I'll put up characters i feel like i should put up here. For a start i'll just add my chat persona to test out the form thing. I'll use this if i ever start joining in on fight rp's as well.
Name: Klomster Von Bismarck. Known mostly as Klomster.
Age: Born in the distant future of 1988.
Species: Klomster. Outwardly completely identical to humans, mostly all other ways as well. BUT! Not a human at all. The primary attributes of being a Klomster is usually poor understanding of human interactions and for odd reasons referring to fish and the number 35. The reasons for this might be some hidden racial memory, or he's just insane.
Gender: Male.
Sexual Orientation: Only women so far.
Position: Un-employed.
Personality: Usually friendly and nice, normally sits back and calmly studies what happens before him. If forced to fight he is unwilling to back down even to his own detriment. Even if he knows he'll lose. Likes eating glue and try to be helpful and useful to people. Can be pretentious and likes posing epicly for the camera. Or when others do it.
Weaknesses: Poor physical health and stamina. You know poor fitness? You don't know poor fitness, Klomster has poor fitness. Run 10 feet? Yup, panting heavily. Run 20 feet? Might start to get breathing problems. More? Yeah, he's screwed. Bad initiative taking. What? Who me? Do what? Nah. It can wait. He did what? I guess i might have to do something, but what? Oh no, now he's already somewhere else. Poor social understanding. This here concept with human interactions and ways to express emotions is complicated, especially towards these being known as females. Very complex. They seem to dislike a multitude of things. Like winkie faces and looking at them too long. And random hugs are also confusing. Why? It's not bad but still, why? Rambles. Might start rambling incoherently, changing subject mid through speech or referring to different things after another. Can be confusing.
Appearance: Long brown hair with a hint of red in sunshine. A slight beard. Oddly similar to the avatar to the left actually. But usually don't wear a hat. Nor a surcoat. But rather a dark grey piké shirt and some work pants with several useful tools inside.
Background: From the heavens, from a strange place where Klomsters live, came Klomster, who is a Klomster. Or so it claims. Anyway, DEEP STRIKING! And studying interpersonal interactions is interesting.
Skills: Can swordfight alright, especially with a wooden zweihander. Can eat glue with no ill effects. No one knows why. Is epicly god-like at making magical artifacts. Or just regular tools and mundane objects. Not electronics though. Can weave magic if needed to produce an artifact but not otherwise. Can summon the mighty anvil of war, and the flaming hammer of hatred. Potent tools when forging magical artifacts. Can have strange materials appear at a whim if needed for a magical artifact. This is also used to heat the materials being worked on. Can dramatically enter and leave the chat or the scene, often through DEEP STRIKING! Which refers to arriving via drop pod or similar, at high speed with a dramatic impact. Shouting DEEP STRIKING is also an important part of this. Always to and from the heaven. Has an infinite supply of glue, only comes in half litre bottles though. Labeled "Glue". The glue can bond most known materials. Has an uncanny knowledge of deamonic entities and eldritch gods, seems to know some of them personally. Is almost impossible to kill, although easy to take out since he lacks resistance and pain threshold.
Special equipment: Indestructible cod-piece. Forged upon the anvil of war with the flaming hammer of hatred, this cod-piece is worn by Klomster after he was kicked in the groin by a deamon. Klomster did not enjoy the experience and thus created the indestructible cod-piece after several people made fun of and/or comforted him. The Cod-piece is made of mithril or some shit and can't be destroyed by any reasonable means and even powerful beings find them too bothersome to bother trying to break.
Steel spackle. A seemingly regular steel spackle with a wooden handle constructed in two parts fastened on both sides with rivets. The spackle is covered in an almost black layer of surface rust. It's very useful for poking things and always reform in one of the pockets of his pants. Regardless of how much it is damaged and if stolen. It's useful for poking things and doing simple work. Excellent for scraping things. It's not overly sharp though.
Name of nation:The ancient. Species:The ancient. Description of government: Monoteistic meritocracy.
History:The ancient is a being, born of the universe and has existed perhaps as long as the universe itself, it is basically impossible to know since the age of the universe, and how the ancient interacts with reality is impossible to track.
The ancient is a singular being, for large spans of time residing in slumber, only to emerge in regular intervals, or when its current resting place falls apart from the passing of time. There are barely any actual reports of the ancient in any official data-banks. And if there is any data on it, the data is vague and often religious or mystic in nature. The sheer age and difference between how most races work contrary to how the ancient works, results in very little understanding about the being.
Description of military: There is the ancient. No more, no less. Technological Overview: Whether its technology or some sort of natural phenomena naturally present in this life-form is not known. What is the truth however is that the ancient is a being of pure energy, able to take physical form. Change its form at will and as such also compact or spread out its form. Able to change its light spectrum to make it appear as a dark idol, or pure light, to invisible to all but the most sophisticated of scanners.
The ancient is also able to slip in and out of hyperspace as naturally as an human infant swims in water, able to naturally traverse the expanses of hyperspace and leave at any time. To be able to travel the galaxy like the ancient is a wet dream of most civilizations. If they knew the ancient did exist that is.
Being a life form of energy, it can survive in basically any environment. And can in close proximity (within twenty or so meters) manipulate matter with thought. However, there is a limit to how much the ancient can focus on at a single time. It can move at immense speeds and can reroute energies directed to it to divert it from harm. While it is probably not 100% control over matter energy conversion, the concept of at all being able to do it is alien to most species.
In battle, the ancient can project beams of matter energy conversion. Which basically orders the matter it hits to release itself as energy. Unsurprisingly, if directed at an object like let's say a vessel, would do immense harm to said vessel. The beam is however ineffective against shield technology, but the ancient can reconfigure the output so it streams energy at the target instead trying to overload the shield emitters, or suck the energy out of the entire vessel.
This makes the ancient devastating to fight with just about anything, so being on the receiving end of its fury would probably spell the doom of said aggressor. Cultural Overview: The two preferred forms of the ancient is as a very tall (about 4 meters typically) slim humanoid with a triangularly shaped head, or as a roughly six hundred meters long vessel in space. While it can take other shapes, it normally doesn't. Probably because of lack of imagination. And no need for other forms.
The ancient is a contemplative being, preferring to study things and avoid personal contact or interaction with most things. It is also peaceful, unless it is aggravated. If aggravated it is most likely to try to exit the situation, but if cornered, or in a particular mindset can attack the aggressor.
The ancient has some sort of ulterior motive. Which it focuses most of its active time doing.
Other: The ancient is obviously very powerful. And should be treated with great care.
The ancient is a being of energy, it can run out of energy. So fighting actually drains its life power. So if the ancient is forced to fight long enough it will eventually disappear. Having used all of its energy.
It is almost childlike in nature, therefore it doesn't naturally want to fight, nor is it a good combatant. Since it has never before needed to fight seriously. Therefore unexpected turns of event might confuse it.
It is curious in nature, and almost naive. This could be used to exploit or confuse it.
Name: Ha Nicknames/Titles: lord of the forge, master of arms, steel personified, chivalry's father. Mistakenly known as the god of honor. Domain(s): Steel, forging and crafts, weapons, armour, chivalry, walls.
Gender: Ha sees himself and holds the form of a male.
Base Appearance: static.giantbomb.com/uploads/original/.. Ha, has the appearance of a massive knight clad in black steel armour, told to be taller than the tallest pine in the forest, he wields great strength in combat, but is also intelligent. Armed with a massive sword which never cooled after its forging, and never will. How Ha looks beneath his harness is unknown and non who have tried have ever succeeded to persuade him to show. Neither through words or martial prowess.
Other Appearances: Ha isn't known to take on any different appearances. But can change his size.
Personality: Ha is a stout individual, that values his solitude, he often resides within his forge and contemplate upon his next wonder he will construct. When he leaves his forge, he commands without doubt and demands the very best of each of his subjects. Failure is frowned upon and to fail Ha himself is often punished, at times even with death. He is contemplative and resourceful in nature, never rushing into a situation. Ha values honor and chivalry, and as such gives those who live by its codes the respect they deserve. Ha often likes to make a show out of things, making unnecessary statements and pretentious acts.
Skills: Ha as the god of chivalry holds massive skill in swordplay and strategy. He seldom needs to fight all out. He also is the god of the forge, he has all but mastered the art of forging artifacts in all of their forms. None can make artifacts greater than Ha. While Ha could create artifacts that are not necessarily forged, he finds them a bit more challenging. Making a silken weave isn't his forté but he could make it.
Powers: Ha has the ability to create simple objects of his dominions at will, weapons and armour can be created at a whim, with effort and magic he can make even larger weapons of war or fortifications of legend. He also takes little damage from heat and has limited ability to conjure and control fire. Blunt weapons seems to do little harm upon him. Ha can grasp and manipulate all sorts of magical materials, which means he can hold a portion of a years first summer wind and hammer it into a medallion and similar things. He also has knowledge of basically all magical materials, many of which he himself has created, how to obtain them and how to utilize them.
Fighting Style: Ha is a master of the blade, fighting with skillful strikes and keeping on the offense, relying on his prominent armour for defense, he fights up close only if he has to though. He usually tries to let others fight for him as he sees himself as a general and commander.
Vulnerabilities: Ha will seldom fight all out, often underestimating his opposition. Ha also has little control over the world outside his domains. He cannot shape mountains, nor conjure up tidal waves. He needs to work through artifacts to create things like this. Artifacts which need obscure materials to be really powerful.
Artifacts and creations: Ha wields the sword "Ember" when it strikes home the blade bursts into flame making it cut through armour like cloth and bathing the struck in flames. Normal mortals cannot hope to survive its strike, and gods either envy its power, fear it or both, although epic heroes or gods with powerful weapons might be able to parry Ember's might. Ha also wields a runic hammer of the forge, the first hammer, and named after Ha himself ,Ha-mmer. With its might, less magical resources is needed when forging magical artifacts. And its strike can shake mountains, but is unwieldy in combat.
Ha also has a black steel armband which worked in unison with Iuppiter to create, with it Ha can to a limited degree control weather. Only small things though, like summoning clouds and making thunder strike and rain fall.
The fortress city of "Ha'zufel", it's massive bulwark of defenses has never been defeated by mortal hands. Time and time again it has stood against sieges.
The divine forge was constructed by Ha to be the ultimate workplace of a smith, armourer, even other professions. There are numerous albeit difficult or hidden ways to enter the divine forge and mortals have been known to enter and work the miracle tools. However if they disrespect his home, Ha is known to have forged misbehavers into discs of tortured souls, which he hangs in the entrance to warn visitors.
Apart from those, Ha has created thousands of artifacts, many of which is held in the armoury of the divine forge, but hundreds upon hundreds exist in the mortal world. While not mighty artifacts according to Ha, blades that strike like lightning or bows that need no arrows are mighty heirlooms of impressive families. Long forgotten artifacts can still be found in hidden places, for Ha makes them all the time. He has forgotten most, too many to remember. None can compare to what Ha calls a 'true artifact', but they can perform tasks no mortal blade can hope achieve, and many a smith could only dream to make.
Home: Ha lives in his divine forge, a massive foundry made of marble filled with all sorts of wondrous tools for crafting and smithing, Ha has gifted the understanding of many a tool to mortals. The foundry stands atop a fire spewing mountain within his small realm, which basically only contain the mountain with the forge and some burnt forest around the base of the mountain. It is said that every furnace is a gate to the divine forge, while this is an exaggeration Ha does have a great affinity to the forges of the mortals and usually acts from or near them.
Biography: At the first stroke of a hammer against the first anvil, Ha was born. He himself being that hammer and Ragnarok being the anvil and the material. His form gradually became that of the towering blackened steel warrior as his crafts were used more and more for war. Ha is popular with armies and generals that uphold the laws of chivalry. Knights often have Ha's blessing, albeit seldom in more than a figurative sense. More anarchistic forces tend to dislike Ha, mostly since he is always their opponent. Ha is controlled in his actions and always try to justify his acts. Ha is not shy of helping those that uphold his values. Smiths, warriors of chivalry and those who command.
Religion and culture: Ha is usually worshipped by humans. Primarily by smiths and other craftsmen, but also soldiers and kings. He is a common deity for worship but very few hold him as a primary deity. But there is no serious smith or armourer who doesn't know the name Ha, their life dependent on how well they perform in his domain. And the stories go that if you strike an anvil five times with a hammer, Ha will appear and scold you for disrespecting the tools. While this is more of a joke, Ha has stepped out of a furnace more than once.
Known relations:
Kilgarrah:Ha finds the elder dragon a bit of a nuisance, sure he is honorable. But he makes such a ruckus tromping around with his big feet. Otherwise Ha holds no particular views of him.
Nahargu’ul:Ha holds no particular enmity against the lurker in the deep. A lot because he has never actually seen him. Only heard him in the distance or seen shapes in the sees. Well, not until the end if the silence.
Nahash:Ha mistrusts Nahash, but that's probably just common sense, Nahash is known as the beguiler and she who tempts the heart after all.
Dormammus:Ha is on good footing with Dormammus, their domains at times intertwine and Ha has at times asked for guidance when creating some strange artifacts.
Iuppiter:Ha has a rather good relation with Iuppiter, as in he speaks with him from time to time without a specific reason or task in mind. Ha has worked with Iuppiter to produce some artifacts of weather and lightning. Ha claims it is to more easily obtain materials without Iuppiter's help. But he suspects Ha actually wanted them so he could appear as more impressive in front of everyone.
Ashevelen:Ha dislikes the concept of luck and misfortune, a blades tempering can be ruined because a fracture randomly appeared, thus ruining all the work put into it. All because of misfortune.
While Ha is of the school that skill can always trump misfortune, he has from time to time failed a task he made all the proper planning for. If this was because of the fabled lady luck, he knows not. But rather he cursed his inability and tried once more.
Yigzavath: On more than one occasion, a pesky fly has annoyed Ha in his work, on many occasions, disease has kept the worksmen of the world from performing their tasks. Ha finds Yigzavath disgusting, and would be happy if the abomination of a god would simply disappear.
Asivar: Where there is light, there is shadow, where there is order, there is disorder, where there is Ha, there is Asivar. In most regards the two gods are polar opposites. Unable and unwilling to understand the other, the two has fought on more than one occasion. And they will fight many times more. Ha would like to destroy the huntsman with his own hands, but every time he has tried he either could not best his opponent or the battle ended before he got a chance.
Kalla: The earth mother, the matriarch of leaves. Ha finds her joyus nature and childish demeanor an ungodly way of acting. Ha is an older deity than the earth mother, perhaps not in time, but truly in personality. The stern god of chivalry looks upon the happiness of Kalla. And remember with sadness that he had it himself long ago. He hides this by lecturing Kalla when he meets her. But avoid contact with her.
Kulorerstus: To Ha, the god of death is a strange being. And overall doesn't feel any need to spend time with him. Once Ha asked Kulorerstus to return a particularly useful warrior that death took from him during the god war. Kulorerstus declined the request.
Del Sombra: To the great armourer, Del Sombra is pointless. He cares so little of its domains. Although many of Ha's artifacts have made their ways into the tombs of the divine feline. Being a treasure to strive for or built into one of the many traps.
Thu-mmmok: Is the essence of gatekeepers, so naturally Ha has some tendencies towards the mummy of the desert since Ha is the essence of walls and therefore gates. In simple terms, Ha finds Thu-mmmok a reasonable fellow.
Erisbili: Is another deity that Ha finds little reasoning for. Insanity is not a good trait, so why should it be allowed to exist? While the forge god isn't going to do anything in that regard, he'd be happy if all these pointless gods just went away.
Tales:
At the twelfth siege Ha'zufel, when the besieging force of western barbarians were about to break through the first of the cities four walls, Ha stepped out from the cities largest foundry and walked to the fallen flank. He uttered the words. -"So, the times have changed." And struck the frontline of the enemy force with Ha'mmer with such force, the barbarian horde was defeated and from the ground the cities now outermost fifth wall arose from the ground.
The proud goddess of fields one day showed Ha a beautiful being made from gemstone. Intrigued by its existence, he paid great heed to the following events. This was before he became the black steel knight, and before the events of the God war.
Back then, Ha was a much more timid god, when the other gods destroyed her beloved creations, Ha made sure to hide one before it was destroyed, a prisoner of his. He studies it to understand what sort of magic it entails. Ha made sure to sweep up as many of the broken shards as well. With them he has made fantastical artifacts of all sorts. Ranging from a simple brooch to an all gemstone sword. All with magical properties. The supply is ever diminishing, gradually using less and lately Ha has basically stopped using them altogether. Saving them for some fantastical creation yet to be imagined.
-"And remember students, don't ruin the anvils. If you strike five nicks into it in the same day, Ha will come and strike five nicks in you with his ha'mmer."
The first duel of the god war. After hours of being unable to best the other, it became that Ha had the upper hand on his opponent, Asivar lay bare at his feet and he needed only go forth and end his treason with a single strike of Ember. But curse that ground, Ha slipped and thus, the huntsman got away to fight another day. Ha will never forget that first fateful battle, and never the last.
The first battle of crossing steel. Ha had been triumphant for several months. His mortal armies, equipped with artifacts he made from simple materials now lead him to victory against the enemy of chivalry and the lord of bloodshed. His foolish brother would soon learn, that honor and respect are the only ways of the battlefield. His own warlords and commanders knew this in their hearts and soon the warlords of Asivar would know as well.
Over the fields he saw them coming, the horde of frothing rage. But this time they were different, this time they wore weapons he recognized, the weapons once bestowed upon Ha's servants, given to ward off the unthinking horde, now corrupted into defiled versions of their former glory. With a roar Ha showed his hatred and anguish, had Asivar no respect? No sense of what is right? With that the rows of arrayed pikemen clashed with the horde of undisciplined barbarians, no battle before it had ever been as bloody, and few following would ever be.
After the god war, artifacts were strewn across the mortal realm like the first snow in a cold autumn day. Many lost to time buried in dirt, others given to the honored dead to adorn their tombs, some handed down as legendary family heirlooms. Fact is that artifacts exist everywhere, for Ha makes them all the time. An artifact he finds simple, mortals will kill for to obtain for it power and beauty.
His size is that of a tall man when he is in his foundry. 1,95 meters. When he treads the mortal realm, he likes to appear larger. Although seldom as massive as some of his equals, he could appear that large but usually prefer not to. His equipment appear as the same scale as Ha himself and therefore also shifts in size.
Ha-mmer and Ember was forged by Ha. Ha-mmer is a one-handed hammer, it is beautifully decorated with flowing design.
You may (and i guess should) read the secret stuff. Unless you think it fits not to. This section is for things that the other gods don't know exist, or don't know how to get to. So this information is sensitive to metagaming. But feel free to read as long as you keep the stuff hidden unless your character for some in game reason finds out about these things. Enjoy.
Ha collects forging artifacts. He has a second, really small dimension which holds these items. A tiny little forge in a hut with a pit kiln. The hut has no outside and is dimly lit by the fire in the kiln and in the firebed. He has searched far and wide trying to find as many ancient items as possible, the first anvil, the first mortal hammer, the first whetstone. Etcetera.
This smaller portable dimension can be entered from his divine forge or from the place Ha thinks is the site of the first forge. Regardless if this is true, there is a gate to that place in a long forgotten and ruined settlement next to a mountain. The entire place is really shoddy looking, filled with very rusty tools and broken equipment. A few items are placed in a manner which resembles a blacksmith's workstation. Most of these tools are very damaged and rusted. But they are very ancient.
This is Ha's true sanctum, should anyone tamper with this sacred place, he will be very, VERY angry.
The huntsman and the craftsman, brothers and best friends. One hunted and the other made arms to help and made the kills into trophies, meals and new weapons. The two were inseparable best friends, they were never seen apart. But time went on and the craftsman became the smith, and the chivalrous one.
The god war destroyed an aeon long friendship, Ha hates his forlorn brother as much as he hates him. But in the end, when he had the chance to strike down Asivar. He couldn't, he feigned a slip and let his brother go. Ha would never admit it, but he's far too sentimental and fond of the past to be able to kill his brother. As much as he hates this fact, it is a fact.
The last crystal being is held within the true forge. Several times gods have searched the divine forge to find the abomination, but never found it.
That is because it is not within the divine forge, it is hidden behind a mystical wall of the first forge. The tiny pit kiln has the key on its backside, so it is not visible when walking in. If one could enter, and knew where to look the key is easy to take. The key opens the way to the last crystaline. Sitting ever imprisoned in a room made from enchanted stone. Unbreakable to all but the most potent artifacts. Here it sits and awaits its doom, fearing the Ha'mmer of the forge lord.
To Erisbili's delight, Ha is slipping more and more into a frantic obsession with chivalry and his crafts.
Titles: Archmage of the hollow light communion, Magelord, Mayor of Brellt, Scourge of Camden, vanquisher of the bonewyrm, terror of war, slayer of Darakenes, wraith of fools pass, king of the will'o'wisp.
Age: 98
Race: Human People suspect some sort of half-breed nature, but no proof has ever been found for that case. But it is obvious that humans should not normally have this sort of magic potential.
Training: When it comes to magic, there are few secrets that are not known to Toradeen, with an extensive knowledge of all types of magic and a fantastic skill at many types of magic focusing primarily on pure magic. He has training and is the leading master when it comes to transforming magic energies from one to another, capable of creating a wide range of effects with basically the same type of magical energy. On top of this he was a capable staff fighter, trained by the hollow light communion. While all the basics are things he has had training in, he has also studied and self taught and even invented techniques himself.
Equipment: Carrying a gnarly smooth sturdy ironwood staff and a Shillelagh of magically hardened wood. His robes are heavy wool with many adornments of lighter blue embroideries, he carries a book on his belt and has a dagger on his side. His torso is protected by a plate cuirass which doesn't show much beneath the cloak. He has many necklaces, chains and brooches enchanted with magic that dulls pain and reinvigorates the body.
He rides in a black wagon drawn by grey horses, the lanterns glow brightly blue and leave a trail of light as they move. The wagon has no driver but still moves as it needs to. The wagons storage is loaded with magic grimoires, scrolls, tablets, trinkets, magical materials and items.
Beneath his collarbones, he has implanted two magical orbs. They are said to be fallen astral stars and shine with magical light, they seethe with magical power and can store mana, adding to Toradeens already vast source of mana. However they leak power and they will need to be refilled from time to time. A time consuming but rather simple task. In truth they are simply mana storage matrices built by Toradeen in his younger days, the misconception comes from them becoming known to some after the battle against his equals.
Followers: At his side he has two bound deamons who work as his bodyguards.
Toradeen lured them into a pentagram, overpowered them with magic and enslaved them in suits of armour. Their form is hazy and they smolder with hellfire. Their two handed swords felling embers and their steel-cutting edges also burn the flesh. The hellknights are comparable to elite human swordsmen of various nations in skill, but they carry literal deamon forged armour and weapons, they will only perish if their armour is destroyed. They require no food, no water. They only serve their master. An existence of pure anguish for them. In his dreams Toradeen often must fight their wills, since they constantly try to escape their imprisonment. Taking their chance when they perceive him to be weak. They have not succeeded yet.
A single will'o'wisp seems to live within his robes. Toradeen at times command it simple tasks. It cannot do much but can confuse mortals and attack with weak lightning. It is one of the few things in existence that willingly come near Toradeen.
Spell skills: Grandmaster of magical essence channeling, master elementalist, master astral mage, master enchanter, expert demonologist (focusing on binding and banishing), adept nature mage, novice blood mage, novice necromancer.
Other skills: A great skill at library searching and keeping, high intelligence and situational awareness, monstrous arcane knowledge and a broad knowledge of history and archeology. He also has good geographic knowledge and is a novice cartographer. Unbeknownst to most, he can cook an excellent venison steak.
Drawbacks: With great power comes great responsibility. Haunted past.'His power is legendary, he can slaughter armies, slay dragons, he has no empathy, no soul, a machine of war.' Everyone who has heard the stories fear him, the looming magical might makes everyone uneasy, magical creatures don't trust his vast magical power and his sad angry demeanor even manages to scare off the kind naive children. He is truly alone. Time takes its toll. In his youth he was a fit battlemage of unequaled potential. His physique was similar to the most well trained knight. That was fifty years ago. Magical backfires, rheumatism, constant battle, scars, numerous magical experiments, pulsing mana ebbs within him and the odd migraine leaves him in constant pain. He has trouble moving and uses both his staff and cane to support himself. In truth he is in somewhat good shape for a ninety year old nearing a hundred, but that doesn't mean he is vigorous. The only thing sharp on him is his mind, and surely it is beginning to falter as well. Magic is not the answer. Gone are the days where he solved all his problems with magic. Since magic only creates pain, he chose not to do it. At least that is the case when he does it... Cursed. He never seems to be able to help anyone, the people instinctively revile him and the will'o'wisp is always an omen of doom. While he actually can help people, in his mind it seems to always turn out for the worse. Arcane studies has proven that there is some form of curse upon him, if it is his body or his soul is not certain, but some sort of cosmic law is doubtlessly here to make his life misery.
Affiliation: The hollow light communion. (On poor terms but Toradeen Folgamer is still technically part of the communion.) An communion of mages, focusing on magical studies away from affiliations. They however see the wars of the nations as a great proving ground and many hollow light mages work as mercenaries. The communion has its base in its wizards tower in the northern region of Kron-Nesis.
Personality: A bitter old man, angry outwards but sad inwards. Would lash out more on those around him if it wasn't for the fruitlessness of it all. He is working his darndest to be more than his past, but time and time again it seems the world only wants the scourge, so he falls back in his old boots.
History: Toradeen Folgamer was born to some unknown parents. No one knows who, he was left on a busy street in a town, all alone abandoned because he felt weird. No one dared go near the crying baby, for its presence was dreadful. But fortunes had it that Toradeen Korak walked by, a mage of the hollow light communion, whom recognized the odd sensation of raw power that emanated from the poor baby. He had never felt such a presence, at least not from someone of such a young age. He knew no one else would take the baby so he took it for his own. Cared for him, told him his past, gave him his family name and named him Folgamer. Meaning 'Power', Folgamer was brought up with the singular motive to make as much of the potential he held.
Trained to be strong, fast, intelligent, quick witted and polite, He was to be a tool of war, of income for the communion. Someone who could give demands to other communions, whom could strike down those who would demand from them. Folgamer was an enthusiastic youth, he had a spring in his stride and was thankful for the opportunity the communion was giving him. He would be the most potent weapon, his enemies would fear him, those around him would respect him.
He fought in wars, slew monsters, brought down the necromantically resurrected bones of a dragon, he fought armies and while not alone, he did the most damage.
Eventually he took to the field in blindfolds, just to test himself, none could stop him, he was an avatar of magic! He had now become the perfect tool of war. There was however one who could stop him. Himself.
It was during a battle, he took the field as usual and sundered the foes before him, the village was supposed to have been empty, he ripped the souls from their bodies, used them to channel more magic and death. The small village was now dead, a few had managed to get away, it was how he wanted, he worked hard to let just a select few enemies get away to spread the word about him. To spread his legend. As he walked through the streets however he noticed the corpses, they were not of soldiers, but civilians.
It was there he noticed it. He had succeeded and now he realized the prize of success. He was the most powerful wizard, all feared him. None dared even get close, his allies cowered in fear outside the village, he had slain innocents and soldiers more easily than the wind rustled the leaves above. If there had been leaves, all life energies of the place had been drained to fuel the carnage, the dead showed only terror and agony in their tortured faces revealing the last of their lives. This was Camden, it was no more. Never again would life return.
He realized that when everyone looked at him as he had wandered proudly forth to fight their foes, they did not show appreciation or respect, it was sheer horror, disgust and revulsion. They didn't avoid him out of coy admiration, they were terrified. He had become the terror of war, he thought he would be thrilled when he reached his goal of becoming the most feared mage of all time. This was....
It took a long time before he reached a conclusion on that last question. He slew more, rained fire upon fortresses, shook the walls of cities, snuffed rebellions. More and more it was obvious, only one thing now got near him on its own volition unless they had business with him. A single will'o'wisp. It danced across his fingers, up his arms and around his head. He assumed it fed on the mana that overflowed from him. During the crow war he reached the epiphany. He had done his best, he tried to save the village, blew up scores of infantry, he had won the day. As he approached the townspeople they cowered and hid their young, he wondered why they reacted so, he had saved them. They only replied 'monster'. He called out that he did this to save them, they responded that hollow light did nothing for others, only themselves. He got angry, shouted, he asked for their gratitude, their praise, anything. The mayor of the town then moved up to Folgamer and shouted the following. -"Look around you, the dead litter the streets, dozens of homes destroyed, the druid tells us the source of the water in the well was torn asunder so the well will dry. You want us to thank you? Give you praise? Well hear your reward, you are now mayor of Brellt! We are leaving this accursed place, everything you touch is cursed and so is this land. King of will'o'wisp, the omen of doom." At the end the wisp had exited Toradeen's robe, the people walked away and he knew. He would do this no longer.
It didn't take many weeks before the communion took notice, their mightiest asset would not be lost. Several mages was sent, including Toradeen Korak, to coax him to follow the communions of the hollow light. The plead turned to heated words, heated words to an argument, argument to a fight. Fires is said to have draped the sky, stars rained down to smite those on the ground. It was here he slew his own father along with another and sent the rest packing with wounded limbs and magical scars.
Following this he created his bodyguards, left the communion and began to search anew. He had already found how to be the mightiest warmage, he never wanted that again. Now he sought to solve his questions with magic. Years passed and it seemed he could never find the answer in magic. He began to despair, his body had grown old without him noticing, he had lost his prime, he was a weapon no more. Good....
Currently he is leaving Kron-Nesis to go to Ithell. Since magic seems to grow only pain, perhaps another way is the answer?
