Speed Magic - Ethan accelerates himself using air magic, running and striking much quicker than a normal fighter.
Air Burst Magic - Releasing concentrated bursts of air magic, Ethan can knock away opponents, deflect attacks or launch himself to high places - the latter of which he rarely uses, poor landing strategies.
Gear:
A bo staff, made of treated snakewood with small steel rings around the ends, both reinforcing and packing an extra punch with strikes.
A small, wrist-mounted launcher which contains woven steel coils. Used to swing himself in conjunction with his magic for excellent maneuverability. More often than not ends up flying into something.
Brief history: From the tiny forest town of Kinsgrove, Ethan is a novice Magi and hapless explorer. He grew up enamored by guards, the concept of upholding the justice and maintaining the peace. Even at a young age he hurried along the brave men and women of Kinsgrove, and more often than not snuck along during patrols to see them in action. He would frequently be seen in town, wooden sword in hand, helping guards with their day-to-day activities. When he grew up he was determined to join them and help keep Kinsgrove and the surrounding lands peaceful and quiet for all of its residents.
Ethan would have his chance at playing peacekeeper, though not in the way he had hoped. In a regular training session with the town's resident Magi, an old man by the name of Cedric, members of the Church visited the town. Practicing magic was explicitly forbidden without license, this was known but kept quiet. For who was going to turn in a child and a beloved, long time citizen of their village? Though their first offense the Church made an extreme declaration: both Cedric and Ethan would be taken away and sentenced within one of the cities. In the blink of an eye Ethan's world changed and he found himself in a wholly new environment, the one person he knew carted off to a cell somewhere.
His fate would be a bit different. Instead of being locked up as a prisoner he would be changed into a Hunter for the Church. With very little formal training both in magic and swordplay he had a lot of work to do. When it became apparent they could not instruct him in any reasonable amount of time he was passed, declared a Hunter and relegated to simple jobs. Help to settle local disputes, clean up the city, and on a very rare occasion, actually accompany other Hunters to find a Magi. He preferred the menial tasks: dragging people into custody was never enjoyable and he never quite felt like he was dishing out justice. But he hadn't a choice, he was a Hunter now, and he'd do as the Church told him.
Name: Yarri (with her black cougar Shaela) Race: Ydra
Age: 26 Appearance:
Magic:
Beast vision – Yarri can see through Shaela’s eyes – the more distance between them, the more difficult the spell is.
Hunter’s mark – Yarri can put a spell on her intended target (even from some distance), which allows her to track it – she feels certain subconscious attraction in a direction of her target.
Freezing arrows – Yarri can use her magic while shooting, to give the arrows a chance to freeze the target in place for a moment.
Gear: Bow and arrows and a set of javelins – Yarri is an excellent marksman and a hunter. She is proficient in most forms of long-range combat, but tries to avoid close-range combat as much as possible.
Brief history: Yarri, like most her people, has always felt a close connection to the nature. She resents modern human creations, technology most of all. She prefers wandering around the forests and jungles with just her animal companion – giant black cougar named Shaela. Yarri isn’t a people person, she has very little skill communicating with others, regardless of their age, gender or race.
She is very respected amongst her people, because taming a black cougar is not an easy job even for older and more experience Ydra. Yarri managed to do it when she was only 20. As a result of this unwanted fame, she has received many marriage proposals from other famous hunters from her tribe. She refused them all. She could hardly be around people for a few days, she couldn't imagine being bound to an almost complete stranger for the rest of her life.
Name: Adrianna Kirchner. Goes by Adrian Vargas Age: 22 Gender: Female, but dresses and travels as a male Race: Mura
Adrianna has dark straight hair with green eyes. Her complexion is a bit pale, largely unmarred with freckles or scars. Adrianna is very lean, but toned, and stands at 5 feet 7 inches tall. She binds her chest beneath a loose undershirt, though her chest is rather flat anyway. As she has cut her hair and dresses like a man, she looks much younger than she actually is. She does not have facial hair, and her voice sounds like she might not have hit puberty yet. She has no tattoos. If one looked closely, they might see that her ears are pierced, though it has been years since she wore anything in them. Clothing: Face:
Magic: Healing- Adrianna can manipulate her own energy and the energy of others to heal. While her healing does not remove all scarring, it has saved lives before. Healing a lot wears her out, and she has traditional non-magic healing capabilities as well, which she uses more frequently than her magic.
Light Orb-Adrianna can create and control an orb of light to illuminate a dark area. It does not put off heat, however. She has good control over its size, and has recently learned how to “throw” it at people to startle or confuse them. It disappears if she loses concentration or it gets too far away from her.
Gear: She carries herbs, salves, and some basic medical supplies that she has gathered together in a pouch that hangs on her waist. Adrianna carries a small dagger in her left boot, and a two section bo staff, split, one on each hip. She also carries a sling-shot, and is able to use a bow, though she doesn't currently have one.
She carries flint and firesteel, some dried meat for rations, and a container of water in a satchel over her shoulder. In there is also a small book and writing utensil, in which she has drawings and information about plants and their many uses for healing, eating, and poisoning.
History: Adrianna currently travels as a man, as she is “on the run” from the Church. She doesn’t usually think anyone is looking for her, though occasional bouts of paranoia keep her in hiding. When she first left, she was nervous about being a young woman traveling alone, and so she put on a guise and became a “healer for hire.” She mostly uses non-magic healing, though occasionally infuses a bit of magic to prevent infection or prevent mortal wounds. The group she has traveled with for the last two years does not know for certain she is a mage, or even that she is a she…though there have been suspicions when men were able to walk within a few days of grievous injuries. No one asked, and “Adrian” didn’t tell. After all, every man in their company of bandits had a story, and few of them wanted to share their own. Still, she could not stay in their company any longer…”Adrian” should have started growing facial hair, his voice should have deepened, and overall it was too much of a risk. So off she went.
Appearance: Built to appear friendlier and to avoid damage through physical abuse, Cecil was built to appear as close to a Mura youngster under the assumption people would be less inclined to hurt a child. Standing at 4’8” he has a surprising weight in his arms and legs while the rest of his body is lightweight and durable. His arms and legs can be removed to change his clothing while the strap across his chest can be unbuckled from the front.
Magic: Self-technopathy – Cecil can attach machinery onto his body and control it.
Gear: Power gauntlets used by construction and repair Machina upgraded to the highest spec. Comes with a self-service kit. Cecil’s boots allow him to run vertically on surfaces and walk upside-down through the release of magnetic currents. He can’t run or walk like this on wood and vibrations can cause him to fall.
Brief history: Part of an experimental range of Machina that are designed to be able to blend in with normal people. It is believed he was designed to be a helper Machina, Cecil was possibly due to be released and established as a builder who would help with construction; however, Cecil held little interest in being one of these and seemingly escaped. The exact circumstances of his escape are unknown, even to him as the last memory he has was being out in the great wild world. The programming within him probably knew what he was doing here so the surprise to be had was not massively overwhelming.
Cecil felt he had a purpose if he was being sent to this side of the realm and immediately he was off looking for it, searching for what he was programmed to fulfil. Completely unaware of the troubles and even the Church of the land, his outlook was naïve at best. He was a hard working Machina, he knew that much, and to find what he needed to do was his top priority. He knew how to read but couldn’t write, if questioned about his looks he felt he knew the answer, telling people they were for construction work. Those travelling would rarely question him and would either be curious about the maker of his Machina to which would only confuse him.
Cecil didn’t know much about this world but learning it from travellers proved fruitful. He learned that people used machinery quite commonly and people didn’t appear to know he was just the same as that machinery. Learning from these people was proving to be educational, but he still had some questions that needed answering. Any other Machina he came across and tried to talk to didn’t have any sort of leverage for conversation, as if they didn’t have a mind like him and was simply ‘following the program’. Whether he was following his program or his own curiosity he couldn’t quite tell, but he had to find some answers somewhere in his own time. To explore the world and find what he needed to do was his first objective.
Appearance: Amuné looks like a normal Muran child at first glance, with the signs of her Ydran heritage only evident upon closer examination. She is on the smaller side, lacking the slight chubbiness of most younglings, and she's grown thinner since leaving home behind. Her features have a sharp cast, though her ears are not so pointed that one couldn't claim they fall within the standard range for Murans. Her coloring is washed out, with pale mousy hair cut at her jawline and light grey eyes. At the moment, her clothes are ragged and stained, her hair untidy, and her face splotched with grime. She travels in the company of Wyth, a large moorcat.
Magic: untrained Seer
Gear: Amuné has next to nothing in the way of possessions. She has a beltknife and a child's sling along with a handful of nice stones.
Background: Amuné is the child of an Ydran Magi with an affinity for wind that settled down with a Muran healer in a backwoods town. She was not registered, as her magic was not apparent until well beyond when most children start showing signs of their gifts. Her father stopped using his magic publically years ago, but her mother ran a Church-approved clinic. As a registered healer, the young woman earned enough goodwill that the matter of her family didn't become a real issue for several years. Amuné's father was never officially acknowledged, but it's a rather open secret.
The people of Pinesgrove turned on her family, meaning to kick her father out if not worse. Things went very terribly wrong, and now Amuné is alone save for Wyth, and on the run. News of a fire and a riot have spread, but she is terribly frightened after what happened, and has avoided people whenever possible in the weeks since. She lacks a few key skills and supplies to survive on her own, even with Wyth's help, and she's growing desperate.
Name: Wyth
Species: moorcat
Age: 12 years
Gender: male
Appearance: Wyth has an appearance typical to moorcats. He is a large feline, standing nearly two and a half feet at the shoulder, with a thick, slightly shaggy coat of mottled gray and brown, with a lighter gray and cream underbelly. His paws are proportionally larger, to help distribute his weight on the often sodden and muddy ground of the moors and marshland. His eyes are pale green, on the yellower side of the hue.
Background: Wyth comes from a line of moorcats that live with Amuné's father's tribe. He imprinted on Baldur as a kitten, and has accompanied him ever since. When Baldur fell for Amira and eventually went to live in her village, Wyth joined them. The moorcat is very fond of their daughter, Amuné, and treats her like he might a kitten.
Additional info: Originally the companion of Amuné's father, he now stays with the girl and guards her, looking after her as best he can. He's reasonably intelligent, and knows a number of different commands.
Appearance: Freya stands at 5' 2", small and light. She has hazel eyes and a bright smile. Dirty-blonde hair hangs down to her shoulders, often pulled back into a ponytail to be out of the way. Her clothing is very plain: she'll usually wear a simple, modest dress made of cotton, her favorite being of a soft blue hue and without design or ornamentation; as the weather turns cold, she'll switch to a wool dress.
Magic: Sensing, coupled with amplification or interference. Aunt Helen also shared her knowledge of wood magic--enough for Freya to have a green thumb but still be inconspicuous.
Sensing - reading the flow of magic in the world. Every form of life has a flow, that is, its own connection to the magic in the world. Freya has been taught how to identify organisms through the magic--up to a certain range, irrespective of physical barriers such as walls.
Amplification - though she hasn’t learned many spells of her own, Freya knows how to channel her flow into that of another, enabling them to cast stronger spells.
Interference - conversely, she can channel her flow against that of another, weakening the spell or even cancelling it if it was comparatively weak to begin with.
Green Thumb - Freya is good with plants. She can spot disease, and often cure it; and she knows how to give plants a little push in their growth.
Gear: Traveling Staff - a sturdy, straight stick of yew, wrapped in leather at the middle and capped with steel weights at both ends. Freya uses it interchangeably (and proficiently) as a walking stick and a weapon. Traveler’s Pack - A leather bag with shoulder straps and a sash that ties around the waist to keep it in place. It has good volume, as Freya essentially lives out of this bag while traveling from one town to the next. Currently it contains: two changes of clothes a lightweight pot a canteen a compass and map soap two candles a half-filled notebook and three pencils two apples and a loaf of bread. a small spray bottle filled with concentrated Donotate juice--pepper spray, essentially.
Brief History:
”Aunt Helen! I’m home from the market!” Freya called happily into the small cottage.
“Oh?” called a voice from the small kitchen. Soon the owner of that voice appeared--Aunt Helen, the woman who had raised Freya. Her features were sharp and graceful, a proud reflection of her Ydran mother. From her Muran father--Freya’s Great Uncle--she had inherited straight hair as black as the raven. Even past her fiftieth birthday, Helen was beautiful. Freya had always thought so.
”They just received a new shipment of medicines from the capital, so nobody offered much for the herbs. I sold only enough to buy the flour and butter.” So saying, Freya untied the sash around her waist and slipped the pack from her shoulders. First she handed a small box containing the butter to her Aunt, then she heaved a twenty pound bag of flour out to carry herself.
“Goodness, dear. Did you walk all the way back with that on your shoulders?”
”Yes? I’ve carried a lot more than this between towns, Auntie; just coming back from the market is nothing compared to the three days to Crevice.”
“Young people have so much energy. You will make a wonderful wife, I’m sure!”
Color pressed itself into Freya’s cheeks. ”I don’t… I’m not… Not right now, Aunt Helen! I don’t have anyone like that!”
“No one? But you’ve been to so many different villages, I thought for sure you would have seen a man that caught your fancy.”
”Nope,” Freya denied, adding a small ‘hmph.’ ”None of them. I’m going to live with Aunt Helen forever.”
A moment of silence passed as Freya watched her Aunt. Helen was staring at her, her eyes full of.... What? What was that expression? “You know you can’t stay here with me forever, Freya. You’re young; you still have a long future ahead of you. I promised your parents I would care for you, raise you up to be a fine young woman. Now you are, so it’s time you decided where you will go from here.”
Freya bowed her head. ”I… I know that. But for right now-!”
Helen smiled. “For right now, we’ll make dinner. After, you can show me how much you practiced while you were away.”
* * * * * * *
Freya sat cross-legged on a stump, her hands resting calmly on her knees, fingers lightly gripping the fabric of her skirt. Eyes shut, muscles relaxed, she drew slow, deep breaths. Physical senses faded away until Freya was observing the world only through her magic.
And what a wondrous world it was! Rivers of energy flowed beneath, circling the earth in an endless round. The tree roots tapped into it, diverting the life-flow, drawing strength into themselves. The ferns, the grass, the moss--each in turn drew on the energy of their mother earth to continue their growth.
Swarming around those tranquil streams were thousands of pinpoints of charged energy. Some crawled along surfaces; some buzzed through the air around; some even burrowed deep inside. All of these insects, in one way or another, were drawing their energy from the plants they gathered to. It wasn’t quite the same as the flow the plants held; rather, each was its own small cycle charged with energy, only appearing to interact with the main flow at certain times--sometimes packing energy into their tiny forms, sometimes releasing their seemingly overcharged magic back into the world.
So often Freya watched this beautiful world. She saw it as an elegant dance, connecting each life back to its mother earth. The insects, their small forms bursting with energy; the plants and their small, serene flows; the soil, housing a current as strong as life itself. And atop it all sat the forms of two humans, each so filled with magic that even by proportion the insects could not compare.
This was where Freya saw her aunt as most beautiful. The woman’s presence radiated with energy, with vitality--so much so that her very presence glowed in Freya’s mind. And despite the intensity of the life in her, Aunt Helen’s flow was the definition of tranquility. Hips, navel, chest, throat, head, and sky--her magic flowed continuously, unperturbed, unbroken, filling her with such life and majesty that Freya felt she was gazing upon a queen.
Then that flow began to move. To change. It shifted, swayed, gathered a tremendous energy from in and around her body to her chest, then burst forth all at once. Freya mentally reached out to the magic, pushing it, diverting it, pulling some of it away and into her own stream. She worked as quickly and efficiently as she could so that, by the time the conjured wind swept over her, what had been a powerful blast to knock Freya from her perch was only a strong wind, whipping her hair and pressing her gown against her.
“You’ve grown so much,” Aunt Helen commended. “I can still remember you as a young girl falling of that stump time and again.”
”I have the world’s greatest teacher,” Freya answered modestly. She knew her own magic wasn’t half as powerful as her aunt’s. Doing even this much had taken two decades of practice and learning.
“You and your flattery. If Baldur hadn’t his own child to care for, I would send you to him to learn. I can show you the Current, but I have nothing more to share than remedies for plants.”
“But those are all I need, Auntie. If I learned any larger spells, they would be noticable. The Church would-”
Aunt Helen cut her off with a sigh. “The church would hire you as an apothecary. I still wish you would at least consider it. For your safety and my sanity.”
Freya pouted and looked away. ”I won’t do anything those heretics tell me to.”
Helen clapped a hand over her face. “You’ll break my heart, dear. I tremble now when I think about what I have taught you. We can’t speak so critically of the Church.”
”But it’s true! And nobody is here to listen anyway.”
“I want to see you find happiness, Freya. Marry a good man, raise a family, live in peace. Trying to rebel against the Church will ruin all of that. Please, just keep yourself safe.”
”Even though what they do is wrong?”
“The Current will reward every man his due; Mother Earth will see to that. You focus on doing what is right--not on what someone else is doing wrong.”
* * * * * * *
Freya was seething, but she held it in long enough to march home and slam the door shut behind her. ”UGH! That damnable preacher! May his flow be scattered and rejected by our Mother!” she screamed at the room.
“FREYA!” Helen called from her bedroom. “You should never wish such a curse on any man!”
”But he stands at the pulpit and screams hate!” Freya protested, stomping to her aunt’s bedside. ”What have we ever done that people should hate us? Despise us? You’ve only ever tried to help the people--and Baldur and Amira, as well!”
Helen reached out and cradled Freya’s cheek in her hand, wiping a tear away with her thumb. “I know, dear. I know. And I have tried to show that to everyone--to George and Amanda, to Hans and Vivian, even to Byron and his mother. We can’t expect people to think well of Magi if we scream hate back.”
”But it’s not right!” Freya protested, breaking down into small sobs. ”You do so much--for me, for them! He can’t-! Say those things!”
Helen leaned forward and reached her arms around her beloved niece. “I know,” she cooed soothingly, holding Freya tight. “I know.” They stayed like that for some time, until Freya’s tears slowed. “Freya, I want you to remember: I’ve never worried what others may say about me. Just knowing my Freya loves me this much, that’s more than I could ever have asked for.”
Freya nodded weakly. Wiping away the tear streaks on her cheeks, she smiled at her cherished aunt. ”Sorry, Aunt Helen. I should be taking care of you right now, not the other way. Are you feeling better?”
“Much better than last night,” Helen answered readily. “The fever broke quickly; you should thank Amira for me next time you go into town.”
”I will, for both of us.”
Helen opened her mouth, but hesitated a moment. Freya cocked her head to the side. ”Auntie?”
“I should be all better by this afternoon. It’s time you started toward Ridcully.”
”Are you sure? I might be gone for a month; waiting two more days won’t cause any harm.”
“Oh, posh, child. I’m certainly able to care for myself. There are people out there who need you more than I right now. Come; let’s pack your bag and set you on the road.”
