It's Blizz! Hi Blizz.
1 Guest
viewing this page
[OOC] Avalia Page 6
- Romance
- Large Group
- Fantasy
- Casual
- 18+
- GM princess Co-GM Alivefalling Co-GM Tae
Join Status:
Full
CitrusArms Space Spatula
Member
Online
Blizz Grand Chancellor Supreme of the Wizard Council
Member
Seen
1 day ago
Yo
GM
I just found this and it sounds really neat.
I just started reading but you had me at lightning magic.
When I read through everything else I might consider a character if that's okay, I haven't done proper fantasy in a hot minute
Hi! Sure you can apply.
Blizz Grand Chancellor Supreme of the Wizard Council
Member
Seen
1 day ago
Isolde Ryder Ф 26 Ф Female - She|Her Ф Human
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Appearance
Height
5"7'
Weight
178lb
Hair Color
Black
Eye Color
Teal
Skin Tone
Pale, without any tan
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Psychology
Likes
Stormy weather
Books
Coffee
Electrokinesis
Freedom
Books
Coffee
Electrokinesis
Freedom
Dislikes
Hot weather
Bugs
Backstabbers
Authority figures
Defeat
Bugs
Backstabbers
Authority figures
Defeat
Fears
Weakness
Helplessness
Going home
Helplessness
Going home
Sexuality
Bisexual...probably
Personality
Around others, Isolde keeps her head up and level, opting not to let on regarding anything she doesn't need to. Sometimes she feels like keeping to herself to spend her time more effectively, other times she appreciates the value or outright need for working with others. Isoldes tends to hang around a select few people and make them her people, looking out for them a touch more than she would the rest. In this sense, Isolde plays favorites with the people in her social circles, but then again, who wouldn't? Depending on which side of the line you end up on, Isolde can be either moderately focused on herself or a ride-or-die loyal friend who would tear the sky open and unleash all manners of hell and fury to bail you out of a bad situation. Isolde has ambitions to grow her own power as much as she can, and she expects others to treat themselves like they deserve to as well, so she believes there is no excuse for giving up and going out quietly when you can save yourself or be saved by someone who has your back.
In more tense situations, Isolde does one of two things' Either she walks face first into it like she's crazy, or she sits back and thinks about what to do when others are with her. Isolde might have a brash and bold streak, but she isn't stupid. She has a decent enough reaction to time to most things that can be zapped, though there is a small part of her that shakes and hesitates when something serious happens, like a fight to the death. What spurs Isolde along in these moments of fear is her own emotions; Something inside of her is constantly screaming, "You've come this far, don't fucking die yet, damn you." Isolde refuses to back down and show any kind of weakness that could get her killed, or cause someone to turn their back on her, even if it comes with the risk of her own wellbeing.
Isolde likes to plan out her endeavors before enacting them. A true wizard thinks before she acts, after all. Isolde is no Lisa Wilbourne, but she knows how to think through tough problems and come to "acceptable" conclusions with a proper plan. This doesn't always involve other people, as she isn't the most leader-like person. Her people skills end and begin with the average person's ability to talk to people. As far the ability to lift up a crowd goes, Isolde's actions outshine her sense of humor. Honestly, she hasn't had a good laugh in the last year or two. Isolde can go from cool and mellowed out to raging like a hurricane at the drop of a hat; One moment, she's staring at the clouds while lying in the grass over the plains southwest of Roshmi, the next, she's reveling in a storm powerful enough to knock God out of his bed at night, just to kick back and spend the rest of the day staring out into the clouds peacefully with a cup of climelo tea. Where that energy comes from is anyone's guess.
In more tense situations, Isolde does one of two things' Either she walks face first into it like she's crazy, or she sits back and thinks about what to do when others are with her. Isolde might have a brash and bold streak, but she isn't stupid. She has a decent enough reaction to time to most things that can be zapped, though there is a small part of her that shakes and hesitates when something serious happens, like a fight to the death. What spurs Isolde along in these moments of fear is her own emotions; Something inside of her is constantly screaming, "You've come this far, don't fucking die yet, damn you." Isolde refuses to back down and show any kind of weakness that could get her killed, or cause someone to turn their back on her, even if it comes with the risk of her own wellbeing.
Isolde likes to plan out her endeavors before enacting them. A true wizard thinks before she acts, after all. Isolde is no Lisa Wilbourne, but she knows how to think through tough problems and come to "acceptable" conclusions with a proper plan. This doesn't always involve other people, as she isn't the most leader-like person. Her people skills end and begin with the average person's ability to talk to people. As far the ability to lift up a crowd goes, Isolde's actions outshine her sense of humor. Honestly, she hasn't had a good laugh in the last year or two. Isolde can go from cool and mellowed out to raging like a hurricane at the drop of a hat; One moment, she's staring at the clouds while lying in the grass over the plains southwest of Roshmi, the next, she's reveling in a storm powerful enough to knock God out of his bed at night, just to kick back and spend the rest of the day staring out into the clouds peacefully with a cup of climelo tea. Where that energy comes from is anyone's guess.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Background
Occupation
College Student before Avalia
Living Immediate Family Members
Carla Ryder - Mother
Dead Immediate Family Members
Shawn Ryder - Father
Current Companions
N/A
Current and Past Lover(s)
N/A
History
Isolde’s life was not something she wanted. For most of it, things were normal up until a few months after her 17th birthday when her father was killed in a car crash. She and her mother had to move on, but ultimately, it was only Isolde who got on with her life. Her mother never recovered from it, and began taking her grief out on the girl. What used to be an insignificant story of a family became an only child and a depressed, abusive mother who Isolde took to distancing herself from.
Two years had passed since then, and Isolde’s life had effectively gone to the dead end of her working a minimum wage job and studying for a 2-year degree in a major she doesn’t even care to remember the name of, just to go home to a toxic parent who couldn’t get over her own emotional pain. She had nothing going for her. She struggled to pay for her classes, her mother was teetering on the edge of alcoholism, and she barely found the time between anything to just live. Something had to give, and to her surprise, something did.
Isolde had been on break at her job when a rift to Avalia opened underneath her. She fell through, and she refuses to ever go home again.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Combat and Magic
Strength
6
Speed on Land
7
Speed in Air
0
Magical Ability
2 (Human start?)
Dexterity
6
Weapon Proficiency
3
Stealth
1
Ability on Avalia
Electrokinesis
2x Like
GingerBoi123
Member
Seen
4 mos ago
Bron Emberguard ⋆ 162 ⋆ Male ⋆ Dwarf
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Appearance
Height:
4ft 10"
Weight:
235 lbs
Hair Color:
Auburn like a forge's fire
Eye Color:
Piercing Green
Skin Tone:
Sienna
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Psychology
Likes:
⋆ The Wilderness
* Exploring
⋆ Privacy
⋆ The sound of falling rain
* The warmth of fire
* Honourable fights
* Exploring
⋆ Privacy
⋆ The sound of falling rain
* The warmth of fire
* Honourable fights
Dislikes:
⋆ Bustling crowds
⋆ Disrespect
⋆ Naivety
* Senseless violence
⋆ Disrespect
⋆ Naivety
* Senseless violence
Fears:
⋆ Losing his senses
⋆ Imprisonment
⋆ The new King and Queen of the Dark Elves
⋆ Imprisonment
⋆ The new King and Queen of the Dark Elves
Sexuality:
Bisexual
Personality:
Unlike most Dwarves, Bron Emberguard prefers a much more solitary life and would much rather enjoy the sun's rays beaming through a forest's canopy alone than in the middle of a rambunctious tavern hall. Though he does not necessarily dislike conversation or companionship, the young Dwarf seems handcrafted for the life of a Ranger. Tasked with safeguarding the wilds below the mountain trails, Bron takes it upon himself not just to thwart any potential scouts looking for weak points, but also to protect the balance and safety of the creatures that have inhabited the forests long before Bron was born and will stay long after. Although he would do it with few words, Bron is not afraid to leap into action to save and protect any creature or person in need. He holds his duty to protect Ironhold's borders very highly.
The Ranger is calm and calculated in most situations, always striving to keep his head in most situations. He takes time to plot his course ahead, especially if he needs to get somewhere quickly, before executing his plan to the best of his ability. Afterall, one wrong step in the mountains or trees could mean an embarrassing, lonely death. His senses has been sharpened to fit the Wilds surrounding him, and in battle he fights with cold ferocity and unfettered tenacity when the need arises. While he believes that a fight should be avoided, he'd be hard-pressed to say he disliked the adrenaline of combat.
Bron's knowledge of surviving the wilds and wayfinding is practically second to none, as long as it is solid ground Bron is comfortable in almost any kind of environment. He may not be rushing to the sea, but he's comfortable at the helm of small rowing or sailboats to traverse rivers and lakes. However, due to spending so much time alone, his conservational skills could be considered lacking to say the least. He doesn't usually like to waste time with long-winded instructions and explanations when there's a job to be done. However, he's happy to lend an ear when he feels the time is appropriate. He'd rather raise a mug to other's sagas or give a small smirk and chuckle to their tales than to share his own.
The Ranger is calm and calculated in most situations, always striving to keep his head in most situations. He takes time to plot his course ahead, especially if he needs to get somewhere quickly, before executing his plan to the best of his ability. Afterall, one wrong step in the mountains or trees could mean an embarrassing, lonely death. His senses has been sharpened to fit the Wilds surrounding him, and in battle he fights with cold ferocity and unfettered tenacity when the need arises. While he believes that a fight should be avoided, he'd be hard-pressed to say he disliked the adrenaline of combat.
Bron's knowledge of surviving the wilds and wayfinding is practically second to none, as long as it is solid ground Bron is comfortable in almost any kind of environment. He may not be rushing to the sea, but he's comfortable at the helm of small rowing or sailboats to traverse rivers and lakes. However, due to spending so much time alone, his conservational skills could be considered lacking to say the least. He doesn't usually like to waste time with long-winded instructions and explanations when there's a job to be done. However, he's happy to lend an ear when he feels the time is appropriate. He'd rather raise a mug to other's sagas or give a small smirk and chuckle to their tales than to share his own.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Background
Occupation
Ironhold Ranger
Living Immediate Family Members:
Kraz and Freyr Emberguard, Father and Mother
Myra Emberguard, Grandmother
Myra Emberguard, Grandmother
Dead Immediate Family Members:
Mjoln Emberguard, Grandfather
Tolvur Emberguard, Brother
Tolvur Emberguard, Brother
Current Companions:
None
Current and Past Lover(s):
Velyr Oathshield, past
History:
Brom was born in the mountains and grew up in Ironhold, his Father a hardworking Miner and his mother an Inventor. Eventually they had a second child and Brom became very protective of his younger brother Tolvur. They grew up together, only a few years apart in age, and were almost inseperable. Tolvur actually became quite outgoing and became the one to drag Brom along to social events much to his chagrin. Though truthfully, it was kind of nice. When they were old enough, Brom and Tolvur were tasked with delivering some ore outside of Ironhold for some trading. This was Brom's first true experience outside the walls of the Mountains and he was instantly hooked.
When they returned, Brom started to spend more time with the Ranger's as his interest grew. He enlisted as soon as he could and begun training straight away. He learnt all the skills he needed to tend to the borders, as well as how to move, hunt, track and fight. Meanwhile, Tolvur became a Miner alongside his father. However, there was a freak cave-in and the rubble had collapsed on Tolvur as he pushed Kraz out of the way to safety. The death hit the entire family hard, but Brom the most. Without Tolvur, he secluded himself more and his isolated tendencies grew.
Still, Brom vowed to become a skilled Ranger to honour his brother. He has become a stalwart protector of the border but now he is tasked with a new mission. With the death of the royal family's Prince, King Brolmyr has sent word to his best Rangers to go forth and assist the Light Elves and Princess Annya in their endeavour to stop the threat of the Dark Elves' new King and Queen. The murders were harrowing to watch... but as he steps forth once more, Brom will tighten his grip around his axes and march forward to new horizons.
When they returned, Brom started to spend more time with the Ranger's as his interest grew. He enlisted as soon as he could and begun training straight away. He learnt all the skills he needed to tend to the borders, as well as how to move, hunt, track and fight. Meanwhile, Tolvur became a Miner alongside his father. However, there was a freak cave-in and the rubble had collapsed on Tolvur as he pushed Kraz out of the way to safety. The death hit the entire family hard, but Brom the most. Without Tolvur, he secluded himself more and his isolated tendencies grew.
Still, Brom vowed to become a skilled Ranger to honour his brother. He has become a stalwart protector of the border but now he is tasked with a new mission. With the death of the royal family's Prince, King Brolmyr has sent word to his best Rangers to go forth and assist the Light Elves and Princess Annya in their endeavour to stop the threat of the Dark Elves' new King and Queen. The murders were harrowing to watch... but as he steps forth once more, Brom will tighten his grip around his axes and march forward to new horizons.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Combat and Magic:
Strength: 8
Speed on Land: 7
Speed in Air: 0
Magical Ability: 0
Dexterity: 7
Weapon Proficiency: 7
Stealth: 6
Lava Alckon
Member
Seen
23 days ago
Bardulf Siegfried ⋆ 32 ⋆ Male ⋆ Human
Appearance
Bardulf is a simple man, with not much in the way of "flair" in his attire aside from some trophies adorned across his necklace from his bigger kills as a huntsman. His face can be stoic, but get the man talking and you'll learn he has some expressions to show. He usually slouches, leans, or sits whenever he is in public, as he tends to try and "hide in plain sight" by habit. All of his hair is slightly unkept, but still clean, with a slightly wavy texture to it. His body has a few scars from his time hunting, and his hands and feet are rough and calloused. His diet gives him a filled out physique, but his job makes sure to keep him in shape, giving him defined muscles but not on any exaggerated level like a body builder or professional athlete. His body overall is rather slim, yet still packs enough power to surprise any potential rivals of his. His voice is surprisingly calm, with a tenor-level rumbling present as he speaks most of the time, disregarding when he raises his voice.
Height:
5'11"
Weight:
175 lbs
Hair Color:
Brown
Eye Color:
Purple
Skin Tone:
Moderate tan
Psychology
Likes:
⋆ Nature, whether its land, animals, and even plant life
⋆ Woodcarving/carpentry
⋆ Hunting/Tracking
⋆ Sight-seeing
⋆ Sneaking/hiding (if alone)
⋆ Giving back to others
⋆ Practicing his spear-work
Dislikes:
⋆ Needless killing
⋆ Large parties, particularly fancier ones
⋆ Nagging/judging
⋆ Climbing
⋆ Feeling useless
Fears:
⋆ Losing his family for good
⋆ Growing old
⋆ Starving
⋆ Heights (mainly falling)
Sexuality:
Bisexual
Personality
Bardulf growing up was never much of a social creature, treading the line of being a hermit in some cases. However, with the help of his family, he was encouraged to break out of his usual cold-seeming shell and socialize with those around him. Nowadays he tries to be social, but always finds himself looking for brief moments of solitude to clear his head and think to himself for a time.
Despite this colder demeanor, Bardulf does care about others, even if he might not always be the greatest at expressing it. When given the chance, he likes to provide what he can, whether in the form of being an ear to listen to, or some form of physical favor. His blunt nature does not rub well with others at times, but in time he's begun to learn a little subtley with his words. So while he may seem rude, he does mean the best.
Bardulf lends himself to a more level-headed style of thinking, trusting his base instincts to move himself before he can think sometimes. Being a man of the woods, it was often those who acted first that would win any struggle. He has faced down several larger creatures, bordering on ludicrous with some of his hunts, but he always takes care to never "bite off more than he can chew". His more cautious side tends to show when he is with others, but alone he will often act curious, wander, explore, and follow his whims. He remains calm in most scenarios but is fierce when it comes to protecting someone he likes, refusing to let himself hesistate and cause any loss.
This is all true for when he is in his own element, out in the woods, hunting. However in a more urban setting, Bardulf is much more vulnerable than he would seem. Still leaning towards the quiet side, he can be rather anxious to approach at first. He treats most situations with extreme caution as to not be labeled some kind of social outcast.
Bardulf has a surface level of practical things, and has begun to branch into a more people-oriented knowledge, but still has a lot to learn in the ways of speech. What levels of charisma he has does not stem from his mouth, rather from his actions and what he can do for someone rather than what he can tell them. In spite of this, he does enjoy a good joke, and will not pause to let out a muted chuckle if someone were to deliver a good line to him, even if it may be on the harsher side. He believes that he should remain calm and keep his voice soothing, so he tries to keep a low-level of enthusiasm as to not "scare" anyone he is interacting with.
Background
Occupation:
Gamesman, mainly hunted for his immediate family as a primary food source
Living Immediate Family Members:
His daughter, Nathalie (age 11) and mother, Ella, (age 52) still live in the German countryside, circa 1560.
Dead Immediate Family Members:
His wife died in a tragic accident when she was 32, and his father, at age 55, succumbed to a sudden and strong sickness, later determined to be the flu.
Current Companions:
None, but has been thinking of finding an animal companion
Current and Past Lover(s):
His wife, Kristine Siegfried.
History
Bardulf grew up in the countryside, born in the year 1528 into a small village that resided in the eastern half of Germany. His father hunted game for the villagers and his mother is seemstress that repairs fabrics and sews clothing for the younger children in town. Bardulf didn't make enemies with the other kids, but he wasn't adept at making friends either. He mostly kept to himself, hiding in far off places, even so far as walking along the treeline rather than play with the other kids.
His father,Gregor Siegfried, took it upon himself to show the boy some skills so that, come adulthood, he wasn't seen as some sort of "mooch" on the townsfolk. He taught Bardulf how to hunt, carve and make weapons (speficially spears and bows), as well as how to track down prey. His father always stressed a few key points and lessons to the young boy as he showed him the dangers of the woods that Bardulf so readily approached at such an early stage in his life. Bardulf learned about the balance of nature, and was told to only hunt what was needed. No more, no less. He discovered the dangers of the forests, from the large obvious threats to much smaller, conspicious dangers.
Taking these lessons to heart, Bardulf perfected his hunting skills during his teenage years, to where he could match his fathers level of professionalism, though some would say it helped that Gregor was beginnig to age away from his prime. As he grew older, Bardulf's mother would take her own role in guiding the young adult towards a more promising social life. He showed him some finer clothes, and would often invite him to come along to social outings so he could experience the bustling activities within the village rather than "staying hidden away in the woods day and night". Bardulf begrudginly followed along his mothers examples, and would improve himself bit by bit. This would later help him meet and eventually marry his future wife, Kristine, who he met by the age of 16. They crossed paths at a festival held in the center of town and as if it was meant to be the two talked practically every day until nightfall.
After a few years of this, Baldur learned to open himself up more to others, especially Kristine. By the age of 20, Baldur had resigned himself to spend the rest of his life with his soon to be bride. As a test of his ability to start and provide for a family, he built his own house in the nearby woods, still holding onto his own tendencies of isolation, but wanting to stay close enough so the village was a short walk away. Within the next couple of years, he and Kristine had a cabin in the forest to call their own, with a baby girl on the way. For the next decade, the two regularly stopped into town, traded the meat hunted by Bardulf and some pottery that Kristine would make in her free time. An honest living, just the way Bardulf was raised and the way he enjoyed.
It wasn't until Bardulf turned 32 that he would see his first personal tragedy. He had witnessed deaths before, both animal and human alike. But seeing his father slowly pass on due to an illness that no one could cure proved to be damaging to the man. However, with the support of Kristine, he found the strengh to honor his father's memory and began to provide for both his wife, daughter, and now mother.
Then, in a twisted turn of fate, Bardulf would face another test of will. This particular night, the game he had hunted took longer to trade than normal, as well as the pots Kristine had made throughout the week. As night fell, Bardulf, Kristine, and Nathalie began to make their way back to the cabin, when Bardulf felt a chill run down his spine. Just outside their cabin door, one of the largest bears he had ever seen had wandered by, and its gaze turned towards the family. It all had happened so fast. Bardulf remembers it all in a blur, an exchange of claws, and his trusty halberd. But one slip up was all it took for the bear to strike the man and have him at the animal's mercy. His wife couldn't watch any longer, and did her best to intervene, and ultimately was struck and killed by the bear before Bardulf's eyes. In a last ditch fit of rage, the man picked up his weapon and managed to strike the animal under its neck, causing it to flee. But the damage was done, and Bardulf could only crawl to his wife's lifeless corpse as he now lost 2 of the closest people he knew.
Weeks later, Bardulf, having healed from his wounds despite still having a nasty scar, was making another trip towards the resting place of his deceased wife. He held a bouqet of flowers that he had found in the wild, wanting to clear his head like he always does. Since the incident, he had moved back to the village with his mother so he could help take care of her, and she take care of Nathalie. He found himself lost in thought, not even realizing the shimmering golden circle appearing in his path. His eyes glazed over, he simply walked into the portal, only realizing that after so many paces, this wasn't the forest he knew. He looked up and saw a pale figure standing before him, welcoming him to the land of Avalia. After an animated back and forth, he learned of the plight of the light elves, and his giving nature sprung forth. If it meant going back home, he would do what he could to help the people here, and return safely to his mother and daughter.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Combat and Magic:
Strength: 6
Speed on Land: 5
Speed in Air: 0
Magical Ability: 3
Dexterity: 8
Weapon Proficiency: 7
Stealth: 8
Ability on Avalia:
Electrokinesis
3x Like
Helo Wonderlust King
Member
Seen
27 days ago
Valok Grimmrot ⋆ 162 ⋆ Male ⋆ Dark Elf
Appearance
Height:
6’
Weight:
185lbs
Hair Color:
Coal black that begins to fade into an ash gray
Eye Color:
Bright orange embers that burn with the intense curiosity
Skin Tone:
Pale gray, littered with scars
Brief Clothes Description:
Dresses almost exclusively in black as it allows him to better blend into the shadows.
Psychology
Likes:
- A clear night’s sky
- Quiet places
- Music
- Hot meals
- Fighting
- Quiet places
- Music
- Hot meals
- Fighting
Dislikes:
- Light Elves
- Bright lights
- Needless Cruelty
- Being automatically seen as evil
- Finding weakness or vulnerability in himself
- Bright lights
- Needless Cruelty
- Being automatically seen as evil
- Finding weakness or vulnerability in himself
Fears:
- That his nature as a dark elf makes him evil by nature and his past actions have already left him beyond any redemption
- His upbringing leaves him afraid of showing any signs of weakness or vulnerability
- That he is unable to think for himself or move past his upbringing
- His upbringing leaves him afraid of showing any signs of weakness or vulnerability
- That he is unable to think for himself or move past his upbringing
Sexuality:
Undetermined
Personality:
Valok is a quiet elf by nature, he takes things in, watches with intense curiosity, and tries to learn. He speaks when necessary but in general, tries to keep to himself. Primarily an introvert he does like having others around, finding comfort in knowing he’s not alone while still enjoying the peace of the occasional quiet moment when he is alone. Val does not know what it means to be selfish, his last thought in most situations is himself. While there are many who would see him as cruel, he sees himself as a faithful soldier who followed his orders as given, but given a choice, Valok would never choose to be cruel. He does not kill for the enjoyment of it, he will end his enemy quickly so that they do not suffer. Valok is the type to risk his life when necessary, he sees himself as disposable. That was how he was raised, how he was trained, and he knows no other way.
Val was raised from birth to be a disposable soldier, he has never had family or personal connections to give him any attachment to the world. While he shows no fear in battle to call him brave would be incorrect, for he has nothing to lose, he doesn’t even see his own life as his belonging to him. The blood in his veins seems to run almost as cold as the air of Daka, he rarely loses his temper, and violence is saved for when it must be done. He is patient, quiet of voice, and finds following orders much easier than making his own decisions. Underneath the cold exterior is almost limitless anxiety. A bundle of fears regarding who he is, things he’s done, how he was raised, whether being a dark elf means evil regardless of choices, and not knowing if he can be anything more than a tool of war. His reactions in combat are quick and instinctual, this is one of the few things that come easy for Valok, everything else is shrouded in doubt and confusion.
Not only poorly educated but most of what he has learned comes from the heavy-handed dark elf propaganda. All he learned in his early years painted every race but dark elves as cruel villains. The strongest form of hope in his life has always been his faith in Halastra, the goddess of the dark elf race, and her gift to her chosen people, of bending the darkness to their will, a kindness to help them bear their sorrow. His life experience has taught him to question these teachings but he has not forgotten them entirely. He is, however, observant and intensely curious. He lacks charisma, his tone is often soft and emotionless, echoing his own hollowness. Manipulating people is not a skill for a weapon, but the skill of leaders and so it is not something that would ever occur to him. Jokes are quickly lost on him, and rarely makes any attempts at humor. Valok was never given a choice in his life, and for the vast majority of it, he simply accepted his circumstances and lived with them.
Val was raised from birth to be a disposable soldier, he has never had family or personal connections to give him any attachment to the world. While he shows no fear in battle to call him brave would be incorrect, for he has nothing to lose, he doesn’t even see his own life as his belonging to him. The blood in his veins seems to run almost as cold as the air of Daka, he rarely loses his temper, and violence is saved for when it must be done. He is patient, quiet of voice, and finds following orders much easier than making his own decisions. Underneath the cold exterior is almost limitless anxiety. A bundle of fears regarding who he is, things he’s done, how he was raised, whether being a dark elf means evil regardless of choices, and not knowing if he can be anything more than a tool of war. His reactions in combat are quick and instinctual, this is one of the few things that come easy for Valok, everything else is shrouded in doubt and confusion.
Not only poorly educated but most of what he has learned comes from the heavy-handed dark elf propaganda. All he learned in his early years painted every race but dark elves as cruel villains. The strongest form of hope in his life has always been his faith in Halastra, the goddess of the dark elf race, and her gift to her chosen people, of bending the darkness to their will, a kindness to help them bear their sorrow. His life experience has taught him to question these teachings but he has not forgotten them entirely. He is, however, observant and intensely curious. He lacks charisma, his tone is often soft and emotionless, echoing his own hollowness. Manipulating people is not a skill for a weapon, but the skill of leaders and so it is not something that would ever occur to him. Jokes are quickly lost on him, and rarely makes any attempts at humor. Valok was never given a choice in his life, and for the vast majority of it, he simply accepted his circumstances and lived with them.
Background
Occupation
Former soldier in the Dark Elf Army, now, he is nothing.
Living/Dead Immediate Family Members:
Entirely unknown, Valok has no knowledge of any family.
Current Companions:
None
Current and Past Lover(s):
Valok has never known any form of love, romantic or otherwise.
Are you a loner or with a group? Have you always been in this place?:
Val has both rarely spent a moment alone, but has in many ways, always been alone.
History:
As an infant Valok was either orphaned or willingly given up to be trained as a soldier. He was raised solely to be an instrument of war and of service to his people. He was never told the circumstances of why or who his family was, but Val does not waste time dwelling on such matters. He was not raised to think, but to fight. His life has always been one of strict order and discipline. All moments of his young life were scheduled down to the second, when he woke up, when he ate, when he trained, and when he rested. His schedule was grueling, keeping him exhausted, far too exhausted to think about his circumstances even if he had any interest in them, to begin with. All his life he has been taught that he does not matter; he is but one of many soldiers who fight not for their own glory but for the betterment of their people.
Even his surname is not his own, but merely the name of one of many schools that exists for the sole purpose of turning out disposable soldiers for the dark elf army. He has no name to pass on, no family ties to bind him down, no legacy to protect or further. Instead, he has just a single shared goal with every other graduate of Grimmrots; to serve dark elf interests.
Grimmrots was his home for the majority of his life, he grew up there, trained there, and learned there. From the second he was able he was trained to fight, both with weapons and with magic. His dark abilities have always been a part of him, his people take pride in being gifted by the night. He worked hard, he learned discipline, and any failure in this was punished with swift brutality. Wake up, train, eat, chores, train, eat, rest. The schedule repeated endlessly. Val took comfort in the schedule, he knew what he was supposed to do and where he had to be, he didn’t have time or energy left to worry about anything else. Those who did not take to this kind of life were made an example of and weakness was never tolerated. He learned how to face fear, to bear pain, and to kill. Once he was old enough, he was shipped off to The Pits for more intense combat training.
The Pits held a similar schedule and he adjusted quickly. He then put his training to use, fighting for his life in gladiatorial combat where he learned to kill without hesitation. Some of his comrades in the Pits enjoyed the killing, Val did it because he was good at it and because he was told to do it. This was the experience he needed to become a true soldier, killing was how he would serve his people, and he was raised for service. Once he was deemed worthy, he entered the dark elf army in full; he was loyal, obedient, and well trained. He believed himself lucky to have been born in the age where the great war they were being raised for was to take place, he would get to be one of many that changed Avalia for the betterment of his people. This was a great honor.
Being sent forth as a part of the occupation of Roshmi City was the first time he questioned any of this. He was prepared to be a nameless hero, sure there would be no glory for him, but his sacrifice would leave a better Avalia for his race. What he was not prepared for was to finally see the reasons why every other race in Avalia so easily saw dark elves as their villains. The endlessly brutal executions, the torture of the fun of it, the examples made of those who spoke out against dark elves, and the rampant cruelty that went so far beyond what could be reasonably necessary. There were orders he was sent to carry out that left deep marks on his spirit. Four months of witnessing a hell he helped bring about shattered any desire he had to remain a loyal soldier. The first choice Valok ever made regarding his own life was to turn his back on everything he knew in search of something, anything, else.
Combat and Magic:
Strength: 6
Speed on Land: 5
Speed in Air: 0
Magical Ability: 7
Dexterity: 5
Weapon Proficiency: 7
Stealth: 9
Speed on Land: 5
Speed in Air: 0
Magical Ability: 7
Dexterity: 5
Weapon Proficiency: 7
Stealth: 9
Best Ability:
Blending into the shadows; when you've been raised to believe you are nothing becoming nothing more than a shadow is as easy as drawing breath.
coGM
Amisra Keyrel ⋆ 147 ⋆ Female ⋆ Dark Elf
Appearance
Height:
5’5
Weight:
130 lbs
Hair Color:
White
Eye Color:
Golden Amber
Skin Tone:
Ashen Grey
Psychology
Likes:
⋆ Books
⋆ Sweets
⋆ Singing
⋆ Sweets
⋆ Singing
Dislikes:
⋆ Those that killed her family
⋆ Pointless violence
⋆ Close minded people
⋆ Pointless violence
⋆ Close minded people
Fears:
⋆ Losing her best friend
⋆ Not being able to exact vengeance on those that took everything from her
⋆ Being alone in the world
⋆ Not being able to exact vengeance on those that took everything from her
⋆ Being alone in the world
Sexuality:
Demisexual
Personality:
Amisra is very passionate about many things, and especially so with the people she loves. When she cares for someone, she cares for them deeply and has experienced enough loss in her life to never want to feel it again. Her passionate nature also often extends to her interests, including books, sweets, and music. Amisra has often been called rude or even evil, but this is often just a defense mechanism. If one were to break past the walls she has up and grow close to her, they would soon find that she obviously loves her friends very much and would do anything to protect them.
Amisra feels things both strongly and deeply. While she is often teasing, witty, and carefree when she is happy, Amisra's most immediate reaction when angry or sad is to channel her darker emotions into a barely-contained rage or killing calm. This gets her into trouble more often than not. Often she will take rash actions and has a desire for vengeance when someone close to her is harmed or even killed.
Amisra also has a surprisingly strong moral compass. Though she often tries to suppress the memories of her tumultuous past, her experiences have shaped her into the woman she is, and that is a woman who does not tolerate injustices. She absolutely loathes slavery and unnecessary cruelty. People that partake in either of these, she will do anything necessary to make them pay for their actions.
Amisra feels things both strongly and deeply. While she is often teasing, witty, and carefree when she is happy, Amisra's most immediate reaction when angry or sad is to channel her darker emotions into a barely-contained rage or killing calm. This gets her into trouble more often than not. Often she will take rash actions and has a desire for vengeance when someone close to her is harmed or even killed.
Amisra also has a surprisingly strong moral compass. Though she often tries to suppress the memories of her tumultuous past, her experiences have shaped her into the woman she is, and that is a woman who does not tolerate injustices. She absolutely loathes slavery and unnecessary cruelty. People that partake in either of these, she will do anything necessary to make them pay for their actions.
Background
Occupation
Spymaster’s Prodigy and Daughter (past)
Traitor to the Dark Elves (current)
Traitor to the Dark Elves (current)
Living Immediate Family Members:
Taerel Keyrel || Father (imprisoned)
Dead Immediate Family Members:
Saria Keyrel || Mother
Lyrei Keyrel || Baby Sister
Lyrei Keyrel || Baby Sister
Current Companions:
Tanithil Malaggar
Current and Past Lover(s):
Amisra never had much time to really focus on a relationship what with learning to be the next spymaster from her father, caring for her sickly mother and baby sister, and spending her free time with her best friend.
History:
Born the eldest of the dark elve’s Spymaster, naturally Amisra was expected to be trained to take her father’s place in the future. From the instant she could hold a shortsword she began learning the skills of her father. When she wasn’t training she would spend time with her best friend causing mischief and just trying to find what fun they could in the harsh climate. Considered higher class within dark elven society, her life was a bit better off than others and she was allowed more freedoms, however she was still put through vigorous training in order to ensure she would be ready for when they would make their move.
After hitting adulthood, her father started entrusting her on missions in order to test her and expand her skills. When her mother fell pregnant with her baby sister, however, Saria fell rather ill and never really recovered even after giving birth. So Amisra took a step back from her duties in order to help raise her sister. She absolutely adored the little girl and their bond was quite a strong one. Their world was about to be flipped upside down, however, as their glorious dark elven leaders decided to execute a member from each of the other races. Taerel was quite displeased by this action, having expressed to them that this was not the correct play. He’d become heated and expressed that if this was their plan then he would have nothing to do with it. When he came home that evening, he swiftly told his family to pack as they needed to leave. Amisra pleaded with him to tell her what was wrong, but he refused. Before they could get out of the house, however, General Zarra Malaggar and her soldiers burst into their house and arrested all of them.
Taerel and his family were all labeled as traitors and their sentence was execution, Taerel to be the last executed as he watched the rest of his family be killed. Amisra held tightly to Leyrei, desperately trying to find a way out of the situation in order to protect her sister. It would be in vain, however, as her sister was ripped from her arms and she could do nothing as she watched them kill her mother and sister. Pure, unbridled anger filled her as she was pushed towards the executioner next. If only she could get her now bound wrists free, she would murder them all. They would learn why she was considered a prodigy and witness her lethal skill with a bladed weapon.
A voice, one familiar and cherished, caught Amisra’s attention as she briefly glanced over to see her beloved friend and grandson to the monster in front of her, Tanithil. What was he doing here? Would he be loyal to his grandmother? Could she truly expect him to betray his own flesh and blood? She felt her heart sink as she realized that he would be insane to do so, but it seemed she was in for quite the surprise. She watched in shock as Tanithil kicked his grandmother and Amisra felt the ropes around her wrist loosen. She had to move quickly.
In the blink of an eye, she pulled her wrists free and grabbed the two shortswords from the guards that were holding her in place. In a moment, both those guards were on the ground dead beside her. She spun in time to watch Zarra attack her own grandson. Fearing losing another person tonight, she attempted to push herself off the ground to lunge at the woman as she screamed, “Get away from him, you bitch!” Unfortunately her actions caused her to take her eyes off of those around her and a loyal guard took a swipe at Amisra. She jerked back just in time to keep from being hit with a fatal blow, but not before the blade sliced down her face. She cried out more in shock than pain just before Tanithil grabbed her and they winnowed away.
Appearing in a small, shadowed alleyway not far from the house, Amisra found herself quickly looking at her friend. “You saved me…” She whispered to him as she felt her heart swell some. It was at this moment that she noticed two things. The vision in her left eye was becoming blurry from the trickle of blood streaming down her face. The other was Tanithil’s injury. “By the Goddess, Tanithil, your hand!” She gasped out before realizing she needed to take action quickly. Without much thought, Amisra removed her top, leaving her top half in her undergarments, before tearing her shirt into strips quickly. She needed to stop the bleeding and then they needed to move and get out of there. She didn’t wait for him to respond before she grabbed his arm and made a tourniquet with one of the strips. She then went on to wrap a strip around his wrist where a hand once was. “I’m so sorry Tanithil, but we need to keep moving. Will you be okay for a little longer?” She’d completely forgotten about her own injury, not even registering the pain yet.
"Of course I can move. She took my hand, not my leg. Let's get the fuck out of here!" Amisra couldn’t contain her eye roll as he’d said it, but then seeing him reach for her with his missing hand caused her heart to ache. “I’ll be fine, you’re worse off than me. You’re losing a lot of blood, I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to pass out on me.” She said with a sigh as they took off towards his house. It was a smart move as they would need supplies before trying to escape the city.
She helped gather supplies, trading out her bloodsoaked clothes for some of his. They were a little big on her, but she easily ignored it. She jumped, however, as she heard the knock at his door. "Mom can't you see I brought a girl home?! A little privacy pleaaaase!" Tanithil got quite the look from Amisra as he said this, smirking at him with a shake of her head, before going back to the task at hand. "With my magic we can slip by but it's only a matter of time before they start sending the magic drakes out. They sniff through my magic so let's book it." He said as they were finishing up hastily packing and she found herself nodding. “We’ll keep magic use to a minimum until we get to the border. From there we need to try to not use it at all until we’re far enough away. It’ll be hard to identify where the drakes are once we cross that border, better to be safe.” She said, knowing that it would be mostly him using magic as her own wasn’t nearly as strong.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and for some reason the sight of her blood caused an image to flash in her mind of her sister being killed. She dropped the bag in her hand, causing a loud thud, which only drew the attention of Tanithil’s mother again. She could hear the woman’s voice from behind the door and her head whipped towards it as she realized the door handle was turning. “Oh, Tanithil!” She moaned out loudly, adding on to his bit from earlier as she made a few more thumping noises. There was a gasp and the door clicked shut again before hurried feet scurried away from the door. She noticed his face turn a beet red color as he looked up at her then said, “Clever.” She quickly picked up the bag she dropped and turned to look at her friend. “Let’s go.” She said as she went to reach for his right hand this time, wincing as she realized once more it was gone. “Sorry…” She said before grabbing his other hand and slipping out the window with him.
They weaved through the city, sticking to the shadows and utilizing Tanithil's magic when shadows were lacking or they felt it was too much of a risk not to. They startled a few residents of a house, but it didn't stop them as they diligently worked to make it out of the city and avoid being caught. Neither one spoke a word as they did every possible maneuver to reach the country’s border. A broadcast could be heard in the distance with the familiar voice of Zarra. “My grandson Tanithil and the daughter of Taeral Keyrel have been deemed traitors to this country. If seen, bring them to me. Do not fall for his tricks, he must face judgment for what he’s done.” What a load of bullshit, Amisra thought as Tanithil turned to her once they made it to the outskirts of the city proper. “Where now?” A question she had been pondering as they fled. Amisra scanned their surroundings momentarily while thinking, but then her eyes landed on his missing limb and she knew where they needed to go.
"Ironhold. They likely won't expect us to go there and the dwarves used to be more tolerant of dark elves, though I doubt that's much of the case now. We may even be able to find someone to help with…." She couldn't bring herself to say it, but gestured to his hand. Deep down, she blamed herself for his injury. If only she hadn't taken her eyes off him when he saved her. Perhaps she could have pulled him out of the way. Either way, what was done was done and they needed to keep moving. They needed to get somewhere they could settle for a moment in order to really assess their injuries and Ironhold seemed as good a choice as any.
After hitting adulthood, her father started entrusting her on missions in order to test her and expand her skills. When her mother fell pregnant with her baby sister, however, Saria fell rather ill and never really recovered even after giving birth. So Amisra took a step back from her duties in order to help raise her sister. She absolutely adored the little girl and their bond was quite a strong one. Their world was about to be flipped upside down, however, as their glorious dark elven leaders decided to execute a member from each of the other races. Taerel was quite displeased by this action, having expressed to them that this was not the correct play. He’d become heated and expressed that if this was their plan then he would have nothing to do with it. When he came home that evening, he swiftly told his family to pack as they needed to leave. Amisra pleaded with him to tell her what was wrong, but he refused. Before they could get out of the house, however, General Zarra Malaggar and her soldiers burst into their house and arrested all of them.
Taerel and his family were all labeled as traitors and their sentence was execution, Taerel to be the last executed as he watched the rest of his family be killed. Amisra held tightly to Leyrei, desperately trying to find a way out of the situation in order to protect her sister. It would be in vain, however, as her sister was ripped from her arms and she could do nothing as she watched them kill her mother and sister. Pure, unbridled anger filled her as she was pushed towards the executioner next. If only she could get her now bound wrists free, she would murder them all. They would learn why she was considered a prodigy and witness her lethal skill with a bladed weapon.
A voice, one familiar and cherished, caught Amisra’s attention as she briefly glanced over to see her beloved friend and grandson to the monster in front of her, Tanithil. What was he doing here? Would he be loyal to his grandmother? Could she truly expect him to betray his own flesh and blood? She felt her heart sink as she realized that he would be insane to do so, but it seemed she was in for quite the surprise. She watched in shock as Tanithil kicked his grandmother and Amisra felt the ropes around her wrist loosen. She had to move quickly.
In the blink of an eye, she pulled her wrists free and grabbed the two shortswords from the guards that were holding her in place. In a moment, both those guards were on the ground dead beside her. She spun in time to watch Zarra attack her own grandson. Fearing losing another person tonight, she attempted to push herself off the ground to lunge at the woman as she screamed, “Get away from him, you bitch!” Unfortunately her actions caused her to take her eyes off of those around her and a loyal guard took a swipe at Amisra. She jerked back just in time to keep from being hit with a fatal blow, but not before the blade sliced down her face. She cried out more in shock than pain just before Tanithil grabbed her and they winnowed away.
Appearing in a small, shadowed alleyway not far from the house, Amisra found herself quickly looking at her friend. “You saved me…” She whispered to him as she felt her heart swell some. It was at this moment that she noticed two things. The vision in her left eye was becoming blurry from the trickle of blood streaming down her face. The other was Tanithil’s injury. “By the Goddess, Tanithil, your hand!” She gasped out before realizing she needed to take action quickly. Without much thought, Amisra removed her top, leaving her top half in her undergarments, before tearing her shirt into strips quickly. She needed to stop the bleeding and then they needed to move and get out of there. She didn’t wait for him to respond before she grabbed his arm and made a tourniquet with one of the strips. She then went on to wrap a strip around his wrist where a hand once was. “I’m so sorry Tanithil, but we need to keep moving. Will you be okay for a little longer?” She’d completely forgotten about her own injury, not even registering the pain yet.
"Of course I can move. She took my hand, not my leg. Let's get the fuck out of here!" Amisra couldn’t contain her eye roll as he’d said it, but then seeing him reach for her with his missing hand caused her heart to ache. “I’ll be fine, you’re worse off than me. You’re losing a lot of blood, I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to pass out on me.” She said with a sigh as they took off towards his house. It was a smart move as they would need supplies before trying to escape the city.
She helped gather supplies, trading out her bloodsoaked clothes for some of his. They were a little big on her, but she easily ignored it. She jumped, however, as she heard the knock at his door. "Mom can't you see I brought a girl home?! A little privacy pleaaaase!" Tanithil got quite the look from Amisra as he said this, smirking at him with a shake of her head, before going back to the task at hand. "With my magic we can slip by but it's only a matter of time before they start sending the magic drakes out. They sniff through my magic so let's book it." He said as they were finishing up hastily packing and she found herself nodding. “We’ll keep magic use to a minimum until we get to the border. From there we need to try to not use it at all until we’re far enough away. It’ll be hard to identify where the drakes are once we cross that border, better to be safe.” She said, knowing that it would be mostly him using magic as her own wasn’t nearly as strong.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and for some reason the sight of her blood caused an image to flash in her mind of her sister being killed. She dropped the bag in her hand, causing a loud thud, which only drew the attention of Tanithil’s mother again. She could hear the woman’s voice from behind the door and her head whipped towards it as she realized the door handle was turning. “Oh, Tanithil!” She moaned out loudly, adding on to his bit from earlier as she made a few more thumping noises. There was a gasp and the door clicked shut again before hurried feet scurried away from the door. She noticed his face turn a beet red color as he looked up at her then said, “Clever.” She quickly picked up the bag she dropped and turned to look at her friend. “Let’s go.” She said as she went to reach for his right hand this time, wincing as she realized once more it was gone. “Sorry…” She said before grabbing his other hand and slipping out the window with him.
They weaved through the city, sticking to the shadows and utilizing Tanithil's magic when shadows were lacking or they felt it was too much of a risk not to. They startled a few residents of a house, but it didn't stop them as they diligently worked to make it out of the city and avoid being caught. Neither one spoke a word as they did every possible maneuver to reach the country’s border. A broadcast could be heard in the distance with the familiar voice of Zarra. “My grandson Tanithil and the daughter of Taeral Keyrel have been deemed traitors to this country. If seen, bring them to me. Do not fall for his tricks, he must face judgment for what he’s done.” What a load of bullshit, Amisra thought as Tanithil turned to her once they made it to the outskirts of the city proper. “Where now?” A question she had been pondering as they fled. Amisra scanned their surroundings momentarily while thinking, but then her eyes landed on his missing limb and she knew where they needed to go.
"Ironhold. They likely won't expect us to go there and the dwarves used to be more tolerant of dark elves, though I doubt that's much of the case now. We may even be able to find someone to help with…." She couldn't bring herself to say it, but gestured to his hand. Deep down, she blamed herself for his injury. If only she hadn't taken her eyes off him when he saved her. Perhaps she could have pulled him out of the way. Either way, what was done was done and they needed to keep moving. They needed to get somewhere they could settle for a moment in order to really assess their injuries and Ironhold seemed as good a choice as any.
Combat and Magic:
Strength: 6
Speed on Land: 8
Speed in Air: 0
Magical Ability: 4
Dexterity: 9
Weapon Proficiency: 8
Stealth: 9
Subspecies:
Dark Elf
Best Abilities:
Skilled in many different weapons, but favors dual shortswords. Is also incredibly stealthy and is good with close quarters fighting.
4x Like
Lava Alckon
Member
Seen
23 days ago
Tanithil Malaggar ⋆ 145 ⋆ Male ⋆ Dark Elf
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Appearance
Height:
5'6"
Weight:
120 lbs
Hair Color:
White
Eye Color:
Gray - Purple/Black when casting spells
Skin Tone:
Gray
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Psychology
Likes:
⋆ Trickery/Subterfuge
⋆ Warm home-cooking
⋆ Fishing
⋆ Positivity
⋆ Running/Parkour/Exercise in general
Dislikes:
⋆ Cruelty/Oppression
⋆ Rules
⋆ Yelling
⋆ Sour-food
⋆ Losing
Fears:
⋆ His race becoming extinct
⋆ Losing everyone he cares about
⋆ Losing his powers
⋆ Losing another limb
⋆ Being forgotten
Sexuality:
Demisexual
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Personality:
Tanithil is above all things, joyful. He sees the world as a dull and un-entertaining place, and that's because of how many boring snobs run things! He wants there to be freedom and happiness in his life. He does exactly what he wants, all other factors be damned! That being said, he does have a soft-spot for those that he deems to be "lights amidst a dark and slightly depressing world". His friends and some family are key examples of people he will care for. Those who are innocent of wrong-doings (to his knowledge) get a pass from him as well.
His own form of magic seems to juxtapose this belief, but he finds it to be a blessing rather than a contradiction. "If I can wield the darkness and have good in my heart, so can all you other bolt-heads" he would often say to those who brought it up. To Tanithil, life is about balance. You need some good and unfortunately some bad to make it all equal. The bad comes on its own, since the world is the way it is, but thats why he believes its up to the rest of civilization to come up with reasons and ways to notice and appreciate the good. Even if it means stealing some bread from a vendor to give to a beggar.
His only dark-sided trait is what comes when he feels like his own way of life is threatened or the way of life of those around him. He never stands for someone being repressed or held down simply for expressing who they are or what they want. Having literally given his own limb to defend it, he will happily do it again, or take some extra limbs if needed. That is the one area in his life he will play no games, explore no shortcuts, or take any work-arounds. It's the side of him he thinks he's inherited from his mother's side, and is the side of him he likes the least.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Background
Occupation:
None, he mainly looked after the house with his parents while studying magics to become one of the war casters for the Dark Elven Army.
Living Immediate Family Members:
Mother and Father - Ayla and Arlen Malaggar
Grandmother (though not to him anymore) - General Zarra Malaggar
Dead Immediate Family Members:
Grandfather - Thallan Malaggar (killed by a drunk vagrant who broke into his home in the middle of the night).
Current Companions:
Amisra Keyrel
Current and Past Lover(s):
None, but he certainly has eyes for someone ;)
Tanithil Malaggar was a bit of a jokester. Always playing pranks and sneaking about, looking to cause slight mischief here and there, but also serve his own means in a way. He would often peddle stolen goods to those less fortunate or perhaps even give said goods away if his heart was feeling it. He wasn't a perfect soul, but he did his best. Where his father would admire his honesty and his mother would enjoy his clever use of stealth and cunning to get out of oh so many situations. If he wasn't causing havoc, he was likely watching a particular favorite of his practicing sword work from afar before approaching her and tempting her with skipping practices. Sometimes it would work, other times he'd be chased around by her father Taerel who wanted only the best for his precious daughter.
His own brand of "powers" came with his manipulation of shadow magic. A skill that he likely inherited from his grandmother, the Grand General Zarra Malaggar. From shrouding himself in plain sight, to teleporting away in a blink, to crafting little tools and weapons to use in a scrap, Tanithil didn't really shy away from danger. He was, after all, a trouble maker. And trouble often becomes much bigger than you would expect. This proved to be words he would learn the hard way as he read a note on his grandmother's desk instructing her to assassinate a batch of "light-elf enthusiasts". As he scanned the words and read "Keyrel family" and his gut sank. He blood felt like iron spikes in his form, forcing him to stay still for what felt like dozens of minutes. Each ticking second he knew he was wasting was only sealing a fate he simply did not want to happen. He and his family disagreed on many things, often silly things. But killing their own kind for expressing their will and opinions...no. He couldn't just sit by and slink in the shadows. He grabbed his trusty cloak and silent-padded shoes and ran like he never ran before.
The scene before him was horrific. He saw piles of bodies, people he had known, talked to. His grandmother...no...he couldn't call this monster his family anymore. General Zarra stood over his childhood friend, her wrists bound behind her as the final blow was poised to strike. He called out to her in that moment..."Gramma!" He said with a pause, her faltering for just a moment as she turned to look at who dare speak so casually to her. She seemed to soften slightly at the sight of her grandson walking idly across the room. None of the guards put up a fight as, this was another member of the general's family, they wouldn't dare raise a finger to him. That was until he reached her, arms stretched out to hug her. He spun wildly around and kicked at the woman's mid-section, drawing a flimsy blade to stand between her and Amisra. He scowled at the woman and shouted all kinds of insults, denouncing her and removing the title of "Gramma" from his vocabulary.
What he didn't show however, was his backhand, gracefully working shadow magics against the ropes that bound his friend, cutting the ropes just barely enough before he would make his next move. As much as he was full of surprises, so was General Zarra. In a similar candor she walked up to the boy, not an ounce of aggression in her stance. In the blink of an eye she swung her ring-blade down towards her grandson. The guards gasped, and Tanithil's eyes widened at the sudden hot rush of pain in his wrist as he turns and hugs his friend. A strong and sudden gust of black wind enveloped them both, hiding and changing their form to match as they were whisked through the cracks in the nearby window. Zarra stood as she looked at the small cut along her hand from the shadowy mists her grandson had made. "Potential...wasted..." was all that could be heard from the guards before being barked at to find the missing traitors.
A voice, one familiar and cherished, caught Amisra’s attention as she briefly glanced over to see her beloved friend and grandson to the monster in front of her, Tanithil. What was he doing here? Would he be loyal to his grandmother? Could she truly expect him to betray his own flesh and blood? She felt her heart sink as she realized that he would be insane to do so, but it seemed she was in for quite the surprise. She watched in shock as Tanithil kicked his grandmother and Amisra felt the ropes around her wrist loosen. She had to move quickly.
In the blink of an eye, she pulled her wrists free and grabbed the two shortswords from the guards that were holding her in place. In a moment, both those guards were on the ground dead beside her. She spun in time to watch Zarra attack her own grandson. Fearing losing another person tonight, she attempted to push herself off the ground to lunge at the woman as she screamed, “Get away from him, you bitch!” Unfortunately her actions caused her to take her eyes off of those around her and a loyal guard took a swipe at Amisra. She jerked back just in time to keep from being hit with a fatal blow, but not before the blade sliced down her face. She cried out more in shock than pain just before Tanithil grabbed her and they winnowed away.
Appearing in a small, shadowed alleyway not far from the house, Amisra found herself quickly looking at her friend. “You saved me…” She whispered to him as she felt her heart swell some. It was at this moment that she noticed two things. The vision in her left eye was becoming blurry from the trickle of blood streaming down her face. The other was Tanithil’s injury. “By the Goddess, Tanithil, your hand!” She gasped out before realizing she needed to take action quickly. Without much thought, Amisra removed her top, leaving her top half in her undergarments, before tearing her shirt into strips quickly. She needed to stop the bleeding and then they needed to move and get out of there. She didn’t wait for him to respond before she grabbed his arm and made a tourniquet with one of the strips. She then went on to wrap a strip around his wrist where a hand once was. “I’m so sorry Tanithil, but we need to keep moving. Will you be okay for a little longer?” She’d completely forgotten about her own injury, not even registering the pain yet.
He couldn't help but laugh in the face of this situation. He had practically thrown every bit of his life away the second he kicked the General in the stomach and yet she still found a way to take a little more from him. His senses were dulled in the moment, a sharp ringing sensation pulsing up his arm as he clenched his teeth. Beads of sweat formed at his brow and throughout his face as he felt the burning pain of his wrist constantly remind him of his grave wound. He looked up and saw his friend had taken a grave wound herself.
"Amisra...your eye...ow, fuck!" He shrilly spoke for a moment before gaining his composure. He had given them a way to escape immediate danger, but he had to secure their escape too. He looked around and thought out the best path, the streams of adrenaline starting to finally kick in as Amisra bandaged his arm. "Of course I can move. She took my hand, not my leg. Let's get the fuck out of here!" He reached for her with his dominant hand, sighing to himself for a moment before grasping onto her hand with his left hand and pulling her along towards his residence. It would be the last place the General would think to check. He quickly snuck into his room and past his parents, all too worried about his sudden departure and even more sudden arrival. From there he packed a small bag of necessities, barely managing to dodge his worried mother who began knocking at his door. "Mom can't you see I brought a girl home?! A little privacy pleaaaase!"
He knew that being honest would only get him in trouble and cause more grief, so whatever he could say just to get her away for the time being. "Amisra, we can't stay here. We have to leave. I hate the idea, but my ... that woman is a crazy and relentless assassin. We're lucky to even be alive so, for now, pack what you think you'll need here and lets...fucking....go." He threw together some outfits for himself and some looser clothes for her as he did not really 'know' what would fit her, but literally anything would do. He threw in some first aid supplies he always kept on hand and gave her the knapsack to carry. "With my magic we can slip by but its only a matter of time before they start sending the magic drakes out. They sniff through my magic so let's book it."
"Of course I can move. She took my hand, not my leg. Let's get the fuck out of here!" Amisra couldn’t contain her eye roll as he’d said it, but then seeing him reach for her with his missing hand caused her heart to ache. “I’ll be fine, you’re worse off than me. You’re losing a lot of blood, I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to pass out on me.” She said with a sigh as they took off towards his house. It was a smart move as they would need supplies before trying to escape the city.
She helped gather supplies, trading out her bloodsoaked clothes for some of his. They were a little big on her, but she easily ignored it. She jumped, however, as she heard the knock at his door. "Mom can't you see I brought a girl home?! A little privacy pleaaaase!" Tanithil got quite the look from Amisra as he said this, smirking at him with a shake of her head, before going back to the task at hand. "With my magic we can slip by but it's only a matter of time before they start sending the magic drakes out. They sniff through my magic so let's book it." He said as they were finishing up hastily packing and she found herself nodding. “We’ll keep magic use to a minimum until we get to the border. From there we need to try to not use it at all until we’re far enough away. It’ll be hard to identify where the drakes are once we cross that border, better to be safe.” She said, knowing that it would be mostly him using magic as her own wasn’t nearly as strong.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and for some reason the sight of her blood caused an image to flash in her mind of her sister being killed. She dropped the bag in her hand, causing a loud thud, which only drew the attention of Tanithil’s mother again. She could hear the woman’s voice from behind the door and her head whipped towards it as she realized the door handle was turning. “Oh, Tanithil!” She moaned out loudly, adding on to his bit from earlier as she made a few more thumping noises. There was a gasp and the door clicked shut again before hurried feet scurried away from the door. She quickly picked up the bag she dropped and turned to look at her friend. “Let’s go.” She said as she went to reach for his right hand this time, wincing as she realized once more it was gone. “Sorry…” She said before grabbing his other hand and slipping out the window with him.
He nodded while hearing her plan for their escape, simply accepting her daggers for eyes as he made his quips. He looked on as he saw the color and emotion drain from her face. She had experienced great loss, something Tanithil knew very little of. He was about to reach out to console her when the thud of the bag brought him back to reality. The door handle turning made him even more panicked as he started to cast a spell. “Shit Amisr-“ “Oh Tanithil!” His face turned a beet red as he looked up at her, then back to the door handle clicking back into place. “Clever.” He spoke with a smirk, noticing her missing his hand and sighing. “Never gonna drop that habit I see.” He made sure they had their things and slipped out the window.
He knew magic needed to be low, but he had a plan. He weaved a small cloak of shadows over themselves as they ran, shielding their presence and making them almost invisible to the untrained eye. In a slightly uncouth manner, he “aimed” his nub of a hand and coalesced small orbs of shadow, shooting them off in random directions before letting them explode into fog-like mist. It was one of his classic pranks to mess with townsfolk that served as a smokescreen and a distraction for the “magic sniffers” as he made sure to make his smoke extra potent. They ducked through alleyways and narrowly missed several patrols, sometimes ducking into a luckily vacant house or in one case, stumbling into a home with a small family preparing dinner. Neither one spoke a word as they did every possible maneuver to reach the country’s border. In the distance Tanithil could hear broadcast orbs going off with the familiar voice of Zarra. “My grandson Tanithil and the daughter of Taeral Keyrel have been deemed traitors to this country. If seen, bring them to me. Do not fall for his tricks, he must face judgment for what he’s done.” He rolled his eyes and turned to her as they made it the outskirts of the city proper, far far away from any action and finally spoke. “Where now?”
They weaved through the city, sticking to the shadows and utilizing Tanithil's magic when shadows were lacking or they felt it was too much of a risk not to. They startled a few residents of a house, but it didn't stop them as they diligently worked to make it out of the city and avoid being caught. Neither one spoke a word as they did every possible maneuver to reach the country’s border. A broadcast could be heard in the distance with the familiar voice of Zarra. “My grandson Tanithil and the daughter of Taeral Keyrel have been deemed traitors to this country. If seen, bring them to me. Do not fall for his tricks, he must face judgment for what he’s done.” What a load of bullshit, Amisra thought as Tanithil turned to her once they made it to the outskirts of the city proper. “Where now?” A question she had been pondering as they fled. Amisra scanned their surroundings momentarily while thinking, but then her eyes landed on his missing limb and she knew where they needed to go.
"Ironhold. They likely won't expect us to go there and the dwarves used to be more tolerant of dark elves, though I doubt that's much of the case now. We may even be able to find someone to help with…." She couldn't bring herself to say it, but gestured to his hand. Deep down, she blamed herself for his injury. If only she hadn't taken her eyes off him when he saved her. Perhaps she could have pulled him out of the way. Either way, what was done was done and they needed to keep moving. They needed to get somewhere they could settle for a moment in order to really assess their injuries and Ironhold seemed as good a choice as any.
His own brand of "powers" came with his manipulation of shadow magic. A skill that he likely inherited from his grandmother, the Grand General Zarra Malaggar. From shrouding himself in plain sight, to teleporting away in a blink, to crafting little tools and weapons to use in a scrap, Tanithil didn't really shy away from danger. He was, after all, a trouble maker. And trouble often becomes much bigger than you would expect. This proved to be words he would learn the hard way as he read a note on his grandmother's desk instructing her to assassinate a batch of "light-elf enthusiasts". As he scanned the words and read "Keyrel family" and his gut sank. He blood felt like iron spikes in his form, forcing him to stay still for what felt like dozens of minutes. Each ticking second he knew he was wasting was only sealing a fate he simply did not want to happen. He and his family disagreed on many things, often silly things. But killing their own kind for expressing their will and opinions...no. He couldn't just sit by and slink in the shadows. He grabbed his trusty cloak and silent-padded shoes and ran like he never ran before.
The scene before him was horrific. He saw piles of bodies, people he had known, talked to. His grandmother...no...he couldn't call this monster his family anymore. General Zarra stood over his childhood friend, her wrists bound behind her as the final blow was poised to strike. He called out to her in that moment..."Gramma!" He said with a pause, her faltering for just a moment as she turned to look at who dare speak so casually to her. She seemed to soften slightly at the sight of her grandson walking idly across the room. None of the guards put up a fight as, this was another member of the general's family, they wouldn't dare raise a finger to him. That was until he reached her, arms stretched out to hug her. He spun wildly around and kicked at the woman's mid-section, drawing a flimsy blade to stand between her and Amisra. He scowled at the woman and shouted all kinds of insults, denouncing her and removing the title of "Gramma" from his vocabulary.
What he didn't show however, was his backhand, gracefully working shadow magics against the ropes that bound his friend, cutting the ropes just barely enough before he would make his next move. As much as he was full of surprises, so was General Zarra. In a similar candor she walked up to the boy, not an ounce of aggression in her stance. In the blink of an eye she swung her ring-blade down towards her grandson. The guards gasped, and Tanithil's eyes widened at the sudden hot rush of pain in his wrist as he turns and hugs his friend. A strong and sudden gust of black wind enveloped them both, hiding and changing their form to match as they were whisked through the cracks in the nearby window. Zarra stood as she looked at the small cut along her hand from the shadowy mists her grandson had made. "Potential...wasted..." was all that could be heard from the guards before being barked at to find the missing traitors.
A voice, one familiar and cherished, caught Amisra’s attention as she briefly glanced over to see her beloved friend and grandson to the monster in front of her, Tanithil. What was he doing here? Would he be loyal to his grandmother? Could she truly expect him to betray his own flesh and blood? She felt her heart sink as she realized that he would be insane to do so, but it seemed she was in for quite the surprise. She watched in shock as Tanithil kicked his grandmother and Amisra felt the ropes around her wrist loosen. She had to move quickly.
In the blink of an eye, she pulled her wrists free and grabbed the two shortswords from the guards that were holding her in place. In a moment, both those guards were on the ground dead beside her. She spun in time to watch Zarra attack her own grandson. Fearing losing another person tonight, she attempted to push herself off the ground to lunge at the woman as she screamed, “Get away from him, you bitch!” Unfortunately her actions caused her to take her eyes off of those around her and a loyal guard took a swipe at Amisra. She jerked back just in time to keep from being hit with a fatal blow, but not before the blade sliced down her face. She cried out more in shock than pain just before Tanithil grabbed her and they winnowed away.
Appearing in a small, shadowed alleyway not far from the house, Amisra found herself quickly looking at her friend. “You saved me…” She whispered to him as she felt her heart swell some. It was at this moment that she noticed two things. The vision in her left eye was becoming blurry from the trickle of blood streaming down her face. The other was Tanithil’s injury. “By the Goddess, Tanithil, your hand!” She gasped out before realizing she needed to take action quickly. Without much thought, Amisra removed her top, leaving her top half in her undergarments, before tearing her shirt into strips quickly. She needed to stop the bleeding and then they needed to move and get out of there. She didn’t wait for him to respond before she grabbed his arm and made a tourniquet with one of the strips. She then went on to wrap a strip around his wrist where a hand once was. “I’m so sorry Tanithil, but we need to keep moving. Will you be okay for a little longer?” She’d completely forgotten about her own injury, not even registering the pain yet.
He couldn't help but laugh in the face of this situation. He had practically thrown every bit of his life away the second he kicked the General in the stomach and yet she still found a way to take a little more from him. His senses were dulled in the moment, a sharp ringing sensation pulsing up his arm as he clenched his teeth. Beads of sweat formed at his brow and throughout his face as he felt the burning pain of his wrist constantly remind him of his grave wound. He looked up and saw his friend had taken a grave wound herself.
"Amisra...your eye...ow, fuck!" He shrilly spoke for a moment before gaining his composure. He had given them a way to escape immediate danger, but he had to secure their escape too. He looked around and thought out the best path, the streams of adrenaline starting to finally kick in as Amisra bandaged his arm. "Of course I can move. She took my hand, not my leg. Let's get the fuck out of here!" He reached for her with his dominant hand, sighing to himself for a moment before grasping onto her hand with his left hand and pulling her along towards his residence. It would be the last place the General would think to check. He quickly snuck into his room and past his parents, all too worried about his sudden departure and even more sudden arrival. From there he packed a small bag of necessities, barely managing to dodge his worried mother who began knocking at his door. "Mom can't you see I brought a girl home?! A little privacy pleaaaase!"
He knew that being honest would only get him in trouble and cause more grief, so whatever he could say just to get her away for the time being. "Amisra, we can't stay here. We have to leave. I hate the idea, but my ... that woman is a crazy and relentless assassin. We're lucky to even be alive so, for now, pack what you think you'll need here and lets...fucking....go." He threw together some outfits for himself and some looser clothes for her as he did not really 'know' what would fit her, but literally anything would do. He threw in some first aid supplies he always kept on hand and gave her the knapsack to carry. "With my magic we can slip by but its only a matter of time before they start sending the magic drakes out. They sniff through my magic so let's book it."
"Of course I can move. She took my hand, not my leg. Let's get the fuck out of here!" Amisra couldn’t contain her eye roll as he’d said it, but then seeing him reach for her with his missing hand caused her heart to ache. “I’ll be fine, you’re worse off than me. You’re losing a lot of blood, I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to pass out on me.” She said with a sigh as they took off towards his house. It was a smart move as they would need supplies before trying to escape the city.
She helped gather supplies, trading out her bloodsoaked clothes for some of his. They were a little big on her, but she easily ignored it. She jumped, however, as she heard the knock at his door. "Mom can't you see I brought a girl home?! A little privacy pleaaaase!" Tanithil got quite the look from Amisra as he said this, smirking at him with a shake of her head, before going back to the task at hand. "With my magic we can slip by but it's only a matter of time before they start sending the magic drakes out. They sniff through my magic so let's book it." He said as they were finishing up hastily packing and she found herself nodding. “We’ll keep magic use to a minimum until we get to the border. From there we need to try to not use it at all until we’re far enough away. It’ll be hard to identify where the drakes are once we cross that border, better to be safe.” She said, knowing that it would be mostly him using magic as her own wasn’t nearly as strong.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and for some reason the sight of her blood caused an image to flash in her mind of her sister being killed. She dropped the bag in her hand, causing a loud thud, which only drew the attention of Tanithil’s mother again. She could hear the woman’s voice from behind the door and her head whipped towards it as she realized the door handle was turning. “Oh, Tanithil!” She moaned out loudly, adding on to his bit from earlier as she made a few more thumping noises. There was a gasp and the door clicked shut again before hurried feet scurried away from the door. She quickly picked up the bag she dropped and turned to look at her friend. “Let’s go.” She said as she went to reach for his right hand this time, wincing as she realized once more it was gone. “Sorry…” She said before grabbing his other hand and slipping out the window with him.
He nodded while hearing her plan for their escape, simply accepting her daggers for eyes as he made his quips. He looked on as he saw the color and emotion drain from her face. She had experienced great loss, something Tanithil knew very little of. He was about to reach out to console her when the thud of the bag brought him back to reality. The door handle turning made him even more panicked as he started to cast a spell. “Shit Amisr-“ “Oh Tanithil!” His face turned a beet red as he looked up at her, then back to the door handle clicking back into place. “Clever.” He spoke with a smirk, noticing her missing his hand and sighing. “Never gonna drop that habit I see.” He made sure they had their things and slipped out the window.
He knew magic needed to be low, but he had a plan. He weaved a small cloak of shadows over themselves as they ran, shielding their presence and making them almost invisible to the untrained eye. In a slightly uncouth manner, he “aimed” his nub of a hand and coalesced small orbs of shadow, shooting them off in random directions before letting them explode into fog-like mist. It was one of his classic pranks to mess with townsfolk that served as a smokescreen and a distraction for the “magic sniffers” as he made sure to make his smoke extra potent. They ducked through alleyways and narrowly missed several patrols, sometimes ducking into a luckily vacant house or in one case, stumbling into a home with a small family preparing dinner. Neither one spoke a word as they did every possible maneuver to reach the country’s border. In the distance Tanithil could hear broadcast orbs going off with the familiar voice of Zarra. “My grandson Tanithil and the daughter of Taeral Keyrel have been deemed traitors to this country. If seen, bring them to me. Do not fall for his tricks, he must face judgment for what he’s done.” He rolled his eyes and turned to her as they made it the outskirts of the city proper, far far away from any action and finally spoke. “Where now?”
They weaved through the city, sticking to the shadows and utilizing Tanithil's magic when shadows were lacking or they felt it was too much of a risk not to. They startled a few residents of a house, but it didn't stop them as they diligently worked to make it out of the city and avoid being caught. Neither one spoke a word as they did every possible maneuver to reach the country’s border. A broadcast could be heard in the distance with the familiar voice of Zarra. “My grandson Tanithil and the daughter of Taeral Keyrel have been deemed traitors to this country. If seen, bring them to me. Do not fall for his tricks, he must face judgment for what he’s done.” What a load of bullshit, Amisra thought as Tanithil turned to her once they made it to the outskirts of the city proper. “Where now?” A question she had been pondering as they fled. Amisra scanned their surroundings momentarily while thinking, but then her eyes landed on his missing limb and she knew where they needed to go.
"Ironhold. They likely won't expect us to go there and the dwarves used to be more tolerant of dark elves, though I doubt that's much of the case now. We may even be able to find someone to help with…." She couldn't bring herself to say it, but gestured to his hand. Deep down, she blamed herself for his injury. If only she hadn't taken her eyes off him when he saved her. Perhaps she could have pulled him out of the way. Either way, what was done was done and they needed to keep moving. They needed to get somewhere they could settle for a moment in order to really assess their injuries and Ironhold seemed as good a choice as any.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Combat and Magic:
Strength: 4
Speed on Land: 5
Speed in Air: 0 (can't fly)
Magical Ability: 9
Dexterity: 7
Weapon Proficiency: 4
Stealth: 9
Subspecies:
Dark Elf
Best Abilities:
Tanithil's abilities mainly lay in his magical prowess. He has an array of standard tricks he will use to his advantage, including his:
- Shadow Cloak - provides moderate to extreme levels of invisibility to himself and more if needed, but more people means more effort/strain
- Shrouded Advance - shrouds himself and nearby allies in black mist that temporarily transforms them all into misty figures that quickly dash off in whatever direction he chooses. More people = more strain/more energy needed
- Shadow Weapon - his most versatile tool, Tanithil creates a weapon of his imagination using the shadow forces around him. His particular favorite is to make a dagger that he throws and turns into a "grenade" that shoots out darts of shadow shrapnel in every direction.
His erebokinesis is his bread and butter when it comes to getting out of sticky situations. If it isn't a "named ability" that he loves to showboat, he can easily whip up some form of tangible object in order to slide his way out of trouble...if he can.
GR1M R3M1ND3R Tag Some Big Guys
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
Is this still open?
1x Like
Is this still open?
PM the GMs if you haven't already
1 Guest
viewing this page
of
6
© 2007-2024