other lucrative affairs such ranging from commissioned 'intimidation' to opium. There was much skepticism when she was recommended for a more prominent role by her handler but Carmillia quickly proved her worth. She was a quick study and was aided by the fact she easily weaved through the inner politics through use of her Gift. She was no stranger to violence, having murdered her own parents. As a result, her seniors were more than happy to guide and teach her. By the time she was fifteen, Carmillia belonged in the upper echelons of the gang and had amassed a small fortune as a result of being offered generous shares whenever they accomplished a job. Now with much more wit and street smarts, Carmillia felt it was time for her to leave the nest. She was no longer satisfied hiding in the underworld.

Remembering the stories the servants used to tell about her grandfather, Carmillia wanted to recreate his achievements. She wanted to back to the life of a merchant.

Textiles was the industry she chose to dabble in, simply because she liked the idea of fashion. A fifteen year old girl wanting to purchase her own shop and sell textiles was an odd sight but she was happily and willingly aided by established merchants who had felt compelled to help her out. Similarly to how she climbed up the hierarchy in The Crimson Hand, she quickly rose up. She educated herself in the art of business through enlisting tutors and guidance of other merchants. She studied various languages in order to expand her operations to deal with foreign merchants. Carmillia was like a tiny storm that dazzled those around her. As her influence grew, she started encountering more roadblocks. Merchants who would interfere with her trades, merchants she couldn't directly influence as they never met. People who were jealous of her success employed underhanded tactics such as spreading rumors or vandalizing her ever expanding shops.

She dealt with it in the most pragmatic way she knew of; she went back to The Crimson Hand. The difference this time, was that she was a patron. She was met with open arms. Her old comrades were happy to see her again and she had lucrative jobs to offer them. Learning from her enemies, Carmillia fought fire with fire. She even joined in with the gang on occasion, taking joy in their expressions when they realized who was attacking their businesses. She was careful, making sure to discredit them so no one would believe their claims against Carmillia.

At seventeen, Carmillia was the proud owner of nine shops spread around Perrence. However, the growth of her small empire was slowing. Negotiations were harder and deals were becoming less favorable. There was only so much her gift could do; it had to work in conjunction with her own charismatic influence. She lacked the status that came with being a powerful magus. Though she was confident there was still room for her business to grow, the rate of progress was frustrating.

This was when her interest in Ersand'Enise began. There was a certain amount of prestige that came with being an alumni of Ersand'Enise. It would also be easier to form connections with young prominent nobles. To top it all off, rumors of the Traveler were spreading. She could sense opportunity approaching. The world was changing and Ersand'Enise was the center of the magical world.

Though it was unlikely someone with an RAS score of 4.8 would be accepted into the academy, Carmillia simply had to pull a few strings. She dropped a decently sized donation. She charmed the RAS testers to look the other way as she leaked energy during the test, allowing her to score a 5.0. Lastly, she made sure to impress the interviewers with her achievements. She was in.


Contrary to eventful past, unique Gift and extensive personality, Carmillia's motivation is simple. Abstract even. She believes in order to achieve happiness, she needs to possess money and power which is why she constantly moves forward with those goals in mind.


The only item Carmillia is currently attached to and brings with when she travels is the knife she used to slit the throats of her parents. Though the knife itself appears mundane, it is of good quality and was once part of her father's collection. It holds sentimental value for her.

“Nothing lasts forever. Might as well make some waves while you can.”

An irresponsible child without the dignity expected of a noble and wholly unworthy of such a title. Nerio’s heard it and worse, and for the most part he’s happy to flip off those who badmouth him. Where he lacks in the gravitas, he makes up for it by being easy going and fairly inoffensive to get along with. Well unless the other people are bothered by a devil-may-care noble getting to enjoy life because he was born into it.

After all, he wasn’t born poor. He’s never been hungry, and he’s certainly never been forced to kill or steal to survive. He chose that lifestyle for himself for the glory and plunder, and he admits it without any shame. There’s nothing wrong with doing what he was interested in, and plus it helped him learn quite a lot. He’s definitely the sort that learns better through application and repeated practice over studying theory.

Despite his nationality, Nerio’s appearance is distinctly Arrundan and it comes largely from his mother’s side of the family. At 5’8, he has a rather lean build as one might expect of a sailor and swimmer. His dull amber eyes have been called lifeless by some, but they’re usually narrowed by a cheerful grin. Aside from his callused hands, his body is otherwise unmarked or scarred by his time at the sea.

Even now that he is attending the Academy, he prefers to stick to his well-worn and casual attire. He may be noble, but it may as well only be in name as he has never tried to play up that aspect. He does accessorize with a few pieces of jewellery like his earrings and a bracelet or two, but they aren’t of any importance or sentimental value.

Revidian is his mother tongue. He is fluent in Avincian as a maritimer and “noble”, and Perrench from his various “interactions” with their merchants and navy. His Inipori has fallen out of so much use that it would take some active effort in order to relearn it, but he still remembers it faintly.

A blackblooded Skyborn with an average RAS, Nerio focuses on speed, efficiency, and precision when it comes to his Gift. It doesn’t take much for him to fill up his capacity, and he can draw and release at a moment’s notice. Everything about his use of magic points towards a capable battlemage in the making, and it’s really all Nerio’s studied and honed his skills for. Although most of his abilities are self-learned, his foundations were laid by his father. Cirio may not have been a Skyborn, but he was an experienced battlemage in his own right, and he passed on not only the Gift to his son, but his knowledge as well.

Naturally, Nerio favors the Kinetic school of magic as a compliment to his swordplay. Infusing himself with a constant draw of energy to speed himself up and prevent enemies from simply freezing him in place. He has some familiarity with the Magnetic school as well. He has some mastery over the defensive aspects to counter Internal Chemists, but has also begun to experiment with using it alongside his Kinetic magic and swordplay. The act of trying to split his focus between several swords while fighting at the same time is something that’s proven to be an incredibly taxing strain though. It's much less taxing to simply use them as projectiles, but that's not nearly as interesting as a visual spectacle nor a challenge!

His use of Internal Chemistry is rather basic, but fairly effective. Familiarizing himself with it allows him to recognize the signs for when he needs to throw up some Magnetic defences, and being able to induce adrenaline rushes is sometimes just what is needed to tip the scales in a melee.

The strangeness of his heritage is not lost on Nerio. His mother, an Arrundan merchant, while his father, one of Revidia’s most infamous privateers? There had to be some sort of story there, and he was often regaled with tales of how his father Cirio had rescued and won Chaya’s hand from some honorless pirates. It was all very vague and only made his family situation.. confusing and messy, to say the least. His father never had an official wife, but he did have a fair number of lovers. This meant all manners of older and younger siblings and a family dynamic that was hard to grasp at the best of times.

Neither of his parents were around very often for his earliest years. His father only started to settle down by the time he was growing out of childhood, and his mother’s wanderlust still burns bright to this day. She has seemed to have made Revidia something of a home base, and there does seem to be some affection between his parents, but it’s hard for Nerio to be sure. For all that Chaya may be his biological mother, it’s hard for him to truly see her as that given the disconnect.

Given a large part of Cirio’s success came from being a powerful mage, it wasn’t a surprise that at least a few of his children inherited the gift as well. Some manifested it on their own, others were discovered during testing, and Nerio’s blood made it quite clear that he had an inclination for the gift.

As for what drove Nerio to the life of a privateer? No doubt seeing the hero’s fanfare and welcome Cirio received each time he returned to port was one of the driving forces. Growing closer to his father as his other siblings turned to other tutors and teachers was certainly another. He enjoyed the various stories and tales his father had through a rather eventful career and life on the seas.

Then there was the ever complicated situation at home. His father was still healthy and had a long life ahead of him, but there were factions being drawn among his siblings. Some of them were now old enough to hold stations of importance and were consolidating their influence and power beneath their father. It was a situation he did not want to find himself entangled in, and so he took an easy route out into the open oceans.

So he took it. His father’s old crew had continued their ways after he left, and there was always room for a mage in the ranks. Maybe he should have realized that stories from the man in charge were a shite comparison to the average sailors, but it was a bit too late for that after the ship had sailed out. Fast forward a few years later, and Nerio’s finally hit a point of stagnation in his life. He’s served and been of service to Revidia, and would very much like for a letter of recommendation to Ersand'Enise if they would please.

Nerio may not have any grand dreams or truly know what he wants from his life yet, but he does know it should be more than doing the same old routine over and over again. He may be young, but he has no desire to be a privateer for the rest of his days. The familiar waters no longer fill him with a sense of adventure and counting the days or even weeks before a mark is chosen fills him with lethargy.

If the lack of fulfillment wasn’t enough, time spent aboard a ship is not exactly conducive to furthering his abilities with the Gift. There’s only so much self-study can help him before he needs to seek out people more skilled and knowledgeable to learn from. While he has never been much of an academic and even dreads the prospect of dreary and droning lectures, he’s never shied away from a bit of suffering for the sake of self-improvement.

Whenever allowed, Nerio does carry around a sword on his person. It is quite similar to a scimitar, but blade that is both thinner and less wide. It also serves as one of his foci.
He also tends to have at least one knife on him as a habit from being on a ship.
A compass is another hold out from his time as a sailor. Also it’s just nice to have when people don’t trust his ability to find north. What sort of magnetic mage would have trouble finding north?
A few pieces of jewellery in addition to a coin pouch. Enough for a week or so of daily necessities, or one good night out on the town.
A challenge coin from the Astral. It’s something of a sentimental piece for him, and it’s pretty thick and solid for a coin. Not bad for nailing someone in the head if necessary.
He doesn’t carry it on his person, but he has a rather large tome in his room. It’s probably in poor taste, but he has collected various insignias and other markers on its pages. A little trophy case of his own so to speak.





Color Code: aba000

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[ ᴘ ᴇ ʀ s ᴏ ɴ ᴀ ʟ ɪ ᴛ ʏ ]

[ ᴀ ᴘ ᴘ ᴇ ᴀ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ᴄ ᴇ ]

[ ʟ ᴀ ɴ ɢ ᴜ ᴀ ɢ ᴇ s ]

[ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ɢ ɪ ғ ᴛ ]

[ ʙ ᴀ ᴄ ᴋ ɢ ʀ ᴏ ᴜ ɴ ᴅ ]

[ ᴍ ᴏ ᴛ ɪ ᴠ ᴀ ᴛ ɪ ᴏ ɴ ]

[ ɪ ɴ ᴠ ᴇ ɴ ᴛ ᴏ ʀ ʏ ]

[ s ᴛ ʀ ᴇ ɴ ɢ ᴛ ʜ s & s ᴋ ɪ ʟ ʟ s ]

[ ᴡ ᴇ ᴀ ᴋ ɴ ᴇ s s ᴇ s & ғ ʟ ᴀ ᴡ s ]

[ ᴍ ɪ s ᴄ ᴇ ʟ ʟ ᴀ ɴ ᴇ ᴏ ᴜ s ]

"As young children, we learnt that it is wrong to put out the light of another. Yet inevitably, innocence will be lost over time. And all became but means to an end, even as the voice in our heart kept telling us that it's wrong."

Eun-Ji is a rather quiet individual, possessing a calm and contemplative demeanor. For the most parts, she is an individual with little personal ambitions. She would have been completely fine continuing to live a normal life as a commoner like her parents, yet instead her gift caused her to be what she now is, far away from a mundane and peaceful life. Thus she saw her gift in rather of a melancholic light; like destiny having a bit of fun out of her life. Furthermore, she's naturally honest and possessed of strong aversion towards lies and deception. Considering her line of work often necessitated the usage of such dishonest means, this made it even more of a dilemma for her.

Still, she's not in reality one of melancholic disposition, and thus had decided to still live her life as best she can; she saw no point in dwelling upon circumstances that are now out of her control.




Of purely Tan Keoulian heritage, Eun-Ji generally possessed the typical physical features of her people. At 158cm tall (5'2), she is of average height for an adult female Tan Keoulian. She is rather on the slim side and is well-toned, mostly owing to the athletics and martial arts training she received upon becoming a Lotus Sentry. This can be a bit difficult to perceive due to the way that she dresses, mostly wearing clothes inspired by the traditional clothing of Tan Keoul called Hanbok which are baggy dress that covers most of the wearer's upper body. Most of the clothes that she wears were brought over from Tan Keoul due to the fact that it was hard to find a tailor in Revidia who knew how to properly make Tan Keoulian clothes. They were all confused by the significant differences and complexities of what were basically very exotic fashion to them.

Her significantly long hair is typically done quite simply with a single front braid and a pair of pig tails on the back, giving it a more intricate look than it really is. A notable physical trait, if it is to be called as such, would be her much paler complexion in comparison to most other people of Tan Keoul.


Eun-Ji is completely fluent in Tan Keoulian, owing to it being her native language. Additionally, she is also fluent in Avincian as a matter of necessity. Furthermore she is semi fluent in Kanjikish and Rettanese, being able to hold conversations in the two languages quite well although not as capable of writing and reading the letters.


Eun-Ji's gift in magic pretty much defined what her life had ended up becoming. Born to a family of simple farmers, Eun-ji's life took a significant turn upon the discovery of her being a Skyborn; an already rare lineage made even rarer by the fact that she's not East Constantian. While her RAS score is rather average, it combined with her Skyborn lineage made her the perfect candidate for the Tan Keoulian's Lotus Sentries; the country's equivalent of a special operations force tasked with the protection of the country's internal stability via clandestine operations. In practice, she doesn't really need an extraordinary RAS score.

Eun-Ji's natural talents with magic are highly specialized. First and foremost, she is a Kinetic mage with a strong disposition toward Liquid Telekinesis. This natural specialty then became the focus point of her entire magical repertoire, as even the training she received upon her induction into the Lotus Sentries was centered on it. Given the best instructors that the organization can provide, these same instructors guided her to learn from the Arcane school of magic as her secondary specialization, specifically the utilization of illusion and misdirection that are unique to the school. Combined, these two specializations created something unique to Eun-Ji's magic: Illusion based not only on light, but reinforced by actual substance and corporeality in the form of liquid (most often water) instead of merely a trick of sight. She's even able to cause the illusion to vocalize thanks to the Kinetic school's manipulation of sound waves. All of these combined practically allowed her to create liquid clones of herself, her own unique spell: Mirage of Lotus.

Her training continues heavily along this line, with Eun-Ji constantly working on perfecting the Mirage of Lotus. However, due to this specialization (which can be argued as overspecialization) in liquid manipulation and illusion, she's not much good at anything else. She is able to conjure elementary spells such as creating licks of flames or the average fireball thanks to her Arcane training, or somewhat strengthen the impact of her physical strikes thanks to her Kinetic training, but such things are not her specialties and indeed remained at rather elementary level.

Being a Blackblood-Skyborn, Eun-Ji is middling in regards to the many determinants of spell power. She is much or less average in drawing efficiency, containment efficiency, and conversion efficiency. However, as part of her specialized training as a Lotus Sentry, she received intensive training in the practice of Freecasting, making her of considerable skill in being a Freecaster.


Born to a family of farmers, Eun-Ji's life prior to the discovery of her gift by the government was very much mundane and not unlike most other commoners. She went to a typical Gwanhak (public government school for commoners) for her education, helped with working in her family's farm, and played with her friends as all common children does. There are many that would consider such a life boring, but Eun-Ji was completely content with such a life. It was mundane and filled with hard work, but it was also honest and humble; a simple yet idyllic life. Her weird natural ability in manipulating liquid itself was no secret, it first happened when she were 8 years old, helping move containers of water around the farm. Somehow, she were able to make the water move by themselves, which were very convenient as far as watering the farm plants went. Yet the simple family and their friends didn't think much of it beyond that; they were simple people with simple aspirations. It simply made her especially helpful as a farmhand as far as everyone were concerned. In everyone's eyes including her own, her ability was no different from those parlor tricks that the not-quite-mages are able to do. Compared to that, it was then no surprise that the fact of her seemingly being far more agile, light-footed, and tireless compared to most other children weren't at all considered as anything unusual.

Of course, this all changed upon her gift coming to broader light. As part of the Tan Keoulian government's efforts in discovering talents like Eun-Ji's own, examinations were done for all children attending a Gwanhak once they reached the age of 15. Turned out the extend of her potential went far beyond "moving water around for watering farm plants". Being that Eun-Ji's RAS score very nearly reached the mark of 7, the government officials in charge of the examination knew immediately that they had found a valuable asset among the commoners. They took her aside away from the rest of her peers, performed more in-depth examinations on her, and found something even more intriguing. The things with her being far more agile, light-footed, and tireless than most other? Those were no fluke either. Those were because of Eun-Ji being a Skyborn. From there, things developed quite rapidly. The government officials immediately explained everything to Eun-Ji, offering her to work for the government with promises of wealth and elevated social positions and all such other benefits that would be nothing more than dreams for most commoners to ever possibly achieve.

And yet she refused, a humble life was all that the young Eun-Ji had ever wanted. All these things about greatness and magic and so on intimidated her; she didn't want to lose her peaceful life. No further promises of prosperity were able to change her mind... So the promises quickly changed to subtle threats of harm to herself, her family, and her friends. Underhanded remarks of how easy it would be for a village such as the one she lived in to disappear, how unfortunate it would be for that to happen. Eun-Ji quickly realized that the "offer" wasn't one that she can refuse. Left with no choice, she resigned herself to it. And so her blissful simple life promptly ended. What came next were things she would never even had thought of learning or doing at all before. Martial arts training, athletics training, magic training, espionage training, political indoctrination, training training training training training. "Long live the emperor, All hail Tan Keoul, For the prosperity of the Lotus we live."

Three years passed. Long enough of a time for a child to lose the innocence of her mind. "Fighting" every single day, not knowing when her own light might go out. Once an innocent crying child, now sharpened into a knife to pierce the heart of the emperor's enemies. The child's training with her appointed instructors were done, there wasn't anything left to learn from them. Yet there are others still that can help sharpen her. And where best to do so than in the school boasted to have the highest quality of education in the arts of magic?



Long resigned to her "destiny", Eun-Ji is motivated simply by the fact that she have no other choice but to continue doing her best. In her mind, there is clearly no way for her to be able to get away from her current path. Even attempting to do so will likely bring upon terrible consequences upon herself and her family and potentially even the village she once called home. Faced with such possibility, what else can she possibly do? Fear is as strong a motivation as any, if not even more than most others.

Thus continue doing her best she will, as such is what the great emperor and the prosperous Tan Keoul requires of her.


- As far as monetary wealth is concerned, being government funded meant it isn't really an issue for Eun-Ji. The money's not actually hers, so to speak, but regardless she will find no trouble in funding her study and daily life in the academy.
- Paper Talismans: Commonly used across Rettand in place of staff or wands, these paper talismans were specifically made to aid a mage with the process of Preservation. While Eun-Ji generally have little use of these due to her skill in freecasting, she still keeps them around just in case.
- Blank Talismans and ink pens: Tools to make more of the above talismans.
- Waist Case: Wooden ornamental case serving as Eun-Ji's bag.
- Books: Mostly philosophical tomes. She always bring at least one with her in her case, while the rest would be stashed in her dorm room.
- Meditation Mat: An otherwise simple linen mat, with intricate patterns and Tan Keoulian letters drawn upon it. As the name implied, this is used for meditation.








- Eun-Ji's true role as a Lotus Sentry for Tan Keoul is unsurprisingly being kept a secret from the people in the academy excepting those that need to know it. The cover story given to her was that she's just a cadet of the Tan Keoul Army's Mage Division.
- Eun-Ji's hobby is, unsurprisingly enough, reading. Additionally she also enjoyed fishing, which was accomodated by Tan Keoul being a heavily maritime country.
- Eun-Ji is fond of animals, partially influenced by her experiences in taking care of farm animals.
- She loves sour food but can't handle spicy food at all. Kimchi, which is basically a traditional Tan Keoul pickle, is a serious dilemma for her due to it generally being both sour and spicy.
- Eun-Ji and her family members are not religious, although they do follow a system of belief heavily based on the karma aspects.

“Whenever you’re down, life likes to kick you, just in case you didn’t get the message. So just keep that in mind, that it can always get worse – somehow. Whenever it gets better or whoever is offering to pick you up? Won’t be for free.”

Linah burns with the desire to prove herself as capable, important, and worthy of respect. She’s always believed in herself, regardless of criticisms and secret doubts. Though experience has confirmed her belief, she yet yearns for recognition – not empty praise, but something more tangible. She is both realistic and sensible enough to realize that she will likely never be free of making uneasy quid-pro-quo alliances; no one ever is. She does however wish to stand on equal ground to others, at the very least. For that, she will do what she can, even if it is via exploitation and manipulation. From what she’s seen so far, it’s not as if there’s a way to advance without opportunistic cooperation with those beneficial to her goals or ruthless preying upon those who cannot cover for their weaknesses.


Linah stands at 5’4, and is lithe and wiry, if still somewhat thin and gangly due to a recent growth spurt. She has a warm, light brown complexion that gets darker during the summer. Her eyes are hazel, and her hair a deep walnut. She used to wear it short, but had to grow it out as that is supposedly more befitting of a ‘lady’. After years of taking proper care of it, it is thick, lush, and wavy, not at all resembling the mess it’d been in her youth. She has been told that it is deeply unfortunate that a scar mars her face, but she truly does not care. Lin has learned a variety of gaits; confident ‘I belong here’, shuffling ‘Don’t pay me any mind’, slow ‘I’ve no care in the world’ among them. She is not naturally expressive, and does well at regulating her emotions, but enjoys putting on expressions that fit the current situation. As far as clothing is concerned, she now tends toward the kind of attire that a lower or middling merchant could afford. Though, she will sometimes adopt what others may term ‘rags’ if it suits her purposes. As long as it’s practical and not too showy, she doesn’t care much for the style, colour, or cut of her clothing.


Torragonese – mother tongue.
Avincian – upper intermediate, though with a noticeable accent.
Revidian – elementary, learning.


Linah has a natural knack for (primarily) the Arcane and (secondarily) the Kinetic schools of magic; she discovered and nurtured the talent herself, if to a limited extent. Because she initially learned on her own, she is an adept Freecaster, and generally forgoes instruments or focus points. Even now, after having studied under another mage, she prefers subtle spells that aid her or disrupt the enemy. In the Arcane school, she is most practiced at blinding an opponent, precisely regulating heat or light to get exactly the intended effect, casting invisibility, and using illusions. As for Kinetic magic, she prioritizes self-empowerment and manipulating sounds so as to confuse opponents. She employs telekinesis when necessary, but isn’t particularly creative with it. While familiar with the very basics of other schools, she has so far taken to certain spells within the Chemical school (Gazes of: Sloth, Terror, Agony, and Deception, Blessings of: Joy, Vigor, and Expulsion), and not much besides.


Born to commoners down on their luck, Lin was one of the many inhabitants of the slums on the border of a large city. Her parents were both manual laborers hired for cheap, and hadn’t quite planned for a child either. Still, they took care of her as best they could. However, Lin’s mother died while she was young, and Linah has precious few memories of her. Her father grew despondent, but persisted for her sake. Still, he did dip into alcohol more than he’d before, and the older Linah grew, the more she had to fend both for herself and her father. She did what she could and what she had to; begging, stealing, working a ‘job’ as a courier for some seedy folk who were just fine hiring a slum kid, and the like. It was after a failed risky robbery that she spontaneously manifested magic out of a desperation to escape. After that, she dedicated whatever free time she had, even sacrificing some sleep for it, to practice. She discovered she could take heat from another to use it herself, and often did. Whenever she needed a boost to her running speed, or needed to reach just a bit farther to jump onto the roof, she could do that too.

She isn’t sure when, how, or due to whom, but her magic capabilities were discovered. Of course, she had no idea that was the case until she was snatched. After an uncomfortable journey, she was brought before a certain person by the name of Na’ir Yazath. He offered her great things in exchange for her loyalty. Reluctantly, she agreed – on the condition that her father be brought to the estate as well. A few days later, while still settling in, she was informed her father had been found dead. Disbelieving, she ran off to confirm the truth for herself. Her former home (a dilapidated shack shared by several people) had no trace of her father left. Asking around, she was told that after she disappeared, her father had committed suicide. Whether that was true, or whether Yazath’s men had done the deed themselves, it was clear where the blame lay. However, she returned to Na’ir regardless, and accepted his offer. The following several years, she was taught, tutored, and trained in many subjects, magical and mundane. Her patron even attempted to apprentice her to a well-paid Black Rezaindian, though that soon proved to be futile, as Linah resisted being made into a tool for murder, of all things. In the end, it was decided she’d attend Ersand’Enise. Lin doesn’t mind, but is wary as to whatever may come after she finishes schooling.


As someone who started near the bottom of the social ladder, Linah’s always had to struggle simply to survive. Rather than become satisfied with merely getting by, however, she has become covetous of power – precisely because she herself has so often lacked it. While it is true that she has gained many comforts that she’d only been able to dream about in her childhood, they’ve all come with a price attached; the kind of price that may very well take her years and decades to repay. Yet, Lin doesn’t want to spend her whole life beholden to someone else. She strives to be free; free of those who would use her without (equivalent) recompense, free of unwelcome obligations, and free of being hobbled by desperation.

• A short sword, sheathed at her left hip.
• A knife, sheathed at her back.
• A shiv hidden within a boot.
• A pouch with a small sum of coins, resting in an inner shirt pocket.
• A decoy pouch with a smaller sum of coins (plus a few stray bits and bobs that make a similar jingle, to make it seem a tad more substantial), tied to her belt.
• A fine leather travelling satchel, which she usually stores under lock and key (or otherwise hides) whenever she is staying somewhere.
• A few sets of clothing, some finer and intended for ‘better’ company, some worn and second-handed for when she’d rather pass as a commoner.
• A piece of flint tied to a gray string around her neck (weak enough to tear if someone attempts to strangle her).
• An assortment of hair ties; those not used for her hair are often wrapped around her wrists or ankles.
• A hooded travelling cloak which can double as bedding and/or a blanket.
• A seal of the Yazath family engraved with her name, which she has been granted by her patron, and which she is most paranoid about losing.

Color code: #875f9a

"I haven't lost anything, and nothing's bad but... I haven't done anything. I haven't managed to do one single thing yet."

Raised in an orpanage, Mayu understands the hardships of life despite her young age. Since for as long as she can remember, Mayu has lived for others. Be it acting as a maternal figure for the younger kids in the Sugarplum Orphanage or demonstrating filial piety towards her new adoptive parents. Mayu is extremely empathetic, taking on the emotional burdens of others whenever she can.

In spite of the implications that come with her self imposed responsibility for others, Mayu maintains her cheerful nature, always looking for silver linings. It is no surprise that people easily develop a fondness for her and often want to protect her innocence. Behind her bright personality, Mayu is full of insecurities. She suffers from low self esteem and constantly belittles her own accomplishments. Being too humble can be a negative thing; Mayu finds it hard to articulate her true opinion, often letting others dictate her decisions when push comes to shove. Most of all, Mayu doesn't believe she's contributed enough to those around her.



Mayu stands at just 148 cm, which makes her petite even for her age.

Though Mayu's true heritage remains a mystery, she possess distinctive Rettanese features, particularly those of the Kanjikish. Mayu has a light complexion with pale ivory skin. This is complemented by her warm, honey brown eyes. She has a round face and a cute stubby button nose. The one exception to her Rettanese features would be her strawberry blonde hair, indicating one of her parents might have been Eskandish or Perrench. She often braids the left side of her hair.

In spite of her new status as nobility, Mayu appreciates modest looking fashion, preferring not to stand out. She often dresses in plain skirts, preffering to choose from various tops when she wants to switch things up. Mayu is always spotted wearing her signature daisy hairpin, a gift from her adoptive mother that she treasures greatly.


As she was originally a Rettanese citizen, Mayu is fluent in both Rettanese and Avincian. She is able to speak multiple dialects of the former. Since her adoption, Mayu has put in a considerable amount of hard work to pick up Perrench which she can speak fluently, albeit with a slight accent.


Mayu's RAS score stands at 6.1. Though her RAS score is not particularly noteworthy, Mayu is talented in drawing. She was able to do so as a child without any tutelage nor arcane foci at a respectable range.

Mayu is primarily a chemical mage and takes on arcane magic as her secondary. Her particular choices in her schools lie not in conventional reasons such as their exponential nature, efficiency or combat potential but rather the applications of these schools in molecular gastronomy. Mayu is a chef! Any capable chef undersands the importance of temperature and chemistry in cooking. Through use of chemical magic, Mayu is able to induce a plethora of effects to enhance her cooking. She can amplify the chemical reaction between leavening agents and acid, allowing her to make extra fluffy pastries without hindering the taste. Transglutaminase is often used to bind meat together and Mayu is able rapidly speed up the binding process while simultaneously hindering bacterial growth.

The ability to manipulate temperature allows Mayu's cooking to be essentially immaculate. As opposed to using an open flame which varies in temperature, Mayu can steadily output heat to cook ingredients to their exact doneness. Steak can be cooked to be exactly medium rare, her carrots are always tender yet not mushy and eggs! Perfectly poached eggs or creamy omelets that are never dry. With her studies in magic far from complete, Mayu's potential in the culinary world has yet to be fully unleashed.


Mayu was orphaned at birth at the Sugerplum Orphanage. When the caretaker to the orphanage had found her at their doorstep, whoever had left her there were nowhere to be seen. The Sugerplum Orphanage was a small orphanage located in Sarazu, a mid-sized city in Rettand. Managed by a single caretaker, the orphanage survived through donations from various good Samaritans. Mayu's childhood, while rather uneventful, was a good one. Though the orphanage could not offer them much, the children were for the most part, happy.

This all changed when Mayu awakened to her latent magical abilities on her ninth birthday. It had been a particularly cold Hundri and donations to the orphanage were at an all time low, leaving them unable to afford firewood. Unable to watch her fellow children freeze, Mayu subconsciously began drawing heat energy from the surrounding buildings in order to warm up the orphanage. Everyone, including herself, soon started realizing what she was doing. News soon spread and scouts from various academies and noble families swarmed the orphnage in hopes of acquiring her for themselves. It soon became apparent to Mayu that she would be taken against her will; away from those she cared about and likely forced into servitude. It was a terrying prospect for a nine year old.

Things looked grim until the Iovina House approached the orphanage. Thomas Iovina and Julliete Iovina, a Count and Countess hailing from Perrence, had been passing through Sarazu whilst celebrating their ninth anniversary when they heard their servants chatting about the local gossip. Thomas had found it amusing Mayu's age coincided with their ninth anniversary and proposed the idea of taking Mayu under their entourage to his wife. She was very much for the idea as it felt like a symbol of good luck. Unlike the other scouts who seeked Mayu's potential for their own gain, the offer the Iovina's gave to Mayu was far more enticing. She would be treated humanely as a servant. She would be given a degree of freedom; she could write to the orphanage and stipulated amount of free time. She would even be allowed to visit the orphanage once a year. They would also drop a relatively significant donation to the orphanage out of goodwill. Given her situation, even the nine year old Mayu realized it was not an offer she could refuse.

Mayu's story doesn't end here. Over the course of the next year working for the Iovina House, Mayu's affable personality and new found magical cooking grew greatly on Julliette. In spite of their attempts, the Iovina House had remained without child and Mayu was like the daughter she never had. She proposed formally adopting Mayu to Thomas. He had initially found the idea preposterous; adopting a commoner and declaring her their heiress? They were not only nobles but a Count and Countess! But even tradition could not stop him from giving into his wife. Years of frustration and depression had eaten at her and yet Mayu's presence made her smile like the Julliete of old. His wife's happiness meant more to him than gossip from fellow nobles.

One would not be surprised if the windfall of becoming a heiress to a noble family would have tempted Mayu with ambition or greed and yet... it did not. She never forgot her humble origins and made use of her new found privileges to visit her previous foster family more. Mayu put in hard work in order to adjust to the life of a noble in order to do her new parents proud. Even Thomas Iovina himself found himself treating her as if she was truly his own.

The decision to enroll in Ersand'Enise, much to her parents surprise, came from her. Mayu was ready to take first step into the second phase of her life and they were all for supporting her.


Mayu's motivations mostly revolves around others. She's aware that the decision her parents made in adopting her has sparked much controversy and gossip amongst fellow nobles. Though her parents don't seem to mind, Mayu believes it's her responsibility to become a distinguished magus in order to not shame the Iovina House. The prestige and power that come with would also allow her to help the less fortunate.

She dreams of one day setting up her own magical culinary school. She envisions it as an environment where like minded mages can share their culinary innovations. A place where magic can be used for the joy of others and not conflict.

“Just because I can doesn’t mean I should and all that, but it also doesn’t necessarily mean I shouldn’t…”

If Yimu’s personality were to be described in under ten words it would probably be something along the lines of, obsessively driven to learn and a compulsive shit-stirrer. On the one hand, first and foremost since the moment, she learned to read and discovered her knack for academics, acquiring new information has always been her foremost goal. On the other hand, Yimu is the kind of person that feels the need to stir up trouble wherever she goes, namely trouble for anyone who she deems deserving of it and while minor slights and accidents aren’t alone enough to put one on her shitlist, other things, like being born into too much money or demanding her respect certainly are.

Stemming from a childhood filled with praises for her intelligence and later on reinforced by her own successes, Yimu has a very inflated sense of self-worth when it comes to her intelligence and looks down on those she perceives as having had their own successes simply handed to them. She is overconfident when it comes to her ability to deal with her problems and subsequently tends to be dismissive when it comes to the costs, risks and consequences of her actions.


Yimu would best be described as having a very plain and somewhat messy appearance, clearly of Rettanese decent, though perhaps with a little something else mixed in there, hard to say for certain. If anything were to stand out about her at all, it would be just how little effort she put into keeping her appearance up, with simple cheap clothing and tangled brown hair she clearly cut herself with the same lack of consideration that determined the rest of her appearance.


Yimu grew up speaking Rettanese and this is the language she is most comfortable speaking. Her mother made sure she was also capable of speaking Avincian, and though she still has a bit of an accent, Yimu’s fluency has rapidly improved since she started using the language more regularly.

In addition, to speaking the languages, Yimu can read both Rettanese and Avincian, and thanks to her love of books, she can also read a little Inipori, though only to a basic level.


Looking at Yimu’s innate magical talents most mages wouldn’t be impressed, if anything they’d think her magically crippled, a truecaster with a RAS below average for even a normal mage. An astoundingly rare occurance, and not for the better. What truly makes her stand out in spite of her shortcomings, is just how good she is at using what she has. A prodigiously quick learner with an above-average control of her magic, Yimu has excelled at what little magical training she has received thus far.

Yimu favours no particular school, finding the idea of specialising to be both self-limiting and a wasted opportunity to learn, and thus, wholly intolerable.


Yimu was raised in her early years by her mother. She never really had any idea who exactly her father was and given her mother’s line of work, it could have realistically been nearly anyone, though considering that her mother always described her as their ticket out of the lower class while she was alive and the fact that she later manifested magic, Yimu suspects her mother knew exactly who her father was, presumably some noble or merchant.

Owing to her mother’s belief that Yimu would pull the two of them out of poverty, Yimu was provided with an education. Certainly, it was nothing compared to what most nobles had, or even what some merchants received, but it was a far cry better than what the average commoner received, which is to say, any education at all. Unfortunately, funding that education wasn’t exactly cheap and her mother’s work wasn’t without its risks, and when Yimu was 9 she was promptly orphaned.

Yimu managed to avoid sleeping on the streets for the most part, especially once she got used to surviving on her own. Most of the time she made do by selling her help to any inns or merchants that would accept it in exchange for food and shelter, it certainly helped that she had some measure of education and that she very quickly learned to pick up on the kinds of people would feel bad for her and the kinds that she shouldn’t approach.

During this period she spent most of her free time immersed in reading whatever she could get her hands on, often over and over again when she didn’t have anything new to read. She acquired new reading materials whenever the opportunities presented themselves, often as payment from merchants carrying them, or occasionally, quietly slipped away with after they were left behind at an inn she was working at. It was in this way that she first discovered magic, in the contents of a book left forgotten by a wealthy patron at some inn. She’d tried it out on a whim, a simple arcane drawing of the light and heat from a candle, not really expecting anything of it, magical aptitude was reserved for the elite after all. Except it had worked. The candle had dimmed and flickered, before snuffing out entirely, only to be returned to its original state after a little further reading and some trial and error.

It didn’t take long after that for Yimu to be outed as a mage, no doubt in large part due to how blatantly she practised and studied magic in public places, and her brazen self-advertising of her magical capabilities as a means of getting more and better work for herself. Not that she was particularly trying to hide it really, if anything it afforded her an opportunity, one which she happily leveraged when she was eventually approached, using it to get herself some basic training and eventually a spot in the Academy.


Above all else Yimu desires to learn, something she thought she’d never get the opportunity to do in earnest and fully intends to capitalise on now that she has such an opportunity. Secondary to that is the fact that she’s now surrounded by the sorts of people she views as having had their successes handed to them on a silver platter, she simply isn't willing to fall behind in such an environment and showing up the competition would just be icing on the cake.


Yimu’s possessions are relatively straightforward, the bare necessities needed to survive for someone that moves around a lot. Her clothes are cheap, but not so cheap as to simply fall apart and not so sturdy as to outlast Yimu’s growth.

She also has books, lots and lots of books. The contents of the books vary greatly from fiction to more academic works, though the newest of them tend towards the latter, specifically detailing magical theory. Regardless of genre all Yimu's books appear well-read and loved.

"In this place, you can either get ahead or get behind. I see too many others just stepping back to bask in how that Gift of theirs makes them feel, and then not even noticing when it starts withering like some plucked flower. They’re getting behind… I’m getting ahead."

In contrast to his somewhat undeserved reputation at home as a layabout and a scoundrel, Selio is a rigorous academic that will go to almost any length to see the task in front of him through. It is this determination to succeed that saw his entry to the Ersand’Enise Academy in the first place. This dedication to learning goes hand-in-hand with a ruthlessly competitive spirit and a compulsion to move up in the world. The trouble lies in his reaction to all the stress and pressure that comes with the work he tends to accumulate. At the best of times, the youth has a short temperature and volatile emotions, and he is liable to crack under pressure, making spur-of-the-moment, irrational decisions. In order to burn off stress, he sometimes will make impromptu trips to the seediest part of town he can find and disappear for hours at a time.

Despite this, or perhaps because of it, Selio often desires approval and attention, and he relies on others more than he believes himself to. Those who can tolerate the occasional outburst will find in the young noble a steadfast friend.

At heart, Selio is a healer, but his desire to succeed sometimes trumps his somewhat underdeveloped sense of empathy and he can needlessly complicate situations where his help is unwanted.


A slight and gangly youth, Selio has already grown to be 5’11” and doesn’t seem to be quite finished growing just yet. He has the typical Torragonese complexion - deeply tanned skin, dark brown eyes and thick black hair. His hair is worn long and usually gathered at the nape of his neck. Selio’s face is long, angular and solemn, which would conceal his emotional nature if not for the near-permanent furrow in his brow.


Torragonese - Native
Avincian - Fluent
Belzaggic, Revidian - Partial understanding



Late into his childhood, Selio’s strong affinity for Binding manifested itself when he accidentally drew magical energy from his surroundings during a game in the sands outside of his family’s estate. Thankfully, no one was injured, and the young Selio was immediately provided with a tutor - the only mage of similar talent in the area, an old and often drunken man who also took over the majority of the boy’s education in mathematics and sciences. Over time, the youth showed a prodigious talent for healing given his magical capacity, and he received rudimentary training in medicine as well. Finally, in the final years before the fateful day when his brother was found murdered, Selio began his studies into chemical magic and the effects various chemical reactions had on the natural world around him. After his brother’s murder, he was no longer able to study magic in his own home, and so upon his enrollment at Ersand’Enise, he promptly took up right where he had left off previously. His primary school is Binding, with a focus on healing, with a secondary study in Chemical Magic, focusing on offense to complement his primary magical weaknesses.



At first glance, the nation of Torragon seems daunting in its size and power - a monolith, complete in the function and motivation of all its parts, moving inexorably towards the goals of the crown. From his vantage point in the Torragonese noble class, however, Selio came to have quite a different understanding of his home country - one in which Torragon is a nest of vipers; serpents eating for their own in a climb towards the top of the pile. Selio’s family, the modest House of Taraves, had, over the years, worked its way to the bottom of the pile by accumulating debts and hemorrhaging wealth and territory. Located near the passes into the arid northern sands, the Taraves’ territory had few subjects and little in the way of natural resources. They had managed to stay afloat, unlike those sent to settle the desert itself, though just barely.

There was one hope for redemption for House Taraves: Selio’s eldest brother, Imeran. Though young, Imeran showed immense political acumen and was all but ready to take the reins of leadership of the house from their aging father. Tragedy struck in a particularly cruel way, however, when the scion of the family was found senselessly murdered on the street in the midst of a routine trip to a nearby town. No motive other than assassination was determined, no culprit found. The method was particularly heinous - death by blood magic.

As a talented practitioner of binding magic, Selio found himself beset by suspicion from those outside his family, even longtime friends that he trusted. From within the confines of the Taraves estate, he was met by thinly-veiled disdain from his parents, who had always compared him to his brother and looked with scorn on both his preference for study over politics and his tendency to get into trouble and mischief. Behind closed doors, it was determined that the ‘troubled’ youth could not hope to carry on the house’s legacy, and so Selio was sent away. His parents were not totally unsympathetic - they recognized the importance that becoming a skilled mage held for their son, and so they sent him to study somewhere where his practicing of binding magic would not stir up hushed, frightened whispers of fratricide.

Selio, for his part, has struggled to cope with his brother’s sudden death. Despite the pain that his parents’ scorn brought him, he loved his brother. He has resolved to make a name for himself in his new life, by any means necessary, but he hasn’t forgotten his home, or resigned himself to move forward without finding the truth.



Selio first set foot on the grounds of Ersand’Enise with two distinct goals in mind.

First, to become the greatest mage and healer that he possibly can, for fame, glory, and influence. Attending such a world-renowned place of learning is a unique opportunity for the young noble from a down-on-their-luck family to make a much larger impact on the world.

Second, to learn more about forbidden magics such as, for instance, blood magic, and to see justice brought to those who misuse said magics for abhorrent purposes. Particularly, to find out if there is any way to locate the person that murdered his brother.


A well-crafted waterskin: old habits die hard. Water is a precious thing in northern Torragon, and the young Selio still carries his filled waterskin on his person to most places, as a measure of security against a scarcity rendered uncommon so far from home.

Yatagan sabre:

All of the Taraves children had some training at arms, as befit noble persons in a hostile environment. Selio received rudimentary, yet thorough training in swordplay, archery, and marksmanship. Out of these, he showed a particular affinity for blades. When he was hastily packing for his trip to Ersand’Enise, he was permitted to take a weapon from the armory, should he need it. This older sabre in a slightly out-of-fashion style was one of the few that could be spared, but nevertheless its light weight, good balance and slender, sinuous blade suit Selio’s fighting style rather well. It is somewhat ornate, yet this is offset by signs of age and wear.

Belt knife: Single-edged, with a slight curve to the tip, with a polished and heat-treated black palm grip. Selio has carried this knife for years, and it comes in handy for a variety of purposes (though most commonly, it was used to trim quill pens and peel fruit).

Others: A modest sum of coins, mainly Torragonese but with a few new additions from currently closer locales. Several changes of clothes, ranging from the formal to the practical, several in-progress quills, and a small pin with the sigil of his house.








*cough*

When you have a chance to make a choice, make one you know you won't regret

Under a beguiling smile and a jovial voice, lies a demon. Desmond is a soul who seeks out many things: freedom, happiness, and hope, and wishes to gift that to others. Desmond's heart bleeds for others, for those who find themselves in misfortune, and for those who are mistreated. Even with his jokester-like attitude, Desmond has a level of seriousness that could cut steel. A focus and dedication that points him forward, to a world he wants to see, and one day live as free as could be.

During great times of stress, such as a life-or-death situation, Desmond can be pushed too far as his emotions will sometimes spill out like a broken dam. Turning Desmond into something akin to a demon, often throwing away every worry and doubt, and throwing himself into whatever is happening, often wearing a smile.

And like any demon when crossed, he will go to the ends of the earth against the one who crossed him. Often times hitting twice fold what was done to him and that which he holds close.





Desmond stands at 5'10 and weighs 173 pounds, he is a much stronger and solid frame. His body is like a worked machine running at top efficiency, he has low fat on his body and is quite prone to being cold. Desmond has longer dark brown hair that he lets down and keeps stylized with different accessories. His eyes are these darker brown eyes that seem to always have a sharpness to them. He has many scars across his body, the most numerous being on his back, his torso, and on his legs, many of which look quite nasty as many were never properly treated but easily hidden by simple clothing.

Desmond is a simple man, now even with coming into money, he spends very little of it on clothing. He has mostly stylized and tailored much of the clothing he had or was given from his 'family' or from those he is close to. He does spend more money on clothing than he used to as he still needs to look respectable, however his clothing is still able to handle any fight or brawl.



Desmond has multiple languages under his belt: Agrarian, Enthish, Kerremanic, Holmanian, Crisian, Perrench, Eskandish, Yasoi, Virangish, Nikanese, Revidian, and a few others. Most of these are only passable at best, being just good enough to use for work as most of these countries often employ services of mercenaries and work is always plentiful in the area. Desmond's most fluent in Avincian and Kerremanic as they seemed to have been the most favored languages of his people and the people he was closest to in his work.





Redblooded with no secondary mana type Desmond is nothing special, his RAS score is higher than that of the parlor tricks most would expect of a commoner having magic, however, this did not mean he was gifted with the power to easily become a mage. He had to harness what he could, may it have been the knowledge of those around him, or the battlefield he has studied for most of his life. He will normally watch mages with great intensity, in hopes of pulling knowledge through them, understanding and trying to cultivate the information into applicable skills. This has led to a skill set wholly designed in the aspects of combat and survival.

Yet he has a few skills that allowed him to shine above his station his first being his much more refined use of Freecasting. This skill was not gifted to him, it was hammered into his brain by those training him, as the best friend of a mercenary is flexibility and adaptability, which is the life motto of Desmond. However, Desmond has much more interesting things as his ability in Drawing is quite exceptional and his understanding of energy and the ebbs and flow of it. These abilities by themselves are not too interesting, but it's what he does with it that is so special as with his fast and efficient drawing coupled with his efficient use of his understanding of energy allows him to lightly draw from at a distance from people to almost see what other mages are doing around him. This gives him an almost sixth sense of the magic being used around him and being held within and controlled by people. However, this is a very new development in his skills and requires a decent bit of concentration just to fully use, however it does give him an upper hand in knowing what is about to happen.

Desmond has used skills in many different schools of magic and thought, as he has often used spells and skills in each type of magic to best suit his needs, but he is also a man who plays favorites. Among them, the one that reigns supreme for Desmond is Chemical Magic, as he often uses it for the incredibly powerful and efficient effects that it creates. Desmond has a great focus on External Chemistry rather than Internal Chemistry, causing chemical reactions within areas to create a domino effect, allowing him to continually manipulate small amounts of energy to cause greater effects to make up for his lesser capacity, such as with his use of Inferno bullets and Quick Silver bullets. This does not mean he doesn't use Internal Chemistry, however, as often he uses it to manipulate his Internal Chemistry. He has often dabbled in the use of it in a more offensive manner but finds it is better used in the case to assist himself or those around him.

Desmond's other favored schools of magic are Kinetic and Arcane because of their interesting effects that can be used. Taking the knowledge he has, he siphons heat and kinetic energy from people and their attacks to redirect them back, taking the philosophies of Magnetic fighters and using them in a much different way. His skills were often tested as he has used his skills to take the kinetic energy away from bullets and larger projectiles as he then either converts it into something more useful or he will use the energy to start setting up for a large counterattack on someone. Or when someone tries to take in Thermal Energy, Desmond will often quickly steal their heat from them or from the area they are trying to, to force them to try and convert other sources as he can attack before they could.

His more counter skills can often be duds when faced with people who either have a greater understanding and skill in magic or when he is overpowered by literal magnitudes, which forces him to go into a more offensive position. This doesn't make him slouch as often when something like this happens he will switch to his more Magusjaeger stance. As a Magusjaeger, his skills are quite potent, using the most basic skills he is a powerful sniper. However, using his more customized bullets from his firearms allows him to even fight while going toe-to-toe with other mages. His bullets allow him to use Chemical Magic and cause different effects most aren't normally prepared for.





Born in a place he had no remembrance of, Desmond was to live a quiet life in a village tucked away from anywhere important. With a family he would love dearly, knowing everyone you live with, surviving the cold together, famine, and all hell this world would have. Desmond was to find a cute girl he would settle down with and bear children, all in this village far away from anywhere important. Yet life was not so kind, as this was a place that has been forgotten, with the faces of people long lost and of a home Desmond only remembers as blurs and smells. A raid occurred in his village, everything was covered in flames and was burned to nothing. In this village tucked away from anything important, the men were slaughtered, the village and women were pillaged, and those who were left were all taken as slaves. Desmond was left with the smells of sweet apples from the time before flames occurred, then the sickeningly sweet aromas of burning wood and flesh, with the putrefaction of slaughter grasping at the lungs. This village was gone, as anything important here was left with the fires, to be tucked and buried beneath the land and time. All those memories that would have and should have been, burned in the flames of war, with the smoke of death and apple trees.

Desmond's early life was much more like a blur, as his years being a slave was something much akin to becoming a machine. He had spent much of his time working fields, moving, and surviving on the bare amount able to find. They fed the slaves below just enough, and the slaves had lost their minds to fear and hunger. Desmond had been beaten for his ration, had been stepped on and abused by those around him and above him, and left to die on more occasions than he could count, yet he kept getting back up. He wanted to live, something was calling to him and having him take that next step, keeping his comfort through the hunger, and kept him alive through the cold. Soon when he became old enough to be used in some other way, Desmond was sold off to a merchant with a wicked grin. He did horrible things to Desmond, scarred his body, his mind, abused him, overworked him, and set him near the edge of despair. Yet a voice within him screamed out, like a brewing storm it told him to wait as if something would change. So, Desmond waited and endured the torture and pain, after all, he had survived this long.

When Desmond was 9 years of age, the manor was broken into as people let out yells and screams as this roaring occurred, like the fires he remembers from his childhood. Smoke filled the air, as explosions and yelling filled the corridors, with blood strewing the walls. Desmond moved, trying to leave, but his body felt weak, his vision always being blurry, the smoke made it even harder to see, as all he could do was feel his way through the darkness and smoke until he reach the stairwell, where he saw light. An orange glow filled the stairwell as the heat was much too intense for any person to willingly enter, but Desmond did, this was his chance. Through the smoke and fire, Desmond moved slowly while staying close to the ground as he knows inhaling the smoke can kill him. His eyes were blurry, his vision being obstructed, yet he continued to move, he knew this manor well enough to be able to move without the worry of needing to see. He just needed a chance, and this was it. Desmond had finally made it through the manor, he just needed to move forward, yet the moment he made it out of the manor, he had felt his knees become unbearably weak, as each step became inexhaustibly heavy. He needed to make it a few more steps, and then he would have left the manor, but when he made it maybe 10 feet away from the door, he felt his body collapse. His consciousness waned, as his eyes opened and closed slowly, feeling the grasp of hands upon his body, he saw for a split moment a shadow had grabbed him and whisked him off into the night.

Desmond woke up with the sun bearing down on him, as it felt like he was moving. As he arose he saw he was in a cart with multiple cloaked individuals, each with face coverings that made deducing their identity quite difficult. They watched Desmond with intent as they tossed him a piece of bread and told him to eat. Desmond began eating the bread, but with the eyes on him, he was wondering why they were doing this. They looked to him with much intensity as when he ate too quickly they slapped the bread out of his hand and told him to go slower, as Desmond understood the message, he was going to be trained by them. Desmond began his new life with this mercenary band, they were each skilled Mages who have taken to the life of a Sellsword, they sold their skills and services for certain fees. Desmond was going to be their little errand boy, he would take care of their gear, keep up their camp, and do other things. Desmond wasn't displeased with this arrangement, he was being fed ample food, he was treated okay, they didn't do much to hurt him, but they were distant with him. After a year of traveling with them he began growing attached, they were some of the first in a very long time to treat him well. This loyalty came through as when they were traveling the caravan was jumped as multiple mages began attacking the mercenaries, a few were heavily injured but Desmond was the one who was most severely injured. When a mage came over to check who was in the cart, Desmond jumped out and attacked the mage, as his magic manifested, as even with his small frame, he was able to take down the mage and kill him through a surprise attack.

After this event, the mercenaries began training Desmond to use magic, training him to become something of a child soldier. Desmond felt no remorse nor hatred for the idea, in the end, to him they were doing this to give him something more he can do and secure his future. They began dealing in a great many things, as there was no shortage of work for a mercenary, and ones with magic can be quite useful. During these years Desmond began training and learning to harness his Gift, as the first way he was taught was in ways similar to the Magusjaeger, the use of firearms and stealth. Hiding in plain sight and slowly and efficiently drawing energy from the area, and then smoothly clearing the head off of some poor mage's shoulders. Most never really mention his existence, most assume the mercenaries have a quiet type Magusjaeger in their corner. Yet little did they know Desmond, the kid that the mercenaries have around as their helper, is the same one who just saved their asses. As Desmond grew, he began showing his true talents and began becoming a much more proficient mage of being a Mage killer.

Over the years, the distance between the mercenaries that once took him in and himself shortened. As they moved through battles and work, they became much closer. Desmond had witnessed comrades die, had to fight side by side with them, they became close enough to one day call him one of their own. They watched the boy grow into something of a strong man who they believe is something of a child of their own. Yet once these sentiments came, they realized that they have a feeling of guilt, they did rob this child of his youth. They weren't the ones to enslave him and rob him of his innocence, but they did have him fight in wars, kill men, and witness horrible things. Yet watching him smile made them make up their minds, they will be sending him somewhere in hopes he might find something more than just a life of combat. They began asking him about his different likes as they realized that he has little things he liked to do other than read, learn magic, and explore. At first, they were worried that they couldn't do much until they thought about sending him to a magical institution to learn from. Some knew a few places, however, some thought that Desmond had what it took to attempt to join Ersand'Enise.

Once Desmond made it to Ersand'Enise he had to show his stuff as a mage. Here he showed the skills that he had cultivated for the near past decade, he wasn't a shoo-in to make it, however, through his skills and dedication, he barely slipped by and entered Ersand'Enise. Upon entering the school, Desmond has kept his nose out of most affairs, mostly doing his own thing and living life as he chooses: Learning magic, reading, and roaming around when he can. It seems, however, with the school starting to stir, he's going to be finding himself into trouble again.







Desmond finally understood something after a year of otherworldly encounters, Life has no purpose. And he has accepted, that life doesn't need a purpose, in this world someone shouldn't live their life in accordance with some false idea of fate. One should live their life however they choose, and for Desmond, his motivation to live his life like this is to give this same choice to many others.

In a world full of monsters, demons, otherworldly forces, and even fellow men controlling the world, many are unable to make even a simple choice on how to live their own life, and Desmond wishes to fix that, by any means necessary.








- Color Code: Gold
- His hair is kept down because he was called cute once because of it, didn't know how to feel about it, and never changed it since he will normally keep it exactly as is. Because of this, he has become a good barber for himself and others.
- He is a good cook, this came out of the need to survive than anything else, everyone else in his 'family' creates war crimes and call it food.
- Desmond likes animals with his favorites being cats, he isn't fond of dogs as they bring up bad memories.
- His last name is Catulus as he has no last name he remembers, they gave him the last name Catulus as it means whelp.

❖ Money- Desmond started off with quite a bit of money, enough to set himself up for some time without much worry, and enough to allow him to experiment and tinker, but not enough to allow him too much more. Yet as when he had taken up the mission set by Hugo, he gained quite a bit more to the point where he had gained enough to now be very well set for him to continue to go to Ersand'Enise for 2 more years and still be well set.

---

---

Arcane- 1 Level

Magnetic- 1 Level

Kinetic- 2 Levels*

Chemical- 1 Level

Binding- 0 Levels

*(Desmond was given an additional level in Kinetic from his years of experience in actual combat so he started with 5 points)

---

Chemical- + 1 Level



Kinetic- + 1 Level
Chemical- + 1 level



Magnetic- + 1 Level
Binding- + 1 level

This is stuff for Desmond not only to explain his skills in combat but also to help me write and figure out how he would fight in different situations.














This is for when he is out of mana, ammunition, his weapons are broken, and he is left exhausted.

”Marriage, warfare, politics, can’t a girl be left alone?”

While worried about her family and their situation while she’s been sent away, Wvysen figures the best she can do for them at the moment would be to make the most of her opportunity and take the time to learn. She keeps herself content and upbeat, a façade she’s loathe to let drop, only falling when she’s engrossed in a task, or while she tosses and turns in her sleep. Perhaps not the best way to handle her problems, but one she’s decided to use, nonetheless. In short, the mask only drops when she doesn’t need to fake a good mood, or when she sleeps, and rarely else.

Her family’s position is not all there is to her, though. In truth, she’d prefer to remain as divorced as possible from the realm of politics, and be allowed to simply research magic. With the predictable and consistent nature of magic, she could spend her whole life looking into the correlations between the types, and the process by which it worked, and die content. While she’s learned a few things perhaps not too widely known, Wvysen is aware of how much she does not know, and plans to look into. Be it Chemical, Arcane, or even Temporal, she’s sure that there are concepts that can be brought over and applied between schools. After all, the nature of the gods is separate, but friendly, right? Why wouldn’t that apply to the five schools of magic?


Standing at 163 cm, Wvysen is neither terribly soft, nor terribly athletic, used to exercise, but never focused on it. Wvysen’s fashion is simple, but not plain. A red coat, with a brown button up blouse, white undershirt, and red bow on top, with a knee-length black skirt, stockings, and simple shoes on the bottom. While those aren’t her only clothes, those are the ones she prefers, only changing on the rare whim, or when there’s a pragmatic reason to swap.

She clearly takes good care of herself, between her smooth and silky hair, and clear skin. She prefers to either put her tail in two twintails, or allow it to mostly hang loose, with two smaller twintails hanging in front of her, reaching down about midway down her back either way. While there’s no real one feature that defines Wvysen, if she decided to do her hair up differently, go a day without her glasses, and walk about in a different outfit, one would not be faulted for not realizing exactly who she was. While she could be described as quite pretty, nothing about her is particularly notable. No birthmarks or scars, the oddest thing about her would be her fingers, showing her frequent use of them while she tinkers, perhaps a rather unexpected trait for the mage.


Avincian – Passable
Revidian – Fluent
Arsican – Fluent
Perrench – Near-Fluent


With an above average RAS of 6.977, Wvysen is just under the threshold of hitting that esteemed 7, something she is both annoyed about, and grateful for. On the one hand, being just under 7 was a bit annoying. On the other hand, she would prefer not to be eligible for the Legion of the Sacred Flame. With a natural aptitude in Binding magic, it may be a surprise to hear that it’s the class of magic she’s least interested in, instead choosing to focus her efforts primarily on Kinetic magic.

One trick that Wvysen discovered, and enjoys keeping to herself, is a quite reliable way to refill herself on magic when she pleases. That being the kinetic energy all around her: Gravity. Drawing kinetic energy from a projectile and letting it fall harmlessly to the ground is the basic of defending oneself with Kinetic magic, why let it fall at all? Gravity constantly pulls an object down. Thus, it can be drawn from for a consistent source of energy. Expanding on that little trick, it would be no surprise that Wvysen has a particular knack for telekinesis, drawing and giving objects energy as she pleases to shove them about, tending more towards precision than power. Though the subtleties of manipulating sounds escapes her at present, her control is impressive enough to have a grasp on liquids and gasses, and a lesser grasp on solids.

Contrasting her control over the finer points of kinetic magic, her secondary school of Magnetic is significantly more rudimentary. Initially looking into the school of magic both as one of the specialties of her teacher, and as a possible field that could assist her in other ways, Wvysen has yet to get too far into the school. At present, her progress is limited to the basics of manipulating a positive or negative charge into a target, attracting and repelling those charges, and… curiously, grounding for the specific purpose of repulse. She doesn’t much like the idea of chemical magic being able to manipulate her body, and as such, learning a defense against that seemed like a wise choice once she heard of it.



Daughter of the Arsican marquis, Wvysen’s life was neither coddled nor terribly rough. A middle child, having an older brother and younger sister, the title wouldn’t immediately pass to Wvysen in the case of her parents’ death, but as a daughter, Wvysen is well aware of what her own typical role would be, and it’s one she’s not terribly enthusiastic about. Arsica being in the middle of Redivia as it is, the position is a tenuous one diplomatically, with both Perrence and Redivia wanting it for themselves, and a marquis’ duty is as important as ever.

Arsica is a rather odd place, Perrencian to be sure, but surrounded completely by Redivia, and the control over the territory only shifting in the past few centuries, it’s inevitable for the territory to be a mixture of the two cultures, leading to Wvysen’s command over the local dialect, the common tongue of the nobles, and both Redivian and Perrench. While perhaps neither the people nor the nobles have a particular urge for war, the territory of Perrence being in the midst of Redivia is an eyesore for the dominant coastal force, and almost a smug acquisition for the Wolf that was Perrence, and the tension is an undeniable scent on the wind.

Wvysen’s potential was discovered rather early in her life, and while schooling was a bit difficult to obtain in her family’s territory, it wasn’t impossible. And as such, her childhood was busy; A mixture of the duties of a noble and a marquis, on top of honing her skills as a potential future mage. This left, however, not much time for the more pragmatic skills, or even social ones, past those required for diplomacy. A lonely childhood, Wvysen didn’t mind much, seeing it as merely her duty, and never much craving friendship. While nothing tremendous, her skills were undoubtedly to the point that she would be sent to Ersand’Enise eventually, and sent away she was, before things got too politically tempestuous.



Somewhat overwhelmed by the freedom afforded by the school, Wvysen is quite interested in learning what she can of her Gift. While her primary focus is in Kinetic, followed by a secondary in Magnetic, Wvysen is curious about what she can learn from all of the schools. And while knowing rationally that temporal magic is nothing more than a myth, there’s some part of Wvysen deep down that’s still curious as to whether something as fundamental as moments passing can be harnessed for magic.

When it comes to the future, Wvysen is rather uncertain of her plans. Her older brother is likely to inherit the marquis title, and while she fully expects herself and her sister to be the latest in a long history of political marriages throughout the realm, it’s not something she looks forward to. Truth be told, her ideal life would be being left alone to research and learn. However, she’s aware of the rather tempestuous political circumstances of her family, and worries about them while she’s safely away, and has resigned herself to the fact that her desires will likely be consumed by her duties.



-Clockwork Collection: Wvysen’s personal hobby, she has a fascination with Kerremand’s mechanical contraptions, and it’s no surprise that she’d bring it with her to school. From windup toys, to clocks and pocket watches, you can almost always find Wvysen either tinkering with one, or with one nearby.

-Pocket Wvytch (Pronounced ‘Votch’): A particular matter of pride for Wvysen, and the most common object kept on her. It’s value is more sentimental than valuable, being a watch crafted by Wvysen after dissembling and reassembling clockwork throughout her youth, tinkered with and improved through the years. A silver pocket watch, with the face of the watch having the symbol of her house engraved in the background, and the back, a meaningless, but intricate symbol on the back, meant to invoke a feel of supernatural mystery than actually do anything. Besides the standard functions of a watch, she likes to use it as a focus for her Gift. While unnecessary for her casting, it’s a comfort for her to use, due to her near total knowledge of the properties of it, making it a reliable source of energy to draw a consistent amount from in certain fashions.

-Glasses: While the lens do serve as minor vision correction from a distance, Wvysen is more than capable of functioning without them. That said, she does like them, believing them to add a bit of ‘cute’ flair to her outfit. Curiously, they seem to be made of an odd crystal rather than glass, reflecting more akin to a prism than glass, but they still function as glasses.








Faceclaim is Rin. Source for artwork: https://twitter.com/xtango3/status/1381026512988594176?s=20&t=7t3vppN9KMDwUuxhT_YSng

Curiously, while she holds a fear of chemical users manipulating the processes in her body, she has a passing interest in the concepts of meditation and mesmerism, one that might develop further should a reason come up to.
Text color: #a3183b

❖ [ Proud ]
❖ [ Hard working ]
❖ [ Stingy ]
❖ [ Direct ]
❖ [ Pragmatic ] [ Overly caring ]

In many ways, Dorothea is a typical young noblewoman from Feska: proud, practical, and driven by profit. She isn’t afraid to put in the work to get the results, but she very much expects the results. While she comes across as quite a diligent learner, she doesn’t study for the joy of it but rather with a specific set of goals in mind.

Profit is king in Feska and she hopes to increase her family’s margins through the use of advanced magical techniques learned at the Academy. Raised in such an environment, Dorothea can’t help but be quite stingy, despite her considerable wealth. She finds that this often comes into conflict with the mandate she has been given by her domineering mother and great aunt.

While at the school, she is to socialize and make connections with other young nobles whose families might make worthwhile allies. The issue is that Dorothea isn’t much of a socializer. The fine speech of a noblewoman is lost upon her for the most part. Summers out in the paddies with her father have equipped her with the blunt and direct speech of a Spratzfreiherr. She knows this and will often hold her thoughts close, not voicing them for fear of sounding rude or provincial. This can unintentionally lead to her coming across as rather cold and aloof.

After the events of Lorintine Queen, Dorothea has opened up quite a bit to a closed circle. She is rather more friendly than how she was upon arriving at Ersand’Enise. This might become quite the hassle once coming back to Feska.



As a very Mercantile nation and to the request of her mother, Dory learned all the languages of Dami’s eye. She still has a great many languages she wishes to learn.

Kerreman (Feskan) - Fluent.
Avincian - Fluent.
Perrench - Near-Fluent.
Kressian - Semi-Fluent.
Yasoi - Passable.
Revidian - Currently studying, only got the hang of a few words.

Languages to learn: Torragonese, Different Yasoi dialects, Enthish, Joruban, Virangish, Eskandr.


❖ Countess of the Hohnstein lands
❖ Spratzmuffin
❖ Dory



With her long, chestnut brown hair and bright blue-green eyes, Dorothea is rather pretty and her family knows it. While she isn’t an exceptional beauty, she’s certainly what her mother and aunts would refer to as… marriageable. Seventeen years of age and very much not a child, she stands slightly above average height, with a light, healthy complexion and a face that settles best on a slight smile that belies the distance she usually keeps with other people. Her hands are surprisingly rough for those of a noblewoman, legacy of plenty of tree-climbing and root-pulling as a rather rambunctious child. She usually keeps them covered in elbow-length gloves.

Her clothing choices are what one might expect of a middling Feskan noble. Dorothea’s hair is partially tied back in a nod to practicality and an otter fur shawl covers her shoulders. She wears a necklace with a carnelian centerpiece, passed down through seven generations on her mother’s side of the family. The only thing that stands out is the white dress that she is fond of and often wears. That is a boast. Feska is an almost unnaturally muddy place. The sons and daughters of spratzfreiherrs are expected to direct their fieldworkers. Wearing white sends a message that she is not one to work in the fields, that her family’s status is higher than that.

Of course, there are nods to practicality too: her dress is only mid-shin length and she can most often be found wearing a pair of sturdy leather boots unless attending some function that requires more formal wear.



Seeing as Dorothea’s family never really put a focus on magic, her prowess with her average abilities are on a rather novice level. Her family never expected her to be a prodigy with magic but her father did support her cause of trying to find ways to discover magic that will help the crop growth as a way to solidify her position as his heir as family head.

One of the main helping hands he gave her was enough funds to buy her way into Ersand’Ernise despite her lackluster magic potential.

Seeing as her main goal is to find techniques to improve on crop growth, her main two schools of magic were selected as Arcane and Chemical as she saw this as the best way to discover what she was looking for. Her RAS has increased quite some bit and so has her output in terms of effective magic.
Magnetic: Novice: A required school to continue in the ways of a magusjaeger

Arcane: Journeyman: A school she feels comfortable with, although Illusions are still somewhat awkward for her, she has started to master the other sections of the school

Chemical: Journeyman: The magic she has most aptitude with strangely enough. Most of her study has been focused on the internal, incapacitating people with quite the ease. If she focused on it more she might even be adept with it rather quickly.

Dark: Adept: After certain events Dory has gotten more adept at using Dark magic.

Kinetic: adept: A new favorite. Proved to be quite useful to her in the most dire situations.

The Mark of Clairmont:

details [+]

An advanced Blood Magic Curse that increases drawing and containment inefficiency, but in turn amplifies cold-based Arcane abilities. The cursed will feel easily cold in areas that aren't explicitly hotter than average.

This mark has pushed the girl into pursuing more of the colder aspects of Arcane.



Blood types: Blackblood

Unique skill: The Devil's Embrace Through her connection with the crown she has gained the ability to be a intermediary for granting it's wishes.









Born from a family that strives for past glories to return to them. Dorothea was already groomed for greatness from the moment of her birth. She would have to fit in one of two molds and shall learn them both. The girl would either be a proper noblewoman that will marry someone with influence in the eyes of her mother and aunt or she would succeed her father and become the family head.

This has not come without criticisms from the branch families as they were not pleased at the thought of a woman being the family head. Yet the girl is determined to follow in her father's footsteps and surpass her ancestors, bringing back glory to the Hohnsteins.



One of the main factors she wanted to focus on during her time in the school was to try and advance her knowledge of arcane magic to help her family’s export of the Spratzpepper. House Hohnstein was once considered the sixth great house of Feska, and aims to be so again. That will require some growth in their fortune, and this is often foremost in Dorothea’s mind.

Her newly acquired interest in chemical magic has kept her very intrigued in the lessons, although most of her thoughts are on how it could help improve her family’s crop yield.

Although her goal remains the same, new friendships have gotten her to think less and less of her goals only to have it replaced by thoughts about her new friends.
Own interest:
❖ Make more friends.
❖ Improve baking skills further.
❖ Investigate Marceline.
❖ Keep an eye on Manfred.
❖ Test what the strange device can do.

Political:
❖ Discover more about her heritage.
❖ Talk to the Queens of Kerremand and Huulendam
❖ Make more contacts for trade.
❖ Rule over Feska and make it thrive for all, not just the nobles.
❖ Look for potential allies.


❖ 24HP




❖ Books on growing crops.
❖ Hohnsteiner Licht - A ornate flintlock pistol passed down the family, it never truly got a name although Dory claims this was the title and not something she made up herself..
❖ Small boxes of baked goods to give to friends.
❖ A book with written down recipes.
❖ A cloak made from her first hunt kill.
❖ one strange device that looks like it has a small black glass window.
❖ cinnamon-brandaeble cider recipe.
❖ The Tale of the Laughing Knight:
❖ Lord of the Mosquitoes: a musical box that emits a sound that draws all mosquitoes and many biting insects within a hundred yard bubble.
❖ Clairmont’s Cracked Broach:
❖ A high-quality pair of glasses, runically imbued: allows one to see in ultraviolet and infrared, as well as true yellow. They focus light and allow for night vision.!
❖ A master crafted shamisen from Nikan.

❖ Cufflinks of the Suave Demon - +5 for any social interaction that requires rolls









❖ A 10 year paid VIP visa to Luuntiil, combined with an already rented private property.

❖ Yuri's sampler













❖ Mrac: An Albino Schluckodil

❖ Brünhild: Diamondscale Thresher.
Her dear little protector, Dory's notes from the Eeaiko during the trials have given her some idea how to raise it as a mount

❖ Spritzen: Drudgunzean Gold Thresher.
Her dear little alpha speedster, Dory's notes from the Eeaiko during the trials have given her some idea how to raise it as a mount

❖ A more or less trained brandtudse named Alf - he’s very cuddly, I promise. May eat small creatures. May be slimy. May be intensely loyal. Slime may have hallucinogenic effects.

❖ A Lionbear: Ferocious, adolescent bear found in southern Constantia with particularly thick fur. Few have been able to fully tame these, although their massive build makes them effective mounts. Their kinetic strikes are strong enough to harm big dragons.



Tier 4:
Gargoyle demons

❖ Zabarchazad
❖ Arisztaxa

Tier 3:

Gargoyle demons

❖ Simbarids
❖ Gorganchack
❖ Dandrouyo
❖ Kalifenni
❖ Dexoria
❖ Allanayax

Hellpups

❖ Floofles



❖ Agricultural knowledge: As a Spratzfreiherr, Dorothea needs to know about agriculture as it’s essential to her family’s success and further strife.
❖ Through quite a couple familial disputes, the girl got used to dueling and thus refuses to leave it behind just in case.
❖ Usually sees potential opportunities in her favor.
❖ Good situational awareness from protecting the crop from thieves and animals.
❖ Strong swimmer: befits someone who lives on a houseboat.
❖ A very good baker: Her skills with sweet delicacies are no laughing matter for she could make the most stoic of men smile from the taste of her baked goods.
❖ Picks up languages quite well: Due to the focus on being taught languages, the Feskan is now able to pick up bridges between languages, getting a feeling for them rather quickly.



❖ Too occupied with her family business at times.
❖ way too trusting of a person.
❖ impatient.
❖ Rather average knowledge and potential in magic.
❖ Can get too excited.
❖ Has a hard time acting in a formal manner for a long period of time.