Fear is the driving factor of humanity. It was fear that banished all those people from Farnea. It was fear that had the leaders of the Sanctuary surrender themselves. It was fear that drove the Gifted to run deep into the forested island. It would be naive to think that fear wasn't a factor in their decision to fight back.

Within Farnea lay the kingdoms of the world. Though mostly at peace, they faced something that they had never dealt with, or even conceive within their minds before. The introduction of magic unto the land began with Carneas, the first Gifted. No, no wars where waged. Not one person had died due to the mans birth, and yet, he was feared. Soon after, different individuals began to be discovered within the land, no relation between any of them. People grew uneasy due to their presence. The idea that they were able to bend the very laws of nature seemed evil. After the discovery of Ractem in the Beyond, no time was wasted in shipping them away. Now, three years after the discovery of magic, the island is in a state of chaos.

In Ractem, the Gifted adapted to their new life in the forested island. Some went of on their own. Some formed or joined the Sanctuary, such it's leader: Carneas. Others wasted time trying to get back to the mainland. Amidst their struggles for survival, their troubles grew as certain individuals seemed to entirely change in personality. The discovery of the Sprites was a horrible one. It seemed that these demons were able to take over the body of a Gifted, and not one year after the first wave of Gifted reached Ractem, the Sanctuary fell to them. The sprites waged war on the Gifted, claiming their bodies as their own due to the debt owed for their bestowal of magic.

You will play as one of the Gifted fighting to reclaim Ractem.

Name:
Rita Venor

Gender:
Female

Age:
22

Affinity:
Illusions

Spells:

• Tricksters Kiss-

A simple illusion spell creating obstacles and items that aren't really there, varying from gold to large intricate creations.


• Fools Wish-

Allows Rita a small glimpse of someone's desires whether she over hears it or not allowing her to place the idea it exist or to show it to the person generally leading them around to obtain what it is they seek.


• Devils Advocate-

Allows her to create an illusion of her prey that effectively mimicked them and copied their motions, it's more or less meant to confuse and deteriorate her enemies moral. Mainly used in the presence of a pool of water or the reflective surface.

• Silent Shade-

A simple spell that muffles both Rita's presence and any sound she exhibits making it easier for her to sneak around or just go unnoticed.


• Down the Rabbit Hole-

A hit-and-miss spell, something new she's trying to learn, involving making the target think they're walking through a passage to another world, whether it be a fluffy magical sparkle land or a dark ghastly place she still doesn't have quite enough control to determine it often leaving it up to chance if the spell decides to work.

Personality:
Generally Rita is laid back and rather down to earth, she likes to laugh and have a good time trying not to take things completely serious, only becoming serious either when she sees something that upsets her odd sense of morality, feeling no shame with killing someone if it means her own view on life is preserved, still slightly naive to all the ways of the world she might sometimes come across as too eager and willing to help if she thinks the cause is the right thing. Curious about a lot of things regretting the years she wasted acting as an errand boy to a bunch of self glorified thugs, also causing her to have a diversion and distaste towards most military figured she often just takes all the scrolls and books she can find.

Background:
Growing up in a darker rural part of the capital city, so over run by criminals and petty gangs they had to erect a patrol guard to keep the Lower Quarter in line and help dispel the unrest brewing towards the capital. The third daughter in a family of five children, several of them adopted by the poor shoe cobbler and his wife, Rita and her siblings often spent most of their days begging and stealing food, money, small gifts, whatever it was the could find to feed themselves and help their parents out with the heavy taxes levied against them.

Living on the streets Rita found that it was a lot easier to pose as a boy, keeping her hair cut short and in a page boy style drifting away from her siblings and their thieving ways having gained a illustrious view of the patrolman seeing them save a young woman from a drunkard wanting to have a little fun, not seeing afterwards as they sent the man away they had each taken turns with the young woman, she never realized it to years later she saw the same beautiful woman sitting begging for coin.

But long before that Rita began hanging around their stables running errands and messages for them, following after them like a lost little puppy until they actually started calling her "Pup, run along and do this pup, oi! Pup go fetch this or go fetch that." She never realized how cruel and demeaning they were towards her.

But it wasn't until she began to grow into her sex that it became harder and harder to get the guards to accept her even going so far as to apply making it through basic training and regiment before they kicked her out laughing saying if that if she wanted a job from them that she could just come back later and lay on her back in the stables and wait for them making lewd gestures.

Furious and angry with herself Rita stalked the streets wandering where ever her feet decided to take her growling softly as she began to see more and more wrong doings by the same men she help in such high regard.

The more she noticed the more a strange serene feeling swirled within her, it was running into that same female and finding out since she was soiled she was doomed to a cursed life that the dam snapped and a surge of magic and power flowed through her, acting as if almost possessed she let the magic guide her back to their station house running a hand across the cheek of one of the guards reaching out showing him a vision of his wife in side the building taking turns with his fellow guards, before moving on her eyes completely unfocused as two more started screaming about fires and spiders crawling everywhere giggling softly Rita turned on her heel twirling a simple quarter staff leaving a realm of confusion and chaos behind her heading out to find a new purpose in life.

Skills: Non-Magical

Pickpocketing- a trait and skill picked up after being kicked out of the Patrol regiment having to live hand to mouth.

Knife fighting- a skill she honed and crafted from a young age learned from her older brother and his little street gang, a skills she kept perfecting and practicing in secret.

Likes and Dislikes:
As a general rule Rita dislikes and doesn't trust people, besides that she finds strict honorable types rather boring and dull, going out of her way to use her gifts to trick and allude them into being foolish, that's not to say she doesn't care for company of others, but would rather be left alone with her thoughts and illusions. She also has a weakness for pretty gems having rarely seen them.

Description of Magic:
Rita's magic works primarily off the fact her victims aren't in suspect that they're under an illusion, often casting them from a shadow or a hiding spot having worked her casting area over small 75 foot radius from her person. However once some realizes they're under the effects of a spell their power and strength weaken considerably more or less deteriorating into a battle of will, or long enough for Rita to get close enough in to accomplish what she set out to do often switching to her simple spells casting more of them faster, yes it drains her stamina and strength just as quickly however the bombardment of illusions generally helps her keep control of the situation.

Name: Adrian van Erhenst
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Appearance:

(Please ignore the watermark, I've pulled this from deviantart)
Affinity: Gravity
Spells:

• Weight of the World (Instant Cast, Somatic Component, Verbal Component) - Increases the force of gravity in an area. Though meant to mainly slow down and tire out pursuers, in some places it can have a devastating effect.


• Feathergrace (Instant Cast, Somatic Component, Verbal Component) - Decreases the force of gravity in an area. Mainly used to perform normally impossible acrobatics, soften falls and generally make impossible escapes. Though there are opportunities to use this to a much more lethal effect.


• Force Barrier (Sustained Somatic Component, Channeling) - Creates a bubble of protection which deflects gravity-affected projectiles away. Projectiles launched from within the bubble are not affected. The barrier itself is rather frail, and can't last long under constant assault. Moreso, anything heavy will straight up shatter it, or just walking through it. Potentially could be mastered to not only deflect, but redirect projectiles back at their origins.


• Force Redirection (Somatic Component, Verbal Component, Channeling)-Changes the direction of gravity in a small area. Can only be directed towards surfaces. If no surface other than ground is present, Redirection can be used to suspend objects mid-air temporary. Especially useful in bypassing environmental hazards, traps or to temporary halt and confuse opponents.


• Telekinesis (Sustained Somatic Component, Channeling)-The power to manipulate the position of objects with one's mind, and hand gestures. The reach of telekinesis is limited to Adrian's line of sight. Heavier objects are much harder to move, and living beings even harder. While telekinesis can be used to easily move a rather large rock, one that you would need to be quite strong to effortlessly carry around, it could barely move a cat, as erratic movement makes it much harder to "grasp" objects. Stopping objects in motion and/or changing their directions is also much harder than moving an initially stationary object.

Personality: A playboy by all accounts, Adrian has and knows how to use his silver tongue to get what he wants. Coupled with his total disregard for the feelings of others, especially those of females. Always in a seemingly mischievous mood, Adrian almost becomes a different person when things get serious, though he prefers and actively tries to deescalate potentially dangerous situations. Completely selfish, untrustworthy and honorless individual who enjoys being the center of attention, Adrian is extremely loyal to his true friends. Unfortunately for most of Adrian's acquaintances, very few have earned Adrian's true friendship. And deep down inside, Adrian is just looking for true love and friendship, that one thing he never had.

Background: Born a 4th son to rather minor noble, Adrian's life opportunities seemed rather bleak. As the youngest brother, he always got the short end of a stick, moreso that his brothers were just better at nearly everything, except fencing and charisma. His parents, only concerned with the next heir and the battlefield achievements of their three eldest sons, never payed much attention to the fourth. While Adrian's brothers were marrying beautiful foreign princesses, fighting in glorious battles and getting their own fiefs, Adrian roamed the land, courting ladies in other courts, only to leave them heartbroken, starting petty duels and generally being an annoyance.

The noble drama that he caused, however, aided his family, and as such, his father left him to do his thing, even encouraged it. And with a little guidance, Adrian became a sort of spy. Happy to finally gain some approval from his father, Adrian continued to sow drama and break hearts amongst other noble courts, which earned him quite a lot of enemies and challenges to a duel, which he always won. Eventually, even assassins started coming after him, which actually nearly succeeded. Coming back to his home for safety, he learned that his family officially disowned him, and that he was nothing than a tool for his father, ready to be discarded. Left without a home, in a world full of enemies, Adrian accidently discovered the power he has, which saved his life from a band of hired thugs who ambushed him. With nothing but clothes on his back and his trusty rapier, the ex-noble joined a band of mercenaries, where he refined his mastery over his new powers. As useful to his unit as he was, many others with similar powers began popping around the world, and so, he was sent away.

But Adrian did not resist that. In fact, he liked the idea. A group of exiles, starting anew, in a foreign land where nobody will disturb them. A chance to start again. Of course, he was wrong about the "undisturbed" part.

Skills: Non-Magical:

• Duelist - Adrian is very proficient in one on one combat, with a variety of weapons. If armed with a rapier, however, there are few who could best Adrian in a straight-up duel, regardless of Adrian's opponent's weapons. His dueling expertise only works well against a single opponent, and requires plenty of open space.


• Silver tongue - Adrian is very charismatic. While effective on some, his slyness and chatter will just annoy and agitate others.

Likes and Dislikes: There is nothing Adrian enjoys more than lulling people into doing what he wants, and seducing pretty females is one of those applications, or making someone look like a fool while in an argument. However, there is nothing more annoying than those serious, honorable types, which Adrian generally tries to avoid, or just make them look like a fool to others.

Description of Magic: Adrian's power, first and foremost, requires line of sight. Verbal Component means that Adrian has to say the name of the spell, as he found it easier to use them when he named them. Somatic requires a specific gesture, sometimes it has to be sustained to maintain the spell, such as "directing" the object with hand motion during telekinesis. Channeling means that Adrian has to stay very focused to maintain the spell, though he can do other things meanwhile, as long as his main focus is on the maintaining the spell. Breaking his concentration, or casting another spell will break the channel. Moreover, some of his spell can be made stronger by reducing their area of effect, or vice versa. Due to the nature of Adrian's magic, Adrian's true weapon is the environment, which he loves to use against his opponents.

Name: Tiberum Ein Habsurg
Gender: Male
Age: 28

Appearance:

Tiberum Ein Habsurg is barefaced, and likes to keep it that way. He has moderately full lips, a rather rounded chin, and unpronounced cheekbones. Short, naturally wavy hair of chestnut brown is neatly trimmed at the extremities so as not to interfere with the fit of his helm. His body is lean but muscular, and his chest sports a nasty, jagged scar that starts just over his heart and ends at his bellybutton. He is considered by his peers as effeminate in that he has barely any chest or limb hair, and his skin is quite pale. Yet, he is firmly secure in his manhood, as described by the piercing, predatory stare of his eyes of dark brown, as he waits patiently for that one opportune moment, when his foe’s defenses are at their weakest, and he can sink his flaming blade through their heart, wherever the organ may be.

On Ractem, he dons his mercenary uniform: a red padded gambeson hugs tightly his person, under which he dons a simple cloth shirt without the layer of a chainmail shirt to separate the two garments, because the article was taken away from him. An arming cap and mail coif secures the fit of a steel helm with a nose guard. The authorities having basically looted him, he was allowed only the lightest of his weapons and armor as he departed, spending money on a brand-new hauberk, great helm, surcoat, broadsword, a crossbow and its bolts, all for nothing. His feet are wrapped in leather sandals he liberated at the Battle of the Magnicot from its previous owner. With such a light loadout, he is understandably displeased, for how in Kajuss' name was a gambeson going to protect him?!

Outside of combat, in an atmosphere of complete peace, he can be seen wearing a simple cloth shirt and pants, with a lucky charm made of pewter pinned close to his breast. But whether fighting or simply drinking or otherwise, he always keeps with him his utility belt, with its straps holding useful pockets and places for things to be put into, including two scabbards, one for his dagger and the other for his sword, and several general-use pouches.

The long scabbard is loose, vacant and vestigial when he arrives at Ractem, with only the short dagger's seeing use.


Tiberum Ein Habsurg, age 27, wearing a cloak over his gambeson in the cold Jermanian winter as a mercenary.

Affinity: Elemental Magic

Spells:

• The Gods Will It!: Tiberum musters up his personal courage and magic for a flaming charge that will bring him to a foe no farther than ten meters away from him instantly, wreathing his target, and anything around it, in flames. He will shout either a battlecry or an insult during this move.


• Ethereal Protection: Tiberum wreathes himself in flames which actively lick and lash at any opponent close enough to engage in melee with him.


• Fireball: Tiberum thrusts either of his arms with an open palm to unleash a fast-flying ball of clinging fire about the size of a full-grown man’s fist.


• Crescent of Fire: Tiberum slashes at the air, unleashing a heavy crescent of flame which will naturally arc down due to gravity after some distance and keep burning on the ground for a good while.


• DIE!: Tiberum musters as much hatred as he can to unleash a lightning-quick, point-black attack with the effect of a bomb. Either his weapon or his hands or feet will touch the enemy, and a specific section of the unfortunate victim shall be consigned to a great weight of fiery magic, concentrated into a single point, in a timespan of less than a second, which will expand outwards faster than the blink of an eye with great rapidity. Tiber, after this attack, will generally be tired and thus less combat effective.

Personality:

Tiberum Ein Habsurg is a simple man who holds simple convictions. He fights for his Gods, for his Country, for his King, and of course, for himself. Being a soldier, he is stereotypically fond of drink. His philosophies are down-to-earth and mostly practical, with his moral compass being very ready to disappear if, say, a dire situation appears, wherein the only way to survive is to do the unthinkable and pick the most disgusting of choices. He does not “get” art, though he praises humanist artists for portraying the human body in such a realistic manner with oil and brush: a craft so fine that his weary, calloused hands cannot possibly take up and learn.

He is rather withdrawn in social events and is not inclined to speak at length about anything, save for the few topics that interest him greatly. However, this changes significantly when in combat, with him shaking viciously in rage, his tongue uttering the foulest of curses and his lungs heaving with every breath to convey them with amazing strength.

He is reasonably friendly and patient and will listen to a person's problems, sometimes giving advice, but at other times only pretending to care so as not to look impolite.

Tiberum is not very opinionated, and if he respects his commander, then that commander’s morals will be his own, because he trusts them. He is an inborn follower, even if he inspired his friends and comrades from the front with acts of valour.

He is also very pious to the gods Kajuss and Grindall, and goes to mass every Holy Day, even if he doesn’t necessarily follow the moral tenets preached the day after.

Background:

Tiberum Ein Habsurg was born to two villager peasant farmers in the northern kingdom of En. However, he was delivered into a tumultuous era: bandits and deserters of extremely displeased soldiers from armies disbanded after a series of wars roamed the roads and the countryside, and traded coin with travelers in exchange for the guarantee of their continued existence. His childhood was relatively normal until a years-long famine forced him, his family, and the bulk of his community to abandon their home and migrate elsewhere. Families with lineages dating back to the first settlers of the land left the village one by one, and the young Tiberum’s own was one of the last to leave, in a caravan headed for the rich fields surrounding the capital of Great Londen.

Bandits, of course, happened upon Tiberum. Yet, these bandits were different in that they did not extract a toll from them, rather, attacking directly without so much as a word of warning. Those with arms fought, but these bandits were skilled indeed, some of whom were even former soldiers in service to the crown. Tiber ran, hid in the nearby forest and quivered as a scared boy like him should until the ugly sounds of fighting had died down, at which point he waited two hours to be confident enough to walk to the wreckage of his looted caravan.

People died within his village, yes, but those were peaceful deaths. These were not. Open wounds wept blood which pooled into viscous muddy puddles slowly draining into the soil that drank eagerly. Eyes were open, yet they were glazed and lifeless. Bodies lay contorted in different positions, most of which looked uncomfortable and unnatural. When Tiber came among the bodies of his parents and two sisters, he wept until the night.

He was found at the caravan wreckage by a detachment of troops moving from Great Londen to York. The man in charge took pity and let Tiber stay with them until they reached their destination, where the eleven-year-old was then given to a Church-run orphanage. There, he would receive a proper education, learning how to read the Gospel, write the alphabet, and other lessons, until he was sixteen, when the local captain of the guard was volunteering recruits for the new war and picked Tiber.

Those who refused to go were, of course, executed and made an example of at the central square. Thus, Tiber had no choice but to go along. Buying his own weapons and armor with what little money he had, he reported to the militia training grounds for two months of training and drilling while the state mustered up its forces. He stabbed at straw targets with the spear, but liberated an arming sword from the corpse of a comrade who had died in an unfortunate accident whilst training, and practiced with that was well.

Eventually came the baptism by fire: Tiber was assigned to a regiment of spearmen and his very first action saw him bashing shields and parrying spears with Frank soldiers. He perspired and was assaulted by fatigue, but, carried on by the spirit of his fellows, Tiber fought on, and he saw himself living through the Battle of Agrincarte. He helped himself to the spoils of war: gold, new weapons and armor and equipment -- so many useful things, for personal use, or for selling.

He fought for the rest of the Ten Years’ War as a loyal soldier to the Crown of En. Promoted to sergeant at age twenty-two, he took to using his arming sword as an inspirational tool, to wave above the heads of his fellows while he stood on top of a rock and yelled something uplifting. He also took a liking to the sword immediately, being less of a hassle to carry than a spear with its scabbard, and being versatile with both a stabbing point and a cutting edge.

The Ten Years’ War, ending on the eve of his 26th birthday, saw no victor and was ultimately a bloody stalemate, but, at the very end of it, Tiber saw a rise in prestige and prominence, however small: he was assigned into the elite bodyguard unit of a captain, a knight, a noble. He was taught how to ride and care for a steed, and how to fight while mounted on one. His duties had become light in this new time of uneasy peace, and he was left with many hours in the day to simply think. And think, he did, of things he could have done to change myriad outcomes.

He had made a great many friendships throughout his so-far ten-year career as a soldier. Many of those men whom he remembered always as happy faces wearing stupid, drunken grins around the campfire, were lost. Some were taken away without him even knowing, plucked by an arrow or a crossbow bolt during a charge. Others, he saw fell, and held in his arms, surrounded by the two’s comrades as everyone watched the man fade away. The fires of war, with their constant activities, were gone now, and without distraction, Tiberum Ein Habsurg had thought and regretted.

His mind in a state of restlessness, he began to have night terrors. Spears tipped with blood thrusted and jabbed in his dreams whereupon an colosseum of displeased spectators, each individual face familiar, spectated an ashamed Tiber. There were screams and there were sobs, but the anguish always pointed out to Tiberum. He blamed himself. He didn’t take this well, and, suddenly, he set aflame his bedroom.

The first two times, the candle was blamed. The third time had him interrogated. The fourth time had him imprisoned. The fifth time killed his cell partner, which only worsened it, and when the seventh came, the Archbishop of En himself came to to Tiber, performing an exorcism, which had no effect. His own captain, ashamed and blamed by others for Tiber’s accidental damages to lives and property, ordered to have him executed, with the members of his bodyguard, Tiber’s former comrades, watching the spectacle.

He was gagged, blindfolded, chained, and handcuffed and brought to the central square of Great Londen itself to be hanged, then beheaded. When they had taken off the bag and the blindfold so he could see the jeering crowd, so he could hear the Archbishop himself speak ill of him, calling him monster, witch and demon, something snapped inside of him: he literally exploded in rage, melting off his chains and bands. This shocked the crowd enough that he was able to run through the city streets -- naked, mind you -- to procure a horse at the gate stables and ride away for his life.

The next two years had him serving in a band of mercenaries, honing his new fire magicks. He could cast the primordial power from his hands, his weapon, basically any part of his immediate extremities. However, he was still loyal to the Crown of En, despite the circumstances, and moved south, where he could kill unfamiliar Jermanians instead of his Enlandern countrymen.

Yet, he found out he wasn’t alone. People with strange powers akin to his own were popping up and the air of taverns was being filled with numerous stories about them. Seeking comradeship and a new cause to fill the void left by his state's banishment of him, Tiberum Ein Habsurg found himself at Ractem after bankrupting himself on new weapons and armor -- most of which, to his massive frustration and annoyance, were taken away from him. As he was sent off, he was allowed only cloth garments, a gambeson, a dagger, and a helmet. But, once on Ractem, he breathed in the air, found it cool and soothing, and then said, in a voice that was neither too high nor too low:

"This is good."

Short version: Tiberum Ein Habsurg is a peasant soldier suffering from survivor’s guilt sent away because he kept burning his bedroom and killed quite a few innocents.

Skills, Non-Magical:

• Bash and Slash: Tiberum Ein Habsurg is a veteran of several campaigns and is very proficient with using a sword and a shield together.


• Use the Pointy End, the Pointy End!: Tiberum Ein Habsurg is a veteran of several campaigns and is comfortable with a spear in his hands.


• Marksman Apprentice: Tiberum Ein Habsurg has seen the use of both the bow and the crossbow and has knowledge pertaining to such weapons, though he is only decent in their operation.


• Siege Operator: Tiberum Ein Habsurg has operated catapults and ballistae and knows how to handle such weapons, though their construction remains a mystery to him.


• Living Off The Land: Tiberum Ein Habsurg is a veteran of several campaigns and has learned to forage and hunt.


• Rider: Tiberum Ein Habsurg has had mounted training and is able to control a horse well enough to fight on it, but inexperience makes this awkward.

Likes and Dislikes:

Tiberum, although simple, can fully appreciate the dewy mornings of spring and autumn, the raunchy, boisterous laughter and conversation of friends around the campfire, slugging ale and whatever alcohol they had managed to scrounge up with gusto, and, of course, seeing the enemy either dead or driven before him and his companions. There isn’t much he doesn’t like, but one thing that gets on his nerves is the arrogance of aristocrats when at peace. Nobles would drink and pat your back in war, but would be cold as winter iron when the documents were signed and people no longer had the right to kill other people. Tiberum despises such deceitful personalities.

Description of Magic:

Tiberum’s flavor of magic reflects very well his style of fighting and personality: crude, quick, and unfancy. As he thinks, so does he create, and from the very thin air, he summons flames as blue as the expanse of the ocean, which, in a short time, becomes a bright orange as the essence of the flame is mixed with impurities in the air. He literally demands that there be fire where he wills, and the world impossibly bends itself so, though he is limited only to spells concerning fire. The strength of his spells are tied heavily to his will and resolve, and if he loses the spirit to fight, either by exhaustion, fear, or some other reason, then his magic will be pathetic and laughable. But it takes a lot to unnerve a veteran of the Ten Years’ War, and though he has had his moments of weakness, Tiber has proven himself a tough nut to crack.

Gifted name: Maho the Summoner (Maho Takase)
Sprite name: Greed the Avaricious
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Appearance: Clothing is a subject of frequent change seeing she can just create different pieces


Affinity: Conjuring
Spells:
Red line - current progress. Maho can only use the spells above.
For the spells that require Greed's help, Maho will first have to learn the summoning family, then conjuring until finally being able to unlock creating.
Whims of the moment are spells that create disposable things and are the easiest to learn, Servants of man are things that last some time and then are discarded and repalced. Worldly desires are family of spells that summon things that are meant to last, and their summoning takes longer than the others.




Background:
Born as the only child in a filthy rich family, father spoiled Maho rotten. Living a life of luxury, she has grown in a place when all she had to do to get something was ask for it. Her life of a princess ended at her 17th birthday, when she to her displeasure found she had a conjuring affinity. To make matters worse, her at the time untrained and uncontrolled magic made her create a birthday cake, in front of everyone's eyes.

Scared soulless of magic, Maho's world shattered in the same way as her parents' love for their own child. In the span of a single day, she was being taken by unknown men to a boat that would take her to Ractem, with her parents not even seeing her off and giving her nothing but the clothes on her back. Feeling grief, betrayal and anger, she sworn she'd return and reclaim her heirloom once day.

Since then, Maho has been training her affinity on her own, quickly finding out she didn't need father's money anymore. She could - with enough training, trial and error - make everything she could want. This however atracted attention. After a spectacularly failed attempt at summoning a bridge from Ractem back to Farnae she was hopelessly unprepared for, Maho ended up unconscious for several days. During that time, her soul cried out for more power.

Drawn by her calling was one sprite in particular, one that demanded to have it all, and seen Maho as a way to get it eventually. This was a year ago, and Greed was her eternal companion since. Despite having the power to take over her body, Greed only does so when it feels like it, actually preferring Maho's company. After all, Maho is something it wanted.

Personality:
Maho is a typical spoiled brat who never had to do honest work. She is pretty much incapable of thinking along those lines - her solution to everything lies in her conjuring, even if it's something so simple as getting food - unless it's good enough to be eaten as is and doesn't require much work like picking an apple off of a tree.

Greed is everything the sprite's name suggests. When it decides it wants something, it will not stop at anything to get it, often annoying Maho, who despite being quite avaricious, can not match the sprite and gives up rather easily, oftentimes whining about her good old younger years.

Ever since they joined, Maho's own greed has been growing, fed by the sprite. In the year she had with the sprite she chose to train herself to be able to one day satisfy their hunger for all things, but it is slow going, to the frustration of both of them.

Skills: None, except maybe counting money and recognizing the value of things. Without her magic, she would likely starve or get eaten by wildlife. She survived so far by hiding and running, or scaring the fauna off, usually with fire. However, coming from a rich family, her brain is her best weapon. Once can not be rich if they can't think of a way to climb to the top of the pile and then keep others to climbing there themselves.

Likes and Dislikes:
+ Sweets. Maho is obsessed with always having a munchie of some kind to keep her mouth busy.
+ Gold. The shiny yellow metal sways her every time.
+ People. Alone for so long on Ractem, she loves to keep people around if she stumbles upon them.
- Work. Don't mention that in front of her, especially is you think she is to do some.
- Normals. Ever since her 17th birthday, she's been harboring hate for the people that sent her away like she was some monster, especially her own family.

Description of Magic
Maho's magic can take many shapes. Literally. She is however incapable to summon anything from a distance. She is also limited by the mass of the summoned thing - there is only so much humanly possible. With greed however she has the boost to eventually do more, but drawing the sprite's power is a process so alien it is difficult for her to do so, no matter how large the summoned object is.

Just like size, precision is also rather taxing, but unlike the first case, this gets simpler the more she casts her spells. Greed also can not help her in this area. At present time, she's precise enough to summon something that looks like it was made by a very young apprentice smith, bent and uneven, but somewhat functional.

The other folks sure are putting a lot of effort into their character sheets if they haven't posted yet.

||Height|| 5"2 ||
||Weight|| 123lbs ||
||Complexion|| Ivory ||
||Eyes|| Slanted|Small|Hazel ||
||Hair|| Mid-Length|Past the Shoulders|Tied up at the side|Scarlet ||
||Build|| Strong build|Petite|Short ||


Name: Miyo "Onyx" Rizuka

>>Though her first name is Miyo, anyone whom she is acquainted with or close to will know her simply as Onyx. She possesses a strange necklace, made out of a simple rope, always found hanging round her neck. The rope holds up a small, oval onyx gem, from where she got her name from. Infact, most would be surprised to learn of her real name, as most do not know it. Only those who knew of her past, would know of the day where Miyo died and where Onyx was born.

Gender: Female
Age: 21

Affinity: Bone Manipulation Magic

Description of Magic:

>>Bone Manipulation Magic is a unique type of magic, one that only ever existed in myth. This Magic is the ability to control the bones of one's own body, or the body of any other living or dead being, as long as there is bones still present inside the body. The user can change the bone's shape, break or heal it as they please. It is classed as a Dark Magic, and any magician who uses this type of magic is known as a Soulless.

>>It is a magic which relys solely on the strength of the Soulless' mental strength. Hand gestures, nor words, will control the power of Bone Manipulation. Only the mind.

>>Some really talented, skilled and experienced Soulless are able to control ash from where bone crust has absorbed into it from burning. Though, there is only one Soulless alive capable of performing such a feat, and it is not Onyx. Currently, Three Soulless have arisen with the many other sudden magicians dotted around in the world. Onyx is one of them, and quite simply put, the weakest, as well as the only female of the three.

>>Bone Manipulation Magic has been mistaken for Necromancer Magic a lot of the time, though it is similar, Bone Manipulation is not a magic that brings the dead back to life.

Onyx has a lot of trouble learning magic, and currently only knows one spell.

Spells:

>>Strength Infusion:
Strength Infusion is a spell which the Soulless casts upon their own body, strengthening the muscles and increasing the flexibility, agility and speed of the user. The strength they obtain is superhuman, and when they are under the spell, it is hard to predict the actions of the user, as they may be too fast to be seen even. It is an ultimate move, that not just anyone can master it, one which makes the user a formidable opponent. But there is a price for this unbeatable move- every time it is used it takes a toll on the user's body. Depending on how many times it has been used, it can range from a few hours of a user rendered paralysed, and decrease the user's life expectancy. If it is used too many times, the body will eventually give up, snapping the user's bones and killing them.

Personality:

Onyx is a logical thinker- the type that chooses her head over her heart. She is a hard-worker, and constantly works on refining her body's muscular endurance and her willpower through constant strength training, so that her body is stronger for when she does use her magic. Onyx is independant and secretive, not trusting people easily, and is very skeptical. She is calm most of the time, and is laid-back. She doesn't get easily surprised and is pretty stubborn, despite being patient. Even though she has strong magic, and she is physically strong, she has to become even stronger to overcome the limitations her body places on her. She is not easily fooled, nor easily pissed off, but if someone close to her is ever put in danger, she will pulmerise the danger to a pulp.

Her mind, and heart alike, are almost stone cold. She has been thrown into the darkness for a long time, and will not hesitate to kill anyone Her goal is to kill one man who stole everything from her in a life where she had started with nothing anyway.

Background:

Miyo Rizuka is a name from the past. She was not rich; nor could she be called poor exactly- money was not one of her concerns. It was not allowed to be. For a slave, freedom was not allowed. They did not question their masters, for they were owned by them. As a child stolen from a peaceful clan of caravan travellers, Miyo grew up not knowing any better. Slaves were given no mercy. A slave who couldn't work was killed. A slave who refused to work... was killed slower. They were valuables; items. Trinkets to be worked, beaten and traded. And Miyo was no different.Swapped between trading masters, Miyo was one slave most of her masters got bored of easily. It was only when she had been sold to serve a famous gladiator when she was just ten years old, that for once one of the slave owners took an interest. She was trained to fight as a child gladiator, against her will, spending every honing her body and her strength, just to make it through the next round. There she met the one friend she could always trust to help her- Cain Valern, another slave.

It was by the time she became 16, that people suddenly became aware of her. She became a famous gladiator throughout the entire small kingdom, back then known as Koirgha. People knew her face in the arena, and spoke her name even when fighting hours were over. She was granted her freedom, as long as she kept fighting in the death match arenas, to which she had no choice to agree. For the first time in her life, she was respected by people. Her friendship with Cain was unbreakable, they were the two strongest warriors in the arena.

Only for that to change in her next fight. Where she would've been killed by an opponent who could finally match her strength- who beat her within an inch of her life. Who would have easily taken her life in the merciless ways of the arena. If it weren't for something that awoke inside of her, like it had been sleeping for a long time. The man, her opponent, suddenly screamed out in anguish- when the had been too strong to defeat. Koirgha had been burnt to ash in one night.

She would never forget their faces- one woman, two men. The leader was a Soulless- the strongest of all Soulless, the one who could control ash as if it were part of him. The one that turned the ash into a hammer and used it to steal the one she cared for most. Cain was killed that night, and she only escaped when she awoken the powers inside of her. Or rather- they were not hers at all. But she had got some mana stuck inside of her from the massacre.The man she swore to kill- his own power had leaked out to give her some of his.

Revenge gave her an undying will, a determination that killed Miyo Rizuka that night. A determination that picked up the onyx gem- the last relic of Koirgha, and of her best friend. Renamed herself Onyx, she off on her journey, to find his killer. But after two years of fruitless searching and no leads, after countless hours honing her skills, by this time she was 19, and was going nowhere with her strength. Hearing about the third known existing Soulless living in Ractem, she headed there herself to be trained.

And here she is, two years later, with spells under her command she is only half-bad at. In Ractem, she came to see more people who were like Cain to her. Kind and generous. But where they tried to involve her in their family, her heart lusted for revenge. And so she walks, never laughing, never smiling, only focusing on her one goal.

Likes/Dislikes:

+Killing. Revenge runs so deep in her veins, she has become obsessed with killing scoundrels. And even, sometimes, she has stooped so low as to kill innocents. Whoever she percieves as guilty shall face her blade.
+Fighting. It's a sport. It's second nature to her by now, and she cannot give it up. When she fights, she fights to win. Fighting for her is a way of coping- it's a method of survival in the mind.
+Strength. People who are strong can take care of themselves, People who are weak cannot. That is her mindset after all the suffering she has gone through, and it is most certainly a way of life. She constantly trains to increase her strength in all areas and never stops.
-Getting too attached to people. If she found someone just exactly like Cain- she'd be afraid. Losing them, that is. She never had anyone til' Cain, and she convinced herself she would never have again. But is that the truth?
-Talking about herself/Her past. Based on a childhood where she was never treated with sympathy or kindness, she learned to keep everything to herself, so she bottled it all up. Talking about anything to do with herself is just an awkward topic altogether.
-Slavery. Of course she would hate it. Belittling others, taking away their freedom... and acting like it's all normal. For the slave masters to get off with whatever they want. She detests it.

Non-magical Skills:

~Close Combat
She is a master at close combat. Whenever she fought in the arena, she would always abandon the sword (which she could barely fight with) and win the battle unarmed. She is naturally quick and speed, but even more so when she casts Strength Infusion.

~Cooking
As a slave, cooking was a required skill to learn. She is quite creative with the meals she comes up with, and seems to enjoy cooking, despite her calm, mysterious demeanor.

~Strategist
She is a fast thinker, and knows especially how to use the surroundings around her in a fight to save her strength.

~Survival Skills
Onyx has learned a thing or two from her two years of travelling, before she came to Ractem, she use to camp out all the time. She would hunt without weapons, make traps, and skin the hide off an animal before she cooked it.

Before I even read your background, I'm not going to allow your magic affinity. You will be way too overpowered, and the "self-checks* you provided are not even ridiculously close to helping the situation. Sorry, but Onyx is rejected.

sorry about the wait boys (I still need to transfer the description of the magic and its weaknesses and such but Gargoyle already knows most of it)
Name: Venatorius Maritus
Age: 31
Gender: Male



Appearance:

Venatorius wears coarse tunics and simple leggings while occasionally donning a hood. Combed brown hair and a short beard do little to draw attention from his sunken eyes; they always give the impression of having been roused from a short-lived nap. His face is otherwise unremarkable; he is neither a handsome knight nor privileged noble. His hands are calloused from handling bows on land and ropes at sea. He is missing a portion of his left index finger. On this finger, he wears a silver ring emblazoned with a ruby kraken in a sea of obsidian. He has a small pouch in his tunic that contains a tortoiseshell comb and a small book.

Affinity: Transformation Magic

Spells:

• Waterfowl: Venatorius shifts into a duck, goose, or swan. (4-29 lbs, 4-60 inches tall approx.)
• Mantidae: Venatorius grows the trademark mandibles and raptorial front limbs of a mantis. He has not yet been able to fully complete this transformation.
• Cephalopoda: Venatorius shifts into an octopus, squid, or nautilus. (1-10 lbs, 0.5-24 inches long approx.)
• Arachnida: Venatorius shifts into a spider or scorpion.(Negligible weight, 1.5 inches long approx.)
• Smilodon: Venatorius shifts into a large dirk-toothed cat. (480 lbs, 40 x 70 inches approx.)

Non-magical skills:

• Bowyer: can craft bow staves, bowstring, and fletch arrows
• Merchant: Bartering, haggling, salesmanship
• Sailor: Navigation and vessel upkeep/piloting.

Background:

Son of seafaring merchants, Venatorius Maritus spent the majority of his childhood waiting at the shore for his parents to return with foreign goods and tales of exotic life forms. Each day, the froth of the salt sea would greet Venatorius and he would, in turn, greet it. As he reached his fourteenth year, he became more restless and would demand to go with his parents on their journeys. His father, Lodbrok, would agree to his request on the condition that Venatorius would learn to properly handle a ship. Under the guiding hand of his father, he constructed his own ship and began to sail. Each day would be a new lesson for the young sailor. A year later, during a violent storm, a large wave jostled the boat as Lodbrok instructed Venatorius and both men were cast into the sea. Using his boarding axe, Venatorius hung onto the side of the boat and began to climb aboard. When another wave shook the boat, his aim failed and he brought the axe down onto his other hand. He screamed as the flesh fell into the water and as he clambered onto the boat. He did not see his father climb aboard for the few seconds he remained conscious. The waves carried the boat towards his home, where upon waking he was greeted only by the froth of the salt sea crashing upon the shore.

Upon receiving the news of her husband’s apparent death, Mariana fell into a depression and would not set foot upon another boat for as long as she would live. The King’s treasurers, however, took the death as an opportunity to seize assets. ‘Proofs’ of unpaid taxes and expired licenses were flaunted in the family’s face. The ships and goods that were keeping them clothed and sheltered were stolen away and when Mariana fell ill a year later, Venatorius could not afford her medicines. On her last day, she stumbled onto the shore and cried. She gave Venatorius his father’s family ring and kissed him briefly before passing. They could afford no holy burial besides that of Lodbrok’s pagan ancestors. Venatorius lay her body onto a small raft and gave her to the sea. He stood up after watching the raft being swallowed up by a wave in the horizon and placed his father’s ring on his stub of a finger. The ruby kraken shone like a star in the light of the setting sun. (AT THE BEHEST OF GM THE FOLLOWING SENTENCES TAKE PLACE JUST BEFORE THE STORY BEGINS)He felt a strange pulsating in his stomach, which then expanded to his entire body and eventually to the nearby area, blowing sand away in all directions. *Squish* *Squash* Venatorius looked around and saw that his limbs were no longer like those of a human; rather, they were those of the great beast that adorned his father’s ring but… slightly smaller… He had become a squid, flopping about on the shore. A bit of concentration later, and he shifted back into his normal self.

Venatorius spent the next 24 years of his life rebuilding his family’s legacy. He began to rebuild his father’s flagship vessel, hoping that he could become the merchant his parents once were. He dreamed of exotic lands and strange creatures while he worked, but the money was never enough. On a busy afternoon in the market, he had overheard a family bemoaning the lack of quality meats available to the peasant folk. He knew that the King and the landed gentry had access to the marvelous game in the Royal Forests. It was illegal for a man like himself to hunt there, but if it meant cornering a market on these meats, it also meant a great leap forward in his quest to rebuild his father’s fleet. If the King’s men could take so much from his family, this would simply be repaying the favor in kind. For the latter portion of almost 3 decades, he poached in the Royal Forests, bringing meats to the market and gold to his pocket. In the last year, he also realized that he had a degree of control to his transforming magic. He transformed into strange creatures, large and small. In order to find the best game, Venatorius spent a great deal of time in a form that would go unnoticed by both his targets and royal hunters: a sick looking duck. He did not always have to look like a lame duck but in doing so, it allowed him to be ignored for healthier fowl in case hunters passed by. After scouting his game, he would shift into his normal form and take his shots. It was a great source of income while simultaneously frustrating the gamekeepers, hunters, and nobles alike. This went on until one day, while following geese to a new tract of land, an arrow flew through the air and dug into Venatorius. “I got it, I got it!” a cracking voice exclaimed. A scrawny hunter took a step out of some nearby bushes only to find that the duck was now a human with an arrow in the calf. “Good lord boy, what the hell were you doing shooting a lame duck?!” he shouted in pain. “Oh gods I’m sorry…. I’m not very good with my bow yet and I thought you’d make an easier shot… but wait, you were a duck? And now you’re a human?!” “YES I’M HUMAN NOW SHUT UP AND HELP ME UP!” As he spoke those words, Venatorius saw another hunter step into view. This was an experienced hunter, with a crossbow in his hand and 3 geese slung over his back. “So you’re the one what’s been prancing around our woods all these years, eh? “ The hunter turned to his tiny companion and said, “Good job, Twiggly!” The scrawny boy smiled and helped up the wounded poacher. “You’ve got what those know-it alls in the palace call an affinity, don’t ya boy?” asked the hunter. “Sneaking around and snatching up all our little plump duckies… I think I know what to do with you boy….”

Personality:

Venatorius is tired man from a life where dreams are cut short too many times. He does not speak often because he often has no one to speak to. He may seem rude to the point where even his well-meaning advice can sound like an insult. This is because he believes greatly in equality between persons and as a result he sees no reason to flatter a person or deal with polite mannerisms because of their contrived standing within a certain societal group. He does not believe in violence for the sake of violence and is always quick to question the logic behind anyone’s decisions. Objective thinking is important to him, and all things matter when dealing with conflict.

General Likes & Dislikes:

Likes:
• Modest people
• Sea Salt
• Lemon
• Travelling
• Reading

Dislikes:
• Hasty people
• People who value themselves over others
• Eggs
• Lazy people

Name: Octavia Stuart
Gender: Female
Age: 19

Affinity: Electric
Ability to manipulate electricity

Spells:
Lightning Flash
a spell in which the user creates a large, blinding, flash using the electricity within their body, which can act as a distraction, due to the victims momentary blindness; allowing the user to escape undisturbed.
Thunder Bullets
The user generates lightning on their palm, from which many small, yet destructive lightning orbs are fired at a high speed
Lightning Eruption
The user summons a lightning bolt from the ground, hitting the target from underneath
Lightning Storm
The user creates a sphere of lightning between their hands, sending lightning bolts in every direction
Lightning Body
The user covers their body in lightning, greatly increasing their speed, and, effectively, turning them into an actual lightning bolt, thereby granting them great flexibility and maneuverability.

Personality:
Calm, cool, and collected. She is also tough, brave and fearless. She may be cold and hostile towards others but gradually shows her warm side over time. She is very blunt with her opinions and may appear harsh with words. She rarely shows her emotions and keeps them to herself. She is very secretive and cynical, careful with whom she trusts and opens up to. She carries herself with dignity and has a regal air around her.

Background:
She never knew her real parents. Her parents were killed on the day she was born and her dad's best friend took her in. He was a brave fighter and he trained her to fight. She first mastered the skill of martial arts and then later on, mastered the skill of wielding dual blades. She always looked up to him as a person she wanted to become and he was the only person she had. After the death of her step-father, she became the person she is now and she left the village, journeying out in solitude.

She journeys from town to town, not settling in one place. She spends the night in the town's inn and sets out early in the morning. She makes a living out of bounty hunting, doing errands for people, and quests to protect the life of a person in danger as the person moves from one place to another. She gets good deals out of it and it helps with her training. One day, her life was changed forever when she discovered her affinity during one of her hunts.

__________________________________________Three years later_________________________________________________

It has been three years since she knew of her affinity. Three years of misery. She had to avoid the sprites at all cost. This meant she wasn't free to roam around and journey alone. She was one of the many who wasted her time trying to get back to the mainland. She struggled for survival alone and has never kept anyone close, due to her distrustful nature. Ractem was in chaos and after years of staying out of it, she has decided to fight to help reclaim the land.

Skills:
-Martial arts-
-Wielding Dual Blades-
-Leadership-
-Manipulation-

Likes and Dislikes:

Likes:
-Spending her time in solitude-
-Training-
-Pursuit of Knowledge-

Dislikes:
-Arrogance-
-Naive people-
-People who are weak and don't fight for themselves-

Description of Magic
She can manipulate electricity at her own will and her power is stronger during rain storms/thunder storms.
Weaknesses
The more she uses her spells and the more she fights, the weaker the voltage of her electricity becomes. The fight can be long enough till she runs out of energy(electricity) which means she'll have to recharge again by resting. She can speed up the process by absorbing electricity (Through any source of electricity such as fossil fuels, coals, thunder, etc.) She only uses spells as a last resort to save as much electricity in her body as she can.
Extra information
Before a fight, she absorbs as much electricity as she can in her body to become stronger and to lengthen her duration in battles.

Could it still be accepted if I modify it?

Of course. Go modify it and the GM will scrutinize.

I changed it so that she only has one spell

@Kasuime: Sorry, but still denied. I'm simply against the use of Bone Magic. First of all, there would be no myths about Bone Magic, since magic is fairly recent. Second of all, though your character has but one spell, it is described as "Unbeatable" and that simply wont do, regardless of any consequences placed on using it.

@Reaver: Magic is fairly recent, with only a few years since it's discovery. Please edit that portion of your bio.

@Winter: Please expand your bio! I requested a three paragraph minimum for the bio, so just add two more.

@Octavia: For someone 19 years old, she has some mighty nonmagic skills. Was she raised to be a child soldier? :P

Mines good now, yea?
I'm happy to change it if need be~

@Hell: Yeah it's fine, just don't go insane with the intricacy of the illusions :P.

I'll see to posting the first IC post either tomorrow or the day after.

Let's get the ball rolling. I'm itching to make my first post.

Forsythe said
@Octavia: For someone 19 years old, she has some mighty nonmagic skills. Was she raised to be a child soldier? :P

Raised to be fighter, more like. She was trained at a very young age, it's in her bio. Plus as mentioned in the cs, weapons are prohibited in the land, so she won't be able to use her skills in dual blades anyway.

Gargoyle said
@Winter: Please expand your bio! I requested a three paragraph minimum for the bio, so just add two more.

Done

Name: Berengar du Loewe
Gender: Male
Age: 29

Appearance:

Berengar du Loewes features are sharp, his cheek-bones jutting out from his face that gives him an almost lupine appearance. His lips are moderatley thin, a large gash forming diagonally along the left side of his lip, leaving an ugly, garish mark across his skin. Hooded eyes that house dark green eyes that appear to be brown at a distance give Berengar an almost disgruntled, annoyed appearance. Thick, dark long brown hair that resides upon his head is often worn in a high-half ponytail, or simply left flowing, unburdened by any bands or ribbons to keep it in check. He keeps a neatly trimmed beard on his chin at all times, although if a situation is too taxing of him, he will often simply let it grow out, and braid it.

His body is muscular, and can be seen as almost cat-like, his abdomen and chest well toned, he is certainly not the most muscular he could be, but he is lighter on his feet because of it. His northman heritage has left him with a considerable amount of body hair, the muscles that adorn his body mostly being obscured by dark bundles of his chest/abdominal hair. Patches of hair are missing, due to the skin having been raised as scar tissue, a trio of scars running diagonally along his chest the most prominent of these scars.

Upon his arrival to Ractem, he can be seen wearing a dark turqoise gambeson, it adorned with even darker, navy stripes. Underneath his gambeson a loose linen shirt clings to his chest, the neck of the shirt open slightly to allow circulation when Berengar is in combat. Wearing semi-loose fitting padded trousers that are obscured by the knee-high leather boots that adorn Berengars legs. On his arms he wears leather-gauntlets, although their protective capabilities are limited, they are more worn for simple aesthetics rather than the protection they offer. A leather belt that hugs his torso and wraps around his shoulder diagonally is always seen on his person. He wears a belt made of leather, which has various pouches hanging from it.



Afinnity: Elemental Magic

Spells:

- Sundering blizzard; Berengars go-to spell when facing enemies that have a defense stronger than his offense, the spell itself sends Berengar jetting forth, leaving a trail of jagged ice behind him, a powerful cold wind infront of him, enough to knock over a knight in full armor, or topple over a horse-bound knight, or - most usefully, break a defensive formation of soldiers. It cannot cause physical harm, beyond toppling them to the ground

- Winter's kiss; Berengar imbues his blade ice-magic, the blade almost seeming to become writhed in frost as the spell is in effect. Where the blade meets flesh, the wound will not close until the wound has been treated with healing magics or placed under a great amount of heat. Useful when facing unarmored opponents, it has limited capabilities when facing armored opponents, however.

- Ice spike; Berengar sends forth a shard of ice shaped like a spear, it gaining momentum and speed as if it was an arrow loosed from a bow, it looses velocity and momentum in the same manner as an arrow.

- Frost Rune; A simple mobility hindering spell, Berengar channels his magic onto any flat surface, an intrigate white rune appearing on the surface before disappearing. It takes five seconds to activate. Those who walk over the rune have their legs, arms ect stuck to that location by the cold embrace of ice wrapping around their limbs.

- Whirlwind; A spell that enhances Berengars physical capacity for pain, his endurance and his senses, at the cost of his sense of being, he falls into an almost fever-dream like state, his skin becoming pale and cold, his veins becoming coarse and black, his eyes going into an icy white colouration. During this time he is unaware of friend or foe, and is often why he choses to not use it unless he is fighting with his back to the wall. After using this spell he becomes extremely weak, and often will contract a bad fever.

Personality:

A man of his own volition and ideology, his profession as a sellsword and a mercenary often seem him coming at ends with his employer, seeing as how the warrior seldom wishes to bother himself with the skirmishes of something that does not concern him, as such, Berengar is a true drifter, a man who cannot see the forest for the trees. Stubborn to his core, his black and white sense of morality often makes his decision making often lop-sided, but if the need should arise that the black option would serve him better, his morale compass will often bend to suit his own needs or the an ideology he may (end up regretting) agreeing with.

Despite his cold exterior Berengar is seen as a man who has many emotions, he simply does not know what to do with them. Considered somewhat socially aloof and awkward, many deduct that Berengar has simply set himself upon a pedestal so high he has become lonely in his reclusive existance. Despite this, it is not impossible for Berengar to be caring, infact he cares greatly for those close to him, it is simply a matter of getting close to those around him which poses a problem for the warrior.

Although Berengar may appear to have a wholesome demeanor, his heritage as a northman shines through when it comes to both drinking and eating, both of which often ending up with him having a hangover or a bad stomach the day after.

Also has an extremely bad temper.

Background:

"You're doomed to forever wander, aren't you?"

Berengar was found in a lush forest, nearing the end of the winter-fall by a pack of northmen hunters, his infant form being clasped by the dead corpse of what was assumed to be his mother. Many in the raiding party consolodated that the boy should be killed, in fear that he was cursed. Many of the party agreed to end the infants existanse before it could begin, but the chieftan at the time stayed the hand of one of the men, vying to adopt the child more as a sign of good fortune rather than a curse.

Growing within the confines of the village, Berengar was often called "The Bastard of the Forest" due to his fathers unknown origins. Berengar was an alienated boy, preferring his own company and the company of beasts rather than that of the fellow villagers, and although this greatly strengthened his sense of self resolve, it left the boy crippled socially in many ways. Growing up, Berengar idolized his father, whom he seldom saw due to his raider lifestyle, and instead was left in the care of an overbearing, although kindhearted adoptive aunt.

At the age of thirteen, Berengar, with the rest of the villages youth, were sent off to join the men in the summer raids to the south, Berengar distinguishing himself for his oddly ferocious demeanor in combat, sending mixed feelings of pride and fear amongst his father and his men. Berengar's ferocious rampages were left unburdened and unchecked by his adoptive father, who seen nothing but pride for a son that appeared to act more as a beast than as a man.

Berengar's life would reach its peak when he slew his adoptive aunt in a fit of rage, his adoptive-father finding Berengar cradling the corpse of the woman in his hands. It dawning on the chieftan at what he had let the boy become, vyed to attempt to kill his son, Berengar responding by sticking his blade through his adoptive fathers heart in a fit of rage.

Those in the village attempted to chase him out, but not before suffering great losses at his hands, his magical abilities coming to fruition to deadly effect. Eventually being forced out, Berengar wandered into the wilderness, where he slowly found the means to channel his anger into something more productive than simple slaughter; his magic.

Spending most of his life wandering between the war-torn wasted and wind-swept wastes of warring kingdoms, Berengar became famed as a man gone mad, a whirlwind of death and rage, before finding himself as the guard of a king, their mendacity causing Berengar to become reviled and forced to flee to Ractem.

Skills, Non-Magical:

-Martial Prowess: Berengar has lived with a weapon in his hand throughout his life, and as such, has become well versed in using most weapons at his disposal to great effect

-Master Swordsman: Berengars weapon of choice, his skill at arms with a blade is formidable, the warrior having spent most of his life with one in his hand. Said to be able to deflect a crossbow bolt with a flick of the wrist, the deed itself remains well-known, whilst the person behind it has faded away into obscurity.

-Unarmed Combatant; Berengar is more than capable of using grapples, shoves and punches during his flury of sword swings to increase his lethality in combat.

-Marksman; A requirement for every boy of age within his village was to practice with a longbow every day after the holy masse, this has made Berengar a competent marksman in his own right.

-Athletic; Berengar has trained many years to be as physically dexterious as possible, and as such, can use his athletic skills with his weapons in conjunction to great effect.

-Wildman; Living within the confines of the wilderness for years, Berengar has become a skilled forager and hunter

Description of Magic:

Berengar's use of magic is practical, crude and straingly effective, it having been designed for his craft; war.