• Name: Urden Antiac
• Age: 29
• Gender: Male
• Race: Human
• Appearance:
  Appearance [+]

  
  Stands at just about 6'1".
• Personality:
  On the surface of it, Urden is as quick to laugh and hoke as he is to breath. Quick to crack jokes and make offhand remarks on current circumstances, the chatty man is certainly lacking in the respect department, at least overtly. It is honest enough for who he is at a passing meeting or glance, however it is a façade to hide the mercenary beneath the smile who's out to make ends meet and nothing more, something that never quite reaches the dull amber of his eyes, no matter how much he laughs or shows mirth. Under the surface is a viciously pragmatic fighter, employing any and all manner of tricks, underhanded methods, and anything else that comes to hand to survive long enough to collect his pay. Still, he has a sort of mercenaries honor, as once he takes a job he'll see it done, as long as he got paid to do so, and if he's dumb enough to sign on for the long haul, that's on him. Beyond that, he enjoys a good drink, a good fight, and most importantly, a nice and fat sack of coin after a hard day's work, and really couldn't care less who he ends up working alongside.
• Brief Backstory:
  Urden was born into a small band of mercenaries, who typically committed to activities and jobs that were mostly dealing with small bandit groups and providing muscle and security for caravans and other odd jobs that didn't pay well but needed done. The young man, growing up, chaffed under this lack of variety and, becoming quickly apparent, pay, something he found a quick and fond love for. Still, before he split off from the group he learned to fight and carry himself, training with a two handed axe that had belonged to his mother, who had taken off shortly after he was born. He was also given a short blade, a 'proper weapon for a scrawny kid like him', and a parting farewell gift as the eighteen year old split off from the small band, convinced they would just wallow in obscurity for the rest of their days. He had bolder and grander plans in place, though to call 'Strike out and get rich' a plan was fairly bold of him.
  
  Being a freelance mercenary had its pros and cons, something that Urden would become incredibly aware of over the next decade of earning his keep through violence. Starting small, signing on with villages for fairly meagre sums to help scare off thugs, put the odd bandit in the ground, and generally began making a name for himself as a problem solver. He learned how to solve problems through any means necessary, given he rarely had the luxury of being on the side with the luxury of numbers. During this time he settled into a style of fighting that relied on speed and aggression to overwhelm most opponents, his two handed axe suited to the aggressive approach. He earned his fair share of scars this way, learning not just how to fight, but how to survive along the way. Though, word eventually reached him that his old outfit had turned to banditry, and for once he felt a call beyond just making coin, and that was quite a bit of anger that they gave up on earning their keep through honest, albeit bloody, work.
  
  This is how he would end up crossing paths with the Hraesleg Lions, a detachment of them crossing paths with Urden as he was planning how to assault the camp where his old outfit was. They struck a deal, he would lead them down and help clear out the mercenaries turned bandits, and he would get paid for his services as both warrior and informant. Picking out where the old blind spots still were in camp, especially since the bandits had gotten lax and fat in their relative safety, and the sudden lightning assault just after dusk didn't give much of a chance for the former mercenaries to fight back. Urden made sure he personally put his former commander, and father, to the axe, though he conveniently failed to mention the blood relation to the Lions after the job was said and done. Prepared to simply move on, it was suggested that he come back and strike up a more permanent contract with the rapidly rising star of the Hraesleg Lions, the Steel Princess herself. Seeing a chance at not just a rapidly fattening coin purse, but also the fame and prestige to be able to charge more, it wasn't much effort to convince him to join the detachment and meet the Steel Princess first hand.
  
  Urden has been earning his keep ever since, maintaining a position as a mercenary first and foremost, but with a provable track record of loyalty once paid, he would find himself in quite the peculiar bunch. Didn't matter to him, granted, he was getting paid to do whatever the Princess told him to do, So if that meant working with a mostly figurative gallery of oddities, well, the coin was good all the same so Urden was staying a happy man.
• Equipment:
  Urden travels light, and doesn't bring much with him typically speaking. He has his mercenary uniform, a patchwork of mended clothes and a few pieces of token armor that are mostly there for show, though if a blow happened to strike there the worn steel would still do its job well enough. His pride and joy is his two handed axe, large to the point of almost being a poleaxe thanks to the length of its shaft, which he wields with heavy swings aimed to crash through defenses and lighter armor, the spike pointing opposite of the axe head providing an option against heavier armor. In a pinch he also still has the small arming sword in case he gets caught in a position too confined for his preferred weapon. He also has a small chest, where he keeps his coin, contracts, and journal, with the best lock he could possibly afford on it. The key being kept on a string hanging around his neck and often tucked under his shirt.
• Skills:

Axe Combat - Urden has dedicated the majority of his life fighting with axes, both his personal axe of choice and others such as hatchets and other throwing axes, and has developed a fighting style of his own that revolves around battering down and wearing through defenses of an opponent before they have a chance to outlast him. It has gotten him this far, and he is continuing to refine his efforts every time he ends up in a fight, convinced that, while it'll never be perfect, there's nothing saying he can't get good enough to convince the world otherwise.

Black Market Savvy - From negotiating contracts, acquiring supplies, extracting payment, or securing quick and discreet means to move from place to place, Urden has learned where to look not just for the best deals, but the kind of goods that would be frowned upon by polite society. Knowing what to ask and, more importantly, what not to ask is key in these sort of negotiations and dealings, but really Urden would have it no other way. It's where he does business most of the time, so it pays well to know how it works.

Thug - Sometimes being a mercenary means more than just killing, and Urden knows that all too well. Often times, a veiled threat, shift of the body, or twitch of the hand does more to dissuade trouble than anything else, especially if the client wants to keep bloodshed to a minimum. He has learned a variety of ways to intimidate and make his presence known as not only a threat, but one you really do not want to trifle with, and the more his standing grows? The more effective it'll get, which suits Urden fine. Means he can charge a higher fee.

Name: Irian Sinewell
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Race: Wood Elf

Appearance:
Irian stands at an average 5'7 (175cm), with a reasonably yet decently well-built body. His blonde hair extends shoulder-length, to contrast with his green eyes. His attire is generally green as befitting his Wood Elf origin, but he has also incorporated purple as the other shade in his clothes.

Personality:
From the looks of it, Irian is quite a serious individual. Rather straightforward, duty driven and concentrated, he does not really engage in small talk with others, and is quite professional even when it comes to it, but if you were to try to go out of their way to strike up a conversation with him, he wouldn't mind it, but don't expect any lengthy talks. He's also a decently open person when it comes to knowledge, whether it is his fighting capabilities, his past, his roots as an Veltian elf, etc, as long as there are nothing taboo, or a person is coming to him in good honest faith, he's willing to reciprocate the feeling.

Irian is fueled by a desire to learn and understand the world around him, not out of an altruistic and abstract vision that 'Knowledge is power'. Knowledge IS power, but that power is used to survive close by to Ithillin. There is a concrete and material gain from absorbing knowledge about the world, and he's all for it. He is very observant and reads others well, and naturally he is quite good when it comes to politics and diplomacy.

Brief Backstory:
Irian was born in one of the few forest settlements by the Wood Elves lying somewhere in the Velt's eastern borders. As the middle sibling, as his parents grew older, Irian was given a lot of privilege when it comes to social standings. He was not groomed into being head of family, nor was he living in the shadows of any siblings. He was his own person, and that allowed him to pursue his career as a forest watcher as soon as he matured.

Being forest watchers, his role was to keep eyes on any unwanted visitors, whether that be Veltians or Ithilianes, or even other creatures who wandered their ways into the elve's sights. Being a distinct and integral position for an elf to be in, Irian was taught pretty much everything an elf was supposed to be taught: hunting, survival skills and archery. And he surely did prove himself to be both an accurate shot and a fast one, though it's not always both. While it was important work, the remote position of his settlement did make jobs quite simple for the first few years. However, that was about to change.

The brewing cold war between Velt and Ithillin were slowly creeping up to the elves, who were caught in between both sides. Border skirmishes became more common, and forest watchers like Irians found themselves in incredibly tenuous position of possibly starting conflicts between the elves and the kingdoms, which they stood no chance against, or between those two kingdoms with each other, which would still result in the elves getting roped in nonetheless. The tension could no longer be ignored when a particularly aggressive Ithillin patrols open fired on the forest watchers, which led to a firefight that lasted for hours between the soldiers. The superior archery and home terrain of the elves drove the Ithilianes back, but this victory would not mean much, as the elf leaders feared retaliations from the Ithilianes. Seeing that playing both sides in the conflict would lead the elves nowhere but misery and destruction, they decided to cooperate with the Veltian, who were friendlier to them to begin with. Irian, also having understood the current climate his city found themselves in, volunteered to join the Hraesleg Lions, a growing authority in the borderlands, hoping they would be willing to protect the elves if war breaks out.

Equipment:
Being a forest ranger, Irian possesses and is very familiar with his bow, in which he takes very rigorous care of to make sure his every shot still rings true. Aside from that, he is also equipped with a short sword for any melee combat situations. His relatively standard armor is received more recently due to his employment in the Hraesleg Lions, having a more all-rounded combat role rather than forest watchers.

Skills:
Irian is a highly skilled bow users, well-trained in elfen archery, with shots so accurate it could be measured with a gold coin. In need of a target disposed from afar, Irian is the right person for that task. Despite that, being more open to other forms of archery, Irian is also trained in a more high-speed, medium-ranged styled archery that seeks to loose as many arrows as possible onto the enemy. Irian is also adequately trained on anemo magic, mostly to be chanted into his equipment, increasing the power, range or piercing capabilities of his bow/arrow, or in some niche cases allowing him to bend the trajectory of his projectiles slightly, albeit it would need to be premeditated. He is also able to hold his own in melee, but don't expect any miracles from it.

Name: Roger Falkner

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance:
Armored
Unhelmeted
His mount, fully armored
Roger stands at 5'8" without his armor.

Personality:
Being intended as the first in a line of griffin knights, Roger has always felt pressure placed upon him. The strength to endure it, and the motivation to pursue it, has been thanks to his companionship with his griffin mount. Given the choice, he will forego most luxuries that his station might offer, such as a fancy meal or a warm bed, in favor of sharing a kill and curling up with his mount at night. In fact, being separated from his griffin causes him some degree of anxiety, partially due to his worries that his beast could get up to trouble- or at least become agitated- if left unsupervised.

Roger is ambivalent on the nobility. While there are indeed many brave and dutiful nobles, like the princess and his mother's family, he's also rather unimpressed with the silly notions that their lineage somehow makes them special. He may not be as prideful as his mount, but if some arrogant fop insults his family's lineage, they might lose a very expensive horse or two.

One thing that remains at the back of his mind is his worries about what will happen when his griffin finds a mate. Will it still be able to serve as his mount? Would their bond remain? It's not an immediate concern, but it's a worry that he cannot dispel.

Brief Backstory:
For many generations, the Falkner family were renowned across Velt as griffin breeders and tamers. For most of their history, they were not nobility, but were nonetheless quite well-off due to the price that a trained griffin could command. This situation changed when one of the family's sons married a knightess from a minor noble family of little means, raising the family to nobility.

Roger was the firstborn son of this union, and the first of the Falkner name to be born to nobility. He lived much of his early life at the family's mountain eyrie where his father taught him the family business of handling and riding griffins. He learned to handle these dangerous, prideful predators without getting injured, how to train them, and how to ride them across the skies. Meanwhile, his mother trained him in the ways of a knight, hoping that Roger would follow in her family's martial traditions. They hoped that they could raise him to become the family's first griffin knight.

At first, his parents expectations for him seemed lofty, even unreasonable, and Roger struggled. He might have never managed to live up to their hopes if it were not for the fledgling griffin that was chosen to be raised as his mount. The beast became his closest companion, and bonding with it made him all the more invested in becoming a griffin knight, and more capable of enduring the pressure.

When Roger was knighted, it sent a message to the aristocracy of Velt that the Falkners intended to usher in a new tradition of raising up not just griffins, but also knights to ride them. Many of the nobility, however, were skeptical of Roger's credentials and abilities as a knight, seeing him as the son of an upstart family with little martial tradition. However, because of the value of an airborne cavalryman and the trustworthy reputation of his family, he was able to secure a position serving under Velvetica Hraesleg, where his role was mostly relegated to relaying messages, reconnaissance, and, if his commander requested, transportation. This changed as Velvetica's unit began to take on more formidable foes, and during the attack on the orc warband, Roger and Shortclaw faced their foes' porcine cavalry and cut them down, their first real fight. Since then, as Velvetica's unit has stepped up its role, Roger and his griffin have assumed a more active combat role, flanking their enemies and tearing into their cavalry and war beasts.

Equipment:
Shortclaw
A male griffin, raised alongside Roger since it was old enough to leave its nest. More than just a mount, it is Roger's closest and most valued friend. It is a preening, prideful creature, and while it will not attack humans or horses unprovoked, it will react poorly to being restrained by anyone other than Roger- and even then it'll probably whine. As far as griffins go, it is in excellent physical condition and quite capable of inflicting lethal injuries with its beak and claws. After Roger joined the Lions, he has managed to train Shortclaw to allow the princess to touch it and climb onto its back, although he wouldn't want her to take the reins without him being present.

Armor and Barding
Roger's armor was designed for griffin riding in mind. It provides protection from both the cold winds when flying and the blades of enemies. His mount is also well-armored, clad in barding that bears a weight-reduction enchantment.

Spear
Roger's primary weapon is a long, winged spear, designed to strike foes from his perch atop his mount, and prevent skewered foes from getting closer.

Survival kit
It is important for a griffin knight to be prepared for the possibility of going down in the wilderness, and Roger is consequently equipped with a satchel of basic tools for wilderness survival, including a knife, bandages, a tinder box, a water skin, spare saddle straps, and a small metal pot.

Skills:
While Roger is inexperienced, his parents trained him well in the basic skills needed to be a griffin knight. Roger grew up around griffins, and the fact that he still has all of his fingers is a testament to his competence in handling them. While he is not nearly at his father's level in this area, he can nonetheless train griffins to be comfortable round humans and obey basic orders, and is quite comfortable riding them both on the ground and in the air. In addition to what his father taught him, he was trained by his mother in the ways of knighthood, and focused particularly in the art of fighting with spears.

Name: Rukia Karasu

Age: 19 Hatching Days

Gender: Female

Race: Harpy (Crow Lineage)

Appearance:
Personality: Intrinsically curious, Rukia is little different from her siblings, save for being particularly keen and talkative; such is part and parcel for a Courier, as Rukia has little interest in the spiritual world, but the physical world. Always willing to learn something new, from destinations to langauges, Rukia is easily excited, but rather gullible, as well; and, while very personable and inviting, she does have a pesky habit of just picking things up and invading personal spaces. However, if put to task, she will see it done diligently and as efficiently as possible, so as to not shame her family's honour.

Brief Backstory: Born the runt of her clutch, Rukia of the Karasu Clan showed little talent, and even less interest, in the clerical duties of the Estivalian Temple that her Clan served as Miko and “Messengers” of the Divine. Instilled with a queer wanderlust, Rukia rebelled through her chickhood, until her sixteenth Hatching Day, when she was given a messenger bag instead of a staff, and a knowing, accepting smile from the Head Priestess. From then on, Rukia found herself in the skies, foreign lands, and tongues different from her own; delivering letters and parcels, and picking up little tricks and talents along the way - and, rumour, as well.

Ever-curious, Rukia would take an extended vacation and follow the whispers on the wind of a lion awakening to roar and herald a coming war...

Equipment: Well-worn Messenger Bag; a clasp-ridden burlap sack with an enchantment to weigh the perfect amount for Rukia to carry for miles and miles. Normally, filled with letters and small packages, it’s since been emptied out and filled with scrolls, alchemical reagents, pencils, small pots and pans, and tomes of recipes written in genuine chicken-scratch.

Skills: Rukia fancies herself something of an Alchemist, though she's more of a nescant Trickster. Through a clever application of very basic Wind, Water, and Fire Magic, Rukia can make pretty basic potions and oils that can be applied to weapons, armors, and items to enchanting effect, or hooked with her thumb talon and batted at targets with her wings as explosive artillery with various effects.

To disguise her situational combat skills, Rukia presents herself more as a seasoned traveler with a well-developed sense of direction and a talent as a polyglot; and, of course, the natural ability to fly through the skies.