A character quote or motto

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What does your character look like? How does he dress? How old is he? What are his defining features? Does he have any particularly noteworthy traits, birthmarks, possessions, or scars? If you'd like to include things like height, weight, hair, and eye colour, this is where you should do so.


Everybody has a story, or at least a background and a context that informs who they are. What is your character's home like? Who are her people? What has she learned, experienced, and accomplished so far in life? Where has she been and who has she met? Please try to keep this to a maximum of two or three solid paragraphs. The goal is to act as a primer: to provide a sketch that we can colour in later.



I know that your conception of your character can change as the story moves along or even as you write this application and get a feel for him. The purpose of this exercise is to try to focus him by distilling his personality down to five essential traits, followed by any brief additional description below the bullet points to summarize what he's like and how we can expect him to interact with others.


What gets your character up every morning and, more particularly, why is she involved in this conflict? What does she hope to gain (or fear to lose) and what does she want out of life in general? What matters to her, and why?


Just what can your character do with magic? What makes him more than mundane? Please provide a clear description of his magical aptitudes, favoured schools of magic (if any), prior training, magical capacity, and any original spells that he may use. Remember to leave him room to grow. The goal here isn't necessarily to be the strongest; it's to create a compelling character.



There's more to a character than casting spells! What other skills has she acquired outside of magical ones? What are some of her personal strengths? Please remember the early-modern (roughly late 1500s) Japanese-analogous setting of this RPG and try to make skills appropriate.



Nobody's perfect. What are some things that your character just tends to struggle with? What are some personality traits of his that may cause problems for himself and others? Is there anything that most people might expect him to know that he doesn't?


What sort of personal items, tools, cash, jewellery, or weapons does your character usually carry, and what might we find stashed in her home? These should ideally be age, gender, and social-class appropriate, have some sort of use, and be evocative. If they don't have a clear purpose or at least tell us something about her, they shouldn't be included.



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

It is true that, if the snake should bite too eagerly, he will be marked as an enemy. However, if he does not bite from time to time, at least, none shall know to fear him.

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Kenshin is in his early fifties and looks it, though he remains exceptionally fit and capable in combat. With a full head of silver hair, he is clean-shaven and always well dressed, but never ostentatiously so. In general, his clothing and appearance follow his personal credo wherever possible: appear approachable but not overly so, be nonthreatening but exude a subtle strength. He is rarely without his prayer beads, though he is not exceptionally devout. They are a comfort item and a symbol of his devotion to the principles of Tosatsu Angism. In most regards, Kenshin does not stand out visually, Though he is somewhat above average height and his rather sharp nose seems almost intended to to be looked down from, there is a certain approachability to him that is well-honed and does not infringe upon the air of authority that he simultaneously exudes. If there are any scars from the battles of his storied youth, they are well-hidden below his clothing.


There are many stories about Ishii Kenshin, and the majority are true, though he does little or less to spread them. Born a second son, he inherited the domain upon the passing of his brother due to illness introduced by Eastern traders. This was in his thirty-sixth year. Before then, he served his family's interests and those of the sacred balance, growing increasingly disillusioned with the Sugawara but possessing the good sense not to say so openly. Here, I could regale you with twenty years of oni slain and others secretly befriended, bandit lords brought to heel, overambitious daimyo toppled, and grasping and exploitative merchants humbled. In those years, Kenshin truly lived. He lived and loved and slept under the stars. He is something of a retired hero, though his swords remain sharp. I shall not say more, for Kenshin would not - not unless it served his ends, and those are always difficult to discern. It is only known that they serve - always - the balance.



As one of the greatest lords in the land, how much of what you see of Kenshin is true and how much is a mask remains always a relevant question. Perhaps he has worn the mask for so long - these seventeen years - that it has become the only face that he knows. The man has secrets, but such is the respect that he commands that these are not asked after except by those young and curious and those who seek his ruin. A lover of seafood, he will only open up around the dinner table, though he is not especially fond of drink. He seems deeply in love with his wife Noriko, who is one of the few remaining holdovers from before his time as daimyo. Unorthodox at heart, he is nonetheless not one to rock the boat. He believes devoutly in the necessity of the divine balance and serves it with all but the smallest of reservations, instantly repressed when needed. Kenshin does not waste time in anything that he does. Be it the administrative work that is his as lord of a vast land, fulfilling his duties as a husband, father, and son (for his elderly mother yet lives), or the two hours of training that he undertakes each day, the Ishii daimyo does this to the utmost. Those who know him best may whisper that he does it to distract himself, for the same instinct that took him all across and even beyond Nikan in his youth still flickers and threatens to burn. If some great action is to arrive soon upon his shores, there is little question that he eagerly awaits it.


Though his plans and actions are often complex, Kenshin is a simple creature at heart. First, he serves the balance firmly and devoutly if not with over-the-top zeal. Second, he serves the interests of the Ishii, for they serve the balance, always have, and always will. Thirdly, comes Noriko, his children, and his newly-born grandchildren. Finally, Kenshin places himself, and he knows that he is content. He craves nothing more. He tells himself so as he trains in his courtyard, marshals his men, and gazes up at the wide open sky on cold autumn nights.


It takes a great deal of self-control for the lord of the Ishii not to use his eager manas to race ahead in time at first instinct, but he has honed them well. Spare of movement and decisive when he acts, Kenshin favours chemical and kinetic techniques that enhance his abilities and dull those of his enemies. If he commits himself to battle, every blow has the potential to be decisive. Whether he uses it for that purpose is his sole prerogative. The daimyo is not unversed in spells of heat and light either, though has taken great pains to learn the arts of temporal and summoning magics. The former is used in conjunction with his unique natural abilities to strike before his opponents can even sense his attacks. The latter, he dares not delve deeply into unless the situation is truly dire.



Kenshin is well-read, well-trained, and schooled in the arts of statesmanship, thaumaturgy, and military tactics, as one might expect of a man of his stature. However, as a second son, perhaps he is not quite as well-prepared as he should be for the role that he has found himself in. To fill in these gaps, he can call upon nearly twenty years of experience as an agent of his father and lord, serving the needs of balance - often in unorthodox ways - across the land.



While he appears to be the very picture of contentment, those who know him well can't help but think that he would be happier in the role that he originally seemed destined for. A man of action and impulse chained to a court and duties, he plays his role well and even enjoys some aspects of it, but one has to wonder what it would take for him to bolt for the door should it be opened to him.

A mystery is just a question that doesn't have an answer... yet.

❖ [Relentless / Stubborn]
❖ [Inquisitive / Nosy]
❖ [Impish / Pesky]
❖ [Overwhelmed / Fearful]
❖ [Gutsy / Reckless]

Rikard is a paradox in many ways: young and very much wet-behind-the-ears, he often comes across as overwhelmed and a bit fearful, but there are moments when he is possessed of an almost reckless determination. When fixated on something, he is a relentless pursuer of it, and a fiendishly eager student. Not quite so naive as he looks (though not quite as worldly as he wishes), the boy is very much fond of the snappy rejoinder and of experimentation for its own sake. Magic is fun for Rikard, when he's given some free reign to learn it as he desires. Beyond that, he's... well... young. His nervousness at being the most junior of students makes war with his impulse to get up to all sorts of mischief, and he can be a pretty slippery character at times (though not quite as slippery as he likes to think) sometimes.


A barely fourteen-year-old boy on the cusp of puberty, Rikard sports a mop of thick black hair that is consistently just unruly enough to resist attempts at cohesion unless attacked with a comb. His eyes are grey brown and he tops out at about five feet on the nose. He's a fairly handsome kid, but still very much a kid. He is also very much a fan of dressing like a 'real thaumaturge' and goes to some pains on account of it, often throwing in random fashion choices on the rule of 'they look cool'.


Rikard is flawlessly fluent in his mother tongue of Budesrnish, as well as Avincian. As a result of learning the second tongue, he is passable in both Revidian and Torragonese as well. His Perrench is strong, though accented, and he knows a few simple phrases and can read Enthish and Belzaggic to some extent.


There is little doubt, or so Rikard has been told, that he will pass that magical number of 8.00 in RAS Capacity once he hits his big growth spurt. In truth, he isn't all too worried about that. All that the boy can really concern himself with is the study of magic. He has been a relentless pupil of Magnetic and Kinetic magic and particularly of the synergies between them. He is considered somewhat (and only somewhat) of a prodigy in that regard and has also dabbled in the Arcane school. As a distant relative of the legendary Hugo Hunghorasz, there are, of course, other magics potentially at his disposal. He has been seen to be wary of those, however.

❖ Magnetic: Journeyman
❖ Arcane: Apprentice
❖ Binding: Neophyte
❖ Chemical: Neophyte
❖ Kinetic: Journeyman
❖ Atomic: Neophyte
❖ Blood: Neophyte
❖ Temporal: ???
❖ Dark: ???
❖ Command: Neophyte
❖ Primordial: lol

If Rikard has to hear, one more time, how greatly he reminds people of his famous ancestor, Hugo Hunghorasz, he will kinetically slap whoever says it across the face or pull down their breeches in public. He swears it. He swears it every time! Sometimes, he actually does it, later on, if the consequences aren't too great. The truth is that, while he's flattered by the comparisons, they just feel weird. For starters, Hugo isn't even his ancestor. He's distantly descended from the recently-deceased paradigm's younger brother, Sandor. Then there's the matter of Hugo's legacy being more or less impossible to live up to. Finally, there are all these people talking as if they really know both him and this great-great-great-uncle of his. It's just... awkward.

Mostly, Rikard's lived an unremarkable life. There's no tragedy here. He's the son of a minor baron, scarcely above landed gentry, but his ancestry earns him respect, and his family's always been pretty good with the Gift. He's a regular sight around town and trains with the sons of knights, merchants, and artisans. He's a proper noble, but doesn't really see the point of looking down on people unless their behaviour warrants it. His family's funds were enough for a practical education and even some of the more airy stuff, and he took to it eagerly. In general, the boy just likes learning... a lot, and by any means necessary. He's known to bite off more than he can chew, and his bold inquisitiveness can flip into equally brazen cowardice on a dime. He tends to be equal parts curious towards and terrified of the more forbidden magics, spending long hours imbibing their theory but precious little on actual practice. Someday, he swears he will just get over the hump and try them in earnest: someday.


It's a chance to go to Ersand'Enise! Who would ever be dumb enough to say no to that!? Even if he has to play up his very distant relation to some famous recently dead guy that he met like... twice, it's worth it. There's just so much awesome stuff that happens there, so many secret ancient mysteries and hidden bits of magic, and he doesn't have to wait five more years! Basically, Rikard just wants to milk the school for all it's worth and learn. He wants to go on adventures, discover new magics and magical applications, and blaze a trail that he'll be remembered for. Just... don't expect him to stand front and centre when things get hairy. He's... still working on courage. Also, boobs. Boobs are a motivation. There are girls there he can actually maybe even date. Maybe, if he grows already. Who's he kidding? He still looks like a kid! Why won't he just grow!?


Rikard believes in dressing like a mage: dress the part, get in the mindset, and be the thing! He's collected plenty of cool 'magical' bits and bobs, supposedly enchanted, of dubious pedigree. He's careful not to slip over into outright garish or tacky and generally has a good sense of it. He's also in the habit of always carrying some coin on his person, but never too much, as well as a pocketknife and some lockpicks, though he never actually uses them.

His most prized possession, however, is the wand that his grandfather gave him. It belonged to Hugo himself, and then Rikard's great-great-grandfather, Sandor Hunghorasz. A genuine Hegelan imbued and enchanted item, it boosts his capacity, looks cool, and has some as-yet-unknown enchantments that he's still trying to unlock. Someday, he hopes: someday soon.

❖ Determined
❖ Resourceful
❖ Clever
❖ Friendly
❖ Learned

Rikard is an eager student, first and foremost: clever, witty, and often willing to push the envelope, so long as he feels as if he's in control or can assure himself that his attempts to do so won't blow up in his face. He's a decent kid, as well, on top of it, and smart. He doesn't go out of his way to act like a know-it-all unless condescended to or challenged. Don't do it, please.

❖ Young
❖ Cowardly
❖ Immature
❖ Obsessive
❖ Provincial

What do you expect of a very provincial fourteen-year-old? Honestly, Rikard's the youngest student in the school and he acts it. He gets tongue-tied around pretty girls, overwhelmed by genuine danger or threat, and can be rather socially graceless at times, revealing an immature streak a mile wide. He's often insecure about his age and size and just being talked down to as if he's a child.


This space is reserved for something of import later on. For now, have a...
HEX code: a187be

You can sing the songs they write for you, or you can sing your own.

Former songstress of the Vermilion Swirl, Moli's Emporium, and a small, remote village in the Eeaiko nation of Akrihan, Neki Kaureerah Wenhan is something of an enigma and would very much like to remain so in the eyes of the land-dwellers who she now finds herself living among. A bold, impulsive, inconsistent young woman, she often finds that it is music, conversation, and creative pursuits that most bring her serenity and joy, and so she throws herself into these.

She is also an oddball. On a given day, she may just decide to wear her clothing inside out and see if anyone comments. She might speak in rhymes or with an incongruous foreign accent, and will stick with it for surprisingly long periods, enjoying the challenge. She is one to both give and take dares and to exchange secrets (the more dangerous, the better). Despite her former line of work, she has a stubborn sort of pride and self-respect and, now that she's been freed from the rigid strictures of her society, a... healthy sexual appetite. Kaureerah is an experience addict, in truth - almost a hedonist. She's not brazen. She understands how to be proper and respectful, but she'll make no apologies either.


Like most eeiako, Kaureerah's skin is a pale greyish-blue, smooth and hairless but for the top of her head. Now living on land, though by the seaside, she dyes her naturally black hair a deep, vivid indigo. Her skin, as well, is noticeably darker in tone than it was when she was younger. Large grey eyes - normal for her species but almost cartoonish by human standards - and the soft, blunted nose characteristic of eeaiko complete her face. Tall and slim, she is rather pretty by the reckoning of her people. That nuance is lost upon humans and she is merely seen as exotic: valued for her uniqueness.

When entertaining, Kaureerah will play up her foreignness, often twining seaweeed, seashells, feathers, and driftwood beads through her hair. Otherwise, she simply wears it long, though the plants are a common motif. Her clothing goes from sparse when swimming or performing to bohemian, all of the way to rather sharp and classy. While she has considered getting a tattoo, eeaiko skin tends not to take these very well and the act of getting one, like piercings, is considered deeply sacrilegious in her culture.


Fluent in both the Akrihan water and surface languages, she had little knowledge of anything else before leaving her homeland, though she lived along a reef near shipping lanes and picked up a few common phrases, words, and the general sound of major human languages such as Revidian, Perrench, Belzaggic, and Virangish. Since joining the surface world, she has dedicated sometimes hours each day to studying the Avincian tongue, becoming startlingly fluent during that time. Always eager to launch into conversations, accent, grammar, and vocabulary be damned, it is this fearlessness that has allowed her to learn so much in such a short time.


Kaureerah's RAS Capacity of 7.01 is unusually high by eeaiko standards, and growing up as part of an outcast family taught her to be independent in her magic use to a far greater degree than most of her people. Since finding her way into terrestrial society during her mid-teens, her magical aptitudes have been shaped strongly to serve her interests in performance, art, and illusion. Relying primarily on Chemical to enhance suggestibility and energy sense, she bends, muffles, and redirects sound using the sonic specialties found within the Kinetic school. She is currently working on Arcane magic to further enhance her visual capabilities and for some utility and outright offensive use as well. Kinetic has also proved effective in these pursuits, particularly in boosting her energy levels (in conjunction with Chemical) and mobility on land.



Second daughter and fourth child overall in an outcast family, Kaureerah was raised in the small outlying settlement of Tikarmoorah. Having been declared 'Hemvoorik' (unnamed) for idea theft, her grandfather was expelled from society to live on the distant fringes, and his descendants cursed, for the next three generations, to maintain this ritually unclean status. He always maintained his innocence. As the kingdom of Akrihar expanded, however, the family found themselves in a prime position. Well-established as settlement reached them substantially, they became essential to the survival of the new colonists. Kamvik and Helaurrah's second daughter was raised within the exciting environs of a rapidly expanding frontier settlement, full of new faces, bustling activity, and burgeoning opportunity.

Yet, while people came to her prosperous family for help and offered them payment and - sometimes - quiet thanks, they assiduously avoided open association with the unclean 'Hemvoorik' and refused to speak their names in public. She would often play outdoors with her friends, swimming through the kelp forests, racing along the scaffolds and boardwalks, and frolicking in the pounding surf and on island shores. She would make up songs and sing and dance with them. However, when the others were called home or to some special event it was always an understood thing that she could not come.

As she entered her teen years and a certain set of biological impulses came to the fore, Kaureerah found that she was forbidden to see the first boy that she liked, and then the next one as well. They were promised to others. She was not to sully their family names with her Hemvoorik. As other members of the community grew to surpass the prosperity of her family, things only worsened. Older men came to the door asking if she might be theirs for a night or perhaps a month - secretly, of course, and for remuneration - for she was clever and beautiful, they said, and they wanted to give her children the chance, at least, to make something of themselves, even if she would never enjoy it. If this period in life is a time of often difficult adjustments for many, it was one of realization for the young Kaureerah. Her talents did not matter. The gifts that the gods had bestowed upon her were all to be wasted. Her parents' hard work was for naught. For the supposed sins of her innocent grandfather, they were all to suffer for the remainder of their lives. Bitterness is a poison pill, but it can be oddly comforting, too. She withdrew into her own world of sad songs and long absences, deeply wounded and nursing a righteous rage against society.

Then, shortly after her fifteenth birthday, Makaurroh Wenhan passed away. On his deathbed, he admitted his guilt. All of his granddaughter's burning, justified fury fell flat. The rebuke didn't hold her for particularly long, however. She realized that she was still innocent of any wrongdoing as were her parents, her siblings, and her newly-born nephew. She urged them to challenge the unjust laws of their community, but they would not have it. They would suffer in silence. So, one day, when they woke up, she was no longer there. That fool girl had run off and cursed them to even further ignominy. She had run to the world of the humans, hegelans, and yasoi.

The past three years have seen her bounce from one job to the next as performer, artist, and courtesan: an exotic representative of the elusive people from beneath the sea. Kaureerah has made seemingly endless compromises along the way, and sometimes feels as if she has sold her self-respect in selling her body, but she has learned and experienced infinitely more than she ever thought she'd be able to back home, picking up skills, pastimes, languages, and a heightened sense of magic. If she isn't one of these people - even if she will always be foreign - she is at least not an outcast. She no longer feels the sting of rejection every day upon her cheeks. That, in itself, is a species of happiness.


What motivates anyone? Kaureerah wants what we all want: to flourish. Her version of this most stridently involves finding a sense of belonging and kinship: something that she has always been lacking in one sense or another. She is not a fundamentally good or bad person, though she has enough empathy to skew, most often, in the direction of the former. Beyond this, she is an experience collector, eager to make the most of this terrestrial world that so few of her people really get to see. She will try just about anything once, so long as it's not very obviously cruel or dangerous, and she will try to do so with style. She's a performer and an artist, who searches the world around her for inspiration and looks to contribute to the experiences of others. She wants to bring some beauty to her surroundings, some life, colour, and verve! This is a side of herself that she has fostered more than any other over the past three years, and that she looks to foster further.

Ersand'Enise brings all of these motivations together. It's an opportunity to better herself and her craft, a place where exciting and evocative things happen, and a chance to meet interesting new people and become part of a community. How can she not be here?


Kaureerah is almost never without her lute: a human instrument that she has spent the past three years mastering. She will usually have water plates as well - an eeaiko instrument that she sometimes makes by hand. Beyond that, she collects beads, coins, and swatches of paint from her travels and visitors. She likes to keep them, but will trade some of the more interesting ones to passing yasoi for a good deal or to gullible humans who believe that they are rare eeaiko cultural artifacts. She feels a bit bad for that.



At the end of the day, Kaureerah is a talented and charming creative type with a flair for showmanship and wordplay, as well as being an eeaiko made for life in the water. These grace her with the strengths that one would expect in those areas. She's possessed of many of the qualities that people often admire in their heroic figures, but she's just a bit too deferential to truly want to rock the boat. She would rather stoically take a loss so as not to inconvenience or hurt those she cares about than take a stand if it risks too much damage. She's usually good at gauging situations and moods, and will usually attempt to apply the proper salve if she can.



Ultimately, a lot of Kaureerah's charm - at least with those whom she doesn't know personally or care about - is shallow and artificial. A born performer, she can be deceptive and exploitative and, though she feels the sting of her conscience for these acts, she's gotten quite good at the mental gymnastics needed to absolve herself of guilt. The world is wild and rough and crazy. She's always landed on her feet. Why can't others? She knows it isn't like that. She knows it's selfish. She knows and tries not to forget. Then there are the moments when she's reminded that she doesn't belong here. Eeaiko legs just aren't built for the same kind of running that human or yasoi legs are. Her mouth struggles to form the words of their languages, no matter how well she knows them. It can be... frustrating, but it's worth it.


She had a shrimp dog named Puck as a child. She still carries one of his teeth with her on a bracelet. Aside from this, enjoy a...
HEX Code: DEB887

I am but an instrument of a greater will.

Edyta Łaska is a woman of extremes, as her station and duties demand. Dogmatic, ruthless, and relentless in her pursuit of threats identified by the Red Rezaindian order, she is, conversely, generous, kind, and eager to help those in need. This is, perhaps, what one would expect of someone of her background. However, it is not the entire story.

Somewhere, on a level that perhaps not even she is aware of, there is fear: a fear that the church is certain it burned out of a little girl named Edyta in turning her into a holy weapon. She dreams, she hopes, and she lusts. The forty-odd years that she is expected to live is all too short a time for her. The joy and laughter that she sees in others is something that she craves for herself. Below all of the layers that she has saddled herself with, she misses her family. She wants to be loved. Yet, she is certain that, for love to flourish, evil must be destroyed.



Young, fair, and beautiful, with grey-blue eyes and sandy brown hair, Sister Łaska dresses like a nun of her order: conservatively and chastely. Her hair and neck are often covered, as is the rest of her bar her hands and - sometimes - feet. When in battle, she often (though not always) dons the red robes of her order and wields twin scythes of Ahn-Eshiran, representing fire and ice. It is rare to find her wearing anything but her clerical robes. If compelled to dress informally, she favours simple hairstyles or ponytails, and long, light dresses. She will always carry prayer beads on her person somewhere, as well as a pentact. Her weapons remain concealed.


Fully Fluent: Warlish, Avincian
Semi-Fluent: Enthish, Perrench
Rudimentary: Pestian, Revidian

Having had no formal education for the first eight years of her life, Edyta Łaska considers herself amply blessed by Shune just to be literate. However, there is no denying the role played by her tireless dedication to learning. If she is only truly master of her mother tongue and Avincian, she is fully conversant in Enthish and Perrench, as well as at least somewhat capable in Pestian and Revidian.

Icevein ❖ Greyborn

Level 5 in Arcane ❖ Level 3 in Binding ❖ Level 3 in Kinetic ❖ Level 3 in ???

Trained from her eighth year by the Quentic Church in The Gift, Sister Łaska is seamless and fluent in its use as few others are. Magic is a natural extension of her being, as the Gods intended, her immense blessing employed to its utmost in their service. Most particularly, she favours the thermal uses of Arcane Magic, which are greatly empowered by her Icevein mana type. This is further augmented through her Kinetic talents, carefully honed to allow her to strike from a distance, boost her speed to superhuman levels, and manipulate her environment at will.

A whirling dervish of ice and fire in battle, she is blindingly fast and strikes with colossal power and a surgeon's precision, phasing in and out of reality as a greyborn. Her blessing and curse, this mana type allows her to walk in the space between planes of existence, becoming intangible when she does so. Her allies, however, may not be so slippery and, for them, she is well-versed in the sacred art of binding: mending diseased and damaged flesh with a high degree of competence.

Finally, there is the forbidden magic that she has learned, and Edyta has struggled to assimilate it, wracked by feelings of fear and guilt but recognizing its necessity in making her an effective weapon of justice and shield of the innocent. She has trained extensively in this skill, but will not, even under pain of death, speak its name. Sister Łaska understands that, while she is beloved of the Pentad, as are all sons and daughters of creation, it is not for her to make the decisions, but to carry out Eshiran's will. This duty is one that she solemnly accepts with the utmost humility and conviction.


It all began in the village of Bynowice in the south of the Kingdom of Warlisz: a tiny place that doesn't even appear on many maps. The majority of its people never travel further than thirty kilometers from their homes, to attend the monthly market in the town of Tarwałki and the cathedral there on feast days. Edyta Łaska was born there to an unremarkable family of serf farmers, the seventh of ten children and fourth daughter.

The first eight years of her life were little different from those of any other girl in any number of villages scattered across the Warlish countryside. Then, shortly before her ninth birthday, she disappeared - literally. Her first time entering the space between planes that greyborn are able to inhabit bordered on traumatic. Some thought that she had died or was a demon. It was during a famine and paranoia ran high.

Only the local priest had some idea that she may have manifested a form of magic. When her parents were questioned and admitted to strange incidents like items falling, minor fires starting, or unusual cold drafts in their house, he passed the information on to the bishopric in Tarwałki. It was a warm Stresia, pear and apple trees heavy with white and pink flowers, mud beneath Edyta's small feet, and a constant hollow hunger in her stomach. Within a week - a fitful, frightening period in her young life - representatives arrived from the abbey of St. Karol. Two more passed and her simple parents found themselves summoned to the cathedral in Tarwałki, prostrating themselves before a visiting archbishop of the Rezaindian Order.

Edyta was given an education and a future in the service of her faith. Her parents were given a monthly stipend that made them among the wealthiest in their village and food enough to ensure that their children would grow and flourish. She bid them goodbye and promises were made that they would see each other for a handful of weeks each year, during holidays.

It didn't happen. Instead, it was prayer, lessons, and training that filled Edyta's life in the coming years. As she approached her teenage years, she grew accustomed to the ways and schedules of the convent that she had come to call home. Then, Father Bartek happened. The only other greyborn within the red Rezaindian order in Warlisz, he became her trainer upon her twelfth birthday. At first, these were merely simple twice-weekly meetings between the two, during which he taught her how to harness the full extent of her powers. Then, he took her to 'ride along with him when sent on assignment by the church.

Time and again, the young nun-in-training witnessed, firsthand, the destruction wrought by those with uncontrolled power and few scruples. Villages were ruined or burned, people maimed and killed and, always, were it not for Father Bartek, there would have been no accountability; the demons, sanguinaires, or wildbloods who had caused so much harm would be allowed to walk free for want of anyone able to stop them, only to strike again later. In the cases when it was not one of these, it was some figure of privilege and there was some sort of excuse on his or her lips. Those ones, she was instructed not to lay a hand on. It was a matter for the Somnians. She learned to hate the Somnians, for they never did anything. Most of them were rich too.

She was fourteen when a dragon wildblood wounded her mentor by stabbing him through the shoulder. Edyta didn't have time to fear. She simply acted and earned her first kill. Two months later, she was anointed Sister Łaska and moved to active duty by the order. More enemies have fallen since then. She has gone wherever her unique skillset has been needed. Now, the order needs her in Ersand'Enise, the beating heart of magical practice in the Twin Continents. Big things are happening and she is ever willing to answer the call.


Sister Łaska lives to serve... the gods, and Ahn-Eshiran in particular. She derives purpose and meaning from it and tries ever so hard to tamp down on the conflicting voices that emanate from the deepest recesses of her mind: the ones that scream at her that these people took her from her family, the ones that insist that she should have her own purpose, and the ones that say that she is - in truth - a creature of evil as a greyborn. Dami, how she hates the rich!

She has pledged not to live in hatred. Each life that she takes is only so that others may be saved, only because its continued existence threatens them. Really, she wants to think that her actions - more than just her martial ones: the good works, the charity, the friendliness - will make the world a better place. It'll make everything worth it. She's certain they will. They have to.


Generally, Edyta Łaska lives ascetically. She always carries a small coinpurse, prayer beads, holy water, a flask containing a very potent mana shot, and a utility knife on her person. When able, she can often be seen with the Menana and, when training or headed for potential conflict, her enchanted twin scythes: zamrażanie and palenie. They boost her energy capacity by 32 points and have... other, undisclosed enchantments.

"Smile some, life is dream after all."

Antithetical to his title and that of his order, Qasem is as bright light of energy who wears his heart on his sleeve. A charming smile and offer of friendship to most any he comes across is what he likes to think of as the face of his true self, but of course being a truth-seeker does at times call for mask to be worn. One less open and acquiescing to others.

Most importantly, Qasem does not abide deception in any form. As part of his initiation, took a vow to root out and report any he finds and uphold truth in all things.


Dark of skin, hair, and eyes. Qasem sticks out a distinct foreigner in southern lands. He stands just over six feet, and through careful consumption of chemical remedies, paired with magic has achieved a massive amount of muscle and imposing stature. His preferred dress is brightly coloured and flamboyant; often made of silks or satin and trimmed with metallic thread.


Native - Inipori
Fluent - Viragish, Ferreze, Palapish, Malabashi
Conversational - Paggonese, Torragonesse, Avincian


Chemical - Journeyman
Blood - Adept
Binding - Novice

Given his pitiful RAS Qasem is forced to compensate his magical ability but using it in unique and unexpected ways. His primary target for his spells is typically himself; a combination of his practical and magic chemical knowledge allows for Qasem to augment his own body to be much stronger, faster, and resilient for short periods of time. If the situation calls for it, he is able to turn off his pain sensors completely and overclock his body's adrenaline production to stay awake for extended periods. It all comes at something of a cost of course: Such physical exertion requires recovery time, and to preform them at all calls for Qasem to be constantly topped up with a specific formula of vitamins and proteins, distilled once a week and carried in a flask.

Using his magic on others is something he is loathe to do, but often called for in his line of work. He struggles to effect others without direct touch, but once done so has access to all systems of their body. His studies have taught him much about the brain's chemical reactions, and his time as a truthseeker more still. Not quite at the level able to detect his targets exact brain pattern by sensing alone, Qasem instead uses his abilities to replicate the reactions monitored in others within his own body. This gives him particular insight into the emotions and thoughts of others, but is primarily used to detect and stop lies.

There are other magics he's learned. Long forgotten curses, and maledictions that could further make up for Qasem's lacking range and capacity. But he's never had the need or desire to exercise those.



Qasem's history thus far has been as a footnote in the greater fates and tales of others.

First there was family. The great Laghmani lineage, dating back some four-hundred odd years to a group of peasants in the northern Zaqhory desert. A peasant family gifted by Fashdal-Sep a dream of a future to come; one that would bring ruin and destruction. The vision brought the family further north still; to Inipor. For another generation they lived more destitute than even before, thought lying or insane for their stories. Until the Torragonesse came. As the Laghmanis witnessed their homeland ravaged by invaders, they themselves were uplifted in the Inipori capital. Divine seers, the were called, protectors of the Darhanic Dreams. The same gift would continue to reveal itself in the same line every few generations, and while found in Qasem, it was not he who the Dreamer thought worthy to bestow it upon. Instead, he came into the world too-soon and choking for air. A disappointment from the beginning, he would remain small and sickly until adolescence; where his shamefully low RAS made itself known. It was a relief in its own right, any and all hope and expectations of him had fallen to his younger brother, and Qasem was free to toil in the depths of Hanom'Riqash, unearthing dusty tomes long forgotten to time.

Razin was the second being he came to know in the world. Mother and father were deities in their own right to the vision of a four-year old child. It was Razin who had received the family gift, and more. Tormented by vivid nightmares and dreams at a young age, whispers of hope for the next shepherd surrounded him constantly. To Qasem he was a screaming baby - always seeking too much comfort. A blessing in disguise in the end - neglected and forgotten as Qasem was by the others around them. He could soothe Razin, be of use to his brother at least. The years that separated them might as well not have existed for the closeness achieved between the brothers as they grew.

The third notable relationship in Qasem's short life has been Siraj Asghar, his assigned master and Truthseeker of the Greyscale Chamarines. He recognized the value of Qasem's studies and peculiar, albeit weak, magic. Together, they traveled the Darhannic world over five years, deciphering truths within lies and unmasking deceptions for later judgment. Siraj taught him what books could not: the nature of humans, their flaws and graces. How the duality found in them all was something worth preserving - and preservation required absolute truth.

Shortly after his most recent return home, Qasem was called again. Alone, he would be sent to Ersand'Enise as a full Truthseeker in his own right. Officially, his business there was to investigate rumours of a Darhannic wild-blood associated in an assassination plot. Improbable, the people were to believe, that the Inipori council would send one so young and weak in the gift to deal with the claims had they any basis in truth.


To serve the his order and the Inipor holy council as a truthseeker; bring falsehoods to light and record the truth. More personally and less officially, to return to his younger brother and to protect from the political vultures that circle him.



On his Person:

Water-skin - one of the two vessels Qasem exclusively drinks from
Flask - filled with a strange-smelling mixture that somehow always feels slightly warm. If filled and emptied twice a day.
Spear - weapon of choice and one with which he has most training
Round shield - a small shield that can be attached to his fore arm or held depending on the situation

Collection:

Jewelry - A sizable assortment borrowed from his family's collection, though he rarely wares more than two pieces at a time.
Lab Equipment - A large chemical set up taking up a significant portion of his room including a distillery, titration equipment, separatory funnels, and more.
Traveling Chemical kit - A standing trunk that, despite it's name, weighs more that Qasem. Contains a vast collection of dried herbs, powders, and salves as well as a smaller and a mush less useful distilling set in the upper compartment.
Notes - Multiple books filled with copied passages from Qasem's readings so they can analyzed while away from his usual sources kept in Inipor.








Hex Code: DDA0DD

"Smile some, life is a dream after all."

Antithetical to his title and that of his order, Qasem is a bright light of energy who wears his heart on his sleeve. A charming smile and offer of friendship to most any he comes across is what he likes to think of as the face of his true self, but of course being a truth-seeker does at times call for a mask to be worn: one less open and acquiescing to others.

Most importantly, Qasem does not abide deception in any form. As part of his initiation, he took a vow to root out and report any he finds and uphold truth in all things.


Dark of skin, hair, and eyes, Qasem sticks out a distinct foreigner in southern lands. He stands just over six feet, and through careful consumption of chemical remedies, paired with magic has achieved a massive amount of muscle and imposing stature. His preferred dress is brightly coloured and flamboyant; often made of silks or satin and trimmed with metallic thread.


Native - Inipori
Fluent - Virangish, Firrazene, Palaparese, Malabashi
Conversational - Paggonian, Torragonese, Avincian


Chemical - Journeyman
Blood - Adept
Binding - Novice

Given his pitiful RAS, Qasem is forced to compensate for his lack of magical ability by using it in unique and unexpected ways. His primary target for his spells is typically himself; a combination of his practical and magic chemical knowledge allows for Qasem to augment his own body to be much stronger, faster, and resilient for short periods of time. If the situation calls for it, he is able to turn off his pain sensors completely and overclock his body's adrenaline production to stay awake for extended periods. It all comes at something of a cost of course: Such physical exertion requires recovery time, and to preform them at all calls for Qasem to be constantly topped up with a specific formula of vitamins and proteins, distilled once a week and carried in a flask.

Using his magic on others is something he is loath to do, but often called for in his line of work. He struggles to effect others without direct touch, but once done, he has access to all systems of their body. His studies have taught him much about the brain's chemical reactions, and his time as a truthseeker more still. Not quite at the level able to detect his target's exact brain pattern by sensing alone, Qasem instead uses his abilities to replicate the reactions monitored in others within his own body. This gives him particular insight into the emotions and thoughts of others, but is primarily used to detect and stop lies.

There are other magics he's learned: Long forgotten curses, and maledictions that could further make up for Qasem's lacking range and capacity. However, he's never had the need or desire to exercise those.


Qasem's history thus far has been as a footnote in the greater fates and tales of others.

First there was family: the great Laghmani lineage, dating back some four-hundred odd years to a group of peasants in the northern Zaqhory desert. A peasant family gifted by Fashdal-Sep a dream of a future to come; one that would bring ruin and destruction. The vision brought the family further north still; to Inipor. For another generation they lived more destitute than even before, thought lying or insane for their stories. Until the Torragonesse came. As the Laghmanis witnessed their homeland ravaged by invaders, they themselves were uplifted in the Inipori capital. Divine seers, the were called, protectors of the Darhannic Dreams. The same gift would continue to reveal itself in the same line every few generations, and while found in Qasem, it was not he who the Dreamer thought worthy to bestow it upon. Instead, he came into the world too-soon and choking for air. A disappointment from the beginning, he would remain small and sickly until adolescence; where his shamefully low RAS made itself known. It was a relief in its own right, any and all hope and expectations of him had fallen to his younger brother, and Qasem was free to toil in the depths of Hanom'Riqash, unearthing dusty tomes long forgotten to time.

Razin was the second being he came to know in the world. Mother and father were deities in their own right to the vision of a four-year old child. It was Razin who had received the family gift, and more. Tormented by vivid nightmares and dreams at a young age, whispers of hope for the next shepherd surrounded him constantly. To Qasem he was a screaming baby - always seeking too much comfort. A blessing in disguise in the end - neglected and forgotten as Qasem was by the others around them. He could soothe Razin, be of use to his brother at least. The years that separated them might as well not have existed for the closeness achieved between the brothers as they grew.

The third notable relationship in Qasem's short life has been Siraj Asghar, his assigned master and Truthseeker of the Greyscale Chamarines. He recognized the value of Qasem's studies and peculiar, albeit weak, magic. Together, they traveled the Darhannic world over five years, deciphering truths within lies and unmasking deceptions for later judgment. Siraj taught him what books could not: the nature of humans, their flaws and graces. How the duality found in them all was something worth preserving - and preservation required absolute truth.

Shortly after his most recent return home, Qasem was called again. Alone, he would be sent to Ersand'Enise as a full Truthseeker in his own right. Officially, his business there was to investigate rumours of a Darhannic wild-blood associated in an assassination plot. Improbable, the people were to believe, that the Inipori council would send one so young and weak in the gift to deal with the claims had they any basis in truth.


To serve his order and the Inipor holy council as a truthseeker; bring falsehoods to light and record the truth. More personally and less officially, to return to his younger brother and to protect from the political vultures that circle him.


On his Person:

Water-skin - one of the two vessels Qasem exclusively drinks from.
Flask - filled with a strange-smelling mixture that somehow always feels slightly warm. Is filled and emptied twice a day.
Spear - weapon of choice and one with which he has most training.
Round shield - a small shield that can be attached to his forearm or held depending on the situation.

Collection:

Jewellery - A sizable assortment borrowed from his family's collection, though he rarely wares more than two pieces at a time.
Lab Equipment - A large chemical setup taking up a significant portion of his room including a distillery, titration equipment, separatory funnels, and more.
Traveling Chemical kit - A standing trunk that, despite its name, weighs more that Qasem. Contains a vast collection of dried herbs, powders, and salves as well as a smaller and a much less useful distilling set in the upper compartment.
Notes - Multiple books filled with copied passages from Qasem's readings so they can analyzed while away from his usual sources kept in Inipor.






Hex Code: DDA0DD

“My home forever, you have shaped me strong and true”

P E R S O N A L I T Y

A high noble from head to toe. Yvain values the nobilitas he was born with, however he does feel a desire to prove that he truly is worthy of said privilege, be it through his words or through his actions. When it comes to diplomatic matters he tends to use his gift to it's fullest extent to the point he might start coming over as flirtatious. He however disdains using it on people that are truly committed to their partner, feeling that it would be an unforgivable sin. Not even requests from his father, the Duc de Berbignon will be accepted on this matter.

C H A R A C T E R A P P E A R A N C E

Standing at an impressive six feet, Yvain has no qualms of his height. His Blonde hair, blue eyes and wearing the ruby that was said to be a gift of Benedict the Blessed to his son. have gotten his family to see him as the new Benedict. To subvert this however, Yvain has chosen to wear more darker colored clothing.

L A N G U A G E S

Being a product of two truly prestigious bloodlines, Yvain got nothing but the best tutors from around the lands. Giving the boy a perfect fluency in Perrench and Avincian, Revidian and Enthish were taught to the boy from a young age to prepare him for the coming political discourse he will be a part of. Out of intrigue and curiosity of the eastern people's cultures Yvain picked up Thalak, Budesrnish and Warlish so that he may send himself on diplomatic missions to these nations.


Blueblood, Rosebud

❖ Kinetic - Journeyman

❖ Arcane - Adept

❖ Atomic - Adept

As a person of high standing in both class and capacity, Yvain's usage of magic is as sophisticated as he is. Having mastery of the telekinesis element of Kinetic magic to the point he uses it in his way of life without much thought. These points however is not to say that he would not enjoy abusing his power from time to time just to prove a point, getting quite the kicks from seeing his opponent's face as he forces them to the ground with the use of gravity

He prefers not to use Atomic and Arcane as much as he likes using Kinetic, feeling he still is too clumsy with both schools. But when he is pushed to use either of two he could not care less what kind of collateral his magic could cause, you could say that the gloves will be off, figuratively.

B A C K G R O U N D

Being the child of Duc Jacques de Berbignon and Margaret de Perrence-Beauneux gave the boy quite a lot of privileges growing up. Always getting the best tutors for Language, sword fighting, etiquette and magic among others. He got all that was needed for the heir of a great ducal house. His relationship with his siblings have been quite strained ever since he could remember, being the golden child distanced him from them. Soon enough being proclaimed as heir apparent during his younger years when it was clear that the others would not grow as far as him.

Ever since then Yvain has had to deal with a pit of vipers, trying to use his naivety for their own personal gain. In truth the boy had a mixed feeling about these vile people, at first there was disdain. Feeling pure disgust for the minor nobility wishing to use a child for borrowed prestige. And then there grew another feeling in his later youth, pity.

Yvain has always envied the main branch as no matter how worthy they truly are for the position, they will inherit the throne while he will never be looked at as a successor. This envy has caused him to have quite the dislike for Arcel de Perrence, whom he deems to as sorely to meek to lead Perrence.

Coming to Ersand'Enise has been a refreshing time for Yvain, having been away from the viper's pit back home gave him plenty time to think.

M O T I V A T I O N

The young lad came to Ersand'Enise to mingle with the high society of other nations, building up his personal influence past his family's so that one day he might be chosen the rightful adviser of the Perrench crown. Although his family wished for him to marry a woman from the Herbeumont family, the candidate however was too meek for his standards. Ersand'Enise is a prime opportunity for him in this sense.

The main fear of Yvain is of ending up as a puppet instead of the puppeteer. The feeling in the back of his head that eats away at him is the fact his family would have the gall to use him as a tool to further their ends. He is the useful one, he should be the one to profit the most.

Another person he would love to find is a worthwhile rival to match his skill in dueling, giving him further drive to better his skills.

I N V E N T O R Y

Vailant Noir: A shield made from the scales of the Gehenna from the times of the Eskandr invasion of his home.

Cufflinks with the crest of the Berbignon imbued on them.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

❖ He has a soft spot for cute animals

❖ He has a pet dog named Perceval

❖ He secretly has an incredible intrigue for regions outside of Constantia. He will however never admit to it.

Green hex code:00e600

Legends are not born, they are forged and burned into time

Marz is a hot-blooded, ill-tempered, and crass man. He speaks his mind without holding back and cares not for the consequences. When someone tries to put the screws to him, he will not hold back in punching below the belt with insults, and threats, and if he is angered enough, he will punch below the belt. He is a man of action, a man of purpose, and if he is inspired his goals are to go through any pains and any roadblocks to become even better and to reach greater heights.



Standing 5 feet even Marz is a tall Hegelan with a powerful build and strong complexion. His body is covered in muscle, scars, and burns across his body from his work. He has long thick red hair, a nicely grown beard, and dark black eyes. He dresses in basic clothing, and he often wears armored pieces of clothing mattering on what he chooses or his mood. However, of anything, Marz always carries his forging hammer on his back as it can be seen more like a war hammer than a forging hammer.



Marz knows Ramorghan as it is his homeland, he also knows enough of each of the other Hegelan languages to say he is passable. Marz however also knows Avincian at a decent level making him able to speak with people of the outside world. However, he is also fluent in the art of wordplay and crass humor.



Marz being a Bronze Blood makes him much stronger and more efficient with his magic. Marz is naturally more in tune with the combative side of magic, his fighting is fierce and violent through his physical build, and his hot-blooded attitude. This same attitude is not seen in his craft, however, with elegance and precision Marz uses his magic within his work as a craftsman to be like fine art.

❖ [ Arcane ] – [2. Aprentice] - Marz uses this school to heat up metal, cool metal, and heat up forges. When used in combat Marz enhances his strikes with fire, using fire and light attacks to quickly strike out.
❖ [ Binding ] – [2. Aprentice] - This school is one where Marz had used it to try and fix breakages in items he made during his starting years. Now he uses it to quickly deconstruct materials to quick shapes he needs. He uses it during fights to deconstruct materials to fight, or to create quick traps, while also creating materials to use in fights.
❖ [ Chemical – [2. Apprentice] - Marz uses Chemical to enhance himself, focus, strength, flush out unwanted chemicals from materials, and many other things.
❖ [ Kinetic ] – [3. Adept ] - This is one of Marz's most used schools, he uses it to enhance his hammer swings, his movements, and the power of different actions. He also uses it to move items quickly through gravity magic and changing it's weight while also manipulating it with telekinesis,
❖ [ Magnetic ] – [2. Aprentice ] - A school often attributed to metal manipulation, Marz is no different, he uses it to manipulate metals and ionic charges to manipulate materials, etch 'veins' within metal to fit manas within items and equipment, and even charge items to make low energy magnets. However in combat, Marz uses it to charge his weapons, move his body with armor on him, and fight in both a defensive and offensive manner.

❖ [ Atomic Magic ] – [ 0. Neophyte ] - "Big boom"
❖ [ Blood Magic ] – [ 0. Neophyte ] - "There's 2 of 'em?"
❖ [ Temporal Magic: ] – [ 0. Neophyte ] - "If only I could go back in time. I want some extinct materials"
❖ [ Dark Magic ] – [ 0. Neophyte ] - "Turn on the lights, no more nonsense"
❖ [ Command ] – [ 0. Neophyte ] - "Command Magic? Command my boot out of your ass"
❖ [ Primordial ] – [ 0. Neophyte ] - "Oi, you joking with me?"



Marz was born to a strange family of smiths, they were innocuous to some. Fighting and war had not seen their homes in decades, yet when it was, Mohfolk was a name born in fire and blood. Mohfolk was made through the fires of battle, a weapon being forged was not one to be passive, and combat was the only place a weapon was to be made. Mokfolk has made weapons of war, swords forged in battles, machines made in the midst of combat, and quenching oil made from the blood of the enemy. Mohfolk are smiths, yes, however, they did not play the role of passive, they forged in battle, for battle, and Marz was no different.

Marz's upbringing was not harsh, but it was very rigorous, training how to fight, how to smith, how to enchant, he was made to be able to forge alone. He had learned how to forge in many different ways, yet his most preferred was through battle. He fought and killed beasts and dragons to gather materials, mined his own materials, and forged what he could. He learned to fight what he was to forge later, learning what could make equipment stronger, and bringing it to greater heights.

Once Marz was at the ripe age of 15 he had made his first real craft that was to be commissioned, an axe that was to be named Rastvesti. It was accounted for in every regard, the amount of manas, which manas, how the blade would look, even the woods. The only thing that was not accounted for was the material for the head of the axe. Here Marz had free reign and he used it, he left home in search of a creature that could fit the name Rastvesti, it was a hard-sounding name, and it sounded powerful, so it was going to make right for the name. A great Hagh Dalf or Mountain Fire Dragon does nicely. A large land-based fire-breathing dragon that has an internal temperature similar to a volcano, through this great energy production great pieces of scales were made. Tempered and hardened to become stronger than steel, it seemed like the perfect metal to forge the axe Rastvesti. Through an intense fight of steel and fire, Marz fell the beast and brought the large 20-foot-long dragon back to be forged into an axe.

Later did he find out that Rastvesti meant 'Blossom' in Vossoriyan, Marz had cursed for a week straight as it was by far the dumbest-sounding name to give an axe. Yet the buyer was long gone before Marz could rip them a new one.

After this time Marz had honed his craft, and he had begun to gain renown for many things, his crafting skills, his fine metalworking, his skill of imbuement, and he had even increased his skills in enchantment. Yet he gained new renown, he never makes the same item twice. When asked for an item, he is known to only allow them to tell him the basic things, like what kind of weapon, what is the general idea, and what materials brought in. Then no other say is had, Everything else is up to Marz. He has been said to have murdered a Gehenna for an item and billed the man for the piece that he never wanted. He has made strange items, like when he was commissioned to make an ice dagger. But when he was finished with it, it was now able to shoot lightning. This left the buyer one lesson either they pay for it, or they would never speak to him again.

Yet finally came DZ-54, Marz became 18 and he had watched the Trials come and pass. He had watched many great things and knew what he wanted, he wanted to go to Ersand'Ernise, it seemed to be filled with many people, and possibly a path to his goal. And what so happened was a well acquainted Gunsmith came by and offered not only a job but assistance with entering Ersand'Ernise, as now he is employed under Black Field Arsenal. Here he can work in Ersand'Ernise while the portal is not set to take him home.



Short Term- Learn what he can to apply to his skills and eventually be more effective at enchanting and forging new things into his items and his craft.

True Goal-




Money- 400 Magus












Anything not covered above goes here. You can leave this blank if you like.
Hex Code- #933A16