[hider=Vellion] [img]https://i.imgur.com/9r3ofLn.png[/img][Hider=Decaying/Truer form][img]https://i.imgur.com/AN4yhhQ.png[/img][/hider] [b]Name:[/b] Vellion Hurst [b]Age:[/b] Early 20's[b] | Height:[/b] 5'8 [b]Home:[/b] Lunaris[b] | Role:[/b] [s]Thief[/s] scout/tracker [i]"The blight has made the complexities of nature clear. We are always either in a state of consumption or decay. Taking or giving."[/i] **[b]Blight-born traits:[/b]** [u]Type:[/u] Classical, he needs blood to survive, while he can drink it, he craves raw flesh. [u]Abilities:[/u] Blood is the not only the fuel for his existence but most of his abilities too. He is a thief not only by occupation but the title now speaks for his existence. Vellion is still very much learning the limits of his blight given powers. [hider=Blood Magic] • Tracking. [i]Vellion can track the source of recently ingested blood.[/i] • Insight. [i]Blood grants all manner of small insights into the creature from which it came.[/i] • Tools. [i]His own blood can be spilled and shaped to make temporary tools. To make anything of strength uses up a significant amount of blood.[/i] [/hider][hider=Flesh Craft] • Material. [i]If blood is his tools than flesh is his material. Obviously harder to obtain and he can store less of it.[/i] • Builder. [i]Vellion can use consumed flesh to alter his own body. To patch injuries, to change his appearance, add muscle or wear the face of the deceased. These of course are not permanent and require blood to maintain.[/i] [/hider][hider=Mental Manipulation] • Thought skimming. [i]For reasons unknown, some have proven highly resistant or even immune to this ability. But when it works it allows him to skim the surface thoughts of his target, and push/pull on existing emotions. This is slow delicate work. Close proximity, maintaining eye contact, expending blood mana or recently ingesting the targets blood are ways to strengthen this ability.[/i] • Mental bond. [i]With familiarity and shared blood, he can set up a small telepathic link with a subject.[/i] [/hider] [u]Weaknesses:[/u] While the blight has given him a second life, new abilities and made him an exponentially better hunter, it is not without its drawbacks as all things come with a cost. [Hider=Undeath]• True state: [i]He died, horrendously. Torn apart and partially eaten alive by other blight born creatures. It was in this state that his second life began. Half devoured and deceased. Flesh torn open. Parts missing. Bones exposed. A truly vile appearance accompanied by excruciating pain. Without fresh flesh and blood mana to shape it, he returns to this non-dexterous zombie like creature.[/i] • The hunger: [i]It is always there, that craving, that want, that need. A desire to sate a hole that cannot be filled. He will feel forever disconnected, empty... hungry.[/i][/hider][hider=The elements]All these things work to expose him for the monster he is, to undo his magic and drive him back to his true state. • The Sun: [i]Direct sunlight burns up his disguise and blood mana while dampening all of his abilities.[/i] • Water: [i]Natural running water has a similar or slightly stronger effect on his external re-crafted flesh. Trying to wash it away, undo it, return him to his deathly visage.[/i] • Fire: [i] Flames damages the false flesh quite easily and is hardest to repair.[/i][/hider] [u]Bio:[/u] [hider=Reborn] In the still silence of some deep unnamed forest, a young street rat turned ranger sat alone in the dirt, blanketed by the cold darkness of the endless night sky. His only companions, a barrage of inescapable thoughts and a deathly hunger that hung deep in the pit of his stomach. The only thing worse than the endless ache of his hollow stomach was the emotionally turmoil raging in his soul, vivid uninvited memories relentlessly creeping into his head, assailing his clouded mind, tormenting him from the not-so-distant past. "Boss, the horses are ready." The words continued to echo out in his skull, bringing with them intrusive memories and images. Unwanted faces, crawling out from the dark recesses of his muddled mind, staring at him, judging him. Ghosts of the past. He remembered those words vividly, they after all, marked the beginning of the end. He now hated the way they sounded, the way they were spoken. He despised the confident child-like young man behind them, foolish and carefree. He hated the shameful ignorance that he wore, a fragile veil fashioned into a facade of happiness. So oblivious to the horrors that soon awaited him and all those around him. He hated that person so much. For that person was he. Most of all he hated himself for daring to hope, for having dreams, for surviving and for what he must now do to keep surviving. That fateful morning, so near yet so distant, was where it all began, or perhaps, better put, where it all ended... When measured by the passage of time, it was surely not that long ago. But it all seemed so distant and foreign now, for so much had happened, so much had changed. In his memories it like he was watching someone else, a stranger, a curious creature he didn't know or understand. He had heard the warnings, they all had. But what hunter hadn't? The whispers of danger, giant monsters and blight born... but as always, they just shrugged them off with a laugh and another beer. Oh how he remembered that false sense of invincibility they all had. While some of the crew where there because they loved the hunt, others the thrill of adventure, or some simply the final spoils. He was there because he loved her... The one who took him from the gutters, the one who gave him hope, gave him purpose. The one who spoke of owning the streets he once slept on. The one who made him part of a family. The one who saved him. Even if she never truly noticed him, he would follow her anywhere. But she was gone now, they all where. Dylon, Rezith even Allifar. They had all followed her and now they were all dead. It happened so fast, so brutally, so violently. From out of nowhere, the sudden cries, the screaming, the blood. The neighing horses, the heavy thud of falling bodies. Steel shimmering as weapons were drawn only to be dropped a moment later. The blood. So much blood. It's fair to say that Velion and fate had never been on the best of terms. Fate having cursed him with a whoring mother, an absent father and a cruel hard life of self reliance on the streets. Yet when Lena walked into his life, naively he thought things were going to change. That fate might just let him be, that maybe his fortune was finally changing. How wrong he had been. Now he sees it for what it was. That brief dash of happiness in a life of pain and struggling, it was not a reprieve, it was all a ruse, yet another sick joke, a cruel twist of fates making. Giving with one hand so she could take it away with the other. Fate would be laughing at him now. Amused and marvelling at her own antics. All at Vellion's expense. Perhaps that's why the blight chose only him and no others, maybe that's why he was the only one left of the group. Because it knew that he knew true pain, true loneliness and deathly hunger. He had chewed on dirt and roots for nourishment, he had stolen, fought and clawed for survival. He of all of them would do what ever it took. This painful empty truth sheltered him from none of the horrific self loathing that consumed him as he stumbled around in the dark, blind and deaf, silently weeping, trying to sate his undying appetite. Crawling in the dirt, clawing blindly for anything edible around him. He could resist the hunger no more. It was all consuming, maddening urge. Deep down, he knew the blindness and deafness was self inflicted. Thanks to the blight, he could end it any time. But he didn't want to. He didn't dare hear the noises, the chewing, the crunching. He couldn't bare witness the site, any of it. He distanced himself to the act of eating, not wanting to know what.... who he was eating. Fate had taken them away, now only food remained. He survived when no others did and now he lived now in a constant state of either consumption or decay, and he was so terribly hungry. So blindly, with silent tears streaming down his face, full of self loathing and disgust, he continued to do the unimaginable, until he felt some semblance of being whole. [/hider] [/hider] [hider=Aliseth] [b][u][colour=goldenrod]Aliseth Greylan Kain[/colour][/u][/b] [b]28 | Male | Lunaris | Royal guard | Human[/b] [hider=appearance][img]https://i.imgur.com/JNqLLIh.png%5B/img[/img] [/hider] [b]Magic:[/b] While not a trained mage, he has had small bouts of strength and fortitude that he can only attribute to latent magic. He is yet to understand and control these. Also, a recent attack from a particularly nasty blight-born not only muddled his memory but has left him with traces of the monsters psychic abilities. [b]Short Bio:[/b] He came to Dawnhaven as a royal guard, he remembers that much. He remembers his mentor and close friend Abel dying at the hands or teeth of a brutal (yet handsome, amazingly charismatic, intelligent and deep) blight-born in defence of the princess. He never got his revenge, barely surviving himself. The monster getting away. Azireth's mind and memory has not been right since the attack. Misc: Bad bouts of amnesia with possibility of false memories. Trying to rediscover who he is/was. [/hider] [hider=Valgo] [b][u][h2][color=00a651]Valgo[/color][/h2][/u][/b] [b]37 | Male | Lunaris | Stablehand | Human[/b] [hider=appearance][img] https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1118823525692756018/1315945895497568277/IMG_3011.png?ex=6759419e&is=6757f01e&hm=1b20694fcb259690c703b986468f15da7f5ab5cdb9dc51231ff3bd0c0d6b3826& [/img] [/hider] [b]Magic:[/b] A master of air, a student of illusion. He is more than just a manipulator of wind, throwing powerful blasts and erecting protective barriers. He is attuned to the very air around him, every vibration in it, every scent floating through it, it's density, it's temperature. It is not a sixth sense but more an extension of all others, of himself. He can control sounds, silencing, distorting, copying, or even recreating them from nothing. It is from these later abilities that he delved into illusions to add visual figments and detail to the sounds and forces he could already create. [b]Short Bio:[/b] Valgo was born in a small village on the far edge of Lunaris territory, deep in the wilds. The land was harsh, its winters brutal, but it made its denizens strong and this was no exception for Valgo. Son of no one, Valgo was destined for nothing. Despite this he rose to reputation and respect among his people. Taking multiple mates and siring many children. His clan was one of the forgotten ones, deemed uncivilised and wild. They spoke little of the common tongue, participated in strange sacrificial ceremonies and worshipped unknown gods. Unlike everyone else, they embraced the blight upon its arrival. Their leader being one of the first to turn. They sacrifice people to it, use it in rituals and revere those who turned and survived. While their numbers dwindled, their strength grew. Survival of the fittest. Soon they were leaving their sacred territory and attacking other villages and tribes. Not all in the clan liked this new direction. Valgo believed in his own strength and the might of his self honed magic. He refused the blight and would not risk death for power despite how much he was pushed to. He watched as those around him, some his own children, succumb to the temptations and pressure. Dying in the trials, becoming monsters or pointlessly falling to the newly turned. While he cared little for most his children, as was the way of his tribe, he did have one particular favourite. His youngest, a daughter to one of the völvur. A woman who was not his mate but enticed him with whispers of destiny and fate. She is the one who passed on their tribal secrets of illusion magic. He favoured their child above all others. As was the völva's dying wish, he took the young child and fled to the civilised world. He traveled far, putting a great distance between himself and his home land. For his daughter he had to let go of his old ways and this meant forgoing violence as he learnt about this new world. After a time he realised he was not fit to raise her in this environment so foreign to him and her best chance was with someone else. Eventually he found good people he trusted to take care of her while he himself return to the border or civilisation and the wilds, waiting. [b]Misc:[/b] * He once was in a raid against Ivor's village where his brother died. * His second son had become a powerful blightborn with Magic's that surpassed his own. His ideals of blight born supremacy is strong and he holds much spite for his fleeing father and long lost sister. * Valgo has a sparrow hawk named Rogh who helps him work the stables. Since grain is becoming a precious commodity, Rogh keeps the vermin away from it. [hider=Rogh][img] https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1118823525692756018/1315945862102257725/IMG_3029.png?ex=67594196&is=6757f016&hm=ff9734ea02572b3374bd83a63e0f85f500edd0a8dcae5d8e2d7f1f2e70bbc05f& [/img][/hider] [/hider]